#i want to submit more but at the same time that's ridiculous

[weeb-cheese]

I submitted 4 panels to the next big anime convention I'm going to, and I really hope all 4 get accepted!!! I've never hosted a panel before, but also the panels I pitched are in line with the kinds of videos I make, and I did flex the youtube channel in hopes it shows I know how to present information and analysis. Also this con gives free weekend badges for each accepted panel (so if all 4 get accepted my entire core group can go for free) the panels are: 1 bg3 trivia game panel, 1 black butler multiverse panel (that talks about the different media adaptations that are not canon adaptations so the ds game, musicals, live action movie, first 2 seasons ect.), 1 jjk panel that's all about satosugu and how the ship impacts the narrative, and 1 panel that's just the history of bl manga I think these seem interesting enough, and based on last year's schedule, and the schedule at a similar big con in the same area, there's no one else doing panels like this. BUT there are panels related to Black Butler, BL, and JJK. (bg3 is the only one I haven't seen fan run panels for at all, it's just been cast panels, but there were 2 bg3 fan photoshoot/meet ups last year so here's to hoping)

[hanniebaeee]

Code Love

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: nothing!!

Genre: colleagues to lovers, flufffff

Summary: Hyunjin is a brilliant post doc at the lab where you're perusing your PhD. He is such a sweet and sexy genius, and you are completely in love.

a/n : For all my science/research girlies 🤭

It was another late night at the lab. You were squinting at the test tubes in front of you trying to make sense of the results. But you were struggling to concentrate with the way your heart was pounding.

He was just sitting there, at his workstation, effortlessly spinning a pipette between his long, elegant fingers. Nothing for your dramatic heart to pound like that.

“Did you hear me, Y/N?” Hyunjin’s soft voice cut through your thoughts.

“Huh?” you blinked, attempting to act like you hadn’t just been imagining how those fingers would feel on your - never mind.

“I said,” Hyunjin grinned, “you’re incubating that reaction too long.”

“Oh, um, I knew that” you fumbled with the timer, cheeks heating up. “Totally knew that. Thanks, Hyunjin.”

“Sure, no problem,” he said, eyes sparkling like he enjoyed watching you unravel.

God, why was he like this?

That face? Those lips? And that brain? This was unfair. He had to have some flaw - how can a man be this perfect?

“Are you staying late tonight?” he asked casually, leaning back in his chair.

“I have to,” you mumbled. “This experiment is dragging on, and I have to submit the report by the end of the week.”

Hyunjin hummed, and said, “Oh good, I'll have some company then.”

You could literally see him doodling flowers into his book - he had nothing to do here. But yet every time you had to stay in late, he'd be hanging around too. Just the two of you.

Your brain immediately betrayed you, fueling your wild fantasy where he wasn’t staying late for work but because he secretly wanted to spend time alone with you. You were fighting so hard to maintain a shred of professionalism, but it was so hard when he was looking at you like that.

Hyunjin hummed softly under his breath as he continued to doodle, the sound sending tingles down your spine. Of course he was a good singer too. You just didn't understand what the universe even wanted from you anymore.

---

“I swear to God, Ji, if he twirls that pipette one more time, I’m going to launch myself across the lab bench, and just -” You were sprawled on the sofa in Jisung's apartment, sighing dramatically.

Jisung was your work bestie, working in the lab next door to yours. And he was the only one in the world who knew about your extreme devotion to Hyunjin.

Jisung burst out laughing, as he said, “This is bad, babe,”

“Bad? Jisung, I seriously can't even think when he's around.” you said. “Oh my God!!”

“Have you considered just telling him you like him?” Jisung smirked.

“Right, and ruin the perfectly good thing we have going where I pine silently while he ruins me with his brilliance? No, thank you.”

“You’re hopeless.”

---

The next late-night session happened way too soon, where Hyunjin wandered over to your bench, peering at your data from over your shoulder. He leaned in close, the scent of cologne (or whatever pheromones that he's sending your way) invading your senses - it's simply intoxicating.

“Want me to take a look at that?” he asked, “You've been spending way too much time on it.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, trying not to stutter. “It’s just...a lot of noise in the data.”

“Let me see,” he said, pulling a stool next to you. He reached for the keyboard, and your heart fluttered as his fingers brushed yours.

You wanted to cry. Please don't be so sweet and sexy at the same time, you begged internally. You cursed your body for betraying you with every glance while he explained what he was doing. You could feel the tension in your shoulders as you tried to focus on what he was saying.

Get a grip, Y/N, you reminded yourself. This is professional. Stop fantasizing about this ridiculously hot man who’s inexplicably obsessed with helping you.

When he finally looked up, you realized you’d been staring at him the whole time.

“What?” he asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Nothing... thanks. You’re really good at this,” you stammered.

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment.

“You’re good at this too, Y/N. We all have our bad days. Don’t sell yourself short.” he said, patting your shoulder gently before standing up.

You felt your heart squeeze at the sincerity in his tone, and you watched as he went back to his own seat.

Stop it. He’s being nice. Don’t read into it. Just focus on the work.

But it was so hard not to read into it. The way he leaned closer when he spoke, the way his fingersa brushed against yours when he passed you something, and the way he was always so soft with you.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

“Y/N, I’m begging you. BEGGING. Tell him. I'm sure he's dying to hear it.” Jisung said, smiling at the girl who handed over our coffees at the cafe.

“You don’t get it! I can't risk it, if he's just being nice, then -”

“Babe,” Jisung drawled, “what world do you live in?!”

“Don’t give me hope, Ji.” you sighed as you walked towards your lab, the early morning breeze cool against your skin.

“Hope? The man stays late every time you do, flirts with you nonstop, and compliments you after he does your work for you. At this point, I’m falling for him,” Jisung said, throwing his hands up. “Seriously, babe, if you don’t jump him soon, I might.”

---

The cold room was your least favorite part of the lab. You hated everything about it - the freezing temperature, its claustrophobic size and the damn protein extraction procedure that drained the life out of you.

But here you were, miserably clutching your samples and praying for the nightmare to end soon.

“Y/N?” Hyunjin’s voice echoed through the door as it opened, and you turned to see him stepping in.

Great. Now you were cold and flustered.

“How's the extraction going?” he asked, his tone light as he slipped on his gloves.

“Going wonderfully,” you muttered, shivering despite your layers.

He grinned, coming closer and watching you work.

“Do you want me to take over?” He asked, making you sigh.

“And miss out on the joy of freezing to death? Never,” you joked weakly, and Hyunjin laughed. “You're too nice, Hyunjin. But I've got this.”

“Nice?” he repeated, leaning back slightly but still watching you intently. “You sure about that?”

You froze, suddenly way too aware of how close he was standing. Was he teasing you? Was this flirting?

“I- I mean, yeah,” you stammered, breaking eye contact. “You’re always helping me...”

“Maybe I have my reasons.” Hyunjin tilted his head, his smile softening.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you asked, “Reasons?”

Before he could answer, the door swung open.

“How's your favorite experiment going?” Jisung's loud voice floated in. “Oh, hi Hyunjin!”

You didn't know if you wanted to strangle Jisung for ruining the moment or hug him for saving you from it.

Hyunjin, ever the sweetheart, just laughed and said, “Hi Jisung, I think she's doing just fine,”

“Of course she is,” Jisung said, moving aside for Hyunjin to step out.

“What was that?” He asked as soon as Hyunjin left.

“What are you doing here?!” you hissed. “We were getting somewhere, but also, if you hadn't come I would've fainted. Like I feel so dizzy, my gloves are all wet from sweating-”

“Y/N,” Jisung said, gripping your shoulders and shaking you lightly. “You like him. He obviously likes you. The universe is literally freezing you together in this cold room to force you to act. Next time, please -”

It was barely 5 am, and you groaned as you shuffled into the lab, your hair in a messy bun and sleep still stinging your eyes. But the bacterial cultures didn’t care about your sleep schedule - or lack thereof.

Throwing on your lab coat and gloves with the grace of a zombie, you started checking the growth plates with bleary eyes.

You’d barely managed to finish when Jisung strolled in, carrying two steaming cups of coffee.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased, setting a cup in front of you.

“I love you, Ji,” you muttered, taking the first sip and feeling a spark of life return to your body. “I don't know why I wanted to be a scientist.”

Jisung plopped down next to you, snickering, and started scrolling through his phone while you leaned your head against his shoulder. And he rested his head against yours, before placing a quick peck on your temple.

You were starting to fall asleep, when the lab door creaked open.

You both glanced up to see Hyunjin walk in. His cheeks were pink from the cold and he stopped at the door for a second, his eyes fixed on you.

“Morning,” he greeted, and you gave him a small wave, still too sleepy to form words. Jisung returned the greeting, and then left quickly.

You noticed Hyunjin’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. That's new. He moved to his workstation, setting down his bag and pulling out his laptop.

You sat up straighter, something about Hyunjin’s silence gnawing at you. He didn’t even glance your way, which was unusual.

Hyunjin, meanwhile, was battling a whirlwind of emotions. He knew you and Jisung were close friends - you’d mentioned it so many times. But seeing the way your head rested against his shoulder and Jisung had kissed your temple - it just looked way too intimate. Too cosy.

He hated feeling this way, especially when you weren’t his to begin with. Still, the disappointment twisted in his chest and he didn't know what to do about it. So he focused on his work.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting back to you.

---

You let it go on till about noon. But it was killing you - you weren't used to this kind of behavior from Hyunjin and it was starting to stress you out. So summoning your courage, you walked over to Hyunjin and said, “Hey,”

He glanced up, his expression neutral as he said, “Hey.”

“You okay?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light. “You're so...quiet.”

“I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.” Hyunjin said, giving you a small smile.

“You sure?” you pressed, feeling a strange pang of hurt.

He nodded, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”

You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. He was being so distant, and it left a strange, hollow ache in your chest. Finally, you gave him a small nod and walked back to your seat, feeling totally crushed by his uncharacteristic coolness.

Hyunjin’s silence stretched into the next day. And the day after that. In fact he hadn't spoken more than a couple of words to you in the past two days. And it hurt so much, considering the fact that you don't even know why he was doing this all of a sudden.

You tried to brush it off at first. Maybe he was just busy, or stressed. But the space he was putting between you felt deliberate, like he was doing this on purpose.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, was crumbling inside. He adored you. And that too for long enough that the thought of losing you was nearly unbearable.

You and Jisung were so close. And you looked so comfortable. He couldn't take it. He wasn't going to let his heart shatter like that.

So, he’d made a decision: if he couldn’t have you, he’d rather step back than risk the heartbreak of watching you fall for someone else. Even if it meant burying his feelings.

---

The next morning, you were back in the cold room. You’d been trying to salvage your protein extraction for hours, but nothing was going right. Your hands were trembling as you loaded yet another sample, and your vision blurred with tears of frustration.

“This is so stupid,” you whispered to yourself, your voice cracking. “Why can’t anything just go right for once?”

You sniffled, wiping your cheek with your sleeve, as you continued your monologue.

“I just want my Jinnie back. Why does he hate me now? What did I do wrong?” your voice wavered as you spoke through your tears.

What you didn't see was that the cold room door had opened quietly, and Hyunjin had stepped inside. He froze at the sound of your voice, his chest tightening at the sadness in your words.

Your Jinnie?

Your name slipped from his lips, soft and hesitant, “Y/N?”

You stiffened, your body freezing and your heart racing as you heard his voice.

“What?” you croaked, refusing to turn around, too mortified to meet his eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Hyunjin asked, taking a step closer.

You shook your head, refusing to face him.

“Why do you care?” You asked, and it broke his heart to see you wipe your tears.

“Please don't say that, of course I care-”

“It’s nothing. Just this stupid experiment. And... everything else.”

“Y/N,” he said again, his voice firmer now. “Please. Talk to me.”

You gripped the edge of the table, your knuckles turning white.

“I can’t do this anymore, Hyunjin,” you whispered. “I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. You won't even talk to me, and it’s killing me. I just... I just want my Hyunjinnie back. Just stop hurting me like this.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You felt the tears spill over again, your shoulders trembling as you waited for him to say something. Anything.

And then you felt it.

Warmth. His strong arms wrapping around you from behind, his chest pressing against your back as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

You gasped softly, frozen for a moment before leaning into him, your tears falling freely now.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin whispered, his voice trembling as he buried his face in your shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of his face.

“Why are you mad at me?” you asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he said quickly, his hold on you tightening. “It wasn’t you. It was me. I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of losing you,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I thought... I thought you and Jisung -”

“Jisung?” you repeated, blinking in confusion. “You know he’s my best friend, Hyunjin. He's like a brother to me.”

“I thought I was protecting myself,” he admitted, his lips close to your ear. “I thought I’d lose you to Jisung, and I couldn’t handle it. But I didn’t realize... I didn’t realize I was hurting you in the process.”

“I can't believe you never saw me thirsting over you, Hyunjin” you said, your voice incredulous. “What are you even saying?!”

Hyunjin let out a shaky laugh, burying his face into your neck. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“You are,” you sniffled, though your tone was softer now.

He pulled back just enough to turn you around, his hands gently cupping your cheeks.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for so long. And I was so scared- ” he stopped short as he saw the look on your face.

“You... you love me?”

“I adore you,” he said, giving you a shy smile.

You let out a breathless laugh, the weight on your chest lifting for the first time in days.

“I love you too, Hyunjin. So damn much.”

His smile widened, and before you could say another word, he asked, “Can I... can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, and when his lips met yours, it was the most beautiful thing in the world. He kissed you so softly (even though you just wanted to eat him up.)

You both stepped out of the cold room together, the door clicking shut behind you. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips swollen from the kiss, and as you glanced at Hyunjin, you saw he was in no better shape.

You didn't get to take another step forward as the door to your lab opened and Jisung's head popped in.

His eyes flicked between you and Hyunjin and you could hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to piece together what he was seeing. And then he smirked.

You glared at him, because you know that look on his face, and Hyunjin just stood there, his arms crossed and a smile that said “I got what I wanted".

“Congratulations,” Jisung said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m so happy for you both. But oh my god, you two idiots…”

The grin on his face was priceless. He was enjoying this way too much.

“I swear, if you don’t shut up -” You swatted him on the arm.

Jisung winced dramatically but couldn’t hide his laughter.

“What? You guys make an adorable couple... but honestly, you both are just so dumb.”

Well, you couldn't agree more.

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght

[hotvintagepoll]

LAST POLL OF ROUND 4

Danny Kaye (The Court Jester, The Inspector General)—Danny Kaye, idol of my childhood, maker of the weirdest faces! This man SETS HIMSELF ON FIRE and then puts himself out in a bucket in a movie based on a Gogol short story. In the same movie (Inspector General), he flirts by playing a carrot as a musical instrument. In Wonder Man, he's brilliant but struggles with things like riding buses. I have been envious of his fake Italian/French/German/Spanish monologues in The Court Jester for the past three decades. As Walter Mitty, he is SUPREMELY SILLY yet also somehow manages to be a comic foil for none other than Boris Karloff. All this is to say nothing of The William Tell Song (TV, thus not linked, but great.) I adore him.

Donald O'Connor (Singin' in the Rain, Francis, Call Me Madam)— LOOK AT HIM. Those giant blue peepers. Those tappy tappy little feet that don't quit. The ears that stick out like little wings, ready to lift him up to goofy heaven. The way his face contorts into the strangest yet most endearing expressions. His ability to sing and dance alongside the hunk that is Gene Kelly and yet pull all attention away with his big-eyed buffoonery. The way his energy is unmatched in songs like "Make 'em laugh" - bouncing off the walls and tumbling through the air straight into my cold cold heart. Who else but a true scrungly lil guy would sit upon the witness stand and defend a talking mule with all the love and affection in the world - staring out into the court room with his bright wide eyes and eternally mouse-like expression, openly admitting that the mule is his best friend?!??! I see him and I want to pull him from the screen into my hand and just squiiiiiiiiiiiiish with all my might. I want to pinch his cheeks and have him bat those eyes at me. He just makes me go "eeehehehehehe" every time I see him and his silly little self. He is pure chaotic, ridiculous, scrungly perfection!

This is round 4 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you’re confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Danny Kaye:

He's so stupid. I love him.

Donald O'Connor:

My silliest little guy. My funnyman. My horsie. I have watched many a bad movie for this man. The scrungliest fact I know about him is that he was supposed to star as Danny Kaye's role in the iconic White Christmas (1954), as he had known Bing Crosby since he was a child, but couldn't because he caught a mule disease while working on those Francis the Talking Mule films Universal endlessly made him do. I wouldn't exactly recommend those movies, but Don's character getting psychologically tormented by a sardonic mule does make for quite a good movie night, if you know what you're getting into. Are You With It? is another one I don't exactly recommend, but it does open with Donald as a math genius actuary who is about to kill himself over a displaced decimal point before getting taken in by a traveling carny instead. His more well-known and beloved roles have plenty of scrungliness too, in my opinion. This man slapsticked so hard he wound up bedridden for his physical exertion! Rather than submitting Make 'Em Laugh, which the electorate has likely already seen (I hope), I'm submitting an underrated dance number of his, where he explains maths through tap dance. That movie is Not good, but god do I love him in that role.

I think it's arguably very scrungly to seemingly be a real life cartoon character made out of rubber, as proven by how slapsticky the list of scrunglies is so far. In which case, Donald O'Connor? He scrungles supremely. He even played Buster Keaton in a movie (that apparently can't be recommended, but still).

[alexiroflife]

"mutual understanding"

part 1.

modern | business au, business heir!gojo, hints of fluff, banter, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage

satoru gojo x reader

Synopsis: you, the daughter of a wealthy law firm ceo, are forced into a binding arrangement with your father's competitor's son for the sake of his company

to sum it up: you've always hated satoru, and now you're expected to marry him for your father... how the hell were the two of you meant to get along?

WC: 19,667

Warning(s): none

-> i'm alive guys! so sorry about the delay, i've been super busy but i come home from vacay in a week and should be back to a normal uploading schedule soon! i hope you enjoy, i got carried away with this one :) [also requests are still paused as i catch up on those submitted before i traveled!]

You found this entire ordeal to be absolutely ridiculous.

You sat in the corner of the room on one of your father’s lavish couches, arms crossed frustratedly as though you were a toddler having been shunned to time out. In many ways, however, it almost felt like you had. Your father had grown tired of your bickering and disdain over this stupid arrangement, and had sent you to quietly sit at the other side of the room and to not serve as any more of a ‘distraction’ he claimed you had already become.

I mean, how unfair was this bullshit?

Not only was your father orchestrating your entire future before your eyes without allowing you a say, but he was doing so in collaboration with his previously opposing company; his former competition. You glared angrily ahead into the back of the elder, snowy white haired man’s head as he presented a contract that your father bent over the desk to put pen to, then gritted your teeth as the said men tossed their heads back in scheming, haughty laughter in response to some throwaway joke that was made, making amends at your expense. 

Your father had always taught you the importance of business expenses and exchanges for the sake of successfully pushing forward, but was this all really necessary? You were twenty five years old, having just completed law school, and this was where your father wanted you to be, cramped inside his eloquently stuffy office with the head of the Gojo Firm, feet away from his heir who your father is forcing your hand to in marriage. 

You clicked your teeth at the sentiment, having listened to his seemingly endless rants about the Gojo Firm and their business practices that he oh so frowned upon, yet were the same practices that brought the two companies neck and neck with each other, and at times, the Gojo Firm ahead of your father’s.

“Those Gojos,” your father would hiss through gritted teeth, pacing his office. “Such arrogance. They don’t even bother to polish themselves the way we do, and yet, they’re constantly climbing the ranks! That head of theirs will be the very death of me, and don’t even get me started on his Satan spawn of a son they call an heir-”

Yeah, the same Satan spawn that your father was suddenly springing onto you for the hope of a lifelong commitment. He was such a hypocrite, feigning a bright, gasy grin as he shook hands firmly with his enemy, clasping his other firm hand over their conjoined ones to solidify the commitment. 

He had not even bothered to ask you what you felt about the entire ordeal. He begged you not to complain or misbehave, but you felt he should have known his daughter better than to be one to sit back and complacently accept the forceful conjoining of her life with another snobby little nepotism baby for the sake of the company. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t understand why your father was making you go through with this. You knew perfectly well that choosing to make amends and to bind the notorious families together by means of marriage would work wonders for all of you in the end, and you wouldn’t have had to work another day in your life, but it simply wasn’t what you wanted. You had your own goals, your own aspirations, and marriage in your mid twenties had never, ever been a part of those plans. 

Additionally, you’re unsure if your father’s opinions bleeding into yours were to blame, but you simply could not stand the man you were expected to be marrying. 

You snuck a harsh glare over into your right direction, peering angrily at the Gojo Firm heir, who leaned back into the adjacent sofa with his long legs spread out so widely before him as he sank into the cushions. A look of resenting apathy splayed over his expression, eyes staring emptily forward as he tuned out whatever his father was yammering on about. 

You scowled at the very sight of him. 

If you were to be deciding upon yourself to engage your life to another human being’s before your life had truly even begun, Satoru Gojo would not have been your first pick. In fact, he would not have even made it as a contestant within the race to capture your heart. You doubted that Satoru was any more interested in you than you were in him, but you didn’t care. You felt you had reason to dislike him, when he merely appeared to be pouting about getting tied down. 

You had the misfortune of crossing paths with the twenty six year old a few times before, and each time you saw him, he made it a point to remind you of his father’s advantage over your own. He’d stop in his tracks upon seeing you on the street, at a shopping district or climbing out of your father’s limo to enter a restaurant, and the same, sickening smirk would curl its way onto his porcelain features, crystal eyes slimming in judgment and pride as he peered over you, pressing you for a reaction as though he enjoyed to watch you doubt yourself at his manipulation.

He was exceedingly pompous, he was childish, and he had no manners. He did as he pleased, and while the two of you were in the same boat in regard to your privilege and your parents’ success weighing down on your own lives, he behaved that much more uncouth than you did. You at least had the decency to practice what you liked to call normal human decency, despite your ranking as the 1%, but Satoru Gojo behaved just the opposite. He paraded around gallantly, flaunting his riches, blabbering on about his future reception of his father’s company, which was and remained the “best law firm in Japan, if not the entire world,” according to his own beliefs. 

You had often curled your nose in disgust at Satoru's behavior. How someone could have been so blatantly self involved, you didn’t understand. You believed he was the very reason as to why the world frowned upon the richer, isolated sanction of the world, though you could have probably chalked that idea up to naivety since you yourself remained on the inside looking out, struggling to understand the issues society had with you all. 

Nevertheless, you believed yourself to be better than the Gojos tenfold, and far better than Satoru Gojo could have ever been, but now, you had to harbor that hatred elsewhere, channel it into something other than your… dreaded fiance. 

Satoru took notice of your gaze on him and turned his head to catch your eye boredly. He curled an irritated brow at you, and you rolled your eyes, turning away staring angrily forward once more. You could feel those pools of ocean blue seering into you after you looked away, likely challenging you to see how long you could ignore him. You clenched your jaw, tightened your crossed arms and pushed yourself further back into the seat of your chair.

After what had felt like forever, your parents turned to you with the freshly signed contract within their grasp.

“Kids,” Gojo announced. “I do believe (L/n) and I have come to an agreement. Have you come to an understanding?”

You refused to answer, shaking your head subtly in opposition as you turned away. Silence filled the air as Satoru looked to you, then back to his father with a disinterested face.

“Dad, can’t we just reconsider?” he sighed. “Clearly the girl can’t handle a business collaboration.”

You perked your head up, whipping it into his direction. “Um, excuse me? The business collaboration isn’t the problem, it’s who I'm doing it with and how.”

“(Y/n),” your father warned, throwing you a testing look. You tossed your hands up and leaned forward, curling your lips downward.

“What? I can’t speak my mind anymore?”

“Maybe you just need to speak a little less in general, how about that?” Satoru posed, tilting his head over his shoulder to raise his eyebrows at you challengingly. “I’m sure you’re much prettier that way. Sitting in silence, yeah?”

Your gaze upon him hardened as your already bubbling irritation grew the longer those eyes of his zoned in on you and the brattier his attitude became. As unhappy as you deemed him to be with your parents’ transaction, he was still working hard to make it seem as though you were the only individual making this process of your engagement difficult.

“I’m not the one who has an issue with sitting in silence, blabbermouth,” you shot back.

“Sure you don’t, honey. As if I didn’t just watch your daddy tell you off for complaining.”

