#challenger son couple
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vodoungnon · 1 year ago
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Top 100 Most Visited Websites on sitelike.org
Top Most Visited Websites and domains – page 1 Source : Top 100 Most Visited Websites on sitelike.org le plus grand marabout Vodoungnon vous accompagne dans vos demandes a la suite d’une solution à vos problèmes spirituels ou charnelle. Ce marabout es puissant et intervient dans les domaines comme : la chance ,la voyance ,le retour affectif immédiat, la richesse sans aucune conséquence. Pour…
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xoxomyseriesxoxo · 2 years ago
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ULTIMATE SHIPS CHALLENGE → [03/10] Hugs ↳ “You can't leave like that! I can't let them take you like that. What do I do if you just leave me just like that? How could I live after you leave like that? What should I do?”
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mariocki · 2 months ago
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Shadows of Fear: The Lesser of Two (1.7, Thames, 1971)
"You don't understand, do you, you never did. People round here -"
"People! People are stupid."
"No, they're not, they're ordinary, they're just simple people."
#shadows of fear#the lesser of two#1971#single play#horror tv#classic tv#kim mills#john kershaw#godfrey quigley#margery mason#geoffrey hughes#elizabeth burger#dorothea phillips#john rolfe#thames#a return to form for the series with an impressively cerebral treatment of a minor plot. Quigley‚ it is revealed (very slowly) is a newly#released convicted killer (of a 'girl' we learn; no more detail is offered‚ allowing the mind to fill in all sorts of horrible details)#he returns to his home and his family but is entirely unwelcome. the local community unite to make it clear that he must leave. that's#about all there is to the story‚ but Kershaw's treatment is very mature‚ almost courageous. Quigley maintains his innocence but is believed#by nobody‚ except perhaps (perhaps) Mason as his uncertain wife. slowly tho‚ Kershaw makes clear that innocent or not‚ the real horror here#is the mindless prejudice of the community Quigley once belonged to. largely unseen (still a budget production remember) they form a#faceless mob‚ whose presence outside the home (and intrusion into it‚ through bricks thrown or petitions delivered) lends a thick feeling o#unease as the play wears on. the couple's son (a young Hughes) is resolutely with the mob‚ even going so far as to arrange a shady set up#which could mean death for his estranged father. it's important to note though that Quigley isn't entirely sympathetic‚ nor is his guilt#of the crime entirely in question; rather it's irrelevant to the particular situation being explored‚ and actually the play is all the#stronger for muddying those waters and keeping the viewers sympathies in flux. it's a challenging‚ fascinating piece of writing#and well met by a cast of seasoned and always very strong (but never hugely successful) actors#Mason and Quigley in particular carry the play in their unbearably tense reacquaintance in the early scenes
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gutsfics · 1 month ago
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i nees to do a style study for atla so i can draw my ocs
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sttoru · 15 days ago
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𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dad!toji x wife!reader. fluff, just pure fluff. reader gets called ‘doll’ once.
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toji sits on the edge of megumi’s bed, arms casually draped over his knees, watching with an amused grin as you fuss over your son. you’re lecturing him about being more careful when playing with the other kids at daycare, replacing the bandages on his arms that had gotten scuffed from a tumble.
megumi sulks, his little face scrunched up, but he doesn��t dare to say a word. his gaze is cast downward and he knows better than to challenge you when you’re in your ‘mom’ mode.
toji chuckles to himself. the little brat—just like his old man, he thinks. neither of them ever have the guts to talk back when you’re laying down the law.
with a lazy smirk, toji reaches over and ruffles megumi’s hair in an affectionate and teasing way. “it's fine, doll,” he says in attempt to reassure you, “shit happens. ‘n it toughens up the kid.”
you shoot him a look over your shoulder and toji just shrugs. “he’s just like you, ya know,” you mutter as you brush a stray lock of hair from megumi's face. indeed, the little boy resembles his father in looks but also in personality. “stubborn, hard-headed. thinks he can take on the world without a scratch,” you sigh.
on one hand, you’re worried that megumi will get in real trouble one day because of it. but on the other hand, your son got an overprotective man as father. you know he will never let any harm befall either of you.
toji raises an eyebrow at your comment. oh, he knows and he’s proud of it. proud of his son, of the family he's created with you. “i mean—he needs to learn to take a few hits if he's gonna survive this world.”
you scoff before hugging megumi one last time. “mm, mama,” the toddler snuggles up to you, small hands clutching your shirt tightly. you feel the weight of his tiny form press against you while his cheek rests against your chest.
there’s something about the clingy way he holds you that melts something deep inside you. you press a gentle kiss to his messy hair, brushing a hand down his back as you breathe in the sweet, comforting scent of his shampoo.
“good night, sweets,” you murur, your voice barely above a whisper. “i love you.”
megumi’s small fingers tighten once more on your shirt as if reluctant to let go. his breathing is steady and you know he’s almost asleep. but then, your son shifts lightly. he pulls back from the hug enough to look up at toji, who’s leaning back against the headboard of the bed. he doesn't say a word, but there’s a clear look of expectation on his face, as though he's waiting for something only his dad can give.
toji meets his gaze with a blank expression that doesn’t give away a thing. he's clueless for a good couple seconds before picking up on what megumi wants.
your husband murmurs something incoherent before relenting. “yeah yeah, c'mere buddy,” he hums, his tone softening. he can't help it—even if he tries not to show the vulnerability in his demeanour.
“yay,” megumi's face brightens up a little and he eagerly reaches up with those tiny hands. toji pulls the kid into his arms, hugging him tighter than expected. the action is a little awkward, but there's no denying the warmth in it.
your heart melts as you witness the adorable scene before you. your son doesn’t seem to mind the tightness as his small arms encircle his father’s neck. it’s a simple moment between father and son, but it’s enough. enough for both of them.
toji pulls back after a little while. his eyes are softer than usual as he pinches megumi's button nose. “good night, kiddo,” he mutters, the words rough but warm, “don't let the bedbugs bite.”
megumi grins sleepily at him as he rubs his eyes. “i’ll kick their ass, papa,” he declares proudly, looking and acting more like his dad with the second. you roll your eyes and stand up from the bed. toji simply snorts, realising his son has picked up on the phrases he uses.
“tha’s right,” your husband nods after standing next to you, “you tell ‘em bedbugs to eat shi—”
“toji ,” you shush him with a swat to the bicep.
megumi lets out a small giggle in reply before laying back on his pillows. you pull the covers up to his chin and watch as his eyes slowly close, his body beginning to relax. the quiet rhythm of his breathing is the only sign of him settling down for the night.
toji lingers by the door and is simply content to watch you. you're always like this—so nurturing. he follows your every move as you leave a final kiss to your son’s cheek. the warmth that radiates in your presence, your affection, the simple yet tender moments are all things that make him fall in love with you over and over again.
you straighten up and turn towards toji, catching him staring. you can see the warmth in his eyes, the way his shoulders are completely relaxed, how that signature smirk of his seems more like a smile in that moment.
you chuckle to yourself before stepping out into the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar. toji follows with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. the silence hangs between you two for a bit. it’s comforting and. . . secure.
“y’know, you’re a real softie, toji,” you comment to break the quiet atmosphere. you tilt your head back to look at the dark-haired man who’s now next to you. you know he still struggles with being vulnerable around your son. the sentimentality is still an aspect he's working on.
however, you see it; the emotional side of him. the warmth in his eyes, in his touch, in his words - even if he’s not all that soft spoken.
you can see right through him.
“don't worry though. your secret's safe with me,” you tease with a soft grin.
toji doesn’t say a word for a few seconds before he chuckles under his breath, “just keep that between us, aye?” he responds to your teasing. he’s just glad that he’s married a woman who understands him and accepts him as is.
you both head to the living room. the weight of your day finally seems to lift. the quiet house and the soft breaths of megumi drifting from his room, feels like the calm after a storm. there are challenges ahead, no doubt, but for now everything is alright.
toji wraps his muscular arm around your shoulders as you both sink into the couch. the television playing something in the background, but neither of you pay it much attention. you lean against him and sigh, eyes closing slowly.
“you think he's gonna… turn out okay?” you ask softly. you’re not really sure how to word your worries. your voice holds an uncertainity that causes toji to hold you tighter.
your husband doesn't answer right away. instead, he glances down at you and strokes your hair with his free hand. he nods and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.
toji leans his head back afterwards, closing his own eyes. no matter what the future holds, he's sure megumi will grow up to be a strong young man.
“yeah. that kid’s gonna be alright.”
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prankvids · 1 year ago
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TRY NOT TO LAUGH! I DARE YOU.... Andrea Espada, Txunamy, KingFerran | The Royalty Family
https://PrankVids.com try,not,dare,andrea espada vines,andrea espada Instagram,andrea rincon espada tv,andrea espada funny,andrea espada son vlog,Latinas be like,Dab,Family time,Ferrans mom,funny challenge,kid challenge,try no to laugh,latina family,kingferran,txunamy,family challenge,best challenges,The Royalty Family,TheRoyaltyFamily,Andrea…
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pickingupmymercedes · 4 months ago
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Happy you're home - Lewis Hamilton
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request : "their son is like 2/3 y/o and reader obviously pays more attention to him, even after coming back from work, so lewis is a bit 'jealous' and very clingy, needy with his wife." - fluff anon ✌🏽(gonna call you that because you were so lovely even with the confusion)
pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Wife!Reader!
wordcount: +2k
a/n: There's a bit of angst , I know the request was for something fluff, but I just had to. It's worth it though, promise😉.
As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!
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"So, special dates?" Lewis asked casually as he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Y/n stir the sauce simmering on the stove.
Y/n glanced over her shoulder at him, catching the hint of something beneath his tone. "Yeah, just little outings after I pick him up from nursery" she replied lightly, sensing where this conversation was headed.
"Outings?" Lewis repeated, pushing off the counter to walk closer, his eyes following her every move. "You make it sound so... exclusive."
"Well" Y/n teased, turning to face him fully "It was our thing while you were away. Just me and him. You know he's a little creature of habit."
Lewis crossed his arms, feigning nonchalance. "And what, he's not happy I'm home now?"
Y/n laughed softly, moving to grab a couple of plates. "He's thrilled you're home, Lew. But he's also two, and he's gotten used to our routine."
Lewis hummed, but there was a slight edge to his expression. "I just thought he’d be excited to see me. I mean, I picked him up, and he barely smiled."
"He's not used to you picking him up, that's all. Give him time." She set the plates down on the table and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "He missed you. We both did."
Lewis softened at her touch, pulling her closer. "I missed you too. I just feel a bit... left out?"
Y/n tilted her head, studying him. "Left out?" She smiled, though she could see the seriousness in his eyes.
"I mean…" he admitted, a bit sheepishly. "It’s like every time I turn around, he's glued to you. And I get it, you're his mom, but..." He trailed off, his hand resting on her hip, thumb brushing absentmindedly against the skin he found just below the waistband of her jeans. "I guess I'm just a little jealous."
"Of him?" Y/n raised an eyebrow, trying to hide her amusement.
"Maybe," Lewis muttered, his voice low. "Or maybe of the fact that you two have all these moments when I'm not around."
Y/n's smile turned into a gentle laugh, and she leaned up to kiss him softly. "You know, you could join us on our little dates."
"Could I?" Lewis' eyes sparkled with the challenge. "Because it seemed like he wasn't too happy about me crashing those special times today."
Y/n chuckled. "We'll make it our thing—all three of us."
Lewis seemed to consider this, his hands tightening around her. "I don't want to just be the guy who shows up between races, Y/n. I want to be part of all of it."
"You are" she reassured him, kissing the corner of his mouth. "And trust me, he adores you. He just doesn't know how to express it."
He sighed, nodding slowly. "I know. I just hate missing out."
Y/n cupped his face, making him meet her gaze. "You're here now. And that's what matters."
As the rest of the evening went by the tension from earlier slowly dissipated. But Y/n couldn't help but notice how clingy Lewis was, not just with their son but with her too.
Every chance he got, he was touching her, keeping her close. When it was time to put their son to bed, Lewis lingered, his hands on the small of her back as she tucked the little boy in.
As they got ready for bed themselves, Y/n couldn’t contain herself anymore. She slipped into her nightwear, watching as Lewis pulled back the covers.
"So" she began, trying to sound casual, "you’re a little... possessive tonight."
"Possessive?" Lewis looked up; one eyebrow raised. "Is that what you call it?"
"Handsy would be a better word" Y/n teased, slipping into bed beside him.
Lewis smirked, leaning closer. "Maybe I missed you more than I realized."
Y/n rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t suppress the smile forming on her lips. "Or maybe you're still a bit jealous of a toddler."
Lewis didn’t deny it, instead pulling her into his arms, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Maybe I am. But can you blame me?"
Y/n laughed softly, running her fingers tips on his arm. "You’re ridiculous, you know that?"
"Um…" Lewis murmured, his lips brushing against her neck.
Before she could respond, they were interrupted by the sound of their son's cries coming through the baby monitor. Y/n sighed, moving to get up, but Lewis held her back for a moment.
"Does he really need you every time?" he grumbled, clearly frustrated.
"He's two, Lewis," Y/n reminded him gently, though there was a hint of impatience in her tone. "And yes, he needs me because that's all he’s got."
The words were out before she could stop them, and she immediately regretted them. Lewis’s expression shifted, something like hurt and understanding mixed on his features. "Y/n..."
"I’m sorry," she quickly apologized, her voice softening. "That’s not what I meant."
Lewis nodded, though the sadness lingered in his eyes. "We'll talk later, okay?"
Y/n nodded, leaning down to kiss him briefly before slipping out of bed.
She hurried to their son's room, finding him sitting up in his crib, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks.
"Dada?" he asked through sniffles, looking around as if expecting to see Lewis behind her.
Y/n’s heart melted a little, and she leaned into the crib, brushing his curls back. "Dada's asleep, sweetie. Do you want me to tuck you in?"
But their son shook his head, determined. "Dada."
Before Y/n could respond, Lewis appeared in the doorway, his expression softening as he saw their son. "Hey, buddy" he said quietly, crossing the room to pick him up.
The little boy immediately settled against his father’s chest, his tiny arms wrapping around Lewis’s biceps.
Y/n watched as Lewis sat down in the recliner, cradling their son with a tenderness as she have them some space, slipping out of the room and back into bed.
When Lewis finally returned, his footsteps were soft as he approached the bed. He slipped in beside her, pulling her close and leaving a kiss to her exposed shoulder.
"Has he been waking up like that a lot?" Lewis asked, his voice tinged with concern as he settled into bed beside Y/n.
Y/n nodded, resting her head on his chest. "For the past couple of weeks mostly. The change in routine really got to him."
Lewis sighed deeply, his hand gently tracing circles on her back. "I should’ve been here for his first days at nursery."
Y/n lifted her head slightly, about to reassure him, but Lewis's hand on her back stilled her.
"Y/n, don’t" he began, his voice thoughtful. "It’s not just about missing his first days. It’s the time you’ve had with him, but also the time he’s had with you."
She looked up at him, her brow furrowed slightly in confusion. "What do you mean?"
Lewis let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. "I missed you, too. Not just the way I always miss you when I’m away, but I missed being a part of this routine. The bedtime, the little 'dates,' the way he clings to you... I missed seeing you with him, and I missed having you to myself after all that."
Y/n's heart softened at his words, a tender smile tugging at her lips. "Lew, you’re always part of those moments, even when you’re not physically here."
Lewis’s eyes met hers, full of emotion. "I know I was stupid earlier, but it's because I love being with you—both of you. And when I'm not, it feels like I'm missing out on so much. As his dad and as your partner."
Y/n’s smile widened as she shifted to lie more comfortably against him. "I missed you too. More than you know. And trust me, our little guy missed you like crazy, even if he didn’t show it."
Lewis chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. "He’ll come around. I just have to remind him that I'm part of this whole 'special date' thing too."
"You will," Y/n assured him, brushing a soft kiss against his neck. "And as for us, we’ll make up for lost time."
He kissed the top of her head, his voice filled with affection. "You’re stuck with me, Mrs. Hamilton."
And as Y/n began to drift off to sleep, Lewis leaned into her hear, whispering almost to himself "I really did miss you. And I’m not going anywhere. Not for long anyway."
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savanir · 7 months ago
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DP x DC prompt [3]
during one of the final psych evals at Arkham right before he gets to be released, the whole thing wrapped up so tidy, just a little relapse which involved a robbery. Getting sent back to Arkham, but he got to stay at the asylum so long that he no longer has to serve a prison sentence, score!
But during that eval his overseeing psychiatrist recommended him to have a change of scenery, some fresh non polluted air.
Riddler was rather convinced the guy was making this recommendation to everyone in Arkham in their own weird way to convince them to just leave Gotham and become someone else's problem. should he notify Batman about it somehow? nah, it’ll be more interesting to see how this is gonna turn out in the long run.
But can he leave the state? Can he even leave the city? he never really bothered to look into it, at least not legally, up until now if he felt he needed to leave for one of his plans he just did it.
Turns out he can, it’s a whole hassle and a half though, first a judge and then a probation officer and he’s pretty sure both were like “what the hell is this psychiatrist guy thinking!?” but at the same time, shrink probably knows what he’s doing (WRONG) so he’s allowed to go visit out of state family or whatever.
he had to wear this nice ankle monitor though, Wayne Enterprises™ tech, not overly bulky but still very present. real fancy, and a fun extra challenge heh.
now as for a good reason to leave New Jersey he’s going to need distant relatives, and he finds some, great grandpa walker also has a son, who had a son who had a daughter Madeline, who married some guy Jack Fenton, and she lives somewhere out in the boonies Illinois. great he’ll visit her.
far enough away in all sense of the word that there is no way she knows anything about him. it would be best to call her first though, be polite about it.
“hello, you have reached Fenton works, this is Maddie speaking” 
“Riddle me this-” ah whoops, habit, oh whatever, “we don’t share parents, but certainly a part of your life, from laughter to strife. Who am I?”
there is a pause …  he’s going to be a bit disappointed if she hangs up if he’s honest.
“cousins~” comes the cheery reply.
“correct! the name is Edward Nygma, we are distantly related you and I and well-”
“oh you simply must come visit!” 
well this was rather easy, perhaps a little too easy, but she lives in the midwest so maybe just going with whatever some guy says over the phone is normal there? stranger danger not really a thing in a small town where everyone knows everyone?
things start to make a little more sense once he gets there and he’s starting to think some things might run in the family. like a preference for the colour green and weird hyperfixations and genius bordering on insanity. Though that remains to be seen, Jack does not seem like a very bright light after his very enthusiastic welcome.
their kids however are observant and sharp. young Jasmine is wasting no time trying to psychoanalyze him. and the boy, Danny, he had not really meant to and he swears he’s sticking with calling the kid Danny so he wouldn’t seem overly familiar, but he might have called him little bird a couple times now.
but that’s all whatever, he’s playing nice here. and he doesn’t even have to worry about his eccentricities tripping him up because this place is insane.
