#Biggest Peaceful Gathering in the World

[satorulovebot]

so scarlet it was, maroon | chapter one

✧₊⁺ pairing — satoru gojou x journalist!reader

✧₊⁺ chapter summary — you get the chance to meet the infamous gojou satoru while working on your journalism project at suzuka circuit. what could you possibly want from him?

✧₊⁺ word count — 6.3k

✧₊⁺ warnings — nsfw (minors dni), age gap, alcohol use, mature themes, mentions of cheating, substance abuse, themes of marriage and divorce

✧₊⁺ notes — hello everyone! i asked you awhile ago on a poll which series you would like to see after cursed seas and f1 gojo won the poll and then i posted the masterlist and everyone wants it so you get it now. so here it is. and NO its not happy NEVER expect happiness from me because im allergic to it. also the reader being nosy af is inspired by me and my parents telling me i should be a journalist with how nosy i am.

series masterlist // pinterest moodboard // general masterlist

next chap. the husband and his wife

You moved to Tokyo with your family when you were younger.

You grew up in a rural part of the country, surrounded by farmers and people either ready to retire or nearing the end of their lives. Your parents hated living there, and so did you—for one, there were hardly any kids to play with, and two, as your father would say, "too many old fuckers lying around."

When you moved to Tokyo, your family decided to celebrate by taking you to a Formula 1 race. Your dad thought it would be perfect for the two of you since fixing up old cars had always been your daddy-daughter activity.

You didn’t like the idea of racing at first—the noise was too loud, and the idea of people speeding toward a black-and-white checkered line seemed ridiculous. But the moment you heard the roar of the engines and watched the lights go from red to green, you were captivated, a fascination that would stay with you for years.

When you got your first computer, you began looking up videos of F1 drivers. One day, you stumbled across a video titled “The Biggest F1 Scandals in History,” and that was when you decided you wanted to go into journalism.

You were nosy, to say the least. So, it was no surprise to your parents when you announced to them that you wanted to pursue journalism as a career. Your father reminded you how you’d always been curious, listening in on others’ conversations and keeping up with the latest school drama.

When you applied for journalism school, you were accepted into one of the top programs in the world—Sophia University. Your parents were proud that you’d made it into such a highly ranked school for journalism in Japan.

You were now in your fourth and final year at Sophia, and enjoying your journalism class. Recently, your professor assigned a project: write a story about a major pop culture figure of your choice, and for extra credit, get an interview with them. Your professor knew it was damn near impossible, but he was always optimistic that one day, someone would get that interview and he could retire in peace.

That project led you here: Suzuka Circuit, Japan's main Formula 1 track. Your chosen figure was none other than Gojou Satoru—F1's biggest driver in recent years. He was your father's favorite among the new-generation drivers, known for his string of controversies since he started on top of the persistent rumors of his heavy drug use before races.

You had managed to snag a media passs from your professor when you mentioned doing an F1 driver for your project. He was able to pull some strings to get you into the media booth, getting you a closer look at Gojou Satoru in person.

You watched the pre-race preparations closely from the media booth, your fingers hovered above your notepad as you waited for the race to start. You were determined to get a good grade on this project, and that meant adding every single detail to your report about this race.

It was about time for the drivers to gather in their garages, each wearing headsets and ready for the pre-race briefing. The briefing typically covers the race start, various pit stop scenarios, and a detailed weather report. Before each race weekend, they usually spend time in a simulator of the track they'll be racing on, preparing them for the upcoming race.

After about thirty-minutes the racers came out of their garages in their respective cars. They each line up based on the results of a quaifying session that takes place before the race, slowest qualifier in the back, fastest in the front. Gojou Satoru was at the front of the grid, which meant he was one of the qualifiers who had the fastest time.

You waited around for a little while longer turning your attention to what was happening around you. Eventually, you made your way back to the front of the media booth as the race started, ready to report.

The engines revved as each driver began preparing for the start of the race, each car vibrating on the starting grid like a beast straining at its chains. Gojou sat at the front of the lineup, his hands loose on the wheel, fingers tapping in a steady rhythm as he waited for the lights to turn green.

The roar from the grandstands faded, becoming a blur of sound as the lights ticked down: red, red, red, red… green.

He slammed the throttle, feeling the raw force of the car’s engine kick him back into his seat as he tore down the straight. Other cars jostled for position behind him, all fighting to claim the inside line into the first turn.

Through his earpiece, he heard the voice of his race engineer, Shokou, calm as ever. “Clear on turn two, you’ve got five-tenths on Hayashi. Stay tight.”

But Gojou barley heard her. The car was an extension of him, responding to his every thought, every split-second decision. He pushed down the straights, his right foot heavy on the accelerator, taking corners at speeds most drivers wouldn’t dare attempt. The sound of his tires skidding against the asphalt, the blur of the track side barriers, the lights of Tokyo reflecting off his mirrors—it all blended into a single, perfect rush.

Gojou could see the next turn ahead, a tight chicane that could send the best drivers into the barriers if they weren't careful. He braked hard, turning the wheel with perfect precision to angle the car through. He could feel the back end wobbling, but he didn't flinch, drifting perfectly as he swung back onto the racing line, gaining another second on the pack.

He could almost hear the collective gasp of the crowd in his head as he slipped through the chicane. This was his playground. Every race was a chance to remind the world why he was the best.

“Coming up on a DRS zone,” Shoko’s voice crackled in his ear, grounding him, though he was already on it

He waited for the perfect moment, watching the rear-view mirror to see the faint outline of Hayashi's car. He pressed the DRS, and his car shot forward, the drag reduction giving him a temporary speed boost that had him pulling away, putting him in the lead.

The track opened up ahead, the second sector full of wide, sweeping turns. Here was where raw speed mattered more than anything. Gojou pressed down hard on the accelerator, the engine roaring in response. He leaned forward, watching the track fly by, the white lines blurring as he focused entirely on the road ahead.

For a second, the sound in his earpiece went dead, the faint sound of static filling his ears. Then Shokou was back. “You’ve got Yoshida closing in on your tail. He’s pushing hard.”

Gojou glanced up at the mirrors, his eyes catching the bright blue and orange of Yoshida's car looming larger. The familiar thrill sparked in him. So, Yoshida thought he had a chance, did he? Well, he’d show him otherwise.

“Copy,” he muttered into his mic, eyes narrowing as he took the next corner, barley touching the brakes. He felt the tires skid but he managed to control the drift, knowing any slip would open the door for Yoshida to slip past.

He whipped into another straight, his hands steady on the wheel as he hit a top speed.

His foot didn’t so much as twitch as the engine’s roar morphed into a high-pitched scream as the car closed the distance.

The curve ahead was brutal—a tight 90-degree bend that demanded precise timing.

In a split-second decision, he did something no one expected. He braked late, his heart pounding as he cut the turn at a speed that sent the back end skidding. The tires gripped just in time, allowing him to pull out of the corner without losing traction. He could almost feel the shock reverberating as he regained control, his lead still intact.

As the laps wore on, his body moved on instinct, every gear shift, every turn becoming a single, fluid motion. One lap. Two. Three, with two pit stops between. He counted them off one by one, his mind buzzing with the pure rush of speed and the heat inside the car, barely noticing the time passing. The crowd faded into nothing, the world shrinking down to the track and his car.

The final lap. This was it.

“Box this lap if you’re in trouble,” Shokou’s voice crackled again. “Tire degradation is high.”

But Gojou’s grip on the steering wheel only tightened. His front tires were holding out—barely. It would be tight, but he could make it. He’d run this last lap on sheer determination alone if he had to.

“Negative, Shokou. I’m taking it,” he replied, and then turned off the earpiece, tuning out everything except the track and the car in front of him.

He launched into the final lap, throwing caution to the wind. Yoshida was right on his tail now, close enough that he could see the gleam of his headlights in the mirrors. But Gojou didn’t back down. He took each turn aggressively, blocking Yoshida's attempts to pass, forcing him to fall back every time.

The last chicane loomed ahead, his final obstacle before the finish line. He tightened his grip, the wheel trembling under his hands. He took the chicane fast, too fast, almost feeling the wheels lift off the ground as he flew out of the turn. The car rocked, but he held steady, pushing the pedal to the floor.

The finish line was in sight, a faint white line at the end of the straight, and with one last push, he crossed it, the checkered flag waving in his periphery as he tore past.

It was only after he’d crossed over the line that the realization hit him—he’d won.

The cheers erupted in the stands, the roar of the crowd filling his ears as he slowed down, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He could hear Shoko’s voice crackling back in as she shouted, “You pulled it off, you insane bastard.”

Gojou grinned, leaning back in his seat, still buzzing. He’d done it again, just as he always did.

The moment he climbed out of the cockpit, Gojou was surrounded by his team. Shokou was the first to reach him, her usually composed face split by a wide grin. She grabbed his helmet and thumped him on the shoulder hard enough so he actually felt it though the layers of his suit.

“You reckless son of a—”

“Language, Shokou,” Gojou interrupted, grinning as he yanked off his gloves, waving to the rest of the Tokyo Jujutsu Racing team that swarmed him.

“Do you know what it’s like to watch you pull stunts like that? I’m gonna need a raise after today’s heart attack,” she muttered.

“Oh, come on, Shokou. That was just a little fun.” He stretched his arms over his head. “Where’s my confetti?”

“Coming right up, your royal highness." Someone handed him a bottle of champagne, still cold and slick, and he twisted the cap, spraying a wild arc of foam that showered his team and nearby fans.

His PR manager, Nanami, clapped him on the back. “You’re insufferable."

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said, lifting the champagne bottle in a mock toast, flashing him a grin. The media’s cameras clicked and flashed, capturing every moment as his crew continued their congratulations.

The crowd pressed close against the barriers, shouting his name, waving homemade banners with scribbled slogans and his number embellished with the colors red and black. He walked closer, one arm raised, acknowledging the fans, letting their cheers fill him up, louder and louder with every step.

But as he continued walking, his gaze caught on something—or rather, someone—just beyond the crowd.

At first it was just a hint curiosity, the way your gaze was fixed on him. A bit removed from the chaos, you leaned against one of the barriers with a media pass hanging around your neck, arms folded as you watched from a distance.

Gojou slightly narrowed his eyes, holding your gaze longer than he'd held any fan's tonight, as if he was daring you to look away first.

“What the hell is that about?” he muttered under his breath, gaze moving back to Shokou for half a second.

“Hm?” Shokou followed his gaze, but her eyes slid right past you, uninterested. “Press. You’ll get used to it. Come on, they’re all waiting.”

He forced himself to break the stare, clearing his throat as Shokou ushered him toward the media pen, where a lineup of journalists waited, all armed with recorders, microphones, and notebooks.

He fielded the usual questions—how did it feel to win, what was his mindset, what was he thinking on that last turn? His answers were always the same practiced ones, words sliding out like clockwork.

“Well, Mr. Gojou, what would you say to those who believe your racing style is a little… aggressive?” one journalist asked, a little smirk on her face as if she thought she was catching him off guard.

He snorted. “They can call it what they want. I call it winning.” He shrugged. “I don’t come out here to play it safe.”

A few reporters laughed at his remark, clearly interested in what else he had to say as a fresh wave of questions started.

Somewhere behind the flashing lights, he saw you again, lingering a few feet behind the crowd of reporters with that calm gaze fixed on him. You didn’t raise a recorder or a camera, didn’t even make an effort to push closer for a question. You just… watched.

It was disconcerting.

“Gojou!” Another journalist waved a microphone his face, snapping his attention back to the current situation. “What’s the next step for you this season?”

He forced a smile, eyes briefly looking back to you before he focused on the question. “The same as always,” he said. “Push harder, get faster, and give everyone something to talk about.”

The crowd laughed again, though, he barely heard them, too focused on the strange woman staring right into his soul. The two of you locked eyes and you have him a small nod, as if acknowledging that you were in fact staring into his soul.

“Well, I think that’s enough,” Shokou said suddenly at his elbow, pulling him out of his thoughts. “They’ll have plenty of time to hound you later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, though he let her guide him away. Still, he couldn’t help glancing back over his shoulder, hoping to catch one last glimpse of you.

But you were already gone.

Gojou slipped away from the crowd, weaving through the bustling garage and dodging the congratulatory slaps on his back, the endless rounds of handshakes, and the celebratory shouts. He ducked past a few journalists, ignoring the barrage of questions still hurled his way, his smile slipping as he finally found the door to the bathroom.

Inside, the cool, sterile silence was jarring compared to the noise outside, but he let out a sigh of relief, his heart hammering in his chest. He clicked the lock and leaned against the sink, running his hands over his face, staring at his own reflection in the mirror.

The victory high had worn off, leaving behind a familiar pressure he could not cope with. It settled on his shoulders like an old, unwelcome friend.

He hadn't realized how much tension he was carrying in his shoulders, how deeply it would itself into him when he was alone. The race had been perfect, his win flawless, but he could feel the exhaustion radiating off of him, a pulsing throb being his eyes. He clenched his jaw, glaring at himself in the mirror.

“Pull yourself together,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

But his words fell flat, swallowed up by the silence. In the mirror, his own eyes stared back at him, tired, almost hollow.

He reached into the pocket of his racing suit, fingers brushing over the small, familiar packet hidden in the inner lining. It was a stupid habit, a reckless one really, but it was one he hadn't been able to shake, no matter how many times he tried to quit. He could practically feel the temporary relief in the palm of his hand.

He closed his eyes, running his thumb along the edge of the packet before pulling it out, setting it on the counter next to the sink. He ripped it open tapping a small line onto the smooth counter top. It was like his fingers had a mind of their own, as if it was part of his routine of suiting up or gripping the wheel.

The powder glinted under the bathroom’s harsh fluorescent lights, almost mocking him with its simplicity. Just a quick escape, just enough to take the edge off. That’s all he needed.

He leaned down, closing one nostril and inhaling sharply, feeling the sting as the powder hit his nose. He straightened his back, blinking hard, the world around him sharpening as his mind cleared. A small, humorless smile tugged at his lips.

He leaned back against the sink, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat slow, the tension in his muscles fading away.

But it didn’t take long for the guilt to creep back in, that hollow feeling settling in his chest, a reminder that this wasn't the answer. He knew it. He knew exactly what he was doing to himself, how he was destroying his body from the inside out, how it could all come crashing down. And yet… here he was.

“Fucking pathetic,” he muttered to himself, his voice echoing against the tiles.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, jolting him back to reality.

“Gojou? You in there?” It was Shokou. “They’re waiting for you out here.”

He stuffed the empty packet back into his pocket, brushed the last of the substance off of the sink, and glanced in the mirror one last time to check his reflection, making sure there was no trace left of his momentary escape.

Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders, forced a smirk, and unlocked the door.

Shokou was standing there, arms crossed, her gaze scrutinizing as he stepped out. She didn’t say anything, but her judgmental eye lingered over him for a split second too long.

“You good?”

“Never better."

“Right,” she said, clearly unconvinced, but she dropped it, gesturing for him to follow her.

As the celebrations continued, Gojou weaved his way through fans and team-members alike who were still wrapped up in their post-race celebrations. He scanned the crowd, hoping to find the strange woman from earlier who he noticed had a press pass, thinking you would be here.

And then he saw you, leaning against a stack of crates near the garages, observing the current scene with the same judgmental eyes that Shokou had. The media badge hung from your neck, swaying slightly as you shifted your weight, pulling out a notebook and flipping through it, seemingly absorbed in what you were currently doing.

He cleared his throat as he approached, the echo of his footsteps giving his presence away.

You looked up, your brow raised as he came closer, a hint of intrigue flashing in your eyes.

“Looking for something?” you asked, not moving as he stopped in front of you.

“You could say that,” he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets, his gaze darted to the notebook in your hands. “I couldn’t help but notice you earlier, off in the shadows. Didn’t feel like joining the crowd?”

“Not my style.” You shrugged. “I’m not here to cheer. I’m here to report.”

“Journalist, huh?” he drawled, tilting his head. “What’s your angle?”

“The truth,” you said, a little smile pulling at your lips as you studied him. “Not everyone’s a fan of that, I know.”

“Depends on what you call the truth. But I’ve got a feeling you’ve already got your version.”

"How perceptive. I’m doing a piece on your racing career, your achievements, but… the public wants a fuller picture, don’t you think?

“Not sure I follow. Everyone knows what they need to know.”

“Not quite,” you replied, flipping through your notebook. “There’s more than just racing stats when it comes to Gojou Satoru, isn’t there?”

“Care to elaborate?”

“People say you’re… unraveling. Your recent ‘questionable decisions’ are starting to paint a different picture, don’t you think?” you said, tapping your pen against your notebook. “The accidents, the fines, the constant change in pit crews—”

“Is this some kind of witch hunt?” he interrupted. “Because I’d hate to disappoint you, princess, but I’ve heard it all.”

“Maybe so.” You leaned in a bit, meeting his stare. “But what about the whispers that aren’t out yet? The suspicions about you cheating the drug tests, your team shielding you—” You paused. “There’s a lot of money on your success, Mr. Gojou.”

“Money and racing have always gone hand-in-hand, don’t you think? You’d have a hard time finding someone out here who hasn’t bent a rule or two.”

“True enough.” You titled your head slightly. “But even the most golden careers have a way of losing their shine.”

"Tell me—do you enjoy tearing people down for a living?”

“Only if it’s warranted,” you replied unfazed. “People aren’t interested in perfect stories. They want the flaws, the dirt. It makes it all more real. At least that's what my professor believes."