“You know what-”

“Enough,” your father’s voice ordered, a resounding boom throughout the space. You rolled your eyes, tossing your head away as Satoru looked up, his amused smile lingering though his eyes whispered a hint of vexation from your father’s interruption. “Whether the two of you like it or not, our family’s our conjoining through your commitment to each other.”

The very sound of the notion made you physically ill. “But dad, can’t we just-”

“(Y/n),” he stopped you. “As I have said numerous times, the decision is final. The papers have been signed.”

You clicked your teeth. “I heard you the first fifty times.”

“Then I do not know what more you wish to dispute about.”

You didn’t miss the swift manner in which Satoru breathed out a puff of amusement beside you, swiping his fingers over his mouth and clearing his throat to pretend as though he had not produced the noise.

His father, however, caught wind of the little action as well and turned his head stiffly to him, a cold admonition wavering over his worn expression. Satoru’s smile faded, his hand remaining over his mouth as he looked off to the side with hardened brows. 

“Clearly the issue of the two of you butting heads remains,” your father continued. “Therefore, I suggest that you find a way to get along, and to do so promptly.”

“Does marriage have to mean that we like each other?” Satoru questioned, raising a brow and lifting his hand from his mouth, elbow propped on the arm of his seat.

You scoffed. “Clearly not in this case,” you mumbled.

“Look, we are not naive enough to believe that the two of you would begin to have feelings for one another,” the Gojo head said, leading you and Satoru to grumble in agreement with the sentiment. “But the very least that you can do, for the decency of our families, is to try to be cordial with one another.”

“Yes. Go out for drinks. Take a drive. Treat one another to dinner,” your father suggested. “Do something to build the slightest bit of rapport with one another. To the public, you must at least appear that you tolerate each other.”

Tolerate? Please, what a joke! Your father could barely even tolerate the man beside him, and yet you were being forced to shake hands with the heir that your family had always despised. 

“You expect me to go out to dinner… with him?” you frowned in displeasure.

“Dinner should be the least of your worries now, sweetheart. We’re getting married,” Satoru reminded you.

“How could I possibly forget,” you exhaled wearily. “How long exactly do we even have until the wedding? If you expect us to be ‘cordial,’ I hate to tell you, but even thinking about doing that with him would take years. If I’m being generous.”

“Awww, do you really think I’m that bad?”

“Yes.”

Satoru’s father made a poor attempt to hide his disapproval of your behavior before your father interceded once more. “You have two weeks.”

You and Satoru bolted upward. “Two weeks?!”

“We have been discussing this cooperation for quite some time now,” Gojo said. “There’s no need to delay any further. The quicker you are married, the quicker we all benefit.”

“But-” you stammered in disbelief. “You’ve been discussing everything without us! What about the preparations? How the hell are we gonna get those done in two weeks?”

“The preparations have already been put in motion.”

“Are you serious? Wh- and my dress? The decorations? The-”

“The Gojo estate will be taking care of it all. You will not need to worry about such things,” Satoru’s father responded. “Though, there is a schedule for those aforementioned tasks that you should be aware of.”

Your chest tightened with discomfort. You couldn’t comprehend the fact that your wedding was being planned for you, an event that was meant to bring joy and the excitement of starting a new life with someone you loved, by your will, by your own heart’s desire. Instead, your father’s rival was orchestrating the things you had dreamed of organizing in your childlike girlhood. 

What was once a notion of devotion and happiness had been soured by the will of your obligation to your father’s legacy. You had always been defined by your own father’s successes, which had made it significantly harder for you to venture out on your own and create a narrative that was undefined by your family, and the moment you had believed yourself to be inching toward independence, this had been sprung onto you. 

It was all so unfair. 

You could never love Satoru Gojo. He was the epitome of all self involvement and false amiability. His goal had always been to tear you down, despite hardly knowing you personally, and you highly doubted that he would suddenly change his ways once he had become married to you. In fact, you believed he would only grow worse. You determined that he would make your life hell, holding this arrangement against you until the very end and making sure to sleep with as many women as he possibly could behind the scenes of your poorly constructed bond. 

You envisioned your marriage with Satoru to be distant interactions, frequent occurrences of mutual adultery, and a cush prison in which you were contained. 

You almost wanted to cry. You felt so trapped, and to know that you are unloved by your partner within a lifelong commitment was going to tear you apart and break you down piece by piece. You knew you didn’t love Satoru either, but the difference was that his tendency to berate you impacted your sense of self more than yours could have ever impacted his. 

You had two weeks to mentally prepare yourself for the rest of your life. Two weeks to undergo fittings, cake tastings, and color samplings that wouldn’t even be picked by your taste, but the taste of the wealthy Gojo estate. You had no control within this marriage. None at all, and it was going to destroy you.

When the room took notice of your silence and the twisted frown upon your face as well as your downcasted gaze, your father elected to shift. “We will give the two of you some time alone to process,” he said, and though his physical expression did not show it, you could tell that he was softening ever so slightly for the sake of your now silent displeasure. It was one thing for you to parade around, chanting about your distaste in something, but the moment you deflated and the words failed to fall from your mouth, your father at least had the sense to attempt to de-escalate, though his idea of de-escalating by leaving you alone with Satoru was a very poor choice all around. 

Satoru snickered rather sourly to himself, shaking his head and leaning it back. His long leg jumped restlessly as he looked agitatedly at the ceiling. 

“Satoru,” his father spoke. The heir didn’t bother meeting his eyes at the address. “Do not disappoint me with your foolishness.”

The silence in the room seemed to strengthen. Satoru clenched his jaw, remaining quiet the longer his father’s presence loomed over him. You had always known the Gojo head to be a rather strict man, so this interaction came as no surprise to you, but what had caught your attention was the fact that Satoru had been clearly bothered by the comment, when you had previously believed him to be unbothered by any and all. 

“We will be downstairs discussing the arrangements further,” your father added. “Make an effort, you two. Please.”

Your father casted you one more knowing look before the two left the room, the door closing gently behind them.

You ran your hands over your face and released a frustrated grunt. “This is such bullshit!”

“You’re telling me,” Satoru mumbled from across the room, his mannerisms still slightly sour. “Marrying you was definitely not in the cards for me.”

You leaned over in your seat to glower at him. “As if it were in mine, either,” you seethed. “Especially not with the god damn Gojo firm’s heir.”

“Please,” Satoru exhaled. “Quit acting as though marrying me isn’t a privilege for you. We’re the wealthiest law firm in Japan.”

“Excuse you, but my father and I never needed you to do us any favors. We’re just as successful.”

“If that were true, then we wouldn’t be here, now would we?” 

He rolled his head over his shoulder to meet your gaze lazily. The moment he caught the anger in your eyes, his bitterness melted into subtle satisfaction, blue eyes lidding over. 

“What the hell is your issue, huh?” you frowned. “Our fathers literally just told us to try to be cordial, and all you can do is shit on me and the very family you're marrying into.”

“You’re acting as though you weren’t just trash mouthing me two seconds ago,” he argued. “I’m not the only one here who has an issue with how things are going. We both have issues with one another, sweetheart, it’s not just on my end. You just tend to let things get to you more easily.”

“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe I don't like you so much because of the way you first started talking about me and my father? All you’ve ever done is gloat like you’re the only damn person on this planet to exist. It’s insufferable.”

“And you have a problem with pretending like you aren’t on the same exact plane as I am.”

“What the hell are you talking about? You literally always make fun of me because you think we’re not on the same level.”

“I’m talking about when it comes to who we are. What we do. How society views us. Whether I’m better or not, we’re both still rich assholes. I’m not any more of a dick than you are.”

“That’s not true. I don’t act the same way you do.”

“Maybe not, but you’re still just as arrogant as I am. You just portray your arrogance in different ways.”

“Quit trying to drag me down to your level.”

“There’s no ‘dragging down’ when I’m the one ahead of you,” he smirked. “And like I said, you’re already just as bad as me.”

You scoffed, unsure of how to even respond to his claims. He toyed with you as he stared, lifting his brows and twirling the corner of those glossy lips upward. “I can’t stand you,” you spat.

“I know, sweetheart.”

“And don’t call me that.”

“Alright, honey.”

You fumed. He got off on this back and forth between you two, feeding into it and swiftly constructing a response that could counter yours before you could even think. “This is not happening,” you grumbled to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Well, unfortunately, it is. There’s not much either of us can really do about that.”

“And what, you’re just gonna go with whatever your father tells you? You really think this is a good idea?”

He shrugged. “Aren’t you doing the same exact thing? We don’t have a choice.”

“Then how the hell are we supposed to get along in two weeks?”

“They obviously don’t really expect us to do that. They just want us to make a show of it. Then when we’re alone, we don’t have to cling to each other anymore.”

“Who said we’d be clinging to each other in the first place?”

“God, (Y/n), I really thought you were supposed to be smart.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You’ve never acted before? Never had to play something up for the public?”

“Not to this extent, no,” you sighed. “This isn’t just any other publicity stunt. We are literally engaged.”

“It’s all the same to me at this point.” Satoru suddenly stood, lifting his arms into the air and stretching over his head. He placed a hand on his hip and turned to look out the window, past you, before his eyes found your face again. “I can hold your hand and kiss you without it meaning anything. It’s just work.”

You scrunched your face. “Like hell I’d ever let you kiss me.”

“Get over yourself for one second and stop being bratty.”

“Me? Bratty?” you chuckled. “Bit of the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”

“Just listen,” he said firmly. “It’s easier for people to believe that we’re together by choice than by force, because then it would be painfully obvious that we’re only doing this for the sake of our companies.”

“Well, duh, but I feel like that’s painfully obvious already. Our companies have always hated each other.”

“So the better actors we are, the more clients we get.”

“You don’t need to speak to me like I’m an idiot, I already get this gist. I just don’t understand the point. It’s extra work that we’ll have to do for no reason.”

“Obviously you don’t get it, or else you wouldn’t be saying it’s for no reason.”

“Gojo, listen. The more effort we put toward pretending to be in love, the more exhausting this entire thing will be. Being cordial is, you know, fine, but holding your hand for people to see isn’t gonna make this look any different in the public’s eyes.”

“You’re wrong.”

“You’re literally only saying that because you always think you’re right.”

“I am always right. Like I am now.” You rolled your eyes. “Listen, sweetheart-”

“That’s not my name.”

He ignored you. “-I’m more familiar with this territory than you are, being the next head of the firm and all. I know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen this a hundred times over. I would’ve thought you have too,” he stopped, looking over your stiff posture. “Or, if this is just about you being stubborn and pretending you don’t want to show me affection, then that’s an entirely different thing.”

“I’m not pretending! I don’t want to marry you, let alone kiss you!” you barked. 

“Oh, come onnn,” he drawled, saunting over to you pridefully. You kept your gaze hard on his face as he approached you, his hands tucking into the pockets of his slacks as he leaned over you with a playful glint in his eye. “You haven’t thought about what it would be like just once? You can admit it. I’m no stranger to women falling in love with me.”

You pushed your hand against his forehead, shoving him away harshly. He flailed, stumbling back as he waved his arms about to regain balance. “As if. I don’t want whatever herpes you’re carrying.”

“Herpes?!” he exclaimed, rubbing his forehead dramatically. “I’m as squeaky clean as a bar of soap. I don’t know what kinda men you’ve been around.”

“I don’t go around men in the first place. All of you suck.”

“That would explain a lot then,” he snorted. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you for keeping your attraction to me a secret. After all, you’ve worked so hard to hate me.”

“Never, and I mean never, in a million years would I be attracted to you,” you said flatly, face blank.

“Everyone’s attracted to me. I’m a Gojo.”

“Then congratulations! There’s a first for everything,” you smiled tightly. “One day you’ll learn that being a Gojo isn’t everything in this world. Beneath all of that, you’re still a piece of shit.”

“You wound me,” he sucked his teeth. “How could my wife think so lowly of me?”

“Don’t call me that either. We’re not married yet. Hell, we’ll hardly even be married when we actually are.”

“And that’s exactly why we’re gonna have to pretend.”

You slimmed your eyes, examining his figure, attempting to look past the mask of indifference that he wore, replaced by an irritable playfulness. “This doesn’t bother you?”

He cocked a brow, crossing his arms as he stood before you. “What kind of question is that?”

“I’m just saying,” you started. “I mean… this is our whole lives, and you want to just act the entire time? Have you even really processed any of this?”

The glimmer in his eyes dimmed slightly, a far off look occupying the space in his irises. He looked back out the large window panes that stretched from the floor to the ceiling behind your father’s desk chair, gazing over the city. “This already was my life,” he said, blandly. “I’m gonna be the next head. I always knew I’d have to marry in accordance with the company’s needs.”

You blinked. “Yeah, but-”

“Don’t be naive, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “I’ve got much bigger things to worry about than marrying for love. Whether it bothers me or not doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter to you either.”

Your brows drew together tighter at the sentiment. “How could you think like that? That’s no way to go about living at all.”

“And yet, it’s the life we’re beginning to live, isn’t it?”

You watched him for a few seconds more with your lips clamped together and your eyes sharp. He kept your gaze, unwavering, his smile drifting back onto his face. You caught the snap of his icy eyes over your seated figure before they flew back up to yours in an instance, then shielded themselves behind his lids the moment he closed his eyes. 

“You gotta stop thinking with a heart and think with your brain. Life isn’t a fairytale, and I’m definitely not your Prince Charming. The two of us will probably end up falling in love with other people and getting tangled into a messy affair that inevitably destroys us and this contract years down the line. But hey, our firms will have been making money and I’ll be head by then. I’ll be able to make it all go away with the snap of my fingers. That’s what matters.”

You shook your head in exasperation. “You’re so shallow.”

“As much as I’d love to go in circles about how shitty of a person you think I am,” he tilted his head, peering down at you through strands of white hair. “We’ve got a wedding to plan, and a relationship to build. Or at the very least, some master classes in acting to take.”

You tossed him a strange look. “Are we seriously gonna go hang out in public together now?”

“...You like to bowl?”

“Don’t piss me off.”

“We gotta do something, (Y/n). I mean, is it really a horrible thought to let me take you to dinner?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that, Gojo.”

Satoru jutted out his bottom lip, looking up to the air as if contemplating. “You know, my father told me about this party that I should attend. I’m sure you’ve heard about it too.”

You paused, looking at him quizzically. “A party?” 

“Mhmmm,” a mischievous glint flickered in his eye. “Friday night.”

You took a moment to think. “Wait…”

“Thrown by the Itadoris,” he posed.

Your eyes widened in realization. “No.”

“Maybeeeee,” he continued.

“No, absolutely not.”

“You and I…?”

“I am not going to the stupid ass, stuffy ass, creepy ass mansion and I sure as hell am not going with you.”

“See, but that’s the issue,” he hissed. “I have to go, and it would practically be a crime not to bring my fiance along with me as my date.”

“For fuck’s sake,” you groaned.

“Soooo…” he grinned, shrugging innocently. “My offer stands. You wanna come?”

“You’re not exactly letting me make a decision!” you barked.

“Because you don’t really get to. Our parents already agreed that we should go together anyway.”

“Oh really?” you frowned. “And why the fuck do you know everything about what our parents plan but I don’t?!”

“Only one of us is going to be the head of the wealthiest law firm, so only one of us really needs to be in the loop. All you need to worry about are your pretty little dress fittings, remember?” he smiled condescendingly.

You gritted your teeth together. “I swear on my life, Gojo-”

“That’s another thing,” he interrupted you. “It’d be a little weird for my future wife to address me the same way she addresses my father. From now on, just call me Satoru.”

“I’d rather die.”

“That’s your prerogative,” he winked. “But seriously. I’m not my dad. My name is Satoru.”

His tone shifted slightly when he uttered the last phrase, as though the idea of being jammed into a box with his dad were the very worst thing he could possibly endure. Your brow twitched slightly at the observation, and while you wanted to argue on the subject more, somehow you felt as though this was not something Satoru was willing to go back and forth with you about.

“Alright, fine,” you huffed. “I’ll call you Satoru, but only if you knock it off with the pet names. You can keep calling me (Y/n), but I dare you to address me as some shit like ‘snugglemuffin’ in public.”

He snorted. “You think I'd do something like that?”

“I know you would. Just to get a rise out of me.”

“Ah, don’t worry. I’ll stick to the basics.”

“Yeah, like hell you will.”

He grinned, presenting you his outstretched hand. You stared at it, unimpressed, before looking back at him boredly. “It’s a date, then?”

You pondered it. His hand remained stuck rather closely before you, failing to provide you any room to turn it away. His hand, in many ways, represented your future, drew you into a promise that you made against your morals and in honor of your family’s legacy. His hand, with soft lines creasing over his palm and long, slender fingers splayed out toward you, was a symbol of the life you were leaving behind and the life you were stepping into against your will. Into the unknown, into the godforsaken misery spent beside the Gojos from now on until forever more. 

Before, you would have never allowed yourself to even be caught dead in the company of Satoru Gojo, but now, as the worlds forced into collision and the very bane of your existence stood before you as your future husband, you swallowed your pride and apologized to your past self for giving in to a fate drawn out for you rather than by your own hand.

Your stomach churned and your hand met his reluctantly. His fingers clasped tightly around your hand, pressing into your skin, and your eyes warned him to relax when his lips curled further to emphasize his dimples. 

“We have a date,” you finalized bitterly, and Satoru laughed as he shook your hand.

“Don’t sound too excited.”

“Please, this is the most enthusiasm you’ll ever hear from me,” you mumbled, tearing your hand away from his after a few seconds passed. You stood to your feet, brushing past Satoru to gather your purse from beside you on the floor. You were frankly entirely too exhausted with this conversation, as well as Satoru’s presence, and you wanted nothing more than to go home and mourn your existence. “What time is this gala anyway?”

He hummed to himself, watching you as you made your way to the door. “I’ll pick you up at 9. How about that?”

Your hand froze over the door handle as you turned over your shoulder to glare at the white haired man. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Not all questions can be answered, can they?” he teased.

The muscles under your eye twitched before you took in a deep breath and closed your eyes. “Just- fine. Okay,” you muttered. “I’ll be ready at 8:59. And don’t you fucking be late, Gojo, or I swear to god, your family will have to find another arranged bride.”

“I’ll be on time when you address me properly.”

You gritted your teeth. “Satoru. Don’t be late, Satoru.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, satisfied. He reached over to grab his jacket from his chair and made his way behind you once you pushed open the door. “I will be there right on the dot.”

-

You didn’t know why you had expected Satoru to actually stay true to his word. By the time 9:00 on Friday night rolled around, you had been waiting by your door for the next thirty minutes, and there had still been absolutely no sight of the bastard.

Conveniently, after having abused his privilege of obtaining your phone number upon your initial meeting with your fathers and blowing up your texts every second he found to himself with nonsensical bullshit, the moment you began to demand to know where he had been was when he had fallen uncharacteristically silent and ignored your texts.

You had spent the past few days attempting to adjust to this newfound closeness to the Gojo family. Your days had been filled with servants taking your measurements, wrapping measuring tape tightly around your waist and your arms to get a rather fitted measurement of your dress size, alongside long lectures given by both your father and Satoru’s, consisting of the two of them advising you of how to behave in the public eye. Satoru’s father had even taken it upon himself to tell you what he expected of a Gojo bride, and how if you failed to meet certain expectations, you would have reflected poorly on not only the public but on hundreds of past Gojo generations. 

You had tried to reason with your father one more time the night after you all had met in his office, but all he did was turn down your concerns.

“Daddy, why won’t you listen to me? You know how awful Gojo is! How could you expect me to marry him?” you whined.

“My dear, I don’t know what more to tell you,” your father had exhaled, shoulders slumped with the weight of exhaustion and stress. You, however, did not care to pay those signs any mind. You were entirely too roped up in your state of distress. “I know the boy is a nuisance, but you’ll have to make do. You and Satoru will marry, and that is final.”

“And what about my career? My life?!”

“Good god, (Y/n), your world isn’t ending. There are much worse fates than marrying a wealthy heir,” he attempted to reason. “Besides, you're my daughter. As much as you wanted to build a life of your own and get your own employment, you never needed to do any of that. I’ve been trying to tell you that forever.”

“Yeah, and at the same time I’ve been trying to tell you that I don’t want to be handed everything all the time!”

“Believe me, if you were born less fortunate, you would not cling to such childish ideals.”

You fumed, body trembling, feeling as though you were preparing to burst at the seams. You wanted to explode, but you had no outlet. You wanted to scream, but there was no tunnel in which your voice could escape freely. You were no longer free, you thought to yourself. You were trapped, stuck, and the feeling tore you to shreds like no other emotion ever had.

You believed that the very worst of the remainder of the week were the rumors that had already begun circling around about you and Satoru. You recalled waking up one morning to a text from your friend Shoko, and narrowing your eyes in shock when you read what she had said.

Sho: Um, girl, please tell me what I hear about you marrying Satoru Gojo isn’t true.

You immediately took to the internet, scouring Twitter, Instagram, and every celebrity news blog possible to find a secret picture of you and the white haired man taken from afar from at least two months back. You remembered the exact occasion, as well. You had been on your way home from a lecture when you ran into the blue eyed freak at the market. He had significantly invaded your personal space, by the looks of the picture and if your memory had served you well, which it always did, and he was leaning over you with a challenging grin, eyes half lidding and hand pressed to the brick wall with his arm blocking your path by your head.

He had made a comment about something you were wearing, or perhaps it was a snippy comment about where you were coming from - you don’t exactly recall all the details, but you could tell by your rigid stance that he was irritating you once again. The paparazzi, however, and the thousands of people soaking up  the gossip, mistook this brief interaction for a romantic rendezvous, a suggestion of a flirtatious exchange, a hint toward a far deeper connection.

The suspicions alone paired with the picture may not have done too much harm on their own, for rumors about wealthy individuals’ personal lives spread all over the internet every single day, but what transformed what could have been an innocent, meaningless encounter into a bigger scandal was a particular tweet that you found with a blank profile and teetering over a million hearts that read: “I heard that the Gojo heir and the (L/n) daughter are getting married…”

This could have also been completely taken out of context, but the uproar from the picture combined with such a drastic piece of gossip only further fueled the internet’s hunger and curiosity.

This had Gojo’s father and his team written all over it. 

And you had no choice but to tell Shoko that the rumor was, in fact, laced with no trace of falsehood. As you expected, she reeled in shock and asked a million questions, considering her knowledge of your long-harbored hatred for the man, but you pleaded with her not to say anything to anyone until you and Satoru yourselves went public with the information. She agreed, and you at least were given the opportunity to rant to your friend about the truth behind the news once she was sworn to secrecy by your undying trust in her. 

You felt such pity for yourself, especially as you studied your reflection in the mirror as Satoru neared the forty-five minute mark with no text, no car, and no arrival. Gold jewelry dripped from your ears and dazzled around your neck above the crease of your cleavage, your satin black gown hugging your body velvety-smooth. You tugged at your gown gloves, eyes boring into your own. You were the very pinnacle of first class wealth and beauty, a gem untouched by the greedy grasp of man, but that would only last until the moment you arrived at the altar with a man you did not love, with a man you rather despised, with a man who couldn’t even keep a promise to pick you up at the time he had set. 

You had such grand dreams for yourself, a life away from a legacy birthed into you, a life christened by your careful planning and your nurtured ambitions, and all of it had been crushed within a matter of seconds. 

You envisioned yourself years down the line, dressed in a similar fashion, awaiting your husband’s arrival for a charity event that the two of you were to attend together. He was late, and time ticked on, and the bags weighed heavily under your eyes as you stared into the empty souls of your eyes, once filled with vibrance yet having been drained by the tireless despair of pretending to be happy within a crystal palace of your own doom.

Was this your life? Was this who you were meant to be all along? Had the years studying in school, traveling, honing in on your own craft though so closely connected to your father even been worth it? Was this worth it?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud honk of a car horn from outside your front door. You jumped slightly, then immediately filled with rage at the notion that Satoru had the audacity to not only show up almost an hour late, but to beep his horn as though you were the one who had been delaying the two of you this entire time. He didn’t even have the decency to greet you at your door, and you wondered for a moment if he treated all of his dates like this or if you were the only exception. 

You thought about ignoring him and staying home, but the honking persisted and your patience was wearing thin. With an aggravated grunt, you swiped up your bag in hand and marched out of your door, slamming it closed upon seeing Satoru laze about in the driver’s seat of his benz, parked up in the center of your circular gravel driveway with the engine running. 

