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celestie0 · 1 year ago

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)

a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33

The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.

It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach.

It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re—hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.

Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”

Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.

Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.

“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”

You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.

“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”

Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her.

Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”

You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.

Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”

You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?”

Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”

You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.

“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.

Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”

You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”

You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.”

Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”

Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.

The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.

“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.

“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”

You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”

He smiles at you.

“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”

You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.

“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long.

“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.

It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.

“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”

You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”

He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”

You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore.

A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, show me.”

Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.

“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.

He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”

“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”

He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.

A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.

He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”

He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.

“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.

He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”

You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”

“LCD.”

“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”

“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”

He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.

He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.

“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”

“I did? Didn’t even notice.”

You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you.

“Do you mind it?” he asks.

“No, not really.”

“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”

“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”

He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.

“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights.

Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”

“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.

You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.

“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.

He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”

Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.”

“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you.

You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.

But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give.

“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.

He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”

He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”

You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”

“Feelings about what?”

You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.

He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”

“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.

“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”

You sigh.

“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”

“That’s pathetic as hell.”

“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.

You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.

“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”

The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”

He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”

Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”

“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”

Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.

“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.

You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.

“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.

“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”

You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”

“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”

“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”

Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”

It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes.

“No.”

He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.

“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.

“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong.

He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”

You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.

You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”

“Go back where?”

“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”

He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.”

“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.

“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”

—

“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.

Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”

“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth.

“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.

“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”

Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.

“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.

“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.

“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”

“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”

Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”

“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.

You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.

“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.

You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.

“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.

“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”

“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.

“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”

You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.

—

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck.

“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”

You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field.

“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”

Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”

Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.

It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.

“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.

“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.

“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”

You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”

He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”

“D-Distraction?”

“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”

Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.

“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”

You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.

Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”

You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed.

“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead.

“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”

There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.

You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.

“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.

“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.

You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.

“Canon? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.

“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too.

“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!”

“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.

You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.

“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.

What the fuck?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.

There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.

Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.

“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”

Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.

“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”

You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.

The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before.

“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.

“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.

You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”

He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”

“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”

He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.

He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air

“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”

He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.

“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.

“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.

You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck.

You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”

“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”

You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.

“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.

“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.

“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.

“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.

“You got hit by a soccer ball.”

“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.

“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.

“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.”

He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”

“So glad to be in such good hands right now.”

He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.

“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”

“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.

His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.

“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”

He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Has he tried anything funny with you?”

You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”

“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”

“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”

His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.

Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.

You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.

Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.

“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”

His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.

“What the fuck was that—”

“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens’ locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”

He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.

His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”

He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.

You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess.

He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”

Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.

—

2:34pm kaito (work): yo

2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera

2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up

2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?

2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that.

2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one

2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry

2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one

2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that

2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really

2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement

2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field

2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?

You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.

“Oh, hi,” you say.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”

You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”

“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”

You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”

“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”

“We?” you ask.

“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”

Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”

Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”

Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”

“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”

You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair.

“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.

“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

You purse your lips together.

“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”

You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.

“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”

“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.

“Alright cool, will do.”

You say bye, and then he hangs up.

A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.

Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.

“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.

“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”

He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”

You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”

“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.”

“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”

Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.”

You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.

“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.

“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”

“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”

He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”

Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”

Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.

“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”

Your eyes widen as you shake his hand. “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”

Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”

“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”

You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.

You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.

You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry.

Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.

Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.

“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.

“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”

Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”

Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”

“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.

“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.

Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what?” you prod.

“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”

“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”

You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.

Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”

“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”

You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”

“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—”

“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.

You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.

“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.

“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.

“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.

“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.

“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”

His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”

You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?

“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.

“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”

“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”

“It sounds shady as fuck.”

“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.

“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”

His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”

Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does.

“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.

He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”

You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.

He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”

“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”

He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.

“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”

At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”

“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”

His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”

“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.”

His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.

“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done.

He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.

His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”

“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”

You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”

He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”

His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you.

Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.

“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”

Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”

Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”

Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.

Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”

“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.

“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.

A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look.

“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”

Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”

Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”

Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”

Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”

You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing.

“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”

Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.

“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.

“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”

“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”

“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”

“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.

“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.

“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness.

Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”

“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.

“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”

“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”

Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing.

“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.

Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”

“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.

“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.

“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”

“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”

Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused.

Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”

You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging.

There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.

Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.

You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”

Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”

“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”

Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist.

You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”

Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”

You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.

When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.

“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”

You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.

Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are scrutinizing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.

You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.

“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”

“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”

You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.

But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.

Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”

Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.

“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.

“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”

You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.

“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”

You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.

“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”

You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along.

His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”

Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.

You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”

He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But I do.”

There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.

You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.

He just holds you closer. “I know.”

“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.

He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”

“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.

“I know.”

a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M♥︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i’ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined 😅✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!

➸ take me to chapter ten!

➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog

(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 4 months ago

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hey it's me again hi !! i was thinking about rupert campbell black in a secret relationship with younger!reader who's an actress and she's known as the good girl of uk's cinema like well mannered never partied much such a sweetheart to everyone and so so talented. also very private about her personal life, never had any scandal at all but then pap pics of her and rupert together (kissing etc) come out and it's all over the newspapers and tv. and everyone goes crazy because he's not exactly the type of guy they expected her to go for and she's so scared of the public's opinion idk ...

thank you <33

Golden Girl.

after years of keeping your private life private, everybody’s suddenly talking about your new boyfriend. when it rains, it pours.

rupert campbell black x female reader

warnings - cursing. age gap. reader is a ball of anxiety. discussions of the british media (which needs its own warning).

word count - 3k

authors note - banger after banger, erica. I had immediate inspiration when I read this request, so thank you!! I could kiss you. i’ll let rupert kiss you instead. mwah.

masterlist. inbox.

The first thing you do when you see Rupert Campbell Black is smack him square across the face as hard as you can.

“What the fuck was that for?”

His hand flies up to his cheek, jaw flexing as he tries to breathe through the sting of the impact.

“You said we’d be fine!”

“Darling… what?”

His confusion is so genuine that it only makes you angrier, ready to hit him again right here on his front step.

“You said we’d be fine, remember? You said it was a friend’s pub, that you’d never ever been photographed there, that we were safe from prying eyes. You said we’d be fine, Rupert. Does this look like fine to you?”

You slap the newspaper onto his chest with slightly more force than necessary, almost knocking him backwards. He stares at the cover for a moment that seems to stretch on forever, reading the headline again and again and again.

Nation’s Sweetheart Caught With Serial Love Rat!

There’s a huge picture on the front page of the two of you, blown up and magnified. Rupert has his arms wrapped around your back, kissing you like his life depends on it. You’re kissing him back with just as much passion, hands tangled in his hair as you pull him closer, bodies plastered together.

There’s no denying it’s you. There’s no denying it’s him.

“Look at us, Rupert. Clear as day.”

“Well, fuck.”

You look at him incredulously, shaking your head in disbelief.

“That’s what you have to say? You’ve potentially ruined my career, and that’s what you have to say?”

“Darling, no one has ruined your career. You’ll be alright. You know what the newspapers are like - they’ll forget about this in a week, or when a juicier story comes along.”

“No, Rupert. You don’t understand. God, I knew you wouldn’t.”

There’s a lump in your throat that you’re trying to swallow down, tears welling in your eyes. You’re determined not to stand here and cry on Rupert’s driveway at six in the morning, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult.

“I’m still confused, sweetheart. You’ve been on the front page of the newspaper dozens of times, haven’t you? It’s no big deal. It’s bound to happen with a job like yours.”

“You’re not listening to me! You don’t get it, and you know what… maybe you never will.”

Your cheeks are wet suddenly, emotions bubbling to the surface unwittingly. Turning on your heel, you storm off, tired of trying to get him to see your point of view when he clearly can’t. You’re halfway across the huge expanse of driveway when fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you backwards.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he pants, perplexed. “You can’t leave until we’ve talked about this. I’m not letting you go home upset.”

“I’m an idiot,” you sob, trying to wrench your arm away from his grip. “Everyone warned me. What did I think would happen?”

“Darling, you need to stop speaking in riddles and just talk to me straight. Explain to me what I’m missing here, because clearly I don’t understand. But I want to. God, I so badly want to.”

You stand and stare at him for a moment, trying to decipher if he’s telling the truth. He’s looking at you with nothing but distress in his eyes, desperation written all over his face.

“Please,” he whispers, the final nail in the coffin.

You’re throwing yourself forward into Rupert’s arms before you can think twice about it, tucking into his chest and breathing him in. He holds you as tightly as he can, murmuring sweet nothings into your hair as he soothes you.

Pulling away and wiping your eyes, you inhale deeply, trying to calm yourself down so you can talk to each other properly. You wander across the driveway and towards the house, sitting down on his stone front step. There’s something in you that doesn’t want to go inside, knowing that the familiar comfort of his home will only make you cry harder.

Rupert sits down next to you, his hand settling on your knee. The heavy weight of it helps to settle your nerves, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin.

“We’re very different, you and I. I always knew that, it’s strikingly obvious,” you begin, staring out into the rolling gardens of his property. “We’ve each got our own reputations, that are arguably on completely polar opposite ends of the spectrum.”

“Are you calling me a bad boy?”

“Yes,” you chuckle, matching his smirk. “You are. But you know that. That’s your entire public image - notorious ladies man, badly behaved but charming enough to get away with it.”

“It’s carefully crafted,” he grins, bumping his shoulder into yours. “Not everyone can do what I do, though God knows they try.”

“Anyway. My reputation is entirely based on being the UK’s golden girl. That is literally what they call me. Golden Girl.”

“I’m aware.”

“Good. They love me, Rupert. Everything I do, they romanticise it. I went to that premiere on Saturday night - for a film that I wasn’t even in, mind you - and on Monday morning I was on the front pages of the newspapers. Golden Girl Dazzles in Sparkling Silver was the headline of The Telegraph. Golden Girl Shines Like A Diamond from The Guardian. The Sun, The Mirror, The Daily Star… all of them had a huge picture of me in my ballgown on the front page.”

“Because you are a star.”

“Exactly. The entire British public idolises me. I am this perfect woman to them - innocent, untroubled, well mannered. I don’t party hard, I don’t sleep with the entire film industry, I don’t ever turn up looking less than put together. I’m perfect.”

“And so humble.”

“No, Rupert. Jesus Christ,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I don’t think I’m perfect. They do. And I have worked hard to keep that image intact, because that image gets me roles in the biggest films of the year, every year.”

“And I don’t fit with that image.”

“You’re a rebel. You’re tongue in cheek, you’re not afraid to speak your mind, you’re brutally honest. You drink, you sleep with beautiful women, you turn up to Parliament hungover and in last nights clothes. And people love you for it. Well… most people.”

He laughs, shaking his head at the psychoanalysis.

