#i love it too!! it can be expensive but it's so so worth it and I use those skills all the time!

[ihavenoideahowtodream]

if you are seeing something telling you how to get rid of something that developed slowly with your aging and generally would take more than 15 mins to reasonably manage in your daily hygiene routine esp if the thing they are telling you will immediately fix your wrinkles, scars, cellulite, yellowed teeth, etc cost more than 20 bucks (usd for me at least) then the only thing ugly in that ad are their words.

You dont go wrinkle free at ~ 35+ cause youve been playing in the sun for decades. Gray hairs happen in your 20s and on. Cellulite is a result of normal body fat retention. It is good you have it too because if you get sick and/or have eating limitations or irritations then your body will start taking nutrients from your muscles and organs. That Spare Tire that you have that means you get jeans two sizes larger than this ad is telling you should have is good to have cause sometimes you get sick and it will take longer for your organs to start shutting down if you are loosing weight from your love handles than the muscles in your legs making it harder to walk. your legs will still get weaker but not be actively depleted so quickly.

white teeth also dont exist. it is something tooth paste companies have come up with to sell you more expensive toothpaste and while for the most part it doesnt damage your teeth it is more abrasive than non whitening toothpaste so if you have bad teeth of some kind or have a diet that can soften your enamel already like regular pop consumption it can damage your teeth more. understandably, there is a sliding scale of teeth yellowing for concern, if your teeth look like a school bus then discussing with your dentist about if you are experiencing gum disease is advisable but the damn tissue test is the same arbitrary scale where there are a million was to be a person incorrectly but theres no ideal person that isnt steeped in classism at best and racism at worst. And if your school bus yellow teeth are declared healthy by your dentist then you dont need to worry about them any more. and just because your teeth are as white as the us congress wont always mean you teeth are healthy either. I have a friend who is neurotic about brushing their teeth and have been for the full decade ive known them who was told they have reversible but mild gum disease. contrasted to my adhd ass who brushed my teeth once a week maybe till i finally put my toothbrush in my shower 6 mo ago. I had a singular mild cavity when i went to the dentist for the first time in 15 years last year.

the concept also that you have to pay a bunch of money otc to be "beautiful" is an obvious indicator of scams. Olay's anti wrinkle creams they sell for upwards of $50 (usd) and other brands being almost $200? thats just evil. wrinkles are fine. and we dont have to call them beautiful, or sexy, or signs of wisdom. cause they may or may not be for what ever reason. That kind of language is still commodifying an individual's body as the indicator of their moral worth. Like i genuinely hate the 2025 US president and have always found the jokes about his orange skin amusing. however, the fact that americans first and primary dig at a person they dislike, for what ever reason, is their skin color that whether manufactured or not it is unchangeable by the viewer and by the viewed at the time of the insult displays our idea that association of physical features and moral depravity can walk hand in hand.

the most basic levels of presentability are quite simple: keep your hair tagle free to the limitations of your hair type and use protective hair styles and wraps if it makes sense for you. dont have obvious smudges of dirt or such on face, hands, and clothing. general anti odor hygiene like a form of deodorant or a mint after spicy food. keep nails trimmed and clean. and have clothing on that you obviously feel comfort in- for some this is sweat pants and a hoodie with crocks, others a cocktail dress or suit and leather dress shoes, or like myself tight pants for compression pain management and coordinated colors for my own visual comfort when looking in a mirror and boots with ankle support that are at least mid calf high so i dont have to bend as far to tie them assuming they arent slip on. and the clothes also lacking smells like a cat pee odor.

and like this is baseline presentability for going out with friends, interacting with someone professionally, going on a date, or some other equivalent.

Make up (including foux and uv tanning), nail polish, hair dying and time consuming at home styling, impractical shoes, jewelry, designer clothes and accessories, and other things marketed as necessary for you to be the best and most attractive version of who you are exist for fun and should be enjoyed as games. however, participation in these things should be respected as much as the general presentability practices.

someone in designer clothes with styled naturally voluminous curly hair with makeup that had a bill with 4 digits on the receipt and someone who looks like they woke up in a ditch after a three day bachelor party they only remember the first 20 mins of have the exact same value and deserve the exact same respect no matter where they are.

beauty ads have the same message across the board:

you must buy your value and we decide if you bought it correctly.

their determination is always gonna be that you did not buy your value correctly so buy this other thing in the hopes we decide youve bought value correctly. and they never say you bought your value to their satisfaction so that you keep buying from them

beauty ads will kill you if you let them.

companies make billions from you thinking you're ugly btw. only ugly thing is their bottom line. log out of tiktok right now.

[luvvcho]

❅・WHISPER OF THE HEART

SYNOPSIS — The three times he tries to tell you, and the one time he actually does.

WC — (4k)

CONTENT: SFW, suggestiveness, angst , hurt/comfort, family issues/neglect, unrequited love (or so they think), alcohol/being drunk, self-worth issues/insecurity, mild jealousy, late-night drives & emotional talks, emotional repression, gojo deserves sleep but never gets it™, soft!gojo but he’s suffering in silence, gojo is really down bad.

a/n: highkey wrote this half asleep... but anyway i finished this faster than i thought! comment if you wanna be added to the taglist (just found out what this is lol) for this series :p m. list | < prev | next >

Somewhere near Tokyo, Japan 2009

Gojo lets the steering wheel glide through his fingers before tightening his grip on the expensive leather again. His palms are sweaty, his knuckles white, and the three hours of sleep he got the night before are finally catching up to him, creeping into the edges of his vision like static.

The plan for tonight had been simple: finish up paperwork at his father’s company, where he had been offered forced to start training straight out of high school. Then, he’d head home, maybe work out, maybe waste time bothering Suguru over the phone before eventually crashing. A mindless, predictable routine.

Instead, he finds himself almost an hour outside of Tokyo, in the middle of god knows where.

His foot eases off the gas slightly as he glances around, taking in the unfamiliar roads lined with trees and dim streetlights, their glow barely enough to cut through the darkness. The city was nowhere in sight. There were no high-rises, no neon billboards, no distant hum of traffic. Just the low rumble of his own engine and the occasional flicker of headlights from a passing car.

He exhales sharply, rubbing at his tired eyes with one hand while keeping the other steady on the wheel.

What the hell was he even doing out here?

The truth settles in his chest, heavy and uncomfortable. He didn’t want to drive this far. He didn’t want to end up here at all. But somehow, without thinking, he had ended up exactly where he always does when everything feels too much— wherever you are. Gojo got the call just as he was wrapping up work. You were drunk. Alone. Over an hour away from the city at some stupid college party in an abandoned warehouse.

He was exhausted. Three hours of sleep deep into a week where everything felt like too much. His head hurt from staring at contracts and numbers he didn’t care about, and honestly, the only thing getting him through the evening had been the promise of leftover Chinese food waiting for him in his fridge.

But when you called, he came. Right?

Even if his body screamed at him to go home. Even if he knew he shouldn’t always make it this easy for you. Even if the rational part of his brain told him that one day, this whole thing, his stupid highschool crush that never seemed to go away, was going to wreck him.

Still, he grabbed his keys, got in his car, and drove.

And now, almost an hour outside of Tokyo, in the middle of god-knows-where, he’s gripping the wheel with sweaty palms and trying not to let exhaustion drag him under.

He should be annoyed. Wants to be annoyed.

But all he can think about is you waiting, unsteady, needing him. And that, somehow, is enough to keep his foot pressed firm against the gas.

As he rounds the corner onto a dimly lit street, he hears it before he sees it. The deep bass of the music rattling the ground beneath his feet, the drunken laughter and shouts of students spilling out into the night.

His jaw tightens as he follows the noise, pulling up outside the warehouse. A mess of people lingers near the entrance, bodies swaying in a haze of alcohol and cigarette smoke. The place reeks of bad decisions and even worse company. And then he sees you.

You’re sitting on the curb, a little hunched over, your arms wrapped loosely around your knees. The party continues on behind you, people laughing, stumbling, yelling. But you’re separate from all of it.

For a second, relief washes over him. You’re safe. You’re not lost in that chaotic mess of bodies, not pressed against some guy who doesn’t know when to back off. You’re here. He exhales, tension leaving his shoulders. But then you look up.

Your tear-stained eyes meet his, mascara smudged at the corners, eyeliner streaking down your cheeks.

He steps out, shutting the door behind him, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he strolls over with a smirk. “Hey, gorgeous.”

You blink sluggishly at him before a slow, sleepy smile spreads across your lips. “Hi…” you mumble, then suddenly, as if remembering something, you groan and cover your face. “Don’t look at me. I’m not gorgeous right now.”

Gojo huffs out a laugh, crouching in front of you. “Bit late for that.”

You peek through your fingers, pout deepening. “Y’always see me like this.”

“Like what?” He tilts his head, playing dumb.

“Pathetic.”

Before he can respond, you push yourself to your feet. Not steadily, not gracefully, but you manage. Sort of? You take one step forward, then another, before your balance wavers.

Gojo moves to catch you, but you beat him to it, stumbling straight into him, arms wrapping lazily around his middle.

He stiffens for half a second.

Because shit.

Your dress clings to you, thin and weightless, like it was made to drive him insane. Not because he’s just noticing, but because he’s spent the last four years trying not to. But now, with you pressed up against him, with your warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt, with the scent of whatever sweet perfume you’re wearing clouding his already exhausted brain.

God.

You sigh against his chest, voice muffled. “Can’t believe you actually came.”

Gojo blinks. Focuses. Ignores the way his hands instinctively settle at your waist. “Yeah, well,” he says, clearing his throat, “I am at your beck and call”

You lean back just enough to look up at him, blinking slowly like it takes effort.

“Alright, princess,” he says, “Think you can walk the rest of the way, or am I carrying you?”

You scoff, swaying slightly. “I can walk.”

“Right. Cuz that little show just now was real convincing.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then take one defiant step forward before immediately tripping over… nothing??

Gojo catches your wrist with ease, smirking.

And despite your protests, you let him guide you, his fingers firm and steady around yours. He opens the car door, steadying you as you lower yourself into the back seat. You move sluggishly, like even the smallest effort is too much, and he frowns as he reaches over to buckle you in. Your purse gets placed beside you before he shuts the door and circles around to his side, slipping into the driver’s seat with a sigh.

The engine hums to life, but for a second, he doesn’t move.

His gaze lingers on you through the rearview mirror. You’re curled up against the window, lashes heavy, lips slightly parted, your breath fogging up the glass. His fingers flex against the steering wheel, something unspoken settling in his chest before he shakes it off and shifts the car into reverse, backing away from the warehouse.

You’ve never been like this before.

Sure, he’s seen you tipsy; laughing a little louder, cheeks pink with warmth, words spilling out without a filter. But this? This is different. This is the first time you’ve ever let yourself fall this far.

The GPS screen glows softly as he punches in your address, the familiar route flashing across the screen. – ETA: 1:03

He exhales, rolling his shoulders as he glances at you again.

“Don’t throw up in my car, please.”

You hum in response, eyes barely cracking open. “M’not gonna,” you mumble, but your voice wobbles, breaking slightly at the end.

He sighs, shaking his head. “Just… if you do feel sick, tell me, alright?”

You mumble something incoherent, and he decides to take it as a yes.

The road stretches out ahead of him, empty and quiet. He tightens his grip on the wheel, keeping his eyes forward.

Because if he looks at you too long, if he lets himself really think about how easily you trust him, how you always call him when you need someone, he’s going to lose the battle he’s been fighting for years.

“So,” he says, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the car. “We gonna talk about why you’ve been crying?”

You shift against the seat, barely opening your eyes. “Can’t,” you mumble. “Too embarrassing.”

Gojo snorts. “C’mon. I’ve known you since we were fourteen. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you do worse.”

You hum, considering it, as the car smoothly merges onto the highway. The dim lights shrink behind you, fading into the distance, leaving only the soft glow of passing streetlights and the rhythmic sound of tires against pavement.

For a while, you don’t say anything, and Gojo doesn’t push. He just lets the silence stretch, waiting.

“Remember that guy I told you about?”

He gulps. “The one in your language seminar?”

“Yeah.” He already doesn’t like where this is going.

You continue, voice softer now, like saying it out loud makes it more real. “He was there tonight. He invited me, actually.”

Gojo’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel, knuckles paling.

“I thought maybe… I dunno.” Your voice is slightly more steady now. “I thought something was there between us.”

His jaw clenches. His grip on the wheel tightens. He doesn’t want to ask, but he does anyway. “And?”

Your breath hitches slightly, and when you speak again, your voice is quieter. “And I tried to kiss him.”

Gojo freezes, his gaze flickering back to you in the mirror.

His heart stalls for half a second before it kicks back in, pounding hard against his ribs. He swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

You keep going, oblivious to the way his grip on the steering wheel turns bone-white.

“But he pulled away,” you admit. “Said he doesn’t… doesn’t like kissing.” You scoff, shaking your head. “And I believed him. I told him it was fine, that we could still be friends.”

Gojo exhales slowly through his nose, forcing his expression to stay neutral. Fucking idiot, he thinks.

He should say something. He wants to say something. But you’re still talking.

“He said he’d be back. Told me to wait.” Your voice wavers, and he knows what’s coming before you even say it.

“He never came back,” you slur. “So I went looking for him.”

He doesn’t realize how hard he’s pressing the gas pedal until the speedometer ticks a little higher than it should. He forces himself to ease off, fingers aching from how tight he’s gripping the wheel.

“And?” he asks, voice low, strained.

You let out a small, bitter laugh. “Found him making out with some girl in the back.”

Silence.

Gojo breathes in slow, exhales through his nose. He should say something, anything. He should tell you that guy’s a fucking idiot, tell you that you deserve better, tell you that you should’ve never wasted your time on him.

Instead, what comes out is:

“What a dumbass.”

You hum in agreement, but it’s empty, hollow. “Guess I should’ve seen it coming.”

Gojo risks a glance in the rearview mirror. You’re staring out the window, fingers absently picking at the hem of your dress, your shoulders curled inward like you’re trying to disappear.

And fuck.

He hates this. Hates that he wasn’t there to stop it from happening, hates that he has to sit here and listen to you talk about someone else like this. Hates that you kissed him (or tried to). Hates that some guy got to have that moment, got to see the way you look just before a kiss, got to be the one you wanted tonight, even just for a second.

Most of all, he hates that you’re hurting, and he can’t do a damn thing about it.

His throat tightens, his chest burning, aching, twisting in ways he doesn’t know how to fix.

He should’ve been the one. “Toru.”

Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, sharp but fragile, like you’re barely holding yourself together.

His heart lurches at the sound. Because it’s you, because it’s the nickname only you call him.

But then you sigh, pressing your forehead against the cold window. “You’re a guy, right?”

Gojo snorts, the tension in his chest easing just enough for him to fall back into his usual teasing. “Last I checked.”

“Then tell me.” Your voice is quieter now, almost hesitant. You shift slightly, facing him from the back seat, eyes hazy but still searching. “What’s wrong with me?”

“What?”

You let out a breathy, humorless laugh. “Why has no one ever liked me?”

His throat goes dry.

“Not once,” you continue. “No guys in high school ever asked me out. The ones I liked never liked me back. And now this?” You gesture vaguely, frustration laced in your voice. “I just don’t get it. What is it about me that’s so… unloveable?”

Gojo’s entire body locks up.

Because.. are you serious?

You, who he has spent the last four years trying not to love too much, not to touch too long, not to stare at like you hung the damn moon— you actually think that?

His fingers tighten so hard around the wheel he thinks he might snap it in half.

“What kind of dumbass logic is that?” he mutters.

You frown, shoulders curling inward. “It’s not dumbass logic, Satoru, it’s just—”

“No,” he cuts you off, voice sharper than he intended. His jaw clenches as he forces himself to take a breath. “You don’t get to say that.”

Your lips press together, confused, vulnerable in a way that makes his chest ache.

Gojo doesn’t know how to do this. He doesn’t know how to tell you the truth without telling you. So he exhales, trying to steady himself, trying to be careful with the words he chooses next.

“You ever think,” he starts, voice quieter now, steadier, gentler, “that maybe it’s not you that’s the problem?”

You blink at him through the mirror. “Then what is it?”

Gojo grips the wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white.

It’s not that no one likes you, he wants to say. You just keep liking the wrong guy.

But instead, he exhales, rolling his shoulders like he can shake the weight off. Keeps his gaze fixed on the road. Forces a smirk.

“I dunno,” he lies, voice light, easy. “Maybe guys are just fucking stupid.”

You huff out a small laugh, but it’s tired, empty. “Guess so.”

And Gojo doesn’t say anything else. Because if he does, if he so much as breathes the wrong way, he’s afraid the words he’s been swallowing for four years might just slip out.

“It’s just…” You hesitate, fingers curling in your lap. “No, never mind.”

Gojo sighs, glancing at you through the mirror. “Nope. Not letting you do that. Tell me.”

You exhale, rolling your head against the window, staring out at the passing lights. “You wouldn’t get it,” you mumble. “You’ve had a girlfriend before. Everyone I know has been in a relationship at least once.”

He flinches at the reminder. The girl he dated in senior year (if you could even call it that). A little over a month, barely anything. He never liked her much, never felt the way he should have. Maybe because no matter how hard he tried, she wasn’t you.

“I just don’t know why I can’t get anyone to like me,” you admit, voice quieter now, like you’re talking more to yourself than to him. “Like, what am I doing wrong?”

Gojo exhales, staring at the road ahead. And before he can stop himself, before he can think better of it—

“You know I love you, right?”

Silence. Then, a small, sleepy smile tugs at your lips.

“I love you too,” you murmur. “You’re my best friend.”

He forces himself to chuckle, to keep his voice light. “Your bestest friend.”

You hum in agreement, stretching slightly before slumping deeper into the seat. A second passes, then another, and when Gojo glances at the mirror again, your eyes are drooping, lashes fluttering against your cheeks.

He waits for you to say something else, but instead, you sigh, shifting until your head rests against the window.

“…What were we talking about again?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep.

“Nothing important,” Gojo lets out a small, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Go to sleep, princess, I’ll wake you up when we’re home.”

You hum once more, barely conscious now, and within seconds, your breathing evens out.

It’s a little past one when Gojo pulls up in front of your apartment building. The streets are quiet now, the world settled into a lull, save for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional flicker of a passing car.

He shifts the car into park and exhales, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. You’re curled up against the window, lips slightly parted, face relaxed in the soft glow of the streetlights. Peaceful. Innocent. Completely unaware of the way he’s been drowning in his own thoughts for the past hour.

Gojo drums his fingers against the steering wheel before turning in his seat, reaching back to nudge your shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, voice softer than usual. “We’re here.” 

You stir slightly but don’t wake.

He tries again, fingers brushing against your cheek this time. “C’mon, I know you’re tired, but I’m not carrying you all the way upstairs.”

You groan, turning away from him, burrowing deeper into the seat.

He huffs, shaking his head with a smirk before unbuckling your seatbelt for you. “Alright, princess, up you go.”

Reluctantly, you blink your eyes open, slow and sluggish. “Wha’ time is it?” you mumble.

“Too late for you to still be passed out in my car,” he teases. “Let’s go.”

You manage to get out, swaying slightly the moment your feet hit the pavement. Without thinking, Gojo’s hand finds the small of your back, steadying you before you can tip over completely.

“Yeah, no,” he mutters, tightening his grip. “You’re gonna break something if I let you go up alone.”

You don’t argue, just let him guide you into the building, down the quiet hallway to your apartment. When you finally reach your door, you fumble for your keys, missing the lock twice before Gojo sighs and takes them from your hand, slotting the key in effortlessly.

You step inside, blinking sleepily, and Gojo lingers at the threshold.

“You got it from here?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

You pause, looking over your shoulder at him. “Wait for me?”

His brows lift slightly. “You sure you don’t just want to pass out in your dress?”

You glare at him, well, as much as you can in your drunken haze, before kicking off your shoes and stumbling toward your closet. “Give me five minutes,” you mumble, already pulling out a set of pajamas.

Gojo sighs but steps inside, leaning against the wall just outside your bedroom door as you disappear inside. He hears the soft rustling of fabric, the muffled sounds of you grumbling under your breath, the faint thud of something hitting the floor.

A few minutes later, you shuffle back out, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, eyes barely open.

He pushes off the wall, stepping toward you. “Alright, come on, let’s get you to bed.”

He leads you to the edge of your mattress. You sit down, and before you can do much else, he’s tugging the blankets over you, tucking you in with practiced ease.

Just as he turns to leave, your fingers weakly grab at his sleeve.

“Toru,” you mumble, voice barely above a whisper.

He stills, glancing down at you. “Yeah?”

You blink up at him, cheeks slightly flushed, though he can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or exhaustion. “Forgot to take my makeup off.”

Gojo exhales a small laugh, shaking his head. “Of course you did.”

He leaves for a moment, disappearing into your bathroom before returning with a makeup wipe. He kneels beside your bed, pulling you up slightly to sit, and tilts your chin with a gentle touch.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs.

You obey without question, too tired to protest. His fingers brush against your cheek as he wipes away the remnants of mascara and foundation, careful, steady. He’s never done this before, but somehow, he knows exactly how to be gentle with you.

He watches as the tension in your face fades, as your breathing evens out under his touch. He lingers, just for a second longer than necessary, before finally tossing the wipe aside.

“There,” he mutters. “All clean.”

Your eyes flutter open slightly, a lazy, sleepy smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Toru.”

He swallows, something warm and aching curling in his chest.