“You’ve got a wicked mind, I’ll give you that. But I hope you realize you’re not the first to come sniffing around for the ‘real story’.”

A pregnant pause settles between you before you asked, “And what about her?”

A beat passed before he answered. “Who?”

“Your wife. She’s been… noticeably absent from the press circuits. And rumor has it things aren’t exactly picture-perfect between you two.”

“Rumor has it,” he repeated. “Guess you know how it is in this business. There’s always some rumor or another.”

“So it’s just a rumor, then? All the time apart, the missed events, her name suddenly missing from every headline. You’re saying there’s nothing to it?”

“People are eager to make stories out of nothing. My private life is just that—private.”

“That’s interesting,” you murmured, not looking away. “Because the most recent stories about you and her—they’re awfully detailed. People are noticing, wondering why she’s suddenly… disappeared from the scene.”

“Let them wonder. Like I said, people will talk. And it seems like you’re more interested in gossip than journalism.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Journalism is about uncovering the truth,” you countered. “But it seems like you’re more comfortable brushing things under the rug than addressing them.”

His smile returned, his carefully crafted facade sliding back into place as he straightened up, glancing away from you, clearly bored of the conversation. "Maybe someday you'll get the truth you're so desperate for, but it's not going to be today."

Before he walked away completely, he gave you one last look, his tone playful but laced with a hint of warning. “Be careful what you dig up, princess. Sometimes the truth’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

And with that, he turned his back to you, disappearing into the crowd.

Gojou returned home after the long night of celebrations had died down, the adrenaline from the race long gone, now replaced by a gnawing emptiness that felt like it might hollow him out. His penthouse was in the hear of Tokyo—a sleek, modern apartment with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the neon-drenched skyline.

As he opened the door, the soft him of the city below was drowned out by the sound of footsteps, His wife, Hana, appeared from the hallway, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, her eyes narrowed. She was dressed in a sleek black outfit, her dark hair pulled back, a looking a frustration etched onto her face.

“You’re late."

“Didn’t realize I was on a curfew,” he replied, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair.

“Don’t act like that.” Her eyes flashed as she followed him into the living room. “You missed the dinner with my parents again. They’ve been asking about you, wondering why you’re never around.”

“Hana, I just won a race,” he replied, exasperated. “Sorry if I wasn’t in the mood to play the doting son-in-law tonight.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. “Of course, it’s always about the race with you. Everything is about that damn career, isn’t it?”

“You knew what you were signing up for when you married me.”

“Maybe I didn’t know it would mean you disappearing for days, weeks sometimes, chasing whatever thrill you think you need to feel alive.”

“What’s your point, Hana? We’ve had this argument a hundred times.”

“The point is, Satoru,” she said, voice trembling with anger, “that you seem to care more about everything else than this marriage. I’m just a fixture in your life, something you come back to whenever you need to check a box or show face. But you’re never really here.”

He let out a harsh laugh, the bitter sound filling the apartment. "Here we go again. Hana, it’s not like you’ve been some shining example of commitment either. You’ve known what this is for months.”

“What this is?” Her voice rose, cracking slightly as she repeated his words. “What exactly is ‘this,’ Satoru? A sham? A partnership for appearances? I thought you loved me…"

“I can’t keep doing this,” she continued softly, her voice breaking. “The lying, the pretending. It’s exhausting.”

“So what do you want me to say, Hana? That I’m some perfect husband?” He gestured to himself, shaking his head with a smirk that looked almost pained. “We’re both guilty here. Let’s not act like this hasn’t been a slow-motion train wreck.”

“Fine. But do me a favor—at least act like you care when people ask. Because every time I hear some story about you, another scandal or rumor, it’s like a slap in the face. My family, my friends—everyone’s talking. They see the headlines too.”

“Fine. But do me a favor—at least act like you care when people ask. Because every time I hear some story about you, another scandal or rumor, it’s like a slap in the face. My family, my friends—everyone’s talking. They see the headlines too.”

“What do you want from me, Hana?” he asked quietly, the fight suddenly draining out of him. “You want me to pretend I’m someone I’m not?”

“I want… I wanted the man I married. The one who cared, who had dreams."

“Then maybe,” he said finally, his voice almost a whisper, “it’s time to stop pretending.”

As Gojou stood there running a hand through his hair. Hana paused, her expression shifting from something resigned to something wounded.

“And there’s one more thing."

He looked at her, brow furrowing. “Fucking Christ Hana, what now?”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Satoru?” she asked, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “I know what’s out there. The rumors. The whispers about who you’re with when you’re not here. Or maybe you think I don’t hear them.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hana, they’re just rumors. You know how the press is—they’ll twist anything for a story.”

“Twist what, exactly? Why do they have something to twist in the first place?”

“They don’t have anything. It’s just the media looking for something to make people read. Speculation sells.”

“Right. Speculation. But funny how it’s always about you, always linked to another woman.”

“That’s because I’m under a microscope. People love to create scandals, especially with someone like me. And you know that better than anyone.”

“It’s not just them, Satoru. People talk, and it’s not just baseless gossip. I’m not naive. I hear things from people close to you, people who actually know you.”

“You really believe them? You think I’m out there, risking everything for some—” He stopped himself, biting his tongue.

“Do I? I don’t even know my own husband anymore. Maybe I should ask them. Or maybe I should ask you directly, Satoru. Are you seeing someone?”

“Why are we even doing this?”

“Because I want the truth. Just once. I deserve that much, don’t I?”

“Believe what you want, Hana. I don’t have anything else to say.”

“Then maybe that’s all I need to know.”

Gojou stormed out of his apartment, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to shake off his frustration. He'd had enough for one night. His heart was pounding and the last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts. He needed to get out, to drown the anger with something that could at least help him forget.

The bar he found was tucked away down a dim side street in Shibuya. It wasn't anything fancy–a dark cry from the glitzy nightlife he was used to–but it was dark and quiet which was exactly what he needed. He slid onto a bar stool and motioned for a drink, not bothering to pay attention to what the bartender poured.

He sipped his drink in silence, trying to tune out the night and all the noise in his head. The alcohol burned down his throat, but it was a welcome distraction that numbed his anger and frustration. He was almost on his third drink when he noticed someone sitting in the corner of the room, hunched over a notebook, tapping her pen against her cheek in thought.

She's cute, he thought to himself. He squinted trying to get a better look at the young woman, and he immediately recognized, it was you.

Of all the places he'd expect to see you, this shitty bar wasn't one of them. You looked so absorbed in your work, like you were piecing together something for a story. Satoru's curiosity got the better of him, and he stood up carrying his drink as he made his way over to where you were sitting.

"Well, well," he said, leaning against the back of the chair across from you. “Didn’t peg you for a bar rat, but maybe I was wrong.”

Your head snapped up, and your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Gojou Satoru. What a surprise.”

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, already taking the seat.

“Didn’t think someone like you would end up in a place like this. Celebrating?”

He gave a dry laugh, swirling the glass in his hand. “Something like that.”

“So, what are you doing here, really? Figured you’d be at a fancy cafe, writing about some important news story.”

“Maybe I am. Research is research, even if it’s in a bar. Maybe it’s you I’m writing about.”

“So I’m your new project, huh?”

“Maybe. It’s part of this little journalism course I’m doing. We’re supposed to pick a public figure and write a profile. Someone who’s got a… colorful public image.”

“Colorful, huh?” He smirked. “Guess I’m your lucky target. Hope I make an interesting subject."

“Interesting is one word for it,” you replied, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “What’s got you so quiet tonight? I thought you’d be surrounded by fans somewhere.”

He shrugged, taking a long sip of his drink. “Not in the mood for fans tonight.”

“Tough race?”

He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. “Not the race. Just… life, I guess.”

“So,” he said, leaning in. “tell me about this little journalism course. You planning to make a career out of stalking poor drivers like me?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that. We’re learning how to ‘uncover the truth’—or at least, that’s what they say. So far, it’s been a lot of digging through archives and learning to ask the right questions.”

“Right questions, huh?” He arched an eyebrow. “Let’s hear one. What would you ask me, if I were your ‘colorful public figure’?”

“Alright, Gojou. How does someone at the top of their game manage to keep it all together? All the races, the publicity, the pressure… don’t you ever feel like it’s too much?”

“Honestly?” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away. “Sometimes, yeah. It’s not as easy as it looks, being the guy everyone thinks has it all together. But people don’t care about that part. They just want the show.”

“So you put on the show.”

“Guess that’s what it comes down to.” He laughed, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears. “People don’t want to see a guy crack under pressure. They want the image.”

“But what do you want?”

No one ever asked him that, as if what he wanted didn’t matter.

“What do I want?” he repeated, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he tried to dodge the question. “Maybe another drink.”

I’m serious. Behind all of that… what’s left?”

“Honestly? Sometimes I don’t even know anymore. It’s like I’ve been going so fast for so long, I can’t remember what it was I was chasing in the first place.”

“Maybe that’s what you need to figure out, then.”

He looked at you, and the faintest trace of a genuine smile broke through. “Maybe.”

The two of you sat in silence, and he found himself grateful for it. You didn't press or pry at him and he thought that he could just be himself, even if it was just for a little while.

“Alright,” he said finally, nudging your notebook with his finger. “So, future journalist, you really gonna write all this down? Make me sound like some tortured artist?”

You smirked. “I’ll try to be kind. Maybe I’ll even leave out the part where you go to bars alone and pretend to be mysterious.”

“Ouch,” he chuckled, holding up his drink in mock surrender. “Noted. But I expect a copy when it’s published. Autographed, obviously.”

“Obviously,” you replied, laughing as you clinked your glass against his. “But don’t expect it to be flattering.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As the conversation continued, Gojou found himself leaning in closer. You both let the drinks keep coming, though it was less about how much alcohol you were consuming and more about the way the words spilled more easily between you two.

“So,” you asked, taking another sip of your drink, “what’s it actually like out there? Everyone sees the fame, the money, the cars, but… what’s it really like?”

He exhaled, tapping his fingers on the edge of his glass. “Honestly? It’s… intense. There’s this high to it, this adrenaline. Nothing like it. You’re pushing yourself and everyone around you to the edge," he tilted his head. “But sometimes, it feels like the line between winning and crashing out isn’t as thick as people think. You cross it once, and that’s it—you’re done.”

“Doesn’t that scare you?”

“A little. But I’m more afraid of what happens if I stop. It’s like… I don’t know what I’d be without it. Guess that sounds stupid.”

“No, it doesn’t. I get it. When something’s all you know… giving it up is like giving up a part of yourself. Scary as hell.”

“Exactly. Guess we all have our addictions, huh?”

Shit. Did he say too much?

You didn’t push, just gave him a quiet nod. “So, what’s Tokyo Jujutsu like? It's one of the toughest team on the grid, right?”

“You know it. They’re tough as hell, no room for error. And they sure as hell won’t give you a second chance if you mess up.”

“Sounds brutal."

“Yeah, maybe. I guess I like the challenge. Or maybe I just like proving people wrong.”

“Enough about me," he continued. What about you? What’s the deal with this journalism project? Are you trying to make a name for yourself by exposing all my secrets?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Believe it or not, my goal in life isn’t to ruin yours. I actually think it’s fascinating, learning what drives people, what keeps them going, even when things get messy.”

“Messy? What makes you think my life is messy?”

“Oh, please. Gojou Satoru’s life is one headline after another. You’re practically the poster boy for drama.”

He feigned a hurt expression, placing a hand over his heart. “You wound me. I’m just a guy trying to make a living, you know?”

“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Just a guy who happens to have a dozen scandals and an equal number of speeding tickets.”

“Hey,” he laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m a professional, okay? That’s all part of the job.”

The two of you continued to chat into the night. Gojou found himself relaxing, caught up in the rare comfort of talking with someone who didn’t expect him to play a part. He could just… be.

At some point, the bartender announced last call, and Gojou glanced at you, smirking. “Guess that’s our cue.”

You stretched, gathering your notebook and tucking it under your arm. “Thanks for the, uh, ‘research material.’ It was… enlightening.”

He laughed, standing and grabbing his coat. “Anytime. But don’t go making me look like a complete asshole in your little project, alright?”

“No promises."

Outside, the air was crisp as he faint hum of city traffic the only sound as you stood together on the quiet street. Gojou slid his hands into his pockets, looking at you.

Outside, the air was crisp as the faint him of the city being the only sound as you stood together on the quiet street. Gojou slide his hands into his pockets, looking at you.

“Maybe we’ll run into each other again."

“Only if you’re brave enough to handle more questions.”

“Oh, I’m plenty brave. But we’ll see if you’re as good at digging as you think.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you turned to leave, throwing him a casual wave. “Goodnight, Mr. Gojou.”

“Goodnight,” he echoed, watching as you disappeared down the empty street.

In that moment he realized, he never did catch your name.

© satorulovebot 2024 please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[pineconepie]

Parental yandere mafia dad who kidnaps you takes you in <3

TW: Mentions of death, platonic yandere, forced age regression, infantilization

...

You know this is stupid, but you have no choice in the matter.

The worst thing is, its not even your fault you're in this situation. A family member made some horrible choices with a huge, well-known mob, and they died before they could pay off the debt they owe.

So, it falls on your shoulders now.

They said if you could do some favors for them, they'd let you live a peaceful life and never bother you again.

But either way, it seemed like death was almost inevitable.

"Hey person who has no experience with mob bosses and cartels, go gather intel on one of the world's most feared mob boss without getting caught! We're sure you'll do great!"

You're sure they're aware you probably won't turn up alive.

That's besides the point. You had a job to do.

And this is why you've found yourself here, entering a huge building with obnoxiously bright neon lights, the air smelling heavily of alcohol.

Its both a casino and nightclub, you figure, as you see a few gambling tables along with a large dance floor, and a bar in the far back. The ground is a little sticky beneath your shoes, and some weirdo bumps into you, clearly drunk.

The guy they asked you to gather information about is none other than Vincent Brewer. From what you've heard, he's ruthless, sadistic, fearless, and loves to flaunt his wealth and success.

His group, Cryo, dabbles in a little bit of everything.

Selling guns, manufacturing weapons, running casinos, killing those that piss them off... All things like that.

So of course, you're terrified out of your mind.

But you manage to make it past the bouncer and enter inside.

Its a nice place, despite all the crimes you're sure happened here. A lot cleaner than you'd expect for such an area.

Almost immediately, you see none other than Vincent himself.

He has short blond hair, hazel-green eyes, and a black suit with a trench coat draped over his shoulders.

He's smirking as he talks to what you presume are other members of Cryo. Vincent is pretty well-known for that smile. It's rare he ever drops it.

You wonder if its because he genuinely finds joy in anything and everything or because he feels the need to come off as tough or domineering. Knowing how much power he wields, it's probably both.

There's no time to stand and stare, though.

You approach, pretending to be one of them, but before you can back out and regret your decisions, he already has his eye on you. You feel like a rabbit trying to convince a den of wolves that you're one of them. And this is the biggest, meanest, hungriest wolf in the world.

"Well, hello," Vincent says. His smile doesn't leave his face, but softens a tiny bit. He looks you up and down. "I don't believe we've met. Are you new?"

Your hands are clammy and trembling, but you put on a fake smile and offer to shake his hand. "Yeah! I'm... (Y/n)." For a moment, you hesitate, considering maybe you should give a fake name just in case, but looks like it's too late for that.

Now that you think about it, you're definitely sure you were sent on a death-mission. Those people didn't even give you proper training.

"(Y/n), huh?" Vincent asks, shaking your hand. He's got a firm grip, as you expected. "Nice to meet you, kiddo. You seem a bit young to be one of my recruits, though." He brushes some hair out of your face, making you tense.

"I guess I look a bit younger than I am," you mutter. "I'm an adult, if that's what you're worried about."

He laughs at that. "Well, that's good! I'd hate to hear how a kid ended up with us!" Then he ruffles your hair, which is a bit embarrassing, but he seems so nice about it that it's not unbearable. "You're just a baby compared to almost everyone in this room. I think I'll need to tell the employees to make sure you don't drink or gamble. That's for grown-ups."

You relax when you realize he's teasing you.

Maybe that's a good sign? "It's okay, I don't really do either of those often, anyway."

Vincent lets out another chuckle, putting a hand on your back, leading you through the crowds and towards where the tables are. There's lots of other people sitting, talking, drinking, laughing. Playing cards or chess or something like that.

Just a bunch of regular casino things.

So far, so good.

This might actually end up working out after all...

"So why exactly did you want to join us?" Vincent asks as he sits you down at one of the chairs, pulling his own chair up next to yours. "Come from a wealthy family? Orphans? Wanted to get off the streets?"

You rub the back of your neck awkwardly, thinking of a suitable lie you'll remember for later. "Ah... I needed the money... Medical bills and stuff. Don't have any family to rely on anymore. Thought maybe if I could save up enough money, I wouldn't need to worry anymore..."

It's kind of true. After you get the information, they said they would reward you with enough cash to pay off whatever was still owed.

But whether that will ever actually happen is yet to be seen.

The more pressing issue was how Vincent would react. So far, so good. He hasn't questioned anything. Just nodded his head sympathetically and hummed at your explanation.

You continue. "And plus, Cryo seems really cool. No pun intended."

"Well, that's nice of you to say," he replies with a laugh. "We try our best around here. You seem a little jittery, though. I hope I don't scare you, kiddo?"

"I mean..." You can't really admit the real reason without outing yourself. He sounds like a man that wants to be feared by everyone. "I think this is just a new environment to me. I don't do too well with crowds."