“We have our public images that work for us, Rupert. And it just so happens that they don’t fit with each others at all. Well, I fit yours, but you don’t fit mine.”

“Do you think everyone is up in arms because you’re dating me, or because you’re dating in general? You’ve never had a public boyfriend before. Maybe the people feel like you’ve betrayed them.”

“I do think that’s a part of it. It also just doesn’t help that it’s you.”

“Ouch. No offence taken.”

You roll your eyes at him, placing your hand over his where it rests on your knee still.

“Just being honest, Rupert. Taking a leaf out of your book, you know.”

He chuckles all warm and soft before leaning in to press a kiss to your temple, shuffling over so his side is pressed into yours. You both gaze out over the vast expanse of his gardens, looking over to the fields where the horses graze when they whinny.

“Is this a choice for you?”

When you look at him with confusion written across your face, he continues.

“Do you have to choose? Between me and your public image? Or can they coexist?”

“…I don’t know. I mean, they can’t coexist, clearly,” you gesture towards the discarded newspaper on the ground at your feet. “It’d be a sacrifice for me. I’d have to become a completely new person, adjust this persona that they’ve created in the media. I’m not a Golden Girl - I have flaws just like anyone else. But obviously, flawed doesn’t sell films. Gold does.”

“They wouldn’t have to know. We could make sure that we’re never seen together, never photographed again. It could be our secret.”

Your heart constricts at his tone of voice. He sounds like he’s bargaining, borderline pleading that you don’t walk away.

“We both know deep down that wouldn’t work. That’s what we tried - and what put us in this situation. Nothing stays a secret for long, not with the British media.”

“Well then we embrace it. Say yes, we’re together, and we’re happy.”

“And the minute we break up, they all say I told you so on the front pages, and my image is ruined forever.”

The man next to you flinches as if you’ve hit him again, body tensing up where it presses into yours.

“The minute we break up?”

“Rupert.”

“No, darling. Is that what this is? You had one foot out the door already, and this is just good reason to make it two?”

He stands up abruptly, pacing back and forth anxiously. The gravel crunches under his feet, the only sound that can be heard besides the birds chirping as they wake.

“I know what you’re like,” you say quietly. “Every time you’re on the front page of a newspaper it’s because you’ve been spotted with a new woman. I’m under no illusions - I’m not special, and I’m not different. I like you a lot, I have since the minute I met you. But I’m not stupid.”

“Is this in regards to the interview my ex wife did a few weeks ago?”

“She said she thought that she’d be it for you, Rupert. That she’d be the one to change you, that you’d finally settle down and put your party boy days behind you. And she did have that, for six whole years. Until… she didn’t.”

“So what, I can never change? Every woman I ever date is just waiting for me to fuck it up with her?”

You stand up now so you’re on the same level, not enjoying being sat beneath him while his voice raises.

“You have a reputation! You’re not oblivious to it and neither am I. Every single woman thinks that she’ll be the one, that she’ll change you and tame you and settle you down. And every single woman so far has been wrong. What makes me different? What makes me special? What makes me the exception?”

“You really don’t know?”

“What?”

Rupert takes a deep breath, striding across the driveway so he’s stood in front of you, towering and strong.

“I love you.”

You sway backwards as you struggle to stay steady on your feet, the weight of the words knocking you over.

“You… what?”

“I’m in love with you, darling.”

“Are you?” you whisper, conflicted. “Do you say this to all of them?”

He sweeps your face into his big hands, cradling your cheeks as he forces you to look up at him.

“No. This… this never happens. That’s why I’m fighting so hard for you. I have never wanted something to work as badly as this.”

“I’m not trying to paint you as a villain,” you say lowly. “But how am I supposed to know that this isn’t the speech that you’ve given a dozen women before me? You can understand where I’m coming from, can’t you?”

“Of course I can. And I’m kicking myself, because it’s my own fault that you don’t believe me when I tell you these things. My reputation has done irreparable damage to relationships in my life.”

He leans in to rest his forehead on yours, breathing each other in for a moment.

“Rupert.”

“Darling… we’ve been speaking on my driveway for an hour. You knocked on my door at six o’clock in the morning and smacked me in the face. And I am still here. I’m trying to show you that I am going to fight for this. For you. For us.”

“I don’t know what to do,” you confess gently. “I just want to curl up into a ball and cry.”

“The only thing you can do is trust me, I suppose. Trust that I won’t let you down, trust that I’ll look after you, trust that I mean it when I say that you’re it for me.”

“I want to. I want to trust you.”

“I know. I can see you do.”

You wrap your arms around his middle, soaking in the warmth that’s radiating from him. He’s in his pyjama trousers and a t shirt, all soft and worn and threadbare, and you want to burrow yourself into it and stay there for as long as he’ll let you.

“Do you want to go inside?” he asks, all muffled into your hair.

“Not yet,” you mumble into his chest. “I like the fresh morning air. And listening to the birds.”

Rupert tightens his arms around you, one hand cradling the back of your head to keep you close to him. He keeps kissing the top of your head, wishing that he could accurately convey the way he feels in the words that you’ll believe.

“Darling… do you know how many women I’ve said I love you to in my life?”

You pull away to look at him, smiling when he intertwines his hand with yours so you don’t go far. You shake your head, waiting for him to carry on.

“Two.”

“… two?”

“Two.”

You think about this for a moment, studying the gravel beneath you. A finger hooks under your chin, forcing you to look into tender eyes.

“And do you know who they were?”

You shake your head once more.

“My mother and my grandmother.”

You don’t know what to say, taken aback by Rupert’s sudden vulnerability. You’ve opened up to each other many times in the past, but never quite like this. It feels like you’re baring your souls to each other in the morning light, raw and exposing and so, so beautiful.

“What about your ex wife? All your girlfriends?”

“Nope. Never said it to them.”

“You never told your ex wife you loved her? You were married for six years, Rupert. You had two kids.”

“I know that. She’d tell me she loved me, and then she’d ask ‘do you love me too?’ and I’d say ‘of course I do, you know I do.’ I never once said the words I love you to her. I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I thought it’d come with time. She said it to me quite quickly, quite early on in the relationship, so I thought I just wasn’t ready. I supposed that it’d come to me eventually. And it never did.”

“But you’re saying it to me.”

“I am,” he smiles, his gaze begging you to believe him. “You’re the only woman I have ever fallen in love with.”

“I remember the episode of Declan. When you said you’d never been in love.”

“Then I met you. And it all changed.”

A tear slips down your cheek as you look at him, his eyes full of hope and sadness in equal measure.

“I believe you,” you whisper. “And I trust you. I promise you, I trust you.”

Rupert leans in to kiss you, all soft and sweet and full of adoration. It’s the most tender kiss you’ve ever received, on screen or off. You’ll remember it forever.

“So what if they don’t have their Golden Girl anymore?” you grin when you pull away, sweeping your thumbs over his cheekbones. “We’ll just have to show them who we are. They’ll adjust.”

“They’ll take one look at us together all gorgeous on a red carpet and all will be forgotten. We’ll be the Couple of the Hour in no time, darling.”

“We do scrub up well.”

“Very well.”

You peck his lips once more before grabbing his hand tightly, interlinking your fingers.

“Can we go inside now?”

“Your palace awaits,” he chuckles, gesturing towards the house and pulling you along.

“Oh, Rupert?”

“Darling?”

You stop in your tracks, feeling the first rays of the days sun sparkle down onto your skin.

“I love you too.”

He looks at you for a long moment before barrelling into you, picking you up and spinning you around while you both laugh in utter joy.

“She loves me! Your Golden Girl loves me, ladies and gents!”

You’re shrieking, laughing so hard that you can’t breathe. He puts you down eventually, both of you stumbling towards the house with stars in your eyes.

“Sorry for smacking you earlier, by the way.”

“It’s alright,” he grins, slipping his hand into your back pocket. “It might just be the sexiest thing you’ve ever done.”

“You’re insufferable,” you chide, but you can’t wipe the beaming smile off your face.

You close the front door behind you, kneeling down to greet all of the dogs that come bounding out of the kitchen. Rupert watches you from across the hallway with the softest look on his face that you’ve ever seen.

“I’m insufferable, and you love me.”

“You’re insufferable. And I love you.”

you know what i’m gonna say… reblogs are gold dust, baby!! support your favourite writers and they’ll write more for you!! simple!!

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explorevenus · 1 year ago

Text

baby steps ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 5k

description: moving to raccoon city with leon, your long-term boyfriend and childhood sweetheart, doesn't go as planned. while you consider moving back home to lick your wounds, leon conspires to keep you right by his side, where you were always meant to be.

tags/warnings: yandere!leon kennedy, specifically rookie cop leon, squishy soft dom leon, manipulation and generally toxic behavior, baby trapping (via tampering w condoms), daddy kink, praise kink, pet names, no use of y/n, fingering, p in v, creampie, cockwarming, mention of vomiting

a/n: this piece was commissioned by #1 Soft Dom Rookie Leon Truther and My Feral Puppy Wife @nexysworld ,, pls pls check out her work, she's so very talented and sweet and i am lucky to call her a friend ;w; <33

hopefully if u made it this far u read the tags and know what ur in for, but out of an abundance of caution i would like to reiterate that this is a yandere!leon fic and therefore contains dark themes a la dubious/uninformed consent and unhealthy relationship dynamics. if that's a no-no for u, pls kindly move on and take care of urself !!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

Leon had it all figured out from the day he met you, the first day of kindergarten. The two of you were going to be just like the movies, just like the storybooks– you would grow up as friends, blossom into lovers, marry young and start a family, and everything would be exactly as it should be. He would have fulfilled his purpose, and you would have fulfilled yours. All would be right in the universe.

And he wasn’t exactly far off, for a long time. You were attached at the hip through elementary school, somehow managed to stay friends through middle school and after an awkward, smitten kiss shared in the empty auditorium, you began dating in high school. It was perfect, he thought. He didn’t even have to pull that many strings.

You went to prom, got drunk for the first time, learned to drive, all in each other’s company. You had each other’s virginity. You’d seen, touched and savored every inch of each other. There was almost nothing you didn’t share.

It wasn’t too long after graduation that Leon applied to begin training at the police academy, just like he’d always dreamed of. It was a solid profession with plenty of benefits for both of you and it would give him the opportunity to help people, ticking off all the boxes of what he wanted for himself. It was perfect, it was safe.

No one was surprised when he soared through the police academy with impeccable marks. You were such a little angel when he graduated, showering him with kisses and sweets and letting him pound you into the mattress for a whole weekend to celebrate. And when his application in Raccoon City was accepted, you did exactly as he hoped you would and you followed right along with him.

