#overanalyzing time but god

[turtleblogatlast]

Something I love to think about is every iteration of Leo’s relationship with Splinter and how Splinter’s interests always define how a Leo presents himself.

I used to abide by the idea that a Leo will simply emulate his Splinter directly, and to an extent I still believe that to be the case, but moreso I think Leos have a tendency to mold themselves into what they believe is their Splinter’s ideal son - someone who embodies all the traits Splinter has explicitly shown to admire or value in a person.

Most of the time, they try to be a dutiful and honorable boy abiding by the full extent of ninjitsu teachings. Then you have Rise Splinter, who very much still has undeniable prowess in the art of fighting and being a ninja, but when it comes to how he shows his interests to his boys…one thing reigns supreme.

Acting. Shows. One liners. Flamboyance in the name of gaining an audience’s attention.

He showcases Lou Jitsu movies on repeat for the boys, passing down the morals and words from those movies to them with no small amount of pride. All while fully expecting them to respect these teachings.

So, of course, Rise Leo picks up on this. He’s a Leo, after all, as much a daddy’s boy as any other variation of him, only he clocked his father’s interests to be different than most others. He picks up on the art of showmanship, of keeping things to himself so as to be a more exciting twist later, of treating the world as a set to act in.

He’s an actor, not just because Splinter himself was one, but because Splinter likes acting and showed one particular actor (unknowingly to the boys, it was himself) as the pinnacle of all his teachings. As someone to value and admire. And even more than that - Splinter focuses on the character the actor is portraying rather than just the man himself.

And I think this is all even more interesting when taking the turtle tot short into consideration, because very, very briefly, just as with many times else throughout the series, we see how easily Rise Leo aligns with his other selves, seeming to pick up the sword easier than his brothers do their own weapons - after quoting Lou Jitsu of course. After emulating his idol - the person who his father seems to admire so much.

Point being, it’s so interesting to see how Leos tend to mold themselves in one particular way throughout every variation - that being, what their father is shown to value most in people.

[egophiliac]

so have you heard about the ride kamens app game? seems like it's gonna be a twisted wonderland like game with all the riders being hot anime guys now, and it's also gonna be written by yuya takahashi and produced by naomi takebe (apparently it was in development before geats), with designs by the person who did sk8 the infinity, so take that for what you will

have you ever gotten the feeling that a piece of media came into existence just to appeal to you specifically, or

(brb preregistering immediately)

(as far as I can tell you play as an agent who maintains a secret superhero base for riders in the basement of the rider-themed cafe that you run with your butler, and there's some other plot stuff going on but honestly I'm way past sold at this point, this sounds amazing)

[darabeatha]

/ I think f.ate moved way too fast on o.dysseus

[gemini-queen42]

I'm a little curious- any particular reasoning/symbolism to the gem on Hera's dress also being green (or the accents of Zeus's crown being the same light blue as in Hera's eyes) or was that just for some extra detail/some nice accents in the color comp?

but anyways seriously ohh!! I love this!!! It's so fitting for them (esp w/ the name) and you captured the vibes w/ their gazes so well!!<333

Gonna name this something clever like “I desire/deceive you” or something

Based on Jupiter and Juno on Mount Ida by James Barry

[chuluoyi]

✎ all of me

- gojo satoru x reader

you understand that some things in marriage just needs compromise. and he soon understands too, when you're at your most vulnerable and he fails to be by your side when you need him the most

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship (you're married & have a son!) argument, feral gojo, mentions of injury & blood, fluff

note: if it isn't obvious by now i'm in the mood of angst-hurt/comfort this week HEHE :)) this is longer than the usual love entry, so i hope you'll enjoy it!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Bantering with your husband is not uncommon―in fact, it happens on daily basis.

"Satoru― I'm talking to you!"

But having serious arguments with him is another matter entirely.

Your fists tightening at your sides, facing his unamused expression. How insufferable is he? You told him that everyday, but right now, he's truly surpassed previous levels of infuriating behavior.

"And I can hear you, sweetheart," he retorted, casting a glance your way. The term of endearment he used for you sounding almost like a sneer to your ears and you felt offended.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously," you griped, trying to calm your emotions, still balling your hands. "Someone is following our son on his way back from school―how can you be this... flippant?!"

Numerous photograph of your son exiting the school building from different angles had arrived in your mailbox, and if it wasn't a creepy warning from those who placed a target on his back, then you didn't know what it was.

Satoru let out an exasperated grunt. "I'm telling you, I'll pick him up for the rest of the week. No one will lay a hand on him."

You gritted your teeth. "And I'm telling you, they're trying to make you do just that. Even morons know not to mess with you― they're leaving hints, and you're taking the bait!"

Contrary to what you believed, Satoru felt just as worried as you upon knowing that someone might have marked his precious son, who was now six years old and had recently started attending preschool.

But this is where your approaches differ. You are always the cautious one, overanalyzing each detail, while he leans towards being impulsive, often resorting to brute force.

"Who do you think can stand a chance against me?" Satoru challenged with a real sneer this time. "Remember my words, wife, no one is going to hurt me, you or our baby. I'll end them where they stand."

"That's not the point!" you threw your hands in the air, irate. "Satoru, they're going to take advantage of―"

"Look, I don't want to argue with you." Satoru's gaze was hard on you, his tone clipped, and it made you stiffen. "His safety comes first— and you, of all people, should know I'd never let anything happen to him. You need to quit nitpicking and have a little faith in me."

"I know you are more than capable, but you are not―!"

And then he said it, and his words piercing through you like a knife―

"Don't compare me to you," your husband remarked a little too coldly. "I can do things you can't. Just rest your pretty head, I'll take care of the rest."

Nevermind that he blatantly dismissed your skills as a jujutsu sorcerer, nevermind that he totally didn't listen to you at all―he just went and made himself look like some sort unparalleled god, forgetting how much his hubris could actually take him.

And all these thoughts only made you angrier.

"So be it then." You tried desperately to hold yourself from shaking because you'd be damned if you showed it to him. "A word of advice, Satoru: beware of your arrogance."

With those words, you spun around, marching off toward your son's room, because no way in hell was you going to sleep with that obnoxious prick tonight.

But when you caught the sight of your baby scuttling away from the gap in the door, a fragment of your heart crumbled. Oh. He has seen it all.

In Gojo Satoru's mind, he is made of two things: a powerful jujutsu sorcerer and a family man.

With his immense strength, comes a certain responsibility. And with that responsibility, certain habits have formed. If you just took a few seconds to breathe and looked back throughout the past decade he'd spent with you, you'd know that in fact―

It was also his way to shield you. Satoru stands by the principle that you and his little boy must be protected at all cost, and he most certainly would pull all stops to do just that.

But frankly, he couldn't deny that he felt insulted by how defiant you were. Did you really think he would let anyone ever touch your―his―son? He wouldn't, they'd meet his wrath first and you should've known that.

Still, something akin to guilt nudged at his conscience as he lay alone in your shared bed that night. It felt strange not having you cuddling him. He felt empty.

. . .

None of your shampoo-scented pillow, none of your nightdresses, all of it replaced by a single photo hanging in the wall and the urn of ashes—

Abruptly, he jerked his eyes open, shaken from the most dreadful nightmare he had experienced—

Of you no longer by his side.

“Mama.” Your little boy looked up to you with his doe-blue eyes in the next day, his hand gripping yours. “I’ll be fine.”

You were accompanying him to the preschool. While Satoru had requested Ichiji to drive him, you insisted on tagging along to keep a watchful eye as well. You'd leave your husband to pick him up later just as he wanted.

“Huh?” you turned to him, tilting your head.

“I'll stick by Uncle Ichiji's side the entire time,” he replied in a murmur. “And papa will be picking me up too later. If there are bad guys, they'll get him first.”

You bit your lip, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. Your boy witnessed your outburst last night and hadn't inquired about it until now, and even then, he was trying to reassure you.

“So… don’t fight.” His round, cerulean eyes then darted towards you, blinking hesitantly, causing you to catch your breath.

He looks so much like Satoru. At six years old, he was the spitting image of him, except his personality—he took after you in that area. It was as if your son was a softer, more innocent version of him. And your heart twisted, remembering your argument last night.

Don't compare me to you.

With a sigh, you bent down to be eye-level with him and managed a smile, holding both of his little hands. “I’m sorry… it was just misunderstanding last night, okay? Don’t worry.”

“…really?”

“Really. Mama and papa were just tired,” you tried to reason, a thin smile on your face. "It's going to be okay, just like you said, yeah? Papa will beat the bad guys out there."

“Will he pull through...? If they bring a knife, and he's just there laughing, they can cut him.”

A giggle escaped your lips at your baby's innocent wonderings, easing the ache in your heart as you recalled how Satoru humored him in so many ways.

You gently poked your son in the cheek. "Nah, do you remember what he always goes on about?"

He puffed up his cheeks in response, his expression turning sour as if combing through memories of hundreds of shenanigans Satoru had instigated to recall his words. You let out a hearty chuckle, finding him so adorable.

"He's strong, he's going to win. He always does."

"Oh. Mmm." Your son scrunched up his nose cutely, before looking away and squeezing your hand. A sincerer smile bloomed in your lips, heart melting at the sight of your growing munchkin.

You will protect him. And maybe you could patch things up with Satoru later that night. Maybe yesterday you were just too paranoid.

That was the plan... at least until your son suddenly screamed—someone wrenching him from your grasp. Without a second thought, you reacted, flipping the attacker away from you and him.

. . . and that was the beginning of how everything started to unravel so terribly that day.

"Gojo-san...! There's been an incident!"

He got that call right after he finished some things with Yaga. Satoru teleported to the preschool right away, only to be greeted by a scene of utter chaos.

Several teachers stood outside the building, and police officers were present at the scene. It was all a blur of cursed energy until his eyes caught sight of—

His little boy, red-faced and obviously in fear, was clinging to Ichiji, who was frantically making calls. Some teachers gathered around him were seemingly trying to coax him to speak.

He didn't waste a second to dash towards him, tearing through the crowd.

"Are you okay? Hey, buddy, what happened?" Satoru pulled him away from Ichiji and turned him over, crouching to his level to check for any signs of injury or harm.

And upon seeing him actually here, his son's eyes immediately welled up with tears, and Satoru felt a chill run through his veins as he broke into sobs, which quickly turned into heart-wrenching wails.

"Mama—! F-find mama—!" the little boy choked out through his tears, clutching onto his shirt tightly and crumbling in his embrace, thoroughly inconsolable.

Satoru's sharp gaze quickly swept over the scene, seeking any clues, while he tightened his hold over him. It was then he noticed traces of your cursed energy mingled with blood.

They hurt you.

"Hey, kiddo—listen to me, it's going to be alright, yeah?" Satoru said, gently pulling away to wipe away his tears, holding the boy's face tenderly in his hands. "Go with Ichiji for now, okay? I'm going to bring mama back, I promise."

He didn't need to be told twice. Your son is always obedient when it matters the most. He gave him a small nod, still shaking with tears.

"Don't worry," he flashed a reassuring smile and ruffled his hair. "I'm the strongest, remember? I'll get her back," he vowed once again. "She'll be fine. Wait for me until then, yeah?"

Ichiji was ready to leave as he had called for those in headquarters as backup in case anything were to happen again. Trusting him to keep his son safe, Satoru took off as soon as he could no longer see the sight of his son's tear-streaked face trying to watch him as the car pulled away.

"I won't repeat myself— where is my wife?"

Satoru wasn't playing this time. He skipped past taunts and just plain threats. These little fries, he thought.