Vincent nods understandably, patting your shoulder. "Makes sense. It is kinda noisy in here, huh? Sorry about that. Normally we're not like this, but tonight is a party night since we made a pretty big deal recently, as you're aware."

You nod, pretending to know what he's talking about. "Oh, yeah, I heard about that." This means you've already failed step one of your task - being updated on current deals - but that's okay. There's plenty of time to get the intel later. Right?

His eyes darken slightly, but his smile never leaves. "And besides... Can't say we're the nicest group of folks, either." He pokes your cheek and laughs again. "I'm worried this might be too much for you."

"Really, its okay!" you argue. "I'm a lot tougher than I look, I swear!"

He snorts. "You look like a puppy surrounded by wolves. Even if you're tougher than you look, it makes you an easy target. People are gonna be more quick to try to take you out instead of someone bigger than them."

Is he insulting you or genuinely concerned? You hope he's joking and teasing again. "I'll prove I'm strong enough to fit in! You won't have to worry about me one bit. And I can help out Cryo a lot, I promise!" You don't know why you're getting defensive over his condescending tone.

Vincent only seems amused by it, more than he already was. He pinches your cheeks between his fingers, smiling sweetly down at you. "Ohh, I'm sure you're veerrry strong, sweetie."

He sounds patronizing, in that overly-sweet way, as if speaking to a toddler.

He rubs your cheek a few times before leaning back and releasing you. "I think I'll let you stay if you answer one question for me, how 'bout that?"

You nod. "Of course. Anything."

His smile becomes more sharp. "Who sent you?"

"W-what?" Your mouth feels dry. The whole mood shifts, and suddenly it feels much less welcoming, making your stomach churn in panic.

Did you get caught that easily? How did you mess up? Maybe he's just bluffing.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Vincent stares down at you, eyes now narrowed. "You aren't fooling anyone, doll. We have extensive background checks before any of our members can even begin to be considered eligible for recruitment. I personally meet every single one of our new recruits to approve them and remember all of their names. Not only that, but I lied about a recent deal. There was no recent deal."

Your heart starts beating faster in your chest. You feel cold sweat dripping from your forehead.

He saw through you so quickly. Does he already know why you're here?

If you lie again, you're not sure you'll make it out of here alive. "Scarlet Syndicate sent me. I owe them debt, I'm not part of them... please don't kill me."

The man snickers and leans back against his chair again. "Oh, you poor thing. Its pretty clear they aren't expecting you to come back to them with info. They probably sent you here to die or get lost and forgotten about. That's cruel, even by my standards. They set you up for failure." His voice softens up. "You're shaking..."

You're hyperventilating a little, panicking. "I don't wanna die."

Vincent coos at you gently, wrapping a secure arm around you and pulling you into his lap. "Shhh, shh, hey... relax, kiddo, I'm not gonna kill you... I would never hurt such a precious little sweetheart." He kisses your head. "Calm down. Breathe in, breathe out..."

You listen to him and do as instructed.

Taking in deep breaths through the nose, letting them out from your mouth slowly. He rubs gentle circles along your back until you relax against him. He secures you in a firm hold and lifts you up against his chest.

Even for a mob boss, he has an impressive amount of strength to carry you with almost no effort.

You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck.

He smirks at you again. "Aww... does baby wanna be carried everywhere now?" Though its teasing, its also affectionate. You find yourself nodding regardless.

Vincent walks out with you still in his arms, ignoring his colleagues' confused gazes. You can see the exit sign coming closer and closer.

Once you leave the building, he puts you inside a limousine with him, shutting the door behind. He gathers you in his arms after shedding his long beige trench coat, wrapping it around you and engulfing you like a blanket.

This man you hardly even know just called you 'baby.'

You're not quite sure what to make of that.

"Home," he tells the driver. And then he looks down at you. "You really are a little baby, huh?"

You don't know how to react to this sudden display of parental behavior, except stare in confusion.

He pulls you into his lap. "I always wanted a kid of my own, you know. But unfortunately, fate decided I couldn't have any of my own. Well, guess it doesn't matter now!" His eyes flicker across your face. "As soon as I saw you, I could tell you needed someone to take care of you. Like a dad."

"But..." you sniffle. "I'm not a kid."

"Maybe not physically, but I can tell mentally. And you should be grateful for that. I usually don't let any spies live long enough to see another day," Vincent says. "So what do we say?"

You hesitate. "...thank you?"

"You're very welcome, munchkin. When we get you home, we'll have some late dinner and then its bedtime for you," Vincent coos.

"I usually go to bed a lot later than this," you protest.

"Nope, not anymore," he argues back, petting your hair. "As much as I want to be the fun dad, rules are rules. Bedtime will be 8:30 PM for you everyday starting from now on, got it?"

You guess you don't really have a choice.

Not in a million years did you expect this outcome of you being caught spying, but hey, its better than death by gunshot!

The limousine stops outside a huge penthouse.

Vincent carries you out of the vehicle and holds your hand as he leads you to the elevators. Inside, there's a deskman who waves at him. You shyly wave back, a bit unsure.

"This is (Y/n). They'll be staying with me from now on," Vincent explains to him. "If you see them trying to leave without me, call security and tell them to escort them back to my place. And notify me."

"Yes, sir," he agrees, then looks back at you. "Nice to meet you (Y/n). I'm August. If you need anything, feel free to ask!"

You stare at him, then Vincent, dumbfounded.

Vincent pulls you along. "Come on, baby. Let's go home."

Inside the elevator, you're left in shock, speechless. It goes high up - the top floor - before arriving at a large, fancy room.

He unlocks the door to reveal his apartment.

The entire thing is covered with plush rugs, sleek furniture, shiny marble floors, beautiful lights... Everything you'd expect in a multi-millionaire's home, including but not limited to a grand piano sitting in the middle of the living room and two full-size couches in front of a flatscreen TV, and what looks to be some kind of bar or wine cabinet.

"You can explore more tomorrow," Vincent tells you. "Until then, let's get dinner over with and then bedtime. Tomorrow we can discuss how you want your room to look like, clothes, toys, that stuff. Sound good?"

"Yeah," you mumble in agreement.

Vincent sets you down on the sofa, where you watch him grab a remote off of the coffee table.

He turns on the television and flips through channels before settling on something he deemed suitable, which happens to be some sort of children's cartoon.

He begins cooking in the other room, and you're still in too much shock to even think of trying to escape.

This all feels so surreal.

Twenty minutes later, he calls you into the kitchen and has you sit down next to him while he serves you both food.

It's decent, his cooking skills aren't amazing, but decent. You don't mind eating it, though he does give you a stern look when you don't eat all your vegetables.

Afterwards, he guides you upstairs into what appears to be the guest room, saying he'll redecorate it to fit you later. He excuses himself for a moment, coming back with yellow silk pajamas for you to change into. You do so as he turns around to give you some privacy.

When you finish dressing up, he has you brush your teeth, then wash your hands thoroughly. Finally, he helps you climb into the bed, tucking you beneath the blankets.

You can't help but admit that the mattress is really nice.

Vincent smiles down at you kindly. "I'm glad we found each other today, kiddo." He kisses your forehead. "Dad will stay here until you fall asleep, yeah?"

Of course, you don't argue. He watches you like a hawk until eventually, you close your eyes and drift away.

[julietsf1]

masterlist <3

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

my personal favourites are marked with a little star!

currently I've written fics for franco colapinto, lando norris, charles leclerc, oscar piastri, kenan yıldız

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

franco colapinto

irritating but irresistible (8k words) Alex Albon’s sister is not happy with Logan’s new replacement who seems to be very sure of himself.

Best Day Ever ☆ (6k words) Oscar's win and Franco's first points have to be celebrated. With her best friend Lando playing matchmaker and the tension between Y/N and Franco simmering, the night promises to be anything but ordinary. Sparks fly on the dance floor, but is Y/N ready to admit what’s really going on?

Post-Race Snuggles (1k words) After an intense Singapore GP, Franco’s idea of the perfect cool down is snuggling up in his girlfriend’s lap

From Raya to Rivalry (9k words) Carlos Sainz's little sister is pushed to the limit when rookie Franco Colapinto, who stood her up after a flirtatious encounter on Raya, re-enters her life—without any sign he remembers her at all. Between race weekends and time with friends the tension between them becomes impossible to ignore. Will Franco finally remember why she’s been driving him mad all along?

Chef's Kiss... but Maybe Not the Cooking (1.2k words) Franco might not be the best chef, but that doesn't ruin the night

Push & Pull (6k words) She has always kept Franco at a distance, teasing and confident that he’d never give up on her. But when he suddenly pulls away, she can’t stop thinking about him, realizing she might care more than she’s let on. Could it be that he’s been waiting for her to figure it out all along?

The Secret Admirer ☆ (7.5k words) She thought the biggest challenge this season would be her dynamic with her cold teammate, but mysterious notes and gifts start to complicate things. Who’s behind it, and what happens when she finds out?

Hurricane (5k words) When a hurricane leaves Y/N stranded at Charles’s Monaco apartment with a few of his friends, Y/N has to navigate both the storm outside and the one brewing inside.

Focus with Franco (2k words) Studying for exams is tough, but trying to focus while your yapper boyfriend, Franco, is around? Impossible.

Frights & Feuds (6.5k words) She and Franco never liked each other, but leave it to Lando to throw them into matching costumes at his Halloween party.

Love at first fright (2.2k words) You don’t know what is scarier, the haunted house where you are interviewing Franco or the way your heart speeds up around him.

Factory Reset (6k words) After a major crash, Franco Colapinto is sent to the Williams factory to work alongside the engineers repairing his car. Tensions run high as he’s forced to confront the realities of their work and the sharp wit of performance engineer Y/N. What begins as a clash of worlds becomes an eye-opening experience for both.

Holly Jolly Faking ☆ (8k words) Two people who can’t stand each other agree to fake a relationship to avoid meddling friends and unwanted matchmaking during their Christmas weekend away. What could possibly go wrong? [st. mleux reader]

A Technical Mistake ☆ (7k words) peaceful paddock mornings of stocking caps and shirts are flipped upside down when Franco Colapinto, a charming stranger she assumes is part of the tech crew, comes into her store and gives her weekend an unexpected turn.

The Sparks at Midnight (2k words) NYE at Lando's: a jar full of resolutions, a group of friends gathered around the fire to laugh, tease, and guess whose secrets were written on each slip of paper. With one very special resolution shaking things up for Y/N.

Crushes and Cortados (2.5k words) as a barista you see a lot of weird customers in a day, and this one Argentinian boy who keeps coming in every day is definitely one of them.

Ramentic Gestures (2k words) Franco thinks switching bowls is the chivalrous thing to do—until he takes a bite and realizes he’s made a terrible mistake

lando norris

The Idiot I Call Mine ☆ (7.1k words) best friends are supposed to share laughs, inside jokes, fries and the occasional late-night drive. what they’re not supposed to do is flirt like it’s a competitive sport or make you question every unspoken rule of friendship. at least, unless your name is Lando Norris apparently.

For her (3.2k words) She came to support him. Instead, she was met with hate and a paddock full of people who acted like she didn’t exist. But if there was one thing about Lando Norris, it was that he loved out loud

The Line We Never Crossed (7.5k words) Lando Norris has been treating you like an afterthought all season, which would be fine if you hadn’t nearly kissed him last year. your new job in the paddock means you can’t avoid him, and his petty cold shoulder act is starting to feel personal

Strawberry Season ☆ (6.7k words) she was his plus-one, his accessory, his afterthought. but Lando Norris? he made her laugh before her boyfriend even noticed she’d stopped smiling

charles leclerc

The Potion Project (12k words) When a week-long potions project pairs two opposites, something starts brewing between them as well (harry potter inspired)

Home Again (4.5k words) eight years, one city, and a thousand unspoken words—will a chance encounter in London bring closure, or is there more in store for Monaco's golden boy and the one who got away

kenan yıldız

Perfect Fit ☆ (8.5k words) Being Kenan’s stylist was supposed to be about clothes. Not lame excuses to spend time, lingering touches, and the slow realization that you might be in over your head

All is Fair in Love and Pastries (8k words) She came to Munich for romance and got ghosted instead. Now, all she has left is a non-refundable ticket, a wounded ego, and an ongoing feud with a man who stole her last pretzel.

Off Limits (18k words) Jude had one rule: his sister was strictly off-limits. Kenan really tried to listen, really did. But then you smiled at him, and, well—there was no coming back from that.

oscar piastri

Overtaking Your Expectations (3k words) Your biggest mistake this weekend? Underestimating Oscar Piastri. Now, he’s making sure you know it

[sunseed-fandump]

owo! Now i wanna know what the bad batch think about the ancients individually, (mostly dad vanilla, he’s gonna be so stressed)

Hollyberry Cookie The kids had actually plotted to try stealing her Soul Jam first, as her son and daughter-in-law had already gathered a good portion of the Soul Jam’s fragments. Thus, Wild Strawberry Cookie reluctantly entered the Princess Contest in an attempt to get close to the shield and snatch it during the ball. (She actually got really far!) Unfortunately, the Dragon went berserk and the Lost Queen-mother returned to her Kingdom and took up her shield once more.

While Gingerbrave enjoys the general rowdiness of the country itself, he can’t help but wonder why the royal family even bothers ruling if the Queen-mother and its fair princess are never around. King Royal Berry Cookie is a total pushover and Queen Jungleberry Cookie is competent, but even she can’t hold an entire country together by herself. From the kids’ outlook, the Hollyberry Royal Family value their power over others and take it and their subjects for granted. Clearly, a family can’t be that good if they’re always abandoning each other, and a ruler can’t be that good if they’re constantly leaving their kingdom behind. Wild Strawberry especially does not appreciate the seeming lack of loyalty.

Dark Cacao Cookie He’s definitely the biggest tyrant in the kids’ opinions, due to his country’s strict traditions and laws. They saw how he was letting his country wither in favor of bolstering the Wall, and weren’t impressed with the many ruined villages they saw. Combine that with his habit of social exclusivity towards outsiders, Dark Cacao hasn’t exactly painted the best picture of himself.

Even though he’s since taken up his sword once again and has rid himself of Affogato’s influence, the kids still don’t regard him highly. After all, what kind of king restricts his own soldiers from eating sweets?! He’s depriving his people!!! And he calls THEM evil? Ridiculous. Unfortunately, their plan to steal the Soul Jam was sabotaged by Licorice Cookie and Pomegranate Cookie’s interference, what with calling forth the horrors of the Licorice Sea and Pomegranate cursing the King. However, Dark Choco earned a few points with them by leaving Dark Enchantress behind.

Golden Cheese Cookie It doesn’t matter if greed is considered a good thing in her kingdom, Golden Cheese Cookie is so terribly selfish! Their trip to this Kingdom infuriated Gingerbrave, who views her actions as no better than his Witch. He’s been broken to pieces and brought back over and over, and sees the Golden City as a twisted version of what happened to him on a massive scale. How dare she not allow the dead to rest. How dare they have to be subjected to a fake reality at the whim of a self-proclaimed goddess, just because she’s too childish to mourn and move on.

And what would she do to those who acted against her? Reprogram them? Erase them? Well the kids definitely saw how well Smoked Cheese’s attempt at a coup went. Even now, she refuses to let “her” cookies go as her Kingdom sleeps in Soulcheeses. Golden Cheese sees her subjects as objects, something to hoard and do with however she pleases; even to deny them the peace of death. Gingerbrave can’t stand her as a result.

White Lily Cookie As the only Ancient to not have an established Kingdom (at least up until the events of Beast-Yeast), the kids didn’t really know what to make of her. At least, that’s until Wild Strawberry informed the boys of who White Lily Cookie eventually became in other timelines, Dark Enchantress Cookie. The so called Hero of Freedom, becoming the very tyrant they’re rivaling within the race to obtain the Soul Jam.

The kids see White Lily Cookie as a weakling and hypocrite as a result, though they remain ignorant as to how she fell to Darkness in the first place. She must have decided the world didn’t deserve true freedom, and turned into a controlling maniac as a result. Thus, they don’t trust her as far as they can throw her.

Pure Vanilla Cookie Hooooo boy PV. The kids are especially prickly with him. Gingerbrave doesn’t like the fact that a single healing spell from the vanilla king could turn him to ashes. Azure Wizard doesn’t like that his Light magic and high skill level allows PV to dispel a lot of his dark spells. Wild Strawberry doesn’t like his gentle demeanor and kind personality, as she thinks it's just a farce.

They had sought out the Vanilla Kingdom to learn its secrets and advanced magical knowledge, and wound up inadvertently mixed up in the Waffle Bot attacks. It was Healer Cookie who had saved them and brought them back to the Raisin Village for treatment. Despite the villagers’ clear distrust and distaste for the kids, it was Healer who defended them and allowed them to stay. It wasn’t until he was revealed to be Pure Vanilla Cookie that the kids grew hostile, as it was his actions during the War that caused a lot of problems.

He strives for “truth” and “happiness” for all cookies. Well, too little too late, in the kids’ opinions. The truth is the world is a deeply hurtful and terrible place, and Pure Vanilla is willingly blind to it. 

Everyone is so quick to sing the Heroes praises, to show them kindness, understanding, and love. Well where was “kindness” when Gingerbrave was treated like a freak? Where was “understanding” when Wizard had to resort to dark magic to save his own life? Where was “love” when Strawberry was abandoned to rot in a random timeline with no way of returning? Where were ANY heroes when the kids called for help?

There’s no such thing as heroes. Just really good liars propped up on pedestals of fool’s gold.

[auragasmics]

WRITHING HEARTS!

