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coridallasmultipass · 9 months ago

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If it's okay for me to add something related because I first saw this on Tumblr: In the mid-2010s, I heard about there being a gay Filipino deity romance (from one culture in the Philippines - there are many different cultures and beliefs) here on Tumblr. It wasn't until years later when researching Philippine deities for fun while trying to broadly connect with my culture that I found a deep dive where someone found that the Bulan and Sidapa love story originated from the same fictional blog source, and had been circulating from new sources and fan art claiming it was historical for years before the author tried to find a non-modern historical source for the rumour, creating a kind of Berenstain/Berenstein effect on the people he asked, claiming they'd heard about the love story from a forgotten source much earlier than the 2010s, but unable to give a specific name, or the source cited claimed they didn't actually know about the romance.

While I think in this instance, a shift in narrative is obviously okay when you consider it is still a living Filipino culture, and people from that clearly find identity with this modern take (which should be asked of people from the cultures directly affected by misinfo), it should also be important not to rewrite it as 'historical fact' particularly when it has a fictional modern source that someone can directly point to as the origin when they question and search down the telephone line (like the game).

(I use the word 'fictional' only in reference to the originating blog, because the blog was unable or unwilling to provide any sources that mentioned that relationship to the deep dive author. I'm not implying said gods can't be/aren't gay. I'm not from that specific Philippine culture, and I don't have enough background knowledge to make any claims of my own. There's also no like, singular religious text/'bible' that pre-Hispanic Philippine beliefs followed as a rule/that can be consulted about this - it's not like a translation debate. There's just no textual source pre-dating the blog making the claim of the romance, and historians/oral historians aren't making the claim either.)

I get variations on this comment on my post about history misinformation all the time: "why does it matter?" Why does it matter that people believe falsehoods about history? Why does it matter if people spread history misinformation? Why does it matter if people on tumblr believe that those bronze dodecahedra were used for knitting, or that Persephone had a daughter named Mespyrian? It's not the kind of misinformation that actually hurts people, like anti-vaxx propaganda or climate change denial. It doesn't hurt anyone to believe something false about the past.

Which, one, thanks for letting me know on my post that you think my job doesn't matter and what I do is pointless, if it doesn't really matter if we know the truth or make up lies about history because lies don't hurt anyone. But two, there are lots of reasons that it matters.

It encourages us to distrust historians when they talk about other aspects of history. You might think it's harmless to believe that Pharaoh Hatshepsut was trans. It's less harmless when you're espousing that the Holocaust wasn't really about Jews because the Nazis "came for trans people first." You might think it's harmless to believe that the French royalty of Versailles pooped and urinated on the floor of the palace all the time, because they were asshole rich people anyway, who cares, we hate the rich here; it's rather less harmless when you decide that the USSR was the communist ideal and Good, Actually, and that reports of its genocidal oppression are actually lies.

It encourages anti-intellectualism in other areas of scholarship. Deciding based on your own gut that the experts don't know what they're talking about and are either too stupid to realize the truth, or maliciously hiding the truth, is how you get to anti-vaxxers and climate change denial. It is also how you come to discount housing-first solutions for homelessness or the idea that long-term sustained weight loss is both biologically unlikely and health-wise unnecessary for the majority of fat people - because they conflict with what you feel should be true. Believing what you want to be true about history, because you want to believe it, and discounting fact-based corrections because you don't want them to be true, can then bleed over into how you approach other sociological and scientific topics.

How we think about history informs how we think about the present. A lot of people want certain things to be true - this famous person from history was gay or trans, this sexist story was actually feminist in its origin - because we want proof that gay people, trans people, and women deserve to be respected, and this gives evidence to prove we once were and deserve to be. But let me tell you a different story: on Thanksgiving of 2016, I was at a family friend's house and listening to their drunk conservative relative rant, and he told me, confidently, that the Roman Empire fell because they instituted universal healthcare, which was proof that Obama was destroying America. Of course that's nonsense. But projecting what we think is true about the world back onto history, and then using that as recursive proof that that is how the world is... is shoddy scholarship, and gets used for topics you don't agree with just as much as the ones you do. We should not be encouraging this, because our politics should be informed by the truth and material reality, not how we wish the past proved us right.

It frequently reinforces "Good vs. Bad" dichotomies that are at best unhelpful and at worst victim-blaming. A very common thread of historical misinformation on tumblr is about the innocence or benevolence of oppressed groups, slandered by oppressors who were far worse. This very frequently has truth to it - but makes the lies hard to separate out. It often simplifies the narrative, and implies that the reason that colonialism and oppression were bad was because the victims were Good and didn't deserve it... not because colonialism and oppression are bad. You see this sometimes with radical feminist mother goddess Neolithic feminist utopia stuff, but you also see it a lot regarding Native American and African history. I have seen people earnestly argue that Aztecs did not practice human sacrifice, that that was a lie made up by the Spanish to slander them. That is not true. Human sacrifice was part of Aztec, Maya, and many Central American war/religious practices. They are significantly more complex than often presented, and came from a captive-based system of warfare that significantly reduced the number of people who got killed in war compared to European styles of war that primarily killed people on the battlefield rather than taking them captive for sacrifice... but the human sacrifice was real and did happen. This can often come off with the implications of a 'noble savage' or an 'innocent victim' that implies that the bad things the Spanish conquistadors did were bad because the victims were innocent or good. This is a very easy trap to fall into; if the victims were good, they didn't deserve it. Right? This logic is dangerous when you are presented with a person or group who did something bad... you're caught in a bind. Did they deserve their injustice or oppression because they did something bad? This kind of logic drives a lot of transphobia, homophobia, racism, and defenses of Kyle Rittenhouse today. The answer to a colonialist logic of "The Aztecs deserved to be conquered because they did human sacrifice and that's bad" is not "The Aztecs didn't do human sacrifice actually, that's just Spanish propaganda" (which is a lie) it should be "We Americans do human sacrifice all the god damn time with our forever wars in the Middle East, we just don't call it that. We use bullets and bombs rather than obsidian knives but we kill way, way more people in the name of our country. What does that make us? Maybe genocide is not okay regardless of if you think the people are weird and scary." It becomes hard to square your ethics of the Innocent Victim and Lying Perpetrator when you see real, complicated, individual-level and group-level interactions, where no group is made up of members who are all completely pure and good, and they don't deserve to be oppressed anyway.

It makes you an unwitting tool of the oppressor. The favorite, favorite allegation transphobes level at trans people, and conservatives at queer people, is that we're lying to push the Gay Agenda. We're liars or deluded fools. If you say something about queer or trans history that's easy to debunk as false, you have permanently hurt your credibility - and the cause of queer history. It makes you easy to write off as a liar or a deluded fool who needs misinformation to make your case. If you say Louisa May Alcott was trans, that's easy to counter with "there is literally no evidence of that, and lots of evidence that she was fine being a woman," and instantly tanks your credibility going forward, so when you then say James Barry was trans and push back against a novel or biopic that treats James Barry as a woman, you get "you don't know what you're talking about, didn't you say Louisa May Alcott was trans too?" TERFs love to call trans people liars - do not hand them ammunition, not even a single bullet. Make sure you can back up what you say with facts and evidence. This is true of homophobes, of racists, of sexists. Be confident of your facts, and have facts to give to the hopeful and questioning learners who you are relating this story to, or the bigots who you are telling off, because misinformation can only hurt you and your cause.

It makes the queer, female, POC, or other marginalized listeners hurt, sad, and betrayed when something they thought was a reflection of their own experiences turns out not to be real. This is a good response to a performance art piece purporting to tell a real story of gay WWI soldiers, until the author revealed it as fiction. Why would you want to set yourself up for disappointment like that? Why would you want to risk inflicting that disappointment and betrayal on anyone else?

It makes it harder to learn the actual truth.

Historical misinformation has consequences, and those consequences are best avoided - by checking your facts, citing your sources, and taking the time and effort to make sure you are actually telling the truth.

#sorry if i get something wrong im trying to refresh my memory as i write this #also just a cool fun fact theres a nonbinary tagalog deity that IS documented in historical texts #which was cool to find out back when i was looking all this up the first time and again just now #i promise im not biased for being tagalog it was just literally recommended reading on the same article #should also state that im also american in america and dont subscribe to belief in philippine deities (as a disclaimer)#but its still super cool to find out how socially accepting the philippines can be about lgbt issues compared with other asian countries #(even if they still face discrimination! obviously should go without saying but someones gonna twist my words i just know it)#(im reminded of the other spanish-us colony... the us. where i live as a native american also. whos tribe Chumash also had/has Two Spirit..#...historically documented in our culture. ill also never know if we had gay love stories b4 the spanish bc we were only oral tradition)#anyway thats a tangent on a tangent on a disclaimer on a tag on an anxiety filled addition to a post #anxiety bc im probably getting something wrong somewhere just know that i am always pro-gay everything all the time forever #i just wanted to add how this disappointed me when i found out the gay was not historical like i originally was made 2 believe #im in full support of modern gay #how mnay times am i gonna say that lmao (how many tags do i have left to be anxious in)#listen one time i got put on a blocklist next to actual transphobes whod hate me and im still anxious every time i post anything online now #(it was over something i said when i was first discovering my gender abt how sex and gender 'are' different and it wasnt worded the best)#and because i was pro-asexual inclusion in lgbt then exclus went and dug up that very obviously old post from my blog to have 'dirt' on me #i fucking hate ace exclusionists lmao dni with me about that topic its been like 8 years stale by now #anyway...#misinformation #disinformation #history #long post #i know theres some drama idk about the article author but i dont want to bring that into this so i didnt name the article #...but its on the aswang project if youre gonna look it up #i want to get books on philippine legends but i dont have the money and theyre not in my library so .. eventually ill read the more...#...scholarly sources on the subject but for now i only have whats online and that site has been a good jumping point imo #ok ive had this reblog open for hours now lemme just post and if someone who knows more can correct me go ahead just pls b nice i rly tried #im tired and i want to get back to my drawing i didnt wanna spend hours beng anxious abt this bc i randomly saw it while break scrolling

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curlicuecal · 1 month ago

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playing science telephone

Hi folks. Let's play a fun game today called "unravelling bad science communication back to its source."

Journey with me.

Saw a comment going around on a tumblr thread that "sometimes the life expectancy of autism is cited in the 30s"

That number seemed..... strange. The commenter DID go on to say that that was "situational on people being awful and not… anything autism actually does", but you know what? Still a strange number. I feel compelled to fact check.

Quick Google "autism life expectancy" pulls up quite a few websites bandying around the number 39. Which is ~technically~ within the 30s, but already higher than the tumblr factoid would suggest. But, guess what. This number still sounds strange to me.

Most of the websites presenting this factoid present themselves as official autism resources and organizations (for parents, etc), and most of them vaguely wave towards "studies."

Ex: "Above And Beyond Therapy" has a whole article on "Does Autism Affect Life Expectancy" and states:

The link implies that it will take you to the "research studies" being referenced, but it in fact takes you to another random autism resource group called.... Songbird Care?

And on that website we find the factoid again:

Ooh, look. Now they've added the word "some". The average lifespan for SOME autistic people. Which the next group erased from the fact. The message shifts further.

And we have slightly more information about the study! (Which has also shifted from "studies" to a singular "study"). And we have another link!

Wonderfully, this link actually takes us to the actual peer-reviewed 2020 study being discussed. [x]

And here, just by reading the abstract, we find the most important information of all.

This study followed a cohort of adolescent and adult autistic people across a 20 year time period. Within that time period, 6.4% of the cohort died. Within that 6.4%, the average age of death was 39 years.

So this number is VERY MUCH not the average age of death for autistic people, or even the average age of death for the cohort of autistic people in that study. It is the average age of death IF you died young and within the 20 year period of the study (n=26), and also we don't even know the average starting age of participants without digging into earlier papers, except that it was 10 or older. (If you're curious, the researchers in the study suggested reduced self-sufficiency to be among the biggest risk factors for the early mortality group.)

But the number in the study has been removed from it's context, gradually modified and spread around the web, and modified some more, until it is pretty much a nonsense number that everyone is citing from everyone else.

There ARE two other numbers that pop up semi-frequently:

One cites the life expectancy at 58. I will leave finding the context for that number as an exercise for the audience, since none of the places I saw it gave a direct citation for where they were getting it.

And then, probably the best and most relevant number floating around out there (and the least frequently cited) draws from a 2023 study of over 17,000 UK people with an autism diagnosis, across 30 years. [x] This study estimated life expectancies between 70 and 77 years, varying with sex and presence/absence of a learning disability. (As compared to the UK 80-83 average for the population as a whole.)

This is a set of numbers that makes way more sense and is backed by way better data, but isn't quite as snappy a soundbite to pass around the internet. I'm gonna pass it around anyway, because I feel bad about how many scared internet people I stumbled across while doing this search.

People on quora like "I'm autistic, can I live past 38"-- honey, YES. omg.

---

tl;dr, when someone gives you a number out of context, consider that the context is probably important

also, make an amateur fact checker's life easier and CITE YOUR SOURCES

#science #autism #fact check #misinformation

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paganinpurple · 2 years ago

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AO3 Etiquette -UPDATED

Based on both decent and not so decent replies, I have made some changes to my original post below.

It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:

As well as likes, kudos is for when the story was interesting enough to make you finish reading. If it sucked or was badly written, you probably left. If you finished it, you liked it - so kudos.

If you really liked it, you should try to comment. It can be long and detailed or a literal keysmash. Writers don't care, we just love comments.

No critisism unless the author has specifically asked or agreed to hear it (so use your notes to say if you want some constructive feedback). Even constructive critisism is a no-no unless an author note tells you it's okay. No, posting it online is not an open invitation for that. Many people write as a fun hobby or a way to cope with, among other things, insecurity and just want to share. Don't ruin that for them. I've seen so many authors just stop writing coz they can't handle the negative emotions the critism brings, and it's only meant to be a fun thing shared for free (pointing out tagging errors is not included in this).

Do not comment to ask the author to write/update something else. It's tacky and off-putting and will probably have the opposite effect than the one you want.

There is no algorithm, it's an archive. Use the search and filter function to add/remove the pairings/characters/tropes etc. you want to read about and it will find you the fics that fit the bill.

For this to work, writers must tag and rate stories. This avoids readers finding the wrong things and missing the stuff they want. I don't care how cringy that trope is in your eyes - it gets tagged.

The tag exception is if you don't want to tag a million things or spoil your story, you can rate it as "chose not to use warnings," and maybe tag the bare minimum.

Don't censor tags. How can someone exclude a tag if the word isn't typed out correctly? There are no content bans for terms so don't censor them.

If the tags are mostly content/trigger warnings, especially if they are things considered very fucked up or graphic, you might want to use "dead dove - do not eat" to ensure people know that you're not messing around with tags and what they get is exactly what you've warned them about.

Character A/Character B means a ROMANTIC or SEXUAL relationship of some kind. Character A&Character B is PLATONIC, like friendship or family.

Nothing is banned. This is an rule because banning one thing is a slipperly slope to banning another and another, until nothing is allowed anymore. Do not expect anyone to censor for you. Because of the tags system, you are responsible for your own reading experience.

People can create new chapters and sequels/fic series any time after they "complete" a story. So it's considered perfectly normal to subscribe, even to a finished story. You can even subscribe to the author instead just to cover your bases.

Do not repost stories or change the publishing date without an extremely good reason (like a complete top to bottom rewrite or an exchange youve written for going public). It's an archive, not social media. No one cares what's the most recent, only what fits their tag needs.

Instead of deleting a story you wrote if you hate it - consider making it anonymous or orphaning it so others can still enjoy it, without it being connected to your name anymore. If you still want to delete it, fair enough.

It's come to my attention that metaworks ARE allowed on AO3, which is something I wasn't aware of. So if you do post an essay or theory, please tag it as such so others can choose to search for it or exclude it. Art is also allowed.

The only reason this archive works is because NON ONE PROFITS. Do not link to your ko-fi or patreon or mention monetary gain in any way or you violate the terms and risk having your account removed. If anyone does link, it leaves the archive open to people claiming it's for profit and having the whole thing removed.

I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.

I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.

#ao3 #using ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #fanworks

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softspiderling · 7 months ago

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god, it's brutal out here | r.c.

summary:

“And yet you’re still thinking of your ex,” Barry finished the sentence, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you get back together with her?”

“She doesn’t want me.”

“God, fucking Country Club,” Barry snickered. “You’re fucking dense.”

OR; 5 times your friends share their unsolicited opinions about your and Rafe’s break up.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of c*caine

word count: 5,4k

author’s note: the long awaited sequel of so obsessed with your ex! this can be read as a standalone fic, but there are little easter eggs hidden all over, which will be more fun if you read the first part! it's a little bit longer than I had planned, but there was no way around it. I hope you enjoy it so so much!!!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I Wheezie

“Hey Wheeze.”

You had accepted the facetime without looking at your phone, keeping it rested on a shelf while you were halfway into your closet, trying to find a dress.

“Does Rafe have a new girlfriend??”

Pausing, you shut your eyes, letting out a silent exhale before you picked up the phone, giving Wheezie a wry smile through the camera.

“Nice to see you too.”

The girl only looked at you, unimpressed and her arms crossed. You sighed, running a hand through your hair, knowing you didn’t have a way out of this conversation. Grabbing your phone, you sat down on your bed.

“Yes, Rafe has a new girlfriend.”

“I knew it!” Wheezie shrieked, throwing her arms up, and you only shook your head in exasperation. The tendency for drama clearly was in the Cameron genes. Wheezie frowned, getting closer to your phone as she looked at you.

“Why am I more upset about this than you are?”

You bit back another sigh. “Because Rafe and I are broken up, Wheeze. He’s allowed to date other people, matter of fact, I’m really glad that he has moved on.”

“Bullshit!”

“Wheezie!”

Wheezie rolled her eyes, but she sat back down, crossing her arms over her chest again. “I don’t like her.”

“You don’t even know her,” you sighed, rubbing your temple, feeling a migraine coming on.

“This is crazy!” Wheezie exclaimed. “You and Rafe never should’ve broken up in the first place! Rafe is probably only dating her to make you jealous so you’ll take him back.”

You couldn’t help but snort at that, Wheezie clearly watched way too many rom-coms. She frowned at you.

“Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny, this is, like, super un-funny.”

“Because, Wheeze,” you started, plucking a feather out of your pillow. “This isn’t some 90’s rom-com where I see Rafe with Rebecca and suddenly a sad song is playing. This is real life. We are broken up.”

“I still don’t understand why.”

“Remember when we used to fight all the time? And I was just always sad?”

Wheezie was quiet, her lips still pursed. “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean anything. Couples fight all the time, doesn’t mean you just have to break up.”

“Yes, couples fight all the time and they don’t have to break up, but it was the right decision for me and Rafe,” you said, your tone final. Wheezie looked at you, her frown slowly smoothing down.

“If you say so,” she muttered, not quite convinced. She stared down at her chipped finger nails, before she looked up again. “Can we still talk?”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Of course we can still talk, why wouldn’t we?”

“I don’t know… I mean, you’re gonna find a new boyfriend and maybe he has a younger sister as well and then I’ll just be your ex’s younger sister.”