Of course you would follow right along. You didn’t know what life without Leon meant. You couldn’t even conceptualize what that would feel like and you had no intention of finding out, but that was fine by him. He was happy to be your rock, your guidance, your big, strong boyfriend who would hold your hand and follow you through everything.

With Leon, you would never be alone. You would never be far from home. After all this time, he was your home, exactly as your lives were designed.

For the first few months of living in Raccoon City, the two of you shared a cozy apartment. It was a little worse for wear, but it was cute, and it was a fun way to start your adventure into young adulthood together. He was happy to handle all of the spiders and quadruple check the locks every night if it made you feel safer, if it gave you an excuse to come crying to him like a beautiful angel whenever you were frightened.

Bumps in the night, creaks of the pipes, the skittering of the upstairs neighbor’s little dog, they all sent you folding into his arms, shaking like a leaf, crying for him to protect you. He was your knight, and God were you his perfect little princess. The apple of his eye, the one and only object of his affection. No, not his affection, his obsession.

You were all he thought about, day and night, for more than half of his 21 years of living. Everything he did, every breath he took was with you in mind. You were the only living manifestation of complete and total perfection, every inch of you crafted with care and divinity. Your lives fit together like puzzle pieces– hell, your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. You were meant for each other.

It wasn’t long after you moved that the job you had lined up fell through, and you were left reeling. Moving away from home just to fall flat on your face was a massive blow to your self esteem, especially considering your parents practically screamed a hole through the phone at you about it. The next few days were spent sulking around the apartment, trying to pick up the pieces and choose a completely different path for yourself.

And there was Leon to hold you while you cried. To make dinner every night and dote on you endlessly, to pamper you with gifts and to insist over and over that he could make rent on his own, that he didn’t mind if you needed a little more time to wallow before finding a job… and to console you when your search for employment would prove fruitless once again.

He was there to tell you it wasn’t your fault, that the job market was just rough right now and that no matter what, he would be there to take care of you.

Weeks stretched into months and you still felt like you were spinning out, even with Leon by your side. Every single day was beginning to feel the same and you didn’t know what to do, all you knew was that you couldn’t imagine living the rest of your life like this. Something had to give and Raccoon City clearly wasn’t it.

Leon came home with a big smile on his face, just like any other day, but today was extra special. He’d finally had his one year review at the police station, and he was getting a sizable raise. He couldn’t wait to tell you he was gonna get you out of this shitty apartment and into somewhere nicer. He couldn’t wait to sneak his way down to the jeweler in search of a ring. The storybook life he had laid out for you was coming to fruition right before his eyes.

But you were quiet over dinner, and you looked exhausted. You wouldn’t even meet his eyes as you picked at your plate.

He was just about to ask you what was wrong when you finally spoke up, “I-I think I need to move back home with my parents.”

Silence. He felt like he had been shot.

“It’s just that… I know you said you’re happy to take care of bills and everything, but I just feel terrible every day being a burden and I think I need a chance to figure things out and get back up on my feet. I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life anymore.”

His expression fell and his heart ached, any and all excitement he had about his situation now gone in an instant. All the money in the world meant nothing to him if he couldn’t share it with you, and to see you so lost and scared made him feel like he fucking failed you, his poor, sweet princess who looked to him for purpose and protection and partnership.

Leon wasn’t stupid. He knew that allowing you to move back in with your parents could potentially be a death sentence to your relationship. When people aren’t around each other anymore, it’s only natural that they drift apart, and Leon could not let that happen. It wasn’t even an option in his brain. Something had to be done and something had to be done now, before your lease was up in a few months, before push came to shove and you would finally have to make your choice.

He wasn’t even really sure where he got the idea. It wasn’t something he’d ever considered before, mostly because he didn’t think he’d ever be put in this position.

A few nights after that conversation, Leon couldn’t sleep. It was well past two in the morning and you were peacefully asleep beside him while he stared at the ceiling, entirely lost in thought. He witnessed the worst and darkest of humanity at work every single day, but nothing scared him as deeply as the idea of losing you.

Eventually he got out of bed as carefully as he could manage, not wanting to wake you with his troubles. He only planned to get some water and maybe a minute or two of fresh air to clear his mind, but what he didn’t plan to get was some inspiration.

You had asked him to stop at the store on his way home from work to pick up a few things you needed, and the bag was still sitting on the counter. He took it upon himself to grab a few things he needed, too, and among the items left in the bag was an unopened box of condoms. At first his eyes skimmed over it without much interest, but it wasn’t long before he froze where he stood and turned to look at the bag again.

Leon wasn’t sure what came over him. He didn’t really feel like himself, it was like he was watching his next moves from a third person perspective, hovering above, detached. For a moment he even wondered if he was sleepwalking, or if this was a dream. He stared down at the box in his hand, carefully opened it, and pierced a hole in the center of each and every one. He tucked the packets back into the box and brought it with him on his way back to the bedroom, stashing it in the usual spot in the bedside table.

On his side, of course.

He tried to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t help but just watch you. You were so pretty, so peaceful when you were dreaming, such a nice contrast to the stress and insecurity over finding your life’s purpose that plagued you in your waking hours.

But Leon already knew your life’s purpose. He reached out, gently brushing your messy hair away from your sleepy face so he could admire you more fully, and all he could think about was how much happier you’d look with a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly. Maybe an unexpected nudge in the right direction would set you back on the correct path and make you come to your senses about moving back in with your parents.

You huffed out a sleepy little breath from between your plush lips, stirring in the bed and peeking open your eyes to look at him. It was clear you weren’t fully conscious yet, but you were trying, squirming closer to him to tuck yourself into his chest.

“W’time is it?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

He smiled fondly, petting your hair and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you cuddled up to him like a sweet little baby bear, and he tried to pretend he hadn’t accidentally made himself hard as fuck thinking about knocking you up just to get you to stay with him. Somewhere deep down, he knew it was gross, he knew it was wrong, he knew it could violate your trust in so many ways.

But Leon was nothing if not a yearner, a hopeless romantic who couldn’t bear the thought of life without you by his side. He’d done everything right by you and you were still straying away from him, and that just wouldn’t do. It’s an act of desperation, he thought to himself, justifying his actions into the ground, I just want her so badly I’m not thinking straight, all pleas for forgiveness he would store for later use.

“It’s late, baby,” He mumbled into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

You just shook your head and tightened your arms around him, clearly on the verge of dozing off again. Perhaps if the circumstances were different, he would have just let you, but he wouldn’t be awake in the first place if it weren’t for the extreme sense of urgency he felt.

His broad, warm hands engulfed you, one cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed your lower back, tapering off to paw at your hip. Your shirt– well, his shirt– had ridden up nearly to your waist, baring your cute panties, your soft belly and your plush thighs to his gaze. He swiped the pad of his thumb along your hip, imagining your bone structure spreading open to make room for his growing baby.

Leon didn’t take the time to talk himself out of it before his fingertips were sneaking down between your legs, slipping beneath your panties and finding your clit with practiced ease. The sensation was enough to jerk you awake again, a quiet mewl tumbling from your lips as you rocked into his hand, so sleepy and out of it and just so very cute.

“Leon?” Your voice was thick with sleep, but airy and light with sudden onset desire. That was all he needed to know he had you right where he wanted you.

“Shh, shh, you’re alright,” He cooed softly, following up the soothing whispers with a few gentle nibbles and bites to the shell of your ear, knowing that such attention always melted you into a puddle. “You’re alright, pretty baby, I just wanna play with you. Can daddy play with his sweet angel?”

You squirmed in his hold for a second, pondering his proposition while barely awake, but it wasn’t long before you were nodding into his shoulder and peppering his collarbone with wet kisses in return. It never took much to convince you when he spoke to you like that, so adoring and saccharine.

“That’s my good girl,” He mused, invigorated by your consent. Almost instantaneously he became more heavy-handed with his touches, fingertips massaging firm, purposeful circles around your clit, occasionally dipping down to collect your growing arousal and bring it back with him. “You’re all mine, you know that? Never gonna let anyone else have my baby.”

Poor you. Clueless of his intentions, you interpreted that sentence in a much different way than he really meant it. But, ignorance is bliss, and what you felt right now was nothing short of blissful.

You poked your head up just to catch his lips with your own in a wanton grasp for more intimacy, a signal of your agreement, like you were giving yourself to him. He knew it was wrong that you didn’t fully realize what you were agreeing to, but again, he compartmentalized that, deciding that was a problem for his future self. What mattered right now was securing your place at his side for the rest of your lives.

He could feel the way your hips were stuttering, he could feel how short your breaths were becoming against his lips, and he knew you were getting close. Grunting into your mouth, he forced his hand further down your panties and sank two thick fingers into your hole, stretching you open for him. The intrusion was quite a bit less gentle than you were used to from him, drawing a shocked whimper from you, but you soon began to relax once more when he curled up into your sweet spot, sending you boneless.

“D-Daddy,” You whined, nails biting into his shoulders. “Hurts… Slow, slower…”

A shiver rolled over his body, that of immediate guilt. He knew he was being a little rough with you, and he certainly didn’t want to hurt you, but…

“Fuck, I can’t help it,” He groaned, “Been thinking about this pussy all night, princess, I need you like air…”

You could hear the desperation in his tone, and even more you could feel it in the way he touched you like he was starving, like he was stranded in the desert and you were an oasis. Softened by this– and entirely hypnotized by his praise– you resigned to the feeling, allowing him to play with your body as he pleased. He was rutting into nothing without even thinking about it, his cock woefully hard and straining against the front of his grey sweatpants.

He wanted to prepare you properly, he really did, but he was so revved up and needy, he didn’t want to risk blowing his load anywhere but inside you. That wasn’t an option. Hands shaking, he pulled away from you just long enough to kick his sweatpants off and reach for one of those condoms, silently resenting the fact that he had to wear one at all, but he had an appearance to keep up.

He tore the package open haphazardly with his teeth and rolled the condom on, shuddering deeply. His grasp was tight on your thigh as he pulled it up and over his hip, his other hand pushing your dainty purple panties aside to guide his cock into the heavenly, pillowy walls of your ethereal cunt.

Fuck, you were so fucking tight, clenching around him, whimpering and whining and writhing like a perfect little puppy in heat. Leon’s teeth sank into your shoulder as he bottomed out in you, and he almost could have sworn he felt the tip of the condom rip open even wider. The image alone had him moaning like an animal, pinning your quivering body to his own while he rolled his hips, fucking you deep and hard and slow, savoring every single stroke of your slippery walls around his aching cock. Every meeting of your hips was joined by obscene squelching with the way you were practically sucking him in.

“G-God, fuck,” Leon growled, his face contorted with pleasure. You and Leon had always had what you considered to be an active and healthy sex life, but you’d never seen him quite so beside himself with raw lust. Whatever drove him in that moment was primal, and you could feel it in his every movement, his every breath, see it in the wild look in his eyes.

