#but the childhood years are more or less over
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martiansodas-blog · 2 days ago
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Art x reader meeting the readers parents and it's an absolute mess:(
(bonus points if he finds her old room and plays with her calico critters and plushies)
ok my brain automatically went to older! art soooo…
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your parents knew 2 things about your new boyfriend.
1- he’s successful.
and 2- he’s a couple years older than you.
a couple years is an understatement.
but you figured once they met him and saw how sweet he treated you it wouldn’t matter!
this did not turn out to be the case.
your mom and dad took one look at him and made a snap judgment.
they knew his type, (supposedly.)
old money. a younger girl on his arm. cold and aloof. power hungry.
it’s a shame. this couldn’t be farther from the truth.
art donaldson may be a weapon on the court, but behind closed doors he’s the little spoon who makes you heart shaped pancakes.
“so. where did the two of you meet?” your mother asks, more to be pleasant and less because she wants to know the answer.
“at work,” you said , fondly remembering the exchange, “he was-“
“heckling my daughter in the workplace?”
“mom.” you warn “no.”
“honey,” your dad reigns her in
she huffs and crosses her arms in defeat.
“i was needing some more tennis equipment, actually.” art chimes in,
“yeah he was looking for these fancy sweatbands but we didn’t carry any, we just sort of got to talking.”
your dad gave you both a soft smile
“well, you seem to make our little girl very happy.”
incoming call from: tashi
“speaking of little girl, that’s probably her saying goodnight. excuse me.”
art very politely stepped out onto the porch.
“he has a kid?” your mothers eyes looked like they could pop out of her head at any second. “honestly why on earth would you think this is a good idea?”
“yes he does and she’s very sweet. her names lily.” you said firmly.
“so what? you’re gonna be a stepmom in your early twenties? is that what you want?”
“i wanted to introduce the person i love to my parents. but obviously that was a bad idea.”
your dad ushers your mom into their bedroom. he gives you a apologetic glance before he closes the door.
you stood there, frozen in the entryway for an unknown amount of time. as long as it took for art to finish his call and rest his hands on your shoulders from behind.
“hey hey, what’s the matter? what happened?”
you didn’t realize you were crying until you started to speak. well, tried to speak anyway.
“they,” you sniffed, “she…i’m sorry,”
“oh honey,” he pulled you into a hug.
you buried your face in his toned chest.
“i should’ve known this would happen” you heaved, gripping his shirt.
“shh, shh it’s ok. this is most definitely not your fault.”
he stroked your back and pressed feather light kisses to your hairline until you calmed down. when you removed yourself there was a wet patch right in the middle of his torso.
“let’s go upstairs, yeah?” he suggested gently.
he was almost using his dad voice.
you nodded, grabbed his coarse hand and guided him up the steps.
“so this is your childhood bedroom?”
art took in the whimsy filled room. the ceiling was only about a foot taller than him.
“the one and only.” you managed to crack a smile.
it was just how you’d left it at 18. the walls were pink and green. a choice you’d made at 7 and never got around to changing.
you’re glad you never painted over it now, though. it makes you feel innocent again, like a time capsule you can walk into.
art strolled around the room. looking at drama club trophies that lined the bookshelf, the collection of calico critters and the photo booth films stuck on your mirror.
there was a good amount of dust on everything. it caused a pit in your stomach to open up.
“you ok?”
“yeah” you nodded, “just got a little carried away by nostalgia.”
art wasn’t sure if touch would be the right thing for you right now, so he opened his arms, giving you the option.
you hugged him without a second thought. like an instinct. you squeezed him with all your might, like a stress ball. art hardly felt it, though.
figures.
“meeting my family will go better. my grandmas already looking forward to it.”
you lifted your head to look at him.
“really?”
such a simple sentence gave you butterflies.
“yeah,” he chuckled, like it was obvious “i’ve told her all about you.”
you truly didn’t know what to say. so touched by the sincerity and excitement in his tone. it. it caused you to break into a smile, a real smile, for the first time since you’d got to your parents house.
“i’d like that very much.”
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sage-nebula · 2 days ago
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I loved the first three episodes of season 2, but I have to say that I do have issues with how Vi's character arc was handled.
I might change my mind on a rewatch, but it seems that the switch was flipped very quickly for her. When she first turns down the enforcer badge, she does so citing the fact that enforcers murdered her parents as the reason. This is a valid reason, and one that Caitlyn incorrectly says she understands.
(Caitlyn knows what it is to have her mother killed by an individual. She doesn't know what it is to have her mother killed by a police state that continued to beat and brutalize her and her loved ones as a child, and then be asked to join up with them. It would be as if someone suggested that Caitlyn team up with Jinx, in a way, but even then it isn't quite the same. Caitlyn does apologize later, but she apologizes for "springing the badge" on Vi; I don't think she realizes that their circumstances are still vastly different.)
But then two scenes later we see a drunk Vi lamenting how Caitlyn wants her to join "the peanut patrol" -- and this is a very trivializing way to refer to what is, again, an oppressive police force that not only murdered Vi's parents, but also physically assaulted her during her own childhood and did the same to people she loved. It's the very same police force that "saved" her from Silco by throwing her, at around age fourteen or fifteen, into a prison where she was starved and beaten for years. (She says herself that she would "lie on the cold floor, hungry and bloody" -- so yes, she was at times denied food.) "Peanut Patrol" is what you call mall cops or campus security; people without any actual authority or power to hurt you. It's not what you call a literal police state that has given you complex trauma throughout your childhood.
Then, immediately after that, we get Maddie gushing over how she looks up to Vi and how Caitlyn stood up for Vi's honor, and this . . . changes Vi's mind? Or at least makes her less hostile toward Maddie? Maddie talks about how "the sheriff betrayed us" -- but again, that's the same person responsible for throwing Vi into Stillwater and no one cared. They don't care about the people they beat and oppressed, they only care that they were betrayed. But Vi is just . . . okay with this. And seems to be changing her opinion because Caitlyn really fought for her right to become a cop uwu.
Then the staged attack (which no one knew was staged, but was) happens. And after that, Vi agrees to join up with Caitlyn and become an enforcer. Because she loves and wants to protect Caitlyn, I guess? That's the best reasoning I can glean from what we were shown; she was moved by Caitlyn vouching for her yet again, saw that Caitlyn was in danger during the attack, and then decides to join up. To me, it seems like it's all about her love for Caitlyn, which is extremely weak when, again, you compare it to the fact that enforcers killed her parents and she was oppressed by them her entire life, and it isn't like Caitlyn said anything in the episodes that would make Vi think that she wants to change that. (You could argue that Caitlyn vouching for her was enough, but Caitlyn saying that Vi is One of the Good Ones really shouldn't have made her feel that way.)
And then there's the 180 her opinion did on her sister, which I think hurts the way they transitioned Vi into being an enforcer even more. What we're supposed to understand is that Jinx firing on the council is what made Vi change her opinion entirely -- even though, moments before that, she was trying to reassure Jinx that everything would be okay after Jinx killed Silco. Yes, Jinx had her "here's to the new us" speech, but I still don't understand after all this time why Vi didn't speak up when Jinx said that Vi couldn't "love [her] like she used to." Just earlier in that scene she was saying that she did, that nothing would change that. And she lets her go that easily? She doesn't try to say anything more, she just lets Jinx continue believing that she was right?
I understand that Jinx chose the "jinx" chair. I understand that Jinx was asking Vi to do horrible things (namely, murdering Caitlyn). But even after that, Vi was telling Caitlyn not to shoot because, "please, she's my sister." So even after Jinx wanted Vi to kill Caitlyn, Vi was still trying to reach her. Yet Jinx blows up the council -- a council that Vi herself has witnessed wanted nothing to do with helping fix the Silco problem, and she has no idea that they were deciding on peace in that moment -- and Vi suddenly turns. As if Vi herself hadn't encouraged Powder to keep making bombs in their childhood, promising her that one day they would work. As if Powder didn't grow up under the mentorship of a big sister who wanted to bring the fight to Piltover herself one day.
I think showing more internal conflict within Vi would have helped. If she had chosen to join the task force because she wanted to make sure that Jinx would be alive when brought in, because as appalled as she was at the carnage (because violence is only okay when she does it) she still loved her sister, and was willing to fight her but didn't want to kill her, that would be one thing. But I think the writers made a mistake that a lot of writers make, which is that, they know the character's inner thoughts so well that they think it'll be obvious when it isn't. The shift in Vi's character seems entirely based on "Jinx did a Big Violence and I'm not okay with that even though I always encouraged her to do it when we were kids" and "My new girlfriend loves me and I love her, too" and it feels disconnected with who Vi was even in the last episode of season one.
(Well, the "completely giving up on her sister" feels disconnected. Vi was always upset with Jinx doing violence, as we see in their reunion in episode six of season one, because again, violence is only okay when she does it. Her little sister, who she again encouraged to make bombs and promised Powder that they would work someday, is just Not Allowed.)
With all that said, I do think -- or hope? -- that we're supposed to see a logical disconnect within Vi. During their confrontation in the temple, we get an exchange where Jinx points out the awful things that Vi has done since becoming an enforcer -- plastering the wanted posters so that others would stop Jinx for her, and especially poisoning the air of the undercity. Not only did Vi rationalize that course of action a few moments prior ("we cleared the streets to keep people safe" -- you aren't keeping people safe by suffocating them, Vi! you should remember that from your own childhood!), but then she says, "I'm done blaming myself for your mistakes," which -- what is she talking about? Jinx isn't the one who put the wanted posters up. She isn't the one who flooded the Lanes with the Grey. These are actions that Vi, along with the task force, took. Those are her mistakes. Ones she should take accountability for, but is refusing to. Instead, it seems she's now blaming Jinx for her mistakes and wrongdoings. Which is kind of funny, because it's like, Jinx has done plenty wrong. Why not blame her for shit she actually did, eh?
Oh, but on that note: "I never thought my [sister] would orphan kids." It took me a moment to remember that the child Jinx orphaned was Ren, but I mean, Vi, sweetheart, you and Jayce killed a child last season when you were busting up a shimmer factory. Don't you remember that? Again, this is "violence is only okay when I do it." Vi definitely has a hypocritical streak going on when it comes to Jinx, and I think that we are supposed to recognize that. At least, I hope we are. I'll have faith in the writers that we are.
Anyway, those are my thoughts on that. I'd like to specify for anyone who has read this far that, no, I do NOT hate Vi, although right now I'm definitely more on Jinx's side because I think it is always morally right to oppose the police state, and again, Vi is coming across as a hypocrite. (Also stupid as fuck because, girl . . . Jinx is Powder is Jinx. Your sister grew up. Jinx did not "kill" your sister and is not "staining her memory." You are acting like a clown. Get it together.) But characters having flaws is a good thing, as it makes them more interesting, so it's okay that Vi is a hypocrite. I just wish that it got explored a bit more, especially re: her decision to join the enforcers and flood the Lanes with poison gas to "protect people" lmao.
Anyway. Can't wait for episodes 4 through 6!
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lightningarmour · 1 day ago
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Absolute comics first thoughts
For the first time since the end of DOOMSDAY CLOCK I've been persuaded into paying money for a DC comic, and two, no less.
I've been 100% checked out of the DC sphere for about 5 years, only occasionally seeing some news here or there about the latest crossover event or fave character or what have you, and I regard those with the passing interest one might have in seeing a hot air balloon. Nothing has drawn me back partly because I'm old now and don't have the time or inclination to try catching up on years of crossover event, status quo altering storylines and yadda yadda.
I had heard about the new ABSOLUTE line of titles, but from the initial teasers and previews, not the least of which was the character design for Absolute Batman with his giant stupid fat bat symbol, I just wrote it off as them doing yet more edgy elseworlds stories, and thought no more on it until maybe three weeks ago. I saw a little roundup of details about Absolute Superman from an interview with Jason Aaron and it caught my attention.
I've gone on at length in the past about how I think that any earnest attempt at writing Superman for modern audiences that keeps true to the "idea" of Superman without making a cynical edgelord version of the character would need to depict Superman as a politically engaged, class conscious individual at least, and a full on Leninist at best. Now obviously I do not expect DC comics to publish a comic about communist superman without it being a laughable piece of propaganda like RED SON, but nonetheless, hearing that Absolute Superman is about a superman who is fighting a mining corporation to protect a community of abused labourers, and re-imagining Krypton as a caste-based society that was destroyed by reckless exploitation of the environment, I was certainly interested.
I resolved to check it out at least. I'd seen some of the details about Absolute Batman, that he's not a billionaire and whatever and still wasn't too interested, but realized I'd heard basically nothing about Absolute Wonder Woman. "She didn't grow up on Themyscira" okay what does that mean?
At this point both Batman and Wonder Woman were out so I looked it up and found some pages from Absolute Wonder Woman #1 and was pretty much instantly hooked because the art was tremendous, and Wonder Woman is flying on a skeleton pegasus with a huge Guts sword and like, that just fucking rocks ass, come on. So I was now sold on two Absolute series, I decided eh, what the hell I'll check out Absolute Batman #1, maybe I could be convinced.
So now that I've read all three first issues of the new ABSOLUTE Universe, I have some thoughts.
ABSOLUTE BATMAN #1 is a confused mess. I think that Batman, being easily the most popular DC character, with the broadest demographic appeal, has too much baggage. You'd kind of think that with a character like this where everyone knows his whole basic backstory, you could gloss over the details a bit more, but this issue is so concerned with establishing and referencing as many iconic Batman characters as possible, it's so bloated.
in this one(1) issue they set up or directly show you: Alfred Pennyworth, Jim Gordon, Barbara Gordon, Harvey Bullock, Killer Croc, Penguin, Riddler, Cat Woman, Two-Face, Black Mask, Ras Al Ghul, and of course we cannot go even one single issue without giving you The Joinker. It's too much. Ease off. We're not going to encounter probably two thirds of these people for ages. And, frankly establishing that half of Batman's presumptive rogue's gallery just so happened to be Bruce Wayne's childhood friends is dumb as shit. The dynamic between all of them is going to follow the exact same "gasp, could it be that my old friend is now a criminal?!" dynamic like 5 times in a row.
This is easily the most edgy of the current Absolute series and is basically exactly what I assumed the whole imprint was going to be, but it really feels in places like Scott Snyder wanted this to be a Batman that was darker and more violent but then DC editorial was like "no, Batman can't kill people" so he adjusted the script as little as possible to reassure the audience that he's rolling non-lethal damage as he stabs the shit out of people with his ear-knives and chops their hands off.
Despite all the parts I don't like about how they portray Batman, the thing that pisses me off is I really like the way they are doing Bruce Wayne.
Typically Bruce Wayne, the billionaire is kind of a hard character for me to like because of how much he serves this kind of great man power fantasy(yes, I know, superhero comics are inherently fascist) He has a vendetta against the concept of crime because his parents were killed by a criminal, so he takes it upon himself to "protect" Gotham, but in many depictions of Batman it's kind of like, what exactly is his connection to the city other than he lives there and presumably is the HQ of Wayne Enterprises. he views it the way a rich person would, dirty and too full of undesirable people who must be punished so that he, a wealthy socialite can enjoy the place without having to see the underclasses.
Making Bruce a working class urbanist is such a more interesting way of exploring the character. He loves the city because he grew up in it's streets, played in it's parks, attended it's schools, rode it's busses. Adding the layer on that that he became a civil engineer and worked with the municipal government does for the first time I've ever seen something interesting with Gotham by kind of interrogating the notion of what makes a city what it is. Is it the infrastructure, the people, the civil servants? It's the most interesting Bruce Wayne has ever been.
But then as Batman he's just fucking mutilating people and blowing them up with bombs and whatever. Yawn. I think that the Batman aspect also annoys me because it so blatantly disregards the central premise of the Absolute line. What if Batman wasn't a billionaire? Well then he wouldn't have access to tons of money and resources to do his Batman shit! So they like, half-ass that by giving him the kind of stripped-down arsenal. No gadgets and gizmos, just knives and a hunk of bat shaped metal used as a battle axe. But then oh yeah he also has some kind of miracle fabric that he can use as like tendrils or whatever and it's completely bullet-proof and so on and so forth. Like, Batman really really does not feel in any meaningful way like he is working at a disadvantage in this version of the story, and that just makes the whole thing so damn boring.