There actually is a local teen vigilante active but he seems about as loved as he’s disliked. and the ghost boy’s enemies are basically all his own kind, which another crazy thing to now know about. ghost. they are real actually, how is Gotham not completely overrun? and how do they even work? and where do they keep coming from?
Edward might be getting a little sidetracked here. He had fully intended to sneakily get his next big game plan underway all the way out here, ankle monitor be damned. but he hasn’t made any progress at all.
Instead he’s been listening to Madeline and Jack to maybe figure out what the deal is with these ectoplasmic entities, he has to know, at this point he might go crazier if he doesn’t. 
He’s making Jasmine promise him not to get her doctorate in Gotham, he’s going back and forth with space riddles with Danny.
so yeah the whole thing kinda just became a vacation, maybe the psychiatrist had the right idea after all? hmm nah, probably not. but this is fun. He’s thinking about recommending this place to some of the others.
It's different enough to get the vacation feel, but enough crazy shit happens to make it all feel like home.
it is not until Maddie wants to talk with him about potentially switching the position of godfather of Danny to him rather than some weird rich friend of theirs that Edward realizes he might have lost the plot somewhere
Apparently the little bird basically begged them with a powerpoint presentation on how he likes Edward so much more than that Vladimir guy. 
And honestly, the fellow sounds like a Dracula Lutho so even if it’s kinda sad Edward can understand why he’d be considered a better option. Even if the guy has more money and a huge company that makes him said money. And it’s not like the Fentons know about his Riddler activities.
Thinking it over, Edward does think that Danny would like Gotham and Wayne has that space program thing right? The kid is definitely smart enough for that (Nygma certified), and yeah Edward does quite like their space themed back and forth. So, fuck it, why not, what is the worst that could happen?
He doubts Maddie and Jack are gonna kick it any time soon anyway out here in the boonies, it’s just a title thing, a stamp of approval or something.
he should have known he was going to eat those words later… he had this whole beautifully elaborate trap set up for the whole Batclan, and he was just getting to the good part when his phone went off.
Had to put the whole thing on pause cause that particular contact wasn’t gonna get ignored. He did promise to be available.
If the whole thing he had planned now went tits up he could at the very least laugh later at the reactions of the bats as he told them to “hold up one second, I have to take this.” while they were all in various perilous positions. 
Sadly he did have to go, he had a very distressed godson to pick up.
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regulus-lantsov · 6 months ago
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⁺。˚⋆˙Kardashian who ? | OP81⁺。˚⋆˙
pairing: Oscar Piastri x actress!user ( she her ),
genre: social media au,
warnings: Cursing, pr nightmare, kardashian slender
summary: in which the Kardashians are in their downfall era and yn is ready to be the one who burried them
fc: Zendaya
instagram ->
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liked by oscarpiastri, kimkardashian, taylorswift and others
yourusername : Met Gala and miami gpppp !
tagged : oscarpiastri, landonorris
landonorris : You are my lucky charm, yn
yourusername : Fuck, I'm dating the wrong driver 😭 I should have dated the race winner oscarpiastri : Babe 🥺 yourusername : KOALA
kimkardashian : Beautiful ! I wish I could be at the Met
user55 : Yn didn't even liked Kim's comment
user6 : Yn is the first one praying for their downfall and I'm here for this
oscarpiastri : Three pictures of me ? Wow babe
yourusername : It was just to hide my secret relationship wiht Lando oscarpiastri : Can he ask your number in japanese ?? yorusername : NEVERMIND BYE LANDO THIS IS HOT
lewishamilton : 🤩🤩
yourusername : You outfit was incredible ! Please teach me your secrets
oscarpiastri
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liked by yourusername, landonorris, charles_leclerc and more
oscarpiastri : race duuump ( go watch Challengers, my girlfriend is in it )
tagged : yourusername
yourusername : AHA LAME
oscarpiastri : Babe 🥺 yourusername : Fuck you still got me with that.
yourusername : Whose facebook mom is this ???
yourusername : FUCK THIS IS MY FACEBOOK MOM
landonorris : Cold, As and Fuck !
charles_leclerc : Son !
user57 : How did he pull her ?
user69 : Oscar is sooo peaceful. My boyfriend would have been jealous if I kissed two men. Even in a movie
oscarpiastri : I'm just proud of my babe 🥺 yourusername : Stop being sweet !!! oscarpiastri : 🥺🥺 user67 : couple goals
twitter ->
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Instagram ->
kimkardashian
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liked by hayleybieber, dailymail, krisjenner and others
kimkardashian We are the Kardashians
tagged : All the Kardashians and Jenner
user56 : This is so petty 😭 Ma'am you are just mad THE Yn is ignoring you.
user78 : Posting in the Marylin's dress that she ruined 😭😭 Ma'am !
kourtneykardashian : We are the Kardashians
krisjenner : Can you keep us with us ?
oscarpiastri and yourusername
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liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, pierregasly and others
yourusername and oscarpiastri We are the Piastri family and no one needs a show to know us. And without implants
tagged : landonorris, oscarpiastri, yourusername
landonorris : Am I the son or the third husband ?
georgerussell : the dog yourusername : SON ! oscarpiastri : Stop adopting everyone YN yourusername : I just adopted, Lando, Ollie, Kimi, Doriane, Yuki, Pierre and ... oh yeah kimiantonelli : Mother ? yourusername : SON
oscarpiastri : my fiancee is gorgeous
user56 : FIANCEE ??
charles_leclerc : *Piastri-Leclerc
user67 : They said 'let's be the downfall of the Kardashians'
user5 : And we are all here for it
user78 : She's so pretty my god
Twitter ->
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END
Take care of your yourself and request are still opened ! And pretty please, tell me how upgrade it
Byye
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fatehbaz · 2 years ago
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Good question:
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In the United States, many jails and prisons can and will charge you money for every single night that you spend imprisoned, for the entire duration of your incarceration, as if you were being billed for staying at a hotel. Even if you are incarcerated for years. Adding up to tens of thousands of dollars. What happens when you’re released?
In response to this:
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---
So.
You’re getting charged, like, ten dollars every time you even submit a request form to possibly be seen by a doctor or dentist.
You’re getting charged maybe five dollars for ten minutes on the phone.
Any time a friend or family tries to send you like five dollars so that you can buy some toothpaste or lotion, or maybe a snack from the commissary since you’re diabetic and the “meals” have left you malnourished, maybe half of that money gets taken as a “service fee” by the corporate contractor that the prison uses to manage your pre-paid debit card. So you’re already losing money every day just by being there.
What happens if you can’t pay?
In some places, after serving just a couple of years for drugs charges, almost 20 years after being released, the state can still hunt you down for over $80,000 that you “owe” as if it were a per-night room-and-board accommodations charge, like this recent highly-publicized case in Connecticut:
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Excerpt:
Two decades after her release from prison, [TB] feels she is still being punished. When her mother died two years ago, the state of Connecticut put a lien on the Stamford home she and her siblings inherited. It said she owed $83,762 to cover the cost of her 2 1/2 year imprisonment for drug crimes. [...] “I’m about to be homeless,” said [TB], 58, who in March [2022] became the lead plaintiff in a lawsuit challenging the state law that charges prisoners $249 a day for the cost of their incarceration. [...] All but two states have so-called “pay-to-stay” laws that make prisoners pay for their time behind bars [...]. Critics say it’s an unfair second penalty that hinders rehabilitation by putting former inmates in debt for life. Efforts have been underway in some places to scale back or eliminate such policies. Two states — Illinois and New Hampshire — have repealed their laws since 2019. [...] Pay-to-stay laws were put into place in many areas during the tough-on-crime era of the 1980s and ’90s, said Brittany Friedman, an assistant professor of sociology at University of Southern California who is leading a study of the practice. [...] Connecticut used to collect prison debt by attaching an automatic lien to every inmate, claiming half of any financial windfall they might receive for up to 20 years after they are released from prison [...].
Text by: Pat Eaton-Robb. “At $249 per day, prison stays leave ex-inmates deep in debt.” AP News / The Associated Press. 27 August 2022.
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Look at this:
To help her son, Cindy started depositing between $50 to $100 a week into Matthew’s account, money he could use to buy food from the prison commissary, such as packaged ramen noodles, cookies, or peanut butter and jelly to make sandwiches. Cindy said sending that money wasn’t necessarily an expense she could afford. “No one can,” she said. So far in the past month, she estimates she sent Matthew close to $300. But in reality, he only received half of that amount. The balance goes straight to the prison to pay off the $1,000 in “rent” that the prison charged Matthew for his prior incarceration. [...] A PA Post examination of six county budgets (Crawford, Dauphin, Lebanon, Lehigh, Venango and Indiana) showed that those counties’ prisons have collected more than $15 million from inmates — almost half is for daily room and board fees that are meant to cover at least a portion of the costs with housing and food. Prisoners who don’t work are still expected to pay. If they don’t, their bills are sent to collections agencies, which can report the debts to credit bureaus. [...] Between 2014 and 2017, the Indiana County Prison — which has an average inmate population of 87 people — collected nearly $3 million from its prisoners. In the past five years, Lebanon’s jail collected just over $2 million in housing and processing fees.
Text by: Joseph Darius Jaafari. “Paying rent to your jailers: Inmates are billed millions of dollars for their stays in Pa. prisons.” WHYY (PBS). 10 December 2019. Originally published at PA Post.
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Pay-to-stay, the practice of charging people to pay for their own jail or prison confinement, is being enforced unfairly by using criminal, civil and administrative law, according to a new Rutgers University-New Brunswick led study. The study [...] finds that charging pay-to-stay fees is triggered by criminal justice contact but possible due to the co-opting of civil and administrative institutions, like social service agencies and state treasuries that oversee benefits, which are outside the realm of criminal justice. “A person can be charged $20 to $80 a day for their incarceration,” said author Brittany Friedman, an assistant professor of sociology and a faculty affiliate of Rutgers' criminal justice program. “That per diem rate can lead to hundreds of thousands of dollars in fees when a person gets out of prison. To recoup fees, states use civil means such as lawsuits and wage garnishment against currently and formerly incarcerated people, and regularly use administrative means such as seizing employment pensions, tax refunds and public benefits to satisfy the debt.” [...] Civil penalties are enacted on family members if the defendant cannot pay and in states such as Florida, Nevada and Idaho can occur even after the original defendant is deceased. [...]
Text by: Megan Schumann. “States Unfairly Burdening Incarcerated People With “Pay-to-Stay” Fees.” Rutgers press release. 20 November 2020.
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So, to pay for your own imprisonment, states can:
-- hunt you down for decades (track you down 20 years later, charge you tens of thousands of dollars, and take your house away)
-- put a lien on your vehicle, house
-- garnish your paycheck/wages
-- seize your tax refund
-- send collections agencies after you
-- take your public assistance benefits
-- sue you in civil court
-- take money from your family even after you’re dead
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fastandcarlos · 7 months ago
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One More Won’t Hurt, Right? : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc
summary: watching your family at the paddock gives charles all the feels
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Your eyes glanced to your left as you overheard someone clearing their throat, watching as Charles walked into the driver’s room, taking his rightful spot beside you, offering you a warm smile.
His attention was soon captured however by the pair of giggles that came from across the room, your two children playing happily with each other until they realised that their dad had re-entered the room.
“Daddy! You’re here!” Your daughter squealed, unsteadily rising to her feet.
“Hey princess,” Charles grinned, kneeling down so that he was at the same height to her, engulfing her in his embrace. “I hope you’ve been good for mummy.”
Her head nodded as her arms loosely wrapped around Charles’ neck. “We’ve been really good,” she giggled, feeling a kiss be pressed by Charles against her cheek.
He’d spent the past couple of hours having his final practice before qualifying, and although the car itself didn’t feel great, all of that was forgotten as soon as he was back with his family – his three favourite humans.
“We missed you.” Your daughter then suddenly added, taking Charles by surprise.
The two of you had done a great job raising your kids, plenty of people around the paddock complimented you on how well mannered and kind they both were.
It didn’t take long for your son to join in with the action, throwing himself at Charles with a groan. Luckily for him, Charles just about managed to react in time and pull his son into the other side of his embrace.
“Daddy, we played with cars, ate ice cream, and mummy even let us go up onto the roof terrace,” your son hurriedly informed Charles, bouncing up and down in excitement.
“I hope you were watching daddy’s car,” he teased, pulling back to study them both, chuckling loudly when they both nodded back at him.
“Let’s finish our drawing,” your daughter suggested, pointing to the pieces of paper on the floor, dragging your son away from his father. Charles’ brows furrowed but your daughter insisted that he was not allowed to see anything.
As the two ran away, Charles stood back up again, snaking his arm around your waist as you both continued to watch your children smile and joke with each other.
“How did we do it?” Charles pondered, feeling your eyes staring back at him. “I mean, how did we get so lucky to create two perfect babies?”
Your shoulders shrugged as you felt Charles press a gentle kiss against your lips, pulling you closer towards him the moment he felt you linger a little longer than you should in such a place.
Your smile was wide as you pulled away, “they must have got the good genes of their mum.”
Charles’ eyes went wide as you spoke, jabbing into your side to make you squeal, pushing his hand away from you.
“We’ve really got the perfect family,” Charles whispered, resting his head against the top of yours in admiration.
“What are you doing?” Your son called out, cringing as he watched the two of you affectionately hold onto one another, everything that your kids hated to see.
“We’re making a baby,” Charles blurted out, earning himself a slap on the chest from you. Luckily for Charles, your son was far too innocent to understand, simply nodding his head.
“Okay,” he shrugged, averting his eyes back to his drawing.
Although the time wasn’t now, you knew in a few years your son would be the image of Charles, they had the same cheeky humour that had everyone around him in fits of giggles.
“I can’t believe that you’d tell him that.”
“Would it be such a bad thing?” Charles challenged as your stare hardened, eyes looking at him in disbelief. “The first two turned out pretty perfect, why not see if we can make it a hattrick?”
You found yourself speechless for a few moments as you tried to take in what Charles had said. Sure, the two of you discussed having another baby sometimes, but never as seriously as Charles seemed to be right now.
“What are you thinking?” Charles asked you, trying his best to read you and get a picture of what you were thinking.
“That you’re an idiot,” you joked.
“I’m right though, aren’t I?” He pushed, “one more won’t hurt, right?”
“Charles, are we really doing this now?” You chuckled, taking a look around the room.
“Why not? I mean, we could ask Carlos to take the kids for a bit,” he whispered.
Your hand hit against his chest once again, sure, a third child would be like a dream, but Charles’ driver room was not where you wanted that dream to become a reality.
“How long have you actually been thinking about this?” You enquired, keen to know where his sudden enthusiasm had come from.
“Honestly, since the day that I met you,” he admitted.
“What do you mean?”
“The second I met you I knew that I wanted you to be my forever, but more so than that I knew that you were going to be the best mother to my kids. Truthfully, that day I decided I wanted a family of thousands, just to see you be the best mum in the world.”
There was a moment of silence between you both as Charles took your hand. It wouldn’t be easy, but nothing good in life was, but he was absolutely determined that the two of you would make it all work.
When you remained silent, Charles cleared his throat. “Why don’t we have a think when we’re back at home, sit down and really think about if this is something we should do.”
If you were honest, you didn’t need time to think. Your mind was made up. Having another mini Charles running around the apartment was something you adored.
“Let’s do it…but perhaps when the kids aren’t around,” you smiled.
“My offer still stands,” Charles teased, but your head shook, you could never move your kids when they were having so much fun.
“Later.”
“Like, tonight later?” Charles whispered close against your ear, pressing a trail of kisses down the length of your neck.
“Play your cards right,” you hummed in response, trying your best to avoid Charles’ advances beside you.
You knew what he was doing. And so did he. But he just couldn’t resist the temptation of trying.
“Later,” you repeated, untangling yourself from his hold. “Duty calls,” you smirked, just as your daughter called you both over. Charles’ eyes rolled as he walked over too, keeping his eyes firmly on you.
“I’m holding you to that one.
˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗
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vodoungnon · 1 year ago
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Comment faire pour récupéré son ex, Professeur Vodoungnon Medjo
Comment faire pour récupéré son ex COMMENT FAIRE POUR RÉCUPÉRER SON EX ? Perdre l’amour de sa vie est un malheur que nous avons eu la malchance de connaître. Qu’on s’y attendait ou pas, savoir que l’on doit vivre désormais sans la personne qu’on a aimée de tout son cœur est une chose difficile à vivre. A cause de cette douleur, peu sont les personnes qui ont su tourner la page et refaire leur…
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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 10 months ago
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A DC X DP IDEA #27
They’re the strongest?!?!
Imagine dis…
You know … I read too much humans are space orcs fic, prompts, ideas… etc.
But I still like Danny Phantom and DC…
And I remember that one A03 fic…
Another alien invasion is another Wednesday for the JL but it seems like they are quite different. Not only they are known as invaders in the Green Lantern Corps but they also have some sort of code among warriors, they give a chance to the species they are invading to fight back. By having their strongest fight against their strongest. It is not through fighting to the death as different planets have different climates and terrains and thus have their version of the Olympic games but instead of rewarding the participants medals, they were rewarded their planet's safety, but Hal commented that the challenges are too staged, too well known to the invading aliens. Since the ones defending have no idea how to approach the challenges, they always end up losing. Green Arrow commented that since they can just send out the Big Blue boy scout, Hal shook his head as they have to be the same species one planet already tried it by asking aid from another planet and not only lost but the invading aliens got 2 planets, plus they’ll bring it up to the galaxy court system and put them in a tight spot. Of course, Aquaman blinked with confusion and asked if there was a court system for the galaxy.
So of course, when the said invading aliens landed on the Milky Way and broadcasted their intentions. The JL already have a team to fight them, of course, we have Batman with his cunning mind, Wonder Woman for her chivalry and strength, Flash for his speed, Doctor Fate for his mastery of magic, and Cyborg for technological skills. Just as they were about to tell the invading aliens that they had already picked their strongest, another announcement popped out. Apparently to even out the playing field they have a new technology to help them pick out their strongest for them. As if they were talking to kids and promptly pressed the bottom to automatically select the earth’s strongest.
The heroes at the space station as well those around the world who were debriefed about the situation a week before are already bracing themselves to be picked, while the citizens around the globe are all now watching and anticipating as not only this a new thing as the majority of their alien invasion they immediately went to evacuation.
Who appeared/ chosen immediately made both sides' jaws drop….
Three?
Only three are chosen…
An adult, a teen, and a child?
A man who wore a blue rental suit with glasses, blue eyes and black hair. Which the Metropolis recognizes as one of their own. Clark Kent, a reporter with fame and reputation on par with the famed Lois Lane. The ideal model of someone who came from the countryside and made a name and life in the big city.
An 11-year-old boy with blue eyes and black hair who wore a red hoodie, faded jeans, and red shoes, in which the city Fawcett knew of. Billy Batson was, a former foster kid on the run until he found his forever home with the couple named Victor and Rosa Vasquez who also fostered a couple of kids, which Billy claims as his siblings. A kind kid who kept doing good around him and his community.