His pupils were like dinner plates as he gazed down at you, stamping your forehead with kisses and feeling over every inch of your body. “Look at you, just look at you… Such a perfect little dolly for daddy to love on forever and ever, huh? Oh, my princess…”

You were lightheaded with arousal, every nerve ending in your body lighting up with white hot pleasure. You could barely even form a sentence, just nodding along as he moaned out his praise and letting him manhandle you like a ragdoll. Perhaps his words had more than a modicum of truth to them.

“F-Feels so… so… fuck, daddy, feels so good,” You babbled mindlessly, head falling back to the pillows beneath you. He was overwhelming your senses, taking over every corner of your mushy brain. The room was dark and you were still a bit delirious with sleep and to that effect, nothing existed in your world right now but daddy, daddy, daddy…

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the spot on your shoulder he’d so harshly bitten earlier, the pace of his thrusts not faltering for a second. “Yeah? I’ll bet it does, judging by the look on you,” He teased, nipping at your throat. “So pretty when you’re all fucked out.”

Your back was arching up off the bed, your eyes rolling back and your walls pulsing around him. Addicted to eliciting pleasured reactions from you, Leon wedged one hand between your two bodies, flattening his palm on your lower belly before pressing down.

Stars. You saw stars. A broken, high-pitched cry ripped from your throat, and you didn’t even have the capacity to hope the neighbors didn’t think you were being murdered, because you didn’t care. You could feel every rigid inch of him inside you, dragging over every nerve, his cock stuffed so deep that you swore you could feel him in your throat. Toes curling and your nails raking down his naked back, tears were beginning to prick at your eyes– you were close.

That was a good thing, though, considering he was too, and he could only hope the wet heat of your release would mask the feeling of his own. Leon sealed his lips over your own once more, swallowing your broken, needy cries as he fucked you to completion, letting his hand fall a little bit lower until his fingertips were on your clit again.

Your body twitched at the stimulation, thighs clamping down tight around his hips as you sobbed into his mouth and soaked his cock with your gushing sex. “Daddy,” You wept, clinging to him for dear life as he fucked you through your high, his own spilling out in sync. “Daddy, daddy, daddy…”

“Shh, I’ve got you, baby, I’m right here,” He cooed, taking your bottom lip playfully between his teeth before pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. “Just stay put, you’re doing so good for me, angel…”

His hips continued to piston forward as he hoped to force as much of his cum into you as he could manage, while still maintaining the believable illusion of protection. He intended to put every last one of those tampered-with condoms to use, though he wondered silently to himself if you might give up and just let him take you raw once you were to inevitably find out you’re pregnant.

You were a weeping, shivering mess in his arms, thighs clenching and twitching around him as he shushed you and babied you, petting your hair away from your tear-stained face and stamping you with delicate kisses, still stuffing his cum into you with shallow thrusts. He couldn’t wait to see you blossom right before his eyes. He couldn’t wait for you to realize your purpose was right here with him. He couldn’t wait to have you to himself for the rest of your days, his princess.

Leon remained sheathed deep within you, even as he softened, wanting to make sure you stayed plugged up well. But, he also couldn’t resist the warmth and wetness of you, how comforting it felt to be enveloped by you.

“You just stay put right there, okay, princess?” He reiterated quietly, lips brushing over your brow in a loving kiss. “Want you to keep daddy warm for the rest of the night. Can you do that for me?”

As if he even had to ask. You would have done practically anything for him when reduced to such a bleary, agreeable state of mind. He knew you all too well.

You just nodded like a bobblehead, dreamy, doe eyes staring up at him through teary lashes, hanging off his every word like gospel. He tucked you in even closer to his chest, cradling you with such adoration, his hips rocking forward every now and then just to get a reaction out of you, and to remind himself this was real.

He wasn’t at all surprised that you were able to fall asleep like that, stuffed full of cum and sated like a good little princess deserved to be. In a perfect world, you would never have to move again, just stay there in his lap forever and soak up every drop of him you could take.

In the coming weeks, that box of condoms wouldn’t last long. The only thought on his mind day in and day out was bending you over every surface in the apartment, and you thought nothing of it. Of course you noticed his sudden, insatiable lust for you, but you assumed it was a symptom of knowing his beloved girlfriend was just a few short months away from potentially leaving. He was only grasping at every inch of you he could commit to memory, right?

In all fairness to you, you weren’t exactly that far off.

Your tired eyes pried open at the familiar feeling of Leon rutting up against you, gripping at your hips like you would disappear if he didn’t. The morning sun was just barely beginning to peek through the windows and the bed was warm, it was a lovely way to wake up, one you would never get tired of.

Or at least you never thought you would. You loved Leon— and his sexual prowess— very dearly, but you also loved being able to sleep through an entire night without interruption, and you hadn’t been getting much of that over the past several weeks.

“Mnh… Leon, babe,” You grumbled, burying your face back into your pillow. “Not today. I’m exhausted.”

He was taken aback by this at first, and then his expression fell with disappointment. Leon had gotten so used to breeding you dumb every morning before work that he wasn’t confident he could go back to functioning without it. Regardless, Leon knew that continuing his attempt to seduce you while you were this grouchy would be a death sentence, so he opted to take the path of least resistance.

After the moment or two it took for him to process that decision, Leon’s touches quickly shifted from provocative to soothing– he was no longer grasping at your hips but wrapping you up in his arms, pressing gentle kisses to your temple and cheekbone as if to regain your good favor.

You hummed contentedly, relaxing back into his embrace. Leon always warmed up like a heater in the night, and you were more than happy to bask in it. His muscular frame was like a weighted blanket and his presence alone was usually enough to knock you out like a light, but for some reason, you were struggling to fall back asleep. Every second felt like five minutes and despite your best efforts– and your complete and utter exhaustion– sleep refused to reclaim you.

Biting back the urge to blame Leon for waking you up in the first place, you huffed out a breath and rolled over in his arms, hoping the change in position might be just what you needed.

Wrong. Very, very wrong. Something about the movement made you dizzy, nauseous, your stomach twisting into knots. You wanted to say something, but you weren’t even sure what to say. It came on so suddenly that it caught you off guard and you weren’t even fully confident you would be able to get up at first.

You whined his name quietly, nuzzling into his chest and wrenching your eyes shut in an attempt to reorient yourself, your arms closing around your middle instinctively.

“You alright? What’s the matter?” Your sweet boyfriend asked quietly, brows furrowing with concern. He could feel your body trembling against his own, your back rising and falling with short, shallow breaths.

Now it was your throat tightening, too, and the second your mouth started to flood with saliva, you knew what was about to happen. Leon didn’t stop you when you writhed out of his embrace and stumbled out of bed, depending on muscle memory alone to get yourself to the bathroom with how woozy and ill you felt.

You just barely made it to the toilet in time to vomit. The cold tile felt nice on your knees, but the impact, not as much. It wasn’t long before Leon materialized at your side with a glass of water and a cold washcloth to hold over your forehead, rubbing your back and already silently conspiring to call out of work and give his poor, sick angel the princess treatment all day.

You collapsed back into his chest with a deep shudder, reaching for the water in a desperate attempt to wash the taste of bile from your mouth. He ended up grabbing it for you, raising it to your cracked lips and helping you take slow, measured drinks.

“There you go, pup,” He hummed, rocking you gently in his lap, his poor little darling princess. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, a sense of relief washing over you at last. Maybe you just caught a bug, or ate something your body didn’t agree with, or your stress and exhaustion were finally catching up to you. Surely you would feel better within a few days.

“I’m okay,” You whispered, reaching for his hand and squeezing it affectionately. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

Leon smiled, a burst of warmth spreading through his chest. You couldn’t possibly imagine what that meant to him, considering he chose to interpret it in whatever way felt most validating. After all, no one could take care of you like Leon could, and they wouldn’t have the chance to try, anyway. Not over his dead body.

Stooping down to kiss the crown of your head, Leon’s every word was thick with syrupy sweetness, “My baby, I would be so lost if I didn’t. Taking care of you is like breathing to me.”

And he meant every part of it. He didn’t just mean it, he showed it. He showed it when he held your hair back, and he showed it when you realized you couldn’t even remember when you’d had your last period. He showed it when you sent him to the drugstore in the middle of the night for pregnancy tests, and he showed it when you broke down crying at the results, wondering how this could have happened.

His favorite part was showing it when you tearfully called your parents and told them you were staying in Raccoon City, not because you had found a job, but because you were pregnant.

“I can’t believe they’re choosing to react like this, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. They should be happy for you, and it’s awful that they’re anything but happy for you,” He said, voice low and soothing, tone purposeful. “I’ve got you, princess. I’ve got you. I’m gonna take good care of you and this baby, and we’re gonna be happy. Alright?”

Leon tipped your chin up with his knuckle, making you look at him. Your cheeks were red and your eyes were puffy with tears, droplets still clinging to your little dolly eyelashes.

It was hard not to believe him when he spoke with such conviction, when he looked at you with those rich blue eyes that bled from an endless well of love. The pad of his thumb skimmed over your pouty bottom lip as you unknowingly submitted to his grand design.

#venustext #sintext #resident evil #leon kennedy #yandere!leon kennedy #dark!leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #dark!leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you

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fivetrench · 6 months ago

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Finished Acrea’s ref, I got her from @goosehadfood! I changed her design quite a bit to fit my style,, I hope that’s okay :,33

Her backstory is under the cut! (s/h warning)

Acrea was born into a small, secluded village of fugitive Silkwings who abandoned the Hives. In her childhood, Acrea trained under her mother, Webworm, to become a skilled fighter. She was an incredibly talented stealth attacker, preferring ambush over melee. She was instilled with a deep contempt for the Hivewing ruling class from a young age, and holds that contempt to this day. A few days before Acrea was meant to enter metamorphosis, her village was found and attacked by a Hivewing patrol. Acrea’s mother and the community she had known her whole life were murdered in front of her. She snapped and attacked the Hivewings in a blind rage, getting badly injured but managing to kill them all. She burnt down the remnants of the village and wandered aimlessly into the nearby woods. When her metamorphosis finally happened, she was malnourished and traumatized, which resulted in her wings barely developing past the bud stage. When she exited her cocoon and realized what had happened, she clawed her underdeveloped wings off, leaving only scarred stumps. I’m not sure where I’m going to take her story from this point forward, but I know that she is a solitary, unstable, and very insecure dragon who is prone to violence and fits of anger. I’ll update y’all if I get a concrete idea for where her story is headed!