ABSOLUTE WONDER WOMAN #1 fucking kicks ass. This was by kind of a wide margin the best issue of the three series debut issues. I think that unlike Batman and Superman who both have quite a lot of baggage tied into their backstories and supporting cast and so forth, Wonder Woman has never quite achieved the level of iconography as they have so there's almost more freedom to do something new without hitting a bunch of prescribed plot points. In fact she might be the one of the trinity who has had the most attempts to re-imagine her and spruce her up to get people interested. I recall back in 2010 they did a big shake up that was not too dissimilar to this new take on the character. What if she never grew up on Themyscira? What if she didn't have the favour of the gods, etc. And I really liked that one, so I guess it's no surprise I'd be fond of this new version as well.
I think the number one thing that hooked me on this issue is the artwork, tbh. It's my favourite style so far of the Absolute comics, and everything just looks so cool and big and epic and awesome. That's it. It's just cool as hell.
The next most important thing is it has much better pacing than the other issues. You get a very simple, very effective set-up. The Amazons have been punished by the gods so this baby is being raised in hell by a witch. That's it. Good, effective time lapse of her growing up interspersed within the action scenes of her fighting monsters. It's simple and to the point but still leaves me invested int he mystery and wanting to know more. And again, it did not feel the need to shoe-horn a bunch of characters in so you can do the soyjack point at the issue. They could have easily shoved Steve Trevor in there as one of the soldiers responding to the freaky monster pyramid but that would have just been lame. It's confident enough in itself to not have to try and get you with low hanging fruit.
I don't really have much else to say, it's just cool and good and I'm unequivocally excited for more.
ABSOLUTE SUPERMAN #1 is a solid start. Now I'll admit I'm way more of a Superman-head than I am for Batman or Wonder Woman. This was the series that made me interested in the Absolute experiment in the first place, so I'm probably way more willing to be lenient towards a Superman title than say Batman.
That being said, this one also has like Batman, aspects I really like, and others I'm a bit iffy on, though not in as wide a gulf as Absolute Batman. As I said before, I've spent probably too much time trying to think of how to reinvent Superman in a modern context and, specifically, from a politically left-wing perspective, and I'll say that so far I think they're doing a decent job.
It's obviously nothing new to look at Superman as an immigrant story. Going all the way back to Siegel & Shuster, who were children of Jewish immigrants, the whole idea was what if this guy came from somewhere else. I think that the way that Jason Aaron has interpreted that concept for a modern context is actually quite brilliant. It's almost less of what if Superman was an immigrant than what if Superman was a refugee? Rather than unable to return to his homeland, but finding a new home with loving foster parents we are given the suggestion that he's never had a stable home since arriving on Earth. Moving from one place to another, nowhere to go home to, hiding among the economically exploited peoples of the global south.
It's such a riveting set up, I'm really excited to see how this version of the Character is informed by his history.
I also like the use of Krypton as kind of a heavy-handed double metaphor for stratified class society and the dangers of climate change. Like, it is presumably already dead and gone and unable to like, textually affect the story so who cares if it's allegorical nature is too on the nose. I also really like the notion of Kal El having like, living memory of Krypton, rather than only knowing about it from recordings on an alien flash drive or whatever.
I think the use of this "Lazarus" corporation as a kind of stand-in blanket evil corporation that does every kind of exploitative, extractive, broadly seen as morally wrong kinds of industries a bit hokey but hey it's a comic. I love the use of the Peacemakers as the like, corporate PMC security force though, that's fun. I am pretty curious if Lazarus is going to be a kind of fake-out Lexcorp. Like Luthor is the head of it but they called it by a different name so as not to ruin the surprise of his introduction. That or maybe it's related to Ras Al Ghul? Who knows, but I'm interested in what their whole deal is. They not only operate diamond mines and factory farms but also like, hunt down alien technology to reverse engineer?? And employ a Brainiac. curious as to what the deal is with the screaming jars. Does being shrunk down just like, really hurt? Seems like almost going overboard with the concept. Like not only does he shrink down cities and put them in jars but he also tortures the shrunken people? Like why, what's he getting out of it?
Some of the iffy parts for me include the suit AI thing he's got because I'm frankly sick of that trope by now. Ever since Iron man it's like every fucking character in comics has to have some kind of tech suit with a quirky robot voice. I'm willing to give it a chance on the grounds that it's like alien technology so sure whatever. I kind of like that he has to fucking charge the suit with a solar panel. I am curious about what exactly the breakdown is with the suit. He uses his x-ray and laser eyes so presumably it's still Kal himself who has super powers and they're not like, imbued by the suit. The suit seems like it is regulating his powers in some way. Like without it he couldn't control them and would cause havoc, but the fact that he has to like charge the suit's battery is kind of funny. Like, is the suit solar powered and his powers are just inherent no matter what, or does he still derive his power from sunlight as well? Fuzzy on the rules.
I also don't like the Lois reveal. It's just dull. Who care. The little teaser of Kent Farm is interesting to me. Feels like several different ways they could pivot:
Kal El's rocket lands and blows a hole in their barn, they find him and are frightened of him so they call the authorities/Lazarus and Kal flees.
Similar to above but they care for him like usual before Lazarus shows up looking for the alien craft and kill the Kents to remove any witnesses
Altogether it does enough things I'm interested in to keep me going with it despite the few quibbles I have. So far it's 2/3 on the Absolute universe and with the "phase 2" or whatever announced I'm 100% guaranteed also picking up Absolute Flash because it's my boy Wally and Jeff Lemire writing, like come the fuck on, how could I resist that.
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eocon-fr · 3 days ago
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In the head of Esteban Ocon, F1 driver : « At 130 km/h, I have the impression to be able of walking next to the car »
ᯓ Translation of the article “Dans la tête d’Esteban Ocon, pilote de F 1 : « A 130 km/h, j’ai l’impression de pouvoir marcher à côté de la voiture »„ by Éric Michel and Christophe Lacaze-Eslous for Le Parisien. The article is protected by a paywall.
Preparation of the car
"I am completely involved in its development. For me, improving the car is an obsession. Sometimes, I wake up at night with an idea, I write it down and send it straight to the engineers, in case it could help. I tell myself that they must have already thought of it, but in 20 to 30% of the ideas, this was not the case. So, it helps"
The week before the race
"I disconnect less and less. You have to stay 100% involved in the thing. I go to England one or two days a week (to Enstone in the Alpine factory) to see the engineers. Sometimes we leave directly from there to go to the Grands Prix. Otherwise, I work on my personal training. I do recovery, mass gain, cardio, and also visual detection. Even outside the race, these are long days that last from 9:30 a.m. to 6-7 p.m. But I'm happy about it, when I left the circuit, in 2018 and 2019 (he was a test driver for Mercedes), I worked in the cave and I no longer had access to F1. I missed it."
On the starting grid
“Before the lights turn green, I don’t necessarily feel a thrill. It’s more in my mind, a question of adrenaline. It’s always there, even after all this time, every time. After all the preparation before the race and the concentration it requires afterwards, the start is a bit of a lull. I look to the right: Ah, Max Verstappen! I look to the left behind my mirror: Hou là, Fernando Alonso! In front: Waouh, Lewis Hamilton! There are some great guys around me.”
His driver friends
“I realize how lucky I am to be one of the 20 F1 drivers in the world. That’s why I always have a smile on my face. We all respect each other. We’ve all known each other since we were very young. I drove with Pierre (Gasly), Charles (Leclerc), Max (Verstappen), Lando (Norris) when I was young… We have a lot in common, pretty much the same lives. I always said to my childhood friends: If one day you see me change and become like certain athletes — I won’t name any names — I’d like to take one, so that it wakes me up and puts my brain back in place.”
The madness of the start
“Getting a good start means getting out well. It’s the crucial moment, that’s when the most things happen. Sometimes I have a bad feeling. I feel like a guy is going to hit me from behind. You can’t be sure that everything is going to go well, never. It’s so grouped, someone can block the wheels. On the other hand, once it has happened and it has gone well, after that it’s smooth sailing.”
Peaks at over 300 km/h
“People talk a lot about the very high speed (300 km/h) and the tunnel vision effect, in other words the loss of peripheral vision. This is not true at all. In Mexico, for example, we reach speeds of 370 km/h. Despite this astonishing speed, we can still see people on the left, on the right, in the stands. Even when I started, I don’t remember this effect. When I was 6 or 7 years old, while driving on the track, at 90 km/h in a kart, I saw a very beautiful flower on each lap. One day, I stopped. Hop! I picked it and then brought it back to my mother!”
Maximum concentration
“During the race, you don’t have time to think about anything else: neither your worries nor your joys outside of F1, your loved ones, your family. Nothing! You have to be 100% focused. If you start to scatter your mind, it’s because you’re starting to see things blurry. That means you no longer have control over your heart rate and as a result, you lose energy. At that point, there’s a big problem and you start to lose concentration, and losing concentration means danger.”
Always measure the danger
"I'm not saying that fear isn't present. Above all, we must never forget that F1 is a risky sport. But if you're too afraid in F1, it's better to stop, it means that you don't know your subject inside out. You're no longer able to control it. I've already had situations where I was at fault and it hurts.
However, distrust always helps me think before taking action. I ask myself: Is it worth trying this or that maneuver? What's to be gained compared to the danger it represents? When a car is in front of me and I can overtake it, I wonder if it's worth it. I constantly ask myself: Isn't there a wall next to it?"
On the road, like the average Joe
"The road you drive on every day and an F1 circuit have nothing in common. On a circuit, we have marshals, guys at every bend who watch out for, for example, an animal crossing. If one of us has left oil on the lap before, there is an immediate yellow flag. On the road, there is no one to warn us of danger.
Even if it goes slower, you have to be very careful. I am of course. I respect the traffic laws by having the chance to drive cars that are very nice with great performance. I just have to get used to it again. At 130 km/h on the freeway, I feel like I can open the door, get out, and walk alongside."
World champion one day
"That's of course my goal. It's not that it's in my head, it's an obsession. Ever since I was little, I've wanted to go to F1. Now that I'm here, I want to win. I've always been a very bad loser. There's no way I'm leaving F1 with regrets. I'm putting all the chances on my side and all the cards are in my hands."
A life as a driver
“Between races, I have time to watch movies and listen to music while traveling. I’m a big Marvel fan. But I don’t really have a normal life, I know that. I dedicate all my time to what I do, about three hundred days a year. It’s hard for people, my girlfriend, my family, we don’t see each other often. I still have a home, but I don’t spend much time there.
I miss things, friends’ birthdays, dinners with my grandparents, but it’s a lifestyle choice. I worked hard to get here. I can’t complain about having a different life. It’s great that I can live my passion, travel and see different countries, meet passionate people.”
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hannahssimblr · 2 months ago
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The day I leave the beach feels like the last chapter of a book. I awake that Wednesday to change. The sky, which held steady and cerulean all summer, perfect, porcelain, is a mottled grey as clouds roll in over the beach. I swim, early in the morning, in a sea that is choppier than before, the waves crashing over the rocks and tossing foam into the air, and over the shore now slimy with seaweed.  
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I spot Liam in his wetsuit, board in hand, and I wave. He waves back, and I have the striking realisation that this may be the last time I ever see him.
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I say goodbye to Joe and Kasper at the door that morning, their PlayStation games and the half-filled bags of Doritos they never finished bundled under their arms. 
“Good luck with it all,” says Joe. “We’ll see you around.” It’s a thing you say to a person when you’re not sure you will, and as I watch them go from the window, there’s a finality to it. It’s like I’m watching them leave, not just with their games and their snacks, but with a phase of my life, too. We’ll never be together in the same way, and never be these exact versions of ourselves again. 
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Shane is the next to go. After a thorough clean of the bedroom, the sheets washed and dried and put back on the bed, ready for next summer. He drops a hand onto my shoulder. 
“Good luck in Germany, yeah? Maybe I’ll come and visit.”
“You should.”
“Yeah, I might.”
“If you do, I’ll see you there.”
He nods and ducks through the door, and to his back, I shout “Good luck in college!” He lifts a thumbs up into the air, and he’s gone. 
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And then there is Jen. With a click of her last suitcase, she has packed up, and in the empty house, there’s nothing to distract us anymore from the new, yet ever present rift between us. 
We’ve barely spoken since the festival. I haven’t known how to, despite her pleads, and made a big deal of getting Kasper to sit in the passenger seat during the ride home. I asked him all kinds of questions about himself, realising only then, to my immense guilt, that it was the only bit of effort I had made with him all summer. 
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I spent the days between then and now away from the house. Swimming, cycling, driving into town and just looking around, reading a book while the last of the summer tourists milled about, still in their flip-flops and sun hats as though they hadn’t noticed that autumn had already taken up residence in the shadows. 
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I’d come home before dark and stay in my room while the others watched their movies and played their games. One night, I heard Jen crying softly in bed. I didn’t ask her if she was okay. 
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Now, once again, I avoid her as she sits on the floor surrounded by her bags, by arranging a stack of books on the shelf. One of my sketchbooks is there, complete with a thousand drawings of the summer. I leave it where it is.  
A clock ticks somewhere in the room. 
“I’m sorry you’re so mad at me,” Jen says to the back of my head. 
“Same.”
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“I still think you should give me a chance to explain myself.”
I sigh. “I’m not ready to talk about it.”
“Okay. Have you seen her? Have you talked to Evie?”
“No, I haven’t.”
I turn around to see her hugging her knees to her chest. She looks remarkably small like that, and her hair, which was so bright in June, has faded with the salt water and the sun, and now her brown roots are showing. 
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“I think I’d like to get the bus home.” She mutters.
“That’s alright. Do you want a lift to the station?”
“No thanks, I’ll just walk.” 
I don’t argue, and before that hour is out, she, too, is gone, and I am the last man standing. 
Turn off all the lights, switches and the hot water. Store the garden furniture. Leave the fridge running. Double check ALL doors and windows are locked. 
This is all contained in a cheerful email from my father, followed by a paranoid diatribe about all the catastrophic things that will happen to the house if I fail to comply. There’s something about a potential flood or explosion in there, I think, but I barely skimmed the bulk of it.  
Thanks for the essay lmao.
I write back.
Be home at 2.
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I do my last check of the house, then stand by the door for several minutes just looking at it. The kitchen, once a hub of activity with friends chatting over breakfast and a sink full of dirty dishes, is now deserted, immaculate, and quiet. I realise I hate endings. I do not want to dwell on things anymore, or be sentimental, or hang on to the past. 
I lock the door behind me and get into my car without another look back.
Beginning // Prev // Next
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 3 months ago
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oh hey! i was reading a fic the other day where Wangji was once misspelled as Wangu. which leads me to: MDZS Pingu-style??? noot noot!
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Do you think love can bloom on the sea ice?
#mdzs#wei wuxian#lan wangji#digital art#Club penguin#ask#I've drawn a lot of strange crossovers for MDZS but this one really takes it up a notch#I saw this ask and thought “yeah why not. I've been meaning to do style studies. Let's experiment.”#And the moment my pen hit my tablet I was struck by the need to make it even worse.#Perhaps I am just nostalgic for club penguin and pengu but I think there is something magical about them holding hands.#Anyways I think younger WWX would have loved club penguin. It's the joy of the minigames and hanging out with your friends online.#Lan Wangji could never get past the fact the 'Ask your parent/guardian!' part of registration.#Either because he knew Lan Qiren would have said no *or* because he asked once and got turned down.#Lan Xichen probably was like 'Hey I can help you with that :)' to which LWJ said no because that was breaking the rules.#But if I *had* to put wangxian in a club penguin AU? Yeah 1000% it's LWJ as a mod and WWX as a notorious (nootorious) griefer.#WWX would be trying to speed run how fast he can get banned or how much he can get away with.#Getting removed and returning over and over earns him the 'necromancer of CP' title in the community. Loathed by many.#Meanwhile LWJ is about to seriously consider doxxing this guy just to get him to stop making his volunteer hobby less of a nightmare.#Cue 10 years later. They meet up on the ice flow on the last day before the servers get shut down. They have a genuine heart to heart.#Three years later on Club Penguin rewritten: two grown men decide to relive their childhood one more time.#Fate draws them to the same server.#I ask again. Do you think love can bloom on the digital sea ice?