The man he held by the throat was in a lot of distress. "Hyaaa! It's him! Please, please, let me go! I'm acting under orders!"

He then flung him across the wall— might have added more cursed energy than necessary.

At the moment, his entire focus was on trying to locate you. He couldn't let his mind wander to anything else; in fact, he didn't permit himself to.

It didn't take him long to piece together the general location of where you were through the residual of your cursed energy. They stationed several hooligans in this abandoned warehouse to stall him, but he got rid of them quickly and he could sense that you were close by.

"It's Gojo Satoru!"

"Run! Ruuuun!"

What a pain. They picked the wrong person to mess with, and Satoru's lips curled into a manic grin as he opened his palm, pulling them in—

"Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue."

Chaos erupted as the building collapsed around him. He hoped you would realize he was here and manage to avoid getting caught in the wreckage. He was sure you'd know though.

And true to his thoughts, soon he found you— blasting your attacker away with a powerful kick.

Satoru thought that you were a sight to behold, really. And he was about to call out to you when he felt it.

It happened almost in an instant. The way his heart dropped to his stomach, and how his body reacted, barely whispering the incantation for Red as he shot it at something lurking behind you—

At that moment, the only thing you were aware of was the foul stench of a curse. Time seemed to stop before the overwhelming force of Red expelled it away from you.

But before then, you experienced a searing, white-hot pain that scorched through your flesh and pierced your abdomen—

"Y/N―fuck―!" The voice that came from Satoru's throat was raw and laden with panic.

He pulled you against him protectively as you collapsed, blinded by pain. He immediately felt warmth spreading across his lower body—your blood was rapidly drenching his shirt, and he felt a shiver down his spine.

You held onto him tightly while suppressing your scream, feeling every bit of your strength drain away along with the dark crimson blood that poured out of you.

"―toru―" you managed to croak amidst the scalding pain, curling and whimpering in his hold.

"Hey― sweetheart, please―" his voice rang in your ears, as he pressed down on your wound. His hands were shaking, and you clawed at him and groaned in agony. "I-I'm taking you back now― You're going to be alright, yeah?"

The wound was beyond anything you had experienced before, causing you to cry out and gasp for air. It was almost as if something fried your insides. It was hard to stay conscious.

"I've got you now. You're going to be okay." His voice was coarse, as he hurriedly carried you out. And he tried not to let the full-blown panic take over him when your body went limp in his arms, your breaths slowing, head lolling in his chest.

"You're going to be alright! You hear me, sweetheart? You're going to make it. Our baby― he's waiting for you. I promise you, you're going to be fine―"

Perhaps he was trying to tell that to himself, because despite the excruciating pain, a wave of reassurance washed over you.

You were in the arms of the strongest sorcerer alive, what more could you possibly afraid of?

A special grade curse. They had actually unleashed a potent curse and likely aimed at him as their final card—until it veered off course and struck you, leaving a searing gash across your abdomen.

Satoru felt numb as he sat in the waiting room in his bloodied uniform. You got hurt so terribly right in front of his eyes, and all he could feel was this profound void that seemed to bore through him and pierced his soul.

He was supposed to protect you. He said it to your face that nothing and no one would touch your son, and it was in his wedding vows that he'd protect you with his life too.

And yet what happened?

If only he was faster. If only he was able to pull you to him and protect you with his infinity—none of this shit would have happened.

Seeing your face twisted in agony and smeared with blood made him feel sick to his stomach. Inside that OR, you hovered on the brink of life and death, and he was here, unable to do anything.

Satoru rested his head against the wall, feeling a sharp pain surge through his chest. He remembered waking up to your face every morning, the way your touches felt, and how you had brightened his world for the past decade. If he lost you now... he wouldn't survive it. He would wreck anything, everything—

"Papa!" and came his voice of reason. Satoru immediately discarded his bloodstained jacket by instinct, throwing it away before his boy could see it, with Ichiji and Megumi closely trailing behind.

His son crashed himself into him and threw his little arms around his torso, crying—and in that very second, the thump of his heart sounded louder in his ears. Somehow it felt like a knife that twisted his insides.

"Hey, kiddo." Satoru repositioned him so that he would sit on his lap and hugged him, patting him in the back. "There, there... it's alright, yeah? Mama is inside, she'll get better soon."

Your little boy pulled away and wiped his eyes, and Satoru chuckled as he helped him blow his nose. His child was incredibly adorable, and his actions mirrored yours to such an extent that it made Satoru's heart soften.

"Mama g-got hurt trying to... tell me to g-go..." the boy suddenly said amidst his quieter sniffles. "And... she s-said... papa— i-is strong and g-going to win..."

You believe in him. Ignoring the ache in his chest, only able to reply him with a "Yeah..."

Not long after, Shoko emerged from the operating room and informed him that the surgery had been successful, though you would likely need to have a one-week stay in the hospital for observation. He intended to move you to the VIP suite and stay the night there, but then he remembered his son, who was holding his hand.

Satoru crouched down and patted him in the head, fixing him a smile. "See? Mama is okay, but she needs to sleep here to get even better. Now you go home first with big brother Megumi, yeah?"

Your son adored Megumi and often begged you to let him stay over at his place, but this time he looked hesitant, fiddling with his little fingers. "Really? Mama will be home... soon?"

"Mm-hmm, the more she sleeps here, the faster she'll go back home, alright?"

And with that, his baby nodded and Satoru turned to Megumi with a nod. "Thank you for this, Megumi."

The boy whose life he had once saved on some sort of a whim, now grown up and shared the same concern he had for you, Fushiguro Megumi had never before witnessed his benefactor expressing such sincere gratitude for anything before.

When you came to, your body felt as heavy as lead.

The discomfort in your abdomen made you flinch, and you almost let out a groan until you turned to your side and saw him.

Satoru was asleep while sitting in the sofa next to your bed, dark circles evident under his eyes. It might have been your imagination, but his cheeks appeared to be slightly red too.

You tried to recall what had happened to you when it came back—you urging your son to run away as you let yourself being taken away, almost escaping from that warehouse, the flash of excruciating pain, and Satoru's stricken voice.

So he must've been here since last night. Any remnants of your disagreement seemed to have vanished, seeing him there with you, barely covering himself with the blanket, with a frown still marking his forehead even in his sleep.

You wanted to reach out to him until the movement sent a sharp jab to your stomach and you cried out a bit.

In that split second, Satoru's eyes jerked open, and realizing you were awake, his gaze locked onto yours. "Y/N—" But your strained whimper and expression told him everything. "Does it hurt? I-I'll get Shoko, wait—"

And then he hit the call button. Throughout it all, he kept a firm grip on your hand for reassurance. A few minutes later, Shoko arrived and examined your wound, subsequently administering painkillers to alleviate your discomfort.

"It's going to leave a scar," she explained grimly, showing the mangled skin where the curse had made its mark on you, and seeing that, Satoru clenched his fists.

Shoko sighed, empathizing with her friend's frustration. "It's going to fade with time, don't worry. You did well, Gojo. You brought her here quickly. Had you been even slightly later, there could have been an irreversible damage to her organs."

But your husband remained quiet, unable to bring himself to look at you. And after she left, you tried to finally voice your question to him.

"O-our—"

"He's fine," Satoru immediately answered, squeezing your hand. "Our boy is fine. I'll tell Megumi to visit later—he's with him."

A sigh of relief came out of you. "Thank... goodness."

But his expression seemed to fall even further after hearing your response. Satoru settled himself on the seat next to you and lowered the rail on your bed, allowing you to be even closer to each other.

"Do you not feel any pain anymore?" he asked then, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He looked so sad, a stark contrast of how he usually was, and it bugged you.

"No... I feel fine now."

"Then, can I hug you?"

Of course you nodded without a second thought, and carefully, he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you close and resting his face on the crook of your neck.

You knew what it was. Satoru was still visibly shaken by what had happened to you, and he wasn't great at expressing himself, so he tried to find consolation through this physical closeness instead.

"I'm okay..." you patted his back, trying to convince him. "I'm alright now, yeah?" But to your surprise, suddenly his whole body started to shake. "Satoru...?"

“…’m sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he nuzzled you. “I shouldn't... have let you get this hurt...”

It always amazes you how Satoru always gets this distressed whenever you sustain any injury. You had seen him cry precisely two times now—once after you gave birth to your son and experienced severe bleeding, and now.

"It's not your fault..." you whispered in response. "You... have protected me well."

He held you tighter, his tone faltering. "I didn't."

"You have..." you stroked his hair, trying to convince him. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Hearing you say that made Satoru's chest ache. The thought of something like this happening to you was unimaginable, and now that it had, he couldn't come to terms with seeing you hurt right in front of him.

"Don't—" he choked on his voice, his breath trembled against your neck. "Don't ever put yourself in danger again. If something happened to you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself..."

You couldn't make that promise. Despite the pleading in his voice, you knew deep down that your son's life—and his—meant more, and given the chance, you would obviously save theirs for yours.

“Satoru... I love you, you know that, right?”

So you simply embraced him close, hoping that in this life, you would live long enough that he would never have to see you like this again.

Epilogue

"Papa, how do I become stronger?"

Satoru blinked when his son asked him that so innocently and curiously, taken aback as he led him to your private room later that afternoon. "Oh? What brought this on?"

His first and only son, a perfect miniature of himself, pursed his lips. "I don't want Mama to get hurt again..."

Satoru's heart warmed at his baby’s sincere words, and despite himself, he chuckled.

"What's funny?" his son leveled a glare at him. "I'm being serious."

"Well, aren't you such a good boy? Don't worry, kiddo, I'll teach you my ways~"

"What ways?"

"Well, no need to rush, pumpkin. First of all, you will have to harness your skills and then you have to be more like me—"

"Do I have to be like you…? Is there no other way?"

"—? What's wrong with being more like me?"

"Everything...?"

[dailyoyo]

yknow this is just random idle thoughts but honestly i have a hard time thinking of the jsr and jsrf versions of the cast as Distinctly Different characters (with the exception of whatever is up with cube and combo, but i'm chalking that up to the fact og jsr ch2 was a localization thing and not part of the og release). like Okay its two differrnt continuities, diff things happen to them and some aspects of the group dynamic are different, obv, but og jsr is so character-light it's hard to extrapolate ANYTHING about them without veering into making shit up out of whole cloth really fast

and the supplemental character info for og jsr is VERY thin - and doesn't really contradict jsrf, either. like bis/mew/rhyth is definitely trait: devil's advocate in future even though in og canon we'd only know that from a guidebook. imo it makes me feel like the future cast characterizations is more like, yknow, Expanding upon the ideas behind the og jsr cast than it is Making New Versions Of Their Characters. like theyre different timelines of the characters but theyre not Different Characters you feel me. not that future is a Deep, Complex Character-Driven Narrative either but yknow what i mean.

and so its like fascinating to me when ppl characterize the two canons' casts as having differing personalities. wheres it come from? pure vibes? (and then over here with paradox it is So fucking future-based despite being meant to be a combination of the two canons bc of the limited material we're given to work with in the og LMAO)

IDK i tend not to seek out random fancontent and in fact avoid it like the plague bc of my own brain eccentricities but im fascinated by this topic regardless.

