#so at the time of me finishing this it's been over a week since i binged everything and it's like tuesday night

[goldengamer2500]

Personal vent Below cut:

My life has kinda gone to shit ever since COVID and it's not gotten better since. I'll try to summarize the last 5 years in as quick of a manner as i can:

The only context you need for this is that I'm about to turn 19, recently figured out im trans and I lived with my little brother and both of my parents before covid.

Covid hits, forced to online school, no interaction with friends

Parents get separated without telling us

Dad forces us to move to a separate state to get as far away from my mom as possible, we didn't know why at the time

Lost contact with old friends cause of that

Moved like 4 separate times in the span of three months.

Eventually Mom and Dad seemingly get their shit together and reconcile, Mom moves back with us.

Spoiler alert: They didn't get their shit together. The next 3 years will be filled with constant fighting and bickering between them, which they tried to keep away from us but failed miserably

Homeschooled for a year, it sucked.

Still no interaction with the outside world cause the lockdown is still a thing

This is about the time where I was supposed to enter highschool. I'm enrolled into a tiny-ass online school with like 10 students, none of which I particularly liked.

Starting to become aware of gender dysphoria, even if I didn't know what it was at the time, it sucked.

Total shut-in by this point, even if it's not entirely my fault. Stop taking care of my health at all. I'm so dangerously underweight my parents think I have anemia. (I didn't)

Parents try to put me on a diet and shit, somehow that sucked even more.

Second year of highschool. By this time the lockdown was over and schools were returning to in-person classes. Even though the school I was had also returned to in-person classes my parents insisted on keeping me online only for the first half of the year. (Remember that the school has like 10 students, so you can imagine how that was unbelievably awkward for everyone involved)

Fights and arguments between my parents become more frequent and violent at this point.

Finally return to in-person classes, super awkward cause of my long period of isolation and the weird online/in-person arrangement we had at the beginning of the year. Didn't make any friends.

^ Not like any of that mattered because not long after I finally returned to in-person classes my parents got divorced for real this time and they started fighting over custody. Which meant that I started missing classes because of jumping between living with my dad and my mom. (My dad kept the family car)

Their fighting only got worse during this time.

Right when I was about to finish my second year of highschool (literally like a week before that) my parents have this huge fight and my mom puts a restraining order on my dad, forcing us to stay with her indefinitely.

My dad obviously contests this and they begin a long, honestly stupid legal battle that's still fucking ongoing over custody and child support.

Mom is barely able to afford to take care of me and my brother because of her low salary and the fact that my dad was trying to pay as little child support as he physically could.

Mom begins to drink constantly, getting drunk every few days.

Basically forced to take care of her and my brother instead of myself. (not like I cared for myself either way)

Completely skipped third year of highschool because of this.

This continues for about a year, we pretty much go no-contact with our dad or with the outside world during this time because my mom doesn't have a car.

Move other few times during this time.

Mom is still unable to afford to take care of me and my brother and dad still refuses to pay child support so she's forced to send my brother to live with my grandparents so that they can help him go to an actual highschool.

Figure out im trans, cue gender dysphoria being a bitch.

Mom forces me to find an online college to enroll into. (I had been postponing this as much as possible due to lack of motivation towards life, possibly because of depression (haven't been able to afford to go to a therapist so i cant say if that was actually the reason))

Moved again, the legal battle between my parents continues to be on a stalemate.

And that's basically where we are now. Mom and Dad have been fighting their legal battle for almost two years now and I haven't seen my dad in that time (particularly due to lack of trying). My brother was forced to move to a different state. Mom still drinks (but thankfully much less), she got a better job so we're not as tight with money but the situation there is not great. Dad still refuses to pay child support. The online college I'm on isn't great and I haven't talked to people my age in years.

So yeah. I don't want to blame it all on COVID, but it certainly didn't help.

me in five years when i still don’t have my life together:

[goreandbunnies]

❝ 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚛!𝚂𝚞𝚔𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 ➺

Inspired by @sweetlandspos ‘s fanart ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You see him again on campus a week later as you’re eating lunch in the park, nose in a book, not noticing that he spotted you from a mile away and has been watching you for a moment until he grew too impatient to wait any longer. 

Dealer!Sukuna who sits across from you on the picnic table, wearing shades and grinning like he just won the lottery. He leans in and peeks at the cover of the book you’re reading, snickering when he sees the spicy themed cover. 

“I knew you were a fun one under that shy attitude,” he teases before picking up a fry from your lunch and munching on it, his pink hair dancing in the warm breeze as you look up at him. 

“What do you want?” You ask, trying to sound resigned and confident but you almost choke on the words. 

You’ve been thinking about him. Of course you have. The campus’ bad boy offered you to spend a night with him and you just ran away like a scared cat. You were torn between shame and regret but also still deeply turned on by the memory of that night. The missed opportunity drove you mad, until now. 

Dealer!Sukuna kept his promise to himself and started chasing after you. 

“Do you want the polite version or the truth?” He asks back, grinning before placing a cigarette between his teeth. He leans back, throwing his shades on the table as his knee gently bumps into yours under there, sending electric shockwaves between your legs.

“Both,” you reply shyly, smiling a little. No harm in chatting with him and teasing back, right? 

“Well first I’d like us to be friends, baby,” he shrugs, drawing attention to the tattoos on his massive arms, his black tank top clinging to his upper body and not doing a good job at concealing how huge he was. He nods at you and leans over, you mimic him, like two friends sharing a secret. “Then I’d have you in my bed, making sure I’d ruin you for other men in the future. Fictional or real,” he adds mockingly, glancing at your book. 

Your breath is hitched, you feel too hot in your own skin and his presence crushes you in the best way. He’s intoxicating, much like the drugs he likes to consume. You wish you could be free to give in, to want him back openly, maybe even make him work for it a little since he wants it - you - so bad. But your studies are too important, you’re too focused on your goal to ruin your chances because of a frat boy. No matter how tempting. 

“I- I’m not interested, sorry,” you tell him, frustration and regret gnawing at your gut. 

Dealer!Sukuna who sees right through your lies. He knows the effect he already has on you. 

“One night, that’s all I’m asking for,” he offers, finishing his cigarette and crushing the butt on the wooden table. “If you don’t want to see me again after that, I’ll let you go,” he lies. But you believe him and this time, it’s too tempting to refuse. Again. 

Besides, one night of fun can’t be that harmless. Most students get trashed weekly and yet they still graduate. One night to unwind with the hottest guy on campus wouldn’t put your plans in danger. It’s been forever since you’ve had some adult kind of fun, sticking to smutty books to make sure not to get attached or too distracted by a real man. 

“What do you say, Princess?” He insists, one of his long legs sliding between your pressed thighs, prying them open. You let him. 

He doesn’t look like the type of guy who gets attached anyways. You tell yourself that you can spend that one night with him then just lie, tell him it wasn’t that good and get back to your bland, boring life. You already know any sex with him would be life changing. It scares you a little. He scares you even more. 

“Okay,” you eventually give up, heart pounding in your chest. 

Dealer!Sukuna whose eyes light up with malice and excitement the second that small word comes out of your mouth. He’s not the type to work for things, he’s used to people coming to him and giving everything he wants on a silver platter. 

This is a first for him. Just like it’s a first for you too. You’ve always made sure to keep away from trouble and he always stuck to the wilder girls out of habit. None of them had sparked a similar interest in him. 

His hand reaches out and cups your chin gently. His hand smells like the cigarette he just smoked and this alone ignites something in your lower belly. 

“Clear your schedule for me tonight then,” he demands, impatient. You shake your head. 

“Not tonight,” you feel stupid for saying no yet again. But you need more than an afternoon to prepare yourself for a whole night with him. 

Dealer!Sukuna who lets go of your face, huffing as he collects his shades on the table and snatches a pencil from your stuff. He scribbles his phone number on the margin in the book you’ve stopped reading. 

“Up to you now, princess,” he slides the book back to you before getting up, his playfulness gone as he leaves you there, alone. 

Your face falls as you glance at the phone number, feeling like you’ve just lost your opportunity to step out of your comfort zone. The one chance to experience more. Defeated, you collect your belongings and head to your next class. 

The entire lecture, your mind is on the number written in that book, wondering whether or not you should text him and apologize - what for, being a coward? Or simply tell him that you can’t see him tonight because you’re too nervous. You end up doing nothing, going along with your day. 

You’re walking to your last class when a strong hand snatches you from the corridor into a fire exit. Before you can scream, that same hand covers your mouth as you’re being pinned against a wall. Pink hair and crimson eyes come into view and you suddenly become acutely aware of the proximity between your body and his. 

Dealer!Sukuna who is just tired of waiting for a taste of his new favourite drug.

♡ Taglist : @gojoscumslut @bohoooitsme @call-memissbrightside @yuujispinkhair @seellove @s3ns4ti0n4l ♡

Dividers by @cafekitsune and @firefly-graphics

Copyright © goreandbunnies 2024-2025, all rights reserved, do not repost, use or plagiarize

[thehighpriestess1]

Make a wish : Secret spilled

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

Genre: Angst, fluff

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

word count : 20k+

Ask box | Previous chapter | fic masterlist | Other works

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

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

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

Shoko and Geto exchanged a look.

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

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

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

“Shoko—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then one day, you broke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Geto looked at him, expression dark, unreadable.

Then—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please, please believe me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What if it’s true?

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

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

And what if this was his punishment?

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

Gojo’s story made no sense. None.

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

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

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

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

The thought made his stomach twist.

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

But he needed proof.

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

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

Buzz.

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

A notification from a news alert.

Her breath hitched as she read the words.

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

Shoko’s blood ran cold.

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

It couldn’t be real.

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

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

No. No. No.

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

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

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

“Gojo!”

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

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

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

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

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

It was exhausting. Guilt.

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

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

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

Shoko nodded stiffly.

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

Gojo exhaled, leaning back against the couch.

“You won’t like it,” he warned.

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

And so, he did.

This time, neither of them doubted him.

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

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

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

Gojo finally broke the silence.

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

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

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

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

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

Shoko inhaled sharply, her chest tightening.

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

Shoko flinched at the raw anguish in his voice.

“She left?” she asked hesitantly.

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

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

Shoko frowned. “What?”

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

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

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

Shoko took a slow step back.

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

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

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

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

Shoko felt something bitter rise in her throat.

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

Gojo let out a slow, shaky breath.

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

Shoko felt sick.

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

Gojo swallowed. “I want a second chance.”

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

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

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

The silence stretched on.

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

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

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

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

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

“Because she is here”.

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

“Yes”.

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

“30..30 million”. 

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

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

Geto smirked, “Of course you didn’t”.

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

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

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

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

Nanami: Coffee before work?

A small smile made its way to your lips.

y/n: Yes :)

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

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

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

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

Maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inside the car, Gojo saw everything.

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

Since when?

How long has this been going on?

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

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

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

But you weren’t waiting anymore.

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

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

You used to laugh like that with him.

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

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

And worst of all?

He had no one to blame but himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So how did you convince him?”

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

Too late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“T-Three times. Only.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that, in itself, was something.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not necessary.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart fluttered.

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

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

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

So why did he sound so genuine right now?

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

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

You stiffened. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll get started.”

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

“You’re welcome.”

You didn’t look back.

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

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

Nanami Kento – Office. Now.

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

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

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

"Sit."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

But all he could think about was him.

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

But he couldn’t say that.

He wouldn’t say that.

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

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

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

“It’s not the wrong thing!”

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

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

His throat tightened.

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

But it was too late to say that now.

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

The words stung more than they should have.

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?”

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

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

Damn him.

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

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

“Why here?”

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

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

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

And yet, you weren’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just needed some air,” you murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitched.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”. You turned slowly.

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

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

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

“Bye”. You whispered and left.

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

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

“Afternoon, everyone.”

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

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

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

Today was different.

He was here for one reason. You.

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

He had been unable to focus on anything since.

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

But to his disappointment, you weren’t there.

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

The responses came quick, casual.

“Good.” “Alright.” “No complaints.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Miwa is really nice,” Maya said thoughtfully.

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

That earned a round of laughter, even from Nanami.

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

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

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

Nanami’s grip on his chopsticks tightened.

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

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

Of course he did.

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

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

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

He had lost his appetite.

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

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

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

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

Nanami stiffened.

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

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

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

But he was already heading toward the garden.

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

And then—he found you.

His footsteps faltered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t take it.

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

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

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

Nanami held his breath.

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

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

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

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

Gojo was teasing you.

And worse—you were responding to it.

Nanami’s grip on his tie tightened.

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

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

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

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

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

And now… he was getting into yours.

Nanami clenched his fists.

This wasn’t just frustration.

This was jealousy.

And the worst part?

Gojo didn’t even have to try.

Nanami had never felt this way. Ever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He typed something shorter. Then erased that too.

He didn’t know how to talk to you.

And it was driving him insane.

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

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

“Come in,” he said, voice flat.

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

He stood up immediately. “Y/N.”

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

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

He didn’t deserve it.

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

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

And suddenly, caution no longer mattered.

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

Your pulse quickened.

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

You stared at him, wide-eyed.

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

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

“Thank you for understanding.”

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t supposed to want this.

Not here.

Not now.

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

His jaw clenched.

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

He wanted to make you forget.

And then—

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

“Nanami—”

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

The kiss was slow, deliberate—yet devastatingly deep.

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

You should have pulled away.

But you didn’t.

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

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

And then—

A knock at the door.

Both of you froze.

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

But reality crashed in hard.

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

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

The knock came again.

You took another step back.

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

Nanami didn’t stop you.

Didn’t want to stop you.

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

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

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

Gojo had been harder to escape.

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

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

And yet—

Sleep refused to come.

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

You kissed Nanami.

And you liked it.

But why did it feel like something was missing?

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

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

At least you would have time to think.

Because the truth was terrifying—

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

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

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

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

So you decided to drown them in something else instead.

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

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

One glass turned into two.

Two into three.

By the fourth, your mind had finally quieted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The woman snorted. “That bad, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

Shoko lifted a brow. “So?”

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

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

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

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

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

Shoko let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

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

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

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

You blinked.

And then you lost it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She eyed you for a moment before shaking your hand.

“Shoko.”

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

Shoko’s fingers twitched around yours.

Her smirk faltered.

Her eyes darkened with realization.

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

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

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

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

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

“I need help”.

“What happened?!”. He asked worried.

