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f14fun · 2 months ago

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lay all your love on me - op81 (C4)

synopsis: in which oscar piastri and a university student begging for her euro summer vacation collide in a steamy, abba-inspired romance

prose (9.4K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | series index ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────────── 04: Dinner Table Tango (Put Me On TV Netflix)

Our usual dinners were low-key affairs—think microwaved leftovers, a quick pasta dish, or maybe some takeout eaten in front of the TV while my mom narrated the latest drama from whichever reality show was her current obsession. Tonight, though, was a whole different beast. It was like we’d accidentally wandered into a chaotic crossover episode of MasterChef meets a reality TV reunion: there were kabobs piled high on platters, enough side dishes to feed an entire neighborhood, and a whirlwind of personalities that made it feel like every seat at the table came with its own subplot.

Oscar’s dad, Chris, had turned the backyard grill into his personal stage, flipping kabobs with the flair of a man who was auditioning for his own cooking show. Each turn of the skewer came with commentary, like, “See that sear? That’s what you call perfection,” and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was preparing a meal for a panel of judges instead of a casual dinner. Nicole, Oscar’s mom, hovered nearby, nodding along as if she hadn’t heard his grilling philosophy a thousand times before, while my mom, Belle, politely sipped her wine, pretending to be fascinated by every culinary revelation.

At the table, Hattie, Edie, and Mae were buzzing with their usual sibling energy—Hattie and Mae were whispering about something that kept making them burst into giggles, while Edie was eyeing the dessert like it was the final boss in a video game she was determined to conquer. Every few seconds, they’d shoot each other knowing looks, their inside jokes and side comments flying faster than I could keep up.

I picked up a plate and tried to navigate my way through the lively chaos, eyeing a seat at the far end of the table where I could blend into the background. But as soon as I moved, Oscar was there—close enough that I could practically feel the heat radiating off his skin from the sun and the pool. I placed my plate down, aiming for a spot near the drinks, but no sooner had I set my food down than Oscar plopped down next to me, grinning like this was all part of some game only he knew the rules to.

I moved again, feigning a casual stroll to the other end, but Oscar followed, a smug smile playing on his lips as he sat down beside me once more. I couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it, each move feeling like a dance where I kept trying to sidestep and he kept closing in.

I finally turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you planning to follow me all night, or are you just allergic to sitting anywhere else?”

Oscar leaned back in his chair, that infuriatingly confident grin never wavering. “What can I say? You’re the best seat in the house,” he said, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Besides, I promised you great dinner company, didn’t I?”

“You’re like a lost puppy,” I muttered, shaking my head but unable to keep the smile off my face. “Except more annoying.”

He just laughed, nudging my arm playfully. “I prefer ‘persistent’—sounds cuter. But if being annoying gets me the best view, then I’ll take it.”

Nicole glanced over from across the table, her mom radar obviously picking up on the exchange. “Oscar, sweetie, why don’t you give her a little space?” she teased, though the gleam in her eyes suggested she was enjoying this far too much.

Oscar shrugged, unbothered. “Why would I? I’m right where I want to be.”

Belle, my mom, was clearly entertained, watching us like she’d just tuned into her favorite show. “You know, if he keeps this up, you might need to get him his own seat belt,” she joked, topping off her wine as she watched Oscar stick to my side like glue.

I rolled my eyes, trying to act nonchalant, but the warmth of his presence was impossible to ignore. “Don’t encourage him,” I mumbled, but even as I said it, I couldn’t help but feel a strange thrill. Oscar’s persistence was absurdly charming, and no matter how much I tried to brush it off, his attention felt like its own kind of spotlight, casting everything in a new, exciting light.

The table was loud with laughter and overlapping conversations, skewers being passed around and plates filling up with everything from grilled corn to tangy salads. I tried to focus on my food, savoring the perfectly marinated kabobs and buttery potatoes, but Oscar’s constant presence kept pulling me back in, his playful nudges and whispered comments making it impossible to forget he was right there, next to me, watching every reaction.

“You really do have a knack for this,” I said, nudging him back just as he reached for another skewer.

Oscar flashed me a quick, sideways smile, his eyes twinkling. “For what, dinner? Or following you around like it’s my job?”

“Both,” I shot back, but the lightness in my voice betrayed how much I was enjoying the banter.

Oscar chuckled, spearing a piece of grilled zucchini with his fork. “Well, I’m nothing if not dedicated,” he said, popping it into his mouth with an exaggerated flourish. “And hey, if I’m going to be annoyingly persistent, I might as well be charming about it, right?”

I rolled my eyes, but there was no malice behind it, only a growing sense of ease that came from how effortlessly he slipped into conversation with me. “Is that what this is? Charm? I thought it was just a fancy word for stalking.”

He laughed, a low, easy sound that sent a shiver down my spine despite the warm evening air. “Stalking’s such a strong word. I prefer ‘being attentive.’ You know, keeping an eye on the competition.” He leaned closer, his shoulder brushing mine as he whispered, “Plus, it’s kind of fun to see you all flustered.”

I felt my cheeks warm instantly, and I shoved a forkful of salad into my mouth to cover up my embarrassment. “You’re the worst,” I mumbled around the bite, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.

“Am I, though?” he teased, nudging my leg under the table with his foot. “Because it kind of seems like you like it.”

I swallowed, trying to ignore the way my heart was racing. “You wish,” I shot back, but even as the words left my mouth, I knew he could see right through me.

Nicole, who had been listening to our back-and-forth with thinly veiled amusement, finally chimed in. “Oscar, honey, you might want to ease up before she throws you in the pool,” she said, winking at me. “But if she does, don’t worry—I’m sure you can swim.”

Oscar didn’t miss a beat, turning to his mom with a cheeky grin. “Oh, I’m not worried. I think she’d just jump in after me.”

I tried to keep my composure, but it was impossible not to laugh at his relentless confidence. “Keep dreaming, hotshot,” I said, giving him a playful shove, but even as I said it, I couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of exasperation and excitement at his attention.

Belle leaned over, her eyes twinkling as she passed me the breadbasket. “You’re handling him well,” she whispered with a smirk. “Most girls would’ve dunked him by now.”

I shot her a look of mock horror. “Trust me, it’s tempting. But I think he likes the attention too much.”

Oscar, who apparently had supersonic hearing when it came to anything involving himself, leaned in again, this time closer than before, his voice low and teasing. “Oh, I definitely do. But between you and me, I think you like it too.” He raised his glass in a mock toast, his eyes never leaving mine. “To good company and making the most of dinner.”

I clinked my glass with his, trying to ignore the butterflies that fluttered in my stomach at the way he was looking at me—like I was the only person at the table worth paying attention to. “To you not annoying me for five minutes,” I countered, but my smile gave away how much I was actually enjoying every second of it.

Oscar’s grin only widened, his eyes never leaving mine as he took a slow sip of his drink, savoring the moment. There was a playful glint in his gaze, but something deeper too, something that made my chest tighten. It was as if this whole day—every flirtatious comment, every lingering look—had been building up to something unspoken, something that hovered just beneath the surface, waiting to be acknowledged.

“So, what happens after five minutes?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity that made my breath hitch. “Do I get to keep my seat, or are you kicking me to the curb?”

I laughed softly, but the question hung in the air, feeling heavier than it should. “Depends,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “Are you planning on behaving?”

“Not if I can help it,” Oscar replied, his voice warm and teasing, but his gaze was intense, like he was studying me, trying to figure out exactly what I was thinking.

I glanced away, suddenly overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention. There was something about the way he was looking at me that felt new, unexpected—like he was seeing me in a way no one else ever had. It was unnerving, thrilling, and terrifying all at once, and it made me feel like everything I thought I knew was suddenly up in the air.

The conversations around us continued, but they felt distant, muffled, as if the world had faded into the background. I could feel the weight of Oscar’s eyes still on me, searching, and for a moment, I found myself caught between the familiar and the unknown. Everything felt different, like the ground beneath me had shifted without warning, and all the little things I’d been so sure of were suddenly tangled up in emotions I hadn’t anticipated.

Oscar’s voice broke through my thoughts, quieter now, a touch more sincere. “You okay? You went quiet on me.”

I blinked, startled by how quickly my mind had wandered. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just… thinking.”

“About?” he pressed, his eyes soft but probing, clearly not satisfied with my evasive answer.

I hesitated, the words feeling heavy on my tongue. “About how you’re… different,” I said, the admission making my heart race. “Today, everything’s just… not what I expected.” I trailed off, unsure how to put into words the strange mix of excitement and uncertainty that was bubbling up inside me.

Oscar watched me for a moment, his expression shifting from playful to something gentler, more thoughtful. “I get it,” he said finally, his voice low and earnest. “It’s weird when things change on you, isn’t it? Like you’re used to one thing, and then suddenly it’s all flipped around.”

He leaned in a little closer, his tone softening as if he was letting me in on a secret. “But I don’t mind it,” he continued. “Everything today… it’s been new, yeah, but it’s good. You’re good.”

I swallowed, the honesty in his words catching me off guard. It was one thing to joke around, to let the banter cover up what was simmering underneath, but this felt different—like he was asking me to see him, really see him, and maybe let him see me in return.

For a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that mirrored the uncertainty I was feeling, a quiet plea hidden in his smile that made my heart skip. It wasn’t just a game anymore; it was something real, something that demanded a bit of courage I wasn’t sure I had.

Oscar’s usual cocky confidence had softened into something more tentative, almost as if he was waiting for me to say something that would make this strange, unexpected shift between us make sense. I could see it in the way his eyes flickered with unspoken questions, the way his hand hovered just a little closer to mine on the table, hesitant but hopeful.

He opened his mouth as if to say something but stopped, biting his lip in a rare moment of hesitation. I could feel the unsteady rhythm of my own breathing, matching the erratic beat of my heart. It was like standing on the edge of something, knowing that one step could change everything and still not being sure if I was ready to take it.

“I didn’t think… I mean, I didn’t expect this,” he finally said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. His fingers brushed mine, a barely-there touch that sent a shiver through me, and the simple contact felt more intimate than any of the flirting or banter we’d exchanged all day. “I’m not usually… like this.” He laughed, but it was shaky, almost self-conscious. “I’m just saying, you’re not the only one who’s kind of… thrown off.”

I glanced down at our almost-touching hands, the space between them feeling unbearably small and impossibly vast at the same time. The reality of what was happening—the shift from playful teasing to something deeper, more vulnerable—was terrifying and exhilarating. It was as if everything had turned upside down, leaving me with nothing to hold onto but the fragile, unspoken connection we’d built in the span of a few sun-soaked hours.

“I know what you mean,” I whispered, surprised at how raw my voice sounded. “I didn’t expect this either.” The words felt too small to capture the rush of emotions tangled inside me, but they were the most honest thing I could offer.

Oscar’s thumb grazed the back of my hand, a light, almost tentative touch, but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity straight through me. He smiled, a little lopsided and unsure, and it was so different from his usual bravado that it made my heart ache in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said quietly, and there was something so genuine in his tone that it knocked the breath out of me. “I’m glad we’re… whatever this is.” He gestured vaguely between us, as if trying to name the unnameable, the strange and beautiful thing that had sprung up between the jokes and the splashes and the shared looks that felt like secrets.

I nodded, the lump in my throat making it hard to speak. “Me too,” I managed, and the simple admission felt like a leap off that precarious edge we’d been teetering on. “I’m glad it’s… us.”

Oscar’s gaze softened, and for a split second, the weight of the moment hung between us, thick with unspoken possibilities. It felt like we were on the cusp of something important, something that neither of us was quite ready to fully grasp, and the vulnerability of it all was terrifying and exhilarating.

But then, in true Oscar fashion, he broke the tension with a grin that was equal parts charming and infuriating. “You know,” he said, leaning back in his chair and tapping his chin thoughtfully, “I’ve gotta admit, this whole ‘us’ thing is pretty great. But if you’re planning on crying, can you just give me a heads-up? I’m not emotionally equipped to handle that.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift from heart-to-heart to heart-to-humor. “Excuse me?” I laughed, trying to hide the relief that came with his playful deflection. “I’m not crying! And for the record, you’re the one who looks like you’re about to get misty-eyed.”

Oscar held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Hey, no judgment. I just thought I’d bring tissues to our next deep and meaningful, you know? Maybe some popcorn, too. Really set the mood.”

I snorted, shoving his shoulder lightly, but the tension had eased, replaced by the familiar rhythm of our back-and-forth. “You’re impossible,” I said, shaking my head, but I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

Oscar winked, clearly pleased with himself for lightening the mood. “Yeah, but I’m your kind of impossible, right?”

I rolled my eyes, but there was no denying the truth in his words. “Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head,” I shot back, but my heart felt lighter, the strange, heady mix of vulnerability and humor making the moment feel just right.

He laughed, clinking his glass against mine one more time. “Deal. But just so you know, this isn’t over,” he said, his voice dipping into that teasing but sincere tone that was quickly becoming his signature. “This ‘us’ thing… it’s still happening.”

I met his gaze, feeling a surge of warmth and maybe a little bit of hope. “Yeah,” I said, my smile softening. “It definitely is.” And with that, we let the conversation drift back to laughter and lightness, both of us content to leave the door wide open for whatever might come next.

Just as I started to relax into the ease of the moment, Mae’s voice cut through the noise like a dramatic trumpet blast. “Oh my god, did anyone else just see that?” she exclaimed, practically bouncing out of her chair. She was clutching her glass like it was some kind of award she was presenting to the whole table, eyes wide with exaggerated shock.

Oscar and I both froze, caught like deer in headlights as everyone else turned to look at us, half amused and half confused. Mae’s eyes were sparkling with delight, clearly enjoying her self-appointed role as the dinner’s designated narrator of drama.

“Seriously, did no one catch that?” Mae continued, pointing between Oscar and me like she was conducting an investigative report. “That was, like, a full-on rom-com moment! Staring, smiling, subtle hand-touching—am I the only one paying attention to this masterpiece unfolding?”

I could feel my face heating up as the entire table’s attention zeroed in on us. Hattie snorted, trying and failing to suppress a laugh, while Edie gave Mae a playful shove. “Stop being so dramatic, Mae,” Edie said, rolling her eyes but grinning all the same. “It’s not a soap opera.”

Mae, undeterred, waved her hands theatrically, clearly reveling in the spotlight. “No, no, you guys don’t get it. This is prime content! I’ve seen less chemistry on TV shows that have been running for five seasons!” She looked at us with mock seriousness, as if she was on the brink of tears. “Honestly, I’m emotional. I think I need a moment.”

Oscar rubbed the back of his neck, half-embarrassed, half-amused by Mae’s antics. “Okay, Mae, take it down a notch,” he said, trying to sound exasperated, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

I tried to cover my face with my hands, laughing despite my mortification. “Oh my god, can we not make this a thing?”

Mae ignored me completely, turning to Nicole and Belle as if she were addressing a captivated audience. “Moms, did you see it? Do we need to start planning a wedding, or should I pace myself?”

Nicole chuckled, giving me a sympathetic smile as she sipped her wine. “Mae, sweetie, let them breathe. But I will say, I’m glad to see our Oscar isn’t just all talk.” She winked at me, clearly enjoying every second of this impromptu performance.

Belle, looking equally amused, raised her glass. “To young love… or whatever this is,” she teased, and the whole table erupted in laughter.

Oscar groaned, though he was clearly more entertained than annoyed. “Thanks, Mae. Really appreciate the live commentary,” he said, rolling his eyes but flashing me a quick, conspiratorial smile that sent a flutter through my chest.

He leaned closer, his voice low so only I could hear. “Don’t worry, I’ll get her back for that later,” he promised, his tone half-playful, half-serious, and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. I tried to play it cool, but the way he lingered, just a little closer than necessary, made my heart skip.

Meanwhile, Mae was still basking in the glow of her own theatrics, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied grin. “Honestly, you’re welcome. I’m just saying what we’re all thinking,” she quipped, flicking her hair over her shoulder like she was the star of the show.

“Can we get a replay, though?” Hattie chimed in, her voice dripping with mock seriousness. “Like, maybe a slow-mo version? I feel like I missed the pivotal moment.”

Edie, not one to be left out, waggled her eyebrows at me. “Yeah, can you guys just, like, do it again for the rest of us? We need to get the full experience.”

I buried my face in my hands, half laughing, half mortified. “You guys are the worst,” I muttered, but there was no real sting behind it. The entire scene was ridiculous, but it was the kind of ridiculousness that made me feel strangely at home, like I’d been dropped into the middle of this whirlwind of banter and suddenly found my place.

Oscar squeezed my shoulder lightly, his touch grounding me amidst the teasing chaos. “They’re just jealous,” he whispered, his voice edged with that same flirtatious charm that had been keeping me on my toes all day. “It’s not every day they get front-row seats to this level of entertainment.”

I shot him a look, trying to suppress a grin. “Oh, is that what this is? Entertainment?”

He shrugged, unabashed. “Well, it’s definitely not boring. And I think we’re pulling off the lead roles pretty well, don’t you?”

Mae pretended to dab at her eyes, clutching her napkin dramatically. “Look at them, already talking like a power couple. I can’t—my heart is too full.” She pointed a finger at us. “Y’all better invite me to the premiere of your inevitable Netflix series.”

“Mae, if you don’t dial it back, you’re getting written out in season two,” Oscar warned, his tone light but his eyes still fixed on me, a mix of amusement and something softer that made my pulse race.

Mae gasped, clutching her imaginary pearls like she’d just been gravely insulted. “You can’t cut out the comic relief! I’m the fan favorite. Besides, the show would be boring without me stirring the pot.” She leaned back with a smug smile, crossing her arms like she was daring anyone to challenge her.

Hattie snorted, jumping in without missing a beat. “Yeah, but we all know you’re the kind of character they kill off in a dramatic mid-season twist. Gotta keep the ratings up.”

Mae threw her head back, rolling her eyes with exaggerated flair. “Please, they wouldn’t dare. The viewers would riot.” She turned her attention back to us, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “And speaking of plot twists, when’s the big kiss scene? I mean, I’m just saying, it’s been teased for like, three episodes already.”

My jaw dropped, caught between mortification and laughter as Oscar choked on his drink, struggling to keep his composure. “Mae!” I squeaked, covering my face with my hands, feeling my cheeks burn hotter than the grill. “Can we not?”

Mae shrugged, completely unfazed. “I’m just being honest. The audience wants what it wants.” She glanced around the table, gesturing to everyone with an over-the-top flourish. “I mean, look at us. We’re all invested.”

Oscar rubbed his temples, but he was smiling, shaking his head at his sister’s relentless antics. “Mae, you’re officially banned from all future dinners. You’ve peaked as an agent of chaos.”

Mae shot him a smug look. “I’d like to see you try. I’m basically your PR manager at this point, and you should be grateful. I’m giving you the best subplot.”

Nicole chuckled, shaking her head at her kids. “Alright, enough, everyone. Let’s give them some peace. I think they’ve been roasted enough for one night.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, trying to regain some composure, but every time I glanced at Oscar, he was already looking at me, that easy, knowing smile still playing on his lips. Despite the theatrics, the jokes, and the lighthearted chaos of it all, there was an unmistakable comfort in being next to him, like we were in on some private joke the rest of the table was only half aware of.

As the conversation shifted back to other topics and plates clattered with second helpings, I found myself sneaking another glance at Oscar. He caught me looking and winked, leaning in just enough to whisper, “You good?”

I nodded, feeling that same flutter from earlier, the one that seemed to have settled somewhere deep in my chest. “Yeah,” I said, my voice light but sincere. “I think I’m better than good.”

But as the conversation around the table continued, the laughter and clinking of glasses filling the air, I couldn’t stop my mind from drifting back to Mae’s earlier comment—the one about the “big kiss scene” that had practically sent me into orbit. At the time, I’d brushed it off, laughing it away as another one of her over-the-top jokes. But now, with the evening winding down and Oscar still sitting close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him, the idea lingered, stubbornly refusing to be dismissed.

I glanced at him, catching the way he was half-listening to whatever Chris was saying about the grill, but his focus kept sneaking back to me, a subtle sideways glance here, a quiet smile there. It was like we were stuck in this unspoken loop, constantly circling each other without ever quite landing. And suddenly, Mae’s words didn’t seem so ridiculous. The thought of kissing Oscar—of actually closing that gap between us—wasn’t just some wild, far-off fantasy. It felt… possible. Real. And that was what scared me the most.

Because Mae wasn’t wrong—there was a tension between us, a pull that had been there all day, simmering beneath the surface. Every time Oscar leaned in a little too close, every shared look that lingered just a second too long, it was there, buzzing quietly, daring us to acknowledge it. I could feel it now, that quiet hum in the air that made every casual touch and playful nudge feel loaded, like we were teetering on the edge of something that could change everything.

The thought of kissing him—of actually letting myself take that leap—sent a rush of nerves and excitement crashing over me. What would it feel like? Would it be like all the other moments today, funny and light but with that undeniable spark? Or would it be something else entirely, something that would make it impossible to go back to just playful banter and harmless flirting?

I stole another glance at Oscar, watching the way his lips curved into a smirk as he teased Mae about something I couldn’t quite catch. It was infuriating how easily he could shift from serious to silly, how he could make me feel so at ease one second and then completely unsteady the next. I wondered if he was thinking about it, too—if the idea of us had crossed his mind, lingering like it was now in mine.

My thoughts were interrupted as Mae, ever the observant troublemaker, caught me staring. She wiggled her eyebrows and shot me a knowing grin, clearly reveling in her role as the self-appointed matchmaker of the night. I quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks, but the question she’d planted was still there, stubborn and insistent.

What would it be like, kissing Oscar?

It was a question that hovered between us, unasked but undeniable, and as the evening wore on, it only seemed to grow louder. And while I wasn’t sure of the answer, one thing was becoming clear: the idea of it wasn’t just Mae’s dramatic imagination running wild. It was mine too. And maybe, just maybe, it was only a matter of time before we found out for ourselves.

As the sun dipped lower, casting the backyard in soft hues of orange and pink, the vibe around the table shifted. Plates were cleared, glasses refilled, and the conversation became a gentle hum, winding down into the comfortable lull of a summer evening. The air was warm, carrying the faint, salty scent of the ocean just beyond the house. I could feel the day transitioning into something quieter, softer, like a whispered promise of what was to come.

Oscar nudged my arm gently, his smile easy and inviting. “Want to get out of here for a bit?” he asked, his voice low enough that it felt like a secret. “I think I’ve had my fill of Mae’s commentary for the night.”

I laughed, grateful for the excuse to escape the watchful eyes of his sisters. “Yeah, before she starts live-tweeting this,” I joked, grabbing my sandals and following him away from the table. He led us down the path that cut through the backyard, winding toward the beach. The sound of laughter and chatter faded behind us, replaced by the rhythmic crash of waves and the soft crunch of sand beneath our feet.

The sky was a watercolor canvas of fading light, the last streaks of daylight blending into deep blues and purples as we reached the shore. It was quiet here, the kind of quiet that feels intentional, like the world had pressed pause just for us. Oscar slipped off his shoes, and I followed suit, the cool, damp sand squishing pleasantly between my toes. It felt cheesy and cliché, like something out of a movie, but I didn’t care. It was perfect.

We walked in silence for a bit, side by side, our footsteps falling in sync as the waves lapped at the shore. Every so often, Oscar would kick at the sand, sending little sprays of it up in front of us, and I’d laugh, nudging him back with my shoulder. There was no rush, no destination; it was just us, drifting along the edge of the water like we were caught in our own little bubble.

Oscar glanced at me, his face soft in the twilight. “You know, I think this is the part where we’re supposed to talk about something deep and meaningful,” he said, his voice teasing but light, the kind of tone that made everything feel a little less serious, a little easier to handle.

I smiled, rolling my eyes but playing along. “Oh, right. This is the part where we share our hopes, dreams, and darkest secrets, right? Because nothing says ‘deep conversation’ like walking barefoot on the beach.”

“Exactly,” Oscar said, grinning. “But seriously, I’m glad you’re here. Tonight’s been… fun. Weird and chaotic, but fun.”

I nodded, feeling the truth of his words settle over me. “Yeah, it’s been… something,” I admitted, letting out a small laugh. “Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect, but this wasn’t it. In a good way.”

We walked a little further, the quiet between us no longer uncomfortable but filled with the soft roar of the ocean and the distant calls of seagulls. It felt like the perfect cliché—sunset, ocean waves, and just enough awkwardness to keep it from feeling too polished. Oscar stopped suddenly, bending down to pick up a small, smooth shell and handing it to me with a mock-serious expression.

“A souvenir,” he said, his eyes twinkling in the fading light. “To remember this incredibly cheesy moment.”