“Wheeze,” you said, fondly, knowing where she was coming from. You had been in her life for most of her teenage years, it must be weird not having you around anymore. “We’ll still talk, no matter if I get a new boyfriend or not, even if he has a cool younger sister, or even three.”

Wheezie smiled, rolling her eyes at you. “You’re so dumb.”

“Yet you still want me around,” you teased. “How about you, Sar and I go get some ice cream and then to the movies this weekend?”

“Sounds good,” Wheezie replied with a big smile. She paused when someone called her name from somewhere in the house, before she turned back to her phone. “I gotta go, Rose needs me. I’ll text you later.”

“Alright, Wheeze. Talk to you later, be good.”

Wheezie waved into the camera, before the facetime ended. Your smile dropped and you tossed your phone on your bed with a sigh, letting yourself fall back on your bed. Even six months after the break up it was still hard to talk about Rafe, and now that he had a new girlfriend, you thought it’d be easier to get over him, but all it did was hurt more. It didn’t help that Rafe was still texting you every now and then. Nothing scandalous, just small texts, but you never replied. You both agreed on no contact after the break up, because you thought it’d give you a better opportunity to heal. You should’ve known he’d break it. Picking up your phone, you unlocked it, swiping to your messages.

Rafe [11/30/23: 1:43 am]: couldn’t sleep. remember when we took out the boat at two am bc we both drank a red bull at ten?

Rafe [11/30/23: 11:22 am]: sorry, i was drinking. didn’t mean to text you. hope you’re doing good

Rafe [12/25/23: 2:44 pm]: merry christmas. it’s weird without you.

Rafe [01/01/24: 01:02 am]: happy new year’s.

Rafe [01/05/24: 9:56 pm]: are you really not gonna text me back?

Rafe [01/27/24: 3:07 am]: i miss you

Rafe [02/12/24: 12:05 pm]: saw you at the party last night. you looked so fucking pretty. took everything in me not to talk to you.

Rafe [03/01/24: 7:12 pm]: idk if you care or not, but i still wanted to let you know. i’m seeing someone

You never replied to any of the texts, knowing it was for the better. You could block him, but you never brought it over your heart to do so, telling yourself you wanted him to reach you in case of emergency, but deep down, you didn’t want to block him.

Just incase.

II Barry

“Want some C?” Barry asked as greeting, presenting Rafe a small baggie with white powder in it as soon as he walked onto the lot.

“Nah,” Rafe declined, already feeling jittery enough without it, “Won’t say no to a beer though.”

Barry let out a grunt, tossing the baggie on the table, disappearing inside the trailer. Rafe took a seat in one of the chairs, running his hand over his buzzed head, bouncing his leg nervously. He had needed to get out of the house for a while. Ever since Rebecca pulled the picture out of the drawer, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Again.

Which is fucked up, really. He thought he got over you, he didn’t want to be the guy who thought about his ex while having a whole ass girlfriend. The door to the trailer opened with a slam, Barry exiting with two beer cans, handing Rafe one of them. The can was ice cold in his hands, and the cold liquid helped with his racing heart. He let out a sigh, rubbing a thumb over his eye brow. Rafe took another gulp of the beer, almost drinking the entire can in one go, while Barry watched him, assessing.

“You good?”

Rafe nodded, setting the can on the table.

“Yeah, jus’ stressed.”

“Work, or…?”

Barry trailed off without finishing his sentence and Rafe didn’t answer, wiping a finger over his jaw, which was clenched to the max.

Barry eyed him skeptically, leaning back in his chair. “How’s Mrs. Country Club?”

Rafe let out a loud sigh, tipping his head back, like he always did when he was annoyed with Barry.

“Barry, I don’t know if all the drugs you’re taking are starting to get to your memory, but we broke up.”

“Don’t be fucking rude,” he said, kicking Rafe’s chair. Not hard enough for it to tip over, but hard enough for Rafe to grip onto the arm rests, glaring at his friend. “How’d you know I wasn’t talking ‘bout your new girl?”

“Because you always call her Becky,” Rafe pointed out, giving him a look.

Barry shrugged, taking a sip from his beer. “You still know who ��m talking about, so what’s the problem?”

“Problem is, it’s disrespectful. You know that’s not her name.”

“You’re still hung up on your ex while dating Becky, so who’s really disrespecting her?”

Rafe’s head shot up and the glare he sent Barry was deadly.

“Fuck this shit, and fuck you,” he snapped, pushing himself up from the chair, but Barry grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“Boy, sit down.”

Rafe scowled at him, before sitting back down, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. He did not come all the way out to the cut to get called out like this.

“If you came here to be coddled, you went to the wrong person.”

“I don’t need to be coddled,” Rafe muttered with an eyeroll. “Just wanted to let off some steam.”

“So?” Barry snorted, waving his hands around. “Steam away.”

Rafe scoffed, scooting down in his chair, shaking his head. “Do you think I want to think of her? I fucking hate feeling like this. Bex is nice, and she’s hot. And yet-”

“And yet you’re still thinking of your ex,” Barry finished the sentence, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you get back together with her?”

“She doesn’t want me.”

“God, fucking Country Club,” Barry snickered. “You’re fucking dense.”

“Nah, you don’t fucking get it, “ Rafe sneered, leaning his head in his hands. And he didn’t, not really. Which really wasn’t his fault. Rafe just didn’t want to talk about the break up with his friends. Physically couldn’t. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t told anyone why you broke up. Just made it feel all to real, he guessed.

“Nah, you’re right, I don’t,” Barry said, shaking his head. “All I know is, one day you’re all fucking sunshine and the next you’re more emo than that Friday girl.”

“What?” Rafe asked, lifting his head to stare at Barry in confusion.

Barry waved him off. “You know, that freaky girl from Netflix with the black lipstick.”

“Do you mean Wednesday?”

“Yeah, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, all the same to me,” Barry huffed. “Point is, life’s too fucking short to do things that don’t make you happy.”

“Bex makes me happy.”

Barry gave him a long, hard look, squinting his eyes at him. “Yeah, right. Whatever makes you sleep at night.”

Rafe stared back at him before shaking his head, finishing the last of his beer before crushing the empty can in his hand, declining to answer, because he knew he couldn’t convince Barry.

He wasn’t even convinced himself.

III Topper

top [05/03/24: 4:06 pm]: gonna be at alex’s later tonight with rafe and rebecca just fyi if you wanted to come

mrs. rafe [05/03/24: 4:57 pm]: k, thanks for letting me know

—— NEW MESSAGE ——

top [05/04/24: 1:37 am]: can you pick me up?

It was Saturday night, a little past your bedtime for a night in. You were getting ready for bed, exiting the bathroom when your phone buzzed in your hand. Lifting it, you read the new text, not quite believing he’d make you do this. What the fuck was he thinking asking you to pick him up? Shaking your head in disbelief, you typed out an answer.

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: topper no

Before you could put the phone away, your phone already buzzed with an answer, and you nearly didn’t want to read whatever lame ass excuse he came up with, your hand stilling when your eyes flit over his text.

top [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: please, i don’t want to get a ride with rafe and rebecca

top [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: she asked me so many questions about you and i can’t be around rafe rn or i’ll tell him

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:45 am]: … fine

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:47 am]: you’re so annoying

Cursing Topper and yourself for not going to bed sooner, you put on a sweatshirt and grabbed your keys and purse, typing out another text before you headed out of the house, getting into your car.

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:49 am]: be there in ten

top [05/04/24: 1:50 am]: omg i owe you <3

Barely ten minutes later, you pulled up in front of Alex’ house, looking out for Topper, before you spotted him underneath a tree. You rolled to a stop next to him, giving him the most unimpressed look.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Topper groaned, getting into the car, shutting the door behind him.

You rolled your eyes, pulling off the curb without another word, driving towards Topper’s house.

“I’m really sorry for asking you to come get me, but Rafe was looking for me and I had too much to drink already to lie in his face,” Topper said, leaning his back against the headrest, shutting his eyes.

You desperately wanted to know what Rebecca had asked but you didn’t want to come off as the nosy ex, even if this was Topper. So as nonchalantly as you could, you asked: “What did you talk about?”

“Jesus,” Topper said, running a hand through his hair. “She asked me how you guys broke up and wanted details, too. Was super insistent, I was kinda scared actually.”

Okay, so just normal sussing out the ex, you could deal with that.

“What did you say?”

“That it was a mutual break up and I didn’t know why you broke up, just that you suddenly disappeared from each other’s lives.”

You sighed. That was the vaguest answer you’d ever heard.

“Why didn’t you just tell her why we broke up?”

Topper glanced at you, his brows knitted together.

“How can I tell her something I don’t know?”

“What?”

You slammed on the breaks, nearly sending Topper flying through the windshield because the idiot hadn’t buckled up, while you stared at him.

“What do you mean you don’t know why we broke up?”

“I don’t!” Topper exclaimed. “Rafe refuses to talk about it and you never told me either.”

“Because I assumed Rafe has told you! It’s been like six months!”

Blinking at Topper, it took you a few seconds to process, jumping when someone honked their horn at you, when you remembered you had stopped in the middle of the street.

“Shit,” you muttered, shifting gears to keep on driving, eyes flitting to Topper repeatedly.

“So…” he started. “Why did you guys break up?”

You gripped the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white, letting out a deep breath. When you had left to come pick Topper up, you hadn’t expected having to tell him why you and his best friend had broken up.

“I was getting so worried about him. He was so stressed about the company every day, took home so much work and Ward was breathing down his neck to keep the numbers up. I told him that I thought he should take a step back, maybe take a break or something, tried to convince him of going on a trip or something, but the more I said, the more he seemed to be pushing himself into work. It got so bad that we were fighting basically every day, and it just wasn’t working anymore. It felt like we were going in circles.”

You cleared your throat when you felt yourself getting choked up, vision turning a little blurry from the tears in your eyes.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Topper exclaimed, patting himself down, looking for some tissues.

“Don’t worry about it,” you snorted, wiping your tears away with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You were so wrapped up in trying to retell the break up, you hadn’t even noticed that you already reached Topper’s house. “I shouldn’t even still be getting so worked up over this after all this time,” you sniffed, turning your car off.

Topper looked at you, with that typical look on his face and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can’t believe Rafe hasn’t told you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly? I think he might be in denial about it.”

You scoffed at him, shaking your head. Why was everyone so hung up over your break up?

“It’s been six months.”

Topper didn’t reply, his hand on the car door and you expected him to bid you good bye, but that was too easy.

“… Do you think you guys will get back together?”

“He has a girlfriend, Top.”

“Still. I don’t think that Rafe and Rebecca are gonna last very long.” Topper looked at you, pressing his lips together, before shaking his head. “Sorry. Thanks for coming and for getting me home. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded, giving him a small wave, and waited until he got out of the car, shutting the door behind him, before you turned your car on, pulling off.

“What the fuck,” you muttered to yourself, wiping the rest of the tears off as you drove home.

IV Kelce

“Kelce!”

Kelce looked up from the pool table, a smile growing on his face when he saw Rafe come down the basement, his friend wrapping an arm around him for a brief hug.

“Happy birthday, man,” Rafe said, handing Kelce a bottle of the expensive whiskey he always drank when he was at Rafe’s but too stingy to buy it for himself.

“Ah shit, you didn’t have to,” Kelce uttered, though his eyes were sparkling as he looked at the bottle in his hands. He handed the pool stick to one of the guys next to him, leading Rafe to the bar. He grabbed two glasses from the shelves, pouring Rafe and himself a good amount, offering one of the glasses to him.

“Cheers to you.”

The two clinked their glasses, before sipping on the whiskey. Kelce really enjoyed it, too, with the way he closed his eyes, and Rafe only snorted in his glass. Kelce peaked his eye open, shoving his friend fondly with a grin.

“Rebecca here?”

“Yeah, upstairs.”

Kelce hummed in thoughts, nodding absentmindedly. He stared into his glass, swishing the amber liquid around before he spoke up again.

“You know she’s here, too, right?”

Rafe tensed, knowing exactly that Kelce was talking about you, but he had expected it. Firstly, because you and Kelce had always been friends, and secondly because he had heard Sarah making plans with you to go together. Didn’t mean this felt any less of a punch to the gut. He really hoped he wouldn’t run into you, because he wasn’t quite sure what he’d do; all he knew was, that Bex wasn’t gonna like it. Rafe cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound nonchalant.

“I figured, yeah.”

“That okay?” Kelce asked, and Rafe was starting to get annoyed, rolling his eyes. Why was Kelce questioning him about you on his damn birthday? He tried to dampen his anger though, not wanting to ruin the night.

“Yes. It’s your birthday, man.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, Rafe knew he did a shit job of hiding his emotions, and Kelce eyed him suspiciously.

“I don’t get you guys,” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You got a new girl, but you still haven’t gotten over your ex, clearly, but every time I mention her, you act like it’s the worst thing in the world, but neither of you have said a bad word about the other.

Rafe scoffed, though his heart started to race at the thought of you talking about him. He wondered what you had said, if you cared enough to ask about him, or if you had long moved on.

“Are you ever gonna tell me why you guys broke up?”

“Maybe next time.”

Kelce gave him a wry smile, knowing this was Rafe avoiding the topic again. He lifted his head when more people starting coming down the basement, curling his hand around Rafe’s shoulder to give him a squeeze.

“I really hope you figure it out bro, because this right now is not it.”

He then excused himself to welcome the new arrivals and Rafe gripped his glass, before downing it in one go.

“Alright, who wants to get destroyed in a round of pool?” he asked, clapping his hands together as he approached the pool table. Anything to stop himself from going upstairs to look for you.

V Sarah

“Oh my god, I thought you were gonna keep talking to her forever!”

You gave Sarah a look. She hadn’t even waited a minute after you left Rebecca on the couch before she started talking about her.

“I don’t have a problem with her.”

Sarah groaned, linking her arm with yours as to not lose you in the crowd that has formed in Kelce’s house. You were glancing around, hyper aware that you could run into Rafe any second, but you didn’t want Sarah to notice.

“I don’t understand how you can be so chill. Did you not see the picture she had in her purse?”

You sighed, brushing your hair back over your shoulder. Was this ever going to stop? “Sar, please.”

“Hello?? That was super freaky.”

“Maybe she was just cleaning up and wanted to throw it in the trash and forgot it in her purse.”

Sarah laughed dryly, shaking her head. “Bullshit! Admit that you find it weird.”

“Okay, maybe it is a little weird,” you admitted. “But don’t you do things that are a little weird sometimes? Maybe she’s just a little insecure. Which I wouldn’t blame her for, you’re so mean. Shouldn’t you try and be her friend or something?”

“Why? She’s not gonna be around much longer anyways, and I already have a friend.”

You rolled your eyes, fishing your keys out of your purse to unlock your car. Again with the sentiment that Rafe and Rebecca weren’t gonna last much longer. You decided against deeming that statement with an answer and got into your car, with Sarah getting into the passenger seat.

“Do you want to grab some burgers?” She asked, buckling up, like she hadn’t just told you that your ex and his new girlfriend weren’t gonna last.

You gave her a look as you tossed your purse to the back.

“What do you mean do I want to grab burgers? I thought you wanted to leave because you’re meeting John B early in the morning.”

Sarah blinked at you, before she reached out to give you a shove on the forehead. “I was lying so we could get away, stupid.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, starting your car as Sarah protested.

“What? I was getting weirded out by you being all besties with Rafe’s new girlfriend. I don’t even understand how you can be so nice to her knowing she’s all up on your man.”

“Pray tell, who’s my man again?”

“Don’t even,” Sarah huffed. “You guys dated forever, I know you still love each other. And let me tell you one thing,” she said, raising her eyebrows at you. “If you got a new boyfriend? Rafe would not be this nice to him like you were to Rebecca.” With that, Sarah crossed her arms over her chest, settling back against her seat.

You only sighed, starting your car in silence.

“Do you want to get burgers now or not?” you asked, extending a peace offer while looking over at Sarah. She glowered at you, before nodding with an eyeroll.

“Yes.”

BONUS + I Rafe

“I did, at the party last night… She said she’s happy that you have me, that she was worried about how you work too much.”

Rafe pushed the pasta on his plate around with his fork, too engrossed in his thoughts to even think about eating. He didn’t even notice how Dennis had stopped talking. Rafe looked up from his plate, only to see Dennis look at him intently, an amused grin on his face.

“Sorry, were you saying something?”

“I was saying a lot, but you seemed like you were on a completely different planet,” Dennis noted, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Rafe winced, putting his fork down.

“Sorry, I have a lot on my mind.”

“I can tell,” Dennis mused. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Something like that.”

Rafe sighed, leaning back in his chair. Ever since you broke up, Rafe has been assuming that you didn’t care about him anymore, that you had long moved on from him and your relationship. He thought that you resented him, blamed him for the break up, which was honestly the main reason why he went back to the dating scene so quickly; to get over you. But hearing that you still cared about him? Enough to be nice to his new girlfriend and even ask about him? He wondered if there was still a chance for him and you to be together again.

If it weren’t for the fact that he already had a girlfriend.

“Can I give you some unsolicited advice, son?”

“Do I have a choice?” Rafe asked with a wry grin and Dennis only let out a belly laugh, shaking his head.

“Rafe, most relationships these days end because of your own ego, from both parties. No matter how big the fight or problem seems, will it really be that important in hindsight?” Dennis asked him. “How long have you an your girl been together? Almost 5 years, no?”

Rafe nodded, not daring to correct Dennis. He had never outright told him that you had broken up in the first place.

“See, that’s half a decade. I can assure you, in another half, you’re not even gonna remember this fight.”

Yeah, I don’t know about that, Rafe thought.

“Do you love her?”

Turning his ring on his finger, Rafe let out a soft exhale, before nodding. “Yeah, I do.”

“See. Problem solved.”

Rafe lifted his head to grin at Dennis.

“Thanks. Is it okay if we cut today short?”

“Sure,” Dennis said, waving Rafe off when he reached for his wallet. “Lunch is on me. Go get your girl.”

“I will,” Rafe promised, pushing his chair back to stand up. “I just gotta take care of something else first.”

BONUS + II You

You were staring at your phone, text thread with Rafe open. It was Saturday night; you and Sarah had went out to a small beach party. Sarah had gone to fill her drink back up and you had used that time of solace to overthink. About Rafe.

For the past few week, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. And you blamed your friends for it, really. First Wheezie, then Topper and then Sarah? Somehow all of them said that the break up was the worst idea, and even though you had always second guessed the choice to break up, this was the first time you actually actively regretted it.

The way Sarah seemed so sure that Rafe and Rebecca weren’t going to last long. Maybe you were wrong and they weren’t as happy as you thought. But then again, it wasn’t any of your business, was it? Who were you to put your nose into their relationship?

God, you shouldn’t be doing this.

“How long does Sarah need to fill her drink back up?” You muttered to yourself, finishing your vodka soda and burying the cup in the sand next to you, when you heard foot steps approaching.

“Finally! I was about to send a search group out for you!” you exclaimed, standing up and dusting the sand off your lap. “Seriously, how long does it take for-”

You froze when you turned around just to see Rafe standing in front of you, instead of Sarah. Swallowing thickly, you blinked at him, caught off guard.

“Rafe, hey,” you said, opting for casual. “Sorry. I thought you were Sarah.”

The corners of Rafe’s mouth twitched. “Yeah, I could tell.”