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° synopsis! it's marriage for business, pitting you as the engaged bride to one Gojo Satoru, known as a shameless playboy. but when your heart yearns to be with Geto Suguru, the lover behind closed doors, you'll do anything to wind up in his arms!

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° pairings! fem!reader x Geto Suguru

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂  ₒ𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° cw! 4.1k words, arranged marriage au, features Gojo Satoru, mentions of death/suicide, implied infidelity, oral ( m -> f) , missionary, cowgirl, cremepie, Gojo catches you in the act

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° xoxo, chris! sigh, i love this fic </3

A wedding they said, one that would unite the two competing companies into a mass monopoly to control the economic world. You being the poise daughter you were, accepted your parents’ request, relinquishing your chance at finding a pure and true love. It came with not even a bit of resistance, considering that you loved no man except your father.

You even knew the man you’d be wed to within the coming year, one that goes by the name of Gojo Satoru. He was a kind fellow with such charm that any woman could fall for him at the mere wink of his icy blue hues. 

In fact, that’s exactly what he did. What troubled you about the sudden marriage to Gojo was that his reputation was known as a playboy, using women for sexual gratification. It utterly disgusted you, knowing that someone as smug as he would be due to be your groom caused unrest within you. 

When the news had broken on national television, all seemed to be shocked, hailing you as the holy one. You were seen as the one who put an end to Gojo’s promiscuous ways, the photos of you both taking leisure lunches resurfacing from media blogs everywhere. However, that was only a small percent of the truth, something only you kept to yourself.

Those lunches were designed to shield from the public, staging it that you and Goji were such a happy couple. In truth, Gojo’s ways hadn’t changed, only keeping his personal affairs. In the very house purchased for the soon-to-be united by both his and your parents, he brought his mistresses and quick flings to your abode, a separate room reserved for his affairs. 

Even after numerous complaints and teary-eyed woes to your parents, they could not budge. They hated watching as their sweet daughter wailed in agony, sorrow dressing her words in these past few months since announcing the entire ordeal. 

In the darkest hours, that’s when your path just happened to cross with one man in particular, Geto Suguru. Geto was a man of former stature, his family losing their wealth due to extortion charges.

He was left with a small fortune before both his mother and father committed the act of suicide a few days before their prison sentence. From the age of fourteen, Geto was forced to endure the stains left behind by his parents.

He’s been shunned from the corporate world, only being invited to gatherings to dwell in the shadows of those who boasted of their success.

Geto would only linger for a bit before disappearing from sight. He was the biggest mystery, one that had your infatuation written all over it. You were unconsciously embedded in him, the wish to free him from his harrowing loneliness ate at you night and day. It had reached a point where you longer cared for your parents’ wishes, finally placing your desires before their own selfish needs. 

You needed to seek out Geto, for you own sake and at a chance of finally receiving peace of mind. As for how you both met, it was one of sheer coincidence, the both of you entering the lobby of a building your father owned in the city. You were well aware of who he was, his towering physique jutting from the crowd. You couldn’t help but be drawn to him, the rumors and mysteries shroud his name, but not a single person seeking out the answers they desire.

With every step you took towards him, an unsettling coil formed in your belly. Could it have been from the nervous strike attacking your body all of a sudden, or the words from your adolescence that reply at the forefront of your thoughts. A warning from your parents, advising you to stay away from that man, claiming that nothing good ever occurred when involved with him. 

You were refined to believe such an idea, judging the poor man without any pre existing context. You sought to learn the truth of Geto Surguru, especially at the risk of defying your parents. 

Once you had initiated the first words, a bright light was casted onto the darkness that covered Geto’s heart. He clung to you, deeming every intimate moment as rare as the jewels found in caverns. The man became intoxicated with your every fiber, and eventually led to your touch. You both knew it was wrong, but the vines of the budding rose to your romance was something that not even the false engagement to withstand. 

Yet, like the rose, it’s thorn will always come back to prick the one who gave it life, a lesson you would soon learn all too soon. 

“Gojo, could you not flirt while we’re together? It won’t look good for the tabloids,” you suggest, whispering the words of warning along the shell of his ear. He merely shrugs his shoulders, “It’s our engagement party, it’s not my fault there are so many lovely ladies here tonight!” 

You roll your eyes, the veins lining underneath your eye twitching with gall. You had hoped that Gojo would put aside his reprobate methods, even if just for the night.

However, the way he dressed tonight alone told a different story.

He wore a glaucous white silk dress shirt, his chest revealed to the wandering eyes of women who hoped to one day take your place beside him. The black trousers upon his body were tighter than usual, the bulge of his length just teasing the onlookers. His hair was styled neatly, hanging just past his ears with not a strand of the frosted locks out of place. 

Gojo wore a sneering smile, his best accessory by far. You knew that if you even left his side for a second, he’d be out of the room with a woman linked to each arm. Then again, you had nothing tying you to him, the urge to seek out your one true lover hanging above your head similar to the glass chandeliers adorning the ceilings. 

You wore a slim black dress, the neckline ending just below the curve of your ribs. It clung to your figure perfectly, drawing every eye to you. It was a piece that Geto found the most pleasing for the event, his assistance proving itself through all the praise.

Yet, you wished to be with him for the evening, not the snobbish man doomed to marry you within the coming days. It has been almost a year since your engagement to Gojo, but almost a year since meeting Geto. 

“Listen Y/N, you and I aren’t actually married, daring, hell, we can barely tolerate each other. You see, in the public, I’m your loyal husband, changed from his old ways. Yet, in private, I haven’t changed not one bit. I don’t plan to either, I love the way I am. I suggest that you find something that makes you happy too, sweetheart. It’s the only way you’ll survive in this life.” 

You whipped your head away from Gojo, the pestering tone of his suave voice pinched your nerves. Though it was as if the brash message was on demand, the sight of a familiar figure caught your eye, there stood Geto against the door, wearing a black turtleneck with navy blue slacks and a floral patterned suit jacket.

You felt your heart nearly skip a beat, the look of bliss etching onto Geto’s face as he spotted you. You practically ached to join him, your body desperate for the warmth only he could offer. 

Gojo seemed to be interested in socializing, his arm tugging away from the link you both formed an hour prior. He sensed the same urge to leave, to pick his new victim amongst the other beauties. It was only right if you freed him, right?

“Gojo,” you called, “I’ll go get some wine. See you at home later.” 

That was all he needed, ripping away from you to dive headfirst into the bundling crowd. You spun around to face Geto, only to find that he had left his position against the wall. 

A huff seeped from your lips, realizing that it would be near impossible to find a man who wouldn’t allow himself to be found. Gratefully for you, he was already closer than you had expected, just waiting to take you away into his world. 

“Don’t you look absolutely stunning?” A voice hummed, the palm of a large hand slipping along the curve of your shoulder. Just from the subtle peck laid against your skin, you knew who had finally gained their hold of you.

“You know better than to act so boldly like this in public, Geto. I’ll get in so much trouble,” you teased, but you’ve already decided to forego the thought of consequences once the dreamy scent of his cologne flooded your nose.  

“Why, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want the world to know your mine, not that asshole’s.”

Geto slides the pads of his digits down your arm, your skin heating up at his languid touch. You spin around face him properly, a grin gracing both your faces. The urge to kiss Geto ran high, the tension between you both was something that couldn’t be ignored. 

“Can we leave this place? I hate loud parties like these,” you sighed, urging your face near his own.  

“But, it’s your engagement party,” Geto began, “It’d suck to have the bride be missing. Even worse to find her with a man other than her betrothed.”

A shallow pout poked out from your lips, the gloss reflecting the lights from above. “But, I want you, and only you, Geto. Can’t we make that happen?”

From his pocket, Geto pulled out a room key, the silver ridges twinkling before your widening eyes. “It’s the closest we’ll get to having our own space but...it’s better than nothing.”

Without another word, you and Geto took hold of each other’s hand, slipping from the masses and into the darkened hallway of the hotel. You peppered kisses all over his cheeks, the anticipation bubbling within your body. 

In that time that you’ve gotten to know him, Geto was far from all the names and warnings everyone was always so quick to spew. He was kind, gentle with his words and manners. You’ve come to realize that he would never harm a fly, nonetheless, does he live up to a quarter of the rumors surrounding him.

In other words, Geto was the one who had your heart. The marriage would only prove more difficult for the little arrangement you both had. Eventually, the relationship would have to be brought to light, regardless of your attempt to keep it hidden. 

“Are we in the clear?” He whispered, aligning the key with the slot. You nodded, checking the surrounding area for any onlookers for the last time. He pushes the door from its frame, pulling you and himself into the room.

With a slamming shut, you found yourself pinned against the shiny white paint, Geto decorating the pulse of your neck with pecks and bites. Your fingers found way to his hair, the thick ravenous locks latching around your dainty digits, encouraging Geto to proceed with his display of affection.

“I see you’re wearing that dress I like, almost like you wanted to get my attention,” he ventured, pulling away from the freshly laid trail of bites. You bit your bottom lip, the blood rushing to greet each ministration on your skin. It was all too overwhelming, but you fell prey to the amorous aura surrounding Geto, the searing ache amidst your legs leading your every move.

“I have no clue as to what you mean, I just really like the color black against my skin,” you purred, peering up at the impassioned man through your darkened lashes. Geto snaked a hand behind you, his fingers toying with the zipper lining the curve of your spine. With his lips brushing along the shell of your ear, he whispered the teasing words to spur you on.

“If you don’t mind, I happen to love what’s underneath the dress all the more.”

You surround the nape of his neck with your arms, leading Geto into the kiss just waiting on your lips, nodding frantically at his request. Without breaking the kiss, Geto stripped you bare of the silky material, leaving the matching hunter-green bra and thong set to don your body. 

“Aw, no fair. I didn’t wear anything you’d like,” Geto frowned, drawing away from your lips for a moment.

 You trailed your fingers down to the heavy belt buckle at the forefront of his hips, a sly grin creeping onto your lips. “Y’know how much I love those tattoos of yours, that’s all I need.”

Geto chuckled at your words, the pair of you working in tandem until he stood with only his briefs. He took a firm hold around your waist, lifting you from the cold floor. “I missed this, I’ve missed you,” he groaned, his teeth pinching at the supple skin of your breasts. You giggled in response, “It’s only been a few days, I don’t see how you miss me so much.”

Geto placed you onto the bed, the white sheets contorting around you as he planted his hands on either side of your head. “When you’ve been as alone as I have, you’d understand. In all of my twenty-four years, I’ve never been so happy,” he gushed into the crook of your neck. You giggled in response, “I can say the same, I’m so glad to call you mine.” Geto pried away, placing himself above you once again. 

“See, you love me and I sure as hell love you, I’m tired of hiding it. I mean, why can’t everyone know that I’m so much better than that Gojo. Do I have to demonstrate that to confirm my case,” he groaned tirelessly. 

You shook your head, “No, but I have a feeling you’re about to prove it to me.” 

“Damn right I will,” Geto boasted as he sank down to his knees, his face filling the spacer between your legs. He glared up at you, laying a trail of kisses along the plush of your inner thigh.

“I’ll prove it to you and I’ll do it well,” he quipped, the animalistic tone intertwined with each word. He hooked onto the sides of your panties, sliding the soaked cloth down your legs and away from sight. The calloused palm of Geto’s hand pressed into your stomach, pinning you down to the bed without choice. 

“Stay there for me, won’t you? I just wanna make this pretty pussy of mine happy,” Geto quipped, his lips placing a soft kiss onto the folds of your puffy cunt. You nod in agreement, all tension melting away from his touch. 

With the pad of his thumb, geto parted the lips of your cunt, the viscid mess of slick glimmering in his eyes. He was quick to attach his mouth to you, the flat of his tongue collecting every drop hungrily. 

A sharp gasp flooded your lungs, your back arching beneath him. There was something in Geto that seemed to have your body just fold at his command. In everything he did, he approached it with benign care. He knew every curve, nerve, and crevice of your body, each arc of your curling silhouette accepting him willingly. 

The earthy brown hues of Geto’s eyes were no longer in view, looking back to his head as he continued to immerse himself in your flavor. He rolled docile circles into your clit, a hum of praise vibrating from his throat. 

“Holy—don’t stop, Geto,” you mewed, biting back the moans that sought to fill the walls of the room. 

You sensed a nod of compliance from him, Geto suckling the pearl between his swollen lips. The heavy pool of nerves churning at the pit of your stomach surfaced, limbs stiffening at once. Your vision grew burry, the patches of white light piercing through.

His hands latched onto your wrist, guiding your own hands into the thick strands of his hair. Geto loved whenever you raked through his locks, tugging at the roots whenever the pleasure pooled over the limits you could handle. 

You began to tremble, your legs seeking something to grasp. Geto took notice, the robust strength of his arms clasping the underside of your thigh, He led your legs to drip across onto his broad shoulders, your thighs nuzzling Geto deeper towards you. A rush of thrill sped through his veins, Geto watching his efforts pay off with such pride. 

A harsh arch carved itself into your spine, your walls coming to a steel grip of nothingness as you release the woes of the day all onto Geto’s awaiting tongue. A groan emitted from his throat, the whites of his eyes reverting to the forefront of his visage.  

“Fuck, give it all to me,” he moaned, desperately dragging his tongue across your spasming clit. You rocked your hips against Geto’s slicked muscle, riding out the fleeting moments of your high. Your head tossed back with a final cry, Geto’s name singing from your lips.

He could only chuckle at your state, the pride brewing in his heaving chest. “See, I know Gojo can’t do that, even if he tried,” he jeered, pulling away from you. Geto stood from the ground, a visible spot of precum soaking through his briefs. You reached out to tug at the elastic waistband but Geto tacked your hand down on your stomach, hovering above you.

“Just spread those legs for me, and I’ll take even better care of you,” he hummed, sliding the tips of his fingers to squeeze at the underside of your thigh. You found yourself in the center of the bed, legs pressed into your chest. Geto was swift to strip from his briefs, standing before with eight inches to fill you with, his cock so heavy with the need for relief that it stood upright with no aid, the plushy pink crown of his length just riddled with thick streams of precum drooling from the slit. 

Geto held the base of his dick, gently nudging at your entrance. He studied at how the whole mass of his tip slid inside you, an enticing gasp following suit. 

“Don’t look at anything but me,” he hissed, Geto’s cheeks stricken with heat. He relished in the way you squeezed around him, your walks never fully being able to contort to his size. He would always give you a few minutes filled with kisses and words of encouragement until you adjusted around him, Geto giving you the slowest of thrusts to begin.

 “You’re doing so good, baby, just a little bit more,” he comforted, Geto’s hips driving a bit deeper. You rested your hands atop his broad shoulders, sliding down the expanse of his chest, admiring the way the sleeves of Geto’s tattoos complemented his body’s physique.

With such a strong build of muscles shaping his arms and the cuts of his hardened abdomen, even the patterns of ink that adorned his being were enough to make anyone squirm at a glance.

You were just lucky that person was you.

You eventually found your way to his waist, his hips rutting into you effortlessly. You pulled Geto into you, trapping him in with your legs around his waist. He took in a heavy intake of air, the hull of his chest expanding in compensation. 

“That’s new, something you wanna tell me?” He whispered teasingly. You bit back the onslaught of moans, the want to form an actual sentence gaining the upper hand. 

“Just want y-you closer,” you whined, the girth of Geto’s cock dragging against your walls at a sluggish pace. He stood still for a moment, staring down at you. 

“I’m not going anywhere, promise,” he cooed, pressing a kiss onto your perspired forehead. Geto slid his arm underneath your back, closing the gap between you both. He drew himself from your heat, a spew of curses leaving from his parted mouth. You had no clue as to what Geto had in mind but you knew he was far from done.

“I’ve been dying to have you ride me again, it’s practically all I think about these days,” Geto cooed as he crawled to the top of the bed, his back flush against the wooden headboard. 

You followed behind him, your arms encircling his neck. “Have you now? Is that all you think about?” You grinned, allowing for your legs to plant themselves on either side of Geto. 

“Of course not, but I love it when you do,” he beamed, his hands settling upon the curve of your ass. He kneaded the soft flesh in the palm of your hands, your body jolting in response. 

“Shh, save those chills for when you finally cum, it's a sight that I get to savor all to myself.” 

Geto snaked a hand between your bodies to brace his twitching cock towards crooned as he your entrance. You slid down his shaft with ease, your walls encasing his length snuggly. You lifted your hips, earning a seething hiss from Geto, the pressure already rendering him weak. 

“Why I barely did anything, don’t tell me you’re close already,” you taunted, carding through his locks that dared to cover an ounce of Geto’s lewd look of pleasure.

“Hell no, I just get a little excited, you know that.” 

You swiveled your hips against him, taking Geto in deeper until you felt satisfied to ruin the man beneath you. You couldn’t ignore the knot in your stomach, growing tighter with every rise and fall of your hips onto the unalloyed mass of Geto’s thighs. I

t was hard work to bring that prickling rush of ecstasy among Geto, but it was worth it all, the way he’d become drunk off you. His speech, his thoughts, and even the way he’d latch onto your ass to fondle at the mound of flesh all belonged to you, something that brought you more pride than your own family name.

Heavy pants of need leave from Geto’s strained throat, louder than the pornographic rings of skin crashing against another. You painted kisses and nips onto the velvety skin of his chest all the way up to his lips. 

Geto was sensitive, to say the least, between the deepening strides of your hips, the plush of your lips dancing against his own, and your pretty voice singing his name at the top of your lungs were all the ingredients for a disaster in the making. 