I took the shell, laughing at how ridiculous and oddly sweet the gesture was. “I’ll treasure it forever,” I said, mimicking his serious tone, holding the shell up like it was a precious gem. “And when I tell people about this night, I’ll say, ‘There was this guy, and he gave me a shell on a beach at sunset. It was painfully corny, but somehow it worked.’”

Oscar chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Hey, corny works sometimes. Especially if the right person’s involved.” He looked at me then, his smile fading just enough that I could see the sincerity underneath all the jokes. “I like this,” he said, his voice softer. “I like… us.”

My heart did a little flip, caught off guard by the quiet honesty of his words. It wasn’t dramatic or grand, just simple and real, and that made it even better. “I like us too,” I admitted, feeling the last bit of sunlight brush against my skin as the horizon swallowed it whole.

Oscar stepped closer, his shoulder brushing mine as we stood there, toes in the sand, watching the sky darken. It felt like we’d crossed some invisible line, one that had been waiting for us all day, and now, with the ocean as our only witness, it didn’t feel scary anymore. It felt right.

The waves crashed softly in the background, a rhythmic soundtrack to the unspoken feelings that hung between us. I expected another joke, something light to keep the moment easy, but instead, Oscar’s expression shifted, his smile fading into something more serious, more introspective. He glanced at the horizon, the last slivers of light reflecting in his eyes, before turning back to me.

“You know,” he started, his voice a little lower, almost hesitant, “about that whole ‘sharing secrets’ thing…”

I raised an eyebrow, expecting another playful jab, but his tone had changed. There was a weight to his words that made my heart pick up pace, and I could tell he was wrestling with something. “Yeah?” I prompted gently, unsure where he was going with this but sensing it was important.

Oscar let out a long breath, his gaze dropping to the sand as if he was trying to gather his thoughts. “There’s something I haven’t told you,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck—a nervous habit I hadn’t seen from him before. “It’s… kind of a big deal. And it’s something I don’t usually talk about when I first meet someone.”

I felt a flicker of concern, mixed with curiosity. “Okay,” I said softly, trying to encourage him without pushing too hard. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

He nodded, chewing on his lip for a moment before meeting my eyes. “So… I’m not just some random guy who likes to crash neighborhood dinners and play chicken in pools.” He paused, as if weighing his next words carefully. “I’m actually… a Formula One driver.”

I blinked, the words taking a moment to fully register. “Wait, what?” I said, half-laughing in disbelief, expecting him to crack a smile and tell me it was just another joke. But Oscar’s expression remained serious, his eyes searching mine for a reaction.

“I’m a Formula One driver,” he repeated, more firmly this time, his voice steady but laced with something vulnerable. “I race for a living. It’s my job, my whole life, really. I’ve been doing it for years, and it’s… well, it’s a lot. I didn’t want to bring it up right away because, honestly, it changes how people see me. And I like how things are right now. Just… you and me, without all that other stuff.”

My mind reeled, trying to connect the dots between the Oscar I’d spent the day with and the image of a high-speed, glamorous world I’d only ever seen on TV. I had a million questions, but the first one that slipped out was, “Are you serious?”

He nodded, his expression softening at my shock. “Yeah, I am. I travel all the time—races in different countries, press, sponsors, all of it. It’s not just a job; it’s this crazy, intense lifestyle, and it’s a lot to deal with. That’s why I didn’t want to bring it up. I wanted to just be… me. Not the guy on the track.”

I stared at him, the quiet, easy-going Oscar who had been joking and flirting with me all day, now suddenly framed in a completely different light. I tried to picture him in a racing suit, helmet on, speeding at breakneck pace in front of thousands of fans. The thought was surreal, but the sincerity in his eyes grounded me, reminding me that he was still the same guy who had been by my side all day.

“Wow,” I breathed, still trying to wrap my head around it. “I mean… that’s incredible. And intense. I can’t even imagine…”

Oscar shrugged, his expression a mix of pride and exhaustion. “It’s got its moments. The adrenaline, the rush, it’s amazing. But it’s also lonely sometimes. It’s hard to know who’s around for me and who’s around for what I do. That’s why it’s been so… nice today. Just hanging out, no expectations, no pressure.”

I nodded, my mind still racing to keep up, but my heart settled on one thing: the vulnerability in his voice. “I get why you didn’t say anything,” I said softly. “I’m glad you told me, though. And for what it’s worth, it doesn’t change anything for me. I still see you the same way.”

Oscar’s shoulders relaxed, a hint of relief passing over his face. “Thanks. That means a lot,” he said quietly. “I just wanted you to know who I really am. Not the headlines, not the highlight reels. Just… Oscar.”

I reached out, squeezing his hand lightly. “Well, Oscar, the Formula One driver,” I teased gently, “you’re kind of stuck with me now. So I hope you’re ready for that.”

He laughed, a sound filled with genuine warmth, and squeezed my hand back. “I think I can handle it,” he said, his smile returning. “But I promise, no pit stops on our beach walks.”

We kept walking, but now my mind was buzzing with questions I couldn’t quite hold back. The idea of Oscar—this funny, charming guy—also being a professional race car driver was a lot to process. My curiosity got the better of me, and I turned to him, trying to piece together this new version of him I was just starting to understand.

“So, what’s it like?” I asked, my voice tinged with excitement and genuine intrigue. “I mean, racing. The whole lifestyle… is it really as glamorous as it looks?”

Oscar smiled, his eyes distant for a moment as if recalling a million memories at once. “Sometimes it is. The travel, the fans, the adrenaline of the race—it’s all surreal. But it’s not always as glamorous as people think. There’s a lot of pressure, a lot of sleepless nights. You’re constantly on the move, training, dealing with the media, and sometimes you barely get a moment to yourself.”

I nodded, hanging onto every word. “Do you ever get scared? I mean, it’s not exactly a nine-to-five job.”

He glanced at me, his expression thoughtful. “Every time I get in the car, there’s this moment of fear, like a little voice in the back of my mind reminding me how dangerous it is. But once the lights go out and the race starts, it’s all instinct. You don’t really think—you just drive. It’s weird, but the fear kind of becomes part of the thrill.”

I could hear the passion in his voice, and it struck me how much more there was to him than I’d realized. “Do you ever… wish it was different? Like, that maybe you could slow down?”

Oscar chuckled softly, kicking at the sand as we walked. “Sometimes, yeah. It’s exhausting. But then there’s this moment when you’re flying down the track, everything’s a blur, and it’s just you and the car. Nothing else matters. It’s the most alive I’ve ever felt.” He paused, turning to me with a small, earnest smile. “And then there are nights like this, where I get to just be a normal guy hanging out on the beach. It’s a nice change of pace.”

I found myself smiling, charmed by his openness. “I can’t even imagine living like that—always on the go, never really having time to just… be. But it sounds incredible, in a crazy sort of way.”

“It is,” he agreed, looking out at the ocean, the moonlight catching the edges of his profile. “But it’s also hard to let people in. Everyone has expectations, and sometimes it’s hard to know who actually sees you and who just sees the guy in the helmet.”

I squeezed his hand, wanting to offer some kind of comfort. “Well, I see you, Oscar. And not just the driver. I see the guy who’s annoyingly persistent, who’s actually kind of sweet when he wants to be.” I nudged him playfully. “And the guy who’s really bad at keeping secrets, apparently.”

He laughed, a genuine, relieved sound that made my heart swell. “Yeah, I guess I’m not as mysterious as I thought.” He paused, then added, “But I’m glad you know. I wanted you to know.”

I studied him, feeling like I was seeing Oscar in an entirely new light—not just the charming guy who had been teasing me all day, but someone with layers, with dreams and fears that ran deeper than I’d ever guessed. “Thanks for telling me,” I said softly. “It means a lot that you’d share all this with me.”

Oscar smirked, but there was a hint of shyness behind it. “Yeah, well, you’ve got this way of making me spill my guts. You should be careful—I might start telling you my deepest, darkest secrets.”

I laughed, nudging him with my shoulder. “Oh, don’t tempt me. I’ve got a lot of questions, you know. Like, what’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done in front of a crowd? Or do you have a superstitious pre-race ritual? Maybe something involving, like, wearing your socks inside out for good luck?”

He groaned, but the playful gleam in his eyes told me he was enjoying this. “Socks inside out? That’s rookie level. I’m way more sophisticated—think lucky underwear, a very specific breakfast, and a pep talk to my car that would make me sound insane if anyone heard it.”

I snorted, covering my mouth to stifle the laugh. “You talk to your car? Please tell me you’ve named it.”

Oscar looked mock-offended, clutching his chest dramatically. “Of course I’ve named it! What kind of driver would I be if I didn’t? But that’s classified information—I can’t just give away my car’s name on the first beach walk.”

I rolled my eyes, still giggling at the idea of him having full-on conversations with his race car. “I think you’re just scared to admit you’ve named it something ridiculous like ‘Lightning McQueen’ or ‘Speedy McSpeedface.’”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll have you know my car’s name is very dignified and deeply meaningful,” he said, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. “And it definitely doesn’t sound like a character from a kids’ movie.”

I raised an eyebrow, teasing him back. “Uh-huh. Sure. And do you also tuck it in at night and read it bedtime stories?”

Oscar threw his head back in laughter, his hand squeezing mine. “You’re killing me here. But hey, maybe you can come see it sometime—if you’re good, I’ll even let you meet her.”

“Oh, meeting the car? Wow, that sounds serious,” I teased, pretending to be deeply flattered. “Next thing you know, you’ll be inviting me to the races, front-row seats and all.”

Oscar grinned, his eyes twinkling under the moonlight. “Keep playing your cards right, and you never know. I might just need a good luck charm in the stands. Besides,” he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a flirty whisper, “it’d be a shame not to have the prettiest girl at the track cheering me on.”

I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks again, the casual way he flirted throwing me off balance every time. “You’ve really perfected the smooth-talking driver act, haven’t you?” I teased, raising an eyebrow but unable to stop the grin tugging at my lips.

Oscar smirked, his confidence unwavering. “What can I say? When you’ve got someone worth impressing, you pull out all the stops.”

I rolled my eyes, but the butterflies in my stomach were in full flight. “Well, I’m not that easy to impress. You might need more than just a fancy car and smooth lines.”

He pretended to think it over, scratching his chin dramatically. “Hmm, okay. Let’s see… I’ve got fast cars, some world travel under my belt, and a pretty decent sense of humor, if I do say so myself. Oh, and I’m great at chicken fights in the pool.” He gave me a sideways glance, his smile playful but with a hint of sincerity beneath it. “But if that’s not enough, I guess I’ll just have to keep trying.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Yeah, keep working on it. I’m a tough crowd.”

Oscar slowed his steps, his voice turning softer as he leaned a little closer. “I like a challenge.”

His words hung in the air between us, and for a moment, the playful banter gave way to something a little deeper. There was that same flicker of vulnerability from earlier, like he was letting his guard down just a bit more, and it made my heart skip. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just met his gaze, feeling the intensity of the moment settle between us like a quiet hum.

“Careful,” I finally said, trying to keep the mood light even though my pulse was racing. “You might bite off more than you can chew.”

Oscar grinned, but his eyes were still locked on mine, the flirty bravado softening into something more genuine. “I think I can handle it,” he said quietly, and there was something in his tone that made my breath catch, like this wasn’t just another joke, another flirtation. It was a real promise.

Before I could respond, he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was so casual, yet it sent a rush of warmth through me, leaving me a little breathless. “You’re making this easy,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing, but his gaze was steady, holding mine with a kind of quiet intensity that made my heart race.

“Easy?” I managed to say, trying to sound composed but failing miserably.

He nodded, his smile widening just a bit. “Yeah. You make it easy to want to keep trying.”

I swallowed, the weight of his words settling over me. It felt like we were on the verge of something bigger, something that went beyond the playful teasing and light-hearted flirting. And as cheesy as it sounded, standing there with the ocean breeze in my hair and the moonlight casting soft shadows around us, I couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the kind of moment where everything could change.

But instead of saying anything profound, I just smiled, feeling the warmth of his hand still lingering near my cheek. “Well, if you’re trying to win me over with flattery and moonlit walks on the beach, you’re off to a decent start.”

Oscar chuckled, dropping his hand but staying close. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” He paused, glancing at the ocean before looking back at me with that same mix of playfulness and sincerity. “You ready to head back?”

I nodded, feeling the tension in my chest ease as we started walking again, the easy rhythm between us falling back into place. “Yeah, but don’t think this lets you off the hook. You’ve still got some impressing to do.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Challenge accepted.”

And as we made our way back up the beach, the stars twinkling above and the sound of the waves following us, I couldn’t help but feel that this night—this cheesy, corny, perfect night—was only the beginning of something even better. There was an easy warmth between us now, a quiet understanding that whatever this was, we were both on board. As we reached the house, the familiar noise of chatter and laughter spilled out onto the patio, pulling us back into the lively fold of everyone gathered around.

The second we stepped onto the deck, Mae was the first to spot us, her eyes lighting up like she’d just won the gossip jackpot. “Well, well, well, look who decided to rejoin the party,” she called out, clapping her hands together in mock celebration. “Did you two lovebirds enjoy your romantic stroll under the moonlight?”

Oscar shot her a warning look, but it only made her grin wider. “Mae, do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?” he quipped, trying to sound exasperated but failing to hide his smile.

Hattie, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed with a knowing smirk. “Oh, come on, Oscar. We saw you guys sneaking off together. What was it? A deep, soul-searching chat? Confessions of undying love?”

Edie snorted, adding her two cents with a dramatic gasp. “Wait, did he finally break out the big romantic moves? Did he tell you about his tragic backstory and show you his sensitive side?”

I laughed, shaking my head but feeling my cheeks flush under the teasing. “Wow, you guys really have an active imagination,” I said, trying to play it off casually. “We were just… talking.”

“Talking,” Mae repeated, her tone dripping with mock suspicion. “Sure, sure. That’s what they all say before the dramatic kiss in the rain scene.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, but he was clearly more amused than annoyed. “For your information, Mae, we were just enjoying a peaceful walk without all the peanut gallery commentary,” he shot back, though his playful glare did little to stop the relentless teasing.

“Oh, right,” Hattie said, putting on an exaggerated, dreamy voice. “Staring into each other’s eyes, holding hands, whispering sweet nothings—totally normal, everyday stuff.”

Edie gave an exaggerated sigh, wiping a fake tear from her eye. “I swear, this is better than any rom-com. I feel blessed to witness it in real time.”

Oscar groaned, rubbing his temples but unable to keep the smile off his face. “You guys are the worst,” he said, shaking his head, but the laughter in his eyes was unmistakable.

Hattie leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she gave Oscar a nudge. “So, did you tell her your big secret yet?” she asked, her tone half-joking but laced with just enough seriousness to make it feel like there was more to it. “You know, the one where you’re not just some guy who likes moonlit walks and cheesy flirting?”

Oscar rolled his eyes, but his shoulders tensed slightly. “Yeah, Hattie. I told her.”

Hattie smirked, turning her attention to me with a knowing look. “Well, good. Now you’ve seen the full Oscar package: charming flirt, terrible dancer, and, oh yeah, a race car driver who’s apparently allergic to being straightforward about it.”

I laughed, catching the hint of truth beneath her teasing. “Yeah, he told me. It was quite the plot twist,” I said, shooting Oscar a playful glance. “I mean, I thought I was just hanging out with some guy who likes chicken fights in pools, and then bam! Turns out he’s a high-speed adrenaline junkie.”

Oscar let out a half-hearted groan, but I could see the smile tugging at his lips. “See? This is why I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Now I’m the guy who goes from chicken fights to explaining how I don’t die doing my job.”

Edie leaned forward, her grin wide. “Oh, come on. You love it. And honestly, I think it’s pretty cool she didn’t bolt when you told her. That’s a win in my book.”

I shrugged, feeling oddly proud of myself for rolling with the revelation. “I mean, you could’ve told me you were a secret agent or something, and I’d probably still be here. But don’t get any ideas—I’m not driving any getaway cars for you.”

Hattie raised her glass in mock solemnity. “To not scaring her off with the ‘I drive at 200 mph for a living’ thing. Honestly, it’s about time someone just saw you for, you know, you.”

Oscar smiled, his eyes flickering with gratitude. “Thanks, Hattie. And yeah,” he turned back to me, squeezing my shoulder lightly, “I’m glad you’re here. Even if my sisters are determined to embarrass me at every turn.”

I laughed, leaning into the warmth of his side hug. “Hey, I’m just glad I got to hear the big secret firsthand. And for the record, you’re a lot more than just the guy on the track.”

Mae pretended to wipe away a tear, her voice cracking with fake emotion. “Look at them, so supportive. I’m not crying, you’re crying.”

Oscar groaned again, but his eyes never left mine, filled with a quiet, earnest appreciation that made the teasing worth it. “You guys are relentless.”

Edie smirked, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “Hey, you can’t blame us. We’ve got a front-row seat to the Oscar Romance Special. We’re just waiting for the next episode, preferably with more kissing.”

I nearly choked on my drink, caught off guard by her bluntness, and Oscar’s face turned a shade of pink I’d never seen before. “Edie,” he said, trying to sound stern but failing as a laugh escaped him. “I think you’re confusing our lives with one of your trashy reality shows.”

Mae jumped in, wagging her finger dramatically. “Excuse me, but if you’re going to give us reality TV vibes, at least make it entertaining. We need more dramatic confessions and less awkward hovering. I mean, seriously, when’s the big kiss scene?”

I looked at Oscar, my face heating up at the thought, but I decided to play along. “Well, Oscar, if you’ve got any more romantic revelations planned, you’d better warn me so I can, you know, brace myself.”

Oscar leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper just for me. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m full of surprises. And if you think that was my best move, you’re in for a wild ride.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep my cool but failing to hide my smile. “Wild ride? Wow, is that a racing pun or are you just that confident?”

He chuckled, giving me a quick wink. “Both. But you’ll have to stick around to find out which one’s more accurate.”

Mae let out a dramatic sigh, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Oh my god, just kiss already! You’re both practically oozing romantic tension. It’s painful to watch.”

Oscar’s grin turned devilish, and he leaned back, his eyes flicking to me with a playful glint. “See what I have to put up with? I swear, it’s like having a peanut gallery that’s also my personal cheer squad.”

I nudged him with my elbow, unable to keep from laughing. “You should be grateful. Not everyone gets this kind of enthusiastic support.”

He nodded, feigning deep thought. “You’re right. Maybe I should embrace it. I mean, it’s not every day you get heckled into flirting.”

Hattie jumped in, pointing her fork at us. “Yeah, and if you’re going to flirt, at least do it properly. We want fireworks, people.”

Oscar threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll work on my technique. But I can’t promise anything with all these eyes watching.”

I rolled my eyes, but the playful energy between us was impossible to ignore. “No pressure or anything,” I said, smirking at him. “But apparently, you’ve got a lot to live up to.”

Oscar leaned closer, his smile turning sly. “I thrive under pressure,” he said, his voice low and smooth, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. “Guess I’ll just have to make it memorable.”

His words hung in the air, flirtatious yet full of that quiet promise that left my heart racing. And as the night went on, filled with more teasing and playful banter, I realized that every joke, every look, was just another layer to the electric, unpredictable thing that was building between us.

Mae clinked her glass dramatically, interrupting my thoughts. “To Oscar, the wannabe Romeo, and to his leading lady, who’s clearly got the patience of a saint. Cheers to the saga we didn’t know we needed.”

I laughed, lifting my glass and meeting Oscar’s gaze. “Cheers,” I said, feeling the thrill of whatever this was settle comfortably around us. Because no matter how ridiculous or flirtatious it got, there was no denying that this was one ride I didn’t want to get off anytime soon.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

taglist! @mingyusbigrighttoe @theblueblub @demandealalune @linnygirl09 @fix5idiots

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andscene-if · 10 months ago

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AND SCENE—an 18+ slice of life plunges you, a nepotism baby, into the major spotlight as the lead in a highly anticipated movie, navigating swarms of hate, swirling scandals, dating rumours, false tabloid reports, and invasive paparazzi.

Breaking news—the love interest role in Claire White's latest blockbuster finally has a star, and it's none other than [MC], pictured above, the youngest offspring of Hollywood moguls. Brace yourselves for a wild ride as [MC], usually seen in their parents' flicks, takes on a meatier role in one of next year's most hyped movies.

But hold the popcorn—whispers on the red carpet suggest [MC]'s previous filmography is more "meh" than marvellous.

Is this casting coup the pinnacle of Hollywood nepotism, or will [MC] flip the script and prove they're a force to be reckoned with? Love them or hate them, one thing's for sure: this star-studded spectacle is about to kick off, and only time will spill the juiciest deets straight from the set.

So, grab your shades, folks, because this Hollywood rollercoaster is just getting warmed up and PinkCelebTea will report every step of the way—you know how it is!

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NEXT UP: Our insiders spill the tea—L Alvarez ain't exactly doing cartwheels about acting alongside what they're dubbing an 'untalented and undeserving' co-star. Trouble behind the scenes already?

# Choose the movie genre & title + those of your previous 4 films. # Customise your MC & public persona. # Navigate drama in front and behind the screen. # Shoot the movie cover & go on press tour. # Prove you're more than just a nepo kid...or don't. # Romance one out of four love interests. # Maybe even snag a few nominations by the end!

THE CO-STAR [M/F]—Louis/Luana Alvarez.

Appearance: 6'0. Brunette with curly hair (short for m, chest-length for f), pale skin and dark brown eyes. Signature style includes a white shirt/blouse, top buttons undone, and loose pants. Always impeccably dressed, with a flair for full-on glamour on special occasions, such as the red carpet. Personality: Reserved and quiet. While not everyone can pull off that demeanour, they do it flawlessly. Fans absolutely adore their composed exterior, noting, "it adds to their mystique."

THE MAKEUP ARTIST [F] — Red.

Appearance: 5'7. Long ginger hair, tanned skin adorned with freckles, and green eyes. Often dressed in skintight black or dark attire, with a scarlet shade coating her lips. Personality: Red exudes calm confidence with a soft-spoken demeanour, yet she's not one to be underestimated. She holds herself in a thoughtful, sensual, and quick-witted manner.

THE BARTENDER [M/F] — Zayn/Zara Lao.

Appearance: 5'11. Brunette with wavy hair (short for m, just below shoulders for f), tan skin, brown eyes, and a distinctive left brow slit. They've also got tattoos all over their body. Since the club gets hot quickly, you'll usually find them in something small and non-constricting, like a vest top and a pair of jeans. Personality: Unapologetically outspoken, they don't hold back. Blunt yet surprisingly charming, they've become somewhat of a local favourite in the area, rubbing shoulders with the right kind of people.

THE RIVAL [M/F] — Phoenix Ryder.

Appearance: 5'11. Black tightly curled hair (short for m, long for f & often styled differently), dark skin, and brown eyes. They sport a 90s-inspired style—often seen in loose-fitting denim jeans, a breezy shirt/crop top, and adorned with silver rings. Personality: Suave, charismatic, confident, and a touch cheeky—checking all the Hollywood boxes. As noted by many, "a legend in the making."

++contains mentions of alcohol and drug use, violence, explicit language, and optional sexual content++

DEMO TBA | CHARACTER INTROS

reblogs are appreciated :) thanks for reading!!

#interactive fiction #masterpost #wip #cog #choicescript #interactive game #dashingdon #hosted game #choice of games

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classofo9theflipsideremake · 2 months ago

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Class of 09: The Flipside: Rewrite

Hey everyone! I’m a huge fan of Class of ‘09 and I’ve been thinking about how amazing the game could be with a bit of a revamp, especially after the direction the third game took. While I love the dark humor and over-the-top tone of the original, I feel like the third game didn’t really hit the mark for me (and I’m sure a lot of you feel the same way). So I’ve been working on an idea for a rewrite/remake, but with a fresh twist—turning it into an interactive YouTube series while keeping the same spirit and dark humor that made the first game so iconic.

Plot Overview:

The story would pick up after the Graduation ending, with Jecka as the main character. She’s been desperately trying to find a university that will accept her, not because she cares about school, but because (in her words), “I’m too fucking hot to work in a fast food restaurant, Nicole!” She calls Nicole at 3 AM, and together they find a “cool” fashion university.

It turns out Jecka has secretly loved fashion for years and even draws her own outfits every Wednesday when she barely talks to anyone—even Nicole! Most of the game would follow her experiences trying to survive at the fashion university, dealing with new classmates and the ridiculous world of high fashion.

While the cast is mostly new, Nicole, Ari, and Jeffrey all return:

Ari is now a confident head of the city Pride Parade and got into the university because of her work designing outfits for the parade.

Jeffrey is much less weird—he’s still into manga and anime, but his focus is on design and improving his art. He got into the university because his anime character designs have great anatomy.