“I need y/n’s address”.

“Shoko…why do you need her address?”.

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

“And what?!”. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shoko hesitated. “Not yet.”

That was enough to make his stomach drop.

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

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

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

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

The way his face softened when he reached out—

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

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

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

But this?

This was a man in love.

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

Everything was about to change.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This it?” Geto asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Satoru…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, you’re finally awake.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, Y/N. Satoru dropped you.”

Your stomach flipped.

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

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

You swallowed hard. This was bad. Very bad.

“Wait, wait, wait… was it just… him?”

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

Your breath hitched.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Moooommm!” you called out.

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That part you hadn’t considered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, no, but—”

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

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

“y/n-”.

Nanami’s voice died down as the doorbell rang.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach twisted.

Oh, this is bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You groaned. “Here we go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shoko smirked. “Can’t blame her.”

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

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

Your stomach twisted. “I did?”

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

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

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

You hesitated. “Not really.”

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

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

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

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

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

You groaned. “Fantastic.”

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

You smiled. “I’d like that.”

“Wednesday? Coffee?”

“It’s a date.” You smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo smirked. “Still. I enjoyed myself.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nanami nodded once. “Let’s go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do what?”

“Get…I don’t know…weird”.

“Weird?”. Nanami raised a brow.

“Yes”.

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

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

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

And the worst part? You let him.

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

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

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

Your voice was sharp, cutting through the thick silence.

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

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

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

“Then stop treating me like a child!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because of Gojo!”. Nanami snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nanami inhaled sharply. “Because I do.”

Your breath hitched.

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

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

You sucked in a breath, eyes widening.

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

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

Silence filled the room, heavy and suffocating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It didn’t. We work together”.

A beat of silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the buzzing started again.Persistent.Relentless.

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

The moment Gojo heard your voice he knew it. 

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

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

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

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

You hesitated.

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

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

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

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

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

He had hung up and he was coming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s nothing,” you whispered.

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

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

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

His eyes flashed. “Not a fucking chance.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoffed. “That’s an understatement.”

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

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

Gojo went still.

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

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

Gojo didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wouldn’t step back now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he meant it. He always had.

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

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

You sobbed harder. Gojo only held you tighter.

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

And he wasn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[v-eee]

── jungkook x you

scenario: you and Jungkook used to be best friend until new female staff came into his workplace, Jieun. He has introduced you to her. Jungkook starts getting busy with his work and often cancel the usual food hunting night with you because he needs to work overtime with Jieun. You know Jieun doesn't like you because she has come to your cafe a few times and told you to stop texting Jungkook during his work hour. when you told him about that, he didn't believe you. Starting that day your friendship is not like it used to be.

(x)

It had basically become a running joke—no matter where you went, Jungkook would just… show up. Every city, every café, every Airbnb. Like it was totally normal.

At first, you thought it was just him being stubborn. But after a few weeks, it became clear—he wasn’t going to stop.

Honestly, you were starting to think he enjoyed the long drives more than actually seeing you.

And every time he showed up, he somehow ended up crashing at your place. It happened so often that even your coworkers at the café started noticing.

“You guys sure you’re just friends?” one of them asked, eyeing Jungkook as he leaned lazily against the counter, waiting for you to finish your shift.

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously.”

“Uh-huh,” another one chimed in. “Because totally normal ‘friends’ drive six hours just to hang out.”

Jungkook smirked, nudging you. “Yeah, Y/N. What kind of friend does that?”

You shot him a look. “The annoying kind.”

He just chuckled.

___

One night, after a long shift, you called Jungkook just to chat. You weren’t feeling great, and the second he heard you cough, he immediately switched to full-on drama mode.

“Jeez, Y/N, you sound like a grandpa who’s been chain-smoking since dinosaurs existed.”

“Wow, thanks. That’s super comforting.”

“Did you take medicine?”

“Not yet. I’ll get some tomorrow.”

Apparently, that wasn’t an acceptable answer. Because the next day, while you were curled up in bed, there was an obnoxiously loud knock at the door.

You dragged yourself over, opened it, and—

“What the— Jeon Jungkook?!”

There he stood, looking way too proud of himself, holding a bag full of medicine, snacks, and—was that a hot water bottle shaped like a bear?

He breezed past you like he owned the place, dumping the bag on the table. “You sounded like death last night, so I took half a day off to bring you this.”

You blinked at him. “You drove two hours… just to bring me medicine?”

“Yup.”

“Jungkook,” you groaned, “that’s such a waste of time! I could’ve just bought it myself.”

He gasped, clutching his chest. “A waste of time? Wow.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“And let you avoid me for a week? No thanks.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes. “What?”

“You do this every time. The moment you get sick, you start avoiding me like I’m the plague because you’re scared I’ll catch it.”

You flopped onto the couch, exhausted. “Well, yeah?” you frowned. “I don’t want you getting sick.”

“I don’t care if I get sick, Y/N,” he muttered. “I just don’t like it when you avoid me.” He sat beside you, handing you a warm bottle of tea.

Your chest tightened.

You knew Jungkook wasn’t a fan of distance. But you never realized it actually bothered him when you avoided him while sick.

You sighed as you took the bottle from his hand. “It’s just a cold.”

“I know,” he murmured, pouting. “But… I guess I’m scared I’ll lose you.”

Your heart did a weird little flip.

“…You’re not gonna lose me, idiot,” you muttered.

Jungkook stared at you for a moment, his usual cocky grin softening into something… real.

“Good. Now take the damn medicine before I force-feed it to you.”

You groaned. “And there it is.”

“Dead people don’t complain, Y/N. Take. The. Pills.”

You swatted his hand away as he tried to open the bottle for you, but deep down, you knew.

This wasn’t just friendship anymore.

And maybe, just maybe… you didn’t mind that at all.

[oceansoul001]

So it's been around two weeks now since I've finished Kingdom Come Deliverance 2, and to tell you all that there has not been a single day that I haven't thought about this game would be such a big understatement. Cause I'm not sure there has been a single hour that I'm awake that I haven't thought about it. And it's so weird! Let me explain.

I mean, it's not atypical for me to be fascinated by a piece of culture, be it a game, a movie, a tv series, a book, whatever. But this, this is something else, on a completely different level, and for the love of everything I just can't explain it! Maybe two weeks it's still super fresh, maybe it's because I'm now still playing the first KCD, what keeps me within this world, but I find myself constantly going back to thinking about it, about the story, about the characters, and most of all of course about Henry & Hans, and how special they feel to me.

It is particularly weird with Henry, because he is this strange amalgam of a written character and a player character, a sort-of-my-avatar in this world, but at the same time quite defined. I cannot compare this balance to any other game protagonist really, every other (that I know of) was either one or another, with my preference being always the custom character with some defined characteristics - meaning custom looks and gender, even if the backstory or a general vibe was not changeable (like, let's say, a Dark Urge in BG3 is for me a custom character, even if some crucial parts of them are well defined). But Henry's not like that, he always looks like Henry and sounds like Henry. At the same time, the flexibility of how he can react to the world is wider than with a typical written character. And even if within the game story we cannot actually change or influence what happens, generally the same things in the main plot always happen to my Henry and to your Henry, I think we can still differ in interpretation, what it actually means for MY Henry, and it can differ from what it means for YOUR Henry. And neither of us would be incorrect.

Some people might compare this maybe to the Witcher series, which is probably the closest, yes, but for me it's still completely different. I never WAS Geralt in my heart in any game from the trilogy. I played as Geralt, I made some choices, I picked a romance, I was immersed in the stories etc, but it was always the same Geralt to me, one and established character, not MY character. Maybe because he was first and foremost the book character in my head, and much later a video game protagonist, so it might feel different for other people, but I never had with him this weird fluid feeling of being him and not being him when I played the games. And I have it with Henry. I don't know if it makes any sense at all to anybody beside me.

And with Henry, it feels different, it feels as if I partially were Henry, when I played; I would not ask myself "Hmm, what would Henry do in this situation", it was rather "What would I do", with me being Henry at that point. With me taking over the emotions that my Henry would feel at a given moment. This again might feel as a regular thing for some people, who immerse themselves easily into defined protagonists, but it is not typical for me. And I tell you more - I have this... Thing... That it is much more difficult for me to find my own voice in a male protagonist. I can love them and root for them, of course, but it is like watching a movie or reading a book. Not "becoming" them when I'm playing as them in a video game.

I'm this kind of RPG player that always, like ALWAYS, plays as a female character, if I have a choice. I've never thought about it much, or why it's that way, but it is something I am very conscious about. And with Henry it's somehow different, it's like the way he is written and presented leaves still a place for me to blend in somewhere as well, despite the fact that he actually has an unchangeable face and an unchangeable voice. ...Or maybe it is partially because of that? Meaning that Henry is NOT your 'typical male video game protagonist', thank gods. But it cannot be just that, as there are definitely more characters in other games that do not fall into this category as well, and they don't leave me with the same feeling Henry does. I cannot explain it any better I'm afraid, I just feel this special connection between myself as a player and Henry as a protagonist that I have not felt before. And it makes him so, so special to me.

With Hans it is much easier to explain of course. Everyone loves Hans. He is funny, and witty, and cocky, and caring, and emotional, and vulnerable, and yes, he is sometimes self-absorbed, but he is also this pure, naive idealist - I LOVE the part when he says to Brabant that the role of the nobility is to protect the people they rule over, because I know that he genuinely believes that! He is this type of character that I always feel the need to protect, even if he doesn't need it actually at a given moment. Like in the framework of the game, when I AM Henry, I would gladly carry him over any puddle, so that he always stays safe, and warm, and comfy, and I would die for him no questions asked at any given point, even if it meant like the worst possible game ending for me as a player. Have I already mentioned that I love Hans?

But there is also one more layer, the layer that in my head is simply labeled as "Henry&Hans", together. And this is probably THE weirdest part to explain from all of this babbling. But I've got to try. So generally, when it comes to romances in fiction, I would say that yes, I enjoy a good romance, I really like when it is part of a story, I root for characters that I like to get together. But I rarely think about it outside of enjoying said fiction. I am usually not much of a shipper, don't read fanfictions, don't download fanarts, etc. I am now trying to recall when was the last time that I was really, like REALLY invested in a fictional ship, and I don't know, I think it might have been in 2017, when The Last Jedi premiered, and I was immensely angry that Rey and Kylo Ren didn't get together. It was freaking 8 years ago!

It is a bit different when it comes to romances in video games with customizable protagonists, because in that case I don't only expect to be immersed, I demand to be immersed, so to speak, if this is supposed to work. I need to feel something, anything, to be engaged in a romance that I am supposed to be an active part of, meaning choosing a character to romance, picking dialogue options, enjoying interactions, etc. And it happens quite rare. Most of romances in video games are just an additional mechanic of a sort, and choosing "I am going to romance this character" is not much different than "I am going to buy this ship/horse/base", or less harshly "I am going to make all squad mates loyal to me", not necessarily because I like all of them equally, but because it is possible within the game, so why not.

The video game romances that truly got to me were of course mostly the ones that had some good writing behind it, or great acting, or an interesting angle. I loved my Astarion romance during my first BG3 playthrough, because it ticked all the categories mentioned above, but also something beyond that. And I never loved any other of the romances from BG3 to the same degree, even though most of them are truly great and I really enjoyed playing through them. I loved my Solas romance in DAI (and in DATV even), because it was so different, it mostly wasn't even there so to say, like it was probably the least of romance content possible to even have a romance, but it touched something in me. And... No, that's that, that were the only ones that I had feelings and emotions about as a me-player, not just as a character I am pretending to be. Up till now.

So, with Henry&Hans romance, to jump from one digression to another digression, because who is reading all this at this point anyway, for quite some time I didn't even know, and later didn't fully believe, that is in the game. I started to play KCD2 around two weeks before it premiered, and all I've heard at this point was that there is potentially some gay romance that some people were rioting about, but I didn't even care much. You see, coming back to my previous notes about not being really immersed into male protagonists, because I am not male, it was always the same, or even more true, with romances - I was actually really immersed only into romances where I can play as a female character and I can romance a male character of my choosing. Because that is how it works in my life as well. Imagine my surprise when I'm playing through this medieval simulator about some guys engaging in some politics and shit, not expecting that this is soon going to be one of the most important games in my life, and then suddenly getting smitten by these two. It was when we got to Trosky, I remember it clearly, and they told me that I have now twelve bell tolls to save Hans. MY HANS! I mean, not mine at that point, really. At that point what I felt was probably sadness, because I was sure, oh I was so sure, that they would never let us romance Hans, are you kidding me? Like two main characters that have a history together, that are actually connected to one another throughout the whole story? With Hans being present in the game as his own, fully fledged character, with his own story arc, being already our best friend? Not being in the game to serve the one purpose of being a romanceable character? And to top it all, with like two guys?! I believe I am quite media-literate, so to say, have consumed my portion of different arts, and I just know it won't happen, it can't happen. It would be a contradiction to everything we have known so far. This kind of ships happen only in our imagination, in our fanfics, in our fanarts. So I didn't even dwell on it much.

And then came the ride to Nebakov, the first in game moment when you see this dialogue option with a heart icon next to it, and what the hell, am I just imagining things? I kid you not, for the next week my mind was living in this prison of "are they fucking Hans-baiting me; I won't forgive them if they are", because I simply couldn't believe that this is actually possible, that this could be our romance option, a meaningful one!

So it was probably all of the above, finally a meaningful romance, not just something slapped on a game with a plot as a separate thing, finally a meaningful character, not a "romanceable character", but a main character with a possible romance, if you get what I'm trying to say. A character that I've already started to love. And with this incomprehensible thing of me becoming Henry when I'm playing, it clicked. It clicked as nothing else ever did in the fiction that I've experienced so far.

And now I'm sitting here, a woman in her late 30s, not queer, thinking about these two fictional guys and their fictional love, like every day, and what it means to me as a person, and I just can't!!! The weirdest feeling ever. But a wholesome one, I think.

Thank you, if for some reason you've decided to read through this, I promise that I am not crazy, or at least I thought so up till this point. Now... not so sure. I needed to vent it all somewhere, somehow, and this is probably like the only place on the internet where I won't feel very bad about spilling it all out.

[sirianasims]

Chapter 44.5

I get almost halfway through the take before I stumble over my words. With a deep breath, I reach over and stop the recording. Again. I wonder how real actors can stand this, repeating their lines over and over, but quickly veer sharply away from that particular line of thought.