Lastly, a teen, again with blue eyes and black hair wore a faded NASA hoodie, and blue jeans with faint eye bags which was a small town in Amity Park where he came from. Danny Fenton, the only son of the two leading scientists of ecto-biologists in ecotology, the one who realized that one of the two purple-back gorillas is a female thus avoiding extinction.
Clark Kent by day and Superman by night knew about the invading aliens. He also knew that he could not participate despite being raised on Earth made him unqualified to join. So, imagine his shock when he suddenly found himself with two earth children in the middle of a large arena with futuristic cameras looking at them. He is now in an internal dilemma; how can he save the two kids, while he tries to save Earth altogether?
This train of thought also passed by the young Billy Batson on the said teen, Billy already knew that Superman was already thinking of saving the both of them. Now his priority is to survive and keep his secret ID a secret for a bit longer.
Danny on the other hand has a completely different train of thought, he was just about to reach his room. His beautiful room where his bed is, he had just finished a four-hour exam to bring his grades back up to an acceptable level, 9 continuous ghost attacks, another nonsense quarrel between the observers and he is close to committing anarchy just so he can have the same treatment to Pariah Dark, an eternal sleep in a comfortable looking Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.
So imagine his surprise when he is suddenly teleported to what looks like an alien ship, Danny would usually be ecstatic but they have interrupted him, he is so close to his bed. He knew that there would be some sort of an invasion as he remembered the bits and pieces from Tucker’s ramble when they last hung out together.
He doesn’t care if aliens invade Earth, but if you come between him and his bed. He will make sure of what he will do to those who disturb him, he will make his fight with his future self and Pariah Dark like child’s play.
The Justice League kept on insisting that they had already chosen their fighters and those who appeared in the middle of their arena were civilians, not warriors. But the invading aliens stayed on their decision and immediately began the games.
The rest of the heroes are now scrambling to not only stop the invading aliens but also save the 2 civilians who were randomly selected.
While the rest of the League is now panicking the rest of the world is now in an outrage. Sending out a civilian man and children by the alien's weird machinery.
The Fenton couples are especially rabid as, if there is anything that tops their ghost obsession, it would be their children’s safety. The family of Batson are on the edge of their seats as they worry for Billy.
The games begin with an opening of rules and such, as well as an introduction to the alien’s warriors who are big and full of muscles making the Earth team look so tiny.
The first game starts with a simple hunting game with very minimal clues and tools at their disposal to find what they seek. Clark can crack the code on to where to hunt but it is a dangerous environment, Clark discusses it with his teammates on how to catch it, Clark is already thinking if he should reveal himself as a meta with strength but Danny just glares at the man and grabbed capturing tools form the table and sought out the thing they are designated to hunt.
The other team took a glance at Team Earth and warbled some snickers at how they took looking/hunting too fast without any plans and went back to their planning.
Clark and Billy are worried for their other teammate but after a few minutes, they hear a roar some shuffles, and then silence.
Back on earth, most people are horrified a what could be the teen’s fate but when footsteps were heard they saw the teen again scathed, with a few scratches, and a hulking beast all tied up from its muzzle to its tails.
Clark nervously asked, still maintaining his civilian identity, how on earth Danny had caught such a beast. Danny’s only response was, back from where he came a certain ”friend” really wanted “someone’s” pelt on a wall and learned some things while HE was chasing that “something”.
That starts the Danny effect…
A tag sort of game as there is a hunter to hunt them down and their objective is to hide longer than the other team, with both Billy and Danny a part, while Billy lasted a few hours with his wit and skills that he honed during his time when he ran from CPS and the police during his days as a foster child, which is impressive itself as he got two of the other team’s members to be captured first before him. Danny outlasted Billy and the rest of the other team won the game in a landslide and gained some bonus points by not only redirecting the hunter and leading them into a false trail or a dead end but also messing with the said hunter without being spotted by him.
Cooking with live and weird ingredients? Clark initially volunteered to do it as he has a stomach of steel being an alien but cannot cook as he has no idea which ingredient is edible as all alien dishes and ingredients come from Krypton and he has to impress the judges who put them in a disadvantage as the judges are from the same race as the opposing team. Danny just shook his head at Clark quickly put on an apron and set to work.
Clark and Billy immediately turned green at the sight as Danny nonchalantly battled the live ingredients, from the meat section to what seems to be the fruit and vegetable section, It is bloody as it is and quite fascinating as it is disgusting. All their years in the Justice League they have seen some twisted and weird things but seeing their third teammate casually stab what looked like an unholy cross hybrid between an octopus and a shark trying to crawl away from the carnage, cleaned the weird animal from the inside out and fillet it.
Of course, they are in disbelief when the judges practically moan the moment, they taste Danny’s dish. Clark and Billy are pretty sure one of the judges is planning to spare Danny and turn him into their chef if the invasion continues, with the way they look at Danny. The judges reluctantly let Danny’s dish win.
Billy reluctantly asked Danny where he learned to cook like that, Danny’s only response was a grumble of a sound that seemed to sound like at home but that cannot be, right?
Trying to survive an onslaught of hypnotic plants native to the alien’s home world, Danny once again won and even began criticizing the plants for how their music was so horrible that it would not even wake the dead.
Play some sort of FIGHTING VIDEO GAME that is popular in 5 sectors in their part of the galaxy, Danny wins and repeatedly shoots the aliens with pure hatred and anger in his eyes, Clark has to physically drag Danny out of the arena to stop his onslaught of firing to the poor guy who was already on the verge of crying.
And so on with the Earth’s team leading COUGH Danny COUGH and demolishing the invading aliens from their games.
After a while the games are done and Team Earth wins with a massive gap to the invading aliens. They returned the three in the middle of the Metropolis and went away without so much a fuss…
Well, expect that one chef in their midst how begged the leader to take Danny and only him with them but the leader is already fearing for his life as the last few games that humans began to be more feral by the second and he was sure he is also a second away from being the one at the other end of his chopping board.
Back on earth everyone cheered on the three and began flashing them their camera lights to get a new scoop, and one brave reporter even tried to interview Danny but when people tried to look for the elusive teen he seemingly disappeared.
Clark knew Danny was, sleeping peacefully in the middle of the bushes a few feet away from them, and kept quiet as he was late to realize that Danny was on the verge of a crash like Red Robin is when he pulled something like this when Conner invited him.
PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.
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joemama-2 · 1 month ago
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velvet lies
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pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 18.2k (don't kill me) tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: I'm dead, ik i said i wouldn’t write again for a couple days but i had a moment of epiphany series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter
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Walking through the long, but suffocating hallways of the office is excruciating for Satoru—it always is. Today, it feels extra excruciating. He’s been out of the office for a few days now, ignoring his business responsibilities and family, he knows he’ll probably face hell today. How painful.
“Good morning, Mr. Gojo.”
“Hello, Mr. Gojo.”
“Nice to see you, Mr. Gojo.”
“Mr. Gojo!”
A voice says, one he clocks as his secretary. He sighs, but continues to walk forward, forcing Aiko to practailly sprint just to catch up with him. There’s stacks of papers in her arms, her cheeks red with a small sheen of sweat painting her skin. And it’s only the start of the day. He almost starts feel bad for her. “Mr. Gojo! Where have you been? I’ve called and texted, I even went to your house and you weren’t there!”
“Vacation.” he says curtly, not breaking his stride. His tone is clipped, his voice devoid of any real emotion, and it’s enough to make Aiko falter for just a second.
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“A vacation?!” she exclaims, breathless. “You didn’t even leave a notice! Do you have any idea how many calls I’ve had to field from your father’s office? They were—”
“Livid. Yeah, I’m sure.” Satoru waves a hand dismissively, rounding a corner and heading toward the elevator. Aiko scrambles to keep up, adjusting the stack of papers precariously balanced in her arms.
“They’re expecting you in the boardroom at ten,” she says, her voice slightly frantic. “And Mr. Gojo said if you didn’t show up this time, he’d—”
“I’m here now, aren’t I?” he interrupts, pressing the elevator button with unnecessary force. The tension in his shoulders is palpable, but his face remains a mask of indifference. 
“Yes, but—” Aiko stops herself, hesitating. Her voice softens. “Are you okay, sir?”
For a moment, Satoru freezes. The elevator dings, the doors sliding open, but he doesn’t move. The question hangs in the air like a challenge he isn’t ready to face. “Peachy,” he finally says, stepping inside. Aiko hesitates before following, fumbling with the papers in her arms. Once she’s inside, Satoru presses the number 15, doors soon closing. The ascent to the highest floor of the high rise office building begins. As the elevator begins its rising, the silence is thick and awkward. Satoru leans against the mirrored wall, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the glowing numbers above the doors. “You’ve got a lot to catch up on,” Aiko ventures, breaking the silence. “There’s the overseas partnership meeting at noon, and your parents are waiting to—”
“They’ll wait,” Satoru cuts her off, his tone colder now. “I’m not on their clock.”
Aiko flinches but doesn’t argue. She adjusts the papers again, her gaze darting nervously to him before focusing on the floor. “Mr. Gojo, they seemed very serious today, more than usual. Your mother was even holding back tears, but she didn’t look sad, she looked…angry.”
His mind turns into uncertainty. His mother’s here and she’s crying? Did he piss them off that much? Well, she’s always been quite the dramatic woman. It can’t be that bad. When the elevator doors open, Satoru steps out without a word, leaving Aiko to scurry after him in usual form. The sound of his shoes clicking against the polished marble floor echoes through the hallway as Satoru walks toward his personal office. Aiko struggles to keep up, her footsteps hurried and uneven behind him.
He caresllesy pushes his doors open, going over to plop himself down in his chair behind the desk. Heavily exhaling while ltilting his head back, eyes fixated on the bare ceiling above. Seems like his carelessness is going to catch up with him today. Although he’d rather not deal with anything business related right now, especially his parents, he’s been gone more than he should. He can already anticipate he’ll leave late today, the monotonous voices of the businessmen, the disapproving words from his parents, the headache that will break through around noon, and the lingering, mundane question in the back of his mind of what you and Koji will be eating tonight for dinner. Maybe I should send her some money to eat out, or to buy a few groceries?
However, another thought makes its presence known by her very…unpleasant voice. He almost forget about her.
“Satoru!”
Aiko squeaks as she’s negligently pushed to the side by Himari, some of the papers flying out her hands—to which she bends down to pick it up, giving the other woman an annoyed glance. Himari plops into Satoru’s lap, arms instinctively moving around his neck. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick, baby. I thought something happened.”
Satoru doesn't react at first, his head still tilted back, eyes glued to the ceiling. His jaw tightens ever so slightly, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Himari presses herself closer, her fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck as she leans in. Her voice softens, pink lips downturning into a pout, dripping with almost a faux sense of concern. “You didn’t answer my calls, Satoru. I thought we were past all this disappearing nonsense. What’s going on?”
Aiko straightens up from the floor, her lips pressed into a thin line as she shuffles the papers back into order. “Excuse me, Ms. Nakamura,” she says tightly, her eyes flicking toward Satoru. “Mr. Gojo has a full schedule today. If you need to discuss personal matters, perhaps—”
“Not now, you,” Himari cuts her off without looking, her attention solely on Satoru. “This is between Satoru and I, not the help.”
Aiko bristles but doesn’t argue, standing stiffly by the door.
Satoru finally moves, letting out a low sigh as he straightens his posture, forcing Himari to shift slightly on his lap. His hands rest limply on the armrests of his chair, making no effort to return her embrace. “Himari,” he says flatly, his voice void of any attempt at warmth. “I’ve been busy.”
“Busy?” She pulls back just enough to look at him, her perfectly shaped brows furrowing. “Too busy to call me? To even let me know you’re alive?” Her voice rises slightly, her frustration barely contained. “You just vanished, and I had to find out from your secretary that you weren’t even in the office!”
His lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile. “And yet, here I am. Alive and well.”
“That’s not the point!” Himari huffs, her grip on him tightening as if to keep him from brushing her off. “You can’t just disappear like that, Satoru. It’s irresponsible. It’s—”
“Unprofessional? Reckless? Embarrassing?” he interrupts, his tone sharp enough to make her flinch slightly. “Yeah, I’ve heard it all before. What do you want me to say, Himari? I have my own life too, baby.”
She stares at him, her lips parting as if to respond, but no words come out. For a moment, the air between them is thick with tension. Her expression shifts, the frustration giving way to something colder. “You’ve been acting strange lately,” she says, her tone accusing. “Ever since—” She stops herself, her eyes narrowing. “Ever since last time I saw you.” Himari doesn’t move from his lap immediately, her arms tightening around his neck as if trying to pull him closer. Her perfectly manicured nails graze his skin, and she leans in, her voice then dropping into something softer, more coaxing. “You know I’m only upset because I care about you,” she says, her eyes searching his face. “You can’t keep shutting me out like this, Satoru. I’m your girlfriend, for heaven’s sake. I’m supposed to be the person you lean on.”
Satoru doesn’t respond right away. His head tilts slightly, his expression unreadable as he studies her. The silence stretches on long enough for Himari to shift uncomfortably. His eyes move to hers, the first real spark of emotion flashing across his face. “You have to understand, okay? I’m… going through stuff right now, I just needed a break.”
“A break from me?”
“Himari.” His voice is quieter now, the edge in it is unmistakable, but also resigned. He continues, willing himself to react calmly, “you’re not helping by showing up here unannounced.”
“Unannounced?” she scoffs, her tone sharpening again. “I wouldn’t have to if you actually answered your phone. Or your emails. Or—oh, I don’t know—told me where the hell you were!”
“I needed space,” he repeats simply, his gaze drifting toward the window behind her.
“Space?” she repeats incredulously. “From me?” Her voice trembles slightly, though whether it’s from anger or hurt, even she doesn’t seem sure. “You can’t just disappear without saying anything, Satoru. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to have your parents calling me, asking if I know where you are? To have my parents asking why their future son-in-law is MIA?”
Future son in law. That makes his brows furrow, a frown taking place on his face. “I didn’t ask you to answer for me,” he says evenly, his eyes meeting hers again.
“No, you didn’t,” she snaps, pulling back further now. “But you also didn’t give me a choice. What was I supposed to do? Just sit there and let everyone think I don’t know what’s going on with my own boyfriend?”
“You could have,” he says with a shrug, the corner of his mouth lifting in a ghost of a smirk. “Might’ve been easier.”
Her jaw drops, and for a moment, she looks genuinely stunned. “Are you serious right now? You’re impossible, Satoru. Absolutely impossible.”
“I’ve been told,” he says lightly, but there’s no humor in his voice.
She gets up abruptly, smoothing her Valentino Garavino dress with quick, agitated movements. “This isn’t funny,” she says, her tone colder now. “You think you can just brush me off like this? Like I don’t matter? I’m the one who’s been by your side all this time, Satoru. Me.”
He sighs. “Just stop, please.”
“I’m just saying,” Himari presses on, her voice a little too sharp, “I’ve been dealing with this mess all on my own, while you’ve been out who knows where—doing who knows what—and now I’m supposed to just pretend everything is fine? That’s not how this works.”
“I didn’t ask for any of this,” Satoru says with finality, his patience running thin. “I didn’t ask you to sit here, waiting for me, wondering where I’ve been. I needed a break. A chance to breathe.”
“From me?” she asks again, disbelief written across her face.
He decides to concede. “Yes,” he says quietly. “From everything. You wouldn’t understand.”
Himari falters for a moment, her face flickering with a mixture of hurt and frustration. “And I don’t matter enough for you to tell me why?”
His gaze softens, just for a second, but it quickly hardens again. “I don’t need to explain myself, Himari.” He looks away from her, not trusting himself to speak without snapping. There’s a quiet but heavy tension hanging in the air.
“I thought we had something,” Himari says after a long pause, her voice quieter now, though the hurt still lingers in her tone. “I thought I meant more to you.”
“You do,” Satoru replies, the words sounding almost empty, even to him. “But right now, I need time to sort things out. Can you understand that?”
She glares at him for a moment longer before letting out an exasperated huff. “Fine. Fuck it, ignore things like you always do.” She grabs her bag, turning on her heel. “But don’t think I’m just going to sit around waiting for you to figure things out. You owe me better than this, Satoru.” She storms out, her heels clicking sharply against the floor, leaving Aiko awkwardly standing in the doorway.
Satoru remains frozen in his chair, staring at the empty space she left behind. He exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over his face as his mind drifts back to the other matters weighing on him. The silence feels suffocating, and even though his thoughts want to wander to her—to you—he forces himself to focus. But something lingers, something unsettled that he can’t shake.
Aiko clears her throat, stepping forward cautiously. “Um… should I reschedule your morning meetings, sir?”
Satoru leans back in his chair again, closing his eyes briefly. “No,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just… give me five minutes.” Aiko nods, backing out of the room and closing the door softly behind her. Alone now, Satoru exhales heavily, the weight of the morning and what’s to come settling over him like a thick fog.
Jesus Christ. Can I just have one day without everyone breathing down my fucking neck?
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“And so, this is why my team and I believe it’s prevalent to keep things neutral, but cordial with the Nexus Group.” The head of the negotiation team, a sharp-dressed man in his late forties with a voice as dry as the monotony of the topic at hand, clicked through another slide of the dull PowerPoint presentation which casted faint shadows over the darkened boardroom. The screen displayed a web of connections and partnerships that Nexus had with other firms, none of which particularly interested Satoru.
Neutral and cordial. Two words he had no patience for today.
He slouched slightly in his chair, his fingers drumming against the polished wood of the table. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses—his mother would’ve had a fit if she saw him disrespecting the board by doing so—but he felt the familiar strain behind his eyes nonetheless, holding back a heavy sigh.
“Mr. Gojo?” 
The sound of his name snapped him out of his haze. He blinked, realizing the room was waiting for him to respond. All eyes were on him, some expectant, some wary. “Hm?” he hummed, sitting up just enough to look like he was paying attention.
The negotiator cleared his throat. “Your thoughts on maintaining a neutral stance with Nexus, sir?”
For a moment, he didn’t respond. His gaze lingered on the projector screen, though he wasn’t really seeing it. The weight of everything—the meeting, his parents waiting to speak with him, you and Koji constantly in the back of his mind—made it impossible to focus. He just wishes these imbeciles could make a single decision without confiding in him first. Finally, he sighed, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I think…” he began, his voice softer than usual, almost detached, “that we’ve been through this already.”
The negotiator hesitated. “Well, yes, but we wanted to ensure the approach aligns with your vision—”
“My vision?” Satoru interrupted, his tone bordering on tired amusement. He dropped his hand and glanced around the room, his expression almost blank. “My vision is that we don’t waste time overthinking what Nexus might do. If they’re going to cause problems, we deal with it. If they’re not, we move forward. Simple.” 
A few people exchanged uneasy glances, but no one argued; they know better. “Understood, sir,” the negotiator said, his voice quieter now.