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icewindandboringhorror · 1 year ago
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There's always a slight yearning in the back of my mind wishing I had been born in the right place, time, family situation, income level, etc. to have just lived in one single house for my entire life. Imagine being born in a place that still suits you, even through all of your personal evolutions and etc. The idea of deep familiarity with an area because you've lived and explored it for 40+ years, being encased in a web of memories and connections. Being able to clean out your old childhood bedroom and find personal artifacts, to dig in the yard and remember. I know those lives can still be plenty imperfect, but there's just something so seemingly solid and stable and Grounding about it that I sometimes wish I could have.. (At least from my outside perspective as someone who's moved around a bit geographically and even within the same area, never lives in the same house/ apartment /etc. for more than a few years usually.) Like... having a place that is printed upon, fully your own, rather than chronically a visitor, every thought of a space always tempered with the notion that one day soon you'll have to pack it all up again, etc. There's something peaceful about the permanence.
#I think also because I'm a very nostalgic person - THOUGH not in the way that somep poeple mean when they say nostalgia because I've realiz#ed that to some people apparently it means like.. more of a sad emotional thing? Or when I talk about being nostalgic they say 'me too' and#then describe how they're always depressed dwelling on the past wishing they could revisit it and replaying it and feeling sad and etc.#Whereas for me - it's not in a deep or emotional way at all. It's very detached - kind of like someone who is doing like a scientific#cataloguing of something? I don't feel any remorse or sadness or longing or sitting there sobbing for hours over people/pets I've lost or#etc. It's more like a fun contemplative excercise and extension of self analysis plus just documentation. Like I know your memory fades as#you get older OR even as stuff is actively ongoing humans have terrible recall - even the ones who are less emotional/more focused on#accuracy our minds still twist things or etc. SO I looove to have documentations of everything possible so that in the future I will have#as full and complete of a view of myself as I possibly can. sure the image will undoubtedly be a little distorted but having real evidence#of how something was at a time is very valuable. You look through old messages or letters or something and you always find other alternate#versions of yourself. Not in a worse way like inherently inferior Previous Models Of You who haven't yet been perfected but even just in a#neutral way like 'what they're saying is not a BAd thing but also is not how I would say that today.' etc. ANYWAY I find it really interest#ing to document and remember things and love revisiting the past - not in a sad way - but just like. curiosity. reminiscing and recalling#and filling in gaps. or trying to have the same feeling I felt at a previous time so I can remember what it was. Collecting information for#documentation purposes. Like for example - I would love to go back and tour all of my old childhood houses/apartments. Not to like#sit in the middleof them and cry and go 'ohhh my childhood waughhh' - but literally because I want to take detailed photographs so I#can remeber exatly what they looked like and recreate them in sims or some other digital way. Why? idk. just to gather the information. If#I ever live to like 80 years old and I'm still reflecting on my life curious about the dteails of it. I want to be able to fire up my#ancient windows 10 laptop I've kept all these years and open up the sims 4 and tour my old home with accuracy etc. ??#Not sure why really. Maybe an extension of how I generally care a lot about having an 'accurate' view of things? Like I would rather be#accurate than be happy. I don't understand 'ignorance is bliss' because I would always rather know. I always always in any situation am mor#focused on 'what is the well researched practical truth' than about 'how does this make me feel' or etc. Truth above ALL else even if it#were to make me miserable. Aka why I'm a 'boring' 'annoying' 'UM actually..' type of killjoy lol because it's very hard for me to understan#that some people can enjoy something or have a good time even not knowing the full facts of a situation or etc. BUT anyway. since that is#some core driver of my personality for whatever reason (just the plague of ennegram type 5 perhaps lol) maybe that also drives me to my#kind of minor obsession with like 'I must have a complete view and calatoguing of my life that is as accurate as possible within the means#i have' . Is it REALLY important for me to know the exact layout of on of my first childhood bedrooms? no. materially it does nothing for m#in life. BUT hey. it would make a great addition to the Accurate Life Story Catalogue lol. ANYWAY.. But I think a lot of wanting to live in#one place forever is not just the ease of documentation. but the sense of having a constant. Much of what i crave most in life is stability#& familiarity &routine bc of how my brain works. And it just would feel so good to be Settled. Never uproot again. One little place FOREVER
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mantisgodsdomain · 1 year ago
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Playing 3DS games after having seen the overall fandom response to release and long-term impact and the way it's looked back on and such is... bizarre, honestly? Like, maybe it's just because we got our introduction to gaming in the 3DS era, but it's incredibly strange to know that games we knew and loved and would have considered relatively mainstream just... didn't stick in people's minds.
Like, take the Gen 6 Pokemon games. Those were great games! One of the single things about X/Y/OR/AS that we don't see people talking about but that stuck in our mind was how the developers made an effort to make it so that every single Pokemon in the games prior was spread between just those four games! We remember that just the sheer variety of potential Pokemon available was enough to get us a start into challenge runs simply by virtue of how much variety could be added to a playthrough by the sheer amount of potential on offer!
We remember spending hours just... hunting around the region to figure out where those last Pokemon we needed to fill the 'dex were, wandering around to try and find Hidden Ability pokemon from Horde battles, getting to actually interact with our Pokemon in Pokemon Amie.
Yeah, there were more obscure games out there, and yeah, they impacted us as well - Pocket Card Jockey stands out in this regard, as an extremely fun game that we're pretty sure was played by maybe three people, maximum, but it's not quite the same. These were games that we played ourself! These were games we saw other people playing, that we played with people over the internet, that felt like they were well-known! We were under the impression that these were mainstream interests, not Niche! it feels... singularly bizarre to realize that, for the majority of people out there, this game was a forgettable disappointment.
#we speak#nintendo 3ds#obviously theres the nostalgia factor and such since the 3ds was the first gaming console we ever owned#as well as our ONLY gaming console for like. right up until ~2 years ago we think?#but like. youre telling us that x/y is less popular than sun/moon?#you mean there are real actual people who think that hgss's following mechanic was more notable than xy's entire bottom screen?#you don't like petting pokemon? pat pat?#we went into hacking our spare ds today and getting some games off of hshop#and like. gods. do you know how fucking bizarre it is to go into the games that shaped our...#well. maybe not childhood but certainly a substantial part of our teen life#and discover that all of the games that we remember loving the most are like. seen as Forgotten Entries or Black Sheep?#this doesn't just extend to x/y btw#we see a lot of people dunking on like. gates to infinity? and like yeah gti wasnt the most POLISHED entry out of em#but it was still an incredibly enjoyable game that had massive impact on later entries in the series#gates to infinity's core themes carried forward into super mystery dungeon to the point that psmd can read as a direct continuation of it!#its like. augh! youre telling me that when we say we loved gti we're expressing an opinion only shared by like three people?#what are we? the Random Black Sheep Unloved By The Fandom As A Whole Guy?#...well. we mean. we kind of are that guy judging by our taste in characters but STILL#you cant tell us that the games that made up most of our communication outside of our family for over a year are Forgotten#and just expect us to like. be okay with it#when we said we were going to get more weird we didn't mean learning people think the 3ds games are The Worst In The Series#what do u MEAN u genuinely think that xy is the worst in the series and have proof we are playing it right now and its very fun#how about our proof huh. we are using a mothim for our nuzlocke run and having a great time. if u think its too easy turn off the exp share#we are in your house and home#we are also mad that swsh doesnt let you turn off the exp share from when we played it in a totally legal and not piracy related way
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cdroloisms · 2 years ago
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Dr3 can you explain to me what happened to 7y!Dream in the matter of romantic relationships??? I'm confused on so many levels, with who he had these previous "romantic" relationships, and at what age? How did his partners treat him, since he has this obsession to be owned by someone (talking about the DNB scenario you talked about)??? And what exactly did Wilbur do to Dream that he is doing all this to give Wilbur the world???
Well. The long answer gets...complicated.
The shorter answer goes a little like this. 7y!Dream doesn't remember the house in which he grew up. His life, as far as he's concerned, begins in fire and brimstone and hair cropped short, in following the orders of men several times his age who never saw him as anything more than cannon fodder. They said that he would die for a country he hardly knew the goddamn name of (he would never go to its capitol; he knew the razed villages on its borders all too well) and the words had always bore the certainty of a promise. Dream will never remember a time before his name and honor and duty and life were not beholden to someone else entirely; he will never remember a version of himself that isn't owed to another person.
As far as 7y!dream is concerned, there was never actually a part of himself that was was. Off-limits. It takes a while for people to realize that.
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arolesbianism · 6 months ago
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Some swap au Olivia and Jackie concepts for the main 3 universes 👍
#keese draws#oni posting#first two are from the main rat universe#long story short a while after founding gravitas olivia was like ok so I think me being your boss in our company that we spend most of our#days at has left our relationship in a place that I’m uncomfortable with so we’re getting a divorce now sorry#and jackie proceeded to throw a fit abt that for several years until she got fired over it#in another petty act she tried to break back in to steal some of the work she had done there but got caught#and unfortunately for her during the past several years olivia has been slowly having mere morals broken down piece by piece by the allure#of progress and by the time she did her breaking and entering scheme olivia was far past the point of being ok with kidnapping#the second two are the rabbit universe girlies and they’re less openly hostile with eachother but they still are bad for eachother#they’ve known eachother since childhood and jackie has basically been using olivia as a therapist since they were teens#this lead to them developing an increasingly unhealthy codependent relationship where olivia ends up acting incredibly irresponsibly as#director of gravitas due to her being so stressed and paranoid about jackie all the time#and the third two are the raccoon au which is basically just jackie being too scared of rejection to put her work under her name so she#asks olivia to take credit for it which she does and she ends up getting all the credit and praise for a lot of the early work at gravitas#this combined with jackie’s constant worshipping of her slowly began to lead to it kinda getting into her head#and jackie was also letting it get to her head and eventually her ambition got the better of her and she ended up attacking olivia#now these are all just the basic concepts I currently have these aus are all still in the concept stages#for example I’m still figuring out how I wanna involve the other scientists and if I switch their roles around too#but yeah I’ve been thinking abt these guys lately so they get drawn 👍#oh also fun fact these aus are inspired by the scrapped content back when olivia was jodi#which is why I characterize these two a bit differently then I might if I was leaning more towards my normal stuff#theyre characterized more closely to old jackie and jodie including origin story wise
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designernishiki · 1 year ago
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sue me but i just really don’t wanna see someone try to rectify that terrible cliche out of character love triangle again like. if they chose to cut that out all together (not cutting YUMI out all together, obviously, just the romantic implications) then they’d probably have my attention. but let’s be real that’s probably not gonna happen
#legit you can cut out all romantic implications in that story and it’d literally not effect the plot at all#all the driving forces of the plot are already there. and they set that in stone when they made yakuza 0- nishiki and kiryu’s story#is between them and them alone and that’s how their story should end as well. yumi is important to the plot of y1/kiwami but not as a#an object in between kiryu and nishiki- she’s important for her own individual reasons and throughout the entirety of 1 she functions by her#own volition. she’s got her own shit going on and though it intersects with kiryu and nishiki in the end (and before that via haruka)#it literally has nothing to do with romance– it has to do with the 10 billion yen and haruka and how she ties into all of that#the fact that they’re all childhood friends COULD have been a very interesting piece of the ending to play with narratively speaking but#they don’t explore that instead they just say unga bunga straight men must fight over woman unga bunga#like come on are you fucking kidding me#she had her own whole ass life for 10 years. so did the other two for better or for worse. nishiki is a murderer and kiryu got ten years of#his life taken away by prison. but no it’s all secretly actually connected by a love triangle that’s been#just sorta hibernating for ten years or something#god#sorry I just. I hate it man i hate it so much there’s so much potential and good parts of the plot to explore but they DONT#becuase of heteronormative cliche bullshit that doesn’t make sense both narratively and in terms of the characters’ personalities#and backgrounds and morals and aggsgdhshshsxjhdhfjfjfjxjfhdhshss#rambling#call me a misogynist or whatever if you want but if you read these tags you see why I think the LESS misogynistic option would be to cut#out the love triangle/romantic shit completely and focus more on HER as HER OWN gigantic piece of the puzzle#with her own fucking Life#yk1
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aeide-thea · 1 year ago
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oh right i forgot the real reason i stopped listening to broadway clips was that i've got this whole enormous miserable knot in my chest abt having been too socially anxious to do anything with my once-upon-a-time-very-gorgeous voice once i got spat out of the safe little nest of my high school, and like, most of the time i forget that knot even exists, but when i listen to the sort of music i used to be part of making (proper opera but also showtunes) it's like. this whole fast-forward feelings journey thru 'oh right that didn't actually go away, it's still right there in my throat, just calcified' to 'oh okay we tugged the loose end and it's unraveling and actually it was keeping contained a whole rush of tears like aeolus' bag of winds in the odyssey…'
#like i decline 2 actually cry abt it but. sure am on the verge of it lmao. thick sore throat and all#i always forget that when i'm actually happy i sing to myself. it's been a long time since i did that#i mean also a big problem with voice was like. the gender thing#conveniently being a mezzo is ALSO a gender thing which did more work for me than i realized but#was listening to a jeremy jordan medley ft. on the street where you live from my fair lady and had a sudden flashback#to the year i was like 'what if i sang that for our musical theater showcase' and my voice teacher was like. noooo not a Boy Song 4 Girl U!#but i used to sing that to myself all the time. also‚ hilariously‚ the girl that i marry from annie get yr gun#which is just like. literally i still thought i was a straight girl tho. the sheer level of doublethink this required.#what was happening in my brain.#(i mean obviously what was happening in my brain was that like. i knew the limits of acceptability)#(and so i couldn't know anything else abt myself.)#(like i've said this before but i do strongly wonder what else my brain isn't allowing me to know bc i still live with my dad)#(which is like. SO dumb bc honestly i'm not sure there's anything i could do that he'd kick me out/disown me over)#(certainly not anything sexuality or even gender related idt)#(but it's like. i know where the discomfort line is and emotionally i just. can't bear to exile myself out beyond it!)#(even if my doing so might eventually shift the line out to where it embraced me again!)#(sometimes learning yr own deep unacceptability in childhood 4 adhd reasons)#(and also 'yr mother is so depressed nothing you do will ever please her. have fun trying tho!!' reasons)#(makes you just. totally incapable of deliberately rendering yrself less acceptable as an adult even when it would be good for you)#(anyway like. thinking back to the K in old home videos who was like. confident that they were an engaging delight)#(and like. what a charming jeremy jordan of a performer they could have made.)#(if only my whole upbringing hadn't then happened to me and crushed all the unacceptable self-expression out of me.)#anyway. shh don't look at me it's fine! it's all fine. 🫥🫥🫥#formative#feelingsblogging
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fan-de-las-tetas · 2 years ago
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damm someone got wild w/ the tags, girl put a whole ass fanfic there
just saw a steddie soulmate au that reminded me of an old trope of having every lie your soulmate ever told written somewhere on your body and I can't stop thinking about Eddie with "I'm fine," scrawled all over
#Eddie getting his first words when he’s young. maybe 3 or 4 he couldn’t quite remember#a little line right above his knee that says a simple ‘Not me’#that wasn’t unusual. toddlers lie all the time. most lies are from early childhood and silly little things kids fib about.#the first ‘I’m okay’ appeared less than a year later. a little sting on the inside of his ankle he watches etch out while running barefoot#he doesn’t like that one. just barely old enough to start really understanding what the words are#just old enough he doesn’t have to have his mama read out most of ‘em.#he wishes he knew who his soulmate was. find out why they were lying about that and cheer them up by playing knights.#throughout the years he likes the little lies less and less. small ‘my mom’s just running late’s#and ‘yeah I tripped’s#and ‘they’ll be home soon’s that make him angry and scared#he knows his soulmate has their own slew of lies covering their skin.#too many times he’d had to cover for his dad. or his mama when the school started asking questions.#it’s why he makes a vow to never lie unless he has to. doesn’t want all that ugliness rubbing off on the one person who might understand him#but the worst one. the worst of all his soulmate’s lies#or at the very least the most occurring#are those stupid ‘I’m okay’s and ‘I’m fine’s#they vary in size and placement#some small enough they could be passed off as weird freckles. one so big it covers his whole palm.#but he’s got so many of them. too many. has them up and down his arms by high school and takes to wearing Wayne’s old flannels to cover them#some nights he stays up and counts them#knows by the time he makes it through he might have a few more#it’s sad as fuck. and Eddie never really got over his want to just find whatever poor bastard is tied to him for eternity and make it better#but he doubts he’s gunna find them in Fuck Off Nowhere Indiana#and all of that’s BEFORE the lies start getting weirder#- sorry baby I went insane in ur tags again#steddie
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nunyabznsbabes · 11 months ago
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Katniss is like Lucy Gray this, Katniss is like Sejanus that, and yes fine that's all good and true and lovely but Katniss Everdeen is also a direct parallel to Coriolanus Snow and people NEED to start talking about this because it's driving me crazy.
