#hi i had twenty minutes free and a brainrot

[emeritusterzo]

Cm Punk, MJF: Mizumono.

dialogue from Hannibal S02E13

[tojiwrd]

1: fate is fickle ; gojo satoru

pairing gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary when satoru breaks off your engagement, you understand and accept it. but when he marries someone else, you don't understand because he didn't want to be tied down.

warnings not much tbh,, just swearing, satoru being an ass, mention of family death, family drama, bad parents, and breakups, not proofread

word count 3k

a/n made a new account because the gojo brainrot is so deep i wanted to start a multichap, mega-angst fic lol

send requests next ↠ to be added to taglist

You stood under the silver luminescence of a crescent moon on your balcony, fingers curled around the neck of a wine glass that’s contents were dissolving into your bloodstream a lot slower than you wished. You didn’t expect anyone to walk through the looming windows behind you and condemn you for disappearing from the meeting because—in your mind—you’d done everything that was expected of you: sit there, look pretty, and occasionally nod your head whenever your mother speaks and voices her opinion.

It was rather funny, though, because your mother had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. When your father decided to kick the bucket seven months ago, he’d left your mother dealing with the remnants of his problems he wasn’t able to solve in his lifetime. Yesterday, your mother had to finally meet with the stockbroker as her grieving period was officially over and today, your father’s advisor advised her to have the meeting with the Gojo family your father set up before his death. 

You had assumed it was niceties, a sense of normalcy after losing a bigshot businessman between two powerful families. You were wrong. Twenty-seven minutes into the dinner, Gojo Takayashi throws his wine glass against the wall, staining the clean sheen of white paint a horrifying shade of crimson that looked like what the walls would truly be painted with were this dinner not to go the man’s way. 

“I need this company back,” he’d said, a lilt of rage coating his voice as he did his very best to not do something that would warrant him being kicked out. His wife, Aya, merely looked down to scan her manicured nails and took a large gulp of her wine, then sneakily took a sip from her flask (that obviously contained something much stronger) you’d caught a glimpse of. 

You’d pursed your lips, a melancholic sigh leaving your lips as you inspected the damage on the wall. Knowing your mother, she’d have somebody come in by tonight to fix it. 

“And you can have it back, as I told you.” Your mother evidently rolled her eyes as she replied to the man, jaw gritted. 

“I am not emptying my entire wallet to buy my own company!”

Your mother, much to the eldest Gojo's ire, let his statement simmer and marinate in the inexplicably thick air of tension and continued chewing down the last bit of her food. 

Nobody dared to talk, even your grandmother who stuck to clicking her heels against the linoleum floors. You’d decided to skip out on dessert, creating some measly excuse of a stomach ache that nobody believed but didn’t deign to respond to. You didn’t think you could get away with both families not noticing the tension between you and the Gojo’s youngest, but the elders truly gave you a run for your money because you went almost the entirety of dinner without having to speak to Satoru. Keyword being almost. 

You couldn’t be childish and spill the red wine over his obnoxious, perfect-fitting white shirt like his father spilled over your walls because that would most likely start the next war were his family to see such blatant disrespect. But, when you felt his presence behind you in the balcony, you knew you had free reign and you could, in fact, be childish. 

“Hey.” His voice was soft, so soft that you almost forgot how the last time he’d spoken to you his voice had run through and sliced your chest like a knife. “Dinner’s over so—”

You cut him off and said, “Then go home, Gojo.”

Not Satoru. Not ‘Toru. Just Gojo. You were sure he couldn’t be the tiniest bit affected by the subtle (glaringly obvious) jab, but it felt good for more than a millisecond to reclaim some thin shreds of your dignity. You wanted to crane your neck to gaze at his reaction, to see if there was a reaction in the first place but you knew if you looked back, he’d be the one seeing a crochet of emotions weaving over yours. 

“You look good, Y/N,” he said, completely ignoring your disinterest in the conversation. Of course, you looked good. You knew that. But why did he have to say it? 

“Can’t say the same for you.” Lie. You intended to have more bite in the words, but they came out almost emotionless.

You looked down at your waist as you heard him shuffle behind you and his hands reached out to clutch at the metal railing in front of you, arms almost brushing against your waist. His fingers curled, and it gave you a chance to see the ring on his finger. You took in a shuddered breath as the sandalwood and slightly musky scent of his cologne snaked their way to your nostrils, entirely taking you back to the times when you fell asleep to that scent and had it floating around you nearly all the time. You hated him. You hated him because the way he let out a small, barely audible chuckle at your inhale, you knew that he knew exactly what was going through your mind. 

“I just—I want to talk about everything, Y/N.”

When Gojo Satoru broke up with you, it wasn’t poetic nor was it something for the movies. 

When Gojo Satoru broke up with you, you couldn’t respond with prettily crafted words to make him reconsider or, in fact, respond at all. Your friends always told you that you had a way with words, and you believed you did, too, because you were hardly ever afraid of speaking your mind. However, when Gojo Satoru broke up with you, your mind most likely short-circuited because all you did was stare at the deep sea you were sure resided within his eyes. 

His voice was unwavering, or maybe it wavered and you were simply too gone to notice it, when he said, “I think we moved too fast, Y/N. I don’t think I’m ready to be tied down for life, honestly.” 

When he opened with words as hard-hitting as those, how could he have given you any more closure? What could you have asked him to make him stay? He was the one who got down on one knee in the rooftop restaurant he’d rented out for the night and gave you a perfectly mesmerizing speech before he pulled out a maroon velvet box. He was the one who assured you that both your families would be okay with this—that they’d finally accept your relationship as a genuine one instead of as a fling between two twenty-something-year-olds who have nothing better to do with their time. 

You thought about how ecstatic your father would’ve been once he realized his little princess was getting married. Your mother would probably squeal in excitement before running herself ragged with the wedding preparations. You weren’t sure about his parents, though. Your families always had a moderately decent relationship, decent enough that Satoru’s father signed over their shared ownership of their company to hers after the Satoru’s began being involved in legal issues that threatened the company’s image. But you did know that despite the companionship, Satoru’s parents were difficult. They were sheltered people that knew nothing of how to treat their kid except what they’d learned from their own parents, and that was why Satoru hardly ever let himself feel too much over their words and demands. It didn’t cut deep for him because he knew they didn’t know any better.

All of that didn’t matter anymore, though, because Satoru had asked for the family heirloom engagement ring back with shaky, hesitating hands. You wanted to laugh and cry because he’d said, “I don’t want my parents to notice it’s missing, just in case they check.

How were you meant to know that after three months, you’d be hearing from Suguru that Satoru was engaged to Kimura Hana and she was wearing that wedding ring?

Suguru didn’t blame you when you got the idea that he broke it off with you because he wanted to marry her—docile, do-no-wrong Hana that you weren’t even aware he’d met—and he let you go along with that idea. You tore apart the rhinestone-studded invitation that your mother handed to you, a sad look gleaming in her eyes when your teeth dug into your lip at the sight. You cleaned up the strayed pink jewels that fell off from the thick paper and threw them in the trash, though you kept finding several of them in every nook and cranny of your room for the next month. 

It was a horrid feeling, seeing the heavy cursive inviting you to the wedding of Gojo Satoru and Kimura Hana. Inviting you, your name in just a small font at the top when it should’ve been next to his. In the middle. 

You called him a week after receiving the invitation, words you should’ve spoken in the car heavy on your tongue waiting to be let out. 

“Hey!” You’d heard the chipper, upbeat voice of a woman through the speaker of your phone and your fingers loosened their grip enough that it fell onto your blanket with a soft thud. “Who is this?” 

“Hana?” Him. His voice. It was hardly close enough for you to fully make out it was him speaking, but you’d heard the lilt of his voice you’d memorized over three years and it would’ve been difficult not to recognise it. “Who is it?”

She hummed, as though she forgot you were still on the line. “I don’t know, it’s an unknown number.”

You heard him scramble for the phone, and heard when it pulled away from her ears. “I told you not to pick up calls from—”

The line went dead, and it seemed as though a part of you died with it, too.

Maybe it was silly that what hurt the most out of everything—even hearing the girl who he’d picked’s voice—was the fact that he deleted your number. It wasn’t news that Satoru had found somebody else, but to know that he had erased nearly every fragment of his life from yours when the movie ticket of your first date was hung safely on the corkboard above your desk hurt. You were still finding pieces of his wedding invitation in the parts of your room the housekeeper hadn’t reached, and he didn’t even have any trace of you left on his phone. 

When you went on your second date, he showed you the list of his contacts on his phone to prove he only had a small list of twenty-eight numbers saved. He told you he only kept the phone numbers of people who mattered. At that moment, it was funny that he’d said the words, verbatim, “I only keep phone numbers that matter to me.” It was also a warming feeling when you noticed your name amongst them. 

Two months into your relationship, he’d told you in the midst of conversation that he saved your best friend, Reina’s number because he felt it was important. 

And now… 

Well, you couldn’t do anything. You felt as though him saying he didn’t want to be tied down was enough closure for you to come to terms with it. It made sense, too, in a twisted way that did hurt you because commitment wasn’t easy for many people and Satoru had fallen prey to that mentality. What you couldn’t come to terms with was how he’d gotten engaged three months after your breakup. And now, she was picking up calls for him and asking you who you were when you were one of the few people that reached his phone. 

It hadn’t made sense, not one bit. But you only had the tattered bits of dignity left in you to not make yourself seem weak in front of the person who’d given you the carpet to be vulnerable upon then abruptly snatched it from under your feet. Even if you wanted to. 