You looked at him, sighing a bit wistfully (mostly) internally, before you shifted on your feet nervously. “It was nice to see you,” you said, and it was true. “But um… I think I’ll go look for Sarah.” You gave him a small smile, before walking towards, and then past him.

“You’re still worried about me.”

You let out a startled laugh, pausing mid-step to turn back to him. “What?”

“You told Rebecca that you were glad that I had her and that you worried I work too much.”

“Of course I’m still worried about you,” you huffed, brushing your hair back. “You can’t be surprised about that.”

Rafe looked at you, and you could tell that this was news to him.

“Rafe.”

Rafe let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “You didn’t reply to any of my texts. I thought you were mad at me or somethin’.”

“I didn’t reply to any of your texts because we said we’d do no contact for a while.

“Still,” Rafe muttered, kicking a rock. “I didn’t think it would be so easy for you-”

“And because you were happy with Rebecca, do you think it’s easy for me to see you with someone else?”

“I broke up with Rebecca last week.”

“What?!”

Mouth agape, you stared at him and Rafe only rubbed the back of his neck. “She… Wasn’t what I wanted.”

“Oh,” you only said, letting out a soft exhale. “I’m sorry about that.”

Rafe sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His gaze was trained on the floor for a bit, before he lifted his head to look at you.

“I want to try again… I want us to try again.”

“Rafe…”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes wide and you didn’t move as Rafe took a step towards you, reaching for your hand. Your fingers were cold in his but they quickly warmed to his touch, and the way he laced his fingers with yours, felt all too familiar.

“I love you. I never should have agreed to breaking up. It was arguably the second stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

“And what’s the stupidest?” you asked, corners of your mouth lifting.

“Not listening to you when you were just trying to help,” he answered, looking down at you, so vulnerable like you hadn’t seen him in a long time. “I rearranged my schedule at the company so I could take on less work, take more time off and relax. Take the time to get us to where we were before it all went shitty.”

Your heart was in your throat as you listened to him talk, unsure what to say.

“Rafe, I don’t know… “

“Baby, please,” he begged, squeezing your hand. “Do you love me, still?”

You scoffed. “That’s not fair.”

“Why? Because you do?”

“Of course I still love you,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your lashes. “Do you know how hard it was for me to ignore your texts? To see you with another girl, so happy?”

Rafe shook his head, lifting his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I wasn’t. Not really.”

You let out another sigh, looking at the way your hands were intertwined, how your heart had stopped racing, before you nodded, looking up at him. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

A smile spread across Rafe’s face, so big it was so uncharacteristic for him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It was like that word switched a flip inside of him, as he grabbed you by your nape gently, to kiss you, slotting his lips against your, and as your lips touched, it felt like you were finally home again. You only pulled away to breathe, both of you staring at each other like you couldn’t quite realize this was happening.

Sarah [05/11/2024: 10:45 pm]: (sent to 4 contacts) [picture attached: blurry photograph of you and Rafe kissing at the beach]

Topper [05/11/2024: 10:46 pm]: thank god.

Kelce [05/11/2024: 10:51 pm]: FINALLY!

Wheezie [05/11/2024: 10:59 pm]: !!!!!!

Barry [05/11/2024: 11:02 pm]: read at 11:02 pm

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: sooo.... what are we thinking?

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey #outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

fushitoru · 3 months ago

Text

chapter 2: the aftermath a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, heir to a dukedom mr. satoru gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ after an eventful first ball after your debut, you continue the season with thinly veiled vexation towards gojo. but fate is not on your side; you and gojo keep encountering each other, matching fire with fire (7.8k)

a/n some parts of this chapter broke my brain to write but i kind of had fun! as always thank you to @/sinn-claire for beta reading :p i was going to say i'll try to have weekly updates but i don't want to jinx it lol

prev. the debutante | next. the manor

general masterlist | series masterlist

Dearest gentle reader,

It appears that Her Majesty has bestowed the coveted title of this season’s Diamond upon none other than Miss Itadori, who has indeed lived up to her newfound acclaim as the incomparable of the year. At the latest ball, our shining Diamond was quite occupied, with suitors lining up in such numbers that one might have thought them to be queuing for the royal throne itself. Furthermore, blooms were budding between many of the debutantes and gentlemen, including…..

...Yet, one particular couple captivated the attention of all: none other than Mister Satoru Gojo and our season’s Diamond. After having kept his words sparse and his attentions limited to none, Mister Gojo appeared utterly taken with Miss Itadori, conversing with her intimately on the dance floor. It seems your humble Author was indeed correct⸺Mister Gojo has entered the marriage market. However, the exclusivity he has adopted may not deter the determined maidens he seeks to avoid, for the Ambitious Mamas will no doubt perceive his selectiveness as a challenge to be overcome.

One cannot help but wonder if an announcement of particular interest will be made at the upcoming Gojo country house party. Although your Author has not yet laid eyes upon the guest list for the Duchess Gojo’s anticipated gathering, reliable sources suggest that nearly every eligible young lady of marriageable age will be journeying to Kent next week. The country house party is known to be a perilous affair. Married individuals often find themselves enjoying the company of someone other than their spouse, while the unwed frequently return to town betrothed with surprising haste.

Indeed, the most unexpected engagements often follow closely on the heels of such rustic diversions.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Satoru had no intention of squandering his time this season⸺or at any time, for that matter.

The notion of love matches held little appeal to him, despite witnessing such a union firsthand in his own parents. Make no mistake, the Duke and Duchess Gojo enjoyed a happy marriage, and Satoru held both his father and mother in the highest regard. Yet, he was perfectly content on his own.

Being one of the strongest bachelors⸺both intellectually and physically⸺has been Satoru’s destiny. Ever since his ancestors had been blessed by the royal family with the dukedom, the Gojo family had made its goal to be the most powerful nobility and the closest to the royal family. (Which is still maintained in the status quo, because the Queen dotes on Satoru, inviting him for tea every fortnight. The Queen lavished him with overly sweet biscuits, and in return, Satoru provided her with the latest gossip from court).

But this responsibility doesn’t get fulfilled without independence; one had to accept the solitary truth that to be truly great was to remain unswayed by the fleeting pleasures of the world⸺love included.

Satoru had little time or interest for the other vices that tempted men of his station, such as lust. Contrary to the whispers circulating among the ton, Satoru had never indulged in the life of a rake or frequented brothels as many of his acquaintances did. Really, the allegations were, in truth, merely just a byproduct of his appearance and demeanor; with a young man with the stature, face, and eligibility of Satoru, the public would immediately like to slap on the label of “rake” due to his arrogant personality. Moreover, any encounters he had witnessed between men and women⸺whether dropping his friends off at brothels in his carriage after an evening at the gentleman’s club or overhearing flirtations at parties⸺struck him as shallow and an utter waste of time, especially when he was already a week behind on the ledgers and other official matters his father had entrusted to him. (He did have one indulgence, however: a weakness for gluttony, with an array of sweet confections as his loyal companions during long, sleepless nights.)

Marriage was an even greater burden. The thought of being accountable for a wife, and eventually children, seemed like a daunting task to Satoru. With sleepless nights spent on covering just a fraction of the business his father must do as a duke, Satoru was tired. He was exhausted⸺exhausted from the weight of responsibility, from striving to meet his father’s expectations, from seeking the Queen’s approval, from worrying over what Whistledown might print about him, and from the gossip of the businessmen with whom the Gojo family dealt.

And yet, despite this weariness, Satoru was gripped by an insatiable obsession with perfection, an obsession that only deepened his fatigue. He craved approval, power, and the flawless execution of his duties⸺desires that gnawed at him even as they threatened to consume him.

Which is exactly why he needed a perfect wife. A wife that was capable, could handle bothersome people⸺which he was steadily losing the patience to deal with⸺and a reliable companion. Someone that would reduce his stress, not add to it.

Satoru had spent all day lurking in the shadows as best as he could; being the most eligible bachelor did mean that brothers and sisters were coming up to him, singing praises of their debutante in an effort to capture his interest. But Satoru knew all too well that the loudest families often had the most to compensate for.

As ladies in white paraded before the crowd, many buckling under the weight of judgment and attention, Satoru prowled like a jungle cat, staying hidden in the throng, biding his time, and waiting for the right moment to strike.

What he noticed first about you was your way of carrying yourself. Even Auntie⸺the Queen⸺who, after seeing countless of girls today, had been incredibly bored, dragged her eyes over you in slightly more interest than she did for others. The moment you stepped through those grand doors into the court, it was evident to everyone that your stride was that of someone who understood her role and position in life⸺a confidence that set you apart from the other debutantes. Satoru’s eyes raked over you, observing you as your chest rose slightly as you took a breath in.

And then you smiled.

Satoru's eyes widened, just imperceptibly, as he watched your expression as you made your way to the Queen. He made sure to shake his expression off to a more nonchalant one as he watched your form walk. Lesser men than Satoru would die for your smile. Men, out of all traits a woman could possess, cherished a pretty visage the most. Yet, what your smile conveyed went beyond mere beauty; it embodied innocence and the qualities most esteemed in a demure bride (which Satoru knew was just all a show, but it was indeed indicative of your skill to put up appearances, hence deeming you a reliable companion).

The corner of the young man's mouth rose. When the Queen declared you the diamond of the season, Satoru knew he had found his quarry.

When the ball came, Satoru acted similarly: observing from behind, staying in conversation with his friends and other noble men that did business with the Gojo family as he prowled the ballroom, waiting for the right moment to ask you for your hand. And then Naoya came in when you were finally alone, away from all the incompetent men that dared to think they had a chance to court you, and Satoru almost laughed snarkily at how easy it all was.

Approaching you, saving you from Naoya⸺it was all a perfect construction of his. Dancing, he noticed your steps were carried out with a practiced perfection and grace, and your responses to his questions displayed a respectable level of intellect. He could tell your responses were practiced and simple, your constitution and demeanor a result of much effort into presenting yourself as best as you could. But what does it matter, when you do it so perfectly?

Maybe it was a bit naive of him, but you seemed to glow when conversing with him. It amused him, as he kept watching your pretty eyes as you kept smiling while he kept throwing difficult questions at you. It was all expected, however. Satoru knew he was blessed with the brilliant blue Gojo eyes and eccentric fair, white hair; he was the most eligible bachelor for not only wealth and power but reproductive capabilities and opportunities as well. Which lady wouldn’t want to be mother to his cute and beautiful blue-eyed babies?

After witnessing such mediocre men who paled in comparison to Satoru, surely you must be smitten. Gojo could see right through you: you, the diamond, have been looking for a man as meritorious as you, and you had found it in Satoru.

So why were you acting this way?

When you wake up in the morning and get ready for suitors, it is as you expected; there are multiple carriages outside your doorstep, and there is a line from the drawing room, extending all the way down the stairs. When Choso stumbles into the drawing room, where you and your mother are enjoying tea, he is clearly unhappy at the selection of men waiting to be let in to call upon you.

“This is absurd!” Choso’s hands raked over his hair in an effort to process the scene he had just witnessed. “Why do I see Naoya waiting outside?”

Your nose crinkled in distaste. “Well, dear brother, I certainly cannot control which suitors call upon me. He must’ve enjoyed our conversation yesterday. The enjoyment, however, is one sided.”

Choso’s eyes widened comically. “You had a conversation with him yesterday?” He then turned to your mother accusingly, who was reading a Whistledown while sipping on her tea innocuously. “This would not have happened if I was there, Mother. This is your fault.”

Your mother continued drinking her tea nonchalantly, waiting for a few beats to grace him with a response. “I prefer this, my son, to no visitors out there because our dear Lord Itadori scared all the bachelors away with his pickiness.” Then, her eyes flashed. “And don’t give me that tone.”

You snickered behind your palm as Choso visibly deflated.

“Kuna! Get back here!”

Pitter patters of small paws started to get closer and closer, as heavy footsteps followed it. Yuji and the family corgi, Sukuna Jr., burst into the room. Eyeing the biscuit in your hand, Kuna made his way directly to you, panting at your feet. A pet given affectionately by your-not-so-affectionate older brother, Sukuna, when he left for his year long trip around Europe, Kuna was the cutest little puppy. You and Yuji loved to spoil him, clearly shown as Yuji patted him while breathing heavily. You cooed as Kuna licked your fingers while inhaling the biscuit you had presented him.

“Well,” your mother stood up, having finished her tea, and began ushering in the maids to clear the table. “It seems our morning will be quite busy. You’d best be prepared for a long day, my dear.”

Choso was still grumbling as he took a seat across from you, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the long line of suitors outside. “I’m keeping an eye on that Naoya fellow. If he so much as looks at you the wrong way…”

You raised an eyebrow at your brother’s protectiveness, feeling both amused and touched. “Choso, I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself. Besides, with Kuna here, I doubt any of these gentlemen will get too close without proper approval.”

As if understanding the conversation, Sukuna Jr. barked enthusiastically, his tail wagging as he looked up at you with bright, expectant eyes. You smiled and scratched behind his ears, watching as his tiny body wriggled with joy.

Yuji, still catching his breath from the chase, flopped onto the chair beside you, shooting a grin at Choso. “Come on, big brother, give her a break. It’s not every day our sister gets declared the diamond of the season. Let her enjoy it.”

Choso crossed his arms, still unconvinced. “I’m just saying, if any of these men don’t meet my standards⸺”

“Your standards?” you interrupted with a teasing lilt. “Choso, I’d never find a husband if I had to meet your impossible standards. Besides, you should be more concerned about finding someone yourself.”

Choso’s cheeks tinted with a slight blush, but make no mistake; he was hot with anger, ready to make a snarky retort. Your mother, who had been overseeing the maids, turned her attention back to the conversation with a soft smile.

“Your sister is right, Choso. It’s her time to shine, and as her family, we should support her, not make things more difficult.” She gave him a pointed look before turning to you with a gentler expression, and he backed down as he always does for your mother. “Now, my dear, are you ready to begin receiving your guests?”

You took a deep breath, nodding as you steeled yourself for the hours of polite conversation and careful navigation of the social battlefield ahead. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good,” your mother said, her voice laced with both pride and encouragement. “Remember, you are the diamond of the season. There isn’t a man out there who wouldn’t be lucky to have you.”

You offered a weak smile. “Let’s get this over with.”

As you walked toward the sofa where you would be talking with suitors, Kuna trotted alongside you, his presence a comforting reminder.With Yuji and Choso trailing behind, and your mother leading the way to open the door, you braced yourself for the onslaught of admirers waiting beyond the door.

But as you straighten your posture, in anticipation to greet the first suitor, you couldn't help but glance down at Kuna, who stared up at you with wide, curious eyes. You chuckled softly.

“Well, Kuna,” you whispered, “let’s see who passes your test today.”

Gojo’s gaze wandered down to Sukuna Jr. in your lap as you stroked his fur, and he gave you a saccharine⸺yet strained⸺smile. “Must this dog bear witness to our conversation?

As if sensing Gojo’s unfriendliness, Kuna started growling, and you could feel the rumble deep in his stomach. You met Gojo’s sweet smile with one of your own. “Yes.”

Gojo blinked, and the smile on his face faltered. You noticed that this was one of the first time Gojo’s ever expressed an emotion outside of smugness, and you count this as your personal win.

“Well,” he hesitated, and then a smile was on his face as if that stumble didn’t happen. “You look wonderful this morning, Miss Itadori.”

Your eyes flashed at his audacity to talk behind your back and try to fool you with flattery. “On the contrary, I think I look rather simple.”

Gojo, none the wiser as to what you were referring to, waved his hands. “Nonsense.”

Before you could respond, Kuna let out a low, rumbling growl, his sharp eyes fixed on Gojo. The sound was subtle, but in the quiet of the morning, it was unmistakable. Gojo’s gaze flickered down to the small dog, and his smile tightened ever so slightly.

You gently scratched behind Kuna’s ears, calming him, though his gaze never left Gojo. “I apologize on behalf of my dear Kuna,” you said, your voice light but nonetheless pointed. “He tends to be wary of many, particularly those he believes to be with ulterior motives.”

Gojo nodded, unfazed, and looked down at the dog in question. Upon eye contact, all your efforts to calm Kuna went to naught as the dog stood up, tense and teeth almost bared fully, to stare back at Gojo defiantly. Gojo, to his credit, was starting to be a little wary and was giving the pup an impassive stare.

“You know, I have an affinity for dogs. There are many pups that I have spent my entire childhood with.” He offered a chuckle and moved his hand to pet Kuna. “Dogs do have a way of sensing things, don’t they?” That was clearly the wrong decision because the dog’s growl grew louder, and suddenly, he snapped at Gojo’s hand. Before Kuna could sink his teeth into Gojo’s hand, however, Gojo smoothly withdrew it out of his reach.

“Protective, isn’t he?” Gojo laughed, but his stare towards Kuna was veering more and more into a glare. He tried to disguise his irritation by suavely adding, “Admirable. I’m glad he has protected my lady so well.” Gojo then grabbed your hand to give you a small kiss on the back of it while keeping eye contact. You had to divert your eyes elsewhere to avoid coloring your cheeks; while you knew this was just another one of Gojo’s pretenses to charm you, you were still fazed by it.

You cleared your throat and tried to uphold the conversation. After all, it would be outright rude to keep throwing thinly veiled insults his way when there were others in your company; he also had the potential to spread further malicious rumors about you if you showed attitude. You mustered up a fake smile, and offered, “He was a gift to me and Yuji offered by my older brother, Sukuna, when he went traveling,” you offered.

“Is that the brother you hoped to follow to Europe?”

You blinked and faltered. You didn’t expect him to remember that tidbit from your conversation at the ball last night. While most of the preferences you had asserted were artificial⸺supplemented to you by your tutor, who had drilled what fake preferences of yours would woo men⸺you truly did gain enthusiasm for the languages because you hoped to prove your helpfulness to Sukuna in an effort to run away from your inevitable debut. At the time, you were rebelling against anything your mama said, avoiding anything associated with being paraded around like an animal, put on display for men. “Yes,” you said slowly, “Yes, it is.”

Gojo smiled, this time a little more genuine at the fact it was his first time receiving an authentic response from you this morning, rather than something covered with a fake smile. Just as he leaned in slightly, probably preparing to make another smooth remark, Kuna, who had been shifting in your lap, suddenly stilled, his face buried in your lap and tail facing Gojo. For a moment, you thought he might be settling down.

And then it happened.

The largest fart ripped through the room out of Kuna’s arse, which was pointed directly in Gojo’s face. While you were not a scholar studying physics, you were aware that the air dynamics did not do Gojo any favors in preventing the smell from hitting him direct-on. Gojo’s eyes widened in surprise, and his suave expression faltered entirely as the smell quickly followed, filling the air around you both.

You could feel the heat rushing to your face in your effort not to laugh out loud. Trying to keep your composure, you gently patted Kuna’s belly, who was now face up, tongue lolling out in bliss. “Oh, dear,” you muttered, your voice strained with the effort to suppress a laugh.

Gojo, for once, was at a loss for words. His eyes were tearing up, probably at the smell; whenever you and Yuji spoiled Kuna with those biscuits, he dropped nasty-smelling dungs, and you knew Gojo wasn’t spared at all. The arrogant bachelor, who always seemed to have a witty response ready, was now at a loss of words as he weakly gazed upon the weak little poot! poot!s that escaped Kuna as you continued patting his stomach in an effort to relieve your pup’s digestive system.