You didn’t even bother acknowledging him when he looked up and you were already yanking his door open and shutting it harshly behind you, brows angled and eyes fiery with anger. You sat rigidly in the seat, arms crossed over your chest tightly. 

“...So, I’m a little late-”

“So help me Gojo, drive the fucking car or I’ll kill you right here and make it look like an accident.”

He sucked in a breath, tugging his mouth down as he bared his teeth and shifted the car back into drive. “Someone’s pissy tonight.”

“Oh, and I wonder why!” you exclaimed, whirling your head over at him heatedly. You could barely see his eyes through the dark, round shades that he wore, which complemented the navy velvet tux adorning his figure. “Your ass is too busy being blind wearing fucking sunglasses in the dark instead of getting here on time like I specifically told you to do.”

“What? You don’t like ‘em? I think they look good. And I get held up with work, relax,” he groaned. You threw a hefty punch into his shoulder, leading the man to yelp and clutch the injured area. “What the hell?!”

“You’re an hour late, Gojo!” you yelled. “Not five minutes, not ten, not fifteen, a whole hour.”

“Technically, there’s still a few minutes until it’s an hour-”

“Who the fuck cares?!” you interjected. 

Satoru blinked at you, trying his very hardest to bit back the smile that was creeping onto his face in reaction to your anger. “What do you expect me to do- you want me to apologize, sweetheart?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

“I’m just getting into character,” he defended. “I’d hate to start off our first date with such negativity.”

“I can not do this with you tonight. Hurry up and drive, Gojo. We’re already late.”

“Mmmm, try again, honey. Remember, what did we agree on?”

“We agreed that you’d get here at 9:00 and that if you were late, you needed to find a new fiance,” you hissed. “But since I can’t exactly make that happen, I’ll settle on not calling you Satoru.”

Satoru clicked his tongue. “You’ll need to switch that up once we’re at the party, (Y/n).”

“I don’t think I will,” you smiled tightly. “I’m not going to make tonight easy for you in the slightest. You want me to come? I’m coming, but I’m not doing so happily.

He gave you an irritated glance. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

You lifted your clenched fist as though to punch him again, and he flinched, leaning away and shielding himself with a hand. “Okay, okay! I’m driving. Sheesh.”

The car ride over to the Itadoris’ was rather silent, save for the radio that Satoru had turned on for the sake of the tension bubbling in the air, inspired solely by you. You kept your body twisted and tensed toward the passenger door, hair blowing about your face as the wind whipped through the open vehicle. You kept your gaze to the dark sky above and the blurry city lights that glazed over your eyes as Satoru sped through traffic.

Eventually, the two of you made it past the excitement of the bustling city to the other side, where tall, bright buildings and flashing billboards were replaced by rural, gran estates, cottages, and temples. The landscape shifted as well, rolling hills cascading amidst tall, flourishing flower trees and ponds guarded by quant bridges. You took in a deep sigh, anticipating the very worst as you entered the vicinity in which the Itadoris lived. 

Lavish, large, and disgustingly rich, Jin Itadori, the head of a well-loved shipping company, housed a luxurious home on the other side of the city, amidst the brush within a secluded section by the edge of the forest. There, the patch of greenery seemed to clear for the very loud residence of the family home, where the entire Itadori lineage lived in one space. 

The Itadoris, while immensely well known, were a rather strange… eccentric crew, to say the very least. While you felt that you could at least attempt to handle one of them at a time, the thought of having to encounter all five of them at once was incredibly unappealing to you. You were already experiencing the displeasure of arriving as Satoru’s date and fiance, therefore, being forced to mingle with the likes of such a chaotic bunch was not something you were looking forward to very much.

There was Jin, of course, who had assumed the role of the head of this company by Wasuke, the former head as well as his father. Wasuke, once a sharp mouthed, spritely, mischievous young man who had gone great lengths to achieve his ambitions of wealth and success, had aged into a sharp mouthed, mischievous old man, bitter with his permanent physical connection to the rest of his family whilst still living amongst them all in his mansion, despite his refusal to move into a nursing home at his elderly age. Wasuke had the terrible habit of delving into lengthy rants about the very expansive list of things he did not care for regarding his family, as well as how the world and its society developed into a gentrified, modernized “pit of doom,” as he would have liked to describe it. With every chance he found, he was souring a moment of joy, tainting happiness with his miserable outlook on life. 

His son remained the more reasonable of the group, attempting to regain composure when chaos inevitably erupted. He served as the anchor, the man of reason with an incredibly strong, though dwindling tolerance for the hell that his family put him through every day. He was currently working toward showing his son, Yuji, a kind hearted sixteen year old boy, the ropes of running a company to prepare him for the day that he succeeded him as the business’ next head. 

Yuji never bothered you much, for he was a kid with a bright future. He always made sure to greet you happily whenever he saw you, asking questions about what you were up to and humoring your desire to branch out on your own. Yuji Itadori may have been the only person in this world you had met who did not immediately judge you by your relation to your father, and for that, you had always admired the kid. You only hoped that the path his family led for him did not hinder his wonderful spirit. 

His half-brother, Choso, was not in any way directly connected to the Itadori legacy, yet he was a member of the family nonetheless after having been estranged for years. He often kept to himself, straying away from the public light unlike the rest of his family. You weren’t entirely sure of what his goals were, however, he wasn’t a terrible guy. He was quiet, reserved. You would have pegged him as a misunderstood artist, or a poet, or something like that - far separated from the world of business that those around him were so heavily involved in. You doubted you would even see him tonight if he weren’t clinging to the wall in the corner with a bored look upon his face.

But then, the very worst of them all and perhaps the main reason why you didn’t want to attend this party, was Sukuna, Jin’s twin brother and Yuji’s uncle. 

You weren’t even sure where to begin with him. Hell, you could barely decide who was the worst of them between him and Satoru, and that certainly was saying something.

Sukuna was an asshole in a far less playful and lighthearted manner than Satoru portrayed himself to be. He was the type of man to get ‘canceled’ by Twitter four times within a month, without providing any form of apology for the rather outlandish things he elected to say. He was often saved by his brother’s mercy, and let’s not fool ourselves, the curse of impeccably good genes that graced his facial and physical features. 

Whenever something went south at the Itadoris’, it was mainly due to his antics and thirst for conflict. He figured that since he was already undeservingly wealthy, and not any successor of the company, he could get away with more than most, only when he behaved out of line, it had an impact on those who were actually involved in keeping the company afloat. 

And oh, Sukuna loved when he threw his family into a scandal then acted as though he was not responsible, fading away back into the noise and watching the entertainment unfold. 

You groaned. You felt it in your gut that something was going to go wrong tonight, especially so if Satoru intended to expose the two of you as a couple at this gala. 

Dread flooded your stomach as the two of you pulled up into the gravel, past the thick ravine that surrounded the entryway just behind the gate. A man in black guided Satoru’s vehicle to a row of expensive cars lined the circle before the Itadori estate.

“Ugh,” you grumbled. “I hate this place.”

“Tell me something you don’t hate, sweetheart,” Satoru quipped, parking his vehicle and turning off the ignition. He turned to you, eyes glinting over his round frames with his hand still gripping the wheel. “Are you done pouting?”

“Are you done getting on my nerves?” you raised a brow, glaring at him. “The answer to that is no.”

“You can’t still be mad about me being late. I told you it was because of work,” he whined. “We have a whole night ahead of us. You need to let it go.”

“What work exactly were you doing to make you an hour late?”

“Does that even really matter right now?” he shifted. He reached an arm back, stretching over the back of your seat and pushing himself upward, invading your space slightly to reach for an item behind you. You leaned away, tightening your lips. Satoru glanced at you once he grabbed whatever he was looking for, seating himself properly back into his spot. “You could stand to not look so disgusted by being close to me, you know.”

“But I am disgusted by being close to you.”

“Then you won’t like what we’ll be doing soon at all,” he laughed slightly to himself, shaking his head. You opened your mouth to retort when he presented a small, velvet box in his hand before you, holding it to you over the console. You examined the box, your mouth falling open in shock. “Here. It’s yours.”

You furrowed your brows, looking at him incredulously. “That is not what I think it is.”

“Open it and find out,” he pushed it further into your lap.

You pushed your hand against his, shoving the box back to him. “I don’t want it.”

“(Y/n),” Satoru began, clearly becoming just as annoyed as you already were. “Neither of us want it, but you need to wear it. Open it and put it on, for god’s sake.”

“No! This will not be how you propose to me, Gojo - not in your car in the middle of the night at the Itadori estate!”

“I’m not proposing, you idiot. We’re already engaged. You need to wear it so people here can know that we’re together.”

“I’m not wearing it,” you argued stubbornly. Satoru’s brows angled, jaw clenching. 

“Yes you are,” he murmured firmly.

“No, I’m not.”

Before you knew it, he was snatching your wrist up in his grasp forcefully. You yelped in retort, attempting to tug yourself away, but the Gojo heir’s strength proved to succeed your own, just as he did in every other aspect of your lives. You faltered slightly, watching with blown eyes as he held you securely with one hand and popped the box open with the other, revealing a breathtaking gold ring encrusted with a shimmering, turquoise gem in the midst of winding, plated vines. 

You admitted that the piece of jewelry was absolutely beautiful, not to mention that it was gold - the color of jewelry you had worn all your life. 

Wordlessly, Satoru pinched the ring between his fingers, lifting it from its velvet bed to slide onto your outstretched ring finger, settling it snugly around your digit. The warmth of his palm was immediately ripped away once you were wearing the ring. He turned to toss the box into the backseat over his shoulder behind him, then swiftly pushed open his car door. 

“Happy?” he growled over his shoulder. You had nothing to say as you stared confoundedly at the ring he had just pulled onto your hand. “Great. Now let’s go.”

In the midst of your surprise by his forcefulness and by the way the ring complimented your hand, you followed his order and dazedly got out of the car, closing the door gently behind you with your gaze casted down to your hand. 

You were too distracted to notice Satoru making his way over to you, and before you knew it, his arm was looping around yours, pulling your hand from your gaze and gluing you to him. You huffed when your side collided with his, your shoulder pressing into his bicep. You flinched and looked up as the blue eyed heir towered over your side. He peered at you out of the corner of his eye, catching the way you stared at him like a lost puppy, and his previous anger diminished slightly. 

“What’s the matter?” his smooth voice slid out. “Getting flustered on me already?”

His comment immediately snapped you out of your trance and your face hardened once more. “Fuck no.”

He laughed, guiding the two of you slowly to the staircase. “But you like the ring, don’t you? I can see it all over your face.”

“It’s a ring, Gojo-”

“Satoru.”

“Whatever. It doesn’t mean I like you.”

“I mean, it could,” he proposed, allowing you to take the first step up as you gather the hem of your gown in your hands. You kept your eyes to your heels, proceeding carefully, and Satoru did the same while your mind was occupied, eyeing the motion of your feet intensely as your dress draped over your exposed angles, dangling from your pinched fingers. “The ring’s a family heirloom. It’s been passed down for generations. So you liking the ring at least means you like us just a little bit.”

“Are you serious?” you asked him. “I didn’t peg you guys for the gold jewelry type.”

“Guess there’s a lot you still don’t know about who I am,” he answered rather swiftly. The two of you finally made it up the stairs and stood before the wide doors of the estate.

“How late exactly are we?” you asked him, shifting uncomfortably on your feet as he tugged you closer into him. You bore a grim expression, looking off to the side.

“Uhhh, not that late,” Satoru responded. “Maybe about two hours.”

“HUH?!” you exclaimed. “Two?! You mean to tell me you were already trying to get me an hour after the party even started?”

“I was busy, and I never arrive at these things on time. I prefer being fashionably late.”

“There’s a difference between fashionably late and just late, dumbass.”

“Either way, we’ll make a big entrance. And that’s what we want, right?” he smirked down at you. “Attention.”

You sighed heavily. “I can’t believe I got talked into this.”

“You’ll be fine,” he drawled. “Just relax and stay with me. And remember, we’re getting married!” he pressed himself down to you, leaning his mouth toward the shell of your ear. “Try to act like it.”

You shuddered, recoiling aggressively. “Don’t do that!” you barked over his symphony of amused laughter. 

The two of you entered the space as servants pulled the doors back for you, the symphony of classical music echoing through the pristine space. You were led past the main spiral staircase to the left, down winding hallways, through spacious corridors, and into the ballroom. The entryway was guarded by two marble, Greek statues on either side, welcoming its visitors regally. 

You felt Satoru’s elbow tighten slightly around yours, catching your attention. His piercing eyes swallowed you whole, glasses tipping down the bridge of his nose as he looked at you. “Smile,” he whispered.

You yanked his arm back just as tightly, tilting your head with a tight jaw. “Don’t tell me what to do,” you grinned, bearing pretty teeth in a threatening, forced manner. 

He smiled, breathing out softly, before entering the large space scattered with well-dressed, familiar faces, the most honored names within the small community of the 1%. You shivered as a cold gust of wind brushed over you, sprouting goosebumps across your bare skin as eyes flickered your way and whispers ignited in accordance to your arrival. Your eyes looked over the people, noting everyone you saw and praying to whatever god above that you wouldn’t run into Wasuke or Sukuna first thing tonight.

Thankfully, the two of you were greeted by Jin mere seconds after you stepped into the space. Hushed murmurs of gossip continued to circle the huge room, and you caught a few glances darting to your linked arms and the ring adorned on your finger. 

The salmon haired heir approached you with a knowing look upon his face, eyes focused on Satoru tiredly with his hands clasped behind his back. Satoru bore a wide beam, nodding toward Jin casually. 

“Jin,” Satoru greeted grandly. “So happy to be here. Thanks for having me.”

“Satoru,” the said man exhaled. “The gala ends in an hour. What the hell are you doing here so late?”

The white haired man shrugged. “Just got caught up in some business. You know how it goes.”

“Oh really? The same business that you often neglect to take care of your own personal needs? Like the time you took my son to the mall instead of signing off on papers?”

Satoru sucked in a gulp of air slowly, his smile remaining as shamefully as it always had been. “Damn, you know about that, huh? I could’ve sworn I bribed Yuji to keep that a secret.”

“There’s no need to bribe him, the kid can’t keep a secret to save his life. An honest one, that boy. Maybe too honest,” Jin murmured. “So what were you really doing?”

“Come on, Jin, don’t make me spell it out,” Satoru said cheekily, his attention suddenly turning to you. You perked up, put on the spot, and looked with confusion between the man at your side and the Itadori family heir. You reeled at the manner in which Satoru gazed at you, his eyes swollen with feigned admiration as his tone dripped with infatuation, albeit rather over the top. “I’m sure you’ve heard the news about (Y/n) and I. You remember the (L/n) daughter, don’t you?”

Your eye twitched while you tried to keep a steady, small smile. Jin turned to you, nodding. “How could I forget? You’re the girl who always manages to rile my brother up.”

You puckered your lips and knitted your brows together. “Uh-” you stopped. “What? You mean Sukuna?” Jin nodded again, a hint of an amused smile gracing his weary face. “I don’t remember ever sharing a conversation with that a- mm- I mean, I’ve– never really had the pleasure of crossing paths with him to even say something that would bother him.”

“Please, save it. I know my brother’s a monster,” he chuckled and you relaxed slightly. “That’s not what I meant anyway.”

“...Then what did you mean?”

Jin paused, shifting his heavy eyes between you and Satoru. “It’s nothing,” he elected to say. “Now, tell me- what is it you were saying about you and (Y/n), Satoru? Are you…?”

Satoru nodded, his smile molding into something rather tense. “Engaged,” he finished quickly. Jin visibly faltered, his rather cool exterior altering when the word fell upon his ears. Your breath hitched in your throat, for you hadn’t expected Satoru to jump right into blabbering your business to the whole world.

You felt his other hand creep over yours, the one attached to your conjoined arm, and he melted his touch into the back of your palm, smoothing gently over the skin and your ring. You tried not to jump, to pull away, to tear yourself far from the man when you felt the unwarranted and rather intimate contact. Your nose twitched slightly and your stance went rigid, eyes blank as your lips curled into what you believed to be something akin to a love stricken grin. 

“...Engaged?” Jin repeated.

“Yep. For quite some time now, actually. We’ve just been keeping it quiet considering how our companies have always been with each other. But that’s all in the past now. I’m late because we just got so caught up in our newly betrothed excitement,” Satoru recited expertly. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

God, you wanted to kill him. You wanted to kill him so bad. If you could have just slapped him straight across his face and left a burning red handprint on his sickeningly perfect skin, you would have been satisfied, but instead, you buried the urge.

“That’s right,” you nodded, refusing to make eye contact with Satoru as you did. 

Jin cleared his throat. “Well, congratulations. I would have truly never expected something like this.”

“Yeah, neither did I,” you giggled kindly, feeling the way Satoru physically reacted to the comment as subtly as possible when his fingers pressed into your knuckles. 

“What she means is that we hadn’t expected to fall for each other so easily,” he clarified. “Who would have thought that I would settle down with someone like her?”

You sensed the backhandedness of his statement and swiftly bounced back. “It’s funny, I certainly wouldn’t have guessed I’d settle for someone like him either. Not in a million years,” you grinned, finding his eyes when you tilted your head back up to him. The two of you communicated through your tense gazes, exchanging sentiments of aggravation nonverbally, momentarily forgetting that Jin still stood before you.

The said main puffed a laugh, raising his brows. “Hey, as long as the two of you are happy.”

You and Satoru turned your heads back to him at the same time. “Very,” you unified.

“And what about your parents? What do they think?”

“You know, it took some adjusting, but they’re actually taking quite well to it now,” Satoru said.

“Surprisingly, right?”

“I bet,” Jin said. “Alright then. I’ll be sure to ask (L/n) and Gojo for the details. The family and I will be happy to make it.”

“Better clear your calendar soon,” you hissed quietly under your breath, Satoru tugging you in warning though Jin did not hear.

“Trust me, you guys will be the first on the list,” Satoru grinned.

“We appreciate it,” Jin said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to make sure my brother hasn’t harassed any more of our guests. Enjoy the evening. Or whatever’s left of it at least.”

You smiled and waved as Jin bid you farewell, watching him turn and leave. “Care to knock it off?” Satoru growled from beside you.

Your smile dropped as you looked at him heatedly. You turned to stand before him, unlinking your arms and prying his fingers away from your hand. “I told you that I don’t wanna be here, and you pissed me off. I’m not in the mood to play nice.”

“That’s your issue, (Y/n), you never are,” he grumbled. “You act like a spoiled brat. You can’t get everything you want in this life and pout because of it.”

“Watch your mouth, Gojo. Don’t pretend to know who I am or why I act the way I do.”

“But you can do the same to me without consequence?” he challenged. “You’re a hypocrite above everything else, too. And for the last time, my name is not Gojo.”

“And I told you I don’t care,” you leaned in, pursing your lips together stubbornly as Satoru returned your hard glare. You had failed to notice the proximity in which the two of you had closed into one another, your faces mere centimeters away as your mutual frustration fueled your minds. 

Fortunately for the two of you, from the outside perspective, you appeared as though you were cosying up to one another, keeping close in the bliss of your personal bubble. You clicked your teeth and pulled away eventually. 

“I’m going to get a drink.”

Satoru seemed to oppose the idea, stepping forward to reach for you, but you dodged him. “We need to be seen together more-”

“Then have your dad take another secret picture of us and plaster it all over Tokyo for all I care. That’ll last longer than any second we spend with each other in person,” you said sternly before turning off to the organized array of drinks on the other side of the room. Satoru stood and watched you march away tensely, hands clenching into fists and unclenching at your sides as your heels clicked loudly against the floor. You disappeared into the crowd, gown fluttering at your feet, and he sighed. He truly didn’t understand how you could behave in such a complicated manner. He didn’t understand you at all, and it was gnawing away at him minute by minute. 

The night drifted on rather slowly, despite the fact that only an hour had remained when the two of you got to the estate. You had successfully shaken Satoru off of your back for the time being while you occupied yourself with speaking to Yuji and a few other people you had stolen the time to catch up with. Each person you spoke to asked the same question of whether you and Satoru were together, which you reluctantly affirmed each time with the flash of your ring before greedy eyes. Gasps of delight ensued and you masked yourself with an expression of giddiness, soaking in everyone’s reactions. Yuji himself had been rather confused to hear the news, considering how well he knew you and Satoru, but congratulated you happily nonetheless. Wasuke, however, who you inevitably ran into, held you captive by a ten minute tangent about the horrors of marriage, which you honestly couldn’t find yourself to disagree much with in this case scenario.

Satoru kept a sneaking eye on you the entire time you were parted, watching the way you lifted the rim of a glass to your painted lips daintily, glassy eyes moving over the room with contempt as you feigned politeness. His lips flattened into a firm line as he watched you, studying with simmering annoyance. Despite your constant complaining, you managed a room very well with your false exclamations of joy. You had a presence about you, certainly so in the dress you wore, though he had always known you to be a woman of great beauty. He could recognize that from a general standpoint.

Still, the way you behaved irked him to his very core. He didn’t understand how you so easily blasphemed his character and everything he stood for when you paraded about with the same riches and privilege. You thought too highly of yourself, withholding this image of righteousness and uniqueness that deluded you into the fantasy of going to law school and trying to branch out from under your father’s firm. You looked at Satoru as if you were insulted by his very existence, as though he reminded you of the worst parts of yourself, and you took this insecurity of yours out on him. Granted, Satoru knew that he could be a handful. He had heard so from plenty, watched the many different ways people reacted to his carefree, audacious personality, but he didn’t care. He knew who he was and wore his pride on his sleeve unapologetically, but you didn’t seem to know who you were at all and you made it his problem.

Satoru never wanted to marry you, despite his fascination with pushing your buttons. He couldn’t say that he hated you though. What he felt for you was more so a form of befuddlement by your sheer naivety and your quickness to turn the blame of your own doing to anyone but yourself. He found you vexing, at times, because you couldn’t own up to your truest self. He thought you were bratty, mouthy, and prissy, but he didn’t hate you. Not the way you hated him.

He wasn’t ecstatic when his father first presented the news of the two of you marrying because he knew how things would go with you. You were impossible to work with, and yes, Satoru knew that his teasing didn’t make your tolerance of him any more plausible, but even in putting that aside, you refused to meet him halfway or see him eye to eye. It drove him crazy.

You couldn’t even fathom standing by his side for more than five minutes at a party. You were too caught up in yourself and your hatred for him, or more so the effect he had on you, that it interfered with your social abilities and therefore Satoru’s goals. 

God, you were a pain. A gorgeous, stubborn, spoiled pain that Satoru had the misfortune of marrying. Utahime’s words faded off into white noise as she yammered on to the white haired man before him, his mind stuck to you and the very meticulous ways you aggravated his entire being. 

You were heading over to find another drink presented by a waiter when your path was suddenly blocked. You halted, looking up past the broad suited chest before you to find the second face you dreaded craning over you with a sly grin. You failed to hide your disdain, your face dropping and your shoulders slumping the second your eyes met the crimson ones before you.

“Sukuna,” you groaned. “What a lovely surprise.”

“Is it?” his smirk widened, hands tucked into his slack pockets, voice dripping with malice. “It doesn’t seem like you’re very happy to see me.”

“What. No, I’m thrilled,” you said flatly with no emotion, and Sukuna hummed.

“Clearly,” he jumped his brows. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you tonight.”

“Well, I was praying you wouldn’t.”

He tutted lightly, dragging his brows together as if to scold you with his expression. “Come now, don’t be so rude. You are a guest in my home, after all.”

“Technically, this is your brother’s home.”

“Technically, it’s Wasuke’s but that’s besides the point. We all live here, so the details of whose house it was in the first place are of no importance.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure.”

“So, let’s cut to the chase,” the burly man began. He took a step close to you, moving to your side as his eyes wandered the area, then back to your face deviously. “I saw you come in with Gojo.”

Great. Another interrogation. “Yeah. So?”

“Jin says you’re dating, now. That true?”

You shook your head, twisting your mouth up. “If it is, why do you care?”

“Everybody cares, doll. You’re the talk of the town these days. I’m just trying to get my facts straight.” His body turned into you, and you shuffled back slightly. “Is it true?”

“You know, people used to have this thing called privacy. You ever heard of that?”

A low chuckle rumbled through Sukuna’s chest. “What’s the use of privacy when you live like this?” he questioned. “The notion’s practically nonexistent.”

“Then it’s out of the question to tell you to mind your own business?”

His smirk widened, blood red eyes simmering into you. “You’re always so feisty.”

“And you’re always a creep.”

“Am I now?” he mused. “You’re avoiding my question.”