You were sure the wedding was a gorgeous, over-the-top, once in a lifetime procession. That was one of the many reasons that you didn’t go: it was once in a lifetime. And although people remarry very often around the world, they only have one first wedding. One first kiss as a wedded person. One first night of married bliss. You didn’t want to think that Satoru and Hana would separate because that was, in every way, a devilish thing for someone to even imagine but you were assured by your friends that it was completely valid for you to want him to hurt after what he did.

You didn’t grow the guts to tell them it was because you wished it would be you who he remarried. 

If you couldn’t be his first, you weren’t sure you wouldn’t settle for being his second. 

Satoru’s father went to prison not long after the wedding and that, finally, cut off nearly every form of companionship between your family and theirs. Your father had begun talking down on his father’s name after that, and you weren’t sure why and you didn’t ask because you couldn’t stomach speaking of anybody related to Satoru. Every trace of Satoru’s name vanished from your household, and you believed that was destiny’s way of offering you a chance to start anew because Satoru had. With Hana.

“We should meet Suguru soon,” Reina had said, and you knew she was right. You’d cut off contact with Suguru, albeit slowly and subtly enough that he forlornly caught onto the hints and crept out the door of your life completely. But that didn’t mean it was closed; neither of you held bad blood for one another, and you knew that he understood. 

You declined, wanting to live in the prolonged moment of life that had nothing to do with Satoru. 

The next, and only time, you’d seen Satoru in person was a completely miscalculated and chance encounter even the most highly-regarded fortune teller couldn’t have predicted. You had been in the bathroom of the club you, Reina, and your other friends went to nearly every weekend, when you heard a small squeal of recognition coming from the door next to the sinks. You didn’t need to do anything and were merely waiting for Reina to finish using the bathroom while you reapplied your lipgloss. 

“I know you! You’re Y/N from the… L/N family? My husband’s father works with yours.”

You craned your neck to the side, and were met with a delightfully sweet smile coming from one of the largest banes of your existence. 

You gave her a short, curt, once-over before you met her eyes and forced yourself to reply. “Yeah, and you are?”

She looked a bit shaken at your indifference and lack of recognition. You could only imagine how awkward she felt after deigning you with a bubbly greeting. “I’m—well, I’m Gojo Hana now, I guess.” She giggled, though the humor was hardly there behind it. It seemed as though she was scraping any and every corner to lessen the tension of the interaction. You didn’t care, though, because your mind was reeling at the idea that his wife didn’t even know you and Satoru dated for three years.

“Are you fucking—are you serious?” Reina appeared next to you, and you hadn’t even noticed the click of her heels as she’d walked out of the stall. You reached out a hand and placed it on her forearm to stop her from asking the question that was lingering in your mind, too. “Your husband only tell you that their fathers work together?”

You gritted your teeth. “They don’t work together, actually, since Mr. Takayashi is…”

In prison, the words went unsaid but were still communicated through the neon haze of the bathroom lights. 

“Well, that’s all I know. I’m sorry?” You almost felt bad for Hana because she was clearly clueless. A part of you wanted to mock her, say that he was mine first. But she could instantly rebut that by saying, he’s mine now. And you would lose that pissing contest. So, you kept your mouth shut. 

“Alright, sweetie,” Reina responded, giving her a wide berth, catching a hint of your thoughts and turning around to wash her hands. 

You blinked. “It was nice meeting you,” you said with no sweetness and kindness she offered you. 

Hana took that as her cue and mumbled it back before she scurried off to leave, completely forgetting why she had to go to the bathroom in the first place. 

“Man, she’s something.” Reina whistled through her teeth once the sound of the door shutting reverberated off the walls. 

“Isn’t that right,” you murmured, attempting to hold yourself from letting your thoughts drift into ones that could get your mind racing at 200 miles per hour. “Never thought I’d have to see her, though.”

When you and Reina walked out of the bathroom and sat down at the table with some of your friends—the others presumably on the dance floor—you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to find Hana in the crowd. And you immediately regretted it when you did, because she was at the bar, tucked between a pair of jean-clad thighs you knew all too well. She seemed to be speaking to Satoru, and a hand reached back to the nape of his neck as he hung onto every word she spoke and you felt your stomach twist into small, ugly knots at the sight. His neck turned around instantly, and his eyes immediately found yours, and you attempted to look away. You really, really wanted to. But that was the first time he’d looked at you in a year and three months.

Your throat clogged up, and though he was far away under the dimmed red lights shining from the large, obnoxious signs near the bottles, you itched to speak to him. His shiny white hair was a soft shade of crimson under the lights—you’d always point it out to him, how his hair looked exactly a solid color whenever he was underneath a shaded light. 

His lips curled slightly when he looked at you and his nose scrunched up into what you assumed was anger for treating his wife with such animosity. But the small moment of staring at what once could’ve been—at what once was—ended when he blinked and turned to meet her eyes again, and a healed fragment of your heart cracked again.

[popjunkie42]

Resurrect Me

Read on AO3

Resurrect Me

Chapter One: Could Never Be Heaven Without You

Sometimes, she wakes up with tears in her eyes, soft on her cheeks. Those mornings she feels empty, but in a different way. Wrung out but clean. Some catharsis, some joy played out in her subconscious, lost to the sky with the stars that fade in the morning light.

Crying as if she was ripped away too soon. Crying as if she longed to dream again.

"A vivid imagination," Dr. Thesan calls it. But she had seen the intake forms. Temporary psychosis with auditory and visual hallucinations (hypnagogic/hypnopompic), delusions of grandeur, signs of dissociative identity.

Danger to herself and others.

Feyre Archeron is just trying to keep it together - her middling corporate job, her failing relationship with Tamlin, her abysmal mental health. Most days, she feels lost, adrift, out of place. So who could blame her when she starts having dreams about the tall, dark and handsome man she saw one day at the ramen shop? As the world seems to be unraveling around her, Feyre gives way to her curiosity about the mysterious stranger.

This fic is for @climbthemountain2020 for pushing me to get the idea out of my head and forever encouraging my brainrot! All the love to her and @witch-and-her-witcher for the beta reads and hyping me up in my docs. For @officialfeysandweek!

Warnings: please read the tags, Feyre is having a bad mental health time and there are references to depression, hallucinations and suicide.

I'm trying something new!!! Hope you enjoy my slightly eerie and depressing modern coffee shop AU 😂 Chapter two will be coming later this week!

Read on AO3 and have a snippet under the cut.

The world outside the window is the color of melancholy. 

Feyre would know. She watches in a trance as rain pours onto concrete streets in heavy sheets.

Thunder rattles through the noodle shop in the heart of downtown, stacked ceramic bowls chiming against each other in its wake.

Feyre closes her eyes, letting the vibrations of the storm rumble through her body. 

Hoping maybe it will shake something free.

With a sigh, she opens them again. 

The grey-blue day is beautiful, even this dark and overcast. She’s sitting at the high-top bar against the window front of the shop, a giant pane of glass shot through with black steel brackets. Rain streams down the pane, each drop in its own path, a race to join the running rivers of the sidewalk.

Today everything is muted. Dampened. She sees the loveliness of the rain, and in the city the feeling of everything being rinsed clean. The sky opening up and letting go, doing what she longs to do. 

She finally moves her hands away from the hot bowl of ramen to grab her chopsticks, feeling the loss of heat immediately. Handmade ceramic, textured matte black with sharp ridges under her fingers. Chopsticks swirl the fatty broth, pulling noodles up from the dregs and into her mouth.

She walked the three blocks to get here. Usually a nice mid-day escape from work, but today she was soaked through in minutes. Thought it would still be worth it on block one. Now her red leather flats are ruined. Just her one small, colorful rebellion against the black and white corporate suits she’s forced to wear.

The AC blows on her back as she drips onto the tile floor, and all she can think is she’s going to catch cold.

She jolts in her seat at the blare of her alarm, loud and piercing. Scrambles to hit snooze, swears she’ll change that noise to something less…jarring. 

She was supposed to be back at work twenty minutes ago.

-Sorry, I think I’m coming down with something, I need to take the rest of today off.

Feyre fires off a text to her boss and promptly hits do not disturb. 

He’s going to kill her. Those mockups were due to him yesterday, and she’s supposed to present at Friday morning’s all hands meeting. But the dread of going back outweighs the dread of his disappointment, so she turns her phone screen facedown and drips on the floor some more.

You’re being ridiculous. 

She knows it’s what everyone in her life has been thinking. These trials and tribulations she’s created for herself. If you just would have accepted Tamlin’s proposal, you wouldn’t have to work. You could move into that nice loft uptown and become a lady who lunches.

Stark white everything and restoration hardware, designer heels and Birkin bags, late downtown dinners with CEOs and board members, an endless litany of don’t worry about that, love.

Instead, she and Tamlin are on an ever-extending break and she’s back to clipping coupons before she grocery shops.

He had repeated the offer to her a dozen times, in fights and over Michelin-star meals. “You should move in at least. You’re paying too much for that apartment, and you have to commute hours every day. Even if I just want to see you for dinner. Aren’t you the one who said we need to spend more time together?”

It isn't like the world of corporate marketing gives her any sense of meaning in her life. Every morning, she wakes up with a sick feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. Sometimes she has to duck into the alley beside the vast skyscraper entrance, streams of black suits pouring in like lines of ants, and breathe in the smell of garbage and the city until it chases her inside.

Right now Feyre doesn’t have room for anything other than concentrating on this fine line between survival and keeping her mental health just stable enough to stop her from doing something rash.