Nicole got in by tracing Jecka’s work (I don't wanna get murdered by the fandom so I had to sneak her in the University SOMEHOW).

What Makes It Different:

Same Dark Humor: I want to keep the sharp one-liners and edgy humor from the first game. Think along the lines of the famous "I feel" conversation from the Nicole x Ari ending.

Character Growth: Jecka gets more depth, especially with her secret passion for fashion. Nicole will still be chaotic, but she’ll face new challenges trying to survive at a university where she doesn’t belong.

New Characters: Jecka’s new classmates would bring fresh dynamics and humor. Some could be rivals, others potential new friends.

5 Endings: I’ve outlined five endings, with a mix of success, rivalry, and even failure, all with the same darkly comedic twists that Class of '09 is known for.

Why Interactive YouTube?

I think the interactive YouTube format would be a cool way to bring this story to life. Viewers could make choices for Jecka and Nicole, leading to different outcomes—kind of like the original game but with the visual and comedic flair of a YouTube series. I’m aiming to create something that feels like it could be an official continuation, with all the humor, drama, and ridiculousness we love from the first game.

I’d love to hear your thoughts! Does this idea sound like something you’d watch? Any suggestions for what you'd want to see from a Class of ‘09 remake? Let me know!!!

#class of 09 #class of 09 the flip side #jecka class of 09 #nicole class of 09 #ari class of 09 #jeffrey class of 09 #rewrite #indiedev

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taylormarieee · 8 months ago

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In my Feelings Luke Castellan

Summary: You find Luke talking to another girl and after taking action it backfires on you and now you might lose the love of your life...

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Fem!Aphrodite!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Angst, fire, arrows being shot, hair burned off, threats, Luke being a douche and terrible boyfriend, sad reader, humiliation, drama, anger, reader being a badass, that's all enjoy!

Previously:

He faced your body away from the door and shielded you with his body that way if Chiron came in, he wouldn't see you.

"I got my eyes on you my pretty girl. Won't let anything happen to you baby."

He finally drifted off to sleep letting his dreams flow like a river, a river full of love and happiness.

He finally had a peaceful and loving dream rather than a nightmare. And he was grateful you were the cause of his fantastic dream.

Now:

Three weeks later your walking around Camp half blood and it's cooler than normal. Maybe it rained and brought cool breeze but the sun was still shining.

You were walking towards archery as this will be the first time you go back ever since the "Incident". The incident where that boy came onto you and when your heard Luke confess his love for you offically.

You both were now in a happy relationship that's been going on for a month now and personally, you think it's the best thing in the world.

He's handsome, smart, very sneaky, and a total goofball, but he's your goofball and that's all that mattered to you.

As you were walking towards archery you saw Luke there and your face lit up and you started smiling, but that smile sooned dropped when you saw him with a girl. It wasn't just any girl, it was Candice.

She was a demigod child of demeter, she was also head counselor of Cabin 4. You didn't mess with her or get on her bad side because you didn't want poison ivy in your bed sheets or some type of flower to put you to sleep.

He was laughing with her and she was touching him and was too close for comfort, way to close for your liking anyway.

You felt a little hurt, he never liked Candice, he always hated the way she acted so prissy and stuck-up. Those stuff he told you were clearly lies if he's laughing with her and letting her touch him like that.

You stared at the both of them before Clarisse and Percy came up to you. You and Clarisse became closer friends and you helped her and percy settle their differences, there not friends but they tolerate each other.

"What's up? You look sad." Percy asks, his face contorting into one of worry. "Luke and Candice. At Archery. Look." You say in pieces not even able to say a proper sentence. They both look to where your pointing and see what you see.

You hear Percy sigh and you can feel Clarisse roll her eyes. "Candice was always a bitch anyway, and Luke was too good for you. Let's go, it's almost lunch." She says grabbing your arm to try and turn you away.

You stay in place and look at percy, he has an apple in his hand. "Hey can I borrow that for a second? Thanks." You say not waiting for his reply and snatching the apple from him.

You hear him protest in the distance but just walk closer to the two. "Hey Candice!" you shout not even acknowledging Luke, you were pissed now, but you didn't wanna show it.

A couple of other campers were aware of your presence and were nosy enough to want to see what was happening.

"Oh, hi! What's up!?" She shouts but as you get closer, your nice facade drops. "Hold this apple and put it on your head and stay fucking still, got it?" You demand before finishing off your sentence with a charming smile.

Clarisse and Percy give each other a knowing look and sit back and watch not even attempting to stop you.

Candice, looking like the confused girl she is puts the apple on her head anyway and stands still. You smile at a little girl before asking if you can borrow her bow and arrow.

You get in position and hold it out, but of course you wouldn't be you without a little flair. "Light it up please." you ask politely. Candices smile drops and she gets scared.

Someone rushes over and lights the tip of the arrow on fire and you smile and thank them. "uh I didn't sign up for this." Candice says moving a bit. "Didn't I tell you to stay fucking still? You signed up for this when you decided to flirt with my fucking boyfriend." You snap back.

You ready the arrow and release it causing it to hit the apple but what you didn't expect was for the fire to burn some of candices hair in the back. Luckily Luke put it out with some water. She screamed and stormed off before looking at you one last time.

'She had it coming.' you thought. You looked at Luke, rolled your eyes and walked off before he could even chase you. You walk up to Percy and Clarisse and wrap your arms around them, "Anyone hungry?" You say with a smirk on your face. You and Clarisse laugh and Percy smiles.

It was a couple hours after the incident and Chiron decided to make an example out of you, in front of everyone.

"Y/N Y/L/N and CANDICE CAPONE! Come up here now!" He yelled, silencing everyone and making all their heads turn towards you and Candice. Your eyes darted around before they fall on Luke.

You were still angry but that anger would soon turn to sadness. You looked at Clarisse and then Percy and the Annabeth and lastly, Grover. You smiled at all of them as they had worried expressions because they've never seen Chiron so mad.

You walked up and Candice stood on the other side of Chiron. You two stop in front of each other but looked at Chiron. "You, y/n y/l/n did something extremely unexceptable. You shot an arrow at a fellow demigods head and burned her hair. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" He asked

"Yes, yes I do. Candice Capone, I'm extremely sorry for what I did. It was not nice and completely unfair to you. I shouldn't have done it, but I didn't think that was going to happen. So for that I'm sorry. Do you accept my apology so we can put this shit- sorry, this situation behind us?" You said.

You didn't actually mean it but you had to make it sound believable before you get stuck on horse duty for the rest of the week, month even. She stared at you for a few minutes not saying anything.

At that point you got tired of standing up there and was ready to sit down. "I accept your apology but I do have one thing to say to you. That's exactly why Luke doesn't even like you anyway."

The whole room gasps. Everyone literally knows you and Luke are the IT couple, you guys were perfect and everyone kew how much Luke loved you, or so they thought.

"He is so sick of you and your constant complaining, your random outbursts and just the way you always bother him with wanting to do cutesy stuff together. He said your annoying and he wants you off his back." She says with the evilest smirk on her face.

You were on the brink of tears. "That's all, but I do accept your apology because now we're even, you embarrassed me, I embarrassed you." She says before walking away to go sit down.

You stood there in complete shock. You know you shouldn't have believed it but lately the signs were coming back to you. Luke had an attitude with you yesterday because he was tired and you wanted to go swimming, you ended up going with Percy and Annabeth, and Clarisse tagged along for the fun of it.

You watched as everybody looked at you. Your eyes were dark and your expression emotionless. "Hey Candice, when your hairs all gone tomorrow and you can't grow it back, I'm gonna see whos embarrassed now. Watch your back." You threaten.

Her smile drops and you try so hard not to grab something to throw at her fucking face. You loom at Luke and that's when the tears come down. 'Don't cry, Don't cry, Don't. Fucking. Cry.' It repeats over and over again in your head but it's not working.

One tear falls and then you run off before anyone can say anything. You didn't wanna be in your feelings because then you would go into this isolation where you avoided help and avoided everyone.

You hated this and god why'd you have to be such a cry baby. You hated when you got in your feelings.

Why couldn't Luke just say something. ANYTHING! He just sat there, didn't even try to come after me and comfort me and tell me it's all a lie. Instead he sits there like a fucking jakcass and does nothing.

You wanted to drown, get struck by lighting, died in a war full of men or maybe just died in your sleep. Anything is better than this feeling. Anything is better than being in your feelings.

Slowly drowning in a pool you can't get out of. Stuck in a time loop of constant nightmares that fuel your overthinking and negatively shut you down physically and mentally.

'If only there was a way to get out. If only I could stop being in my feelings.' you thought...

Taglist: @elaratckker @lizziesfirstwife @angelicdanvers @prettyinsatiable @angelinajolie0213 @maryann2013 @kneehe-nehar7 @rhydianissuperior @urmomsbananabread @reader-bookling123 @istillremberthefirstfallofsnow @csifandom @repostingmyfavs @leo-lvr @glorywielder101 @aanoia @madelainelupin16 @ahh-chickens @callsignwidow @murdrdocs @bright-molina

A/N: i'M SORRY THIS ONE IS SO DEPRESSING STOPPPP! dw though they'll have their happy ending and their happily ever after in the last and final chapter! Love you guys and thanks so much for the support! MWAH💋

~COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE NEVER ASKED FOR BUT MUCH APPRECIATED~

#luke castellan #luke castellan fanfic #pjo luke #luke castellan fanfiction #lukecastellan #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x reader #pjo series #luke castellan x you #luke castellan angst

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itsmarsss · 7 months ago

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Scandalous (Blitzø x Fem!Succubus!Reader x Stolas) [Helluva Boss] pt. 1 - The Prince

How the mighty do fall.

(Getting into a weird three-way situation with an imp and a succubus isn’t exactly considered classy, Stolas.)

pt 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | 1st bonus | pt. 6 | pt. 7 | pt. 8 | pt. 9 | 2nd bonus

Word count: 1,520

Warnings: I mean. depression. arranged marriage. this part doesn’t contain actual sex only mentions of it but others might idk, me taking myself way too seriously writing this, this has no dialogue but don’t give up on me im actually a pretty dialogue heavy person but this only works if this chapter has no dialogue

If you ever asked Stolas, he’d say he was never one to cause a scene.

If you asked anyone else, they��d say he’s lying.

Stolas had always been fond of a little drama and drawn to a bit of flair, akin to exaggeration and grandeur like no other. Be it in the way he speaks, acts or reacts to hell around him, be it how he expresses his emotions or his thoughts and even his feelings towards others.

Emotions, thoughts, feelings. Stolas was always full of those, ever since he was an ugly, pink, featherless little project of a bird. They have been all-consuming ever since he can remember. And he remembers.

Stolas can recall the confusion in his father’s voice whenever he cried as a kid, as if the action was strange and foreign, unfit for a demon like him.

And perhaps it was.

Stolas remembered many things, and yet he could not recall a single time he had seen his father cry- or show any sort of weakness, for the matter. Paimon was always stern and centered, and Stolas is sure the only thing close to weakness he’s ever expressed was his inability to be more than his status- to be an actual father. He doubted his father would consider that a weakness.

What was fatherhood next to being royal, anyway, right?

It was disconcerting to grow up certain that, between his father and all of his brothers, he was, without a doubt, the weakest. After all, how could he not be? He was scared, of a many things, most of the time. He felt things too deeply in his heart and he worried too much and too often about way too much. He was well aware of all of that.

But, as he grew up, Stolas decided he was fine with it, if it meant he got to genuinely feel things. Because Octavia had come to exist, and he could never in his heart find the willpower to act as cold to her as his own father did to him.

Yes, he decided he was fine with being weak, if that’s what being able to love unconditionally took. He was fine with being weak, if that’s what being loved took.

He may not have loved his father, or even liked him, for the matter. But he promised to himself he’d do anything it took for Octavia to love him.

And how it filled him with pure and utter joy to feel loved for the first time in his life.

He may not have loved Stella, either, but their union had brought him his daughter, and nothing in the entirety of the universe mattered more to him than her. And so he was grateful for their arrangement, after all, despite the bitterness of it all.

With Octavia’s teenage years came the flood, though. Stolas cried himself to sleep almost every single night for years to come as he was reminded of the fact that being grateful for what his marriage brought him was not enough to make him happy to be in the situation in which he found himself, unable to exist as he was inside of his own home without fearing the judgement of a wife who loved him just as much as he loved her - not even a tiny little bit- and unable to shield his daughter from the unhappy family he’d once feared she would have to endure.

Stella was never someone Stolas particularly liked. In fact, he quite disliked her, from the moment he laid eyes on her as his father told him they were betrothed to one another, at much too young of an age.

At first, it surely was purely the hatred for the fact that his fate was tied to her and there was nothing he could do to escape, and the sense of impending doom that came with every year that passed as he knew he grew closer to approaching the day there would be turning back, and watched the time pass as an expectator of his own life, as there was nothing he could really do but comply.

Royal life had its renounces.

When the day came for their marriage to be sealed, the moment finally materializing itself as real instead of bad news he’d try to push away and avoid dwelling into for too long, Stolas promised himself he’d try to get over those feelings and make an effort to know her better. If they would be tied to one another from this moment on, he could at least try to make it all not so miserable.

It was a task set to fail.

When Octavia was conceived, Stolas felt nothing but relief. After all, this entire situation was based purely on business, all-dependent on the birth of an heir. Which meant, in some way, they were a bit more free than before. However much that can be in the situation they found themselves in.

Relief came first, dread came second. At only 19 years old, what did Stolas know of parenting anyway? Logically, he knew this would be happening. Logically, he’d known that for almost a full decade. Logically, that should have been enough for him to be prepared.

But he felt anything but prepared. How was he, who felt lost at all times, who cried at the slightest things, who didn’t ask for all of this, supposed to be a father? What twisted parameters did he have, considering his own?

He only hoped time would ease those feelings.

Throughout the years, he learned those feelings never do leave you, and that parenthood is forever a state of worry. You never truly feel ready- there’s just not much more that you can do than try your best.

To be loved by Octavia was enough. Or… at least it should be, shouldn’t it? Was it selfish, or perhaps even inconsiderate, unfair to her that at times he found himself longing to be loved by someone whose existence wasn’t bound to him? Wishing to know if someone would ever care not because they were betrothed to him and not because they were his own blood, but simply because they liked who he was? Enjoyed his company? Felt genuine attraction towards him?

When thoughts of the sorts consumed him it was hard not to punish himself mentally for thinking such frivolous things, for having such superficial wishes. But it wasn’t hard to figure out where it all stemmed from. After all, when the only partner you have ever had in your entire life hadn’t any say in choosing you, it’s only natural to wonder what it would be like to be with someone who did choose him.

When you’ve had no say in choosing the only partner you’ve ever had in your life, in turn, it’s only ever natural, too, to wonder what it would be like with someone you would have chosen to be with. Someone who excited you, who made you feel things. Stolas didn’t even know what exactly those things were supposed to be, but spent his days longing to feel them nonetheless.

The day Blitzo, someone he hadn’t heard of in decades, was caught trying to sneak into his palace, during the most depressing party ever thrown in all seven rings, Stolas felt excitement for the first time in a long while. It’s almost like his brain had a reaction before he even processed it, like it was stuck repeating the same thing over and over and over: Friend. Friend. Friend.

Sure, Blitzo wasn’t his friend. They hadn’t been friends for, once again, literal decades. In fact, they had only ever been friends for about a day.

But Blitzo was his first ever friend. And you don’t just forget that. Stolas never would, at least.

And in that night they spent together, something in Stolas changed. That night, he felt wanted. For the first time in his life, he felt desired. For the first time in his life, sex wasn’t just business. It wasn’t just an obligation or a means to an end. For the first time in his life, sex was fun.

He knew it was supposed to be fun. He knew it was fun for most people. He had just stopped hoping it would ever be fun for him.

And, sure, he also knew what they did was wrong. But he couldn’t get himself to care as much as he probably should have, because, truth be told, Stella could pretend to have been hurt by it however much she wanted, but they both knew she never really was.

“That was the sound of a fucking divorce!”

A couple hours later, sitting on his bed in shock, he could still barely believe he had really just done what he did- what they should have done so long ago- and Stolas just started laughing to himself. The more he laughed, the harder it was to stop. He knew he just had to be like a maniac like that, but couldn’t possibly get himself to care, because, for only a split second did the thought of not being supposed to let his servants see him in that state pass through his mind, but it only made him laugh harder.

He’d just announced his divorce to the wife he’d been set to marry since birth, can’t get much more scandalous than that.

A/N: would you believe me if i said this started as an idea for what was supposed to be only a funny silly little oneshot with dick jokes and public embarrassment?

Requests for Blitzø and Blitzø x Stolas are open! I’m also SO hyperfixated on this show rn so if y’all wanna chat abt hcs or this series be my guest I’d be happy to talk and i don’t bite unless asked nicely luv y’all <3

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sugurufic · 8 months ago

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Student of the Year (Gojo x Reader, Geto x Reader)

Summary: Saint Teresa, the planned destination for the rich, and a dream for those who can't afford it. Of course, there's a tension between the rich and the scholarship kids, the rich ones acting so much better than the others. All of that changes, when Suguru Geto, the new scholarship kid joins, blurring the lines between the two cliques. Satoru Gojo, the resident rockstar, the son of the most affluent man, the poster boy of the rich. You, the hottest girl on campus, Satoru’s girlfriend (or are you). Friends, bitches, love and betrayal - a competition to ruin all relationships.

Content Warning: fluff, fights, focused on SatoSugu, reader is rich and low-key a bitch, fuckboy Satoru, love triangle (stsg and reader) breakups, friendship breakups, typical Bollywood drama, a few swear words, ends on a positive note

Word Count: 21k | masterlist

A/N: For those of you unfamiliar with SOTY i've attached the links to the movie's songs <3 the tall guy is Sugu and shorter one is Satoru's character

Saint Teresa - the college where dreams come true, or nightmares become real. Saint Teresa is a big name with a big game - having a big division in the trust fund kids and the scholarship kids. There’s the star of the trust fund kids - Satoru Gojo - the son of the biggest tycoon of the country, who is blessed by the gods with a charming face and a gift for music, and wants to be a rockstar. Music is his passion, but he does have a lover - only the prettiest girl of Saint Teresa, the one sought after by everyone who's anyone. She drowns in luxury, dropping brand names like they were some pop stars. The only things she doesn’t lack are beauty and money.

One might think that with the prettiest girl of the school at his side, Satoru wouldn’t even look at other people, but as the first day of the new college term rolls out, you’re met with the sight of your boyfriend of four years getting a little to cosy to Tanya, his hand on her waist and her hands on his chest. You see red - the wine in your hand finding a target besides your mouth.

You pat his back, trying to get his attention, but he pushes you off in favour of whispering dirty-nothings to Tanya, the brunette soaking up his attention. The fates are cruel and the other woman notices you first, and Satoru only turns around to see you when Tanya asks him to.

He’s shocked, surprised and begins profusely apologising for not noticing you earlier, while Tanya looks at you with an annoying smirk plastered on her face.

“You know Tanya, wine stains are the hardest to get rid off,” You tell her, feeling positively malicious, directing your anger at her instead of Satoru.

“Thanks for the washing machine tip, I guess?” She responds, her voice snarky.

“You’ll need it,” you say, before throwing the remaining wine onto her white top and stalking away from the both of them.

“Baby, listen!” Satoru calls after you, catching up easily with his long legs. “Baby, I said I’m sorry, why did you have to do that?”

“Listen, Satoru,” You emphasised on his name, an angry crease between your brows. “If you don’t leave your company this term, I will leave you. Fix yourself.”

“Baby, you look so sexy, all jealous and threatening me,” Satoru teases, licking his lips as he looks down at you.

“I’m being serious, Satoru,” You say, not using any endearments for him. “You’ve been at it for too long. Stop testing me.”

A new sports scholarship student joins Saint Teresa for the new term, state level track gold medalist and a martial arts champion - Suguru Geto. He’s from a humble background, not having the flair and pomp of the rich kids, but he has the confidence and the skills to make things work. He drives his simple motorbike to the campus from the dorms, backpack on his shoulder. His long dark hair is tied up in a bun, and a few bangs frame his pretty face.

(Kukkad)

He parks his bike at an empty spot, when two guys, one blond and the other raven haired, come up to him. Suguru looks at them, a little confused, but doesn’t say anything regardless.

“Hey bangs guy, don’t you know this parking spot is reserved for the Satoru Gojo?” Ichiji Kiyotaka says. He too is one of the scholarship kids, dressed in simple clothes. His companion, Kento Nanami, seems like a scholarship kid as well with his too-neat hair and simple shirt and jeans. “Go park your bike somewhere else.”

He looks at them, scowling, but doesn’t attempt to move his bike.

Just then, the man in question rolls in with his blue Ferrari, lips turned up in disgust on seeing his usual spot occupied with a cheap bike he can’t even be bothered to know the name of.

“Kiyotaka, why is the trash here?” His voice is arrogant and full of himself, glaring at Kiyotaka and the bangs guy from behind his opaque sunglasses. “Don’t I pay you to keep my spot empty everyday?”

“This trash is called a motorbike and runs on petrol, you see,” Suguru says, voice laced in calm confidence.

“What did you say was your name again?” Satoru asks, sparkly blue eyes scrutinising him up and down from under his fluffy white hair - right from his bun and bangs to his sneakers, lip curling in disgust.

“I simply never said it,” Suguru simply says, purple eyes fixed on him, a model of confidence.

Satoru’s sidekick, another kid paying full fees, Yu Haibara, chimed in, “Are you trying to play Crorepati with us? You’ll give options and then we’ll have to choose?”

“I’m called Suguru Geto,” Suguru finally says, the air of confidence never leaving him.

“Suguru,” Satoru tries saying his name, the disinterest in his voice feigns - behind his sunglasses, his blue eyes are trying to find a point of weakness. “Well, Suguru, this is my parking spot, and I’m asking you to take your tractor away.”

Suguru doesn’t respond, going to the blue Ferrari instead, saying, “2005 Ferrari F360 Spider convertible, 400 horsepower with alloy wheels, a great car.”

“What are you man or Google?” Kiyotaka Ichiji comments.

“Maybe he was a mechanic back in his village,” Satoru says, looking down on him.

“A valet at the nightclub,” Suguru says.

“Valet?” Satoru says, giddy on finally finding a weakness. He throws him the keys of the car, which the bangs guy expertly catches and says, “Take the keys and park my car. And here’s some cash, maybe get your tractor cleaned.” He pauses for a moment, then adds. “Keep the change,”

Everyone waits with a baited breath to see the calm, confident bangs guy reaction, Satoru with a cocky smirk on his lips as Suguru calmly gets in the driver side of the car and the engine roars to life. There’s a collective gasp as Suguru takes the 2005 F360 to the muddy ground and runs it around in near perfect doughnuts, turning the baby blue to a muddy brown. There’s a crowd gathered around him, loud gossip travelling in the crowd, half terrified, half annoyed but most of it admiring the man with the bangs.

The white haired man’s heart threatens to burst out of his chest at the rage he’s feeling - no one ever dares to cross him, especially not a scholarship kid who couldn’t even afford to be there. He is seeing red, eyes bloodshot and focused on Suguru, he’ll rip the confidence right out of him with the bangs everyone is seeming to talk about.

Satoru is ready to fight, when Suguru lazily steps out of the blue Ferrari and throws the keys right back to the owner. When Satoru is in closer range, the dark haired man takes the cash that he’d been given and hands it back saying, “Here’s some cash to get your car cleaned.” Suguru steps back and takes a short pause. “And please, keep the change.”

Being insulted like that on the first day of the new term by some scholarship brat was not on Satoru Gojo’s bucket list. He is red with rage, and throws the sunglasses off and pushes his white hair back from his forehead before raising his fists to hit the new guy, but Suguru’s easy defence only eggs him on more. They’re fighting, but Suguru has a bit of the upper hand with his expertise in martial arts. But soon the two are being pulled apart by the crowd while the rest continue recording the fight. To everyone else, it was a brilliant first day of school, and gossip fodder for everyone for the whole term.

They’re both escorted to the Dean, Masamichi Yaga’s office, the old man not very happy to be dealing with silly boy fist fights on the first day of the newest term. He has been in a nice mood this morning after talking with his bonsai plant, but that’s ruined now. He sounds jolly when he begins his questions, “Boys will be boys, bad boys, right?” His jolly tone deceives Satoru who nods in agreement.

“No, nonsense. This uncivilised behaviour is unexpected from students of St. Teresa,” He scolds them both. “Which one of you started the fight?”

“Sir, he did,” Satoru says, pointing to his left. “He parked in my spot,”

“It was empty when I came,” Suguru counters, annoyed. “It’s not your father’s parking, is it?”