“…Yeah,” he says, voice quieter now. “Anytime.”

He stands to leave, but your fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Stay?” you ask softly. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

Gojo exhales, rubbing a tired hand over his face. For a second, he hesitates, then, he drops onto the floor beside your bed. “Yeah, okay,” he murmurs. “Go to sleep.”

And for the first time all night, you listen to him.

The next morning, you wake up to a dull, throbbing headache and the faint taste of regret lingering on your tongue. The room is dim, soft morning light barely filtering through the curtains, and for a moment, everything feels disoriented. Until you shift slightly and feel the warmth of a blanket tucked snugly around you.

Blinking against the ache behind your eyes, you turn your head and freeze.

Gojo is asleep on the floor, his long limbs sprawled out awkwardly, his head resting at the foot of your bed. His white hair is tousled, one arm draped lazily over his face, and his breathing is slow, even, completely at peace.

Your heart clenches, but before you can process why, a particularly sharp pang of pain shoots through your skull, and you let out a quiet groan.

At the sound, Gojo stirs, blinking blearily up at you before stretching with a lazy yawn. “Morning, sunshine,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. “How’s the hangover?”

“Terrible,” you croak, burying your face into your pillow. “Why are you on the floor?”

Gojo pushes himself up with a groan, rolling his shoulders. “Because someone wouldn’t let me leave,” he teases, ruffling his hair. “Which, by the way, you owe me for. My back is killing me.”

You groan again, rolling onto your side to look at him properly. “Ugh. Please tell me I didn’t do anything too embarrassing last night.”

Gojo pauses for half a second.

He remembers it all. The way you clung to him outside the party, the way you called yourself unloveable, the way you looked up at him through tired, glossy eyes and told him you loved him— as a friend.

But you don’t remember.

And for the first time in his life, Gojo is glad you don’t.

“Nah,” he lies smoothly, standing up and stretching. “You were a total angel.”

You squint at him. “You’re lying.”

He grins. “Guess you’ll never know.”

You groan, flopping dramatically back onto your pillows. “You’re the worst.”

Gojo snorts. “And yet, I’m the one getting you water and headache meds.”

That catches your attention. You peek up at him, skeptical. “You’re actually taking care of me?”

He places a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “What, like I wouldn’t?”

You narrow your eyes. “I feel like this is a trap.”

He laughs, already making his way to the kitchen. “Shut up and let me be a good friend for once.”

A few minutes later, he returns with a glass of water and a couple of pills, setting them down on your nightstand. You mumble a half-hearted thanks before sitting up, wincing as you swallow them down.

Gojo watches, hands on his hips, then huffs dramatically. “Alright, move over.”

You blink at him. “Huh?”

He gestures toward the bed. “Move. I spent the night on the floor like a peasant. I’m reclaiming my dignity.”

You laugh, groggy but amused, before shuffling over to make space. “Fine, but if you kick me in your sleep, I’m shoving you off.”

Gojo flops onto the mattress beside you with a relieved sigh, settling into your pillows like he belongs there. “Please, I am an excellent bedmate.”

You roll your eyes but don’t protest when he drapes an arm over his face, already half-asleep again.

And as your headache fades and sleep starts to pull you under again, you don’t think too much about how comfortable this feels.

But Gojo does. And he wonders how much longer he can pretend this is enough.

pls do not copy, repost, or claim my work as your own :) if you have any issues with what i wrote or noticed any mistakes, let me know privately. thank you for reading <3

[gingerteafairy]

THE GREAT GUIDE FOR JAILBIRDS IN LOVE

warren lipka x fem!reader part one here

summary: Warren weren't that prepared for the silly little thing called love, learing that, sometimes, you really need to fight for it (literally).

tags n warnings: highly suggestive (can be categorized as smut, but it's too small for that), language, fights, blood, angst, some sensitive topics. word count: 13k

Rule #5: Appearances Can Be Deceiving

Warren adjusted his tie around his neck once more, huffing as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He absolutely hated this. Ties, polished shoes, neatly pressed shirts... If it were up to him, he would’ve shown up in ripped jeans and an old t-shirt. Or better yet, naked—if that weren’t illegal. But there he was, in a freshly ironed blazer and expensive cologne.

And why?

Because of you.

You, who made him spend beyond his budget on a small bottle of sophisticated perfume. You, who convinced him to actually wash his hair, tying it back into a decent ponytail. You, who made him use the fancy deodorant he reserved for special occasions. His shaved face, smooth as a baby’s skin. You, who made every bit of effort feel worth it.

“Yeah. Okay.” Warren took a deep breath, snapped his fingers, and lightly slapped his own face. “Oh, almost forgot.”

He rushed out of the room, the sound of his shoes echoing as he hurried to the living room. On the table, a narrow vase held a bouquet of red tulips, a folded note tucked between the petals. His name, written in his messy handwriting, made a smile involuntarily tug at his lips. He picked up the flowers gently, inhaling their scent, blinking a few times as if it brought him back to reality.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

He left an hour early, driving with an uncommon focus, determined that nothing—traffic, long traffic lights, or bad luck—would ruin this evening.

A familiar tune started playing on the radio, and without thinking, he began singing along.

“Close your eyes, give me your haaaand… Do you feel my heart beating? Do you understaaaaand?”

He was so caught up in the excitement that he didn’t even notice the strange look from a man in the car next to him, stopped at the red light. When he did, Warren furrowed his brow and slapped the side of his own car.

“What’s your problem?”

The man frowned, rolled up his window, and drove off when the light turned green.

“Coward.” Warren rolled his eyes and kept singing, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “Am I only dreaming aaaaa… It’s eternal flaaaame.”

The tires slid smoothly along the road until, finally, his house came into view. Warren took a deep breath, turned off the radio, and replaced it with the CD he’d burned earlier that afternoon—but decided to keep it silent.

Before getting out of the car, he glanced in the rearview mirror. He ran a hand through his hair, made sure his beard was still in place, adjusted his collar, and cracked his neck to release the tension.

“It’s going to be fine.” He whispered to himself.

Then, he stepped out before his nerves could talk him into turning back.

He walked with determined steps to the door, straightening his posture. When the door opened, the sight in front of him stole all the air from his lungs.

You looked stunning.

The silk dress hugged your curves just right, elegant without being over the top. Your makeup accentuated every contour of your face, the sparkle in your eyes, the soft lipstick. Every detail contributed to the perfect image that Warren couldn’t stop admiring.

“My God…” He swallowed hard, blinking several times, making sure he wasn’t dreaming. “You’re…”

The word vanished from his throat.

“You’re… amazing.”

You smiled, blushing slightly as you adjusted the strap of your dress.

“Thank you.”

Warren blinked, as if returning to reality, and quickly extended the bouquet toward you.

“Oh! These are for you.”

“For me?” Your smile widened as you took the flowers, examining them with affection.

“I hope you like them…” He murmured, a little shy, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to hold back the grin that kept wanting to break free. You grabbed the small note tucked between the flowers, your name written on it in his handwriting.

“Hey, don’t open it yet.” Warren’s voice came out hurriedly, and he gestured with his hands as if trying to stop your movement in midair. “Wait until I leave, please.”

“Why?” You raised an eyebrow, pretending to open it.

“No… it’s just…” He took a deep breath, shoved his hands in his pockets, and stared at the ground. “I’m embarrassed, that’s all.”

You laughed softly.

“You’re not embarrassed to kiss me in front of my house, but you’re shy about a little note?”

“It’s different, okay?” He grumbled, looking at you from under his lashes. “So… shall we go?”

You nodded, closing the door behind you. He extended his arm, and you slipped yours around his as you both walked to the car.

When they arrived, he opened the passenger door for you, tilting his head slightly in a chivalrous gesture.

“Wow, such a gentleman.” You teased as you got into the car.

“I always do this.” He rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue before walking around the car and sitting in the driver’s seat.

He turned the key in the ignition, and before starting the engine, he looked at you with a mischievous grin.

“Did I ever tell you that you're the most beautiful thing in the world?”

Your face flushed, and an enormous smile spread across your face before you could even reply.

“No.”

“Well, let me tell you now. You look absolutely wonderful tonight.” He flirted shamelessly, not taking his eyes off you as he pressed the button on the radio.

The soft intro of Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton began to play.

You widened your eyes, surprised by the coincidence.

“No way, Warren.” You laughed, bringing a hand to your face. “Oh my God!”

“Casablanca, my dear.” He winked and started the car.

The music filled the car’s interior, and you let yourself sway gently to the rhythm of the melody. Warren, at the wheel, hummed along, occasionally pulling faces and pretending to play air guitar, making you laugh every time.

The CD playing was made specially for tonight. Warren had burned it earlier that afternoon, carefully selecting each track, though you might never know that little detail.

Or maybe, in a few years, he would tell you.

But not now.

Now, he just wanted to enjoy every second of this moment by your side.

The venue was packed, and that was clear as soon as they pulled into the parking lot. Cars lined every available space, and an excited buzz could be heard coming from inside the club, as if the very air was charged with festive energy.

Warren parked and, before even turning off the engine, he turned to you with a soft smile.

“Ready?”

You nodded, adjusting your dress over your legs.

He got out of the car and walked around to your side, opening the door with a gentleman’s flourish. He extended his hand to you, firm and steady, his fingers warm against the cool night air. You took his hand, letting him help you out with grace, avoiding any misstep in your high heels.

Warren didn’t immediately let go of your hand. He kept his fingers intertwined with yours as you walked toward the club’s entrance. The red carpet led up to the main door, where a tall, serious-looking security guard stood waiting to check invitations.

He handed over the passes, and without delay, the security guard allowed them through. Once inside, a subtle mix of floral scents and fresh food enveloped you both. The hall was beautifully decorated, with sparkling chandeliers casting golden light across the room. There were snack tables strategically placed, while waiters moved around offering glasses of champagne. Background music played softly, blending with the hum of lively conversations.

Warren leaned in slightly toward your ear, his voice low but laced with genuine concern.

“Are you comfortable with all this?”

The warmth of his breath brushed your skin, sending a slight shiver through you.

“Yeah… it’s fine.” You reassured him, glancing around. Some familiar faces appeared, while others were just blurred figures in the crowd.

He didn’t seem entirely convinced. His hand gently slid to your bare back, the tips of his fingers caressing you softly, discreetly.

“If you want to leave, you know you can tell me.” The firmness in his voice was comforting, like a silent promise.

“Thank you, Warren.” You smiled, biting your lip lightly as you felt his almost protective touch.

His response came in the form of a gesture: his hand slid to your waist, fingers tightening slightly, as if reaffirming that he was there for whatever you needed.

“Hey, sweetheart! How are you?”

The sweet yet vibrant voice made you turn. A well-dressed older woman approached with a warm smile, the gleam in her eyes revealing genuine affection.

“Mrs. Beavers!” You exclaimed, opening your arms to welcome the woman's gentle embrace. “How are you? It’s been such a long time.”

Warren took a subtle step back, observing the interaction with curiosity.

“I’m doing great, darling.” Elizabeth Beavers pulled away slightly, holding your hands with warmth. “You look radiant tonight. More beautiful than the crystals in these chandeliers, and trust me, we paid a fortune for those.”

You smiled, feeling your face warm at the compliment. “Thank you. And you, Mrs. Beavers—you're still pure luxury and elegance.”

Elizabeth laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“You’re quite the charmer.” She teased, giving your hand a light, affectionate pat. “But call me Elizabeth, you know I feel ancient when you call me Mrs.”

She then shifted her attention to Warren, appraising him with a long, discerning gaze.

“And who’s this handsome young man by your side? Your boyfriend?”

Warren, who had been silently observing until now, straightened up and extended his hand casually.

“Warren Lipka.” He said with a half-smile, sensing that Mrs. Beavers posed no threat.

“An exotic name for such a charming man.” Elizabeth quipped, winking her green eyes. You wondered how someone as sweet as her had ended up with a son like Daniel. They didn’t even seem related, much less mother and child. “And where’s Luke? He must be growing up fast.”

“At a friend’s house. They’re playing camping.” You responded, watching Elizabeth nod in approval.

“How wonderful.” She smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You should swing by my place to pick up your gift later; I’ve got a little surprise for you, too.”

You laughed, already imagining what it could be.

“My dear boy,” Elizabeth continued, turning her attention back to Warren with a fond look. “Did you know this lovely lady was the most beautiful girl in school when she was 17?”

“Really?” Warren raised an eyebrow, a smile beginning to form on his lips. His hand returned to your waist, pulling you gently closer.

“Yes! The prettiest of them all.” Elizabeth sighed dramatically, fanning herself with a lace handkerchief. “And when I saw how sweet she was… Oh my, I nearly disinherited the useless Daniel just to have her as my daughter.”

Warren chuckled, enjoying the conversation more and more.

“And it looks like her little party girl is all dull and dreary,” Elizabeth added, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, Elizabeth, you’re being harsh.” You teased, laughing as you leaned in closer to Warren, settling against him in a side hug.

“My dear, she’s awful, dreadful.” Elizabeth shot a conspiratorial look. “If she ever dreamt Daniel had a kid with someone else, I’m sure she’d cancel the wedding.”

Warren, who had just been following the conversation up until now, furrowed his brow in confusion and made a vague gesture with his hand.

“Wait… she doesn’t know that they…?”

“Of course not, darling.” Elizabeth made a face of boredom. “You think he’s going to tell that airhead he had a life before her? Not a chance!”

Warren turned slightly to face you, leaning in to murmur in your ear.“Can I go beat him up now?”

You laughed, covering your mouth to stifle the sound.“No.” You whispered back, trying to hold back your laughter before returning to the conversation.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe it’s really you!”

The excited voice made you turn instantly, only to be pulled into a tight embrace. The familiar scent of floral perfume surrounded you, and even before seeing her face, you already knew who it was.

“Claire! Oh my God, it’s been forever!”

The hug was strong, almost overwhelming, but completely filled with affection. Claire pulled away just enough to hold your arms, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she took in your appearance from head to toe.

“You look stunning!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands excitedly before casting a playful glance to the side. “And who’s this, huh?”

The mischievous tone made you smile even before you could respond.

“This is Warren. He’s with me tonight.”

Warren gave a small nod, his eyes quickly scanning Claire before returning his gaze to you.

“Hmmm, bad boy vibe.” She teased, laughing, and you had to hold back a laugh too. After all, he was a bad boy, in a way.

“I get a little crazy with this, you know.” You said, winking at Warren before turning your attention back to Claire.

Before Claire could reply, Elizabeth rejoined the conversation, hooking her arm around Claire’s with a motherly smile.

“Claire, darling. We were just talking about Honey.”

The expression on Claire’s face shifted instantly, the laughter vanishing as pure disdain filled her gaze.

“That one’s even dumber than Dan.” She spat, tossing her long blonde hair back with an exaggerated motion. “The bitch said I use hydrogen peroxide to lighten my hair. Well, she’s the one who needs it to clean her rotten soul.”

“Claire!” Elizabeth scolded, furrowing her brows.

“Oh, Mom, stop. I know you were saying the worst things about that air head.” Claire crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow.

Elizabeth sighed, rolling her eyes with amusement.

“Anyway, folks. I’ve gotta go. My boy’s waiting for me. My hot nerd is finally on my hands” Claire said, sending you one last knowing look.

“Tell me all the details later.” You teased, laughing.

“The normal ones or the hot ones?” She shot back, grinning slyly. “You know I can't stop talking about my love life, sunshine. You’re the only one who can match my freak.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing, and Claire blew a kiss before disappearing into the crowd.

“But Warren,” Elizabeth turned back to him with a playful tone, “If there’s one thing time has done for this girl, it’s made her even more beautiful.”

She pointed to you, a mischievous smile curling on her lips.

Warren looked at you for a moment longer than necessary, as if absorbing every detail of your face before responding.

“You seem like a good man.” Elizabeth continued, her eyes evaluating him. “Can I rest easy?”

He let out a short laugh, tilting his head slightly. “If it’s up to me, you can sleep soundly.”

“Brilliant.” Elizabeth smiled, clearly pleased with his response. “Now, excuse me, I need to speak with Denver.”

She kissed you quickly on the cheek before heading to a nearby table where an elegant man waited.

Warren followed her movement, and upon seeing her greet the man with a kiss on the lips, he furrowed his brow.

“Oh… that’s Denver.” His curious gaze landed on you. “Don’t you think old couples kissing is kinda gross in a cute way?”

You simply smiled, watching them together. “Thirty years married. Can you believe it?”

Warren whistled lowly, shaking his head. “Seems almost unreal.” He mused, then turned his attention back to you. “Where do you want to sit?”

You scanned the room for a moment before pointing to a table further away from the bustle.

“Hmmm… how about over there?”

“Perfect.”

His smile was genuine before he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your forehead. That simple gesture made your chest warm.

When you reached the table, Warren pulled a chair out for you, ensuring you were comfortable before gently pushing it back in place.

“Would you like a drink?” He asked, already scanning the room for the bar.

“Sure. Whatever they have. I trust your judgment.”

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“That’s dangerous.”

You just laughed and shook your head, watching him walk away toward the bar. While you waited, you couldn’t help but watch Warren for a few seconds, admiring the way he walked with such confidence. His hair perfectly tied back in a ponytail, the sleeves of his jacket fitted just right, subtly revealing the hidden strength in his forearms.

Yes, you definitely trusted his judgment.

You rested your chin on your hand, your eyes following Warren as he approached the drinks table. He seemed lost in the vast array of options, furrowing his brow as he scrutinized the machines. His nose wrinkled slightly in concentration before he pressed a button – and immediately, liquid spilled over the edge of the glass.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, shaking your head.

“Oh, darling. You never learn, do you?”

The unexpected voice sounded far too close to your ear. Your body stiffened instantly, a chill running down your spine.

Daniel.

You turned your face and came face-to-face with him, his breath hot and laced with false sweetness brushing against your skin.

“Sorry… did I scare you?”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly composed your expression.

“No.” You coughed, subtly shifting your chair back with a calculated movement. “What were you saying?”

“About your boyfriend.”

Daniel’s smile was sharp, predatory. He crossed his arms, eyes darting between you and Warren, who was still fumbling with the drinks machine.

“I’ve done some research on him.”

Your jaw tightened. You kept your posture firm, but your shoulders instinctively tensed.

“And what does that have to do with your life?” Your voice came out cutting, harsh. You stood up, your body automatically adopting a defensive stance.

Daniel chuckled lowly, tilting his head to the side as if amused by your reaction.

“You always surprise me, doll. It was one of my favorite things about you.” He took a step forward, his hand reaching toward your face. You caught the movement before your instincts could even react – and you stepped back.

“Enough talk, Daniel.”

Your hand rose instinctively, slapping his with a firm strike. The sharp sound echoed between the two of you.

Daniel laughed. A low, drawn-out laugh. He glanced at his now slightly reddened hand and shook his head, as though genuinely impressed.

“Got some strength, huh?” He lifted his eyes to yours, a twisted glint in them. “They say bad company corrupts good manners.”

Your blood boiled. Your breath quickened. You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes.

“What did you say?”

Your voice came out louder than expected. The buzz of the room quieted, and like a domino effect, people began to notice the tension between you two.

Daniel saw it. And he reveled in it.

He grinned, leaning dangerously close to your ear.

“Prisoners really cause some serious damage, huh?”

Shock ran through your body like a jolt of electricity. Your stomach dropped instantly, as if the ground had disappeared beneath your feet. Without thinking, you shoved Daniel hard, feeling the tension burst from within you. He stumbled backward, his feet sliding on the floor, but, surprisingly, didn’t lose his balance. Instead, he let out a loud, cruel laugh, as if it were just a game to him.

“What was that?”

Warren’s deep voice cut through the air like a sharp blade, penetrating. His expression was loaded with controlled fury, his eyes fixed on Daniel with an intensity that seemed capable of piercing through anything in its path.

You blinked, your heart pounding as if you had just run a marathon. Your gaze quickly scanned the room, trying to anchor yourself to something familiar, until your eyes found Warren’s. He was by your side now, the forgotten glass on the table, his jaw set, the muscles in his face clenched in a tense expression. The silence between you two was thick, like a bomb about to explode.

“What was that?” Warren repeated, his voice now lower, but the threat in his words was palpable, like a blade ready to cut.

On the other hand, Daniel, with a fake smile plastered on his face.

"She's so good when she's like this, isn't she?" His voice dripped with provocation.

Before you could react, Daniel casually reached out and brushed a hand over Warren's shoulder, as if brushing invisible dust off his suit.

"She only likes the ones who are at the bottom of the barrel. Such a masochist. Delicious in bed."

Warren froze.

The air grew heavy. You felt his body stiffen, the muscles in his jaw tightening. His gaze, once sharp, became lethal.

"What did you say, you motherfucking piece of shit?" His voice was low, hoarse, almost a hiss. He took a step forward.

"Did you learn that vocabulary in life or in prison, mate?" Daniel scoffed, his eyes swiping up and down Warren's body with calculated contempt. Warren's blood boiled. Without hesitation, he grabbed the collar of Daniel's suit, pulling him roughly closer. 

"Say that again if you dare." Daniel laughed. An irritating, petulant laugh that only served to inflame Warren's fury even more. 

"Looks like not much has changed since then." He shoved Warren hard, smoothing his jacket as if to erase his touch. Then he leaned forward slightly, his voice low and venomous. "Enjoy your little friend while you're at it. She'll have a baby with you when you start to get on with life." Just like he did to me and that little freak of yours." 