[stzrgirl4norris]

The Sound Of Our Love Song - LN4

Lando Norris x Reader (smau)

Summary: Lando starts posting cryptic romantic love songs on his instagram posts, slowly soft launching his girlfriend

based on this request by my favorite anon

🎵 Taylor Swift – Lover

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername, mclaren and 3,448,575 others

lando been getting into lattes lately

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yourusername: this better be almond milk

georgerussell63: Woah, personalized takeout cups messages... So we’re in year 8 now?

danielricciardo: oh we’re ENCHANTED now huh

> lando terrible joke now mate

oscarpiastri Glad you acquired taste

user i wonder what possessed lando into drinking coffee

user this is 100% a “I just met her but I’m obsessed” post

user okay king but why this song? 😭

user someone get this man a breakup playlist or a girlfriend

user was not expecting lover with that matcha pic but I respect the chaos

user are you okay bestie blink twice

user blink twice if that matcha is a metaphor

user lando norris confirmed swiftie was not on my bingo card

🎵 Strawberry Wine - Noah Kakan

liked by charles_leclerc, maxfewtrell, yourusername and 2,399,320 others

lando cool latte art ☕

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yourusername bold of you to post my latte art without credit

> user "without credit" now chat what is this????

oscarpiastri are you gonna marry her or just send increasingly cryptic latte posts

user is this the male version of writing her name in your notebook over and over

user not strawberry wine im not okay 😭😩

user bro is in love love

user bold of you to assume i wouldn’t overanalyze this

maxverstappen1 I liked this before I saw the song, Unliking.

> user what is wrong with noah kahan??😭😭

🎵Close to You - Gracie Abrams

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, mclaren and 3,499,223 others

lando the only winner's you'll ever see😎

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charles_leclerc I resent this caption

oscarpiastri I didn’t get any Italy gifts

danielricciardo gracie abrams is wild here

alex_albon this man is being soft in a group photo

georgerussell63 There is a lot of thrid wheeling here

user lando are you living in a romcom?

user HE’S SO BAD AT HIDING HER I’M OBSESSED

user this is the slowest soft launch in history but also the best

user is this a pr relationship soft launch or is he just being quirky???

user ok but why does he keep using love songs? this is literally a bro pic 😭😭

McLaren Monaco Fan Q&A

🎵Mama, You Been On My Mind - Jeff Buckley

liked by yourusername, maxfewtrell and 8,211,939 others

lando i give her props for the song suggestion this time ❤️

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danielricciardo: i feel like i just watched a proposal in 4 pictures

charles_leclerc: wow she actually likes you. incredible. 👏

oscarpiastri: i’m free. i’m finally free.

georgerussell63: i’m not crying i just… fell down the stairs.

alex_albon: this post healed my seasonal depression 🤌

> lilymhe same. and i don’t even follow him

carlossainz55: can you do a boyfriend tutorial or is it too late for us? 😅

yourusername please i was not ready for the feet pic 😭

user THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I REPEAT. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

user i was ready for a hard launch, but NOT a love letter in JPEG format

user sir. SIR. we were not READY.

user this is the most aesthetic relationship reveal in f1 history

user anyway i’m going to go sit outside in the rain now

🎵Happy Together - The Turtles

liked by lilyzneimer, lando, kikagomes and 659,888 others

yourusername he can stop pretending he likes coffee now

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lando thank god.

oscarpiastri I’m getting cavities just looking at this

maxverstappen1 I muted you both and it’s still not enough

lilymhe this is what couples therapy wishes it could do

user we watched a latte become a metaphor for soulmates

user she is the blueprint. the bar. the standard.

user she picked the best love song in the world. i can’t do this anymore

user this isn’t a soft launch or a hard launch anymore. this is a ✨cinematic universe ✨

[brachiojaxx]

It's the slight nod Alex gives before like "yeah its okay lets go"

they kith

[paddockletters]

redeemed | lando norris part 6

masterlist | previous part | next part

a/n: hope you're all enjoying how this 'series' is turning out! if you have any ideas or would like something to happen, everything is welcome—even feedback. thanks for the love! <3

years ago 2021

lando

liked by danielricciardo and 239,912 others

lando: A good night

tagged: yourusername

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user1: OH MY GOD THEY’RE BACK???

user2: seeing Lando and Y/N together again is healing me 😭

user3: my emotional support friendship is ALIVE

user4: this post is giving 2019 energy and I love it

user5: their friendship is literally goals, don’t let this ever fall apart again pls

youbff: a historic moment. a monumental reunion

maxfewtrell: about time. Do I get credit for this???

carlossainz55: did she finally forgive you or did you just annoy her into hanging out again?

mclaren: We approve of this post 🧡

user6: It’s crazy how seeing them together again makes me feel like all is right in the world

user7: okay but how long before people start overanalyzing this? 🤭

user8: this better not be temporary, I suffered enough last time

user9: Next step: a Twitch stream collab. MAKE IT HAPPEN PLSSS

yourusername posted stories

yourusername

liked by maxfewtrell and 97,762 others

yourusername: Familiar faces, good times ❤️

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user1: THEIR FRIENDSHIP IS BACK I’M SOBBING

user2: bet Lando’s gf is punching the air rn 💀

user3: soft launch of the comeback era???

maxfewtrell: Finally, some peace in the world

carlossainz55: good to see you two acting normal again… I think?

user4: max is the #1 cheerleader for this reunion 💀

lando: relax

user5: He said ‘relax’ but he’s smiling SO hard in this pic

user6: Lando’s gf bout to deactivate after this one.

lando posted stories

lando

liked by yourusername and 451,972 others

lando: Some things don’t change

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user1: IT IS Y/N? RIGHT??? 👀

user2: noooo, that's y/n???

user3: your gf saw this and threw her phone across the room

user4: maybe is gf???

danielricciardo: oh we’re being mysterious now?

user5: lando posting like a man with something to say but not saying it 😭

user6: we’re gonna do the ‘are they / aren’t they’ thing again, aren’t we?

user7: he literally has a girlfriend??? wdym😭😭

user8: i’m scared to look at his gf’s likes rn

lando's pov

maxfewtrell posted a story

lando's pov

taglist @hadesnumber1daughter @harrysdimple05 @royaleaxis @angelluv16 @formulaal @chezmardybum @freyathehuntress @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @azuramicah @anayaverse @awritingtree @norrisainz33 @rbv3rstappen @clemson20 @mintdde0nu @blushmimi @atsumubabe @irisesinthegarden @screamingwines @starrxxgirl @thegalaxyisunfolding @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @kathenaaa @apollos-arc @mxm47max @geometric-circle @goldenharrysworld

[acid-ixx]

I am kinda curious how feral is dick for us in again and again. Like did we only see a semblance of it in chapter 5 part 1 Orrr? It’s just really been on my mind lately

— masterlist !

on god, you guys, you don't know just how much dick's desperation is going to be shown in the series. chapter 5 part 1 and 2 is only the tip of the iceberg, wait 'til we arrive at chapter 6 and the future ones where he'll finally be able to physically see — not meet, yet, but see — you in person. he's batshit insane, arguably the most unstable person in the series, who oh-so easily masks it off with a smile, with false assurances to the family that "no, bruce, i didn't— i didn't fucking stalk them last night and the nights before that— you know my baby bird doesn't like being watched, right?—"

"i still respect their boundaries, i do."

spoken pretenses where he's aware aren't believable. he promises that he'll keep you safe, healthy, happy, and make up to all the fucking mistakes he's done; even if you despise him, even if he's the reason why you feel goosebumps prickle your skin.

dick wouldn't just swear on his life, wouldn't just make promises— no, he enacts on them the moment he speaks it. but the truth is, his desires often overpower the promises. he says he'll give you your space, but it's him who forces jason to speak up about you, about your moments shared with the second eldest, moments that should've been spent with him instead; and he takes whatever is spoken about you to heart, he memorizes it— stays awake for days on end just to read your favorite books that jason mentioned, loses sleep and rest to overanalyze your torn up diary entries. he who pesters tim and barbara to help him in his spare time to track your every device, your every movement in the streets and alone.

he says he does it all for you, he truly does, but deep down it's all fueled by guilt and his ever-consuming, ever festering obsession to keep you close, to keep you binded to him just so he could fucking make it up to you.

he's a being manifested through guilt. dick grayson suffers the eldest sibling syndrome, he believes that he could've—should've done better, especially for you. always for you. every time, every damn time he learns more about you, either directly or indirectly, the urge to defy bruce's orders to respect your boundaries, for now, becomes stronger, until all it takes for him to snap are the secrets you and jason held close together— secrets he's just so close to unlocking if jason could just— just tell him.

all his free time is spent on learning everything about you. from your favorite perfume to your exact shade of hair. he'll visit your elementary schools, track your every past record, even find your old friends. he'll do everything, absolutely everything undercover if it meant discovering the unspoken secrets of your past— everything.

then after that, he'll find a way to be the only person, or at least the one closest to attaining your trust once more. anything, i say, he'll push himself to the extreme.

he was already doomed to make so many sacrifices the moment he learned you left the manor.

and so he molds himself to be the perfect version of an older brother for you. if he couldn't redeem himself through the version of dick you know, the one who sweeps his eyes away from you, who oh-so willingly dismisses your invitations in hopes for a different distractions— he changes it all, reads through your every entries, taking note of what qualities you like about him and what you don't, and he shapes his personality around your preferences.

even if he knows he could easily break, just like you, even if deep down the first thing he feels is pure and utter convoluted anger at himself, at his family, at what happened to you.

ultimately, everything he feels is carved by guilt. but it's never purely that, he's always loved you, always do. and if was more than aware of your past before you were fully integrated in the manor, he could've taken a different path, could've been as close as you were to jason. but because of his damn obligations not only in gotham but bludhaven, of his damn belief that because you lived a normal life amongst them— his stupid fucking assumptions that you're close enough to everyone else that you wouldn't need his guidance: he's made the greatest mistake of it all ignoring you, focusing on what's ahead rather than what's always been in front of him.

and if he finally has you in his hands? if he finally gets a feel of what his baby bird would feel wrapped around his arms, his head buried in your hair so deeply he could smell your shampoo? if he finally gets to hold you, trapping your body against the threats of the world, when in truth, it's him who you should be scared of?

he'll turn the whole world upside down just to turn fantasy into reality.

so is he feral? no, not just feral. as intense as all the characters are going to be, he's going to be one of the most difficult hurdles in all of the characters you'll interact with. because not only does he bind himself so close to you, but also because he shares the same intensity behind his emotions. just like you, when he feels, he feels deeply. and so everything between you and dick would be an emotional rollercoaster. and i won't underestimate just how much more clingy he is than jason.

[wendichester]

please can you do Sam x reader where reader is Dean’s best friend, idrk how I want it to play out you can choose but I always find that so fun/funny

also one thing is can reader be girly please TYSM xoxo

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ best friend's brother,

summary. sam's crushing hard on dean's best friend aka you

pairing. sam winchester x reader ft. dean winchester

wordcount. 550

notes. giggling and kicking my feet cause god please!!! make me be her and throw me into this universe PLEASE

Sam Winchester has a problem.

It’s not a supernatural one—not a vengeful spirit, not a demon, not anything that can be solved with salt and fire. No, this problem is a little more complicated.

It’s you.

Dean’s best friend. The one person who’s been around almost as long as Sam has. The one who breezes into their motel rooms with an oversized bag full of perfume and makeup, throws herself onto Dean’s bed like she owns it, and makes herself at home in their lives like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

And the worst part? You’re gorgeous. Like, distractingly gorgeous.

Which is exactly why Sam is screwed.

It starts with little things—things he tries not to overanalyze. The way you twist your hair around your fingers when you’re thinking. The way you smack Dean’s arm when he says something dumb. The way you hum to yourself when you’re loading your gun, like preparing for a hunt is just another part of your beauty routine.

Sam tells himself it’s nothing. Just a harmless crush. He can ignore it.

Except then you start getting too comfortable with him.

Like now.

“You are so tall,” you huff, standing on your tiptoes, struggling to reach a book on the highest shelf of the bunker’s library.