But she is paying too much for her little hovel in Washington Heights. One bedroom, cockroaches bold as brass, the wet patch above her bed growing larger every week; an irregular tumor portending future disaster.

In a decisive movement, she picks up her bowl and slurps down the rich broth, letting it warm her through, deep into her belly. 

She’s chasing something - some feeling, some energy, some…serotonin. 

Lately her meds seem to cause her more trouble than good. She knows what Dr. Thesan would recommend: work up to the next dosage. 

He’ll want to know about her dreams. Sometimes he worries, other times he gives her a fond smile. “You have such a vivid imagination, Feyre. It’s a gift, really. But we need to make sure you can differentiate dreams from reality, hm?”

She’ll nod, of course. Disagreeing takes energy. Feyre’s in short supply these days. Neither is she exactly an expert as to what makes her feel happy. Whole. 

Broth sloshes around her stomach, rich and heavy. It’s her third bowl this week. And with every break of the chopsticks, she’s been quietly lying to herself about why she’s here again. 

The first time she saw him was last Monday. 1:03pm.

In her memory, she hears the bell ringing at the opening door as clear as day.

He’s all broad shoulders, in black from head to toe. A sweeping trench coat, Ralph Lauren maybe, fitted in the shoulders and waist, warm for the season but immaculate. His hair a soft blue-black. A silver ring glistening on his finger. The right, not the left. A long, confident stride up to the counter.

She had turned around on instinct, her mind barely catching up, when their eyes locked. Just for a split second. 

The sun had caught his face, all fine planes and angles, and she swore his eyes sparkled violet.

Even after a lifetime, she still hasn’t gotten used to that feeling. When color and form and line makes the breath catch in her throat. When everything aligns perfectly and she sees a vision in her mind, something that makes her fingers itch. 

But it’s been so long since she’s picked up a brush. 

So much heavy baggage there. Out of practice. Supplies hidden and drying out in closets and under her bed. Her tablet so old she can’t even get it to pair with her pencil. 

But that man in front of her, so stunning he shook old desires awake in her…Disappointment had bloomed in her chest as his eyes flickered away, like he hadn't even noticed the way his gaze had unmoored her. Like he was looking for someone else.

Hey, Archeron, you were almost just engaged, her voice whispered in her mind. 

But Feyre couldn’t get that thrill out of her mind. She was so hazy these days, just wading through the city streets like she was walking upstream, against the tide of bodies. Like she could just lift up her feet and be carried away. She longed for that, more than she would admit.

But when she saw those eyes…it was like something in her sparked alive again. Just for a minute.

He was just so damn beautiful.

Feyre blames the perfect rays of autumn light that were casting through the windows. 

That, and her period. It was due to start any day.

Since then, she hasn't been able to stop thinking about him. Even from just those too-short glimpses as he smiled politely at the hostess, grabbed a to-go bag and chopsticks, and left a healthy stack of bills as a tip. Shamelessly, she studied his profile all the way out the restaurant and down the sidewalk, moving as if in slow motion.

She’s come back every other day since.

You’re being stupid. Go home to your vibrating bullet. And maybe you could do your hair for once, go outside of your apartment after work hours, meet some people. Get it together, Feyre. You can’t lose it over a stranger.

What would she even say to him, if he did show up again? Come here often? Not as much as you’d think - I’d know because I’ve been watching you! Do you really think miso is superior to tonkotsu? Or, how do you feel about lost, unmotivated women drowning in clinical depression?

There’s no plan beyond seeing him again.

Feyre sighs, nibbling on bok choy, scanning the dining room for his face once more. 

Her life is too much of a mess, still barely treading water from her episodes, from the disorder of extricating herself from Tamlin, to do anything more than dream.

Still, something in her feels that beautiful face is worth the stretch in her going-out budget.

And besides, cool weather is coming. It is ramen season, after all. 

Read on AO3

[sukacheri]

Academic Integrity [AO3 or Keep Reading below]

Hinakasa | 5k words

Tsukasa Suou is a first-year student in law school striving to graduate at the top of his class. Hinata Aoi is his tutor.

a/n: the AO3 version uses a work skin for a texting feature; the tumblr version is free of that if the AO3 ver isnt working for you! i hope you all enjoy this, i brainrotted a lot

Today, 4:49 PM

Tsukasa: Are you available tonight? Urgent.

Hinata: hmm finals szn is pretty busy for me ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

Hinata: maybeeee for a good offer i can see if i can swing by

Tsukasa: How are you even busy? There’s no exams tonight

Hinata: i still gotta read the textbooks! lots of last minute clients looking to bump their grade up a letter

Hinata: if ur that hard pressed about it, then ill just take it for you

Hinata: teehee

Tsukasa: I’m not last minute and we have an existing agreement. One that does not involve academic dishonesty, so don’t even joke about it.

Tsukasa: I expect you here at 6pm.

Hinata: whoaaa tsukasa-kun’s ordering me around what am i gonna do

Hinata: not show up i guess

Hinata: (*≧ω≦*)

Tsukasa: I’m ordering in dinner. What do you want.

Hinata: (´ ω `♡) my hero~

Hinata: place an order at that ramen place i dragged you to a few weeks ago. if you remember what i got then ill help you cram tonight

Hinata: get the good spot in the library!

Tsukasa: Actually I have some reservations about that. I’d rather not be seen in public with you. Especially right now

Hinata: our forbidden love! hiding our courtship is so cruel… unless…? my prince is shy~?

Hinata: or maybe… you just want to get me to your place… i see i see… tsukasakun is so sly. you wont pass your exams if you youre too focused on flirting

Tsukasa: Shupt up

Tsukasa: Shut up.

Tsukasa: Just come over alright? I’ll text you my address and order the food.

Hinata: yessir (`･ω･´)ゞ

Tsukasa did not get visitors to his apartment. There had been a total of two people in it, one of which being himself. Even his own parents hadn’t come to visit, but Tsukasa hadn’t expected them to; the Suous had higher priorities than seeing their son moved in, especially when at this point it was for law school and Tsukasa was a grown twenty three years old.

The other visitor had been his nosy neighbor who insisted on poking her head in whenever she got the chance, but Arashi meant well so it didn’t bother Tsukasa that much. She frequently commented with much amusement about the giant textbooks Tsukasa lugged around, saying he was starting to look as if he may be building muscles after all this time.

Guests were unexplored territory for him, and especially with only a one hour notice (his own fault, he knows), the uncertainty clouded over him about the state of his apartment. Tsukasa was a clean person so by habit there was no trash or dishes out, everything put away once used, but he frowned at the state of his living room. 

It was boring.

Tsukasa didn’t care about that, but he knew he was asking for scorn from Hinata. The guy did nothing but bring up all these little faults in Tsukasa he never realized he had, or if he did, he at least thought they weren’t noticeable. Each and every time they met, Hinata would point out anything and somehow relate it back to how Tsuksa was so rigid or uptight.

The living room, where he was planning their study session to be, was empty of anything except basic furniture. A couch, a coffee table, an ottoman. Not even a TV.

Hinata struck him as a cozy person, someone surrounded by blankets and throw pillows, with an assortment of trinkets and decor on a warm wooden coffee table. And Tsukasa did not own a single blanket or pillow, and self consciousness began to rival the grip his test anxiety kept him in all day, tempting him to go drag the comforter off his bed and try to pass it off as a throw blanket.

He considered it more than he should have, until his phone started buzzing in his pocket bringing him out of his thoughts.

Today, 5:25 PM

Hinata: oooo tsukasakun you did remember my order!

Hinata: im so touched!

Hinata: ill stay over if you wanna cram that much ⸜(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)⸝

Tsukasa looked at his non-blanketed couch and clicked his tongue.

Tsukasa: If you are able to, I would appreciate it. I understand it is last minute though.

Hinata: nope! no take backsies! im on my way!!!!!

Hinata: about 15 minutes i think!

Hinata: ε===(っ≧ω≦)っ

Tsukasa: Is this one… farting?

Hinata: NO!!!!!

Hinata: (ಥ﹏ಥ)

Tsukasa: I do not like that one.

Okay, fifteen minutes to find a solution to the blanket problem. Except Tsukasa knew for a fact there were no stupid throw blankets anywhere in his apartment. Why did blankets matter so much? They were blankets. But if Hinata was going to stay over to help Tsukasa, then he had a duty to make sure it was comfortable for him.

Tsukasa stepped into the hallway outside of his apartment, hoping and praying that Arashi was staying in tonight and wouldn’t think it was too weird what he was asking for. He walked to the door directly across from him and knocked.

No response.

Oh, please Narukami-senpai, Tsukasa thought while knocking again. Tonight of all nights when I need you to stick your nose into my business and you’re not here.

Again, no response. The doom of Hinata approaching by the second sent a jolt of anxiety on top of his already existing mountain of it through him. He knocked again, a bit harder than he meant to.

The hallway was quiet, and Tsukasa didn’t hear any movement from behind Arashi’s door. He sighed and turned to return to his own apartment, but caught the eyes of someone peeking out from the door to the left of his.

“Nacchan’s not here. Usually someone only needs to knock once to realize that,” Ritsu said lazily, looking at Tsukasa with sleepy eyes.

“I apologize if I woke you up from a nap, Ritsu-senpai. I needed to ask her a favor, but if she’s not here, then I’ll figure something else out.”

“Mmm,” Ritsu hummed. “What do you need? If Nacchan finds out I didn’t help the poor guy she treats like a stay kitten, then she’ll have my neck.”