I hit the record button with a little more force than strictly necessary, watching the monitor as it opens a new file for the fifteenth time today. With another deep breath I paste on a smile that gets less convincing for each take.

“Hi guys, it’s Julia!” I chirp, my voice sounding unnaturally upbeat, even to me. I launch into the introduction, trying to hit that sweet spot where it still sounds natural and improvised, as if I hadn’t rehearsed it all morning.

This time, I manage to maintain a smooth delivery from beginning to end, no fumbling, no awkward pauses. Relief washes over me, until I glance at the small mirror under my camera.

One side of my eyeliner is smudged, the wings embarrassingly lopsided and uneven. I finally got my perfect take – and it’s useless. Of course.

I hammer the button to stop recording and toss a mascara onto the table with a clatter. My eyes are burning, and it’s not just from the brightness of the ring light. I grab a makeup wipe and erase any trace of the effort I put in this morning as I shut down the camera. No more today. My heart’s clearly not in it right now.

I head into the living room and sink onto my couch with a weary sigh, phone in hand. Marten still hasn’t replied to the text I sent him several hours ago, before I started recording. Now that we’re official, I figured we’d be texting and talking even more often. Instead, I almost feel more isolated than before. It’s only been a week since our first kiss, shouldn’t this be the giddy honeymoon stage?

I guess I can’t expect him to clear his entire schedule just because I finally decided to sleep with him, but still, I would have liked to see him again this weekend, spend more time together, reassure myself that the feelings – his or mine, I don’t know – are real.

I try to get a few cute selfies. My hair’s still decent, but without the makeup, I look… well, tired. I choose the least unflattering one and send it to Marten.

After a long pause, my phone finally vibrates. “You’re so pretty, Jules. Miss you too. Busy w/ study group, talk later!”

I stare at the message for a few seconds, chewing my lower lip. Somehow, it’s not the enthusiastic, all-in response I crave. He always says that he misses me, but he’s extremely slow to respond most of the time. I get it, his studies are demanding. But is it wrong for me to want more attention? More… appreciation that I’m dating him?

I feel a flutter of guilt. Do I seriously want him to feel grateful? Ugh, I sound like such a diva. I scroll through my favourites, stopping at Samara’s name. She’s visiting her family this weekend, so that’s a dead end. The quiet of my apartment presses in, the air thick with a loneliness that’s becoming too familiar.

On an impulse, I text Miranda instead, and my phone rings seconds later.

“Hey, girl!” Miranda’s voice crackles through the speaker, bright and cheery as always. “What’s up?” Her excitement makes me smile. Maybe some of that energy will rub off on me.

“Not much, to be honest. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out?”

“Oh my gosh, yes! Perfect timing. I was just unboxing some new items for a brand deal and I’d love a second opinion. Come over!”

“I’ll be there soon,” I say.

I can always finish the video later.

It’s impossible to be sad for long in Miranda’s apartment. The moment you step inside, it’s like an explosion of colourful curiosities, framed posters, soft pillows and plants, so many plants. This place is all Miranda, loud and unapologetic.

Her cat, Socks, is curled up in her usual spot on the couch and I’m very careful not to intrude on her space as I cross my legs. At best, that would earn me a scathing look of absolute disdain, and at worst, she’d get up and leave, her tiny furry body radiating contempt.

Miranda has placed two steaming mugs of coffee in front of us, along with some fruit and chocolate.

“Thank you so much for having me over, Mir. I spent all morning messing up a recording and I was slowly going insane.”

“You’re welcome, I appreciate the excuse to procrastinate.” She indicates her unboxing table across the room with a toss of her head. “Got a brand deal, I’ve only worked with them once before, and I really need to get it right. They’re extremely picky, last time I had to redo the video like seven times before they approved it.”

“Ouch. But I guess they were happy in the end, if they offered you a second deal?”

“They were very happy, but it’s still a lot of pressure. So I’m postponing that particular problem until tomorrow, the light is better early in the day anyway. But how are you doing, really?”

The genuine concern in her voice makes me fold immediately.

“Honestly, I kind of hate everything right now. It’s like nothing really makes me happy, even though it should. I mean, I finally hit a hundred thousand followers, I got a new boyfriend, things should be amazing. But no matter what I make, it feels forced, and Marten… I don’t know. I can’t quite get a read on him, I kinda wonder if he even actually likes me.”

“Well, maybe he’s not as intense as… as what you’ve been used to, but he’s clearly obsessed with you. I don’t think we’ve ever hung out without him texting you at least two or three times, and that was before you even started dating.”

“Yeah, you’re right, maybe I’m comparing. I guess it’s too soon to worry about it, it’s only been a week. It’s probably just work dragging me down.”

Miranda looks thoughtful. “Would you rather go back to your old content?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s too niche, I was struggling to reach fifty thousand followers back then, and I’ve already doubled that since switching. I need to stick to something with a wider appeal if I want it to be viable.”

“OK, thought experiment – if money wasn’t an issue, what would you do? No limits, you can do whatever you want?”

The vision bursts into my head, unbidden. I’ve moved to Del Sol Valley, I’m working on movie costumes, maybe musicals or theatre too, and I walk the red carpet in a stunning gown, and Paul is there, and of course he sees me and deeply regrets ever leaving me. Then I force him to explain himself and either slap him or kiss him – or both – and…

“I don’t know.”

“Really? Seriously, Julia, anything goes?”

I force the fantasy out of my head and try to be realistic. “I think I just miss being a little more creative. I don’t want my whole rebrand to go to waste, but maybe I could make it a bit more… fun?”

“Well, that’s pretty doable, isn’t it? I’ve been thinking we could do a collab, maybe it’d shake up the format a little and you could do something new.”

Next to me, the cat purrs contentedly, oblivious to the mild existential crisis swirling in my head. “I really appreciate you wanting to help, but I’m a bit worried it’ll look like you’re just boosting me. You’ve got ten times the followers I do, I don’t want pity views.”

Miranda chuckles. “Oh, girl, no. I’m your friend, but if I didn’t like your content, I wouldn’t risk associating with it, you know? This collab is just as much for me as it is for you.”

I manage a half-smile. “That’s nice of you to say.”

“I’m serious, Julia. You always bring something unique and creative, and maybe it could be a stepping stone for you to add a bit more colour to your channel?”

“You’re right, and I really don’t want to sound ungrateful. This is just so far from what I used to do, I’m struggling to figure out how to combine it.”

Miranda nods. “I get it. But sometimes you have to try a couple different paths before landing on the perfect blend of what you love doing and what actually gets traction. You’ll figure it out.”

Next to me, Socks seems to have gotten bored with her nap. Her ears twitch, and in one fluid motion, she hops off the couch.

We both turn our heads to watch as she leaps onto the small presentation table where a pair of pink boots are ready for Miranda’s video.

“Oh no,” Miranda mutters. “She’s gonna cost me a deal if she touches those.”

The cat sniffs at the box, then at the shiny leather. I’m halfway across the couch when Socks swats at the lid, her claws catching in the wrapping paper.

“Socks, no!” Miranda yelps, leaping to her feet. The cat immediately backs off and starts washing herself, clearly offended that we would ever think she had any interest in the shoe box at all.

Miranda sinks back into the couch as Socks jumps off the table and we both burst into relieved giggles.

“She’s such a menace. Anyway, about the collab…”

navigation / previous / next

[stonedficz]

hi this is it. title is a pun. ENJOYYYYY‼️‼️‼️‼️

Most of my publishes will include music. Music is a HUGE part of writing for me, as it helps me set the tone for my work. If able, please listen as you read!

schlatt x streamer!reader

✰ star shaped ✰

ch. 1 ❛ talk about being roux ❜

you were a whore for him. parasocially, of course.

Spending the past 4 years of your life obsessing over someone online was the most entertainment you could find besides trying to pass your college classes.

You had been a fan for years - literally, since 2020. You weren't there for the start of Schlatt's career, but by God, you wish you could've been. He gave you some inspiration to livestream/vlog stream just for fun. You had seen almost every video as soon as it released, every live, everything. Now, you just wanted to be like the big angry guy you watched videos of on your laptop, but better.

Maybe it was your college aspirations, the lack of support from your family, or something else - no matter what it was, you were here. 5 followers on twitch in.

Despite the lack of viewers, you continued streaming happily. You were meal prepping for the next week of work and school to try and save money. It just so happened to be a good content idea as well.

"So, if you look here," you patiently looked and pointed down at your frying pan, showing the camera and 3 viewers your pov. "- the roux is starting to burn. I'm gonna have to take it off the heat and try to add some more milk to fix the flavor. I don't have any more garlic powder so I can't remake it unfortunately." you frowned as you set the pan on a different eye, gently adding more milk. Your eyes flickered down to the chat on your phone.

"whats a roux"

A heavy sigh left your mouth, you had been at this for 2 hours. Streaming, that is. Now you didn't have the patience to answer questions. Then you saw a notification.

BigGuy is live now! Streaming: fixing my minecraft house

"Alright my friends, I think it's time for me to go." you smiled at the camera and waved. "The roux needs my whole attention, so I'll see you 3 later!" God, you were a terrible liar. You hit end stream pretty abruptly, immediately clicking on the notification.

"Hey guys, thanks for joining in," Schlatt breathed as he sat in his chair, turning side to side. He just looked at his screen blankly for a few minutes, occasionally making comments. TTS hadn't started yet but you were anxious to get your message in first. Anything to get his attention.

"Remember, TTS starts at 25 you broke bitches. I don't wanna hear about it being too expensive. Postcards are 50! Let's see what's in the mailbo-" He was cut off by the normal loud TTS voice.

"hi handsome! good to see you on again! I finished up my stream right when you started. have a good time <3 - cookkizkill" you typed in at light speed. Somehow, someway, the past 5 streams you had made it in as the first TTS donation. Pure luck.

"Oh God, not you again you little fuck. How do you manage to get the FIRST TTS in every damn time??? Competitive ass bitch. But thank you anyways.” he yelled and laughed, opening up his mailbox in the game. It didn't matter that he made fun of you - that was his persona, it didn't mean much. All you cared about was being seen. God, you were obsessed.

It went further than this. You GENUINELY were interested in Schlatt - you didn't even know his name. You were the obsessive, love-at-first-sight type. You still thought about a sweet boy from a coffee shop when you were in your junior year. Once you liked something, you had to have it. Unfortunately, millions of other people felt the same. Yuck. So.. now it was this. You sent donos, dm’ed him, everything you could to kindly, gently, and hopefully get him to put you on his channel. That was the boost you needed. Socially, and egotistically.

The dream: meet schlatt. Didn’t matter if it was in New York, at a meet n greet he would never do, or for media.

You knew you wouldn’t make it big enough to quit your job - you didn’t want to, you just wanted to be able to show the internet your life. You wanted others to find community.

—

You continued to watch the stream, he was playing Minecraft, drinking, the usual. Messages were flooding in. Soon enough though, it was 10 pm, and he was about done.

POV: Schlatt. 7:03 pm

“Ahh fuck,” he sighed, sipping on a glass of whiskey. “What’s up fuckers? Welcome to the stream, welcome,” he nodded and chuckled as he watched the people and chats flood in. “Remember, TTS starts at 25 you broke bitches. I don't wanna hear about it being too expensive. Postcards are 50! Let's see what's in the mailbo-“ he was cut off by the first TTS donation. It was the same person from the past few streams. Somehow, they managed ro get first dono more than twice in a row. “Lucky fuck.” He muttered under his breath.

“hi handsome! good to see you on again! I finished up my stream right when you started. have a good time <3 - cookkizkill"

"Oh God, not you again you little fuck. How do you manage to get the FIRST TTS in every damn time??? Competitive ass bitch. But thank you anyways.” He yelled and chuckled - rubbing the thin beard on his chin and his mutton chops for comedic effect. He knew a lot of people wanted him, lusted over him, loved him - but he couldn’t help but smile when people gave him a normal compliment. It felt good to be talked to like normal. Normal normal normal. He knew he wasn’t that, but it didn’t matter, being a star always had it’s perks.

“Alright, guys, lets get in. Fuck all of you shaming my house. FUCK YOU.” He yelled, furrowing his brows in faux anger.

—

3 hours had passed. Schlatt ended up building a new house, opening letters, and getting spammed with donations. God, that felt good. ‘Money, money, money, bitch.’ He thought to himself.

“Alright guys,” he let his tongue swirl in his jaw. “I’m fucking plastered. I’m done for tonight. Hope you enjoyed!” His cheeky smile flooded thousands of screens as he ended the live.

“Motherfucker.. jambo, i’m so fucking tired.” He complained, letting Jambo jump into his lap. His hands grazed over his fur as he headbutted schlatt. He yawned, sipping the last of his glass of whiskey. Jambo jumped down, awaiting their bedtime routine. “Moowwww!” Schlatt looked down at him.

“Alright, alright. I’m not feeding you again though.” Schlatt shut out all the lights in his office, slowly making his way into his bedroom, then his bathroom. He got onto insta when he was done getting ready for bed.

“Shiit, that’s a nice ass car.” He muttered to himself, scrolling. His thumbs grazed the screen hesitantly.

“I wonder..”

Every now and then, he would look at his message requests to see the ridiculous things people sent him. Family photos, death threats, achievements, etc. Every week though, there was the same username. “cookkizkill” managed to catch his eye. She never harassed him. Belittled him. Judged. Spammed. Begged. Nothing. She was overly normal in how she messaged him - and by God, she did it everywhere. Though, no matter what she sent, she said thank you, and wished him the best. Odd. Peculiar. Weird.

“Hmph.” His brows furrowed. He was intrigued. He looked at her messages frequently, never replying. If he replied to one, everyone would expect him to.

He opened the chat request.

cookkizkill

hi handsome! i finally hit 5 twitch followers. yesterday i hit 200 subs on yt. thank you for being a great influence!! i know i wont be huge, but I’m thankful i get a chance to share my life with people. thank you for your stream today! i hope to be on one with you sometime <3

5 minutes ago

accept request?

Click.

—————

[mcuamerica]

Biscuits & Jam | Cassian x Reader

Pairing: Cassian x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dawn Court's best tinker/blacksmith and the Night Court's Lord of Bloodshed work on weapons together... but spending all that time together leads to something more. Requested by @runnergirl234 here.