“Because I obviously don’t want to talk to you about my love life, Sukuna.”

“Then I was right. You are together.”

You were about to reply when a body pressed into you from behind, pushing into the space between you and Sukuna and settling itself close to you at once. You knew it was Satoru when the scent of his signature cologne invaded your nostrils and the familiar rigidness of his buff, lanky form collided into your own. Sukuna was forced to step back slightly when Satoru invaded, and you jumped when a hand snaked itself around your waist and rested snugly.

You glanced down at the sight, the way Satoru’s hand clutched at your side and pulled you into him almost possessively. When you caught the look on his face, you noticed a bitterness swimming in his eyes and biting at his jaw. Though his glossed lips pressed into a smile he had worn all night, this one appeared blatantly exaggerated.

“Isn’t it clear by the ring on her finger?” Satoru grinned, blinking at the salmon haired rogue. “Or maybe your sense of sight is starting to fail you after all these years. You gettin’ old, Ryomen?”

“What? I can’t ask the woman a question myself?” Sukuna crossed his arms, eyes slimming when he registered the sight of Satoru before him. “I hate to jump to conclusions. I don’t like to believe everything I hear without going to the source first.”

“If you’ve heard our names circulating, then you’ve heard that we’re getting married.”

Sukuna made an unimpressed scoffing noise, lifting his painted fingers to scratch the side of his jaw as he eyed you suspiciously. “Like I said, I don’t believe everything I hear,” he muttered lowly. “How long exactly has this been going on?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you countered. Ryomen flashed an enticed grin your way, and Satoru’s fingers instinctively dug further into your side. You could tell by his body language and the way his grip tightened around you that he and Sukuna did not exactly enjoy each other’s company. You assumed by the way he had swooped in that there was something he felt he needed to prove to Jin’s twin, and whether it was his superiority as a businessman or as your ‘fiance’ you weren’t sure, but what you did know, or believe, was that it was still all for show. 

“Honey, the man’s asking, so there’s no need to keep any details from him, hm?” Satoru proposed sweetly, his eyes still burning into Sukuna’s face as he spoke to you. You remained hesitant to play into his behavior, though Sukuna’s interference admittedly made you want to fit into the role more than you had when he wasn’t pestering you. Nevertheless, hearing Satoru address you as ‘sweetheart’ and ‘honey’ proceeded to rub you the wrong way. You chalked it up to disgust at first, but the pit in your stomach that was forming due to discomfort was attempting to sway you. 

Maybe it was because he was calling you such cute names while his arm was wrapped around you. The contact was rather foreign to the both of you, yet Satoru did so as though he had done it a hundred times over. 

It felt… odd, in the sense that it didn’t feel terribly out of place. 

Your underlying bitterness still peeked through and impacted the shift of your opinions. As strangely natural as Satoru’s touch abruptly felt, your disapproval of the evening and the overall ordeal remained. Satoru was your fiance, not your friend or lover.

“Seems like she doesn’t have much to say,” Sukuna jumped in. “Possibly because… it’s not true,” Sukuna posed, rolling his head to the side as he surveyed Satoru’s reaction devilishly. In many ways, you noticed the similarities between the two men like this. They both sought to bring a rise out of others, though Sukuna aimed to do so with as much ill-willed intent as possible and a very obvious lack of subtlety. In comparison, Satoru seemed like a saint when Sukuna uttered the most foul things he could think of to piss someone off. You could tell he was simply charging up to do so in this case scenario.

“How could it not be true when the goddamn ring is on her finger,” Satoru shot back slyly, eyes narrowing. “If you really want, I could bring the signed papers for you to see too. Would that be real enough for you?”

“I just find it hard to believe that miss ‘hard-to-get’ here managed to settle down within the span of a month,” Sukuna shrugged. He looked back down at you. “Could’ve sworn you told me you were never gonna entertain another man, much less get married to one.”

“I’m sure she was only saying that about you,” Satoru chuckled. “Since you couldn’t take a hint if a meteor was hurtling toward the earth and (Y/n) shoved you into its path.”

“You really think she wouldn’t do the same to you once she gets tired of pretending?” Sukuna’s brow raised. “I can see right through you. I know what this is really about.”

“I do too. It’s about my future wife preferring to marry me over having two seconds of regrettable sex with you.”

“Ha!” Sukuna bursted out, leaning forward slightly with the release of his aggressive amusement. “Regrettable? I may be a lot of things, but my dick is anything but that.”

“OKAY!” you exclaimed, pushing your hands at the both of their chests, shoving them away from each other. Satoru’s hand failed to leave your waist as you moved, his eyes holding a coldness to them that made his smile appear rather daunting as he stared at Sukuna. “Whatever the fuck is going on with you guys, knock it off right now. This is not the time or place to have a dick measuring contest. Alright?” you lectured, looking wildly between the two men. Sukuna watched you with lazy hilarity as Satoru tugged you back to him.

“I’d win one anyway,” he grumbled, your back colliding with his chest.

You turned to give him an exasperated glare. “I doubt it,” Sukuna pushed.

“Enough,” you hissed. “The fuck is wrong with you two?”

“Wh- he started it!” Satoru accused, looking down at you from over your shoulder.

“And you entertained it,” you growled.

“Uh oh,” Sukuna snickered. “Trouble in paradise? All because of me?”

“Jesus Christ, Sukuna, find a hobby.”

“I’ve got plenty of hobbies, doll.”

“Don’t call my wife ‘doll,’” Satoru frowned.

“Sorry, does she prefer ‘baby?’”

Satoru hummed lightly. “You know what I’d prefer?” he simpered, holding you close. “Taking this outside.”

“Must you always resort to violence?” Sukuna exhaled as though he weren’t practically known for his tendency to get involved in unnecessary brawls at bars. “And at my family home of all places. Tch, some heir to the Gojo firm you are. I bet your father’s real disappointed in how you’re turning out, but it seems he doesn’t have much of a choice but to trust you against his better judgment.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” 

Satoru’s smile widened into something almost sadistic, his grip on you finally slacking to inch toward a confidently still Ryomen. You butted in again, wedging yourself directly in between the two of them, trying your best to handle the situation without drawing much attention. 

You pressed yourself into Satoru, urging him back. “Stop it,” you demanded.

Your fiance didn’t even look like he had heard you, though he allowed your touch to guide him back despite his overwhelming strength in comparison to yours. He stumbled about with a wicked expression, eyes locked in a murderous haze. You had never seen Satoru look so riled up before, on the brink of insanity. It had all happened so fast as well, and you weren’t exactly sure how to handle the situation.

“No, let him swing,” Sukuna urged. “I’m sure his father will love to see the headline in the morning. ‘Gojo Successor Throws Punch at Itadori Twin on a Generously Extended Invitation to Family Gala.’ It’s got a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Sure does. I wonder how the headline would change if I stomped your face in,” Satoru mused, moving to approach once more, but you pushed him back with all your might.

“Satoru!” you seethed through gritted teeth, voice dropping with intensity. He blinked, flickering his eyes down at you hesitantly, caught suddenly between your objective and his own. Sukuna puckered his lips as though to make a silent ‘ooo’ sound, taunting Satoru from behind you. The blue eyed man eventually ripped his gaze completely from Sukuna and met your eyes. “Cut it out,” you mouthed carefully, pupils shrunken and hand pressed firmly to the space in which his heart beated rapidly amid his chest, your other hand firm on his shoulder.

Gojo’s chest rose and fell slowly, deeply, eyes searching your own as he slowly allowed his resolve to crumble under the severity of your gaze and the press of your palms to him. He had never seen you so serious before, so dominant with intensity when you normally took to whining and pouting around. Not only that, but you were trying to protect him from his own behavior, or perhaps you were protecting yourself, which was the real reason why you looked so sincere. Either way, it succeeded in convincing him to back off when he normally would not have bothered to stop and think about what he was doing. 

“I’ll be damned,” Sukuna snorted, catching your attention. His eyes hardened, clearly disappointed in his failure to push Satoru to the edge. 

“What?” you grimaced.

He breathed out heavily, closing his eyes. “Looks like you’re together after all.”

You furrowed your brows. “What does that mean?”

“Just that not even Satoru’s father can bring him down the way you just did. And we all know how Satoru’s father is,” he responded, suddenly disinterested. Your brain stuttered, unsure exactly of what Sukuna was implying by the notion. “Just don’t go off staining any of the couches in the house. They’re more expensive than all of our lives combined.”

Sukuna turned to leave when he stopped himself, looking back at you. “And if you ever get bored, you know where to find me.”

“Fuck off,” you snapped, leading him to chuckle and walk away.

The moment Sukuna disappeared, you grew hyperware of your hands still placed on Satoru’s chest. You turned back to him and swiftly let your hands fall, clearing your throat as Satoru followed Ryomen’s fading figure with his eye. “What a tool,” Satoru snarled. “Imagine if we were a real couple and he said that stuff. He’d have gotten his windpipe crushed.”

“I don’t know,” you started, eying Satoru questioningly. “You looked pretty ready to kill him anyway. Wanna tell me what that was about?”

The white haired man scratched the back of his head, looking off to the side with an exhale. “Not really,” he told you. “He and I have always hated each other’s guts.”

“I can see that,” you shook your head. “Seriously, what were you thinking? You were just gonna fight him in the middle of his ballroom? With all these people watching?”

“Calm down, jeez. You get worked up so easily.”

“Me? You just threatened to beat his ass!”

“For show, (Y/n). For show,” he smiled. “And I’m pretty sure it worked. He was convinced that we’re together by the time he left, wasn’t he?”

“Not to pretend like I know you very well, but I’ve seen the way you are when you act. That wasn’t acting. You looked pissed. For real.”

“Aw, thanks,” he beamed. “Must mean my practicing is paying off.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Hey, I was doing you a favor,” the blue eyed man defended, his hands finding his hips. “You weren’t exactly enjoying your conversation with him. I helped you get out of it.”

“Which, by the way, you did not have to do by grabbing my waist!” you pointed out, recalling the touch that swarmed your lower half. “You need to learn more about personal space.”

“How many times do we have to go over the fact that I need to be handsy with you to convince people we’re together,” he craned his neck to ask you, looking down at your stubborn expression.

“Not the way you did it. That was way too intimate.”

“And what’s so wrong about that? Husbands and wives are intimate with each other all the time.”

“Yeah, but we’re not an ordinary husband and wife- we’re not even husband and wife yet.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever,” Satoru blabbered, leaning back to stand up straight. 

“I’m serious, Satoru. We need to talk about what just happened.”

The Gojo paused the wandering of his eyes, looking down at you as a grin spread over his face, his eyes twinkling. You looked at him oddly in return. 

“What are you looking at?”

“You’re calling me Satoru now.”

“I-” you stopped yourself, realizing that you had let his first name slip when you were trying to regulate his argument, or whatever the hell that was, with Sukuna. You clamped your mouth shut, having subconsciously gone against your own promise to yourself. Satoru only continued smiling smugly at you, awaiting a response. “…Shit. I did.”

Satoru’s chest jumped with laughter. “All on your own, too. Isn’t that something.”

“Look, I had to get your attention somehow. It just slipped out,” you rubbed your brow. “Don’t make it a big deal.”

“It is a big deal~” he sang, stepping closer to you.

You held your hand out. “What did we say about personal space?”

“You’re warming up to meeee.”

“No, no,” you pointed out your index finger, tilting your chin downward. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

Gojo pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, keeping his grin contained.“At least just a little bit.”

Against your better judgment, you felt the corners of your lips twitch slightly, his rather contagious pestering at long last impacting your mood. The moment you caught wind of yourself almost smiling, you forced the feeling away, looking everywhere but at Satoru and doing your damndest to look as though you were unmoved. You blamed the slip on the two glasses of champagne you had welcomed yourself to.

“I’m still mad at you for being late,” you reminded him. “And for even dragging me to this hellhole in the first place - two hours into the event.”

Bright hues of crystal blue held the vision of you for a bit longer, as though the heir were thinking, until he finally spoke again. “I’m kinda hungry.”

You were puzzled momentarily. “Okay…? They’ve got… like… horderves here.”

“No, I’m hungry for real food,” Satoru clarified. “Like a burger or something.”

You still weren’t sure which direction he was taking this declaration into. “Alright. And you’re telling me this because…?”

“You wanna get out of here?”

You stilled. “For a burger?”

“Why not?” he grinned.

“...You’re not asking me on a date, are you?”

“I’m asking you if you’re hungry and want to leave, because either way, I’m dipping in the next two minutes and you’d have to come anyway. Besides, you’ve been going on and on about how badly you wanna get out of here.”

You were torn. On the one hand, you were absolutely working up and appetite and itching to run as far away from this stuffy scene as possible though you had only been present for about forty-five minutes, but on the other hand, you weren’t sure if you could handle spending any more one on one time with Satoru.

Even so, you only dreaded so because for some reason, you weren’t entirely opposed to the idea at the moment. It had felt like such a long night already, and you were already out and about… you figured another hour or so with the Gojo wouldn’t kill you. You admitted that he somewhat defended your honor tonight with Sukuna, whether it was for his own gain or not, and you couldn’t deny the fact that you would have killed for a burger at this late hour. 

You didn’t feel very suffocated by Satoru as you stood before him, though you had felt so up until this very moment. That alone frightened you, confounded you, sparked the gears to turn in your head over what about this gala had you softening to accept your fate just a little bit, succumbing to the will of your father and playing the tiniest bit nice. 

Hell, you didn’t know, but you truthfully hoped that you would snap back to reality the following morning. For now, however, a meal was on your mind. 

“Well?” Satoru urged and you huffed in defeat.

“You’re lucky I’m starving,” you said. “And I wanna get the hell out of here.”

“I can’t believe for once in our lives we’re on the same page.”

“Don’t get used to it. And I’m only coming if you’re paying.”

-

The two of you shamelessly conducted an irish goodbye when departing, and half an hour later found yourselves in the parking lot of a rather deserted fast food drive through at the other edge of the city, the distant sound of horns honking and tires screeching drifting off into the background. You leaned your head back in Satoru’s passenger seat, fingers graciously clutching the cheeseburger in your hand as you stared up at the starry night sky peacefully, chewing quietly.

Satoru sat with his seat reclined and his legs propped over the dash, his tie undone and dress shirt unbuttoned, blazer tossed carelessly in the back. He sipped the straw of his soda as he held what had to be his second or third burger in his other hand, keeping his gaze on the same sky above as his bluetooth transitioned into the next queued up song. 

You found this moment reluctantly tranquil, your energies to bicker occupied by the satiation of your hunger and your building exhaustion. After a night of shallow interactions and little food, the greasy meals within your grasps tasted like heaven had melted onto your tongues and jolted your senses back to life, therefore, you ate in peaceful seclusion. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

You turned to look at Satoru, mouth full and cheeks round with food. A spec of ketchup dotted the corner of your mouth and the white haired man laughed lightly at the sight before you swallowed and swiped the back of your hand over your lips. 

“Why do you always wanna ask questions?” you mumbled, distracted by your next bite.

Satoru peeled back the wrapper of his burger, the paper crinkling loudly over his music. “I’m a curious guy,” he said simply, looking down at the food in his hands. “What was going on with you and Sukuna back there?”

You hummed in retort, bringing your burger to your mouth to take another bite. “Y’mean- with how he was talkin t’me?” you asked, voice muffled as you shielded your mouth to chew and talk at the same time.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “It was kinda weird.”

“Dunno,” you shrugged. “He’s always been like that with me.”

“But you told Jin that you’ve never had any interaction with him. Why lie?”

You swallowed, angling your brows. “I didn’t lie. I misunderstood. I’ve never had an interaction that warranted Sukuna being angry with me, which was what I thought Jin was trying to say earlier, but I guess not.”

“Oh,” Satoru nodded, proceeding to eat again himself. He tucked his soda cup back into his cup holder and tilted his head back, eyes searching the black sheet above as he charged up his next question.  “So, he basically just wants to fuck you and you’ve always rejected him?”

Your mouth twisted upward at his words. “I mean- I guess, but you don’t have to be so vulgar about it,” you responded. “Plenty of men behave that way with me, which is why I don’t pay them any mind.”

“Sure, but Sukuna’s in a league of his own.”

“Yeah, a league of belligerent douchiness,” you quipped, causing Satoru to chuckle. “He just likes to push my buttons. Like someone else I know.”

You eyed the blue eyed twenty-six year old, and he rolled his eyes. “Hey, don’t lump me in a box with that prick. What he does is borderline sexual harassment.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never consistently hit on a girl who hasn’t been interested in you.”

“Can’t say I have, ‘cause women are always interested in me.” You scoffed.

“Whatever. You two have your resemblances.”

Satoru lowered his burger to his lap, looking at you in astonishment as though you had offended him. “Like what?”

You pressed your lips together, suppressing a smirk. “You both get on my nerves.”

“That’s not grounds enough to compare us like that!” Satoru exclaimed. “Only one of us has something actually going for his life while the other wreaks havoc because he’s bored. Not to mention, I’m more likable, more popular, more handsome, funnier, more charming- I could go on.”

“Please don’t,” you begged. “You obviously have more of a problem with him than I do.”

“I’ve just never liked him,” Satoru sighed. “He thinks he has the authority to knock me down, but he doesn’t. Yet he keeps trying and trying. It’s like he wants to see me fail for some reason.”

“You think he’s jealous?”

“Ryomen doesn’t get jealous. He just gets competitive.”

You looked down, crumbling up your wrapper into the balls of your hands once you had finished your burger. You avoided eye contact with Satoru as you prepared to speak. “And that stuff he was saying about your father?”

Satoru fell quiet for a second, his playlist filling in for his silence. “What about it?” he finally asked, his voice deflating. You could tell that this was a sore topic. 

“That was what set you off in the first place. After he was targeting me, he went for your dad and you let him get to your head.”

“That’s…” Satoru took in a breath, turning his head away from you. “Something entirely different.”

“Is it?” you said slowly. “Is there… something I should know? Considering I’ll be a part of the family.”

“No,” he answered quickly. “I mean- nothing that concerns you. My father is…” he trailed off, searching for the words to say. He must have noticed that he was trekking further into uncomfortable, foreign territory, and his eyes got that distant look in them again. It wasn’t like him to be so occupied mentally by something. Examining his reaction to your gentle prying about his father was surreal, for you had never pegged Satoru to be an emotional or swayed person. Yet here he was, struggling to describe how he felt about his own flesh and blood.

You knew the Gojo head to be a stern man, and a rather dislikeable one, but you had never stopped to think about how his personality clashed with Satoru's, who harbored such a free spirit. There was never any mention of a mother in the picture, for as long as you’d known about the Gojos, it had always just been Satoru and his dad as well as their predecessors, but perhaps there was more. Perhaps there was an underlying reason behind Satoru’s attitude welded within the burden of his family name shoved onto his shoulders by a cold and calculating father who had prioritized business training over emotional connection with his son.

It was second nature to ponder over it now, but you had never bothered to before, having been so blinded by your hatred for them. 

And for someone who was always so quick to give you replies, Satoru was surely taking his time to answer.

“My father’s a tough guy,” he eventually elected to say. 

You leaned a hand over to grab hold of your fries, jutting your brows in agreement. “I can see that,” you said. “He must get on your ass a lot since you’re his successor.”

“You have no idea,” he mumbled, picking at his wrapper. Your gaze lingered curiously as he looked down, yet the moment he looked up again, you turned away. “Anyway,” he tried to lighten the mood and change the subject. “Again, not your issue.”

“If you say so… but the man will be my father in law, so I figure I should know at least a little bit.”

“I’m sure you’ve already noticed everything you need to know about my family.”

You thought back to the robotic servant hands gripping at your body and the inhospitable words of Satoru’s father as he privately guided you through his expectations. “You’ve got a point,” you admitted. “I will say, you seem to stand out in that setting.”

“Hm?” he bit and chewed. “How so?”

“You seem a little more lighthearted than the rest of them when you’re being an arrogant dick.”

He snickered. “Do I, now?”

“Yeah, but take that as you will.”

“Are you trying to say I’m more tolerable than the rest of my family?”

“No- stop putting words into my mouth,” you pinched a fry between your fingers. “I’m just saying, even though you’re still bad, you’re a little warmer than the people I’ve met at your estate. Psh, especially your dad. That man could make hell freeze over.”

You stopped yourself when you lifted a fry to your lips, believing you had possibly crossed a line when mentioning his father in such a way.

“Sorry,” you murmured, shoving the fry into your mouth to shut yourself up.

Satoru sported a humorous grin, dimples popping as he gazed at you in surprise. “Don’t apologize on my account,” he said, lifting a free hand to nudge your arm playfully. You shot him a weary look. “That actually makes me feel better.”

“Hearing me shit talk your dad makes you feel better?”

“Believe me, I’m surrounded by plenty of people who ride his ass out of fear or greed without knowing the worst of it behind closed doors,” he confessed bitterly. “It’s a good change of pace, your disapproval of him. Which, obviously, I know goes hand in hand with your disapproval of me,” he was quick to add.

He reached his hand over and stole a fry from your bag, and you quickly turned your food away and tucked it under your arm. “Hey! Eat your own food, fat ass!”

“I paid, so it’s all fair game,” he smirked, making a show of eating your fry before your eyes very slowly.

“You’re wicked,” you frowned.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m terrible,” he played along, his comment earning him a swat to his shoulder that he took like a champ by laughing at. “Enough about my father, though. What about your dad?”

“Ugh,” you groaned. “Do we have to talk about our families?”

“You’re who one who started this conversation…” Satoru kicked back further, tilting his head completely to you to show that you had his full focus. “What’s he really like?”

“You seem to have your own opinions of him already,” you said, referring to all the times Satoru had delivered conniving comments about your dad and his practice for you to hear.

“I have my business opinions of him,” he modified. “I don’t know what the man is actually like  beyond that.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, he’s my dad,” you quickly said, not entirely desiring to indulge this topic. “He works hard. He tries his best to make the right decisions.”

“You seem pretty close to him.”

You looked at him. “What makes you say that?”

“In comparison to how my dad and I are. I don’t know, I can just see it in the way you talk.”

“...Has anyone ever told you you’re nosy?”

“Yeah.”

You scoffed a laugh, lowering your head with a soft smile. Satoru studied the sight closely, unfamiliar with such a sign of contentedness portrayed by you in his company. 

“I guess you could say we’re close, sure,” you mumbled. “It’s just me and him, too.”

Satoru shifted, turning his upper body to face you as he lounged. “No mom?”

You exhaled. “No.”

“...She’s not dead, is she?”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “Well, actually, I don’t know. She ran off when I was five. I never really knew her.”

“Oh,” Satoru deflated. A stiff moment of silence settled between you as the man tried to figure out how to respond. “That’s… sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him strangely, for you had never heard Satoru apologize to you. “Like I said, I didn’t know her.” You paused. “What about yours?”

“Ah,” he scratched the back of his neck, a hesitant, awkward smile befalling him. “Dead.”

Your eyes widened and your heart dropped. You hadn’t expected him to admit such a thing, and to do so in such a casual way. “Wh-? She…?” you stammered. “I- I had no clue.”

“How could you have? She’s the one thing my father doesn’t talk about or share with the whole world. Only a few people know that. The rest of the world probably just thinks it’s always been my dad and I, which I guess, it always has,” he explained.

You turned your body, sympathy overtaking you as you faced Satoru with severity. “How old were you?”

“Younger than you were. Probably four,” he said calmly. “I didn’t really know my mom either. I do remember how she felt, though,” he began, eyes glazing over as he looked past you, daydreaming. “I only know because she was the only source of warmth I ever felt in that house. Then it was gone so fast.”

Your brows drew together, heart hammering with empathy. “That must have been hard.”

Satoru noticed the glint in your eye, one of sadness rather than pity, and he cleared his throat. “I was a tough kid. It wasn’t so bad.”

“Still… I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t kill her, (Y/n).”

“I know, but-” you stopped, pursing your lips. “I know…”

Satoru smiled. “Don’t look so sad. Sweet of you to care, but it’s a little weird seeing you all choked up because of me. Where’d that fire of yours go?”

“I’m not a monster, Satoru,” you clicked your tongue. “Besides, I know what it’s like to grow up without a mom.”

“...I guess we have at least that in common.”

You tapped your fingers against your bag restlessly, nodding slowly. “I think my dad and I are close because of it,” you eventually said.

Satoru looked over your face. “Yeah?”

“We have our moments, of course. We don’t see eye to eye on everything, including this whole… arranged marriage thing, but I can see he’s just trying to do what’s best for us. I think I give him a hard time for it.”