Think about it: they both grew up poor and deeply vulnerable, losing parents at a very young age, with a matriarchal adult (Katniss' mother and Coriolanus' Grandma'am) who fails to provide for them emotionally and physically. They intimately understand the threat of starvation, even developing with stunted growth because of it, and their narrations in the books share a fixation on food. Throughout their childhoods, both experienced constant fear and suffered a fundamental lack of control over their circumstances. Because of this, they're inherently suspicious of the people around them. They resent feeling indebted to others, especially those who have saved their lives. They're motivated almost entirely by family and deeply connected to their communities. Both are used and manipulated by the Capitol, both are forced to perform to survive and despise every inch of it, both are thrown into the Arena and made to kill. Both have a self-sacrificial, genuinely sweet sister figure acting as their conscience. Peeta and Lucy Gray - performers and love interests with a fundamental kindness and sense of hope about them - fulfill markedly similar roles in their narrative. Both contribute to the development of the future Hunger Games, Snow throughout tbosas and Katniss towards the end of Mockingjay.
It's easy to ignore these similarities because, as mirrors of each other, they are exact opposites. Katniss is from District 12, viewed and treated as less than human; Snow is the cream of the Capitol crop, given the privilege of a name with social weight, an ancestral home, and the opportunity of the Academy despite having no more money than a miner from 12. Katniss has no agency over her life, and responds by being kind whenever she's able, while Snow justifies horrendous evils in order to continue his quest for complete control. Katniss does everything she can to protect her family; Snow does everything he can to protect his family's image as an extension of his own ego. Katniss loves her District and connects with its inhabitants on a meaningful level, but Snow is indifferent at best to his peers - the apparent "superior people" - and only engages with his community for personal gain. Katniss emerges from the Arena horrified at herself and the system, but Snow takes his trauma and turns it into an excuse to perpetuate the violence with himself at the top. Katniss cares for Prim until her death and then snaps at the loss of her little sister, while Snow survives on Tigris' blood, sweat, and tears and then torments and abandons her, presumably because she calls him out on his insanity. Snow actively adds to and popularizes the Hunger Games because of his vendetta against the Districts following his childhood wartime trauma - Katniss briefly agrees to a new Hunger Games in the pursuit of vengeance, but later stops them from happening by killing Coin and choosing a life of peace and privacy. Snow is obsessed with revenge, but Katniss empathizes with the Capitolites and does what she can to keep them from suffering. He exists in a cruel system and selfishly upholds it; she exists in a cruel system and works to dismantle it for the good of her family and community, at great personal cost. And Peeta and Lucy Gray are incredibly similar, but Katniss and Peeta forge a relationship of genuine love and understanding that shines in comparison to Coriolanus' obsessive projection onto Lucy Gray.
So, yeah, Katniss is Lucy Gray haunting Coriolanus. But I bet you anything that eighty-something year old President Snow looks at her, the girl on fire, bright and young and brilliant, emerging from a childhood of starvation with a relentless hunger for success, a talented and charming performer helping her win the Games, and he sees the ghost of his own past. And that's why he's so afraid of her! Because if he sees himself in her, then he's up against his own cunning, his own talent for manipulation, his own charisma, his own genius. He's up against the version of himself that he once wished to be, with the nightmare army of his childhood at her back and her star-crossed lover at her side, spewing Sejanus' truths in his own voice. This isn't to say that Katniss ever achieved the level of power and agency that Coriolanus did during her time with the rebellion, but it is to say that Snow was taken down by what truly terrified him - his own morality, come to finish the job.
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gojonanami · 1 month ago
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❝ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 ❞
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❝ SATORU GOJO HAS LOVED YOU SINCE YOU WERE KIDS - HE’S GONNA MAKE YOU HIS ! ❞
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✧ series: call it what you want (part one)
✧ pairing: younger!satoru gojo x reader
✧ summary: satoru gojo fell in love with you from the moment he met you at eight years old. and now, in his twenties, when he sees you again after you move back to be closer to your aunt and your cousin, suguru, he knows — he has to make you his by the end of the summer.
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, eventual smut, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, fake dating, gojo is four years younger than you, rich boy!gojo, suguru is your little cousin, very fluffy, slow burn, like they don't even kiss, but they will :), love at first sight for gojo, naoya is your ex,
✧ w/c: 15,285
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“Never thought we’d be doing this, did you?” Satoru muttered in your ear, breath fanning hot against your neck, “be a little quieter, sweetheart, otherwise Suguru might hear us,” 
You whine, but his fingers drag against your kiss bitten lips, until the digits slide into your mouth, as his hips rut against yours. And you didn’t think you’d ever be in position with your cousin’s best friend — pressed to the doorway of your apartment where Suguru could walk in at anytime. 
This isn't what you thought would happen when you invited him over to talk. This isn't what you thought would happen when you agreed to pretend to date him. This isn't what you thought about -- but how could you think about anything with the way his breath felt against your skin?
He loved you -- loved you since you were kids, and he couldn't let you go, not like this. Not when he had you.
Not that you even wanted him to.
You didn’t think you’d shiver as he pressed open mouthed kisses down your neck, tongue flicking against your burning skin. You never thought you’d want to moan his name, like you had, far too many times. 
“You may have never thought about this, Princess, but I sure have,” he presses a kiss to your jaw, the wet sounds your skin slapping together, as he reaches around your body, pinned on your stomach to the mattress, to rub at your swollen clit, drawing a muffled cry from your lips, “far too many times,” 
In fact, Satoru Gojo knew exactly the first time he fell for you. It was the day he first met you. 
“Be my girlfriend!” 
It was less of a question and more of a statement.  
One declared in the doorway of your room, with flushed cheeks and flowers in hand. And they weren’t your cheeks or hands, but your baby cousin’s best friend. 
The first time Satoru Gojo asked you out was at the ripe old age of eleven, but truth be told he had held this crush since the moment he saw you when he had come over to Suguru’s house for the first time, almost three years ago now.
Your fingers brushed his as you gently took the flowers, “Satoru, you know I care about you, but not like that. You’re better off seeing other people your own age, ok?” You smiled at him, the same way you always did, a slight pout on his lips as he nodded, saying nothing more. 
And you knew you were right — there was no fucking question that you were right. He was eleven and you were fifteen — an age gap untenable and unreachable.
But now—
“Long time no see,” Satoru said, lips curled in an all too cocky smile that you couldn’t believe belonged to the same blushing kid who confessed so earnestly back then, “it’s been too long,” your name rolled off his tongue with a familiarity that was the same but all too different. 
But he wasn’t a kid anymore — far from it. It had been over a decade since you had seen him, as the summer he confessed was the last one you had spent at your aunt and uncle’s home. And you and your family moved overseas shortly after that, and you didn’t return until now, four years after you graduated college, for a job offer you couldn’t pass up. 
And you didn’t realize that so much time had passed. 
But he did. 
“Eh? What do you mean you can’t help me unpack today, Sugu?” you hold the phone between your ear and shoulder, as you rip open the tape on yet another box you had hauled into the proper room to unpack, “you told me—“ 
“I told you I’d help you unpack if I had time. But now, I’m stuck at work until the evening,” you heard your cousin sigh over the phone, “But don’t worry — you’ll have help—“ 
You’re too busy trying to rip the tape off as you rip into Suguru to notice the door creaking open behind you, “Suguru, I swear to god if you’re sending a total random stranger to help me—“ 
“Not a total stranger,” a voice says behind you, and your head whips around so quick, you nearly drop your phone, gripping it, “unless not seeing me for years makes me one,” 
A mess of white locks and sunglasses tilted downward to reveal a hint of his cerulean eyes that you could never forget — but still, you barely recognize the man that has them. Even if the grin on his lips with the lilting sound of his voice told you that he very much recognized you. 
“Satoru?” Suguru’s explanation falls on deaf ears, as Satoru’s eyes don’t bother to take in your new place, all too focused on you, hands slipping into his pockets, “you—“ 
He steps forward and plucks the phone from your fingers, “Yo Suguru, I told you it’d be better as a surprise,” and you gape at him, as his grin curls wider, “yeah, yeah, I didn’t take the phone to have you lecturing me — I get enough of that from my dad,” and Suguru says something that makes Satoru’s cheeks flush, and he hangs up, before his attention returns to you, “so, shall we unpack?” 
A few minutes turns into hours of hauling boxes inside and then unpacking them. It’s relatively silent, surprisingly for Satoru. The silence was a far cry from the boy who couldn’t shut up for two seconds, telling you about the test he aced or something stupid that one of his classmates said or asking you about your day. 
Instead you watch him haul boxes like they were filled with styrofoam and air from the truck outside, and then lift his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, a flash of his abs shiny with perspiration. Your eyes dart away, suddenly incredibly fascinated with the contents of this box of kitchenware you opened up, cheeks burning, wondering when did the little boy you looked after become a man? 
“Princess, where do you want this?” Satoru lifts a box, and you can’t see the writing on it from the angle he picks it up. 
“Do you still have to call me Princess?” The embarrassing nickname your aunt had given you still stuck — the one that Suguru would always tease you with, while Satoru’s decidedly lacked any malice, “my aunt only called me that because she wanted a girl so bad,” 
“Is that why Suguru is growing out his hair now? Trying to fulfill her dreams?” You snort, as you walk over to him, “it still fits you regardless of the reason Princess,” 
You’re close, even with the box providing glancing around the box until you find it scrawled on the box underneath his arm — his very…muscular arm, veins bulging and muscles tense underneath the weight of the box—
“So this is stuff for my bedroom, you can just leave it on the floor, it’s right over here,” you lead him over and he places down the box, “I think that’s mostly it, I’m sorry Suguru made you come down here to help,” 
“You don’t need to apologize, I wanted to see you,” and you smile softly, “it’s been too long,” 
“It really has,” and your neck strains a little with how he towered over you, “can't believe you’re the same little boy I used to babysit,” 
And he rolls his eyes, “Suguru would say it’s arguable I could still use a babysitter,” and you chuckle, “I’m not so little anymore, but I wouldn’t mind if you were my babysitter,” 
Was he? No. No, he wasn’t. 
Right? 
“Stop fucking around,” you shake your head, as you head into the kitchen, “do you want to wash up, and then maybe I’ll order take out to thank you?” You’re turning on the faucet. 
You don’t notice the slight pout on his lips, one he schools into a smile as you glance back at him, blinking as you find him shirtless. 
Fuck. How was it possible for a person to be this gorgeous? Sweat slid down his body, slipping between the dips of his chest and ridges of his abs until disappearing into the fabric of his pants, or somewhere hidden— 
You look away — “I’d rather take a shower. Do you mind?” And you force your voice not to come out a squeak, busying yourself with washing your hands, just so you don’t have to look. 
“Yeah, of course, the bathroom is just around the corner. There should already be fresh towels inside,” and yet his steps grow closer, as you glance back, “uh—“ 
He’s still fucking shirtless. 
“Instead of take out, can we grab dinner somewhere? You haven’t been back to the area recently so it’s a good chance to show you around,” 
“You really don’t have to—“ 
“I want to, Princess,” he cuts you off, reaching around you to grab a water bottle off the counter, “get ready while I clean up?” 
And you bite your lip, “Okay, okay,” and he grins back, a glimpse of the little boy that beams at you when you’d praise him for a high mark on a test. 
“It’s a date!” And he’s off, disappearing into the bathroom, and you’re left there, wondering — what had you gotten yourself into? 
~~~
“So,” Satoru lifts a spoonful of his dessert — a fruit parfait with a sugar coma inducing amount of whipped cream — and you were almost relieved to see some things about him hadn’t changed. How many times had you scolded him as a kid not to eat so much sugar — and he still hasn’t kicked the habit. You bit back your chuckle, as he spoke, “did you get dumped?” 
You almost choke on your drink, as you splutter for a moment, before glaring at him. 
And yet the more they stayed the same. 
“I see you’re as subtle as you were when you were 11,” you mutter, setting your drink down, as you wipe your mouth with a napkin. Satoru tilts his head, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. 
“So you dumped him?” He leans back, “I didn’t know you had such high standards,” your cheeks burn, distracting yourself with becoming enthralled in the menu — Satoru had dragged you to a hole in the wall barbecue place (after your insistence that you didn’t want anything fancy after unpacking for hours). 
“How did you know I broke—“ and you cut yourself off at the obviousness of the answer, slapping another piece of meat on the grill, the sizzle punctuated by your words, “I’m going to murder him,” 
“Well, you’re in the right place to dispose of his body,” Satoru licks the spoon clean, before sticking it back in the whipped cream, “why did you break up with him?” 
You shrugged, “I realized he was a narcissistic prick who only wanted me as a trophy,” and Satoru whistled lowly,  “I’m done with dating losers. And dating in general,” 
“I don’t think you should give up on dating just because you had a few bad experiences,” his voice grows soft, “you deserve to be happy and taken care of, even if you have bad taste,” 
And you pout, “I don’t have-“ and he tilts his head, and you lift a few pieces of meat from the grill onto your plate, tongs clattering slightly as you set it down, “fuck, I do,” you groan, shaking your head, “that’s why I had to get out of there. Just needed a fresh start you know?” 
“Sometimes that’s just what you need,” and your lips curl. 
“Sounds like you speak from experience,” and his eyes flit up to yours, gleaming in the low light of the restaurant, cerulean irises catching the drops of light like comets across his gaze. 
“Don’t know what you mean, Princess,” he busies himself with his parfait, and you scoff. 
“Come on, half the girls in this place are glaring at me while I sit here, the waitress has been flirting with you, and now they had brought you out the biggest dessert that I’m starting to wonder if they even serve it here,” he spares a glance around, several gasps from giggling girls who avert their gazes, before his eyes are back on you. 
“Jealous?” You roll your eyes — he wasn’t lacking for ego at least. 
“More like wondering what a guy like you is still doing single,” and he sighs, leaning back, with a tilt of his head. 
“You sure are curious about me,” and his gaze softens for a moment, while he picks at his dessert, scooping the strawberry off the top, “there’s only really been one person that I really wanted,” his tone grew more serious, lips in a bittersweet smile, “but she’s never really looked me like that,” 
“Don’t tell me it’s one of those things where she rejected you and you have to have her now,” and he chuckles, shaking his head, gaze far too wistful. 
His words are slow, as slow as the ice melting in your glass, “It’s more of if I don’t have her, I don’t want anyone else,” and your heart squeezed — would you ever have someone care so deeply for you? 