Tsukasa squinted. “I am not a stray cat. And she doesn’t treat me—” he paused, taking a breath and remembering the task at hand. “I need some blankets. Throw blankets. I’m having company over and I don’t really have anything, and I’d hate to be a bad host.”

“Aw, so caring as always, Suuchan. You do know Nacchan is strong enough to carry her own groceries, right? If you help her, you should help me too.” 

“If I say yes, will you give me blankets?”

Ritsu waved a hand. “Forget it, I can’t put your poor soul through waking up at 3 AM for my shopping hours just to help me carry my junk food up the stairs. I’ll go get you your blankets, wait here.”

Relief flooded through Tsukasa as Ritsu went into his apartment, and he couldn’t be more thankful that Arashi had dragged him over for dinner when he first moved in. He appreciated his brief interactions with Ritsu and Arashi, and if his schoolwork weren’t so vigorous he’d liked to be closer with them. Maybe if Hinata’s help scored him high enough on his finals, he could see about having another dinner with them.

“Here you are, Suuchan.” Ritsu returned, at least four different blankets stacked on top of each other. “You’re getting my rejects, but just know that a reject from me will still be 10x better than anything you’ve used in your entire life.”

Tsukasa was in awe, bowing before accepting the blankets with giddy hands. “Thank you, Ritsu-senpai! I owe you many favors for this. I really will help you carry your groceries if that is what you need of me. You are a lifesaver, and I’m in your debt.

“Relax, it’s nothing. Honestly? Keep them, I don’t use them.” 

“Thank you, I will remember this and repay you.”

Ritsu shrugged. “Well, I do like gifts. Have fun tonight, Suuchan. And try to get some sleep. You won’t last through school if you don’t get plenty of rest.”

“I think you get too much rest, but thank you. Goodnight, Ritsu-senpai.”

Tsukasa returned to his apartment, blankets victoriously held in his arms. He dropped them on the couch, finding himself agreeing with Ritsu’s declaration that his rejects still made for perfectly acceptable blankets to Tsukasa. He was given four, he discovered, as he laid them out on the couch. One of them was noticeably smaller than the others, with detailed fringe around the edges, so Tsukasa put that one over the back of the couch as a decoration. 

Already a vast improvement over the boring blandness this space had been, and Tsukasa buzzed around the couch laying the remaining folded blankets out in different ways. His mind switched through the different options like he was flipping pages in his textbook, trying to find the specific precedent to refute a classmate during a lecture. It’d be easier if there was a clear defined answer, but much like the law, blanket arrangement was an art.

Where he drew trouble was that couldn’t decide on the amount of blankets to leave out. The dark purple fuzzy one he hid inside his broom closet, not finding it to match his theme, and he kept the decorative one where it laid. The last two were the ones giving him grief. 

Tsukasa bit his lip— a bad habit that required him to constantly keep chapstick on hand— as he fretted over his predicament. He struggled to think of what Hinata would tease less, his cheery voice nagging at the back of Tsukasa’s head each time he tried to lay the blankets differently.

Time was slipping away from him. He pulled his phone out to check for any new messages.

His last message was marked as read at 5:27 PM.

Tsukasa sighed. It was 5:40 right now; he may have a few more minutes to figure this out. The current arrangement could be worked upon, perhaps he could have unfold the smooth maroon blanket and put it over the arm of the couch. That felt a bit pretentious though, so instead— something flashed in the bottom of his eyes.

Texting bubbles.

Tsukasa stared at them intently, a weak hope inside him wishing that the other boy was running late. There was still more he had to do before Hinata arrived. He should’ve started tea earlier so it’d be ready by now, and now it would be just another stone on the pile of Tsukasa’s poor hosting skills.

He wasn’t aware he was holding his breath until the bubbles disappeared, no message sent in their place. He looked back up at the couch, a new formation taking shape in his mind, yes, this one would do much nicer. Tsukasa picked up the maroon and was about to fold it back into a square when a sudden knocking struck his door. The blanket fell from his fingers with a jolt as he whipped head to the door.

Surely it was not Hinata. The intercom hadn’t buzzed so how would he have gotten in?

Idiot, Tsukasa thought while walking to the door. Of course the same guy that takes exams for other people can sneak into an apartment building. This was probably even easier than that.

Tsukasa glanced through the peephole, and… nothing was there except an empty hallway. Narrowing his eyes, he opened the door.

“Boo!” Hinata jumped out from the left, orange hair bouncing around his face, framing his bright smile. “Aw, boo. You were expecting that.”

Hinata forewent his glasses, green eyes peering at him without obstruction. Tsukasa remembered him mentioning he only wore them as a disguise anyways, despite the fact Tsukasa had caught him more than once sliding them on as he went digging through his laptop. 

Hinata was dressed warmly for the increasingly colder weather as winter grew closer, his white cable knit sweater hung off of him. The black straps of his heavy backpack contrasted against it, completing a proper academic look, and Tsukasa found it funny how Hinata enjoyed looking to be the part of a typical enthused student so much.

“I’ve put up with you for weeks. You’re not surprising anymore,” Tsukasa scoffed.

“I think it’s been like months now. And all that means is that I have to be more surprising.” Hinata lifted his hand up, showcasing the takeout bag he carried. “Let me in? C’mon I’m starving and I kinda forgot to eat lunch sooo…” 

Tsukasa frowned but stepped aside to let him in. “You should remember to eat, Hinata-kun. You can’t be that busy that you’re forgetting.”

“Geez, judge someone much? I thought you were just being grumpy in your texts, but you really can’t believe that I’m busy. Don’t you realize this is prime time for someone like me? Why, you kids need all the help you can get!”

“I keep telling you I’m older than you.”

Hinata shrugged as he walked inside, setting the bag onto the kitchen counter. The smell hit Tsukasa in a nostalgic wave, the flavors reminding him of dark wooden tables and dim lighting. Of the sweetest yet still savory ramen he’s ever had, and the way Hinata had shook his arms with exclamations of ‘I told you so’. 

“That,’ Tsukasa said, “smells so much better than I remember.”

“I told you it’s the best. You can harp about the fancy ramen you’ve had with your parents all you want, but this is how it’s supposed to be. Nice, warm, and comforting.” Hinata opened the bag and took out his container, popping the lid off with a grin of satisfaction.

“I have some bowls we can use. Better than eating from the plastic.” Tsukasa took two porcelain bowls out from the top shelf of his cabinet, turning to see Hinata staring at him.

“You went on your tiptoes. It’s cute. Y’know, if you need help reaching something then the magic word is please.”

And here we go with the teasing. This guy never stops, Tsukasa thought as he glared at Hinata.

“I can reach everything just fine. You keep thinking you’re all these things I’m not, like how you think you’re older and taller. You have, at maximum, two inches on me. What is it they say? ‘You’re one to talk’?” Tsukasa snapped, placing the bowls on the counter and taking out his own food. “I was going to offer you tea, but now I have half a mind not to. You don’t deserve my tea.”

Hinata widened his eyes in mock hurt, speaking in an exaggerated tone. “Oh, Tsukasa-kun! You wound me! Mar me! Kill me! And two hundred other synonyms I don’t feel like listing out. The humanity! I’m so hurt I… I may just start crying… I don’t… sniff sniff… I don’t think I can help someone so mean…”

Tsukasa huffed and turned away, picking up his kettle to fill it with water. It was hardly for Hinata’s sake. Tsukasa knew he would start needing caffeine now if he ever hoped to get through an entire night of cramming with him, and if he had any hope of staying awake enough to retain his studies.

If only he were the one gifted with a photographic memory.

Tsukasa set the kettle onto the stove to warm up, and pulled out a box of assorted tea bags to leave next to it. He sidestepped past Hinata to fill his own bowl, who was already slurping away at his noodles while somehow conveying an annoying smirk with only his eyes. Irritation lit up under Tsukasa’s skin, and he grabbed his container and poured it into the bowl, moving too fast and causing a series of drops to splash around the counter.

“I’d say something, but I’m more sad than anything. That’s a waste of the most delicious broth in the world,,” Hinata said through a mouth full of food.

“It’s a few drops, it is not the end of the world.”

“Whatever helps you cope. So, are we eating in the kitchen, or? Not that I mind standing. It really puts into perspective those two inches I have over you.”

Tsukasa snatched his bowl and chopsticks, barely repressing a complaint and forcing Hinata’s words to roll off of him like oil on water. Except it felt more like trying to ignore a tick intent on trying to suck at his blood and scrambling all over his body.

“We’ll eat on the couch. I already dragged all the books that we’ll need out of my room.”

“Books that you’ll need.”

Tsukasa stuffed noodles in his mouth so he wouldn’t have to respond.

They sat down on the couch, Hinata dropping his backpack to the ground with a thud while Tsukasa waited for a quip about how his blankets complimented his nerdiness, or how only someone so stuffy as himself would have a decorative one. To Tsukasa’s dismay, Hinata didn’t give any of the blankets a second glance, instead sitting down with his legs criss-crossed on the cushion and focusing entirely on shoveling food into his mouth.

At least that was something Tsukasa could concede on. The ramen was good, the flavors so striking and unique that they kept fighting to drag Tsukasa’s mind back to that first time he ate it. That day, Hinata insisted on meeting at the restaurant despite Tsukasa’s protests that it didn’t exactly seem like a good place to study. And it wasn’t, he felt too awkward to even try bringing out a single stack of flashcards in that atmosphere of dim lighting and quiet, yet ample, background noise that drew one’s mind to a place of calm.