Sam watches from his chair, amused. “You could just ask for help.”

“No, I’m independent.” You make a dramatic grab for the book, nearly toppling over in the process. “I can totally—”

Sam sighs, standing up and easily plucking the book from the shelf. He hands it to you with a smirk. “You were saying?”

You snatch it from his hands with a pout. “I had it.”

“Sure you did.”

Dean walks in just in time to witness the exchange. His eyes narrow immediately. “Oh, hell no.”

You blink. “What?”

Dean points a warning finger between you and Sam. “I know that look. That’s the look Sammy gets when he starts thinking things.”

Sam scoffs. “I don’t have a look.”

“Yes, you do,” Dean argues. “It’s the I’m totally falling for my brother’s best friend look.”

Your mouth falls open. “Wait, what?”

Sam’s face heats. “I—no. That’s not—”

“Oh my God,” you breathe, eyes going wide. “Are you into me?”

Dean groans. “Son of a bitch.”

Sam rubs a hand over his face, knowing there’s no easy way out of this. He’s always been awful at hiding his emotions, and now that you’re staring at him like he just admitted some huge secret, there’s really no use denying it.

You grin. Grin. Like this is the most amusing thing in the world. “Sammy, do you have a crush on me?”

Dean looks pained. “Please, don’t say it like that.”

Sam exhales sharply. “Maybe. A little. But it’s not a big deal—”

“It’s a huge deal,” Dean cuts in. “Because you’re off-limits, sweetheart. My best friend. My very girly, very high-maintenance best friend.”

You roll your eyes. “I am not high-maintenance.”

“You bring two separate curling irons to hunts.”

“So?”

Dean throws his hands up. “So, you and Sam? Not happening.”

But the way you’re looking at Sam now—considering, interested—makes Sam think maybe, just maybe, you’re not entirely opposed to the idea.

And judging by the way his heart is racing, he knows he’s in so much trouble.

⋆.˚ ★— read part 2

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19 ⋆ @myceliumsunshine ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @bamboobooshark ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @i-love-gvf ⋆ @lemonswinchester ⋆ @4k1vrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @szyszoszelest ⋆ @angelicalm3ss ⋆ @writtenbyhollywood ⋆ @larasalii ⋆ @yeehawgiddyup13 ⋆ @xo-zeze ⋆ @jules-pagie ⋆ @freeluigihesbae ⋆ @viarasvogue ⋆ @ladykitana90

[blairxbear]

When they realise they are in love with you...

Class 1A / Other UA Students / Pro Heroes / Villains

How will these villains react to realising that they are in love with you?

Featuring: Tomura Shigaraki, Dabi/Toya Todoroki, Shuichi Iguchi/Spinner, Kai Chisake/Overhaul, Jin Bubaigawara/Twice, Atsuhiro Sako/Mr. Compress, Young All For One

Tomura Shigaraki

• Love is foreign to him—it’s something he associates with weakness, pain, and loss.

• He doesn’t understand his own emotions at first—he just knows he wants you close but is terrified of hurting you.

• The moment he truly realizes it? One night, you fall asleep near him, completely unafraid. He stares at you for hours, his hands shaking.

• “They trust me. No one’s ever trusted me like this before.”

• He tries pushing you away at first, convinced you deserve better.

• But when he sees you smiling at him like he’s more than a villain, he breaks. He’s yours now. No escape.

• His confession is raw and broken, whispered against your skin like a secret he’s too scared to say out loud.

• “I don’t want to ruin you… but I think I love you.”

Toya Todoroki (Dabi)

• Dabi doesn’t believe in love—to him, it’s just another lie, another way to get hurt.

• But when he realizes he feels safe with you, it scares the hell out of him.

• The moment he knows? He sees you patching up his burns, touching his scarred skin without flinching, and something in him shatters.

• “Why aren’t they afraid of me?”

• He tries dismissing it as lust, obsession—anything but love.

• But when he sees you laughing at one of his dumb jokes, he realizes he’d burn the whole world down to keep you safe.

• His confession is casual but intense—maybe after a mission, cigarette between his lips, acting like it’s nothing.

• “Tch. Guess I love you. Sucks for you, huh?”

Shuichi Iguchi (Spinner)

• Spinner is completely awkward about romance—he never thought anyone would look at him that way.

• He realizes it slowly, over time—when you’re the only one who really listens to him.

• The moment it hits him like a truck? You defend his ideals in front of the League, proving you actually believe in him.

• “Holy shit. They actually care.”

• Suddenly, he can’t stop thinking about you, watching your reactions, hanging on your words.

• His confession is embarrassingly nervous, probably stammering through it.

• “Uh… okay, don’t laugh, but I think I might be, um… kinda in love with you? Shit, that sounds dumb—”

Kai Chisaki (Overhaul)

• Love is a weakness, something that doesn’t belong in his world.

• He tries to rationalize it, seeing you as an asset, a necessity—but that excuse crumbles fast.

• The moment he realizes? You touch him without hesitation, and for the first time in years, he doesn’t flinch or feel disgusted.

• “They’re not… dirty. They’re not tainted. How?”

• He spirals—overanalyzing, avoiding, obsessing.

• When someone threatens you, and he feels pure, unfiltered rage, it clicks. He’s in love.

• His confession is cold and clinical but deeply possessive.

• “You belong to me now. Don’t argue.”

Jin Bubaigawara (Twice)

• Love is messy, complicated, and dangerous—and he’s already got too many voices in his head.

• He realizes it when he starts thinking about you more than himself, more than his own survival.

• The moment it hits him hard? You remember something small about him—his favorite snack, his childhood memories—and he just… freezes.

• “No one’s ever cared that much about me.”

• His emotions become even more chaotic, flipping between being clingy and pulling away out of fear.

• His confession is a total nervous wreck—probably talking to himself about it first before blurting it out to you.

• “Shit, shit, I love you! Wait, do I? YES, I DO—oh god, is this a bad idea?!”

Atsuhiro Sako (Mr. Compress)

• He’s suave and theatrical, but love? Love is tricky. Dangerous. A gamble.

• He realizes it when he starts protecting you first, putting you above the mission.

• The moment it fully sinks in? You call him out on his loneliness, and he realizes you see through his mask.

• “They know me. The real me.”

• Suddenly, his usual charm feels meaningless unless it’s you he’s entertaining.

• His confession is smooth but deeply genuine—probably whispered against your ear, teasing yet serious.

• “My dear, you’ve stolen something precious from me… my heart.”

Young All For One

• Love, to him, is power—a tool to manipulate, to control.

• Or at least… that’s what he thought before you.

• He realizes he’s in love when he stops seeing you as replaceable—when he wants to keep you, not as an asset, but as something more.

• The moment it truly hits? You defy him, looking him in the eyes without fear, and instead of being furious… he’s intrigued.

• “They’re… mine.”

• Suddenly, he finds himself protecting you, indulging you, giving you power instead of taking it away.

• His confession is low and dangerous, more of a claim than a request.

• “You belong to me, little one. And I belong to you.”

Ko-fi / Masterlist

blairxbear © 2024. do not copy, modify, or translate my work. you do not have permission to share my work outside of tumblr!

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 6

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, overthinking/anxiety, reader being lowkey dramatic lol

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ you and rafe arrived at kelce's. inside, you enjoyed kelce's self-made pizza with the three boys, though afterward rafe kept making cryptic comments about you and kelce. after an awkward back-and-forth with rafe about whether you’re interested in kelce, you both settled in to work on your project, only for rafe to unexpectedly invite you to his place the next evening. as you realized his house will be empty, it dawned on you that he might be setting the stage for a hookup.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 4.2k+

✿ A / N ✿ this one has less action or rather serves more as a little breather bc i wanted to focus more on what's going on in reader's head as well as rafe's hihihi. next part will have them interacting in person again :) i hope you guys enjoy and as always super thankful for any support <33

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

W E E K O N E // T U E S D A Y

With a slightly lighter feeling in your chest and a deep sigh, you let your phone slip into your bag.

Most of your conversations with Cara about guys were filled with delusions but every now and then, she somehow found the right words to quiet your overanalyzing brain.

At least for a moment.

You turned onto the street leading to your house, grateful for the short walk and the fresh air—though the sun beating down on your cheeks made them feel even warmer than they already were.

Your place was just a short walk from Kelce's, practically around the corner, and honestly, you couldn’t have handled another car ride with Rafe today. Not that it mattered—he hadn’t offered one anyway which, for some reason, stung more than it should have. So you’d just said goodbye to the three of them, thanked Kelce for the pizza, and left.

And yet, you couldn’t shake how weird the energy between you and Rafe had been after he’d brought up the idea of going to his place tomorrow.

Ugh, you didn’t even want to think about it anymore—it made your stomach twist—but your brain kept replaying the conversation on a loop.

"My dad and Rose are at some charity event. Wheezie's on a school trip this week, and Sarah can do whatever she wants, I don't care."

The moment those words had left his mouth, you knew he had to have something else in mind besides just working on a school project.

Or maybe you were completely wrong. Maybe his grade actually mattered to him because he needed it to graduate and it was just pure coincidence that he would have the house to himself that night. It’s not like he’d explicitly said he was expecting anything more.

In fact, hadn’t he even mentioned that it’d be more relaxing for you to work in a quieter space than at school? Plus, his weird attempt at trying to calm your nerves with the fidget spinner in his car before that...

Shit, maybe he is just trying to be nice. Maybe this really was just about making sure you were comfortable.

But if it wasn’t… Because somehow, it was hard to believe that Rafe Cameron gave a damn about you… especially after just two days of barely getting to know each other.

So, if you had accepted and the whole thing would've turned out to be a setup for a hookup, then that would've seriously been the end of you. You’d panic, probably overreact, and make things painfully awkward—or worse, you’d go along with it out of some stupid fear of looking like a clueless virgin and blowing your unrealistic shot with him.

Just thinking of the idea of having your first time with Rafe Cameron, embarrassing yourself in the process, and—OH GOD.

This was all so… UGH.

You pulled out your keys and stepped into the house, stomach twisting uncomfortably. Your parents were both busy with work, so you made a beeline for your room and collapsed onto your bed.

But isn’t this what I’ve always wanted? Some kind of connection with him, no matter how.

You frowned.

No. Not like this.

Maybe—okay, definitely—you were spiraling, overthinking everything, and projecting ideas onto him that weren’t even real. Because the truth was, Rafe wasn’t even a fuckboy. You knew that. Yeah, every now and then he was seen leaving a party with a girl, but normally, he'd spend the night with Kelce, Topper, and some other guys in some back room, doing coke or other stupid boy stuff.

Great. Now you felt like shit for having completely overreacted. You’d shoved the poor guy into a box and immediately assumed he was just trying to sleep with you.

Which was so stupid—and totally contradicted what you’d been thinking before: that he didn’t want anything to do with you at all.

What the hell is wrong with me?

You buried your face in a pillow and let out a frustrated groan. Your brain had been running at full speed for the past two days. Cara was right. You were overthinking—just in the opposite direction this time.

And yet… you still didn’t know Rafe’s real intentions and the fear of the unknown was too overwhelming for you to just take that risk.

That’s why earlier you had simply smiled and said, "That’s really nice, the invite, I mean, but I already made plans with Cara tomorrow afternoon to help her clean out her closet and I have no idea how long that’ll take. Besides, it’s your family-free evening—wouldn’t want you wasting that on a school project."

It was a lie. You hadn't have planned anything with Cara but what else were you supposed to say?

On the first glimpse, Rafe had actually taken it better than you'd expected. He had just shrugged and said, "Okay. Guess you're not as much of a nerd as I thought."