That was the last straw. Warren's punch landed squarely on Daniel. The impact was sharp, brutal. Daniel stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, clutching his face with a groan of pain. 

"Shit!" He yelled, pulling his hand away to see the blood running down his nose. 

"Warren, no!" You ran to him, but Warren was already blinded by rage, climbing on top of Daniel to throw another punch. 

The guests around you froze, some murmuring in shock, others watching the scene without being able to look away. Elizabeth clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide, and you saw, in that instant, her heart breaking into pieces. Your own chest tightened—not for Daniel, but for her. Despite everything, he was still your son. Denver looked away, hiding his face in his hands, unable to watch. 

"Come here, honey." Claire pulled you by the arm, pulling you away from the fight that was unfolding. in an increasingly bloody manner. "You'll end up hurting yourself if you get in the way."

His body shook, blood pounding loudly in his ears. "Say that again." Warren's voice was a growl as he grabbed Daniel's collar, pushing his head against the floor. "Say it, you fucking bastard. Say on my fucking face." 

"Security!" Daniel screamed, twisting to try to gain control of the situation and landing a blow on Warren. The impact made a cut open at the corner of his mouth. Warren laughed. A harsh, almost animalistic laugh. 

"Even Luke can be stronger than you." 

The name hit Daniel like an invisible blow. His face contorted for an instant, but he quickly disguised it with a growl of rage. 

"You bastard!" 

He raised his fist, but Warren was faster, spinning and immobilizing him again. Seconds later, two security guards grabbed Warren, pulling him back. Two others grabbed Daniel, forcibly separating them and taking them to opposite corners.

"Let me go! Let me go." Warren growled, pulling away with a sudden movement. He ran his hand over his face, wiping the blood from the cut. "I'm going to kill you." "I'm going to press charges against you, you piece of shit." Daniel spat the words, trying to free himself from the security guards' grip. His face was red with fury and humiliation. "You're going to jail again!"

The crack of the slap echoed through the room.

You grabbed the collar of Daniel's shirt, pulling him closer, your eyes fixed on his.

"If you tell the police, I'll tell your fiancée what you said when you abandoned our son."

The color drained from Daniel's face.

"You’re not that brave."

He tried to laugh, but his eyes wavered. You saw the exact moment he realized that, yes, you would have the courage.

"I doubt she knows that." Your voice was cold, cutting. "And I don't think you want to ruin the wedding before it even starts the dollhouse acting to hide the jerk you are."

Daniel tensed, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

"Fine." He huffed, pulling away from the security guards and massaging his arms. "Fine. Fuck, okay. I won’t call the cops."

"Fine." You pushed him away one last time before turning to Warren and taking his hand. "But no visiting Luke."

You leaned forward slightly, staring at Daniel with a look of pure ice.

"You don't exist to him."

Daniel opened his mouth to retort, but Warren, still breathing heavily, cut him off.

"Wow, that was hot" He grunted without thinking, his eyes sliding up and down you, appreciating the fire in your eyes.

"Not now, Warren." You grunted back, forcing a brave face, trying not to laugh at the gravity of the situation. "You're dead to me and Luke, Daniel."

You took a step back, lifting your chin.

"Act like it."

"But—"

"Whoa, dead men can't talk." Warren snapped his fingers, interrupting Daniel with a mock-casual tone.

"What?"

"Quiet."

"You're—"

"How can you talk with all that dirt on your face?"

"Bro!"

"Rest in peace." Warren made the sign of the cross before raising his middle finger at Daniel. "In hell."

The entire room was silent for a second, until a small group of youngsters burst into applause and muffled laughter. The distraught parents tried to silence them, but Warren spun on his heel, spreading even more chaos.

"Censorship!" he shouted, raising his arms theatrically. 

"Warren!" You laughed, pulling him by the arm as the first drops of rain fell outside.

Without even looking back, you focused on the only thing that really mattered at that moment.

Warren laughing.

Free.

Turning back to the party just to give the middle finger to anyone who dared to exist.

He got into the car, the smile still dancing on his lips, patiently waiting for you to settle in next to him before starting the engine.

The rain began to thicken.

But you didn't care.

Because, that night, you left there the same way you came in.

Together.

"Where to?"

Warren's voice came low, still charged with adrenaline, as he got rid of his damp suit and tossed it carelessly into the backseat. His hair stuck to his face, messed up by the rain and the fight, and he brushed it away with a quick movement of his hand.

"My house." You replied, trying to fix your hair in the car mirror. “As soon as possible.” 

Without taking his eyes off the road, Warren felt around in the backseat, grabbing a random rag and throwing it to you. 

“Thanks.” 

“You’re very welcome.” His playful tone made you smile. 

Without warning, he slammed his foot on the accelerator, making the tires screech against the wet asphalt. The horn honked loudly as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Screw all of you!” 

“That’s it! Screw you!” You laughed, leaning your face out the window, feeling the cold wind and light rain against your skin before shrinking back into the car. Your heart was still beating fast. Warren laughed too, but this time with a certain nervousness, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “What did we do?” 

“I’m so fucking screwed.” He let out a loud sigh. “I’m going to jail, aren’t I?”

“You won’t.” You patted his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles. “Trust me.”

He glanced quickly at you before turning his attention back to the road.

“Daniel doesn’t even have the courage to admit to his own fiancée that he has a son.”

“Coward.” Warren snorted.

The car was silent for a moment, only the sound of the engine and the rain filling the space. Then, a smile played on his lips.

“And what was that, girl?” He ran his tongue over the corner of his mouth, still feeling the metallic taste of his own blood. “Wow. I got goosebumps all over.”

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“I’m telling you, you have the stereotype of a criminal.”

You leaned slightly towards him, lowering your voice.

“Yeah?” Your hand slid along the back of his seat, your fingers lightly brushing against the warm nape of his neck. “What are you going to do with that?”

Warren’s laughter died there.

He turned his head to you, his eyes dark in the dim light of the dashboard. He bit his lip, the muscles in his jaw tensing. Your innocent, shy eyes tried to hide it, but he knew. He knew exactly what was going through your mind. 

“This car is going to stop.” His voice came in a thick whisper. “And now.” 

Warren turned the steering wheel with a firm movement, throwing the car onto the shoulder of the highway. 

“Hurry, darling?” You laughed, feeling your own body heat up as he pulled the handbrake and parked in a darker area, away from the traffic. 

Warren leaned towards you, his hands sliding to unbuckle your seatbelt. His eyes burned with barely contained desire. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve been holding back.” The last thing you felt before you gave in completely was the heat of his hands pulling you into an urgent, hungry kiss.

You purred and took off your seatbelt, forcing your body onto Warren’s lap. He pulled the lever back so you could fit without moving the steering wheel, steadying his hands on your body when the seat reached its position. Straddling your legs on either side of Warren’s waist, you found yourself free to continue the kiss, holding his face in your hands.

Warren palmed your thighs, pulling your dress up so he could touch them directly, marking the spot with his firm fingers. He lifted the fabric once more so he could touch your bum, pulling the elastic of your panties so you could feel the softness of the flesh. You moved forward, brushing against the tent that formed in Warren’s dress trousers, panting into the kiss. You deepened, hungry for him: biting, sucking, licking. Whatever you were entitled to and Warren could give you, you took.

“Oh, shit.” You groaned, feeling the metallic taste in your mouth, remembering Warren’s cut. “I’m hurting you, aren’t I?”

“Fuck that bruise.” He grumbled, scraping his nails across your skin, pulling you closer. “You’re hotter than that.”

“You look so attractive with that bruise.” You whispered, kissing his mouth more calmly.

“Hmmmm, I think I’m gonna start hurting myself more.” He chuckled softly into your face, capturing your lower lip in a hickey. He noticed the small red stain of his blood on your lip, touching it with his thumb. “You look delicious with blood on your mouth. I’d love to visit you in jail if you killed Daniel.”

“Would you? And what would you do to me there?” You flirted, moving closer, shaking your hips back and forth. Warren gasped, throwing his head back, trying to maintain control with his hands on your hips.

“I was going to exercise my right to come and go, come and go, come and go.” He murmured hoarsely, pulling you closer to brush your lips against his. “Damn, I almost came imagining you killing the guy.” He laughed, breaking the kiss.

“You’re horrible, Warren. Look at that.” You laughed in disbelief, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“That’s not even the worst part.”

He began, his hands going up your back to slide the zipper halfway down, grabbing the straps of your dress to slide them down your arms, catching a glimpse of your breasts that he had fantasized about so many nights.

“The first thing that caught my attention about you after your smile was your hips.”

“Really?” You gasped, feeling his hand lightly support the weight of your breasts in his palms. “Why?”

“Because women look really hot with that littl fat on their hips after having a baby.” He finished with a straight face, making you laugh out loud. “So, I kind of already suspected that the kid was your son because of your ass.”

“You’re a terrible person, Warren.” You spoke about his lips, stealing a slow and lingering kiss, massaging his lower lip with your tongue.

He licked his lips and went to your ear, biting the lobe before whispering. “And you love it.”

“You’re a bad influence on me.” You reciprocated in the same tone, closing your eyes to feel him distribute slow kisses on your neck, giving a long, slow lick to your throat.

“And I’m gonna influence you to fuck with me in this car right now.”

Soon his strong arms wrapped around your back, pulling you closer. Strong, intense, passionate. That was Warren’s description of your body, of kissing you, of biting you, of hearing you moan, of having you completely. And you had him in that old car, now, so special to you.

Rule #6: Haste is the enemy of perfectionYou had convinced Warren to stay a little longer at your house after all the chaos that had unfolded. The atmosphere was calm, soothing, like a warm cup of hot chocolate on a rainy day.

He closed the door softly behind him, watching quietly as you made your way to the kitchen. You carefully poured water into the vase to preserve the flowers. Your fingers grazed gently over the delicate petals before you placed the note next to them, careful not to lose it.

That’s when you felt it.

Warren’s arms wrapped around you from behind, his warmth melding with yours. He leaned in slowly, pressing soft kisses along your neck, trailing down toward the base of your throat. Your body relaxed under his touch, your eyes instinctively fluttering shut as your hands found his, gripping them gently over your own skin.

He smiled against your ear before placing a long, lingering kiss on your cheek, tightening his embrace as if trying to merge with you.

You turned in his arms, but didn’t pull away, your bodies still pressed close.

Your fingers traveled up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his damp shirt. Slowly, they made their way up to his neck, then to his face. Your thumb traced a gentle path along his cheek, and for a brief moment, Warren closed his eyes as if savoring the sensation.

When he opened them again, the dimples were visible. His unruly curls fell over his face, even more endearing under the soft yellow kitchen light.

“I prefer you like this,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair, feeling the soft texture. “Your hair is beautiful.”

He tilted his head slightly to the side, almost reflexively, as if your touch was pulling him in.

“I thought about cutting it,” he murmured, his voice quiet, hesitant. “I thought maybe I should look more like those neat, ‘normal’ guys... I don’t want people to look at us funny when we walk down the street together.”

You frowned.

“Don’t ever do that.”

Your tone came out firmer than you’d expected, and Warren’s gaze locked onto yours, searching your face. His expression softened, but his words were still filled with quiet resolve.

“Don’t change just to fit what others want, Warren. I like you just the way you are.”

He blinked, as if needing a second to process your words.

“You like me?”

The question came out in a disbelieving tone, almost startled.

You paused.

Only then did he realize the words that had slipped out, unfiltered, as if they were second nature to you. A warmth crept up his face, and his gaze faltered, as if he had just ruined the moment.

But Warren didn’t let it slip away.

His hands moved to your face, holding you with a gentle but firm grip, forcing you to look at him.

“I like you,” he said again, this time with more certainty. “I’m embarrassed to say things like this... I didn’t want you to open the note in front of me because I’m a shy idiot when it comes to stuff like this.”

He looked down, took a deep breath, and then met your eyes again.

Silence.

He was searching for the right words.

“It’s just that…” He swallowed hard. “You’re worth me losing my shyness. You’re worth changing.” His eyes studied every feature of your face. “Changing into a better man.”

There was something raw in his voice. A genuine longing.

“Clothes, shoes, hair... I want to be worthy of you. Because I know I never will be.”

“No, Warren.”

Your voice was almost a whisper, but it carried weight. You swallowed hard.

“You are worthy.”

He blinked, surprised.

“Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” You took a deep breath. “I know you’ve messed up in life. Who hasn’t? But that doesn’t define you.”

You hesitated for just a second, gathering your courage.

“You are Warren Lipka.”

A pause.

His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths.

You closed your eyes for a moment before reopening them and saying the words that had been stuck in your throat:

“My Warren Lipka.”

His lips parted into a smile. He was trembling slightly, but it was the kind of tremor that came from someone trying to hold back something much larger, something he wasn’t ready to let out.

He leaned in slowly, pressing his lips to your forehead. His eyes fluttered shut before he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I like you.”

The confession came out as a whisper, thick with an emotion he hadn’t yet dared to name. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze intense.

The words I love you caught in his throat, but they were there, hanging in the air between you. You could feel it.

It was in the way his fingers trailed lightly down the back of your neck, as if testing the waters of something deeper. It was in the way his eyes burned with a desire to be closer, to bridge the gap between your souls.

“I like you too.” You hesitated, feeling the weight of your own feelings pressing down on you.

The silence cracked in the space between you, thick with unspoken words.

The moment felt too beautiful to be rushed by grand gestures, by too-big words.

“I really like you, Warren. A lot.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if savoring every syllable before pulling you into a tight embrace. His chest pressed against yours, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath the skin. His scent mixed with yours, a delicate blend that felt like home. And even without saying another word, you both knew.

You were his.

And he was yours.

For the whole night, if it came to that.

You stroked his hair gently before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Want anything before we sleep?”

He mumbled something against your neck, his voice muffled. “Just you.”

“Then let’s get rid of these wet clothes before bed.” You smiled, tightening your arms around him. 

Warren sighed, reluctantly pulling away from you.

“Alright.”

He ran his hand through his hair, the curls even more charmingly messy now.

“You can shower first, I’ll wait for you in the room.” He stepped back to let you pass, then paused, glancing over his shoulder. “By the way... where’s your room?”

You pointed down the hallway to the door at the end. “That way.”

Warren followed the line of your finger, nodding his head.

“Thanks. I was worried I might end up in Luke’s room by mistake.”

You chuckled, already walking toward the bathroom. As you closed the door behind you, the last thing you heard was Warren’s muffled laughter echoing through the house, filling the air with warmth.

Your body craved water in the middle of the night, pulling you from sleep. The familiar warmth enveloped you, and you realized Warren was holding you close. His arm was firm around your waist, as though he wanted to keep you there forever. His chest rose and fell in a calm rhythm against your back, his messy hair brushing against your skin.

You tried to slip away slowly, careful not to wake him. His arm was heavy, but with gentle movements, you managed to free yourself from his embrace.

You got out of bed and walked quietly to the kitchen, your bare feet meeting the coolness of the floor. You poured the water into a glass and drank in silence. Flashes of last night danced through your mind—too vivid to be just a dream.

Warren had been in your room. He was still there, sleeping deeply, and that was proof everything had really happened.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you stood there.

Then, you remembered the note.

The one he’d written with the bouquet.

The one he’d asked you to read only after he’d left.

But… he was asleep. It wouldn’t hurt to look.

You tiptoed over to the table, carefully grabbed the note, and unfolded it. Your eyes ran over the first line.

“Hi, I don’t know how to start this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. You pressed your hand over your mouth to stifle the sound, but your eyes were already glued to the paper.

“I have a rulebook. It’s called The Great Guide for Jailbirds in Love. I wrote it in prison when I was thinking about getting out and how I wanted to build a family.

One of the rules is: haste is the enemy of perfection. That’s why it took me so long to tell you I love you from the first time I saw you.

But you know I’m all messed up and love breaking rules, right? You didn’t need that much time to see that.

Well… that’s it. I love you, princess. A lot.

P.S.: Sorry if I start a fight and then tell you I like you. I get really scared when it comes to love.

I love you forever.

—Warren Sillyka.

(Also, I love the nickname Luke gave me. Congrats on raising such a cool kid. You’re an amazing mom. I want to be his dad, if you’ll let me. But maybe that’s just an excuse to wake up by your side every day. Now I’m talking too much. xo.)”

Your heart tightened.

You read the note once, twice, over and over again.

The “I love you” was there, unafraid. No hesitation.

You felt a smile stretch across your face before you even realized it, and with the note pressed to your chest like it was the most precious treasure in the world, you returned to the bedroom.

Back to Warren.

Back to the arms that, even in sleep, seemed to know exactly where you belonged.

Rule #7: Forgiveness Is Not Forgetting

The week flowed with the softness and intensity of a fast-moving river, its days drifting by in a harmony that felt almost like a dream. What once seemed trivial and mundane became extraordinary. Warren and you found yourselves closer than either of you had expected, a bond deepening without words, but through subtle gestures and glances that spoke volumes. You would purposely brush against each other, exchanging discreet smiles, your hands almost imperceptibly grazing as he, with a natural ease that felt rehearsed, would wrap his arm around your waist, as if by instinct—catching you before you could fall, though perhaps trying to keep you from losing yourself in something far greater.

The most intimate moments began to intensify. During lunch breaks, conversations flowed easily, often veering down paths that felt deeper than any trivial subject. And when no one was watching, the kisses in the storage room tasted of secrets and freedom.

It was a Friday afternoon when everything seemed even more vibrant, almost unreal. Luke, with that pink bubblegum sticking to his lips, was animatedly chatting with Warren, who leaned casually against the counter. Standing tall, he looked like a protective wall, listening intently to every word from the boy, even if their conversation was lighthearted and playful.

"Caleb the Giant knocked over my headphones, and you know what happened?" Luke said, his little legs swinging restlessly in the high chair, more excited than anyone else in the room.

"Oh, it was nothing, just a master move, huh?" Warren grinned, his eyes sparkling as he raised his hand for a high-five. Their laughter echoed through the space, but suddenly, he seemed to remember his role as the "adult." He straightened up, more serious now, though still maintaining a gentle tone. "But don't fight, Luke. Fighting never solves anything, even if Caleb is a walking bore."

Luke pouted, crossing his arms with a scowl. "That's not fair, Warren. You were cooler. Now you're starting to sound like my mom."

"And your mom is right, you know?" Warren sighed, still trying to maintain his responsible demeanor, but it was clear he spoke from his own experience. "Fighting only creates more trouble. But if anyone challenges you, you have to stay polite. Just say, 'No, thank you.'"

Luke wrinkled his nose, clearly skeptical of how effective that suggestion would be. "That doesn’t work with Caleb," he muttered, throwing his arms up in frustration as if the solution were just out of reach.

"He does that because, deep down, he’s jealous, Luke." Warren spoke in a more serious tone now, but it also carried a surprising understanding. "Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. People like Caleb do things like that because they don’t have what you have. He may have all the cool toys, but... what about the rest?"

"But he's rich, Warren! He has everything he wants!" Luke countered, a skeptical look in his eyes as if that was the explanation that should settle everything.

"It’s not just about what he has, Luke." Warren smiled wearily, leaning against the counter, his arm stretched out, his calm expression hiding a subtle bitterness. "Try forgiving him. That’ll throw him off. It’ll mess with his ego, be the ultimate power move. And you’ll have more control than you think."

"Forgive him?" Luke looked puzzled, his head tilted adorably as he mulled over the suggestion. "If I tell him I forgive him, it’ll be worse. He'll laugh at me again and spread it around that I’m a coward."

"That kid’s the real coward, Luke," Warren grumbled, almost without realizing he was dropping the "responsible adult" mask he was trying to maintain. "But look, if he keeps it up, you can play your final card: tell him you’ve got a bodyguard who's ready to stop all the bullying in the world."

Luke’s eyes lit up, immediately excited as if he’d found a new lever to pull. "And who’s this bodyguard?"

Warren, with a mischievous grin and an easygoing look in his eyes, extended his hand to the boy, exuding the confidence of someone who knew exactly the power a simple gesture could hold. "Warren Lipka, at your service, secret agent to Luke."

"Awesome!" Luke couldn’t contain his joy, raising his arms in an impromptu celebration as if he had already conquered the world.

"Warren, are you busy today?"

You stepped out of the office, a stack of papers clutched in your hands, your phone pressed against your neck, while your disheveled hair fell messily over your face. Your expression was tense, betraying the chaos of the day. You couldn’t help but move hurriedly, your eyes glued to the phone as if it were the only thing keeping you afloat in the storm.

"No, what’s up?" Warren asked, his brow furrowing in immediate concern. He approached you with quick, purposeful steps, his gaze locked on your tense face. He knew that when you looked like this, something urgent was happening.

"I need you to watch Luke." You replied, your voice tight and direct. Snatching the phone from your hands, you typed quickly, your mind racing at full speed. "I’ve got a parent-teacher meeting today, and his doctor just called me. She needs me to come in urgently. I’ll stop by Elizabeth’s to grab his gift while I’m at it."

"So, you’re going to be out the rest of the day?" Warren asked, his eyes never leaving you for a second, like he was trying to gauge what else might be coming.

"Pretty much." You exhaled sharply, frustration escaping through your teeth. Your phone wouldn’t stop vibrating, adding to the pressure already mounting inside you. "Damn, I have to go now. You can close early if you need to. If it gets tough, and if he wants to go out, be careful with the people around. If he starts getting too stressed, give him his headphones, okay?"

"Got it." Warren nodded, trying to process the flood of information while you already began to move, ready to leave.