Warnings: pure fluff, soft Cassian, mentions of battle

The bell above the door to your shop chimed once and you glanced up from the weapon you were boxing. “Hello.” You said, noticing the wings and the leathers on the male. He most certainly is not from the Dawn Court. From his wings alone you know he is Illyrian. And Illyrians don’t travel to the Dawn Court for many reasons. “How can I help you?” You asked, smiling at the warrior. 

“You’re not going to step back and cower?” He asked and raised his eyebrows. His gravelly voice does something to your knees, but you stand your ground. 

“No… is that a normal occurrence with females for you? Because that sounds like a problem.” You said, your heart seizing when he let out a loud laugh. 

“Oh, you’re funny.” He said and sent a breathtaking smile your way. If you didn’t know better, you would think there was a tug on your ribs, towards this male. But… it couldn’t be. “It’s a common occurrence for anyone outside of my home Court.” He said. 

His dazzling smile, the stubble along his jaw, the golden flecks in his hazel eyes. You shook your head slightly, taking in his leathers again. “You must be General Cassian.” You said, pushing the box to the side. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. How can I help you?” You asked again, though your heart rate picked up since the first time asking. 

“I was tasked with finding the best blacksmith to recreate some weapons.. Thesian directed me to you.” He said and set the bag he was carrying down on one of the work tables. You walked around the counter, noticing how much he towers over you as you looked at the weapons. His body heat radiates towards you. You are a dawn court resident, you’re used to the heat in the summer. In these circumstances, you can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed by it. Why is he so attractive? 

“I’m honored that Thesian has such faith in my abilities.” You said and looked at the weapons. Your eyes widened slightly. “Is this Iridam?” You asked. “Where did you find this?” 

“These have been in our supply rooms for quite some time. And it so happens they are perfect weapons to killing Attors.” He said. “Is there a way to replicate them? I can provide more of the stone.” He said. 

“Metal… it’s metal.” You corrected as you looked at the craftsmanship of the sword. “I can… but… can I ask why you want swords?” You asked. 

“Because it’s what we’re trained with for the most part. Why? Do you have a better suggestion?” He asked, but with no condescension in his tone. 

“I think a shotel would work better for Attors. Especially if they are flying. Easier to catch on the curve.” You said. “I suppose that’s what I would make for ground soldiers… but I assume you are wanting them for more Illyrians.” You said.

“No… a shotel actually might be better… especially with the… metal. I know it’s more prone to bending anyway.” He said. “How many can you have ready by the end of the week?” 

“I’d say about 20, if I finish the orders I have today.” You said. “It’s only me.” You said and shrugged. 

“I could help… make it 40?” He asked and you looked up at him. 

“Oh… I couldn’t ask you to put your own labor-“

“If it means I get to spend more time with you, I’d very much like if.” He said. 

Heat rushed to your neck as you stumbled over your next words. “Oh… okay.” You said and gave him a small smile. “I would like the help… but do you have the metal?” You asked, changing the subject so your heart doesn’t leap out of your chest. 

“I’ll go grab it. And… I have a few other ideas for a couple mechanisms. Thesian mentioned you weren’t just a blacksmith. Maybe I can run them by you?” He asked. 

“I’ve never really been to war. But I’d be happy to help.” You said and smiled softly. 

Cassian came back later in the day when the shop was closed. You had finished all your orders and closed down for the week, knowing it would take most of your time with the order. Plus, if a certain General was going to spend his time with you, you didn’t want any distractions. 

“So, how did you get into this business?” He asked. 

You looked over to him and gave him a small smile as you took the metal from his hands, careful not to make contact out of fear you may scare him. 

“My father was a blacksmith. And believe it or not, he was very happy when I decided to take over the business.” You said. “My mother and him are living their lives out on the coast now, along with my younger brother. Plus, when I was a child, I loved to take things and put them together. It was always a lot of fun for me. Challenged me. My teachers hated that I would change the way they taught us how to make things. But it always turned out I made it a better way. And quicker too.” 

“The Master Tinker…” A soft smile came to his lips.  “Does your family survive off of what the business made?” He asked. 

“I send them money every now and then, but they’re well off. My mother was the daughter of an emissary. When he passed, she received all his funds.” You explained. “But, she was never close with her father. And we didn’t live that well when I was growing up. This shop was all that I knew.” 

“It’s honorable for you to continue the business. Even if you didn’t need to.” Cassian said. “Do you get a lot of business?” 

“Yeah, I do. Ever since Thesian came back from Under the Mountain, he decided that I was his #1 recommendation for a blacksmith.” You said. “And I also love to make new concepts for designs. I’ll spend all night up just thinking of exactly how to make something work.” You explained. 

“Like what?” He asked, leaned a little closer to you. 

And so you went off on a tangent, rambling to Cassian about the new device you were trying to create. Something like an easy device to carry a faelight when someone with less power needs it. “Like the lights on the wall. But portable. I just can’t get it to bind quite yet. But I’m almost there.” You said happily, turning around. You stumbled and held onto the mold in your hands as you ran into Cassian’s chest. 

“You are incredible.” He whispered. 

Your breath hitched and your eyes widened as you looked up at him. 

“Oh… sorry.” He said and stepped back, clearing his throat. That would have been incredibly creepy… if you weren’t undeniably attracted to the male. “I just.. I’d love to hear more about your devices.” He said. 

You gathered yourself as you set the mold on your work table. “Sure.” You said quietly, then proceeded to talk about all of the inventions you had helped make. “I’m terrible at making potions though. And burning magic and metal is difficult work.” You finally finished. 

He was still staring, but continued to work on the mold in front of him. “You know… if you’re ever wanting somewhere else to reside… I think there may be a place for a Master Blacksmith in the Night Court.” Cassian finally spoke. 

“Oh… I appreciate the offer. But I love being in Dawn…” you said. “I always have been one to work late into the night and not in the early morning like most residents.” You corrected. 

The thought of you being so far away once Cassian went back home hurt. He couldn’t describe it, but he was going to miss you. 

By the end of the week, you had been enthralled by Cassian. He opened up to you about his childhood, how he made his way to General of the Night Court armies. You also learned that his favorite food was biscuits that Rhys’s mother had made one time. And he loved them even more if they were covered in homemade jam. 

While you weren’t an expert baker, you had some skill when it came to the kitchen. You also had a close friend that had a farm on the outskirts of the city. So, you left a note for Cassian when he would arrive later and made your way there. You picked up the jam that you requested. Your friend happened to have his favorite on hand, etherberries. They were similar to the strawberries that you loved, but had a slight tart aftertaste that Cassian said he found interesting. 

When you made it back, Cassian was already there and working on the shotels. 

“I have a couple things to do upstairs.. Why don’t you come up when you’re done with this one?” You asked him. 

He shot you that breathtaking smile and nodded. “Of course.” He said. 

You knew it would take at least 2 hours for him to finish what he was working on, so you had just enough time to make the biscuits. You wanted to thank him for the company he gave you during the week. His kindness and his helpfulness. The people of Dawn were sweet, and always nice to you, but having Cassian around was different. It was like his praise and attention meant more. And maybe it did. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you wanted his constant praise and amazement all the time. When he left, it would be bittersweet. He would be leaving to help defend his Court but he would be leaving you. And you weren’t sure you were ready to say goodbye. 

You made sure to hide the smell of the biscuits so Cass couldn’t smell them, and when he came upstairs finally, you had a clean towel draped over them. The jam was hidden precisely so he couldn’t see either. You were nervously bouncing on your heels when he made his way up and washed his hands. 

There was something endearing about him being the one covered in soot, smelling like fire and metal. It was only ever you here before. You never got the chance to actually have anyone other than friends over. And even that wasn’t too often. You were so busy, especially now that Thesian decided you were the best tinker and blacksmith in the Court. 

But Cassian being here was different from when your friends were here. This meant something. What, you couldn’t place. But it did nonetheless. 

“So… what have you been working on up here all the time?” He asked as he sat down at the counter, leaning his strong forearms against the stone. 

“Well… I wanted to thank you for your help this week. And I know you’re going to say it’s for you and your Court anyway… but it was very kind. I.. I enjoyed your company while you were here.” You said and pushed the bowl towards him, then lifted the towel off of the biscuits along with revealing the jam. “So I wanted to make this for you. I hope you like it.” You said, a warmth creeping up on your neck. 

“I can’t.” He said, his tone slightly more serious than you had heard it before. 

Your gaze snapped up. Maybe you had presumed that he would like these. This was something dear to him. You overstepped in thinking he would like these. Especially coming from you, a female he only met a few days ago. “Oh… okay.. That’s.. That’s fine.” You said, a knot working its way into your throat. “I’ll set them aside for myself - later… someone.” You cleared your throat and shook your head. 

“No.. (Y/N) that’s not what I meant.” He whispered and stopped you from pulling away the bowl, his hand on your forearm. “I can’t accept food from you.” He said. 

You furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head. “I’m sorry if I overstepped-” 

“I can’t accept this because you are my mate.” He said gently, his eyes bearing into yours. “And considering the look on your face, you don’t know that. I wouldn’t want to accept it without you knowing-” 

“Eat.” You stopped him, staring right back into those gold-flecked hazel eyes. 

He paused, searching your eyes. “What?” You hadn’t seen him this stunned yet. 

“I may have not realized… but I know it. Deep down, Cass. I know you’re my mate. And the Mother has blessed me with you as a mate. I’m not going to sit back and wait. Eat.” You whispered. “If you want-” 

Before you could even finish the sentence, Cassian was uncapping the jam and spreading it over the biscuits. You felt the bond snap completely into place as he took the first bite, letting out a ludicrous sound of delight. 

“These are fantastic.” He whispered, finishing the biscuit and moving the bowl aside. “And I can finish these later… But I need to have a taste of my mate first.” His voice was low and gravelly. Like he needed water. But you weren’t going to question what he needed as you rounded the counter. You giggled as he pulled you close to him and his lips landed on yours. You could taste the buttery biscuit and sweet, but tart, jam on his lips. And when you opened your mouth for his tongue, you could taste him. You sunk into his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you on his lap. 

Lets just say that neither you, nor Cassian, left your shop for the next month. 

A/N: I'm picturing this takes place after Frost & Starlight.

Also, there is going to be one more part to this just because I want to develop them actually being mates and working together. Not sure when that will come out, but soon hopefully!

[semiloml]

PLAY ME LIKE A SONG - musician! semi eita

★summary: A late-night visit to Semi Eitas dorm was never just about music. The tension between you two has been building up for weeks, and with his roommate gone, there’s nothing stopping him from playing with you instead of his guitar.

★ pairing: timekip!semi eita x reader

★ content warning: smut/nsfw, collegeAU, oral sex(female receiving), fingering (female recieving), semi is a bit cocky, pussydrunk!semi(kinda?), idk I think that’s it

★author‘s note: beginning is lowk ass since i’m only used to writing long fanfics on wattpad😔 Hope you enjoy!!

★

This wasn’t the first time Semi Eita asked you to come over so he could play you a new song he‘d been working on. Music was his second love, right behind volleyball, and he never missed a chance to get your opinion on his new lyrics or the way one of his chord progressions sounded.

But tonight felt different.

Maybe it was because his roommate Shirabu was gone for the weekend, leaving the two of you completely alone. Or maybe it was the way he was looking at you since you‘ve entered his dorm—like he knew exactly what was about to happen.

You sat on the edge of his unmade bed, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded in your chest.

„Where is Shirabu anyway?” you asked trying to start a conversation while Semi was searching for something.

He smirked, leaning back in his chair, his dark eyes flicking over you lazily.

„Probably out drinking with some of our old teammates. Why ya asking? You wanna make sure that it’s just the two of us?” he asked teasingly, his focus now back to whatever he was doing before.

His words sent a slow heat curling through you, making you turn a little red. Embarrassed, you started taking a closer look at his room.

There was barely any light in here, the only source of it was the soft glow of his bedside table lamp.

His room was small, like most college dorms, but it smelled distinctly like him—a mix of fresh laundry, the lingering scent of body wash from his post-practice shower, and something deeper, something warm and inviting. His bed was unmade and his sheets slightly rumpled.

Now you looked at Semi who had a notebook filled with half-written lyrics lying open on his desk.

Finally Semi grabbed his guitar, fingers idly strumming the strings as he spoke. „You ready?”

You nodded, watching as he adjusted the tuning, the muscles in his forearms flexing slightly. He was in a pair of black shorts and a loose t-shirt, the fabric clinging to his damp skin in places. You tried not to stare, but it was hard when he was right there, looking so effortlessly good.

Then he started to play.

His voice was low and smooth, sending shivers down your spine as the melody filled the small space between you. The heat in the room started growing with the way he looked at you as he sang, the way his voice softened on certain words—it wasn’t subtle.

By the time he finished, the air between you felt thick, charged with something unspoken.

„That was…” You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. „good.”

„Just good?” He tilted his head, watching you closely. „You look a little distracted.”

Your breath hitched as he set the guitar aside and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. The space between you shrank in an instant, his presence overwhelming.

„You liked it that much that you can‘t even talk now?” he murmured, voice rougher now.

You knew this was the moment to back off, to laugh it off like it was nothing.

But before you could say a word, Semi leaned in just enough for you to notice—the slight tilt of his head, the way his eyes flickered to your lips and back.

His fingers brushed against your knee, barely there, but enough to send a shiver up your spine.

He hesitated for half a second, giving you the chance to stop him. When you didn’t move away, he closed the distance, his hand sliding up to your thigh as his lips finally met yours—slow, deliberate, like he’d been holding back for far too long.

His lips moved against yours slowly at first, testing, teasing—like he was savoring the moment.

His hand on your thigh squeezed just a little tighter, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shorts, tracing circles against your bare skin. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and when you sighed against his mouth, he took it as permission to go further.

Semi deepened the kiss, tilting his head as his tongue slid against yours, coaxing a soft whimper from you.

„Fuck,“ He groaned in response, his free hand finding your waist and pulling you closer, until you were practically straddling his lap.

The heat between your bodies was unbearable, his hard, toned chest pressed firmly against you, and every shift of his hips made it clearer just how much he wanted this. How much he wanted you.

Semi then pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against your jaw as he murmured, „Been thinking about this for too fucking long.”

His words sent a pulse of heat straight to your core, and when he started trailing kisses down your neck, slow and deliberate, you let your head fall back, giving him full access.