“You know what, it actually is,” Satoru turns to him, nerves getting the best of him. “My father is the biggest trustee of St. Teresa-”

“You must think that your dad pays my salary as well then, Mr. Gojo,” Dean Yaga intervenes in a sassy voice. “You don’t speak like that in my office, Mr. Gojo. Speaking of your father, I’ve invited him as our first guest speaker, so he’ll be here in a day or two. I’ll let him know of your antics then,”

Satoru quickly turns around, white hair flying in all directions as the anger turns into surprise, blue eyes comically widen,“Please don’t, sir.”

“Now shake your hands like gentlemen and don’t repeat this same mistake,” Yaga says, smiling sweetly. He was an eccentric man - kinder and gentler to his plants than to most of his faculty and students. The two men reluctantly shake their hands and share a plastic smile, if only to get out of the Dean’s office.

- - - - - -

“Satoru, you were acting so recklessly,” you say, applying an ointment to the bruise on his cheekbone. The brunette Tanya, not discouraged by your wine attack, was sitting right beside your boyfriend, worrying herself. Shoko, your best friend, rolls her eyes, not very fond of Tanya or Satoru.

“Who does this new guy think he is, not respecting you?” Tanya says instead, feeding into his bloated ego. “It’s good that you taught him a lesson,”

Yu agrees, always the loyal sidekick. “That’s right, Satoru, he had no right to steal your parking spot then humiliate you like that. Bloody scholarship brat.”

- - - - -

“Suguru, you’ve earnt us scholarship kids respect,” Nanami, the blond man of a few words says. “The way you handled Satoru, I salute you on behalf of all of us.”

Suguru raises his eyebrow to acknowledge his classmate, but continues going forward, excited to hear Isamu Gojo talk about his success in becoming a raging business tycoon in the country while coming from nothing.

“Where are you going?” Kento asks. “You can’t go to the front, that’s for the trust fund kids. Come here, sit with your bank account.”

“I’ll sit where I want,” Suguru says with that calm confidence typical of him. He sits down right next to Shoko, who sat with her friends - Satoru and his group of the one-percenter kids. All of your eyes flit to him, but he seemingly doesn’t care - or if he does, he is doing a great job not showing it.

You take note of his bangs, and his hair in bun - you’re half jealous of his hair and partly angry at his treatment of your boyfriend, but you also admire his confidence. Turning back to Satoru, you see him staring at bangs guy, eyes full of spite - it seems even worse than your spite towards that bitch Tanya. “Satoru, don’t,” you quietly whisper to him, putting your hand on his. He only gives an annoyed glance, which hurts you more than it should have.

“Good morning boys and girls, I am very delighted to have our first session with a guest speaker, one of the leading business tycoons of the country - Isamu Gojo!” Dean Yaga says, and the whole crowd erupts in cheers and applause. Satoru is quick to plug his ears with his earbuds, loud music already blaring through. “We’re glad that you could join us today, Mr. Gojo.”

“I hope you are having a wonderful term so far, ladies and gentlemen,” Isamu Gojo says. He too is a big, tall man with white hair and light eyes, the resemblance with his son almost uncanny. “I would like to correct you, Masamichi, I’m the leading business tycoon of the country,” he then proceeds to laugh at his own joke, enjoying the way the Dean and the teacher’s smile drops. “See, I’m not one for guiding you to bookish studies, your teachers are enough for that. Your teachers teach you the rules of the world, but keep one thing in mind: it's the winners who make those rules. So keep up your winning spirit and dedication, and play the game to win - not to learn the rules.”

He beams with pride as the crowd roars in applause, as if he just hadn’t insulted the whole faculty body of the school. Satoru too joins the applause, even though he hadn’t heard a word - he didn’t need to, hearing the condescending words all the time back at home. Somehow, he’s even more spiteful of his own father than he is of the bangs guy.

- - - - -

“Suguru Geto,” The coach says, noticing Suguru after classes a couple of days later. Everyone knows Suguru by now - his fight with Satoru Gojo, then his calm confidence in classes, with his pretty face and unique hair is the talk of all cliques. “State Level Track gold-medalist and martial arts expert… Have you ever played football?”

“I have, sir,” Suguru says, smiling politely.

“Why don’t you come for the tryouts tomorrow?” Coach says. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“I’ll be there, sir.” Suguru promises.

Unsurprisingly, Satoru and his loyal sidekick Haibara are a part of the football team. Kiyotaka is acting as the coach’s assistant - keeping things in order for him. Satoru Gojo’s clique tries so hard to ruin Suguru’s tryouts for the team, attempting to trip him, tackle him, but his graceful movements and power packed kicks are more than enough to defend and dodge himself, all the while managing to score a perfect goal. Satoru’s usually pretty face is creased with frowns and scowls, mood sour at Suguru making it into his team. He’ll be sure to rub the bangs guy in the mud once he is appointed captain, determined to show the coach that the village brat is a bastard.

“Haibara, bring me the keys to the notice board,” Satoru says, a devious plan already forming in his head.

“What are you gonna do with that boss?” Haibara asks.

“Just bring me the keys, Haibara.” Satoru says, annoyed.

- - - - -

Two mornings later, Haibara comes to Satoru with the news that the coach was not happy with Suguru and had ordered him to jog 200 laps of the school ground - which Suguru accepted without a voice of protest. Satoru feels awful for what he’s done - delivering piss to the coach’s house and labelling it as Ganga Jal (our equivalent to holy water) signed under Suguru’s name. He watches as Suguru sends Ichiji off - who was supposed to watch his laps, but continues jogging around the perimeter of the massive St. Teresa ground.

Seeing bangs accept the punishment he deserves changes something in him, it gives him a moment of introspection, of why he was villainising the new guy so much. Sure, bangs had parked in his spot, but the spot was empty when he came. He got selected in the team, but because he was actually good at the game. He was becoming the teachers’ favourite, but that was because he was polite and performed well with just enough confidence. The girls that usually fawned over Satoru and his guitar and his music, were now fawning over Suguru’s voice and bangs, never missing the chance to admire him - but Satoru shouldn’t care - he already has the prettiest girl on campus - you.

After class, the aspiring rockstar swallows the bitter pill and calls after Suguru, “Hey! Hey!” Suguru doesn’t listen, is too engrossed in his book and continues walking. Satoru’s long legs pick up speed, and he’s power walking to catch up. “Oh hello, I’m talking to you, bangs!”

“My name is Suguru, you know?” Suguru says with an annoyed sigh.

“Yeah, yeah, Suguru,” Satoru dismisses, continuing to walk beside Suguru, who bookmarks his spot in the book before turning to him. “I came here to say thanks for yesterday morning. You didn’t have to save us, you know. I could’ve handled the coach pretty easily.”

“I know, I didn’t want to do it at all either,” Suguru says, his voice level.

“Then why did you do it?” Satoru says, his cool-kid facade falling a bit.

“I was trying to act like Mahatma,” Suguru says, upturning the book he was reading. It was a biography of Mahatma Gandhi. “I wanted to know what Gandhi felt like being so idealistic.”

“You’ve got some loose screws, man,” Satoru incredulously says, motioning the loose screws with his large hands.

“I may have some loose screws, but you don’t have any.” Suguru deadpans.

“Very funny,” the white haired man scoffs. “You did listen to my dad, I suppose that is bound to make some impact on you.”

“You know, your dad isn’t crazy, he’s a little crooked,” Suguru says. “Which is a good thing, no one reaches that level of money without being at least a little crooked.”

“Show some respect to Gandhi in your hands, man,” Satoru teases, taking the book from him. “The gods made a silly mistake, you should’ve been my father’s son.”

“Why do you care so much about your father?” Suguru says, taking back the Gandhi biography from him, his thin dark eyebrow raised.

“I don’t care for my father or my mother,”

“You do, you’re seeking validation from them.” Suguru observes. “But it seems like all you get from them is money.”

“Wow, and now you’re an expert in parents’ philosophy, right?” Satoru dodges the accusation that hit just a bit too close.

Suguru looks away, the confident demeanour shaking as he says in a small voice, “I am, now that they’re gone.”

“What do you mean gone, are they on a vacation?” Satoru asks, genuinely confused.

“They’re dead,” Suguru says with an accepting sigh. Satoru stops in his tracks, wanting the earth to swallow him whole in that moment - how could he be so stupid and insensitive? “Quit the dramatics, man, yours are alive.”

“You fucker,” Satoru says, a chuckle escaping him. “You motherfucker,” Suguru smirks, accepting the insincere swearing. Satoru’s blue eyes gleam with laughter and he pats his new friend’s chest and says, “Let’s go to the cafeteria. It’s time for me to meet my girlfriend,”

- - - - - - -

You’re on your way to the cafeteria, enjoying your conversation with Shoko about the newest phone on the market when your good mood is soured by Tanya strutting in your direction, her hefty handbag seemingly weighing her down. Her friends follow her, but you don’t pay attention to them as Tanya comes to a stop in front of you, her head tilted up to look at you and a qualifier smile on her face.

“Have you heard who became the head cheerleader for this term?” Tanya teases, her annoying smirk never leaving her face. “It's Tanya Israni,” She eggs you on, frustrated by the calm smile on your face. “You must be so upset, because this position is only given to the most popular girl of the school,”

“I’m so happy for you Tanya,” You cooly say, stepping a little closer to her. “Good for you honestly,” You cheer her on, enjoying the confused look on her face. Shoko snickers behind you, fighting the laughter from her face. “You know, it’s really not my style to take pom-poms in my hands and scream and dance to catch men’s attention. I much prefer it if they notice me and try to catch my attention, you know. So, I’m so happy you got to be the head cheerleader.”

You pat her shoulders and walk away, Shoko hot on your heels.

At the cafeteria, you’re met with Satoru, your pretty boyfriend, who whips out his guitar and sings a song in your praise, and you eat it all up. It’s been quite a while since you’ve got his attention to himself - with bangs taking up most of his time and energy. You bask in the attention he gives you, eyes not missing bangs and the way his mysterious eyes linger on you as if trying to decipher you.

“All the attention on me suddenly?” You ask Satoru, taunting his last few months of hoeing around. “Are you sick? Or did you finally fix yourself?”

“I’m getting back on track,” He jokes, putting his arms around you.

“Or maybe you just want the world to know that she is still dating you,” Shoko teases. She isn’t a fan of Satoru, but she especially hates him now that he’s started taking you for granted.

“There she is, my competition,” Satoru gently punches Shoko’s shoulder, laughing. “Shoko, did you miss me?”

“In your dreams, Satoru,” Shoko shrugs his hand off, taking a whiff of her cigarette. “Besides, your competition is right here. Suguru, right?”

Suguru nods in acknowledgement as Satoru easily orders Yu around.“Haibara, go get chairs for the girls,”

“Ah, so you’re Suguru,” You say, raising your brow, scrutinising him.

“You’re saying as if you never noticed me,” He deadpans.

“I only saw you, noticing is totally different,” You say, pushing your hair out of your face. “Anyways, I’ve got to run to class now, Satoru. I’ll see you later.” You kiss his cheek and wave at Suguru then grab Shoko and rush to class. Suguru’s dark eyes follow your figure as you leave, trying to see under your rudeness.

“Don’t even think about it, Suguru,” Satoru warns. “That’s my girlfriend.”

“Well, good for you that she’s not my type then,” Suguru says, turning to his friend. “Besides, I have different plans.”

“I don’t care about your plans,” Satoru says, practically radiating with excitement. “I’m just happy that there’s finally someone who can match me.” He then shakes his head and leaves, fixing his glasses on the way out. Haibara returns with the chair, giving an odd look to Suguru, who rolls his eyes and walks away.

- - - - - - -

Friendships, breakups, jealousy, parties - all of it was a common occurrence at St. Teresa. But every other weekend, everyone got a reality check - when they went back to their homes.

At the Gojos back in Delhi, Isamu and Akihiko, Satoru’s older brother, were discussing the stock market and the impact of the changing polls on their organisation over dinner, disregarding himself and his mother. Satoru still tries to bond with them, trying to put forth some of his opinions, “Dad, I think-”

“You think?” Isamu taunts. “Since when did that happen?”

“Satoru, leave the thinking to us intellectuals,” Akihiko says. “You focus on your music, that’s what you have talent for, no? I’ll need your help finalising the music for the sangeet function at my wedding, you know. You can think about that. Leave the thinking about the stock market to us.”

Meanwhile at your residence - your mom and her latest husband discuss the gossip of people you couldn’t care less about. How that couple treated your mother, how the woman blatantly ignored her kind words of advice, how she had a horrible taste for the interior of her house - the same old, same old.

“I’m pregnant,” You abruptly say, trying to steer the conversation to some other direction.

“What did you say young lady-” Your mother starts, and your newest step father looks nearly as aghast as you mother.

“I’m kidding,” you say, rolling your eyes with a defeated sigh. “Please continue,”

Back in Dehradun, Suguru sits for dinner with his family - his Chacha, Chachi, cousins and Dadi, mustering up the courage to finally ask for some pocket money for a chemistry project.

“Suguru, everything alright in school?” His uncle asks.

“Yeah, Chachu, everything’s great.” He bites his lip then finally says, “Chachu, actually I needed some money for a chemistry project-”

“Right,” His Chachi intervenes. “Of course, Mr. Ambani, could you please give him some money from your endless bank account?”

His Dadi beats his Chacha to it, saying, “I’ll give you the money,” then she adds. “There’s a little less salt in the food, but okay I’ll manage.”

- - - - - - - -

With Monday, everything is back to normal. There’s a change in the daily life in Saint Teresa now that Satoru and Suguru have become friends, their friendship quickly becoming one of the best the college has ever seen.

The football team is practising for the yearly match with Saint Lawrence, a match that has been won by their competitors for an unbeatable record of 24 years. Dean Yaga hopes that this will change with this batch, the wonderful players he has got and even more wonderful Coach of theirs.

Coach is in a serious dilemma watching the team practice. Both Satoru and Suguru are brilliant players and would make great captains - but the custom is to have only one captain in the team. Making one captain in favour of another isn’t something he is considering, too much has already happened between the two before they started behaving civilly.

“Yu Haibara!” Coach calls. “You’re the football team captain for this term.”

Haibara, standing between Suguru and Satoru, is startled at first, then he celebrates with delight. The two friends on either side of him share a smile, accepting their unassigned-assigned co-captaincy of the team.

On the day of the much awaited match, you, Shoko, and Kento take your spot in the bleachers, while Tanya and her cheer squad stand right by the field. Your boys in blue and your opponents in red - the two teams come out of the stands and shake hands before taking positions for the game.

It’s a mess right when it starts - the boys in blue are too defensive, but they are too focused on not letting them score, where they miss the chances to snatch the ball away from them which ultimately led to a goal. Twice before halftime. Standing at an embarrassing 2-0, your side sulks and accepts defeat, ready to lose to Saint Lawrence for the 25th time in a row.

But after the half time, your boys in blue have gone from defensive to offensive, never letting the ball pass to the opposing team in red - keeping the ball to themselves. For a moment the ball goes to the red team, but Satoru is deft to act and snatches the ball away from them with a couple of his antics, not violating any rule of the game. He scores the first goal of the match for the blue team. From the humiliating 2-0 the score was now up to a less embarrassing 2-1. Your side erupted in cheers, and you were perhaps the loudest.

The next goal is just as swift, but this time it's Suguru running with the ball, easily distracting their goalie and scoring a goal. The game is now at a tie of 2-2.

The next time, Yu manages to snag the ball from the red players and then passes the ball to Suguru who keeps two of the red defenders occupied while he pretends to go for the goal and kicks the ball to Satoru whose deft attacks give Saint Teresa the final goal of the match - and the first victory after 25 years.

The team and the bleachers erupt in cheers, and the new friends and teammates share a hug. They’re jumping on the field, looking at each other with newfound respect and admiration. Suguru’s dark bangs stick to his forehead and Satoru’s white hair drips sweat down to the grass, which he is quick to wipe with the front of his jersey. The girls nearly lose their minds, but his attention is elsewhere.

“Don't kiss me now,” Suguru teases Satoru, yelling over the crowd.

“I won’t even hug you,” Satoru says as he envelopes Suguru in a bear hug, both of them feeling the sheer joy of winning and making their college proud.

Satoru takes Suguru back home to Delhi after their match to celebrate - the lavish mansion with servants at every beck and call leaving a scanning Suguru further steeling his resolve for his success, the only thing he joined Saint Teresa for. Satoru introduces Suguru to his mother, who seems like a meek, kind woman. Suguru holds his hands together in a namaste before her.

“Your father was asking for you, Satoru,” His mother says, wrapping her saree over her free arm.

“Why, is he unwell?” Satoru sarcastically asks, but follows his mother nonetheless, dragging Suguru along.

“Dad this is S-”

“Suguru Geto, I know,” Isamu Gojo shakes his hand as soon as he hangs up the call. “I’ve heard a lot about you, son. You are a popular name among teachers. I hope your determination rubs off on him too.” The way Isamu talks about his own son, his flesh and blood makes Suguru uncomfortable, but as usual he maintains his air of calm confidence.

“Uncle, but today’s victory is all thanks to Satoru, you know.” Suguru says. “If he hadn’t made the goal -”

“Oh really, I didn’t know you were capable of anything outside of playing that damned guitar.” the older white haired man taunts. Satoru grits his teeth, eyes narrowing behind his round sunglasses.

“He doesn’t appreciate it,” Satoru says, voice bitter. “Especially if it’s me,”

“If you want to hear compliments so bad, do something that matters,” Isamu challenges. “Win that Student Of the Year trophy, then we’ll talk.”

“What's the point in winning the trophy, you won't be happy then either,” Satoru says.

“It’s not about me being happy, it’s about ambition,” Isamu says, turning to Suguru, more welcoming of him than his own son. “You tell me, Suguru, would you win the Student of the Year trophy?”

“That trophy is mine sir,” Suguru says with his signature confidence, his voice smooth and even. “Now we just have to wait for it to get home,”

“That’s the spirit,” Isamu says, patting the dark-haired man’s shoulders. “I’m happy to hear that. Maybe some of your influence will rub off on Satoru with time. Now tell me, where do you see yourself in the future?”

“As you,” Suguru says, then seeing the creased brow, he elaborates on their similarities - small town kids growing up with low money, then taking the market by a storm with sheer force of will and strategic decisions. “Maybe even a bigger business tycoon than you.”

“Now this is ambition,” Isamu says, beaming with pride. “I love your confidence, my son. Maybe not everyone wants to play a guitar now.”

“Let’s go Suguru,” He says, eager to leave his golden cage.

(Vele)

Delhi’s buzzing nightlife is where Satoru takes him for their celebration. Even though it’s just the two of them, Suguru feels strange seeing his friend interact with everyone. Of course, he was familiar with the nightlife, but he’s always been there to work, never to enjoy. Satoru with his fluffy white hair and bright blue eyes and charming words is popular among the crowd - both the men and the women. It takes him some time - a couple days - to loosen up and feel the music.

Satoru is pressing up behind a giggly woman, his signature smirk on his lips and his glasses down just enough to tease the pretty colour of his eyes. He easily moves with her, going beyond just casually dancing with her. Suguru is entertaining a girl as well, but he’s not much into it - he isn’t fond of meaningless connections.

In the morning, they get a smoke - Satoru is so different from his night self - zoned out and blue eyes droopy with a longing. “Suguru… do you miss your parents?” he suddenly asks.

Suguru takes a moment to process the question, flashes of his happier times passing in his head. “Hmm, I do,” He says, nodding.

“Me too,” Satoru says, eyes focused on something and nothing at the same time.

Come the night, Satoru is back to his womaniser self - this time having two women splayed over him rather than just one. Suguru’s mind suddenly flashes your pretty face, and he wonders if you’d approve of his behaviour. He’s disgusted by Satoru’s behaviour, how he’s an attentionwhore but is not letting you go either. He might be too poor to understand your setup, he thinks.

The next night, they’re back on campus and the whole school is celebrating at the nearest club - Satoru is again getting cosy with Tanya, not even noticing you. You’re outraged and want to cause a scene, but you don’t. You don’t know what’s gotten into him in the past year, why he’s been going out and letting women get so close to him. Why did he need this much attention? Why couldn’t you leave him? You go to the bar, and to your surprise, Bangs is the one to notice your sulking self and he gets you shot. The two of you down the bitter drink, and he flashes his. And for some reason, you find yourself smiling even when he’s gone.

The next weekend, Suguru and Satoru are back in Delhi, smoking at their usual spot when Suguru finally asks him, “Do you love her?”

“I’m a little confused,” Satoru admits, looking down.

“About her?” Suguru asks, brow creased.

“About love,” Satoru admits, looking down at his phone.

“Are you gay?” Suguru asks incredulously.

Satoru chuckles, pulling Suguru close with his shirt. “Yeah, I am come here,”

“Oi, shut up!” Suguru smacks him away, laughing.

By the night, Satoru is too drunk, and Suguru drives the blue Ferrari back to the lavish Gojo house, picks up his drunk friend and drops him on his bed. Satoru mumbles at him to stay the night. Suguru too is exhausted, and he’s out like a lightbulb almost as soon as he drops to the bed. In the morning, the loud blaring of an electric guitar in an unfamiliar but upbeat tune wakes him up. Suguru goes to the balcony and sees the Gojo family, minus Satoru having breakfast and decides to join them.

“Good morning Uncle, Good morning Aunty,” Suguru greets them. “We got late last night so Satoru asked me to stay,”

“That’s alright my son, come sit with us.” Isamu says, motioning to the empty chair. “You’re listening to what we have to put up with every morning? Our little maestro is practising,”

“I was thinking I'd ask him for music recommendations for my sangeet but listening to this, I was terribly wrong.” Akihiko says. “It’s just noise.”

“Yeah, son, Akihiko is getting married, you should join us.” Isamu says. “Yu, Yaga, Coach, Tanya and the girl who is too good for Satoru, they're all coming.”

“Satoru didn’t say anything about-” Suguru reluctantly says.

“Yeah, he isn’t invited yet,” Isamu and his oldest laugh at his joke. “No need to worry about tickets and stay, we’ll go via our jet and there’s accommodation for everyone, my son.”

“Thank you, sir.” Suguru says, his smile reserved. He cannot fathom why Isamu antagonises his own flesh and blood this much. Satoru arrives as Isamu and Akihiko leave, and they don’t leave without a taunt. “Mr. Gojo just invited me to your brother’s wedding,” Suguru says, taking a sip of the orange juice as Satoru sits down next to him.

“Wow, maybe he’ll write your name in his will too,” Satoru says, rolling his eyes.

“That’s the plan,” Suguru teases.

“Remember, the dad comes with the property,” Satoru warns, mocking his father.

“With a bank balance like that I’ll handle everyone,” Suguru jokes, and Satoru just shakes his head, unaware of his own privilege.

- - - - - -

The wedding party lands in Thailand with much pomp - the first day they only relax and enjoy Thailand. Your mood is sour again - Satoru spent the whole flight flirting with Tanya and enjoying her advances, letting her touch him in ways that only you should be able to. On top of that Shoko wasn’t there, and now you had to spend the entire weekend with this.

When you land, Tanya starts enquiring about the luggage, to which you say, “Didn’t all of your clothes fit in your handbag?” and Satoru has the nerve to get mad at you - telling you that you should mind your tongue.

“Welcome to Thailand,” Bangs says, when he crosses you.

Later, you go to the resort’s beach, hoping to finally get some time with Satoru - only to see him lying on Tanya’s lap as she smothers his chest in sunscreen. Your sour mood turns bitter, and you go back to your room, eyes threatening to spill. But you take a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. Was it so easy for him to let loose after four years of being your boyfriend? Was he no longer attracted to you? You ponder with the thought of leaving him, but you don’t want to give him up - you love him, you think, and you don’t want your four years to go to waste.

Unbeknownst to you, bangs was feeling similar towards Satoru’s dismissal of you - seriously questioning his friend as to why he was even looking at other girls with you by his side. If it were up to Suguru and he had a girlfriend as amazing and pretty as you, he wouldn’t even look at other women.

The next morning, you see Satoru with Tanya - whose shrill voice is just a pitch lower than a moan. She’s massaging his back and letting out sounds which can only be described as ones of pleasure. You know about pleasure, of course - but you don’t sound that obnoxious.

“Should I massage your neck, while she massages your back?” You ask Satoru, voice sickly sweet. He takes off his glasses, blue eyes narrowed in annoyance and pushes his fluffy hair away from his face before acknowledging you. Tanya’s hands get more lecherous, a smirk on her face as her dark eyes meet yours.

“What do you mean?” Satoru asks, sounding almost mad at you.

You don’t back down, saying, “I thought you were too fond of massages,” motioning to the way he was sitting in front of Tanya.