“Then why haven’t you said anything?” you picked up another piece of meat off the grill, “anyone would be lucky to be with you,” and you meant it — he was blunt, but also kind, sweet, not to mention rich and you flushed as you thought back to his hiked up shirt — good looking. 
But he only stares back at you, tilting his head — expression unreadable, an emotion you can’t grasp before it’s hidden under his gaze’s tempered waters, “Are you included, Princess?” 
There’s a pause, as you almost chuckle, but your laugh dying in your throat at his expression — that same smirk, but the way he looks at you stops your mind in its tracks — only one word rolling around in your head: what? 
And your brow furrows, your lips parting in a response you don’t have — only questions, ones you don’t get to ask as Suguru slides in beside you. 
“Sorry, I’m late,” Suguru sighs, the moment broken, and you don’t catch Satoru’s expression, too distracted by your cousin, “got stuck in a staff meeting,” 
“I told you academia is hell,” you elbow him, and Suguru rolls his eyes, as he shrugs off his suit coat, “were these meetings the reasons you got held up or are they just an excuse so you didn’t have to help me?” 
“Who said it can’t be both?” And he earns a smack to his shoulder, your attention turning back to Satoru, his gaze fixed outside. 
“You’re unusually quiet, Satoru” Suguru kicks him lightly under the table, “not like you,” 
He looks at you first — and you grasp the emotion he had hid before — what was it? Sadness? Longing? — right before it’s gone again as he slides his mask back on, grinning as he always does. 
“What can I say? The view outside is much better than your ugly mug,” and the two of them begin to bicker, and you lean back in your seat, a smile pulling at your lips, even as you glanced back at Satoru. 
And now you wondered if you would ever get an answer to your questions. Or maybe, you sipped your drink, it was better not to have it answered at all. 
~~~
Satoru Gojo was eleven years old when he fell in love with you. It was from the moment he met you. 
And there hasn’t been anyone else since. 
He supposed it was inevitable in a way — since Suguru was his best friend, and his first, and when his family finally decided to enroll him in school, instead opting for private tutors, for the social aspect of making connections, of course. Because what else was your eleven year old son good for then helping to make future business deals easier? 
But Satoru made friends with the one person who couldn’t help their deals — Suguru Geto, one of the only scholarship students in the entire school. And Satoru’s want to avoid spending his days with servants or on the rare occasion, dealing with his dad’s lecture for getting in another ‘disagreement’ with one of his classmates (that ended with that classmate crying after Satoru evaded his punch and kicked him in the shin), ended up with him at Suguru’s place. A lot. 
Then soon enough, he was spending most of his summers there too. And that’s when he saw you. 
“You said your cousin’s here? Is she nice?” Satoru asked, taking off his shoes, as Suguru shut the door behind them. 
“She is, except when she’s being a pain about homework. And when she gets mad, she reminds me of my mom,” Suguru grimaced, as he walked past him, calling out for you. You rounded the corner, book in hand, and Satoru’s eyes grew wide. 
“Hey Sugu, you brought a friend?” You walked over, still clad in your high school uniform, before introducing yourself, and offering him a warm smile, “it’s nice to meet you. I’m Suguru’s cousin,” 
Satoru didn’t know what this feeling was — and he wouldn’t until a few more summers passed, and his hormones kicked in — but all he knew was that he would do anything to see you smile like that at him again. And he did — he would spend as much time as he could with you — talking to you about a test he aced, about something funny that happened at school, or even ratting on Suguru about what he was up to (earning him many knocks to the head by his best friend). But every time you smiled or laughed, it was worth it — worth every second he spent counting down the time to summer break so he could see you again. 
But he didn’t know his seconds would run out so soon — and he only learned one random day going home with Suguru, from a snippet of a conversation he had with his mom. 
“I know, I know she’s coming next week,” Satoru’s interest hadn’t been peaked by Suguru’s conversation until then, because he knew exactly who they were talking about. After all, you always came right at the start of break, and finally he could see you again — and maybe this time, he could tell you how he felt. 
“I know, I know it’s her last time here so it has to be perfect,” and Satoru’s head snapped back to Suguru, last time? “I will,” and Suguru hangs up, a sigh on his lips, “my mom is being so annoying about my cousin. So what it’s her last time staying with us? It doesn’t mean we have to—“ 
“What do you mean it’s her last time?” Satoru kept his tone steady and slow, even as his heart thrummed against his ribs as if it was a xylophone, “she always comes every summer—“ 
“Of high school,” Suguru corrected him, “she is applying to university this year — most of them are abroad, and it seems likely she won’t be back in Japan, not for a while,” Suguru continued to complain on their way back to his place, but all Satoru could do was think about you. 
It was your last summer with him. His last chance to make a move, to be something more than your younger cousin’s friend. His last chance to make you see him as a man, not a kid. 
He had to confess, his fingers curled into fists, before the end of the summer. He would make you his girlfriend — one way or another. 
And he did confess back then, Satoru thought, as he picked up a photo, wrinkled and yellowed at the corners, a picture that Suguru’s mom had taken of you and him the summer you had left. A candid of him and you looking at each other — one that Suguru’s mom had slipped to him with a knowing smile and a wink (one that had mortified him as a teenager). 
He was always looking at you — no matter where he was, his eyes always found your form, a magnet to its opposite pole, and he didn’t know how to stop you from drawing him in. It had been over a decade and he still couldn’t. 
He stared at your smiling face, the very same face that had looked at you with a smile fading to confusion this evening. He had gotten so close to asking you — to telling you how he felt — and he flips to the next picture, a scowl on his face as a picture of him and Suguru with his smug smile stared back at him. If only fucking Suguru hadn’t interrupted. 
He shook his head, flipping back to his picture of you. This wasn’t the summer and he wasn’t a kid anymore. And you weren’t out of his reach, bound for another country across the ocean. No, you were here — only a short drive away. 
And he made a promise to himself — he would get you to fall in love with him, before the end of this summer. 
~~~
You hate first days. 
“Did you see the guy waiting outside?” one woman whispered not so softly as you passed by. 
“Yeah looks like he’s waiting for her,” the other’s lips formed a frown but only to hide her smirk. 
From the time you were a kid, your first day of school was something you had all the time from your family moving around. You were always the new kid — the one who would be met with wide eyes and curiosity, only to be tossed aside a few days later. 
But this was a fresh start that you had wanted — a new job far away from where you had started, with new responsibilities — a first day you had looked forward to, until it went so downhill. 
And it was all your ex’s fault. 
You texted Suguru — is it too early to quit on the first day? 
He replies, well it’s been four hours, think you’ve lasted through one of my dad’s long winded stories longer than that. What happened? 
You glanced outside towards the front of the building. It was more like ‘who happened?’ 
It was an innocuous enough morning, of introductions, trainings, orientation, and finally computer set up. You were rifling through your paperwork, trying to figure out what sheet looked the least daunting when someone called for you. 
“There’s someone looking for you outside the lobby,” you saw a flurry of looks shared and smirks shot in your direction, and when you arrived downstairs you knew why. 
What. The. Fuck. 
You couldn’t help it. You bursted outside, “what are you doing here?” It was your ex — the very same ex who had started at the same overseas company after you both graduated and the one you had. And again, had chosen to follow you here. 
“Waiting for you to change yer mind,” Naoya tilts his head, hands in his pocket, “and I know you will, because you love me,” he raises his voice to catch the eye of several passerby, and you grab his wrist, dragging him away. 
“Fuck off,” you hiss under your breath, “I told you it’s over, and don’t you have a fucking job?” 
“Did you forget? I’m rich, another reason ya can’t do better than me,” Naoya’s lips curl into that same grin, one you knew as charming once, until you saw past his pretty pink lips and glimpsed the sharp fangs behind them, “I took time off. Did ya think it was a coincidence we ended up at the same company?” 
You gritted your teeth, “Naoya—“ and he breaks from your grip, instead his fingers dig into your wrist. 
“All ya are is me. All that you have is me. And all you will have is me,” he dared closer, breath warming your lips, as he took hold of your other wrist and tugged you close, “the sooner you accept that, the better, doll,” 
‘Doll.’ The term of endearment you had seen as precious to you. Something you always loved to hear roll off his tongue, the word you had learned to learned to reply to, even more than your own name. The one you regarded with such love had burned, burned until the flames licked your skin and knew what it really meant — a doll with strings, one he was meant to be the master of. 
“Don’t call me that,” you rip your hands away, “leave. You’re embarrassing yourself,” 
“Am I?” He tilts his head, jerking his head in the direction of your building where your offices had a clear view of this, “or am I just embarrassing you?” 
You stared out the window for a moment and you knew he was still out there — judging but the way your phone was on the verge of suicide by notification, he was still very much there. And now, all people would know of you is the new worker with a crazy stalker ex. 
I’m calling the police, Suguru’s text popped up, what’s your workplace’s address? 
You think I hadn’t thought of that, Sugu? You sigh, he’s not doing anything. He’s on a public sidewalk. They can’t do anything to him. 
Another text: when do you get out? You glance at the time, seeing another two coworkers whisper to each other, stealing looks. 
An eternity — In another two hours. 
I’ll handle it. Just wait in the lobby after work. And you frown. 
Sugu, I can handle it. I don’t need you to come down here. 
You always fought your battles. You didn’t need anything else to — or anyone else to pick them for you. Not even your baby cousin — no matter how sweet his intentions were. 
Don’t worry. I’m not coming down. And you frown, staring at the text, before your phone rings, and you groan as ‘Assistant Director’ flashes on the screen.  
You were so fired. 
You weren’t — as you shut the door of his office behind you. However, he did advise you that this company had a strict no nonsense policy and did want personal drama to be dredged up in the office. And you were given the day to sort out your “mess.” 
You scrub a hand down your face, but it wasn’t even your mess, and how would you fix it? He wasn’t going to listen to you. You sit at your desk, packing up your bag for the day. And your phone vibrates. 
Come down. 
You hesitate, But he’s still downstairs. 
Just go. 
Fuck. You sling your bag over your shoulder, piercing eyes digging into your back, vultures circling an already dead carcass, whispering still even as the elevators doors shut. 
And you almost wish they never opened when you see what’s waiting for you outside. 
Fuck. 
You grit your teeth, stomach in absolute knots as if to brace yourself for the complete shitstorm you’re about to deal with. 
“Satoru?” 
Satoru Gojo leaned back against his expensive (likely imported) car, shiny as it was new, sunglasses glinting in the light, but not brighter than the grin he gives you. He holds out your favorite drink, a tilt of his head. 
“Are you ready to go?” 
You glance around, as he places the drink in your hand, “But what about—“
“Let go of me!” 
Satoru’s lips curl, sliding his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, “Oh, I’ve gotten him handled,” 
Naoya stood between two men restraining him, both in suits, as his face contorted in anger, veins bulging, eyes darting between the two of you, “Do you know who I am? I’m the heir to the Zenin Corporation — you cannot treat me like this. I’ll have you—“ 
“Heir? Really?” Satoru stepped forward, blocking him from your view, “is that right? I thought the Zenin hadn’t decided announced a successor yet,” 
You furrow your brow — how does Satoru— but then you’re being put into a car with Satoru’s arm curled around your waist, as he opens the door and tucks you into the passenger seat. 
And now you won’t know. At least not now. 
Naoya scoffed, “And who are you to know anything about—“ 
“Have you heard of the Six Eyes Corp,” and Naoya’s eyes narrow, “you should have because we account for a large chunk of your business. And if that support were to disappear,” he flashes his blue eyes at him over the rim of his sunglasses, “I’d hate to tell them it’s because of this,” 
“You fucking liar, like you could tell anyone anything—“ 
Satoru chuckles, “You’re right, I am a liar,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I don’t need to tell anyone. Except my father,” 
Naoya’s sneer fades into confusion, his eyes narrowed, “Don’t fucking tell me—” 
“Then I won’t,” he steps forward, hands slipping into his pockets, “but if you ever step in her presence again,” he jerks his head towards you in his car, “then I will, and you don’t wanna know what happens if I do,” he steps in front of Naoya, back blocking your view so you don’t see him grab Naoya’s wrist, blue eyes aflame with something far deeper than anger, “because it will much worse,” he squeezes Naoya’s wrist hard making him flinch as he grits his teeth at Satoru’s smiling face, “who knows? Maybe I’ll break your wrist next time.” 
He turns around, waving off the guards, as he makes his way back to his car, sliding into the driver’s seat, smile fading to concern. 
“Are you alright, Princess?” You’re watching those people drag Naoya away, his hateful gaze trying and failing to get a last look at you as the guard takes a hand to the back of his head to force his gaze forward. 
“Where are they taking him?” 
Satoru starts the car, the quiet rumble of the engine filling the silence of his pause, “just to the proper authorities. He won’t bother you again,” 
You bit your bottom lip, eyes burning with tears — and you don’t know whether if it’s embarrassment or relief, “I’m sorry—“ 
“Don’t finish that sentence,” and your eyes slide to his, a soft smile on his lips, “you don’t have anything to be sorry about. Or to thank me for,” he cuts you off as your lips part, “is your wrist okay?” 
You glance down and see the slight redness still lingered, a final parting gift, and your other hand closes over the wrist, “it hurts a little, but I’ll ice it when I get home,” 
“We’ll go to a hospital to have it looked at,” and you’re shaking your head. 
“I don’t want to sit—“ 
“Then I’ll hire a doctor to come see you,” and you stare at him, as he rolls to a stop at a red light…is that a pout? “I just want you to be ok, Princess, please,” 
You bite back a small smile, and ignore the flutter in your heart, “Fine, you win, let’s go to a walk-in clinic,” and you spot his shoulders relax, “but it’s not really fair when you give me your infamous pout,” 
He raises an eyebrow, “‘Infamous?’” 
“You used to whip that out all the time on me and on my aunt when you were a kid — it did always work,” 
“Not always,” he replies, as he turns into the parking for the walk-in clinic, “in fact, I remember a time that it specifically did not work,” 
“And when was that?” You tilt your head. 
And he smiles, “When I asked you to be my girlfriend,” and you furrow your brow, nearly forgetting the memory, until it hits you. 
“Oh my god, the last summer I spent here,” you covered your mouth with the tips of your fingers, a chuckle on your lips, “you were very direct,” 
“I could say the same about you,” and you roll your eyes. 
“You were a kid. You were way too young for me, you know that,” you unbuckle your seatbelt, “plus now I bet you could get any person you want. That’s why I was surprised why you didn’t have a girlfriend,”
“Like I said, there’s only one woman in the world for me,” his eyes find yours, cerulean bathed in sunlight, light catching across his irises, “and only one woman I ever wanted to be with,”
Oh. 
Oh. 
No, no, that couldn’t be it — you couldn’t be her, not after all this time—
You blink, “Satoru, you don’t—“ 
“Well our age difference isn’t a problem anymore is it?” Your brain is struggling to process, lips parting with no words, “Princess,” his fingers brush yours, gently grazing your hand, as your gaze finds his again, “when are you going to take me seriously?” 
“Satoru—“ 
“Just don’t say no,” Satoru cuts you off, pulling his hand away, “don’t say no and think about it,” you open your mouth only to waver at the sight of the pout on his lips and you sigh. 
It was hard to say no, especially right now. 
“Okay I won’t say no,” you slip from the car, lips breaking into a wide grin, before sticking your head inside, “don’t smile like that. It’s not a yes,” you huff, cheeks burning and stomach erupting in butterflies. 
“Not yet,” Satoru says as you shut the door, “not yet, Princess.” 
~~~
“Huh? You did what?” 
You loved your aunt. You really did. She and her husband had taken you in when your parents were too busy working to properly take care of you during the summers. But times like this reminded you—
—-she truly was her mother’s sister. 
“Well your mother was telling me that you haven’t dated anyone since you’ve been back—“ 
“It's only been a month!” You had barely finished getting unpacked, and in fact, you still had at least five boxes still stacked up in the closet, “I’m not interested in dating, I’m trying to focus on work,” you rubbed the back of your head, “new topic, please,” as you sip on your drink. 