At Gojo’s expression, you had to take quiet, deep breaths in an effort to rein in the cackles that were threatening to overcome you. You resorted to covering your mouth as you strained, “As you can see, my Kuna is quite expressive, and he seemed quite eager to show you that.”

He offered you a strained smile. “He does indeed generate quite a bit of wind.” At that, you could no longer hold back. Genuine laughter wracked through your figure, hurting your ribs as you tried to quell it with a hand to the mouth, but no avail. Your muffled laughter was still loud, and when the giggles subsided, you wiped your tears and threw an apologetic look at Gojo, preparing to express your regret.

But you stopped at the sheer wonder he contained in his face as his gaze fixated on your lips, which were drawn back in the ghost of the smile you had while laughing riotously. Without allowing you much time to dwell on it, he stood up and dipped his head in a little bow. “Well, I have been taking quite a bit of your time, Miss Itadori. I better let other suitors have their chance.” He kissed the back of your hand. “I hope to see you at the horse race tomorrow.”

“Likewise.” You couldn’t help but spy some red coloring Gojo’s alabaster cheeks as he made his way to the exit. As you greeted the next suitor, the imprint of a certain man’s lips continued to tingle on your hands.

“I told you he was a rake,” Nobara muttered as she scrubbed your arm with an intensity that matched her outrage. After hearing what Gojo had said about you, she was livid. Unfortunately, your skin was bearing the brunt of her frustration.

“Well,” you mused, trying to distract her, “what rumors have you heard that make you think that?”

“Momo told me a few months ago⸺” Nobara paused, her hands hovering over the various bottles on the counter. “Which scent would you prefer for your hair?”

“Sandalwood,” you replied.

Nobara nodded and poured some of the rich liquid into her hands before massaging it into your scalp. You closed your eyes, feeling the tension from the day's exhausting and dull conversations slowly melt away under her skillful fingers. “Momo mentioned that he’s often out late at night, which seems suspicious. But now that I think about it, Momo isn’t the most reliable source,” Nobara added, her tone shifting to one of skepticism.

You quirked an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

“There’s talk that she attempted to lure another maid’s husband into an affair,” Nobara replied, her hands now working the shampoo through your hair with a practiced ease. “She even tried to gain access to his quarters.”

You gasped. “How scandalous!”

“I know,” Nobara said, her hands now massaging the back of your neck with a gentler touch. “So, who knows how much truth there is to her gossip. But still, Gojo’s behavior is less than honorable, don’t you think?”

You sighed, gazing up at the ceiling with a mix of frustration and resignation. “He was gossiping about me with other men, calling me all sorts of horrible things⸺‘simple,’ of all things. And yet, he has the audacity to want to call upon me?”

“You know,” Nobara mused as she continued her task, “He sounds the exact opposite of what some of your books would imply.”

You hummed in agreement, recalling the radical works you kept hidden beneath your bed. Your mother would be appalled if she ever discovered them, but you often sought solace in political writings that challenged the rigid expectations of society. “I know. And that is precisely why I have no intention of encouraging his attention this season—at least, not before I ensure his complete and utter humiliation.”

“But do take care. His connections to the Queen are quite strong.”

You drew back from Nobara's hands, much to her chagrin. She gave you a glare while you exclaimed, "What?"

“Surely you’re aware that the Gojo dukedom is among the closest to the royal family?”

You fervently hoped your mother hadn’t caught wind of Gojo's status. Yet, the way she had been observing you⸺subtly scrutinizing you in the drawing room while feigning interest in a suitor awaiting his turn⸺suggested otherwise. She had certainly noticed Gojo's growing interest, and the thought of her getting involved, fixating on a match with him, filled you with dread. Drawing your hands over your face, you moaned, the very notion of her scheming to pair you with Gojo weighing heavily on your mind.

“But that should hardly be a concern if you’ve begun to distance yourself from him, correct? You have been creating some distance, haven’t you?”

Your silence spoke volumes, and Nobara, ever quick to discern your hesitation, gasped in exasperation. “You cannot seriously be considering giving this gentleman any encouragement, can you?”

"No, no, it’s not that,” you replied, massaging your temples in frustration. “It’s just that my mother is probably ecstatic at the prospect of securing a match between me and Gojo.”

“But surely, if she knew the things he’s been saying behind your back, she would understand.”

You tried to open your mouth to respond, but it felt as if your throat had closed up. Would she really? A match with Gojo would mean elevated status for the Itadori family⸺a duchess for a daughter. What worth is there in being the diamond of the season if not to secure the most advantageous match? The very thought made your chest tighten with the suffocating realization that your mother might very well advocate for the union, despite Gojo’s duplicity.

“I⸺” you swallowed. “I’m not sure.” Before Nobara could interrupt, you stood up and reached for your robe.

Nobara's brow furrowed as she watched you stand up. "Where do you think you're going? You’re not done with your bath, and your hair is still full of suds!" She reached out to stop you, her hands hovering as though unsure whether to pull you back into the tub or grab the robe you were now clutching.

You forced a small, tired smile, grateful for the distraction. “I need just a moment. The water's gone cold, anyway.”

“Oh, nonsense! You’ll catch a chill if you get out now. Sit back down,” Nobara insisted, her protest tinged with genuine concern. She placed a firm hand on your shoulder, guiding you back toward the warm water.

With a reluctant sigh, you allowed yourself to be coaxed back into the tub. The momentary reprieve from the conversation was a relief, and you welcomed Nobara’s determined focus on completing your bath. She picked up a sponge, her earlier frustration melting into concentration as she scrubbed your back.

“Well, we can discuss that scheming rake later,” she muttered, more to herself than to you. “For now, let’s get you properly cleaned up before your mother comes looking for you. She’d never forgive me if I let you appear anything less than perfect.”

You nodded with a lump in your throat, grateful for the change in topic, even if only temporary. The soothing rhythm of Nobara's hands working through your hair, the warmth of the bathwater, and the familiar, comforting routine helped ease the tightness in your chest. For now, the troubling thoughts of Gojo and your mother's ambitions could be set aside.

“Now, hold still,” Nobara said, her tone softening as she rinsed the last of the soap from your hair. “We’ll have you looking radiant again in no time.”

The conversation was left unfinished, hanging in the air like a question that neither of you was quite ready to answer. But for now, the silence was a welcome refuge.

"Do you have any notion of how impossible it is to charm a lady when there is a pup expelling such foul air right beneath your nose?" Satoru lamented, leaning back in his chair and raking a hand through his tousled hair. The trio gathered at the table presented a rather unusual sight: Satoru, visibly discomposed; Nanami, calmly sipping his drink as ever; and Suguru, nearly doubled over in laughter at his friend’s misfortune.

“Would you please⸺SMACK⸺cease your laughing?!” Satoru glared at Suguru, who seemed to be of no hope, now with tears in his eyes as he clutched his stomach and the back of his head, which Satoru had just hit.

“Truly, your vanity⸺haaah⸺your vanity was in need of humbling,” Suguru managed between breaths, still snickering behind his palms.

Satoru glowered, crossing his arms and staring daggers into his drink, as if his gaze alone could break the fine glass. “My pride had already suffered enough. She was positively frigid.”

Nanami hummed. “Perhaps she’s merely discerned your true nature.”

“It defies comprehension,” Gojo groaned, ignoring Kento’s statement. “What kind of lady disparages her own beauty as ‘simple’? I cannot fathom what has caused her such vexation. Only the night before, she was utterly taken with me!”

Suguru⸺who had now calmed down⸺was in the midst of wiping his tears when he suddenly stopped. “You don’t suppose it had anything to do with your careless words, do you?”

Kento eyed the pair in front of him with an accusatory side eye. “And what precisely did you say?”

“Satoru, in his usual fashion, could not contain his tongue. Out on the terrace, with the garden as witness, he spoke rather unkindly, referring to the diamond as ‘simple and dull.’”

“Nonsense,” Satoru waved his hands, dismissing the idea. “The lady would never wander the gardens at such an hour in the night unchaperoned.”

“I suggest you reconsider.” Kento gave him a stern look and continued, “I happened upon her last night, emerging from the gardens, and she appeared rather disheveled.”

This revelation gave Satoru pause, but if there was one thing certain about Satoru Gojo, it was this: his arrogance was such that he could scarcely fathom anyone, least of all a lady, finding his charm anything but irresistible⸺even if that very lady had overheard him uttering defamatory remarks about her. And this lady was one he could not let go of, unless he wanted to wave good-bye to his future.

“I am confident all will be well,” Gojo exhaled, his lips curving into a Cheshire smile. “Even if she did overhear, surely a few well-chosen sweet words will surely set matters right.”

(He was most grievously mistaken.)

“How many of those biscuits do you suppose we could finish?” Yuji was eyeing the biscuits from his seat next to you in the pavilion where you and your family were sitting. Out promenading with the other families of the ton, it was a scenic and beautiful day for you to mingle with even more suitors. The joy!

“Certainly less than me,” you remarked, sipping on your tea smugly. By the irritated pout on his face, you knew you were successful at getting a rise out of your younger brother. Knowing your mother wasn’t in sight, you quickly darted for the jam-filled biscuits, and your brother quickly followed in tow; soon, you were both stuffing your faces silly with the sugary treats.

“You two are incorrigible,” Choso scrunched his nose from where he sat across from you, arms crossed. “There’s no need to inhale those biscuits. What if someone sees?”

Yuji stuck out his tongue⸺now adorned with biscuit crumbs⸺and continued gorging, while you snickered at your younger brother’s pettiness.

“Miss Itadori.”

You began coughing wildly, caught off guard, and hastily straightened your posture to greet your guest. You turned to see Lord Ino, who offered you a slight nod before acknowledging your brothers. “Lord Itadori. Mister Itadori.”

“Lord Ino, nice to meet you on such a fine day.” You try to put a smile on your face as best as you can, even though you were caught off guard. “How do you find today’s weather?”

Takuma grabs the back of your hand to kiss it. “I find it wonderful for the prospect of promenading. Do you care to do so with me?”

“Of course,” You stand up and link your elbows with Takuma’s.

“We’ll be thirty paces behind you, sister.” You both turned to look at Choso, who was giving Lord Ino his inevitable protective glare. Given Ino’s acceptable station, Choso hadn’t immediately protested, unlike the many suitors he had chased out of your manor the day before. He grabbed Yuji by the elbow, who, with cheeks comically inflated like a chipmunk hoarding acorns, was promptly dragged away. “Yuji, get up.” The last you saw of your brothers was Yuji’s futile protests, his mouth too full to be coherent⸺inevitably sending some crumbs flying onto Choso⸺and Choso swatting him for it.

As you began your walk with Lord Ino, the conversation naturally turned to the upcoming horse race. “Are you looking forward to the race this afternoon?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

“I am,” the lord replied. “And you?”

“Very much so,” you said, a hint of excitement in your voice. “I have a feeling that the less popular horse⸺Blaze, was it?⸺might surprise everyone. The conditions seem just right for an underdog victory; the track is soft and warm, which would favor Blaze’s build.”

Lord Ino glanced at you with a polite but unconvinced smile. “But Thunder has higher odds and more bets. It’s as simple as that.”

You couldn’t help but bristle at the word “simple,” a word that had recently come to grate on your nerves. You pressed on, though, determined to keep the conversation pleasant. “I suppose there’s some truth to that, but sometimes there’s more to a race than just the odds and popularity.”

Ino chuckled softly. “Well, a good mentor and friend of mine⸺Duke Nanami⸺agrees with the odds, and His Grace is someone I deeply respect. I tend to follow his lead⸺the duke has a way of teaching lessons without hindering one’s growth.”

Before you could respond, the sound of a trumpet blared in the distance, signaling the start of the race. You looked at him, giving him a courteous nod, gesturing in the general direction Choso and Yuji were supposed to be in. “It seems the race is about to begin. I must rejoin my family.”

You curtsied as he bowed, and you watched as he walked away, leaving you momentarily alone. You took a deep breath, trying to dispel the lingering irritation from the conversation. Just as you began looking for your family, you felt a presence approaching.

You turned to find Lady Mei Mei and her entourage closing in. Their expressions were a study in artful contempt, laced with curiosity and barely concealed amusement. The atmosphere between you was thick with unspoken competition, each woman silently gauging the other’s position on the social ladder.

“Miss Itadori, what a nice surprise!” Lady Mei Mei remarked, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “It appears you are alone and unchaperoned in a garden yet again! At least, according to what the rumors say. Was it part of yet another one of your charming ploys to get what you want?"

You met her gaze with cool composure, not giving her the satisfaction of a visible reaction. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

Lady Mei Mei tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as if appraising a particularly interesting specimen. "Really?" she mused, drawing out the word as though savoring it. "It’s just that Lord Gojo hasn’t spoken with you all day. Even if Whistledown commended you in the last issue, I wouldn’t expect his interest to linger." The two ladies flanking her⸺unremarkable save for their sycophantic attachment to Mei Mei⸺giggled behind their fans, as though she had delivered a crushing blow.

You allowed yourself a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. "So I’m assuming he called upon you?" you questioned sweetly, your voice laced with feigned politeness.

For a fleeting moment, Lady Mei Mei’s carefully curated composure slipped, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing her face before she regained control. She leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper meant for you alone. “None of the suitors will be interested in you any longer. The Queen may have mistakenly proclaimed you the diamond, but a pretty face, empty smiles, and hollow words can only last so long.”

“Whatever would be most convenient for you to believe.” Her words were empty and her threats dull, but you couldn’t help but let it compound on the irritation you had experienced today. But you knew better than to let your tongue loose; you were quite impulsive when you had started, and you didn’t want to start any scandal anytime soon. Instead, you held your ground, trying to maintain your composure (outwardly, at least) as Lady Mei Mei and her entourage turned to leave, their laughter echoing in your ears.

You tried to implement a few things your tutor had ingrained in you: taking deep breaths and setting your posture correctly. However, as you stood there, collecting yourself, the last thing you needed seemed to manifest before you: Satoru Gojo.

His tall figure approached you with that familiar, self-assured stride, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Ah, Miss Itadori," he greeted, a sly smile playing on his lips. You were already irritated, and it took all your will-power to stifle a groan.

"I couldn’t help but notice you were conversing with Lord Ino," he remarked casually.

Give him a smile. "Indeed, we were enjoying a promenade. It is, after all, what young ladies and their suitors are expected to do."

“Quite the choice in company!”

KEEP up the smile. "He is a nobleman, and I am of noble descent. I fail to see your point, Mr. Gojo."

Gojo’s smile was quick and cutting. “Oh, I’ve no particular quarrel with Lord Ino. It’s simply that he’s hardly the sort I’d expect to see on your arm. After all, he’s practically Nanami’s lapdog.”

You felt the familiar irritation rising within you⸺and you were fighting for your life trying to keep a smile on your face⸺but you kept your tone measured. "And what, pray tell, are you implying by that, Mr. Gojo?"

"It’s quite simple, really⸺"

But your patience, already worn thin, snapped at that word.

"My good sir, do you not think it rather dishonorable to speak ill of others behind their backs?" Gojo began to respond, but you cut him off. "It’s curious how quickly opinions can change, is it not? Just the other evening, you seemed to hold me in rather low regard. Tell me, do you often dismiss people as ‘simple’ when they fail to meet any of the lofty expectations you have set? Or do you perhaps truly believe yourself to be at a station higher than others?"

Gojo stiffened, the smile slipping from his face as your words hit their mark. Before he could respond, Choso appeared at your side, his protective presence a welcome relief.

“Is there any problem, sister?” Choso asked, his tone polite yet firm as he glanced at Satoru, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Gojo’s gaze flicked to Choso, his irritation clear as he opened his mouth to make a cutting remark, and you couldn’t thank the gods enough for Choso’s mother hen tendencies. But the words faltered when he recognized who had interrupted. For a brief moment, surprise flashed in his eyes before he masked it with a tight-lipped smile.

You seized the moment, turning to Satoru with a sweet smile. “I think our time is up, Mister Gojo,” you said, your voice laced with venom.

Satoru hesitated for just a fraction of a second before nodding curtly, his expression unreadable. “Of course. Until next time, Miss Itadori.”

With that, he stepped back, allowing you and Choso to walk away toward where people were gathering for the race. As you moved through the crowd, you could feel Satoru’s gaze lingering on you, but you didn’t look back.

“That horse appears rather stout, does it not?” Yuji squinted against the blazing sun as he observed the horses from his seat beside you in the grandstand. “Why has it garnered so many bets?”

Choso, seated protectively on your other side, kept a steady arm linked with yours. His presence was reassuring, though your irritation was directed at the figure seated just below you. Satoru Gojo, to your endless chagrin, was sitting with Lady Mei Mei, who had all but forced her way into the seat beside him. Though he tried to appear indifferent, his signature flirty remarks flowing with ease, you noticed the subtle signs of irritation crossing his face. Whether it stemmed from Lady Mei Mei's advances or from your earlier exchange, you couldn't be sure. You refused to meet his gaze, though you could feel his eyes on you intermittently as the crowd waited for the race to begin.

“Men can be quite foolish at times,” you remarked hotly, your voice carrying just enough to be overheard. “Some people value the superficial and materialistic over true substance, much like they do with horses. Blaze, for instance, has the qualities that truly matter.”

You could almost feel Gojo’s gaze intensify, and despite yourself, you glanced in his direction. Lady Mei Mei, ever the actress, feigned a stumble, exclaiming with a coy smile, “These crowds are rather rough on a lady!”

You scoffed inwardly at her transparent attempt to press her bosom against Gojo’s arm.

“Oh my,” Gojo drawled, his voice oozing concern. “We can’t have that, can we?” Ever the gallant gentleman, he interlaced his arm with hers. “Here, for extra protection. I wouldn’t want a pretty lady shedding tears beside me.”

Mei Mei’s smirk was as satisfied as a serpent after a meal, and she batted her eyelashes coquettishly. “If I were to cry, would you console me?”

“Of course,” Gojo replied smoothly. “Though I might find myself crying should my horse lose. The bets I’ve placed are rather substantial.”

A flirtatious giggle escaped Mei Mei’s lips. “Then I shall cheer with all my might, so you needn’t suffer any losses, my lord.”

You were perilously close to tearing your hair out.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, my lady,” Gojo said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it with exaggerated flourish. “But rest assured, I am quite confident of a victory today. Thunder is swift and cunning, far superior to that... other horse. It’s simple, really—Thunder will win.”

Your composure cracked. “Yuji,” you called, your voice sharp. Your brother, who had been lost in thought, snapped to attention. “Despite the other horse’s popularity, Blaze possesses the one quality universal to all champions: speed and diligence. The track conditions are in its favor.”

Yuji, caught off guard, blinked in confusion. “Yes, of course, sister,” he mumbled, clearly unsure of why you were addressing him.

“And anyone who thinks otherwise,” you continued, raising your voice slightly, “is bound to lose their money. Sorely and simply.”

Gojo matched your tone, his voice ringing out. “But of course, it’s all in good fun. There’s no need for hostility over a sport, is there? Both horses are fine contenders, though I remain convinced Thunder shall emerge victorious.”