"Thanks, Warren. Bye." You said, giving him a quick peck on the lips—a brief, yet meaningful gesture—before you hurried toward the door.

"Hey." He called, his hands automatically running through his messy hair. He straightened up and looked at you with a soft smile, his demeanor calming. "Now, that’s better. Bye."

"Thanks. I owe you one." You shouted over your shoulder, already heading out the door, your footsteps echoing quickly down the corridor. On the way, you dropped your phone, muttering a curse under your breath as you bent down to pick it up.

At least Luke hadn’t heard the mutterings under your breath, and without wasting any more time, you jumped into the car and sped off toward your appointments.

“It’s… four-thirty…” Warren started, adjusting the watch on his wrist before casting an amused glance at Luke, who was practically bouncing out of his chair. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his calm tone contrasting with the boy’s energetic excitement. "How about we finish our work quickly and then hit the mall?"

“Yay!” Luke shouted, his little eyes sparkling with excitement as he sprang out of his seat. He grabbed Warren’s hand, eager to rush down the hallway. "Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!"

“Why the rush, little man?” Warren laughed softly, matching Luke's quick pace until they reached the middle of the aisle, between shelves of cookies and snacks. He placed his hands on his hips, relaxed yet alert, like he was in perfect sync with the boy. "Let’s get the work done properly first, before anything else."

“It’s because there’s a giant octopus at the mall!” Luke exclaimed, releasing Warren’s hand and already hopping around in impatient excitement, eyes glued to him, waiting for him to start opening boxes.

“An octopus, huh?” Warren raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile creeping onto his face as he sliced open the box with a pocketknife, careful not to nick Luke’s small hands. He tucked the knife into his pocket efficiently and, with the other hand, began organizing products onto the higher shelves.

“It’s not a real octopus, Warren. I’m a kid, not stupid.” Luke teased, laughing as he grabbed a pack of chocolate cookies. He placed it within his reach, his eyes lighting up with the idea. "It’s like a ferris wheel for kids. And I love octopuses! My favorite is theGrimpoteuthis, or dumbo octopus if you find it hard to say. "

“What do you like so much about octopuses?” Warren asked, genuinely curious, continuing the tedious task. He leaned slightly forward to reach the top shelves, but his eyes never left Luke, interested in what he might say next.

“I really love octopuses.” Luke answered, his enthusiasm contagious, pausing to share his thoughts while still working. "Octopuses have 8 tentacles, and it’s almost the same distance I have from my mom. We have 7 years and 7 months between us."

“Wow…” Warren said, impressed but still keeping his playful tone. "But hey, let’s focus on the work, little guy. We can’t waste time on this right now, or the squid will be gone." He winked, teasing lightly, but with a smile on his face.

“It’s not a squid, it’s an octopus.” Luke rolled his eyes, chuckling as he returned to his task. He seemed to find a nice balance between being serious and playful. "Wanna hear more octopus facts?"

“Sure. Hit me with it.” Warren chuckled softly, his eyes bright with genuine interest in what Luke might say next. He admired the boy—his mini-me, but with his own spark. He wondered silently how you had managed to raise someone so wonderful, someone who, despite everything, remained so pure and curious.

“Okay, here it is. Did you know octopuses have three hearts?” Luke asked, his voice full of anticipation, his eyes locked on Warren’s face as he quickened his work pace, grabbing packages with the efficiency of someone used to the job.

“Three hearts? That’s a lot.” Warren mused, tapping his chin casually, though his eyes remained focused on the task at hand. He picked up the heavier packages with precision, his posture relaxed but attentive, and his curiosity piqued by the conversation.

“Yeah. And did you know they have blue blood?”

“No way, you’re lying.” Warren teased, laughing softly when he saw Luke’s mock angry expression. He could tell the boy was eager to show off his knowledge. "I’m kidding. Why is it blue?"

“They have hemocyanin. I don’t know what that means, but my mom said that cyan means blue.” Luke explained with a thoughtful expression, and Warren nodded along, showing he was listening carefully.

“Did you know they’re super smart?”

“Oh, I know. I saw this crazy video of them escaping from aquariums.” Warren perked up, his voice rising a little with excitement, but he quickly caught himself. He didn’t want to sound like he was just telling any random story. The truth was, he’d watched those videos trying to learn escape strategies—something he never thought he’d need in real life. "But I get what you're saying. Octopuses are smart."

"Yeah, some even solve puzzles!" Luke shared, rubbing his hands together and shaking off the dust that clung to his fingers. He beamed with pride, happy to be teaching Warren something new. "I’m done."

“Me too, just one little thing...” Warren squinted, adjusting the price on a package of cookies that had been mis-labeled. He seemed more focused on the task now, but his eyes were still on Luke, keeping watch. "There. All done. Let’s go."

After getting into the car, Warren began to feel something new, something different from anything he’d experienced before. He glanced in the rearview mirror, checking that Luke was safe in the back seat, and a sense of belonging and purpose filled him. He found himself in a role he’d never imagined taking: someone who truly cared for another person, simply and genuinely. As he drove, he guided Luke, asking him not to stick his head too far out the window, helping with the small things the boy couldn’t quite understand or process.

For a moment, Warren felt as though he was healing something inside himself, something that had been lost along the way. He saw Luke as a kind of mission, a purpose. Taking care of him was something Warren never expected, but now it felt like something he would always do, a silent bond that couldn’t be broken, no matter what was happening around them. He knew Luke wasn’t his biological son, but there was something more, something neither he nor you dared to admit. The truth was simple, yet complex: family wasn’t just made of blood.

“Stay there, I’ll open the door.” Warren gently indicated, walking around the car to open the door for Luke. “Can you unbuckle your seatbelt and get out by yourself?”

“I can.” Luke replied confidently, stretching his legs to jump out of the car, but before he made any move, he asked a curious question, his eyes fixed on Warren as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Hey, why do you open the door for mom if she can get out by herself when she’s with me?”

“It’s chivalry, Luke. It’s a nice gesture that shows how much I care about her.” Warren answered with a sincere smile, carefully closing the car door to avoid hitting any of Luke’s limbs, even though the little boy was already far from the door. His posture was relaxed, but he was still focused on what he was doing.

“Hmm, so all the men who do that really like the women they’re with?”

“Most of them just don’t like seeing the car scratched or the door broken because they don’t trust the girls.” Warren replied with a playful tone, but also curious about Luke’s question. He took the boy’s hand as Luke extended it, beginning to walk side by side through the shopping mall.

“Do you think that about mom sometimes?” Luke looked up at him with curious eyes, as though the answer had a much deeper meaning than he realized.

“Only sometimes, when she’s wearing those huge heels or when she’s mad about something.” Warren responded with grace, trying to lighten the mood while holding Luke’s small hand. “Is she always that scary when she’s mad?”

“Very much. Uncle Daniel says she’s always been like that. One day he even wanted to call the police.” Luke revealed, squeezing Warren’s hand a little harder, as if sharing an important secret, a revelation. His tone grew more serious, as if he were sharing something he’d heard many times before.

Uncle Daniel? That echoed in Warren’s mind. He realized that Luke still didn’t know who his father was, and it caused a strange pang of discomfort inside him. But he forced himself to continue the conversation without letting that thought take over. What mattered at that moment was that Luke was right there beside him, and he wanted to make the most of it.

“Hey, why do you always wear headphones? Do you really like music that much?” Warren asked, trying to steer the conversation away from Luke’s father, as if the silence between them could ease the growing tension in his mind.

“My ears hurt if I listen to too much loud noise. My mom said I’ve been like this since I was little.” Luke revealed, and Warren felt his mind grow even more confused with this information. He was trying to make sense of it all but decided to leave the topic for now.

“You’re still little, Luke.”

“Boring.” Luke stuck out his tongue at him, but his smile quickly returned, and Warren couldn’t help but laugh with him. “You’re the strangest adult I’ve ever met, Warren.”

“And you’re the strangest kid I’ve ever met, Luke. We’re even.” Warren teased, beginning to swing their hands as they walked. He felt a connection with Luke, a strange sense that, despite everything he had gone through, maybe—just maybe—he could be a good example for this boy.

“Everyone says I should be normal and that I’m weird. I get sad about it. But it’s different with you.” Luke smiled, and those words made Warren’s heart tighten. He felt something so strong, as if he were seeing Luke’s true pain right there, but also his strength.

Luke was an incredible kid, too good for the world he’d been given. He didn’t deserve any of it, but Warren knew that, somehow, he could still be a part of Luke’s life, doing whatever he could to help him. He didn’t know the reason for Luke’s suffering, but something inside him told him that, if he could change anything, he would do everything possible to make sure Luke had a lighter future.

“You know, being normal is boring. Normal people are boring.” Warren began, cracking his neck slightly to ease the tension that was starting to build up. The conversation was taking a lighter tone, but he knew the impact his words could have. “One day, I told your mom I wanted to be normal, and she told me never to do that. She likes me the way I am. That’s really important.”

“She says that to me too, but she’s my mom.” Luke whined, swinging his hands together in a slightly exaggerated way, still with that tone of someone wanting to express all his frustration but not knowing how. It was as if the boy had some doubt about what it truly meant to be "normal" and how he fit into this world.

“But this time, I’m the one saying it.” Warren replied, now with a calm that almost sounded wise, as if the words were coming from a place of real experience and understanding. “Next time someone calls you weird, know that it’s a compliment.”

Luke seemed to absorb the information, and a shy smile appeared on his face, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “Okay.” The boy’s expression, which had been heavy, was now more comfortable, lighter. Slowly, he was starting to understand that being who he was was fine, and he didn’t need to fit into molds imposed by others.

As they walked through the mall, Warren kept his thoughts focused and serious. He knew that, no matter how simple they seemed, people’s internal battles, even the smallest ones like Luke’s, were real. They were so different, yet so similar. Each had their own fears and sadness, and sometimes the pain seemed to come from such unexpected places. Luke was still so young, yet already felt loneliness, which made Warren’s heart tighten. He knew he couldn’t let that continue. He didn’t want Luke to feel how he sometimes did—lost and alone.

“Is that the octopus over there?” Warren asked, pointing to the children’s ride with a giant purple, colorful octopus, where a few kids were having fun, looping around and shouting with joy. He tried to steer the conversation toward something lighter, something they could both enjoy together.

“Yeah. I have the little card from when I came with my mom.” Luke said, all excited, grabbing his little backpack and opening it quickly to pull out his Aquamen card, which made Warren smile. The boy had a habit of holding on to memories, and it made Warren feel a pang of tenderness. “Here it is!” He showed the card with a victorious expression.

“Good taste, kid.” Warren teased, admiring the boy’s dedication to keeping that card with so much care. He walked over to the reception, validated the card, and added credits, always keeping Luke’s hand between his, as if not wanting the boy to get lost in the sea of people. It was their first outing, and in a way, Warren felt like a real father, trying to protect and make everything perfect for Luke. The attendant handed the card back, and Warren smiled as he returned it to the boy. “All set, let’s go.”

“Aaaayyy!!” Luke exclaimed, his hands clapping joyfully as he ran toward the line, jumping and skipping with contagious energy. “Come on, Warren!” He looked back over his shoulder, with that big, radiant smile, waiting for Warren to follow him.

“I’m coming.” Warren laughed, running to catch up with the boy. He already knew how important it was for Luke to have someone there, someone to trust. As he reached the ride, he placed a careful hand on the boy’s shoulders. “Alright, I’m here. You’re up next. Have fun. I’ll be right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Luke nodded, eagerly climbing into the seat of the ride. He looked a little nervous, but at the same time, his smile showed he was ready to face whatever came next. The attendant adjusted the safety belt, and Luke stayed there, firm, eager for the fun that was about to begin.

As the ride started to ascend, Warren watched Luke’s face carefully. He saw the boy’s smile expand, as if the whole world was too small to contain the happiness he was feeling at that moment. It was a genuine smile, the kind that only appears when someone is truly enjoying themselves. Luke’s expression was pure wonder, and Warren felt a deep sense of satisfaction, as if his mission was being fulfilled.

He stayed there, waiting, watching, feeling time pass in a more peaceful way. The octopus made a full rotation, and Luke waved from the top, his hands flailing, while his face lit up with contagious joy. Warren smiled back, a silent laugh escaping his lips, and moved a bit away, looking for a nearby bench to sit and wait. He bought a bag of popcorn, trying to distract himself a bit as time passed.

But inside, he was calm. The feeling of being there, part of this moment in Luke's life, was more than he had expected. It was as if, somehow, he had found a piece of himself in that boy. Something he hadn’t realized was missing.

Warren walked over to a distant bench, where exhausted parents occupied the seats, their faces revealing the weight of a long day, toys in hand, and tired gazes that said more than words ever could. But while he tried to distract himself by observing the scene around him, something caught his attention. Daniel was there. He appeared at the amusement station, his face weary, eyes slightly misty from exhaustion, still sporting a faint bruise that seemed to silently tell a story. Their eyes met. Warren felt a pang of guilt. That man still represented a part of an unresolved past, but he didn’t want to deal with that now. He waved briefly, averting his eyes from Daniel and focusing again on Luke, as if the problem wasn’t standing right in front of him. But, contrary to his plans, Daniel approached, walking with a downcast look, like a defeated lamb, carrying an invisible pain.

He stayed there, waiting, watching, feeling time pass in a more peaceful way. The octopus made a full rotation, and Luke waved from the top, his hands flailing, while his face lit up with contagious joy. Warren smiled back, a silent laugh escaping his lips, and moved a bit away, looking for a nearby bench to sit and wait. He bought a bag of popcorn, trying to distract himself a bit as time passed.

But inside, he was calm. The feeling of being there, part of this moment in Luke's life, was more than he had expected. It was as if, somehow, he had found a piece of himself in that boy. Something he hadn’t realized was missing.

Warren walked over to a distant bench, where exhausted parents occupied the seats, their faces revealing the weight of a long day, toys in hand, and tired gazes that said more than words ever could. But while he tried to distract himself by observing the scene around him, something caught his attention. Daniel was there. He appeared at the amusement station, his face weary, eyes slightly misty from exhaustion, still sporting a faint bruise that seemed to silently tell a story. Their eyes met. Warren felt a pang of guilt. That man still represented a part of an unresolved past, but he didn’t want to deal with that now. He waved briefly, averting his eyes from Daniel and focusing again on Luke, as if the problem wasn’t standing right in front of him. But, contrary to his plans, Daniel approached, walking with a downcast look, like a defeated lamb, carrying an invisible pain.

“Can I sit here?” Daniel's voice was low, almost as if he feared the answer, as if even the simple act of asking for permission was a burden for him.

“It’s a free country.” Warren replied, with a neutral tone, polite but carrying the coldness of someone wanting to maintain distance. He shifted slightly to the side, making no real effort to hide his internal irritation.

Daniel sat beside Warren in silence, his hands crossed almost defensively. His posture was slumped, eyes heavy with deep dark circles, as if he carried not just physical tiredness but an emotional weight that he couldn’t let go. He sniffed once, the sound almost lost in the tension between them.

“Did you come here to get hit again?” Warren asked bluntly, grabbing a handful of popcorn and tossing it into his mouth. The question was direct, cutting, as if he wanted to wound that man a little more with his indifference.

“No… Actually, I was passing by and remembered this place.” Daniel said, looking around, his eyes lost in something distant, as if the memories of those times suddenly overtook him. “I came here with her when Luke was a baby.”

Warren didn’t answer. He only nodded, a small gesture, no words. He didn’t have much to say, nothing that would really matter in that moment.

“Honey broke up with me.” Daniel sighed heavily, as if the weight had been lifted from his shoulders, an unasked-for confession. “The same day, in front of everyone.”

Warren responded automatically, with visible boredom in his voice. “Sorry to hear that.” He wasn’t interested in sympathizing with Daniel anymore. The sad version of the blond man was starting to irritate him.

“I paid so much for that party. I did everything she asked. She drained every penny I had saved in my savings account.” Daniel continued, completely ignoring Warren’s grimace, unloading another piece of his pain. “She never had to ask me for anything, even when I insisted.”

“She?” Warren repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He knew exactly who he was talking about, no need to mention her name. He had heard it all before, and the frustration was beginning to build inside him.

“I was so jealous when I saw you two together for the first time.” Daniel confessed, his body sinking into the bench as if gravity itself was pulling him down, too weak to fight the weight of his own words. “We hadn’t spoken in years. I found out she never dated anyone after we broke up. Then, when I saw you together, with Luke smiling like he never did with me, my brain short-circuited.”

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” Warren scoffed, rolling his eyes with an impatient tone. “Your big idea was to throw a wedding invitation at her?” He couldn’t hold it back anymore. The irritation was visible, and the words came with a subtle venom. He didn’t want to know about Daniel’s feelings, or his old frustrations. He wanted to focus on the present, and Daniel didn’t belong in that picture.

“I went crazy, don’t blame me.” Daniel said, his expression twisting with discomfort, fingers messing with his once-blond hair, which now looked dull and lifeless. “Deep down, I always knew I liked her, and I was looking for someone shallow to replace her. Someone who didn’t know anything about me, and I could pretend to be someone else to escape the past.”

“Then why did you leave her?” Warren cut through Daniel’s words sharply, almost like a knife. His voice was threatening, and Daniel instinctively clicked his tongue, letting out a frustrated huff. He knew that question didn’t have an easy answer, but Warren wanted to hear it from Daniel. Why all this mess?

“I never abandoned her.” Daniel grumbled, running his hand over his head, as if trying to push away the painful memories that still haunted him. “I just didn’t know how to take care of Luke. That’s all. I didn’t… know how to deal with him. It was getting on my nerves. Consuming me. I couldn’t concentrate on college and my parents are rigid about it. Every time I had to take him to the doctor or something.” 

Warren felt anger bubbling up inside him. “And what’s so bad about that kid that you’d do something like that?” The question came out almost as a shout, his patience already at its limit. He closed the popcorn bag tightly, his fist clenched, trying to control the fury that was about to explode.

“He’s not normal. You must know that. You don’t need to be an expert to see it.” Daniel pointed at Luke, who was still playing away, before turning back to Warren, as if trying to justify himself. “When he was born, he cried all the fucking time. After a while, he started to be quiet like a mouse. He wouldn’t express anything, wouldn’t talk. We took him to the doctor and they said they didn’t know what was wrong.” 

Warren's stiffness eased a bit. He leaned back in his seat, listening to the story, trying to keep control and process what Daniel was saying.

“I always liked parties and all. Whenever there was one at home, Luke wouldn't stop crying for a second.” Daniel continued, rubbing his tired eyes, a shadow of regret beginning to appear in his voice. “He didn't like being picked up, he bit people, kicked them. He was violent. He was a... freak.”

Warren bit back the curse that was about to come out, his fists clenched, his body tense as he tried to listen without losing his train of thought. “Freak.” The word felt like a punch to the stomach. He wanted to scream, but he forced himself to stay silent.

“I left them alone when he was about 9 months old. I couldn't stand living with it anymore. I thought: it was an accident, so why should i care?” Daniel's voice broke, and his lips trembled, as if confessing was torture. “Today I regret that.”

“Good for you, you should suffer more.” Warren spat, his voice cold as ice, uncrumpling the popcorn bag and grabbing another handful, his stomach churning. He didn’t want to feel sorry for Daniel, not after everything he’d done.

“So I heard from a phone call when he was three and a half.” Daniel trailed off, sobbing, his breathing heavy as he ran a hand over his chest. “Claire. My sister… Told me Luke was autistic.”

At that moment, Daniel broke down. He began to cry, his hands on his head, his shoulders shaking with each sob. Warren’s eyes widened, a little disconcerted. He looked around, desperately searching for something to distract himself, but here they were, in the center of everything, in a public scene he didn’t know how to handle.

At first, he hesitated, but something forced him to reach out. He placed his hand on Daniel’s back, a clumsy attempt to calm the man, trying to at least appear decent in the face of his pain. 

“She… raised money and went to these expensive doctors by herself and found out about this.” Daniel continued, his words coming out in a disjointed way as he wiped his face with his shirt. “She didn’t tell me about this. She found out from my sister. I tried to help, but she wouldn’t. She said I was fucking dead to her. I’ve never seen them since that day. Luke doesn’t even know who I am.” 

Warren felt a tightness in his chest, but his anger didn’t go away. He couldn’t let this go.

“Man, you were the biggest jerk ever.” The words came out harsh, but necessary. He caught Daniel’s attention with a simple but cutting sentence. 

“What?”

“You were an idiot. The worst.” Warren continued, shaking his head in disapproval. “I know she forgave you, I do too. I can’t even imagine what the first few years must have been like…” 

“Then why does she treat me like this if she forgives me?” Daniel interrupted, his voice desperate, his pain showing, but also his confusion and wounded pride. 

“Forgiving isn’t the same as forgetting,” Warren said, his voice firm, almost emotionless, as he removed his hands from Daniel’s back, wiping them on his pants. “And she’ll never forget this, Daniel. It’s her son.”

“I know.” Daniel sniffed, running a hand over his face, and a hint of remorse showed in his eyes, but it seemed too late. “I know…”

“Uncle Dan?” Luke asked curiously, his voice soft. Warren didn’t even realize when the boy had gotten off the ride. He was so immersed in his own thoughts that everything around him seemed distant.

“Hey, baby octopus.” Daniel answered in a forced voice, trying to sound cheerful, but the smile he tried to show didn’t convince anyone.

“Are you okay?” Luke frowned, approaching him, his big, sincere eyes full of concern.