He took his time, sucking lightly on the sensitive spot just beneath your ear, before moving lower, his hands slipping under your shirt as he went.

„Can I take this off?” he asked, his breath hot against your skin.

„y-yes,“ you breathed out, barely able to form words as he tugged your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere behind him.

His hands were on you immediately, sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing the curve of your breasts before he leaned down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss between them.

„Fuck,” he muttered against your skin, his hands roaming lower now, toying with the waistband of your shorts. „You’re so fucking pretty.”

You let out a soft gasp as he hooked his fingers beneath the fabric and started dragging them down, his fingertips brushing over your thighs as he went. He took his time, like he wanted to savor every inch of newly exposed skin, and when he finally tossed your shorts aside, his eyes darkened at the sight of you in nothing but your panties.

„Been wanting to do this for so long,” he murmured, his voice rough with restraint.

He kissed his way down your stomach, his lips ghosting over the waistband of your panties before he looked up at you, waiting for your permission.

„Please,” you breathed, barely recognizing your own voice.

That was all he needed.

Semi slid your panties down with agonizing slowness, his fingers brushing against your inner thighs as he spread your legs just enough to settle between them. His breath was warm against your already soaked skin, and he groaned as he ran a single finger through your folds, feeling just how wet you are for him.

„Fuck, you’re dripping,” he muttered, his voice tight. „All this for me?”

You barely had time to answer before he leaned in and gave you the softest lick, dragging his tongue from your entrance to your clit in one slow, torturous motion. The sensation sent a sharp wave of pleasure through you, and you let out a choked moan, your hips bucking slightly.

„Semi—“ you moaned out, trying to close your legs by a little.

He chuckled against you, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you in place. “Relax, baby. Let me take my time.”

And then he devoured you.

His tongue moved with purpose, alternating between deep, slow licks and quick, teasing flicks against your clit.

Every movement was precise, practiced—like he knew exactly how to make you fall apart. He groaned against you, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure through your body, and when he sucked your clit into his mouth, you cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair.

„Fuck—Eita,” you gasped, thighs trembling around his head.

He moaned at the sound of his name leaving your lips like that, his fingers tightening around your thighs before one of them slid between your legs. He teased your entrance for a moment, dragging his fingers through your slick folds before finally slipping one inside you.

The stretch was perfect—deep and slow as he curled his finger just right, coaxing another desperate moan from your lips.

He pumped in and out of you at a steady pace, adding a second finger when he felt you clench around him, stretching you open as his tongue worked on your clit.

„God, you taste so good,” he groaned against you.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach, your body already on the verge of snapping. The way he worked you—his fingers thrusting deep, his tongue relentless against your clit—had you dangerously close to the edge.

„I—I’m close,” you gasped, your grip on his hair tightening.

„That’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick with hunger. „Come for me, baby.”

And then he sucked on your clit hard, his fingers curling deep inside you, and you shattered.

A sharp cry tore from your throat as pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body arching off the bed as your orgasm consumed you. Semi groaned against you, not letting up, working you through every last pulse of pleasure until your legs were shaking and you were begging him to slow down.

Finally, he pulled back, his lips glistening as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were dark, his chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths.

„You taste so fucking good,” he muttered, pressing a final kiss to the inside of your thigh before crawling back up to capture your lips in a deep, lazy kiss.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, and somehow, that only made you want him more.

„You good?” he asked after a moment, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You exhaled a breathless laugh. „I think you broke me.”

He smirked, kissing you again, slower this time. „Nah,” he murmured, his fingers trailing lazily over your still-sensitive skin. „I think I just got started.”

And judging by the way he was already trailing down your body again, neither of you were getting much sleep tonight.

A/N: Okay so this is my first actual One Shot I‘ve written, not only on Tumblr but in general. So please be nice😔💪 Also if any of you have tips or criticism please lmk!! anyway bai!!!

[solardrop]

sentences sunday

tagged by @honestlydarkprincess !! This is from a wip that is so old. I've had it since last august I really have no faith in myself to actually finish it. But if i keep posting bits of it maybe I will two years from now

It's hotch x lawyer!reader in a second chance/friends with benefits kind of situation!

1989 You throw your slipper at the lanky man sprawled out on your carpet. He doesn’t even flinch. The coin flipping between his fingers continues its path. “Aaron David Hotchner, get out of my house!” you groan “That’s not my middle name,” he whines “And this is an apartment.” You roll your eyes. He’s been here for weeks. Leaving your place after both of you celebrated acceptance into GW’s law program, only for him to show up hours later red eyed and disheveled. You were trying to be a good friend. But you needed your space back. In the time he’s been there he’s eaten through almost half of your food budget for the semester.  “Yes. An apartment much like your own. Across town.” “Are you kicking me out?” “Yes!” “But I’m heartbroken.” “It’s been 3 weeks. Move on. You’re eating all my food and taking all my clothes.” You lean over him and yank at the hem of his sweatshirt — your sweatshirt — for emphasis. He sits up abruptly, almost bumping your heads together as he stands to pace around your bedroom.  You plop yourself down on your bed with a huff, tracking his movements across the room. He stops in front of you and you cheer internally, readying yourself to show him the exit. Only for him to yank the navy blue sweatshirt off, exposing his lower stomach and waist to you briefly, before chucking the thick fabric on your bed.

tagging a random few but no pressure!

@aureatelys @kiwriteswords @sincerelybubbles @cerisereids @mariasont

[backwardshatnick]

heartbeat ♡ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

in which matt can't sleep peacefully without hearing the lub-dubs coming from your chest.

pairing: small spoon!matt x big spoon!reader wc: 1.05k notes: reader is called ladybug (inspired by "lessons" from @blushsturns (thank you!!) and matt's instagram story). also i'm trying to experiment with povs so instead 'you' everything will be in first-person. let me know if this format is comfy or should it be changed :) [divider credits to @firefly-graphics]

i took my left leg out of the duvet and tried to close my eyes and let the sounds of our breathing and pumping hearts drift me away into my interrupted slumber.

sure, i managed to get a few extra minutes of rest but it was still too warm. i removed the lavender duvet that matt and i share and took the beige coverlet instead to keep myself comfortable with both my legs out and feet peeking at the edge of the bed, in hopes that this minute attempt would cool my body.

but it is still hot.

while it is still winter, the past week has been too temperate for the season where the pavements are sloshing with ankle-deep puddles and mud, ducks are starting to make their way to the now not icy allée and schoolchildren stomping away in their yellow rubber galoshes.

looking down into my outfit, i had a plain pink t-shirt on with fleece pyjama bottoms that had a matching teddy bear print. it must be the pants and i am desperate to get changed into something that is not as thick. not wanting to wake matt up, i slowly and gently got down from the bed, stepping on the contrastingly frigid wooden floor as i made my way to find the other pair of my slippers which were strewn across our bedroom.

stepping out of the room, i went straight to our bathroom where the freshly folded pile of clothes could be found in the wicker rattan basket on top of the washing machine. fishing through them, careful not to unravel matt’s work, i finally found my pair of dark green shorts that i frequently wore to sleep and switched into them immediately.

the clock that we had on our kitchen counter beeped once, signifying that it was only one in the morning. as the kitchen was located in between our bedroom and bathroom, i decided to pour myself a glass of water before coming back. tiptoeing to look into the cabinet, i managed to take out a brown ceramic mug and headed over to the fridge with my hand reaching out to pull the handle.

grabbing the blue brita filter, i started pouring what was left and made a mental note to refill it once i was done with my late-night drink. however, the brown mug had slipped down my fingers while i was closing the door, watching the water streams leaving the mug in a blink. with a harsh drop, the fragile mug had shattered on the floor, my refreshment dousing it damp.

“matt, stop sneaking up on me like that!”

it was obvious that he was panicking as he had rushed to grab a rag and broom to clean the mess up, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry i didn’t mean to. let me help you with that, ladybug.”

while waiting for him to be finished, i topped up the brita and got the both of us empty mugs, placing a camomile tea bag in each as i filled the electric kettle with water and leaving it to boil.

it was serene in the kitchen, the only source of light being the overhead lamp on our stove and the consistent bubbling from the kettle filling in the silence before it was soon replaced with a gentle click. i stood up as matt slid the chair out next to me and while pouring the water he voiced out, “what are you doing still up? i swear you were next to me the whole time i was asleep.”

“i was so sweaty and had to switch into these shorts and was about to go back to our room, but i figured that since the both of us are awake, do you want some biscuits? we can move to the couch instead and watch a movie.”

“it’s my turn to pick, right? we watched 101 dalmations last week, so let’s go with peter pan,” he answered, carrying both of our mugs to the wooden coffee table situated in our living room. i followed suit after i had arranged the pastries we have from our pantry on our cake plate, the sugar crystals from the cookies glistening under the warm glow of our stove.

in the living room, matt had already set up the film as i could hear the well-known blue walt disney intro and jingle, followed by the tune of the second star to the right, as the movie continued to play.

i set the plate on the table together with our mugs and made my way to the couch that we had, removing the white throw blanket to wrap them around the both of us. matt settled and laid his head on my lap, the depth and clarity from his deep sapphire eyes glinting and staring into mine as he said, “we are about to have a magical night.”

we both fell asleep halfway through the movie and i was awoken when i heard the villain song where the pirates sang and danced after they succeeded in capturing the darling children. i was about to stand up and switch the tv off when i could feel matt’s arm halting my movements, wrapping them around my waist.

“where do you think you’re going? come here and hold me for a bit, i love to listen to your heartbeat when we cuddle.”

a giggle escaped my mouth as i haphazardly traced my fingers over the remote control to switch the tv off, “we’re sleeping on the couch tonight?”

“as long as i get to hear my ladybug's lub-dub we will.”

“of course, mr. matt,” i replied, both of my arms stretched out as he proceeded to rest his head on my chest when we were both sat on the couch.

he looked up to me, brushing his soft pink lips on mine before lightly pressing his ear to my torso, “that’s mr. darling to you tonight. sleep tight, my ladybug. i love you.”

“and i love you more, mr. darling,” wrapping both of my arms around his obviously larger frame while he had his hands clasped together, our speech slowly slurring as i could finally doze off to the now cool, but snug-enough air, where alongside the soft sounds of respiration and palpitations, we were accompanied by the subdued buzzing roar of the fridge.

[captainstressed]

so ive been working on a post-breakup bucktommy fix it for a hot minute and she's almost finished so i wanted to share the first chapter here before i put the entire thing on ao3.

its starts from the 'tommy's bubbling me' scene from 8x07 except its from tommy's pov. its mostly hurt but i swear the comfort is coming!

title: i love you, im sorry. word count: 1341 chapter: 1 of 2/3

Tommy hit backspace, deleting the drafted text he’d written to Evan with a sigh. Dropping his phone beside him on the couch, he reached out to grab the open bottle of beer from the coffee table and took a long swig. It wasn’t far off three in the afternoon but Tommy couldn’t bring himself to particularly care; he’d come off shift within the last hour and wasn’t scheduled back in until the next day, it also wasn’t as though he was planning to have more than one or two. He needed a distraction, something to temporarily cloud his mind that wasn’t Evan. Buck. He’d lost the right to use his given name the day he walked out of his loft.

It had been just over two weeks since the break up; fifteen days if he was counting, which he was. He had ran the conversation over in his mind an infinite number of times since then and each time he hated himself a little bit more.

“Did you just break up with me?”

“Yeah. I guess I did.”

He slammed the bottle back down on the table with more force than necessary. He was a fucking coward. He’d been a coward back when he was at the 118 and he failed to stand up for Hen and Howie against Gerrard; Tommy had been battling his own internal demons but that didn’t excuse his behaviour then and it sure as hell doesn’t now.

He had told Buck that if they ended up moving in together, then the younger man would end up breaking his heart; something that he wasn’t sure he would be able to move on from. The irony of it all was that through his own cowardice actions, Tommy had beat him to it and succeeded in breaking it all by himself.

Bringing his hands up, he pressed the heals of his palms into his eyes. He felt the sting of tears and took a breath, willing them to remain at bay. He had no right to cry, not when this was all his fault. He had broken up with Buck; had panicked at the thought of moving in with him. Not because he didn’t want to, but because when his heart was inevitably broken, the fallout would have been too much for him to fathom.

Tommy wondered if this imaginary scenario would have left him feeling anything like the way he felt right now. His palms were wet, the stars dancing behind his eyes the only outcome of his efforts. Swiping the tears that were only replaced by more a moment later, he wiped his hands across his jean clad thighs and tipped his head back against the back of his couch.

His fingers itched to grab his phone; he wanted to call Buck, apologise for being such a coward, for joining the list of people who had walked away from him and beg him for another chance. It was selfish, he was selfish.

He didn’t deserve Buck; Hadn’t been deserving of being his first relationship since discovering his true identity. Buck had trusted him, had let Tommy in. The two of them shared words and experiences that were completely new to Buck and it made Tommy feel sick that he had taken these things from him, with the promise of protecting them and him only to run when his own insecurities got in the way.

Curling his hand into a fist, he bought it down on the cushion beside him. The movement jostled his phone and lit up his home screen; his background was a picture of an LA sunrise, which to anyone else wouldn’t seem particularly special but to Tommy it held precious memory.

It had been taken a few months prior during one of his early morning runs, by Evan. Tommy had mentioned to him that one of his go to’s for winding down after particularly gruelling shifts was to hit one of the many hiking trails and if he was lucky enough to finish a shift before the day had officially started, then he could sometimes catch the sunrise. It was a way to remind himself that in spite of the often tragic calls he dealt with whilst at work, a new day was just on the horizon and with it the renewal of hope and possibility of brighter times to come.

He’d thought the idea was beautiful and asked if he could accompany Tommy sometime should their shifts lineup. They ended up going one morning after Tommy had finished a forty-eight and Evan was due to start his own a few hours later. They’d found a perfect spot to watch the sunrise and paused their run to drink it in. Evan had taken a picture just as the sun was peaking over the horizon, setting it as his phone background and almost shyly explaining to Tommy that this way whenever he looked at his phone it would remind him of not only the reason behind it but also of Tommy.

It had been one of the many times in which Tommy had wondered how he got so lucky as to find someone as adorable as Evan. He’d even asked him as much, which earned him a blushed smile that Tommy couldn’t help but kiss off his lips. Before asking him to send him a copy of the photo and setting it as his own background too.