#my art #art #artists on tumblr #fan oc #wings of fire #wof art #wof oc #wings of fire oc #wings of fire fanart #oc art #original character art #original character #ref sheet #oc ref sheet #reference sheet #digital art #digital artist #digital illustration

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sucodelaranja86 · 3 months ago

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Baking n shared kisses w Hyun-Ju perchance?😇

- baking with Hyun-ju : ★

featuring: hyun-ju cho x reader

summary: money is getting tight, so your girlfriend is teaching you how to bake a cake for your upcoming birthday.

warnings: none.

genre: fluff

A/N: This request is so cute what ;33

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

➤ "No, no, no. You don't stir with a metal spoon."

You were currently getting scolded for your 3rd error that night. Baking shouldn't be that hard! You had bought the idea of making your own cake as a way of saving for some money for your upcoming birthday, but it seemed baking was just not for you.

"Cmon, Hyun-ju! Everything i do is 'wrong' or 'not right' now?" you objected, already annoyed with how many times she had corrected you in just the making of the icing.

"It is if you don't do it right." she affirmed, her voice a bit stern. She then continued, "And you're the one who asked me to teach you, baking a cake is not the hardest thing to do. i could simply bake one for you without a problem."

"You're just saying that because you're naturally talented." you alleged, trying to get on her good side after having nagged her all night.

"Didn't you say you were having a hard time finding a job? Maybe you could just stay at home while i wor- ouch! What was that for?" you chanted in an exaggerated furious tone after receiving a slight slap to your nape.

"If you're trying to flatter me, it's not working." she retoned with a sigh, finishing picking up the necessary ingredients. After a few seconds, she added. "Now hurry up. If you're having a hard time with the easiest part, then you're not gonna last much longer."

After giving the icing part to her, you followed her directions to the hilt (mainly to not get slapped again). You started by pre-hesting tue oven, and then started mixing the ingredients in a separate bowl for the batter. Eggs, milk, butter, flour, sugar, baking powder... This was kind of fun!

You added a bit of vanilla to the mix, smelling already a good scent coming from the bowl. However, your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a sudden peck to your lips, surprising you for a second.

You look up to see Hyun-ju smilling satisfied at you."See? When you follow my orders correctly, things don't go wrong." she gently assured you. However, she could notice your dream-stuck face, and an idea immediately popped into her head.

"There is much more from where this one came from. If i notice you are doing it right, i might reward you, lovely." she whispered teasingly while giving your nose a playful bop, getting it a bit dirty from flour.

"Yes, ma'am!"

"It burned a little..." you mutter disappointingly, turning you head up to look at Hyun-ju, waiting for what she was going to say.

"You overcooked it for some minutes." she acclaimed. You look down, upset that you managed to ruin the perfect dough you prepared so proudly. Hyun-ju, however, noticed your melancholy, and quickly bowed down a bit to you level.

She puts her hands on each of your shoulders, whispering softly in hopes to soothe you. "Don't worry, nobody gets it perfect on the first few tries. I'm very happy i got to spend time with you, sweetheart. You're sweeter than any cake we could have baked today." she assured you.

She then turned you delicately towards her, putting her hand on your cheek and kissing you. Her docile methods quickly lifting up your mood.

As you both separate from each from each others lips to breathe, you give her a confident look, smirking slightly while proposing the following suggestion.

"You're still gonna bake me a cake for my birthday, right?"

with a sigh, she responded.

"Yes, my dear. I am."

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

#cho hyunju #hyun ju x reader #player 120 #cho hyun ju x reader #squid game #squid game headcanons #squid game x reader #squid game x y/n #squid game x you #cho hyun-ju x reader

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kianamaiart · 8 days ago

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hellooo !! im not very knowledgeable with how tumblr works so forgive me if i mess something up with this ask ^^; i love your work and im sending in a message to ask: did you take inspiration from tokomaru when writing zira and aika?? 👀👀 their resemblance hit me immediately, especially when i heard zira’s va !! you’ve drawn tokomaru fanart before as well so i’m simply curious as i hold the pair very close to my heart :”) i can totally imagine aika and zira dressing up as komaru and toko for halloween aaaaaaa those dorks <33

not tokomaru as a ship but toko was 1000% an inspiration for zira's vibe and design

kinda worked out that aika's a sunshine girl but i feel like her and zira's dynamic is overall pretty different from toko and komaru's

#ask mai anything

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neos127 · 10 months ago

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Could you please write a story about a foreign exchange student, featuring any member of ENHYPEN, who stays at your house and gradually falls in love with you? Personally, I can see this happening with Ni-ki, but feel free to choose whichever member you like! thank you! love <33

international love

nishimura riki x gn!reader; genre. fluff, strangers to lovers and slight slight angst wc. 1.6k cw. a lot of time skips! i didn’t want to make this too long

riki was sure this was the most awkward meal of his life. his host parents were sweet, trying to make conversation and make the boy feel comfortable. their daughter was nice as well, but riki wasn’t sure why you seemed so weird around him. he knew that his awkwardness when it came to you was because he thought you were pretty. riki had only met your parents online before he came to your country, simply knowing that they had a daughter but not knowing what she looked like. imagine riki’s surprise when he saw your face for the first time.

he had a few crushes back in japan, but he was positive that you were the most beautiful girl he has ever seen in his life.

later that night, riki was getting ready for bed in the guest bedroom. he felt a bit home sick and sighed as he looked out the window, taking a mental note of the differences in the view. riki sat down on his temporary bed with a slight pout, missing his room already.

“can i come in?” you asked, knocking on riki’s door. the boy jumped up from his bed, his heart racing at the sound of your soft voice. as soon as he opened the door, you stepped back in surprise, nearly forgetting how tall riki was.

“hi. i-i just wanted to make sure that you were doing okay. or if you needed something that my parents might’ve forgotten to give to you.” you spoke up, nervously playing with your hands. riki bit back a smile, finding you to be very adorable.

“no…don’t worry im okay.�� riki replied, giving you the most awkward thumbs up. you let out a chuckle before nodding your head. the two of you mumble ‘goodnight’ and you race back to your room. you heart pounded against your chest as you closed your bedroom door, face heating up as you replayed the conversation.

when you had found out who was coming to stay with your family for your school’s exchange student program, you instantly tried to find the boy on social media. when you did you were stunned, noticing how cute he was but also how talented. he posted many dance videos with his friends and older sister and he was really good.

so meeting him in person completely caught you off guard. had he seemed as tall as he was in the pictures? why was he even more gorgeous in real life? you felt silly about your feelings, trying to bury them down and simply be friendly towards the exchange student. he was new to your country and you didn’t want to scare him.

little did you know, riki felt the same way you did.

. . .

halfway through the school year, you and riki became close friends. he had met many people during his stay, a lot of girls and boys desperately wanting to befriend the boy because of how cool and handsome he was. but riki only really cared about hanging around you. you became his best friend— and the girl he secretly had a crush on.

you learned a lot about him and his life in japan as he warmed up to you. he would spend many nights with you under the stars, telling you how much he loves being in japan and how the city life is really fun. he would teach you different words and phrases in japanese and even made you promise to come visit him when he inevitably goes back.

and unfortunately when that dreaded day came, no feelings had been shared. riki had cried all night, similar to the night he first came to your country when he thought that he had made a huge mistake.

his eyes were red as the two of you embraced at the airport and you simply cried against his chest. your parents had already said their goodbyes to the boy and went to find food to give you two privacy.

riki had been a better friend to you than anyone you had ever met in your city, he understood you and never took your friendship for granted. the boy was understanding about your feelings and kept your life filled with laughter and fun—but unfortunately he lived in a completely different country and he wouldn’t be by your side as you went off to college.

“i’ll come visit you…i swear.” you cried, squeezing the boy harder. riki nodded, his hand still on your held as he held the back of it.

“i lo-i’ll um, i’ll miss you. i’ll be waiting for you.” riki mumbled, his words having more meaning than you understood at the time.

“we’ll talk, okay?” you asked, trying to wipe all your tears away once you pulled back. riki smiled, gently wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks before softly poking your nose.

“of course. i’ll see you soon.” he replied, giving your hand one last squeeze before backing away. with a sigh he grabbed his suitcase and gave you one last look before turning around. you began to cry again, attempting to hide your sobs as much as possible. you watched him until he rounded a corner of the airport— and then he was completely out of your sight.

. . .

riki hadn’t left your mind. you stalked his socials at night before bed, updated him on your day and even looked through the many pictures you two took together. a part of you felt upset that you hadn’t made a move on him. there was definitely a spark between you two, you were just too scared.

but as a couple years passed and you finally saved up to take your big trip to japan, you realized that you were tired of being scared. if riki had waited for you like he said he would, you were positive that you weren’t going to let him go this time.

“what are you doing right now?” you asked on the phone once you arrived. you were sitting on your hotel bed and staring out at the tokyo skyline, your stomach knotting with nerves. riki simply thought that you were calling him before you went to class like always, not knowing that you were in japan. you wanted to surprise him, hoping that he’d be happy to see you after so long.

“sitting at my favorite park- the one i told you about a couple years ago. it’s such a pretty night, i wanted to appreciate it and take some pictures. i’ll send them to you.” riki explained and you could practically see the smile on his face.

“enjoy yourself, riki.” you smiled, already typing the address into your phone’s gps. you had remembered the name of the park, wanting to visit ever since riki told you how beautiful it was. finally getting to see it with the boy you were in love with definitely had to be some sort of dream.

you kept pinching yourself on the way there, wondering how you happened to get so lucky with riki. he was the best person to ever walk into you life and it was painful not being able to see him or touch him for so long— you were practically jogging to the park as your desire to see him grew.

once you walked past the entrance, you wandered the place, searching for a tall boy with dark brown hair— different from the blonde style he had when you first met him.

“y/n, what the hell?” a deep voice spoke, causing you to gasp and turn around in surprise. you were met with the boy you were looking for, who seemed to have grown even more since you two last saw each other.

“what are you doing here?” he chuckled when he saw your surprised expression, his wide smile hard to contain. he never expected you to visit him so soon, but when he saw you wandering around his favorite place to get away, his heart began to beat out of his chest and all the feelings he harbored for you came rushing back even stronger.

“i wanted to surprise you.” you whined, your next words getting caught in your throat when riki pulled you into a tight hug.

“i’m still very surprised. and so so happy. i missed you so much, my y/n.” riki mumbled, taking in your scent and realizing that you still used the same perfume. the smell was nostalgic and comforting, it made him feel complete again.

“please don’t ever leave me.” he begged, still hanging onto your body while the two of you rocked back and forth in each others arms.

“i’m going to have to go back to [your country] eventually.” you sighed, burying your head into his hoodie.

“no, please stay with me. i mean it. i love you too much to let you go again. you could move in with me, we could be roommates. we can figure out the details since i know you’re not in school right now.” riki rambled, causing you to abruptly pull away and look at his face. he didn’t want to meet you eyes until you forcibly grabbed his face.

“you’re in love with me?” you asked timidly, the sound of your heartbeat filling your ears.