“I’m only helping Satoru release his tension, he’s always so stressed.” Tanya says, her voice artificially shrill and concerned. “See, his back has so many knots.”

“Why don’t you open a massage stall then? Everyone in Bangkok would come to you to release their stress.” You snap at her, the dam breaking.

“That’s enough! Why are you acting so insecure?” Satoru has the audacity to get mad at you, looking down at you with such annoyance that you actually start thinking that you’ve done something wrong. “I’m only chilling with my friends, no? What’s so wrong with that?”

The damn holding your tears back breaks, “There’s nothing wrong, absolutely nothing,” your voice breaks and you rush away, tears spilling.

You stand by an isolated spot, away from everyone’s eyes, letting your tears flow freely. Why is everything going wrong between you and Satoru? Did he not love you anymore? Did he ever love you? You can hear Shoko’s voice, telling you to leave him, that you deserve someone so much better than him. If he does all of that in front of you, what’s to say what he does behind your back? She had said.

Suddenly, Bangs is standing beside you, and you’re quick to wipe away your tears. You don’t want to see Satoru’s sidekick come and lecture you - you’ve had enough of that from Haibara, and you don’t want to hear the same thing from bangs. “So typical of Satoru,” You say, voice nasal from all the crying. “He can’t come face me himself, so he sends his sidekick to wipe my tears.”

“Firstly, I’m no one’s sidekick,” Bangs says, handing you a white handkerchief. It has a small back embroidery of his initials. “Secondly, I’m not here to wipe your tears, you’ve got a runny nose.” You take the white muslin cloth and quickly wipe your nose. “You’re the classy type, it doesn’t suit you.” For a moment you think that he’s talking about Satoru, but you’re quick to dismiss the thought. “Now that I’m here, do you want to tell me what’s happening or sing a lovely song for me?”

You don't look at him, focusing your teary gaze on a random spot in the distance. “I’m so fed up with Satoru,” You hate the way your voice sounds nasal, giving away just how much everything was affecting you. You felt weak and exposed, but for some reason you felt you wouldn’t get judgement from Bangs. “I’ve known him for 10 years, been dating him for 4, and from the past year it feels like all of this is a big mistake.”

“Then why not leave him?” Bangs gently suggests, but it sounds more like a genuine question and not a statement.

“I don’t like breaking relationships,” You admit.

“Then do something to get him on the right path,” He says, and you finally look at him, noticing him for the first time.

“How so?” You ask, brow raised.

“Maybe take a wrong path yourself,” He shrugs, the sun hits his shades and bangs perfectly, and you can see the violet of his eyes from this close under the sun. You cross your arms over your chest, a devious plan forming in your head with Suguru’s pretty face in your mind.

(Radha)

In the evening, you decide to take the stage and perform to the song, having coordinated with the music set up and the bride and groom. Akihiko was way too excited to see his brother get put in his place, agreeing to your idea immediately. Everything is a deliberate plan - from your pink blouse to your lehenga skirt and the way it hugs your figure in the most flattering of ways you feel and look hot.

Satoru and Tanya stand in the audience as the music starts to play, stopping the hushed whispers exchanging. Her back is still pressed against his chest, enjoying the warmth he offers. For a change, Satoru has ditched his glasses and is adorning a fancy golden kurta, the colour flattering his pale complexion and white hair. Tanya too is dressed in a sexy golden saree - and they look too much like a couple for your taste. That makes your resolve all the more strong.

Satoru watches with a crease between his white brows seeing a familiar figure on the stage, but her face is veiled by the dupatta, the lighting just dim enough to make the face of the girl a mystery. The music starts to play and when the dupatta veil falls after a few steps to reveal your pretty face - Satoru is stunned. You’re too sexy, all for him to admire. He covers his face, part astonished, part embarrassed. Tanya grits her teeth, but smiles along when Satoru tells her how pretty you look. Suguru on the other hand, dressed in a lovely navy kurta that compliments his dark hair and pretty eyes, raises his hands and cheers you on.

Much to Satoru’s surprise while dancing to the music, instead of coming to him in the crowd, you go to Suguru. An indescribable feeling climbs up his throat at the sight of you dancing and enjoying with his best friend - your steps complimenting each other so well. Tanya tries to distract him, and for a while he is distracted. Until he sees you again - you’re coming toward him so he pushes Tanya out of your way - but you only push him in a mix of playfulness and annoyance and return to Suguru.

Satoru, being the rockstar that he is, easily catches the beat of the music and is able to keep up with your practised steps, trying to get closer to you.

For a moment, the three of you are dancing together, but you lean more toward your boyfriend’s best friend - disregarding him as he has been disregarding you. Somewhere with the music, your Dean Yaga takes up the Dafli and surprises everyone with how well he plays the instrument. You, Satoru and Suguru join him on the stage, and Yaga turns into a blushing mess with all the compliments.

Suguru is surprised to have you dancing this close to him, even with your dance performance over and the DJ being open for everyone. He pushes you away when you get a bit too close, for perfume all up in his nose and your pretty, decorated eyes looking up at him with such affection. He grabs your shoulders and pushes you back a little when you get too close again - worried about all the eyes on him and you - he doesn’t want to cause a scene. He can feel Satoru’s burning gaze on the two of you and he does not like that.

When you get too close a couple more times, he’s finally had enough and grabs your arm to take you away from the crowd, brows creased and a scowl on his face. Suguru doesn’t like this spark that ignites inside him with your pretty face and sweet voice and lovely outfit. He shouldn’t feel this way about you - you’re his best friend’s girlfriend, after all.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His yell isn’t loud, but his voice is scolding.

But the playfulness doesn’t leave your eyes, and you look at him as if he should be in on some secret that he isn’t in on. “You only said to take the wrong path,” you say, a teasing smile on your lips, enjoying the frustrated expression on his usually stoic confident face. “What’s a better wrong path than you?”

“Don’t be stupid, girl,” He scoffs. “Satoru is my best friend,”

“That’s why you’re perfect.” You explain, and your pretty eyes are such a tease, Suguru thinks. “You’re helping your friend by saving his relationship, and I know you won’t try to take advantage of me. Maybe we’ll also become friends by this. It’s not a bad thing, you see. Right?” You put your hands on his crossed arms, your bangles clinking as you try to shake him into agreement

His purple eyes gaze at you for a long moment, and you pretend to fix your bangles, feeling flustered under his steady gaze. You didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself if he refused your offer.

“You’re not as stupid as you seem,” Suguru has a rare, genuine smile on his face, calm, steady voice returning. “So… What’s the plan?”

You look up at him with a child-like smirk, twirling your dupatta between your fingers. “Now we’re talking,” you say, then you drag him away.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru’s eyes have been following the two of you and he didn’t know he was capable of feeling such jealousy - until he saw you with Suguru - perhaps the only man who can compare to him. He cannot hear the words you exchanged, but the ways you looked at each other spoke louder to him than any words ever could. Have you ever looked at him like that? Like the way you teasingly looked up at Suguru, batting your pretty eyes at him?

The next morning, Satoru is lying in the sun on the beach, with Tanya sitting behind him, lotion in her hand. He sat up straight on seeing you, eyes peeled and sunglasses off - you’re so hot in a yellow and honey coloured bikini - hair wet from the time you had spent in the water. The sun makes your skin glow like the goddess that you are, trying not to laugh at the way your boyfriend’s jaw has dropped, the girl sitting behind him long forgotten. Satoru half raises his hands, wanting you to sit with him. It’s comical the way both their heads turn when you go past him to Suguru, who was casually laying in the sun, shades on his eyes and reading a business magazine.

“May I sit here?” You ask the pretty guy with the bangs, voice deliberately sultry.

“Yeah, sure,” He says, putting down the magazine and sitting up to make space for you behind him. Satoru and Tanya have extremely confused expressions plastered on their faces, and Satoru looks like a kicked puppy his blue eyes narrowed and lips pouty that you almost let up the act. Almost.

You sit behind him, sure to make your curves stand out just a bit more, fixing your hair to one side. You let out a small gasp, touching Suguru’s toned shoulders over his shirt. “Oh dear, you seem so stressed,” you say in the same sultry voice. “May I help in releasing all this tension of yours?”

“Please,” Suguru says with a sigh, head turned away from Satoru but towards you. You try to ignore the way his voice affects you. But can’t really blame yourself - his already nice voice is now deliberately sinful. You pull his open shirt off his shoulders, admiring his back. You don’t need to pretend to fawn over him, a realisation that disturbs you more than it should.

Taking some lotion in your hand, you begin massaging his back, both of you playing the part well of making noises that sound much like sounds of pleasure - it’s funny the way Satoru suddenly straightens up and Tanya tries to mimic you, trying to get Satoru to make noises similar to the one Suguru was making. The man in front of you sounds incredibly sexy, even if it was just pretend. Your brain begins a thought - if this is how good he sounds when pretending, how much nicer he’d sound with the real - but you stub it before the thought completes.

When Satoru doesn’t make any noises, too focused on the way you’re touching his best friend - the pretty hands that should be touching him instead - Tanya asks him to make some noise, in order to assert some sense of dominance. Satoru lets out a funny noise of complaint, throws his sunglasses in the sand and stalks away.

The two of you giggle and share a high-five, watching the squirming Satoru rush away from you. Your plan was working perfectly.

Later in the evening, you enjoy a stroll on the beach with Suguru, his silky hair down for a change, the wind making it flow in a graceful dance. You’ve never wanted to touch someone's hair this bad ever before, so you reach out and do - his hair is softer than any fabric you’ve ever touched. Suguru gives you a small smile.

He’s mesmerised by the way your eyes soften, the moonlight making you glow. He’s unaware of everything except you, of how your eyes are looking at him kindly, of how you mentioned having a rough relationship with your mother and never knowing your father, of telling you about the time his parent’s car had crashed, taking them away from him.

“He’s gone,” you whisper, and he’s pulled out the trance your eyes had put him in. “You’re such a nice actor Suguru,” you say, a cheery smile returning to your face. “Let’s go back in now before it gets too dark.”

The next morning, Suguru sips his champagne and watches you with a heavy heart, you look so pretty in your white and gold lehenga, dancing to the music with the mehendi drying on your hands. He’s admiring you from afar - seeing as you spot Satoru and make a sour face at him, then turning around to see him with a bright smile on your face. You mouth to him if she looks okay, and he mouths back that you look fantastic, doing the okay gesture with his fingers and grinning. You’ve accidentally matched - the yellows and oranges of your lehenga matching his kurta. Your focus is diverted back to the music, and your dance is graceful.

“Oi, why are you acting like Romeo all of a sudden?” Satoru says, rolling the sleeves of his light blue kurta, seemingly squaring up. “I’ve been seeing this for two days now. What happened to her not being your type?”

“Well, she is now,” Suguru says, taking a sip from his glass.

“Stay away from her,” Satoru says, brow creased and lips pressed in distaste.

“And why would I do that?” Suguru challenges, raising a brow.

“She’s my girlfriend-” the white haired man says, blue eyes wide with rage.

“Since when?” Suguru asks, steadily holding his gaze.

“Don’t play with me Suguru,” Satoru says, ready to snap. “I’m being serious,”

“You? Serious?” Suguru notes. “Satoru, your whole problem is that you aren’t serious. You don’t have the time to be serious.”

“What-” Satoru stammers.

“Meaning that - when was the last time you held her hand? Hugged her? Looked into her eyes and spoke to her? Told her that you love her?” Suguru fires the questions straight at his best friend.

“Who even -” Satoru gets defensive all of a sudden.

“Stop acting like a cool dude.” Suguru asserts. Then, with a smirk on his face, he teases, “Seeing her with me made you jealous, right? You were scared, right?” Satoru can only nod, hiding his eyes with his fluffy hair.

“Good, because that was our scheme to bring you back to the right track.” Suguru finally confesses, seeing his disheartened best friend.

“What do you mean scheme,” He began. “You and -”

“Yeah,” Suguru nods. “You aren’t going to find a girl like her, man. I mean just look at her, she is beautiful.” His voice turns softer, serene, “The way she laughs, the way she dramatises things, names fashion designers on little things. She has the brains, the anger, but she has the right too. She lacks love and affection, she wants love. She isn’t too clever, maybe that is why she is in love with you.”

Satoru is truly stupefied by his friend’s assessment of you. “You’re so sweet, Suguru,” he teases, playfulness back in his crystal blue eyes. “You did a PhD on her just to put some sense into me.”

Suguru puts his hands on his friend’s shoulders, encouraging him, “Okay, now go and be nice to her. If you let her go, I’ll catch her.”

Satoru elbows him, saying, “If you do that, I’ll kill you.” He steps away, but a thought bothers him, “Are you sure you dont like her?”

“Her?” Suguru teases. “It’s you-”

Satoru smacks his shoulder, but then pulls him into a hug. He’s so grateful to have a friend like Suguru, how he showed him what he was doing wrong.

The sound of your name from Satoru’s smart mouth has you turning around, and he takes that opportunity to finally wrap his arms around you, muttering, “I’m really sorry baby,”

“Shhh,” you hush him. “It’s said that hiding your boyfriend’s name in your mehendi, if he finds it then it may be a love to last different lifetimes,”

He takes your hand, his blue eyes full of adoration, “Shall I try?”

“Yes,” You snarkily say, taking Tanya’s hand and handing it to him.

And finally he ignores her in favour of you, muttering your name like an apology. You’re not yet done testing him, so you wipe the wet mehendi on his face, smearing his porcelain skin a dark muddy colour.

In the evening, during the wedding ceremony, as the bride enters with her brothers and uncles, you rush - the stubborn jhumki not locking properly. You hastily motion for two more minutes to the other bridesmaids, running and trying to put the jhumki on your right ear at the same time. Fortunately you see Suguru, and show him the state of your jhumki, unable to keep the smile off your face. He thinks you’re adorable like this, annoyed at a stubborn piece of jewellery.

Suguru takes the jhumki from your hand, instead styling your hair in a manner to keep the missing earring hidden. His purple eyes are so expressive in their appreciation of your yellow-gold outfit and makeup - it makes you feel so beautiful. His large hands are gentle on your hair and it comes as no surprise that he was so good at styling your hair.

You join the bridal party quickly, spotting Satoru, who makes a gesture of heat on seeing you, you return his gesture - but with a throwing-up one. He laughs, but the smile disappears once he sees his father hug his older brother, so full of pride that he’s never seen.

Tanya is quick to snatch the silver tray of rose petals in your hands, and you laugh, running your hands through your hair only to feel your absent jhumki, suddenly remembering Suguru. You turn around, trying to find him, only to see him already looking at you, a pretty smile on his pretty face. You motion him to come closer to the mandap, and when he refuses, you walk over to him and grab a hold of his arm, wanting him to stay close to you. He still refuses, but he has a smile on his face, a smile worth swooning over, you note.

A heavy hand settles on your shoulder, and Satoru’s blue eyes sparkle with a smile as they take you in, wanting you to stay with him. You refuse him at first, not wanting to leave Suguru behind, but when his bangs move as he shakes his head, allowing you to go, you let up in your attempts to get him. Satoru takes you right out of his hands, taking you close to the mandap and sitting behind the bride and the groom.

He has a quiet laugh on his face when you make a face at him, and you cannot recall the last time he had been this nice to you. Pushing that thought behind, you look at the rituals, when Satoru elbows you, telling you without words that soon you’ll be in place of his brother and sister in law. You’re quick to dismiss him, too quick, smacking his hand off yours.

- - - - - - - -

After the wedding weekend, Suguru has become a little more distant, only speaking when spoken to.

Shoko is on her way to class when she sees Suguru’s usually inexpressive eyes filled with a deep longing, only to see you and Satoru in his line of sight. You still hadn’t gotten the time to catch her up to speed, but she cannot mistake the softness of his eyes. You’re sitting on Satoru’s lap, with him making you giggle over something, his white hair all up in your face.

“Hey,” She says, walking up to you and Satoru. You say a cheerful hi, a beaming smile on your face.

“Your boyfriend’s here, baby,” Satoru teases. He gently punches her shoulder, saying, “Hey handsome,”

“Can we do this later?” Shoko asserts. “Come with me,” She tells you. You kiss Satoru’s cheek before getting up and walking out of his earshot with your best friend, curious about what was bothering her.

The sound of your name has your attention, and she begins, “Look, I don’t know what happened between you guys this weekend,” she pauses, looking into your eyes. “But I just saw Suguru, and I think that he likes you,”

“Suguru? Are you mad?” You dismiss her concern with a small shake of your head. “Satoru and I are now stable because of his help,”

“He was staring at you girl,” She says. “Only one-sided lovers look at other people like that,”

“You were also staring at him,” You tease, bumping against her shoulder with a chuckle. “Sorry, you were observing him,”

“Don’t try to act so smart now,” She says, a frown on her face. “I just let you know what I saw, the rest is your choice.” Shoko walks away, leaving you staring at her brown bob.

You think over her words for a moment, and your feet involuntarily take you to Suguru. He was easy to spot in the crowd - his tall stature and his dark bun gave him away easily.

“Good morning, Suguru,” You say, trying to be cheerful.

“Morning,” He acknowledges you, voice back to his indifferent confidence. He’s quickly turning around, not waiting for you.

“Listen!” You call, and he turns to you. “I just wanted to thank you once again…”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem,” He says, quickly turning away once again.

“Suguru…” You say his name, fiddling with your fingers. You don’t know why you feel this nervous. He wouldn’t be the first guy to like you, but then why was your heart beating so furiously, why was your face burning. “Is everything fine? Like between the two of us?”

“No, nothing is fine,” Suguru says, fully turning to you. His cold indifference hurts you more than you’d like to admit. It hurts in a way different from Satoru’s indifference. His indifference makes you mad, but Suguru’s detached voice makes you sad. You don’t know if it's a good thing or a bad one.

You suddenly feel the need to explain yourself for some reason, words coming out with a stammer, which was unlike yourself. “Suguru, I love Satoru,”

“I know,” He says, his voice even. “Are you telling that to me or yourself?” Your taken aback by his question, but before you can answer, he adds, “I came to Saint Teresa with one thing in mind - to make a better future for myself and win that Student of the Year trophy… got distracted for a bit, but now I see my goal crystal clear, and no one can come between me and the trophy now.”

The Competition

Dean officially announces the SOTY competition open: four phases and eight finalists and one winner. Starting from the aptitude exam, to the treasure hunt, the dance competition and the final triathlon - the competition is meant to judge the students on all grounds, and only the one who is the best at everything wins.

Everyone is spending their every waking minute preparing for the aptitude assessment in their own way - hiding the fact that they are studying from their friends. You pretend to read Vogue instead of your textbooks, Shoko pretends to sleep but holds up a torch in her comforter to read. Nanami stacks books on top of books, the ever studious man of the school. Satoru pretends to compose music but he’s actually going through his statistics notes, with you helping him with his coffee and providing motivation to each other to study. Suguru has grown a little more detached from your circle, but he doesn’t hide the fact that he is preparing for the exam. Tanya is spending her time preparing - to cheat, that is, making her settings with the nerds. Haibara tries to mug everything up, but finally gives up and starts focusing on his prayers instead.

Come the time of the result announcement - all of you make it to the top sixteen, moving on to the next round - the treasure hunt. To everyone’s surprise - Tanya makes it into the top 16, with the 16th position, Satoru makes it to the 10th spot, you make it to the 6th, Shoko makes it to the 4th, Suguru to the 3rd, Nanami to the 2nd. But to everyone - even Dean Yaga who was announcing the result, he had to take his glasses off and read correctly - it was Yu Haibara of all people that got the 1st position. Nanami nearly lost his mind, with Ichiji having held the blond man back to stop him from attacking Yu right there.

Once the gang's all outside, Kento grabs Haibara by the collar of his blazer and demands, “How the fuck did you get first?”

“I don’t know, I just said Jai Mata Di and marked all the answers,” Haibara says.

“Nanami, stop being such a drama queen,” Satoru complains. “All that matters is that all of us are in the top 16 now. What does it matter who wins or loses?”

“It matters,” Suguru says, volunteering in a conversation involving someone other than Satoru for the first time in days. “We have big intentions, and you have an affluent dad. You can easily join any university per your choice… We don’t have that privilege.”

“You’re after my dad so much,” Satoru says, making gestures with his hands. “Please take my dad and give me your intentions instead.”

Suguru just shakes his head at that, but Tanya intervenes with her sultry voice, “If you want my intentions,” she twirls her hair. “I’ll happily give them to you.”

You can feel Satoru’s hand raise, but you push it down by his shoulder, yet he still manages to blow a kiss in her direction. “The entire college knows of your intentions, Tanya,” You say, pushing down your boyfriend’s hand which blows a kiss at her yet again despite your efforts. “We’re drifting off topic here. We were talking about the competition and I believe there shouldn’t be any competition among friends. Right, Shoko?”

“Right…” Shoko says. “That’s why you were hiding when you were studying?” Satoru pushes you away, but you still hold his arm. Shoko continues, “Come on guys, if our goal is the same, there will be a competition,”

Satoru makes a pouty face, hissing to tease her,“Shoko, does that mean to win the competition yourself, you’ll make your best friend face defeat?”

“Yes,” Suguru says without hesitation, and all heads turn to him. “Perhaps,”

“He’s kidding,” Satoru chuckles, but Suguru doesn’t add to that, turning the pages of his book instead.

A couple days later, the top 16 after the aptitude test got to the fun part - the treasure hunt involving the entire campus. Four teams of four members each.

Suguru, Haibara, you were in one team, Team A; Satoru, Nanami, Shoko and Tanya in Team B and the rest were divided into two other teams. Taking their first clue, the teams rushed to solve the riddle to get to their respective locations.

Suguru opened the clue card, reading out the riddle: Neela Asmaan Upar bhi Neela Asman Neeche bhi, paana hai jawab, toh gehrayi me jaao janab. (Blue sky above, blue sky below too, If you want to get the answer, then go deep sir.)

Haibara whines on hearing the riddle, snatching the envelope and scanning it as if to see any answer that maye have been hidden. “Yaar, what does this clue even mean? How can there be a sky up and sky below too? The first clue itself has our hopes running in the water,”

“Haibara, you’re a genius!” Suguru says, grabbing the brunet’s shoulders and shaking him.

“Really?” Haibara beams, before Suguru yells, “No!” leaving him confused. Suguru takes off, leaving the three of you to chase him with your shorter legs.

Meanwhile, Satoru opened Team B’s first clue and read out the riddle: Atit ki muskaan hai ajit ki pyaari, Nazron se peechha kare, adbhut hai ye naari. (The smile of the past is Ajit's beloved, follows you with her eyes, this woman is amazing.)

“Who’s this Ajit?” Nanami asks. frowning. “Any faculty member?”

“No, it’s not a faculty member,” Satoru says, thinking hard.

“I only know one Ajit (Ajit Khan),” Nanami says, and Satoru catches up. The both of them simultaneously say, “Mona darling, sona kahan hai?” (Mona darling, where’s the gold? - an iconic dialogue)

“Anywhere,” Tanya says in her sultry voice, playing with her hair. She’s just happy to be part of Satoru’s team.

“That’s it!” Shoko screams. “It’s the Mona Lisa!” and the four of them take off running to find the room with the Mona Lisa.

In the meantime, Suguru reaches the swimming pool, where you, Haibara and your fourth teammate frown, when Suguru recites the riddle again and deciphers it to be the swimming pool. He’s quickly taken off his shoes, socks and t-shirt and jumps into the pool, finding the next clue at the bottom.

You open the clue as Suguru puts his shirt and shoes back on. The clue reads: Ped bhi hu aur nahi bhi, baat karo toh sunu bhi, khoobsurat hu aisi mai, ke baat kare guru bhi (I am a tree and I’m not, if you talk then I listen, I’m so beautiful, that the teacher also talks to me)

“Tree, the plantations?” Haibara suggests and the four team members rush from the swimming pool to the plantations.

Team B finds Mona Lisa in the assembly hall, a brick with her hair holding the clue. Even Satoru has to jump to fetch that clue. The second riddle read: Farishte ne gaaye zindagi ke geet, asmaan se aayega unka mit, sade nau baje unka milan, jawab degi suraj ki kiran. (The angels sang the songs of life, their friends would come from the sky, meeting at nine thirty, the sun's beam would answer.)

“Where will we get angels?” Tanya dumbly asks.

Satoru leans close to her, and says in an annoyed voice, “In the canteen,”

“Really?” Tanya says, seemingly believing him.

The answer suddenly strikes Satoru, and he yells out, “The Church, the Church! We have only five minutes to nine-thirty, run!”