“Princess, how do you think Gojo would react if he found out that a degenerate like me fucked a beautiful little baby into his fiance?” Geto pondered between weak bucks into you, trying to gain back some type of control. 

You struggled for a moment, gathering the words around the mushed thoughts of your mind. “H-He wouldn’t care,” you mewled, using the fleeting bits of your energy to clamp down around Geto. 

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear,” he moaned, tossing his head back as he came undone, the thick ropes of cum flooding your womb. You released a squeal of glee at the feeling, the sensation being one for the books. 

As you both came down from the high, Geto pulled you into his chest, the expanse of his pecs rising and falling at a staggering pace. “Fuck, you’re so good to me, Y/N.” Geto huffed, nuzzling a kiss onto your parted lips. You remained perched on his lap, back arching into his smothering hold. 

“I love you so much, Geto,” you whimpered, rocking along the thick length still plunged inside you.

“I love you beyond words. I hope that one day soon I’ll be able to m–” he began, only to find his impending sentence being interrupted. 

The sounds of voices rang from behind the door, the clicks of locks echoing around the room. You and Geto had no time to react, only facing who could possibly disrupt the intimate moment. 

“…and I said, "No, who the hell wants chiffon mixing with spandex?" designers are so stupid these days–Oh my! What have we here?!” The voice barreled out, the steps coming to a sudden halt. You shifted around on Geto’s lap, facing the onlooker head-on. 

“Hello…Gojo…” you grinned, staring back at the man, who just happened to have two women strung along with him. You couldn’t find it in you to feel even the slightest bit embarrassed if anything…it felt good to watch Gojo have the dumbest shock displayed on his face.

Geto didn’t budge either, his lips clinging to the corners of your malicious smile. “There seemed to have been a room mix-up…I’ll be on my way then,” he croaked, Gojo’s eyes still pinned on the scene before him.

You and Geto exchanged a quick glance, one filled with disinterest. It also seemed as if Gojo was hurt, hurt to find that his sweet soon-to-be wife had a filthy secret of her own. What a beautiful concept double standard can be, something that can be forgotten once it is done to the doer. 

You turned to Gojo, looking him dead on with an expression of apathy.

“You do that then.”

[youuuimeanmee]

This chapter might be the start of literally the biggest thing ever and I'm SCARED.

I have SHIVERS.

Almost every important characters are gathering in one place.

Our Eden kids are finally playing outside the school.

For a spy like Twillight, this festival is literally a treasure of intels.

(Though, I was surprised when Twillight mention that Glooman Pharmaceuticals has no further connection with the Desmonds. I thought it's gonna be involved in some kind of drugs' development for war, but ig I was wrong.)

Remember how Twillight always look down on Anya because she can't study, she's hard to teach, and she doesn't excell in any sport or any other talents (except classical language)?

Now look at them.

Twillight finally sees just how valuable Anya is. How much Anya, a presumably six-year-old, has accomplished in the span of 6 months. I repeat. 6. months.

He's pleased because it's really convenient for his mission.

And yet, look at what Jeff wished for the kids.

The irony. The sweet, sweet irony.

As much as it pains him to acknowledge how right Jeff's words are, he cannot. He cannot dwell into such sentiments, because he's a spy. A spy must seize every opportunity to gain any information neccesary for his mission. For the sake of his goal; a world peace. For that goal, he will do anything. Even if he has to use his "daughter" and his "wife" for his own convenience.

Because of that, the very least he could to them is protect their well-being and happiness.

Twillight has established that since long ago. But will things change after this arc? That is the big question.

Now we are entering, what I call, "the fortune teller arc." (until we get a better name imma stick to this one.)

Somehow, in every series I've read that has a fortune teller in it, it ended up changes (read: fucks up) the MC's life forever.

I've been predicting the involvement of Crowley in the future; from his name reference, his hairstyle, his excellence in Classical language, everything.

Look whose name Endo uses for the most popular fortune teller.

Heh.

(will Arnold Crowley appear in next chapter? Will he meet Anya in this arc?)

And look at the star of this chapter, who also plays as a fortune teller!

Melinda Desmond.

Who would've thought.

Suddenly, her earrings and ring's design make so much sense.

Is it safe to say now that Crowley and Melinda Desmond are occultists?

Or maybe just one of them?

I know jumping to conclusion is dangerous, but I just can't help it.

I still can't speak if Melinda and Crowley family are related to each other because there's no evidence of their relation (yet). But I can at least tell you this:

Melinda probably uses fortune telling as a way to collect informations. Her ad speaks for poor, desperate people. She doesn't charge her clients for a single cent. Even if she already claimed that her predictions are way off, it doesn't matter for desperate people. Desperate people will use desperate means. Poor people are not poor because they wanted to. There must be a reason, a circumstances; that intel is probably what Melinda aims to get.

Or maybe I was wrong. Maybe Melinda is genuinely a noble person, and she's just trying to help as many people as possible with her "free" fortune telling. Who knows.

Though, it is peculiar to note that Melinda only started recently. How recent, I wonder. Is it before, or after the dinner she had with Donovan, her husband?

Hmmm.

I'm also curious at Endo's reference for Melinda's alias: Lunaluna Selena. Luna, as in, Latin for [the moon]? Selena, as in, Selene [the Greek & Roman's moon goddess]?

The moon, huh. Remember how Anya's power is heavily reliant on the moon? Like, she lost her power when it's a new moon?

Hmmmmm.

TLDR; Anya confessed to Damian that she can read minds. Now Anya enters a fortune teller place. Twillight used to underestimate Anya's ability a lot. Now he sees how valuable she is, yet, he is stuck between his logic (wanting to utilize her to the max) and his heart (wanting to free her from the burden of his mission and let her be a happy normal kid). Melinda and Yor are friends. Now they meet again, when Melinda is doing her side hustle. Arnold Crowley is a kid who excels in Classical Language, and holds a great interest in Anya. Now we see that Crowley family runs a popular fortune-teller. Melinda just had an awful dinner with Donovan. Now we see that she recently run a fortune-telling stall for free. Almost all important characters in SxF are gathering in one place. All build-ups are seemingly leading towards this moment.

Let's give Endo some space & time to cook, shall we.

[ginxyy]

More Then Friends, Always Yours

“I only see him as a friend” thats the biggest lie ive ever said

You lie to yourself, and everyone else, with a fragile smile and delicate laughter. “Oh, Jihoon? I only see him as a friend.” The words flutter off your tongue like butterflies, light and airy, but they are the biggest lie you’ve ever told. Each syllable undulates with an undercurrent of desperation, a need to suppress the love that curls itself around your heart like ivy. You know the truth; your friends know the truth; even Jihoon, in the depths of his obliviousness, might feel something whispering beneath the surface.

Your days are painted in shades of yearning. Every time you catch Jihoon glancing your way, his laughter ringing like music in the air, you feel the familiar ache in your chest. He stands there, effortlessly captivating in his casual charm, and you can’t help but admire the way the world seems to orbit around him. But you have mastered the art of restraint at least, you try to convince yourself of that. You knew, early on, that this beautiful creature was simply too unattainable, an ethereal being who belonged to the limelight of the stage, while you faded gently into the shadows of his fan club.

Yet how can one merely be friends with someone who ignites a fire within you every time they reach for their drink, every time they laugh at a joke you’ve thrown, or every time he tilts his head, eyes shining with mischief? You spend your days together, sharing your laughter amidst passionate conversations, discussing dreams with glee. You’ve found yourself hanging on his every word, fretting over the inflection of his voice, scrutinizing every innocent touch as if it were a precarious promise.

Your friends notice the way your gaze lingers longer than is appropriate, the way your heart skips a beat when he walks into the room. They nudge you playfully and whisper sweet nothings, teasing your heartstrings and pulling them taut. “You love him,” they say, referring to Jihoon with fondness that stings because it’s true. But instead of gamely admitting it, you brush their concerns aside with a wave of your hand. “No, no, it’s not like that at all,” you lie once again, loving him in silence with every breath but failing to breathe the words into existence.

Then, one fateful evening, everything changes.

It was a rainy night, the kind that makes the world feel small and cozy. The sky enveloped the earth in its tender embrace, droplets cascading down panes of glass, blurring the outside world. Curious, you peek outside the window, watching a fascinating dance as water falls effortlessly from the heavens. It pulls you into a comfort zone, and all you desire is a peaceful night in a warm blanket and your favorite rom-com to escape into.

But, as fate would have it, Jihoon had plans of his own.

You receive a call at 2 a.m., your heart racing as you recognize his name lighting up your screen. “Where are you?” you whisper, the urgency pulling you to the edge of your thoughts. His slurred words dance around your ears, “Can you open the door? I need to talk to you.” A knot forms in your stomach as you scramble to gather your senses, tossing aside any lingering sleep.

As you open the door, the image that greets you is deeply romantic and utterly chaotic. Jihoon stands there, slightly disheveled, the faint smell of alcohol wafting in the air, eyes glossy and alive. Even in this state, he radiates charm you wonder for a fleeting moment if he understands the hold he has over you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call,” he stammers, teetering slightly. Your heart thuds ominously in your chest, and all those stolen glances and hidden feelings come rushing to the surface.

He steps inside, leaning against the wall for support, his vulnerability both enchanting and terrifying. You urge him into a seat and fetch him some water, caught between laughter and concern. “You really shouldn’t drink so much,” you say, finding your voice through the whirlwind of emotions. He just grins sheepishly, mischief dancing in his luminous eyes.

And then, everything spirals out of your control.

As you sit beside him, the silence wraps around you both like a soft blanket. It’s intoxicating, the way he gazes at you, like he’s trying to piece together every fragment of your existence. And suddenly, Jihoon leans closer, his breath fanning against your skin. Your heart races an insane symphony of thumping organs, all while questioning your reality. “You know,” he murmurs, the words slurring slightly, “I don’t think you see me as a friend.”

Time hangs delicately in the air. Your mind races wildly, processing his words, replaying every moment leading up to this. You could pull back, remind him of the façade you’ve built, of the lie that has woven itself into your life. But the longing, buried so deep, whispers hope, swaying you further into the depths of passion.

Before you can construct your thoughts, Jihoon closes the distance, crashing his lips against yours. It’s a soft collision at first, questioning, as if he is daring to believe in the connection that has always lingered just beyond the reach of words. You find yourself responding instinctively, every barrier that once held you captive crumbling like sandcastles against the tide.

It feels electric and raw he’s warm, alive, anchored where you’ve always ached to reach. You lean into him, heart pounding as you discover the truth you’ve hidden all this time. You only see him as a friend? It was a lie you told because you were terrified to admit how deeply you cared for him.

The kiss deepens, and you lose yourself in his warmth, finally surrendering to the truth: you are utterly, irrevocably in love with him. It was never just friendship, not with every heartbeat echoing his name, not with the shivers that wracked your spine each time he laughed.

When you finally pull away, breathless and bewildered, the revelation settles in. Jihoon’s eyes are wide with surprise, mingled with a hint of vulnerability. “I’m so glad I came,” he whispers, his voice a mixture of exhilaration and uncertainty.

The moment hangs suspended in the air, a fragile thread woven with anticipation and desire. Jihoon’s whisper lingers in your mind, but before you can respond, his lips find yours again, and this time, there’s nothing soft or tentative about it. His kiss is urgent, fueled by a desperation that leaves you breathless. He presses closer, his hands gripping your waist as though anchoring himself to you.

A shiver races down your spine as his teeth graze your bottom lip, coaxing a gasp from you. Seizing the moment, his tongue brushes against yours, a teasing caress that ignites a fire in your core. You clutch at his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you pull him even closer. Jihoon moans into your mouth, a deep, guttural sound that sends heat pooling low in your belly.

You’re vaguely aware of the room around you, the muted sound of rain against the window, but all of it fades into insignificance as Jihoon consumes every ounce of your attention. His hands move from your waist to your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you onto his lap. The shift in position sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you can feel the hard line of his arousal pressing against you.

You grind against him instinctively, eliciting another low moan from Jihoon that vibrates through your entire body. The friction between you is maddening, every movement stoking the flames of desire higher. His hands roam your body, sliding under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back. His touch is hot, almost searing, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“God,” he mutters against your lips, his voice thick with need. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

You pull back just enough to look into his eyes, and what you see there steals the air from your lungs. His gaze is dark, filled with unspoken longing and raw emotion. It’s as though every wall he’s ever built has crumbled, leaving nothing but vulnerability and hunger in its place.

“I think I do,” you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of nerves and excitement. You shift against him again, unable to resist the way his body reacts to yours, the way his breath hitches as you roll your hips. His hands grip your waist tighter, and he pulls you closer, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, then down the column of your neck.

The sensation of his lips on your skin is almost too much to bear. He alternates between gentle kisses and sharp nips, his tongue soothing the faint sting each time. Your fingers tighten in his hair, and he groans against your neck, his breath hot and uneven.

“You’re driving me crazy,” Jihoon murmurs, his voice rough and filled with desire. He shifts beneath you, adjusting your position so you’re straddling him fully. His hands slide under the hem of your shirt, and the feel of his palms against your bare skin sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. “I don’t think I can stop.”

“Then don’t,” you reply, the words leaving your lips before you can second-guess them. You capture his mouth again, pouring everything you’ve been holding back into the kiss. Jihoon responds with equal fervor, his hands exploring every inch of you they can reach.

Your movements become more frantic, the need to be closer to him overwhelming. You press yourself against him, your hips rocking in a rhythm that has both of you gasping. Jihoon’s hands slide up your back, his fingers deftly finding the clasp of your bra. He hesitates for a split second, his gaze meeting yours as if seeking permission.

When you nod, his eyes darken further, and he makes quick work of removing the barrier. His hands return to your body, exploring with an urgency that leaves you trembling. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word of need pulls you deeper into the moment, and you know there’s no turning back.

Jihoon’s kisses grow hungrier, his hands exploring your body with a fervor that makes your head spin. You can feel the restraint slipping from him, his need for you becoming all-consuming. He pulls away slightly, his breathing ragged as he looks at you with an intensity that sends a shiver straight to your core.

“I need…” His voice cracks, thick with desperation. He buries his face against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he whispers, “Please. Let me taste you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the raw desire in his voice nearly undoing you. He shifts, his hands sliding to your hips as he presses a series of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and lower still. Before you can process what’s happening, Jihoon slips off the couch, dropping to his knees in front of you.

“Jihoon…” you murmur, your voice trembling, but he looks up at you with a pleading expression that steals the words from your lips.

“Let me,” he begs, his hands gently parting your knees as he positions himself between them. His eyes are dark and hungry, his lips slightly swollen from your kisses. “I want to make you feel good. Please.”

The vulnerability in his voice is matched by the determination in his touch, and you nod, unable to deny him or yourself. Jihoon wastes no time, his hands sliding up your thighs as he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your shorts. Slowly, teasingly, he hooks his fingers under the fabric and tugs them down, his eyes never leaving yours.

You lift your hips to help him, your heart racing as the cool air brushes against your heated skin. Jihoon’s gaze darkens as he takes you in, his lips parting slightly as if he’s in awe. “You’re perfect,” he whispers, his voice reverent.

Then his lips are on you, and every coherent thought vanishes. His tongue moves with expert precision, finding the spots that make you gasp and cling to the edge of the couch for support. He alternates between soft, teasing flicks and deep, languid strokes that have you trembling. Jihoon moans against you, the vibrations adding another layer of pleasure as his hands grip your thighs, holding you open for him.

“Oh my God, Jihoon…” Your head falls back, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pulls you closer to the edge. He looks up at you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at the way you’re unraveling beneath his touch. He doubles down, his movements growing more insistent as he chases your release.

It doesn’t take long before the tension building inside you snaps, your body arching as waves of pleasure crash over you. Jihoon doesn’t stop, his tongue and lips coaxing every last tremor from you until you’re left gasping for air.

But he isn’t finished.

Before you can fully recover, Jihoon looks up at you, his mouth glistening and his expression utterly wrecked with need. “One more,” he murmurs, his voice a hoarse plea. “I want to feel you fall apart again.”

You barely have time to process his words before he dives back in, his tongue working you over with a skill and determination that leave you helpless against the onslaught of pleasure. He holds you steady as you writhe beneath him, his moans of appreciation only spurring you on. It’s overwhelming, the way he devotes himself to your pleasure, and soon you’re tumbling over the edge again, crying out his name as your body shudders against his mouth.

When you finally manage to open your eyes, Jihoon is climbing back up your body, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s both tender and heated. You can taste yourself on him, and it only stokes the fire that’s been simmering between you.

“Please,” he whispers against your lips, his voice raw with desperation. “I need you. Ride me. I need to feel you.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, and you nod, unable to resist the sheer longing in his voice. Jihoon’s hands are on your hips as you straddle him You sink down onto Jihoon completely, a gasp escaping both of you as your bodies join in perfect, electrifying harmony. He feels incredible inside you, stretching and filling you in ways that make your head spin. You begin to move, slow and deliberate at first, grinding your hips against him, and Jihoon’s head falls back with a low, guttural groan.

His hands grip your hips, trembling slightly as though he’s barely holding himself together. “You… you feel unreal,” he gasps, his voice breaking. “I—God, I love this. I love you.”

The words tumble out of him so suddenly, so raw and unfiltered, that it takes you a moment to process them. You stop moving for a second, your chest tightening as you look at him. His eyes snap open, wide and vulnerable, panic flickering across his face as if he’s afraid he’s ruined everything.

“I mean it,” he continues, his hands tightening on your waist. “I love you. I’ve loved you for so long, and seeing you like this, feeling you like this God, it’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of and more. You’re everything.”