And after the debacle Naoya had caused, you needed to — you had put up with the whispers and stares for a few days, but since Naoya had stayed away, the rumors faded with time. Now things had died down for the most part. Except for—
“Has Satoru still been picking you up?” You nearly do a spit take, but instead you choke down the water, coughing, “eh? Are you okay, honey?” 
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” your cheeks burn at the thought of Satoru — he was always a bold kid, but you didn’t think he’d confess to being in love with you all this time. Especially now as a man — and not a kid, “yeah he’s still picking me up,” 
When he had confessed to you all those years ago as a young teenager, you had thought nothing of it. Except that it was a crush on his best friend’s older cousin — something that would pass easily with time. You hadn’t even thought of it in all these years. 
But now, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. 
Especially when he kept showing up to pick you up from work. And now you were stirring other sorts of rumors. 
After he had taken you to the walk-in clinic, he had driven you home, making sure to check if your place was secure enough, and that you weren’t too shaken up. 
“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off to Suguru’s?” he had asked, crossing his arms, “I could also drag his ass here, he owes me anyway,” 
“No, no I’m really fine,” you chewed your lip, looking down, “you sure he’s not going to come back?” and he leans down, forcing you to meet his gaze, as he tilts his head. 
“Sweetheart, you think I’d even leave your place if I thought there was a chance of him coming back?” he offers you a smile, and you scoff softly, shaking your head, “trust me, he won’t be bothering you again, not while I’m around,” and he added, “and I’m not going anywhere.” 
And you didn’t know what to do with the promise in his words. Because you knew he meant that — in more than one way. 
But even so, he hadn’t brought up his confession — not once. 
“He’s so sweet isn’t he? Suguru is always so busy but Satoru’s making time to pick you instead,” your aunt gushes, and you shake your head, your aunt did have a habit of being a little hard on her son, “by the way, would you mind stopping by the house today?” 
“Why’s that?” 
And well, how did you end up here? 
You stood in front of the entrance to a very expensive looking building with a very intimidating doorman, with a large tote bag full of food that your aunt had insisted you drop off. She had given you his address, but by the time you arrived, you realized that you didn’t even have his number. And now Suguru or your aunt weren’t picking up their phones. 
Fuck. 
You were internally debating whether to talk to the doorman or to just go home and deal with this another time, when you heard someone speak behind you. 
“Looking for someone?” You jump slightly, whirling when you see Satoru, hands in his pockets, a smile on his lips, as he lifts his sunglasses to meet your gaze, “didn’t think I’d find you hanging outside my apartment building, princess,” 
“Well, you show up outside my workplace and I’ll be showing up outside your apartment building,” the words leave your mouth without much thought, as your cheeks burn at the implication, “I mean—” 
“Is that supposed to discourage me from picking you up?” he grins, “Doesn’t sound like a bad deal to me,” 
You roll your eyes, before holding up the bag, “My aunt asked me to drop off some dishes for you. She’s worried you’re eating too many sweets,” 
He takes the bag from your hand, fingers brushing, as he shakes his head, “I shouldn’t have ever told her that I had cake for dinner,” and you snort, unable to hide your giggles, “what’s so funny?” 
“I can see a lot about you has changed, but your sweet tooth is just as bad as when you were a kid,” and you see him scratch the back of his head, “is your favorite dessert still mochi?” 
“You still remember that about me?” A smile pulling at his lips, and your cheeks burn, but you refuse to waver. 
“Well, it’s hard to forget you threw up all over the rug when you ate too many,” You bite back a smile when you spot the tips of his ears burn red, as he gapes at you. 
“Did you have to bring that up?” He mutters, a small pout on his lips, and you snort, as he can’t help the curl of his lips, “now, c’mon,” his fingers brush the small of your back. 
“Satoru, where—“ but his hand is firm as he guides you towards his building. 
He flashes you a grin as he signs you in with the doorman, “Do you think I’d let you come all this way without staying for dinner?” 
~~~
“Do you want anything to drink?” Satoru’s penthouse was nothing less than immaculate — high ceilings, pristine floors, and an interior designed living space. You swore in some places it was still shiny — and you felt very out of place in your casual wear for the weekend. 
“Just a water,” you reply, as he opens his refrigerator and you raise an eyebrow at the fully stocked compartments, “wow,” you murmur, and he’s pulling a water and a fancy looking juice out of it. 
“What was that?” He raises a brow, and you stammer a moment, “c’mon princess, share with the class,” 
“Just surprised your refrigerator isn’t just stuffed with just desserts, sweets, and ice cream,” and he hands you your water, before sitting beside you, spread out on the couch, as he always was. 
“Oh it is, it’s just very well hidden,” and you snort, as he throws his arm over the back of the couch, “I may be an adult but I’m not going to be a boring old geezer like my father,” 
“I don’t think I could ever see you becoming boring, Satoru,” you chuckle, and he tilts his head. 
“Is that a rare compliment from you, princess?” And his grin only makes your cheeks warm, as you roll your eyes.
“More like an observation,” you reply, as your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you pull it out to check — who would be messaging you now? 
Oh fuck. 
“You ok there?” 
No, no you weren’t. Because your lovely aunt had given your number to a prospective match, and now he was texting you. A lot. 
“It’s nothing,” you sigh, shaking your head, putting your phone on ‘do not disturb.” You would have dinner first, and then you’d murder your aunt after dessert, “do you want me to help take out dinner?” 
“You expect me to believe you don’t hire a chef to make these sides?” The food was spread out across the table, many of the dishes your aunt had made plated and presented, but along with sides that Satoru had made, “Suguru had made it seem as if the only thing you ever made was microwave ramen,” 
“Well jokes on him, I burned it the one time I tried,” he grinned, “but I did learn to cook, I just never bothered to cook for Suguru,” 
“And why’s that?” You take a bite of the pickled radish he had prepared. 
“Because I’m not trying to impress him, am I?” And you nearly choke slightly, as you manage to swallow, “you should know I’m so much more than a pretty face, Princess,” 
You sigh, “Satoru—“
“Have you thought about what I said at all?” 
And you had. A lot more than you cared to admit. Especially after all he had done. Everything he had to Naoya to defend you. And just about him — how sweet he’s been, how protective, how kind, and how you’d like nothing more than to do the same for him—
But…
“I have, but Satoru, our ages—“ 
“We’re both adults. We both graduated. We haven’t seen each other in over a decade,” his leg brushes yours as he shifts closer, “are you telling me you don’t feel anything?” 
You didn’t know how to answer that — not when you didn’t really know yourself. And you always knew the answer — you knew you wanted to study abroad, you knew you had to leave Naoya’s company, and you knew you wanted to live here — so why was this the one time you didn’t? And why was he the one thing you were unsure of? 
You bite your bottom lip, “But, Suguru—“ and he scoffs softly. 
“Are you really thinking about Suguru right now?” he asks, “or would you rather date the guy blowing up your phone earlier?” 
Your eyebrows knit together, “How did you know—“ 
“Well I know it’s not Naoya, and I heard from Suguru that your aunt wanted to set you up,” fucking Suguru—and your lips twist into a pout, he tilts his head, not bothering to hide his smile, “if you dated me, you could get your aunt off your back,” he muses, leaning against his elbow, “she always did say I was family, and I’m not looking to be your brother,” 
Your cheeks burn at his words, “Satoru,”
“Think about it, Princess, you don’t have to give me an answer now,” but his eyes flicker to your phone, “but I know you’ll find me once you meet any one of these guys your aunt sets you up with,” 
You grimace at your phone, picking it up to see the messages from the guy your aunt had given your number to, “fuck,” you murmur, locking your phone before tossing it away, an image of you trapped at a dinner across the most boring man alive. And then you glance up at Satoru, still a smug smile on his lips, and then back to your phone. 
“What’s your plan?” 
~~~
“So, I heard you turned down the boy I gave your number to,” 
Your aunt hardly pulled punches. 
She never did when you and Suguru were growing up — she always knew what the two of you got up to, even if you were both sure she could never find out — she always did. Even the one time that the two of you had snuck out to get ramen on a late night, Suguru’s parents were in a dead sleep — but by the time you both snuck back in, she was waiting for both of you in the hallway. But this time, she wasn’t even leading with a wind-up before swinging. 
And then she adds, eyes narrowing, “He said you declined because you’re dating someone,” 
She was going for the kill. 
She turns to grab the whistling tea kettle, turning it off, before pouring the hot water into two cups. You force yourself not to bite your bottom lip, the smallest tell was dangerous, even with her back turned, “Is there anything he didn’t tell you?” She’s placing the tea cups one by one on the tray, as if laying out her pieces on a board only to corner you. 
Your aunt frowns, “His mother told me,” great, even better — he was a momma’s boy, and now you were starting to wonder just how many bullets did you dodge,  “are you seeing someone?” 
You were beginning to regret this plan — and you don’t know why you let Satoru talk you into it. 
“You want me to do what?” You stared at Satoru as if he had suggested going diving with sharks, which is not far from what he was suggesting, “tell my aunt that we’re together. No way,” 
“Aw, am I that embarrassing to date, Princess?” And you roll your eyes. 
“Yes, for me,” and he’s tilting his head, “my aunt will immediately tell my uncle and Suguru — and I don’t know which one of them would kill you first,” your uncle wasn’t one for words or conflict, but he had a soft spot for you — and a fist for anyone that tried to come date you without his approval. 
“Eh? Doesn’t Uncle like me?” And you snort, the one sided conversations that Satoru had with your uncle that usually ended with your uncle excusing himself to get away from that “annoying moron.” 
“He doesn’t hate you but,” you choose your words carefully, “he doesn’t prefer you,” 
Satoru scoffs, crossing his arms, “Well Auntie loves me, and I had a plan for this,” and she did, she had quite the soft spot for Satoru, ever since he was a kid. You couldn’t exactly blame her — he looked like an angel, even if the words that left his mouth made it seem like the contrary, his fingers brushing against a strand of your hair, “and soon I’ll make you love me too,” 
Fucking cocky bastard, you thought to yourself, cheeks burning at the thought of the smirk on his lips, but you’re jarred back to reality as you hear the clattering of cups and spoons.  
“I am,” you reply, and your aunt’s head whips around, the clinking of the glasses cutting through the pause, “it’s new,” you add, as she sets down the tea cups, placing the tea dispensers in each one, “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything,” 
“Why wouldn’t you? This is wonderful,” she blinked, and her brow wrinkles, “unless it’s that Naoya—“ you flinch at the thought of him. 
“No, I’m done with him,” you wave her off quickly, wrinkling your nose at the thought of that bastard, grabbing the tea cup, the scent of green tea wafting from the steam that warmed your face, as you blew air to cool it off, “it’s someone I reconnected with here,” 
Your aunt raises an eyebrow, “So soon? Is it someone from work?” Again, is the word she implies with the sentence, a sharp tone that nicked your armor. 
“No, it isn’t,” and she’s sipping her tea, and you take a sip only to burn your tongue, “but he is younger,” 
“That’s not a problem if he’s not too much younger — how old is he?” and this was exactly why you hadn’t wanted to tell your aunt, it was more of an interrogation than a conversation. 
“He’s about Suguru’s age,” and she’s tilting her head, “Suguru introduced us,” and that wasn’t a lie — it was true — both in the past and now. 
“Really? And Sugu is okay with you dating his friend?” Your aunt may be gossip and a meddler, but she wasn’t a fool, your hesitation is your end, “and I assume you’re telling me all this to get me off your case and to ask not to tell Suguru,” she sighs. 
“Auntie—“ 
“You know I don’t like lying for either of you—“ 
“But—“ 
“No, I can’t—“ 
“How about lying for me?” Satoru stands in the doorway, head tilted, a smile on his lips. And your aunt blinks before she slowly puts the puzzle pieces together, a mix of emotions crossing her expression — confusion, disbelief, and maybe a hint of joy, before she settled on a neutral 
“Satoru—“ 
He frowns, “Auntie, you know Suguru will kill me for dating his cousin, please,” and then he does what he does best — pouting. 
And your aunt breaks — with a one hit-KO. 
“You must have been blessed by some needlessly annoying god,” you murmur as he walks you back to your place, sun gleaming as it gave off its last rays of light before setting for the night,  “because I don’t know how you still get her to fall for that,” 
“I was born blessed,” and you snort, as you catch sight of his smile out of the corner of your eye, “and speaking of which, when’s our first date?” 
“Straight to the point, huh?” You stop walking, hands in your pockets, “Satoru—“ 
“Don’t tell me you’re about to launch into another speech about how you can’t date me,” he gives an exaggerated sigh, “I could go back to your aunt and tell her how you broke my heart and let her pull out list of aunties who have sons who are excited to meet you—“ 
“Alright, fine, a date, but one thing first,” you step close to him, making his breath catch, pretty blues finding your gaze, the very same he would love to get lost in, before they flicker down to your lips. And he swears you can probably hear his heart beating out of his chest, thumping at the bony bars of his ribcage, and he hates it, hates how you have him twisted around your finger without trying, “Princess—“ 
You reach for him, fingers nearly about to brush his cheek, his eyes fluttering, before you flick his forehead, “ow!” 
“I was just going to ask when our first date is going to be, but if you rather I go on a bunch of blind dates—“ and he’s shaking his head, rubbing his forehead all the same, “then do you have any ideas?” 
He grins, “Plenty, but there’s one in particular.” 
~~~~
“An amusement park?” 
He sat next to you, driving, hand on the console and you couldn’t help but brush your arm against his each time you moved — and you felt as if he did it on purpose. 
He raises an eyebrow, stealing a glance out of the corner of his eye, “Uh-huh, got a problem, Princess?” 
“No I’m just surprised, we went to plenty of these as kids,” you glanced at him, his eyes concentrated on the road, fingers curling a little tighter around the steering wheel. 
You had raised an eyebrow at his choice, but now that you were here…it wasn’t a bad pick. 
You hadn’t been to one in years — not since your summers with Suguru. The screams in the distance told you there was a rollercoaster not far off, the syrupy sweetness of sugar somehow emanated from every inch of air, and the park was filled to the brim with families and couples. 
You glance at Satoru, a plain t-shirt and shorts, and somehow he still looked as if he stepped off a page of a men’s style magazine. He looked around, his eyes landing on a vendor selling cotton candy, and you hid your chuckle. 
“C’mon,” you took his hand, leading him over without a second thought, and you’re grabbing a giant cotton candy for him, made into a flower by the vendor. Satoru’s practically vibrating with excitement, slinking his hand around to sneak the vendor money before you even had a chance, “I wanted to pay—“ 
“You think I’d make my date pay?” He takes a bite out of his cotton candy, sugar sticking to his lips even as he nearly inhales a petal, “even the arranged set ups should do that much,” but it’s hard to take him seriously with blue sugar all over his mouth, “what?” 
You snort, grabbing a wet nap from your purse,“Well, you’d be surprised,” and you wipe his face, fingers cupping his chin, “some guys are a little immature,” and he stares back, and you swear you see a flush settle over his cheeks, before he turns away to wipe his lips. 
“Not me,” he mumbles, tips of his ears burning red, and you bite your bottom lip, cute. 
“Should we find a ride to go on?” he immediately grins at that, offering his arm this time, and you take it, a smile tugging at your lips. 
Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. 
~~~
Oh you were wrong. 
So wrong. 
“I changed my mind, I don’t want to get on,” and before you can leave a hand catches you by the wrist gently, blue eyes judging over his rimless sunglasses, “Satoru—“ 
“It’s just a rollercoaster,” just a rollercoaster? No, it was literally your death. You stared up at the contraption above you, the echoing screams growing louder as the line crept forward — akin to a rickety boat that Charon would wade you across into hell itself. 
“No, I can’t—“ you shake your head. 
“C’mon it won’t be that bad—“ 
“So you admit it’s going to be bad,” and he’s biting back a smile, “what?” 