Mei Mei tittered, parroting his sentiments, but you could hardly see straight for the anger coursing through you. Unable to hold back, you retorted, “However, it is, after all, still a race. And Blaze will win.”

By now, your exchange had drawn the attention of those around you, including your brothers. Choso and Yuji exchanged puzzled glances before Yuji asked weakly, “Are you still talking to us, sister?” Meanwhile, Choso’s protective instincts flared, his gaze darting suspiciously between you and Gojo.

Before you could reply, the horses lined up at the starting gate, and the crowd collectively rose to their feet, including Gojo. “Steady now, Thunder!” he called out, his voice brimming with confidence.

Not to be outdone, you shouted, “Come on, Blaze!”

The bell rang, and the horses surged forward, the crowd erupting in cheers. Blaze and Thunder quickly pulled ahead, the two horses locked in a fierce battle for the lead. Thunder was currently ahead, its sleek form cutting through the track with precision.

“Steady, Thunder! Keep the lead!” Gojo’s voice was full of excitement, urging his horse onward.

Your heart raced with frustration as Blaze lagged slightly behind. “You can do this, Blaze!” you urged, your voice rising above the din. Without thinking, you began whistling sharply, drawing alarmed looks from your brothers. The stares from the crowd meant nothing to you as you focused solely on the race.

Blaze, as if responding to your encouragement, began to accelerate, its powerful strides eating up the ground between it and Thunder. You noticed Thunder’s pace faltering, fatigue setting in, while Blaze surged ahead, pulling into the lead with a quarter of the race remaining.

Now it was Gojo’s turn to whistle, his voice tinged with desperation. “Straight to the finish line, Thunder! Don’t let up!”

But Blaze only widened the gap, its momentum carrying it farther ahead. You couldn’t contain your laughter, a joyous sound that bubbled up from within as Blaze crossed the finish line first, with Thunder trailing behind.

“Goddamn it,” Gojo cursed under his breath, his frustration palpable. You clapped your hands in delight, your laughter ringing out.

With deliberate grace, you placed your hands on your hips and turned to Gojo, flashing him a triumphant smile. “I’m so glad the ‘simple’ horse won,” you said, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “It seems I’ve finally bested a duke.”

Gojo’s blue eyes bore into you, their intensity searing, but you met his glare with a boisterous laugh, savoring the victory as the crowd’s cheers and claps echoed around you. Until it was only the two of you, staring each other down.

Gojo ⸺ 0, you ⸺ 1.

Now, Duchess Gojo had always had a penchant for gossip, no one escaping her eye and observation. Of course, it was now the Whistledown era, for the unknown author could observe far more than the high-profile duchess, who was the receiver of much praise and attention due to her son’s eligibility. But this eligibility had only been achieved because of her ability to direct the tide based on her reconnaissance, and in all her years, no could match her sass and direction. Except one.

"You know, Lady Itadori," the Duchess remarked, her tone laced with feigned pensiveness, "the Gojo manor in the countryside has been dreadfully quiet, and, if I may say, it has been quite some time since we last enjoyed a proper tête-à-tête.”

The two ladies stood together near the stands, choosing a more secluded spot from which to observe the horse race. Lady Itadori, her closest confidante, met the Duchess’s gaze with a gleam in her eye. "Indeed, I must agree."

For a moment, the two women stood in silence, their eyes surveying the scene before them. From the ladies flirting shamelessly to the gentlemen scrambling for the favor of the season’s debutantes, they were like spectators at a grand circus. Yet, their attention was drawn to a particular act.

Raising her fan to her lips, Lady Itadori whispered conspiratorially to the Duchess, "I might add, my diamond has been spending a considerable amount of time in your son’s company."

The Duchess met her friend’s eyes and laughed lightly. "How many days do you wager it will take in the manor?"

Lady Itadori, now fully smirking, gave a delicate shrug. "It took you and the Duke but four days."

prev. the debutante | next. the manor

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n: reader is hearing boss music rn

forced proximity whatttt

gojo when kuna ripped one in his face

comment, reblog, and send in an ask to let me know ur thots :3 memes are also appreciated <3

TAGLIST:

@ncitygreen @backstagepaige @serinatly100986 @nappingmoon @coochellati

@extremelyexh4usted @yoshisaurmuchakoopas @nixiepixee @generalstephkenobi @vernasce-blogs

@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

@megumiivs @anthastudios @arranacosmist @arishaxml @jingyuun

@undercooked-chaos-noodle @jaegersity @camzzn @bluelai @1sweetheart1

@hyori2 @babyblue0t7 @iwanttoberich420 @rosso-seta @ladytamayolover

@kalulakunundrum @r0ckst4rjk @mo0sin @angelina7890 @jaeminaur

@yamiyas @cherry-blossoms-in-red @r3inae @lagataprrr @sasfransisco

@fortunatelyfurrygiver @aurora-tiny @gojonegs @luna-v-roiya @xxemmarldxx

@soobssedwithyourex @manyno @samkysnks @stefnarda @bbqsauceonmytitties2

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mrsbarnesblog · 3 months ago

Text

I always get what I want

masterlist

requests are open

summary: when you're not in the mood to go out of the house, you find a way to change Rafe's mind

words count: 1.8k

warnings: smut, established relationship, unprotected p in v, one use of a word 'slut', spanking, hair pulling, slightly mean Rafe

a/n: for anyone wondering how the said dress looks like

“I’m not in the mood to go out today, Ray. Why can’t we just stay home, hm?” You yawned, stretching your body on the king-sized bed and then turning around to look at your boyfriend.

“It’s just a dinner and everyone is going to be there. I already promised that we’re attending, baby.” He crossed his arms over his chest, immediately drawing your attention to his tanned biceps and the way his fitted shirt stretched around them. “C’mon, get up.”

“But you didn’t even ask me about—No-o-o!” You whined when Rafe’s hands wrapped around your legs, dragging you out of bed. As he playfully patted your ass and manhandled you into standing, you gave him a furious glare. “Fine, asshole. I will get dressed.” You pushed past your boyfriend, already knowing one trick that will send him over the edge and that will guarantee you a quiet and peaceful evening.

“Mhm, find something cute, but don’t take too long, ‘kay?” You rolled your eyes, going into the wardrobe attached to your bedroom.

You had never dressed quicker, and when after a few minutes Rafe heard you going back into the room with your heels clicking on the wooden floor, he was ready to joke about it, until he looked up from his phone and saw what exactly you were wearing.

It was probably the shortest black lace dress in existence, which barely even covered your ass cheeks and had a slid from both sides of your legs as if there were something more to show. Rafe’s eyes slowly went up, only a few seconds later noticing that besides the “dress” itself, you wore only thongs, which meant that your tits were basically on full display.

You bought it just for fun, for a few dollars during one of your shopping sprees, hoping to surprise Rafe with it, but it turned out even better than you imagined. He was speechless, to say the least.

“You are not fucking wearing it.” He jumped up from the bed, looking down at you with wide eyes. You tried to hold back a smile. Rafe was so predictable and you loved every second of it.

“Why not? It’s cute and goes perfectly with my heels. Give me like fifteen minutes to do my makeup and we can go.” You turned around but Rafe quickly caught you by the wrist and pulled you back to face him.

"You know I like your short skirts and sexy dresses, but I will not let you go out looking like that. Your whole ass is out and I can literally see your tits.” Rafe looked you up and down again; his eyes were full of hunger mixed with his usual grumpiness whenever you didn’t listen to him.

“Stop saying what I can and cannot wear, Rafey. I always get what I want. And I hate when you think that you can boss me around. I am wearing it, whether you like it or not. You asked me to go somewhere at the last minute, and this is the only outfit I have not worn yet, so don’t complain." Giving his cheek a soft pat, you headed to your vanity, but was again dragged back, but this time it was different.

Your back hit Rafe’s chest. One of his arms found its place on your stomach and the other one took a gentle yet firm hold of your throat. Your breath hitched when you felt a growing bulge pressing against your ass, and Rafe began pushing you toward the bed.

“Always have to be so fucking stubborn.” He mumbled as he bent you over, shamelessly pushing your face into the soft blanket, making you stay in a not-so-comfortable position with your ass up and still in your heels.

“My heels. Take it off.” You whined, not even trying to fight your boyfriend back.

“If you decided to play on my nerves today, then you’ll be good just like that, babe.” Rafe suddenly slapped your ass, making you hiss and twitch forward. Because of your position, the hem of your dress slipped even higher, leaving nothing for the imagination.

Rafe licked his lips, soothing the irritated skin of your ass and enjoying the beautiful view in front of him. With the dinner long forgotten, he was completely focused on you and painfully hard in his jeans. While his left hand still stayed on your lower back to keep you in place, he pushed your legs wider away from each other and took off a skimpy piece of fabric that you called underwear.

You moaned as the chill air of the room touched your bare skin, subconsciously moving your hips back to feel Rafe’s touch. He chuckled as he quickly undid his pants and shoved them down his thighs, revealing his already hard cock.

“Why can’t you just listen to me, hm? You are insane to even try to go out in that pathetic excuse of a dress." Rafe mumbled, more as if he were talking to himself, too focused on looking at the way his tip was sliding up and down your pussy, already glistering with your juices. “Don’t get me wrong, you definitely can wear it around the house; I won’t mind. But just for my eyes only.”

As much as you tried to concentrate on Rafe’s words, it was hard to do so when he slowly sank into you, making you whine and grip the fabric under your hands. He rarely did it without giving you a proper preparation with his fingers or mouth, but it was his way of showing you that he wasn’t happy with your behaviour. Rafe gave your ass another slap, before reaching his hand to gently grab your hair and yank your head back.

“Pay attention to what I'm saying, baby.” You were stretched to the limit, still sensitive to the size of him every time you two had sex. Rafe set a steady pace, fucking you like he did whenever he was pissed off—fast, deep and rough. “You’re mine to look at. So, you better save that little thing for when I get home from work, do you understand?"

Your eyes rolled back in your head as whimpers slipped past your lips with every push of Rafe’s cock in your tight cunt. He gripped the hair in his hand a little tighter, still waiting for an answer from you and you had no choice but to try to nod and mumble something incoherent.

When two fingers of Rafe’s free hand suddenly pressed on your clit and started moving in a circular motion, your hips jerked forward, squeezing him inside of you even harder. If Rafe knew one thing for sure, it was how your body worked and all the little tricks that made you see stars. He held you firmly in place, feeding his cock to your hungry pussy and not caring about you trying to get away from the overstimulation.

“Don’t fuckin’ move or I’ll edge you till you cry. Don’t want to do that again, do you?” Rafe mumbled, effortlessly sliding his cock deeper into you, noticing the way your ass was jiggling with every deep thrust. He felt your wetness spreading on his fingers and sliding down your thighs, probably making a mess on his clothes too.

“That’s too much— Rafe, Rafe, Ra-afe!” You cried out loud as he pushed your head backwards more to have a look at your face. That famous smirk appeared at the sight of your fucked out face with tears in your eyes and swollen lips.

“If you want to dress like a slut, you’re gonna be treated like one.” He spat, then finally released your hair, instead pushing your head into the bed.

It felt like Rafe’s cock was now even deeper, and the pace that he was using was too hard to handle. You whined his name, fisting the blanket and crying in ecstasy at his magical work with your pussy.

“That’s right.” His praise came with a hard slap on your ass. “Same my name when you cum on my dick.”

“Rafe! Oh god, Rafe! D-don’t stop!” He didn’t stop abusing your hole even when you reached your orgasm. Neither when your body literally started shaking from overstimulation and you were begging to let you go.

It didn’t take him long to get to an end, suddenly pulling out of you and spilling his hot cum all over your ass and lower back. “Fuck, yeah! Lookin’ so pretty covered in me.” Rafe chuckled, gripping your ass cheeks and shamelessly looking as his release was sliding down to your flattering pussy. “Sorry, sweetheart. I guess I stained your dress and panties too.” He made a fake pout, moving away from you to admire his work from afar.

“Asshole.” You grumbled, fully falling on your bed and hissing at the pain in your legs. Your eyes were closed, enjoying the tingles that still went through your body when you felt Rafe wiping a mess from your skin and then kneeling on the floor to take off your shoes.

You looked at him when you felt bed moving under his weight. Rafe drew you closer with a smirk, resting your head on his naked chest. You smirked at him, and he raised an eyebrow at the strange sparkle in your eyes.

“Whatcha smiling for, hm?” His hand sneaked down your back, reaching the irritated skin that he slapped multiple times, and gently rubbed to soothe the redness.

“I always do and get what I want, Ray.” You giggled, tracing lines on his abs.

“Well, not today, apparently.”

"Oh, baby, you are so naive to believe I was planning to attend the dinner in the first place." You bit your lip, holding back a smile at the confused look on your boyfriend’s face. “All I had to do was make you think with your dick and now we’re staying at home. Just like I wanted to.”

He shook his head in disbelief, with a smirk and tongue poking his cheek. “You’re such a brat.” A squeak escaped from you when your body suddenly changed positions and was pushed back on the bed as Rafe hovered over you. “Get ready for round two since you wanted to be so goddamn smart.”

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writer-logbook · 3 months ago

Text

How to improve your writing style : a 5-steps guide.

Intro : I love the 5-steps format, don’t mind me. Again, this essay is based on my personal experience.

Read in different genres. Ok, I know you’ve probably heard this advice more than you can count but did you ask yourself why it is so important ? You probably wonder ‘‘How reading some historical fiction will help me writing my sci-fi novel ?’’ For that simple reason my friend : they meet different purposes. You don’t know how to describe a castle ? It’s okay, historical fiction got your back. Because it aims at something more realistic and accurate, it would tend to be more specific and detailed when it comes to describing clothes, furniture, places and so on. Why ? Because, most of the time, THEY ACTUALLY EXISTED. Take a closer look at how it is done and draw your inspiration from it (but please avoid plagiarism it’s bad - and illegal)

Take notes and CLASSIFY them. To make reading somehow useful, you have to actually make it concious, which means you have to write things down to remember them. When I come across a description I like, I tend to takes notes of the figures of speech that are used and class them, so when I have to write a similar scene, I have an idea of what have been already used, and weither or not it achieved its goal. I am NOT talking about COPY another author’s style !!!! It’s about finding inspiration and new approaches. I also tend to take notes of the new words I wish to incoporate into my writing. The thesaurus is my new bestie.

Rewrite the same scene from different POVs. First of all, it’s fun. And it’s a really good way to spot quirky formulations. For instance, if you describe a ship, the captain’s POV should be different from that of a simple observer. The first one would be naming each part princisely whereas the other would only be admiring the surface without knowing anything. If the caption is the same for both POVs, maybe you should consider write your passage again (or have a good reason, like a strong amateurism for the mere observer). It’s go hand in hand with coherence - but it would be an essay for another time (maybe).

Read your text aloud. I put major emphasis on that one because it’s as underated as reading books for various genres. You have no idea how much we DON’T speak the way we write. Even dialogues are crafted in our stories - so make sure to give them proper attention. (i even read my email aloud but-). I KNOW how cringey it might be as I am doing it MYSELF but the benefits are worth the 35-minutes shame I endure from my own mess. Before you can shine, you have to polish (shout out to the one who said that first if it’s not me).

Take a step back. I strongly advice you to let some time pass before reading your text again and profreading it. It will cast a new light upon your work and with fresh eyes you’d be more likely able to spot what needs to be erased or rephrased.

That’s all for me today. Since I would be entering my proofreading phase for my writing contest, the next essay would probably about proofreading (with examples from my own novel ?). Unless someone wants me to write on a specific subject first.

Gentle reminder that I’m still French and not a native so please forgive my dubious grammar and outrageous mispellings.

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mywritersmind · 16 days ago

Text

ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR - LN4

↳ pt.1

summary : Its the vacation of your dreams! With your best friends, rich men, live music, and flowing drinks, nothing can ruin it. Even if a certain Formula 1 driver (who seems to have an affinity for annoying you) is there every step of the sandy way.

listen up : suggestive themes! swearing! ‘enemies’ to lovers. probably my last sunny vacation fic for a while! get ready for winter fics!! cmt to be tagged in pt. 2 <3

word count : 4570

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Y/n!” Kika throws a pillow onto me. I groan in response, pulling the blanket over my head, “Get up! Get up! We’re leaving in thirty!”

I fall off the bed and start my rushed process of getting ready, we’re in Marmaris, Turkey for a little holiday. A holiday that I've been promised is for friends, yet every friend I have is with a man.

Kika, Alex, Rebecca, and Lily promised they would act like single ladies with me! That’s clearly not true because of the love they have for their boyfriends and how those same men never leave their sides.

The only other addition is someone I don’t want to talk about. Someone who’s a pain in my ass and the construction to my headache.

I’m instantly in a better mood when my friends and I start taking photos and making tik toks. I’m in a light blue dress and sandals, my skin is practically yearning to be tan but that will start tomorrow.

I have my own hotel room which I intend to spend no time in unless I'm hooking up with a hot turkish man. Lily holds my hand as we start walking. The guys said they would meet us there and I’ll never not treasure time with my girls.

The sun has already set but the sky is still a dark blue and orange. Lily squeals next to me, she’s in the cutest white mini dress, “I can’t believe we’re here!”

Kika laughs in a long yellow dress, “The trip literally made it out of the group chat!”

I eye them, “More like it was infiltrated by another groups chat!” Alex laughs and puts her hand on my arm.

“I promise it’ll be fun. I know you’re a little sad but we’ll find you someone!”

“It’s not even that- I just want to be with you guys.” They all seem a bit sad about it. It’s not like I don’t like their boyfriends, I consider them my friends too! It’s just that I was really looking forward to some much needed girl time.

“You are with us!” Alexandra frowns.

Lily swings are hands, “You’re with us and five other idiots who have money!”

This makes me laugh as we make it to the restaurant. It’s beautiful, part of the hotel, and looking right over the water.

The guys are already sitting. Charles, Pierre, Alex, Carlos all smile at me, kissing their girls as we sit. There is one missing, though. It’s hard to ignore but I'm definitely not complaining.

Drinks are ordered and our thoughts about the hotel is passed around. I became friends with this group through Lily, we grew up together and when Alex suggested I should come to a grand prix, I was hooked.

The other girls took to me immediately and were so excited to have another friend that they actually like. I don’t travel as much as them, but I do see them often enough.

We haven’t gotten together in a group like this though in forever!

I sip on my cocktail and talk to Carlos as his eyes stray past me. I turn to look at what he’s distracted by and have to fight the urge to roll my eyes.

You know those people who just really piss you off? The type that just irks you even though you’ve tried to hear your friends out?

That is how I feel about Lando Norris.

He strolls up to our table as if he isn’t late. He’s in blue jeans and a white button down that’s definitely not buttoned enough. His hair is messy and looks like he just woke up, “Hey.” Is all he says before plopping down next to Carlos and sipping his water.

Rebecca already sends me a look that screams, ‘Leave it.’ So I do, I order my food and talk to my friends while avoiding the man two seats down from me.

It’s not just that Lando bugs me, It’s that he’s repeatedly cocky and flat out annoying. He teases me any chance he gets and it never fails to ruin my day. He knows it too.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Pierre asks as he puts his arm around Kikas chair, everyone’s food is nearly gone and I'm more than ready to climb into my plushy hotel bed.