Emotion swells in your chest, but before you can respond, Jihoon pulls you down into a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of his passion and love into it. His hands roam your body, sliding up your back, tangling in your hair, and gripping your thighs as if he can’t get enough of you. “You’re so perfect,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice trembling with sincerity. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I love the way you move, the way you feel around me. Please don’t stop.”

The combination of his sweet words and the desperate edge in his voice ignites something deep inside you, and you begin to move again, faster this time, riding him with abandon. Jihoon completely loses himself, his head falling forward to rest against your chest as a cascade of moans and broken words spills from his lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he gasps, his voice wrecked. “So fucking gorgeous. I love seeing you like this on top of me, taking me, making me feel so good. I—oh, God… please don’t stop. Don’t stop, baby. You’re going to ruin me.”

Your hands find their way to his hair, threading through the soft strands, and when you tug gently, his reaction is immediate and visceral. Jihoon cries out, his hands flying to your hips to pull you closer, harder against him. “Fuck,” he groans, his voice thick with pleasure. “Do that again. Please. Pull my hair. I love it.”

You obey, tugging a little harder this time, and Jihoon’s response is nothing short of breathtaking. His hips buck up to meet yours, his eyes rolling back as he clings to you like you’re the only thing grounding him. “I can’t—God, I can’t think when you do that. You make me crazy. You’re so fucking good to me.”

His words become a torrent, a mix of sweet confessions and dirty praises that leaves you both breathless. “You’re perfect,” he pants, his hands exploring every inch of your body. “So tight, so warm. I’ve dreamed about this about you so many times, but nothing comes close to the real thing. You’re mine, right? Please tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Jihoon,” you whisper, your own voice breaking with emotion. “I’ve always been yours.”

That’s all it takes to completely undo him. Jihoon’s hands grip your hips with bruising intensity, his lips crashing into yours as he thrusts up to meet your movements, his desperation driving him deeper, harder. His words come in a frantic, broken stream, a testament to how thoroughly you’ve unraveled him.

“Ride me, baby. Take what you need. I’ll give you anything everything,” he moans, his voice barely coherent. “You’re so good, so fucking good. I love you. I love you so much.”

Your pace quickens, your hands tugging at his hair as you both chase the edge together. Jihoon’s hands are everywhere on your thighs, your waist, your back, unable to stay still as he tries to memorize every moment, every sensation. His lips brush against your skin, murmuring praise and love and filthy promises that make your heart race.

When you finally fall over the edge, it’s with a shattering cry, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crash over you. Jihoon follows moments later, his release spilling into you as his head falls back, a moan of pure ecstasy tearing from his throat. He looks utterly wrecked, his chest heaving as he gazes up at you with so much love and adoration that it nearly takes your breath away.

He pulls you down into his arms, holding you close as you both come down from the high together. “I meant every word,” he whispers, his voice soft but unwavering. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I’m never letting you go.”

The morning sunlight streams through the blinds of Jihoon’s studio, warm and golden, casting a cozy glow over the room. You’re perched on a stool near the soundboard, sipping on coffee while Jihoon hovers over his keyboard, pretending to work.

But he’s not fooling anyone.

Every few seconds, you catch him glancing your way, his lips quirking up in a grin he can’t quite suppress. He’s trying to be discreet, but his hand finds yours under the table, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that sends shivers up your spine. When he’s sure no one’s looking, he leans over to press a soft, lingering kiss to your temple, his grin widening when you swat at him playfully.

“Jihoon,” you murmur, half-laughing. “Focus.”

“I am focusing,” he replies with a mock-serious expression, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “I’m focusing on how gorgeous you look right now.”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks flush all the same. He’s incorrigible, and as much as you want to protest, you can’t deny how much you love his newfound confidence in showing you affection.

The door to the studio swings open, and his bandmates file in one by one, filling the space with their usual energy. Jihoon straightens up, trying to school his expression into something more neutral, but his hand lingers on your thigh for just a second too long before he pulls it back.

“Morning,” one of them calls, tossing a water bottle onto the couch before plopping down. Another, Mingyu, squints at Jihoon, a knowing smirk creeping across his face. “Wow, Jihoon. You look… really chipper today.”

Jihoon shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Just a good day, I guess.”

“Uh-huh,” Mingyu drawls, his eyes flicking to you and back to Jihoon. “And does this ‘good day’ have anything to do with the fact that you can’t stop staring at her?”

Jihoon’s ears turn red, but he tries to play it cool, casually leaning back in his chair. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on,” Mingyu says, grinning. “You’re practically glowing. It’s disgusting, really.”

Another bandmate, Soonyoung, perks up at the exchange, his gaze darting between you and Jihoon. “Wait a second,” he says, eyes narrowing. “Are you guys…?”

You try to hide your smile behind your coffee cup, but Jihoon’s bandmates are relentless. The teasing intensifies, with exaggerated gasps, dramatic gestures, and a chorus of “finally!” echoing through the room. Jihoon rubs the back of his neck, clearly torn between embarrassment and pride.

“Alright, alright,” he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. He turns to you, his eyes softening as he reaches for your hand. “You’re not mad if I say it, right?”

“Not at all,” you reply, your heart fluttering.

Jihoon takes a deep breath before turning back to his bandmates, his expression firm but laced with a hint of nervousness. “Yes, okay? She’s my girlfriend. Happy now?”

The room erupts into cheers and applause, the bandmates high-fiving each other like they’ve won a prize. “Took you long enough!” one of them shouts, while another adds, “I was starting to think this day would never come!”

Amid the chaos, Jihoon looks at you, his face a mixture of exasperation and adoration. “They’re impossible,” he mutters, shaking his head. But then his expression softens, and he tugs you closer, his hands sliding around your waist.

“I love you,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear this time. His gaze locks onto yours, earnest and unshakable. “I’m not hiding it anymore. I love you.”

The teasing fades into the background as Jihoon leans in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s soft but filled with meaning. His hands stay steady on your waist, grounding you as the moment stretches on. When you pull back, breathless and a little dazed, his bandmates are cheering again, but you barely notice.

All you can focus on is Jihoon and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world.

Jihoon leans his forehead against yours, his hands still cradling your waist as the noise of his bandmates fades into the background. He smiles soft, unguarded, and completely full of love. “You know,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, “I used to think my music was the best way to tell a story, but then you came along and proved me wrong. You’re my favorite song, and I want to play you for the rest of my life.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his words. “That’s cheesy, Jihoon.”

“Yeah,” he admits, his grin widening, “but it’s true. And if you think that’s bad, wait until I start writing songs about you.”

The thought makes your heart swell, and you can’t resist kissing him again, ignoring the teasing whistles from the rest of the room. As far as you’re concerned, the rest of the world can wait. Right now, this moment is just for the two of you.

[the-palelady]

the job was hard. it always was. never got any easier. ghost’s mind would buzz with static after missions. a buzzing so loud he could hardly hear the engines of the plane as it took off, headed home.

he’d sit in a daze for the full extent of the flight, eyes mindlessly flitting across the dark clouds and city lights that sat below.

was it always this loud? the engines, the chatter of the people around him, the gunfire?

the high pitched humming continued even as he stepped off the plane, his large, gruff body slipping in and out of crowds of people as he gathered his luggage. ghost couldn’t even hear the crying of a baby that sat nestled against its mum nearby. didn’t move a muscle when someone began raising their voice at a worker when their flight was delayed.

but he did flinch at the sound of someone’s luggage smacking against the ground, the wheels of the suitcase clicking against the marbled floor far too loud for his liking. an echoing pop that reeled him back into a world of blood and dust, gunshots and screaming.

when had his clothes become so tight?

he turns and grabs his things, the static burrowing further into his mind while he rushes towards home.

home is where he’s safe.

home is where you are.

home is where you’re nestled up on the couch, a throw blanket covering the extent of your soft legs, a book or mug occupying your hands. sometimes he would stand in the doorway of your shared home, watching as you’d giggle softly or smile down at the pages of whatever you were reading, free hand idly kneading the plush fabric of your blanket.

home is where you run out to him while he sits in the living room, a smile spread wide across your face when you do a little twirl, showing him the clothes or shoes you had bought that day asking what he thought. you looked perfect in everything, of course.

home is where you sit in front of him at the dinner table, rambling about your day, even asking about his own. you tell him about the butterfly you saw today that you swear was the “biggest you’d ever seen” and—oh!—you can’t forget to tell him about the sale the store was having so you bought him more of his favorite tea.

home is where the buzzing comes to a full stop.

your quizzical expression is always the first thing he sees. the second is the smile that takes its place, spreading from ear to ear as you come to realize who it could be barging in at such an hour. you turn on your heel from where you stand in the kitchen.

simon’s job was demanding. from the very beginning you had accepted that. you saw the storm that had flashed behind his eyes when he awoke from nightmares, saw the way his mind and body strangled each other when he didn’t think you were looking.

so you gave him the peace war would never offer.

his tired, amber eyes softened when your voice drove out the sounds of radio chatter, explosions, death.

“welcome home, si.”

[wonbriiize]

riize as boyfriends pt. 1

pt 2. is here

✧₊⁺ shotaro

the type of boyfriend who would wake you up with kisses

he yearns for a deep & meaningful relationship

would make you film cute dance tiktoks with him ˃̵ᴗ˂̵

he would notice when you’re feeling sad and would do his best to make you feel better

like, he would buy your favorite flowers and surprise you with them

or he would call you over to his place and surprise you with your favorite movie & snacks

it’s important to him for you guys to talk about your feelings, desires, goals etc. openly

if conflict happens, he’d rather sit down and talk it out because he goes crazy thinking about you guys being on bad terms

he is so so so supportive !! whatever you want to do, he will stand behind you, he will always have your back no matter what ♡ ̆̈

shotaro is usually very happy but when he sees that you‘re having a bad day, his mood goes down too. like, you hate the world right now? good, so does he !! you want to cry a river? well, he will cry along with you !!

✧₊⁺ eunseok

would pull up behind you and put his arm around your waist to hold you close to him

especially in social gatherings, it’s his sign to show everyone that you’re only his

he stares at you for the longest time and when you ask what’s up he just straight up says ‘i love you’ with the most serious tone ever

it makes him smile when you get shy after he does this, he just loves watching your reaction to it

the type of boyfriend who would have a pic of you in his wallet

when people would ask him ‘who‘s this’, he would softly smile and say ‘my favorite person’

likes to try out new things on your dates

for example going to places you’ve never been to, or doing fun activities that both of you haven’t tried yet

loves teasing you, in every way possible

would sneak up next to you in bed and watch you sleep with admiring eyes because he loves how peaceful you appear (*◡*♡)

✧₊⁺ sungchan

the type of boyfriend who would wake you up in the morning to go out for a walk

would make you breakfast as well

like when you’re on your period, he’d want you to rest in your bed and bring the breakfast to you (づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡

honestly, he’s the type to ask ‘where’s my hug at?’

when you’d hug him, he’d wrap his arms around you so tightly that you fear he’s going to break your bones

he‘d rest his chin on your head and tease you with pushing it down

you like to scare him so sometimes when he does that, you act like he actually hurt you

he would get so concerned, step back and look at you with the most beautiful and apologetic eyes you’d ever seen

sungchan would keep saying sorry even when you tell him you were just joking, because if he’d actually hurt you, he‘d never be able to forgive himself

you‘d have to kiss him to silence him and assure him that everything is fine, and after the kiss, sungchan would have the biggest smile on his face, his eyes looking down at you with the most loving gaze ♡ ´･ᴗ･ `♡

✧₊⁺ wonbin

sends you good morning and good night messages

if he‘s out shopping and sees something that he thinks you’d like or it reminds him of you, he’d buy it right away

he‘s such a scaredy cat but he’d act so tough to look cool in front of you

like, if you guys would go to a horror escape room, he would secretly be shitting his pants everytime your attention wouldn’t be on him

but the second your eyes wander back to him, he’d act like this is the most easiest thing ever

when something creepy would happen in the escape room, he’d try to put all his fear aside and protect you

but you’re a bit better with horror stuff than him, so he actually ends up being the one who needs protection, like he’d hide behind you

also, for your birthday, he’d sing your favorite song for you while playing the guitar

everytime you wouldn’t be looking at him, he would be staring at you, telling himself how lucky he is that he gets to be with you ˃̶̤⌄˂̶̤

when the two of you watch a movie together, he enjoys resting his head on your shoulder and fiddling with your shirt as well as kissing you unexpectedly •ᴗ•♡

[karmacharmeleon18]

The only thing stronger than Antisemitism in the American right wing, is their Islamophobia.

If they ever realized many Palestinians are Christians, the tables would turn real quick.

To all the Jewish people now siding with the right wing and spreading their violent bs everywhere, remember this: they hate us.

They only tolerate and support us when the "enemy" is someone they hate more.

Before the UK and European colonizers created Israel, Palestine was a land where Muslims, Christians and Jews lived together; once Israel was established, Israeli forces started stealing land, houses and belongings from Palestinians of the "wrong religion" to make space for European Jews.

This started in 1917, long before WWII and Nazi Germany.

Since then, Israel has displaced millions of Palestinians, killed and imprisoned thousands.

When in 2018 Palestinians peacefully marched, the biggest peaceful march in the world, Israel shot them.

When in 2014 Israel bombed Gaza, Israeli civilians gathered in cities nearby with binoculars and popcorn to enjoy the show.

Little Israeli children wrote their names on the rockets.

Israel has killed over 3000 Palestinian children in the last 20 years alone.

Israel destroyed Gaza's only airport in 2001 (and is currently bombing the only escape point into Egypt; they are trapped)

Israli soldiers officially left the Gaza Strip in 2005, but the Israeli government still has control of Gaza's water, electricity, road/routes for the arrival of food, fuels, medicine, etc.

Gaza is the world's biggest concentration camp, under Israeli control.

As a Jew, I don't say this lightly. But there is no other word for it.

I will never call Gaza a "prison", because in most societies prisons are filled with criminals; the Palestinians are innocent people forced into a concentration camp, turned into an extermination camp.

And before you start: Israel created Hamas. And Hamas is a recent political development. Palestinias have been suffering since long before its creation.

Recently, in 2019 Netanyahu, Israel's current prime minister, said that the only way to stop the creation of a Palestinian State was to SUPPORT Hamas.

(The other political party in Palestine wanted peace BUT at the condition that Palestine be recognized as an independent State; Israel couldn't tolerate that, so they supported Hamas, which was for armed resistance against apartheid... Israel literally chose the continuation of violence because they couldn't tolerate Palestinian freedom)

He also defended Hitler, saying he wasn't antisemitic, he was just controlled by Palestinian forces.

And today, Netanyahu is acting like Hitler, trying to create a "breathing space" for Israel like Hitler tried to do for Germany.

As a Jew, I cannot stand with this. I cannot stand with apartheid. I cannot stand with genocide. I cannot stand with colonization.

And you, right wing or left wing... don't you ever dare say "Never again!" from now on if you side with Israel.

"Never again!" is happening right now.

There can be no peace without justice. No justice without freedom. No freedom without colonizers giving back stolen land.

No other people in the world was ever given the right and international permission to create a theocratic ethnostate at the cost of innocent lives.

Israel has violated international law and committed war crimes for the past century, with the blessing of the Western World.

This is unforgivable.

Israel has lied about Israeli children being locked in cages: it was actually Palestinian children in Israeli cages, and international media, which of course ran with it, had to issue a correction.

It has lied about Israeli children being beheaded. The government of Israel and the White House then issued a correction: there is no proof of such thing.

It has lied about dead Israeli hostages, when their families have come out saying they are still alive, they have spoken with them and they are being treated in Gazan hospitals... which Israel is currently targeting and bombing.

What I have seen with my own eyes, is videos of Hamas soldiers help Israeli children, putting clothes on them, rocking them to sleep, giving the water.

What I have seen, is videos of Israeli hostages who were quickly let go say how nice the Hamas soldiers were with them.

What I have seen, is the video of an Israeli woman and Hamas soldiers telling her "No one will harm you! Tell them this is the humanity of Palestinians" as she and her children were let go without incident.

What I have seen, is videos of Palestinian children without a head: this morning Israel ordered them to live the north of Gaza before they would bomb it again in 24 hours; Palestinians obeyed... and Israel bombed them as they marched south. Israel lied. It was a trap. Children blown to bits.

What I have seen, is videos of dead Palestinian civilians and Israeli pissing on their corpses while cheering.

What I have seen, is videos of mutilated Palestinian civilians and Israeli driving their cars over them while cheering.

What I have seen is videos of armed Israeli civilians shooting at unarmed Palestinians (the Israeli where given guns by the IDF).

What I have seen is countless videos of injured and dead Palestinian children (over 600 were killed in the last 6 days)

What I have seen, is Israeli soldiers pouring concrete on water springs to make sure no water can reach Gaza in any way possible (water in Gaza is 97% undrinkable already; now Israel has cut it off altogether and eliminated all natural resources of it as well)

War crime after war crime after war crime.

Israel says "release the hostages!" while keeping thousands of Palestinians in Israeli prisons for "secret motives" and "concerns" (which is the whole reason why 100 hostages were taken in the first place: to be exchanged).

Israel says "release the hostages!" but it has already killed 13 of them with their bombs.

Israel is targeting hospitals, refugee camps, residential buildings, even ambulances.

Israel is using white phosphorus, which is illegal according to international law.

It has just used it on a children's hospital.

It had also bombed and killed people in Syria and Lebanon.