Satoru didn’t reply, turning his gaze to the window instead. The faint reflection of the room in the glass blurred with the skyline beyond. He couldn’t remember the last time he truly cared about one of these meetings. The discussion carried on around him, voices blending into a low hum. Every so often, someone would glance his way, but he didn’t react. His thoughts drifted, heavier and heavier, to the inevitable confrontation waiting for him after this meeting. He sighed slowly, shifting in his chair. The tension building in his chest had been there for days, clawing at him, and this—this pointless back-and-forth—only made it worse.
“Satoru,” Nanami’s voice cut through the fog, quiet but firm, “want to wrap this up for today?” Satoru blinked at him, then at the rest of the room. Everyone was waiting, polite smiles masking their unease. He straightened a little, though it felt like dragging himself through water
“Yeah,” he said simply. “Let’s revisit this later.” The meeting adjourned, and as the others filed out, Satoru stayed behind, staring blankly at the table. He knew he couldn’t avoid the next part of the day forever, but for now, he just wanted to sit in the quiet, even if it was only for a moment.
Nanami stays behind until the last man leaves, taking this moment to face his colleague with his usual bored—but calculated gaze. “What’s up with you? First, you go AWOL for days on end, and now you come back and look like you don’t know about a single thing that’s happening. That or you don’t care.”
“I never truly do,” Satoru replies, swiveling. 
Nanami shakes his head, running a hand through his blonde locks. “Seriously, Satoru. Can you just fix up your act for the next few days, at least?”
Satoru raises a thin, white eyebrow. “Next few days, hm? Why, what’s happening in these next few days?” He uses air quotes.
“For fuck’s sake,” Nanami groans, arms crossing. “You forgot?”
Satoru tilted his head, feigning thought, though the blankness in his eyes betrayed his apathy. “Hmm... enlighten me.”
Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse. “The annual board dinner, Monday evening. The one where you’re expected to charm the investors and keep them from pulling out of their contracts. The dinner that your father has been planning for months.”
Satoru hummed, his head falling back against the chair with exaggerated dramatics. “Oh, that dinner. Right. The one where I play puppet for a bunch of old men who care more about profit margins than people.”
Nanami didn’t rise to the bait, though his gaze hardened. “The dinner where your family’s reputation is at stake, Satoru. It’s not optional, and you know it.”
Satoru swung his chair in a slow circle, his long legs stretched out as if the conversation wasn’t happening. “Guess I should dust off my charm, huh? Or maybe I’ll just stand there and look pretty—that usually does the trick.”
Nanami’s jaw tightened, his patience clearly wearing thin. “This isn’t a joke. You’ve already caused enough waves by disappearing last week. If you don’t show up, or worse, if you show up like this…” He gestured vaguely at Satoru, encompassing his disheveled demeanor. “…then don’t expect your father, especially your mother to forgive you anytime soon.”
Satoru stopped spinning, his chair facing Nanami now. He rested his elbow on the armrest, propping his chin in his hand. “You sound like her, you know. Should I start calling you ‘Mom’ too?”
Nanami rolled his eyes, clearly done with the conversation. “Do whatever you want, Satoru. Just don’t screw this up.” With that, he turned and walked towards the doors. Stopping for a second and giving one last thought. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you need to stop running from your responsibilities, it’s catching up with you.” Then, the sound of the door shutting behind him follows, leaving Satoru alone in the silence once more.
For a long moment, Satoru stayed where he was, the room empty except for the faint hum of the projector. He stared blankly at the table, his mind a tangle of thoughts he didn’t want to undo. He let out a heavy puff of air, the sound filling the silence. “Yeah,” he muttered to no one in particular. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” He shakes his head, the density of Nanami’s words settling over him like a heavy cloak. The idea of the board dinner—of facing his parents, the investors, the endless expectations—made his chest tighten. But even that wasn’t the heaviest thing on his mind. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. His finger hovered over the screen, debating whether to send a message. Whether to ask you if you were okay, if Koji had eaten, if you’d even want to hear from him. Instead, he locked the phone and tossed it onto the desk, leaning back in his chair. For now, all he could do was sit in the quiet and try to pull himself together before the next storm hit. 
Nanami’s right, it’s catching up to him. 
“Where is that little bastard?”
“Mrs. Gojo!”
“Where is he?”
“I-I believe he’s still in the—”
The doors abruptly opening causes Satoru’s head to swivel in the direction of them. He almost wishes he just sink into a hole. The face of his mother, looking pretty damn pissed off, is glaring at him. A familiar look to her son. He still doesn’t know what he did wrong—besides ignoring the business for a week. Still, she’s that upset? “You,” she points a red nail in her son’s direction, to which he stands up. “Get your ass in your father’s office, now.”
“For what?” Satoru asks, though he’s already making his way to her. He then yelps out in surprise when his mother reaches her hand up and pinches his earlobe between her two fingers. “Ow! Mom! What the hell?!”
“Shut it, boy.” She snaps out, hauling his ass down the corridor to his father’s office. The employees watch on, eyes wide with curiosity and surprise as their boss is practically getting manhandled by his own mother like he’s a child all over again. 
“Seriously, Mom, let go!” Satoru hissed, trying to pry her fingers off his ear without much success.
“You don’t get to make demands today, Satoru,” she snapped, her grip tightening. “Not after the mess you’ve made.”
“What mess?!” he exclaimed, stumbling slightly as she yanked him forward.
“Oh, don’t act clueless. You’re in enough trouble, don’t you dare add stupidity to the list,” she shot back.
By the time they reached his father’s office, Satoru was basically limping from the awkward gait forced upon him. His mother flung the door open with so much force that it banged against the wall. His father, seated behind his imposing desk, barely glanced up, though the faint crease in his brow betrayed his irritation. “Ah, the prodigal son,” his father drawled, setting down his pen and folding his hands neatly in front of him. “We were wondering when you’d grace us with your presence.”
“Trust me, this wasn’t my idea,” Satoru muttered, rubbing his ear as his mother finally released him. He straightened his jacket with an exaggerated sigh and flopped into the chair across from his father. 
“You’re lucky I didn’t drag you here sooner,” his mother said, slamming the door shut. She crossed her arms and went to stand beside her husband, her sharp gaze fixed on her son.
Satoru rolled his eyes. “Alright, what’s this about? I already know you’re mad about last week. Can’t we just skip to the part where you yell at me for being irresponsible and I promise to do better?”
His father didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached into a drawer, pulled out a folder, and slid it across the desk. “We’re not here to rehash your usual antics, Satoru. This is about something far more… shocking.”
“What’s this?”
“Open it.” His parents say in firm unison. 
Satoru frowned, his carefree demeanor wavering as he picked up the folder. He opened it lazily, but his body went rigid when his eyes landed on the photograph inside—a picture of him, arms wrapped around Koji, with you standing to the side, your expression tender, smiling. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting the sudden tense silence suffocate the room.
“What the hell?” Satoru whispered, his mind racing.
His mother’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “Care to explain, Satoru?”
For once, he had nothing to say.
“I….” he gulps, fists clenching around the photograph. His jaw ticks, brows furrowing in the middle. “Where did you get this?” Satoru’s voice was low.
“We could ask you the same,” his mother snapped, her tone icy. “Who is that child, Satoru?”
Satoru doesn’t answer, instead hyper-fixating on the picture. His father didn’t wait for him to respond either. “We had to hire someone to track you down after you disappeared. Imagine our surprise when they came back with this.” He gestured to the photo. 
He looks back at his parents, meeting them with an equally deathly stare, blue eyes bouncing off one another. “You’ve been fucking spying on me?”
“You gave us no choice,” Akane responds, upset with her son’s tone. “You disappeared, we were worried, and now—” she huffs in disbelief. “Now we come to find out…this! What is this, Satoru?”
“Don’t talk about him like that.”
“I’ll do whatever I damn well please,” his mother counters. 
Her son’s eyes turn dark, and anger beginning to rise up beneath his flesh. Willing himself to calm down and not snap. He looks between his father and mother, not even sure what to say at this moment. First, he’s pissed they sent someone to watch and follow him, second, how did he not notice? And third, they know. They fucking know. He’s barely figuring shit out on his own and now his parents are involved in the mix. 
Yamato reels in a long breath, standing up from his chair. He walks out from behind his desk and stops in front of his carbon copy. “Satoru, who is that boy?”
A rhetorical question, it has to be. They just want him to admit it. They know who it is—who he is to Satoru. They’d be blind if they didn’t. Satoru gulps, biting the inside of his cheek before slowly responding. His words are hushed and careful, but filled with pride. “My son.”
Akane huffs quietly from her spot. “Oh my god.” She runs her hands through her hair, taking a seat in her husband’s chair, shaky hand fanning herself.
Neither son nor father looks at her, continuing to practically look into one another’s soul. It’s funny, he thinks. Two fathers face to face. If this was a different situation, Satoru probably would have made a snide remark about his old man looking hilarious with his wrinkly frown. The latter would then battle and say he’s not wrinkly.
But this isn't a different situation. This is a moment steeped in tension, every second thick with the weight of unspoken truths. The air feels like it's pressing down on Satoru’s chest, and the silence between them stretches unnervingly long. Yamato doesn’t break eye contact, his gaze cold, cutting through the room like a blade. "Your son," he repeats, as though testing the words in his mouth, as though the very utterance holds the power to shatter everything Satoru thought he knew about his own life.
Akane's nervous laugh breaks the heavy stillness. "I can’t even... this is just—" Her voice falters, the shock settling into a mix of disbelief and growing anger. She stands up again, pacing behind the desk, as if the movement might release the pressure building in her chest. "You’ve been hiding this? From us? All this time, Satoru?"
Satoru’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. He wants to lash out, to unleash the storm building within him, but he forces himself to stand tall, to mask the inner turmoil. His pulse is loud in his ears, the rush of blood roaring through him as his parents' words sink into him like cold nails.
But it’s Yamato’s next words that really cut deep. "You’ve been living a lie. And now it seems, so have we." Yamato’s voice is calm, but the edge is there, like a blade just under the surface, ready to slice through the fragile veneer of Satoru’s carefully constructed world.
Satoru looks down at the ground. “You guys don’t understand, I…I just found out too.”
His mother whips her head in his direction. “You what?!”
“What the hell do you mean just found out?” His father adds, in even more disbelief and confusion. 
Satoru takes a slow breath, his shoulders tense as he looks up at them, meeting their incredulous stares. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he’s caught between the desire to explain everything and the overwhelming urge to stay silent, to protect the fragile piece of truth he’s only just begun to wrap his mind around. “I didn’t know,” he mutters, the words sounding foreign even to him. “I didn’t know I had a son. Until about a week ago. All of this… it’s new to me too.”
His parents stand still, processing the revelation, but the shock on their faces quickly shifts into something darker. Yamato’s expression tightens, a storm brewing behind his cold eyes. Akane's mouth opens and closes as if she’s trying to find the words, but none come. "You’re telling me," Yamato finally speaks, his voice low and menacing, "that you just found out about your own son? How does that make any damn sense?" His voice cracks on the last word, the authority and power he’s wielded for so many years suddenly slipping, revealing an underlying fury that Satoru has rarely seen.
Satoru looks away, his voice strained. “It wasn’t my choice.”
Akane's face flushes with anger, her hands shaking as she grips the edge of the desk. “This—this is absurd! We don’t even know this child!” Her voice rises in frustration, but Satoru isn’t looking at her anymore. His eyes are focused on the printed photograph still clutched tightly in his hand—the child that isn’t just a stranger, but a reflection of his own blood, staring back at him from that moment he hadn’t even known to be real.
Yamato steps closer, his gaze narrowing as he tries to force the puzzle pieces together. “You just found out… And yet, you're so protective of this child that you didn’t tell us as soon as you found out? What, you expect us to believe you’ve been kept in the dark all this time?”
Satoru’s fists clench, every nerve in his body screaming to either stand his ground or walk out. But this conversation—this confrontation—is unavoidable. He swallows hard, speaking through the tension in his chest. “I’m not lying,” he says, his voice firm, though his hands tremble. “I only learned the truth just recently..” The room falls silent. Yamato stands there, his expression unreadable, but there’s something shifting in his eyes. Something dangerous.
Akane walks over to snatch the picture out of Satoru’s hands, pointing to your figure. “Is this who I think it is?’
He nods without a second thought.
“Jesus Christ!” Akane throws her hands up, walking back to the desk. “I thought—since when—I thought you two broke up years ago, Satoru! She’s had your son this entire time?!”
His parents remember you—quite vividly, actually. The young, and sweet, but out of the league for their son. They remember the way you’d walk into a room, quiet but full of something they couldn’t quite put their finger on—strength hidden beneath the surface, even if you never showed it outright. They remember the way you’d smile shyly when they’d speak to you, eyes bright with a warmth they hadn’t seen in anyone in years. To them, you were everything they never imagined for their son—too sweet, too grounded, too otherworldly for someone like Satoru.
They remember the first time they met you, how you’d seemed so out of place in their world. They'd been skeptical at first, unsure of how you’d fit into the carefully curated life they’d built for their son. They knew Satoru, with all his charm and charm and reckless pursuit of every distraction, was always destined for someone like Himari, someone who could navigate the glitzy world they lived in. So of course, when they first heard of you, they were hesitant—maybe even disapproving. They advised Satoru to end things with you quickly, but their son was always stubborn and did things way. 
You came into the picture, with your quiet resilience and soft smile, and for the first time, they saw something in their son they didn’t recognize—vulnerability. Something about you brought that out of him. And that terrified them. They thought you were the kind of woman who could have his heart in a way no one else could. They didn’t know if that was a good thing or a dangerous one. Now, looking at the picture in front of them, that same woman stands on the other side of it, framed by the memories of everything that went wrong. And in the background, a child—their grandchild—who they never even knew existed.
As charming as Satoru is, you were the first girl he brought home. With this came the first time he came to his father for ideas on what girls like for their birthday, the first time they accidentally walked in on you and Satoru in a compromising position, and the first time they heard–-consoled their son after a major heartbreak. 
The first and only time, actually. 
Yamato’s voice is like ice, cold and calculating. “You finished things with her, Satoru. You let her go, and you let her leave with your son. How did you have not one clue about her pregnancy?”
Akane, still shocked, looks between her husband and son, her face pale. “You were too caught up in your own damn life to notice, weren’t you? Too busy with everything else to see the consequences of it all. I thought you were having safe sex!”
Satoru grimaces slightly, guilt twisting in his gut. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know she had him. I didn’t even know until now.”
His parents exchange a glance, their expressions unreadable. Then Akane speaks, her voice sharp and cutting. “Does it matter? Does it matter that you didn’t know? What’s worse, Satoru? That you let her get away with it, or that you didn’t even care enough to find out sooner? A responsible man makes sure nothing like this happens, especially a man of your status.” Satoru can’t answer. He can’t give them what they want to hear.
Nobody says anything for longer than Satoru finds comfortable. His father leaning against his desk and rubbing a tired hand over his greying stubble. His mother continuing her dramatics, downing some water and muttering something about how she feels faint.
Finally, Yamato speaks once more, with finality in his tone. “Bring them to us.”
Satoru, immediately on the defense, shakes his head. “No, I’m not having you two chew her out and scrutinize them. They don’t deserve that.”
“No, but what we do deserve is a solution to this…” his father wants to say mess, but with a look at his son, he decides against it. “A solution. This…this changes a lot of things, Satoru. Fuck.” He sighs.
Satoru’s chest tightens at the word “solution,” as if his father is already calculating how to fix what he sees as an inconvenience, a mistake to be swept away. His hands clench into fists, but he holds his ground, knowing this conversation is about to take a turn he’s not prepared for. “I’m not having you two tear into her or my son. They’ve been through enough.”
Yamato doesn’t flinch, and doesn’t show any sign of backing down. He only looks at his son with that same icy expression. “You think I care about how you want things, Satoru? I’m telling you, this changes everything. You’ve been playing around with your life, our lives, and now there’s a child involved. You think we’re just going to let this go?” He pauses, sighing deeply as if the weight of this situation is finally starting to sink in for him, but the resentment still lingers in his voice. “This... this situation, whatever you want to call it, has consequences. And you don’t get to hide behind her or the kid forever. This isn’t just about what you want anymore.”
Satoru’s jaw tightens. “I’m not hiding behind anyone. I’m doing what’s right, even if you don’t agree with it.”
Yamato’s eyes darken, his gaze like ice, and his voice drops lower, more calculated. “You’re not doing anything, Satoru. Not yet. You don’t have a choice anymore. This changes everything. You’re going to fix this. You’re going to fix it. You’re a grown man, the heir to my legacy, and a father now apparently, so you damn well better start acting like it.”
Akane stays silent for a moment, her eyes wide as she watches the exchange, but the tension in the room grows unbearable. Finally, she speaks, her voice quieter, yet filled with frustration and disbelief. “This... this is going to affect everything. What the hell were you thinking, Satoru?”
Satoru runs a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up from deep within him. “I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t aware. But I’m not going to let you two dictate how I handle this. I’m not going to let you bully her and my son into some... I don’t know... some solution that doesn’t even make sense.”
His father’s words press down on him like a vice, and for a moment, Satoru can’t breathe. It’s not just about his son, it seems—this is bigger than that. His legacy. His future. His family. It’s all crumbling, and the pressure of it all suffocates him, the walls closing in as he tries to find the right words, something to push back against this tidal wave of expectation and control. But there’s nothing. No words that can change what’s been said. Satoru clenches his jaw, his hands trembling at his sides. He’s had enough of this, of the coldness in his father’s eyes, of the way his mother’s stare cuts through him like a blade.
“Fine,” he grits out. “Sunday. I’ll tell her to meet me at my place. But the second—and I mean the very second you two start raining it down on her, on my son, I’m kicking you both the hell out. You’re right, dad. I am a grown man, I am the heir, and I am a father. So I’ll start by protecting what’s mine—my family.” The word feels a little foreign on Satoru’s tongue. But he needs to acknowledge the reality of the situation. Sure, this is still pretty much because you couldn’t man up and tell him, but now that he’s here and involved, he’ll help. In any way he can. And that starts with making sure his parents don’t treat you like shit.
“Sunday,” Yamato repeats. “Seven sharp.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Perfect.”
“Sure is.”
Satoru turns on his heel, heading for the door, but not before he shoots his father a final, burning glance. "And don't think for a second that I'll let you use my son as some kind of leverage in this mess. You cross that line, and there will be hell to pay."
Yamato watches him leave, his expression unreadable, but his eyes cold with something unreadable. Akane, still fanning herself, watches the exchange with a mix of disbelief and frustration, but says nothing. The air in the room thickens, a silent understanding hanging between the three of them. Satoru slams the door behind him, the force of it vibrating through the walls. As he steps into the hallway, the weight of the situation settles on him like a stone. His fingers curl into fists at his sides, his jaw set.
He'll do whatever it takes to protect you and Koji. Even if it means standing against his own parents. The idea feels strange, foreign even, but it’s the only way forward now.
This is his family.