It’s hard for Shoko and Tanya to keep up with Satoru and Nanami’s long legs, but they somehow manage. They reach the church just in time - and the sun beam is falling on the Hymn Book of the choir. Satoru is quick to snatch the clue out of the book, and reads: aakhri padav aakhri mystery, kitni majboot hai aapki chemistry (Last stop, last mystery, how strong is your chemistry)

“Let’s go, chemistry lab!” Satoru yells, and Team B rushes away.

“Wait, wait!” You yell, stopping your teammates. “It said tree so we rushed here, but there is no guru visible!”

“Yaar are we looking for this guru or the plant?” Haibara asks.

“We’re looking for the clue,” Suguru deadpans.

“I’m telling you this is not working,” You pant out.

“If you have any other bright idea why don’t you share it with the class?” Suguru says, annoyed.

“Why are you being so mean?” You snap.

“Yeah, man, leave bhabhi alone,” Haibara says, at which Suguru snaps even worse than he did at you. “Abey! Bhabhi hogi teri.” (idk how to write this in english)

“Who is the guru on this campus?” You ask, catching your breath.

“Waheguru?” Haibara prompts.

“We don’t have a Gurdwara on campus, Yu!” You say, frustrated.

“Well, there should be one!” Haibara protests.

“Take that up with Yaga!” Suguru says.

“That’s it!” You jump, clasping your hands as if releasing them would take your answer away. “The guru is Yaga! He’s famous for talking to his bonsai plant!” Then you all rush off to Dean Yaga’s office, finally finding your third clue. You snap the envelope open as Suguru lifts up the bonsai plant, and quickly start reading out loud: aazad hindustan ki peheli awaaz, khamosh kamra batayega yeh raaz. (The first voice of independent India, a silent room will tell this secret.)

“The silent room! It’s the library,” Suguru yells and all of you run to the library.

“Nanami, fast, grab the envelope!” Shoko yells. Satoru beats him to it, opening it only to find a blank envelope.

“What man, Nanami, it's blank!” Satoru gets frustrated and shoves the envelope to Nanami.

“I’m sorry on behalf of the organisers!” Nanami snaps back.

Shoko snatches the envelope from Nanami, shushing the two idiots up. “Let me think,” she says.

“Now what exactly are we looking for?” Haibara asks once you are in the library.

“Independent India's first voice…” you mumble trying to recall your history lesson. “It was Nehru,” you remember.

“Tryst with destiny!” Suguru suddenly remembers, and the four of you rush to the history section.

“You were right, Shoko!” Nanami says, rubbing the ammonia solution on the black envelope. “The ammonia makes the ink visible!”

“Okay okay, now what does it say?” Shoko asks, jumping with excitement.

The final clue is same for everyone, the riddle saying: khush toh bohot hoge tum ki yeh hai aakhri padav, savere waali ghanti se paar hoga yeh chadav, dhyaan se padhna isko aur dena apna sujhav, kyunki upar waale alfaz karenge jeet ka chunav. (You will be very happy that this is your last stop, this climb will be crossed by the morning bell, read this carefully and give your suggestion, because the above words will choose the victor.)

“The morning bell?” Haibara mutters. “Our period bell?”

Team A runs from the library, climbing up the stairs to try and reach the period bell. On their way, they spot Team B, already higher up in the floors, closer to the period bell of the school. Suguru, Haibara and you find the step ladder and pull it near to the bell, and Haibara quickly climbs up the ladder as you and Suguru hold on to it for stability. Meanwhile, Nanami has taken to walking on the roof instead of taking the normal path, surprising everyone.

Soon it’s a race between Nanami and Haibara, and Haibara wins, striking the bell first. Just then, Ichiji comes and yells, “It's the wrong answer!”

“Oh! Oh! It’s the bell tower!” You yell, excited as you realise the answer. Suguru tries to shush you, but you yell again, “It’s the bell tower!”

“Thanks, bestie!” Shoko yells from above, and the next chase is between you and her, and she is faster. From the lecture building to the bell tower it’s a hard chase, and you’re already too out of breath, so Shoko manages to climb the stairs more swifty than you can. You reach the top just as Shoko rings the bell, only to be told that this answer is wrong as well.

Both your teams have gathered back in the ground, with all eight minds thinking over the riddle over and over. Aaj khush toh bohot hoge tum, Suguru and Satoru seemingly share a brain cell and think of the iconic dialogue of the movie Deewaar. In the scene of the dialogue, Amitabh Bacchan’s character can be seen ranting to the goddess in a temple.

They both look at each other, spelling out a swear word and sprint off to the in campus temple. They are both fast, but Satoru has an upper hand of not having his drenched pants weighing him down. It’s an intense run down between two best friends having a fun rivalry - running to win rather than to defeat. Satoru takes a head start, but Suguru’s track medals have not been in vain and he manages to outrun Satoru and hit the bell just a moment earlier than Satoru, falling to his knees on the white marble of the goddess Saraswati’s temple, both of them bursting out in laughter and sharing a high five.

After Dean Yaga congratulates Team A and praises Team B’s performance, Satoru puts his hand on Suguru’s shoulder and pats his chest. “Let’s go celebrate, you win, Suguru,” He says, peeking up at him from behind his glasses. “I want to go home with you?”

“Why do you want to go home with me?” Suguru asks, raising his eyebrow.

“I am craving some home-made food,” Satoru says. “Come on, please,”

“You don’t have food at your house?” Suguru teases.

“I’m bored of my home’s room service,” Satoru replies.

Suguru shakes his head, patting Satoru’s shoulder, “Let’s go,”

“The food is fab, Dadi, it’s fab!” Satoru says, quickly gulping down a spoonful of the rajma and rice.

“You should come more often then, son,” Dadi says, a cheerful smile on her old face. She looks amazing for her age - most of her hair is still black and her eyes hold a youthful charm with the wisdom that comes as one ages.

“I had to invite myself, even today,” Satoru chuckles. “Do you know - your grandson isn’t normal. Did he fall as a baby?” Dadi laughs at that, but Suguru’s Chachi makes a sour face.

“Aye, shut up and eat your food,” Suguru says in his deadpan voice.

“Suguru, that is not the way to speak to guests,” His Chachi chides. She turns to Satoru, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Satoru, son - Can I call you son?” Satoru nods with a spoonful in his mouth. “You look much more charming and handsome in real life than you look in those Page 3 photos,”

Suguru and Dadi share a glance, stifling their laughter at Chachi’s comment. “Save some butter for the chapatis, Geeta.” Dadi scorns.

“Butter is expensive, Mother,” Chachi sneers. “We only have words to work with in this house,”

“We’re shareholders in your dad’s company, Satoru,” His Chacha says, trying to dissolve the tension. “Suguru, you must take some tips of the stock market from him and share it with me,” he chuckles. “Let us benefit from your friendship,”

“I’ll make use of his friendship,” Suguru says with a smile, holding Satoru’s gaze. It is a smile shared between friends, meaning unknown to others. “I’ll use him to my benefit so much that I’ll leave him behind,”

“Of course, you should buy the Taj Mahal,” Chachi snaps, her voice ringing in everyone’s ears. “Dreams don’t need any money,”

“Dreams are for duffers like me,” Satoru suddenly says, unable to stand the way Suguru’s Chachi speaks to him. “Suguru is a blue-chip investment. He will make you guys millionaires. You’ll see,”

Suguru’s dark eyes are filled with such adoration and respect for Satoru - for he has never had a friend believe in him this much. His support meant the world to Suguru, and he thinks that maybe letting people get close to him isn’t too bad.

He walks Satoru to the door, calling after him before he manages to get to his blue Ferrari. “What you said in front of Chachi, it felt nice,” Suguru says in a small voice, hands shoved in his jeans pocket and eyes on the grass. “Felt like my own person was saying it,” When he looks up to meet Satoru’s blue eyes, he adds in a teasing voice, “I didn’t know Mr Gojo’s useless son had this talent,”

“Yeah roast and compliment me in the same sentence,” Satoru shakes his head with a smirk. “Is that how you say thanks?”

“Okay, I’ll say it,” Suguru inhales a deep breath. “Thank you,”

“Thanks,” Satoru says, nodding as he studies Suguru closely. “Why do you always hide your emotions?”

“Why are you talking like a woman?” Suguru tries to dodge.

“I’m talking about my heart and feelings,” Satoru admits with a sigh. “There’s no one back home who will listen to me, and I don’t think [name] really gets me. So I thought I’ll try to speak to you,”

“I too lack practice in that matter,” Suguru confesses. “Those who listened to me are gone now, and Dadi has hearing aids.”

The two friends chuckle, and Satoru says, “So basically we are in the same situation,” he puts his hands on Suguru’s elbows, adding, “Whatever happens, we will always share it with each other.”

Being a tease is Suguru’s defence mechanism, so he says, “Are you going to kiss me right now?”

“I won’t even hug you,” Satoru punches his shoulder. “Okay, I’ll see you.”

“Suguru!” His Chacha’s voice comes from inside the house. “Call an ambulance - Mom - I don’t know, just call an ambulance, quick!”

Satoru follows them to the hospital, and Dadi is being taken to the critical care unit - the doctor says she had a cardiac arrest. Suguru is following them, worry written all over his pretty face when Chachi suddenly stops him, asking him where he thinks he’s going.

“Dadi-”

“We will look after your Dadi,” Chachi sternly says. “You bring bad luck wherever you go,”

Suguru doesn’t fight back, but the words cut deeper than any superficial wound ever could. As soon as his Chachi turns around, Suguru nearly runs out of the hospital, Satoru hot on his heels, calling after him. He tries to console him, but Suguru only pushes him off.

“Suguru,” Satoru says, hugging him despite his protests. He returns the hug after a moment, then pulls away quickly feeling the lump in his throat threaten to explode. “Are you okay or do you need another hug?”

Suguru smiles with tears in his eyes, not letting them fall. “I’m okay,”

The next morning, you’re there with flowers in your hands, ready to see Suguru. You wave at him with a small, reassuring smile and a frangipani bouquet in your hands - he’s holding your gaze, and to your surprise, he returns your smile and waves back.

“Suguru, I know you’re mad at me,” You say once you’re close to him. “You don’t even look at me lately, I don’t know what I did wrong but - ”

“I’m not in the mood to listen to your sad rants,” He says, voice breaking. “Dadi is unwell,”

“I know,” You say, exasperated. “That’s why I’m here Suguru.” His eyes hold so much grief and pain in them, and you want to hug him, let him cry on your shoulder and tell him that you’re going to be there for him no matter what - but you refrain. “Are you okay?” you softly ask.

“I’m okay,” Suguru nods, then turns to you, examining your outfit - it’s a short green dress with a low neckline and a pullover over it, with knee high boots. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” You ask. He eyes your clothes, and you begin to explain, “I know, I know - I don’t have any clothes suitable to come visit the hospital. I am going to go shopping today though.” He is extremely confused and you add, “I want to come here daily, Suguru.”

Suguru’s smile - so full of gratitude and his usually stoic eyes full of tears - welcome you and you take that as a step forward. You don’t know why you’re so giddy at him letting you come visit. You never bothered making friends with Satoru’s old friends before coming to Saint Teresa, but right now he’s the farthest thought in your heart when you look at the man in front of you; so vulnerable and needing support, but without the voice to ask for it.

“Happy birth-” You accidentally say while handing him the flowers, then turn away quickly, embarrassing yourself. Why you turn so stupid around him, you have no idea. He makes you nervous, you want to impress him, want him to think that you’re both pretty and smart, that you’re worthy of - what, you don’t know. You fear the answer, so you don’t dwell on it.

(Ishq Waala Love)

You turn around to look up at him, playing your embarrassment off with a confident smile on your face, and Suguru teases a smile at you, putting the frangipani to his chest.

Walking away, you’re suddenly intercepted by Satoru - he takes you by surprise - wrapping his arms around you with a cheerful greeting of “Hey, baby,” and inhaling the scent of your shampoo. You had completely forgotten about him while you were with Suguru - but the pretty man with his black bangs doesn’t leave your mind while you’re in Satoru’s arms, his white hair tickling your forehead. You push him back a little, trying to put some distance between the two of you as your eyes flit back to Suguru - he’s already looking at you, back to his grieving self.

The next day, you’re back dressed in a yellow and orange suit, strutting to Suguru and Satoru sitting on the bench outside. Twirling the ends of your dupatta between your fingers, you deliberately make a show of ignoring Satoru, batting your eyes at Suguru, saying, “I want to meet Dadi,”

“No,” Suguru says, his voice soft, matching his violet gaze.

“Why?” You ask, brows knitted. “Am I not dressed correctly?”

“Yeah,” Satoru says, his voice is soft but has an edge of laughter. “Let’s go to the mandir?” You narrow your eyes at the laughing duo and stomp away. Satoru follows after you when Suguru tells him to, eyes crinkles with laughter.

Later, you sit beside Suguru when he is with Dadi, who is passed out on the white bed, connected to many machines. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, so close but so far away, too many things clouding your hearts and minds.

You’re sitting between Suguru and Satoru, the three of you drinking coffee and making jokes, when you’ve subconsciously leaned against Suguru, your head on his shoulder, looking up at his pretty smile with a toothy grin of your own. You hold his arm for a moment before coming to your senses and putting a little distance between the two of you. Satoru puts his arm across your shoulder and pulls you close, but his embrace doesn’t bring the familiar warmth. You push him away, annoyed at his lame joke and take the empty cups from both the men, throwing them in the bin.

It's the final time for Dadi, time for everyone to say their goodbyes. Suguru sits outside her room, his tall frame sulking and alone, bangs half trying to hide the pain and sorrow in his eyes. Your heart cries for him, wanting to embrace him, to show him that you will be there for him no matter what, that you care for him and you won’t hurt him.

Suddenly, Satoru is in front of you, caressing your cheek with his gentle touch, fingers roughed up from his guitar, asking if you want to go get coffee with him. It’s like you are suddenly doused in cold water, pushed out of your trance, and you blink rapidly to get a grip on reality before telling Satoru that you aren’t in the mood for coffee. He squeezes your hand with a smile before leaving you.

The sight of Suguru pressing his hands to his eyes has you right back in that trance, chest rising and falling rapidly as you feel his pain. You sit beside him, trying to give him a smile of confidence, but your eyes betray your worry. He returns your smile with a half smile of his own, but his pretty eyes swam with tears, head lowered, bangs hiding his face. You put your hands on his interlaced ones resting on his lap, rubbing small circles on the back of his hand with your thumb. You cannot stand seeing him in such pain, ready to do anything to make him go back to the guy you had met in Thailand, cocky confidence rubbing off on you. You don’t say anything, holding his teary gaze. He gives you another half smile at your comforting touch, and your eyes soften - you have the sudden inexplicable urge to hold him, let him melt into your embrace and cry his eyes out into your chest as you stand between him and this cruel world, caressing his back and kissing the top of his head. His smile falls, and the intensity of his pretty eyes has you rethinking everything, chest rising and falling rapidly as he lets your smaller hand fall between his two large hands, squeezing it.

When Dadi wakes up for a bit, Suguru takes you to see her, and you greet her softly then excuse yourself, giving them some space. You watch from outside the room as he speaks to Dadi, his back to her, shaking from holding back his cries. Dadi says something and he turns to her, holding her hand and breaking down crying, lying beside her as she weakly comforts her sobbing grandson. You’ve started crying with him, wiping your tears only to have them fall out immediately after.

The only good thing to come out of it was the fact that Suguru was with his Dadi when she passed peacefully in her sleep, surrounded by her family.

Suguru had become withdrawn after Dadi, not saying anything, keeping to himself. He barely even spoke to Satoru, and the others didn’t even see him outside of mandatory classes. Even in the classes, the ever active and teacher’s favourite Suguru had stopped answering, zoned out in most classes he attended.

Suguru is in his dorm, putting away his dirty laundry when you walk in the open door, hands held together in front of you. “Satoru’s dorm is a little further ahead,” He says, barely even looking at you.

“I’m here to see you,” You say, voice shaking.

He stills for a moment, his expression bitter. “To give me your condolences?” He forces a smile. “Thank you,”

“Satoru was saying that you don’t want to see anyone,” You start, inhaling a deep breath to keep your voice steady. You step closer to him and his desk as he grabs a book without any particular reason. “Staying alone like this-”

“I have to make a habit of staying alone,” He snaps, voice breaking at the end. It breaks your heart, tears welling in your eyes at his throaty voice. “Everyone who was close to me is gone.” He composed himself a little, adding, “You should stay away, or you’ll die too.”

“You need a friend-” you softly say, your body pulsing with your frantic heart.

“We can’t be friends!” He suddenly raises his voice, and you have to blink back the tears of frustration. You don’t know why his words cut so deeply, you’ve never cared this much about other people - not like you care about Suguru. “You want to be friends with me?” He looks at you for a moment, inhaling a composing breath. “Thank you,” he says in a small voice.

You’re staring at him by standing by his desk, back to you trying not to think about why it was affecting you so much, finding any other thing to make him talk. His pretty hair is messy and unkempt, and you want to take care of him, treat him to all the good things in life. That is when you spot your jhumki - sitting right on his desk at the edge of a mug. You remember that jhumki, the one you had been struggling to put on back in Thailand, and the way that Suguru had touched your hair to hide the missing earring. You remember his touch, his gaze, and how he had agreed to help you save your relationship.

You grab it from his desk, feeling a grin curve your lips. “Please leave,” Suguru says, seeing you around his desk. “I told you I don’t want to see anyone,”

“But Sugu, this jhumki won’t look good on you,” You teasingly say, maintaining an air of innocent confusion. “Not without it’s complete pair,”

Suguru has a pretty smile on his face, one that you are delighted to be the reason for. You purse your lips, looking at his pretty face and messy hair, taking little steps closer to him and finally hugging him like you’ve wished you could for a long time. Much to your delight, he hugs you back, head resting on your shoulder sniffling to hold himself back from crying.

Suguru is the one to pull back from the hug, pushing out the hair that has fallen to your face as you longingly look up at him, his gentle touch making you lose your mind. His large hands fall to your neck, thumb behind your ear as your eyes flit down to his pretty, worried lips then back to his eyes, the delicate touch of his thumb tickling you in just the right way. Heavy breaths fill the little space between you two, leaning closer with your eyes closed until your lips brush against his.

Your hands on his back pull him closer, and one of his hands goes behind your head while the other goes down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as your lips move against each other. The familiarity of his touch has your mind short circuiting - his kiss brings a calm security instead of the anxious butterflies, the movement of your lips and tongues filled with such desperate longing - a longing for affection and love rather than lust, the gentle kiss of a lover, worshipping, all consuming and caring. You’ve never been kissed like this before, like you are a prayer, like he is afraid that you’ll disappear as soon as he opens his eyes. It was wrong what you were doing, but then why did it feel so good? So right?

When he pulls back, you want him to kiss you more - you can see it in the sad gleam of his eyes that he doesn’t want to let you go either. His pupils dilated and brows relaxed, it’s a rare sight, and it’s a sight that you’ll never forget.

There’s a shuffling sound behind you - heads turn to the room's door only to find a distraught Satoru - hands fall to your side at the sight of Satoru’s big blue eyes filled with tears, you chase after him as he storms away without a word and you begin to chase after him, calling out his name.

“Satoru, I’m sorry! Listen to me!” You plead.

“Just leave me alone,” He says, throwing his bag. Satoru is out by the common area and there’s a swarm of students surrounding you three at the noise.

“Satoru, please!” You plead, reaching out to him with your hands raised.

“Just leave me alone and don’t touch me,” He yells. Kicking down a random stack of chairs.

“Just listen to me, please!” You plead, your voice breaking. You manage to grab his shoulders, but he is quick to push you off, face red and eyes glowering with anger. “Just leave me alone, I said!” He yells, louder this time. Suguru is quick to intervene, only to be pushed away by Satoru. It’s turning into a brawl and you hate it, you hate it so much. You hate your stupid heart, you hate yourself for not listening to Suguru and staying away from him like he asked you too. Your heart aches seeing the sheer heartbreak on Satoru’s face, his usually bright, humorous eyes filled with rage and betrayal and you despise that you’re the cause of it.

“You keep your mouth shut!” Satoru yells, somehow sounding even angrier at Suguru. “You have no class, no civility! I should never have talked to poor people like yourself. I am - was - your best friend, and you’re there kissing my girlfriend?! You are no one’s person!” He is pushing Suguru harder with each word, and Suguru accepts it, not even trying to fight back. He too has tears pooling in his eyes, messy hair falling to his face. “This is why you have no one to call your home.” Satoru’s welled eyes have turned red with rage, and with each shove his anger only seems to grow. “Everyone is dead! You mom, dad, and now Dadi-”

That is what snaps Suguru, the mention of Dadi and he punches Satoru with such force that his best friend nearly falls down. Suguru picks him up, only to punch him in the face again. “If you say anything regarding my mom and dad, I will break your face,” He snaps, voice colder than ice. “You aren’t even your mom-dad’s person, how can you even be my best friend? All this talk about class and status, what do you do? All you do is use your dad’s influence and money.”

“Dad’s money is all that you’re after right?” Satoru doubles down in his vicious words. “That’s why you befriended me, right? You wanted to have a life like me - and now you’re also stealing my girlfriend?!”

“What’s this girlfriend-boyfriend thing, huh?” Suguru doubles down as well, high from the anger coursing through his veins. “She never loved you, and you-? You’ve been out there everywhere putting your face on every other girl you see. You’re calling this a relationship? You have no right to call her your girlfriend!”

“You’re no one to tell me of my rights,” Satoru yells, holding Suguru’s t-shirt’s collar, ready to throw another punch. “She is mine, mine only!”

“Why don’t you ask her whose she is?” Suguru challenges. “She loves me, and I love her!”

They’ve started throwing punches everywhere, the whole school watching their brawl unfold. Satoru hits, Suguru punches, it’s a mess - a mess that you cannot stand, for reasons you aren’t ready to accept yourself. You walk up to them, tears glistening in your eyes and yell at them to stop. They do, but the air is still thick with tension as you speak, “What do you even know about me? About my feelings?” You speak to the both of them, voice breaking. “Nothing! And the sad part is, you aren’t even willing to listen! You just want to win me - I am not a part of any competition. I am not a prize. I am done with this whole thing.”

Suguru looks upset, ashamed of himself, but Satoru only looks angry - and you don’t know what pains you more. You rush away, before anyone in the gathering crowd as a chance to stop you and hide in your dorm.

Satoru’s anger doesn’t subside even as he reaches home. Even as his mother shows concern for the bruises on his face, he only pushes her off, not in the mood to see anyone. If his mood wasn’t already so bad, it got worse as his father came up to stop him, demanding that he treat his mother with respect.

“Look at yourself!” Isamu Gojo scolds with a yell. “You look like a street thug! Who did you even fight? Answer me.”

“I don’t want to answer anyone,” Satoru says, meeting his dads angry gaze.

“You have to, you’re living under my roof,” Isamu snaps. “I’ve tolerated your misdemeanour for so long. You can’t behave properly at home, at least mind your family’s image outside of the house.”

“You’ve not made any good image, Dad,” Satoru finally says, swallowing the angry lump in his throat. “The only thing you’ve made is money.”

“That’s the money funding your life, you know?!” Isamu yells, eyes wide in anger. “You only know two things - having fun and making a fool out of me,”

“What are you ashamed of, hm?” Satoru asks, lips wobbling as he speaks. “That I don’t want to be an industrialist? That I want to be a musician?”

“Yes! I’m ashamed that my son has such middle-class dreams!” Isamu yells back.

“Dreams don’t have any class,” Satoru says, blinking away his tears. “But only a dad would get that, not a twisted man.” Isamu slaps him, and Satoru’s voice finally breaks as he says, “I have no wish to live in your house, and I don’t want to be your son,”

“You’ve lost the privilege of being my son,” Isamu says, an angry frown on his face.

“When was I ever your son?” Satoru asks, then turns around to leave. His mother tries to stop him, but he pushes her off once again, vowing to himself to never turn back, to never step foot in any of his father’s properties again and to never take a penny from this man.

He is filled with a new determination to win the Student of the Year trophy - to prove everyone and himself that he wasn’t useless, that he was more than Mr. Gojo’s money made him. His goal had now shifted from winning the trophy to defeating everyone else - particularly Suguru.

The second last stage of the competition - the prom where everyone needs to bring a date - is close and everyone’s preparations are in full swing. The campus gym is occupied and people are busy finding dates and practising their steps, for no one ever wants to lose after coming this close.

Satoru has become a loner, avoiding even Haibara during lunch hour. Suguru too is back to his quiet self, speaking only when he deems it to be necessary. You… Well, you’ve had the worst burnt of their fight somehow - utterly messed up with your own emotions - your mind says one thing but your heart craves another, you’re avoiding everyone like they are the plague.

Shoko finds you sitting all alone, eyes distant. “Hey, what’s up?” She asks, sitting beside you. “Who are you going to prom with? Satoru or Suguru?”