You’d given him another nervous smile, and that was it. The topic was closed, and you both went back to working.

But you knew better.

Your whole life, you’d been hyper-aware of the smallest details around you—how someone looked at you, how they reacted, how they spoke, whether they were actually listening, how they behaved after an interaction, the way they smiled—did it reach their eyes or not?

In short, you noticed everything.

And when it came to Rafe, your brain was running on overdrive because that guy? He was a fucking thousand-sided Rubix cube.

Even though he often said unfiltered things without a second thought, his body language always told a much bigger story. That much you had learned in the last two days.

Which was why you had definitely caught the slight hesitation, the barely-there crease of his brows before he had responded. And in that split second, you knew—he hadn’t liked getting turned down.

Rafe Cameron had an ego. A big one. That much was obvious. And someone like him didn’t take it well when things didn’t go his way—whatever his true intentions with that invitation had been.

So it hadn’t surprised you when he sat a little farther from you after coming back from the bathroom, sinking deeper into the couch with his arms crossed. When his answers and input on the project became noticeably shorter, when his eyes drifted to his phone more often, his leg bouncing slightly, or when that effortless charm—the kind you’d assumed was just second nature to him—suddenly felt replaced by a forced, detached sense of cooperation.

Simply put, he probably wasn’t used to rejection. And you had pissed him off.

If it had been Cara or any of your other friends, you would have said something—you hated dealing with that kind of tension. But Rafe wasn’t a close friend, nor was he anywhere near the phase of becoming one.

So, you had endured the rest of the hour with spinning thoughts and felt nothing but relief when he had finally called it a day.

When you walked with Rafe to the porch to say goodbye to Kelce and Topper, you politely declined when Kelce asked if you wanted to stay longer. Said something along the lines of you not being Rafe’s "little nerd bitch" or some shit like that and that the invitation to his place also included you actually hanging out with them.

Whatever that was supposed to mean.

Not that it mattered. You didn’t care about Kelce. It was the way Rafe had simply given you a nod for a goodbye that had left a bitter taste in your mouth.

And maybe it was in that moment—or rather, in the lack of his usual energy—that you'd realized this was how he treated people who meant absolutely nothing to him.

This, in turn, had sent you spiraling into the worst overthinking session of your life because—WHAT THE HELL DID RAFE CAMERON EVEN WANT?

A good grade? Someone to carry him through art class? A new friends-with-benefits-girlie he would drop after two weeks? A one-time hookup? A harmless friendship? Just the thrill of throwing you off your game?

A relationship was out of the question—he had never shown any interest in that during all his years at Kildare Academy. Every girl who had ever gotten involved with him knew that.

So, be for fucking real, what the hell did he want from you?

You wanted to text him right then and there. Hey, so, um, I’ve had a crush on you since fifth grade haha, and now that we’ve actually spent some time together, I keep getting these weird-ass signals from you hahahahha, soooo… what the actual fuck is your problem?

You squinted your eyes in embarrassment and ran your hands over your face in frustration.

Cara would do it, you thought. She’d write the damn text—or hell, even send a voice memo or call him outright. She hated mixed signals with a passion, and something like this, no matter how small, was the kind of thing she wouldn’t just let slide.

Shit. You know what? Why not? Huh? Why shouldn’t I do the same?

Your fingers were already pulling up your phone, hovering over Rafe’s chat. But then you hesitated. Aside from the fact that this was a total impulse move, what the hell were you even supposed to say?

Realistically.

Because no matter how you'd phrase it, bringing up weird vibes after just two days would make you sound like some kind of psycho.

Who the hell does that?

Fuck, but why was this messing with your head so much? Why did it bother you so damn much that he’d acted even slightly different? Sure, yeah, you had a crush on him but why were his mood swings affecting you like crazy?

Okay. Relax. Seriously.

Maybe you should text him something else first—just to test the waters. See if he really was being distant, or if you were just spiraling over nothing.

Yeah. Yeah! That sounded like a plan (not a good one but if you didn't do anything you'd go crazy in the next few hours).

And the moment you hit send, all the courage and impulsiveness drained from your body in an instant.

What was Rafe going to think…? Not even an hour had passed since you'd said goodbye, and here you were texting him?

Plus, the text itself sounded so... FUCKING FAKE OH MY HOLY SHIT, UGH THIS WASN'T YOU.

FUCKING HELL, this was so embarrassing. He definitely thinks I’m absolutely desperate for him now. Okay, maybe I can still delete the message before he—

Oh.

Your heart sank straight through the floor, and you suddenly wanted to crawl under your blanket and never see the light of day again.

So he really was annoyed in some way.

Okay, okay, no big deal, everything’s fine, it's all good hahahahah.

Except your pulse was racing, and your thoughts were spiraling. That one SpongeBob meme with the burning brain and all the little panicked SpongeBobs running around? That was exactly what was happening in your head right now.

Frantically, you started typing your next message.

The worst part about this whole situation wasn’t this absolutely terrible fake-ass message that made you look even more desperate and needy after his half-assed reply. It wasn’t even the fact that he had read it immediately. Nope—what really did it was the fact that, despite having read it right away, he didn’t respond for the next thirty minutes. And not even in the thirty afterward.

And that was the final blow for today. Completely embarrassed and feeling sick to your stomach, you shut off your phone, buried yourself under your blanket, put on your headphones, and let some random Netflix garbage play in the background. You didn't even bother texting Cara because of how horrible you felt.

Because the truly humiliating part? A tiny part in you, probably your stupid 11-year-old-self, had actually believed, for even a second, that there was some kind of spark between you and Rafe—that maybe, just maybe, he had seen something in the quiet girl who sat on the sidelines in class and at parties.

And even worse? The fact you were reacting this intensely to an absolutely non-intense situation. After. Two. Fucking. Days.

But deep down, it wasn’t just about this one moment. It was the disappointment of having been into Rafe for years, finally getting to interact with him for real, and then not getting to live out the before-bedtime scenario that had played out in your head so many times before.

Or maybe it was simply that his reaction had pretty much confirmed what you were trying not to admit: If he had wanted anything from you at all, it was probably something shallow. And your refusal to come over tomorrow had bruised his ego.

Whatever. Screw this. Screw Rafe, his stupid comments, his smug little grin—screw all of it.

You turned up the volume of the movie, trying in vain to drown out your spiraling thoughts. But your mind was a curse and you couldn’t stop wondering what Rafe actually thought of you.

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"And now she suddenly wants to meet up again," Rafe said, squinting irritated at your last message. "After bailing on tomorrow. No clue what kind of bullshit this is."

Topper tilted his head. "Thought she just didn’t have time?"

"Yeah, sure. Because she has to help her friend clean out her closet." Rafe scoffed, exhaling annoyed as he let his phone drop onto the porch couch. "I know bullshit excuses when I hear them. Sarah pulls the same crap all the time when she doesn’t feel like helping Rose out."

Kelce nearly choked on a hit from his hookah. "I don’t know, man, sounds to me like big bad Rafe Cameron just can’t handle getting curved for once."

Rafe’s brows furrowed. "Keep your fucking mouth shut. The only girls you pull are the ones too drunk to recognize your ugly ass." He crossed his arms, shaking his head. "This is some bullshit. I just wanted to get this fucking project done and now it's getting dragged out even more."

"Oh, of course," Kelce smirked, winking. "It's just about the project. It’s fine, bro, you can admit she’s a cute chick."

Topper nodded. "Yeah, she seems nice. Really quiet but not in a bad way, you know?"

"And?" Rafe pulled a face. "She called Kelce ‘nice’ too but we both know he’s a shitface."

This time, Kelce actually choked on the hookah smoke. "She did?"

"I’m just saying, she’s not loud and all over you like the girls that you usually hang out with", Topper replied, scratching his chin. "I also don't remember her ever being involved in any weird girl drama."

Rafe let out a dry laugh. "Nah, the way she acts sometimes? Makes me think I'm talking to two different people. One moment she's all shy and anxious and the next she's got this big ass attitude like she's on some Two-Face type shit."

"Oh, I bet she's a freak under all that shy girl exterior", Kelce said, grinning, but the other two ignored him.

"So, you're weirded out because she got a ... personality?" Topper asked and shook his head as if he couldn’t quite keep up. "Not everyone's as upfront with their self as Kelce, you know."

Rafe crossed his arms behind his head, already annoyed by this whole conversation. He didn’t even know why he was talking to these two idiots about you in the first place.

"I'm just pissed off at whatever bullshit she has suddenly going on", he said.

Topper raised an eyebrow. "Okay but why didn't you call her out immediately?"

"Yeah", Kelce chimed in. "Always talking big and now you puss out."

Rafe narrowed his eyes like he was debating whether to deck Kelce or let his bullshit slide. "Because I need this stupid project to work out." Rafe shook his head, his expression twisting slightly, feeling weirded out by this whole conversation. "And 'cause she’s always so fucking tense and nervous like I'm holding her at gunpoint. Shit's annoying as fuck."

He scoffed but he couldn't shake the feeling that you were indeed throwing him off in some weird inexplicable way. And sometimes your cautious behavior reminded him of Wheezie which somehow made your nervousness feel familiar.

"Sounds like she’s pissed she got stuck with you as a partner, bro", Kelce said, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. "Probably figured out you’re just hanging on her ass to pass the class."

For some reason, that pissed Rafe off more than it should have but before he could snap back, Topper cut in. "I think you’re just overwhelming her."

Both Rafe and Kelce turned to him with matching confused stares.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Rafe pulled a face.

Topper shrugged. "Bringing her straight here, you know… I mean Kelce alone is already a lot and maybe this was just moving too fast for her, I don't know. She doesn't seem the type to hang out with guys a lot."

"Moving too fast—Topper, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"I’m just saying—"

"She thinks you're trying to get into her pants", Kelce explained.

This time, it was Topper who pulled a face. "No! That’s not—"

"Okay," Rafe cut him off, rubbing his nose in irritation. "Both of you shut the fuck up. Neither of you knows shit."

Kelce smirked. "Aww, sounds like she's messing with your head."

That was enough. Rafe would’ve loved nothing more than to slam his fist into Kelce’s face right then and there but instead he stood up, grabbing his keys. "Okay, heard enough bullshit from you today."

Kelce just waved after him. "See you tomorrow, bro."

And yet, as much as that conversation with the two biggest idiots on Earth had irritated Rafe, it had also made him think. Which was a damn weird feeling because normally, he didn’t waste a second thought on stuff like this—or better yet, on any girl.

Especially not one who'd never really caught his attention in all the years at Kildare Academy. Sure, somewhere in the back of his mind, his subconscious had probably registered your presence. He knew you existed—your last name was recognizable, after all.

But as a person? You were more of a fleeting thought, like Oh shit, she actually talks? whenever you spoke up in class every few weeks, or Huh, guess she has a personality, when you were tipsy on some random couch, laughing loudly with your friend at a party.

But that was about it. Rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to waste brainpower on what he saw as background characters who occasionally made noise. And besides, he wasn’t exactly drawn to what appeared like boredom.

So, at first, he was actually kind of annoyed when Mr. Smith paired him up with the quiet girl. Because, yeah—as his graduation forecast had made clear, Art might be his ticket to scraping by in high school, but how the hell was he supposed to pull that off if his partner was basically a mute rock?

On top of that, you seemed like a total nerd, and he figured if you realized he wasn’t going to put in any effort, you’d rat him out. That would be the end of his diploma, meaning his dad would be horribly disappointed and that was something Rafe was trying his hardest to avoid. No way in hell would he allow Sarah to be the family's favorite.