“definitely. i’m so in love with you that it hurts.” riki replied, dramatically clutching his chest and stumbling backwards. you giggled, feeling like the same lovesick eighteen year old that first met riki.

“i love you too, riki.” you spoke up, a big smile on your face. riki smiled as well before quickly scooping you up into his arms and kissing you. it didn’t last very long considering that the two of you were practically smiling into each others mouths.

“so you’ll consider staying?” riki asked, moving to place a few kisses along your neck and face. you giggled, running your hands through his fluffy hair.

“well when you ask like that…”

#enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enha scenarios #enha imagines #enha fluff #enha x reader #enhypen #enha niki #nishimura riki #nishimura riki x reader #riki x reader #riki imagines #riki fluff #ni ki fluff #ni ki imagines #ni ki scenarios #ni ki x reader #ni ki enhypen

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orangeheliophile · 2 months ago

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Kats as your heavy metal bf!!💣💥

Cw: minor cursing, kats being a metal fan, mentions of marriage and babies, fluff.

A/n: I'm not very educated in this type of stuff, so pls bear with me! These are just some random thoughts I had a while ago, lmao.

☠︎︎Loud. Loud and annoying is what your boyfriend likes to be with you.

☠︎︎ Eijirou is more of a hard rock fan, Tokoyami is a goth guy (obviously), Jirou likes punk, and Aizawa definitely loves grunge/alternative. Katsuki is that heavy metal guy that everybody is sorta intimidated by.

☠︎︎ His favorite bands are definitely Metallica, AC/DC, Guns' and Roses, Slipknot, and an honarary mention of Nirvana. Aizawa rubbed off of him.

☠︎︎ This boy is full on metal. Although he also has that punk style and grunge in what he wears. He occasionally wears black eyeliner and lets you, his princess, paint his nails in whatever color you'd like. This boy is wearing leather boots, a leather jacket, band shirts and jeans with some rips on them.

☠︎︎He definitely lets you wear his clothes. Katsuki thinks that they look so pretty on you, too. One time, he found you wearing one of his favorite Metallica shirts, and he swore that was the moment he knew he was gonna marry you.

☠︎︎ Momma Mitsuki was the one who introduced baby Kats to metal/heavy rock music. She sometimes regrets it due to the fact that he won't shut up about "metal" anymore.

☠︎︎Sometimes, Jirou lets Katsuki choose which song they play during band practice. Usually, it ends up being amazing because he would choose the best songs to rage to.

☠︎︎ He would definitely take you to metal concerts. But if you're sensitive to clouds and loud noise, he would be supportive of you and buy you noise cancellling headphones and make sure that you don't get overwhelmed. You're his baby, so of course he's gonna take care of you! <33

☠︎︎ He will love you even more than forever if you give him anything related to his favorite music. He will absolutely cherish it if you made it and will make sure to take you on multiple dates if you buy him something that was limited edition.

☠︎︎ He loves it when you play with his jewelry. Finds it adorable when you're ramblin' about something, and your fingers are just twirling the bracelets or rings on his hands. He's a softie for you, but don't you dare tell anyone. <3

☠︎︎ Not only can he play the drums, but he is also good at the electric guitar and bass, too. This bastard is talented, and he knows it.

☠︎︎ When you both get married, there will definitely be heavy rock/metal themes. But he also wants your style to be involved as well. He doesn't care if you both have totally different tastes. He wants to marry you, and he wants you to have the dream wedding you've always wanted.

☠︎︎ He wants metal babies with you. As much as possible and ONLY if you want it. He absolutely worships your body, and he doesn't want you to go through all of that pain and stress.

☠︎︎ On the other hand, his heart absolutely melts at the thought of mini yous and mini Kats running around the house and blasting music. He's definitely going to teach them how to play the drums/guitar and will take them to concerts if they wanna. And if they're not die-hard metal fans? That's absolutely okay, too. Katsuki will love his babies either way.

☠︎︎ Sometimes, people think he's too intense, but Katsuki doesn't really care. But he won't deny how heartwarming it is whenever you defend him or tell him how much you love him either way.

☠︎︎ Of course, he's going to be loud and aggressive, but he makes sure to lower his voice down and is significantly more softer whenever he's with you. You're the only thing he worships other than All Might and becoming number 1.

☠︎︎ Finds it adorable when you make him wear pink or more vivid colors. He always wears a bracelet you made him for your anniversary. He said it looked badass and awesome.

#katsuki bakugou #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bhna #my hero academia #bnha #bnha x reader #heavy metal #heavy metal katsuki #☆°dede.~

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novy2sirius · 11 months ago

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Numerology by Novy

There are multiple numbers in your birthday. The most common ones being the day of the month you were born and your life path number. These two are the strongest numerical energies within you/your life (especially the life path number) but you also have other numbers too

Your Life Path #

Your life path number is the strongest numerical energy in your birthday and reveals your purpose. It can be calculated by adding your birthday numbers together then reducing them. The only time you don’t reduce them is if the total adds to 11, 22, or 33 because those are master numbers. There are also other special numbers other than master numbers that would have both the reduced energy and non reduced energy - 19, 28, etc

Some Examples:

• Alexa Demie born Dec 11 1990 is a life path 6 (December is the 12th month - 1+2+1+1+1+9+9=24-2+4=6)

• Albert Einstein born March 14 1879 is a life path 33 (March is the 3rd month - 3+1+4+1+8+7+9=33)

• Drake born on October 24 1984 is a life path 31/4 (October is the 10th month - 1+2+4+1+9+8+4=31-3+1=4)

Your Unreduced Life Path #

Your true life path number is calculated the same way as your regular one just not reduced. It can tell about a significant age in your life

Some examples:

• My mom’s true life path number is 31 and that’s the age she had me - which is extremely significant because duh it’s me ;)

• My true life path number is 17 and at 17 I learned about astrology which changed my life

Your Day of the Month #

The day of the month in which you were born is the second most important numerical energy in your birthday and reveals how to fulfill your purpose. You also must reduce this number as well unless it’s a master number

Your Attitude # (Month + Day)

Your talent number can tell about your talents and just other numerical energy you have in general. It’s calculated by adding both your birth month and birth day together

Some Examples:

• Druski born September 12 has a talent number 3 (9+1+2=3) which is the number of comedy and he’s a comedian who’s also known for being funny online

• Adriana Lima born June 12 has a talent number 9 (6+1+2=9) which is the number of extreme beauty which is why she makes such a great model

Your Month + Year #

This is another numerical energy in your birthday that can be calculated by adding both your birth month and year

Example:

• Jacob Elordi was born June 1997 and his is 5 (6+1+9+9+7=32-3+2=5) and 5 is the number of societal beauty. He is considered conventionally attractive. This is also the number of entertainment and he’s an actor

Your Birthday Month #

The month you were born is under looked and very important to check as well

Example:

• Theo Von is considered very funny to many people but has no 3 energy (the number of comedy) in his day number or life path however he is born in the 3rd month of the year

Your Birthday Year #

The year you were born can tell about your numerical energy as well

Some Examples:

• Marilyn Monroe born in 1926 a 9 year (1+9+2+6=18-1+8=9) was known for her acting and 9 energy indicates a talented actor

• Olivia Rodrigo was born in 2003 a 5 year (2+3=5) which is the number of entertainment and she’s a singer. It’s also the number of societal beauty and she’s considered to be attractive to society

Your Personal Year #’s

Your personal years tell what the theme of your year will be like. You have a new personal year number annually. The energy begins on your birthday and ends on your next birthday, so if your birthday is later in the year you’re not going to feel the energy as heavily until the following year, but you still will calculate it the same way. You find it by adding your birth month, birth day, and the current year

Examples:

• If your birthday is on January 1st, to find the theme of 2025 you would add 1 (cuz january is the first month) with the rest of the numbers (1+1+2+0+2+5=11) this would make 11 your personal year number for 2025 if you were born on January 1st. 11, 22, and 33 are master numbers, so if your total is one of these numbers you don’t reduce

• If your birthday is December 29th and you wanted to know the theme of 2024 for you, your 2023 personal year number would actually be more indicative of what 2024 is like for you since the energy begins on your birthday

Regular Month #

These aren’t as strong as universal month numbers, but are still important. To find this energy you simply reduce the month number

Example:

• January is the first month so it will have 1 energy. People will get into more fights, have more confidence, create new things, and work much harder during this month. This applies to October as well since it’s the 10th month and reduces to 1 (1+0=1)

Universal Month #

Add the current month to the current year to get the universal month number. This tells the energy of the month similar to the regular month number, but this is more powerful

Example:

• If you wanna know the energy of October 2024 you add 1+0 to 2+0+2+4 since October is the 10th month. Making October 2024 have 9 universal energy for everyone

Universal Year #

This is calculated by reducing the year and can tell the main theme of the worlds year in general

Examples:

• 2023 was a hard year for peoples health, good for gaining knowledge, and good for becoming more spiritual since 2023 reduced (2+0+2+3) is 7

• 2024 is a very karmic year and a year everyone will be receiving their bad karma if they’ve been a bad person since 2024 reduced (2+0+2+4) is 8. It is a good year for money making though

Your Letterology

Your name also has numerical energy in it. Each letter equals a number in letterology. You can use your birth name or nickname to find your energy. What people call you holes the most energy in my opinion. The letters go in order a=1, b=2, c=3, d=4, etc. There’s also capital letters that begin with A=27, B=28, C=29, D=30, E=31, and so on

Example:

• (Marilyn Monroe) Marilyn = 11, Monroe = 8, Marilyn Monroe = 1. Marilyn Monroe also has 13 letters in it and M is the 13th letter. 8, 11, and 13 are all fame numbers. 1 represents leadership which is why she’s one of the number one most famous people that ever lived

#numerology #matrix #life path #life path number #numerology blog

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twistedpink · 3 months ago

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REQUESTS OPEN THIS IS A JOYOUS DAY. can we get some childhood friend riddle

ugh you’re the bestttt

Riddle has been one of your best friends since childhood, and his infamous life chart will always feature you. You dreaded any alternate universe where you’d been sick that day or Trey had liked you a tad less and not invited you- but you’ve mellowed out over the years, and there’s no point worrying about what could’ve happened when you’ve got your very own teapot tyrant <3

Riddle keeps every photo you’ve taken together in an album that he’s kept under his bed for years,, It’s only proper to cherish his friends!

Childhood crush!Riddle has had you in his closet wayyy too many times to count, and he swears it’s not his fault!! You’d been a very rebellious middle schooler and a talented wall climber, Ms.Rosehearts had been none the wiser when you’d sneak over for a late night game of cards or to fill him in on school drama (even if he was half asleep and telling you off). He’d even describe you as heroic back then, hanging both legs off the opening of his wardrobe in preparation for his mum popping in- Saving him from the monotony. He misses that more than you’ll ever know, things were so simple back then..