“It’s not funny, Shoko,” you say with a frown. “The whole school is gossiping about me now,”

“Ignore the gossip,” Shoko says, voice serious. “Tell me about your feelings,”

“I don’t even want to think about them!” You’re exasperated, torn by your own moralities and desires.

“You love Suguru,” Shoko sternly says, trying to talk sense into you.

“Shoko, Satoru and I-”

“What about it?” She stops you. “There was nothing there - you were angry and miserable for most of the time. It was not a match made in heaven, rather a match made in your elite circles.” Her concern is genuine. “I know you’re confused right now, and you’re allowed to be confused. You should take some time. Your heart will answer for you.”

“There’s this competition right in the middle of everything,” You sigh.

“Then leave it,” Shoko suddenly says, an idea forming in her pretty head. You turn your head to her, eyes wide. “This stupid competition is not more important than your feelings, right?”

You discreetly scrutinise her fidgety behaviour and say, “You’re right, I won’t take a part in this competition. Disqualifying isn’t that bad,” you turn to her just as she suppresses her smile. “What do you think?”

“I’d have done the same thing, if I were you.” Shoko says, squeezing your shoulder in support.

The next evening, Shoko jogs up to Haibara after her gym session, saying, “Haibara, I’ve decided that I will be your date to prom this year,”

“You aren’t going to be my date,” He says, voice sassy. “You’re late.” He sounds thrilled saying your name, “She has already asked me to be her date.”

Shoko storms into your shared room and sees you checking yourself out in the mirror, seeing which dress looks pretty on you. You barely pay any attention to her as she angrily stomps her feet.

“Are you seriously going to prom with Haibara?” She practically spits out.

“Yeah, I am,” You say, feigning innocence. “I suddenly thought, why should I even let Satoru or Suguru influence my life?”

“And why did you think of that so suddenly?” She asks, voice bitter.

“Shouldn’t you be happy?” You say, frowning a little. “I don’t get this reaction,”

“What do you mean?” Shoko says, her breaths suddenly heavy with the way you’ve caught her little scheme.

“You know exactly what I mean, Shoko,” You say. “But I am not giving up on prom just to reduce your competition,” You look her up and down once, adding, “Because, lets face it, you and dance is like me and poor,”

Shoko rapidly blinks, then says, “You’re so disgusting,” she turns to leave. “I don’t even want to talk to you,”

You pat her shoulder, and bat your eyelashes, “I’d have done the same thing, if I were you.” echoing her words back to her.

Shoko leaves your room, walking to put as much distance as she can between the two of you. In the basketball court, she sees Suguru, alone and begins rambling about your confused state under her breath, pretending that she didn’t see him.

“Shoko, are you okay?” He stops her and asks once she is close to him.

“No, I’m not okay. I’ve just fought with her.” Shoko says, not hiding her anger. “She is such a drama queen I’m so tired of her!”

“Why what happened?” He asks, thin brows creased with concern.

“She says she’s confused between you and Satoru,” She says, and Suguru instantly turns to the ball in his hands, avoiding her angry brown eyes. “But she is going to prom with Haibara, so Satoru gets jealous. Then there’s no confusion, right?”

“Right,” Suguru hesitates, turning to the basket instead, his bangs hiding his heartbreak.

“Anyways, I don’t want to be in the middle of all of this,” She says, brown eyes gleaming with excitement, seeing the effect of her words on Suguru. “I’ll speak to you later, okay?” She walks away, praying that her little scheme works.

“Shoko,” He calls after her, and her heart does a little dance at her plan working out. “Who are you going to prom with?”

“No one,” She says in a small voice, her lips pulled down in a frown.

“Haibara, please help me find a date to prom,” Nanami asks, sitting on the edge of his friend’s bed. “There’s no one willing to go with me,”

“I love you Nanami,” Haibara says, sitting up with his hand on the blond’s shoulder. “But I cannot go to prom with you,”

“I don’t want to go to prom with you, I want you to help me find a date to the prom, man,” Nanami says.

“Nanami, leave,” Satoru says, storming into Haibara’s room. Nanami grumbles under his breath but leaves the two alone. “Haibara, you’re taking her to prom?! Who do you even think you are?”

“I’m Haibara,” He says, frowning.

“Did a rabid dog bite you or something?” the white haired man shakes his head, irked. “Are you crazy? You go, you go and tell her that you can’t be her date to prom.”

“Hey! Stop it,” Haibara yells. “I don’t need your permission to do things in my life. I’m not your servant.”

Satoru chuckles, shaking his head. It’s demeaning. “What about all that time you spent on my credit card, hm?”

Something breaks in the brunet’s heart at the mention, so he says, “But i’ve also given you full service for that time,” He has a rare, angry frown on his face. “Haibara, park the car, Haibara, bring me a drink. Haibara, can you take her to the mall for me, please? Can you bring her an apology card? Now Haibara is taking her to prom as his date, arm in arm and you can’t do anything about it.”

“You too are showing your class,” Satoru says through gritted teeth.

“You are no one to talk about class, Satoru.” Haibara taunts. “The only thing you have is daddy’s money, and now you don’t even have that,”

“Satoru, don’t be so upset now,” Tanya says, running her hands over his chest by the swimming pool. She undoes her robe, pressing herself against his chest, saying, “If you want… I could be your date,”

(the disco song)

The much anticipated prom night and dance competition is now here - eliminating four out of the twelve competitors - only 8 finalists and one winner of the trophy. Suguru-Shoko, Satoru-Tanya, Haibara-You, Nanami-Ichiji and the rest of the participants stand in the front, arm in arm with their dates in front of the judges with Dean Yaga introducing you to the two women. The tension in the air is thick and palpable, with everyone waiting to see who will snap first under the pressure. It was dance or disqualification, and everyone wanted to eliminate their competition.

Suguru and Shoko sneak a glance at you - Shoko with a proud smile and Suguru with a distant longing, and you feel yourself tearing up seeing your friend in his arms, by his side. You turn your head, happening to meet Satoru’s gaze. He has Tanya on his arm - the sight of it making your blood boil. You feel indifference, the discontent in your heart at the sight of Shoko and Suguru evaporating with the anger. You are there to win.

The music plays and the competitors start with their opening steps. You’re half jealous of the way Suguru and Shoko move together so gracefully, painfully reminded of that time in Thailand that you had danced with him. Satoru and Tanya have bolder dance moves, the bitter memories of the past year feeding into your determination to move to the next round.

You dance with Haibara, it’s not as natural as it had been with Suguru, but you will have to do it. You’re both there to prove a point.

The solo dancing has you moving more gracefully, and you hope that the judges give you some extra points for the performance you put up. Suguru and Satoru perform their own well practised sequence with the music - you don’t feel much looking at them now, without their dates.

The competitors dance with the beats of the music, Suguru twirling a rarely graceful Shoko in his arms and Satoru spinning with Tanya in his arms. Haibara has you in his arms in a dance similar to waltz, and you put on your best smile for the judges. For a moment, in your head, you are with Suguru - with him easily manoeuvring you around, your steps perfectly in sync and your smile turns more genuine.

The music shifts and your partners change, you land into Satoru’s arms, looking right into his mellowed blue eyes so full of repentance and regret. You cannot stand to look at him, all the nights that you’ve stayed up crying at his antics flooding your memories as you turn away from him. The familiarity of his chest against your back and his breaths on your neck as you cringing. You thank the heavens as the music shifts again - Satoru spins you around and stomps away from you in anger, the memory of you kissing his best friend too fresh a wound.

The heavens tease you with kindness, turning cruel as you end up in Suguru’s arms, unable to look away from his pretty purple eyes, his hair smooth against your hand on his chest. It’s too much - the memory of his gentle touch, his easy smile, the warmth of his lips against yours, the sight of your best friend with him. Oh you want to embrace him so bad it makes you want to cry. This competition is a cruel joke - destroying your relationships and playing with your delicate heart like some child’s toy. You cannot bring yourself to look away from his eyes, so soft and gentle as he steadily holds your gaze with moist eyes even as you step back and move away from him, hands moving from his chest to your sides and you leave the stage, barely holding back your tears.

Satoru has been eyeing you, his heart breaking into a million pieces as a cold acceptance replaces the warmth of his affections for you. He now knows - it was too obvious, you never looked at him like you looked at Suguru just then. The acceptance is what he needs as he resumes with this solo dance, determined to snatch that trophy away from Suguru.

Suguru blinks away the tears the sight of yours brought, and he has to physically restrain himself from running after you. You need space, he thinks, before remembering the trophy that had started all of this in the first place, restarting his solo dance as he loses sight of you, the determination to win that trophy dulling.

Satoru, Shoko, Suguru and Haibara are four of the eight from the now-split gang that make into the finalists, ready for the final stage of the competition - the triathlon which begins with swimming, then cycling and ends with track.

Suguru sees Dean Yaga with Mr. Gojo one afternoon, only greeting Yaga with a good afternoon.

“Hi Suguru,” Mr Gojo shakes his hand with a bright smile. “How are you?”

Yaga beats Suguru to it, beaming with pride, “By the way, Suguru and Rohan are both in the top 8. It’s gonna be a tough battle, Isamu, not easy.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Isamu says, shaking his head.

“Well, you will say that,” Yaga says with a smile. “Satoru is your son, after all.”

“That’s why I’m saying this,” There’s something in Isamu’s voice that ticks Suguru off in the wrong way. “Suguru will win, my money is on you.” Isamu pats his shoulder, then says. “Good luck,”

The whole time, the top 8 finalists spend their time training for the triathlon - timing their swimming, working out their legs and spending time on the cycle. It's an intense couple of days, with much tension but no drama.

On the day of the triathlon, you sit in the bleachers by the swimming pool, watching your friends stretch and get ready before the swimming starts. Satoru’s eyes are determined and challenging Suguru, whose face hides his internal conflicts. Somehow, his eyes find yours in the buzzing crowd, and you give him a small smile, which he returns before putting his goggles on and getting ready to dive.

It’s Shoko with her slim body and fast reflexes that finishes the swim first, and quickly gets out and puts on her shoes before running out to the cycles. Haibara is next, followed by Suguru ahead of Satoru by a fraction of a second. Once out of the surveillance area, the brunet is quick to catch up to Shoko and push her off track and into the grass, promptly disqualifying her.

Satoru, fueled by rage, powers up and puts everyone behind on the cycling path, with Suguru close behind him, his internal battle now in favour of winning the trophy. Satoru is the first one to enter the race track, followed by Suguru. There’s a distance of more than 10 metres between them when Suguru starts running. Satoru runs on red rage while Suguru has the skills of the track, easily catching up the distance. Ultimately, the battle for the trophy is between the two of them and no one else.

The last few seconds are intense, Suguru has caught up on the distance, and the both run parallelly now, in the bleachers, Isamu Gojo is cheering for his son’s defeat, while his mother looks concerned. For a moment, Suguru has overtaken Satoru, everyone is sure of his victory, when Suguru slows down a bit and adrenaline pushes Satoru. The smile on Isamu’s face fades as the chances of his son winning increase. Suguru’s eyes close for a moment, and Satoru becomes the first one to push the ribbon, by a mere hundredth of a second. He’s unsure of his win, but the angry frown on Suguru’s pretty face has him accepting it.

The crowd breaks out in cheers, celebrating Satoru’s win.

Later in the evening, after everyone has changed into formals and put on the Saint Teresa blazers, they assemble in the hall, waiting for Dean Yaga to finally hand the trophy to Satoru Gojo. Nanami isn’t himself, having spent the entire week disappointed in himself and Yaga - for making this competition unfair and breaking apart his friend group.

“Boys and Girls, I’m delighted to call on the stage,” Dean Yaga’s awfully cheerful voice cuts through everyone’s ears. “The Student of the Year, Satoru Gojo!” Satoru smiles at his mother’s delight for his victory, and goes up to the stage as the crowd cheers for him. “Congratulations, many congratulations,” Yaga says as he hugs his student. “I’m so proud of you, my boy. All yours.”

“Thank you,” Satoru says, voice more serious than usual. “Each student of Saint Teresa wants to win the title of the Student of the Year. In 25 years, there have been many successful students who won this trophy,” he pauses for a moment. Satoru’s pale nose is unusually pink, as if he has spent his time crying. “I don’t want to insult anyone - but I cannot accept this trophy.” He explains, “I have my reasons, reasons that I have no wish to explain.”

The hall falls into a stunned, confused silence. You, Shoko, Haibara are all confused - he wanted to win that trophy so badly, then why was he suddenly refusing to accept it? What even happened? He walks down the stage, stopping in front of his father for a second, a smirk on his face and shaking his head at the sombre old man, then walks away.

Suddenly, Nanami loudly claps his hands in the crowd, drawing everyone’s attention and making Satoru stop in his tracks. He gets up from his place and continues clapping. “Well done, Satoru, well done!” he says, his appearance dishevelled. “Good for you! Good for you!” he turns to the crowd, “Hey! Why aren’t you all clapping now, when you should?” He takes the hand of a student and claps his hands together. “Clap your hands!”

“Nanami! Behave yourself,” Yaga scolds from above the stage. “Are you drunk? The school will not tolerate this behaviour!”

“School?” Nanami chuckles with irony. “You know what Dean, to hell with this school, and to hell with you!”

“Nanami!” Coach gets up from his place, angry at his behaviour. Suguru gets up and tries to take Nanami away, but the blond stops him.

“This Student of the Year trophy was your idea, right?” Nanami turns to Yaga, clicking his fingers. “Then you should get the award.” He pretends to pick up an award from Suguru’s empty chair. “Here is your award for the most stupid idea!”

“All because you didn’t win?” Yaga’s voice is condescending. “Look at yourself Nanami, what were the chances?”

“Yes, I lost.” Nanami admits. “But why did I lose?” he’s raising his hand, pointing his finger to Yaga. “Because of you and your stupid rules. Guys and girls will run together, a date is mandatory for the prom,” he comically dances in his drunk anger, saying in a sing-song voice, “dance to win the trophy,” he turns back to Yaga with a chuckle. “But who cares, who cares if this idiot can’t dance? And who cares that people like us,” his finger goes back and forth between himself and Yaga. “Who cares that people like us can find a partner? You should’ve known that,” his tone is accusatory and he’s beginning to cry.

Your heart cries in sympathy, while Satoru and Suguru inch closer to him, trying to get him to stop. “Let me speak, this stupid drama has been going on for 25 years now,” Nanami challenges. “Why? Because Dean Masamichi Yaga has no entertainment in his own life. He’s alone, and he wants to break all our friendships too. You know what, you are a jealous, lonely and very unhappy man!”

Yaga’s face has reddened and his eyes welled up behind his signature glasses. He’s stunned into silence, but Nanami continues, “Congratulations, sir! Your final episode is a complete hit! You ended two years of friendships within two weeks.” His voice only gets louder. “We all hate each other!” He raises his hand in a military salute. “For that, I wanna salute you, Dean Masamichi Yaga!”

He drops the navy Saint Teresa blazer at the Dean’s feet and stomps away, pushing Satoru and Suguru on his way out.

Ten years later

Nanami’s phone rings in the middle of the night, who answers, grumpy. “Hello,” the voice on the other line says something. “There’s no Ichiji here… OH! Ichiji!” He wakes up as realisation hits him. “Hi! How are you? What? Okay, I’ll come to Dehradun as soon as I can. Yeah, no worries I’ll find them on instagram.”

Now in Dehradun, Nanami, Haibara, Shoko and Tanya recall their time back in Saint Teresa from a decade ago, when Satoru enters the hospital. He’s changed completely - a black blindfold instead of his round sunglasses make up his performer personna - the rockstar Satoru Gojo. Although, he’s ditched his blindfold in favour of square glasses.

Tanya, just wrapping up her divorce with her fourth husband, is awfully delighted to see Satoru. He hugs Shoko, saying, “You’re looking like a girl now,” gesturing to her long brown hair.

Shoko shakes her head, saying, “I’m a doctor and a mother now. You’re a great person too now,”

“The consequence of leaving my father behind,” He jokes.

“I’m so proud of you,” He says. Satoru spots Haibara, and envelopes in a bear hug, the anger from a decade back forgotten. “Haibara, how are you doing?” He playfully punches Nanami on the shoulder. “How are you, man?”

“What did the doctors say?” He asks, enquiring about Yaga’s condition. Just then, their old coach comes in, complementing his intense, rockstar appearance. Satoru has piercings on his left ear now. He hugs Ichiji, now the new coach at Saint Teresa, walking with him to see the critically sick Yaga.

Suguru gets out of his white Mercedes sedan, dressed in a navy trench coat with a grey sweater vest underneath and a striped scarf warming his neck. His hair has grown out in the last 10 years, long straight hair falling down till his waist. Half of it is tied in an updo. He hasn’t changed as dramatically as Satoru, but he has grown a lot more confident and assertive.

He gets to the other side of the sedan, opening the door to offer you his hand, never wanting to let you open any doors since the two of you got together. You’ve been married for three years now, and you’re the happiest when with him. The only wish you have is that you could turn back time and have things go a little differently than they have, maybe everything would be even better, then.

Getting off the elevator, the first person you see is Shoko, who smiles sweetly at the two of you. Suguru gives her a side hug, greeting her kindly. He then leaves the two of you, knowing there are things left unresolved.

“Hey, Haibara,” Suguru says, deliberately not greeting Satoru right beside him. The long haired man with delicate features instead goes to greet Nanami and Tanya, seeing them after a long time.

“It's been a long time,” Shoko softly says, brown eyes apologising more sincerely than any words ever could.

“Yeah,” You raise your arms, hugging her. Pulling back, you shake your head with a smile. “I hoped you might call after having your baby… Such ego,”

“It wasn’t ego, it was shame,” Shoko admits.

“It’s all in the past now, forget it,” You say.

“What was even the point of doing all that?” She repents. “I’m still a normal person,”

“Let’s leave all of that,” You say, shaking your head. “Show me the pictures of your baby now,” Shoko smiles brightly at you and shows you the pictures of her little baby girl. “What’s Tanya up to, these days?” you quietly ask her.

“Looking for a new husband,” She whispers to you. “I’d advice to keep Suguru away from her,”

“I trust him,” You say, dismissing her concerns and she gives you a knowing smile. “I'll have to keep him away from someone else though,” you turn to Satoru.

“Hmm,” Shoko still has that teasing smile. “It’s a hospital, wrecking it won’t leave a good impression,”

“Exactly,” you say. “I’ll be right back,”

You walk up to Satoru and Haibara, greeting them both. Haibara leaves quickly, giving the two of you some space. You haven't spoken to Satoru since that day when everything went wrong. But you hug him for a short moment. He had been an important person in your life, afterall.

“You didn’t even invite me to your wedding,” Satoru playfully complains. “I would’ve been there from the bride’s side. I have that much right, don’t I?”

“Shut up, Satoru,” you tease him back. “What’s with that intense look?” you ask, gesturing to his all black appearance and piercings.

“A musician’s appearance must reflect his pain,” He explains. “Otherwise the music doesn’t sell, you know?”

“I’ve listened to your music, you know.” You admit. “Your latest album is amazing,”

“Does he let you listen to my music?” He asks, nodding to Suguru.

“He secretly listens to it himself,” You chuckle. “But he won’t admit that. Come meet Sugu now, come on.”

“Na-ahn,” Satoru shakes his head. “You married him and are showing your authority over me. That's not how it works,”

Suguru’s outside, texting on his phone when you find him. “It’s been ten years now, Sugu,” you try to reason with him. He pockets his phone with a sigh at your words. “What’s to lose by saying a little hello?”

“He shrieks in his songs, he can come say hello too,” Suguru counters with his soft voice.

“You’re an investment banker Sugu, not a child,” You try to convince him, placing your hand on his arm.

“And you’re my wife, darling,” He says, his eyes kind as he looks down at you. “Not your ex boyfriend’s lawyer.”

“Ex boyfriend’s lawyer, where did that come from?” You say, brows creased and nose scrunched up.

“I saw you hug him,” He counters, making you sigh. “Feeling affectionate?”

“That’s disgusting Sugu, come on,” you drawl.

“What else were you expecting?” Satoru’s taunting voice suddenly interrupts you. “He has billions in his bank but the class of a penny,”

“What did you do with your high class, huh?” Suguru snaps back, but his voice is still a model of serene calm. “You’re playing that guitar like a courtesan in front of an audience,”

“But I give great hugs,” Satoru says, turning to you with a raised brow. “Right?”

That breaks Suguru’s calm facade. He menacingly steps between you and Satoru asserting, “Bastard, mind your mouth. You’re speaking to my wife.”

“She was my girlfriend that day when you kissed her,” Satoru angrily snaps, pushing him back. Suguru punches his face, the martial arts expertise not left too behind with his stock market capabilities. Their fist-fight out in the hospital’s garden has your friends gathering, with Nanami and Haibara rushing to pull them apart at your request, only for Shoko to stop them.

“Don’t,” She says. “It’s an anger of ten years, let them get it out.”

A moment later, Suguru has Satoru's face bruised and pinned to the ground, yelling right in his face, “Why are you so angry, Satoru? It’s not just because of my darling wife,” Satoru’s red face is an angry grimace, wincing in pain. “You didn’t even love her. Then why this anger?!”

Satoru pushes Suguru off himself, standing up and pointing his finger to him accusatory. “You deliberately let yourself lose that day!” He yells, white hair flying in all directions. His mind flashes back to the triathlon from ten years ago. “Why did you do that?” He pushes Suguru, emphasising his point. “Why?!”

“Because your father was a nasty, twisted man!” Suguru answers with a yell. “He was rejoicing seeing you lose, he was wishing me luck to defeat you.” Suguru confesses, retying his messed up hair. “I wanted to be like your father, but even I couldn’t be this twisted. I thought,” Satoru’s blue eyes have lost all that electric rage, leaving behind teared up eyes on realisation. “In that moment, I realised that I could defeat the most powerful man of the country by making you win,” He inhales a deep breath before continuing. “My dad was dead, Satoru, but yours wasn’t a dad either.”

“I dealt with my dad when I left him and his name,” Satoru says, his shove gentle now. “I didn’t need your nobility,”

Suguru shakes his hand, chuckling at his ironic statement. “Nobility, wow!” He incredulously says. “What about that drama you pulled off on the stage? Huh? What the hell was that?” Suguru’s brow is creased and he’s poking at Satoru’s chest, speaking through gritted teeth. “If you knew everything that day, why didn’t you say anything in front of everyone? In front of you dad?” He answers his question himself, “Because you wanted to show to your father that you actually won,”

Satoru throws a punch at that, and Suguru returns a harder one, busting his lip. “Don’t hit my face so hard!” Satoru complains, holding his large hand against his busted lip.

“Bloody loser,” Suguru mumbles under his breath, wiping the blood on his knuckle and feeling his bruised cheekbone.

“Hey! Who are you calling a loser?” Satoru gets defensive. It’s a true comedy - how fast their fight boiled over and turned childish. “All last five of my albums have been platinum hits,”

“So what?” Suguru competes as well. “My banking business has a turnover of 500 million,”

“International music labels chase me!” Satoru claims. (it's the truth)

“Companies beg me for mergers,” Suguru claims (also the truth)

“When I perform, Wembley shakes,” Satoru yells.

“One snap of my fingers shakes the stock market,” Suguru claims.

“I’ve been with a hundred women-” Satoru says, forgetting himself in the heat of the moment.

“And I have my darling wife-” Suguru says, not hearing Satoru. “Wait what? A hundred, really?” He asks in his calm voice with his brows raised, eyeing him.

“Yeah, plus or minus ten,” Satoru has calmed down as well, but he is terribly embarrassed at his admission.

“Plus or minus?” Suguru asks.

“Probably minus,” Satoru admits.

They both burst out laughing - it starts with a smile, going to a chuckle then a full blown laughter. “You haven’t changed a bit, you bastard.” Suguru decides.

Quieting down for a moment, they assess the damage, when Satoru slowly turns to his friend. “Are you about to kiss me right now?” Suguru teases.

“I won’t even hug you, motherfucker,” Satoru says as they hug.

Dean Yaga dies with people he cared about surrounding him, happy to see that Suguru and Satoru have rekindled their friendship. Their broken bond weighed heavy on his heart, and he passed peacefully on seeing his old students back together. Satoru and Suguru are back at Saint Teresa’s campus, this time as alumni - there to show students to follow their hearts and maintain their friendships instead of seeing them as competition.