Tommy could have changed it in weeks since the break up, probably should have done if he’d had any desire to move on. He wondered if Evan had changed his; selfishly he hoped he hadn’t.

He stared at his phone until the screen went back to black, mulling over his scattered thoughts before picking it up and unlocking it. It reopened back onto his text thread with Evan, they hadn’t spoken to each other via text since Howie’s wedding and the memories of that day and night settled heavily in the pit of his stomach when he compared how he had felt then to how he felt now.

His thumb hovered over the bubble to start a new message; Tommy knew what he wanted to say, what he’d wanted to tell Evan even before they broke up. He had never called his own feelings towards Evan into question, self hatred threatened to bubble to the surface once more when he reminded himself that the only person he had called into question was Evan himself.

Evan who had never been anything but open and honest with Tommy from the start of their relationship. Sure, he’d put his foot in his mouth a few times at the start and sometimes he got a little ahead of himself, but it was one of the many things Tommy loved about him.

Tommy loved him. Loves him.

But he let him go because he’s a coward.

With a sigh, he tapped the bubble to send a new message but paused. After weeks of radio silence Tommy knew it wouldn’t be fair to drops these heavy feelings on Evan straight away. If at all a voice in his head snarked. What if he was too late? What if Tommy ending things had been the wake up call Evan needed to realise that though Tommy had been his first, he didn’t want him to be his last and these last weeks had just helped cement those feelings.

The thought caused him physical pain. His entire reasoning behind breaking up with Evan in the first place had been to shield his heart from inevitable break, but it had quickly become apparent that he was destined for this fate regardless. He couldn’t allow himself to consider that Evan loved him back. He hadn’t deserved it before the break up and he sure as hell didn’t now. The difference now however was that he felt as though he had nothing else to lose, and he owed Evan the truth no matter what the outcome may be.

Fuck it.

“Can we talk?”

Tommy held his breath and hit send.

[ladykailitha]

Share With Me One Love, One Lifetime Part 7

This is the penultimate chapter. Just one more chapter to go and then it's done.

This is bittersweet for me as it was the start of this trilogy that got me my start in the fandom in the first place. I wouldn't be the person I am today without it. But on the other hand, I have seen the amount of notes for this story drop like a stone so that there is only a handful of dedicated followers that want to see it to completion. This is for them.

In this we have the most metal concert of all time, Eddie comes to the rescue, Gareth gets his revenge, and Nancy gets justice for Barb.

Also cliffhanger. Sorry!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

~

Eddie walked into his bedroom and saw that the vines hadn’t even touched his sweetheart. “It’s like she was made for another world,” he breathed.

The other three stood behind him and watched as he reverently took it off the wall.

“Are you ready for the most metal concert in the history of the world?” he asked turning to them.

“You sure you want to do that song?” Janice asked. “It’s only been out three weeks and that solo is an absolute bitch.”

“You bring the vocals,” Eddie replied with a grin, “and Brian and I will bring the noise.”

Brian rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure ten minutes is going to be long enough, man. They might need extra time.”

“I’ve got my walkie talkie,” Dustin said, holding it up, “I say we keep playing until they tell us the bastard is dead.”

“I don’t think I want to be bat food,” Janice said shaking her head. “We don’t know how long it’s going to take for the bats to get used to the noise and try a different tactic. I would hate like hell to be standing out in the open when they decide we’re food.”

Everyone agreed, forcing Dustin to back down on his idea. He thought for a minute and then snapped his fingers.

“We record it!” he said with a grin. “That way the bats are still focused on the sound, but we don’t become bat food!”

Janice rubbed his head. “That’ll work. Let’s do this!”

They all jumped up for a high twenty and then got to work setting up what they needed for the distraction. Once they were all set up, Brian started in on that opening rift and Eddie got a chill. A good one, for the first time since Chrissy died.

Then Eddie came in on his part and the demobats who were in the sky aimlessly, suddenly turned to the sound with a singularly of a hive mind.

Janice came in on the vocals and the bats swirled around them in confusion. They didn’t know what the noise was or how to handle it. Which considering that music was the key to breaking Henry Creel’s power over people. It made sense that it would confuse the rest of the denizens of the Upside Down.

They finished the song and Dustin gave them the thumbs up that it had successfully recorded. They all hopped down from the roof and into the trailer.

Some of the demobats started attacking the trailer and the speakers. Then suddenly the music cut out.

Dustin was already up the rope ladder and into Eddie’s trailer in real Hawkins and Janice was on the rope ladder about half way up. She stopped and looked down at Eddie and Brian in fear.

“Shit!” Brian hissed. “If they figured it was a recording and cut the power, we ain’t got time for fuck all.”

Eddie looked at the handmade spear and shield in his hands as the demobats started attacking the trailer trying to get in. “I can lead them away. Give you guys more time to get help and Steve and them more time kill the bastard.”

Janice looked up at Dustin and then back at Eddie. “Fuck that shit. You made a promise fly boy, and I’m going to make sure you keep it.” She looked back up at Dustin. “You got anything up there that can start a fire down here?”

Dustin looked up. “Uh, I think I saw a gas canister for the generator. What’s the plan?”

Janice just grinned and then finished climbing all the way up the rope ladder and landing right side up. Dustin and her got the can as Eddie and Brian just looked at each other shrugged.

She tossed the can to Eddie, who caught but barely. “The bastards don’t like heat? Then let’s make this gate too hot to use.”

A grin spread out across the older boys’ faces as they finally caught on. Brian spread the gas as Eddie guarded his back, taking out any stragglers that made it through. They both hurried up the ladder and just as the demobats broke through Eddie lit his lighter.

The lighter fell to the ground and the flame touched the fumes, cackling in the air, then it hit the floor, igniting the gas with a roaring fwoosh!

Eddie threw himself away from the gate as the whole place went up in flame. Soon the air was filled with the screams of the dying bats. He got to his feet and pumped his fist.

“Hell yeah!” he cried. “Take that, bitches!” Then he turned to his friends. “Right, let’s crank up the heat in this place. Make sure they stay the fuck out!”

Dustin and Brian went around turning on the space heaters, while Eddie went to go crank up the internal heating.

Eddie looked around and with the fire below and the heat in here getting hotter by the second, he’d had made it as safe as he could. He shook his head.

“We’ve done all we could,” Brian said, giving Eddie’s shoulder a squeeze. “Now, it’s up to them to kill the bastard.”

“I think our first port of call,” Janice said, putting her hands on her hips in a Steve like move that brought a smile to Dustin and Eddie’s lips, “is the Creel house. Make sure no one gets at Max before she finishes him off in the Void.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Dustin said, “I’m really worried about Jason and his thugs finding them. They have been popping up in places they shouldn’t be and that frightens me.”

~

Max shivered in her jacket as Lucas, Erica, Gareth, and Wayne kind of shuffled around her uncomfortably.

“Stop acting like it’s my funeral!” she snapped the third time Lucas wouldn’t look her in the eye.

Lucas’s eyes went wide and he stumbled over himself to apologize. Wayne and Gareth glanced at each other and shook their heads.

Then it was time. Lucas gave Max’s hand a squeeze before taking the headphones and Walkman from her. He took two steps back and Wayne instantly wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders. Gareth gave him a nod.

“I’m just putting this out there,” Wayne said gruffly, “I don’t like you being used as bait. But even if we waited that week for Nancy’s number to come up instead, there is no guarantee that he’d wait that long.”

Max nodded. “I know. I’m the only one this could wo–” She was cut off as her head snapped back.

Her eyes turned milky white as she began to rise from the ground. But before Lucas could spring forward with the Walkman, the doors burst open to reveal Jason, Andy, and Chase.

“Oh my God!” Jason cried. “You’re sacrificing her? What is wrong with you Hellfire assholes? Don’t you see what this is doing to our small town?!”

Wayne held up his shot gun and leveled it Jason. “There ain’t anything of the sort happenin’, son. In fact the opposite is going on. So I’m going to need you boys to mosey on out of here, before I do something I regret.”

“Lucas,” Chase implored. “Can you see what they’re doing to you, to that girl? Is this the side you really want to be on.”

“We didn’t torture someone!” Gareth screamed, gripping his wounded hand tightly.. “You nearly broke my hand. I don’t see any of us Hellfire kids doing that! You’re all psychopaths!”

Jason lunged forward and grabbed Erica by the hair and pulled her to him. He pulled out the gun and pointed it at her head. “You guys so much as twitch and I’ll blow this girl’s head off.”

Lucas looked up at Wayne. “But Max! I need to turn on the Walkman or she’ll die!”

“No more talk of witchcraft!” Jason bellowed causing everyone to wince, even his teammates. “You’re going to stop this voodoo or whatever it is right this instant!”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Eddie drawled from behind the basketball team members. “I knew this lot was unhinged. But taking a little girl hostage really takes the cake for you assholes.”

Jason tried to whirl around but suddenly there was another earthquake and Erica threw herself away from Jason. Eddie socked him in the jaw, causing the gun to skitter out of reach. Andy lunged for it but Gareth kicked him in teeth.

“That’s for my hand, you asshole!” Gareth screamed as Andy howled in pain and clutched his face as blood spurted everywhere.

Once Erica was safe, Lucas dived for the Walkman and ran over to Max, putting the headphones over her ears.

Jason tried to get past Wayne to try and rip the headphones off Max’s head, but Wayne hit him in the back of the head with the butt of the shotgun as he tried to pass. He crumpled to the ground in a heap. Chase tried to run but was caught by Janice and Brian.

“Come on, Max,” Lucas pleaded as he held her tight, the music of Kate Bush pouring through her ears as he rocked her back and forth. “Come back to me. Please...”

Dustin and Erica helped Brian and Janice tie up the members of the basketball team while Eddie and Wayne watched over them with guns. Eddie had picked up Jason’s with his handkerchief and was waving it at them (the basketball team not his friends), while Wayne kept the shotgun leveled at them in case they got any bright ideas to do try something stupid.

The boys were then taken to another room in the house and locked in with Brian and Wayne standing guard, the kids not wanting to leave their friend while she was still unconscious.

Then Max came to with a sharp gasp, her eyes turning back to their sparkling green. Lucas sobbed in relief as the others congratulated each other on a job well done.

Now all they could do was wait to hear word from the Vecna Killing crew. And hope.

~

As they walked the path that would lead them to the Creel house, Nancy fell instep with Vickie.

“You know,” she said with genuine curiosity, “I was ultimately surprised that you decided to join us. With you wanting to take on more ‘human’ targets.”

Vickie blushed and ducked her head. “Well, if everything goes right with the other two, there won’t be any human targets.” She hefted the shotgun. “But what this bad boy is good for is tearing through shit. And if the vines are connected to this Vecna guy like you say they are, then hitting those isn’t going to feel very good.”

Nancy chuckled. “That’s certainly true. And double the numbers certain won’t hurt anything either.”

Once they reached the house, Jeff and Robin stayed outside the house in case the bastard tried to make a run for it or tried to call bigger bad guys to his aid. Robin had a bag of Molotov cocktails and Jeff had a tire iron and a torch to burn the house down once Vickie, Marty, Steve, and Nancy were clear.

Robin had opted to stay down and guard the retreat when she saw how many vines there were and knew that the likelihood of being able to pass through them without a lot of help was pretty much non-existent.

Steve gave her hand a squeeze and the four of them made their way through the vine filled house. It’s like playing the Devil’s hopscotch. One wrong move and they were dead.

Steve and Vickie breached the door first and were immediately pulled to the side walls by the vines. Nancy went for the vines around Vickie with her ax while Marty shot at the vines next to Steve with his BB gun.

The vines shrieked in terror and pulled away.

“You cannot stop me!” Vecna roared. ‘There is no universe in which I don’t win. Max will die. The Gates will open and the world will tremble in fear at my feet!”

“Eat this!” Nancy snarled and fired her first flare.

Vecna screamed as he recoiled from the heat. Vickie and Marty kept his attention by unloading their weapons into the fleshy mass of his Upside Down form.

Nancy fired another flare as Steve lit his Molotov cocktail, both of them hitting him square in the chest.

“No!” Vecna screamed as some of the flesh tore away to reveal the human underneath. Henry blinked out from three-quarters of the shredded face. “I will win!”

The vines shot out again, but this time Marty and Vickie were ready for them. Vickie pulled out hairspray from her purse and Marty lit the aerosol on fire, creating a makeshift flamethrower.

The flame reached the vines and again they screeched and recoiled from the fire.

Nancy hit him again with another flare and Steve took out his bat. He twirled the bat, warming up his wrist. He licked the top of his lip and swung for Henry’s face.

There was a sickening crack and he stumbled backward toward the bay window. Steve hit him again and he hit the ground in front of Robin and Jeff.

Jeff lit his torch and shoved it straight into Henry’s face. His body began to seize as the fire spread over his body.

All six of them circled around the spasming form of Henry Creel. Steve held out the last Molotov cocktail to Nancy.

“For Barb.”

Nancy looked over at Steve in amazement, but quietly took the cocktail from him. She lit it on fire and tossed it on Henry. The glass shattered and alcohol and fire spread of the rest of Henry turning him to ash.

Lightning crashed all around them and the ground began to shake.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Marty said. “I don’t want to stick around to see what this place looks like without the hellscape, if there even is one.”

“You’ll get no arguments from me,” Robin said grimly. “This place is creepy as fuck with Vecna, I don’t want be here when they start redecorating.”

They went straight for Fred’s Gate. All around them the sky burned red, the ground shook, and the monsters screamed.

Steve started to lag behind, a pain growing in his side. He was close to the gate, but his vision grew fuzzy and dark with each passing moment.

He felt his knees hit the rough ground as someone screamed, “Steve!”

Then his world went black and cold.

~

Tag List: SIX SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @beelze-the-bubkiss @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @themoonagainstmers

9- @steddieislife @chaotic-waffle @strangerfolks @easilyobsessedwithanything

[bloodchapell]

castle of sand — senku i. 7 : wishful dream

brief summary: all about the school festival

what to expect: implied s/h, underage smoking, emotional abuse (?)

your sword's note: chapter on the longer side, all past and future parts + playlist of this series available in my mistresslist

"Lucia, Lucia, my daughter, please talk to me." Taiju said with despair. He was somehow a really good actor. You were all on the school theater rehearsing the play, and Taiju and you were doing the scene in which you were crying after seeing your fiancé leave the dance with the commoner girl. It was all going well, your face was hidden in your arms by some cardboard fountain.