“Yes, I am, Luke. Thanks for asking.” Daniel smiled back, but the expression was an effort, his body tired and his mind restless. He forced himself to get up from the bench, trying to hide the weight of the situation. “It’s time for me to go.”

“You’re leaving?” Luke tilted his head to the side, visibly disconcerted. He looked at Daniel, who just nodded silently, as if that were explanation enough.

“I have to take care of some things.” Daniel lied, forcing his throat not to tighten. He didn't want the boy to see the pain in his eyes. Not now.

“Take care, okay?” Warren was sincere. Even though he hated him, he was still as complicated a person as he was.

“Thanks. Bye, Luke.” Daniel finally said, waving quickly before turning his back and walking towards the exit, his posture hunched, as if he carried more than just regret. His footsteps echoed as he walked away, disappearing into the crowds of the park.

Luke looked at the place where Daniel had gone, confused, as if he was trying to understand what had happened, but couldn't. He then turned to Warren.

“What happened to Uncle Dan?” Luke asked, his voice soft and full of uncertainty.

“Adults complicating simple things.” Warren replied, trying to make the moment seem light. He shook the empty popcorn bag, trying to mask the feeling of emptiness that still accompanied him. “Want some?” He offered the bag to Luke, but he knew the little boy wasn't interested.

“I want a burger.” Luke replied with a mischievous and defiant smile, taking Warren's hand again, as if it were something natural, as if they were together in any situation, without the complications of adult life.

“You'll owe me that trip when you're an adult. I'm getting my pockets empty.” Warren smiled, feeling a little lightness return to his heart. He threw the bag of popcorn in the trash with a determined gesture. “But I also want to eat something with more substance. Will you have some soda?”

“My mom won't let me.” Luke pouted as he started walking, his hand still firmly in Warren's. “She says I'll grow up with bad bones, she only gives me juice. She makes beetroot, orange and carrot juice for breakfast.”

“Typical of your mother. I hate beets.” Warren rolled his eyes, letting out a light, more relaxed laugh. He always found it funny how some mothers could be so strict about certain foods.

“I hate it too. It's so disgusting.” Luke whispered, almost as if he was confessing a deep secret, something that no one should ever know. 

Their laughter was spontaneous, a moment of complicity that made the day a little brighter. Despite all the heavy revelations that were still engraved in his heart, Warren knew that what mattered at that moment was to make Luke smile. He wanted, for a brief moment, to banish the ghosts of the past and give the boy something simple: happiness. 

“I bet you’ve never had Pepsi with lime.” Warren said, raising an eyebrow, trying to spice up the conversation with something fun. He started walking towards the fast food joint, determined to do what every father would do: spoil good habits with a pinch of fun, lots of sugar and fries to go with it. It was a small diversion, but he knew that these small gestures could mean the world to Luke.

[kenyummy]

꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ conspiracies ✰ jaime reyes ꒱

✰ SYNPOSIS : jaime just really wants you to think he's cool. in both forms. too bad you're a raging conspiracy theorist.

inspired by this post so thank you for making my mind spiral insert heart emoji. i love xolo (as everyone who knows me both online and irl knows) and i love jaime so this was just a treat

also this is highkey movie jaime coded but yj him works too tbh

!!! LIVA DNI !!!

It was a regular Monday morning when you first met Blue Beetle.

Your life was as normal as could be, and you were perfectly content living your life out like this. Growing up fine. Leaving school fine. Entering college and trying to find a real, lasting job fine.

Today was a regular old day in your regular old life. Nothing special, really. Just on your way to work at your local coffee shop—mostly to pay off your crippling student loans—in an admittedly nice (and safe) neighbourhood.

Which is why you weren't expecting this. In such a dramatic fashion—a random in a ski-mask comes by and tugs your tote bag off your shoulder, and starts running. The tote bag with your expensive ass phone, and those authentically beautiful earrings you'd gotten as a gift for your 18th inside—so of course you take running in your scuffed and ragged sneakers.

"Wh—hey! Come back here!" You yell out as people on the sidewalk rush to the side from the random pushing their way through. They may be covered by a good ten layers—but by god were they fast. No way you could catch up to them.

But you'd be damned if you didn't try. Too bad you didn't join track in high school—you have a feeling it really would've helped right now.

You consider yelling out that you have a barista's salary and you doubt there'd be much of worth inside, but you're stopped before you do.

The random thief in question is not on the ground anymore. In fact—he's three feet up in the air and dangling upside down, screaming. The ski mask falls off and you see it's actually one of your regulars in your shop.

Your eyes widen, then narrow into a hard glare "Dan?! What the hell, man?!" His eyes look anywhere but at you. He knows he's never going to get his double-caffeinated espresso ever again.

But then, you look at exactly what is holding him from that unfortunate angle. A superhero... you think. Black and blue suit—tendril-like things behind him, one holding up your thief. Blasters underneath his feet that seem to allow him to levitate so high. Pure white eyes and no mouth in sight.

"Why don't you give the lady back her bag, huh?" His voice—while it's partially distorted, he seems rather giddy. Maybe he's a new hero. You were sure as hell Batman wouldn't be running around here.

The bag drops to the ground as soon as he says it, and you rush to collect your things. People around crowd in awe at the heroic act, but all you can think about is how grateful you are that you hadn't lost your phone. Thank god for Block Blast.

You look up—Dan falls to the ground with a grunt while the hero lands gracefully on his feet, hands on his hips—you can practically feel the self-satisfaction radiating off him. He looks to you. "Are you alright, ahem—ma'am?"

Did he just make his voice deeper?

You nod, and spare him a smile. "Yes, thanks to you. I can't tell you how grateful I am that I won't be late for work now."

The hero seems rather confused, "Wait, what—"

"Thank you!" You call out as you take off, running. You had fifteen minutes until your shift started and no way you'd miss it and in turn miss an hour of pay. The hero seems to try and call out to you—but the crowd around him doesn't let him move an inch—and it's like clockwork when a camera and microphone get shoved in his face like he's nothing but a trashy celebrity.

"And, Blue Beetle—how is it that you came to this civilian's aid so fast?"

"I guess I just have a sixth-sense for saving people in need."

You grab the television remote and switch the TV off before you roll your eyes back into your skull. Jaime—your friend and currently the only person at the stand with you—seems less than pleased you did so.

"Hey! What's with you?"

You make a face. "Sixth-sense for saving people? Seriously? Even you have to admit, it's pretty stupid."

"Didn't you say that you were the one he saved this morning? And that's why you weren't late for your shift?"

Resting your elbows on the glass stand, you call for your lazy-ass co-worker (currently on his phone in the back) to take over the cash register when a customer comes in.

You continue to talk away with Jaime, who's shining a glass. "Just because I'm thankful he saved me doesn't mean he's exempt from my well-deserved critique. He sounds like a less-inspiring Superman right now."

Jaime laughs, muttering something under his breath before turning back up to look at you. "That's just mean, chica. I think he's pretty cool, no?"

He places the glass on the table near the blender—while you huff indignantly, leaning backwards. "You've always been like this with superheroes, and so have I. Some things will never change, Jaime. Just like the fact we're both in crippling debt at this dead-end job."

"But... you don't even think he is a little cool... at all? I mean—the costume's pretty sick." He stands over you, arms crossed and smiling.

You pause, thinking. "... Alright, fine. Yeah, the costume looks cool. But I think his head's too big for his body. ...Hey, he kinda reminds me of you."

"... You don't say?"

"I do say," you affirm, smiling at his scoff. "Time to get back to the shop, Reyes. You can uplift any bugs you want after our shift is done."

You press your finger to his nose and move him back, bouncing out of the back room as he watches your retreating figure—deep in thought.

You thought that would be the end of it. Maybe, in a few months or so—you'd get into trouble and a hero would come and save you like in the movies. Maybe even in a few weeks or so. Depending on how unlucky you were.

Well, it seems Lady Luck has a hate boner for you, because this was just getting ridiculous.

On Tuesday, all your stuff was thrown high into a tree and only a being with flight could reach it. The day after that, somebody was about to trip in front of your bus—saved at the nick of time by a blue hero.

Thursday, you were almost hit by a bus this time—swerving on the road like it were drunken, only for the two parts of a now disconnected bus to fall beside you, and a beetle in front of you with a smile.

On the last day of a regular school week—you nearly tripped with several large coffees on your tray—and it doesn't take a genius to figure out why your shirt was not littered with stains and why you still had a job. You don't even know where he came from.

Saturday, a pipe broke and boiling water was about to spray you in the middle of the street. Before it even touched you, a holographic blue shield formed around you and saved you from the embarrassment of a see-through shirt.

On Sunday—you were sick of this. An hour into your shift—somebody rushes in with a bat and shatters the glass casing of your displayed pasteries, stuffing them all into their mouth (how did they even do that...?) and taking off.

Before you could even react—or anyone could, for that matter—Blue Beetle was already there, in the doorframe with a tut and a shaking head. You almost lose your mind as a crowd surrounds him with a tied-up thief beside his feet.

You practically collapse when you get back home, in your dingy little apartment. You lay down like a starfish on your bed and think back to everything that had happened to you the past week.

Robbery. Sabotage (you think). Near-death experiences, twice. Plain and simple clumsiness. Probably sabotage again. And more robbery.

This was very not normal. You've come to this conclusion. Whatever supernatural entity wanted you gone was very aggressive about it. You couldn't possibly imagine what you did to piss somebody off this bad.

Maybe they just didn't like your caramel frappuccino. (You don't think it met health standards, anyway).

But what's even more abnormal than that—Blue Beetle is just always there. Every single time. Without fail—as soon as a problem arises, he just ever so conveniently shows up and saves the day like a true hero.

You practically groan into your pillow.

It's like you haven't had one normal day since he showed up. Since he first saved you. It doesn't help that Jaime insists he's a totally awesome hero just doing his job—saving civilians.

No... he's not just saving you... he's practically always there. A hero can be good. But never that good. He doesn't have super speed, nor (from what you can tell) a literal sense for danger (as you watched a building collapse on him on live TV).

There's no tangible way for him to be constantly saving you, in all different areas of the city, in no particular order.

Unless...

You enter your workplace, determined. This Monday morning you found yourself being mugged in an alleyway you didn't even know existed until today.

Take a wild guess who showed up as the gun pressed to your temple.

You discard your tote and shrug off your coat with snowflakes dribbled all over. You can't believe it had just started snowing today of all day—perhaps the universe sensed your imminent realisation and decided to try and hinder you.

Too bad, the universe could take its pity dick out of your mouth—because you didn't need it.

Today you and Jaime didn't have an overlapping shift together. His finished as soon as yours' started, actually—watching him slip on a thick jacket and greet you with a smile. "Hey, [name], what's—"

You stomp towards him—looking very mildly threatening in your green apron. You point at him, digging your nail into his chest. "You. me. Back of the shop. Now."

His eyes widen as you grab his collar and practically drag him through the cooking areas—co-workers laughing as they holler, "Jaime's gonna get some!"

Yeah, he's getting some alright.

Some conspiracy theories.

You practically shove him into a wall when you kick the back door shut.

"Jaime—I've known you since high school. Didn't really like you then—but we ended up in the same course at the same college and now we're bonded for life. You're my dude, my bro, my hermano—that's why I'm telling you this." You speak, deadly seriously. You're staring up at him with murder in your eyes.

"... Wait, you didn't like me in high school?" He deflates.

"Not important. What is important is that I need to tell you this—because I feel like I'm going crazy." You grab onto his shoulders and glare into his eyes. "I think Blue Beetle is stalking me."

A few seconds. Almost nervous silence. You don't break a sweat, but Jaime seems to be perspiring like he'd just run a marathon—eyes looking anywhere but at you. "... Why do you think so...?"

"Every single time I'm in trouble, he's always there in the blink of an eye! I mean—it's more than saving me, it's every single time. This week has literally been the worst week of my life, and he's always there. The minute somebody takes something from the cafe on my shift—boom, he's in the doorframe before I can blink. Bus about to ram straight into me? He slices that motherfucker in half."

Jaime sweats even more now. "He probably does that with everyone."

"But he doesn't! Yesterday I saw somebody robbing a convenience store in broad daylight—and the police were already there before he even showed up! And you know how long the police like to take their sweet time." You shake his shoulders back and forth. "Jaime, I swear to god—I'm not crazy. He is freaking stalking me. I don't know why, or what for, but—"

An uncomfortable laugh escapes his lips as he pushes you back, lightly, so you're not practically squishing your nose against his. "[name], I'm pretty sure you're overthinking this. That's crazy—I mean, Blue Beetle is a superhero, why would he stalk—"

"I don't know!" You practically explode before he can finish, pacing back and forth with your chin cradled and your eyes narrowed into a glare at the ground. "Maybe he thinks I'm his Lois Lane or something—maybe that's how Superman got the girl and this newbie thinks he can replicate that with me. Argh! Maybe he thinks I'm going to become a villain?! Maybe he's from the future where I already am a villain, and my first step to villainy was getting mugged in an alleyway! You can never tell with these time travellers."

Jaime steadies you with a hand on your shoulder, sighing deeply—as if he's conflicted on saying something, "Look, [name]... I think... you've gotten the wrong idea. I didn't want to tell you this, but—"

Something dings. Your phone starts buzzing in your pocket and you gasp. "Shit! My shift is starting! I'll catch you up on my theory if anything else happens—tell me whatever it is later!"

You run back into the shop like your life depends on it—and Jaime's left standing there in the snow, dejected and thoroughly disenchanted.

Tuesday morning. Everything really hurts.

The sun shines directly into your eyes the moment you awake, and have to reel back from the heavenly brightness. You have no shift today—which means, as far as you're concerned, you're free to go do whatever you'd like.

You decide to stay in bed as long as possible.

Wrapped up in cosy white sheets and limps sprawled and messy over your frame—it takes only a few hours for you to get tired of laying around and get up to actually do something.

You rummage through your closet. Yesterday was your hair-wash day, so you'd be damned if you didn't go out and show off your fresh hair. Maybe you should go and see Jaime and his family. It's been a while since you had some of his abuela's cooking.

Yeah. That'd be nice. No trouble, no weird situations, and certainly no superheroes. Just you, your friend, and his sweet family.

You pick out a cute coat and even cuter flared leggings—grabbing your phone and mints (you never know) and your keys. You walk out the door with your head held high and hope in your bones.

You should've known better. Lady Luck wasn't about to let you run around without being completely miserable—no way. Maybe this time was your fault—dividing away from the main street and going through a shortcut that was devoid of people and rather thick with heavy snow.

It was you and your uggs against the world—stomping through heavy white and snuggling closer into your scarf as snowflakes flutter into your freshly washed hair. Dammit.

Humming a little song to yourself—you don't let this get you down. You're too excited to eat some really good authentic food. No way you're going to be a Debby Downer in their lovely home!

There's a shift in the roof in front of you. It creaks a little—and you instinctively look up. Your eyes widen in panic, and your feet are so buried in the snow you can hardly move—a large pile of white fluff that would be enough to bury you alive is about to do exactly that.

It tumbles, starts to fall and you're about to accept the status of a human snowwoman—when a figure dives in front of you and a blue bubble forms around your figure.

You open your eyes, cracking the lids and peering ever so slightly. It's not cold. It's not even fluffy. You don't feel anything different—but you do see a sheepish blue and black figure, all too familiar, trapped within this same bubble.

You could see red right now. "Are you... Are you serious?!"

You expect him to jolt back, to be surprised—but he doesn't visibly seem to be. He stands there, hand behind the back of his neck and eyes focused on the snow that falls over his bubble like it were miles more interesting than you.

You barely notice it, however—as you finally decide to confront him about your little theory. "Are you stalking me?!"

Blue Beetle gasps. You've even shocked yourself a little bit. You didn't expect to be so blunt about it—but whatever gets the job done.

"Wh—stalking you?! Are you serious?! Why would I... stalk you...?" His tone starts to grow suspiciously more like a question as he nears the end of his quip—you narrow your eyes even further and press your finger accusingly into his chest plate.

"You literally show up every single time I'm in the mildest situations of danger! The moment I trip, the moment my things are stuck—the moment a freakin' bus is about to ram into me, you're always there! Are you just following me around, waiting for the next thing to happen?"

"I thought youd be more grateful! I'm saving you from danger, aren't I?" He sasses. You sneer.

"Of course I'm grateful, but tripping and falling with coffee in my hand isn't really dangerous, in my books." You cross your arms, staring up at him and his pure white eyes. "Now, if you don't have a good explanation for this, I swear on my life I will—"

You don't really have a threat on what you can do to an actual superhero—so you're kind of glad (hidden underneath all the initial shock) that he does something that steals the voice from your throat.

With one swoop—his mask is ripped off his face—a head of curly hair spills out from underneath and a face is revealed to be one you recognise so vividly.

You step back a little, eyes and mouth wide open, "... Jaime? You're the Blue Beetle...? What the hell... when did this even happen...? Why are you a freaking superhero now?! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I'll answer everything later, I promise. I just..." He averts his gaze, lips pressed tightly together. "I... I wasn't stalking you, chica. I... I just didn't want anything to happen to you, so... I just happened to go around your usual routes while patrolling the city."

For a moment, you pause—and all the embarrassment hits you at once, like a freight train. You ranted to Blue Beetle about... Blue Beetle stalking you. What a life. But you don't let it show, you can't let him know your weakness right now. You're supposed to be the accusatory one here.

"So... you were stalking me, Reyes?" You lift a brow. "And you did come barging into my shop and lifted me into your arms before I could trip and lose my job."

That particular moment seems to make him flush and he turns his head to the side, "I... I just... you know..." Trailing off, it falls quiet.

A few moments of awkward silence make him speak up again. "I... wanted you to think I was... cool... and I didn't want you to lose your job... cause then that'd mean I wouldn't see you every day... and I'd really gotten used to it, you know? I swear. That was it."

You could almost laugh in his face. But you're a really good friend, so you don't. "... You know, that's such a you thing to do, Jaime. Idiot. I can't believe you let me think I had a super-powered creep following me around." A smile crawls onto your face, and it's almost so infectious it latches onto him.

His lips turn upwards, "Come on... don't embarrass me, chica. Is it wrong for a guy to want a girl to think both he and his alter-ego are cool?"

"You can't have 'em all." You shake your head, then turn around to look at the snow piled over the force field. "How are we gonna get out? I was heading over to your house, to start with."

"Ah... seriously?" He seems starstruck and almost dopey—but shakes his head quickly and reaches his hand out. The mask reconstructs over his face just as he grins, pearly white peeking out. "Come on, hermosa."

A few seconds later—you're being carried in his arms as he bursts out of the snow—hovering in the sky as you cling on for dear life. "Ho... Holyyyy shit! How do you do this?!"

Everything is so small under you, and you feel motion sick just looking at the top of snowy buildings. He laughs like he finds your fright amusing. "Don't worry, you're not going anywhere."

You pause, eyes focused on your hands for a second,d before you look up at him and his pure white eyes. "... Yeah I know. You did take care of me for a whole week... even if I didn't know it was you. I... never got to thank you for that, did I?"

His tone is light—amused, "Yeah. You were too busy ranting to me about your conspiracy theory."

Your cheeks burn and you slap his arm—knowing he probably didn't even feel it. "Shut up. I was right, wasn't I? Anyways, I'll thank you now. For the whole week.

You lean up and press a chaste kiss to his masked cheek—face feeling hot beneath your touch and you squeeze your eyes closed like you can't bear to look at him. "Thank you... thank you for being there, even if I didn't want you to."

He's stunned into silence for a few moments. Then, he speaks—shakily. "... Y... Yeah. Of course. A... Anything for you."

You smile, softly, "Good. Then how about we go back to your house and I can finally eat some of your abuela's cooking, then?"

"Sounds like a plan, hermosa." He grips you tighter in his hold. "And after that... I could fly you home...?" His voice trails off, expecting you to answer his half-question.

You laugh a little and nod, smiling. Arms wrapped around his shoulder tighter when you speak, "If that's the only thing you wanna do, Reyes."

Another moment of silence. Then, he hisses, seemingly flustered and angry, "Khaji—shut up!"

You give him a confused look, but he quickly speaks, "No—no, that's... I'm talking to my scarab..." Another confused glance. "I'll explain it all to you later, I promise."

"Whatever you say, beetle. Now hurry up."

He blasts off to your command and you bury your face in his chest as you rip through the snowy clouds.

Perhaps your co-workers were right, and Jaime really did get some that day.

[izels-writing]

j. potter — how forever feels! [3/?]

Pairing: james potter x fem!hopeless romantic! reader

Summary: the stars have aligned and you and james’ futures have intertwined.

Warnings: harassment (brief), unwanted advance, fake dating trope!!, sad themes, brief violence, james potter being my king, other guy is a butthole, slightly suggestive language toward the end, lmk if i miss anything!!!

PART ONE — PART TWO — PART THREE

a/n: gonna be real for a sec, this was only supposed to have three parts but im having too much fun with this.😭 here is part three!!

TAGLIST: @hisparentsgallerryy @ilovejamespottersomuch @eli-com @froggiedragon

let me know if u want to be added to the taglist!

"are you sure about this? it feels weird..." james mumbled incoherently through his face mask. he attempted not to move his face too much as you'd already scolded him the first time.

the two of your currently sat in your dorm room, after embarrassingly asking your dorm mates to give you the room alone. truthfully, you did it to make it more believable that you were a couple—but it was also nice to spend time with james uninterrupted.

"yes, it's part of the process—if your face doesn't feel weird then you're just not doing it right," you shrugged. a complete lie mind you, but james didn't know muggle stuff that well anyway. magic face masks were much more expensive and hard to come by anyway.