Hinata had forced him to sit down and share a pot of tea with him while they waited for their food. Tsukasa had the beginnings of a cold, and whatever was in that tea soothed his throat so well that whatever had tried to start was sent right out of his system. And once their food arrived, that was when Hinata started grilling him with questions like a human flashcard machine.

It wasn’t the most productive study session they’ve had, but it was Tsukasa’s fondest for some reason.

“So, what’s urgent tonight? You’re my best student.” Hinata paused to slurp more noodles into his mouth. “And aren’t your finals heavy loaded for the last few days? You have extra time.”

“You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full. It’s rude.”

“You shouldn’t avoid questions. It’s rude,” Hinata mimicked him. “And I’m your tutor! So, you gotta answer everything I ask related to your studies. That’s just the rules.”

Tsukasa bit back saying that the rules of common courtesy usurped the rules of informal tutoring agreements. “I’m struggling with property law. Again. I understood everything last week, and I could name all the landmark cases, and all the obscure ones we went over. Then I took a practice quiz this morning and I scored a 91.”

“Good job!”

“Not a good job!” Tsukasa scowled. “That’s one mistake away from an 89. Honestly, 95 is my low bound and I scored four points below that. I don’t have time to look through the book and remember what I’m forgetting.”

Understanding dawned on Hinata’s face and he nodded. “So, you want to bounce your head off of mine to figure out what you’re forgetting. Yeah, okay, I get what you’re saying. Do you think that’s going to take a whole night cramming? Not that I’m trying to get out of it! You bought me dinner and a deals a deal, but… you could have texted me and I would have told you the lists we made, y’know?”

Tsukasa bit his lip, poking the egg in his ramen around while his face grew hot. “If I’m being honest… that thought did not occur to me. I panicked, perhaps, in calling you here so suddenly.”

“I mean, it’s alright. Who doesn’t like getting free food? And I’m also super flattered you remembered my order.” Hinata grinned at him, and Tsukasa felt some of his embarrassment drain away, yet somehow replaced with a different sort of burning in his cheeks.

“I suppose I may have unconsciously had other intentions,” Tsukasa said as Hinata’s green eyes snapped to his with such intensity it nearly gave Tsukasa pause. “It’s always fascinating watching you work. I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, but it’s not like you meet someone like you that often, or ever. I can’t forget the chill I got back when we first met and you started reciting the textbook I was reading with your eyes closed. You’re amazing, and I like witnessing it as much as I can.”

While he talked, Hinata’s eyes lost their intensity and his smile grew in their stead, now stretched wide across his face as he waved his chopsticks around.

“Aw, well, it’s nothing. Lucky genetics and all that. Write some numbers on a piece of paper and flash ‘em to me and I’ll tell you them all. Or whatever other fun tricks you want.”

“Hmm,” Tsukasa hummed. “First 100 digits of pi?”

Hinata rolled his eyes. “That’s way too easy. A dedicated nerd can do that. Anyways, let’s start figuring out what law mumbo jumbo you’re forgetting while we eat, so that once we’re done we can jump right into it.”

Tsukasa agreed, and he started listing all that he remembered in between bites of gradually dwindling food. Hinata was an enthusiastic listener, always giving an indication of acknowledgement to Tsukasa, either nodding his head or his chopsticks, or through a series of ‘yeah’s’ and ‘uh-huh’s’ streaming through his lips. His eyes never regained their earlier intensity, but they also never left Tsukasa’s. 

For anyone else, he was sure the near constant eye contact would be discomforting— Tsukasa himself had the habit of maintaining direct eye contact, but because of that he was used to seeing people shift and look away from him. With Hinata’s unwavering gaze, Tsukasa suspected it was some sort of habit due to his memory. If one was able to remember all the details from a simple conversation, and all you had to do was to make sure you could focus and listen the first time, then you’d make an effort to consistently do that. That was Tsukasa’s theory at least.

They finished their ramen and began studying in earnest, with Tsukasa pulling out his textbooks to cover the near entirety of the coffee table like a tablecloth of legislative finery. Hinata grabbed the maroon blanket from the armrest, settling it across his shoulders like a cloak. The sight of it left a tingle in Tsukasa’s chest, giddy that he did good at making sure his blanket dilemma was solved.

Tsukasa meant what he said, that witnessing Hinata work was something special. He’d recite questions from previous practice tests he assigned Tsukasa, and recall with precise clarity the answer choices and the explanation for the correct one. Hinata could also socratic method circles around Tsukasa, able to ask a question and discuss with him as if playing the role of multiple fellow students, each with their own arguments and viewpoints. The only thing he lacked compared to his classmates was the condescending attitude, and when he tried making a joke about that before to Hinata, the other man smiled and said Tsukasa had the same exact attitude problem.

He did not have a comeback for that one.

A few hours later, as Tsukasa sat on the floor and flipped through a book on rental property law changes in the past five years, he found his mind drifting to a familiar question plaguing his mind. He glanced at Hinata, who had eventually put on his glasses and tied his hair back as he skimmed over some news articles on Tsukasa’s laptop.

Tsukasa clicked his tongue. They were due for a break anyways.

“Hinata-kun.”

Hinata’s eyes stayed on the screen a moment longer, finishing his line on the page, then looked up. “Did you think up an argument for overruling the rental clause we talked about? Bed bugs are serious business, you know.”

“No, it’s not about that. I had a question.”

“Well, usually when someone like you has a question you just ask it.”

“I’m not sure if it will be rude or not.”

The intensity from earlier flared behind Hinata’s eyes, curiosity boring into Tsukasa, as if shaking him to spit it out already.

“Just ask! I’m an open book. Kinda literally if you think about it in a test taking way.”

“Okay,” Tsukasa said. “How come you’re not trying to become a lawyer? You have all the knowledge needed for it, and I’m sure you could pass the bar right now if you wanted to. You could quite literally be the lawyer of the century if you went through the steps of getting the proper qualifications.”

Hinata stared at him, the silence stretching heavy over a few seconds while Tsukasa felt the oncoming reprimands for his nosiness prickling against his skin.

But Hinata just sighed and placed his elbow on the couch to support his head as he looked away. “I’ve already passed the bar. I did that years ago. That’s such a boring question. I thought you were going to ask me something more interesting like what my type is.”

“What the hell do you mean you’ve already passed the bar?” Tsukasa squawked, eyes widening with the new information. “If you did that then why are you wasting your time cheating on exams for law students? You could be in a courtroom right now presenting real cases!”

“Hey, okay, so when I say ‘passed’, I do mean in a more unofficial way. I don’t have a piece of paper or anything, so no courtrooms for me.” Hinata grinned at him, eyes squinting from it. “Besides, the last thing I want to do is be in a courtroom. That’s way too stuffy and boring for me. It’s more fun harassing you about article codes and clauses.”

“I don’t see how digging through papers is the fun part for you. In court is where you can actually present your case and do something else other than read legal briefs for hours at a time.”

Hinata took his glasses off, tapping his finger against the frame as he stared at Tsukasa. “Regardless, I don’t care about being a lawyer. It’s just fun to know things. Y’know, I passed the MCAT in the 99th percentile.”

“Bullshit. Why are you collecting exams like trophies? You are a very sick individual.”

“Such language, Tsukasa-kun. You should be more polite and sweet like me,” Hinata said. “And if it makes you feel any better, I make it my policy not to help med students. I’d kinda rather not have the future medical professionals of our generation be unable to do the work. That’s my geriatric butt in their waiting rooms in the future, so best not to shoot myself in the foot now. You’re welcome.”

Tsukasa narrowed his eyes. “You say that as if releasing a bad lawyer into the world isn’t a bad thing.”

“Ah, now I didn’t say that at all. A guy’s gotta make money somehow, right? And it’s the lesser of two evils, and even you can’t tell me it isn’t.”

“You’re insufferable.” Tsukasa leaned across his textbooks, as if inching closer to Hinata would let him understand the other guy more. “Why not actually go to med school then? I can understand not being a lawyer if you think it’s boring, but as a doctor you would be actively saving peoples lives. It would make a real difference to know mountains of information when trying to diagnose a sickness or disease.”

Hinata continued tapping his glasses, his smile shifting into an inquisitive look. “Tsukasa-kun, do you know the Chinese Room argument?”

Tsukasa’s nose wrinkled. “You could not possibly be comparing yourself to the Chinese Room. That’s a supreme overreach of the argument to try and apply it to yourself.”

“But you knew instantly what I was talking about! It has to have some sort of application, right? Just because I can list off anything about some topic doesn’t really mean I understand any of it. Even now, how do you know if I actually understand law or if it’s just that I’ve read so many practice tests that I can give an output that sounds about right?”

“Because I know you’re smart. You’re clever and witty, and you like shoving it in my face. And it’s not because you’re overcompensating, it’s because you’re good-natured.”

Hinata tilted his head. “Those are conflicting thoughts, aren’t they? I’m good-natured, yet I like shoving my intellect in your face. You make me sound like a meanie.”

“The point is you’re not,” Tsukasa said. He took a breath and met Hinata’s eyes with all his sincerity. “Hinata-kun, you are incredibly kind. I am grateful for all the help you have given me and I owe keeping my sanity during law school to you.”

“Whoa, where’s this coming from?” Hinata’s lips twitched into an uncertain smile. “Just cause we talk philosophy doesn’t mean you have to get sentimental.”

“I thought you would like to hear it.” Tsukasa stood, grabbing his empty tea cup from the coffee table. “I’m making more tea, would you like some?”