Alex holds Lily’s hand, “Beach, explore, eat? That’s also my plan for every day of our trip.”

Charles nods, “My buddy has a boat out here that he said we can borrow one day.”

I smile and lean my head on Kika’s shoulder, “I'll be anywhere you guys go, with a book and an apple.”

“You still into that?” His voice already pisses me off. I look at Lando who’s staring at me, “Reading.”

I blink. “Are you still into being illiterate?”

Charles covers his laugh with a cough as Alexandra shakes her head, “Hey! You two need to keep it civil this trip.”

Carlos eyes Lando pointedly as he groans, “Why? I didn’t even do anything! The witch said I was illiterate!”

I sit up straighter immediately, leaning over Carlos as my friends talk in a haze around me, “You really wanna see a witch, Norris, I’ll fucking show you!”

“The worst thing you could do to me is throw sand in my face!” I groan as he rolls his eyes and Kika pulls me back into my seat.

“This is what we’re talking about!” When she whispers is when I realize the people dining around us are staring.

“It’s one week!” Pierre shakes his head, “One week of peace!”

I don’t dare look at Lando, my arms crossed.

He gives in peace, “I won’t start anything if she won’t.”

“Perfect, I'll have a great trip of silence.” Fine by me. I can ignore him for a week, easy.

Lily and Rebecca exchange looks as Lando speaks again, “It’ll be nice not hearing your-” Carlos slaps his arm and he shuts up.

I sigh in my seat, this is going to be an interesting week.

⋆༺

I start off my first full day with breakfast. I’m up early and decided to make the most of it by enjoying my food with a beach view.

I grin when I see that there’s two pieces of bacon left, grabbing them swiftly and plopping it onto my plate just when someone goes to reach for it.

I look up to see Lando. He’s sweaty and in running clothes, looking at me annoyed per usual, “Seriously? Who takes the last two pieces?”

I raise a brow, “Me. You literally just saw me do it.”

He gives me a bored expression, “Didn’t you ever get taught manners?”

“I got taught how to get what I want.” I bite into the piece of bacon just to watch him flinch. “Weren’t you taught that it’s not nice to be insufferable?”

“Can’t you share? It’s one piece.” I take another bite, pretending to think.

“Hm… No!”

“We’re supposed to be civil. Friends even!” He steps closer, “I know you would give the piece to Lily.”

“You’re too greedy.” I finish the first piece of bacon and start to walk away. He scoffs and follows me.

“Me!? Greedy?” He scoffs, plate still in hand. I eye it, it’s mostly empty except for a nutella crepe, “You know what- never mind.”

I nod, “Great job being civil, Norris. I’m so proud of you and you for giving up.”

He does not find this funny, “I can’t stand you.”

“Then sit.” His eyes narrow at my words.

“Fuck it, Free will!” and with that, he grabs the piece of bacon off my plate and runs!

“Norris!” I yell after him but when he turns, he’s smiling with a mouth full of bacon. “Dickhead.” I mumble to myself and continue getting my food.

⋆༺

I’m warm, I'm tipsy, and I'm listening to live music. I don’t think life could get any better. I sit up on my beachside chair, lifting my sunglasses to see Lily, Alex, Charles, and Alexandra playing chicken in the water.

Kika stirs next to me, she was asleep on her stomach but slowly sits up when she hears our friends laughing.

I watch Lando and Pierre floating and Carlos swimming towards them. Rebecca went to get drinks so that just leaves Kika and I.

“How’s the whole ‘civil’ thing going?” She’s in an orange bikini that makes her look unfairly tan.

I shrug, “Bad? I just can’t imagine talking to him normally. We always fight.” I sip my drink, the glass coats my hand in condensation but it cools me down.

“Maybe you should just fuck.” I choke on my drink. She doesn’t even attempt to hide her laugh, “Sorry, Sorry!”

“Kika!” I slow my breathing, “Why would you say that!?”

“It makes sense! You’ve got a lot of pent up energy… I’m just saying!” I shake my head, pulling my sunglasses back on and laying down again. “I know you’re attracted to him.”

I pray that she thinks my cheeks are red from the sun, and not from her words. “I am not.”

“You can't lie to me!” She laughs, “It’s not a bad thing, Y/n. You both just need to shut up for two seconds and get eachother shirtless.” Lily walks up right as she says that.

She plops down onto the sand, “Whatever this is about- I agree!”

“She’s trying to get me to- Nope! I’m not even going to say it!” I can’t have that manifestation in my life.

“I think she should hook up with Lando.”

“Completely agree. Just make it quick.”

“If he’s with her, he’s gonna be quick.” Kika jokes and I actually laugh at that one.

“Okay enough! I’m not taking any advice from you two!” I stand, pulling my hair tie out of my hair and starting down the beach.

“Think about it!” Lily yells as I flip her off.

Now all I can think about is hooking up with him. I mean, I hate the dude, but I’m not blind.

Lando is fucking fit. But it’s hard for me to see past his assholeness. So the probability that i’m going to fuck him, is slim. Very slim. Like ZERO.

Just as I'm off in my Lando Norris shirtless world, a shirtless Lando Norris walks up to me. He’s exiting the ocean, pushing his wet curls back as he laughs with Carlos.

I look away as soon as I get a glimpse of his torso. The cool water feels great on my legs as I walk in the ocean. I sink down and dunk my head, opening my eyes underwater, I see the tiny fish and shells.

I reach down and grab a handful of sand, when I get air again, Carlos and Lando are next to me. I push the sand off my hand to reveal some shells and a tiny crab, “Aw!” I smile at it, showing it to the boys.

Carlos raises his brows, “Looks harmful.”

“Harmful?” I glance at him, “He’s a baby!” I hold it closer to him and he backs away like it’s going to jump on him.

I turn to Lando and do the same, he backs away as well, “Pussy.” I say it to his face and he clearly takes it as a challenge.

He holds his hand out and snatches the crab right from my hand, “Are you just a thief by nature?”

He gives me a look before bringing his hand closer to his face to examine the sea creature. I step closer to see it, “It’s adorable.”

“It’s a crab.”

“Thank you, Norris, for your insightful words of wisdom.” I go to take it back from him but he jumps and throws his hand down.

I let out a huge laugh when I realized it’s holding onto his thumb, “Shit! Ow!”

I keep laughing as Lando panics, swinging his hand around to try to get it off. Carlos is long gone by now, not amused by his friends' antics.

The crab finally unclips itself from Lando and he looks like he was just betrayed. I grin, “Maybe I am a witch!”

He looks me up and down, holding his hand and thinking. “If you call me a bitch that crab won’t be the worst thing that hurts you today.”

And then something weird happens.

He smiles.

He just smiles and walks away.

⋆༺

LANDO

Marmaris is stunning. The water is clear and besides me getting bitten, I'm having a great time. We end up going into town to get lunch and I'm faced with the issue of Y/n’s ass in my face as we walk up what feels like a million stairs.

I really feel like she’s doing this on purpose but I could be thinking that to just make myself feel better about checking her out.

She’s in tiny low waisted jean shorts. I can see her bikini bottoms peeking out from the sides. Her top is a crocheted cover up so her sliver of a bathing suit is still on display.

Carlos pushes my back when I slow down on the steps, I turn around to swear at him but he’s giving me an all knowing look so I close my mouth.

After what feels like hours of staring at Y/n’s backside, we make it to the lunch place. It’s hidden quite far up and we all get cramped into the room with a huge window and a view of lemon trees.

With our stupidly coupled up group, I'm forced to sit with Y/n. She’s across from me, sipping on her water and leaning on the table with her arms crossed.

When she notices I'm staring at her, she glares at me. I can tell she’s about to say something snappy, but eyes our friends and shuts her mouth.

As much as she pissed me off, I find it fun to annoy her. I like the way her cheeks heat and how her lips press together, but I would never admit that to her.

“Did you go for a run this morning?” Carlos asks me while shoveling food into his mouth.

“Yeah and the gym- it’s nice.”

“And quiet?” I nod, knowing what he means. Five Formula 1 drivers on vacation together is pretty hard to miss. But besides a stare or two, no one has said anything to us.

Lily claps her hands together, “Who wants to go golfing with me on wed-”

Y/n groans, putting her head in her hands, “No!” Kika looks horrified at the suggestion as well.

“Yes!” Carlos and I say at the same time. Lily has been a great addition to our golfing group and by far the best out of the three of us.

Rebecca laughs, “I’m with Y/n on this one. I’m feeling… spa?” This immediately perks Y/n up.

“That sounds perfect!” Alex smiles, “Girls day! Minus Lily because she’s actually good at a sport.”

Charles eyes us all, “I wanna go to the spa. I hate golfing.”

⋆༺

YOU

When Rebecca suggested we take a cooking class, I thought it was a great idea! I’m not the best cook so why not learn something? I had a bad feeling as soon as we entered and the room was decorated with hearts.

“Welcome! Welcome!” A man ushers us in along with two other groups. The room is large with one wall completely open and facing the beach. “Everybody get a table and we shall begin!”

“I knew I missed something on the website…” Alex cringes as we stare at the tables set for two, “Sorry? Lando, careful with Y/n and knives!”

A couples cooking class!? You’ve got to be kidding. I look at Lando the same time he turns to me, “Well, love… Let me handle the sharp things. I value my life.”

This is going to be the longest hour ever.

“My lovely people in love!” The man is short, with gray hair and the biggest smile I've seen in a while, “My name is Ali and today we begin making the dough for Kemal Pasha!” Apparently the kind we’re making is sweet balls of dough with a very delicious sounding syrup.

I’m standing next to Lando who’s struggling with his apron. They have huge heart pockets and his is bright green. As fun as it is to see him struggle, I want to start cooking soon.

“Give me that.” I swat his hands away and step behind him, taking the pieces of fabric and tying a knot.

“Thank you, Sweetness.” I suspect that this teasing won’t end soon, considering the man teaching the class asked everyone what their names were and put a name tag on each table of the couples ‘ship’ name.

I tie it tight and he flinches, “Hey my girl is trying to kill me!” I roll my eyes and loosen the bow, listening to the man and thanking the woman who’s walking around to make sure everything is correct.

I pour in all the ingredients and Lando starts stirring. I look around at all the couples, they’re doing everything together while looking all lovey dovey.

It makes me miss my ex. Which is weird because we barely acted like this alone. But still, seeing Alex and Lily laugh with flour already on their faces makes me sad.

“Angel!” Lando calls for me again as I put my hand on my hip. He has his hand out that’s covered in white powder, “C’mere!”

“No!” I back up but he’s already pulling me in and squeezing my face. I frown, my face squished between his hand as he laughs. I can feel the flour covering my face. I put on a slow smile when he drops his hand, “Aw, love bug!”

Nothing about my tone is loving and I can tell he’s not excited by the way his face drops. “Now darling…” He backs away as I pour some of the flour from the container into my hand, “I told you i’ll let you lick food off of me later, not here!”

I scoff at his audacity and throw the flour right into his face. When he opens his eyes, I slap my hands over my mouth. His whole face is white and when he breathes out, some comes out of his mouth.

I hold back a laugh as he stares at me, along with the rest of the room, “Oh baby… you’ve got a little.” I motion to his whole face, “Just a little something right there.”

“Er…” The man blinks at us, “True love comes in many forms!” He laughs uncomfortably as we get back to mixing our dough.

“That was not a fair move, Love.” Lando whispers to me as I knead the dough between my hands. His face is wiped off but the flour still resides a bit in his hair and cheeks.

“All's fair in love and war.” I say sweetly.

“Alright ladies, If your man isn’t helping you with his big strong muscles…” Ali eyes us, “Remind them who you are! Men, help your women!”

I turn back at Lando, looking up at the driver, “Do you need reminding?”

He just bites his lip and turns me back around, his hands on my waist. That, I did not expect. My hands go back to the dough in the bowl and his arms move into view, copying the other couples and massaging the treat with me.

I swallow and eye the veins in his arms that go all the way to his hands. His very big hands. The same hands that softly reach over mine.

His touch is surprisingly gentle as he matches my movements. I try to not think about how close he is to me, and focus on the dough but fuck that because I can feel him behind me.

I move back a bit unconsciously and his hand goes to waist to stop me, “Do you need reminding?” His voice is deep in my ear and I fight the urge to roll my eyes even though I know my cheeks are hot.

I thank god when Ali says we will be moving onto rolling the dough into little balls.

I swiftly move away from Lando and don’t dare look at Alex or Kika who I know is looking at us. I start rolling the dough in between my hands.

Lando glances at me, his balls sort of uneven and too small, “Your balls are ugly.” Lando chokes on air and whips his head around to look at me.

“Excuse me?” I roll my eyes at his suggestive tone and show him one of mine, “Ah so you’re a ball expert? Working from experience?”

He’s so childish it makes me want to throw one of these at him. Sadly, I'm not above acting suggestively, “Never worked with any so small.” I shrug as he stares at me. That shuts him up really quick as we place them on a round baking sheet.

We take a short break while they bake and I venture outside, looking over the balcony to the sea far below us.

My skin feels rejuvenated by the sun, I’m tanner and I swear the air is just different here. Alex appears next to me, he looks quite happy, “Having fun?”

I shrug and realize that I actually have been. “Uh… yeah.”

“You know, I think everyone else thinks you’re a real couple. It’s cute.” I gape at him. Is Alexander Albon betraying me right now?

“It is not cute. He’s bullying me.” He just snorts.

“Sure…”

I frown when Ali calls us back in. Lando and I are mostly quiet while stirring our syrup. As it boils, he nudges me. I look up to see him watching another couple.

They’re practically making out and feeling eachother up. I let out a laugh that his eyes widened at, “You’re so not inconspicuous.” He whispers, leaning down a bit.

“They are definitely not paying any attention to me…” They’re so wrapped up in each other that they don’t even notice when Ali turns their mini stove top off so their sauce doesn’t burn.

He looks down at me one last time, sending me a tiny smile. I think it’s the first time I'm genuinely attracted to him when his shirt is still on. Shit.

⋆༺

LANDO

Besides Y/n trying to kill me with the dessert we made, we were civil throughout the rest of the class. We get to take home a small box which leaves everyone in a good mood.

“Here, pretty, I don’t think I can eat that without feeling sick.” I don’t mean to call her that, but I just say what comes to my mind. I hand her the box and takes it without any change of expression.

I’m ready to leave but Ali claps his hands together one more time, “My lovebirds!” Y/n gives me a look that I laugh at, “One more gift for a very special couple of… well, couples!”

He pulls out three pieces of paper. Handing one to the couple that was making out he says, “Most affectionate!”

Then he turns to Pierre and Kila and hands them one, “Best dessert!” I realize these papers are some typos of superlatives.

I think he’s going to go to Charles and Alexandra, but he turns to Y/n and I. A big grin on his face, he hands me a paper. I read it before he says it and my eyes widen, “The most authentic love!” I don’t look at her, I can’t.

“I hope one day you all come back!” And with that, we’re ushered back and stripped of our aprons.

Y/n is already walking down the marble steps with Lily and Rebecca next to her. Carlos just shakes his head and slaps his hand on my shoulder, “Man… Congratulations!”

I eye him as Alex laughs, “I’m framing that!”

⋆༺

YOU

Six hours later, i’m in a tiny white dress, my hair curled and makeup done, and on my way with Rebecca and Alex to a club.

Everyone’s already left but Alex took extra long to slick back her hair. “So!” Rebecca grins as we walk past the beach, “Plan for tonight? Hook up with a local? Make out on the beach?”

I laugh at her enthusiasm, “I’ll see where the night and vodka takes me! I really just need a hot dance partner and a good drink.”

And that’s exactly what I get. I get my drink and well.. many hot dance partners! My friends and I scream the lyrics of the songs we know, holding hands and jumping around.

The club is part of the resort we’re staying at. It’s half on the beach and half in the beach bar that has a 24 hour drink service. I laugh at the guys who are awkwardly waiting for their girls to join them again.

“Okay, go, go!” They leave me at the bar and as soon as they’re gone, a man approaches me.

He’s very tall and very blonde, “Hi.” he’s got an accent but I can’t tell from where, “I couldn’t help but notice you dancing…” I listen to the same line that a hundred guys have fed me before. “Could I buy you a drink?”

Now this is what I like! Ten minutes later I'm dancing with him and a vodka lemonade. His hands are on my waist as I laugh.

He’s hot against me, his hair sweaty and salty. His name is Leon and he really likes my dress. I have a feeling he would like me without it too.

“Are you staying at the hotel?” He asks, screaming in my ear.

I nod, “Are you?”

“I’m staying in town with a friend!” I nod and sip my drink as he talks, “Do you know him?” I frown at his words, turning to see who he’s talking about.

I roll my eyes at Lando who’s standing with a pretty girl but staring at me. I turn back to Leon, “No!”

He looks like this annoys him, “Well i’m not surprised! You’re hot!” I nod as the music continues and keep dancing with him.

He turns me around so he’s staring at my ass instead of my face. But I just slip my fingers into my hair and keep dancing. I open my eyes to see Lando again. The girl is still talking but he’s still staring at me.

I run my middle finger around the rim of my glass, the sugar lifting onto my skin. His expression stays dark and focused on me as his hand goes to his jeans pocket. I lift my finger to lips, licking off the sugar without breaking eye contact.

He brings his drink to his lips and that’s when I realize I've had a bit too much to drink because he looks too damn hot.

He’s in a light blue shirt, his silver rings and LN4 necklace sat on his skin like it belongs there. His hair is damp with I don’t know with what… sweat, water, or the air, I don’t care. His jaw ticks at Leon’s hand moves from my waist to my stomach, my head dropping back on his shoulder, and spinning back around.

He kisses me, it’s messy and drunken but I don’t care. It’s only when he whispers, “Let’s get out of here.” When I'm massively turned off.

I end up back with my friends, Lando nowhere in sight and a smile on my face as we sit at the bar and drink.

pt.2

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #f1 fic #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris fluff #lando x you

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heart-eyed-love · 23 days ago

Text

Grouch

Summary | You’re not the most pleasant person to wake up, so Eddie decides to stick it out in Gareth’s basement.

Contains | Fem!Reader, Friends-to-Lovers (eventually), Cursing…

Pairing | BestFriend!Eddie x BestFriend!Reader

Word Count | 1.3k

An | I haven’t written in a while, I’ve had no motivation, so I’m so sorry this sucks😭 Hopefully I’ll be able to get something better out soon!!

“So… Who’s gonna wake her up?” Jeff asks.

All the boys stare at you from your spot on the couch. Face smooshed against the small pillow you used to cushion your head. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep but whatever movie Gareth had chosen for that night had you passed out 30 minutes in.

“I mean, obviously Eddie, right?” Grant says, brow raised as he looks over at him, smirking as Eddie looked back at him with squinted eyes.

Yes. Eddie knew that was probably his responsibility right now, he had driven you over and he was supposed to drive you back to your trailer.

“Well, me and Jeff gotta go, so… have fun waking up, the princess…” He teases as he pats Eddie’s shoulder and he and Jeff make their way to Gareths front door.

Eddie actually preferred nights when the movie hangouts were held over at anyone else’s house. The other boys enjoyed them more at his trailer, no adults to interrupt and basically free rein. Which is why Eddie dreaded having them at his place, it’s not that he didn’t like his friends he just didn’t like having a hoard of teenage boys loose around his safe space.