“All kids do that to their parents,” Satoru chuckled. “Especially daughters with their fathers. You guys get away with everything.”

You smiled to yourself. “He tells me the same thing… I wanted so badly to make my own life, but he never saw the purpose in me doing that.”

“I can’t say I see the purpose in it either, if I’m being honest.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“Look at me, (Y/n). My whole life has already been planned out for me, and I've got no reason to stray elsewhere. Not a lot of men in this world get to say that they were born into a wealthy home and have had a successful career on lock since the day they were born.”

“Okay, but haven’t you ever wanted something different? Haven’t you ever wanted to create your own path?”

“Of course I have, I’m a human being,” he said obviously. “But this is my legacy, and that also doesn’t mean that I have to take everything on the same way my father did. He calls me a disappointment because I like to have fun and not be cooped up in an office every hour of the day. I get my work done and I do what I have to do, but I’m gonna still be different nonetheless, which is the only path of freedom I take.

“People say I’m irresponsible and childish, but I don’t know anyone on this planet who lives happily as an emotionless slave to labor. If I’m gonna work for the rest of my life, I can at least do so with personality- in my own way. My dad may not agree, and he may call me a disappointment, and it may suck, but I don’t care. Either way, I’ll still be rich and I’ll have my dignity intact, which isn’t something a lot of people like me can say.”

You stared at Satoru blankly, taking in his words carefully. He caught the way you looked at him and sighed once more, smiling gently. “Look. I get how you feel. I really do. We’re both in this together, but you have to take a second sometimes and realize just how good you have it by even having the choice of not working for the rest of your life. You turn your nose up at everyone else like you because you’ve got this idea in your head about what life should be, but I don’t even think you’ve seen life through the eyes of the ordinary people who actually live it. You think you know, but you don’t.

“You and I may never agree on anything. We may never like each other. We may very well be miserable for the rest of our lives, but you will be secure and I will take care of you because that’s my responsibility. Yours is to just trust that I’ll do just that, whether you want to or not. I don’t blame you for wanting to build yourself up. I don’t blame you for going to law school, and I don’t even blame you for resenting the world we live in, but you need to have more of an open mind. I’m not here to trap you, I’m here to help you.”

Your eyes searched for him, his honesty entrapping you in the isolation of his overwhelming regard. You wanted to argue, to tell him off for even thinking to lecture you so similarly to how your father would have and even had in the past, but you felt no anger. You felt no agitation or aggrievance. For the first time in your life, you saw Satoru Gojo rather clearly before you, untouched by the bias of your judgment or your father’s, untampered by your headstrong displeasure and resentment. He wasn’t trying to irritate you, he was trying to connect with you.

Even so, you couldn’t agree with him.

“All my life, people have been telling me not to work,” you started. “Nobody understood why I wanted to push myself, or why I got so passionate about steering away from the title of my father’s daughter. I know you think I’m spoiled and naive. The whole of Japan thinks the same thing. I’m not surprised, and I can’t even really tell you how you should think of me. Because you don’t know me. Not really.”

You looked back up to the sky, examining its vastness.

“It may have been stupid to go to school. It may have been stupid to fight with my dad so much about it, and it may have been stupid to dream so far out of my reach… but I don’t care. You’re not a woman, Satoru. You’re an heir and you’re a man. I don’t get to take on my father’s business, because even with all my knowledge about his work and having been raised within it, he doesn’t trust me as a woman to handle it. I either have to live as an extension of him or as myself, and it’s damn near impossible to do the latter. I know that. I’ve always known that, but I couldn’t just hold myself back because of what society expects me to do. I couldn’t just stop dreaming and wanting for myself. I couldn’t give up on me, and yes, it’s a naive way of thinking, but as long as I had a mind and an ambition, it was enough for me to try.

“Men look at me and see a little girl with a head full of fantasies, but I’m more than that. I’m me. I know what the world is like, and I don't negate that, but that doesn’t mean I have to push down my desires in accordance with how other people live. I’m my own person. I never asked to be stripped of my privilege, I just asked to be independent. To be addressed as (Y/n) and not my father’s daughter. As a woman in this world, I’m supposed to just sit back, look pretty, and not think. I’m supposed to be content, to marry and serve as a trophy or a piece of arm candy, but that’s not me. It never has been, and the more I speak my mind about it, the stupider people think I am. That’s not something any man can understand from a woman’s point of view.”

Something unreadable flashed in Satoru’s eyes as he listened to you. When you found his gaze again, you weren’t entirely sure what it was. He had mellowed out, his breathing steady and tranquil as he took you in, really took you in after having judged you so harshly, and you him. 

His glasses, having been removed for quite some time now, sat on the dash beside his feet and his brilliant gem-like eyes pieced you apart wordlessly, dug into your soul and into your mind. 

His snowy lashes fluttered delicately over his orbs, and you weren’t sure if the man was simply tired or captured by your conversation. 

He watched the ways your eyes shined as you spoke, and how they proceeded to once you were awaiting his reply. You looked so true to your word, so humbly outspoken. Your gentle words had guided a light of maturity onto you, one that Satoru was a complete stranger to in your wake, and it left him unsure of how to go on. 

His eyes danced down to the ring still on your finger as you clutched your empty fry bag. You followed his gaze, glancing. Your eyes bounced back up to his face inquisitively.

“What?” you mumbled softly. 

Satoru was shaking his head before he could speak, eyes failing to leave the sight of your ring. “I just think I’m starting to understand you,” he said lowly, his voice no louder than a whisper.

When your eyes met again, you felt something within you twitch, struggle, churn under him. You shuffled your feet, busying yourself with tucking your trash back into the empty bag on the floor. “I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing.”

“Me neither.” 

You felt his eyes stay on you, and your patience wore thin. “What?” you demanded again, turning to glare at him as though you were mad.

He smirked, eyes shining. “You’re not so bad like this.”

“Like what?”

“Not snapping at me. Just talking,” he said. “Black looks good on you too.”

Your body released an involuntary reaction, your cheeks pinching and tingling with heat as his honey like voice droned out to compliment you. You panicked, for you had never reacted in such a way to Satoru’s taunting before.

“Uh uh,” you immediately shut him down. “Don’t start with me.”

“Start what?” laughter bubbled into his words.

“You know what,” you growled. “I’m not falling in love with you any time soon, so quit the flirting.”

“Oh, you’re afraid of falling in love with me?” he teased, pushing himself up to sit upright.

You flustered, tossing the fast food bag about angrily. “No, because that’s not happening! This is strictly business, like you said.”

“Right,” he rested his elbow upon the middle compartment, leaning his head to look up at you. “Of course. Business.”

“So stop looking at me.”

“There’s never been any harm in looking, sweetheart.”

You gnawed on the inside of your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of revealing your flustered state. You pushed yourself back into the seat, tightening your posture and holding your arms to yourself, your gown suddenly growing uncomfortable the longer you sat in it. “It’s late.”

“It’s been late, (Y/n). You’re all of a sudden noticing that now?”

“I’m just- I’m tired,” you excused. “And I wanna get out of this dress. Take me home.”

Satoru smiled, taking his own trash and piling it into the back along with whatever else he had thrown back there. He readjusted his seat, lowering his feet from the dash. “Looks like someone’s back,” he snickered. “I guess you can only be easy to talk to for so long.”

“I should be saying the same thing about you!” you fumed.

“Uh huh,” he dismissed you, now having seen a raw side to your frequent antagonization of him. He was hardly affected by your attitude now that he knew how your mind worked a little better. “I’ll take you home, don’t worry. But what do we say for treating you to food and for telling of Sukuna at the party…?”

He leaned his head toward you expectantly, and you were quick to nudge him away stubbornly, your chin propped in your hand as you looked harshly out the window. “I’m not thanking you for picking me up late, moron.”

Satoru grumbled dramatically. “Seriously?! You’re still stuck on that? I thought I had made up for it.”

“You’ll be trying to make up for that for the rest of your life.”

“It’s a little impressive how long you can hold a grudge.”

“I only hold onto them when you’re involved.”

When Satoru dropped you off at home and watched you head into your house safely, the gnawing feeling that something had shifted between the two of you prevailed in both of your minds. The blue eyed man studied you intensely as your figure ascended your steps, your figure moving gracefully snug in the magnificent dress you wore, your ring still twinkling in his sights even from afar. 

He thought about shouting something out to you before you stepped into your front door, something that would leave you festering with annoyance, that would leave you thinking about just how much he grinded your gears, but nothing came to him. He had no more words for you, nothing left to say. He was silent, dumbstruck.

Meanwhile, you worked your very hardest not to turn around as you walked away to sneak another glance at the white haired man, for your entire body was trembling with the betrayal of your own heart. You didn’t know what it was about tonight that allowed you to see Satoru in a slightly different light, that gave you insight into how he behaved and what life was like to inspire him to pester you so much. 

You thought back to the way he held you at the gala, how he had dragged you along and blabbered to practically the entire space that the two of you were together. You recalled the darkness in his eyes when he cut into Sukuna’s harassment of you, his easy retraction when you called him by his name and pressed yourself before him. 

You slapped a hand over your face, mulling over it all, upset with yourself. You lifted your hand to look at your ring once more behind the safety of your front door, lips turning up with confliction. 

You didn’t want to think of yourself as someone who could fall for Satoru Gojo. You knew you were better than that, but you were his fiancé now. You were to be married in less than two weeks, and it was dawning on you with such heaviness all of a sudden. 

You hated Satoru Gojo. You did, but something about him tonight had admittedly gotten to you. Whether it was the way he looked in his suit or how he had opened up to you about his mother, you weren’t sure, but you were impacted nonetheless, and it was driving you insane. 

You only prayed that you were not stupid enough to step further into the dangerous territory of warming up to your previous competitor.

[cambankromyy]

THE ISLAND LOOKOUT (pt.5): 2 to function - (smau & irl au) childhood bsf!rafe cameron x thornton!reader

series masterlist; general masterlist; taglist

about my taglist; ok until this i've been adding people to my taglist even if they didn't use the google form, but since its getting hard to keep track and i don't want to miss anyone, ill only be adding people who submit a google form (linked on my pinned post as well as at the top of every island lookout post). sorry if this is an inconvenience to any!!

part 4- part 5 - part 6

rafe pulled up to roni's house, honking the horn as she took her sweet time coming out. she was late—classic.

when she finally slid into the passenger seat, roni casually pulled out her cart, took a hit, and passed it over to him.without saying a word, she turned her head, blowing the smoke in his direction. rafe rolled his eyes but grabbed the cart out of her hand and took a hit himself.

music was blasting, windows down, the cool air mixing with the haze in the car. it was the perfect vibe—loud, carefree, and like they were in their own world. the drive to target felt like the most natural thing in the world, even if it might’ve been a little dangerous. but hey, they’d done this before. being high wasn’t the same as being drunk. it was fine.

they pulled into target, half-laughing and half-buzzed, like they were on a mission, but also not at all. the whole store was just a blur, with them bouncing between aisles, acting like they owned the place.

after that, they went back to tannyhill, sprawled out on the couch, snacks everywhere. rafe's phone buzzed—it was kelce, calling about something random. before they knew it, it turned into a facetime, and roni took the reins of the conversation.

rafe, needing a break from all the madness, tossed his phone to roni. “here, entertain kelce,” he joked, settling back into the couch. roni grinned and grabbed the phone, instantly hitting screen share. “lets see what he has to hide...” she said as she opened his snapchat memories. each pic was funnier than the last, and she couldn’t help laughing at whatever she found.

then she pressed the "flashbacks from this day" tag at the top, revealing the golden snap from three years ago. rafe, looking extra dramatic, with the caption: “i’m watching you…” roni erupted in laughter, almost dropping the phone. kelce was already cracking up, and the chaos was contagious.

without a second thought, she saved the pic, posted it on kooked.out. the caption reading: “im watching you... #rafeflashbacks.” by the time rafe came back, he saw her still holding his phone, practically on the floor from laughing.

rafe came back into the room, saw her holding his phone, still laughing like a maniac. he raised an eyebrow. “what’d you do?”

roni handed him the phone, the kooked out page with the freshly posted flashback still on the screen.

rafe stared at his phone, confused and starting to go through the comments. “wait, what the hell? why’d you post that?”

she turned back to the phone, still grinning like a maniac. “ok bye kelce, boutta get my ass beat,” she said, cutting the facetime and laughing even harder.

and that was just the beginning. one post turned into another, and suddenly it was a full-on back-and-forth, each one more ridiculous than the last. of course, it wasn’t just them—everyone was watching. the posts blew up, people were commenting, and that only made the whole thing funnier.

they didn’t even think about the consequences— why would they? they were just messing around, having a good time. who cares what might happen when you're high and living the moment with your best, best, friend?

ahaahhhasdjahdj i loved making the posts at the end lollll ok this is for like character developent and next chapter (i think) will be the start of the turning point.

tags under the cut as always, and if u havent, read the notes abt tags at the top to be on my taglist!

tags: @italk2god @angelicameron @marleymarleymarleymarley, @queenvane64, @raeven-marie43 @idiotussupremus @sereneera @yesshewrites1 @inlovewithchriss @ethanthequeefqueen @amterasuu @popou61 @drewsstars @yannew @anothertimegirl @flvredcas @yootvi @mrsdrewstarkeyy @niaunofficial @cooper8224 @rafegetinmybed @pogueprincesa @6r4cie @adalia-lovelace @bee-43 @drewrry @masongetinmybed @defnotayonna @lcversvoid

[yallemagne]

I'm watching people trauma bond with Calypso from EPIC in real-time. Y'all. A character can be a woman and be a rapist at the same time. And her being a woman doesn't mean that ACTUALLY there's some trauma in her past that justifies her imprisoning men on her island and taking them to bed against their will, it means that she's a rapist that just happens to also be a woman.

I love how Calypso is depicted in EPIC, she's just dripping with a nastiness that is only matched by Penelope's entitled suitors. She's sugary sweet at the outset, but when Odysseus rather violently rejects her, she laughs at his rejection, saying he's adorable when he's angry and that he doesn't have any choice but to submit to her will as a god. And then she goes right back to the sweet lover in paradise ruse!!! It's sickening! She denies his autonomy because it gets in the way of the fantasy romance that she's forcing upon him.

So, I'm frustrated with people trying to paint it as though she's the victim in the situation, that what she's doing is somehow okay because she's a pretty woman and they feel bad for her. That's so patronizing.

I've seen people justify her behaviour by saying she's lonely. Tough shit get a hobby. Being starved for affection has never justified being an abuser.

I've seen people insist she truly cares about Odysseus because she tries to talk him down from suicide... but an abuser talking you down from taking drastic measures to escape their abuse isn't them showing genuine care, it's them not wanting the game to end, it's them exerting control over your very life. If anything, it's more disturbing because she is the one who drove him to be suicidal. So she's playing this game where she drives him to the precipice and then tries to lure him back down with "reminders" of "their love", those reminders actually being of the words of his dead loved ones that she's pilfered and warped as though they were her own.

The most ridiculous argument I've seen in defending Calypso's behaviour is saying that we can't use terms like "rapist" for her because "it was a different time" so "it's not certain whether or not what she did would be considered non-consensual for the time"... Like must I even point out that... that sleeping with someone against their will has always been and will always be rape? Anyway, her actions fit the ancient definition of rape to a t anyhow, so it's weird to try and weaponize "cultural differences" for the sake of having plausible deniability in Calypso's favour. Rape is also used to mean kidnapping, which is why we have pieces titled the Rape of Ganymede, the Rape of Persephone, etc..

Even if Jorge were to come out and say that, somehow, nothing sexual took place on Calypso's island in seven years, that despite her explicitly telling Odysseus that his "no" means nothing to her as a goddess she somehow never went so far as to sexually assault him... it doesn't make her abuse any less bad that she spared him that one trauma! Like holy shit dude.

Imagine if there was an adaptation that featured Zeus' rape of Io, and the audience responded to every literally dehumanizing action Zeus took against Io by saying "ooohh but he's lonely. i feel bad for him the most he's just a widdle lonely baby man. his wife is so meaaan."

[jenn-ieverse]

୨ৎ. 🎧 𝇃𝄄ㅤ ઈㅤֵㅤN I K I ‹ ENHYPEN › ๋ ࣭ ⭑

AFTER HOURS

PAIRING ʬʬ badboy¡niki + femalereader

TROUPE ʬʬ badboy x class president

LIST ʬʬ prologue, 01, 02

WARNINGS ʬʬ (for this chapter) just Niki being a subtle asshole, implied toxic friendship, toxic family (mentions of child endangerment and abuse).

A/N ʬʬ I am glad to see that there are people who are actually liking this fic that I started on a whim also this chapter might feel like a filler but it'll get better I swear ♡ If you want to be a part of the unofficial taglist, comment ♡ Do read the previous chapters before reading this!!

AFTER HOURS

“I heard they brought in new snacks in the cafeteria.” Areum has her arm slinged around yours as you involuntarily made your way through the hallways to get to the cafeteria on the ground floor. With your selective hearing technique at its finest, you were barely paying attention to what she was saying. And then you saw him, making his way through the students scattered chatting in the hallway. There were small things that you were starting to notice, how he had always parted a crowd every time he walked, the looks he would get, judgemental ones from the boys and affectionate ones from the girls.

As Niki walked past you, his stare went back and forth between you and Areum with a sign of discontentment. You turn around to watch his back as he walks away, a scene you had become used to seeing. “What's the deal with him?” Areum seemed to have noticed. “I don't know.” you shrugged it off. “You know the word that's been going around?” Areum leans in the whisper as you both climb down the stairs, occasionally waving at familiar faces. “Apparently Niki has submitted all his due assignments and it's because of you.” if you were drinking or eating something, you would've choked. “What? That's ridiculous.” you look around, your tone unstable.

“I know! A smart girl like you will never intentionally get involved with a guy like him. He is trouble.” you nod, not necessarily in agreement but more so to avoid further arguments. “You know why he was transferred from his school in Japan right?” Yes you knew, it was a stupid rumor that he chopped off the hands of a student who touched his school back, ridiculous. No student is capable of something like that, especially Niki.

The reality was that it's been a week since you've talked to each other, the last time was in the infirmary. Since then he treated you like you didn't exist, except times like just now when he'd pass by you, little too close than necessary, your shoulders brushing each time. On the other hand for you, Niki had somehow become highlighted, in a sense that you would always feel his presence, it was weird really. You'd spot him smoking by the school backyard with the other delinquents or walking into a cyber café with them. Sometimes even sitting by himself with a cigarette in hand outside the convenience store. 

Each time you didn't have it in yourself to approach him. “But really, don't you find it weird that Niki has started to actually show up in class instead of loitering around.” Areum speculates as both of you walk into the cafeteria. It was true that Niki was starting to be present in the classroom, even though he would sit in the corner most chair by the window, mostly sleeping the whole time. “Minjun oppa!” Areum lets go of your arm and runs to her boyfriend, you scoff. Both of them are literally in the same grade (different classrooms) but she calls him oppa because he is a few months older than her. Cringe. 

Do boys really like being called that? “Depends to be honest.” you turn around to see Heesung standing behind you. “Did I say that out loud?” you let out an awkward chuckle to which he smiles, “It's mostly because it gives them a sense of masculinity and superiority.” Heesung says as he buys two cream buns and hands you one. “Thanks.” you smile, peeling the wrapper off the bread as he escorts you back to class. On your way back, you wonder why you never considered Heesung a potential love interest. He's smart, good-looking, self aware (very rare for teenage school boys going through puberty). 

Lost in your thoughts you walk into the class, Heesung following closely behind you. “Damn, my bad.” you turn around to see Heesung looking at Niki who was standing by the class’ entrance door. It seems like Heesung had bumped into him, Niki looks at you staring at him and gets inside the class, walking right past you to get to his seat. The teacher enters the class and you take your place in the middle column of the front row. Mrs. Sung takes the podium, “Alright students, have you decided your partners for the project I discussed last week?” She scans the classroom and all the students nod.

The partners were to be selected for this project for this class which was Culture and Heritage. Every duo has to visit a popular tourist site in Seoul and research its impact on increasing international awareness of Korean culture. “Y/N, make a list of the duos and get it to me.” you nod. “Who are you pairing up with?”she asks, “Kang Areum.” you motion to her, “Here!” She raises her hand from the second row. “Areum? How's that possible?” the teacher frowns. “Choi Minjun from class B submitted your name as his partner.” she announces, making the whole class break into hoots, whistling and teasing a now blushing Areum. 

You should have seen this coming, knowing that the same project was given to class B, there's no way it wouldn't turn out this way. It's your fault this time, you were too naïve. You turn around to look at Areum who mouths ‘sorry’ with an apologetic pout. “It's alright, I'll do it by myself.” you said with a controlled smile earning a sympathetic look from the teacher, “Isn't there anyone who's left to be paired up?” Mrs. Sung looks at the students hopefully. “Ma'am! Niki. He was not present last week.” a goddamn traitor speaks up, you turn around to see the imposter. Choi fucking Yeonjun. You glare at him but catch the sight of Niki sleeping with his head down, you quickly turn infront to look at the now content teacher.

“Very well then!” she clasps her hands together, “Niki!” she calls out and he sits up, “You are paired with Y/N for the project.” she says before going back to teaching where she last left off. You just now Niki is looking at you right now but there is no way in hell you are going to look back right now. “Fuck my life.” you mumble to yourself. 

“I am so sorry Y/N, I had now idea!” As soon as the teacher had left, Areum had walked up to your desk. “A heads up would have been nice, you know.” you said with a sigh. “I swear! I told him I'd do the project with you. I don't know why he told the teacher without asking me first.” her tone had fake perplexity, how could she not know? “I'll buy you your favorite cream buns, you are not mad at me right?” Areum grabs your hands, pouting. You look away feeling awkward in the situation and unintentionally catch a sight of Niki looking at you then turning away scoffing. 

“It's fine really. You don't have to, I am not mad at you so don't worry about it.” you slowly pull your hand out of her grip. “Alright, I gotta go talk to Minjun.” the moment you nod, she's out of the door. You turn around to look at Niki who was again staring with the most displeased look on his face. You motion him towards the door and get up to walk out.

When you enter the rooftop, a soft breeze hits your face, you slowly walk towards the guardrails along the edge and lean over. “What?” you turn around to the very familiar voice. Niki stood with his hands pushed inside his pocket, this hair moving subtly with the soft monsoon breeze. “About the project…” he doesn't let you finish, “Cut me out.” he says, his tone leveled and uninterested. As he turns around to leave, you are face to face with him walking away, a very familiar scene indeed.

୨        ₊       ┈    ⪩⪨      ┈     ₊     ୧

With your school bag slumped over your shoulder you enter the basement unit that is supposed to be ‘home'. Before you shut the rusted door, you throw a glance at the dimly lit alley that you walked through to get to your home, the blinking street light about to be exhausted any minute. Monsoon is going to be difficult this year, you think to yourself closing the door. 

As soon as you enter the small unit, you notice the scattered glass bottles of soju on the floor. You put your bag down and start by picking up the bottles and collecting them in a corner. Most of the items in the unit were packed into boxes, the remaining place mostly empty due to lack of furniture. While you are cleaning the dishes in the rundown sink, the front door opens. You turn around to look, “Mother, you are back.” the woman in her late 40s stumbles into the floor, another bottle of soju in her hand.

You quickly turn off the water and turn to her, “Mother, we are out of groceries. I don't have anything to make dinner with.” You try to take the bottle from her hand. She jerks away and smashes the bottle into the wall, “All you do is ask for money! You ungrateful bitch!” she yells, her words jumbled due to her drunk state. “It's okay mother, I'll just boil some leftover rice for you.” you quickly move to clean up the shattered glass.

“You should have left with your father, god why didn't he take you away with him!” she wails to the ceiling. You let out a sarcastic laugh, “You think I wanna live here like this?” your mothers eyes widen at your response. “It's suffocating, your voice messes up with my head!” you yell back, heat rising to your face. “How long mother? How long are you going to dwell in the past? He left!” you grab the woman by her forearm, giving her a firm shake. 

“He left, and he isn't coming back!” as soon as those words leave your mouth you feel a sharp impact on your cheek. You look at your mother, tears pooling at your eyes, “I didn't have to carry you for nine months. God knows why I did.” her words hurted more than the slap. You search her eyes for some emotion, regret for what she said, shock for what she just did, instead there's just void. Hope feels difficult. You get up, grab your bag and walk out the door wishing to never come back but you know you will.