"alright, i believe you, l/n—but if i grow scales, you'll be to blame," he warned jokingly, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

you smiled warmly at his touch and turned back, grabbing a magazine and flipping through it and showing james different fashion styles. you had b/f/n to do girly stuff with, but ever since the seeming strain between her and benjamin a few weeks ago, they'd been spending much more time together alone than usual.

"look at these shoes! they're to die for!" you gasped, showing james the red stiletto with a black rose engraved around the actual heel. "i mean put a black or red dress with it, and they're gorgeous!"

"they are nice, buy them," james suggested with a smile.

you scoffed lightheartedly. "yeah right, potter, they're expensive! the only way i can afford that is by working night and day at a sweatshop,"

"i guess i never really thought about how expensive it might be, i don't really struggle with that," he joked.

you rolled your eyes playfully, shoving a pillow at him. "we get it, mister rich boy," you laughed.

as your makeshift timer went off, you quickly wiped james' face mask off his face. you gently wiped, being met with his contagious smile. then you went to wipe your own face, until he took your towel and began to do it for you. you chuckled and leaned forward, giving him easier access to your face.

"you have beautiful skin," james commented abruptly. "very soft,"

you laughed aloud, grabbing his shoulder to stable yourself as he flushed pink.

"thank you, so do you," you smiled, pushing his hair back messily.

"can i ask you a question?" james chucked. he suddenly looked a little serious.

"shoot," you smiled.

"why're you so scared of love?" james asked bluntly. you froze and tried to smile it away awkwardly, shrugging. you'd confessed this to him one night, after drinking a bit too much at a party and as he put you to bed. he was pretty wasted too, you were surprised he'd remembered.

"dunno, just am i suppose," you replied.

james scoffed. "c'mon, no one is just afraid of love,"

you sighed quietly and looked him in the eye. he waited expectantly.

"c'mon, it's just me and you," he encouraged, shoving your arm playfully.

you nodded. "okay. i guess i've just seen what love can do to people. how it can end, how it can feel, what people can do... i don't want to be on either end of that, even with the good parts," you shrugged. "maybe it's not worth it?"

"it absolutely is worth it," james disagreed. "even with the bad parts, love can be beautiful and pure. true love will make all of it worth it,"

you grinned. "who knew james potter was such a romantic?"

"yeah, well," he chuckled. "i just wish lily would see that,"

you felt your heart sting in a way it hadn't before. he mentioned lily often, and each time, it felt like a silver of your heart was being chipped off and stomped on. you nodded with a small smile nonetheless.

"well, have you ever bothered showing her this side of you?" you asked. "she's not a mind reader, y'know,"

"i suppose i haven't," he chuckled.

"it's a good side of you, you should show it more often. you're a good person and you're a lovely fake boyfriend, i'm sure it would be much better if it was real," you smiled. you meant every word, a bit more than you wanted to. you attempted to catch your breath.

"you okay?" james asked.

"yeah, yeah, want to get a snack? all this self care makes me hungry," you chuckled, attempting to change the subject entirely.

james furrowed his eyebrows, like he didn't believe you entirely. if that was the case, he sure didn't voice it. "uh, yeah, sure," he replied.

you stood up and reached for his hand, helping him up and leading him off to the kitchens. because deep down, in the depths of every feeling and thought you had:

perhaps you did want it to be real.

——

b/f/n frowned. her face was more than heartbreaking and a part of you wanted nothing more than to punch benjamin in the face.

"he said he wanted to take a break?" you frowned, rubbing her arm as you handed her another tissue.

b/f/n nodded. "yeah, he did,"

as long as you had known b/f/n, you'd never seen her this emotional. then again, she really did love benjamin. and she deserved better. she deserved to be treated the way james treated you, even if it was fake.

"he's an idiot. did he say why?" you asked.

"it doesn't matter," she shook her heard. "i stopped listening after he said break,"

you shook your head. how stupid could benjamin actually be. stupid enough apparently.

a knock could be heard at your dorm room door, you and b/f/n looked at each other—both wondering the exact same thing. who could it be?

you stood up and opened the door slightly, peeking your head out. immediately, you were met with a tall, broad boy with rectangular glasses. you gasped immediately in realization.

"oh, james! i'm so sorry! i completely forgot about hogsmeade today!" you apologized frantically, "i can't go out today, uh...b/f/n needs me right now,"

james furrowed his eyebrows in concern. "she alright?"

you nodded. "yeah, she just needs a friend right now.."

"what?! no, go! james she's free, i'll be fine!" b/f/n said, opening the door wider to reveal herself. it seemed as you were talking to james she made her way over to the door as well. her eyes were red rimmed and it was clear she'd be crying, but nonetheless she put a smile on her face like always.

"no, it's fine, i'll stay with you," you assured.

"how about a compromise? come with us, b/f/n," james suggested. 

you smiled widely at james, though it might've not seemed like much—it was sweet to you that he took an interest in your best friends well-being. it was a nice quality.

"oh, i dunno..." b/f/n mumbled, looking to you. you knew she'd feel better if she went out, it'd been two days and being holed up in her room was not doing her any good.

"yes! come! james and i'll have fun with you there, promise!" you grinned.

she sighed. "alright, but only for a few hours, okay? I wouldn't want to get in the way of your alone time,"

you both nodded vigorously.

——

december had rolled by, snow fell and created a beautiful scenery around the castle. you enjoyed christmas, as you were sure others did. it was a time of family and friends and coffee and staying in doors. plus, you were part of the decorating committee of the castle, placing various trees and decor to get everyone in the christmas spirit.

you weren't going home this year, as you and your sibling had gotten into a heated argument with your parents about how you wanted to spend the holiday. they didn't want to spend it at home, but the two of you certainly did. eventually, you all just agreed to do your own thing on christmas despite your upset.

your sibling was a spending the holidays with their best friend, which left you spending it on your lonesome in the castle.

it was the last day before everyone left for winter break, and you were currently helping pass out cookies for breakfast with the house elves and other students that had volunteered. you smiled lightly as students passed by to grab a cookie.

suddenly, a familiar yet unwelcoming face stood in front of you. a few people behind him was the one person you were hoping to see this morning, but the person in front of you was not one of those people.

“y/n, can i talk to you? alone?” benjamin asked, nodding toward a entrance and exit of the great hall. you felt conflicted, but curious nonetheless.

“uhm, sure, mary, can you cover for me?” you asked the brunette, dark skinned girl. she smiled happily and nodded.

you followed behind benjamin, catching james’ eyes—as he stood in line for his cookie—and shrugged when he gave you a questioning look. then, you followed benjamin out into the corridor.

as you stood face to face with him, you fidgeted with your hands. this was really the first time since the letters that the two of you had been alone together.

“i need to talk to you,” he said seriously.

“look, if this is about b/f/n,” you began. “i really think you should talk to her. not me.”

benjamin shook his head. “it’s not…about her, i mean. it’s, well, it’s about something else,”

“okay…” you trailed, crossing your arms. “what is it?”

“i’ve been thinking a lot since i got that letter you wrote, and i know i wasn’t supposed to see it…but i did,” he replied. “so i’m just gonna say it…i fancy you and i think you still fancy me too,”

you could’ve sworn your heart dropped to your stomach. you felt your mouth go dry and you suddenly became very aware of something—you were angry and hurt. how could he think you’re the type of person to do this to b/f/n?

“what? i’m in a relationship! and even if i wasn’t, i would never do this to b/f/n!” you replied angrily.

“yeah, right…relationship,” he scoffed.

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?” you demanded.

“i mean when you’re not around, that boyfriend of yours is drooling all over lily evans! you can’t lie, y/n, you fancy me too! just admit it!” benjamin exclaimed.

“you fancy benjamin still?” a hurt voice asked from slightly away. you turned and noticed b/f/n, who’s smile had dropped.

“no! i don’t! i’m in a relationship! and i stopped liking him long ago!” you assured, turning to benjamin angrily.

benjamin grabbed your hand, pulling you toward him. you heard footsteps run into the great hall, leaving you face to face with benjamin. b/f/n didn’t believe you…

“just tell me the truth, y/n, you fancy me, don’t you? that letter, the way you talk to me, there’s no chance those feelings are gone…!” benjamin insisted, keeping a tight grip on your arm as he pleaded.

“let me go!” you replied through gritted teeth, attempting to shimmy your arm away from him.

“just tell me!” he pleaded.

“let her go,” a voice said suddenly, pushing benjamin away so he would let go of you. you stumbled back slightly, being caught by a safe pair of familiar arms.

b/f/n believed you.

“are you alright?” she whispered, rubbing your arms gently. you nodded, both of your attentions being turned to james and benjamin.

james had pushed him against the way, nostrils flaring and anger clear on his face. “she told you to let her go,”

“merlin, now you want to play boyfriend of the year?! how about when you’re ogling lily evans?! you seriously want to stand her and say that you had no more feelings for her?” benjamin snapped back, getting in james’ face.

you weren’t sure what to do, you certainly didn’t want to get in the middle—but you certainly didn’t want james to get in trouble for you.

“i love y/n, you don’t get to stand here and question that. you can’t just jump from b/f/n to y/n and expect it to smooth over like nothing, they’re both great and they certainly deserve better than you!” james replied angrily, shoving him back into the wall.

benjamin threw a punch, but with james’ stellar reflexes, he missed and james threw a punch back—knocking benjamin to the ground. benjamin landed on the ground, holding his nose as he glared up at james. james went to hit him again, but you quickly ran over and pulled james away and to the group of his three friends and your friend where they stood as they had watched.

“blimey, mate, you certainly took care of that,” sirius snickered. “what’s his problem anyway?”

“he’s a twat, that’s what,” b/f/n spat. you all glanced back to where benjamin had been and noticed he had quickly left, likely from the embarrassment.

“c’mon, let’s have breakfast, i need a snack after the show, you’re joining us, right b/f/n?” peter asked, looking at your best friend with starry eyes.

you had figured out, through little hints, that peter had always harbored a small crush on your best friend throughout the years.

she smiled at him and nodded, shrugging. “i suppose so,”

“you guys go ahead, i need to talk to james,” you told them, they agreed quickly. you watched as they left before turning to james.

before he could say a word, you hugged him tightly and pressed a long kiss to his cheek. you felt a smile creep up to his face. you pulled away slightly.

“thank you,” you whispered with a smile.

——

as you all ate breakfast, the topic of winter break came up. you tried to avoid revealing your plans of staying at the castle, but it seemed b/f/n did not get the hint.

“y/n, you have to be careful, he’s staying over break too, i don’t want you to get caught alone with him,” your best friend warned.

james’ turned to you incredulously. “you’re staying here over winter break?!”

you took a sip of your drink casually as you nodded. “yeah, it’s no big deal. i figured i’d spend it in my dorm,”

“but he’s going to be here too! what if you see him? or worse, what if he sees you?!” sirius exclaimed dramatically. “this isn’t going to work,”

“i can take care of myself,” you assured sirius with a small smile.

james shook his head. “i don’t want to risk you being alone with him, you’re staying with me,”

you turned to james. you had sort of thought it was an unspoken rule to keep parents out of your unique situation. clearly, that wasn’t the case.

“yeah! you can finally meet the creators of your boy toy here!” sirius grinned.

“i dunno…” you chuckled nervously, though you could see b/f/n encouraging you from the corner of your eye.

“its load of fun, the potters always make you feel welcome—i can attest to that,” remus added. “plus, they’re not strict so you and james can even sleep in the same room—sirius and i are going to!”

you felt your eyes widen slightly. sharing a room? a bed? with james?!

“c’mon,” james nudged from beside you. “this way you can experience a real potter christmas, i know your safe, and we have some alone time,” he grinned. you knew it was a part he was playing, but it made it all more enticing.

you turned to james, who had leaned slightly to become face level with you. a small smile grew on your face.

“come on, don’t make me beg,” he joked, pouting playfully.

“alright, alright,” you laughed, shoving his face away in a playful manner. “if it gets you to stop making that face, i will stay at your house for winter break,”

“wicked!” he exclaimed, kissing your head quickly.

[brontes]

and THEN I got bit by a bug that said "Chicago house?" What if I could contrive a situation such that Edward and Bella could get married in Chicago? In a little old church just a few blocks from the house he grew up in. That he inherits from himself every few years. Which would be kept in good order and have minor updates made but stay true to the time period in which it was originally. And what if he had it fully furnished and decorated and stocked and they spent the night there before leaving on their honeymoon. And what if they lived there while Bella was human for a few years. What if it was restorative and healing for Edward to do that. What if he took this house that he had owned and not known what to do with or why he kept it. And what if he began to restore it as he fell in love hardly knowing what he was doing. What if the house was a metaphor for the humanity inside him brought back to life by the power of Bella's love for him?

[freakystinky]

OP is being a wet sock in the comments for some bizarre reason, so since I’m U.S. based here’s a link to all the United States requirements for relicensing physicians because I think it’s an imperative resource for chronically ill and disabled people to have:

Due to individual states deciding these requirements, they’re obviously insanely varied. This impacts the way that patient care is delivered SIGNIFICANTLY, especially in physicians who have stayed in the same states and have been meeting those lower standards for many years, compounding their paucity of knowledge and lowering the quality of care their patients can receive.

Generally, 50hrs/yr is the average, with retesting every 1-4yrs, but some states such as Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana have them at 20hrs/yr or lower.

This means, that over only 8 years of practice, an MD in Washington state (50 hrs/yr) has obtained up to 304 more credit hours than an MD in Alabama (12 hrs/yr).

You’ll also notice that states with the lowest CME requirements (highlighted) also happen to make up the states with the highest maternal mortality rates…

That correlation aside, we KNOW that CE is incredibly important, and that doctors with CE have better patient outcomes. The fact that the US doesn’t have federal regulations regarding this is just plain embarrassing (source).

The system is dysfunctional and things like this are probably costing peoples lives. We need to talk more about it; the first step to improving it is creating awareness that this stuff does exist, it’s just not as effective as it should be. As patients deserve it to be.

Relicensing is already real and a requirement, what we need to do is make it functional and regulated using our votes.

I'm so extremely serious when I say doctors should be put through an extremely extensive reliscensing process every 10 years. Doctors should have their knowledge scrutinized against current medical research and be de-barred at even the tiniest discrepancy. Too many old doctors absolutely refuse to stay up to date on research and dismiss patients because of their personal experiences. Too many people die every year because doctors don't take us seriously and refuse to listen to people who KNOW something is wrong. Too many people are told their problems are nothing and come back in a year or more with serious illnesses and doctors are just like "lol everyone makes mistakes" but doctors mistakes routinely cost people their lives! I'm tired of medical malpractice being swept away under the guise of "mistakes were made."

[fellator]

I love having beautiful roommates because their partners are always kind of simpy and very dedicated which often results in me getting spoiled 🥰

[sugucide]

two weeks.

it's been two weeks since kento has been inside of you. He's gone months, hell even years without sex before he met you and he was fine. he didn't even wish for it like most of his bachelor counterparts did.

but now that he's had a taste of you? two weeks may as well be a death sentence. which is ironic, giving the nature of this sex ban. everything you do is inviting: maybe it's just his underworked sex drive or maybe he's reverted back to his teenage years because he sure does feel like an impatient, entitled brat whenever you walk past him.

he can smell you. not the smell of your perfume you spritz on each morning. not the product in you hair. not the moisturiser you use. but you, the scent of your self, your body, the skin he's so often inhaled as he bit down between your thighs or up the column of your neck. he can smell the memories of sex, sweaty and tangled in pheromones and all things primal.

he can hear you. not your words or laughter or the way you hum absentmindedly when you're pottering around the house. he can hear that sharp little intake of breath when you accidentally, or not-so-accidentally, brush against him. he can hear that whining tinge to your voice when you tell him you won't sleep with him, that you're punishing him, as if its moreso a punishment for you than him. he can remember the way you'd moan for him, desperate and glassy eyed and oh so perfect for him as he ruins you from the inside out.

he can't take it anymore.

"two weeks is more than enough time for me to think about my actions," he tells you over dinner one night, eyes cast downwards at his plate. "...and to come up with a suitable apology."

you place your chopsticks down at his last words and look up at your husband. "oh? let's hear it then."

over the frames of his glasses, kento's eyes meet yours. "i apologise for worrying you and risking my life for my work."

you tap your fingers against the table. "and will you continue to do it?"

"yes," he admits. "it's my job, one that i do well. if i die doing it, i hope it's in place of someone who didn't sign up for it, like you."

kento reaches over the table and takes your hand. "i can't just stop being a sorcerer. that would be too selfish of me. but i do promise that i will make more of an effort to reduce my chances of getting hurt from now on: no more unnecessary risks. okay?"

though that was all you needed to hear from him, you start to wonder if lifting the sex ban was a good idea when your pent-up husband is swiping plates from the dinner table to make room for you to lay back on it. claiming he can't wait the few extra second to carry you to the bedroom, he has you stripped and laid bare on the dining room table in no time, and he's ready for his meal.

"missed her," he mumbles as he parts your legs with a strong hand and bends down to kiss once at your clit. that's about and gentlemanly as it gets, though, because soon after he's making out with your pussy like he's a virgin. no technique, no precision, nothing but unfiltered need and its so much hotter than you'd imagine it to be.

eyes locking onto yours from between your thighs, he adds two fingers and works you open. two weeks was a long time for the both of you, so he'll need to get you used to the stretch of him again. he scissors his fingers inside of you, curls them upwards to hit your g-spot and smirks like a saint when your back arches off the table in response.

"missed you ken," you ramble on as your climax nears. "missed you so much. hated doing this. love you. loveyouloveyou god i love you."

you cum hard, harder than you've cum in a long time and kento laps it up like he's never tasted anything so good. he savours your taste on his tongue like he would an aged wine, something expensive and delicious and worth keeping bottled. though he's harder than diamond and worried he'll cum in his pants if he doesn't sink inside of you soon. so he stands and undoes his belt in record time (with those lovely hands of his) and repositions you at the end of the table with his leaky cock already pressing against your wet entrance.

he leans over you and shares a kiss with you as he pushes in. he inhales the gasp you let out at the stretch and moans into your mouth as a gift in return. he pulls out almost entirely, so it's just his head nestled in your tight pussy, and then slams in again. hard.

"god kento—" you start, about to chide him for being so rough with you when you notice his face dip into your neck and the sudden warmth filling you from the inside. kento's hips stutter and he bites at the skin of your shoulder to muffle the heavy moans that ache to free themselves from his chest.

"did you just—"

"don't," he cuts you off, cock twitching inside of you with his release. he's plugging you up, keeping you full of him and his cum. "give me a minute and i'll fuck you so stupid that you forget that just happened."

"you just—"

"don't laugh."

"im not laughing! it's just, you know like our first time..."

"shut up." kento's hips pull away and then slam back into yours as he starts a brutal pace with you.

that shuts you up good.

[webism]

sugar daddy!gojo who cuts a deal with you one evening: for each orgasm he can pull from you, he'll transfer $1000 into your account. who has you on your back, sweat soaked and fucked boneless as he brings you to your eighth climax of the night.

who, instead of dirty talk, or talking you through it, he coos about all the things you'll get to buy with what you earn. "can get your nails done so pretty, oh and that bag i know you've been looking at baby," because cocky is an understatement and you're too cumdrunk to tell him to shut up even if you wanted to.

sugar daddy!gojo who pays your rent on the condition that he has his own key cut for him to use as he pleases. sometimes you'll come home to a new set of lingerie laid out on your bed. sometimes you'll open the door to flowers on the kitchen counter, other times it's diamonds.

who sometimes surprises you when you're home, too. he sneaks in as you're showering and gives you the fright of your life as he hops in with you. it's okay, though, because he makes up for the scare by dropping to his knees and eating you out with such scalding passion you barely notice the heat of the water against your skin any longer.

sugar daddy!gojo who takes you shopping with the intention of showing you off. of course people turn their heads when a pretty thing like you walks by with his hand dangerously low on your back. bags hang off his free arm full of gifts for you, who he loves spoiling more than life itself.

who can and will fuck you in the dressing room if you show him an outfit that he particularly likes. no one will notice, bar from the slightly sore gait you walk with for the rest of the day. pushes you against the full length mirror and fills you with his cum, makes you spend the rest of the day shopping with him leaking out of you.

sugar daddy!gojo who buys you a car despite always being the one to drive you around. he likes being behind the wheel with one hand inching up your thigh just a little higher at each red light. you swear he brought you your car just to show off, just to make the purchase obsolete.

who fucks you in it regardless of the fact that it never sees the road. parked in your garage it sees more movement than it ever would otherwise. he hardly fits even in the backseat, but it's worth it when his legs are splayed and you're bouncing on his cock like you have no regard for the expensive leather lined seats. not that it really matters if you mess them—he can buy another car.

sugar daddy!gojo who likes giving you your allowance in cash, just so he can have you on your knees with your lips wrapped around his cock as he lazily counts out the thousands he'll gift you. every time you make him feel particularly good, he reaches over into his safe and pulls out a few more notes to add to the pile—laughs when you moan around his cock at the sight.

[constantlyquestioningg]

getting the sudden urge to take a bus to a Bigger Town and have a day out and then come home (it is 23:03)

[steviescrystals]

my dad confuses me on the daily

[raeathnos]

.