Egypt knew the attack from Hamas was coming, and told Netanyahu. He did nothing.

He wanted this to happen so that he could start a "war" and exterminate Palestinians once and for all.

It's not really a war. Not when the oppressor has the 4th best military force in the world, nuclear power, the Iron Dome and billions of dollars in international support from the US... while the oppressed have homemade rockets, no water, no electricity, no fuel.

It's a genocide.

When will it be enough for the Western world to condemn it?

I and many other Jewish people stand for a free Palestine ✊🏾✡️️🇵🇸

[girlactionfigure]

SEPTEMBER 4, 2024

Many anti-Israel protestors claim that the terrorist groups they support are merely anti-Zionist, not antisemitic.

The evidence shows otherwise.

Let’s take a look.

THIS IS A HAMAS FLAG...

…in the middle of New York City. Some Hamas apologists will tell you that Hamas no longer intends to exterminate all Jews, because in 2017, they “replaced their [openly genocidal] charter.” Well, lucky for you, Hamas is here to set the record straight. See, after releasing their “new” charter, Hamas co-founder Mahmoud al-Zahar assured the media that the 2017 document did not replace their original 1988 charter. 

Since 2017, Hamas has made openly genocidal calls toward Jews. In 2018, Hamas’s Al-Aqsa TV media channel predicted “the cleansing of Palestine of the filth of the Jews.”

In 2019, Hamas Political Bureau member Fathi Hammad said, “You seven million Palestinians abroad, enough warming up! There are Jews everywhere! We must attack every Jew on planet Earth –- we must slaughter and kill them, with Allah’s help.” In 2021, Hammad called, via Al-Aqsa TV, for the Palestinians in Jerusalem to “cut off the heads of the Jews.”

BTW, THIS IS ONE OF THE MANY THINGS THAT THE ORIGINAL HAMAS CHARTER SAYS...

"The Day of Judgement will not come about until Moslems fight the Jews (killing the Jews), when the Jew will hide behind stones and trees. The stones and trees will say O Moslems, O Abdulla, there is a Jew behind me, come and kill him. Only the Gharkad tree, (evidently a certain kind of tree) would not do that because it is one of the trees of the Jews." (related by al-Bukhari and Moslem)."

(Article 7)

Pretty explicitly antisemitic, wouldn’t you agree?

THIS IS A HEZBOLLAH FLAG (AND A HAMAS HEADBAND)..

…in the middle of New York City. Like Hamas, the entire purpose of Hezbollah’s existence is the destruction of the State of Israel. Unlike Hamas, however, Hezbollah, for decades, has carried out violent terrorist attacks against Jews not just in Israel, but also in the Diaspora.

Hezbollah’s most notorious attack was the 1994 bombing of the Asociación Mutual Israelita Argentina (AMIA), the largest Jewish community center in Buenos Aires, Argentina. The attack took 85 innocent lives. Before October 7, the AMIA bombing was the single largest antisemitic massacre since the end of the Holocaust.

Given Hezbollah targets (non-Israeli) Jews worldwide, could it be that their problem is with Jews, not just with Zionism?

THIS, AGAIN, IS THE HEZBOLLAH FLAG...

...at the Princeton University encampment. If you’re still on the fence about Hezbollah’s true antisemitic intentions, fear not: Hezbollah Secretary General Hassan Nasrallah is here to clarify them for you.

“If we searched the entire world for a person more cowardly, despicable, weak and feeble in psyche, mind, ideology and religion, we would not find anyone like the Jew. Notice, I do not say the Israeli,” Nasrallah stated. Just anti-Zionism, huh?

Then there’s his infamous threat: “If [the Jews] all gather in Israel, it will save us the trouble of going after them worldwide.” 

We get the message loud and clear.

THIS IS "JEWISH" VOICE FOR PEACE, GLORIFYING THE HOUTHIS...

...using a photo that very clearly showcases the Houthi banner, which states, “God is the Greatest, Death to America, Death to Israel, A Curse Upon the Jews, Victory to Islam.”

“A Curse Upon the Jews” is pretty straightforward antisemitism, don’t you think? 

The Houthis are also personally responsible for ethnically cleansing the last Jews out of Yemen. Just anti-Zionism, eh?

THIS IS A PALESTINIAN FLAG WITH VARIOUS PORTRAITS, INCLUDING THAT OF YAHYA SINWAR...

…in the middle of New York City. If orchestrating the October 7 massacre, the biggest antisemitic massacre since the end of the Holocaust, is not evidence enough for you, there are other indications that Sinwar is not exactly a friend of the Jews.

In May of 2021, for example, Sinwar led a rally, in which the crowd was encouraged to chant, "We will trample on the heads of the Jews in front of everyone..."

There is also, of course, his infamous threat: “October 7 was just a rehearsal.”

Sinwar is the head of Hamas, which we’ve already established doesn’t really like Jews.

THIS IS A PFLP FLAG (AND A HEZBOLLAH FLAG AND A HAMAS HEADBAND)...

…in the middle of New York City. See that red flag? Yeah, that’s the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine. PFLP flags are all the rage at pro-Palestine protests. Marxist Jihad. Super fun.

Yet, while the PFLP claims to advocate for a secular, democratic Palestine, the reality is much darker. When, for example, the PFLP, with the aid of West German terrorists, hijacked Air France Flight 139, en route from Tel Aviv to Paris, they infamously separated the Jewish from the non-Jewish passengers.Yes, you read that right: they separated the Jewish from the non-Jewish passengers. Not the Israeli passengers from the non-Israeli passengers. The Jewish from the non-Jewish passengers.

The non-Jewish passengers were let go. The Jews were kept hostage. That’s a pretty clear message.

THIS IS A PFLP FLAG...

…at the University of Pennsylvania encampment. If you’re still not convinced this is antisemitic, the founder of the PFLP, George Habash, quickly was there to set the record straight: “Killing one Jew far away from the field of battle is more effective than killing a hundred Jews on the field of battle,because it attracts more attention.”

You read that? He said “Jew.” Not Israeli. Not Zionist. “Jew.”

The PFLP live-streamed the October 7 massacre, and, as of several months ago, Israeli intelligence estimated that the PFLP was holding the youngest hostage, one-year-old Kfir Bibas, and his five-year-old brother, Ariel Bibas, hostage.

THIS IS A PALESTINIAN ISLAMIC JIHAD FLAG (AND A PFLP FLAG AND A HAMAS FLAG)...

…in the middle of New York City. Palestinian Islamic Jihad participated in the October 7 massacre. More than that, however, their entire ideology is antisemitic to the core.

See, Palestinian Islamic Jihad believes that a proper reading of the Quran indicates that Muslims are in an eternal struggle with their forever enemies, the Jews, and that the conflict between the Israelis and the Palestinians exists because of this eternal struggle. 

To recap: Palestine or no Palestine, Islamic Jihad’s ideology dictates that Jews are the eternal enemies of the Muslims.

Sounds antisemitic to me, but what do I know?

For a full bibliography of my sources, please head over to my Instagram and  Patreon. 

somehow we’ve normalized weekly antisemitic hate marches in broad daylight

[dailylcy]

A RIBBON TIED WISH 𝜗𝜚

ఌ︎. pairing. idol!bf!wonbin x reader ఌ︎. genre. fluff ఌ︎. warnings. none ఌ︎. word count. 1k

ఌ︎. a/n. woahh park wonbin’s 23rd bday :00 happy birthday binn and happy wonday to everyone celebrating

The soft hum of the city echoed through the windows of the dorm as the members buzzed around, prepping for Wonbin’s birthday party. There were balloons, confetti, and cake — a big, 3 tiers cake with candles waiting to be blown out. The excitement was there, but Wonbin seemed to be in his own world, exposed in the gentle glow of all the attention while trying not to get too overwhelmed.

You had noticed this about him before — how he loved the attention of his fans, how he enjoyed the energy of the stage, but behind it all, he was always so shy when it came to moments like these. Birthday celebrations, the ones where the noise dies down and it’s just him, his friends, and the quiet moments of affection shared between all of you.

“y/n, come on, help us set up!” Anton’s voice called from the other room, his usual burst of energy like a breeze. You smiled at the thought of how excited he was, But right now, it was just you and Wonbin. He was sitting by the window, looking out at the sky that was already dark and full of stars, his fingers lightly on the edge of the table.

You walked over to him quietly, not wanting to interrupt him. He glanced up and smiled that warm, soft smile that you knew was reserved just for you.

“Everything’s ready for the party” you said, taking a seat beside him. “How are you feeling?”

“Good” he replied, his voice a low hum that seemed to match the calm of the night. “Just… it’s nice to have some quiet before, you know?”

You nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. It wasn’t often that Wonbin got the chance to just sit and relax. The fans, the company, the endless schedules and performances, always pushed him forward, but moments like this — where he could pause — were few and far between.

“I’ll be back soon” you said with a smile, standing up from your seat. “I’ve got to help Anton with the cake and everything. The others are waiting for you too.”

Wonbin chuckled, his voice still warm but tinged with a hint of reluctance. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

You made your way to the living room where the others were already gathered, a lot of noise filling the space. The mood was lighthearted — laughter, music playing in the background, and the occasional clink of glasses. Anton was the first to notice you, waving his arms dramatically as if you had been gone for hours instead of just a few minutes.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, “Everything’s ready! Wonbin’s gonna love it.”

You laughed, nodding. “I’m sure he will. It looks amazing.”

As you helped with the last few touches—adjusting the placement of balloons and making sure everyone had a drink in their hand — Wonbin entered the room. His face lit up when he saw the decorations and the table full of gifts and treats, his eyes scanning over the room with genuine delight.

The other members greeted him with cheers, and soon enough, the group settled into a comfortable rhythm, joking and laughing. You watched Wonbin as he interacted with the others, his usual calm and grounded nature bringing a sense of warmth to the whole room. Despite being the center of attention, there was something humbling about his demeanor, something that made him feel approachable even in moments like these.

“Make a wish!” Anton encouraged, practically jumping in excitement.

Wonbin turned to the cake, his eyes flicking from the candles to the faces around him. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. You couldn’t help but notice how peaceful he looked, a rare moment of quiet before the world shifted back into motion.

When he opened his eyes again, he blew out the candles in one breath, and the room erupted into cheers. The cake was cut, and everyone grabbed a slice, teasing each other about who got the biggest piece.

You found yourself standing near the edge of the group, watching Wonbin interact with his friends. There lightness to the way he laughed, the way he joked around — so different from the idol persona that everyone else saw.

After a while, the mood began to settle, and the party started winding down. The other members had all retired to their rooms, but Wonbin stayed behind, lingering by the window. You couldn’t help but feel the pull to join him.

You found him still by the window, his gaze lost in the city lights. Without a word, you walked over and stood beside him.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah” he replied, his voice low. “I love the view from here. It’s peaceful.”

There was a soft shift in the air, the kind that only comes when you’re standing close to someone who means something to you.

“I’ve got one more thing for you” you said, turning to face him fully. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small ribbon, tied neatly with a little tag attached.

Wonbin raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

You gently placed the ribbon in his hands. “A wish, for you.”

He studied the ribbon for a moment, his fingers tracing it carefully, before he untied it slowly. He opened the small folded note inside, reading the words in the quiet.

I’m really grateful to have you in my life. You make everything brighter, even on the darkest days. I know it’s just a small note, but I hope it means something to you.

There was a long silence between the two of you as Wonbin folded the note back up and tucked it into his pocket. He looked at you, his expression softening. “I..I don’t know what to say..” he murmured. “Thank you.”

You smiled, your heart melting at the sincerity in his voice. “I wanted it to be special, sorry it’s not something valuable.”

Wonbin stepped closer, his presence warm and comforting. “You’ve already made it special, this is the most valuable thing i own now, y/n.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

When he pulled back, his eyes were full of warmth, like he was seeing something deeper in you than just the surface.

“Happy birthday, Wonbin”

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© dailylcy 2025

[fandomhcs]

dating frank castle would include:

frank castle doesn’t do anything half assed. that includes a relationship. you may have a hell of a time actually getting him into one, but once he is he’ll never waver.

he would struggle between being the punisher and being frank, the man who loves you. though he fully understands that you can that care of yourself, he wants to keep his life as the punisher far away from you. of course its not always possible, but he wants to keep you as safe he can. rest assured, as long as he’s there nothing can touch you. he’d stop anything, give up anything, to keep you safe. 

losing maria and the kids changed him, broke him apart and forced him to scramble to gather any pieces he could. losing you now, after facing all of that loss and all that pain? no way he could handle that. 

and so he’s overprotective, he’s paranoid, he’ll check and double check the locks on your windows and doors until you drag him to bed. while the two of you don’t leave the house together too often, when you do he makes sure to keep you no more than an arm’s length away at all times.

his paranoia is the biggest source of fights in your relationship. he isn’t one for conflict, despite being the punsiher and all. fighting with you is different, and he doesn’t like it when it happens. often times you’ll have it out with each other only for him to go quiet, swallow his pride and take some time to calm down before he can come talk out the problem with you.

but outside of the danger, when things are quiet and peaceful between the two of you there is no sweeter man than frank castle. he’s head over heels for you, it’s easy to see. in his eyes you are everything he never thought he’d have again. sure, he may not have the whole wife, kids, white fence type of life with you. he may never be ready for that, but being with you feels like coming home. it scares him how good it feels to have a place, a person, he can call home again.

movies nights and television marathons are a must. the second you are both home for the night he’ll wrap you up in his arms and drag you to the couch for cuddles. though he isn’t too big on pda, in the privacy of your home he just can’t help himself. 

he lives for the small touches. holding your hand, forehead kisses, fingers grazing your shoulders as he passes by you. its a reminder, every time he feels your skin under his fingertips. a reminder that you are there, with him, safe and sound and alive.

you make him smile. force him to watch stupid comedies or over dramatic soap operas that you both get waaayy too invested in. he makes you try your coffee black, does the dishes for you before you get up in the mornings, keeps you trapped in his arms whenever you try to get up for food. 

he cooks for you sometimes. a lovely surprise that comes out of nowhere. the big bad punisher? popping out with restaurant quality meals all because you’d had a shitty day at work and needed a pick-me-up? that’s art. he doesn’t cook often, but when he does it is magical.

though as far as your cooking, he’ll eat literally anything. you could burn it to coal and he’ll eat it with a smile. he might make fun of you for it, but you’ll see him finish his plate no matter what. he’s a dork like that.

you both whisper your secrets underneath warm sheets with one of his hands tapping a chaotic rhythm on your shoulder and the other gripping your fingers tight. he tells you their names. maria. lisa. frank jr. he tells you of their laughter, their toys, their lives. and he tells you of their deaths, tears spilling from his eyes as he breaks into your arms. your heart breaks with him, but being able to share them with someone who loves him, and by extension loves and respects them too, is such a weight off his shoulders.

they’re ghosts, but not the kind that haunt. the kind that leave your chest aching but also a soft smile on your face. they don’t plague him anymore, he is finally able to think of them without his world going dark. they’ll always be in his heart, he’ll never allow himself to forget them, but you help him realize that he can have happiness once again. 

life is perfectly boring with frank, something he forgot just how much he’d missed. you bring peace into his life, even though he never wanted you to. but he’ll be forever grateful that you did. this man will love you with a passion and an intensity that you’ll find nowhere else.

that is, if you can handle his snoring.

[vipwinnie]

“ It’s always been you “

Theodore Nott x reader

Summary : you thought he loved you, and ultimately you were right

You always had a big crush on Théodore. And to your greatest happiness, the alchemy happened with him. You quickly became friends sharing the same interests, and your relationship has only evolved over the years. You had become so close that you could easily pass for a couple.

It was a gentle autumn morning; you had accompanied theodore to get ingredients for a potion. You were on your way back, walking near the lake.

“What a lovely place for a walk, isn't it?” he said, looking out over the peaceful lake.

“Yes, it’s really beautiful here. I really appreciate this peace and quiet.” you replied.

“Me too, it’s like time stops. By the way, you look really beautiful today. “he added

"Thank you, you are very kind. You know, I really enjoy our time together.” you said staring at theodore's face with starry eyes.

“I too, really enjoy every moment spent with you. You’re different from other girls, you know?”

"Really ? How so ?"you asked.

“You are unique, special. I feel really good in your presence. I can not help thinking of you."

“Oh, I feel the same way. You knew how to touch a sensitive chord in me. I’m so happy to be with you.”you said, with the biggest smile on your face.

“It’s amazing how much we are on the same page. I feel like I can share anything with you.”

“I feel so close to you too. It’s like we have a special connection.”

You hadn't noticed that he had stopped walking, looking you straight in the eyes. Stopping yourself, you look him in the eyes. Their eyes met, a shy smile appearing on their lips. Their faces moved closer and closer, their breaths mingling delicately. Everything seemed to freeze around them, the entire world disappearing in a suspended moment. You've been waiting for this moment for so long. But when you think that your lips are finally going to touch each other. But suddenly, Theodore stepped back. You didn't understand.

“I have potions class in 5 minutes, I really should go” he said, walking further away without giving you one last look as if you didn’t exist.

You stood there alone, only the sounds of the lake could be heard. You were lost, the more you thought, the more the tears came. What did you do wrong? Did he hate you? You shouldn't lose faith .

The next time you saw him that day, Theodore's last class was Defense Against the Dark Arts. As usual, you were waiting for Theodore to come out, you were waiting for him leaning against a wall. You saw him come out, so you went to meet him. You took a deep breath and gathered all your courage to go to meet him. Your heartbeat speeds up as you get closer to him.