Hours pass by and you keep mindlessly walking until you are in front of the forest trail. You wonder if you should go back home now but there is not one motivating factor that would drive you to do so. The sun was about to set, an orangish hue spread over the sky reflecting a subtle cast over the tall trees of the forest. Perhaps it's the serenity that pulls you in, you walk into the forest. It's not the first time you've tried to find peace amidst nature so you make your way through the similar trail.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice how deep you were into the forest or how the light of the day had dimmed away. You only notice when a drop of water falls on your head and you look up at the sky. The water droplets start falling faster as you look around frantically, in the haze of your sight you catch a dark wooden cabin and run towards it. “Is this the beginning of a thriller movie?” you whisper to yourself, hesitating to open the door. Shaking away your thoughts you pull the door open.

It all happens within minutes, you are pulled in and pinned against the door, a sharp object pushed against your neck. You don't even get the time to adjust to the darkness when the lights are switched on. “What the fuck?” Niki frowns, backing away. “What the fuck?” you mirror his words, wondering if your prolonged hunger is now leading to hallucinations. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his face twisting in a displeasing scowl. “I could ask you the same.” you counter attack, “You are trespassing.” you accuse him, “Aren't you too?” he questions, “No- Not really.” you shrug with a fake nonchalance.

“I… I am just taking shelter from the rain.” you say as a matter of fact. Looking around you notice a part of the floor is elevated to make a loft which had a mattress enclosed with simple wooden railing. There was a short staircase adjacent to the wall through which the loft bed was accessible. The lower area has a kitchen with dark cabinets, a sink, and a stovetop, along with countertop space extending beneath the loft. It was clear that someone used to live here. “Leave after the rain stops.” Niki says with simple directness before climbing up to the loft and laying down on the mattress.

“This isn't your place, you can't ask me to leave.” you sit down at a chair that was kept against a small table just beside the entrance door. “Then you'll be just as much as trespassing as I am.” he says with his eyes closed. “Whatever.” you mumble with annoyance, “What were you doing with the lights off anyway?” you question, “Uh, sleeping?” he says in a sarcastic tone which makes you roll your eyes. “What are you doing in the woods at night in pouring rain?” he slightly sits up, his upper body pushed up on his elbows, if he were to sit up straight, he would hit his head, that's how close the ceiling was to the loft. 

“Witchcraft.” you replied with a shrug, pulling out your notebook from your bag and going through the assignments for today. You hear him scoff, followed by a rustling indicating that he went back to sleep and so you get to study. Hours go by and you occasionally turn around to look up at the loft to see Niki sleeping with his back facing you. For the first time in years you could study in peace, without the noise of glasses shattering or chain of drunken slurs instead the soft pouring of rain and Niki's occasional shuffles. 

ʬʬ Taglist ʬʬ @d-dilemma @onementally-unstabel-kid @shi-toshi @xienoe @reiminder @starfallia @tya0 thank you lovelies, hope you like it!

[natashashill]

my girl

pairing: maria hill x reader

word count: 1k

warnings: fluff, backstory of reader contains mention of killing someone but that’s it

a/n: this was soooo self indulgent omg thank you to the nonnie who asked for this but i might have also lost the plot 😞

summary: based on this req

Rumors constantly swirled around S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters over Maria ‘Ice Queen’ Hill. All the rookies murmured among themselves whenever they would find themselves around her, afraid to directly interact with her. It wasn’t that Hill was mean, no she just expected the absolute best from everyone. She worked her rookies to the bone, making sure they trained diligently and worked efficiently. She took the best recruits under her wing, training them specifically to work through S.H.I.E.L.D and rise through the ranks, while her least successful recruits ended up working a desk job or leaving all together. While the recruits were fearful of her, the majority of them admired her just the same.

The same cannot be said for you, the recruits all adored you. You were their primary instructor, training and sorting through the recruits until they would be evaluated by high agents like Victoria Hand, Phil Coulson, Melinda May, and of course Maria Hill. While they happened to be very strict, you were far more encouraging. You weren’t super strict with the recruits, you encouraged them through their difficulties and helped them find their own strengths. Although, that didn’t mean you were easy to walk over, if anyone tried to question you, it took you no time to make sure they understood who was in charge.

While your personalities didn’t seem to coincide, you and Maria Hill were a dream team. Before you decided to retire from the field, you and Maria Hill made an incredible team together. You would constantly partake in missions together. Soon enough, you both were absolutely inseparable, going on missions together, training together, and even doing some paperwork together in her office. Somewhere along the way, you both started falling for each other. You remained quite private at first, not wanting rumors to be spread around the office, but you both failed to hide it for long. Your co-workers started catching on to your relationship and you both failed to hide how flustered you made each other. When the rookies started to catch wind of your relationship, it surprised them all that Maria Hill had a heart.

However, it started to become increasingly obvious how in love the two of you were. Whenever you both were around each other, the energy in the room lightened, with you wearing an infectious smile whenever you would look at her and of course Maria would soften whenever she’s around you. Where Maria would be often uptight and rigid towards anyone else, it would never apply to you. People started to talk about you two, although no one really had anything negative to say. It was no surprise to see you two together in the hallways talking while heading off to wherever you’re needed, or that you would be the first to jump to her defense if someone challenged her.

She didn’t care if you made a mess at home or wanted to do something so ridiculously stupid to her, all she cared about was making you happy. She indulged you, letting you go all out in the holidays with your traditions because she knows how much it means to you. She never complained at all, even going along with your holiday baking that left the kitchen a mess. Although she did give you a bit of a look when you bought her the ugliest holiday sweaters to match. If there was one person who could get away with anything at work, it was you. She would never get mad at you if you submitted paperwork late or messed up at work, although this was much to the displeasure of everyone else at the receiving end of her wrath.

You were just as in love with her. Constantly checking up on Maria and reminding her to take breaks from her work. Whenever she would be working herself to death, you would be the one to get her to successfully step away from her work. Whenever she was in a particularly bad mood or frustrated at someone, Fury would call you to try and help her to calm down. You knew her like the back of your head, knew exactly what she needed when she would come home from a rough mission or suffered from the PTSD she developed during her army days or childhood.

The way she cared for you after missions, especially the bad ones. You had made the decision to step back after a mission gone wrong. You were sent to infiltrate an abandoned base, but you quickly found out it wasn’t abandoned at all. Hydra was still running tests at this base and you weren’t sure where to even begin. You saw many hostages and started trying to free them, hoping it would help. Unfortunately for you, that’s when you got made and you had no choice to retreat. While you called for backup, you were caught and forced to watch as Hydra killed a hostage in front of you that eerily resembled you. You never really recovered from that, even though it happened years ago, yet Maria was with you every step of the way. She was the one who found and freed you at the base, guided you back to the quinjet while you were shell shocked, took you home and made sure you would be alright. She didn’t leave your side for weeks until you started coming back to yourself again, lovingly staying with you and caring for you while you came to terms with what happened. She even waited for you outside your therapy sessions and brought you a milkshake each time.

As the years passed, your relationship became more and more public. You slowly started holding her hand while at work, or kissing her in hallways. After work events, you two would be seen together with Maria’s hand wrapped around your waist and your head on her shoulder. Most people easily brushed past it, they weren’t surprised in the slightest as anyone could have seen how much you cared for each other by now. Eventually even the recruits started becoming used to this, as seeing you two together became quite an occurrence after a few months.

notes: i really hope you like this, this was the only fic i was really able to write for during my writer’s block which is probably why it’s not good but she’s my wife fr soo!

[phan3145]

Title: Slippery Slope. Fandom: Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Implications, Possessive and aggressive behavior ) Pairing: Eventual Noa x Human!Reader.

***Notes: I will be going on a HIATUS for a few weeks. Work is switching over tech this week to new software I need to learn, and then next week is my one year anniversary with my husband. We are going to swim with dolphins at Discovery Cove in Florida! I’m excited, but I’ll be writing in my free time and banking chapters so everyone will have more regular Wednesday updates when I return. Until then, thank you to everyone who has been reading and commenting up to this point. You all mean the world to me ❤️

Chapter 10: Bad Words, Bad Feelings

Noa

When she turned, the look in her eyes had him wanting to kneel on all fours in submission. Ridiculous. He was Master of Birds, he submitted to no one. Anaya did not have the same title as him, actively looking down and shuffling back a step. He would have teased him for it, for his submission to an Echo, if the next step she took did not have him questioning his own assurance. He fought his spine’s urge to bend, remaining upright by sheer will.

Her anger was somewhat confusing, but it became clearer as she demanded, “Is that what I am to you? A pest?”

Ah. That seemed to be the cause of her mood shift. He tried to explain the situation, hoping to calm her, “Humans are…considered pests…to my clan…they have never met…a good Echo…that could speak.”

Unfortunately, this did the opposite of what he had intended. She took another step towards him, hands balled into fists at her sides. He knew she was not foolish enough to try to fight him, let alone hit him, but the idea itself was amusing to think about. He recalled her nails digging into his shoulders a few days ago, that was probably the most pain she could inflict on him if she tried. Still, he had seen that look in her eyes once before. Only once, during a time in his life that seemed so long ago now. It was when Mae had killed Lightening, using her human weapon to save Soona. It was angry, it was resolute, and there was a trace of fear behind it all.

“If we’re such pests, and you had to convince your elders, then why even bring me?” She asked, shuffling in place as if she couldn’t decide if she wanted to take another step forward or go back.

“I had…no choice,” he admitted. “You…saved my life…you..spend time with…Master of Birds…but do not…show yourself…makes apes…uneasy.”

“No choice…” she muttered, looking away from him and back towards the village.

He could see many expressions dance across her face, her eyes distant as she seemed to be thinking on his words. Whether that was a good or bad thing, he could not say. He noticed the muscle along her jaw become more prominent, before her head snapped back to him like a cobra strike, eyes holding heat worse than fire. This time, he did flinch back. It was scary, how Echos could be calm and docile, then turn like a wild animal ready to defend its existence. He did not understand it.

Her voice raised, louder than he had heard it before, “No choice? There’s always a choice! There should always be a choice. What frustrates me the most about this, is you say you didn’t have one, but I know that’s not true! You’re the Master of Birds, no one…higher than me, remember? You expect me to believe you didn’t have a choice?”

He could not meet her eye, casting his gaze downwards. He had a choice. Of course he did…though it really did not feel like one. He had responsibilities now, he was no longer a youngling. He could not keep running off with his Sunset Brother and Sister to visit a strange Echo as if his life had no purpose. The clan demanded more of him, they needed a leader who was present. Anaya and Soona deserved better from their leader too, having to assist him on days they did not see you to make up for the days they did. They each would hunt and gather food equal to three apes, while he tended to eagles and prepared for Big Climbs of this season’s apes.

Though she also assisted with gathering, there was only so much an Echo and three horses could carry. It would be better if he could bring a larger party, but that meant not seeing his Echo, or worse, scaring her. That is what it came down to. He was choosing her comfort- choosing her, over his clan. If she could just meet them, maybe even be accepted as part of his clan, then he would not have to choose. There would be no choice.

The elders of course, were the cause of this. They learned of his meetings with an Echo, smelling her on him when he returned from their visit to the library. They ‘advised’ him to either chase her away, to avoid further distraction, or present her to them so that they may learn her scent and know her. She was not a threat of course, so that should be no problem. The real problem was, if her first exposure to apes of the clan after everything she had been through was the elders, then she would never come back. The elders were…elders. They would not treat her with the respect she deserved immediately, if at all. They still did not care for Humans. Mae certainly had not helped his cause either. He thought his mother, the younglings, and a few apes only a season or two younger than him might be enough to sway her opinion in a positive favor towards his clan.

She scoffed, his continued silence stretching too long for her liking. “I knew it. And when we first met you accused me of being a liar.”

“I did not…lie.” He growled, gaze jumping back to hers. He made sure his canines were not bared, anger creeping up on him now as he confessed, “The other option…was not a choice…I had to…think of my clan.”

“Of course! Oh, and since we’re on the subject of choice,” she was quick to add. “Were you going to give me a choice? You didn’t think it might be important to tell me that you were blindly leading me to your village of apes?”

Shame burned the pit of his stomach, knowing he was untrue when it came to this. She was right, and oh, how he hated it. Still, he could only argue, “Thought…it would be better…if I did not…if you could…only meet apes.”

“I have met apes, Noa.” She hissed, teeth bared now as she paced towards him, stopping with only a few inches separating them.

Any other time, he would enjoy being this close, her scent becoming this familiar yet ever changing thing that he had memorized countless versions of. It brought comfort to him, certain scents of hers calling forth memories he had shared with her in private. He did not understand how or why her scent was not constant, but he decided he did not dislike it. At present, her being this close, hissing and baring her teeth? Her scent was an unwelcome distraction, forcing him to fight the natural instinct to bare his own canines and force her to yield to him. He did not like this feeling of having to defend himself from her. It was not natural, as an ape or as her companion.

“You know I’ve met apes before. You also know what they took from me, and what that has done to me.” She continued, voice lowering. It was softer in volume, but harder in tone, like it was coming from the back of her throat. It sounded hurt. “You know this, because I told you. I told you because I trusted you. I have never trusted an ape like I trusted you. That’s because you were never like them, Noa. Never. Not once.”

He felt his own rising anger cool and mellow, hearing her praise him even while hurt by his actions. She wasn’t done though, “Today was different…you were different. Instead of setting yourself apart like you always do, instead of being the Noa I’ve come to know…you took the choice away from me. You decided for me because you believed that you knew better. This is why I live alone, no one gets to make decisions for me. Especially not an ape.”

“Trying to fix…” He began, but she cut him off.

“You don’t get to argue this!” She said, raising a finger to point at him, “Just because I trusted you, doesn’t mean you suddenly get to make decisions for me. You’re trying to fix something that’s not broken! The way I react, the way I am, it’s what keeps me alive! But why am I surprised? This is the way apes are. With enough power and time, you and your clan will become just like them.”

The words stung, and he gritted his teeth, lips pulled down as far as he could over them, “Not..true.”

“No?” She questioned, “How are you any different? You and your clan already see humans as pests, something lesser than you, to be chased away. Do you think that’s any different from how they saw me?”

A part of him recoiled on the inside, remembering similar words he had spoken to Raka regarding Echos. He did not know then, but he knew now, and that is not how he saw her. “You are not lesser…but you are…alone…you do not have to be…apes in clan would…welcome you.”

“You think so?” She challenged.

“Know…they would.” He replied, “Anaya…and Soona did.”

Her eyes cut then to Anaya, who was swaying on his feet, arms tucked into his chest, taking in everything happening around him. He looked as if he wanted to leave, but also would not tear himself away from their Echo while she was upset. He had become strangely loyal to her…though maybe he was not the only one. Her gaze returned to him, something underlying in her tone as she argued, “Not every ape is like Anaya and Soona.”

“Come and…see for yourself.” He tried, grasping for her. His palm connected with hers, and he had just started to curl his fingers around her wrist, when she swiftly ripped her hand away. She avoided his touch, a first for them, and took several steps back, completely out of his reach. He saw her overlap both arms across her chest, hiding her hands away from him within the crook of her elbows.

It was another sting, but he refused to chase after her. “You said…did not give you…a choice…I chose…because I know…you would have…chosen to run…like you always do.”

Her eyes went almost comically wide before narrowing, “Excuse me?”

“You are…afraid.” He continued, thinking he could potentially goad her into following him. “Ridiculous…dumb…Eagle Clan…would not harm you…yet Echo is…scared…so scared…always scared…of apes…jumbled.”

With every word her breathing increased, hands clenching and jaw tightening. Anaya, seeing the same thing he did, grunted, “Noa…stop.”

He raised his arms, keeping them wide as he challenged, “Prove…wrong.”

She stood there, unblinking as she stared him down. He thought she would march back up the hill, so strong willed and stubborn when she wanted to be. A few more silent moments passed before she finally decided to respond. He could not have predicted the next words out of her mouth.

“No.” She said, no anger or malice in her tone. It was flat, emotionless. That scared him.

His arms bent, lowering slowly as he parroted, confused, “No?”

Her steps were strong, purposeful, her shoulders back and head raised as she devoured the distance she had placed between them. Though her movements were not threatening by any means, he tried to keep some space between them, feeling his breath become heavy in his chest when a tree suddenly met his back. There was something about her now, this new stance, that made his own mind jumbled. He forced himself to focus as she spoke, “No. I do not have to prove anything to you, I owe you absolutely nothing. Not my time, not my attention, not my life, and certainly not my trust.”

His brows furrowed, “You…would rather run away…than trust my clan…trust that I…would not let anything…happen to you?”

Her words were scathing as she answered. “Let me explain this to you in a way your chimp brain can understand. I want nothing to do with your clan…or you, Master of Birds.”

“Echo does not…mean that.” Anaya interjected, finally stepping forward and somewhat in between the two of them. “Echo is…upset…Noa is wrong.”

He huffed at that, “Echo thinks…but it is true…she will always…be afraid…if she runs now.”

She pivoted around Anaya as he attempted to edge her away from him. “What are you trying to accomplish here? Do you think I’ll meet your clan and just forget what happened to me? Or are you naïve enough to think your clan will suddenly accept an Echo pest because you told them to? I’m not an ape!”

“As good as,” he countered.

She scoffed, “Is that meant to be a compliment or an insult?”

“Only human…would think being called ape…is an insult.” He snorted, realizing how this was the first time in a very long while he referred to her as a human and not an Echo. When he had actually begun to separate the two terms, he was not sure. “Having the mark…will be enough…for most to…accept you.”

Her hand rose to her crown, eyes narrowing in what he believed was confusion, “The mark is enough? Why? Because there is no other ape who currently has it?”

He puffed out air from his cheeks and rolled his eyes at that, “Echo is naïve…there has never been…anything other than ape…to wear the mark.”

“So, what?” She shrugged, “I’m the first Echo, that doesn’t change anything.”

“Changes everything!” He snarled, the fact she didn’t understand the importance of her situation frustrated him. “You are not only first Echo…but first outsider to wear it…only meant for apes…of the Eagle Clan...symbol of belonging...stronger than…my word as leader…cannot be undone…once honor has been granted…that is why…I did not want to give it…in the first place.”

There was silence, her body almost going slack, allowing Anaya to push her back a few steps with ease. She looked surprised, as if a tree limb had smacked her during a climb, one she did not see. He had seen that look many times before. Even Anaya, noticing her expression, simply let his hands rest on her arm. She was far enough away now not to be considered a challenge, his mind reeling before quickly righting itself. He knew better, with humans, they were more of a challenge when they were silent than when they spoke. He waited for another turn, for her to lash out when the shock wore off.

“That’s why Soona and Anaya…” she trailed off. “Why give it to me then? You didn’t want to, and it’s not as if I was aware of what it meant.”

Still, she did not understand! She was important to Anaya and Soona, and whether he liked it or not, she was important to him. She was not an ape and she was not part of his clan, but with her defense of them from the boar, she had earned it. There were witnesses, and Soona had called upon him as a worthy leader to bestow it. He had been unsure when both Soona and Anaya pushed for the honor to be bestowed. It was not as simple as it being against The Law, that would have made his argument easy, it had never been done before! He believed it impossible.

To make it possible, he had practically re-written The Law for her. His first true act as leader; not to present a new birth to the clan, or celebrate a completed bonding of ape and eagle, but to bestow the mark of Eagle Protector on an Echo! The elders passed must have felt great shame- it was completely against ape tradition. He was more ashamed that he was not more true when the time came. He tried, but when Anaya had asked him to vocalize the reason for his refusal, he could not. He was too afraid that to say she was not ape, would hurt her. Ridiculous. She was not, she said it herself just now.

It was his own jumbled spirit that lead to his decision to honor her. He had been terrified for her safety when she had taken his horse and engaged in battle with the boar. He felt helpless, Anaya and Soona too far away to coordinate with, and no trees for him to use to assist her if she needed it. He owed her his life already, but more than that, there was a fire inside of him that screamed out that she was his to protect, and he was hers. It had been a dull sound in the back of his mind since they met, which became louder the more time he spent with her. It had reached deafening heights when he saw her body hit the ground and then go still, blocking out everything else around him as he ran to her.

He had been so angry, and so relieved to see that she was mostly fine. He was more impressed by her display of capability, that he knew that to not honor her would be wrong. It had soothed that fire inside him, to see her wearing his mark, but that same screaming terror returned when he could not wake her later that night. The only thing he had been able to think about while she slept was what would have happened if she had been alone in the same situation. She was so smart, protecting and providing for herself, which was appealing, very admirable in an Echo alone. It was not suitable. She needed someone to take care of her, to provide for her, at least in times when she was sick or injured. She was more than worthy of a capable mate to live out her days with. Someone should take care of her.

“Noa!” She snapped, pulling him from his thoughts. He was no closer to understanding the right thing to say as she looked at him. Her eyes were full of hurt and betrayal, her body looking as if it was on the verge of collapse. “Answer me. Tell me why!”

“Sh-Shelter is not…home.” He began, carefully. He did not want to be at odds with her, and he did not want to hurt her. He needed her to understand, to know that what he did, he did with good intentions. “Echo would be…difficult to accept…apes do not trust…Echo for…good reason…but if Echo arrived…wearing mark of Eagle clan…mark of honor…then you would be welcomed as any other…clan member would.”

Her eyes narrowed, “You gave me the mark so they would know I’m trustworthy, that I’m not dangerous?”

“You are…dangerous.” He amended, “Mark…shows that…but to wear it…also shows that… you would…one day welcome…a place not only…amongst the three of us…but amongst the clan…a bond…belonging…a home.”

“I would never join your clan,” she spat quickly. She found her strength again, his careful wording seeming to cause that other turn he had been concerned about. She swatted Anaya’s hand away as he attempted to pull her back once more. “Stop touching me Anaya! What do you think I’m going to do to Noa?”

“Sorry,” Anaya grunted. “Not afraid…of what…you will do.”

Her brow raised at that turning from Anaya to him, “Really? Does that mean I should be afraid of what you will do, Noa?”

“Petty human,” he muttered, his instincts flaring once more at her obvious aggression.

“What was that?” She mocked, “I couldn’t hear you over your own pride!”

He was done holding back, she certainly was not. What good had it done him anyway? The more he tried to reason with her, the more she gnashed her teeth. Might as well be the brutish ape she was accusing him of being. He raised himself to his full height, pushing back from the tree and bridging the small distance Anaya had managed to put between them, baring his canines as he roared, “You are ungrateful…selfish…only care for yourself!”

She pushed her shoulders back, stepping forward to be toe to toe with him, not afraid to look him directly in the eye as she screamed back, “Ungrateful? Selfish? Are you sure that’s not you? I don’t care? You forget, I taught you how to read!”

She had him there, but something was wrong with his mind. He could not concede, he needed to win now. “Better off…thanks to apes…would not leave…your hole in the ground…without us!”

“Better off? Better off! I was just fine before you came into my life!” Her eyes were red, but there were no tears, not yet, and he had to wonder if Echo’s cried when they were angry too. “Can you say the same?”

“Yes!” He answered, without really thinking about it. “If Echo was not here…would make life…much easier!”

“If Echo was not here, you would be dead!” Her voice cracked as she screamed that final word.

There was silence for a few racing heartbeats. She seemed to be panting, and it was echoing in the forest around them. No, that was his own breaths. He was panting just as hard as she was, anger physically rolling off of them both. She would not bend, and he would not bend. He felt the fingers of his left hand twitch, something in him whispering that he should make her bend. His canines were pushed further into his gums then, he ground them in harshly, attempting to force that thought from his mind.

What she said was true, and that brought him pleasure as much as it brought him frustration. Those two emotions were mingling his thoughts together, and her scent-…it was different today. Past the bitter and sour smell of her anger, there was something else. It was the same smell as before. The one that made him want to get closer to her, made him lose the ability to speak, but this time it was…more. It was something he wanted to investigate, to understand. Where was it coming from? How much closer would he need to be to find it? She was practically on top of him now, and still he felt too…

Too close. He was too close.

He was breaking an unspoken promise right now, and if she were not so angry she would know that too. Angry…she was too angry. He was too jumbled to think clearly, and her scent was too enticing. He needed to get her away somehow. He would not touch her, fearing that would only make things worse between them. He could only speak a half truth now, hoping to push her away using his words like he had before.

“No longer…in danger,” he huffed. “Do not…need Echo…to be here…anymore.”

“Fine!” She growled, turning abruptly away from him, “Then I won’t be here! You don’t need anything from me, and I don’t need anything from you!”