[pureomi]

˚୨୧⋆｡🍓˚ darry rings - are limited to one per lifetime, emphasizing that love should be exclusive and irreplaceable. true love verification ensures each customer can only buy one ring.

includes: itoshi sae! x reader. 0.9k wc. fluff hehe

you are unable to believe the outrageous actions of your boyfriend. this time, his doings were diabolical to the point of no return. “get out!”

you push itoshi sae out the door in a fit of frustration. his sigh is so loud, it feels like it’s echoing in your head, only making your irritation worse.

“this is my bedroom,” he deadpans, as if stating the obvious will reverse his sudden eviction. it doesn’t work. you’re already diving into the duvets with a determined scowl.

“what are you even doing?” he asks, his tone tipping into annoyance. he narrows his eyes when you march a little closer and throw his pillow into his arms.

“you’re sleeping on the couch,” you declare, voice firm, matching his now sour expression. “and actually, that pillow is way too nice. hand it back.”

he blinks, baffled, before the "too nice" pillow is snatched away and replaced with a sad, flat one that looks like it’s seen better days.

sae stares at the new pillow and then at you. this is so absurd, so far removed from the usual luxurious facade of his life, that the ever-composed itoshi sae actually laughs.

“you’re forgetting something,” he says suddenly, catching your wrist and pulling you closer.

“sae! let go!” you yelp, squirming in his grasp.

“are you seriously this upset over that cheap ring?” his tone is somewhere between exasperation and amusement, as if he should've expected such a reaction.

“it doesn’t matter if it was cheap; it was mine!” you hit his chest with a fist, glaring up at him. “and you hid it!”

“because i got you a better one,” he says, his eyebrows raising slightly, as if that explains everything.

“well, you could’ve just said that!” you huff, shoving his arm. “i was freaking out, thinking i lost it!”

"why do you even like that ring so much?" sae asks, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s debating whether this argument is even worth his energy.

"because you gave it to me in high school!" you snap back, arms crossing dramatically. "i've spent more time with that ring than with you!"

he freezes, the weight of your words sinking in. the usual sharpness in his expression softens, and for a moment, he just looks at you—really looks at you. his gaze lingers on you, quiet and heavy with a mixture of guilt and something unspoken.

it's true. he knows it. he knows just how many times he’s failed to be present for you, how many moments he’s missed, how many nights you’ve spent waiting for him to come back—both physically and emotionally. each time, each goodbye felt like he was leaving behind another piece of you. your glassy eyes were all he would remember during those long flights.

but that's exactly why he's been wanting to do this for a while. because, although he might not make it obvious, itoshi sae is more attentive than you think.

he reaches into his pocket. the movement catches your attention, and when he pulls out a small velvet box, your breath hitches.

“is that...” you begin to question, even though the answer is obvious.

he opens the box, revealing a sleek, elegant darry ring. it gleams under the soft light of the bedroom—intricate, expensive, but graceful instead of loud, the kind of thing only sae could choose.

“i didn’t hide your ring to be an ass,” he says, a rare gentleness lacing his tone. his firm hand captures yours and slides the perfectly fitted ring on your designated finger.

"i wanted you to have something better," he brings your jeweled hand to his lips, pressing a warm kiss. "something worthy of you."

"i wanted to sign my name to you."

you blink, your chest tightening, and before you know it, you're rushing forward to throw your arms around him in an impulsive, tight hug.

"you're an idiot, sae!" you voice, sound coming out teary-eyed.

a moment passes without either of you saying anything. he just holds you tighter, as if making up for every moment he couldn’t be there. then, he chuckles softly, a low, soft sound that fills the space between you.

you pull back just enough to frown up at him, your hands resting on his chest. "you're laughing?!"

sae, with that trademark smirk, tilts his head slightly. "do you like it?" his voice teasing but with that edge of sincerity you know so well.

you scoff, still holding on to his shirt, a little stunned. "are you seriously asking me that right now?" you mumble, though your heart is already swelling.

"i love it," you finally smile, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. "i love it, sae."

he leans forward, the tug of his smile remaining. "yeah?" he inches closer, grabbing you, leaving no room for escape. "how much?"

"so much.." you manage to whisper against his lips before he fully dives in for a kiss.

his lips move gently against yours, tasting the words you just spoke, savoring your happiness. it’s soft and tender, and deliberately slow, as he prefers.

when he finally pulls back, you're left breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. you glance up at him, suddenly shy, feeling a soft blush creeping on you.

"you're still sleeping on the couch," you point and smile, face full of mischief.

sae shrugs, his expression slipping into one of playful indifference. “fine. but you’re joining me.”

before you can even protest, he scoops you up effortlessly, your squeals of protest only providing him amusement as he holds you securely in his arms.

"okay, okay! you can sleep on the bed!"

a/n: me ignoring my 1k wc essay to write a 1k wc sae fic 👍🏼

[screampied]

❛ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ HARLEYS IN HAWAII ❜ g. satoru

☆ sum. it’s been almost a year with your sugar daddy and as a candied sweet surprise, he takes you on his private yacht. although—the thing that’s even sweeter is the ‘love’ chocolates you both try just for fun. after all, satoru’s always had a sweet tooth.

wc. 6.6k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), unprotected, aphrodisiac chocolates, marathon séx, praise, dirty talk, overstim, dry humping, feral gojo, fīngering, cervīx mentions, cunnilīngus, spīt, hair pulling, size kink, premature ejac, breedīng, petnames.

➤ sd!gojo masterlist.

“ah ah, no peekin’ sweetheart,” a husky voice purrs near the nape of your neck. your plump lips curl into a pout as he’s making you drag your feet toward wherever he was taking you to. the air felt coolly warm, so much so that it was humid. satoru told you to wear something comfortable and warm, specifically a sundress. “there we go, jus’ a few more steps. good girl,” and the rubber bottoms of your flip flops stomp against something hard—you’re assuming the rising platforms were stairs. your ears perk and twitch a bit at the sound of crashing waves and you start to grow curious.

“are you—”

“shhh, quiet baby,” he shushes you, and you feel various designer cold band of his rings dance against your skin. again, once you step into what seems to be some wooden platform, he stops you from walking, turning you to face another way. big hands cover over your eyes and your own hands before he gives your cheek a soft chaste kiss. “m’kay, ready to see your surprise?”

with a nod, he removed his palms from your face and your eyes widen at the revealed sight. a yacht, not just any yacht though, but a private one — the satoru gojo yacht that was probably worth millions. it was huge in person, and you don’t even realize the two of you are both in the middle of the ocean until seconds later. “satoru,” you sheepishly say, feeling a wave of butterflies thump through your heart. the older man’s got the cheekiest grin and he takes off his sunglasses, putting them over your face. “when you said ‘surprise’ i thought you meant like new earrings or something.”

“i can always give you those too,” he strokes your cheek, watching as you fail to maintain direct eye contact. despite having the tinted expensive lenses protect your eyes from the sun, it still shined bright—making you squint a little. satoru’s voice pitches low before he playfully lifts you up, fixing the back of your sundress. “but sweetheart, this weekend’s just about you ‘n me,” and once your arms cling onto him, he starts walking near the lower part of the rumbling yacht. “besides, i have one more surprise to show you. felt like spoilin’ you a bit more today.”

you were quite literally living in luxury. .

as if the outside of the yacht wasn’t breathtaking, just wait until you saw the master bedroom.

despite how you were slowly starting to get accustomed to this lifestyle, his lifestyle—you couldn’t help but be amazed at such royalties being given to you. his yacht was even prettier inside, but this was the norm for satoru. and with him, he had no problem sharing his luxuries with you, his favorite girl.

just for you and no one else.

but you couldn’t think but get trapped in your mind at certain thoughts plucking through your brain. you started to wonder what would have happened if satoru was never a passenger of first class when you used to work as a flight attendant.

you’d constantly wonder the what if’s, but of course you were always always grateful. it’s one of the many thing’s satoru liked about you, how you were always thankful without even saying it. you’d show it, even going far as to giving him gifts.

“imagine we lived here,” satoru hums, leaning back against the satiny cushioned pillows. the entire room was spacey, with rose-gold paint covering the walls. he brushes a thumb over his cocktail glass as he sits on the burgundy sofa. the slick floor’s a sheeny beige color, and in the background, played some old vintage noir.

‘sunset boulevard’, one of satoru’s favorites.

he preferred lots of silent films and adored more than anything when the two of you would watch them together. he’s got on a silk red robe, twirling a bit of his white shown chest hair with a finger. “life on the water. sounds romantic, yeah?”

“what if we drowned, ‘toru,” you mumble, stepping out of the bathroom. the floor was made of slick glass crystals that made up the smooth texture, and you then pause—staring at the white haired man. he’s pretty, manspread and laid back with his hair slickly parted. ever since he’s met you, he grew his hair out a little and it slightly flows near his shoulders a bit. still unkempt and parted, it gives him a more maturely modern look.

his dimples poke near the inside of his cheeks before he simpers. “princess, we won’t drown,” and he sets aside his glass. satoru’s bright eyes linger toward your sundress—one of the many he’s bought you within in the past month.

it fit perfectly, it’s a cerulean blue color that almost matches his eyes.

if it was anything he liked, it was to pick out your outfits, and of course—he’d let you do the same for him. “phew,” he whistles, eyeing you carefully. “you look gorgeous. like always,” he murmurs, averting his eyes away from the screen and now giving you his uninvited attention. your plush thighs cling together before you feel the room of the yacht grow abnormally warm. “oh, right. the other surprise i wanted to show you, c’mere.”

“okay,” you mumble, making your way toward him. satoru slouches back against the cushioned sofa, spreading his legs even wider. slut, he knew what he was doing with his robe slit halfway open, exposing his growing chest hair. a snowy white curl of hairs glue against his chest and you gawk further down toward his lengthy happy trail. god, you found yourself swallowing thickly the more you stared and you could see the smug grin forming against his thin lips. “what . . is it?”

“i remember a few weeks ago you said you wanted to try tabs chocolate,” satoru mumbles, and you watch as he pulls out a thin black cover of rich chocolate. your eyes widened.

he remembered?

you stare at the pricey covered casing, already smelling the cocoa from the wrap. it was true . .

you teased satoru about wanting to try tabs chocolate one day, just to see if it was really real. you were curious on if the chocolate really could help invigorate and arouse people in the bedroom. satoru shrugs, glancing at the cursive writing displayed on the candy. “. . so, i got it for us both. i don’t think it really works, by the way.”

with an eye roll, you plop down on his lap. a beefy arm snakes around your waist before you grab the slim package. “i checked the ratings online. ‘m pretty sure it works, satoru,” and he gives you a complacent nod with his hands raising teasingly. calling your bluff quietly, he watches you tear the plastic all the way open. his eyes follow your fingers and how they swiftly drag away at the nearly wrapped material. once everything’s removed, it’s an entire dark chocolate bar with three perfectly attached squares. even the smell was arousing. “do you wanna try it at the same time?”

“how ‘bout you feed it to me,” satoru coos, and you feel what you think is his leg prodding underneath you. “i’ll feed you yours, sweetheart.”

damn, even his sentences sounded vaguely dirty.

you felt a lump grow in your throat before you blink thrice, holding up the bar of candy. “f. . fine,” you huff, and you watch as his perfectly parted lips sprawl apart. at the same time, you both slowly feed each other a small bite of the chocolate. the moment the rich taste of maca cocoa and sugar falls onto your salivating tastebuds, you let off a soft hum. it’s sweet, but you remember reading online that the effects would take a good twenty to thirty minutes to kick in.

satoru chews it, swallowing it and he scoffs. “honey, i think you just got scammed. nothing’s happening—”

famous last words. .

because not even thirty minutes later, satoru finds himself dived nose-first right between your legs.

he’s feral, on his knees for you and all. usually, satoru would shower you with lots of foreplay, kissing down your neck, your thighs, every part and inch of your body — but now, he couldn’t.

not when he felt so hot, his body felt like it was it was scorchingly on fire. and of course, satoru being satoru just had to lick your fingers after you fed him his single piece of chocolate.

you’re laid up on the sofa now, whimpering with a hand digging through his shaggy white locks.

satoru’s the most deranged he’s ever been, and you’ve seen him feral for you in more ways than you could count. he’s laying his tongue flat, lapping up your sweet folds, still tasting the chocolate on his tongue with the mixture of your own slick.

“f- fuuuck,” he’d huff, feeling his heart beat thump through his ears. it was barely even a big bite and he was like this. you couldn’t help but imagine how he’d be if he ate the entire bar.

you’re moaning, glancing out the window and taking in the breathtaking view of the dancing choppy waves staring right back at you. a pretty serene canvas of rotating waters—you found yourself getting lost at the sea, gazing at how the waters would violently crash against the bottom of the yacht. it’s a mesmerizing view. after a while, your eyes move back down toward satoru who’s still between your legs. he’s lowly groaning, slowly rutting his hips into the edge of the sofa. “ ‘s like the candy makes you taste sweeter.”

“don’t stop s- satoru,” you moan, making sure to keep a firm grip on his head. his pretty lashes were closed shut whilst he’s swirling counterclockwise circles against your puffed clit.

fuck, you felt a gasping shriek snatch out from the back of your throat once you felt him starting to suck. he was always messy - always.

tangled strings of saliva would dribble down past the corners of his lips, flopping onto your sweet cunt. satoru had the kind of tongue where you’d feel him everywhere.

he flicks it around everywhere, spelling out every letter of his name before spitting on it, licking it up directly afterwards. a palm smears his bubbling saliva before he laps it up again, thrusting his tongue in and out. “ooooh,” you’d squeal, feeling him wrap his mouth around your pussy. you’re twitching inside every few seconds and he feels your cute dramatic pulses. beryl blue eyes that blissfully shine against the sunlight flicker up at you briefly and he’s got that same smug grin again.

“mphm, pull on it,” he grunts, and you whine once he traps your swollen clit between his teeth, holding your throbbing nub hostage. satoru can feel himself getting more and more hard, all because of the sweet melodic sounds that left from your lips.

both lips, on one end you’re hysterically moaning and the next, you’re squelching repeatedly.

his favorite thing to listen to—satoru’s favorite place out of all the places he’s taken you to, had to be between your thighs.

at his words, you weakly give him a soft tug, grabbing a nice handful of his perfect locks and he gets tugged forward. “good girl,” he huskily grumbles, resuming to lick two long stripes up and down against your cunt. forever more, he’s savoring your syrupy taste that lingers on his tongue and dribbles from the chin down, moaning from the aftertaste of the chocolate that just won’t go away. “god, this view’s even prettier than the ocean,” he licks his lips, and you feel yourself pulsate once he breaks away for a split moment to catch irregular breaths.

satoru swipes a thumb over his naturally glossed lips, whistling against your pussy just to feel your sensitive nub throb on his tongue even more.

“oh, she’s a cutie,” he rasps, white brows pursing together. he pulls out two long fingers, preparing to delve them inside. “so pretty ‘n all soaked just for me,” and you moan, your thighs curling around his shoulders. squiiish, the moment he’s easing his lengthy thin fingers inside, you gush out a bit right on him. you were indeed wet . . sopping.

you were already a bit drenched from before, and with the chocolate, you felt even more aroused. it felt like being on a rush - a sugar rush.

satoru huskily coos, delicately curling his fingers further inside before he reaches your g-spot within just two inches of a stretch. “there it is, there’s my other favorite girl.”

“sato—fuucckk,” you drag out your pathetic words, gradually moving his head to side against your sopping cunt with one hand. he’s got his mouth full, stuffed, and his entire face was just flushed from being squished between your thighs. “like that, s- suck my clit, baby.”

“baby, huh?” he mocks your sudden pet name, feeling your fingers comb through his messy frosted strands. embarrassment washes over you and he chortles, finding your reaction to his teasing downright adorable. you whimper as he’s still vigorously scissoring long twin digits inside of you. as your stomach submissively caves in, you start to gnaw on the bottom of your lip. “aw, don’t be shy. i like bein’ called petnames too, y’know,” he whispers against your cunt, watching how easily you soak up both fingers.

your folds couldn’t help but drool. streams of your own slick cascade down between the crevices of your thighs and coat the entirety of his fingers.

with a rosy flat tongue, he slurps you clean, taking every few seconds to pull his fingers out - only to push them right back in.

as your eyes squeeze shut, you start to feel your teeth clench and shatter together from the rhyming pressure.

there, once the fat tips of his fingers poke against your g-spot again, and again, and again. .

that was all it took for you to let off a cute three second shriek. abruptly, a sharp twisting coil snaps within you and he feels your thighs turbulently shake within his feeble grasp.

“fuck, fuck,” you whine, feeling his lukewarm breath continue to ghost against your clit. you couldn’t stay still for the life of you—it was as if every muscle in your body snapped once you came, your jaw dropped and your eyes widened.

“ohmygodohmygod,” you ramble, and satoru’s still flicking his tongue against your sobbing slit.

you’re making a mess out of him and he’s eating it up - like always. his pointed chin’s got such a pretty glimmer of shine all thanks to your glimmering slick running down. with a echoing ‘pop’, he slides his fingers out of your cunt, stretching his digits further apart just to see how your sap glues against them. “ngh, s- satoru you’re so nasty.”

“only nasty for you, sweetheart,” he cheekily whispers, leaning further in to give your cunt one single kiss.

it’s a soft passionate smooch that makes you throb against his lips. only satoru gojo could make out with your pussy right between your thighs. you’re speechless—you could feel yourself still shaking from your recent orgasmic release, the ringing in your ears never subsiding.

satoru’s pretty azul eyes remain fixated on your wet cunt before he gives it one final suck of departure. “mmph,” and his growing white stubble starts to drench even more all because of your sweet slickness that smears against your the lower part of his face. “fuck, ‘m still hungry. ‘s not enough.”

as your legs twitch and remain spread apart, you’re gasping for air as you watch him take breaths of his own to collect himself. “don’t pout,” he huffs, sitting up to close the distance between you both. with his hair all ruffled and tangled—he grinds himself into you. “oh. you want a taste too, pretty?”

“y- yeah,” you nod with droopy eyes, feeling the same amounts of sheer heat.

satoru’s flushed just as much as you, and it seems like as he’s leaning into you, he’s moving in slow motion. once his lips crash onto yours, you moan into his mouth.

he wastes no time shoving his tongue down your throat, pulling on the straps of your sundress. you feel a wolffish grin curl against his lips once his tongue delves even further into your mouth, feeling you part your own away. satoru can’t help but grind against your warm body, feeling your legs hook around his waist. even the touch—the skin against skin makes you both even more hotter. it’s like static rubbing off against each other, and you were about to feel yourself short circuit any minute.

“fuck, ‘toru,” you whimper between sultry sloppy kisses, loud teeth smacking and clashing together. you slowly drag a hand down his hairy chest, twirling a frosty strand around your finger.

the taste — it’s candied sweet.

the rich cocoa still lingers on both twisting tongues and you moan, feeling him nip his teeth near your lip. “you’re perfect,” he gruffly purrs, his voice having its same deep rasp. his kisses become more and more filthy and rough and he playfully licks underneath your chin. “mhm, woman you drive me crazy.”

satoru was still very much hard though—very.

you could feel his boner poke from his robe, it must’ve felt painful.

he was so hard, it outlines against the silky woven fabric the more he grinds into you. satoru couldn’t keep his hands off of you. he’s leaving an invisible trail of kisses all down the slope of your neck, sucking against your tender exposed skin. you always tasted sweet than any chocolate he’s ever eaten.

but it’s to his surprise once you lightly push him back against the cushioned sofa.

“hmph! hey,” he falls back, white strands sticking across his perspiring forehead. satoru eyes you with a bewildered look, wondering what’s with the sudden bratty glint shining in your dilated irises. “that was rude, princess. oughta—”

“lie back,” only two words and he was at your very command. satoru couldn’t lie, whenever you had the audacity to give him orders . . he found it hot.

even if it didn’t last that long,

the white haired man slouches back at your command, roving his eyes down your body. he studies the pretty sundress that hugs against your curves and the way you move.

satoru ogles openly as you made your way on top, straddling him before slowly throwing your arms over his broad shoulders. “relax satoru,” you’d breathe, and he groans the moment electrifying friction kneads against his lap. all because of your hips swerving on his raging boner, you cause a spark that ignites within you both. to say you were a ‘mere’ tease was an understatement. “like that, hold my hips baby,” and his big hands gradually move toward your rocking waist. you start to jerk against him real slowly, casually grinding yourself on his lap. you swerved around, guiding his hands to where you wanted them to go.

“oh, s. . sweetheart,” he choked out a nervous laugh, his boner steadily arising underneath his robe.

for a moment, the two of you forget that you’re both on a yacht, surrounded by nothing but smooth pretty bodies of water. it was as if it was only you and him in the entire world. time stood still. it was like you were moving slow, and the more your body moved, the slower time got.

satoru stares at the way you playfully sway your hips against his. he groans, the cloth from his robe that protects his hardened cock continuing to rub against his skin. “you’re killin’ me here. let me touch some more at least.”

“ask nicely,” you lean in closely, pressing a kiss near the left side of his cheek. satoru shivers from your touch, his jaw feeling heavy. such a tease, but that’s what he got for spoiling you rotten.

with a near pout, satoru grumps. “please, sweetheart,” and his big hands glide toward your active waist anyway. “let me touch my pretty girl while she’s movin’ her cute hips on me,” and his playfulness returns within a blink of an eye. you hear the cheekiness in his voice and he leans in to nip a kiss near your neck. “fuckin’ brat.”