So, he was determined to get this project over with as fast and as well done as possible. First day, straight to work, setting the base for this shitty project, sticking to your side to make you believe he was trying to put in effort. That had to be the way to impress someone like you, right?

Yeah, he’d expected your first lunch together to end in painfully awkward silence—the kind that would have him wanting to put a bullet in his head from sheer boredom.

He'd been wrong.

Sure, at first, he’d had to push things along but with a shy girl like you that was to be expected. What he hadn’t predicted was how blunt you were without you even realizing it. And the absolute crazy part? If Kelce, Topper, that bitch Ruthie, or literally anyone else said the things you did, it would made his blood boil.

But somehow, with you, it didn’t feel like ... you were mocking or judging him or some shit like that. Your honesty surprised him so much that most of the time he was too amused to seriously confront you about it.

In fact, Rafe found it oddly refreshing.

On top of that, he was used to people sucking up to him, trying to get on his good side because of his dad, or going out of their way to impress him. And why wouldn’t they? He was a fucking Cameron. But you? No clue what was wrong with you but you acted like you were trying to do the exact opposite.

You didn’t try to grab his attention. Most of the time you didn’t just sit there when he ran his mouth. You didn’t kiss his ass with over-the-top compliments or ask about the family business with that fake, polite bullshit—no, you had actually asked him how he was doing today.

Right after he'd asked you to wait in the car when that fucking idiot Scott had shown up, trying to buy a bag of coke. Rafe had nearly slammed him against the damn car—because how fucking stupid could you be, doing that on school grounds? Afterward, he’d been pissed. But instead of teasing him about it or lecturing him about his attitude like his dad would have, you’d just… asked if he was okay.

And the worst part? You actually seemed like you'd meant it.

For a split second, Rafe had even considered venting on how much everything pissed him off. Not just the jerk Scott, no fucking everything that had been on his mind in the past few weeks. Shit, he was glad he'd held back because what made him even consider it?

The fact, you'd somehow given him the feeling of not being judged??? The fuck. Shit, he'd probably sniffed a line too much last weekend because this was fucking crazy.

That would also explain why he had been so tense today. Like when it had pissed him off when Kelce had been drooling over you today. Or when Topper had started sucking up to you—probably just hoping to get another shot with your best friend through you but still, somehow Rafe had to try even harder to hold back his temper than usual.

Shit, up until now, he hadn’t given a single fuck about you. But this? Whatever the hell had flipped in his brain after Kelce had opened his mouth when he first spotted you two... it was messing with him.

And why he had asked you so insistently about Kelce earlier? Rafe had no fucking idea. All he knew was that it bugged him when you'd changed the subject instead of giving him a straight answer.

Oh, and then you had the nerve to turn down his invitation to continue this stupid project tomorrow at his place—with some cheap-ass excuse? Holy shit, that had really pissed him off.

Rafe couldn’t afford to screw up this project though, or he would’ve called you out on it right then and there. Because why the fuck would you say no—unless you actually couldn’t stand him?

Or was that idiot Topper right? Was Rafe being too overwhelming or some shit like that? Of course, he had noticed that you seemed to spend a lot of time in your own head—Wheezie was like that and it wasn't always for the better. So, was there a possibility that you were overthinking his invitation like you had with the whole coming-over-to-Kelce situation?

The thought made him scowl.

Silently, Rafe pulled his Mercedes into the Tannyhill garage and shut off the engine, his fingers drumming relentlessly on the steering wheel.

What Kelce had said came back into his mind and his mood went down through the floor. Rafe knew that idiot didn't know shit and he'd just been running his mouth as usual and yet it messed with Rafe's head.

But did you actually think he was trying to get in your pants?

Sure, he wasn’t gonna lie—you were pretty to look at. But Rafe wasn’t some horny dog trying to shove his dick up the ass of every random girl he met. And he'd thought he'd made that very clear. In fact, just yesterday at lunch, you'd also made it very clear you did NOT think of him like that.

So what the fuck was your problem?

Pissed off, Rafe picked up his phone from the middle console, eyeing your last text message. You wanted to meet up again on Thursday. The fuck? Was this some kind of fucked up power move? Turning him down, so he could be the one to dance to your bidding?

Nah. Fuck that.

He started typing.

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

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[hansolen-archive]

beneath the light of a neon moon

꩜ pairing ⇾ beast!dazai x reader

꩜ word count ⇾ 3.5k

꩜ summary ⇾ this is basically just dazai being a wet cat and unable to understand yet overanalyzing his attachment towards you through all the world’s that exist in the book. he’s just a lil weird about it.

꩜ author’s note ⇾ i missed him. there’s no other explanation. beast dazai needs more love 💔 i think dazai having beef with himself through all the worlds is very real and very true. this is nothing but the outcome of the visions that plagued me.

꩜ cw ⇾ slight yandere vibes i won’t lie.. but c’mon it’s dazai so that’s to be expected. some possesive behaviour might come up. slight spoilers for beast if you haven’t finished the ln/manga/movie, though nothing too major. if anything else needs to be tagged lmk!

ability description — the reader’s ability stays active 24/7 and it does take a toll on her. while i haven’t gone into too much detail of what it really does (maybe more in the future, since i have a lot of ideas for it lol) but the ability holds a similarity to that of arahabaki — it too is an entity. not really a god but something more sinister. reader is basically a concious host of that entity which lays dormant.

If Nakahara Chuuya — one of the top most executives of the Port Mafia, is called the left hand of the boss; then it goes without saying that you are the right hand. Just as scary, sometimes even worse. 

If Chuuya is the hurricane that destroys towns after towns with its howling whirlwinds, then you are the tsunami that envelopes everyone entirely. Once and for all — like an oppressive silence. And yet it’s commonly accepted that destruction is prevalent regardless of which hand the boss chooses to use. 

Everyone knows that the hands of the devil reach far and wide. Must be nice having two vessels of otherworldly entities on the tips of his fingers, they all murmur. And yet no one seems to mention how hard it is to actually maintain them, Dazai can’t help but think to himself.

Everyone in Yokohama can see the large and daunting building from wherever they stand, yet no one glances at it twice as they go through their day. A wise choice, by most. It’s sleek and definitely suspicious, neither the civilians nor the government officials ever directly mention it — in public, that is. Hushed whispers can only be so silent.

The boss of the Port Mafia resides at the top most floor of the main building. Anyone who has ever had the (dis)pleasure of being called up, for whatever reason it may be, knows for a fact that the silence on that floor is deafening. Except for when a certain red haired executive comes around, then one can hear bickering reach far and wide. But that wasn’t always the case, much like today.  

The only sound that could be heard along the entire floor was that of your heals clicking against the cold marble tiles. After two knocks against the large doors, you enter Dazai’s office. You hand him the papers — strict and professional, like you ought to be. You’re a sub-executive afterall. By your own choice, of course. You had been offered the executive position far too many times, and yet you always declined. Harshly too, much to Chuuya’s disdain. 

He was unable to comprehend it the first few times, and he even tried to knock some sense into you. He wanted you to understand that you were far too deep into this side of the world to continue thinking that you couldn’t cross a ‘certain’ line. You shouldn’t keep trying to balance your way as you continue to stride on the thin thread that separates the civilian world from the mafia one. You’re in too deep, and have done too much to continue acting as though you have a way out. 

But your only response was a soft hum, which frustrated him even further. Perhaps more at himself than at you. You both were well aware that neither of you ever had a choice, no matter what the circumstances may be. No matter which road you chose, the destination always ended up here.

Although if Dazai willed it, you would be given the executive title in a minute. Whether you wanted it or not. Instead, he allows you to relish in the feeling of being able to make a choice. Some part of him, deep inside his fucked up sense of self — tainted by the shades of blood and things far darker — he almost feels like he owes this to you, at the very least. Even if it’s just for the sake of maintaining what remains of your moral integrity — your sanity, even.

Not that it changes much, you already perform all the executive duties as far as protocol is considered. Including being present in the meetings, guiding troops and having your own faction within the Port Mafia. It’s generally accepted by the entire organisation that you are equal to the executives, if not something more — to the boss, that is. 

Dazai allows you to have a feeling of distance from the work that you do, the lives that you take, the sins that he makes you commit. Letting you wallow in the false sense of security that you could choose to step away any time. Somehow it leaves you a little sane and gives him a little more room to play with. Afterall, no one would enjoy a completely broken doll. 

He enjoys humouring you from time to time. As if this whole play wasn’t written by him. As though he hadn’t willed every single interaction on this path into motion. As if he wasn’t the devil’s advocate, whispering the sins you were to commit with his hypnotising voice. 

He needed you with him on this path. It was all for the plan he had threaded together, he tried to convince himself.

The plan, yes. But Dazai is well aware that isn’t entirely true. And sometimes, a paranoid part of him thinks that you do too. Know for a fact that more than any of the plans — he did this for himself. He brought you and caged you into this world carved out of sin just for his own selfish reasons.

Not for Oda, not for the book, not for the sustenance of the world or any of those idealistic reasons — but for himself. Afterall, he was never an idealistic man to begin with. He was just a boy when it all started. A boy who had given up far too much and for once, wanted something for himself. He wanted you.

And so he did. He kept you. Weaved you into his spiderweb of grand plans. He often thinks back to how he knew everything there was to know about you, before he even got the chance to meet you for the first time. There you stood under the cold harsh lighting of that deserted old lab. He remembers how the flashes of his other lives played all at once. It almost felt as though he was reliving the memories through the sparks of light.

It was making him sick. Being able to witness in such excruciating detail of how he got to hold you so tenderly, in those worlds from the book. It made him feel intense emotions that he couldn’t even begin to describe. All he could do was just glance at those memories that were undoubtedly his own — and yet felt like he was watching them dance through the other side of a glass door. They’re all so painfully clear and yet there is a huge barrier in between.

Dazai has always been well aware that he never should have brought you into this. He knows that he shouldn’t have tried to find some sort of replica of the emotions he felt, as he replayed all his other lives. But he just couldn’t help it. He has to keep you alongside him. Hadn’t he sacrificed enough in this life? You’ve been so good to all the other versions of him, can’t you treat him the same in this one? You’ll forgive him, right? You love him, right?

You have to. There’s no other way out.

𓇚

Dazai’s mind undoubtedly wanders back to the first time you fainted from his touch. He knew it was going to happen — saw it as a staple part of you both meeting in all those worlds from the book. 

He knew what was to come if he were to let his rough bandaged palm even slightly graze your warm one. You’d faint. Like you had in all the other worlds, of which he carried the heavy weight. Those memories all helped him create acute plans for this world. Yet, the ones that he cherished the most, the memories that weren’t a heavy burden to carry but instead some sort of salvation — the ones he replayed over and over again like a broken record in hopes to reach some sort of comfort — were the memories he shared with you. 

In every world, your first meeting was something special, he kept those memories safely. Back when he was younger and the light in his eyes had not yet been entirely consumed — he used to find himself wondering how you both would meet in this world. How differently would it play out? It helped him distract himself from his surroundings and the heavy responsibilities. Those memories often flooded his mind as he gazed into nothing. In all of them, you always fainted when he first touched you. And after that too. 

But, in all his other lives, it lessened over time, and eventually the fainting stopped. “It feels rather relaxing,” you had once said to him — in the original world. To the original version of him.

“It feels as though The Presence subdues for a bit, as if it were never there. Continue holding me like this, won't you?” you spoke to him so gently as you both layed on top of each other with his trenchcoat covering the both of you. It held so much comfort and warmth, like it was just you both in this world, rest all be damned. Dazai wished that adoration was directed to him and not the man of origin.

His heart aches at the thought. What could he do for you to talk to him the same in this world too? What would it take? 