“Oh.” Hinata blinked. “Yeah, sure.” He held his cup out to Tsukasa, their fingers brushing in the handoff.

“Same flavor?”

“Yeah, with extra honey if you could.” He slid his glasses back on, diving back into his research on the laptop.

Tsukasa began to walk away, but glanced back at the sound of shuffling on the couch. Hinata was turned towards him, a soft smile on his lips as he spoke.

“Thank you, Tsukasa-kun,” he said earnestly. Tsukasa found himself smiling back until Hinata finished speaking, his soft smile slipping into a mischievous grin.

“For the tea, of course. These rich boy flavors are such a treat.”

I’m never going to win with him, am I? Tsukasa thought as he rolled his eyes and continued onto the kitchen.

He’d indulge Hinata’s teasing and tea requests for now. They still had a long night of studying ahead of them yet.

[redblueink2510]

So the last couple of days have been spent brainrotting over an angsty idea I’ve had for a role play Mikey that hasn’t even come into fruition yet, soo I decided I wanted to dump this here.

This au is one where all the brothers are in their early twenties. (Mikey being twenty, Leo and Donnie twenty one and Raph twenty two. As I like giving the boys these ages)

Mikey has struck deals with big mama to fight in the nexus over the last five years to hone his magical abilities and find better techniques when fighting opponents. He asked he remained anonymous when fighting though so his brothers wouldn’t know. And so is known as ‘fireball’ in the nexus, wearing a mask that resembles a birds skull and plays into a butterfly and fire motif. He’s mostly known for his floating ability, dancing in the arena in mesmerising displays of fire and fluttering butterflies, and his resistance to hot temperatures, rendering other fire elementals once more useless against him.

He is free to come and go as he pleases in the nexus but mama typically calls him in for days that the nexus battle arena appears lacking for opponents, he typically personally runs the six pm to eight pm sessions, as this is prime watch time and would get him paid the most. Fireball also refuses to kill at all. And will knock an opponent unconscious first and foremost. As this IS an option in the new age nexus. So they don’t have as many issues with finding opponents.

Mikey’s magic abilities are still pretty new to him and he still relies a lot on magic aids to harness his abilities. But only recently has all of it taken it’s affects on him. Only last week after five years of his body physically pausing it’s growth did his hair come in, his voice drop and he grow taller.

For one reason or another mama has ended up owning Mikey entirely and refuses to let him leave. Mikey has one of the best suites in the nexus hotel but isn’t allowed to leave it at all without an escort. He left suddenly without telling his brothers.

Mikey is declared missing for a grand total of three weeks before the brothers get him back, and in this time because of how often he’s in fighting, being a full time nexus champion now. And the increasing need to use magic with the daytime opponents being veteran champions. He has aged six years worth in all of that.

By week two his hair had grown out so much that he has an accident when his hood gets knocked down. His identity remains in revealed but big mama insists unless he wants his brothers joining him in the nexus it has to be shaved back down.

The hair doesn’t take long to grow back.

Leo IS the first one to manage to find any information of his whereabouts with his personal social networking, and with Mikeys subcutaneous tracker being turned off and rendered offline meaning Donnie can’t track him.

The minute Mikey gets back the first thing the box turtle wants to do is just force things back to normal. He goes back to cooking and being mystic, but his brothers are substantially more worried about it with Mikey clearly already being much older then them because of it.

That’s it for now, just felt like I for dumping. Some of these pieces might be fleshed out later but I seriously can’t be sure :D

[starglitterz]

♡ BEAUTIFUL & DIRTY RICH.

you're the youngest scion of the world's most wealthy conglomerate owner, and with your older brother next-in-line to come into the role of chairman, you're free to run as wild as you like. and for you, that equates to getting into dating scandals nearly every other week, much to the chagrin of your management… though it’s not like they can say anything since you can get away with everything when you’re this beautiful & dirty rich.

✧ feat ; albedo, arataki itto, childe, diluc ragnvindr, gorou, kaedehara kazuha, kaeya alberich, kamisato ayato, scaramouche, shikanoin heizou, thoma, xiao x gn!reader

✧ warning(s) ; reader wears a skirt + heels at one point, alcohol mentions, drunk!reader, kinda suggestive

✧ a/n ; i have been brainrotting this concept since Forever and now i am forcing all of u to think abt it too >:) spot the xiao favouritism LMAO

please reblog + leave comments ! it helps a lot :)

✦ ALBEDO. [ kreideprinz ]

“you've got a press conference tomorrow afternoon at one,” albedo lists out your itinerary for the next day as you spin around in the chair at your desk. “and then lunch with lady ningguang at two.” “how about scheduling some time for us to go on a date instead?” you tease, a smirk curving your lips. “it's too late to change your schedule, mx y/n,” albedo answers without missing a beat. it's become a pastime of yours to attempt to fluster your cool personal assistant, and it's a common occurrence for you to flirt with him only to be immediately shut down. “what about kisses then? those are pretty quick.” albedo sighs, “may i remind you that you have barely a minute to spare tomorrow?” “a lot can be done in a minute,” you wink, and he stares at you, “i highly doubt even you can do much in the span of twenty seconds.” you groan, sliding down in the seat, “'bedo! would it kill you to play along sometimes?” “it won't kill me, but it might kill your schedule,” albedo shuffles the papers in his gloved hands. “and why is that?” “because,” he says simply, “i'd be too busy thinking about everything you've asked to do with me to get any work done.”

✦ ARATAKI ITTO. [ hanamizaka heroics ]

arataki itto is someone you shouldn’t be caught dead interacting with. despite that, you still find yourself picking up his calls and responding to his texts far too frequently. it started the day you were doing fansigns, as your autograph was highly coveted, and he was the only face that stood out to you in the sea of fans. itto had started by yelling a greeting, prompting your bodyguard to tense as if preparing a fight. you had laughed and returned it, and he had continued to explain that you were his idol and he had formed his own group in the hopes of reaching the same level of fame as you. the green-haired girl beside him scolded him for his antics, but you found him endearing, and for reasons only the archons know, you scribbled your number below your signature. which leads to now, where you now hear his enthusiastic voice through the speakers of your phone nightly as he rambles about his day and updates you on his progress with his gang. it’s a breath of fresh air for you to be exposed to someone so down-to-earth and honest about everything in comparison to the corrupt world you interact with daily. and if you start looking forward to these conversations? nobody else has to know, it’ll be a secret for you two alone.

✦ CHILDE. [ tartaglia ]

“idiot, there are cameras over there!” you tug childe behind a wall, flattening yourself against it as if to make yourself invisible to the paparazzi. “y’know, when you invited me out, i didn’t expect us to be running from the press the entire time,” he laughs, and you elbow him in the stomach, “hey, this time it’s your fault! everyone’s freaking out over the beloved snezhnayan boxer tartaglia returning from his special training in the abyss.” “ow! as if they wouldn’t die for a picture of the world’s hottest heir,” he winces and retorts. “you’re hotter, though, for sure,” you reply without looking back at him, peeking out from the wall to check if the reporters have left. “really? you think so?!” childe’s tone doesn’t betray how happy he actually is to hear that - he’s been in love with you from the day you enrolled in the same boxing class as him when you were both still learning to talk. “hmm…” you turn around and look him up and down, fixing him with your infamous judgemental stare, “objectively speaking, i think you are pretty hot. maybe a 7 on the ‘totally would spend the night with’ scale.” “only a 7?! whyyyy?” childe whines, and you laugh. you’d never admit how handsome you really think he is, and how it’s probably impossible to rank him on the aforementioned scale when you’ve been wanting that since forever. “anyways, i think this place is a no-go. maybe we should just head to your place instead,” you sigh, realising the eager paparazzi aren’t going to leave anytime soon. “sure! i’ve got a new bottle of firewater we could crack open too.” “then what are we waiting for? i can practically hear it calling my name already,” you skip off and childe rushes after you, “no fair, i was planning on doing that first!”

✦ DILUC RAGNVINDR. [ the dark side of dawn ]

the sound of clinking cutlery is the only thing audible at the table you're sharing with your potential suitor, diluc ragnvindr. “i'm diluc,” he attempts to break the silence, only for you to coldly reply with obvious apathy, “i know.” he swallows, unsure of how to continue with your clear lack of interest in the date, so he falls silent once more. guilt begins to prick at you for being so harsh, and you cave, “i’m sorry, diluc, that was rude of me. i’m just not very interested in getting married right now, or anytime soon if i’m being honest, so i don’t see the point of this dinner.” diluc blinks; once, twice, thrice before a smile begins to curve his lips, “thank goodness!” now it’s your turn to be confused, “what?” “i don’t want to get married either, this dinner was my manager’s idea. i wasn’t sure how to tell you without hurting your feelings,” he explains, and you beam, thanking your lucky stars that the crisis has been resolved, “then, why don’t we get out of here?” “what do you mean?” diluc tilts his head in confusion, and as his features are illuminated by the chandelier hanging above the two of you, you can understand why he’s often voted the most eligible bachelor of teyvat. “we can just hang out without all this formality! i promise it’ll be a night you’ll never forget,” you grin, reaching out your hand to pull him out of his seat. “sure,” diluc returns your smile, and to hide how flustered you are after realising that his smile is actually very pretty, you wink, “if you’re lucky, a deal with my brother’s company won’t be the only thing you leave with tonight!”