“I just never really saw you being scared of anything, Princess,” he sighed loudly, “I guess I’ll have to ride it all alone,” but that only serves to make many women (and men) stare at him as if to offer him their company. 
“You have options,” and he shakes his head, his hand outstretched as the two of you enter the final stretch of the line. 
“Like I said, sweetheart, there’s only ever been one option for me,” and your fingers graze his with several second thoughts, but when his fingers laced with yours, you knew there was no turning back. 
“I didn’t know you could scream that loud,” 
You grinned at a shaken up Satoru, throat probably raw and aching as he frowns, face turned away, “I’m not used to the speed, unlike you, from how I heard you drive,” and you bite back a laugh, as he fails to hide his flush from you, his ears burning red. 
Your chuckle is a badly disguised cough, “Are you pretending to be this way to make me feel better?” You tease, and he’s crossing his arms. 
“No way I’d let myself look so lame in front of you, I’m no better than Ijichi,” and you raise an eyebrow. Ijichi was a boy in Suguru and Satoru’s class when they were kids — one that Satoru loved to complain about being slow. 
“You still think about him?”
“He’s my assistant,” and you snort at the thought of Satoru still hassling that poor guy. 
“I hope you pay him well,” he’s officially pouting again.
“I didn’t know it would be that intense!” you tilt your head, as the two of you find a corner of the park that’s not so crowded and riddled with children running amok, and you watch him down a sugary soda drink he had bought from one of the food stalls. 
“You act as if you’ve never been to an amusement park,” he’s quiet for a second too long, and your eyebrows knit together, “but Suguru—” 
“You guys would go every summer, but it was when I had my prep classes on the weekends,” he runs his fingers through his white locks, “I would have skipped when I was older, but by the time I had stopped caring what my father thought of me, you had already gone to college and Suguru’s family stopped going,” 
You frown — you knew Satoru didn’t have the best upbringing — yes he had every opportunity at his fingertips, all the money in the world that you couldn’t even fathom, but you could count the number of times he’s mentioned his parents on one hand. 
“I was always so jealous when you guys would go,” he sighed, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips, “it seems silly now—” 
“No, it’s not,” you cut him off, shaking your head, “you should have been allowed to be a kid,” 
He chuckles, a noise that sticks in your chest, “Well, more than anything, I wanted to go with you,” his cerulean eyes find yours, a soft smile on his lips, “thank you for indulging me, princess,” 
“Well, you’re the one doing me a favor, right?” you tease, getting to your feet, “c’mon we have plenty of other things to do — I saw a booth with candy apples not too far over there—” you point, and his fingers are already finding yours as he nearly drags you along, a laugh caught in your throat as you can’t help but smile at his excitement. 
It’s infectious, you thought as the two of you got in line, Satoru nearly vibrating with need for his sugar fix, and you shook your head, biting back a laugh, just like him. 
~~~
“You don’t have to walk me home,” the sun had long sunk by the time you both had left, staying to catch a glimpse of the fireworks before heading back, “it’s not that far from here,” 
The two of you had opted to take public transport to the amusement park, knowing there would be next to nowhere to park or rather only the middle of nowhere to park. The cicadas were already beginning their symphony, filling the relative silence of the neighborhood now, except for the chatter heard from inside houses or outside in gardens. 
“Who would carry your loot home?” and he tilts the giant plushie to show his unimpressed face, “you barely wanted to carry this at the park, even after you begged me to win it, and I did, in one shot,” 
And he did, he had won you a giant polar bear plushie nearly as tall as you were in his hands, along with several bags of sweets he had bought on the way out, just to snack on tonight (and you seriously wondered if he ate anything that was not coated in mochi, chocolate, or sugar). 
“I don’t remember begging you — I asked you,” you cross your arms, and you know he’s smiling behind the bear, using the plushie to hide his goddamn smirk, “i did! I just asked if we could try to win it—” 
“And I remember the phrases ‘please’ and ‘i need it’ being involved in the conversation,” you felt your cheeks burn, “you still like these things, huh?” 
“What do you mean?” and he moves the polar bear under one arm, the bags in the other so you could actually see his face. 
“You always loved plushies, you had that one from your parents that you kept in your room with you all the time—” 
“Panda, I was very original with that name,” you shake your head, before your gaze turns to him, his sunglasses gleaming on his head in the low light of the streetlamps, “I can’t believe you remembered that,” 
“There’s barely a thing I’d forget when it comes to you,” and you bite your lip, heart squeezing at his words, “you look like you wanna say something, princess?” 
You reached the outside of your apartment building just as night fell, humidity still clinging to the thick summer air. The light of the lobby spilling out into the sidewalk through the glass doors, just as the streets grew quieter. 
And you do — you’re not sure if you should ask it — a question posed on a precipice of uncertainty that you didn’t know if you wanted to step off of. But you know you had to, at one point or another. 
You could just go inside, brush off his question, and leave the day at that. But a nagging question had wriggled it’s way to the forefront of your mind, and you knew it wouldn’t leave your mind until it left your tongue. 
You chew on your lip, “You say these things so easily when it comes to me, but how are you so sure?” 
And he shrugs, his eyes not leaving yours for even a second, “I just know,” 
“But how?” He’s shaking his head, stepping forward, until he’s a breath away, your eyes flickering from his gaze to his lips for a split second, your own air caught in your traitorous throat. 
“Instead of wondering why I feel why I do, I think you should wonder why you’re so unsure,” and his fingers graze your cheek, tilting your chin upwards, his touch sending heat to the far reaches of your body, and he’s leaning forward. Your eyes nearly flutter shut, as his words nearly warm your lips, but no, instead they brush against your ear, “because if I was still just that kid to you that I was all those years ago, then why aren’t you pulling away?” 
Your eyes blink open, as he pulls away, grin on his lips, as he hands you your polar bear plushie, “Satoru—“ and you don’t even know what you want to say — you want to argue, you want to say something, anything, but nothing comes out but his name. 
“You shouldn’t let a guy get that close, Princess, especially not twice,” he sighs, lips still curled, “because if you let me that close again, I won’t be leaving without a kiss,” 
And you could only stare after him as he left — fingers touching your ear he had whispered against, lips pursing, as you huff, cheeks burning as you step inside your building, burying your face in white fluff of the polar bear that looked a little too much like someone’s hair. 
“Idiot.” 
~~~~
You’re avoiding me. 
Satoru wasn’t wrong. You were — but not exactly on purpose. Or at least you didn’t think so. It had been the third time you had turned him down in the last week. Although, today’s wasn’t intentionally so. You stewed in a corner of the bar, eyes glancing at your phone — what was really an appropriate time to leave a work-sanctioned event without looking completely anti-social? 
It was never really fun coming to these events alone — but you knew if Satoru was here, you’d actually have a good time. You were almost surprised he hadn’t shown up at your place or your work to see you — all he had done is text you. And why did that almost disappoint you?
You checked the time again, met with the notification of Satoru’s message again before you swiped it away out of sight. But he wasn’t out of mind. He hadn’t been for days. You rubbed at your temples — you hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since your day at the amusement park, thoughts spinning in circles and it was all his fault. You had done everything to get him out of your head — minimize contact, not see him, even drag yourself to an event like this — but still, you stared at your phone screen again, the ghost of his words still warming your ear. 
You couldn’t stop thinking about him. 
Fuck. What were you doing? You took a long swig of your drink, hoping the alcohol could erase some of that night out of your mind. The last thing you needed to be thinking about was Satoru Gojo. 
“So who’s the guy who has been picking you up after work?” 
You nearly choked on your drink. Really? You downed your drink, hoping you can ignore the question if you take long enough downing the searing concoction that the bartender had handed you, maybe they would let you off the hook. But as you finish the drink, you only find your coworkers staring back at you still. The hush that fell over this group of women was far too reverent for a conversation about a man. 
“He’s my little cousin’s best friend,” you reply, ordering another drink — you were going to need it, and the women exchange glances, fake smiles plastered on their lips. 
“He’s not your boyfriend?” and a strange twinge settles in your chest at the question, poking and prodding your tongue to say no, no he wasn’t, but you almost didn’t want to. 
“No, he isn’t,” and the women grin amongst each other, “if you would excuse me—” 
“Wait, wait, we just started talking, come on now,” you sigh internally, as they order another round of drinks as they corral you to their table, maybe after this you could finally leave. 
~~~
“What’s got you so down?” Suguru slides into a seat across from Satoru — Satoru who couldn’t stop checking his phone to see if you had replied. 
“What do you mean?” he sighs, he shouldn’t have sent that text earlier. He shouldn’t push so much, he’s already pushed enough with his comment. God, why the fuck did he say that? What if you thought he was a creep—what if you thought he was disgusting? What if— 
“You look pathetic,” Suguru sips his coffee in his hand, scrolling through his phone, “who is it?” 
Satoru sits up, locking his phone, tucking it away as if it would incriminate him — flashing your name across the screen like it was plastered over his mind, “what do you mean?” 
“I’ve never seen you like this, you keep checking your phone — you barely can keep track of it most of the time,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I figured you must have grew a dick and started liking someone,” 
“Look who’s talking — when’s the last time you dated someone again?” And Satoru catches the crumpled up paper Suguru tosses, “don’t get on your high horse if you don’t want the same thing back,” 
“At least I’m not waiting like a lovesick puppy over my phone,” Suguru mutters, taking another sip of his drink, and that’s when a phone ringing cuts through the silence — that was your ringtone, the very one he set to know when you’d call — just so he wouldn’t miss it, “looks like your waiting by the door paid off,” 
“Fuck off,” Satoru mumbled, walking off with his phone as he picked up, “hello?” 
“Suguru!” Satoru’s brow furrowed at the sound of your cousin’s name leaving your lips, “can you pick me up plz—“ your words were slurred, sounds of chatter cutting through the background. 
“Princ—“ you hiccuped, a small groan leaving your lips. 
“You can’t tell Satoru, he’ll come here and my coworkers won’t stop asking me about him,” you sigh again, mumbling, “why does he have to be so—ugh, it’s not fair for someone to be that pretty—“ 
Pretty? 
His cheeks burned, as he covered his mouth with his hand, trying and failing to bite back a stupid smile on his lips — it’s not fair for you to be this cute. He would have preferred ‘handsome’ or ‘perfect’ or ‘your boyfriend’ — but he could settle for pretty. 
“Anyway!” You cut his thoughts off, “could you come get me?” And Satoru bit his lip, glancing at Suguru — he could tell Suguru to get you, he could, but the odds of you letting something slip to Suguru—- “remember you can’t tell Satoru—“ 
—was really high. 
“Don’t worry, I’ll be right there, and I won’t tell him,” he adds, because you already had. 
~~~
“How did you find out where I work?” Satoru didn’t know after so many years that there were still new things to learn about you still — and one thing he had learned tonight was that —- you pouted at him, stumbling slightly as he came to a stop in front of your building — you were really whiny when drunk. 
“I picked you up there, remember?” he lightly flicked your forehead that only made you huff, “now do you have your keys?” 
“Do you know how annoying you are?” And he has to bite back a laugh at your scrunched up face. 
“I do, sweetheart, but I’d love to hear you tell me,” you scoff, crossing your arms only to immediately uncross to dig through your purse for your keys, tossing out several things that Satoru catches or picks up. 
“You come to my work and pick me up, and act all swoon worthy, and perfect, and you look like that—“ 
“Like what?” he can’t hide his smile this time, and your brow furrows as you pull out your keys, lips opening and closing, until you purse them. 
“Like that,” you grumble as you teeter on your feet again, before he supports you, and he swore he heard you mumble, “so disgustingly handsome,” 
And he’s glad your eyes are half closed and focused ahead, otherwise he knew you’d smack him for the grin on his face. 
“Oi, don’t—“ and you don’t listen, nearly falling over as you unlock your door, whole body weight leaned against it, but his arm slips around you, holding you up from face planting into your floor, “you’re gonna break your neck, Princess,” 
“You wouldn’t let that happen,” You break from his grip and lean up close, your breath warming his lips, your gaze half lidded, “not when you love me,” and his heart thuds against his ribs, rattling his lungs and bones alike, “that’s what you said, right?” 
You weren’t making this easy, not with your fingers now sliding up his chest, toying with the top button of his shirt, “I did—“ 
“So are you going to prove it?” And the floor feels as if it slips out from underneath him, and all he feels is you, only you — the brush of your fingers against his chest, the faint scent of lavender from your perfume that your aunt had gifted you, and the caress of your gaze against his lips, the same eyes he could easily lose himself in — if he wasn’t careful. 
But he had to be careful — because it was you. 
“But—“
“But what?” it would be so easy to kiss you, when you were only half a breath away, lips parted and gaze asking him to do so, to just lean in—but he can’t.
Not like this. 
His thumb runs down your lips, your eyes fluttering shut, fingers sliding to cup your jaw, and he leans in — feeling your breath catch—
But he only flicks your forehead, drawing a soft yelp from you. 
“I’d like you to remember our first kiss,” and he’s corralling you into bed after that, your body keeling over into the soft mattress, as he’s able to wriggle you under the comforter. Your body relaxes into the plush bed, eyes shut, as your muscles loosen and unwind, while Satoru stands over you, the exact opposite — muscles taut and mind whirring. 
Fuck.
“You never make it easy, do you, Princess?” he mutters under his breath, swallowing thickly as he scrubs a hand down his face, “good night,” his fingers ghost over the swell of your cheek, before turning to leave—
And your fingers caught him around the wrist, eyes half open as you stared up at him, a pout on your lips but now for an entirely different, but somehow the same reason—
“Stay,” one word nearly had him crumble right there — and how pathetic was that? Maybe Suguru was right — he was no better than a puppy at your beck and call — waiting by the door for his master to return. And he almost didn’t mind — if you always came home to him.  
“Princess, you have to go to sleep—“ he could easily break from your grip, fingers wrapped loosely around his wrist, but your grasp may have been very well made of iron with how you had pinned him into place — an entomologist pinning their butterfly in their display. 
“Don’t wanna sleep alone,” a slight whine in your voice makes him waver again, but he had a problem with sleeping beside you—
He shifted in place, adjusting himself, a somewhat big problem thst wouldn’t go away — no matter how many times he thought about Gakuganji in his underwear — especially when you were looking at him like that, half dressed in bed with a pout on your lips and want in your gaze—want that he never thought would be for him. 
“Please?” And that’s all it takes, his thumb rubbing against your fingers — because he could never say no to you. 
~~~~
“Are you okay?” 
Satoru was never left alone — not since he had managed to wander off alone when he was five. It took several hours and a dozen security guards to find him at a bakery, having his third piece of cake. And when he was brought home, he was told just how many ways that could have went wrong — what could have happened to him, and most of all — how badly it could have made his parents look. 
After that, he couldn’t remember a time that his hand wasn’t clutched by a caretaker or escort — from school to home to anywhere else he wished to go. But he never wished to go anywhere, not with a stranger at his side. 
It was only when he met Suguru that he was allowed to go out without someone hovering over his shoulder. But without warning — warning that if any incident would mean he would be stuck back in his daily life. But that meant when he got distracted in the pastry section of the supermarket — looking for the exclusive mochi he desperately wanted — he found himself alone, with you and Suguru nowhere in sight. 
“Suguru?” Satoru called, head whipping around, chest thudding as the white noise of the market grew louder. His gaze falls, ears ringing with all that could go wrong, back to the life with no one at his side, only strangers— 
“Toru?” Satoru’s gaze snaps up, your hands on your hips, your head tilted, “you okay?” And he’s quickly wiping away his tears, sniffling softly, your hand finding the top of his head, “i got you something,” and you hold out a mochi in front of him, and he blinks. 
“You found it?” He’s blinking and your lips curve into a pretty smile. 
“Anything for you, Satoru,” your fingers run through his hair, “Satoru? Satoru—“ 
His eyes flutter open, finding you leaning over him, your tousled hair in messy tangles, “finally awake?” And a soft chuckle on your lips as you speak, rubbing your eye, flinching as you rub your temples, “what exactly happened last night?” 