“then do something about it.” you whisper with a coy grin, resuming your salaciously addictive movements against his lap. satoru grunts, his brows contorting together in frustration before he grabs your wrists, pinning them up.

satoru’s now got you in a secure grasp and a hand snakes down your waist, giving your ass a soft squeeze. a jiggling nice chunk goes into his palm before he seductively licks up your neck. “i plan to, little girl.”

and he did.

one second you’re on his lap—the next, you’re lightly being slammed on all fours, cheek smushed ruthlessly against the padded sofa.

you squeak out a tiny gasp, feeling him practically tear your sundress apart. satoru groans, staring at your bare ass cheek that’s peeking out of your loose clothing. you’ve got a bratty smile twirling against your lips but it soon fades away once you feel that.

his fat tip—satoru brings it up towards the opening of your sopping cunt, smacking it three times against your folds. “you’ve got some nerve, sweetheart,” he clicks his tongue, hearing your broken whimpers return.

god, even your pussy felt warm against him. fiery electricity surges through you both and he hisses, watching as your pulsating pussy desperately tries to swallow his cock wholly.

he’s so big, you knew it and you didn’t even have to face him directly. all you had to do was feel.

his tip was round and thick, reddened with a rosé flushed color. satoru tosses his head back, feeling your pussy twitch against him as a sloppy greeting of its own.

“heh. she’s so excited,” he breathes through clenched teeth, already breaking a sweat. the yacht continues to slowly create distance in the background but at that point, no one was even thinking about the yacht. “so. fuckin’. wet.”

he smacks his weighty dick against the outside entrance of your pussy, hearing the sloshing whines squawk out of your poor needy folds. as he’s hitting his tip against your cunt, he purposely punctuates his words with tap.

“satoruuuu.” you’d moan, desperately aching for him to just go in already. you wanted it, and the searing heat you felt coursing through your veins just from the chocolate made you throb ten times more.

“i know, baby. i know,” he coos in a rough voice, talking over your whiny babbles. panting heavily,

satoru glances down once his leaking tip finally disappears inside of your drenched cunt. you let off a shaky breath, even going so far as to wriggling your ass back against him just so he could hurry the fuck up.

“tsk. so impatient,” he snickers, velvet straps of his robe skimming against his skin. satoru’s got a bulbous fat curve and with a single hand, he gives his cock a few stroking pumps.

one, two, three . .

he groans once a bit of loose skin from his coral colored frenulum peels back. as he’s stroking himself every few milliseconds, a prodding vein pokes against his palm. bristles of white hairs that glue against his thickset base tickle against his skin.

“mhm, gonna take my time with you. now let’s see that cute arch. just like we practiced.”

moaning, your back raises slightly with your knees cowardly burying themselves into the sofa. “mmph,” and he lightly pushes your head further into the cushion. his tip was so close.

he’s hitting you from behind with his thrusts slowly, on purpose.

he wants to hear those sweet sounds cry out from your lips. satoru grunts once he’s finally going in, thick cock stretching around your elastically stretched walls.

you’re so soft — sweet gummy flesh compressing around him with such ease, wringing him tight like a vice. satoru groans, giving his chiseled hips a single shimmy before pursing his lips together.

“thaaat’s it, hngh. this pussy knows it’s place,” he grouses, and your eyes widen once you feel his plumpish tip delve further between each corner of your slick cunt. he’s fucking thick, and within seconds later he was already inches in.

once his flushing crown disappears inside of your cunt, you whimper once he gives you one single thrust that causes your entire body underneath him to quake. “fuck, ‘s so sensitive,” satoru nearly whines, still feeling tingly from the saccharine flavored treat. he’s panting heavily, mouth dangling open and all. “how’s it feel, sweetheart? ‘m not going too rough, yeah? talk to me.”

“good. feels good, ngh. don’t stop, ‘toru. harder,” you beg, a hand of yours reaching from behind, crawling near your ass. you eye satoru through your blurred peripherals as you turn slightly around and he flashes you a sleazy grin.

that’s the look he makes before he’s about to fuck you stupid,

that’s the look where his eyes were hooded and half lidded, panting heavily like a dog with multiple thin strands of white hair sticking across his forehead.

you were fucked, literally. .

“hah, wasn’t gonna,” he moans, feeling his cock grow insanely sensitive. it was in a way he couldn’t explain—so hot, his head swells up once he starts to move.

as he’s trying to create a decent rhythm with his hips, he’s oscillating deeply into your core. sloppy thrusts pound into you with such carnal vigor that he’s basically humping against your cunt.

every few elongated seconds that dragged out, his tip mercilessly smacks against that target buried deep inside your cunt, striking a perfect bullseye.

‘x’ makes the spot, and his dick always knew where to locate your clit — every single time.

it doesn’t take long before satoru loses it, and he’s losing his momentum. his movements consisted of want and ache.

the head of satoru’s cock was turgid, slowly dragging in and out of your puffed clit as you damp up his entire length. you whimper, feeling the legs of the sofa rattle and jitter from underneath you both. he’s got mean deep strokes that leaves your jaw dropped, toes curled, tummy churning all from how good he’s hitting you.

you’re cutely smothered into the pillows with your mouth just pried open, forming a small gasping ‘o.’

every stroke, every hit, every smack against your ass, you felt like you were on cloud nine - the lewd dirty version no one ever talks about though.

satoru’s got a big hand tracing down the curvature of your waist that later trails down toward your ass. he can’t help but feel against the thin fabric of the sundress, tempted to just rip it off it you. he’d be happy to buy you dozens more anyway.

“fuck me, fuck me satoru,” your eyes roll crisscross, and your entire body feels itself repeatedly ringing from the merciless slaps of skin hitting against each other with determined might to reach his well awaited potency.

he’s bucking his hips against you, watching as tears of sweat start to race down the cracked valley of your ass. “fuck, ‘toru, satoru—ah!”

“heh, sweetheart the walls aren’t soundproof,” satoru playfully bonks the back of your head. your moaning falters, and he chuckles mid-thrust. “aw, don’t be embarrassed,” and you let off a soft gasp once he presses his sharp hips all the way against you. a beefy arm wraps around your neck in a safe hold before he grunts in a husky whisper right up against your ear canal. “ ‘m sure the captain won’t mind, be as loud as you want.”

“s- shit,” you whimper, already starting to feel your thighs struggle to stay afloat. satoru towers over you completely, rutting into you from behind with irregular toe-curling hits.

he’s meanly jackhammering you further into the sofa, the screeching sounds of the seagulls outside growing louder. the loud reverberating claps of skin that roughly ricochet against skin makes your ears ring like bells on a wedding day.

as he’s feeling his cock tighten inside of you, he’s now got you in prone bone. he’s so close to you, hovering his weight behind you with his sculptured hips glued to your ass.

satoru’s thrusts now go slow, slow but deep, making sure you feel, savor, and devour every single inch. “ugh, that spot ‘toru, right fuckin’ there. ‘m close.”

a hand goes over your mouth and you let of a muffled, ‘mmph?’ as he’s still fucking you raw.

satoru’s popping his bulbous crownhead in and out of your stuffed pussy before lowly groaning once coolly air briefly sets against his skin.

“watch that mouth,” and you whimper, feeling his free hand grab near your neglected breasts. you lean into his touch, feeling a bit of your own saliva dribble onto his palm. a thumb of his swipes against your perked nipples that poke through your sundress and you let off a muffled moan. “such a filthy pretty mouth. ‘s a shame,” and he leans in more, licking a stripe near your neck. “i don’t think girls with colorful mouth’s should cum. do you think they should?”

as if on cue, your head raises up and down, doing a cute attempt of a nod as he’s still got your mouth covered. satoru’s still thwacking his fat cockhead into your g-spot continuously until your brain’s short circuiting.

“awww, yeah?” he hums, pressing a kiss near the back of your head. and oh, he’s cocky again, deepening his hits against your core. removing his arm from around your neck, he raises your hips up just a little bit for a more better and thorough angle. “too bad, because i wasn’t talkin’ to you, silly girl.”

and you moan even louder once a rude buck of his hips snaps into you at such untamed speed. you gasp right away, your entire body trembling beneath the sofa. “talkin’ to her,” and as his hand drags down your back, he maneuvers a few circles against your stuffed clit.

you’re whimpering, occasionally glancing out the window. the waves continue to crash against the port side of the yacht background — beautiful.

you’d never get used to the view. the salty smell of the sea wafts against your flaring nostrils as you’re literally being stuffed full of cock, eyes rolling back with your back completely arched. satoru’s so big, splitting you open with his vast mushroom tip so easily. “god, she’s got so much to say today, listen to her cute ‘lil sentences,” and he briefly pulls out, hearing your cunt ‘pop’ out a word or two, wetly squelching from the continuous thrusts.

satoru’s throbbing cock drooled from the sides with seeping white droplets of pre-cum and he groans once he feels himself tightening yet again.

“fuck mee,” and he takes a second to stare at your pretty cunt that’s got your folds slobbering with so much honeyed glistening sap. “aw, she said no,” he teases, dragging a sleazy thumb down your pleading saturated entrance. your mess quickly soaks against his fingertips, making him just as wet as you. satoru feels you writhing against his touch, begging for him to finish and he chuckles. he tsks, wrapping a hand around his shaft before another hand wraps around your neck. hmm. does the pretty baby deserve it? after that ‘lil stunt you tried to pull on me?”

“s- satoru, please,” you moan, feeling your weak legs gradually buckle against the fuzzy furniture. you swallowed whatever pride you had left, feeling your mouth suddenly grow dry as the anticipation grew.

you were so close - right there. practically. gnawing on the bars of your enclosure.

he knew had to tease you, keep you on the edge of your toes. with your ass cutely trying to raise up and move back against him, you let off a sobbing moan. “lemme cum, please. ‘m sorry.”

“no you’re not, sweetheart,” he whispers. aligning himself again between your sniveling slick slit, his wide pink tip leisurely starts to stretch throughout your gummy walls yet again. oh, that part. the way his hefty hanging curve twists its way inside, you felt like you were tasting literal ecstasy. “are ya?”

“no,” you moan, still having a bit of brat left in you.

satoru snickers, the expensive band of his watch gliding against your hip as he holds you in place.

“at least you’re honest,” and you shudder, feeling him lick a long stripe up your sensitive jugular. his girth was so broad and wide, you feel him dip every inch inside of your cunt and you were sure you were gonna break.

he treated you like a doll—specifically a rag doll, tossing you and fucking you where it hits good.

but, fuck was satoru was ruthless.

he’s unapologetically sloppy with his thrusts, making you grind back into his pivoting hips. as his sack hangs back against his loose skin, he smears his lax lips together, groaning at how effortlessly you were squeezing against him.

“fuck, you’re gonna make me cum too, sweetheart,” and as his body’s still pressed right against yours, he hoarsely grunts lowly against your ear. “give it t’ me, make a mess on ‘toru, baby.”

his words poured into your ears like silk, smooth like honey. each sentence he spoke had an effect on you, more than the love chocolates ever did . .

you felt your pussy sporadically convulsing just from his raspy out of breath tone alone.

satoru’s rotund cockhead continues to bruise against your cervix, sloppily kissing around each spot until you’re practically screaming out his name. “louderrr,” he purrs, kissing down your neck once more.

the coarse smacks of skin continue to echo against the walls of the spacious yacht bedroom and satoru grunts.

oh, he’s whipped.

his hips start to slow down by each second, and you feel that pressure within you finally snap. “that’s my girl, thaaaat’s it,” and he talks over your whimpers yet again, creating a wet trail of kisses down your shown shoulder blade. “atta girl, atta fuckin’ girl.”

the both of you groan in unison and after a while, he shortly follows. satoru’s cock was so full, he’s snapping his hips into you at such a wicked speed that you could barely keep up. his stamina was simply unmatched.

you let off a whine and so does he—seeping his teeth into your neck. “hngh, fuckin’ shit.” and as he grabs both of your hips, slowly reeling you back into him - he’s cumming, hard.

thick ropes slowly spurt into you, spraying right near your womb and he lets off the sexiest moan.

it lasts for a good seconds, and it’s like he got defeated — your pussy being the opponent. .

satoru’s washboard abs flex beneath his rope as his head tosses back. it’s an almost growl that leaves his lips. his sensitive tip locks into your tightening entrance, still feeling ribbons of satiny ropes dribble into you at such a snail like pace. it’s so much.

he’s staring to pant more and more as globs of sweat pouring down the sides of his forehead. satoru’s cock shrivels up inside of you and he gives your ass a soft spank. his sweltering hot crown stills itself inside of your cunt as he stays still, lavishing in the sensitivity of both slick mounds enjoy the sticky feelings of fluids combining in lewd felicity. both bodies rut against each other and now it was his turn for his eyes to roll back.

“s- satoru,” you quietly whimper out, feeling the bubbles of creamy wads ooze down between the fat crevices of your thighs.

a lustrously white ring forms around his tender base before he gradually starts to pull himself out. you’re still reclined, feeling your entire body heat up even more. your sundress was still pulled up to your waist and he groans, tugging at the fabric with one hand, another touching his own mess he just created that’s spilling down your thighs.

“such a sloppy girl,” he huffs, out of breath. even still, he’s cumming inside and merrily fills you up to the very brim.

you moan once he slides back in, only to pull his aching tip right back out out. it’s another loud ‘pop’ that resounds through each of your twitching ears.

holding a sharp breath, satoru’s cock slathers itself against your drooling pussy before smacking it against your folds yet again. “look at that, ‘m never gonna get tired of that sight.”

satoru ends up fucking you stupid for hours on his yacht.

in all positions—any position, he moved you toward the bed, folding your poor limbs like a pretzel while his cock continued to massage through your walls by stretching you open. satoru made sure you never forget the barrage he made inside with his lengthy length.

satoru was always whipped for you, but it’s like with the addition of chocolate, it made him ten times more feral. ten times more feral for you.

he’s hungry, you could see the look in his eyes. how his pupils were blown, how he made sure to give you romantically deep yet nasty strokes.

his body would rock against you in sync against your own while the yacht that carried you both continued to judder in the background.

he pumped you full—stuffing you entirely again, and again, and again . . simply put, he was virile.

like he said before, you drove him crazy, and he was starting to think to himself, maybe . . just maybe, you weren’t just his sugar baby anymore.

each time he’d spray a generous amount of cum inside of you, he’d let out a loud guttural groan. he’s weak from how warm you feel from the inside, and your moans for him to keep going only fueled him. satoru’s a literal animal, manhandling your body and fucking you everywhere he possibly could in the master bedroom.

the sofa, the bed, the wall, against the mirror. .

his favorite,

he loved to wrap a hand around your throat, making you stare at your lewd facial expressions right with him. the way your glossed lips would part and your eyes would widen once he makes you stare at the slight bulge that pokes against the lower part of your tummy. he’d serenade something to your ear in a purring deep voice like, “feel me there, sweetheart?” making you touch the exact spot he was hitting.

a pearly stream of his seed dribbles outside of your folds and now, he’s got you in nothing more but an intimate mating press.

“eyes up here,” he rasps a soft panting tone, gently prying your hands away from your face.

he’d just coaxed you through yet another orgasm, and your entire body felt like it just ran a marathon. you were sure by now the effects of the chocolate had worn off for the both of you - it did.

but with satoru, he looked like those many rounds didn’t even faze him. not one.

he’s still lodged inside of your cunt, his tip spitting out thick ropes for the nth time of the night and he groans. your eyes glance down his snowy happy trail and glance at his sharp v-line that’s tensing up from the stimulation. “you . . took me so well,” and he leans in, pressing a tender kiss against your lips.

“mmf—” your arms wrap around him, entrapping his skin waist with your legs. his toned body rocks itself into you for just a few more times before he steadily pulls out. his flaccid cock rests against your bare tummy and you moan, tasting the last few remnants of sugar that lies on his tongue.

satoru’s heart beats rapidly, and once he opens his eyes to stare at you, he knew you were dangerous.

tresses of white hair glue against your skin once his forehead lightly pressed against yours. within seconds, after he found himself pulling you into another deep kiss, something was different. this time, out of all the kisses you shared with him, you think this one meant something more.

it was far more slow and passionate, his body rocks against yours and he groans in your mouth, feeling your hands scratch down his soft skin. you leave a painting of scratches all down his back, a canvas he can’t wait to look at later.

as your tongue continues to tangle with his, strands of spit form into translucent cobwebs before he starts to suck on your tongue. “god, woman you drive me insane,” and he pulls away, completely out of breath. his pretty lips were all glossed and swollen, and he cups your face. “sweets, i—,” he cuts off, locking eyes with you.

his heart was pounding,

telling him to say it - just say it.

but the way you gave him that look . . your arms remain wrapped around him, limbs tangled with each other and he lets out a soft sigh. delicately, he pulls out and watches you let off a soft moan once you were now clenching around nothing.

“ah,” he shakes his head, leaning in to press a kiss against the corner of your quivering lip. “i . .” and a lump gets caught in his throat.

you strum a thumb against his undercut, a simple gesture that you knew would always soothe him.

the white haired man leans into your touch, his heart practically yelling at him to just spit the words out before he speaks against your lips, slowly lifting up your leg, kissing your ankle.

“i think . . i think ‘m in love with you, sweetheart.”

[luv-lock]

Jason Todd is a smoker .⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀⠀💭

Jason who keeps a pack of cigarettes in the inside pocket of his jacket, right next to a picture of you he swiped from your desk. Not that you’d ever know, because he’s carefully folded it so only he can see your smile.

Jason who refuses to share his lighter with anyone else. It’s not just because it’s his—it’s because your initials are carved into the side, along with a heart he scratched there himself. He says it’s “dumb” and “just a thing he did while bored,” but you know he’d gut anyone who tried to touch it.

Jason who keeps a special pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket, only for you to see. Each one has a faint, lingering trace of your perfume. He doesn’t even smoke them half the time; he just holds them between his fingers and breathes them in when he misses you too much.

Jason who pulls out a cigarette and pauses, twirling it between his fingers, staring at it with a crooked grin before muttering, “Doll wouldn’t like me smoking this.” He lights it anyway, because he knows you’ll scold him later, and he loves the way your hands curl into fists when you pretend to be mad.

Jason who has a habit of resting the cigarette between his lips while he leans against his bike, waiting for you to finish work, but doesn’t light it until you’re there to steal it from his mouth for yourself. He doesn’t even complain when you do; he just watches, smirking as your lipstick stains the filter. “You’re ruining my tough guy image, doll,” he’ll tease, but his grin says he loves it.

Jason who asks you to hand him a cigarette, just so he can watch your fingers curl around the box. He doesn’t even need one half the time. “C’mon, princess, humor me,” he drawls, leaning back like the cocky bastard he is.

Jason who presses the cigarette to his lips, then stops halfway. “Wait—kiss me first,” he says. “You know it doesn’t taste right if I don’t get one from you.”

Jason who only smokes half a cigarette before flicking it away, mumbling something about how it’s not worth finishing if it doesn’t taste like you.

Jason who hoards all the lipstick stains left behind on the filters, collecting them in a small tin in his room like a damn psychopath. When you find it, he just shrugs. “Don’t judge me. It’s art.”

Jason who lights up only after brushing his lips over yours first, muttering, “You’re the only good thing I wanna taste tonight.”

Jason who keeps your perfume on the nightstand and spritzes it on the collar of his jacket before stepping outside for a smoke. He breathes it in between drags, imagining you’re standing there, rolling your eyes at his bad habits but still staying close.

Jason who buys the most obnoxiously expensive cigars whenever he’s on a mission far from Gotham, not because he likes them, but because he knows they’ll get your attention. “Go on, princess, try it. I know you’re curious,” he’ll say, holding the cigar to your lips like it’s a dare.

Jason who never lets the ash hit the ground when you’re nearby. He stubs it out before you can complain about the smell or give him that look. God, that look—you’re worse than Alfred, but he can’t help loving it.

Jason who swears he doesn’t have an oral fixation, even though he constantly brushes his thumb over his lower lip while watching you. He murmurs, “You’re more addictive than nicotine, you know that?” right before he presses the cigarette back to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours.

Jason who grins every time you scold him for the habit, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Don’t worry, princess. I’m addicted to something much worse than nicotine.” And he doesn’t have to say it, because the way his eyes lock on you, like you’re the only thing that matters, tells you exactly what he means.

Jason who will smoke less if it makes you happy, even though it drives him insane when you ask him to. Says something like, “I’m already a dead man walking, doll. What’s the harm?” But he’ll throw the pack away when you glare at him because he knows you’re right, even if he won’t admit it.

Jason who once tried to quit because you asked him to, and lasted three days before he came back to you, shaking and desperate. "I’ll quit, baby, I swear. Just... just give me time, yeah?" You held him, kissed his temple, and told him you didn’t care as long as he was okay. He’s never loved you more than he did in that moment.

Jason who tastes like smoke and leather when he kisses you—rough and familiar, like coming home after a long day. Who always holds your face a little too long after, like he’s trying to burn the memory of you into his mind.

Jason who, in a rare moment of vulnerability, tells you he only started smoking again after he came back from the dead. "It reminds me I’m alive," he says, exhaling smoke into the moonlight. You lean in, press a kiss to his jaw, and tell him he doesn’t need the cigarettes to prove that.

Jason who tells himself he’ll quit someday. For you. But tonight isn’t that day. So he lights another cigarette and mutters your name like a prayer, the smoke curling around him like a ghost.

Jason who keeps one cigarette in his bedside drawer, untouched and pristine, because it’s the first one you ever kissed for him. He doesn’t smoke it. He never will. It’s a reminder that you’re his, just like every other damn thing in his life.

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.