And he’ll burn the world down to keep them safe.
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Walking Koji back home from school that day, he’s chatting your ear off about the cool bugs he found on the playground that day. As you walk beside him, Koji's excitement is almost contagious. His small voice is animated, recounting every little detail about the bugs he discovered—how the ladybug was red with black spots and how he tried to catch a dragonfly but it flew away too fast. You smile softly, nodding along to his rambling, your eyes flicking down to his eager face.
“Sounds like you had a good day today, baby.”
“I did! I love school so much, Mama. Mr. Ito says I’m the smartest kid in class.”
You grimace at the mention of his teacher. You’ve luckily been able to miss him when dropping Koji off and picking him up today; but it still doesn’t deter from the fact that you’re uncomfortable that man is teaching your son, around him and many other children every day. You entertain the idea of switching schools, but you don’t think that’s possible. The other closest school is a forty-minute walk, a fifteen-minute drive. And you can’t afford that. Not to mention the tedious paperwork you’d have to go through. As long as his teacher keeps his advances in tow and doesn’t try anything funny with your son, you think you can stand seeing his face every day for a few more months until the school year ends. 
The two of you make it to the lobby of your complex before you see Mr. Sato leaning against the counter, talking with the receptionist. Your lips purse, steps faltering for a slight moment before making your way over to him. “Hello, Mr. Sato.” You visibly see him stiffen; which confuses you. “I…I’d like to discuss the money issue with you.” 
He gulps down his coffee, almost hesitantly turning to face you. “...Ms. Y/N.” The way he greets you feels even more weird. Why is he suddenly acting so scared? Weren’t you just threatening my ass a few days ago? Never mind that. You shake your head, clearing your throat. “I wanted to tell you that I don’t really…have the money right now. I know it’s an inconvenience for you and a burden on my part, but I’m willing to do whatev—”
“No need,” he cuts you off, hand waving in the air.
You stop, head tilting. Did you hear him right? “I-I’m sorry?”
“I said no need. I already got the money.”
Now you’re really confused. Brows twitching as a wave of cautiousness passes over you. Is he tricking you? What the hell do you mean you got the money? “You…what? But, how? I didn’t….”
“Your husband paid it yesterday.”
“What?! I don’t have a husband.”
“Oh,” Mr. Sato tilts his head, looking down at Koji. “well, his father. He paid it yesterday.”
It’s like a bucket of ice cold water is dumped over you. Huffing out in disbelief, confusion, and annoyance. “Wait, wait. He…paid it? All of it…?”
Mr. Sato nods, then shifts on his feet. “And then some, I’ve applied it to next month, so you don’t have to worry about that..”
A knot forms in your stomach. You can’t process it. Why would Satoru do that? The money, the rent, the fact that he paid it all without saying a word. Without asking you first. You’re supposed to be handling this on your own, not relying on him to bail you out. But the reality of it settles in, cold and heavy. He knows you’re struggling–-pretty damn badly too. Your heart races, a strange mix of emotions stirring within you—confusion, anger, humiliation. "I didn’t ask him to do that," you mutter, your hands trembling slightly as you try to steady your thoughts. Is he going to confront you about this too now? Say how horrible of a mother you are that you can’t keep a shitty apartment? Is he building up reasons to take Koji?
Mr. Sato shrugs, then turns away from you once more. "Doesn’t matter. It’s done. He seemed pretty intent on making sure everything was covered for you.”
You don’t know how to respond to that. The idea of Satoru swooping in like some kind of white knight, fixing things without a word, twists something deep inside you. Why? The simple question hangs there, unanswered, heavy in the air between you. You glance down at Koji, who’s still holding your hand, oblivious to the tension building between you and Mr. Sato. “Thanks, I guess,” you say, your voice distant, almost hollow. It feels like the only thing you can say, even if it doesn’t feel like enough.
Mr. Sato offers a quick nod. “No problem.” 
As you and Koji walk away, your mind races, the question lingering in the air: What does Satoru want from all this? And more importantly, why the hell didn’t he tell you? It feels strange and almost invasive to have him literally pay your rent for you. Does he think he can just come in and save the day? Does he think I need him that bad? Why didn’t he tell me?
It feels like a violation, in a way. Like he’s come in and taken control of something that was supposed to be your responsibility. It’s hard to swallow. The pride you’ve worked so hard to hold onto, the independence you’ve clung to, feels shattered with just a few actions and no explanation–-and with such little ease. As you walk into your apartment, you feel the weight of his decisions hanging over you like a dark cloud. Why couldn’t he just let you handle things? You’re blatantly reminded of just how different you two are, of how much better he can provide for Koji than you can.
The problem isn’t just about the rent. It’s about him stepping in without a word, without so much as a “Do you need help?” Does he think I can’t do this on my own? You feel a sting in your chest, like a raw nerve exposed, and the overwhelming urge to scream at the world for being so damn complicated. Koji’s chatter fades into the background as you make it to the door, choosing to sit down on the couch, and pulling your knees up to your chest. What now? You’ve never asked for help from Satoru before, and now it feels like he’s swooped in and taken control, expecting gratitude in return. But how do you even thank someone who’s come in, solved your problems without asking, and left you feeling like you were never meant to stand on your own? What’s he trying to prove? You don’t know if you’re angry at him for doing something you couldn’t or angry at yourself for feeling so vulnerable, like a little piece of you just slipped away. The worst part is that you don't know how to feel about it all.
Thankful?
Happy?
Annoyed?
Angered?
Which of those is valid enough for this situation? 
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The minute you’re on break at your second job, you pull out your phone and call the devil himself.
He picks up a ring later.
“Hel—”
“What are you doing?”
There’s a pause. “Um…in the office?”
“No, you idiot. I mean what the hell do you think you’re trying to prove here?”
“...that I’m a good worker?”
Jesus, could he be even more stupid? “You paid my rent for me?”
There’s a beat of silence on the other end, and you can almost hear him thinking, trying to figure out how to spin this. "Yeah, I did," he finally admits, and there's no apology in his voice, just plain confession.
"Why?" The question comes out sharper than you intended, a mixture of frustration and confusion. "Why would you do that without saying anything? Do you think I need your help? Is that it? Just swoop in like a damn knight in shining armor?"
He doesn't immediately respond, and you’re almost certain he’s frowning on the other end. Finally, his voice breaks through the tension. "Listen," he starts, a little too casual for your liking. "I really don’t understand why you’re angry about this, okay? Your landlord came over when you were at work and said you needed four thousand dollars. I just didn’t want you to worry about it, and I didn’t want Koji to see you stress over something like that. It’s not a big deal, it’s handled."
You roll your eyes, the anger simmering beneath the surface. "You don't get it, Satoru. This isn't about whether or not I’m stressing or angered over it. It's about you barging in and making decisions for me, like I can’t handle my own life."
His sigh comes through loud and clear, like he’s just too tired to deal with you right now. "I didn’t make the decision for you, I just—"
"—Paid my rent without asking? You don’t get to play the ‘I’m just helping’ card here! You could’ve at least talked to me first. Why didn’t you tell me? Why hide it from me?"
There’s a shift in his tone, like he’s getting a bit more fed up as the conversation continues. "I didn’t think it was necessary. You’ve been so damn silent about everything. I don’t know if it’s pride or what. But I get it—believe me, I do. But sometimes, pride gets in the way of... I don’t know, survival?"
"Survival?" You nearly choke on the word, incredulous. "Is that what you think this is? Some kind of game to you? You think I can’t survive on my own?"
The silence stretches between you two, thick with unspoken things. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head, and then, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks. "Look, I did what I did because I wanted to," he says quietly, the weight of the words heavier than anything he’s said so far. "But if you’re angry about it, then...I won’t do it again. It wasn’t meant to make you feel like... like you can’t handle things. I just thought, maybe it’d be one less thing for you to worry about."
You’re quiet for a long moment, still processing his words, the mixture of emotions swirling in your chest. "You’ve got a funny way of showing care, Satoru," you mutter, and there's a bitter laugh on the other end of the phone.
"Yeah, I know," he admits, voice tinged with regret. "I don’t always get it right." A small, reluctant part of you softens at the sound of his sincerity, but the rest of you remains hard, unresolved. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your thoughts. "You just—you have to tell me in advance about these things. This is a big deal to me.”
He nods, though you can’t see it. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you feel inferior, I promise.”
You close your eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. "Just... don’t do it again."
He’s quiet for a moment, and then—"Alright, alright. I’ll back off, Y/N. But you will tell me next time if you need help, understood?"
You bite your lip, trying to suppress the unexpected, but familiar warmth spread through you at his words. "Understood," you mutter, rolling your eyes again even as you can feel the beginnings of a reluctant smile tugging at your lips.
It’s a mess. But at least he’s trying. At least you are.
You’re about to say your goodbye when he stops you. “Hey, um…so I was actually going to call you too.”
“Oh,” you reply, leaning your back against the wall. “Okay well, did you need something?’
“Yeah, I need to tell you something.”
“Okay.”
He pauses again, mulling over how to exactly give this to you easily. “So…my parents found out. About Koji.”
You don’t say anything. The words hang in the air between you, and you feel a chill run down your spine. Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s joking. But the seriousness in his voice tells you that this is no joke.
His parents found out.
You push yourself off the wall, your hand instinctively curling into a fist at your side. "What do you mean, found out? How? When?"
He lets out a long, heavy sigh. "They’ve had someone watching me for a while now because I haven’t been to the office. Apparently, the guy showed them a picture of me with Koji and you, and they…yeah."
The words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. "Great," you mutter, voice tinged with disbelief. "So now they know. What, are they gonna show up at my door and demand answers too?" 
There’s an uncomfortable pause on the other end of the line before Satoru responds, his voice tight. "It’s not like that. They won’t do anything... yet. But they want to meet Koji, see him, and... they want to talk to you. They’ve got a lot of questions."
Your chest tightens. You feel the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Talk to me? "I’m not doing this. I’m not putting my son through that," you snap, your tone colder than you intended. "Why would they even want to meet him? He’s not some... pawn in their game."
"I know," Satoru says quickly, almost like he’s trying to reassure you. "But they’re my parents, and they’ve always been controlling. They think they have a right to know him, to know everything. I’m just telling you because I didn’t want you to be blindsided."
You take a slow, steadying breath, trying to push down the rising anger and panic that’s swirling inside you. This is bad. This is really bad.
"They want to see us?" you ask, your voice quieter now, more composed.
"They do" he answers reluctantly. "But you don’t have to. It’s your choice, okay? You don’t have to see them again if you’re not ready."
You close your eyes, your mind racing through the possibilities. You didn’t want this—didn’t want your life tangled up in his family’s politics and power games. But now, it feels like there’s no escaping it. "I’ll think about it," you say, voice soft but firm.
"Take your time," he replies, his tone gentler now. "Just know that... I’ll be there, no matter what you decide."
A part of you wants to believe him, wants to trust that he’s not just playing at being the hero. But another part of you is cautious, knowing the situation is far from simple." Okay," you finally say, the word heavy on your lips. "When did they wanna see us?"
“Sunday. At seven, my place.”
“Fuck,” you heavily breathe out, using your hand to sift through your hair. “That’s…that’s really soon, Satoru.”
“I know, I’m sorry. They just told me all this today.”
You bite your lip, conflicted. You know it is an inevitable thing to see his parents again. But it’s been so long and times have most definitely changed. You’re not sure if you’re exactly ready for that. But would you only be prolonging this? 
“Just let me know by tomorrow—preferably,” Satoru adds.
“...okay. Yeah.”
“Okay.” 
There’s an awkward gap between you two. Not sure if you should keep this conversation going. It almost feels like your first time calling each other. The silence stretches between you both, thick and uncomfortable. You can almost hear the uncertainty in his breath on the other end of the line, as though he’s unsure what to say next, or perhaps he's waiting for you to take the lead. You want to say something, anything, but the words feel stuck in your throat. There’s so much you could say, but none of it feels right. You’re not sure what he expects from you, or what you expect from him. Finally, you break the silence, your voice quieter than usual. “I’ll think about it. But...this isn’t just something I can decide on a whim.”
“I know,” Satoru responds, his tone more serious now. “I’m not rushing you. I just... I just want to make sure you’re okay with everything.”
You exhale sharply, not sure if that reassures you or not. The weight of the situation feels heavier now, but there’s still a part of you that wants to believe he’s being genuine. That he’s trying to do the right thing, even though you know deep down that the stakes are much higher than just making it through a conversation with his parents. “Right,” you reply, your tone quieter, more resigned. “I’ll... I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
“Take care,” he says, the words soft but weighted with meaning.
"Yeah. You too," you mutter before ending the call, the finality of it leaving a lingering tension in the air.
As you slide your phone back into your pocket, you let out a long breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind. You're not sure what to expect anymore, not from Satoru, not from his family, and certainly not from yourself. But one thing is certain: this is only the beginning, and you wonder if you’re ready for what comes next. All you know is that you have to protect Koji at all costs. And now, it seems, you have to face the consequences of Satoru’s family knowing the truth.
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The next day is bright and sunny, contrasting with the chill of the wind that threatens to break your skin out in goosebumps if it weren’t for your thick layers. Snowfall is supposed to begin soon, Koji told you after learning it in school. He’s excited, which makes you happy to see. He’s always loved snow, you’d make snowmen, throw snowballs, and make snow angels. You have many pictures stored in your phone of him with the white mess of cushion around him, or him holding a snowflake, anything. You take a lot of pictures of your son, mundane or not. Memories you’ll forever cherish so you can look back on them when he’s older.
Walking through town with your little boy for a little day out. The money you were saving up for the rent is now being put to use for some sweet treats and little action figures. The sound of Koji’s laughter fills the crisp air as he hops excitedly from one foot to the other, clutching the small action figures of Spiderman and Ironman in his hands, his cheeks flushed from the cold. His excitement is contagious, and for a moment, the worries of yesterday feel distant, pushed away by the simple joy of spending time with him.
You pass by a few familiar shops, your eyes catching on window displays that seem to taunt you with their prices. You shake your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as Koji pulls you towards a small toy store. The lights in the window sparkle with the holiday season, and for a brief moment, it feels like you could stay in this little bubble, far removed from everything else—Satoru, his parents, and the looming uncertainty about what comes next. But even as Koji chatters away beside you, excitedly telling you about the toys he's picked out, the weight of your situation still lingers in the back of your mind. You glance down at your son, trying to focus on the here and now. You’re doing this for him. He deserves moments like these—moments where life feels simple, filled with nothing but happiness and warmth.
“Mom, look!” Koji pulls your attention, his face beaming as he holds up a small snow globe he found in the shop window. The glittering snowflakes inside the glass swirl around, and you can see the way his eyes light up. “Can we get it?”
You smile, reaching down to gently ruffle his hair. “Of course, we can.” As you walk into the store, the bell above the door jingles, and for a second, it feels like you’re stepping into another world. It’s warm, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla filling the air, and it’s so different from the cold outside. For a brief moment, everything feels manageable. Just you and Koji, making memories.
But then, the thought of the phone call from Satoru yesterday creeps back into your mind. You promised you’d think about it, but now, with Koji so happy beside you, you wonder: Can you really keep up this facade? Can you keep pretending like everything is okay when you're not sure where any of this is headed? You shake your head, trying to push those thoughts aside for the time being. Right now, there’s only Koji, only the two of you enjoying a quiet moment of peace in a world that feels anything but peaceful. 
“Let’s get that snow globe,” you say softly, even though you know it’s a small treat in the grand scheme of things. But maybe that’s all you can give him for now. Small moments of happiness.
After your purchases, you two make your way to a stand selling hot chocolate. A delicacy that your boy absolutely loves. As you’re paying for the small drink, opting to share with Koji, a familiar voice catches your ears. You turn to look in the direction of the loud voice.
“Thank you all for coming out today, I know it’s a little chilly. But we’re having many fun activities planned, with prizes. Who’s excited?”
The small crowd whoops in agreeance. 
With interest, you’re guiding Koji over to the voice, tilting your neck up. You see Suguru standing with a microphone in hand, smiling kindly. The tip of his nose is tinted red, adorning a shirt that says, "Building futures, one child at a time." You recognize it as the slogan on his business card that he gave you. 
It’s been a while since you last spoke to him or saw him, the last thing you remembered was him finding out your personal information while you were broken up with Satoru all these years. A frown pulls at your lips, but it’s hard to keep it up when young children rush up to him. Shouting “Mr. Geto!”
You’ve always known Suguru was very good with children, but seeing him now in his element feels wholesome. Cute, you think.
“Mama, that’s your friend. Do we go say hi?” Koji asks, sipping his drink.
For a second, you hesitate. Fearing it’ll be awkward, but you decide it wouldn’t hurt. So, with a nod, you two are walking through the crowd and to Suguru. 
As you make your way through the crowd, you notice Suguru’s easy interaction with the kids. They surround him, tugging at his sleeves and laughing as he kneels to their height, his smile never faltering. The sight of him in his element makes you feel a strange mixture of warmth and hesitation. He’s clearly a natural with kids, and it’s hard not to admire how comfortable he seems, especially after all the tension that has hung between the two of you.
When you finally reach him, Suguru notices. His eyes widen slightly before he straightens up. A soft smile forms on his face, and he straightens his shirt with a little chuckle. "Well, look who decided to show up." he says, his tone light and friendly, almost as if there’s no time at all between now and the last time you spoke. “Hi, Koji,” he greets, his voice warm as he crouches down to your son’s level, who’s holding a drink in both hands and looking up at Suguru with wide eyes.
"Hi," Koji replies enthusiastically, his eyes bright. “What are you doing here today?”
Suguru laughs, his gaze flicking back to you for a brief moment before he answers. “I try to help however I can. It’s all about giving back to the community, especially for kids like you, Koji. You’re the future.” He winks at your son, causing him to giggle and squirm a little from the attention.
You can’t help but smile at the interaction, but the knot in your stomach tightens. It’s hard to shake off the awkwardness of your previous encounters with Suguru. You’re not sure what to say now, especially since Koji is so at ease with him. Suguru shifts his attention to you, his expression gentle but knowing. "How’ve you been? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?" His tone isn’t pressing, just an easy question, though you sense the unspoken weight behind it.
You nod, still caught in the familiarity of his presence, but unsure of how much to reveal. "Yeah, it’s been a while." You pause, taking a breath before adding, “So, what’s all this?”
“Fundraiser, we hold one every month,” Suguru explains with a warm smile, his voice carrying an easy confidence. “We do one every month. All the proceeds go to local programs for kids. Things like scholarships, school supplies, and community events. It's a way to give back, especially to kids who might not have access to these kinds of opportunities otherwise."
You take in his words, surprised by how much he’s dedicated to this cause. "I didn't realize you were this involved," you admit, watching as more children approach Suguru, clearly looking up to him.
“Yeah," Suguru chuckles, glancing at the growing crowd. "I really believe in it. This is what I want to do with my life now, and it’s been a rewarding journey. Kids are the future, you know? It's just about giving them the right tools to grow."