“Noa…Echo please…stop.” Anaya pleaded, following alongside her, “Both are…untrue…bad words…from bad feelings…friends do not…mean it.”

She stopped, turning abruptly to Anaya, eyes searching for something in his features. Her brows furrowed and her face crumpled, “I wish I could believe that.”

Anaya visibly shrunk, releasing sorrowful hoots, looking helplessly between their Echo and him. He snorted through his nose, unwilling to back down. She was wrong. He was wrong too, but he believed he had more than earned her trust. She obviously did not trust either of them as much as she said she did. If she did, she would have agreed to go to the village. She turned then, eyeing him up and down before raising a shaking hand to her head.

Shaking? When did that start?

She removed his gift, hair sticking up in places as she gently pulled it away. She stared at it, thumb grazing over the eagle mark. He saw the sadness reflected in her gaze, before she tossed it at his feet. It landed in front of him with a dull thud, mocking him as a dirt cloud swirled up around it. He felt the anger and desire to win melt away from him, eyes seeking hers out as his jaw went slack. Something in his chest physically hurt now, feeling as if he was back in that burning tower, plummeting to the ground and unable to do anything to stop it.

“Echo…?” Anaya questioned, hesitating as he watched her. She turned to his Sunset brother, mournful smile obvious as she reached for his neck and brought her head forward to meet his. He heard her whisper something to Anaya, but could not tell what it was. As she pulled away, Anaya’s hand hovered over her arm, but he chose at the last second not to touch her. Anaya turned to him then, begging, “Noa…fix…please.”

He reached down to pick up the crown, straightening up and locking gazes with her once more. She was watching him, her anger seeming to have completely vanished. With his own mysteriously missing, all that was left now was regret and shame. He did not know what to say, how to stop this, or how to fix it. She visibly swallowed, tears clear in her eyes, “I don’t need it. I don’t belong to…your clan.”

He could not argue with her. Her words were true, but there was a strange ache in his chest that told him those were not the words she wished to say. Instead, he nodded. He thought he heard a high pitched noise, like a whimper from her, but it was so faint it could have been his imagination. He opened his mouth, but found words had deserted him again. They had fled to her, as she hummed, “It was nice while it lasted…goodbye, Noa.”

The words caused him to feel cold, an awful realization dawning on him. Did she mean forever? She turned and began to walk away. Was she leaving for good? He had to know! He called after her, first using the term Echo, but when she did not react, he called her name. Still, she did not stop.

He called her name again, “Stop…come back!”

He took several large steps to try to bridge the space between them, when she suddenly became a blur of movement. She had crouched to the ground, straightening up and spinning around at the same time, before he felt an intense pain in his jaw. His left hand came up to clutch his muzzle, hearing Anaya gasp and screech, jumping back a few paces.

He looked down, finding a stone at his feet. His movements were sluggish now, head turning up to see her arm raised, another matching stone resting in her palm. It was poised to be thrown. The surprise was so intense he could not find it within himself to react. She on the other hand, was still shaking, shifting from foot to foot, arm still raised. It shook too. Her breathing was shallow as she said, “I’m leaving. You can’t stop me, so don’t try to.”

He nodded again, huffing several times through his nose while backing away from her. Anaya shuffled over to stand next to him, looking just as shocked as he felt. Her shaking became less intense, but did not stop. She finally lowered her arm, eyes darting to the stone in her hand before shifting to the one on the ground. She looked distraught as she stared at it. Did she not know she had thrown it at him? Had she acted out of instinct?

One thing was for certain, she was leaving. She had dropped the rock in her hand and taken off in a full sprint before he could blink. She was soon out of their line of sight, and that seemed to finally shake Anaya out of his silence. He looked to Noa, confused and upset. He screeched, slamming his fists on the ground, before turning and racing back up the hill on all fours. He called out, much louder than he had heard him screech before, “Soona!…Soona!”

No matter how many seasons passed, he would be able to recognize that sound. By the way he was calling her name, by the tone of his voice, he knew that it would not lead to good things. He chased after Anaya, yelling, “Anaya…no…Anaya…stop!”

“Soona!” He screeched louder, creating even more distance between them as he ran. Anaya was still faster than him. He would never be able to catch him as he continued to call, “Soona…Soona…Echo gone!”

He was definitely in trouble.

…

Soona was screeching at him before he could even get a word in. Not for the first time, he cursed Anaya’s natural ability to run fast and speak faster when he wanted to.

“Why would you…say that…to her?” Soona asked, throwing an old piece of nesting at him.

He had brought them into the eagle tower, not wanting Anaya to panic half the village, or worse, alert the elders to her absence. Apes never needed privacy, but at the moment, he could not face any other after what he had done. He hung his head, whispering, “I do not…know…thought I could…convince her…she is usually…not like that.”

“Why was she?” Soona wondered, sitting down next to him, her own annoyance subdued. “I have…never seen her…angry…or upset.”

“Noa…knows.” Anaya accused, sitting away from him, crouched on the floor with his arms around his knees. The stance was a familiar one of mourning, and somehow this hit him harder than the Echo’s rock. Anaya refused to even look in his direction as he added, “Noa knows…about Echo…and apes…something not good.”

Soona turned her head, raising her brows, “Noa…?”

“Anaya…speaks true,” he said. Whether she returned or not, he decided that for the sake of understanding what went wrong, he would need to reveal her story. “We are not…the first apes…she has met.”

Soona was quiet next to him, but Anaya turned abruptly to face him. He still looked upset, but pushed himself to his feet, moving closer to Noa before asking, “Was…a pet?”

He was surprised by Anaya’s words, huffing, “How…do you know?”

“Guess,” Anaya said. “You are not…the only one…who speaks with her.”

He hesitated now, the statement catching him off guard. He knew that Anaya was close with her, but the moments he had shared with her, he wondered if she had shared similar moments with Anaya. When? When would they have had the opportunity? He recalled Anaya returning his arm band, not thinking anything of it when he mentioned finding their Echo by the water. He obviously did not know the whole story, but she must have trusted him with some of it, for Anaya to know the Echo’s meaning of that word.

Soona nudged him then, his original thoughts returning. “She told me…the night…after the boar attack…felt like a secret…so I did not speak of it after…she agreed that it was best…not to.”

“But you decided first,” Anaya grunted.

He felt his own brows furrow, “What…does that…matter?”

Anaya huffed, turning away, “Echo does not…like decisions being made…for her…yet you do…all the time.”

“I am…Master of Birds…need to decide things…sometimes.” He defended.

Soona shoved his shoulder, taking him off guard, “Still…dumb male…she is not…part of the clan…yet…you cannot…decide things for her…honor means…nothing.”

“Noa dumb,” Anaya agreed. “Echo…did not like…surprise…did not want to…be taken to village…Anaya said…so too.”

“I thought,” he defended. “If she did not…have time to…think about it…could see how…peaceful apes are…she would...be okay.”

“She met…apes before.” Soona asked, “That were not…peaceful…like…Proximus?”

He shuffled, arms folding around his own knees as he confessed, “I think…worse.”

[gooobraghhh]

Very sheepishly submitting myself to your tumblr tboy anon harem.

I've never cum before, whenever I've tried to myself it's too much and I tense up, even with toys. I think you could make me, though.

I would love to be ridiculously crossed-- polishing off a mickey of vodka, questionably high content edible just starting to kick in-- while sitting in your lap and laying against you. I wouldn't be in any position to refuse any more weed you'd like to give me, and would happily smoke however much of a joint, or hit a pen a concerning amount of times.

Sober anxieties completely stifled as I lose any higher order of thinking- gradually beginning to pathetically rutt against one of your thighs, trying to grab and caress your tits, breathily whimpering with my face buried in your shoulder.

Obviously, you don't have to let me get what I want. I would be so pliant under your hands that I could easily be moved, maneuvered to wherever you want me to be (I might have to be at this point, it's questionable if I could stand on my own). I asked for it first, it wouldn't be taking advantage to just help me a little to get where I want.

Forced down to my knees, I might try to warn you that I've never sucked cock before, but I can't imagine it would be that coherent. It doesn't matter, anyway. You'd probably have to softly hit me to remind me to open my mouth, and after that you could use my throat as freely as you'd like.

It would be the same when you lay me down. Through hopelessly needly pleas, I might try and say something, but god knows what actually comes out of my mouth. I wouldn't have enough sense to be embarrassed about that, or having lost my pants some time ago, or how I've been leaking through my underwear. I definitely wouldn't have enough sense to be embarrassed about how (as soon as I'm freed from my boxers) I eagerly spread my legs for you. Honestly, that's about as much physical effort as I would be able to put in in my state.

Take me however you'd like, command me to call you whatever you want, and i'd gasp for mommy every time you ram into me- whimpering as you pull out to do it again and again. I would beg for you, unintelligibly babbling as I shake, whining that I was almost there and trying to convince you that I had been a good enough boy to deserve it. That you're so, so good, and I just want you to touch me. Even if you don't, just you readjusting my hips to fuck deeper into my cunt has me yelping and gripping your sheets.

A few more thrusts directly into my g spot and I'm panting and crying, tensing and jerking my hips against yours as I finally cum on your perfect cock. I'd fall limp against the mattress, and probably breathing for a moment before completely passing out.

It wouldn't make too much of a difference, though- I'm still throbbing around you, still a perfectly fine, tight hole. It's not like I would remember anything that happened while I was awake, and definitely not now. There would be no reason not to continue fucking me, no consequences for using me however you want as I pant and mewl beneath you.

It would be a waste *not* to cum deep inside me at least a few times. Maybe more than a few. Enough times that I when I wake up, confused and sick, I'll feel how hard I had been used. I'd still have cum trickling out of me, and know that I was a bitch for breeding.

Shame that I'll never know how hard I came for you, though

-🐏 (if that's not taken!! ⚓ If it is? He/him)

Sorry for the gooner novel. You don't have to post this btw I'm aware of how mf long and possibly weird it is LMAO. I'm not even into this mommy puppyboy shit fr (side eye) this blog just has me feeling some kinda way. Finishing assignments as repentance godbless

Well it’s clear you can’t make yourself cum because the desperation here is just immense. What a dirty fantasy you have. Sheepish is definitely a good way to describe you. I mean you sent me an ask apologizing for this one the next morning. But don’t worry, it’s okay. Some guys are just perverts like you. They can’t help it. Maybe finally cumming would help with your dirty mind, guess we’ll have to find out won’t we? I’ll make sure to get you all fucked up first since otherwise you’re clearly to much of an anxiety ridden mess. You probably do a lot better all strung out and usable

[ofallthingsnasty]

pairing: arlong x f!reader tags: darkfic, noncon, facefucking, throatpie, fat reader, dead dove: do not eat, minors dni, one dick arlong word count: 1.4k

prompt: “You think your father would still love you if he knew.” from this list, it just screamed Arlong. Feel free to send a character and a prompt from that list, if you want! Enjoy.

Arlong can be almost sweet behind closed doors, especially when you kneel in front of him, with his cock deep down your throat.

Webbed fingers caress the top of your head, a sign that you’re doing your job well. If you didn’t, he’d make sure to show you - and the countless times he slapped your face with either his dick or an open hand have made you keenly aware of what is to his liking and what isn’t. You lean into his touch and ease him deeper into you, making sure to flutter your eyes at his own. Nothing but a malicious smile greets you, sharp teeth glinting in the light. Arlong loves seeing your absolutely ruined face - the more spit and tears and debauchery, the better. Sometimes he has you apply makeup only to watch it spill over your skin, creams and powders smeared by sheer force and your mixed bodily fluids.

There is nothing of that on your face today, yet he seems satisfied with your efforts, that small spark of amusement that you’ve come to chase dancing in his eyes. It’s the only thing saving you from another night as his footstool or, even worse, from having to serve alcohol to his crew. Simply keeping your throat relaxed, spilling some tears and fighting the urge to puke all over his sandals is a million times better than kicks or sleeping on the floor. Even if it means having to endure one of his other quirks - the eternal monologues. He likes to hear himself talk. As if on cue, Arlong sighs and leans back when you gag up another wad of saliva around his cock, taking one hand from your head to scratch his neck leisurely. 

“Smart woman”, he says and sounds utterly pleased with himself. You try to steel yourself for another round of escalating insults. “You saw how much better we are than you and immediately knew to submit.” Ah, his favorite topic. He never fucks you without mentioning how inferior you are to him, never fucks you without talking himself into a frenzy about it. His asinine ramblings are just as much a part of defiling you as is treating you like a flesh toy and they leave you with hot ears and teary eyes every time. He knows how to twist his words just enough to make them hurt, no matter how often he re-uses his insults, recycles his phrases - they just find a way to worm themselves into your brain. “I wish all humans were as perceptive as you, really.”

You don’t acknowledge him as you focus on softening your throat and catching breaths where you can. If you lose your pace now, get slower or don’t take him as deep, that terrifying hand is sure to remind you, even if he appears to be preoccupied with his talking. It’s all an act. A part of the same old dance and song. 

“Such an obedient little whore”, he sighs above you, then he chuckles to himself. “Well, not so little, hm?”

You’re too focused on breathing to let that comment bother you - his crew is worse, groping and whistling at you whenever they catch a glimpse of you, beckoning you over, daring you to sit on their laps until your ass spills over. You’ve long since lost your name, being called their little cow instead.

“But that’s alright, that’s why I like you. Don’t break so easily, do you?” Giant hands clasp the sides of your head until you feel like your temples are about to pop. Maybe your brains will simply burst out like the flesh of an overly ripe watermelon one of these days and it will all be over. Who knows with this tyrant; who knows if you’ll even see tomorrow? It’s such a bleak thought, but this is your existence now. Had been your fate ever since you came up short for the ridiculous taxes Arlong ordered from your people - in a way, you should be grateful that he didn’t shoot you in front of your village and most importantly, your poor, old father. Better this and a waning sliver of hope than a headstone, you figure. “Hold still, sow”, he breathes out, just the tiniest bit labored. Good, you think, entirely numb and obey. It means he’s close and you’ll probably be done for the day in a matter of minutes. Maybe you’ll even be allowed a shower later. 

It’s not necessarily easier when he moves instead of you - because he doesn’t just fuck your face, he brutalizes it. It might be just a bit less exhausting for the muscles of your neck and shoulders, but the way he crams himself as deep as possible while setting a pace faster you could ever bop your head has you counting every second, clinging onto consciousness with wide eyes and snot bubbling out of your nose. The sounds are obscene. Between the gurgling and glugging of your throat and the sharp slapping of his balls as they hit your chin with a heft you’ll feel for the rest of the night, you feel more like an animal than ever. He never holds back, no matter how many times he insists that you’re considerably weaker than him, how delicate you are despite your softness. You are simply cattle to him, something he owns and does with as he pleases. And you better take it.

“You think your father would still love you if he knew? Old man is probably sitting at home, twiddling his thumbs while I fuck his precious daughter’s mouth and defile her cow tits”, he rasps out eyes boring into yours. Arlong always gets the nastiest when he’s chasing his orgasm and mentioning your father is just as vile as it gets. You gag around him but don’t look away, not even as the picture of your dad doing just that springs into your head.“Or maybe he realizes that this is for the best? That this is the place you belong?”

Arlong tips his head back and delivers a particularly brutal thrust to your face. Your hand flies up to at least give yourself the illusion of purchase but it gets shaken off his rapidly moving thigh. The only thing that isn’t being rattled is your skull, still framed by his hands.

“Underneath me, used by me, like the despicable sow you are. Maybe I’ll fuck some little bastards into you one day. You like the thought of that, do you? You live to serve, don’t you?” 

He wheezes that last sentence out, the thought clearly arousing to him. It’s one of his favorites - claiming every last part of you, your womb included. And with the way he keeps fucking you almost every day, it won’t be too long until it becomes reality. “I should fill you up so full you can barely walk and then parade you into town. Show peepaw his grandkids. Maybe I’ll let them play with him when they’re old enough. See if he survives.”

It’s too much. The sheer force, the lack of air, the fluids running out of every orifice, but worst of all, the way he keeps talking about your father. The face you make must be ugly and desperate because he simply laughs, full-bellied and nasty. It’s all he needs to take him over the edge. Arlong crushes your nose against his coarse pubes, against his stomach as he groans. Not even a second passes and his cock is moving in your throat, filling you with loads of hot, terribly slimy cum. It feels as though he’s directly in your stomach, even though that is entirely impossible. It takes everything in you not to struggle away from the iron grip on your head, even as your esophagus starts to jolt and as another wave of tears spills over. He basks in the moment above you, jaw slack and eyes closed for once - only when you can’t help the ugly sobs that are building up between the bouts gagging, he finally pulls out. A disgusting mix of saliva, mucus and semen follows in an amount that can only be described as ungodly. Arlong laughs at the way you retch it all out, a little breathless, but still not done with you. In the very last act of domination, he uses his softening cock to spread the abysmal-smelling fluids all over your face and hair as you can only cry, entirely without shame. He loves that, too.

And it’s the only time you’ll ever hear him utter something akin to tender. “Good girl.”

Really, Arlong can be almost sweet behind closed doors. Almost.

[leclerckins]

Hi Dina, I hope you're okey if you have the time, I'd love to hear your thoughts on Charles Leclerc looking after his girl. Maybe she's not doing so good and he takes the time to tidy, cook a meal, make her bed etc 🥹 feeling all the feels tonight. Thank you x

truly madly deeply [cl16]

❀ pairing (s) — charles leclerc x student!reader

❀ notes — hi! gonna do this in some sort of headcanons of what I think how Charles would react to his girl having a bad day! and i think i got carried away omg anyways hope ur having a good day and hope u would like this!

You are having the most horrible day like your assignments are piling up and you still have to submit your resumes since you're in your final year of uni so everything just gets too much for you

You haven't even been to the last couple of races because of how busy you are

Your absence from the races actually raised some speculations about your relationships like all the gossip pages pinpointing and tracking when was the last time you and Charles were spotted together

This just gets on your nerve and makes you even feel so much worse with people saying that you are not being a good girlfriend like whatever that means

You didn't want to tell Charles about the things that are bothering you since he is also having the worst time with his races

It's another race weekend and you are still not able to go and support Charles which makes you feel even worse even though Charles has assured you that it is totally fine and he understands why you couldn't go

During the weekend, you kinda moved into Charles' apartment because you just miss him and his scent

And you found yourself being able to focus on your work when you are working from his apartment

You also multitasked with finishing up your resumes and also watching the race at the same time

As usual, Ferrari fucked up and you just wished you could be there for him

When he called, you rushed to answer your phone and you could hear his tired voice which made you wish you could give him the biggest hug

Charles says he is coming home tonight and you mentally note that you need to pack your things by this evening

But you fell asleep in front of your laptop on the couch so when Charles walked into the door of his apartment, he nearly had a heart attack but smiled softly seeing you sleep on his couch

He drops his bags at the apartment door and moves to carry you to his bedroom

You stir but didn't wake up and instead just snuggle further into his neck

Charles settles you on his bed and he smiles at the mess you made in his bedroom like your books on his table, your notes on his bedside table and your clothes on his chair

He kisses your forehead and settles himself down for the night before slipping in next to you and he becomes the big spoon as he hugs you from behind

Charles woke up first and kisses your forehead as he gets ready to buy breakfast for the both of you (wouldn't bet on Charles cooking breakfast like there wouldn't be a breakfast if he is the one in front of the stove)

He comes back to you still sleeping since this is actually the first time you managed to get more than 3 hours of sleep so he just gets your breakfast ready and made your coffee just the way you like it

Charles wakes you up with peppering kisses all over your face and you smile as you wake up to the smell of him and also coffee

"Good morning, mon ange (my angel)" he says as he kisses your temple and also helps you up from the bed when he leans down to kiss you

"Nope! morning breath!" Charles just chuckles while ignoring your ridiculous (to him) notions about morning breath and still kisses you

You kiss him but immediately run to brush your teeth so that you could give him #real kisses

He is already waiting in front of the bathroom door and immediately snatches your waist and you two finally kiss (reads: makeout)

And when I say you guys spend 10 minutes just making out like okay we get it yall are obsessed with each other omg

Both of you finally move to the kitchen to have your breakfast

"You cooked?" "More like the cafe three blocks down, baby"

You both catch up on everything and you slipped up on how tired you are lately

Charles didn't say anything but he just moves closer to you to give you the biggest hug

That's when you finally broke apart and just become a crying mess in his arms and his heart breaks seeing you cry

You rant about how ridiculous people are to assume you guys are broken up just because you weren't at the races this year but also feeling like such a bad girlfriend for not going to the races especially since it has been shitty for Charles

Charles shushes you and carries you over to the couch so that he could position you on his lap and you just try to collect yourself

You are looking the absolute worst (Charles: cute) with your reddened nose and cheeks and your hair all over the mess

Charles thinks he would never trade anything else for this view like he wants the bad and the good (bless him)

Once you've calmed down, he runs his fingers through your hair and cups your face with him stroking your cheeks

"First of all, you are the best thing that happened to me. Second of all, they know nothing about us. Lastly, baby even if you are not coming to the races with me it is fine like do I want you there? more than anything in the world but also at the same time, you're always in my mind so it still feels like you're there with me"

He's so cheesy but just like he said in that one interview: "I am romantic"

Charles kisses your forehead and you snuggle into his chest

You actually fall asleep again on his chest and Charles carries you into the bedroom and tucks you in

While you're sleeping, he tidies up your books and notes so that they are organised on his table and will make it easier for you to study later

He charges your laptop and your iPad since they are running low on batteries

He picks up your clothes on the floor and put them with the dirty laundry and also puts them in the washing machine

You're still sound asleep so he goes over to your house to pick up extra essentials like extra clothes, extra skincare and your favourite blanket that he knows you forgot

He stops by the grocery store to get some stuff to make a cute little care package like your favourite chocolates, snacks, extra hairbands and the sequel to the book you are currently reading (he learns how to do this from tiktok)

It's late afternoon and he manages to come back home while you're still sleeping so he runs you a bath with your favourite bath bombs and soaps and then proceeds to wake you up

You woke up to Charles' soft kisses on your face and he leads you to the bathroom

Your heart just gets full at the sight of the bath he prepared for you

He leaves you to have a little time to yourself while he makes a dinner reservation at your favourite restaurant

You finish your bath and you see a beautiful silk dress on the bed and a pair of Louboutin high heels that you have been eyeing and are currently in your online cart right now

Charles walks into the room and hugs you from behind and kisses your shoulder

"We are going out tonight so get ready, amour"

He leaves to get ready and while you're getting ready, you saw the care package he has put together for you

You want to cry at how sweet he is and you also notice how organised your things are and how there are extra clothes in the closet for you

Charles comes out from the bathroom and you immediately just jump on him

He laughs and warns that you might not get dinner if you distract him like this so you behave

Both of you going out looking like the IT couple you both are and got every gossip page eating their words out

When both of you are back home, he is the one who is removing your makeup and is doing your skincare routine for you (yup, he memorised your skincare routine)

The night ends with smiles on y'alls faces because both of you are truly madly (obsessed) deeply in love with each other and that's the only thing that matters

extra: Charles broke the internet with a instagram post by the end of the week!

charles_leclerc

liked by yninstagram, carlossainz55, pierregasly, joris_trouche and others

charles_leclerc The reason why I didn't pick up any calls this week

scuderiaferrari and Fred said it's okay! you get a pass!

leclercstan ATE the breakup rumours up

charleswdc and to those gossip pages that have been talking shit....WHATS GOOD

arthur_leclerc literally radio silence from both of you

unhingedleclerc i hate hot people who are in love (let me join pls)

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 3 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: almost posted this with a missing part 💀 anyways, enjoy! (Ramadan Mubarak to my practicing babes!)

W/C: 3.782

part two

"What are you doing here?"

"Why are you here?"

We both exclaim at the same time, his hand cradling his shocked face as I look at him with my own wide eyes.

I glance at my dad; he doesn't look all too happy. I avert my gaze to Jude's mom, gulping down whatever saliva I have left in my now-dry mouth.

I actually had quite a few nice interactions with her during matches. We'd always talk when we bumped into each other. I not-so-shockingly got along more with his mom than Jude himself.

But this...

This isn't a nice interaction whatsoever.

I don't know if I should laugh or cry.

"I am so sorry. As you might know, y/n is insanely clumsy." My dad begins, his hand on Jude's back. He manages to guide him further into his firm.

I'm left standing alone with Jude's mom as we stare at each other for a second. My body stiffening in fear of what she might say.