"No father, leave me at once..."

"Lucia, my child." Since the costumes were almost done, you were using the pink dress with gold accents and the heels, and you expected Taiju to be wearing his formal clothes with a coat. Following the stage directions, Taiju picked you up. As the previous rehearsals, it went flawless, but once you saw his face covered in a fake beard you broke in laughter.

"I am terribly sorry." You apologized as Taiju put you back on your feet, still feeling the pain in your abdomen from having laughed so hard.

Senku watched from the audience, having also laughed at Taiju when he saw him. The festival was only a week away. After he finished painting the mask you would wear for the dance, the homeroom teacher made Senku help with building the props that required precise measurements.

"I never knew you were so funny!" Taiju exclaimed once the school day was over.

"But I am really not." You shrugged.

"Yes you are!" Taiju said. "Look, this is our friend Yuzuriha, from the crafts club."

"Nice to meet you." The girl said and you greeted her. "You are Senku's friend right?"

"Hmm, not quite."

"More like part-time neighbors and full-time archenemies." Senku noted.

Taiju and Yuzuriha gave a look at each other (as if they were not in a worse predicament).

"I love your haircut, it really suits you." Yuzuriha ignored Senku and complimented you. "We are going to the mall after school, wanna come?"

"Uhm..." You looked at Senku without knowing what to do.

"She has never been invited to go anywhere, but she will go." Senku replied. "Go home and fulfill your Cinderella duties and we will wait for you, don't take long."

Senku, Taiju and Yuzuriha kept walking towards the apartment complex while you went to the store to get some ingredients for the food you were going to cook for your mom. After you bought the food, you stood by the alleyway and sat behind the dumpster. It was plain daylight but you felt that taking a smoke right there and then was appropriate, so you reached to your pocket and got the box and the lighter out. There was only a cigarette left, big sigh, by that point you already got the hang of smoking so you placed the cigarette by your lips with one hand and with the other placed the lighter by it to light it.

It felt nice, smoking felt nice, it also felt accurate to your character. It sparkled some feeling of pleasure when the nicotine tricked your brain into releasing dopamine, and it was the staple for misery (and some may say it even looked cool, but you didn't believe that).

When the cigarette was over, you walked home and made sure to wash your hands before cooking lunch for your mother, making sure to leave everything neat so she would not be mad once you were back. After almost an hour, you were done. Reasonably, you stank of nicotine so you decided to take off your uniform and wear other clothes.

"Finally, Taiju already fell asleep." Senku said when you knocked on his door. "I know you have not gone to the mall with other people but you didn't need to change."

"Don't be cruel Senku." Yuzuriha laughed.

"My uniform got a little dirty when I was cooking so I threw it in the washer."

The four of you then walked towards the train station, the mall wasn't so far. Pointless conversations started and you tried participating in your own way of course.

"During class she says things that sound really smart but it makes sense, like life being beautiful." Taiju said. Woah, that was a brick hitting Senku in the face. Big oaf here could get your words and not him, new level of low.

After that one time Senku broke his brain thinking about the bridge allegory, he started to unconsciously assign people to their stance on the bridge. Where would Taiju be? He was definitely full of joy but still knew about the pains of life since he had lost his parents at a young age, maybe he had some unconscious knowledge but remained somewhat ignorant to the bad things.

You didn't like the mall, it was a place full of people with their friends and you only went with your parents, but now it seemed like a different world. Yuzuriha was buying some materials for her class' haunted house and after she got what she needed, you all sat in the food court and ate some trash food.

"After the school festival is over, we should definitely go out more!" Yuzuriha said on the way back. "It is nice to have another girl here."

The school festival would take place during the last days of May.

"Could we go to the beach?" You asked and they looked at you with some curiosity. "I have always wished to build a seriously insane sand castle."

"Me too!" Taiju said enthusiastically and Yuzuriha nodded.

Once off the train, Yuzuriha and Taiju said goodbye since they had to walk in the opposite direction. Senku and you walked towards the apartment complex and also said goodbye at your door as always.

"Where were you?"

Your breath hitches when you close the door and you hear your mother's voice. "I break my back working to let you freeload here, and you can't even have warm food for me."

"I cooked lunch."

"A horrible lunch, yes, which I had to heat up myself after coming from work. You don't do anything around here and can't even help me with these stupidities, I should have let your father decide what to do with you instead of trying to help an ungrateful daughter. He brainwashed you into hating me, you don't care about anything that I care about..."

You stood there while your mother rambled. Your eyes losing focus of reality and your mind diverting to a place elsewhere, a colorless room with nothing but you, you wondering what was the balance between a joyful and fleeting event as going to the mall and the misery that accounted for the rest of areas in your life. You only came back to reality from your mind space once your mother shut the door of her room. Though your eyes watered you didn't actually cry, you walked towards your room and locked the door, siting in the floor and reaching for your computer.

The next week was spent rehearsing the play and building the props, unfortunately the philosophy teacher canceled the trips to the conferences until the festival was over and you were left to deal with reality without the solace of nicotine.

The festival started the two last days of May. The first day was dedicated to the stands and the second day was dedicated to the presentations. On the first day, Senku, Taiju and you went around the school and made sure to visit the haunted house of Yuzuriha's class, Taiju was fascinated by the decorations, Senku babbled about the reasoning behind certain fears and you simply walked getting startled by everything that jumped to scare you. After two hours, Yuzuriha's shift at her class' stand was over and she joined you too. You couldn't help but fawn at the radiance Yuzuriha expelled and wished you could also be like that.

"You need to come see us tomorrow!" Once the day was over, Taiju asked Yuzuriha. "We are both on the play as father and daughter... she is the daughter."

"It is clear she is the daughter, why would you be the daughter?" Senku shook his head.

The evening was tedious, you made sure that everything was ready and you went over your lines several times. The nerves were consuming you so much that you wished you had saved a cigarette just to ease it.

"I am doing overtime tomorrow, make sure to have some warm food for me and clean the house." Your mom asked in a nice tone from the living room.

"But I told you that I have that play tomorrow, remember?" You walked out of your room to remind her.

"What do you mean play? You always have some fucking excuse to not do the bare minimum around here. Now I have to buy lunch since you have the national school play that will pay the bills in this house."

The sense of impending doom flooded your chest, when things got that way, you felt that the only way out of feeling like that was dying.

"I will have the food ready, I am sorry mommy, let's not fight."

She had that face of utter disgust when looking at you, but when she walked to her room and closed the door, you knew that your words worked because the door was not slammed. You made sure to cook something before going back to your room and ditch the script for your computer.

"Excited for the play?" Senku said in the morning when you two walked to school.

"I guess."

He noticed, immediately as always.

"Here. I bought some stuff last night and the store clerk gave me this." His hand extended towards you held a piece of your favorite candy. He knew he had purposefully bought some to keep around, but it was best to keep that unmentioned.

Once at school, the cast of the play was assigned to change into their costumes, so with the other girls, you went to the changing room and got dressed. Your dress had several layers and some required to be tied on the back, so you had asked Yuzuriha for some help. You put on the tights and the camisole, and Yuzuriha helped you put on the petticoat and the dress. Her eyes caught a glimpse of the scars in your arms but she stayed quiet, maybe once you two had grown closer she would ask and try her best to help you.

The last step on dressing you were the shoes, the heels in which you had to spin for a good while. Walking through the halls created an echo which you liked. Back in the classroom, Yuzuriha sat you on a chair and put some makeup on you, eyeshadow that highlighted your eyes and blush on your cheeks, plus some lipgloss. Then brushed your hair in a way that the ends curled towards your face.

"You look so pretty!" The girl complimented you and you smiled looking in the mirror.

Once Taiju's fake beard was on, you walked with him backstage and Yuzuriha and Senku went to the theater and sat in the audience. The play started flawlessly. You had already appeared and you did good for the first scenes, but you were nervous about the dance and the monologue.

Most of the cast was on the stage when the masquerade started in the play, you were wearing the mask Senku had painted for you, walking confidently into the stage. You stayed by the side watching the people dance and then you noticed your fiancé dancing with the commoner girl, while the mask still covered your face you admired proud as your classmates got their own dance down after so much practice. Once their dance was over, the commoner girl took the hand of the fiancé and walked off stage, it was your turn. You slowly took off the mask, revealing an appalled expression, you let the mask slip from your fingers and slowly the rest of your classmates moved back to give you space to dance. Miserably you walked to the middle of the stage and raised your hand towards the direction they had left, then both your hands went to your chest, your face showing a deep pain. You started the dance once the track started to play, and you kept repeating to yourself to put on a good show, to keep a straight sad face and to move with despair.

"Immense has been my sacrifice to satiate every desire of your heart, yet your steps follow those of the unrefined girl. Have I not done everything in my power for you to rest your soft gaze on my wishful eyes. My heart ached and bled for your love, for your attention, for a single word from your lips, yet I am bestowed with this most disgraceful sight. It was naught but a mistake to deliver my heart to such a suitor, and now that it resides forgotten in within your realm, I am to suffer without it."

Once the monologue was over, you dropped to your knees and hid your face in your arms which rested by the cardboard fountain. It went smooth. Now the real challenge was not breaking into laughter once Taiju picked you up.

"Lucia, Lucia, my daughter, please talk to me."

"No father, leave me at once..."

"Lucia, my child." He picked you up and you had to hide your face when the laughter started to creep in. The scene was over and thankfully your laughter sounded as crying.

Once backstage you had to cover your mouth when Taiju let you on the ground because it didn't make sense that your "crying" when acting continued once out of the stage. The play continued and it was soon over.

"That was so good! You did amazing!" Yuzuriha congratulated you and Taiju. "Did you actually cry when Taiju picked you up? It sounded so real."

"I was actually laughing so hard... it is interesting that my joy is not much distinguishable from my dismay." You said with your hand in your chin, with your index finger under your lips and a slight frown.

"That is her thinking pose." Taiju whispered to Yuzuriha.

You sat in silence with Senku while Yuzuriha and Taiju went to drink something. The silence was never uncomfortable, it just sat there too. You had genuinely not much to say, after an eventful situation you would always sit and think about it, almost reflecting on what had happened and how it made you feel. Senku on the other hand sat almost trembling trying to expel his thoughts. She looks pretty? Not by a millimeter. Whatever she may look like doesn't matter, because when the day comes to it, she will be bald as hell, 10 billion percent guaranteed. Knowing you were going to be bald made him feel reassured, because it meant that one day he would stop thinking those wrong thoughts.

In philosophy class, the teacher had talked about how to state arguments. Example:

Premise 1: Senku finds the French film girl attractive.

Premise 2: You resemble the French film girl.

Premise 3: The most defining thing abut the French film girl is her short hair.

Premise 4: You have the same haircut as her.

Conclusion: YOU NEED TO GO BALD

Makes sense.

"You did good." He simply mentioned.

"Thank you."

"Did you like it?"

"It was exciting." You said with a smile. "I might be joining the theater club."

Hearing you say that was odd. You were against being in clubs (probably because you had no friends and the social interactions you had with other people developed into them nodding confused at your remarks on the majority), but he agreed without thinking too much about it.

"We are back!" Taiju announced.

"We got you this." Yuzuriha gave you a box juice and you thanked her. "Sooo, how about we go to the beach on Monday after school? I saw that the weather will be really nice."

"Really?" You said sipping from the juice. Yuzuriha nodded. Taiju agreed with excitement and Senku shrugged. You smiled nodding too. "Then June 3rd it is."

June 3rd, 2019, marked in your mental calendar as a day that you would never forget. You were excited, it felt as if your tormentous life had reached the bottom of the void and there was no other direction to go but upwards.

"We will build a scientific sand castle that defies every other sand castle and might place us as top architects." Senku said looking at you with his little grin.

"Yeah, what a wishful dream." You sighed content.

taglist: @thelonestarinthesky

[wolfish-trickster]

Red eyes seeing green

Astarion x f!reader/Tav

Word count: 3.8K

Summary: A long time ago you've told Astarion what your ideal type is, which is an exact opposite of him. Since then he has won your heart and accidentally you've won his. All would be well if it wasn't for Halsin, a literal embodiment of all physical traits you like on men, joining your group.

Warnings: angst if you squint, pure fluff

A/N: i know the devs confirmed he's fine with you (tav) and Halsin but i really wanted to see him jealous. Also the plot may be all over the place since I took a break from it and finished it like three weeks later😅

Astarion POV

It's been couple of weeks since Astarion's been infected with a tadpole. A nuisance really, until he felt sun rays on his face for the first time in centuries. Only then did he see it as a blessing in disguise. Even more so after he has met you and you've recruited him into your little "fellowship".

In the begining he couldn't care less about anyone. They either distrussted him (understandably after threateing one of them with a dagger on their first meeting), ignored him or down right hated him. It took a while for them to simple be 'meh' about him, a welcome change. Afterwards he started observing everyone, looking for the leader. Karlach was his first guess. Strong, ferocious, not to mention the contrast with her personality. His second guess was Gale. Only because he overheard him mention how a certain event happened before Karlach joined. He seemed to be in the group the longest. His guess was only logical.

But not in a million years would he guess you as a leader. Kind, loving, certainly weak looking. If you told him birds braid your hair every morning he wouldn't even question you. And yet you were the head of this little group of weirdos.

Plan was simple. Seduce you. Make your heart beat only for him. Secure a safe existence by your love-blind self. Profit.

Well, almost.

Despite your sweet and almost innocent personality he had a hard time seducing you. It was fine, Astarion liked a good challenge and he has had harder nuts to crack before.

"You can recite flirty lines all night Astarion, none of them will work," you giggled.

"Oh really," he smirked. "How can you be so sure when I haven't even used my best lines yet?"

"It's not about what you say, but how you look like," you smiled sweetly at him, almost mocking him. "You may not have a physical type but most people still do."

Ah, an appearance. One of his weaknesses. He knew his eyes were red, and when his hair grew long enough to see he could observe snowy white locks. His face must've been attractive as well. Based on how successful he was when fulfilling Cazador's orders. Same could be said about his toned body.

"Are you suggesting my dashing self isn't to your taste?" He said half teasingly with his usual bravado. How could anyone look at him and turn him down?

"Exactly," you answered.

Oh. That's how.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, you look good, but," you looked to the side, a slight blush covering your pointy ears.