You were a completely different story though. Movies night with you at his trailer were probably his favorite, but he’s not about to admit that to you.

And when you would conk out at his place he’d just let you sleep. It has come very apparent to everyone in the group that waking you up was not for the weak.

You were definitely snippy to say the least, you weren’t too fond of the way you acted after being woken up either. Probably something you should work on, but that’s beside the point.

Eddie and Gareth are left with you, and Gareth chuckles lightly at the small dribble of drool seeping from the corner of your mouth. He won’t lie, he thinks you're cute, but he has to keep his staring to a minimum cause the few times Eddie had caught him staring at you the look he shot him was nothing short of scary.

“Well, Go ahead.” Gareth says with an all too cocky smirk.

“Can we just crash here? I mean, she looks kinda peaceful… we wouldn’t want to disturb that…”

“Pussy.” Gareth says with a chuckle but immediately shut up as he sees the look in Eddie’s eyes.

Jeez. There it is again. Gareth will never know how he can hold so much power with just one look. But it has him muttering a quiet ‘sorry’.

“Yeah, you can crash here, I’ll bring some pillows and blankets down…” And he’s already quick on his feet to head upstairs. Eddie rolls his eyes and huffs as he takes in seat on the floor next to where you legs are set. He leans his head back on the couch and looks up at you.

He immediately clocks the dampened spot on the pillow, right by where your mouth laid. He chuckles slightly at the sight.

Of course you’re a drooler. And of course this is the one time he doesn’t find it disgusting. He rolls his eyes again, and looks forward. Letting out a sigh feeling slightly annoyed with himself. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it though, thankfully, cause Gareth is coming back down stairs with pillows and blankets.

He stands to help, grabbing some of the pile off of him, dropping a pillow and blankets down to the floor for himself and then taking the rest.

“Are you actually scared to wake her?” Gareth asks, his tone is still slightly playful. Eddie does find himself impressed sometimes by how persistently annoying Gareth can be without giving up, but not right now.

Eddie stares at Gareth blankly for a second before letting out a sigh, “Only like a tiny bit.” He tries to defend but Gareth still chuckles lightly.

“Well, you know where everything is so… I’ll leave you to it. Night.” He says as he begins making his way back up the stairs to his room.

Turning his gaze back to you, Eddie moves himself closer to you, and as carefully as he can he lifts your legs from the floor onto the couch. You grumble quietly but never fully wake up. He grabs one of the blankets for you and lazily throws it on to you. He watches how it lands imperfectly.

And for what feels like the umpteenth time that night he rolls his eyes before what seems to be an attempt to tuck you in. He doesn’t understand how you have the powers to pull him to do such things but you do.

Once you’re more efficiently covered he plops himself down to the floor, adjust his pillow and throws the blanket over himself. He feels exhausted for some reason. Mostly likely from Gareth's shitty movie choice, and it has him ready to pass out.

And fortunately it doesn’t take him long.

But not too long after you find yourself waking up, eyes heavy as they let themselves slightly open. The rooms dark as you take it in and it clicks that this is not your room.

You sit up in a panic. Shit did Eddie really leave you here?!

“Fuck!” You whispered panicked as you swing your legs over the edge of the couch and your feet crush down onto something soft. You fall back down to the couch as whatever you just stepped on lets out a loud groan and your eyes widen.

“Shit! Fuck! I’m sorry, I uh- I thought you left…” You look down at him guiltily, “I’m sorry…”

Eddie lets out an exhausted sigh as he runs his hands down his face and sleepily says, “I wouldn’t just leave you here, Y/n.” His tone is slightly annoyed and you can’t blame him, waking up to a foot in the gut is not the best, and somehow he’s still being nicer than you would have been. 10x times nicer.

“No?” You ask quietly as you lay yourself back down onto your pillow, continuing to stare at him from over the edge.

Looks over to you and grumbles out “No…” And he lets his eyes close again, but they quickly snap open at the feeling of your hand on his stomach, right where you stepped.

You give it a small rub before saying, “Again, I’m really sorry…” You pull your hand away but he can still feel a sort of tingling in his stomach where you laid your hand on him, overpowering the painful foot to the gut feeling present before.

“It’s fine…” he whispers.

“Can we- can we go home? I really, really don’t want to sit and eat breakfast with Gareth's dad again…” He chuckles tired at that. Every time they’ve all spent the night there, they had to deal with whatever bullshit Gareth’s dad was talking about way too fucking early, so he’s all for leaving.

“Yeah, c’mon…” grunts slightly as he rises from his spot on the floor. He throws his pillow and blanket onto the couch by yours and you both quietly slip out of the house and make your way to his van.

The drive back to the trailer park was quiet, you both were too tired for conversation, but once you arrived home and he parked in front of your trailer you hopped out and walked to his side of the van. He quickly rolled the window down as you walked closer.

“You don’t need to be scared to wake me up, Eddie…” you smirk at him, and he’s narrowing his eyes.

“I’m not scared.” He groans out.

“Right…” You’re smiling as you pat his shoulder and begin walking up the stairs to your door, you turn and say, “I promise I’ll try and be less of a pain in the ass about it…” And then you walk inside. He smiles and puts the van into drive and he makes his way over to the trailer across from yours.

He passes out the second his head hits his pillow. But he’s definitely gonna hold you to that promise.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #heart-eyed-love

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phefics · 1 year ago

Text

veritaserum

ship: fred weasley x reader x george weasley summary: fred and george dose the reader with a truth serum, which leads to her admitting a sexual fantasy including both brothers. warnings: dubious consent (truth potion is used to make the reader admit her sexual fantasies which then play out), pseudo-inc3st (the twins don't do anything sexual to each other but are both involved in the same sexual scenario), gender-neutral!reader (reader has a vagina but no pronouns are used) word count: 1.9k

Being friends with the Weasley twins was a constant rollercoaster.

There was never a dull moment, always an adventure to go on, a prank to pull, or witty banter bouncing between you and the brothers. Sometimes, you were helping Fred and George pull off their next big joke, but other times, you were their target. Sure, it could be frustrating, but it was also fun for you, and you always found ways to get them back.

You had been friends with the twins since your first year at Hogwarts, and that friendship had continued past Hogwarts and followed you into early-adulthood. You visited them at the flat over their shop in Diagon Alley often, where they showed you prototypes for new products and made you laugh until you cried with their antics.

It was a cold evening when you appeared in their fireplace, a bit dusty from the ashes, and were greeted with excited shouts from Fred and George before being pulled into a group hug.

As you looked up at their grinning faces, you couldn’t believe that there were people who still got the twins confused.

Fred had more freckles on his face, while George’s shoulders and arms had an abundance of them. When Fred laughed, he threw his head back, cackling loudly, while George usually gave more reserved chuckles, laughing down at his lap. And, well, George was fully missing an ear now, and Fred had a large scar on his temple from the Battle, where a piece of castle wall had crashed down on top of him.

“Finally,” Fred said, man-handling you onto the couch. “We’ve been waiting ages!”

“I’m only a few minutes late,” you replied, glancing at their clock, which wasn’t even working—it read 3:15, but it was well past 7:00 judging by the darkness outside.

“And are our few minutes not important to you?” George asked, sitting by your side. “We could have been using that time to come up with more brilliant inventions.”

“Or planned a clever scheme to spill a bucket of water on your head when you arrived,” Fred added.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m terribly sorry to have wasted your precious time,” you said, tone thick with sarcasm.

It was nice catching up with them. They updated you on each member of the Weasley family, such as Fleur’s pregnancy with her and Bill’s first child, or Percy’s upcoming wedding. You updated them on your own life as well, and it wasn’t long until they had pushed a glass of Firewhiskey into your hands.

“So, Y/N,” Fred said, leaning against the back of the couch. You immediately recognized the glint of mischief in his brown eyes, and braced yourself for whatever ridiculous question he was about to pose.

“Which of us do you think is the better looking twin?”

You opened your mouth, intending to say something like ‘neither of you’ or ‘you’re identical—what kind of stupid question is that?’ but the sentence that spilled from your lips instead was, “Well, you look pretty much the same, so I’d say you guys are equally attractive. I think the scar makes you look pretty hot, Fred, but George can really pull off the whole missing ear thing.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth, face burning.

The twins both erupted into giggles.

“Oh, you’re too kind!” George said. “I’m glad you find my lack of an ear sexy.”

“And my scar is flattered,” Fred added.

“What did you two do?” you asked, scowling.

“We might have stumbled upon a vial of Veritaserum…” George said, trying and failing to look guilty. “And put it in your drink. Just a drop, though! It’ll wear off soon.”

You wanted to insult them, yell at them, call them every insult and curse under the sun, but no words would leave your tongue. It was like the truth serum wouldn’t even let you pretend to be pissed off. Sure, this was an invasion of your privacy and totally sketchy, but you had known Fred and George for so long, you were sort of used to their antics by now. You should have been way angrier than you were, but it was just so typical of them, you couldn’t muster much more than annoyance.

What you did manage to say was, “Why?”

Both twins shrugged.

“For fun,” Fred said.

“And because we were curious about something,” George replied.

“About what?”

“About which of us you like better.”

You blinked at them. “Are you serious? We aren’t eleven anymore. Is it really a contest between you two to be the better twin?”

“Not really, no,” Fred said. “Even though we all know that it's me.”

George reached over you to playfully shove his brother’s shoulder. “It’s not about proving anything. We’re just curious. So, Y/N, who do you like better: me or Freddie?”

“I like you equally,” you said. “You are both hilarious, intelligent, and my best friends. I find it easier to connect with George on serious things, but Fred always knows the right thing to say when I need cheering up.”

Your face was flushing deeper, embarrassed at the cheesy, sentimental words that left your mouth. Fred and George had grown up in an incredibly loving, affectionate family and had never shied away from making their love known, but it was awkward to voice your own feelings out loud like that.

Both twins seemed rather touched, though

“Wow, I was expecting you to have to pick,” Fred said. “But that’s oddly sweet.”

You groaned. “Okay, okay, yes, I love you both, can we knock this off now?”

“No, we have more questions!”

“Such as…?”

“Would you fuck either of us?” George asked.

Fred was normally the more vulgar of the two, and the question coming from George’s lips instead took you even more off guard.

“Yes,” you said, unable to stop yourself. “Either of you. Or both of you.”

“At the same time?”

“Yes.”

Fred and George also showed their emotions differently. Fred was better at keeping his feelings to himself, but when he was flustered, his ears would turn pink. His ears had flushed slightly, and his eyes were wide as he licked his lips, clearly intrigued by your answer. George was also flushed, but the color went to his face, and he brushed his thumbs repeatedly over his thighs, a nervous tick he’d always had.

“Have you thought about this a lot?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Tell us how you’d want it.”

You couldn’t help but answer. “I would let you strip off my clothes, groping me. One of you is behind me, kissing my neck as you take off my shirt. The other is at my feet, pulling my pants down. Neither of you shut up the whole time, talking about me like I’m not even there. Commenting to each other about how pretty I am, how wet my pussy is for you. Whoever is between my legs starts to go down on me, while the other holds my body still so I can’t move away from how good it feels. I cum on your tongue, and the other wants a turn, too…”

The twins were both clearly aroused as you spoke.

“Do you want that? Now?�� Fred asked, his voice low.

“Yes,” you breathed.

They waste no time switching their positions on the couch, George pulling your back against his chest while Fred positions himself between your legs, his hands eagerly moving to the waistband of your pants, tugging at it.

George took his time, hands sliding up your shirt, touching softly as he felt you up, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, lips teasing the skin there.

You couldn’t help but whine under their touches, loving every moment of it. You had truly dreamt of this for years, always too afraid to ruin the friendship. Sure, you had kissed both twins for dares back at school, but this was real and intimate and beautiful.

Fred made quick work of getting your bottom half undressed, and he kissed his ways along your thighs, cupping your ass with one hand, squeezing hard.

“So fuckin’ hot,” George breathed.

“I know, right?” Fred replied. “So good for us, too. Are we making your fantasy come true, love?”

You nodded, whimpering softly.

“So needy, too. You want to cum for us?”

You nodded again. “Yes, yes please.”

George chuckled, nipping at your ear as Fred’s mouth finally reached your pussy, his tongue licking tentatively at you before he found your clit, which he immediately focused his attention on.

Your noises only grew louder, more desperate.

“Already? You’re not very good at this whole build-up thing, Freddie,” George said.

“I think we’ve waited long enough for this,” Fred replied before returning to his task.

“You don’t want to be patient, do you, darling?” George asked, hugging you tightly from behind. “You’ve wanted this for so long, you just want to be good for us, take everything we’ve got?”

“Fuck yes,” you moan.

Fred was clearly just as eager as you are, apparently trying to make you cum as quickly as possible, like he was placing bets in his head.

“You like that, hm? Is he good at it? Making you feel good?” George said.

“Feels so fucking good.”

“Good. You gonna cum for him?”

“Yes, yes, I’m—”

It didn’t take long at all. Fred’s tongue was good for more than just witty comments, and your legs trembled as he sat up, lips shining with your slick and a smug smile on his face.

“I think this is the part where we switch jobs, Georgie.”

Your pussy was already so wet, so sensitive, you knew that George would be able to make you cum fast, too. It was almost embarrassing how easy you were, how turned on they made you.

The twins switched positions, and Fred wrapped his arms around your middle sweetly, dragging his fingers over your waist and making goosebumps spread over your abdomen, squirming in his grasp.

“Don’t try and get away, sweet thing,” Fred said. “Otherwise George won’t be able to have his turn. Just be good for us, okay? Be a good little slut.”

You whined, face hot as George’s lips found your inner thighs and kissed the skin there, slowly, teasingly. He was the more patient, more methodical of the two. He wasn’t going to go straight for your clit, he was going to keep you wanting. Maybe until you begged.

Fred began sucking a hickey into your throat, leaving you a moaning mess as the twins both worshiped your body like it was something sacred.

Finally, George’s tongue found your pussy, teasing your hole and folds before even bothering to touch your clit.

“Should he put his fingers inside you?” Fred asked.

You nodded fervently, thrusting your hips.

George complied immediately, sliding one finger inside which was quickly followed by a second, pumping slowly before curling into that special spot, which he had found surprisingly easily.

Your second orgasm came just as quickly as the first, your hands balling into fists and your toes curling. Once your body was able to relax, you looked up through teary eyes to see George licking your taste off of his fingers.

“Was that everything you dreamed?” Fred asked.

You opened your mouth, expecting the answer to roll off your tongue, but it didn’t. You realized that the potion had worn off, and smirked.

“It could have been better,” you said, thrilled with your ability to lie again.

Obviously, Fred and George had to remedy that immediately.

#fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #weasley twins x reader #fred weasley smut #george weasley smut #weasley twins smut #hp fic #ophelia's fics

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lowkeyren · 2 months ago

Text

—my muse, my cure.

in which : both you and jiaoqiu are deeply concerned about each other's health but have an unconventional way of showing it.

pairing : jiaoqiu x gn!reader

wc 850, established relationship, 2.5 spoilers woops (but this isn't angst trust), also ib by an iconic line in 2.5 iykwim, art by @/Lianzi_ on x, reblogs r much appreciated!!!

how do we get a picky eater to eat green peppers?

being a picky eater isn't easy, especially when you have a sly fox like jiaoqiu in your kitchen.

you think you're safe when you see a simple, mouthwatering dish; but with him, there's always a catch. beneath the savoury aroma of perfectly cooked meatballs or the comforting warmth of a soup, he hides the things you avoid —finely diced peppers, a hint of spice, or icky vegetables you swore you’d never touch.

jiaoqiu doesn’t say a word, but the way his ears twitch gives him away. he watches with a subtle, knowing grin as you take a bite, waiting for you to realize what he’s done. though by the time you do notice, it’s already too late. despite your best efforts, the subtle icky flavour of green peppers have already permeated your taste buds.

“you didn’t even notice, did you?” he teases, his voice laced with mischief.

you shoot him a glare as you reluctantly finish the dish, the flavours blending together so seamlessly that you almost forget what you were trying to avoid in the first place. (seems like his culinary skills managed to win you over once again)

“that’s not very polite of you, doctor.”

jiaoqiu’s smile widens at your response. “ah, come on now,” he says, feigning a hurt expression. “it's all in good fun. besides, you know those peppers are packed with vitamins. it’s good for you.”

you let out an exaggerated sigh, your irritation still simmering. “well, just because your dish turned out good, don’t think i’m letting you off the hook that easily,” you say, rolling your eyes, though a small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

jiaoqiu only chuckles at your response, clearly amused. “i see how it is,” his tone taking on a teasing lilt as he steps a little closer, “you best stay on your guard then, dearest.”

“how do we get a picky eater to eat green peppers?” the answer is quite simple. chop the peppers and mix them with minced meat to make meatballs, allowing the meat’s flavor to mask the peppers so even your fussy spouse can enjoy them.

how do we get a stubborn doctor to drink his medicine?

being a doctor isn't easy, especially when you’re injured and your partner is more worried about your own health than you are.

“qiu’er, i’m back!” the sound of your voice instantly draws his attention, he turns his head in your direction, the subtle rustle of sheets accompanying his movement. the bed dips slightly under your weight as you settle beside him, the warmth of your presence soothing. “here, i brought you some tea,” you murmur.

“careful, it’s hot.” you gently lift the cup to his lips, the steam rising and carrying with it the sweet, spiced scent of cinnamon —he immediately notices the strong overpowering smell right away.

ah… cinnamon? so you took his advice from years ago, but unfortunately a fox’s senses are sharper than most.

his nose scrunches slightly as the liquid gently brushes against his lips. “spiked my tea with something, dearest?” you pause, setting the cup down with a soft clink. though just as you’re about to retort, his hand reaches out, searching for you with a gentle touch. his fingers graze your arm, then find your hand, which he clasps with a tender grip.

“cinnamon is excellent for masking strong odors and is even used to conceal the scent of poison... but you wouldn’t be so cruel to me, would you?” he remarks with a playful smile, though there’s an ironic edge to his words, given his current condition.

you let out an exasperated sigh, “you wouldn’t take your medicine, qiu’er. i never thought you’d be such a stubborn doctor.”

he chuckles softly, the sound low and a little raspy. “stubborn? i prefer ‘selective.’” his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. “and i chose to have you as my doctor.”

“if it means i get to be the one who takes care of you, then i’ll gladly accept that,” you reply, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “now get some rest —doctor’s orders.” you help him settle back on the bed, careful not to accidentally press on his bandaged wounds, before gently pulling the sheets up to cover him.

you lean down to kiss the crown of his head, running your fingers through his hair in a soothing, rhythmic motion. “i’m only following your orders, baobei,” he mumbles softly, his words trailing off as he drifts into a peaceful sleep.

today the sun may blaze brightly in the sky, but its brilliance fades next to the warmth of your smile, a light that, though he may not be able to see, touches his heart more profoundly than the brightest day ever could.

how do we get a stubborn doctor to drink his medicine? easy. disguise it in a comforting cup of tea, masking the bitterness with cinnamon, so even he won’t notice until it’s too late. of course, your tricks never really fool him, but he lets you win anyway.

homeboy has been through so much

MASTERLIST.

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slttygeto · 1 year ago

Text

SLOWLY LOVING YOU — SUGURU GETO.