"I am so sorry-" I start rambling, feeling my palms become sweaty.

I was more sorry to her than her son, to be completely honest.

I watch her eyes warm up immediately, her hand reaching over to place her hand on my shoulder.

"I think he'll be alright. Are you? Looked painful there." She says, her eyes full of concern as she squeezes my shoulder.

"I'm fine, perfect." I blurt, neglecting the pain in my own ankle and look behind her.

I was so dead.

I try to not look too nosy when I sit at the secretary's desk outside of my dad's office. Peering inside sneakily through the huge glass panels. Watching Jude and his mom sit across from him, a couple documents placed on the table they're sitting at.

I do make eye contact with an injured-looking Jude. He looks pissed, nodding his head repeatedly to whatever my dad was saying while holding up a pink ice pack to his head.

A sight that could be seen as comical, if I ignored the fact that I was the one who had caused it.

Thankfully, both of our parents don't notice the death stare we're giving each other, totally immersed into- what I assume, important conversation.

Come to think of it, why were they even here today?

It could only be the stalker incident.

I'm brought out of my thoughts quickly by a hand knocking on my desk.

"Stop staring already."

Luckily, ‘my-ego-is-bigger-than-my-head' Jude had returned just in time before I started to genuinely feel bad.

I lean back in my chair, eyes skimming his face for any bruises or blood. Not noticing anything unusual yet.

"It hurt, didn't it?" I ask, wanting to laugh. The situation unfolded so ridiculously fast, it felt like a camera prank waiting to be revealed.

"You could've messed with my face!" He replies in a hushed voice, his Brummie accent thick as he leans over the desk.

"Should I hit the other side? Just to make it even.” I smile, standing up and going to stand in front of him. Ignoring the shooting pain in my ankle.

He looks at me in disbelief, cocking a brow at me.

"What are you even doing here? Got sued for being insufferable?"

"Very creative with your insults.." I mock, pointing towards my dad's office. Seeing his mom and my dad still talking to each other.

"That's my dad."

"That's your dad?" He repeats, brows furrowing. He points at me, a little too disrespectfully, a look of disbelief on his face.

"Yes, that is my dad." I roll my eyes in annoyance.

"That's why you look so close with Ancelotti?" He gasps. "That's how you got the job!" He assumes, an accusatory finger pointed at me as he steps closer to me.

"No, and that's actually none of your business." I state, leaning back so his hand doesn't touch me.

I got the job after I submitted an anonymous application a little after I had returned from London. It was only just to try out my luck, but I was surprised when I got an email back for an actual interview.

I understood the assumption totally, and I wouldn't say I knew exactly a hundred percent that they didn't know who I was.

Most I could go off of was that I never told my dad I applied for the job. Later also finding out that the Real Madrid executives don't really look at job applications. They had other people do that. So the nepotism possibility was very small.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, tilting my head.

His expression immediately drops, his gaze averting.

"None of your business." He repeats my answer, mocking my tone.

"Okay, I guess not." I sigh, throwing my hands up in defeat, hearing footsteps come our way.

"Have you guys made up? You and Jude must be closer than I thought." His mom says, smiling at me.

I force a smile, nodding at her. My expression changing immediately.

"Yes, we made up. Right Jude?" I look at him, putting on my sweetest face.

"Sure." He mutters, turning to my dad.

"I didn't know she was your daughter. How do you deal with her?"

I was about to rip the door off its hinges and slam the door into his face again.

"She's a handful, isn't she? Troublemaker since she was little." My dad says, and I look at him shocked, as if he'd just betrayed our entire lineage.

No, I was not!

I step in between them before my dad ruins my image even more. Looking at Jude's mom in particular.

"Should we have some coffee?"

"So, what brings you two here? Not something horrible, I hope.” I pry, setting down the plastic tray of cups on the table.

I glance at my dad for a moment, placing a cup of coffee in front of everyone before sitting next to him, across from Jude and his mom.

"We had an incident in our home. Police are still investigating, but we were advised by the club to contact your dad for any legal action." His mom explains.

I was right.

"Oh, that must’ve been terrifying. Are you both alright?"

"We weren't home, but it definitely shook us a bit."

I nod in acknowledgment, taking a sip of my coffee as I take her words in.

"I know my dad and his team of lawyers will be very helpful. Both criminal and corporate law, the best in the city." I brag, winking, putting a hand on my dad's shoulder.

"y/n.." my dad warns, bellow a whisper, giving me a side eye.

I hear his mom chuckling and avert my gaze to her with a raised brow.

"You know- you've got to take compliments, especially from your daughter." She smiles, bringing the cup up to her lips.

My eyes move over to Jude. He's slumping in his chair, looking insanely uninterested in the conversation. I think I even caught him grimacing when I spoke.

The conversation his mom and my dad have practically fades in the background for a second. My mind wandering to random thoughts as I look to the side.

I only redirect my attention when I hear my name, followed by Jude's.

"-to work together?" My dad says, and I look back at Jude. Motioning for him to answer whatever my dad had asked. He doesn't say a single word, prompting me to discreetly kick him underneath the table.

'What?' He mouths at me, then he looks at my dad.

"It's very fun to work with y/n. She's such an interesting character." He answers, bright smile on his lips.

How backhanded could a compliment be?

"Yeah, so fun. Jude's has his moments, but we get along so well." I bite back, my tone sweet as ever. Holding back a wince as I feel him step on my shoe underneath the table.

"Oh, that's great.." His mom trails off, her eyes flickering in between us.

"Jude and y/n will be seeing each other a lot. As she's traveling closely with the team this season." My dad says proudly, this time putting his hand on my shoulder.

"That's even better. You can improve your Spanish faster with her help, Jude." His mom adds, causing a forced smile to form on his face.

"Yeah, that's very nice." He comments, sitting up and straightening his posture.

Our very nice conversation finally ends. My father and I standing up to follow them out of the firm.

"Lovely having you, Mrs. Bellingham." I say, extending my hand.

"You too, y/n." She says smiling, giving me a firm hand.

I smile, letting go of her hand, watching our parents shake each other's hands. I then look away, standing awkwardly in front of Jude.

"See you tomorrow, Jude." I mumble; it pains me physically to be nice to him.

"See you." He says, already walking away. His back turned to me as he stands outside.

After many greetings, my dad finally closes the door behind them, slowly turning to me.

"Really? What kind of show were you putting on?" He begins, throwing his hands up.

"Dad! You have to check this door out. I tried to open it like three times, and the key barely turned!" I explain, speaking hurriedly.

"I swear, it wasn't on purpose. I didn't even know they were here!" I add, trying to defend myself further.

"Let's just go home..." He mutters walking back into his office, collecting his laptop bag and a couple documents.

I sigh, following behind him like a lost puppy. Slowly becoming more aware of the pain in my ankle.

"Where is everybody?"

"We finished this big case successfully, and I sent everyone home early. I had to stay back because of this appointment." He turns to me.

"Why are you here, though?"

"I wanted to visit and work on that essay."

"You're still not done with it?" He asks, locking his office door.

"No.." I reply guilty, fidgeting with the stack of bracelets on my wrist.

He sighs, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pushing me towards the entrance.

"I'll cook fresh tonight, and you'll work on that essay. What do you say?"

I crack a smile at his words, nodding.

"Deal! I would love some lasagna right now."

"I think- I'm going to faint."

I look up from my phone, frowning at Luis. The sun beaming down on our faces as we try to collect ourselves.

"No, you're not. You're going to show him how much of a professional you are with a camera." I say, patting his shoulder in reassurance.

We had received a very detailed email after agreeing to capture Apple CEO Tim Cook's visit to the club. This led us to stand in front of the training pitch, as we were instructed to film and take pictures of Cook interacting with the players.

Normally, we had timed posts that got posted automatically via an automated system.

This time, I had to live update the social media accounts of the club. Doing it all alone with Luis this time was a new experience.

We had only done it with approval for edits and drafts, and of course, goals that were scored or unexpected things that happened during matches.

"Take a deep breath and turn your camera on."

I say checking the time and posting another story on the club's Instagram before looking up.

We make sure to capture everything perfectly and move quickly to post the footage online.

After a few, excruciating fifteen minutes, we finally finish filming. Thinking Cook and President Pérez would just walk away, until they started approaching us. My own nerves building up as I glance at Luis who looks like he's about to actually lose it.

"Get your shit together, dude." I whisper, plastering a smile on my face as I finally shake Cook's hand. President Pérez also extending his hand as I shake it, a little more careful of my actions.

I wish I could just ask for a new MAC and a hundred million euros.

"Nice to meet you, sir. I'm y/n. Part of PR and marketing." I grip Cook's hand firmly, looking into his blue eyes through his black-rimmed glasses.

"Likewise." He responds, shaking Luis' hand as well.

"So, you two are the brains behind the genius team?" Cook asks, looking in between the two of us.

"Very flattering, but we have an amazing team beside us. We've been chosen today for our recent hard work. Though, I would say- Luis here is definitely one of the best, if not the best cameraman to work with." I say, trying to speak in the most polite way possible, smiling kindly.

I had never sucked up to someone this hard, but it had to be done.

I watch Cook's gaze move over to Luis, looking impressed.

"Well, I've seen what you've put out. My biggest reason to visit is definitely because of your team. As you have might have heard, I am very impressed by the amount of growth this football club has had on social media. I think you two definitely deserve to take some of that credit."

"Thank you, sir. We do appreciate that." Luis says, and I watch his facial expression intently.

He was really good at pretending to be okay.

"Right, then we will make our way back inside." President Pérez interrupts. We nod almost immediately, giving them a polite smile as they walk away.

We both watch them leave our proximity. Then look at each other with a blank stare before I witness Luis burst out in laughter.

"I've never heard you speak so sweetly."

"What should I have done. Call them 'dude!' or 'mate!'. Besides, I just gassed you up in front of the CEO of Apple. Thank me at least." I say, scoffing, checking the analytics of the posts before looking back up at the training pitch.

"Thank you. You're the best." He mutters, giving me a side hug.

"I know.." I say teasingly, shoving my phone in my pocket.

"Is it me, or did these guys just start training like their lives depended on it?" I laugh, seeing almost all of them fully drenched in sweat.

"Well, they had to impress the president as well."

I nod at Luis' answer, finally seeing Ancelotti dismiss the team. We watch them stop training, hearing some sighs of relief.

I hear someone call out to us, and we look around confused. Eventually, my eyes lock with Cama's.

"Yeah?" I shout back, watching him jog our way. Of course, the young French duo completes as Aurélien follows him.

« Comment c'était? » How was it?

Eduardo asks, a bright smile on his face as he still looks, very obviously tired.

« C'était bien, ce n'était pas très difficile. » It was good, not that hard. 

I boast, seeing Luis look partially lost in the corner of my vision. I was sure he could make out some words, though.

« vraiment? » really?

Aurélien chimes in, having heard the first few sentences from afar.

"We were a little nervous, but I think we handled it nicely." I wink, jabbing Luis as if he could follow.

"What's with the French?" I hear, seeing the person I'd seen enough of this week already.

I watch Eduardo throw an arm around Jude's shoulder, bringing him into the circle.

"Just talking." He says, the atmosphere turning awkward for a moment.

My phone starts ringing right at that second. I quickly reach for my phone and read the caller ID.

'Hugo (PR)'

I show the phone to Luis for a moment, as he nods, giving me the go ahead.

I walk a couple meters away for privacy, then pick up the call. My walk a little off as my ankle still hurts. Only because of Thursday’s debacle. I don't even know why I didn't get it checked out yet.

The call lasts a couple of minutes, and I walk back to the group of guys. Looking at Luis in particular.

"Luis, we need to go meet Hugo. He wants a debrief on how everything went."

"We will see you guys during lunch." I say to the players, bending down to unzip the equipment bag, helping Luis pack the camera.

"Why do you walk so weird?" I suddenly hear Jude say, his voice filled with curiosity as I look up.

I sigh in annoyance, rolling my eyes, before standing up and handing Luis a battery he had to pack.

"Remember when I smacked the door into your face?" I say, hearing confused noises coming from the guys next to us. I ignore them, focused on rolling up a cable semi-aggressively while looking at Jude.

"You weren't the only one in pain, hurt my own ankle as well." I mutter, still pissed about the incident.

He doesn't respond, continuing to look at me blankly. Prompting me to ignore him further.

"You guys need any help?" I hear Aurélin say, and I shake my head.

"No, it's fine; we're used to it." I smile, muttering a quick 'bye' before Luis and I go inside, mentally preparing for the debrief.

"That was not the best I've seen." I whisper to Luis, as his face looked understandably grim.

"I don't even want to know what the mood in the changing room is like."

We were making our way to our cars in the parking lot after the disappointing 1-3 defeat against Atletico Madrid.

We were done with shooting content and decided to leave early. More people wandering around with cameras and all would probably be even more of a nuance to the players after a defeat like this.

"Just turn on a song. That is the only way we can forget about the pain." I half-joke as we unlock our respective cars. Both conveniently parked next to each other.

"What? Are you playing Future again?"

"Exactly."

Unlike the match on Sunday, the match against Las Palmas ended successfully with a 2-0 win for Real Madrid. The players finally made their way inside after a celebration with their proud fans, walking up the stairs through their stadium tunnel. Jude walking alongside his teammates into the changing room.

His eyes catch Luis interviewing his teammate and Man Of The Match, Joselu. He looks around for a second, not seeing the girl he'd grown accustomed to fighting with every time they interacted. Confused as to why she wasn't doing her usual post-match task.

Ignoring his brewing thoughts, he walks into the changing room. He hears his name being shouted halfway through taking his sweaty shirt off. Looking up to find Antonio looking at his arm.

"Your arm is bleeding, man. Get it treated at the nurse." Antonio suggests, patting his shoulder.

He nods, thanking the man. He puts his T-shirt on carefully, trying not to make contact with the wound. Dressed in a clean shirt, he steps out of the changing room. Walking through the hallways and knocking on the door of the medical room before opening it.

No medical personnel is in sight. Though, he does see someone curled up in a blanket on one of the treatment beds.

The person raises her head to check out who entered, a groan leaving her lips in dissatisfaction as she spots a confused Jude.

"Why are you here?" He asks, eyes roaming on her defeated figure.

"I'm dying, obviously." She mumbles, burying her head deeper into the pillow.

"Finally." He mutters, rolling his eyes and sighing.

"Fuck off.." She replies, pulling the blanket closer. Not in the mood to entertain him.

"Where is the nurse?" He asks, sitting across from her on the other treatment bed.

"Left to get me some ibuprofen." She replies, feeling more pain in her lower stomach. Unable to hold back a pained groan, she rests her head down again.

His eyes soften for a moment, but he tenses up when he hears the door open. A male nurse looks at him curiously as he walks into the room.

Still, the nurse prioritizes the sick y/n, helping her take the ibuprofen with a gentle hand on her back, accompanied by a glass of water.

Jude stares at the two, his eyes following the nurse’s movements like a hawk.

"Do you require treatment?" The nurse asks in Spanish, turning towards Jude when he sets the cup down.

He looks at the nurse like a deer in headlights, recognizing some words, but not enough to understand the entire sentence.

"He's asking if you need treatment." He hears y/n translate, her body slumped against the bed.

He nods immediately, showing off his arm. Dark red blood dribbling down to his elbow.

He watches the nurse’s eyes light up, getting the required equipment and bandaging his wound within a couple minutes.

"Gracias." He mutters, fidgeting with the bandage as the nurse cleans up the equipment.

He watches the nurse leave, his eyes darting back to y/n across from him.

Jude raises his eyebrows in interest as she turns around in the bed. Frown on her own face. The thin blanket not covering her body anymore.

An unusual concern for the girl starts brewing in his chest, he tries to shake it off. Look away, but he can't help but look again when he hears her shift again. Now, with her back turned towards him.

He stands up, walking towards her. His body moving on autopilot, his brain screaming at him for a clear reason why he should care about her or help her willingly.

Seeing her shiver slightly, Jude looks at the end of the bed, seeing the blanket jammed in between the mattress and bed frame. He glances at her one more time before grabbing the blanket, pulling it out from in between the bed and then quickly draping it over her body.

She doesn't react, drowsy enough to not notice. It making it the perfect moment for him to book it out of the room.

He almost has a heart attack when he crosses Luis, probably on his way to check up on his coworker in the medical room.

He sees Luis look at him for a second but avoids eye contact, continuing to just booking it into the changing room.

Why did he even do that?

His brain scrambles for a reason, all kinds of thoughts whirling in his mind, quickly chalking it up to having morals, the ones his parents taught him since he was a young boy.

You had to have morals, even when you mutually despised each other so much, right?

[hotvintagepoll]

Una O'Connor (The Adventures of Robin Hood, The Invisible Man, The Bride of Frankenstein)—One of my favorite character actresses! While many people know her as the shrieking innkeeper's wife in The Invisible Man, I've always loved when she played a character who was a little more grounded (though that scream of hers is pretty iconic.) Her character of Bess is warm and loving towards Marian, but also tough and takes no prisoners. When they are captured in the forest, she comes forward to protect Marian with so much ferocity that Sir Guy (the villain) moves out of the way so quickly because even he doesn't want to feel Bess' wrath. She could switch from hilariously over-the-top to gently and sweet in the blink of an eye and she deserves a little more recognition! Also her hats in Robin Hood are ridiculous and I love them.

Zero Mostel (A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, The Producers)—Archetypal. Comedian of all time. The worst combover in cinematic history, probably. Could make more laughter with one muscle in a singular eyebrow than 98% of all men across the face of the earth. Hardcore Committer to the Bit. Man of all time, and also told HUAC directly where they could shove it, which is a primally appealing and scrungly quality.

This is round 2 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you’re confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Una O'Connor:

she eats this:

The things this woman does with her face when she sees Frankenstein's creature. Your fave could never.

Zero Mostel:

"The chase scene in FORUM is just. it's fucking iconic. It's one of the funniest pieces of cinema I've ever seen in any context, everything about it is genius, and the heart and soul of it is Zero Mostel as Pseudolus. Casting him alongside a young Michael Crawford (of later Phantom of the Opera fame) really highlights the differences between the young romantic lead and the older, sensible, and yet entirely scrungly middle aged man (Mostel was 55 at the time) somehow manages to come off as even more desirable. He has no shit together, not very good plans, is panicked for most of the story, and the charisma of a champ. His flailing, helpless attempts at fighting the gladiator is so... he's so scrungly. "

"He's not fancy, he's not pretty, he's not good at much of anything, but he is Genius despite that."

"There is a magic to Zero Mostel that he manages to bring to roles where he is simultaneously the worst person ever, and also, compelling in every possible way. He had his biggest period of fame in middle age after he got taken off the Hollywood blacklist, and being a fat middle aged man with thinning hair is what gives every single bit of his characters power. As the original Max Bialystock he would eat the entirety of The Producers except that Gene Wilder as Leo Bloom is a genius casting decision, as Mostel's intensity against Wilder's deep discomfort ends up being the right chemistry. In many ways he reminds me of Buster Keaton, the pinnacle of hot scrungly little guy—a unique and expressive face, an instinctive understanding of comedy, active at the same time, and also they were both in FORUM together. Mostel came from an Orthodox Jewish family, was a trained painter with a degree in art, spoke four languages, and when he was blacklisted during the Red Scare and brought before the HUAC, he didn't just refuse to name names, he made fun of the senators. He was disabled after an accident, and still did dancing in movies and things like stunts in FORUM. He did a ton of work on Broadway too, including originating Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof, making the musical more Jewish as he did so. Frankly, I don't think any of those roles (or the eventual later film versions of Fiddler/musical version of the Producers) would work with anyone else. It had to be a fat balding middle aged leftist Jew from Brooklyn. The scrungly is essential.

"the scrungle factor of max in every version of the producers is through the roof but nathan lane does it as suave scrungle. zero mostel does not do suave scrungle. he does old jewish man getting into an argument with the rabbi at the full synagogue passover seder about how much wine has to be in the glass for it to count as "one cup" scrungle; he does old jewish man whose entire fridge is full of pickled herring scrungle. it's offputting in all the ways that make it genius."

[crack-in-the-chassis]

INTRODUCING: CRACK IN THE CHASSIS

Because we always need more cracky fanworks. Yes, even if we have a billion already. We need more.

Every absurd crossover or AU, every ludicrous pairing that would never ever happen in canon, every "What if?" thought that was followed by "Actually, it'd be weird as hell but I could make that work"--we want them.

SPN canon brought us evil clowns that explode into glitter and an entire season where the villain was high fructose corn syrup. Fandom can make it worse. We have the technology.

Crack in the Chassis is bang and a reverse bang at the same time--but NOT limited to fanfic and 2D fanart!

THAT'S RIGHT. You can get cracky with format as well as content!

Have a bunch of SPN figurines you'd love to pose for photo stories or--if you're a masochist--stop motion animation? We'll take it.

Do you have a ton of red color gel food dye and a sheet cake that would make the perfect canvas for a torture scene? We'll take it.

Do you have a few "in this essay, I will" jokes that you're lowkey dead serious about, even though you know you'll look like the Pepe de Silva meme? Don't be self conscious. We'll take it!

Filk, animatics, short films, cosplay--if you can find a way to transmit your fanwork over the internet and it's ridiculous as hell, then you can submit it to CRACK IN THE CHASSIS.

You can be either a pitcher (creating your work first) or a catcher (claiming a work from the gallery and creating a work in response to it.)

And don't worry, if you want to keep to the traditional ways, fanfic and digital fanart are fully welcome. 

As pitcher, you can specify which types of fanworks you're willing to claimed by! You can treat this as a traditional bang or reverse bang if you want to--or you can get a bit adventurous. Allow your fanfic to be claimed by another fanficcer and see what it's like to collaborate with the same equipment. 😏 Mark yourself as exclusively fanart4fanart and watch the ficcers cry about it.

CRACK IN THE CHASSIS: ALL ABOARD THE CHAOS BUS

Sign ups open May 7

Claims July 13

Posting starts August 22

SIGN UP HERE

and follow @crack-in-the-chassis for updates!

FAQ | Schedule | Rules

[thechy-fychannel]

Don't care about top/bottom but house is totally a sub for Wilson. That man just folds in half for him, even after putting up resistance, true or fake. And i think house needs to turn his brain off a bit, which is useful for someone who has a lot of thoughts all the time. All the time

Oh 1000% I agree. who tops and bottoms doesn't rly matter (although I will stand by the idea that house bottoms more often than not bc he's a big fan of the male g spot) what matters is that when it comes to the bedroom, house is a total sub for wilson. he's definitely a sub brat, he will not just submit to wilson unless he can't emotionally keep up the farce. but once wilson is able to break down those walls he puts up (which he's able to do so swift and easily that it's less of a wall and more of a curtain really), he really does just fold in half, the easiest slut you've ever seen.

It really is about turning his brain off. He has such a busy mind that overwhelms him sometimes and there is no drug out there that has the same effect as wilson pounding him into the mattress until he can't feel his legs and doesn't remember what day it is. sometimes he needs it so bad that he'll do anything, he'll practically turn into a whining dog, humping wilson's leg every chance he gets until wilson has enough and finally gives him what he wants. it's why he acts out and messes with wilson so much, stealing his lunch, messing with his schedule, including him in his case when he's not needed. eventually wilson gets the message and gives house what he wants, holding a hand over his mouth while he fucks him against a wall or bending him over his office couch. Or more favorably, taking him home and taking him over every piece of furniture they own.

I think even when wilson's the one bottoming, he's still topping from the bottom. wilson def has this fantasy of just like tying house up, putting a ball gag in his mouth, and just riding him for as long as he wants, however he wants. but when the time comes, he finds that he misses house's ridiculously obscene mouth and the things he says and the sounds he makes. plus, it's fun to be in control of whether he gets to talk to not and house is eager to get what he wants, so he'll say just about anything wilson wants so he doesn't stop.

there are times where house wants to be in control in the bedroom and there are times wilson doesn't want to be in control. sometimes house gets in a mood and says smth like "this is what I want. now are you going to give it to me or do i need to get it somewhere else?" and wilson is like "oh I'll fucking give it to you alright.." and let's house be in control bc it's what he needs. but ultimately, it all comes back to wilson knowing what he needs and giving it to him, whether it's to be filled and fucked or deprived of orgasm until he behaves or letting him feel in control when the world around him feels so out of control.

it makes me giggle when I see ppl say they don't understand how anyone could headcanon wilson as the dom in their relationship, when in reality he dominates every single corner of house's life and has since the day they met. it all comes back to wilson always ❤️