You can’t help but be impressed. Suguru always had ambition, but hearing him speak so passionately about his work hits differently now. There’s a quiet weight to his words, as if he’s found his purpose. “You've come a long way,” you say, not able to hide the slight smile tugging at your lips. "I'm glad to see you're doing something meaningful."
Suguru waves it off, his smile a little sheepish. "It’s really the kids who make it fun. I’m just happy I can help make something like this happen." There’s a brief pause between you two, the familiar tension that used to hang in the air now replaced by a quieter, unspoken understanding.
Suguru looks at you. “But, thank you, Y/N. It feels good. And it’s nice to see someone who remembers where I started." The familiarity of the moment hangs in the air between you, the unspoken history still lingering. You remember the time when things were simpler, before everything became complicated and messy. Suguru was always someone you could rely on, someone who was easy to talk to.
Koji pulls on your sleeve, his voice bright. "Mom, can I play the game over there?" You glance over at the game booth he’s pointing to, noticing it’s one of those dart-throwing games. You’re about to nod, but Suguru cuts in. 
"Let me give you both some tickets," he says, already reaching into his pocket. "For the games. My treat." You’re about to protest, but Suguru’s gaze stops you. “Really, it’s no problem. It’s the least I can do after everything.”
You swallow the retort on your tongue, a mix of gratitude and reluctance bubbling inside you. “Alright, thanks,” you say quietly. He hands you the tickets with a smile, his demeanor still easygoing.
As you two are walking, watching Koji play games, he decides now’s the time to actually talk. “Y/N, I’m sorry about—”
“You don’t need to apologize again,” you cut him off, putting your hands in your coat pockets. “I heard you, so don’t worry.”
He purses his lips. “Are you sure? I mean, I understand if you’re still put off, I would be too.”
You watch Koji and go silent for a moment. His words lingering in your mind before you switch the subject. “Did Satoru tell you I spoke with him?”
“Oh, yeah,” he scratches at his head. “How was it? I heard it from his perspective, but what about yours?”
“Could’ve been better, could’ve been worse.” Suguru nods, not wanting to pry anymore. Your vague answers are enough. “His parents found out too.”
“What?” he asks in bewilderment. “T-They did? How? What did they say?”
“Satoru said they sent someone to watch him because he was missing from work for a while. They weren’t very happy, and they want to see Koji and me tomorrow.”
“Shit,” Suguru shakes his head. “Are you going to?”
“I feel like I have no choice but to. It’s not like I can avoid this forever.”
“You always have a choice, Y/N.”
You glance at him, his words catching you off guard. “Do I, though? They’re his family, Suguru. And like it or not, Koji deserves to know where he comes from.”
“I get that,” he says, crossing his arms, his expression thoughtful. “But just because they’re family doesn’t mean they automatically get to dictate everything. You have a say in this too. Don’t let them push you around.”
You nod, appreciating his words but still feeling the overwhelming pressure of the situation. “I’ll try. I just...I don’t want to make things harder for Koji.”
Suguru places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You won’t. You’re his mom. As long as you’re looking out for him, you’re doing what’s right.”
His reassurance is a small comfort in the sea of uncertainty you’re swimming in. You give him a faint smile, grateful for his support. “Thanks, Suguru.”
“Anytime,” he replies, his voice soft but genuine. “And if you need backup, you know where to find me.”
You laugh lightly, the tension in your chest easing for just a moment. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Walking home after that day out, putting Koji to take a nap, cleaning up a bit, you send Satoru a text. 
“We’ll come. Send me your address.”
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You arrive to Satoru’s penthouse with Koji in tow thirty minutes early. Koji was wowing the entire train ride here, even now as he looks up at the large and tall building before him, his eyes are wide with child-like amusement. A part of you feels bad that he’s getting this excited over buildings and nice lights, but hey, you would be too if all you were accustomed to was the other side of town. 
The two of you step out of the cab, Koji’s small hand in yours. It practically glows under the evening sky, reflecting the city lights like something out of a movie. Koji’s awe is palpable, his mouth slightly open as he marvels at the sheer size of the structure. “Mama,” he tugs on your hand, his eyes not leaving the building. “Do people actually live in places like this? Like...all the time?”
You chuckle softly, though there’s a slight pang in your chest. “Yeah, Koji. Some people do.”
“It’s so cool,” he breathes, craning his neck as far as it can go. “Do they have their own rooms? And toys? And candy?”
“Probably,” you say with a light laugh, gently guiding him toward the entrance. “But don’t get too excited, okay? We’re just here to visit.”
As you step inside, the pristine marble floors and sleek, modern design hit you instantly. The lobby is massive, with floor-to-ceiling windows and expensive-looking furniture scattered about. Even the air feels different—cleaner, cooler, like it’s filtered or something. A well-dressed doorman greets you with a polite nod, and you awkwardly return it, not quite sure how to act in a place this fancy. Koji, however, is too busy looking around, his eyes darting from the chandelier to the grand piano in the corner. “Mama, look! That’s a real piano! Like the one on TV!”
“Yeah, I see it,” you murmur, trying to stay focused. The feeling of being out of place creeps up on you, but you push it aside. This isn’t about you—it’s about Koji. When you reach the elevator, you press the button for the top floor, and the doors slide open with a soft chime. Stepping inside, Koji bounces on his heels, still brimming with excitement. “Do you think it’s like the movies where the elevator talks?” he asks, his voice full of wonder.
You smile, ruffling his hair. “We’ll see, bud.” The elevator glides upward so smoothly that you barely feel it moving. Koji’s little gasp of excitement when the numbers light up makes you chuckle again, though your stomach tightens as you near the top. You realize Satoru’s space is on the highest floor. Thirty seconds later, the doors open to reveal a sleek, private hallway with only one door at the end. “This is it, Koji,” you say, taking a deep breath as you step out of the elevator. “Are you ready?”
Koji nods enthusiastically, gripping your hand tighter. “Ready!”
You walk toward the door, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor. It feels heavier with every step, but you keep moving forward. Reaching the door, you hesitate for a moment, then press the doorbell. A moment later, the door swings open to reveal Satoru, looking as casual as ever—with a hint of nervousness in a loose sweater and jeans. His bright blue eyes light up when he sees Koji. “Hey, you two made it.” he says, stepping aside to let you in. “Come on in. Koji, welcome to my place.”
Koji’s jaw drops as he takes in the massive living room with its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. “This is your house?!”
Satoru grins, picking him up. “Sure is, kiddo. What do you think?”
Koji looks up at you with wide eyes. “Mama, this is way cooler than the buildings outside!”
You laugh nervously, squeezing Koji’s hand. “Yeah, it’s...something.”
Satoru walks around his place, watching the two of you with a small smile. “Make yourselves comfortable. And hey, I promise this’ll go smoother than you think.”
“You’re saying that now,” you mutter with a grimace.
“C’mon, just trust me. I’m here.”
The phrase causes you to clear your throat awkwardly, a sudden memory hitting you—one you push down quickly. “Yeah, thanks.”
“Want some water? Juice?”
“No juice for him, he had a candy on the way here.” 
“But Mamaaaaaa,” Koji whines, dragging out his words. “Please, I want some of Papa’s juice.”
“I have all kinds of juice, little man. Red juice, pink juice, green juice.”
“Green?!”
“Mhm.” 
“I wan—”
“Satoru.” You say, firmness in your voice. Arms crossing. “I said no juice.”
Satoru’s smile falters as he registers your intonation, his eyes flicking to yours like he’s trying to decipher something. The room feels heavier suddenly, like the air between you is crackling with something unspoken. “Alright,” he says softly, straightening up. “No juice. Got it.” The tone of his response catches you off guard, almost making you feel like you’d scolded him instead of your son. You shift uncomfortably, glancing at Koji, who’s now frowning. Satoru sets him down, to which he gets easily distracted by the shiny skyscrapers outside, rushing over to the large floor to ceiling windows. 
Satoru steps back, running a hand through his hair. “I was just trying to—” He stops himself, shaking his head with a dry laugh. “Never mind.”
You exhale, feeling a pang of guilt but unsure why. “It’s not... Look, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine,” he cuts in, his tone lighter but his eyes saying something else. “You’re right. Mama’s rules. I’ll stick to them.”
There’s an awkward pause, and you find yourself staring at him, searching his face for... what, exactly? He catches you looking, and for a brief, jarring moment, you’re back in a place you swore you’d moved on from—a place where his charm felt like safety and his presence could undo you. Your stomach is already feeling warm. You snap out of it quickly, clearing your throat. “Thanks. For understanding.”
Satoru tilts his head slightly, his gaze lingering. “Always.”
It feels like a strange promise, one that hangs in the air too long before Koji interrupts, shouting, “Mama! Look, it’s snowing!”
The tension breaks, and you turn to the window, grateful for the distraction. “Wow, it is,” you say, forcing a smile.
Behind you, Satoru’s voice is quiet but pointed. “Snow’s always a fresh start, right?”
You don’t respond, unsure if he’s talking about the weather—or the two of you. Focusing on the snowfall, Satoru takes this moment to side-glance at you. He almost curses himself for wanting to comment on how pretty you look. Not now. But for some reason, his hand is inching up as it it’s about to move a strand of hair out your eye, until you look at him. “Can I use your bathroom?”
He coughs out, quickly bringing his hand to his nose and wiping at it. Real smooth, Satoru. “Yeah, sure. Down this hall to your right.”
“Thank you.”
“Mhm,” he can’t resist watching you leave, eyes moving down to your ass. His stare lingers even when you’re out of sight. The sound of Koji’s voice bringing him back down to Earth.
“Why do you stare at Mama like that?”
“What? I’m not staring.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m not.”
“Why are you lying, Papa?”
“Kid…”
“But it’s normal, right? You and Mama are married.”
God, his innocence is too sweet for Satoru. How exactly can his explain your relationship to the young boy? Not now at least and especially not without you. Hopefully when his son learns the truth one day, he won’t grow to somehow resent him. Or you. Satoru’s throat tightens at Koji’s words. The boy's wide, trusting eyes make the situation ten times harder than it already is. He rubs the back of his neck, trying to think of a response that won’t shatter Koji’s innocence or dig himself into a deeper hole. “Well, uh…” he starts, stalling. “Sometimes grown-ups have… complicated relationships.”
Koji tilts his head, frowning in confusion. “What’s complicated mean?”
Satoru lets out a nervous laugh, ruffling Koji’s hair. “It means… not everything is simple, kiddo. Like math problems that don’t make sense at first.”
Koji wrinkles his nose. “I don’t like math.”
“Exactly,” Satoru says with a relieved grin. “Neither do I. Let’s stick to the fun stuff, okay?”
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“Okay, they’re here.”
You take in a deep breath, holding Koji closer to your chest as he sits on your lap. Satoru’s dining room chairs feel too stiff for a situation like this. He’s standing—pacing, and checking his phone constantly after his mother just texted him they were coming up. The tension in the air is suffocating. You grip Koji just a little tighter, your fingers absentmindedly brushing over his soft hair as a way to ground yourself. The stiffness of the chair beneath you feels like punishment, but maybe it’s just nerves crawling into every corner of your body.
Across the room, Satoru paces like a man trying to walk off a bad decision. His long legs carry him back and forth in front of the large windows, the city lights behind him casting an almost surreal glow. He checks his phone again, the screen lighting up briefly before he shoves it into his pocket with a frustrated sigh. You bite your lip, trying not to snap. “You pacing like that isn’t helping.”
He stops mid-step, glancing at you with a mixture of guilt and irritation. “You think I don’t know that? They texted ‘coming up’ five minutes ago. How long does it take to ride an elevator?”
You arch a brow. “You live on the thirty-fourth floor.”
He huffs, dragging a hand through his hair. “Doesn’t change the fact that this feels like the longest elevator ride in history.”
Koji, oblivious to the storm brewing between the adults, tilts his head up at you. “Mama, why are you squishing me?”
“Oh,” you blink, loosening your grip immediately. “Sorry, baby.”
Koji giggles, wiggling to get more comfortable. “It’s okay. Papa’s the one acting funny.”
You glance at Satoru, who’s resumed pacing, his jaw tight. “Yeah,” you mutter, half to yourself. “He’s definitely acting funny.” Before either of you can say more, there’s a sharp knock at the door. It’s like the room collectively holds its breath. Koji perks up curiously, his innocent smile the only light in this tense moment.
Satoru freezes, staring at the door as if it might explode. “Okay,” he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else. “Here we go.”
He crosses the room in a few long strides, his hand hovering over the doorknob for a split second before he pulls it open. And there they are. His parents, Yamato and Akane Gojo, standing like an imposing force just outside the threshold. Yamato is tall and sharp-eyed, his tailored suit as immaculate as his demeanor. Akane, with her perfectly styled hair and the kind of elegance that demands attention, steps in with an unreadable expression. For a moment, the room feels even smaller. Their eyes sweep over you and Koji, pausing on the boy who’s now hiding his face in your shoulder.
“Hello,” Akane says, her voice smooth but laced with something unplaceable. “I believe we have a lot to discuss.”
You gulp and nod as they come closer, Satoru closing the door and quickly making his way to sit beside you. “Nice to see you two again.” The phrase feels hollow and fake on your tongue, but what exactly should you say to them?
Yamato hums as he and his wife sit across from you and Satoru. Their eyes instantly landing on Koji who regards them with a nervous, child-like expression. “This is the boy.”
“Yes,” Satoru answers. “Koji.” 
Yamato’s gaze lingers on Koji, sharp and calculating, as though he’s analyzing every detail of the child. Koji squirms slightly under the weight of the attention, pressing closer to you. You instinctively wrap an arm around him, protective. Akane's expression softens just a touch, but it’s subtle—barely enough to ease the tension in the room. “He looks like you, Satoru,” she comments, her voice light but with an underlying edge.
Satoru shifts beside you, his posture stiff. “Yeah, well… genetics and all.”
You glance at him, suppressing an eyeroll. Now’s not the time for his half-hearted attempts at humor. Yamato finally speaks, his voice low and measured. “And how long has this been… a secret?”
The question feels like a slap, even though you were expecting it. You glance down at Koji, unsure of how much to say in front of him. Satoru clears his throat, leaning forward slightly. “Look, I didn’t find out about Koji until recently,” he admits, his tone surprisingly steady. “And as soon as I did, I took responsibility. That’s why we’re here now.”
Yamato’s eyes flick to you, cold and questioning. “And you? Why keep this from him?”
You feel your heart drop, but you refuse to let their judgment pin you down. “I had my reasons,” you say, your voice firm despite the way your palms are sweating. “It wasn’t an easy decision, but I did what I thought was best for my son.”
“And best for Satoru?” Akane interjects, her tone calm but pointed.
You hesitate, unsure how to answer without sounding defensive. Before you can respond, Satoru leans back, his arms crossed. “Enough,” he says, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “This isn’t about blame. It’s about Koji. He’s here now, and I want him to be part of my life. That’s all that matters.”
Kaede studies him for a long moment, then shifts her gaze back to Koji. “What about the boy? Does he even know who we are?”
Koji glances up at you, his small fingers clutching your sleeve. “Mama?” he whispers.
You force a smile, brushing a hand through his hair. “It’s okay, baby. These are… your grandparents.”
Koji’s eyes widen, curiosity replacing some of his nervousness. “Grandparents? Like in the stories?”
Satoru can’t help but chuckle softly, breaking some of the tension. “Yeah, kid. Like in the stories.”
For a moment, the room feels lighter, but Yamato’s expression doesn’t waver. “Then we’ll need to decide what role we play in his story,” he says firmly, his eyes narrowing. Your stomach twists, and Satoru’s jaw tightens. This conversation is far from over.
Satoru leans forward, his hands clasped on the table, tension rolling off him. “You don’t get to ‘decide’ anything, Dad. Koji is my son, and I’ll handle how he fits into this family.”
Yamato’s lips press into a thin line, his gaze hardening. “You think this is just about you, Satoru? This affects all of us—the Gojo name, our reputation. Your actions have consequences, and it’s my job to ensure they don’t spiral out of control.”
You bristle at his tone, your arm tightening around Koji. “Koji is not some ‘consequence,’ Mr. Gojo. He’s a child. Your grandson. Maybe you should start there instead of worrying about appearances.”
Akane's gaze flickers between you and her husband, her expression unreadable. “Yamato,” she says softly, placing a hand on his arm. “Let’s not lose sight of what’s important here.” Yamato exhales sharply, but he doesn’t respond, his eyes still locked on Satoru.
“Look,” Satoru says, his voice lowering. “I get it. This isn’t ideal for you. But Koji is here, and I’m not going to let him feel like he’s some kind of mistake. He’s part of this family whether you like it or not.”
There’s a pause, heavy and suffocating, before Akane finally speaks. “He’s very handsome,” she says, her tone softer now. “I see the resemblance to you, Satoru. But I also see… her.” She glances at you, and for the first time, her expression isn’t cold. However, that doesn’t mean there’s complete acceptance there. She looks down at her lap with a sigh. “If only it was someone of higher class.”
You and Satoru equally clench your jaw, eyes narrowing.
Koji looks up at you, then at Satoru. “Papa, what’s a ‘rep-…repu-shun’?”
Satoru chuckles despite himself. “It’s something adults worry about too much, buddy. Don’t worry about it.”
Yamato’s lips twitch as if he’s holding back a retort, but Akane cuts in before he can speak. “Koji,” she says gently, leaning slightly forward. “Do you like sweets?”
Koji nods, his nervousness giving way to excitement. “Yes! I like cookies and cake and green juice!”
Kaede smiles faintly. “Maybe next time you visit, I can make some cookies for you. Would you like that?”
Koji’s face lights up, and he nods enthusiastically. “Yes, please!”
You’re caught off guard by the gesture, but you stay silent, observing the interaction. First she bashes your status and now she’s trying to be the sweet grandma. Satoru shifts beside you, his hand brushing against yours briefly. It’s so subtle you almost miss it, but the warmth lingers, grounding you. You could’ve sworn he lets it linger there purposely. 
Yamato clears his throat, “You understand your role as heir, yes, Satoru? Having children of your own to pass the legacy down to,” he says, his tone clipped.
You purse your lips. “I don’t want my son being involved in something he doesn’t have to.”
“This isn’t a choice,” Akane responds. “Although this situation is less than savory, and although we woul’ve much preferred a…different candiate. This is the reality, so your father and I have made arranagemnts.”
“You’re not doing anything without telling Y/N or I first. This is our son.” Satoru firmly says.
Yamato cuts in. “Listen, Satoru. This is just how it is. When he grows older, it’s up to you to teach him and pass things down. As of now, no one will know. Not the public, the company, investors, nobody. Until we, ourselves, have a better hold on things, this will stay under wraps.”
Your stomach twists as the weight of their words sinks in. Their calculated demeanor, their cold insistence—it’s everything you despised about this family’s way of thinking. Koji isn’t just some pawn in their grand scheme; he’s your child. “Under wraps?” you snap, unable to hold back. “What does that even mean? You expect us to keep Koji’s existence a secret like he’s some kind of dirty little secret? That’s not what I want for my son, I want him to have a normal and innocent childhood.”