In all the other worlds — with time, you ended up building some sort of immunity, or rather you got used to his touch and even craved it. In every single world. Every world of the book, but this one.

You never seemed to have gotten used to his touch in this world. You still fainted. Every. Single. Time. 

𓇚

Dazai hates it. He’s well aware of the fact that this world is special — after all it’s the only one where Oda ends up living. It’s a world that has been handcrafted by him alone. Each and every thread has been woven with a purpose in mind. Each action has a motive behind it. Which is exactly why he needs to sustain it. Yet he can’t help it — the jealousy that fumes within him. Jealous of himself? Such a stupid reason. He knows that and yet—

“Boss, here’s the report of on the foreign mercenary group that recently surged up, as you requested. I have sent my men to look through their abandoned hideout, although I’m sure you can already imagine the outcome.” you say as you hand him the files.

Dazai doesn’t quite understand why you continue to put up the professional facade when it’s just the two of you here. Yet, he decides to humour you.

He glances at files with mild disinterest, and then at your hand. A thought occurs in his head — among many others. It’s indulgent. Entirely so. You will not enjoy it one bit. And yet he’s also well aware of his track record of never really listening to what you want. He knows this will hamper a few upcoming tasks and meetings. But when has he ever given a damn about those? And so he decides to indulge himself. He takes the report from your hands in a smooth motion and accidentally brushes the tips of his fingers against yours.

It’s a brief touch, and it all happens in the flash of a second. You noticed it, he realises. You saw his intent building up and yet you still offered to hand him the files rather than just placing them on his desk. 

His ability is always active, as is yours. You lose consciousness in seconds.

And you fall.

Right into his arms, like he planned you would. He glances at your face, there’s a serene glow emanating from you. Something about you is always pulling him in. He’s well aware of how you both are so intervened in each other’s lives that perhaps it was fated. Maybe he’s not entirely to blame for everything, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on his part.

You look so relaxed like this, he thinks as he adjusts the both of you so that you can lay down in a more comfortable position. It’s often underestimated how tiring it must be to have the ability active at all times, especially one that is as draining as yours.

Perhaps, this could be an escape for you as well. Laying with him as both of your breathing falls into sync with one another. Or maybe he’s just cheating and controlling his heartbeat as he tries to come up with some valid excuse as to why he gave into his impulse. All while he continues to trace your face with his thumb. It’s a gentle motion, making sure to not disturb your slumber, though he doubts you’ll wake up from it. Your track record shows that you’ll usually be knocked out for the better half of the day.

The expression on your face is something he wishes to dissect. You look as though you’re in some dream far away from here. He wonders where you go when you lose consciousness. Will you ever take him with you? Doesn’t matter. He will follow you just the same. 

Dazai can’t help but wonder what you would do if you found out about other worlds. Worlds where you weren’t led to such a life. Where he didn’t turn you into a weapon for his own motives. Would you hate him for it? When you are made to face all the other versions of you — the much happier, and brighter versions. Where in the light from your eyes hasn’t been entirely extinguished yet. 

Dazai fears that you already know. Can’t help it when you both hold eye contact during brief meetings. At times he catches a glimpse of the space — somewhere in there — that he cannot reach. They often say that the devil’s arms reach far and wide, and yet he can’t help but feel there’s a large distance that he alone can’t cover, in his quest to reach you. (Dazai also knows that he is no devil. It has alwaye just been a title that was handed to him. He wonders if you know that, too.)

Afterall, you, too, have the look of someone who is hiding something. He understands the expression well enough — he has to meets those eyes every day in the mirror.

𓇚

That’s one of the many reasons he prefers you like this. With your eyes closed and breathing steady. You don’t give him the all knowing gaze, that you usually carry. He gets to hold you close, without it eating him up from the inside. Some sick part of him likes having this power over you. Being able to hold it above your head any time he likes. He would never use it against you though. Not really.

Your breathing is rhythmic. A constant motion. He has memorised your breathing pattern over the years. To the point where it’s almost comforting to listen to it. Almost.

His hand hovers from your cheeks to sliding right at the base of your neck. Something swells inside of him. Something sinister. He can’t help but feel a little drunk. Drunk over the control he has over you right now — your life. He can continue to feel as guilty as he likes, but it’s no secret what exactly he’s guilty of.

Dazai gently steadies your head and moves it so that it’s resting on his chest. He then tries to bring his focus back to the papers that continue to lay on his desk, and then glances at the ones that fell on the floor. Lord knows how much that slug would nag him if he didn’t finish reading these by now. So annoying.

He tries to push his focus on reading them, but the comfort of having you so close against him is really distracting. It’s contrasting, really, how your body spreads such warmth against his cold one. Like a single candlelight that continues to glow in the cold stark night.

You both should do this more often, he thinks. Though you might end up hating him for it. But that won’t be an issue in the near future, considering what’s to come — the plans written in the book.

What will be an issue is Chuuya barging through the black doors and seeing you both in such a precarious position — then he might proceed to quite literally kill Dazai. No matter if he’s the boss of the Port Mafia or not.

Afterall, Chuuya is probably the closest companion you have in this world. You both make sure to look out for one another as much as you can. It’s almost as if you both have this air of understanding, that Dazai often feels disconnected from. 

Is it because you both are vessels? Or because he uses you both similarly and keeps you both on leashes? Or is it some form of familial bonding that his emotional nerve receptors are far too fused out to understand? 

Dazai doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that you don’t necessarily hate him. That you never did. He doesn’t know that you let him do as he wills. He doesn’t know that no matter how much he thinks of himself as the ‘mastermind’ it’s you who handed him the reins. The one that held the other end of the leash that was hung on your neck and placed it right into the palm of his hands.

𓇚

“Men will be men,” The lady in the white lab coat had once said to you. 

“They shall always believe that they were the ones who invented the wheel. They shall always come close to calling themselves ‘creators’ of it all. They do not understand.”

Neither did you, back then. All you could really remember were the sparks she sent flying towards you — no mercy.

To those people in the lab coats that stood behind the glass — observing you like you were some lab rat and noted down the reactions your body gave out cynically — you weren’t some kid. Not some seven year old that probably should’ve been playing in park with kids her age or discussing the latest episode of some show that always aired at six in the evening.

No, you were just a vessel. A means to an end. That’s all you were as they watched you writhing through the glass, taking in the after effects of the electricity coursing through your veins. Sometimes, you still feel the sparks travelling through your body and the night repeats. This time — it’s in your head. Yet it hurts all the same.

But what that lady didn’t understand was that Dazai was no man. He never felt like one, at the very least. No matter how many masks he puts on to fill in the gaps of self — that one hollow part of him never fills up. He’s afraid it never will.

He never felt connected to those around him — to humanity. The best he could have had was Oda, and he didn’t exactly get to experience that in this world. So, as a self preserving tactic, he tries to form some scrappy sense of comfort with what's left for him and take it from you instead. Some part of him felt like you know this too, and let it happen.

In some wild way it’s fitting, he thinks. It makes sense that this world was meant to be special. It’s the only one where Oda will be able to continue living and eventually write that novel. It’s the only one where Dazai will finally fulfill his long running wish. It only makes sense that there are innumerable amount of exceptions.

Not only are the shin-soukoku switched and roles have been exceptionally reversed, new anomalies continue to rise up as days go by. That’s part of the reason why he decided to make you part of the Port Mafia. To deal with those anomalies efficiently, since your ability was perfect to cut through them all. 

𓇚

If anyone were to barge in right now, they would be greeted with an extremely bizzare sight. The boss of Port Mafia, one of — if not the most feared man in Yokohama — gazing gently at you as his dark figure envelopes you completely. In some humourous way it almost looks like a black cat holding it’s prey close, making sure it doesn’t get snatched.

He likes it, he supposes. The way you look so serene in the low lighting of his office. How your head rests right next to his bandaged heart. He adores the way you your lips settle into a soft pout in your sleep. You seem much more honest with your expressions when you’re asleep than when you’re awake. You look so inviting, he just can’t help himself.

He’s in too deep — you’ve had to have put him under a spell of sorts. There’s no other logical explanation to the way you’ve made him do such illogical things. How could you have reduced him of all people — the demon prodigy and Mori’s successor into such a state? Since he was a child logic has been drilled into his very bones. Every strategy and it’s counter. The side of him that was built to be made a mafiaso has always been rational.

What he failed to take into account is that to you he’s just — Dazai. There’s no other valid explanation to how you’ve enamoured and caged his heart in the tender embrace of your palms, in every single world of the book.

So he gives in, he lets himself fall. He leans down to place a soft kiss onto your lips. With as much gentleness as he can muster up — given his disposition. It was supposed to be nothing more than a soft peck. What he didn’t see coming was how as your eyes began to flutter open and how you kissed him back.

© hansolen do not translate or repost anywhere else. reblogs n comments appreciated 💌

[self-spaghettification]

YIPPEE

*screams*

[simplygojo]

Friend-Of-A-Friend ⸺ Chapter Two

author's note ⸺ Hello all! Tysm on all the love and support you've given me on just the teaser!! I have begun the series taglist as well (at end of fic) and if you'd like to be added, please comment so I can add you :) pairing ⸺ Suguru Geto x Reader content ⸺ platonic-bestie!gojo, corporate-worker!reader, slight tension, studying mentioned, modern au, reader uses female pronouns, this is an 18+ series - mdni divider credit: @/toastray ୨୧ art credit: @/juziluohai

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Morning meetings were always the worst.

Your eyes flicked between the PowerPoint presentation on your laptop and the clock in the bottom corner of the screen. 10:17 AM. Barely past mid-morning, and already your inbox was overflowing, a steady stream of tasks waiting to be tackled. 

Your manager was droning on about Q2 projections, but you weren’t really listening—your mind was elsewhere.

More specifically, back to Geto’s message.

You had responded, the plans had been loosely set in motion, but ever since then… nothing. 

No follow-up text. No details. No confirmation. It wasn’t like you were expecting Geto to flood your notifications—he didn’t seem like the type—but still, there was an odd weight to the silence. Like something unsaid was hanging in the air, waiting.

Your phone, face down on your desk, was an itch you couldn’t scratch. Every so often, between emails and reports, you found yourself flipping it over, just to check. 

No new messages. No notifications. Just the same boring reality of your corporate grind.

You sighed, refocusing on your laptop screen. 

Work first, overanalyzing later.

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

By the time the workday finally dragged itself to a close, you were exhausted.

The kind of exhaustion that settled behind your eyes, heavy and dull. 

You trudged back to your apartment, shedding your coat as soon as you stepped through the door, kicking off your shoes like they were the final obstacle standing between you and sweet relief.

Your phone buzzed as you collapsed onto the couch. For a fleeting second, your stomach twisted in anticipation—only for it to immediately unravel when you saw the name on the screen.

Gojo.

You exhaled through your nose, a half-smile tugging at your lips as you answered.

“What, do y’have a sixth sense for when I get home?”

“Obviously,” Gojo said, his voice light with amusement. “I told you, I’m always watching.”

“Gross.”

“You’re gross.”

This was routine by now—Gojo calling you at random times throughout the week, sometimes to tell you about his day, sometimes just to be annoying. You never really minded.

“So,” he drawled, “how’s the thrilling life of a corporate drone? Please, tell me in excruciating detail about your latest battle with Excel.”

“Oh, you know, just living the dream,” you said, stretching your legs out. “Emails. Meetings. Staring at spreadsheets until my vision blurs.”

“Riveting.”

“You know it.”

He chuckled. “Well, you got a busy week ahead, or what?”

The question was casual, barely even a thought, but before you could think better of it, you answered honestly.