✦ GOROU. [ canine warrior ]

“mx y/n, that’s the third dating scandal this month!” gorou scolds, rushing after you as you stride down the corridor. “nice, new record!” you cheer, and gorou thinks you must take pleasure in driving him to an early grave because, “that isn’t a good thing!” “shame, because i was planning for my next one to be with you,” you wink before whipping out a compact mirror and reapplying your lipstick. gorou's stunned silent, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish for a few seconds before he composes himself, blocking out any and all thoughts of you ever dating him. but just as he's about to speak again you cut in, placing your hand on his shoulder and pulling him close, “imagine the headlines; useless scion elopes with their own public relations head! crazy, right? the public would eat that up.” gorou is this close to spontaneously combusting but thanks to his sheer willpower he manages to keep it together. but when you continue, “i bet stocks would rise like mad too, then you'd finally be able to get a better job than hounding me all the time, gorou,” that's when he speaks up with a passionate outburst, “no! i enjoy working for you, and i wouldn't change it for anything.” now it's your turn to be shocked, but you recover quickly as you grin, “what about in exchange for me never getting involved in controversy again?” gorou flinches before smiling, “you drive a hard bargain.” “you know it, gorou! and by the way, i was serious about what i said earlier. you can be my next scandal!” “what?!”

✦ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA. [ scarlet leaves pursue wild waves ]

kazuha’s been topping the charts ever since the release of his debut album, and with his dashing looks and charmingly flirtatious personality, he’s captured hearts across the globe - yours included. you know you’re bound to bump into him sooner or later with all the high-class events you both attend, but when it actually happens, you’re caught like a deer in headlights. it’s your birthday function out of all things, except this is the boring one you’re forced to host for the sake of maintaining business relationships and a popular image with the public, so you’re about to doze off at your table when someone plops into the seat beside you, “happy birthday!” upon recognising his voice you jerk your head up at once, “kaedehara kazuha?!” “y/n l/n?!” he imitates your tone, and you can’t help but beam, “i can’t believe you’re here, i love your music!” “thank you! and it’s wonderful to meet you, mx y/n. but it seems like you aren’t having a good time at your own party,” he raises an eyebrow, “why?” “this party is just for formalities, so it’s super boring,” you sigh, but then you smile, “i’m holding another one tomorrow night just for my friends and i though, if you’d like to come!” “it would be my honour,” kazuha says, “but how about we hype this party up too?” “how?” “i’ll perform onstage right now. a super special love song for y/n l/n’s birthday,” he deepens his voice so it sounds more dramatic, and it makes you laugh, “i get to see kazuha singing live? maybe this birthday isn’t so bad after all.” kazuha lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to it with a wink, “i’m about to make this your best birthday ever.”

✦ KAEYA ALBERICH. [ frostwind swordsman ]

it’s been a while since you last saw kaeya. he’s incredibly elusive, showing up at the most random events when he feels like it, but the tabloids eat it all up and treat him like one of life’s great mysteries. to be honest, even you’re more than a little curious about the man with blue hair and the ability to do as he pleases without a care in the world. “looking for me, sweetheart?” you look beside you with surprise, and you’re met with the icy eye of the one and only kaeya alberich. “awfully arrogant of you to assume that, mr alberich,” you reply smoothly, matching his piercing gaze with one of your own. handing you a glass, he smirks, “call it intuition.” “i didn’t take you for a telepath,” you deadpan, taking it and nodding a thanks. “i wish i was, so i could understand what’s going on in that pretty head of yours,” kaeya drawls, “or even better, your heart.” “moving rather quickly, aren’t we?” you step nearer, and his enigmatic smile deepens, “isn’t that your style?” it seems like kaeya alberich is getting way too ahead of himself, and as the resident flirting monarch, you feel it’s your job to knock him down a few pegs. “no, this is,” and with that, you grab his tie and tug him closer, pressing a featherlight kiss to his cheek before pulling away as if nothing happened. “come find me later if you figure out how to match my style, kaeya,” a catlike smile graces your features and you disappear into the crowd on the ballroom floor, leaving a starstruck and quite possibly lovestruck kaeya behind.

✦ KAMISATO AYATO. [ pillar of fortitude ]

“you seem tense,” the famed model murmurs, tilting his head slightly to face you. his lips brush against the shell of your ear in the process, and you swear you’re about to melt into a puddle as you swallow, “who wouldn’t be, in a pose like this?” you’re pressed up against ayato’s torso, his arms wrapped around your waist with his chin resting on your shoulder, and for some reason the heat of his hands seem to be branding your skin even through the layer of fabric. “true. though with your long list of dating scandals, i expected you to be relaxed about this sort of thing,” he glances at you, and you can hear a note of amusement in his tone. “what’s that supposed to mean?” you roll your eyes, though you can’t help but be pleased that he seems to be aware of your reputation. “nothing in particular. i’m just wondering if i could be added as the latest on the list,” ayato replies teasingly, and your eyes dart to his with barely concealed surprise, “really?” his gaze dips to your lips for a millisecond that seems to last far too long, “yes.” “slow down, pretty boy,” you regain your composure enough to smirk, “how about you start by just giving me your number?” ayato mirrors your expression, mischief glimmering in his irises, “yeah, i can do that.”

✦ SCARAMOUCHE. [ kunikuzushi ]

“you’re planning on going out wearing that?” the disgust in your stylist’s tone is obvious, he’s not even trying to hide how he feels about your outfit. “yeah, what about it? it’s cute!” you spin around, admiring how the skirt flares as you twirl. scaramouche would rather die than admit how cute he actually thinks you look as you show off the outfit, so he settles for scoffing, “cute if you’re going for a ‘just picked this out of the trash’ aesthetic.” “fuck you,” you laugh, “this is from the latest liyue collection!” you never take his insults seriously, and scaramouche has a love-hate relationship with how his comments are like water off a duck’s back for you. on one hand, if he actually did hurt your feelings, he might just collapse, but on the other hand it also feels like you’re always laughing at him. “liyue designers lost their touch last century,” he rolls his eyes and offers you his hand to pull you into your walk-in closet, “c’mon, if you really want to go out, i’ll pick an outfit for you.” “ooh, scara, you should totally come with me! then we can match outfits,” you lean into him, raising your eyebrows suggestively, “we could look like a couple~” scaramouche desperately hopes you don’t see the red blush darkening his cheeks right now or he’d never hear the end of it from you, so he turns away, “fine, i’ll come. only so you don’t look awful if we bump into paparazzi.” you giggle, seeing an opportunity to tease him further, “then it’s a date!” “no it isn’t!”

✦ SHIKANOIN HEIZOU. [ analytical harmony ]

for a bodyguard, shikanoin heizou sure does talk a lot. whether he’s analysing your every interaction for a hint of dishonesty from the other party, or making flirty comments whenever the two of you are alone, he never shuts up. it was your brother's idea to get you a personal guard, and out of all the candidates, he picked the playful one with mischievous olive eyes and a smirk always tugging at his lips – you don't understand why. you're confused until the first time you see him in action, which happens to be at a fashion event where some creep snuck in. in one swift movement, heizou pulls you behind him with a whisper, “i’ll deal with this,” before darting forward and incapacitating the stalker with a few well-placed punches and a final kick to his stomach. after handing off the weirdo to the gawking security personnel, heizou rushes back to you, “are you okay?” “yeah… i just didn’t know you could fight like that.” “well, i wouldn’t be much of a good bodyguard if i couldn’t fight, would i? anyways, you can praise me now,” he strikes a pose as if expecting applause. “don’t let it get to your head, dumbass,” you laugh at his antics, “but you were pretty cool.” “i know,” he smirks, “and now you know i’m good with my hands.” “heizou!”

✦ THOMA. [ protector from afar ]

you’ve never seen the cleaners of your penthouse. sure, you pay them, but you’re almost never at home to see who they actually are and to thank them for their hard work. just your luck that the one time you’re having an awful day and crying at home is the day one of them come in. he walks into the room humming, hands shoved casually into his pockets until he catches sight of you, “huh? wait, mx y/n?! i’m so sorry for intruding, i didn’t realise you were at home.” “it’s fine,” you brush it off, well aware that you look like a total mess right now with your puffy face, “but i’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this.” “of course not!” he blurts out before falling silent again. this has got to be the most awkward moment of your life. someone walked in on you sobbing your eyes out and looking like you just left a horror movie set, and to top it off it's someone you don't even know – it's enough to make you want to burst into tears again, and unfortunately you're currently so emotional that you actually do. “hey, hey, hey, what's going on?” the person from earlier is in front of you in a flash, “do you want to talk about it?” “i don't even know your name!” you manage to hiccup while crying. “oh, right! i'm thoma,” he introduces himself. “it might be easier for you to rant to a stranger, and i can promise you,” he mimes zipping his mouth, “my lips are sealed.” honestly at this point you so desperately need a shoulder to cry on that you'd take anyone, even the incredibly handsome man you met around five minutes ago. so you launch into a huge tirade about your insecurities and problems, and throughout it all thoma listens intently with a straight face, nodding at intervals and offering advice only when you ask – you might just need to marry him after opening up so much and receiving such a good response.