Poor Riddle still remembers the scoldings that his mother gave him during those times, but even his lashing out was never enough to keep you away <3 She’d point out your flaws or reputation, and in response you’d take turns flattening every bush you could reach- Not that she knew it was you. With some clever misdirection you’d avoid her rage easily enough, and though Riddle didn’t approve he couldn’t bare to ban you from the property.

Childhood crush!Riddle that’s your favourite housewarden,, you never stop talking about how cool he was in freshman year, so observant and know-it-allish <3 Trey has nightmares of the day that you challenge him for his seat, and he doesn’t even want it that bad!! He just has to defend it because he knows how much you’d rub it in his face, and he’s not taking that :)

Riddle will always be yours no matter how your paths diverge when you get older. He’s committed to preserving your playground promises and paper rings, so long as you’ll still be there for him at the end of the day. It might be a childish dream to stay together, but he’s always had ambitions to share a home with you. He’s just waiting for the right time to make your little slice of heaven a reality, and you might get it early if he gets to write the rulebook <33

#twst yuu #twst x reader #twst #yuu twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #riddle rosehearts x yuu #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader

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his-angell · 5 months ago

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"Are those.. My clothes?" (y.kh)

plot; After seeing her boyfriend share how he didn't mind people borrowing his clothes, she decided she would take advantage of that. paring; idol!yoonkeeho x fem!reader genre; crack, fluff word count; 860 warnings; established relationship, smidge bit of flirting, pet name, 3rd pov request?; no! but, the video im referring to is this one!

She sat in Keehos bed, watching buzzfeeds recent video. She was watching youtube to pass the time till her boyfriend got back from schedules. She always loved watching videos of her boyfriends group. They were so talented and kind. She raised her eyebrows at one of the parts..

Lindsay hummed. "Do you guys share clothes?" She asked. Jongseob shook his head quickly. "Nope." He said quickly. The other members shook their heads. Keeho blinked. "Well- I do." He said. "Oh, you steal other peoples clothes?" Lindsay asked. "No- I don't steal other peoples clothes, but I'm more like open to letting other people borrow my stuff," Keeho explained.

(y/n) hummed. She nodded. This was new information to her. Well.. Not really. But you know. She stole his hoodies, but she never really thought about stealing his clothes. She bit her lip. She looked at her phone, checking the time. Hey, perfect timing too.

She looked at Keeho's closet. They had planned a small date night, since he didn't have to go in till later in the afternoon tomorrow. She hopped out of bed, closing her laptop. She rummaged through her boyfriends closet. His style was super contrast to hers, but she would make it work.

The outfit she stole was simple, and one he had worn before. But it was cute. His red 33 jersey and his baggy jeans. She looked through his shrine of jewelry, pursing her lips. She picked two simple necklaces. She huffed, turning to the mirror. She hummed. It was a little baggy, but she still looked supa cutie. She took a few pictures, before sitting back on his bed.

She scrolled through her phone for a few minutes before the guys got home. She knew they were home because they were extremely loud. Intak and Jiung were arguing about something unimportant, making her snicker. She heard feet shuffling quickly to the room. Keeho rushed in and closed the door.

"Hey! I-" He paused. He squinted. He glanced her up and down. "Are those.. my clothes?" He blinked. (y/n) grinned. She stood up and did a little twirl. "Cute? Or do I need to change?" She asked. Keeho stared for a few seconds longer before he shook his head. "No. No need to change." He muttered. He walked over and gently adjusted one of the necklaces. He grinned softly.

(y/n) raised her eyebrows. "Do I look stupid or something? Why are you making that fa-" She was cut off by his lips on hers. He gently hugged her waist, tugging her flush against him. He pulled away after a moment. "You look very cute, my pretty girl," He whispered against her lips before pecking them one last time. (y/n) grinned shyly. "Thank you," She pecked his lips back.

"Get changed i'm hungry~" She patted his cheek before grabbing her phone off the bed and leaving the room so he could change. Even Jongseob had something to say about her outfit. "Noona.. Are those Keeho hyungs clothes?" He blinked. "Yes. Anndd?" (y/n) hummed. "It looks nice. I think you wore it better than him anyways." Jiung butted in as he walked past them to sit on the couch. "Thanks," She did a little kick and giggled.

She looked back when Keeho came out, dressed in outing clothes rather than his practice stuff. "Okay, you ready?" He asked. She nodded and waved to the guys. "Byee." She waved, snickering as they all said bye to her. "Bye guys we'll be back." Keeho waved as well. "Booo! Stay out!" Theo waved his hand jokingly. Keeho rolled his eyes, placing his hand on (y/n)'s lower back as they headed out.

The spot they chose for dinner was just a small steak house near the dorms. (y/n) wiggled happily as she took a bite of her food. "Wahh.. I love food." She hummed. Keeho snickered and nodded. "So real actually." He hummed. He covered his mouth as he finished his bite. He held up his finger, his rings clicking together a bit. (y/n) hummed, waiting for him to speak.

"So.. Question." He leaned back in his seat. "Whattt exactly made you want to steal my clothes?" He asked. (y/n) shrugged. "I think about it a lot. I just decided to actually do it this time." She played off. Keeho squinted. "Girl, don't lie to me." He rolled his eyes. She giggled. "I saw you said you were open to letting people borrow your clothes, soooo i did." She nodded. Keeho hummed, remembering what she was referring to. "Ahh, I see." He chuckled.

He stared for a few moments before he leaned forward. "I think you should wear my clothes more often." He hushed before he clicked his tongue and took a sip from his drink. (y/n) stared a few moments, blinking at him. The way he said it sounded almost possessive, a little flirty even.. She squinted at him before she nodded. "I'll do that." She hummed and took another bite of her food. Keeho grinned at her before he snickered and took another bite of his food also.

all writing rights are reserved to @his-angell do not repost or translate my work without my permission. reblogs are appreciated.

#p1harmony #piwon #p1h #yoon keeho #keeho #p1h keeho #keeho x reader #p1harmony x reader #p1harmony fluff #p1harmony x you #p1harmony x y/n #p1harmony imagines #p1h fluff #p1h imagines #keeho x you #yoon keeho x reader

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gf2bellamy · 2 months ago

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hii!! i hope you’re well, i read some of your fics and just wanted to say you’re so talented and i really enjoyed reading them :) i also saw your requests are open and i actually have one if that’s okay?

could you maybe write a fic for isaac lahey where he and reader aren’t together but for a while they’ve had feelings for each other (both are too shy/awkward to admit it + reader is maybe scott’s sister). reader and isaac somehow get stuck in an enclosed space and reader has to calm isaac down after he has a panic attack and almost attacks reader. after she helps calm him maybe they confess to each other and it ends with something wholesome? idk it’s up to you!

im soo sorry if this is too long lol and feel free to ignore this request if you’d like <33 thank youu :)

stuck — isaac lahey

pairing: isaac lahey x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: isaac's dad , panic attack , isaac attacking reader , a/n: thank you so much for your request !! i felt so bad for him during this scene in s3 :( hope you enjoy this ( and i hope it's not too long ) <3

You were doodling absentmindedly in your notebook, your pen scratching lazy patterns across the page.

You shouldn’t have been doodling—especially not considering the reason you were sitting in detention in the first place.

Mr. Harris had been very clear during chemistry class: “Stop defacing your notes with meaningless scribbles, or you’ll be spending your afternoon in this very room.”

And yet, here you were, stuck in detention because you’d gotten lost in your little drawings instead of paying attention to the lesson.

To be fair, you were pretty sure Mr. Harris had it out for you anyway. He’d been holding a grudge ever since Scott had terrorized his class last year.

Your brother had an uncanny ability to escape the consequences of his actions, which unfortunately left you to deal with the fallout.

You glanced up from your notebook and shifted in your seat, letting your eyes wander over the room.

It wasn’t exactly bustling with activity—there were only a few other students scattered throughout. One of them caught your attention immediately.

Isaac Lahey.

He was sitting a couple of seats in front of you and to the left, his curly blonde-brown hair slightly messy as though he’d run his hands through it one too many times.

He stared down at the blank sheet of paper in front of him, looking like he was trying very hard not to fall asleep.

A small smile tugged at your lips.You lowered your gaze back to your notebook, trying to refocus on your doodles, but you couldn’t help yourself. Every so often, you glanced up, sneaking another look at him.

What you didn’t know was that Isaac had been doing the same thing.

From the corner of his eye, he kept catching glimpses of you. The way your brow furrowed slightly as you concentrated on your sketches.

The little smile that appeared when you were amused by something you’d drawn. Even the way you absentmindedly twirled your pen between your fingers was... distracting.

Suddenly your name was called.

Mr. Harris’s voice cut through the silence, making you jolt upright in your seat. Your pen froze mid-doodle, and you instinctively flipped the page of your notebook to hide your sketches.

“Yes?” you asked cautiously, meeting his gaze.

“Go to the library and fetch the chemistry textbooks for the next class,” he said, his tone curt and impatient.

You blinked, relief washing over you as you realized you’d just been handed a golden ticket out of this stuffy detention room. The idea of not having to sit here for another hour doodling under Mr. Harris’s scrutinizing stare sounded like heaven. Plus, you were pretty familiar with the chemistry section of the library. It was tucked away in a secluded little corner, practically hidden inside a small room at the back—a quiet sanctuary.

“Sure,” you said quickly, already pushing your chair back.

But just as you stood, Mr. Harris started listing the books he wanted you to retrieve. You stopped mid-step, growing more and more horrified with each title he rattled off. By the time he finished, it sounded less like a list of books and more like a complete inventory of the chemistry section itself.

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “How am I supposed to carry all of those?”

Mr. Harris raised an unimpressed eyebrow, as if he found your question completely irrelevant. He stared you down for a long moment, and you weren’t sure if he was about to start yelling or simply assign you an extra hour of detention for questioning him.

Finally, he glanced around the room, his gaze landing on someone behind you.

“Lahey,” he barked, his voice sharp. “Go help her.”

You turned your head, just in time to catch Isaac blinking in surprise. He looked as if he’d just woken up from a daze, his blue eyes wide as he processed what Mr. Harris had just said.

“Uh... sure,” Isaac muttered, standing up.

You bit the inside of your cheek, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused by the turn of events.

On one hand, the idea of spending time with Isaac Lahey—someone who had a habit of making you feel inexplicably flustered—was nerve-wracking.

On the other hand, there was no way you could have carried all those books by yourself, so maybe this wasn’t the worst outcome.

Isaac slowly walked over to where you were standing, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

You exchanged a quick look with Isaac before heading for the door. He followed close behind, the heels of his sneakers making soft noises against the tiled floor.