Akane's expression barely falters. “This is for his protection, as well as the family’s reputation. The world can be… cruel, especially when it comes to matters like this. It’s better to control the narrative than let it control us.”
Satoru scoffs, crossing his arms. “Control the narrative? He’s five, Mom. He doesn’t need a narrative. He needs parents who care about him, not a PR strategy.”
Yamato pinches the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t up for debate, Satoru. You’re the heir. Koji is your responsibility, but he’s also ours. You don’t understand what’s at stake here.”
“I understand just fine,” Satoru fires back, his voice rising. “You want to shove him into your world of deals and power plays without even thinking about what’s best for him. I’m not letting that happen.” You glance at Satoru, momentarily caught off guard by his unwavering stance. It’s rare to see him so serious, so resolute. For a moment, it feels like you’re on the same page, like you’re fighting together.
Yamato sighs, his patience clearly thinning. “We’re not trying to take him away from you. But this family operates a certain way, and if you’re unwilling to cooperate—”
“I’m unwilling,” you cut in sharply, surprising even yourself. “Koji isn’t going to grow up like this. He’s not going to be molded into some heir, forced to carry on legacies he didn’t ask for. He’s going to be a kid, my kid, and that’s all. If the time comes when he’s old enough to make that decision, then so be it. But right now…we are making it.” Satoru looks at you, a look of almost tender reliance in his face. He can’t help but scooch closer to you in his chair, the back of his knuckles grazing your thigh as he focuses back on his parents. You don’t move, for some reason.
Akane narrows her eyes, her perfectly composed exterior cracking ever so slightly. “You may not understand the gravity of this situation, Y/N, but you’ll come to see it’s for the best. We’re not here to argue with you. We’re here to ensure the future.”
“And I’m here to ensure my son’s happiness,” you bite back, standing as your chair scrapes loudly against the floor. “If you can’t respect that, then maybe we’re done here.” The room falls into a tense silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Koji, oblivious to the weight of the conversation, hums softly to himself, playing with the edge of his shirt.
Satoru finally speaks, his voice quieter but no less firm. “You don’t make arrangements for Koji without consulting us. This isn’t the company. You don’t get to call the shots here.”
Yamato frowns, standing up as well. Insticvively, Satoru follows, getting in front of you and Koji slightly in a protective stance. Finally, he crosses his arms, looking at the little family before him. Two of them looking exactly the same, for a second, Yamato feels like he’s talking to the past and future version of his son. In a way, he is. “...fine. You two are his parents, then fine. But it is my duty to ensure nothing wrong happens. My point still stands, it’s not wise to reveal Koji to the public eye yet,” he meets your eyes again. “You said you want him to have a normal childhood. Well, you should’ve thought about that before deciding to keep him. If you know what’s best, you’d agree with me.”
Without another word, Akane follows her husband to the door, and the two leave; the door slamming after them. The sound of the door slamming reverberates through the room, leaving an uneasy silence in its wake. Satoru uncrosses his arms, running a hand through his hair as he exhales sharply. You glance at Koji, who’s watching the door with a curious expression, seemingly oblivious to the tension that just passed.
“That man,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Who does he think he is, saying that?”
Satoru turns to you, his jaw tight but his voice calm. “That’s just how he is. Always has to have the last word, even if it’s total bullshit.”
You shift Koji on your hip, brushing his hair back softly as your mind replays Yamato’s parting words. You should’ve thought about that before deciding to keep him. The sting of it makes your chest tighten, but you force yourself to push it aside. “Are you okay?” Satoru asks, pulling you from your thoughts.
“Yeah,” you lie, though your voice falters slightly. “I’m just…angry. I know we’re not exactly best friends, but he has no right to talk about my decisions like that.”
Satoru watches you for a moment before sighing. “You’re right. He doesn’t. And you know what? Screw him. You’ve done everything for Koji. He doesn’t get to sit there and judge you from his high horse.”
The unexpected sincerity in his words takes you off guard, and for a moment, you can’t meet his eyes. “Thanks,” you murmur, focusing instead on Koji, who’s now fiddling with a string on his shirt.
Koji suddenly pipes up, breaking the tension. “Are they gone?”
“Yeah, kiddo,” Satoru says, taking him from your arms. “They’re gone. You don’t have to worry about them.”
“Good,” Koji says with a pout. “They were scary.”
You chuckle softly. “They’re just loud, that’s all. You don’t have to be scared of them.”
Satoru leans back in his chair, his gaze flicking to you. “So, what now?”
“What now?” you echo, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah. About them, about Koji, about…everything.” The question hangs in the air, heavy and loaded, but for once, it doesn’t feel like it’s just your burden to bear. You meet Satoru’s eyes, and for the first time in years, it feels like you’re standing on the same side of the battlefield. “I guess we figure it out,” you say softly. “Together.”
Satoru nods, a small, almost hesitant smile tugging at his lips. “Together, huh? I like the sound of that.”
It’s not a solution, not yet. But it’s a start. You can see a flicker in Satoru’s expression before he walks with Koji over to the living room. It’s one of hesitance, you understand. He doesn’t entirely forgive you, let alone trust you. But he’s trying, for Koji. This mess happened because you kept your mouth shut, so maybe it’s time you start trying too. You and Satoru are in each other’s lives now, so is there a rush to mend things between you two?
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The annual board dinner is just as horrible as Satoru expected. Lavish decorations, stiff small talk, and the overbearing weight of expectations pressed down on him like the overly starched collar of his tailored suit. He’d tried to duck out of it, but his father’s suggestion—which was really an order—left no room for argument. “Smile, Satoru,” Yamato had muttered through gritted teeth when they entered the grand hall. “You’re representing this family.”
So here he was, nursing a glass of expensive champagne that tasted like regret and counting the minutes until he could leave. He glanced around, catching sight of familiar faces mingling and laughing, some of them stealing glances his way with the kind of superficial interest he loathed. “God, this is insufferable,” he muttered under his breath.
Having to charm old men into doing business with his father, flirt here and there with the older, taken women. Smile, smile, smile. For presentation sake. 
“Oh, look who it is.”
He groans, looking to the side and being met with the hard and chiseled face of Sukuna. A long term enemy of Satoru’s. Though he keeps it cordial in front of everyone else, he can’t help but engaged in the quiet back and forth. “My number one fan.” Satoru remarks simply, head tilting in a patronzing way.
Sukuna smirked, his sharp features twisting into something smug and self-assured. “Always the comedian, Gojo. I’m surprised you even remember how to crack a joke with how far your head is stuck up your family’s expectations.”
Satoru’s jaw clenched, but his grin didn’t waver. “And here I thought you showed up just to kiss my ass. Flattered, really.”
Their exchange was quiet enough to blend in with the hum of chatter around them, but the tension was palpable. Sukuna, with his sharp suit and predatory air, looked like he belonged here, but his presence was always unsettling. Pink hair that pokes up in a way that just barely reminds him of a certain someone. “I hear the old man’s got you busy charming fossils and bored housewives. Must be exhausting, all that fake smiling. Oh, wait, you’re used to that.”
Satoru’s laugh was light, but his eyes glinted with irritation. “What can I say? Some of us don’t need to rely on intimidation tactics to close deals. Or...whatever it is you call your little power plays.”
Sukuna stepped closer, the faintest hint of challenge in his stance. “Careful, Gojo. You might hurt my feelings.”
Satoru didn’t back down, his posture just as relaxed, his smile just as infuriatingly calm. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, someone’s got to keep you entertained, right?”
Sukuna chuckled darkly, taking a sip from his glass. “You’re lucky this is a formal event. If we were anywhere else—”
“You’d what?” Satoru cut him off, his voice dropping an octave. “Throw another tantrum and lose? You’ve got quite the track record there, Sukuna.”
The older man’s jaw twitched, but he only gave a low, mirthless laugh. “Enjoy your little victories while you can, Gojo. You won’t always have Daddy to clean up after you.”
“No, that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?” Satoru grins, patting the other man’s shoulder as everyone begins making their way to the tables as the speaker is about to begin.
Satoru finds his spot next to his parents, arms crossed and one long leg over the other. His dark suit ruffles as circles his shoulders up and down in a fit on annoyance for the tight material. 
The speaker, an older man with graying hair and a polished suit, steps up to the podium, his presence commanding immediate attention. The room quiets as he clears his throat, adjusting the microphone with practiced ease. “Good evening, everyone,” he begins, his voice rich and steady. “I hope you’ve all enjoyed the pre-dinner mingling, and I trust we’re all ready to get down to the business at hand. I won’t keep you long, but I must take a moment to reflect on the state of our industry, where we stand, and most importantly, where we’re going.” He pauses for effect, letting his gaze sweep over the gathered crowd. The eyes of the room are trained on him, but Satoru’s attention is divided, flicking between the speaker and the people seated around the table.
“Now, as we all know, times are changing. The landscape of business, both locally and globally, is evolving at a pace none of us could have predicted just a few short years ago. Innovation is at the forefront, and it is only through strategic alliances and forward-thinking leadership that we can continue to rise above the challenges that face us.” The speaker’s voice carries on with the rhythm of a man used to holding the room’s attention. “This is a pivotal moment, not only for our companies but for the future of the industry itself. It is with great anticipation that we look toward new ventures, new opportunities, and a commitment to excellence that can only be achieved through collaboration.”
A murmur ripples through the room as people nod in agreement, sipping their drinks, seemingly in sync with the speaker’s words.
“We have much to look forward to—be it through acquisitions, technological advancement, or our ongoing partnerships. The work ahead is exciting, but it requires unity, dedication, and a shared vision for what we can accomplish together. As we continue to push the boundaries, we must remember that this is more than just business; this is about legacy.” The speaker’s eyes flick over the audience, and for a split second, he meets Satoru’s gaze, offering a nod of acknowledgment.
“Tonight, we celebrate not only our past accomplishments but the bright future ahead. Let’s raise our glasses to the partnerships that have gotten us this far, and to the many more we will form in the years to come.”
A polite round of applause erupts, and the speaker steps back from the podium, signaling the end of his speech. The chatter begins again, and Satoru leans slightly forward with a soft smirk. “Business as usual,” he says under his breath, his tone light but with an edge of something more.
Satoru follows as everyone raises their glasses for a toast, clinking sounding throughout the large hall. Until, there’s small murmuring. It doesn’t faze Satoru as he sips, but then there’s gasps and whispers that sound like confusion mixed with shock.
Glancing around, there’s folks looking at their phones, talking to one another in a quiet voice, and then…looking directly at Satoru and his parents. His brows furrow. “What’s this?”
“What’s what?” His father responds, too busy drinking his glass, even drinking his wife’s. 
“This.” Satoru says with finality, jutting his chin up. His father and mother finally pay attention. Noticing the extra amount of attention of them tonight. Satoru spots Sukuna sitting at his table, eyes narrowing as one of his colleagues show him his phone. And then, Sukuna looks up, meeting Satoru’s eyes. Suddenly, everything feels wrong. He can make out the malicious smirk on the douchebag’s face, the laugh he doesn’t even try to hide.
What the fuck?
The Gojos continue glancing around with confusion, Satoru with growing annoyance. Until finally, Nanami briskly walks up to his father. “Mr. Gojo,” he clears his throat. The three turn to the man, Satoru can see a foreign trace of nervousness in Nanami’s demeanor. That’s not like him at all. 
Nanami can barely seem to articulate the correct sentence before turning his phone towards the Gojos. 
And their blood runs cold, Satoru’s world momenatrily stopping. 
It's a news article from Kyodo News+—the headline screaming in bold letters: 
"Gojo Satoru’s Secret Love Child Surfaces: The Hidden Son of a Billionaire."
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The scream shatters the tension in the air, sharp and filled with raw emotion. Himari’s voice echoes down the halls, a guttural cry of frustration, shock, and betrayal that causes everyone within earshot to freeze. She doesn’t care that her perfectly styled hair is being whipped around as she pushes her way through the staff, her hands trembling in a mix of fury and disbelief. The phone she had been holding moments ago crashes against the wall, the screen cracking as her thoughts spiral out of control. Her breath is ragged, each step fueled by a mixture of hurt and anger as she moves with purpose, her eyes burning with a desperate intensity. “SATORU GOJO!” she screams, her voice cracking as the words leave her lips, the weight of them crashing down on her. “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” 
The maids scatter in her wake, unsure of how to respond to the chaos unfolding. But Himari isn’t looking at them. Her focus is elsewhere—on the person who just shattered the carefully constructed world she had built, on the one who, in a single moment, has upended everything she thought she knew.
She doesn’t even notice as she storms past the door to her parents’ private quarters, the sound of her footsteps growing louder with each step. The fury in her chest roars louder than the world around her as she moves toward the only people who could possibly understand the devastation she feels.
It’s not just betrayal anymore. It’s the crushing weight of a life built on lies. And Himari has had enough.
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“Pffft!”
“Hey! You just spit on me, you asshole!”
Naoya’s voice rings out, practically shrill with laughter. His excitement is palpable, and it only serves to irritate Toji even more. "Toji! Toji! You have to see this!" Toji’s eyes narrow, his broad arms crossed over his bare chest as he leans back in his seat. The view of Lake Como stretches before him, but it feels distant, almost irrelevant compared to his cousin’s incessant enthusiasm. Vacation my ass, he thinks bitterly, wondering why he bothered to come here in the first place. He sighs, irritation lining his features. "Look at what?"
Naoya, unable to contain himself, thrusts his phone right into Toji’s face, nearly shoving it into his nose. "Look!" he repeats, bouncing on his heels, a look of sheer excitement on his face.
Toji groans, rolling his eyes. “I thought we agreed, no phones while we’re on vacation.”
Naoya ignores him completely, his grin widening. “Oh, trust me, this is worth it.”
With a heavy sigh, Toji finally reaches for the phone, taking it reluctantly. He presses the screen, waiting for the phone to wake up. The moment it does, his eyes meet the image that fills the screen—a photo of his business rival, Satoru Gojo, accompanied by a headline that stops Toji dead in his tracks. His brows furrow, the usual calm expression faltering for a moment. The headline’s words are seared into his brain, and Toji feels a pulse of confusion and something else he can’t quite name. He leans in closer, then back again, as if trying to process what he’s seeing.
"...What the hell?" he mutters under his breath. The image before him shows Satoru with a woman, someone Toji doesn’t recognize, and a child—Satoru’s child, if the headline is anything to go by.
Naoya’s grin only grows as he watches Toji’s reaction. “Pretty wild, huh? Didn’t see that coming from Gojo, did you?”
Toji’s fingers tighten around the phone, his eyes narrowing further. He doesn’t respond at first, too absorbed in the strange mix of shock and calculation churning in his mind. This isn’t just some random leak; it’s clearly orchestrated. “Where the hell did this come from?” Toji asks, finally looking back at his cousin, who’s still watching him with amusement.
Naoya shrugs nonchalantly. “Don’t know. Just saw it on a news feed. Looks like Gojo’s got some explaining to do, huh?” Toji just shakes his head, his mind already spinning with possibilities. 
He tosses the phone back to Naoya. “You’ve got some sick timing. Let’s see how this plays out.”
Naoya chuckles, oblivious to the wheels turning in Toji’s mind. “You know, you might want to take advantage of this. Could mean something for the company, or at least an edge over Gojo.”
Toji’s lips curl into a slight smirk, but it’s more predatory than playful. “We’ll see, Naoya. We’ll see.”
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You feel like you can’t breathe, like nothing’s real. Staring at your TV screen with complete and utter shock, frozen in place. The world around you feels like it’s fading, as if you’re watching everything happen from a distance, disconnected from reality. Your eyes are locked on the TV screen, but you can’t process what you’re seeing—everything is too surreal.
“Hey, that’s me!” Koji happily exclaims, pointing to his young face on the screen, being carried by Satoru. From the looks of it, the picture was taken yesterday, inside Sator’s penthouse. But the picture is from an outside perspective.
The realization hits you like a cold wave. Who the hell took this? The blood drains from your face as your heart pounds even harder. How did they get this shot? Your stomach turns, a knot tightening in your chest. Isn’t this illegal?
Satoru’s name comes out of your mouth like a whisper of panic. “Satoru…”
You can barely hear your own voice over the buzzing in your ears, as your mind races, trying to process what this means. How could anyone have gotten this close? How could someone have been watching? The image on the screen—the calmness in Koji’s face, the warmth in Satoru’s arms—makes your blood run cold. Koji’s innocent voice cuts through again, “Mama, why is it on TV? Are we famous?” He giggles, clearly unaware of the danger that’s now in your midst.
You mouth emits a breathe of air that faintly resembles a chuckle. But you’re not laughing. You’re too frozen in fear to say anything, to even move. You can’t shake the feeling that something is horribly wrong, that the peaceful life you’ve managed to carve out with your son is hanging by a thread. You hold your breath, waiting for the next shoe to drop.
How many people know about this? How much further can they go?
How much further can you go?
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The woman leans back in her chair, the flickering light of her computer screen casting shadows across her face as she watches the confirmation of the transaction appear before her eyes. Her lips curl into a snarky, satisfied grin. It’s the kind of smile that’s dangerous, the kind of smile that tells you she’s one step ahead, and there’s no turning back now.
A low, almost guttural laugh escapes her—deep and malevolent, echoing in the quiet room. The money is more than just a transaction; it’s power, it’s leverage. And the best part? No one even knows it’s her. Not yet.
She pauses, letting the silence stretch out before her next move. She takes a slow, deliberate breath, savoring the moment, then leans forward. “Wonderful…” she whispers to herself. 
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a/n: i'm sorry if things seemed rushed, chap was getting looong. but enjoy!
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earthtooz · 5 days ago
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lighter x gn!mechanic!reader, 1k wc lighter is down bad for reader. like. DOWN BAD, lots of cute banter, pining from both.
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Whenever you visit Blazewood, the Sons of Calydon mark it as a significant day in their metaphorical calender.
You’re their precious mechanic, the one who ensures all of their bikes and engines are running smooth for any operations (read: trouble) they get themselves into. Having been long-term friends with Caesar, you make the effort of travelling from Sixth Street to the outskirts of New Eridu every few weeks. Granted, for how many times you’ve travelled between the two places, you’ve grown rather close to the tight-knit biker gang, so it's an exciting time for all.
However, the reason it’s marked down is because they know it’s a special occasion where they can all tease a certain, aloof boxer a bit more than usual.
“Y/n!” Burnice’s voice cuts through the bustling atmosphere of Cheesetopia, capturing everyone’s attention as you walk through the door of the diner.
They all wave you over the booth they sat in, Burnice and Luci shuffling over so you can sit down with them. You don’t see the way Caesar nudges Lighter as you settle down opposite him. 
“How was your trip?” Caesar asks. 
“Good, a little tired though,” your yawn is perfectly timed. “My limbs still feel stiff.” 
“Oh no! Do you need a little rest?”