"If only you had dark hair, long enough to braid. I always loved men with long luscious hair. Bonus points if they style it half up half down. There's just something about that hairstyle," you bit your lower lip.

"But they had to be clean shaved. My friends used to tease me for being a hypocrite," you giggled, lost in memories of your youth. "I just don't want to feel like i'm kissing a hedgehog, you know? And scars," you sighed dreamily, "I once knew this one stable boy when I was just entering my teenagehood. He had this huge scar across his nose and cheek. From a stalion that kicked him. He looked so good," you almost moaned when memories of your first ever crush rushed through your mind.

Astarion listened to your ramblings and for some reason started to feel... uneasy? Anxious? Hard to name a feeling he hasn't felt in a long time. Could it be because he doesn't fit any of your 'requirements'? Or could it be because a certain wizard fit your describtion almost to a t? But Astarion relaxed, Gale would never shave that dead squirrel on his face.

He forced out a high pitched laugh. "Good luck finding anyone that fits all your describtions darling. I pity you though. Being this picky robs you of lots of fun."

You shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe," you stepped towards him, making his undead heart beat a bit faster, to his surprise. "Maybe I'll have way more fun with my dark-haired, half-updo having, clean-shaven, scar-faced future lover than with a horny vampire," you booped his nose and walked away, leaving him stunned.

How in the world will he ever fulfill his plan?

Turns out he didn't need to. For the first time in his life his body was totally useless to his plans. All he had to do to win your heart was couple of deep moments here, some nice deeds there, a cliche rose he saw you stare at a bit too long. Very romantic. Very normal. Very...innocent. And very time consuming as well.

But he couldn't say he minded. Quite the opposite, he enjoyed all the little moments he experienced with you. When you were by his side, talking about absolute nonsense under the starry night while the dying bonfire cracked and all your companions slept in their tents, in moments like that he felt normal again. Alive. He forgot about all he's been through in the past two centuries. For a short while, true, but even that was better than a blessing from any god, if any of them existed.

After another night like that he came to a realization: he loved you. Sincerely.

Which wasn't part of the plan. At all. Maybe it'll pass? Yeah. It will definitelly pass. He has concidered some of his past victims almost charming, but the feeling went away by the time they passed Cazador's palace gates. In this case it will take a day, maybe two.

A whole week passed and his heart only continued beating for you. He couldn't take it anymore. Lying was fun, but not to you. Not anymore.

He came clean. About everything. His manipulation, failed seduction. Everything. It happened on a type of night he has selfishly claimed as only his and yours. Fire cracked, companions slept, stars twinkled and you, just like always, stunned him by hugging him and confessing to him.

He hasn't stopped shoving your love for him in everyone's faces since, especially Gale's. He hasn't gotten to enjoying your body either, but he didn't really mind. You stayed with him despite his trauma, and that was enough for him. Besides, he doesn't want to mentally escape while making love to the only person who unconditionally cared for him. He wanted to be fully present, you deserved it. Who cares if his healing will take a month or a year, or several? You certainly didn't. You were just happy to be with him, and so was he.

His brand new plan of building his life with you, with a side quest of killing a certain bastard, fell apart when you met a druid.

Halsin.

Astarion didn't mind him at first. Even became somewhat fond of him. Until he started noticing the little things. Halsin's lingering looks. Your kind smile. The two of you fighting side by side more often then you fought by Astarion's side.

And then the memory of his first seduction fail came back. Your type. Long dark hair. Half updo. Shaved. Scarred. Halsin ticked every single box. Astarion mentally slapped himself. How could he even begin to think any of this would last? Everything was too good to be true, too dreamy to be exact. Like straight out of one of Wyll's stories.

It became clear to him. Halsin will want to bed you. And you would, understandably, accept. It was just a matter of days till you walk up to him and tell him about Halsin's great proposition. If you'd be generous enough to tell him beforehand, that is. If you were secretely rotten just like the rest of the world you'd tell him only after, either to boast or to rub salt in his wounds. Indirectly telling him you have needs he cannot fulfill.

He really hoped you wouldn't do the latter. Hells, he hoped you'd refuse Halsin altogether and stay loyal to what the two of you have. But what exactly is that? Just two people who cuddle a lot and kiss. A relationship no different from that formed by children.

Yeah. In the end he wouldn't blame you. He really wouldn't. The only thing he wishes for is your heart belonging to him, your love only being reserved for him. If sleeping with Halsin is what it takes for you to stay his than so be it. He's survived worse.

Days came and went. You still cuddled with him through every night. Astarion even started to have hopes he was making all of that up. He would never be happier to be wrong.

Until one day...

"Astarion," came your voice sweeter than honey. "You would not believe the conversation I just had with Halsin."

He laughed. Bitterly. "I was wondering when you were going to ask me about this," his voice was aloof, almost sort of cheerful. Disguising his disapointment. Not in you of course, in life itself.

"Did he talk to you about it?" You asked, a bit surprised.

"I guessed. The man can't stay quiet about 'enjoying the freedom of nature's gifts', ha," he mocked Halsin's deep voice. "He would outlaw clothing if he could."

"Aaaand what do you say?" You looked up at him with your bright eyes he loved getting lost in so much.

He gulped down a bitter set of words and put on his practiced smile. "I don't mind at all. Go on, have fun. As long as you return to me in the end."

He watched. Waited for your reaction. A happy squeel, a set of thank yous, a relief, an excitement your urges will be met after such a long time, anything really. But he didn't expect your smile to fall, your eyes darken with something. Anger? No, anger looks different on you. Disapointment? More likely, but not quite that either.

"Are you serious?" You asked, tone cold.

Your POV

You were never desired. Not by your peers, your crushes, random people, nobody. Not that you were ugly, you just blended into the background easily. Sure, after people got to know you they became rather fond, but it always took time. Very few people have that nowadays. If the cover doesn't interest them they won't even bother to read the book.

Then came the disaster, the mindflayers, the tadpole. It would be the most miserable time of your life, if you haven't met your companions. One by one they've made your dull life a bit lighter, livelier.

Especially Astarion. His appearance didn't interest you in the begining. Pale as a chalk, curly hair growing barely past his ears. He had no facial hair whatsoever which could be his saving feature but he was robbed of the hotness a scar could bring him.

However your feelings changed when you started talking with him, getting to know him. He had so much more to himself and his appearance became something that was just there and not the first thing you noticed every time you looked at him.

Funny enough, you've started to notice a slight change in his behaviour towards you. Touches lingered a bit too long, smile became a bit less perfect. And something in his eyes you couldn't really put a finger on.

He confessed to you one night. Not a confession you'd be thrilled to hear. He told you about his plan, his manipulation. It made your heart crack. Of course this would happen. Of course someone would be interested in you only if they could gain something from you. Were you cursed?

You wanted to be mad. You wanted to slap him and tell him to go to hells. But you couldn't. Not after the words that followed next.

He loved you. Even without outright saying it you could sense it. In that moment he was the most sincere he has ever been with you, most open. All his walls torn down, pouring his soul out for you. How could you do anything other than confess your own love for him?

The days that followed had been the best ones yet. No one has ever made you feel this desired. Astarion was still a flirty little goblin but when it was just the two of you late at night he became gentler, a bit more romantic. Well, not quite since he had a twisted view on romance after two hundred years under Cazador, but his efforts always made your heart melt.

Not for a second did you feel the need to do anything more with him besides cuddling. Your first time with him was great, ignoring his cocky and sassy personality he could be an exceptionally gentle lover. But you understood how he felt and respected him and his boundaries. Besides, his big hand wrapped around yours when you walked from town to town, his head laying on your chest listening to your heartbeat while your fingers gently played with the curls you started to love, all of these innocent touches outweigh any need for his body in a more mature way.

Thing have been good, until you met Halsin. Then things became even better. He brought this new atnosphere to your little group. Since he wasn't infected you tried so hard to make him feel welcomed. Not that he looked like he needed it, but old habits die hard.

However he must've misinterpreted your kindness. You tried to hold in your scoff as he proposed polygamy to you. You, the biggest hopeless romantic who has already gotten her prince charming. Not in a way she expected or dreamed about but still. But his words did give her an idea.

To make Astarion jealous. He never showed any signs of jealousy, you never gave him a reason. And yet you still wanted to know what it felt like. Remembering your childhood friends having boys and girls alike fight over them. No one has ever fought for you. No one has ever pulled you into their body and glared at anyone who flirted with you despite your discomfort. All of these scenarios you experienced only through heroines in your romance novels.

Halsin gave you a perfect opportunity to experience it now! It may sound cruel, but you couldn't wait. Astarion has always addressed you as my love, my sweet, my darling, my, my, my. Surely he would be the possessive type. What would he do first? Pull you into him and kiss your mind senseless to remind you who you belong to? Or would he talk you out of a night of passion with Halsin? He does talk a lot but you really hoped he would do what every guy in your novels did. Minus the steamy scenes that sometimes followed, of course.

Oh, how wrong you were.

"Are you serious?" You asked, heartbroken.

His confident mask fell, confusion replacing it. "Yes? Did I say otherwise?"

Tears stung in your eyes. Was he really serious? Did he not mind one bit if you slept with another man? Did he love you so little? Did he love you at all? You knew his thoughts on love and genuine care could be a bit twisted and wrong but to this extent? To just throw you at any man that asks you as if you meant nothing to him. As if your nights together in eachother's embrace meant nothing to him.

Apparently your quivering lip and teary eyes wasn't the reaction he expected. He cupped your left cheek. "Sweetheart, did I do anything wrong?"

You slapped his hand away. "You did everything wrong. I-," you looked away, hoping your tears of disapointment and anger wouldn't fall, "I thought we had something."

"We do! Of course we do. But I can't hold your hunger against you. Trust me, I understand what it feels like, to desire something and seldom acquire it."

"But it's you who I desire!" A tear fell. "And not in terms of sex. It's your care, teasing, love. All of that," you sniffled. "All of you."

Now Astarion was more confused than before. "But... your talk with the druid. You were happy about his proposition. Are you telling me you turned him down?"

You nodded. "I did. I'm not the kind of girl to sleep with people I don't trust. I trust you. I love you. Even without sleeping with you I want to stay by your side. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Well yes, concidering your type."

"My type?"

"Oh please," he sighed. "Look at him for goodness sake. Luscious brown hair reaching his shoulders, a huge scar, no facial hair. Features you were positively gushing about right infront of me."

Realization hit you just as hard as old memories. You remember that night. He has offered you some of his wine and some flirty lines as well. You humored him back then. "You... you remember that?"

He looked away, arms crossed, tips of his pointy ears flushed. "Of course I do. How could I forget the first person not falling for my charm? I simply made a mental note in case we ever come across some shape changing potion so I could fit your standards. It was purely for research."

You smirked. "Oooor, could it be," you took a step closer to him, hands clasped behind your back making you look innocent and almost childishly teasing, "that perhaps you've started liking me by that point?"

He groaned. "Hells woman, I don't know. I've stopped writing myself a diary since lomg ago."

"It's not a no," you said in a sing-song voice.

Before he could turn away you cupped his cheeks and made his pouty self face you. "Listen, if I didn't know either of you and you'd be walking down the street as complete strangers to me, true, I would ignore your pale vampiric ass over Halsin any time of the day."

Annoyed, Astarion rolled his eyes and went in to push your hands away from his face but you held still. You gently place couple of soft kisses over his cheekbones and continued. "But personality plays a big role in who my heart belongs to. If both of you walked down the street now I'd jump into your arms without a second thought. And not because of what either of you look like."

You stood on your tippy toes and kissed his forhead. "It's your sense sarcasm," kiss on the bridge of his nose, "dry and sometimes downright wrong sense of humor," you drag your lips gently along his nose, "your playfulness that keeps your old ass young," he scoffed but let you peck the tip of his nose, "your wit, your charm, your passion. And I do mean outside of the bed," you clarified as you kept giving his face little kisses.

His arms held onto your waist as you listed off all of the qualities he may or may not possess. If he physically could he would be purring like a cat right now. "Darling, you sure do know how to stroke my ego."

"Oh really? Maybe I should stop. I don't want you to become too spoiled after all," you teased but you both knew you didn't mean a single word.

He hummed, which almost did sound like a cat's purr. "Or maybe I should just tease out all the ways you wanted me to react out of you. Was it this?" Without a warning he yanked you into his chest, forcefully but not too violently. One of his hands slowly moved from your waist up between your shoulderblades, carressing your back with just his fingertips, making you shiver.

"Or this?" He leaned down, his nose brushing against yours, cold undead lips close enough to feel his breath on your mouth but too far away for an actual contact.

Despite his torturous teasing you giggled. "Actually, I already got my reaction."

"You did?" He dropped the sauve seductive act completely and pulled back anough to properly look you in the eyes.

"Yeah. I mean it wasn't the same as in my books, and definitely not what I expected. But it was better. It was real."

You snaked your arms around his neck. "Besides, if you did everything as I expect you to, it wouldn't be half as much fun with you now would it?"

Smiling he closed his eyed and rested his forhead on yours. "No, it definitelly wouldn't, darling. Although," his mouth twusted inti a devilish smirk. Oh no.

In one swift movement he scooped you up over his shoulder making his way towards your shared tent. A concept of secluded tents has gone out the window once Astarion realized how wonderful a warm body feels against his throughout the night.

"I'd love to know precisely what kind of books you've read before my glorious presense took over your love life."

You struggled against his grasp a bit but quickly gave up. Not because it was impossible to break free but because, as embarassing as it was to admit, you liked how he carried you. Being manhandled by him wasn't so bad from time to time.

"You'd be bored out of your mind. Most of them were cheesy novels for hopeless romantics."

He entered the tent and gently layed you down on your side of the bedroll. He turned to close the flaps to give the two of your desired alone time and said: "Well, to each their own I suppose. But who knows, maybe I can get an inspiration from some of them. Making your silly childhood dreams of knights in shining armors and princesses become a reality."

After he was done he layed down and assumed his favourite position. Head on your chest, ear right over your heart, arms holding you close to him. Instead of playing with his hair as always your hands cradled his head, thumb brushing his cheek.

"My love, you've already made so many of them a reality."

He chuckled into your chest, one hand coming up to angle your wrist so he could kiss your pulse. "Surely there must be some I haven't."

There were. Those where they lived happily ever after.

But those had time.

[apollorobin]

ellis of woolworth, and his page marks, and his page's page unpaid intern spencer!