“Not really. Just work. Oh, uh—actually, I’m meeting up with Geto sometime this week.”

Silence.

“…Gojo?”

A sharp inhale on the other end. Then, suddenly—

“This guy’s working in the shadows.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“Oh my god.” His tone was deadly serious, but you could practically hear the grin behind it. “I had no idea…He’s been playing the long game. Years of silence, and now—bam. He’s got you exactly where he wants you.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“I knew it. I knew he was too smooth, too strategic—”

“Gojo, stop.”

“—waiting, biding his time, and then when I least expect it, he makes his move.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “This is why I don’t tell you things. There are no moves being made.”

Gojo laughed, full and delighted, like this was the funniest thing to happen all week. You could imagine him now—probably stretched out on his couch—taking up too much space, grinning like an idiot.

“In all seriousness, though,” he said, still sounding far too amused, “what’s up with that? Since when do you and Geto make plans?”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around your phone. “I don’t know. He just texted me out of nowhere. Said he was 'working in my area now' and wanted to catch up.”

A pause. Barely a second, but you caught it.

Then—Gojo sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Oof. Wow.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Nah, nothing. It’s just—you ever watch a nature documentary?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“You know, like, those ones where the predator stalks its prey for ages before it finally pounces?”

“…Gojo.”

He let out a long, dramatic sigh. “It’s just crazy. I always thought Geto was a patient guy, but this? This is another level. He’s been lurking in the tall grass for years, and now that the timing is right? Bam. He strikes.”

You groaned. “Oh my god.”

“No, no, I respect it,” he continued, completely ignoring you. “It’s a slow-burn strategy. Like, why rush when you can let the tension marinate, y’know?”

“There’s no tension. Or—ew—marinating. Why are you like this? ”

“Mm.” He made a noncommittal noise. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Because I dunno,” he mused, “feels like a little tension. Maybe a tiny bit. A smidge. A sprinkle.”

“Gojo.”

“There was definitely a little spark back in university,” he said, far too casually.

You scoffed. “Huh? No, there wasn’t. We barely even spoke.”

Gojo let out an incredulous laugh. “Were we even in the same room? You two had vibes.”

“You’re such a liar.”

“I’m an eyewitness, actually,” he corrected, as if that made it any better. “And what I ‘eye-witnessed’ was undeniable tension.”

“You 'eye-witnessed' nothing.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “This is why I don’t tell you things.”

“I think it’s great, honestly,” he continued, undeterred. 

“You guys should totally bond. Maybe do one of those, I dunno, deep and meaningful heart-to-hearts. Oh! Maybe a romantic little dinner. Candlelight. Soft music. He reaches across the table to hold your hand—”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“No, wait! Wait, what are you wearing?”

You froze. “What the fuck?”

“For the meetup, duh.” He sounded way too amused. “Gotta dress for the occasion.”

You groaned so loudly it was nearly a scream, and Gojo lost it, laughing so hard you heard something clatter in the background.

“God, you make this too easy,” he wheezed.

“You’re the worst.”

You were going to regret telling him about this forever.

Before you could dwell on it too much, Gojo spoke again. “Well, I, for one, fully support this development. As long as you keep me updated.”

You snorted. “Yeah, because that’ll happen.”

“Hey! I have a right to know if my best friend is being seduced by my other best friend.”

“No one is being seduced—god are you even capable of shutting your mouth?”

“Just saying,” he said lightly, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “If you show up to our next reunion looking all starry-eyed, I’ll know exactly who to blame.”

You scoffed. “And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll know Suguru’s lost his touch.”

You groaned, pushing your face into a pillow as Gojo laughed through the speaker. He was ridiculous. 

You ended the call with an exasperated sigh, tossing your phone onto the other side of the couch like it had personally wronged you.

Silence settled over your apartment, but your mind was anything but quiet.

Gojo was just messing with you—he always did. But still, his words lingered, replaying in your head like a song you couldn’t shake.

“Feels like a little tension”—“There was definitely a little spark back in university”

Ridiculous.

There was no tension. Not back then. Not now.

…Right?

You scoffed aloud, as if that would somehow erase the warmth you felt spread across your cheeks.

Good thing Gojo hadn’t FaceTimed you—he’d never let you live it down.

The man had a sixth sense for embarrassment, and your flushed face would’ve been prime ammunition.

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

*2 Years Prior: Campus Library — 11:46pm*

The study room was too small for the three of you—Gojo made sure of that. He sprawled in his chair, long limbs kicked out beneath the table, tapping a pencil against his textbook like he was drumming a countdown to his own inevitable failure. 

The midterm was tomorrow, and judging by his groaning, he had barely started reviewing.

"I don't get why we even need to know this crap," Gojo whined, head rolling back against the chair. "I could fail this test and still be smarter than half the students here."

Across from him, Geto turned a page in his notebook, pen gliding smoothly over his notes. "Then fail," he murmured, voice steady, unbothered. "See how that works out for you."

Gojo huffed, but Geto wasn’t paying much attention to him anymore.

His gaze had flickered across the table a few times now, to you.

Your elbow rested against the desk, cheek propped in your palm, eyes flicking between your notes and the thick textbook at your side. The tip of your pen hovered between your lips, an unconscious habit that surfaced whenever you were deep in thought. A line appeared between your brows—concentration. Frustration.

Geto let his pen roll between his fingers, movements slow, measured. 

The numbers on your page hadn’t changed in minutes. His eyes traced the faint tap of your index finger repeatedly tapped your cheek, the subtle way your grip on the pen tightened and loosened, like your thoughts were trying to work themselves out through movement.

He tapped his own pen lightly against the table near your textbook, breaking your trance. "You’re stuck on that problem."

Your head lifted, blinking. "Huh?"

The side of his mouth curled, almost imperceptibly. "You’ve been staring at the same equation for five minutes."

A quiet pause. Then you huffed, setting your pen down and leaning back slightly in your chair. "It's impossible. I’ve tried solving it three different ways, and none of them work."

Geto exhaled, shifting his chair closer. The scrape of wood against tile was barely noticeable beneath Gojo's continued dramatics. "Here. Let me see."

His arm brushed against yours—barely, just enough for him to notice the warmth of your skin through your sleeve. You smelled like warm vanilla and old books, a mix of whatever candle you always burned in your dorm and the ever-present scent of study sessions in the library. 

After a moment, your brows lifted, expectant, seemingly waiting for an explanation.

His gaze flickered to your lips, still caught between your teeth, before dropping to the numbers scrawled across the paper. With a smooth movement, he picked up your pen, turning it between his fingers once before tapping against the right equation. 

“Here,” he murmured, the weight of his voice settling between you. “You skipped a step.”

Your breath hitched—so faint he almost missed it. Almost.

He kept his voice level as he pointed to the equation. "Your mistake is here. You're missing a step between these two lines."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Seriously? Ugh, that’s so stupid. I should’ve caught that."

"You're tired." He said it plainly, matter-of-fact. "That’s all."

Another pause. You tilted your head slightly, watching him  –  Like you wanted to say something.

Then Gojo launched a crumpled paper ball at Geto’s head.

"Hey! If you two are done whispering sweet nothings over math problems, can someone help me before I actually fail this test?"

Gojo’s paper ball bounced off Geto’s head and landed on the desk with an unceremonious plop.

Geto barely reacted, only sighing through his nose like he’d already resigned himself to Gojo’s antics long before this moment. He passed you the highlighter you had been reaching for, his fingers grazing yours—just barely, just long enough that it wasn’t entirely accidental.

You hesitated, lips parting slightly, but whatever thought had been forming was cut short when Gojo's loud voice interrupted you.

"*Phew,* Finally! I was starting to think you two were gonna start privatizing your study notes.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting in your seat. “Have you ever made your own notes? Ever? Once?”

Gojo scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t need to. You are both so lovely I don't need them.”

Shaking your head, you refocused on your notes, tapping your pencil against the paper before absently bringing it between your lips again. It was muscle memory at this point—something you did when you were getting deep in thought, when you were stuck.

Geto noticed immediately.

His gaze flickered down, almost involuntarily, catching on the slight indentation the pencil made against your lower lip. 

For just a second, his fingers stilled where they had been idly rolling his pen, the movement betraying the momentary shift in his focus.

He looked away, back at his own notes—but too late. You had caught the lapse, the flicker of hesitation, and the way his fingers flexed slightly against the spiral binding of his notebook before resuming their casual twirl.

But it appeared as if you hadn’t realized the reason behind his hesitation.

Geto cleared his throat, voice still effortlessly smooth but quieter now. “Fine. Let’s make sure you don’t completely bomb this.”

Gojo immediately perked up. “Thank god. I was losing hope, honestly.”

Neither of you responded.

Geto twirled his pen between his fingers again—slow, thoughtful. His eyes drifted back to you, studying, considering. Then—his voice, quiet yet deliberate—

“You do that a lot y'know”

Your brows knitted slightly. “Do what?”

“The pencil,” he said, tilting his chin toward you. “You chew on it when you’re focused.”

You blinked, seeming caught off guard. 

Gojo snorted. “Wow, Suguru. Riveting observation.”

But Geto wasn’t paying attention to him. His eyes didn’t even flinch—He was still watching you, something unreadable flickering behind his dark eyes, like he was committing the detail to memory.

“Didn’t realize you paid that much attention,” you muttered, sounding unaffected by his gaze.

“Yeah?” His lips curved, the ghost of a smirk. “Guess I just notice things.”

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

Back in the present, you exhaled sharply, shaking off Gojo’s previous teasing as you always did after your phone calls.

Your phone sat beside you, its dark screen reflecting your face—lips pressed together, brows drawn, eyes still distant, lingering somewhere between then and now.

You scoffed under your breath. A little spark? Yeah, okay.

If Gojo had been trying to get under your skin, he’d succeeded. But not in the way he probably thought.

You thought about it some more—what he had said on the phone—there had been no spark—not the way he meant, anyway. 

It was just... familiarity. That quiet, unspoken understanding that came with years of late-night study sessions, shared snacks from vending machines, and the kind of silence that never felt uncomfortable. Geto’s attentiveness and willingness to help was just who he is, it did not mean anything more than that.

If there had ever been anything more, wouldn’t you have noticed?

Your gaze dropped to the phone resting in your lap, thumb grazing the edge of the screen before you realized you had already picked it up. With a quiet sigh, you leaned back against the couch, unlocking it without a second thought.

The message thread with Geto blinked up at you.

His last message was still there. Still waiting. Still unanswered.

"Geto: I know a place. I’ll send you the details later this week."

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating for only a second.

Then, finally—

You: So, when’s this catch-up happening?

The message sent before you could overthink it.

With a yawn, you pushed yourself off the couch, stretching your arms overhead before trudging toward your bedroom. The day had been long, and the weight of it was finally settling over you, making your limbs heavy.

Flicking off the light, you slid under the covers, the warmth of your blankets pulling you in almost instantly. You sank into the mattress, letting out a slow breath as your eyes fluttered shut.

Sleep came quickly, tugging at the edges of your consciousness.

Then—just as you were about to slip under completely…

Your phone buzzed against the nightstand.

Your eyes cracked open, pulse skipping despite yourself.

For a moment, you didn’t move. Didn’t reach for it.

But eventually, you did.

a/n — I hope you guys like this. as always lmk your thoughts <3 taglist ⸺ @killak9mi; @nikilig; @pinkhoneydrop; @armfloaties; @sat-hoe-ru; @you-transfix-me; @kaqua; @rriwyu; @erenspersonalwh0re; @dishs0pe **please note: if your name is striked out, that means I was unable to tag you, please check your settings if you'd like to be tagged**