“No need, I wanna get started working as soon as possible, I'm itching to tinker some engines."
The dark-haired across from you chuckles, adjusting his sunglasses to sit higher on his nose bridge. “There’s the Y/n we all know. If you need a little help, let me know, I’m happy to lend a hand.” 
The group giggles between themselves.
“Thanks, Lighter!” 
The giggles intensify when Lighter’s ears flush red at the tips. 
This is why your visits are a marked occurrence: because the rare blush and nervous appearance that overtakes his normally cool and collected character is incredibly entertaining, and watching him bumbling about around you is a hard opportunity to come by. All Lighter can do is admit defeat and be susceptible to all the teasing that’s sent his way, because he might as well accept it.
He’ll turn a blind eye to the blonde heads popping around the garage every so often as he helps you out in the garage as long as it means they leave the both of you alone. He’ll ignore the giggles of the girls as they listen in on the quiet conversation exchanged between you both in the dim lighting of the dreary space.
“Any biker gang fights happen recently?” You ask whilst observing the rear wheel.
“Nah,” Lighter grunts, “just a few challenges here and there.”
You extend your hand out to him. “Spanner, please.” He places the tool comfortably in your hands and you resume working. “A few challenges? Did you win?”
“‘course. Wouldn’t be a good champion if I lost.”
“Sounds easy in theory,” you murmur, peeking around the bike. “I bet you don’t even know the names of the gangs you won against.”
His silence is the only answer you need and you sneak a smug glance at him. You look away before you could notice the red blush creeping up his neck. “So what if I don’t? I won against them, ain’t that all that matters?”
“Sure. Guess your memory gets knocked out of you after a couple fights.” You giggle at your own joke.
“C'mon, quit teasin’ me.”
“Sorry, just can’t help it when it took you almost five months to remember my name.” It’s light-hearted, he can hear the smile in your voice. 
“Gosh, you just don’t know how to let things go,” he counters, a smile of his own developing.
“Nah, it’s just fun to tease you.” Then, you stand up with a grunt, looking at your handiwork closely one last time before making your way to your workbench. “Besides, it’s not everyday I get to interact with a cool guy like you.”
Lighter’s heart skips a beat in his chest before jumping against his ribcage. “You think I’m cool?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” You ask. “You’re the cool guy who cares about everyone, and that’s a good thing. I like that about you.”
Oh, you’re gonna kill him. He’s not gonna make it out of the garage if you continue this onslaught of compliments. He doesn’t really want you to stop either, wants you to say something that really shows how you feel about him, like how you think he’s handsome, or that he’s admirable, or better yet, that you like him as well.
‘I like that about you’, ‘I like … you’, yeah. That’s also good enough for now. 
Instead, you fall silent as you rearrange all your tools, locking the box that cuts through the tense atmosphere with a ‘click’. 
“Well, I’m beat,” you huff, stretching your arms over your head, “my back hurts and I’m hungry.” 
“You’ve been working real hard, let me treat you to dinner.”
“Really?” 
“Really.” 
A few minutes later, you end up at the Fuel Truck, enjoying some food together and continuing your conversation in the cool, breezy night of Blazewood. It’s easy being with you, effortless, doesn’t really burn through his energy like some other social interactions do, and Lighter can’t help but feel like this is how it’s meant to be. Sharing stories, talking about the important and mundane alike, he doesn’t know when you became more than the cute mechanic Caesar was good friends with, but he’s glad he finally got your name down on the sixth time of trying. 
He tucks a strand of stray hair away from your face before you can get it in your mouth, and the grin you give him almost paralyses him. 
Plates are emptied, drinks finished, and dessert is done, but you’re still talking into the late of the night, until the employees need to wipe down the bar and call it a day. All good things come to an end, and Lighter wishes you could stay with the Sons of Calydon for longer than just a few days, but you have your own business in Sixth Street, so he monopolises your time whenever he can.
Which is how he ends up walking you to your motel, letting the long day draw to a close.
“Thank you for dinner, Lighter, today was fun.”
He chuckles, the sound deep and full. “No problem, it’s my pleasure.”
“Come back tomorrow, yeah? Swing by the garage anytime you want.”
“Anytime?” The biker rubs his chin. “Careful with your generosity, I might end up annoying you.”
“I doubt it.”
“And if I overstay my welcome?” 
“Then apologise by keeping me company.”
You shoot him a wink before going up the stairs of the motel, quickly disappearing from his sight as he laughs to no one in particular. He lightly punches his chest, as if trying to tell his hammering heart to calm down. 
Yeah. You really are trying to kill him. 
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© EARTHTOOZ 2025, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
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punkshort · 3 months ago
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Seasons Change
Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader
Summary: Miserable and lonely after Chucho drags him to the farmers' market in town, Javier's day turns around when he runs into you asking for his help.
Warnings: Javi being a little depressed/down on himself, fluff, meet-cute, tiny bit of possessiveness, flirting
WC: 3.2K
For @jolapeno & @goodwithcheese's fall challenge: I picked Javi P + Farmers' Market 🍂
thank you @saradika-graphics for the dividers ❤️
-
Javier stared out the passenger window of his father's old truck, sulking in his seat with his arms crossed. The changing leaves blurred by on the side of the road: deep reds, bright yellows and oranges, and the occasional stubborn green. Fall was certainly in the air, so much so that he had to pull on his red checkered flannel before Chucho practically dragged him out the door, muttering to him in Spanish about how he never leaves the ranch and getting a change of scenery would be good for him.
But Javier didn't like to leave the ranch. He didn't like the looks he got, the whispers he heard, and especially hated when some stranger insisted on stopping him with a firm handshake to express how proud they were of him.
He always had to bite his tongue. He politely nodded and smiled, but inevitably the ride home was always filled with distressing images of innocents caught in the crossfire, or the shady deals he felt he had to make with the wrong sort of people just to get a lead. Every time he shook one of their hands, more blood transferred to his own palm, and now he felt like he could never get them clean.
But he couldn't explain all that to his father, although Chucho likely had some inkling. He must have noticed the change in him, the shift, when he returned home. When he asked his son why he didn't want to buy a place of his own, why he didn't want privacy, Javier replied it's easier, don't have to wake up so early and drive over to help.
But Chucho wasn't stupid. He knew Javier had nightmares, he saw the clouds in his eyes the following mornings, could practically see the weight pulling his son down around his neck.
Javier didn't want to be alone, but he was too proud to say it.
"Quit pouting. Maybe you'll meet someone," he offered from the driver's seat. Javi scoffed and shook his head.
"What? You're a catch, m'hijo."
"It's not that, Pop," Javi said, although a big part of him was beginning to wonder if he really did have anything to offer a woman anymore. "I know everyone in this town. There's no one here for me."
"You don't know that," his father replied sternly. "The farmers' market brings in customers from all over. You could meet the love of your life today."
Javi tilted his head and gave Chucho an incredulous look.
"You gettin' sick of me, Pop?"
His father laughed heartily and shook his head as he turned into the parking lot.
"You know I love having you around, Javi. Just wish you'd have a reason to smile more."
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Chucho abandoned him ten minutes into arriving, claiming he wanted to check in with a couple friends from neighboring farms, and encouraged his son to wander around to see if anything interesting caught his eye.
Javi was beginning to think his presence at the ranch wasn't as necessary as he thought. When he left Colombia, he had expected to arrive home to a mess, but the ranch was in surprisingly good shape. Not only that, but his father was busy. He had to give his dad credit - he had a lot of friends and a hell of a lot more night and weekend plans than himself. Chucho was even casually seeing a woman he met at the pharmacy two months ago.
Javier was wallowing in self-pity when he heard a man and woman's voices a few feet away discussing which cheeses they should buy that would best complement the crackers they had waiting for them at home.
He glanced up and saw the man and woman holding hands and gazing at one another like they were madly in love. Something sharp twisted in his chest at the display, so he tore his eyes away to focus on a package of bread he held in his hands, doing his best to ignore that familiar twitch in his fingers, the one that wanted to lead his hand to his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes that wasn't there.
"Hey, buddy, excuse us," the man's voice said, cutting through Javier's fog. His eyes snapped up and after a moment of confusion, realized he was in the happy couple's way. He dropped the bread and stepped back with a tight smile, then shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and turned away.
It took all of thirty seconds to realize he was completely surrounded by happy couples picking out flowers, fresh produce, and unique trinkets sold by locals. He normally wouldn't care. His focus lately had been entirely fixed on his father and the ranch, surprising even himself that women were the furthest thing from his mind. But something Chucho said that morning must have gotten under his skin because on that particular day, he felt lonely. Out of place. Tainted.
He saw a few people doing a double take as they passed by, no doubt recognizing him and whispering to their partner about his exploits. And just like that, it all felt like too much. The sun was too bright, the scent of apples and cinnamon was too heavy, the laughter was too loud.
He didn't belong there.
Javier swiveled around on his heel, deciding in that moment he would rather wait by his father's truck for an hour than subject himself to... whatever was happening to him. He managed to take one step when a pair of arms wrapped around his bicep, surprising him when he looked down to find a pair of bright beautiful eyes staring back up at him.
"I need your help," you whispered, fingers digging urgently into his arm. Immediately, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he scanned the crowd for danger. When you realized that you sounded a little alarmist, you quickly corrected yourself.
"Not like that. My ex is standing right behind you and I need you to play along because-"
You didn't get to finish your sentence and Javi hardly had a chance to process what you just said because the next thing he knew, your eyes flickered over his shoulder and you plastered a fake smile across your face.
"Charlie, hi!" you gushed, clinging to Javi's arm.
"Hey," a shorter man with light brown hair replied slowly, followed by your name. Javier repeated your name over and over in his head while Charlie's eyes bounced between the two of you, the gears churning. Even Javi could see the look of disappointment slide across his face.
"I've been thinking about you, wondering if you changed your number, but..." Charlie trailed off weakly. Then, for some reason, Javier stood up a little straighter when a flash of annoyance shot through him. Who the hell did this guy think he was? For all Charlie knew, you were in a loving and committed relationship with him. How dare he admit to trying to contact you with your boyfriend standing right there?
"Javier," he suddenly said, deepening his voice and stretching out an arm while simultaneously giving Charlie a stern look that said back off.
"Sorry!" you exclaimed from his side. "Charlie, this is my boyfriend, Javier."
Javi puffed up his chest and shook the man's hand a little harder than he usually would, secretly enjoying the look of discomfort on his face.
"Hey, man, nice to meet you," he replied, then Javi saw it. The flash in his eyes, the double take, the familiar look of someone trying to place who he was.
Javier cleared his throat and slid his arm out of your grasp, only to drape it protectively around your shoulders instead. Much to his delight, you leaned into his side and rested your hand on his chest, your touch making his heart unexpectedly flutter.
"Is there something wrong?" you asked Charlie innocently while batting your lashes. Slowly, your ex shook his head and forced an awkward smile.
"No, just... just happy to see you. Glad you're doing well."
"We're great," you replied. Javi's lips twitched and he had to look away. For just a moment, he wasn't the pathetic single guy at the Farmers' Market. For those few minutes, he was yours.
"Alright, well, I'll see you around I guess," Charlie said as he took a single step backwards. His eyes slid to Javi and he added, "Nice to meet you."
"Take care," he called after Charlie, his arm remaining around your shoulders until he slinked back into the crowd. You let out a huge sigh of relief and stepped out from under his hold, Javi's side instantly feeling cooler from the lack of contact.
"Thank you so much," you said, gazing up at him while you readjusted the bag over your shoulder. "You're, like, the only other person here without someone so I figured you were a safe bet, I hope you don't mind."
Javi smiled. So he wasn't the only one who noticed all the adoring couples. "Not at all. Is he bothering you? I know some guys down at the station-"
"No! Oh, god, no, nothing like that," you exclaimed with a giggle. "He's harmless, he just can't accept it's over, you know?"
"Yeah," he replied, but he didn't know. Not really. Not when he filled the past several years of his life with quick trysts.
You quirked an eyebrow at him, scanning his face for something, and then he felt that familiar churning in his stomach begin. You were about to connect the dots, about to recognize him for who he really was, so he dropped his gaze to the ground. But then your next question took him by surprise.
"How do you know people at the station? Are you a cop?"
He dragged his eyes up to meet yours again, searching for any sign that you were messing with him, but he found none. Just genuine curiosity.
"No," he replied, then awkwardly cleared his throat and shifted his weight. "Well, I used to be, but not here. I work on a ranch now with my Pops."
"Oh, that sounds nice. How kind of you to help out your dad," you said with a sweet smile that held him in a trance for a moment.
"Uh, y-yeah," Javi stammered before tearing his gaze away. "Seems like he doesn't need me as much as I thought, though."
You laughed again, the sound like music to his ears.
"I'm sure that's not true. I bet you're very helpful. You helped me today, so, there's that," you reminded him, leaning forward a little bit and biting your lip playfully. Were you flirting with him?
"That was nothing," Javi replied sheepishly. His mind began to race, trying to desperately think of ideas to keep you around before it became clear his usefulness had come to an end. Then, to his delight, you came up with an answer all by yourself.
"Well, do you mind continuing to help me? Because I wanted to buy some pumpkins and a hay bale for my front porch -"
"Yes," he responded almost immediately. The eagerness in his voice made you both blush and you reached out for his hand.
"My hero."
He grinned and let his fingers lace together with yours, your warmth spreading to his palm as you walked hand in hand through the market. Javi couldn't stop smiling. He was still surrounded by couples, all the smiling and happy faces, but now he didn't feel so out of place. Now he blended right in with everyone else because he had you by his side, leading him around to different vendors to show him something you found interesting or strange. And in those ten short minutes, he realized he wanted to hear it all. He wanted to know why you wrinkled your nose when you passed by some eggplants, or smiled fondly when you saw some colorful homemade crafts.
You suggested getting some hot chocolate and finding a spot to sit down, something he felt foolish for not thinking of first, but at least he had the good sense to insist on buying while he waved you off to find an empty bench.
"So, Javier," you began, saying his name in a way that made warmth bloom in his chest. "You said you used to be a cop and now you work on a ranch. Is there a story there or were you just looking to shake things up?"
He squinted at you over his hot chocolate, like he was trying to figure out if it was possible you really didn't know who he was. But you just kept looking at him so sweetly, your fingers curled around the paper cup, your lips blowing air over the liquid to cool it down, giving absolutely no indication you were being dishonest.
"Do you really not know who I am?" he blurted out. Your eyebrows shot up and you cocked your head to the side.
"Should I?"
Javi smirked and leaned back on the bench in disbelief.
"No. Well, not necessarily. Guess I'm just used to it."
"Used to... people recognizing you?" you asked. He nodded and figured now he was in too deep, so he told you. He told you about Escobar and the Cali Cartel while leaving out a few of the sensitive details, details that still haunted him at night. He didn't tell you why he wasn't a hero, he didn't tell you about Los Pepes. He didn't tell you how all the pain and lives lost made hardly any difference.
He didn't tell you he felt like a complete failure every time he saw those damn boats cruise by the ranch.
"Oh," you finally murmured when he stopped talking. He chewed anxiously on his lower lip, waiting for your reaction. But after you took a moment to absorb what he said, you brightened up and shrugged.
"I'm so glad you're working on a ranch, now. It sounds much safer."
He slowly nodded in agreement.
"Except when the cows get hungry, they get a little pushy."
You giggled and a wide smile stretched across his face.
"Jav! There you are," Chucho's voice called from a few feet away, putting a quick end to both your laughter. His heart sank when he realized his time with you was about to end.
"Pops," Javi said in greeting. You both stood from the bench to face him, ignoring the mischievous look on his father's face when he introduced you. Javi pulled nervously at his hair when he ran his fingers through the thick locks, scrambling to figure out what to say after Chucho announced he was ready to leave.
"Wait, I promised I'd help carry the pumpkins and hay-" he began, grateful that he thought of something to prolong your time together. Your eyes dropped shyly to the ground and you lowered your voice.
"I didn't actually come here to buy that stuff, I was just looking for a reason to keep talking to you."
His father coughed into his fist and hitched his thumb over his shoulder. "I'll meet you at the truck, m'hijo."
Javi nodded and he may have said something but for the life of him, he couldn't remember. His heart was thudding too loudly in his chest at your confession. You liked him. You wanted to keep him around.
"Well, uh, it was great meeting you," he said, thumb and forefinger swiping over his mustache. You smiled up at him, murmuring your agreement and thanking him again for saving you from Charlie.
Do it. Do it, you coward.
But he couldn't. His nerves got the best of him and he took a couple steps backwards.
"Maybe I'll see you around," he said, cringing at how stupid he sounded. You tried to hide the disappointed look on your face when you gave him a little wave, then turned back to the bench to collect your bag and hot chocolate.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
He shook his head at himself as he began to slowly walk in the direction of the parking lot. His hands balled up into fists at his sides, his anger and disgust with himself growing with each heavy step. He thought he knew everyone in town, thought everyone knew him. Or, at least, of him and his reputation. If it wasn't his work in Colombia, then the rest of the town would have remembered how he left Lorraine. He thought he had to hide away on the ranch to avoid the attention and scrutiny, and he was content enough to do that. But now? The thought of going back home to his quiet little life, knowing he would spend countless days wondering about you made him suddenly stop dead in his tracks and spin around.
He spotted you walking in the opposite direction, your off-white tote back draped over your shoulder, about to disappear into the crowd. Panic clawed at his throat and he broke out into a jog, calling your name as he made his way closer and ignoring the looks he got from strangers as he went.
When you heard him, you immediately swiveled around and broke out into a smile, looking just as relieved as he felt.
"Hey," he said, slightly short of breath when he slowed his pace to a stop in front of you.
"Hi," you replied, gazing up at him with those beautiful eyes he would dream about later instead of the nightmares that usually plagued him.
"I meant to - can I get your number? I'd like to take you out sometime, if you-"
"Yes!" you cried out excitedly, making both of you laugh. He handed you his phone, then wiped his sweaty palms over the backs of his jeans and watched while you entered your number. You handed the device back to him with a dazzling smile and he felt his nerves start to settle.
"I'll call you," he promised, tucking his phone back into his pocket.
"You better, Javier," you teased with a poke to his shoulder.
It might have been the way your eyes sparkled when you looked at him or the sweet way you said his name, but before he had a chance to overthink it, he leaned down and pressed his lips lightly against yours. He felt you melt into him once the shock wore off, and his lips curved into a smile before pulling away.
"You taste like chocolate," he said softly, mouth still hovering over yours, and you giggled when you swiped the pad of your thumb over his lower lip.
"So do you."
He grinned and forced his feet to move, walking backwards a few steps so he could continue to smile at you like a fool until he finally had to turn around before he ran into someone, but not before shooting you a quick wink just to hear you laugh one more time.
As he walked through the farmers' market, already dreading all the questions Chucho would be firing his way the entire ride home, he looked around at the happy couples in a completely different light. His stomach no longer churned and his chest no longer ached when he saw them kiss or laugh, because with any luck, he might just find himself in their shoes soon enough.
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