The two of you walked in silence for a few moments, the quiet only broken by the faint echo of voices from other classrooms.

You couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He was tall and his curly blonde-brown hair looked almost golden under the fluorescent hallway lights.

As you stepped into the library, a shiver ran down your spine. You rubbed your arms, mumbling, “Geez, it’s freezing in here.”

Isaac, who was just a step behind you, glanced around and replied casually, “They probably left the window open. It’s the wind.”

Reaching the secluded room where the chemistry books were kept, you fished the key Mr. Harris had begrudgingly handed you out of your pocket. The lock clicked open with a small metallic sound, and you pushed the door wide.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” you began, stepping inside the small, dimly lit room with Isaac trailing close behind. “I don’t remember the names of half the books we’re supposed to get.”

A soft chuckle escaped from him, low and warm, breaking the stillness. Your heart gave a little stutter at the sound, and you silently cursed yourself for how easily his laugh could affect you.

What you didn’t notice, though, was Isaac pausing briefly as he stepped into the room, taking a deep, steadying breath. The walls felt like they were closing in already, the tightness of the space triggering a familiar sense of unease. But he wasn’t about to show that—not in front of you.

He clenched his jaw and forced himself to focus on you instead, the way your fingers skimmed the spines of the books, while concentrating on finding the needed books. It was enough to momentarily distract him from the panic threatening to claw its way up his chest.

“Well, that makes two of us,” Isaac finally said, attempting a joke. His voice came out steady enough, laced with a light teasing edge as he scanned the shelves.

You rolled your eyes, though the corners of your lips twitched upward. “Great. So, between the two of us, we’ll definitely manage to fail this task.”

“Confidence is key,” he quipped, earning a small laugh from you that made his chest feel a little less tight.

The two of you fell into a rhythm, moving to opposite sides of the cramped room as you worked. Your fingers brushed over the rough edges of old chemistry books, occasionally pulling one out to glance at the title before replacing it.

For you, the silence was pleasant. For Isaac, it was suffocating.

His gaze kept flicking back to you, as though anchoring himself to the sight of you could keep the memories at bay. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to press in closer, threatening to drag him back to dark basements and locked doors, but every time his breathing quickened, he’d force his eyes back to you.

You must’ve felt his gaze because you glanced over your shoulder, catching him mid-stare. “You okay over there?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, too quickly. He cleared his throat, pretending to focus on a random book in front of him. “Totally fine.”

You squinted at him, not entirely convinced, but let it go. “If you say so.”

As you turned back to the shelves, Isaac silently cursed himself. He needed to get it together. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him like this—on the edge of unraveling over something as simple as a small room.

The door behind you groaned faintly, drawing both your attention. A sudden thud echoed as the heavy wooden door swung shut, making you jump.

“What on—” you started, spinning around to face it.

Isaac froze, his pulse spiking as the sound reverberated through the room. His throat felt dry, and for a second, he couldn’t move.

“Is it... locked?” you asked, stepping toward the door and jiggling the handle. It didn’t budge.

Isaac’s jaw clenched as he stared at the door, his mind racing. He stepped forward grabbing the handle.

“It’s locked,” he confirmed, his voice tight.

“Well, that’s just perfect,” you muttered, turning to face him. “Guess we’re stuck until someone finds us.”

Isaac didn’t respond, his hands flexing at his sides as he tried to steady his breathing.

You frowned, stepping closer to him. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, though the edge in his voice betrayed him.

“Isaac,” you said softly, tilting your head as you studied him.

Isaac’s hands were on the door handle, pushing and pulling with increasing desperation. The sound of the metal creaking under his grip filled the small room, making your chest tighten.

“Isaac,” you repeated, your voice steady but edged with concern. He didn’t seem to hear you, his breaths growing harsher, each exhale shaky and uneven.

You took a step closer, trying to figure out how to snap him out of whatever was happening. That’s when you noticed it—his eyes. The faint, eerie glow of gold that had replaced his usual blue.

Oh no.

“Isaac,” you said again, your voice softer now, but still firm. He kept wrestling with the door, his claws just starting to extend. You felt your heart start to race.

He was slipping.

Tentatively, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his arm. “Isaac, it’s okay—”

Before you could finish, his head snapped toward you, his glowing eyes locking onto yours. He moved faster than you could react, grabbing your wrist. You gasped, pain flaring as his claws pressed against your skin.

“Isaac, stop!” you murmured, trying to keep your voice calm even as his hold tightened. He wasn’t himself—not entirely—and you needed to tread carefully.

But he wasn’t letting go. He stepped forward, forcing you backward until your back hit the shelves with a dull thud. The books rattled from the impact, and you felt your heart lurch.

“Isaac,” you tried again, louder this time, your voice trembling as you looked into his eyes. His fangs were visible now, and his expression was feral—more animal than human.

You swallowed hard, panic bubbling up, but you forced yourself to stay steady. “Isaac, it’s me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, it felt like he didn’t even recognize you. His grip on your wrist was unrelenting, and you could feel your pulse pounding against his claws.

“Isaac, listen to me!” you said, your voice stronger this time. “You’re not in danger. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

His eyes flickered, the golden hue dimming slightly before brightening again. You could see the battle playing out in his head—his human side wrestling with the wolf.

“You’re hurting me,” you said, your voice strained but steady. You bit down on your lip to keep from crying out, the sharp sting in your wrist growing harder to ignore.

Isaac’s glowing yellow eyes bore into yours, unrecognizing, primal. You tugged lightly, trying to free your hand from his grip, but his hold was unrelenting.

Your lip trembled under your teeth, and you bit down harder, trying to focus on anything other than the ache radiating from his claws.

“Isaac,” you said again, your voice breaking slightly. “Please, you’re hurting me.”

The words seemed to hang in the air, cutting through the haze in his mind. His glowing eyes faltered, flickering between gold and blue as realization began to creep in.

His grip loosened—first slightly, then completely—as if he’d been burned. His claws retracted instantly, and he stumbled back, his expression shifting from feral to horrified in a heartbeat.

“Oh my God,” he breathed, his voice shaking. “I—I’m so sorry.”

You instinctively cradled your wrist, wincing at the dull ache left behind, but your focus stayed on him. His face was pale, his eyes wide with guilt and fear. He looked down at his hands as though they weren’t his own, flexing his fingers in disbelief.

“I didn’t mean—” His voice cracked as he stepped back again, putting more distance between the two of you. “I didn’t want to—”

Isaac sat down on the floor, his back against the cold bookshelf, his head buried in his hands as he tried to steady his breathing. His chest heaved, and his fingers gripped at his hair like it was the only thing holding him together.

You winced slightly, feeling the remnants of pain in your wrist, but you pushed it aside, focusing on him.

He was far more important right now.

You slowly took a step forward, feeling the pull in your chest to comfort him, to reassure him that it was going to be okay. Without thinking too much about it, you lowered yourself down beside him, sitting carefully on the floor.

Isaac’s eyes slowly met yours, his face pale and his expression still full of guilt. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice rough.

His gaze dropped to your wrist, where his marks still lingered, faint red lines, like a reminder of what had just happened. “I hurt you...”

His words trailed off. His breath hitched, and you could see how deeply he regretted it. The self-blame was eating at him, his shoulders slumping even more as he shook his head. “I’m so sorry...”

You carefully leaned forward. “Isaac…” you started softly, your voice gentle, steady. “I’m okay.”

His eyes searched yours, filled with doubt. "Are you?" he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. He was so torn, and the weight of his concern for you was written across his face.

You scooted a little closer, now sitting in front of him but close enough that you could feel his warmth.

“Yeah,” you nodded, your voice firm, even though you could still feel the tremor in your own chest.

Isaac looked down at his hands, his fingers trembling slightly.You gently reached out, placing your hand on his arm, hoping the contact would ground him.

He didn’t pull away this time.

He looked up at you then, eyes softening as they met yours.

“I don’t know what happened,” he confessed quietly, his voice a little broken. “I—I lost control, and I thought—God, I thought I was going to hurt you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I know you didn’t,” you whispered. You couldn’t help but reach out, gently brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You’re not that person, Isaac. I know that.”

He stared at you for a moment, his expression slowly shifting, as if something inside him was beginning to break free. The tension in his shoulders relaxed, just a little, and the intensity in his eyes softened.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he murmured, his voice a little shakier now. “Especially you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words.

The silence that fell between you two was no longer uncomfortable but filled with unspoken understanding.

It wasn’t until Isaac cleared his throat that the moment seemed to shift, something in his demeanor changing. “You know… I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, but his eyes never left yours.

You looked at him, your heart starting to race.

“What is it?” you asked, voice soft.

Isaac seemed to take a deep breath before he spoke again. “I... I like you. I don’t just mean as a friend, or... whatever this is. I—” He broke off, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I think I’ve liked you for a while now, and I never said anything because I didn’t know how to—”

He stopped himself, his words fumbling as he tried to figure out how to make sense of what he was saying.

“I like you too,” you said before he could finish, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess them.

Isaac’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he looked almost unsure if he had heard you right. Then, a soft smile crept onto his face, and your heart skipped a beat. It was shy, hesitant, but real.

“I really like you,” you repeated, this time with a little more confidence, feeling the warmth spread through your chest.

Isaac’s eyes softened as he processed your confession. The tension in his face slowly faded, replaced by a warmth that seemed to radiate from him.

A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and for a moment, you thought it might be the first real, carefree smile you had seen from him in a long time.

You smiled back, your breath finally slowing as the weight on your chest lifted.

After a few moments of silence, you shifted, moving closer to him without really thinking.

Without saying a word, you gently rested your head against his shoulder. It was a small gesture, but the way Isaac’s body stiffened at first, as if unsure of what to do, made you smile softly.

But then, he relaxed. His breath seemed to steady, and you felt his shoulder shift slightly as he adjusted to the new closeness.

He didn’t pull away. Instead, he let you stay there, his warmth spreading through you like a quiet reassurance.

His hand, which had been fidgeting nervously in his lap, slowly moved towards yours. It hovered for a second, unsure, before his fingers gently brushed against yours.

You smiled to yourself, squeezing his hand lightly, the action as comforting for you as it seemed to be for him.

Isaac shifted just a little, turning slightly toward you, his head leaning ever so slightly closer to yours. You could feel his breath on your hair, soft and steady. I

"I'm glad you're here," Isaac murmured softly, his voice almost a whisper.

You smiled, your eyes fluttering closed as the weight of the day, the tension, and the worries drifted away. "Me too."

And for a while, you just stayed there, sitting in the dim light of the small room, head resting on his shoulder, hands intertwined, finding comfort in each other’s touch.

#isaac lahey #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey x you #isaac lahey x y/n #isaac lahey fluff #isaac lahey angst #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf x you #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction

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