“You mean besides you calling me pretty?” And your jaw drops, biting your lip, “and begging me to stay? Didn’t know you liked my company that much, Princess,” 
You glare at him, “well with charm like that—“ you mutter, when it occurs to you, “why did you sleep on the floor? And with that?” You point to the polar bear plushie he used as a pillow last night. 
Not his most preferred bedfellow. 
Always full of surprises, his cheeks burn, and he only can hope it doesn’t show on his face, hidden behind a cheeky smile, “Didn’t know you were so eager to share a bed with me, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “I have to warn you, I have a tendency to cuddle—“ and you smack him with a pillow, he sighs, “someone wasn’t too keen on sharing her pillows with me, so this was the best I could do,”
You snort, as you take the offending plushie from him, “Did you do something to him?”
He tilts his head, “Eh?” And you hold up the polar bear plush, “what could I do to him?”  
“Someone did threaten to toss him out into the ocean so he could join his family,” 
“I can do a lot of things, but I can’t solve global warming, Princess,” and you bite back a laugh, “I was on my best behavior with him last night, even though he’s a shitty pillow,” and you didn’t have to know how he had slapped him a couple times. 
But even so, you bite your lip, looking down as you toy with your comforter, “why did you come?” 
He blinks, “what do you mean?” 
“You could have sent Suguru, but you came, and you stayed, on the floor,” and he curls his lips. 
“Well what kind of fake boyfriend would I be?” And you roll your eyes, still waiting for an answer, and his voice grows soft, “you know why, Princess,” 
“I do, but I don’t,” you murmur, fidgeting with your blanket as you chewed on your bottom lip, “my coworkers couldn’t stop talking about you last night, they kept saying how handsome you are, how wonderful, how perfect—“ 
“Should I be less handsome or perfect? Because don’t know if that’s possible—“ and it earns him another whack with the pillow, but he only catches it, “you say that like it’s a bad thing,” 
“It’s not, but I don’t know why after all these years, you still want me,” you sigh, words pushing past your lips,  “you could have anyone, Satoru,” 
“If I just wanted anyone, I wouldn’t have fell in love with you,” and you bury your face in your pillow, gaze peeking down at him. 
“You say that with such ease, how do you know what love even is? I don’t know if I know what it is,” you add, mumbling under your breath, and his eyes can’t help but follow the way your fingers run through your hair. 
“I don’t think I need to know when I feel it,” Satoru sat up, dangerously close to you, within reach yet so far out of it, “do you need to know to see the sky is blue? Do you need to know to feel pain when you burn yourself?” 
“Didn’t know you were taking philosophy classes with Suguru,” and he snorts, shaking his head, “Satoru—“ 
“Like I said before, Princess, just give me some time,” his fingers reach for you, and your breath catches, before he slowly smoothed your hair out, “and I’ll win you over,” 
Your eyes flicker to his, and god, he wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss you, but he couldn’t. He had to be patient. He couldn’t push you — he wanted you to want him just as much. He would make you fall into his arms willingly, and you’d kiss him — not the other way around. 
“Want some breakfast?” your lips curl into a soft smile, the very same smile that he had fallen for time and time again. 
“You offering to cook me breakfast?” 
“Just wondering what would shut you up the quickest,” and he has half a mind to reply with ‘your lips,’ but he decides against it, “pancakes?” 
~~~
“I can feel you staring,” 
Even with your back turned to the stove, bowl in hand as you whipped the batter with the whisk, hoping your laser focus on the pancakes would help you distract yourself. But it did little when you could feel his gaze sticking in your back, spotlights on every little movement — something that wouldn’t have bothered you before — but after last night—
This was why you never drank. 
You covered your face with the back of your hand, cheeks burning, as you placed the bowl down, what had your life become? 
“C’mon you can’t just let a guy like that go,” one of the women from work nudged you — you couldn’t remember if her name was Kanae or Kanao — handing you a refill of the drink you had gotten, “he certainly seems into you from the way he looks at you,” 
“If he isn’t, I’d take him off your hands,” Saki slurred, nearly spilling her drink, “he seems to like you. Is there really nothing between you two?” 
“Not really,” you sipped your drink, if confessing to you after over a decade was nothing, “he’s just a friend,” and he was — a friend who was your fake boyfriend. 
“You know with how you started, I thought your love life would be a lot more interesting,” Kanae sighed far too loudly, as she took another long swig of her cocktail. 
“Well we’ve talked a lot about what you guys are but we haven’t asked how you feel,” Saki grinned, sloppily drunk yet somehow masterful with her questions, “how do you feel about him?” 
And how did you? If someone asked you a few weeks ago, you would said he was just your little cousin’s best friend, a childhood friend — and you wouldn’t have thought twice. But now, he has given you so much to think about. Would you be this hesitant if you two haven’t met as kids? If he wasn’t Suguru’s best friend? If he didn’t seem so far out of your league? 
Maybe. But you were never good at going for things you wanted — or accepting things as they were. Even with Naoya, you knew you should have broken up with him — you knew he was toxic, and yet you stayed — because it was easier. 
And maybe it was easier to push Satoru away than to face how you felt.
Fuck, you were too drunk for this — you needed to get out of here, “excuse me,” you manage to slip away into the bathroom, washing your face, leaning over the sink. 
You held your forehead, steadying yourself against the cold porcelain, fingers digging into the rim of the sink — eyes burning as your head throbs, a wave of nausea pulsing through your stomach. Fuck, there was no way that you could get home alone. 
You pulled out your phone and scrolled — who the fuck would you call? The only people you knew were your family and…
Nope. No. Not an option. 
You found Suguru’s number and tried to text, only to find your eyes blurring, and you knew if you sent a message he would be holding over any typos or fuck ups over your head forever. 
You found his name, your head spinning as you clicked and called. 
He didn’t pick up.
“Fucker,” you mumble, trying to hit his name again, your head spinning, and finally someone picked up—
And then you woke up in bed. A soft groan fell from your lips, knives prodding at every inch of your brain, memory blended and choppy as you drew into consciousness. You were home, your eyes fluttering open to sunlight illuminating your bedroom, a dull stiffness in your muscles that makes you stretch, turning on your side only to be met with a sight. 
Satoru Gojo. Asleep on your floor, cuddling the plush polar bear he won for you. You stared, blinking, wondering if blinking away the sleep would somehow blink away Satoru too (it did not unfortunately). So you did the only other thing you could think of — take a picture. 
As you glanced from the image to him, bits and pieces came back — from your drunken ramblings on the phone to the ones in person, your cheeks burning as you buried your face in your comforter before staring down at him. Was it possible to die of embarrassment? You were really testing those limits. 
But even so, as you watched him sleep on top of the plushie, the only thing you could wonder was why had he stayed? He could have left after you fell asleep, or even before that, there wasn’t much you could have done to stop him. But he stayed, even on the floor, rather than anywhere else. 
“So?” you didn’t need to turn from the stove to know he was grinning, “can’t I enjoy the show, Princess?” 
“If you’re enjoying it so much, how about you become part of it and help?” you offer him a spatula, as he makes his way over, leaning over you, his body brushing against yours, but you ignore it all the same, eyes focused on the task instead on the warmth blooming from his touch, “I’ll spoon and you flip,” 
The two of you work in silence, as you spoon batter onto the griddle and he flips the pancakes — and it’s only when you’re both just about done that you glance over, and his lips are curled, “What are you smiling about?” and he shakes his head, as he flips the last of the pancakes onto the stack, “Satoru—“ 
“I just never really have made breakfast like this before, or had someone make it for me,” he scratches the back of his head, “my parents always had chefs or maids or someone make me all my meals, and even when I moved out, I always cooked alone or bought my meals out,” he shrugs, as he turned the stove off, “it reminds me when you’d make me and Suguru instant ramen after we came in from playing outside,” 
You snort, “You remember that?” You would get stuck making ramen for the two of them, tossing some seasoning and sauces into the mixture along with an egg, “I always put too much black pepper. I thought you hated it,” 
“But I always finished,” he added, and he did, even if his cheeks were burning red and eyes watering by the end of the bowl. Your lips curl at the memory of him at the age of twelve downing an entire glass of water and spilling it all over the front of himself. 
“Well I can make a lot more than instant noodles now,” you have Satoru set the table while you start to clean up, turning on the sink. You hear the clink of plates and utensils behind you, as he sets them down on the table, but you can feel his gaze fall over you even as your back is turned. 
“I’m going to need some proof — there were a few times you almost burned those noodles,” and you pout, turning with your hands on your hips. 
“Oh you want me to prove it now?” You turn, running your finger discreetly up the side of the used mixing bowl, finger full of batter as you walk up to him, hands behind your back. 
“And how’re you gonna do that, Princess?” the corner of his lip quirks upwards, as you step close up to him, and god, he’s fucking tall — and it kind of pissed you off — all these boys shoot up like fucking weeds, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t knock him down a bit. 
“Close your eyes, and find out,” he raises an eyebrow, suspicious, but still he obeys — good boy, the praise runs through your head to the tip of your tongue, but you bite it and the words back alike. And you’re so close, you can see his snow white eyelashes fan out against his cheeks, and he’s so unfairly pretty, 
For now. 
You’re so close, you nearly feel his body warmth radiate your skin — and you swear you hear his breath hitch — and it would be so easy to lean forward— “Princess — what—” 
And then he gasps when you smear pancake batter down his cheek, a snort leaving your lips as he gapes at you, mouth ajar. He blinks, his hand reaching for his cheek, before he stops when his eyes flit to your batter caked finger, “You—” 
You’re giggling, trying to stop yourself from doubling over at his expression, “What? I just wanted to give you a taste of my cooking before you tried it,” and he frowns at you for a moment, before his lips curl deviously, tilting his head. 
“Is that right?” and his fingers run through the smeared batter, caking his finger tips before he’s stepping towards you, “then it’s fair, if I make you taste it too—“ and you’re trying to back up, giggles leaving your lips,  but he catches you by the wrist. 
“Satoru—“ you whine as you’re trying to squirm away, “let go!” but he only pulls you close, your body nearly bumping against his — and it was your turn for your breath to catch, cerulean irises stealing the air from your lungs as you drowned in them, “hey—“ 
“Just how much are you gonna tempt me, Princess?” and you should step away, but his fingers around your wrist send warmth blooming down your arm, straight to your chest, and you can’t bring yourself to step away. 
“And how am I doing that?” His fingers tug you closer, thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist, before he leans close. 
“You know exactly how,” and your glance flickers from his gaze to his lips, and back again, resisting the urge to shut your eyes — but you don’t have to, when he smears the batter all over your cheek. 
“Toru!” You stare at him, and he’s laughing, as you grab at him, only for him to slip away, “I’m gonna kill you—“ and you move towards the sink, batter covered bowl still inside, “oh just you wait—“ 
But your beeline is cut short by his grip, arm darting around your middle, as he pulls you back. You gasp, struggling in his arms in vain — fuck his stupidly toned arms,  “you shouldn’t start something you’re not ready to finish,” his words are said against your ear, but they rush down your body in almost a shudder. 
His lips are an inch or two from yours, you would barely need to lean to reach them — the words of your coworkers ring in your ears 
“Who said I wasn’t?” His eyes find yours, his fingers tilting your chin ever so slightly, when your phone rings. 
You jerk slightly at the sound, your eyes flickering to the name across the screen and see Suguru’s name flashing on the screen. 
“It’s Suguru,” and Satoru lets go of you, as you make your way to the phone, and you swear you hear him mutter something under his breath, “what did you say?” you don’t pick up the phone but a few texts come through anyway. 
“Nothing,” he scratched the back of his head, “what did he say?” 
“He’s asking if I wanna come over for dinner tonight, said you’re gonna be there too?” And you raise an eyebrow, as Satoru fishes his phone out of his pocket and glances at it. 
“Apparently I am,” you turn on the faucet, cleaning your face off, offering Satoru a damp tissue. “Guess this won’t be the last meal we’re sharing today,” 
“Guess not,” his fingers brush yours when taking the tissue, trying to clean the batter off his cheek but only spreads the mess. You snort, as you take the napkin from him holding his face by the chin, “so how’re we gonna play it?” 
“Play what?” You toss the napkin away, both of you taking a seat at the table. 
“Did you forget?” He stabs a pancake and places it in his plate, “we told your aunt we’re dating — and that we’re hiding it from Suguru, and you just agreed to dinner with both of them,” 
Fuck. 
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✧ a/n: hi it's been quite a while T_T. sorry work has been so busy. i haven't had a moment to post, and now i had to split this up because it just got too long lmao. part two will come later, i'm going to be prioritizing my kinktober fics. thank you to @coffee-and-geto for betaing :)
✧ taglist: @satorusmochis , @celestialgojo , @sugurubabe , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @strawberryfanatic01 , @cira273 , @sobbangchan , @hiraethwrote , @peppertoastuniverse , @dreamtardisspace , @redmangotango , @h4ru-h4ruu , @anpacax0 , @theshylittleelfgirl , @hyori2 , @elliesndg , @maddietries , @roses-can-be-deadly-too, @vernasce-blogs , @mrsoikawa17 , @spider-fan72 , @haoxiaoxi , @horchatacow , @lovemoreworrylessv, @maybe-a-bi-witch , @missroki , @rubyarerosies ,, @ranatherealestsigma , @svt-backup , @catsgomurp , @sakurastorm , @forest-fruits-jam , @lemonpoppy-seed , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @notgoodforlife , @johannakhalafalla , @fushitoru , @kentosbutterfly , @augustwinesworld
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lunarharp · 11 months ago
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more phoenix wright situations
#unnecessary addition.#ppl liked this a lot - thank you pffggghh...#i will be drawing more AA over christmas bc i am dwelling a lot. i love kristoph as a character bc he really does get his comeuppance#him convinced that he's been playing this dark flirty obsessive chess game with phoenix all these years they were suspecting each other#and that one kiss signified that phoenix Owes him for yet another thing - realising he is queer - when like...#you were just another single element in phoenix realising he wants to be with another man for the rest of his life#that would be the most abject humiliation for kristoph - just another instance where he isn't nearly as significant as he thinks he is#and will end up in prison - while phoenix ends up happily and sweetly married as he deserves...#i don't usually spend much time thinking about characters i don't at all respect but he's just so GAY...and does get his comeuppance.#obsessed with the part in game where HE brings up how other ppl wouldnt see a man as 'self-respecting' if he wears fancy nail polish#this man is one of those homophobic homosexuals. he literally wouldn't be happy if gay marriage became legalised#and phoenix shares that with him while visiting him in prison with the glint of edgeworth's wedding band#he liked feeling like he was seducing straight men to the dark side.. what a fascinating and foolish person#again - i don't care for villains much - qifrey is the most morally questionable level i usually could get attached to#but when they're GAY...and their crimes are like idiot murders they ultimately get apprehended for rather than being like. Creepy to women#Well examining and then defeating such a man is fulfilling. Oooh thought turning phoenix bi was your funniest victory didn't you.#He has been head over heels for another prissy rich boy since primary school..you are nothing#i also don't really care at all about klavier despite respecting him far more than his brother obviously#and klapollo seems pretty real but i truly do not care i'd rather think about kristoph. klavier is not my kind of character#those two really represent how the far less morally respectable character can be far more fun to think about and examine at times🤔#i do get confused when others seem loopy for nasty characters i find reprehensible bc i don't find reprehensibility interesting#but i mean we all enjoyed scar in the lion king. if a spiralling villain is unnecessarily gay i'm glad he's there#kristoph is the scar archetype. gay awful brothers who are really pissed off that nobody cares about them#becoming less and less deserving of anyone caring about them the more they secretly murder people#Like what is wrong with you for real.#also thinking deeply today on how narumitsu was designed by a BL manga creator and were always designed to be BL i love them#ace attorney is a childhood thing to me. christmassy childhood thing. love that they age w/ me. canonically they're my generation. Love it
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