જ⁀➴ synopsis: Before Yaga introduces you to the third years, Suguru is a little unsure of you joining them. And then he meets you, and suddenly his heart doesn’t know how to slow down.

જ⁀➴ content warning: fem!reader, reader gets a few cuts and faints, swearing and a lot of fluff.

જ⁀➴ word count: 4,2k

જ⁀➴ note: thank you to the sweet @duhsies for commissioning me! I had so much fun writing it<3!!

“Yaga says there’s a newcomer,” Satoru had a habit of speaking with a mouthful, which Suguru really hated. A hand is smacking the back of the white haired’s head who hisses at the contact before glaring at his best friend.

“Hey!” He protests, his sunglasses resting at the tip of his nose.

“Swallow your food.” Suguru presses, taking a sip from his drink. He had heard long ago from Yaga about this newcomer, and wasn’t really sure how to feel about it. It’s not that he wasn’t good with new people (he wasn’t), but he felt like it was a little odd to transfer someone and have them be with him, Shoko and Gojo right away. They had to have a good cursed technique, a great control of their cursed energy, otherwise they’d just get in the way of everything and—ouf, this was too negative.

Who was he to judge? Sure, a part of him was skeptical, but he was trying to awaken the other side that usually reassures him that everything will turn out just fine.

“I wonder if it’s guy or a girl,” Satoru speaks again, and this time (surprisingly) he swallows his food before opening his mouth. Suguru shrugs at his best friend, grabbing a fry from his tray of food.

“It won’t really change much, I just hope they’re good at what they do,”

“Oh Suguruuu,” Gojo whines at his friend’s negativity, pushing him but not too hard. “Don’t be such a kill joy, I’m pretty sure that they’re good. Otherwise, Yaga wouldn’t look so excited.”

“Why are you the one telling me to be nice?” The black haired male raises an eyebrow, carefully picking out a fry that didn’t have ketchup on it.

“You rubbed off on me,” Satoru wiggles his eyebrows to which Suguru rolls his eyes at.

“Don’t.” Suguru presses, but it’s too late to stop his friend’s funny joke.

“That’s a little fruity—“

“Finish your food.”

When they head back to the school grounds after having lunch, they’re pleasantly surprised when they find Yaga, Shoko and an unknown girl standing near one of the school buildings. From the looks of it, you weren’t that nervous. Sure, you were checking out your surroundings as the school was new, but nothing about your demeanor suggested that you were anxious. Not even a little.

Suguru raises his eyebrows at this, and although he tries not to stare too hard at you, Gojo is quick to notice it and nudges him with an elbow.

“Hey, think that’s the new girl?”

“I mean, it looks like it,” Suguru mumbles a response and stops walking when Yaga starts to approach them.

“You finally decided to show up,” Oh, an ass-whooping is on the way.

“The mission took us way too long,” it’s Satoru who tries his luck as his usual, and the grin on his face draws a similar one on Suguru’s lips.

“Yeah, but we managed to get it done with. That’s all what matters,” if it wasn’t for Satoru’s love to piss off their teacher, Suguru is sure that he wouldn’t bother. But it’s fun, and it gives the students something to laugh about.

You watch the scene unfold before you and you raise your eyebrows at how easy going the pair standing in front of you was. Did they not fear Yaga? You had been introduced to the man a couple of weeks ago before you were transferred to the school, and despite the comforting vibe the man had, you still felt like you owed him some sort of respect.

Something the two guys bickering with their teacher seemed to lack. Or maybe it was just an act.

Yaga gives the two guys a comical smack to the back of their heads and you hear Shoko snicker next to you. You fight back a smile of your own, until you feel Shoko pat your back, almost in reassurance.

“You can laugh, they won’t be offended.” You relax at this, and before you could even say anything in response, Yaga is clearing his throat to get your attention.

“You can introduce yourself,” oh, he’s talking to me. You’re suddenly aware of the three pairs of eyes fixated on you, and you fidget nervously.

“Hello, my name is (name) and I’m—“

“That’s boring!” The white haired male cuts you off, and your eye twitches. Well, that’s offensive. Before you could even glare at him, he’s approaching you while taking off his sunglasses and your heart stills at the sight. Those eyes felt like they were staring into your soul.

“Show us your technique, that’s a much more interesting way to introduce yourself,” your body relaxes at this, and you can see Yaga signaling you to go along with what your classmate was saying.

“Oh, okay then,”

Suguru’s eyes are cat-like as they fixate on you. You get in position to show off your technique and suddenly, everything goes quiet. He could feel the energy shift when you stepped away from them, and so he was anticipating a big show. Perhaps, you were a show-off like Gojo.

Suddenly, the air feels a little different—why is it wet? He touches his skin to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, and before he could even process things, fog had engulfed him entirely. This was new.

You were nowhere to be seen, maybe that was your technique—a little weak, Suguru thought. But it felt like you read his mind because right in front of him was standing a carbon copy of himself. A clone.

“What the—“ The clone stands still as Suguru gets into a fighting position, ready to unleash a weak curse at it, but the clone is quick to do the same and releases a different curse—the clone knew about his technique?

Before things could escalate further, he heard a snap of fingers from behind him and his eyes widen when the fog and the clone both disappear at once. You were standing right behind him. Being so focused on the fact that what was standing in front of Suguru was a literal doppelganger, he failed to notice you sneak up behind him. He assumed that you snapping your fingers was to deactivate your technique, but it was also a realization that you made him so unaware of his surroundings—and that was the beauty of your technique.

Everyone looks amused by Suguru’s confused expression. He was staring you right in the eye, and your confidence and the relaxed expression painting your face would normally sned shivers down anyone’s spine. It was awkwardly silent for a few moments before Gojo decides to break the silence.

“That was rather impressive, wasn’t it?” Shoko agrees with her classmate, clapping almost ceremoniously. Yaga steps away from the two to approach you and Suguru who was still staring at you, this time with less resentfulness. Sure, he hated having someone sneak up behind him. And the fact that you had chosen him out of the three felt a little strange, but he tried not to overthink it.

Maybe it’s because I looked like a bitch.

He immediately brushes off the thought when you flash him an unapologetic smile, the confidence you gave off a few moments ago replaced with something he couldn’t quite decipher—were you getting shy?

His lips part almost in shock at the way your cheeks are slightly pink, and you take two steps back and away from him before apologizing out loud.

“Sorry, I just thought you looked a little bored.”

Oh, not anymore.

“That to you, is a Grade 1 sorcerer.” Yaga announces very proudly. Usually, Grade S sorcerers would be the one to be introduced like this—with so much pleasure and honor. But Yaga didn’t care about that. He saw potential in you and embraced it like you were his top student.

Geto couldn’t shake off the giddy feeling in his chest. He watched as Satoru came over to your side and ruffles your hair, promising that you were going to have a good time at school because he was there. And you played along, the playful expression you wore on your face not matching the blush on your cheeks—you were just easily flustered having this much attention on you.

“What do you say, Suguru?” He snaps out of his thoughts at the mention of his name, and he finds his best friend staring at him with those eyes. He caught him looking at you, didn’t he?

“Sorry, I zoned out.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but he wasn’t going to say that you seemed so interesting that he found himself so lost in his thoughts. He didn’t like this, he didn’t like how you seemed so unaware of the fact that you were breaking down his walls one by one, and all of this happening in less than an hour of meeting you? Unbelievable.

“I said, we are all gonna get along so well, right?” Glancing at you, he notices how you seem to shift your attention back to him the moment his name is mentioned. You’re almost eager to find out what he has to say next, sparkly eyes and a tight lipped smile making you look so fucking adorable—oh fuck, no.

“Yeah, we will.”

He was officially and totally fucked.

It’s been a few months since you officially transferred to Jujutsu high, and things were going great. You felt like you fit in so perfectly, you were a bit nervous that you would be a burden since the trio seemed to have a dynamic of their own, being the one to ruin the dynamic—or worse, feel left out would just be the highlight of your school year. But they were so nice. Each in their own way.

While Gojo felt like a troublesome sibling with his many pranks and jokes, Shoko truly felt like a close friend. You could crack jokes with her, share food and even watch movies during the weekend. The friendship you shared with both seemed very genuine and you were so grateful for that.

And then there was Geto.

Suguru Geto, tall and handsome, with long dark luscious hair and cat-like eyes. A smile that seemed precious since it appeared way less than you would want. A voice that felt like he was purring in your ear and a personality that had your heart stuttering in your chest.

He had caught your eye the moment you saw him walk on the school grounds. You tried not to make your tiny crush on the man obvious right away, but it felt like you blew your cover when you chose him as your target when asked to show off your technique.

Things weren’t exactly bad between you and the tall male, but they weren’t that good either. There an awkwardness that always lingered when you were both left alone, your heart would beat so fast and so incessantly when you felt his eyes on you before he places a piece of his chocolate on your desk.

“Was gonna share it with Satoru, but he pissed me off today.” You’re almost shocked that he’s even addressing you when neither Shoko nor Satoru were in the classroom.

“Are you sure? He does like sweets,” you still grab the sweet treat and place it in your mouth, to which he chuckles at.

“Well, you ate it immediately. Seems like you don’t care.”

“Well, he did piss me off too today,” you’re grinning, playing with the wrap of the chocolate. Suguru raises his eyebrows at your remark and continues to tease you.

“Was it another joke about how bad his clone was? I mean he’s not entirely wrong—“

“Stooop,” you groan out, resting your head on your desk in defeat. You were too embarrassed about the recent incident, and no one seemed to want to let go of it.

Rather than being embarrassed that his clone was that ugly, Gojo’s sudden and quick realization that your clones had an immediate link to your photographic memory lit up a bulb at the top of his head. And so the teasing began.

How come Suguru’s was so accurate on day one!

Do you have something to share with the class?

It was horrible, and you remember how Yaga had to smack the white haired male in the back of his head to get him to stop. He caught onto your little crush on Suguru faster than you had anticipated, but you were glad that when asked what he was teasing you about, Satoru chose to save you the embarrassment and just say that his clone was so ugly, you needed more practice.

“I just need more practice,” you say, a little muffled from having your face in your arm. Suguru stares at you for a few moments from his seat, then he suddenly gets up and walks towards you. He crouches down in front of your desk and you quickly raise your head in question.

“Hm?”

“You don’t hate me, right?” He could’ve asked that question from his desk, he knows that. But it would’ve seemed a little cowardly cause he knows he would avoid looking you in the eyes. But eye contact was important when communicating things, and right now was one of the few moments where Suguru felt like he was going to pee his pants waiting for an answer.

“Hate you?”

“I’m aware that hate is a big word—it’s a strong feeling too, but I just need to know if you feel that way about me.” Suguru was supposed to feel stupid, maybe a little insane for asking you something like this. But he noticed how things always got quiet when it was just you two alone. It didn’t necessarily mean you hated him, but a part of him wanted to make sure you didn’t resent him for mysterious reasons.

“I don’t hate you,” you pause your words, and Suguru watches as your face slightly reddens as you avoid his eyes. “Uh, just nervous.”

Now, why did I say that? It’s one thing to know that he makes you feel this way, but it’s another when you fully admit it to him and watch as he raises both of his eyebrows, almost in shock.

“Nervous?” At first, he’s scared that the word has a bitter taste to it—but it slowly dissipates when he sees the blush on your face darken because why did he have to say it like that.

It sounded like he was saying it for the first time, carefully tasting each letter and syllable. You felt nervous around Suguru.

“You are kind of intimidating,” the small smile painting your lips eases Suguru’s nerves despite having another word describe him. But he’s heard this one before. In fact, he likes it. He likes the way it makes him feel, the ego boost it gives him when he sees people quiver in his presence.

But he didn’t want to have this kind of effect on you. You didn’t need to fear him or avoid his eyes for him to know that he was a powerful sorcerer—he wanted you to feel safe with him. He wanted to rid you of any problem weighing you down, have that smile on your lips for a long time. Whatever Suguru felt for you, he was coming to terms with it and accepting it.

Slowly that is.

“If I’m intimidating, then is Yaga like a monster to you?” Suguru teases you back, and he stands up from his crouching position. He stares down at you with a grin, his sharp eyes making eye contact with your own bright ones. A contrast like this looked so endearing.

“Yes.” You don’t hesitate as you reply, and Geto immediately bursts into laughter at this.

“Wow, you didn’t even hesitate.” Wow, I made him laugh.

“But he is scary! I mean, he’s very nice… but I don’t think I’d wanna piss him off like Gojo does,” you mumble the last part, but Suguru hears you loud and clear.

“Satoru pisses off everyone, so you’re safe.”

Having a conversation like this with Geto felt nice. It wasn’t that often that you two chatted or even had the time to sit down and give each other normal classmate updates. So to be able to talk to him like this, make him laugh until his stomach hurts before walking to your dorms felt new. But you weren’t complaining.

Over the last few months, you’ve gone on a couple of missions with both Suguru and Satoru. They were all successful, and you always got done with them in half of the time.

But today was different. You were going on a mission with Suguru.

Yaga mentioned how you both seemed to work really well together, and while Suguru might’ve been stronger than you, you had so much potential that couldn’t get wasted. Suguru seemed like the perfect fit for a partner and a sort of mentor.

The mission was going to take place in another city, which is why you find yourself on the train with the tall male who was trying to get some sleep.

Sitting across from each other, you couldn’t help but steal a few glances at the guy. He looked too good from this angle, you could feel your body tingling in embarrassment.

The guy’s just trying to sleep

Over the last few months, no matter how hard you tried to brush your feelings for Suguru, they resurfaced not only a day later when he did something that would make your heart stutter in your chest. You remember him making you food when you were sick, giving you his scarf when you got too cold, suggesting to style your hair for you—how could you not fall for him?

But you were terrified of rejection. You were scared that those feelings could potentially ruin the friendship between you two, and God knows how horrible that would make you feel.

“We’re there,” you were so lost in your thought, that you didn’t feel the train stop. Only Suguru’s hand on your shoulder was able to snap you out of it.

“Oh sorry,” you stand up and make your way out of the train with Suguru following close behind.

“Did you manage to get some sleep?” He asks from behind you, and you slow down your pace to match his footsteps before shaking your head.

“Not really, I wasn’t that tired.”

“Oh but you will be after the mission, that’s always how it is.” He was referring to the many times you and Gojo would end up falling asleep on each other on the way back home, and he would secretly take pictures of the white haired male drooling on your hair to show it to you when you both wake up.

“Thank god he’s not here to drool on my hair,” you say with a hint of annoyance, but it’s harmless.

“Oh, you never know,” the playfulness to his voice makes you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face gives away that you were anything but annoyed.

You arrive to said location after ten minutes of walking. And at first sight, it seemed like any normal abandoned building; a little creepy, no color painting its exterior and most importantly lifeless. But the smell—god, the gut wrenching smell that came from it made you cringe.

“God, it smells horrible.”

“Then we’re at the right place.” Suguru is the first one to walk in, and you follow close after. You take careful steps, eyes darting around the area to scan it for any clues.

“I have a horrible feeling about this,” you mumble to yourself. You knew you were sent to this place to find the source of its gloominess, but the farther you walked down the hallway, the tighter your stomach got.

“It was an orphanage.” Your heart sinks at the revelation, watching the old toys scattered on the floor, filled with dirt and dust. You could only imagine what happened to the kids.

The room is silent for a few moments before both of you and Suguru stand still. Almost on guard.

“Do you feel it?”

“Yeah, I do.” Whatever took over this place was huge. It didn’t necessarily feel like a strong or dangerous curse, but the way it was staring at you from down the hall had you standing in a fighting position.

Before you could even process the fact that you were dealing with that big curse, it charges at you—and fast.

It’s too fast for its size!

Mist engulfs the creature almost immediately, it would only serve as a distraction for a little bit before it would rage even more and decide to charge at you.

“Go hide, I’ll take care of it.” You watch as Suguru calls in two of his powerful curses, both enough to do the job. But you don’t want that.

You don’t want him to do the job on his own, or worse hide while he does everything. It wasn’t why you became a sorcerer, why you chose to even join the school. And so you stood still, grabbing one of the daggers attached to your thigh. You ignore Suguru’s cries telling you to step away from the huge curse.

“You’re gonna get killed if you don’t move!”

“Shut up!” The mist slowly morphs into something else—something Suguru has never seen you done before. It shapes itself into a beautiful scenery, one where flowers are blooming and the sun is shining and—he was hallucinating.

And so was the curse. The technique might’ve not been the most powerful, but it still managed to blind the curse for a few moments. You fill your sharp dagger with cursed energy before slicing it open in one swift motion. It’s messy and sloppy, and blood covers your clothes and the floor like a paint. You stand still and stare in awe at what you’ve just done.

I killed a huge curse on my own!

What you fail to see is the multiple cuts on your body, and how all color leaves your face as exhaustion washes over you. Shit, you were passing out.

The last thing you remember hearing is Suguru calling your name before everything goes silent.

Suguru is a mess. That was the only word that could accurately describe the state of the poor guy as he paced back and forth in front of your dorm room. No matter how much Gojo tried to convince him that you were okay, he refused to budge.

He was mad at you. You were so reckless back there, refused to listen to him when he asked you to move—he was filled with all kinds of emotions.

And so when Yaga finally gives him the green light to visit you, the first thing he does is scold you.

You’re sitting up in your bed with bandages wrapped around your body, and you look so tired. But despite all of that, you still manage to flash him a warm smile when he walks inside your room and closes the door behind him.

“Yaga told me I was passed out for two days, I hope I didn’t worry you—“

“What you did was reckless.” Suguru cuts you off, voice sharp and cold that you flinch. Your eyes stare at your lap, avoiding his because he was right. You were reckless, refused to listen to him and powered up your technique faster than your body could handle.

“I know,” you don’t apologize. A part of you wants to, but you were still going to stand your ground if he tried to guilt trip you about the situation.

“And I was very mad,”

“I know.”

It’s silent for a few moments, and Suguru takes in how despite the tears blurring your vision, you refuse to give in and apologize about anything.

“But that’s only because you scared me to death,” he hears you sniffle, and he sees you blink away the tears before staring at him in shock. Suguru takes a few steps towards you, and for a moment you see the hesitation in his action. He quickly brushes it off as he gently rests his hand on your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek.

“You have no idea how terrifying that was.” Your heart starts racing at his words, and his touch left a tingling feeling behind when he pulled away to pat your head.

“I don’t want you to do that again, but I gotta admit,” he ruffles your hair, the scowl on his face morphing into a soft expression.

“That was really cool,” your smile is on your lips almost immediately at his words, and you take your hand and wrap it around his wrist. You pull his hand down and place it again on your face, a bold move that has the both of you slightly blushing.

“You think I’m cool?” your voice sounds sweet when you ask the question, and Suguru thinks he’s never heard you sound like this before but he nods anyway.

“The coolest.”

Neither of you move or say a thing after this, but the prolonged eye contact had the tall male leaning down a bit hesitantly at first, making sure you were okay with it. So when you pull him closer and place your lips on top of his, Suguru is convinced that it was the right thing to do.

The kiss is short and sweet. You pull away after a few seconds and the blush on your cheeks spreads across your entire face when he leans in to give you another kiss. Then another and another.

“Sugu—“

“Shhh, you look cute when you’re flustered.”

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