✦ XIAO. [ vigilant yaksha ]

it seems like xiao never talks. it’s not exactly a bad thing, especially since he’s kept his mouth shut about more than a few shady places he’s dropped you off at, but you find yourself wanting to know more about the mysterious driver with the amber eyes. however, you’re greeted with silence whenever you attempt to start a conversation or ramble about your day, and you’re beginning to think you’ll never get to talk to him. until one night, when you stumble into the limousine later than usual reeking of alcohol, clutching your heels in one hand and your bag in the other. xiao’s already surprised enough by how you’ve clambered into the passenger seat rather than the spacious rear lounge, but when you lean over to him and clutch the lapels of his crisp white shirt, he’s pretty sure he’s on the brink of a heart attack. “xiaooo~” you whine, slurring the syllables of his name, “why do you hate me?” he thinks you won’t remember this the next morning, so it should be fine to reply, “i don’t hate you.” “liar! you never want to talk to me!” you pull away, tears brimming in your eyes and threatening to spill down your cheeks. “no, no, no, don’t cry,” xiao doesn’t know how to comfort anyone, but the sight of you crying is something he never wants to see, so he quickly wraps his arm around your shoulder, rubbing circles on your back, “i can’t talk while i’m working, that’s all.” “then… what about after?” you sniffle, “after work?” “yeah!” “i could probably talk then.” “okay, good, because you’re super handsome, and i love your hair, and your eyes, and your face,” your eyes light up, and you tousle his hair, moving to poke his cheek and cup his face with your hands, “and just everything!” xiao’s face is practically a tomato right now, and he tips his hat down to hide his expression, “i like everything about you too.” “yay! then let’s talk after work!” you cheer, sliding back into your seat. “sure, if you remember,” he replies with a soft chuckle while starting the car again. “of course i will! it’s a promise~”

yet another formatting change bye but this is cute i think i'll stick w it :> // general masterlist

© starglitterz 2022. do not repost or modify in any way.

[jinkicake]

no thoughts just running away in a flowy gown through the streets of Italy from don giorno

((((anon... ANON... okay give me like ten minutes to post my other works and then Imma come back and just dump my entire BRAINROT that I have because of this post WAAIIITTT this is so good,,, you’re.... a genius))))

A/N: Okay..... this is so messy, so rough and I can’t believe I wrote 1.6k words in less than an hour BUT... here you are Anon~~~ a little something based off of your message hehehe it’s lowkey yandere :0 (Also... in part five theyre in naples right? LMFAO i can never remember) Anyway I have an early class tmr so I have to cut it short so this is not editied and -again- very messy,,, I will try to fix it later but for now~~~ here is my take on running away from Giorno LOL 

Giorno x Reader

This has lowkey yandere themes... 

WC- 1,637

All you want at this moment is to rip your constricting dress off. The thin, pale blue material is suffocating, every layer tightens around your skin and makes it that much harder to run. You’ll do anything to help you free yourself from Giorno’s clutches. And as of right now, you have your foot in the door. 

At least, you think you do. Unbeknownst to you, the little ladybug necklace adorning your neck has other thoughts. 

It was smart to leave (escape) in the early afternoon, right as your fiancé was in the midst of all of his meetings and when it was most crowded in the streets. You could easily blend in with all the other people, at least until nightfall. 

It has become your mission to get as far away from Naples as you can before the moon starts to rise. You quickly found out that is easier said than done. 

If only the streets weren’t filled with his men, if only every single person who makes eye contact with you wasn’t on his side. 

You knew that the moment Giorno had found out about this, about your betrayal, that there would be dire consequences. Yet again, it was never your intention to allow him to ever find you again. 

Given by your own personal estimation, you had about another five minutes before he was alert of your missing status. The guards stationed at your shared apartment change positions every twenty minutes to ensure that not one of them gets any special amount of time with you. The helicopter gaurds hovering over you were such a pain. Too bad you had already disposed of those on stand, it’ll be a quick affair once everyone notices your lack of presence. 

“Fuck,” You murmur as your flat, clearly not made for running, catches on one of the cracks in the street. Your chest heaves up and down with each breath as you stare at the unfamiliar crowd trying to pick up on any familiar face. A wave of relief washes over you when you realize that you don’t recognize any of them. 

You can do this, you can do this. Start over, somewhere new, somewhere like France or Switzerland. You can escape. 

And you truly believed that, you kept running with all of your might and didn’t stop to look back once. After some time, the streets started to mesh together and it felt as if you had started running around in circles. You didn’t have time to worry about that, not as the sun was setting and the streets were starting to clear up. Any leverage, any chance of escape that you had, would be lost if you did not make it out of Naples. 

Maybe you could find a bus that would take you up to Rome, then up and the hell away from Italy. Maybe a boat would be quicker, a motorcycle? 

All at once, your senses start to close in as you realize that you did not take advantage of your situation. You did not think this through, you saw a chance and you took it. You’ll fight until your last breathe, until Giorno finds you again. There is no way in hell you’re going to let this golden opportunity go to waste. 

But, God, had you fucked up. You fucked up, really bad, but deep in your heart you know it was worth every single second. 

It doesn’t matter how far or how fast you run now. 

The abandoned alleyways tell you everything you need to know, it’s now completely dark outside and late into the night. The streets are cleared, silent, except for the telltale sounds of your shoes lighting pounding into the pavement. 

You tightly bunch your hands up in the sides of your dress before pulling the fabric up and running with all of your might. You should have ditched the dress earlier, it was only ever holding you back but it’s not like you had another change of clothes. 

Giorno always liked you dressed up. 

Almost as if you were his little doll. 

A black car stops suddenly at the end of the street, blocking off the entire road and cutting through the silence with a loud screech of its tires. It’s not enough to intimidate you, you still refuse to give up. 

Almost too quickly you swiftly turn around, hot on your heels ready to run away, right into a broad chest. 

The black suit fills your vision before you can actually see the figure, but you can still feel their presence right away. You’re done for, you’re done for. 

“You ruined your pretty dress,” Giorno’s soft face portrays a frown as his eyebrows furrow in disinterest. His light eyes still hold concern only for you. He reaches his hand up to brush the stray strands of hair from your cheeks and you immediately flinch, taking a step back only to bump into something else.

This time you’re almost too scared to turn around, you would much rather face Giorno than the other figure. An unpleasant huff causes you to shakily glance over your shoulder and face Golden Experience Requiem. It’s staring down at you with betrayal deep in its eyes, hands twitching next to your own.

You couldn’t take the stand on even if you wanted to. 

You try to move, step away, but the stand is much quicker and grabs your biceps to hold you still. Its pants rest heavily in your ears and you don’t even dare to look up at Giorno who has started pacing in front of you. 

You feel so stupid, oh so stupid, the dress is filthy and dirty. Everything is torn at the seams, your shoes are worn down, your hair is flung all over your face, you’re a complete and utter mess. 

It only gets worse when you hear the robotic sounds behind you. Still gutted with betrayal, Golden Experience Requiem utters a single word in his polite tone that matches his user’s. 

“Why?” 

Your eyes slightly widen at this and as a result, the grip on your biceps grows tighter. 

“Why? Why?” The mechanic voice demands and you’re nearly shaking beneath its grip. Now, you know why Giorno is so silent. He never loses his composure in front of you, he is always calm and ahead, always one step in front of you. With his stand, however, he can’t help but express all his feelings as he desires. 

An apology feels heavy on your tongue because you’re not sorry, you have nothing to apologize for. 

“I wanted to go home.” You daringly lift your gaze to look straight at your fiancé, glaring at him as if it could make him disappear. 

“Then let’s, we can discuss the matters of this evening there,” Giorno takes a step toward you, and he is beside you, resting his hand on your shoulder as he waits for you to turn around and follow him. 

Your stubborn eyes, filled with tears, nearly makes him sigh. 

“Please don’t be difficult,” He tries to cup your face but his own stand pulls you tighter into its chest. Golden Experience Requiem has always been so possessive over you and never afraid to show it. Giorno knows that he couldn’t call his stand back even if he tried, not until you were safely in the car. 

“I want to go home.” You repeat, too calmly for your current panicked state. A long, cold arm drapes over your chest and you feel your feet start to rise against the hard road beneath you.

The stand is literally dragging you back to the car with no remorse. 

And stupidly, you make another mistake.

“Not with you,” At this point, you’re sure you won’t make it out of this experience alive. You keep making it worse and worse for yourself as if you can’t help it. 

Giorno stills, and the slight clench of his jaw is enough to have you sprinting back into his car. 

“Then with who?” He asks through his teeth, glaring harshly at the side of your face as you continue to look away from him. It’s not enough for him and he tightly grabs your jaw with his hand to force you to look at him. His fingers dig into your cheeks when you still refuse to look at him. “With who, darling?” 

No air is flowing through your system. You can’t concentrate on anything, not on the stand behind you tugging on your body possessively or your fiancé holding you just as angrily. 

“Myself,” You finally tell him honestly and look up at him, Giorno physically calms down at the sight. 

“I can take you there if it means you will stop acting out,” The offer, the bargain, falls short on your ears and a new frown takes up your face. 

Giorno is taunting you, teasing you.

You know there is no chance in hell he would let you go home, let you visit the place you miss the most. He knows he’ll never get you back if he does. Giorno is just using this to get you back in the car.

He’s done it once before, and this certainly won’t be the last time he does it either. 

“I will bring you there, (Y/N).” He restates and you stubbornly hold your place. “You don’t want to go anymore?” His jaw ticks and you can hear the irritation filling his voice. “It’s so hard to please you,” The tightening grip on your biceps shows his frustration even if he doesn’t physically face you with it. Golden Experience Requiem has you under lock and key, hugging you so tightly that you’re almost gasping for air. “One last chance.”

One last chance to take him up on his pseudo offer, to entertain his twisted fantasy. 

This is your split road, lick your fiancé’s wounds or let the gash grow bigger and bigger. 

Either way, you’ll end up back at his estate, now all that matters is the punishment waiting back for you. 

You can’t find it in yourself to move your legs.