But when you approach Theodore, he seems to completely ignore you. He doesn't even look you in the eye, as if you were invisible. Your heart breaks into a thousand pieces at this very moment. You feel devastated and humiliated. Tears begin to slowly fall down your cheeks as you hurry back to the dorms. You take refuge in your room, closing the door behind you. Sitting on your bed, you lament to yourself, wondering what you did wrong to deserve such rejection. Thoughts swirl in your mind. You remember every moment you spent with Theodore, analyzing every interaction, searching for answers to your pain.

You wonder if you misinterpreted his signals or if you were just naive to believe that he could feel the same attraction as you. Sadness invades you, your sobs turn into a silent cry of despair. You feel alone, misunderstood and hurt. The questions loop through your head, questioning your own worth and attractiveness. That evening you went to bed, with tears in your eyes. Your sister took a really big hit today.

The next morning, you wake up with a rush of excitement in your heart, knowing that you will soon join the others for breakfast. You secretly hope to meet the eyes of your crush, Theodore. Yesterday, he completely ignored you, but you ignore this disappointment and remain optimistic. Entering the common room, you look for him, but he is nowhere in sight. You feel a slight disappointment, but you refuse to let it ruin your day. You greet your friends and sit down at a table, ready to enjoy this friendly moment. As you start to chat with your friend Pansy, you suddenly hear Theodore scratch his throat. Your heart races with hope. Will he finally speak to you? But instead, he announces in an unsteady voice that he must go back to the dormitories.

You are stunned, unable to understand why he is acting this way. A sadness invades your being as you see him walk away without even glancing at you. You feel rejected and hurt, wondering what you could have done wrong to deserve such treatment. Tears threaten to fall, but you hold back, not wanting to show your vulnerability to others.

You feel lost, unable to understand why Theodore treats you like this. You question your actions, looking for answers in the smallest details of your relationship. Maybe it's your fault? Maybe you're not interesting or attractive enough for him? Theodore's strange behavior doesn't go unnoticed by the rest of your friends either.

“What happened with Theodore? We noticed that he completely ignored you. Draco asked you.

“Yes, I don’t understand his behavior at all. I thought everything was fine between us, but he avoided me and left without saying a word.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure there’s an explanation. It's not normal for him to ignore you like this. He really cares about you, I know that.” reassured you Blaise who was still swallowing his breakfast”

"Exactly. Theodore is a good person and I am convinced that he would never want to deliberately hurt you. He must have a valid reason for his behavior.” Draco continued.

“But it still hurts me. I feel like I've done something wrong or that I'm insignificant to him.” you say

“No, don't think that. You are an incredible person and you deserve someone who treats you with respect and love. Theodore needs to talk to you and explain to you what's really going on." he continued.

"Exactly. Maybe he's going through something difficult right now and he doesn't know how to tell you. You know how he is. But know that this is in no way your fault.” Draco continued in turn.

"Thanks guys. “ you said even if you weren’t really convinced.

Later in the day you tried to find him so you could finally talk to him. As you headed towards his dorms, you saw him in one of the hallways, sitting on the bench with a girl. They seemed to be laughing and chatting, as if they were best friends .

Reality hit me hard. You felt betrayed, devastated. Tears begin to flow down your cheeks, your legs weaken under the weight of pain. You wanted to run away, to escape this scene that was breaking your heart. Without thinking, you started running, your sobs muffling his cries of despair. You walked through the park, feeling lost, betrayed and abandoned. But to your surprise, you heard footsteps behind you. It was Theodore following you, his eyes full of worry and confusion. He called out to you, trying to catch up with you. You stop, turning your tear-stained face towards him.

He approached you, his voice trembling with emotion. He asked you what was wrong, why you had run away in such a hurry.

But you didn't want to hear these words, so you tried it all, you kissed him. His lips pressed against yours suddenly in a sweet kiss, triggering an explosion of emotions in your heart. His hands squeeze with yours tenderly, your lips moving in perfect harmony. It was a kiss filled with passion.

As your lips slowly part, you keep your eyes closed, trying to hold in this magical moment. You can feel the smile on his face, the happiness shining in his eyes. The world gradually regains its colors, and you open your eyes to look once again into the gaze of the one who has just stolen your breath. Theodore approaches you hesitantly, his heart heavy with remorse.

He kissed you back: it was definitely the best day of your life. But I thought you didn't love me? You pushed me away so many times" you say with tears in your eyes.

He kneels in front of you, taking your hands in his. “I’m so sorry…” he whispers, his voice trembling. "I ignored your feelings because I was afraid of mine. I didn't know how to deal with them, so I thought that by keeping you at a distance, I could bury them."

Tears continue to stream down the girl's face as she listens to his words. "But why? Why be afraid of your feelings?", you asked, trying to understand. Theodore gently wipes away the tears streaming down the girl's cheeks.

"Because I simply love you. I was afraid of what that meant, of the vulnerability that it entailed. I was a coward in ignoring myself and I'm so sorry for making you suffer. "

You stared at Theodore, your eyes red and swollen with tears. Despite his pain, you could see the sincerity in his eyes. "I...I feel the same way. I have feelings for you too, but I was afraid to tell you. I thought you didn't feel anything for me."you said.

Theodore gently caresses your cheeks, a shy smile appears on your face. "I'm sorry I was so blind...

You didn't let him finish, interrupting him with another fiery kiss showing all your love for him.

[leggerefiore]

May I request yan Volo, and maybe Yan Grimsley after seeing their partner be more outgoing and flirty after a few drinks at a social gathering?

cw: yandere, mentioned kidnapping, drinking, alcohol, possessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships

characters: Volo, Grimsley, Giovanni

Minors DNI

💫Volo📜

⭐️ Drinking… Volo would not contend that he was the biggest fan. Alcohol caused inebriation. Inebriation caused less control. The merchant much preferred having everything under control. Generally, in his job, since bandits would find him an easy target if he were completely out of it. Though, as he sat with you at your base camp, he found himself more willing. There was only one thing that left him frustrated. A certain presence that he had not anticipated. The professor, sure, the annoying teenage brat was a given, and a few other Security Corp members as extra bulk… But, that damned Diamond Clan Leader. He would grin and bear it, even if he did not like crowds. Why…? Well, for you.

⭐️ You… Unfortunately, your mere concept intrigued him. When he had heard that a portal spit you out, he simply needed to see with you with his own eyes. Your vigour had not been something he anticipated. It was more than apparent a certain deity had an eye on you, much to his endless frustration. His feelings bubbled up and down about you. There was something of pure adoration for your sheer survivability in a world that you were clearly not well-suited for. Pity was common, too. Seeing you all alone after being abandoned by those you believed you could rely on. Naturally, he could not help but kneel beside you and offer his own hand. Though, everything you were blamed for was his own doing.

⭐️ A few drinks in, he watched as you seemed to grow more social, babbling on about seeming nonsense to Adaman. He gave a typical grin and encouraged you to keep going. It annoyed Volo enough as it were, but then something happened that spurred something burning within him. Your arm came around Adaman's shoulders. You leaned into him, laughing at something you said. His arm came around you, too, pulling you in while he joined you in the laughter. Volo's grip on the glass in his hand certainly could have shattered it.

⭐️ Something in him was desperate. But, he was nothing if not controlled. Patience. If he were patient, a better opportunity would come. Acting foolishly when surrounded would only have a disaster follow. He waited. Everyone was asleep. The fire was low. You looked so peaceful. Volo wondered what you dreamed of. His hand cupped your cheek. Wherever you came from… There was no chance of you returning to it. The plates… Oh, those plates. His heart raced at the thought of his careful planning truly coming to fruition. He would take Arceus's power as his own and remake this world… You would be at his side. Fingers gently stroked your cheek before he settled in beside you. Everything would be his soon enough.

♠️Grimsley❤️

♤ Alcohol. Grimsley was a many of many vices, and that was certainly among his own. Drinking was a commonplace in casinos. He would dare even say it did truly elevate the experience. The gambler was careful, of course. As much as he enjoyed a drink, he was fully aware that cognitive functions declined under the influence. There was no fun in being so out of it like that. His eyes observed you at the bar carefully. It was a simple invitation – Join him at the casino tonight. You sipped on the cocktail you ordered as he pondered just what kind of person you were inebriated. It would have all gone to his plan if someone had not sat right beside you. There were so many open seats, yet they took the one beside you. His gaze pierced right through them, but they seemed just so unbothered.

♡ Madness. You had driven a madness into the gambler. Or, perhaps, should he indulge the occult fascination of a certain coworker, a curse. Whatever you had done to him, his head was haunted by you. Whatever usual urges drove him to sleep openly and freely were expelled the moment you caught his attention wholly. Tortuous. What was wrong with you? He wanted to despise you. Desperately – desperately, he wanted to despise you. It was impossible. So, he decided to indulge this horrible feeling. Keeping you at his side, playing the role of some more domestic man. It was almost too easy. Though, something in him stirred and desired more. For now, however, he was satiated.

◇ The person, some rough-looking guy with a posture that Grimsley certainly did not envy, burst into laughter at whatever you had said. Your drunken babble seemingly intriguing him. Were you a light-weight? He felt concerned. This was only worsened when you happily continued to chat with the guy. His hand came to rub at his neck as you leaned in and complimented his style. Grimsley wanted to scoff. Style? He looked like a grown-up delinquent. His chest was far too exposed. His eyes narrowed. Enough was enough.

♧ “Darling,” he rasped, coming in to pull you away and into him, “Let's get you home, alright?” The other guy seemed to tense up at Grimsely's sudden interruption. Something of an apology was given, but the gambler was in no mood to accept such things. He simply helped you up and guided you away. His grip on your shoulder made you flinch. It went ignored by him. Frustration ate at his heart. Letting you go… It made him sick. If he could not bear the idea of leaving you, he certainly could not stand another man snatching you up before his eyes. “… Man, oh, man, I didn't know you had it in you to be so naughty,” he huffed the words into your ear, “When we get home, I'll remind you just who your lover is.” That promise, he would hold true to.

🚀Giovanni🐈

🟥 A party, a drink – These things were not uncommon in the crime boss's life. Meetings were often under the guise of such things. It was a time to make connections that could not otherwise be made in different situations. He spoke with various associates with his typical charm and attitude. Many were desperate to garner his favour. Business was discussed, naturally. What broke this studious attention of his was noticing the presence of his partner was gone from his side. He glanced around. You were sat down on a nearby sofa with a drink in your hand. It would have been something uneventful if someone had not sat beside you.

🟥 You… Oh, what had you done to the Rocket Boss? He was not one for love. Romance was a useless thing in his ambitions… You, however, liked to be a brat and ruin his precious projects by playing hero. That streak was easily broken when he simply offered you a place at his side. He would pay well and give you whatever you wanted. So long as you stop being a nuisance. Your response was to battle him. Unfortunately for you, he was not actually asking. Your disappearance was easy to sweep under the rug. It was much more preferable to have you hidden away in his home. Though, he was not above showing off. You seemed to comprehend it was futile to actually try.

🟥 The poor idiot who sat beside you… He tried to recall their name. Irrelevant, really. No doubt some young hotshot… Archer would be sent to handle them later. Your actions shocked him too much to intervene. You leaned onto his shoulder, laughing and mumbling something. He seemed to join you in laughter. Giovanni felt as if he had been presented something like excrement. He spoke to you too easily, and you reciprocated. The alcohol. Clearly, your reserved shell was cracked by it.

🟥 He trailed to you, catching your chin in his fingers. “… Hello, dear,” it was simple enough to seemingly sober you in an instant. You let go of the man and glanced at him. Your expression shifted to something nervous. Ah, how precious. That cuteness you carried was likely why he opted for all this extra effort instead of simply getting rid of you. That, and you cared for his son. “Join me, won't you?” he brought you up to stand with him, while the guy you were with nearly cowered into himself. You walked with him, on edge from the mood shift. Oh, Giovanni was already running through the various ways that you would earn his forgiveness.

[that-sudsy]

Bucky Barnes x Fem Agent Reader

Secrets in the Shadows

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or images used in this work, nor do I claim any rights to them.

Buchanan Barnes had always been a man of secrets, but the biggest one he carried was the relationship he had with you. For two years, you had been navigating the treacherous waters of love as agents, knowing full well that Nick Fury had strict rules against personal relationships within the team. But the heart wants what it wants, and your heart had chosen Bucky.

The rest of the Avengers had begun to notice Bucky's peculiar habits. He would often take long night walks, returning to the compound just as dawn broke, his demeanor always a little more relaxed, a little more at peace. Sam and Steve exchanged knowing glances, their curiosity piqued. They decided to set up a situation to draw Bucky out, hoping to uncover the truth behind his late-night escapades.

One fateful morning, Bucky left his phone on the kitchen table, oblivious to the fact that Natasha had been watching. As he rushed out to join Sam and Steve, Natasha seized the opportunity. With a few quick taps, she copied the files and text messages from Bucky's phone, her heart racing with anticipation.

Later that day, the team gathered in the common room, the atmosphere thick with tension. As they scrolled through Bucky's messages, their eyes widened in disbelief. Photos of you, laughing and smiling, filled the screen. Bucky had a girlfriend!.

and they had no idea who you were. The realization hit them hard as they dug deep into Your files you were an agent, a veteran, and yet, you had managed to keep your relationship with Bucky a secret. This caused the team to go suspicious.

Meanwhile, Bucky was oblivious to the storm brewing back at the compound. That night, he slipped out to meet you, his heart racing with excitement. He walked the familiar streets of New York, the city lights twinkling like stars. When he reached your apartment, he unlocked the door and announced, "I’m home."

You stood there, arms crossed, a serious expression on your face. "We’re in deep trouble," you said, your voice laced with concern.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, confusion etched on his features. "What do you mean?"

"I found out that your phone was tagged and opened," you explained, your heart sinking as you watched his expression shift from confusion to panic.

Bucky shrugged it off, trying to reassure you. "It’s okay. I’ll handle it." He pulled you into bed, wrapping his arms around you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. For a moment, everything felt right in the world.

But when his alarm blared early the next morning, reality came crashing back. he left your apartment like always to head back to the compound

He climbed through the window of the compound, hoping to slip back in unnoticed. However, the lights flicked on, illuminating the room and revealing Steve, Natasha, and Sam, all staring at him with knowing smirks.

Steve teased, "You went out to see Miss Sunshine, didn’t you?"

Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise, caught like a teenager sneaking back home. "Alright, fine! Yes, I went out to see a girl."

Natasha leaned in, her voice dripping with curiosity. "Yeah, a girl that happens to be an agent?" She began narrating the information she had gathered about you, her tone serious.

Bucky felt a surge of anger. "You went through my phone?" he snapped, his voice low and dangerous.

Steve tried to calm him down. "Why didn’t you tell us?"

Bucky’s shoulders slumped. "Because I knew you’d think she was a threat. But she isn’t!" He stood up for you, his heart racing with a mix of anger and protectiveness.

But Natasha’s next words shattered his resolve. "She worked for Hydra."

Bucky’s heart dropped. Betrayal washed over him like a cold wave, leaving him feeling lost and hopeless. He couldn’t believe it. The woman he loved, the one who had brought light into his dark world, was tied to the very organization he had fought so hard to escape.

Days passed, and Bucky stopped sneaking out to see you. The silence between you grew heavy, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Worry gnawed at you, and you decided it was time to confront him.

You hopped on your bike and rode to the compound, determined to find Bucky. The guards didn’t let you in, but you had learned to navigate the security systems. You slipped inside, your heart racing as you made your way through the dark hallways.

Suddenly, you found yourself face to face with Bucky. He caught you off guard, pinning you against the wall, his metal arm gripping your neck. "How could you?" he hissed, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and hurt.

Confusion washed over you. "What do you mean?" you squeaked, your heart pounding in your chest.

"You worked for Hydra! Why didn’t you tell me you were an agent?" His voice was a low growl, the pain evident in his tone.

You gasped, struggling to find your words. "I no longer work for them... I’m like you," you explained, desperation creeping into your voice. You began to enumerate your missions, hoping to jog his memory. "I never told you because I knew how you’d react. Please, James... I never intended to mean harm to you."

Bucky’s grip loosened slightly, but the hurt in his eyes remained. "I just wanted it to be a secret because I knew no one would trust me. Only you," you pleaded, your voice trembling.

There was truth in your eyes, and Bucky could see it. Slowly, he let you go, and you dropped to the floor, gasping for air. The weight of the moment hung heavily between you, both of you processing the whirlwind of emotions.

Bucky dropped to his knees beside you, his heart aching with regret. "I’m so sorry, Doll. I didn’t mean to hurt you," he murmured, his voice breaking.

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "No, I’m sorry too for not telling you," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability in the air was palpable, and you both knew that the path ahead would be fraught with challenges.

Bucky reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and reassuring, You took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his presence grounding you. "You won’t lose me, Bucky. I’m still the same person you fell in love with. I’ve fought against Hydra, just like you. I’m on your side," you reassured him, your heart racing as you spoke.

He nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "I need you to promise me that you’ll always be honest with me from now on," he said, his voice firm yet tender.

"I promise," you replied, your heart swelling with hope. "

Bucky pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid to let go. The world outside faded away, and in that moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s warmth. The shadows of doubt and betrayal began to lift, replaced by the light of understanding and love.

As you sat there, tangled in each other’s embrace, you both knew that the road ahead would be difficult. But together, you were stronger, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. The secrets that had once threatened to tear you apart now became the foundation of a deeper bond, one forged in trust and resilience.

REQUEST: OPEN MASTERLIST