A/N: it took me nearly two weeks to complete and the last 7k words i wrote in one sitting, my hands were numb but we finished it and i've proofread it once (please ignore any errors) special shoutout to my desi girlies here, we've all wanted to be shanaya at one point lmao. I hope ya'll enjoyed it because it was fun writing this hehe. Also the reason I have Satoru or Suguru first is because here in india we address each other by first names for the most part

#gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #satosugu x reader #stsg x reader #stsg soty au #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader

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revalition · 2 months ago

Text

OCT 8 - VOLITION

Hold yourself together. Keep your Morale up.

I had to resize this image 3 times to get tumblr to take it... it is also past midnight here, but the day change doesn't really count if I haven't gone to sleep yet, so :)

Volition. My love. my favourite skill. please enjoy. I also drew the volitions of some of my mutuals!! because I love you guys and your volitions very much (holding them gently in my hands). hopefully you guys dont mind and I didn't mess them up too badly

anyway. uhm. I'm much too tired to write anything super coherent right now. please write tags for me or write comments so I can see them when I wake up haha

and! there is a LOT under the cut. like, way more than any of the other days. it is giant. be very careful expanding it <3

ok here goes... I'm typing shorter ones out and screenshotting big ones

--------

VOLITION - Stop, you're only making it worse for him -- you never help with *anything*.

- Rare volition being rude to other skills!!! it only happens under pressure, too

KIM KITSURAGI - "What else could she have done? Lie? She saw there was no way to lie and get away with it."

DRAMA - You would have caught it.

VOLITION - Like hell you would have -- remember?

- you tell him volition!!

SUGGESTION - What is *wrong* with you? Why did you ask to be connected to her? Who *does* that?! Act professional now.

VOLITION - *You* told him to do that stupid thing...

- rare volition callout!!

YOU - Can I trust that guy?

VOLITION - A little. They're all still of limited use, interpreting things to the best of their ability. Maybe they add flair or something? I wouldn't know. I don't add flair.

- this is one of my favs haha. you don't need flair, love, it's ok

VOLITION - Ouch.... That's like twenty points of pride-damage right there, buddy.

- This is after Sylvie turns you down to get coffee. (and you do suffer a point of morale damage haha). him calling you buddy is so funny. it's always mildly condescending too!

- here's the other two:

VOLITION - You're no titan of Volition, buddy. He's got you in a fork. Sit down or leave.

VOLITION - You're a little more moralist now, buddy. A little more *normal*. Even if you didn't want to be.

YOU - "Cryptid extravaganza? I like the sound of that."

KIM KITSURAGI - "And I *don't*. Just one."

VOLITION - Or he'll be *disappointed* in you.

ENCYCLOPEDIA - Whooh... tough choice there.

- volition knows it's truly the most terrible thing haha

VOLITION - An enormous expenditure of willpower to build up strategic semen reserves? You had me at *willpower*. Let's do it!

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Life is all about pleasure... why deny it?!

- these two are hilarious. poor echem. but also volition, honey, nono...

- the game implies consequences when increasing your skills too high but you don't see it with all of them. Volition's one you don't really see much downside to, but you can just. Imagine it here. Him pressuring you to do something stupid, just for the sake of it being difficult. Surely that's not healthy??

- I do think Volition has a lot of issues. I'll get into some more of them later though!!

- but just... Harry wanting to do something that *is* a test of willpower and Volition is completely uninterested. But the semen retention thing is okay? sigh

- and then after that, he's just like. nope. we're not going to not swear :)

- he's so stupid sometimes. also it's absolutely hilarious to me that you can pick the "..." option over and over and Volition will match it forever. You simply cannot out-will your own willpower. It's just not possible.

- I actually live for Volition being the singular voice of reason. Look at the others all chiming in!!

- this one too, Volition being the only one trying to stop it! Why are they all piling on?? Composure not you too >:(

- I had excessively high Volition *and* Pain Threshold in my first run and the two of them!!! PT gets very self destructive at high levels, so seeing the relentless push and pull of PT and Volition was so good.

- This line from the description -> "Cool for: Sane People, Well-Adjusted Cops, The Non-Suicidal" yes it's cool for them, sure, but it's incredibly!!! important for NOT these people! Because Volition doesn't make you sane, or well-adjusted, or non-suicidal. He's just the one voice of reason in there trying to veer you away from making irreversibly bad decisions.

VOLITION - She tries to hide it, but some *great doubt* is spreading within her. There is a crown slowly cracking above her head.

- I need to talk about this line. Just. Volition acknowledging the existence of Joyce's own Volition (which he refers to as a crown!!!) cracking! the *great doubt* spreading and cracking apart the crown! hghh I live for any and every depiction of volition cracking apart when morale gets low and this is absolutely one of them.

AUTHORITY - Weren't you warned to *not* go down this path?! And yet you *still* go and do it...

VOLITION - Just because you *can* doesn't mean you *have to* say everything that comes to mind. Back out before the situation escalates.

- these two's dynamic is very funny to me. I love when they work together (but I also love when they fight! fight fight fight!)

VOLITION - Don't ask, don't look, don't do *anything* here. Just go away. Get back to work.

- "Just go away" ugh my guy is fighting for his life here to get you away from the cigarette and alcohol counter in the Frittte

- hghhk Volition. this is a Challenging passive check too (the second one, to hang up). *one* chance, that's all he has in him. It's not possible at all in the dream, no matter how high your Volition stat is. It's just not something he can do. But here, with the distance of the payphone between you and possibly real consequences, he's able to manage one chance.

- (also did anyone see the post about the payphone conversation possibly being entroponetic crosstalk?? I could talk about that for way too long. but I am getting sidetracked)

YOU - "Yeah, I'm done talking about her. I don't want to think about her anymore."

RHETORIC - What a strange choice of words...

EMPATHY - Caustic, overflowing with negativity.

VOLITION - That can't be healthy. What's happening here? Why do you keep coming back to this window?

YOU - Nothing, everything's okay.

VOLITION - But it isn't. And you shouldn't come back to this anymore. This should be the last time. Stop talking about that damn window, please.

- this one too

VOLITION - Throw it away. Please.

- I need to talk about this. Volition dutifully directs you away from all the reminders of Dora. He does everything in his power to stop the final dream from happening.

- And I get it. He's trying to protect Harry. Because Harry isn't mentally stable right now and it could endanger the case. but... at least, when the final dream happens Kim is (usually) there when you wake up. And if all went well, you get to go back to your precinct, and take Kim with you. And Harry has support.

- If the dream doesn't happen... it will happen eventually. There are a million reminders in Martinaise in the span of a week, imagine what Jamrock is like. It's an inevitability. And then you're taking the chance that the dream happens at a time when Harry is much worse off. Maybe he's alone. Maybe Kim left, maybe he was let go from the force.

- The dream could happen at a better time too, of course. we probably all imagine harry picking up the pieces after martinaise and his life finally taking a turn for the better. and I imagine this is what Volition had in mind, by delaying the dream. Maybe it can be delayed for a long time, long enough.

- but it's a huge risk and I just... don't know if he's making the right choice here. keeping important information about Harry's past, which has shaped his relationships and life considerably, in a box so it can't hurt him

- yeah. anyway...

YOU - What if I don't want to ask questions?

REACTION SPEED - You're a cop, Harry. It is *unnatural* of you not to want to ask questions.

VOLITION - You don't have to. No one is forcing you to be a cop.

- Volition??? sometimes this guy makes no sense, he's so funny. I really think he occasionally just does something for the sake of being defiant

EGG HEAD - "Please. Please?" The young man smiles at you widely, bright and innocent as the summer sun.

VOLITION - His pleaful smile is disarming, but you can withstand it's glorious assault, if you just put your heart into it.

- why? why?? don't turn down egg head ever!

VOLITION - Alright, come on now. If *he* hasn't said anything about your lack of pants, no one will. You're only hurting yourself by not wearing them...

- this one is so funny. I love that he lets you know he *knows* you're trying to get a reaction and you're not going to get one!!

- yes volition, stop himmm

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - How very astute of you! This renders it ineffectual. You should look for a *whole* cigarette. Or better yet -- an entire pack! Strike that, a CARTON! Make sure they're all healthy and able-bodied, then smoke them all.

VOLITION - Or -- you could *not* do that. No one is making you.

- volition as usual trying to stop you from picking up bad habits... I just love the way he talks. he's not even telling you not to, just voicing his disapproval in a rather passive way

INTERFACING - Wow, the gods of mass production have made this alcohol container *laughably* easy to open. A child could have done it.

VOLITION - I don't know about this...

- he still doesn't outright tell you not to drink it... :(((

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Fine. We're not worried... you'll crawl back to this bottle soon enough. We'll give you another chance. Booze *always* gives you *another* chance.

SUGGESTION - Yes, it's *merciful* that way. It's your friend. Come back to it, we're all rooting for you to.

VOLITION - Not *all* of us...

- he's the only one rooting for you to not drink it!! he can't stop you. but he is supporting you in the only way he's able.

VOLITION - No. You *can* stop. Just wade through the hell. Month after month. Year after year -- you against the nothingness. It's possible, because *time* is possible.

- He can encourage you!!

YOU - "I *will* stop drinking."

MEASUREHEAD - "THAT IS NOT POSSIBLE. THE GAME OF *SHAH-MAT* YOU PLAY AGAINST THE GUL'S TRICKS IS UNWINNABLE. THE DAYS, THE WEEKS, THE MONTHS WILL WEAR YOU OUT. THE OCCIDENTAL HAPLOGROUP IS INCAPABLE OF LONG TERM LUCID THOUGHT."

VOLITION - NO.

- volition!!! <3 that's all he needs to say.

HORRIFIC NECKTIE - This is it. I'm gonna hit the ground and burn away now. Most of the people in this yard are gonna die -- if not all. Probably you too. It's a COMPLETE DISASTER.

PAIN THRESHOLD - Get ready for a world of pain, man.

VOLITION - No. Not a disaster. Weave this into the story of you. Walk out of its *ruins*. Save those who still can be saved -- *I'm* on your side.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - And the lieutenant too. And the men behind your back, drawing their weapons... you can live. You can get out of this.

- hnngh. this one is among my favourites too. my amazing 1 int run also had 1 motorics. at this point I had failed the rhetoric check to save ruby, failed the logic check to save lizzie, and now failed the spirit bomb throw too and was about ready to cry. Volition's quiet reassurance was very important to me in that moment. EdC too, and I did save Kim.

HAND/EYE COORDINATION - Your hand trembles as you scratch at your cheek... oh no, that's not how a grown man shaves!

YOU - Leave it for now.

HAND/EYE COORDINATION - Thank god, I would have cut your throat.

VOLITION - The centipede is exaggerating -- people don't actually cut their own throats when they're shaving. At least not accidentally.

- centipede!!! it's such a funny nickname. alternatively

HAND/EYE COORDINATION - Your hand trembles as you scratch at your cheek... oh no, that's not how a grown man shaves!

YOU - This isn't sharp enough. Scrape harder.

HAND/EYE COORDINATION - Stop, for crying out loud! You're gonna cut your own throat.

VOLITION - There's no way to salvage this.

- these guys are hilarious. why is volition even watching this mess? 'there's no way to salvage this.' ??? I'm not even sure if he's referring to you or H/E... he must be so tired.

ENDURANCE - You feel like you're about to faint and fall off the swing. Your hands get clammy and the air tastes sour to breathe.

HALF LIGHT - Oh god, Harry! Oh god, Harry, what did you do...?!

VOLITION - No! Just nope. Say no to this, Harry.

- more of this!! >:( of volition trying to just avoid anything painful. wake up man.

LOGIC - Everything is so pretty and red -- you and Leo look like brothers as you glance around with similar childlike wonder.

VOLITION - Keep it together, no need to show your wonder.

- why? :( it's not hurting anyone. legendary difficulty passive for volition, high levels of volition are sometimes questionable. I love collecting all these instances of volition making weird suggestions. it's like when people point out really weird things Kim does, that you don't really notice as weird because he does it so calmly and confidently.

VOLITION - Huh... no, Mr. Conclusion. You're always kind of limited in your analytical abilities. That's not *her* fault. But still...

- volition: you're kind of limited in your analytical abilities... meanwhile logic and viscalc and ency calling you stupid and brain damaged lol. vol is so gentle about it!!

- then again...

VOLITION - ...no? He's not going to show up? I'm sorry, your lie detection isn't working. It's not her doing, he's just totally inept. It looks like you're also an idiot. But that's not her fault.

- lol.

RHETORIC - This is good. Clear the air first -- between you two -- then move on to questions.

VOLITION - No, it's not good. It's the opposite of that. This will let her dictate the terms of your...

RHETORIC - Shush. I can't hear what she's saying.

- no. don't ever cut off or shush volition ever again

- >:(

YOU - No-no-no-no...

INLAND EMPIRE - Yes, yes, yes, yes.

VOLITION - No-no, we're not starting with that. Not now. Not this time. This thought is over.

- volitionnnn... ily. my own volition also cuts off dangerous lines of thought for me. I think he's got to be constantly vigilant, in order to be so good at it. must be exhausting :(

YOU - "Can't promise that. I might attack him again." [Leave.]

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant groans, but doesn't say anything.

VOLITION - That's right, you *should* do it again! It's the *last* thing he'll be expecting.

- uhm. not sure that's a good idea!!

VOLITION - You're too weak to say 'no' now. Waking up is the worst part. Maybe somewhere down the line you could decline...

- referring to declining the speed. all volition fails are very sad

VOLITION - Yes, look at yourself. What do you see?

YOU - Just a sorry stack of shit...

VOLITION - Yeah, didn't even know they stack shit *that* sorry.

- beautiful, rare volition scolding you!!!! after you disregard his advice and don't apologize to kim after the church fail. he's on your side, but he also knows he needs to tell you that this wasn't okay.

VOLITION - First the investigation, now this... how many more things do you have to fuck up?

- this one too! same scenario. this is a difficulty 16 (Godly) check...

- yes this again. it just needs to be in here. the volition panic attack. if this volition passive doesn't fire, you take no volition damage. it's completely self-inflicted :(((

PAYPHONE - The headset lands in the cradle with a clank. There it sits -- still warm from your hand. You have no idea what just happened.

(heal 2 endurance and 2 volition)

- if you hang up the phone before dora picks up!

VOLITION - He subdues the feeling. Dusts himself off and moves on. So should you. There will be other chances.

(heal 2 volition)

- if Kim misses getting a picture of the phasmid

HORRIFIC NECKTIE - The necktie is guiding you through this. It's your spirit animal, both your nemesis and friend. Suddenly a feeling of ease brushes through you -- you're fine again.

(heal 2 volition and 1 endurance)

AUTHORITY - That... was the most honourable thing anyone has ever done, Harry.

(heal all volition)

- very special incidences of healing more than 1 volition at once!! the fact that healing/damaging morale is just directly called heal/damage volition in the variable naming is. yeah. I think about it constantly. does it hurt him? I think it does. and he never says anything about it (unlike endurance!) he just bears with it quietly.

VOLITION - In honour of your shit, lieutenant-yefreitor. Which you kept *together* in the face of total, unrelenting terror. Day after day. Second by second.

INLAND EMPIRE - DETECTIVE

ESPRIT DE CORPS - ARRIVING

AUTHORITY - ON THE SCENE

- obviously this one has to be in here. funnily enough, in my second playthrough I had 2 PSY but everyone had been bumped up enough that they all fired except authority... I ended up throwing a point into authority and retrying the dialogue so it could be complete haha

VOLITION - What? I thought you had your shit together! This is nearing a complete meltdown! Stop it!

- volitionnn :( if you don't stop you have a panic attack, so I guess he's only trying to help

- this is too funny. volition honey, you absolutely do add flair too

YOU - Oh, you mean Cuno?

VOLITION - Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!

- yup, absolutely no flair. Super. Tip-top!

VOLITION - These guys are compromised. She's got them singing along to her tune. The little bleeps and bloops you trust for info -- you can't trust them anymore.

- it would be a crime to not include the bleeps and bloops in here! why does he call them that?? haha

- rare instance of volition not being able to stop the disaster!

INLAND EMPIRE - Your surroundings are undisturbed. While you slept, you were alone. Now that you're awake -- you're still alone.

HALF LIGHT - Get the fuck out of here. Fuck this place, fuck this world, fuck this life, fuck this body -- just fucking go.

SAVOIR FAIRE - The sheets are stained red. Your blood's been running again. Keep it together. Just get out of here and finish this fucking thing.

VOLITION - Harry... I know there's not much to say -- but if nothing else, just remember that you've made it this far. And it's just a bit farther now. Let's finish this.

- this is just. it's awful, if you have the final dream all alone. but at least you have volition with you

DICK MULLEN AND THE MISTAKEN IDENTITY - Dick Mullen was made to crack skulls and solve cases. It's who he is. He could no more stop being a detective than a tiger could cease to be a predator in the night.

VOLITION - You're no tiger, though, Harry. You're a man. It's your curse to have to choose.

- I like this one.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - That sugary black rum stain on the counter makes you teary-eyed with joy. It's almost touching how syrupy and sticky it is. How long have you been up already?

YOU - Not now.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Oh *excuse me*, do you have something better to do than lust for sweet syrupy rum and lemonade? With a twist of lemon? Maybe lime? Maybe who cares, just rum?

VOLITION - Yes, you do have something better to do. Stop drooling over that stupid rum stain and go. Before it's too late.

- this is a challenging (difficulty 12) check! it's very difficult to resist the sticky rum stain I guess

YOU - Give up.

LOGIC - There we go. Your mind is a relaxed muscle. It's so nice and easy to give up, isn't it? On the downside -- you have no idea what you were supposed to do now. I could have *debriefed* you.

VOLITION - Blissful idiot -- say something. You've stood there for too long.

- blissful idiot

VOLITION - Don't be an idiot and say it. In this day and age, of all times. It won't end well.

- once again, volition pushing you away from the bi-curious thing. :( he just wants to keep you safe, but it comes at a cost.

- you can't just wrap harry in bubblewrap, volition. he'll never grow

- volition absolutely saving the day here. do NOT say it harry! authority's advice is SO hit or miss

VOLITION - It's time to leave it be. You're about to make a child cry. Are you proud of yourself?

YOU - Damn right I am! Proud as the Lion of Serber.

VOLITION - Excuse me, I'm not sure I heard that properly...

- volition ily. he has to deal with so much.

VOLITION - Should we? He's *nice*. I don't like *nice*.

- this is so funny. he's very suspicious.

VOLITION - Look at it, detective. And be ashamed. Until you make it right by *legally purchasing* that raincoat, I'll make sure you feel guilty every time you see it.

- YES YES conscience volition!!

YOU - Close the carabiner.

SLEEPING DOCKWORKER - The sleeping dockworker has little to say about your actions. He remains silent.

VOLITION - You're not 100% clear what you did here was *right*, but to hell with it...

- only sometimes!!

VOLITION - I can't restrain this one. The need to *cop* is too strong. You just need to ask it.

- why are you trying to restrain copping??? this guy, sometimes. he's so stupid (affectionate)

VOLITION - That's it. I'm calling it. Kim is beyond compromised.

- uhm. volition completely overcompensating with the compromised skills is quite funny. once drama wakes up, he does it too

VOLITION - See? It's oddly moderate. Probably compromised.

- oddly moderate now means compromised??

- this is it. this is volition's only comment on this disastrous authority fail. he makes no attempt to stop it!!

VOLITION - Being Cuno's pig has a steadying effect on your hand. Go with the flow, man...

- volition's so silly sometimes

DAMAGED LEDGER - You feel that thing in the back of your head? That little voice, that quiet scream? You already felt this was a bad idea, but especially right now it's even worse. Try as you might, you can't read it now.

VOLITION - You've got *business* to deal with first. Talk to the Union boss first, at least... I can't stop you for long, but there's just enough of an excuse now.

- Volition fighting for his life to stop you from reading the letter :,(

VOLITION - If it's possible, then by pure willpower alone. You are going to have to become... a psycholocomotor.

- that is *not* a real word but we love you anyway vol

LOGIC - Is that how it is now? We should just try all good things *twice* and then give up? By that logic...

VOLITION - Not you too...

- he's all alone out here :(

VOLITION - Someone's been a very busy boy. Good on you...

- thank you...?

VOLITION - *Very* off. Just let her go. Listen to me for once...

- for once?? :((( but if you try...

VOLITION - I can't help you. I am totally useless. Everything I've said is lies. I want the exact same bad things you want. To stand here, like a pillar of salt, saying...

- this is probably one of the saddest lines. all the skills falling apart in the dream is awful, but volition might be the worst. it's also very important that volition *does* want the exact same thing you want. He wants to drink and smoke and think of dora and die. And he chooses to resist it anyways. To be the only thing standing in your way. But it's to the point where it's all he knows. He knows that he has to resist the things he wants, and will occasionally take it too far. Keeping Harry (and himself) from things that will make them happy. In the setting of the game, Volition keeps things together and on track. But once Harry is back in his normal life, it will become very much a double edged sword I think. Luckily(?) it will self balance a bit, where if Volition prevents Harry from being happy then he'll lose morale, weakening volition, and then vol won't prevent harry as much and it'll balance out. hopefully.

VOLITION - Despair creeps into you, getting fat on your weakness. Whatever noble intentions you once had as a police officer -- it's eating them all up now.

VOLITION - Nothing you can say would make you feel any better now...

- 😭 I hate this, I hate the volition death. the endurance one is really painful too, but this one's painful in a different way. Volition isn't getting back up from this. the awful newspaper clipping saying you go to live under a bridge... that's what happens when you let volition die?? if any of the other skills (except endurance) drop to 0 you can just raise them back up, but vollll.... ugh.

VOLITION - Listen... It's okay to take a few minutes to yourself. Sit down and have a breather.

ENDURANCE - You need to rest. Your body is aching. Getting in here has taken something out of you. Have a seat.

- our two health pool boys encouraging you to take care of yourself <3

YOU - "Kim, can *you* see it?!"

KIM KITSURAGI - "I can see it."

VOLITION - Four simple words -- thank god. If he can see, then you're not insane.

- this one is obviously very important.

YOU - "I've finally gone insane..." (Put your head in your hands.)

[...]

VOLITION - My god... maybe you *are*.

- if Kim and Cuno aren't there, and your Volition is really low, you get this very sad fail. :(

VOLITION - True, you ought not love ruins and hell -- and the fading scent of apricots.

- I like this one.

WASHERWOMAN - "I *can* wash it for you," she says after looking the jacket over, "but it's going to take about a half an hour. Think you can stay put for that long?"

VOLITION - Hell yeah!

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - No, we must run around ceaselessly. It would be torture to stay put.

- I really really love him.

YOU - "By the way, I'm going to sing karaoke here."

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - "Absolutely out of the question."

VOLITION - You wait and see, cafeteria manager!

- volition will not be told no!!

VOLITION - No one can STOP you from finding the phasmid.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - WHAT IS HAPPENING TO YOU?!?! Are you going to CRY now, son?

VOLITION - You heard the coach! This is weakness. It cannot go on much longer, or you will LOSE.

- these guys are great. coach!

YOU - Right. Activate Denial Mode.

VOLITION - You're not really an automaton, you do know that?

- oh, thank you for the insight volition

- even your most willful, imaginative skills know this scope creep was insurmountable...

DRAMA - But we *are* awake, sire! She has been forthcoming -- with sordid details women usually conceal! Most *shocking* details of the sexual kind! We are a bulwark, un-breached...

VOLITION - You've been breached, bulwark. You've been breached, like, a thousand times now!

- nooo poor drama (volition is right)

- Volition trying to reassure you after the Tribunal is very important.

- SO TRUE.

DRAMA - This may have been a *grave* mistake, sire.

VOLITION - Maybe. Maybe not. Mercy is rarely a *complete* mistake.

- I really adore this quote.

I think I'm going to leave it here. I haven't included some quotes that I put in other posts already but I might add them in later to have a comprehensive Volition post... But I've spent like 4 hours on this already so I'm giving it a rest for now :)

#skilltober #de volition #disco elysium #de skills #rev art

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lovezbrownies · 2 months ago

Note

Nia with a weird reader who likes naming pinecones after people they like (shes not one of them)

Unfaithful rat bastard. (Yandere Queen x GN!Reader.)

Nia's Masterlist - General Masterlist

Synopsis: You cheat on your Queen, your wife. With pinecones.a

Nia Bloodwen x GN!Reader.

Warnings: Nia's usual dramatics!

You sat cross-legged in the royal garden, eyes narrowed as you carefully examined the pinecones spread out in front of you. Each one had been named after someone important, someone you actually liked. With a sigh, you picked up a particularly symmetrical one and gave it a once-over.

"Maybe… Aria," you muttered to yourself.

"Aria?!" Nia’s voice rang out, startling you and causing the pinecone to slip from your hands. You gritted your teeth and looked up, seeing her marching toward you with all the grace and drama of a queen who knew exactly how to make an entrance.

She stood over you, hands on her hips, eyes wide with mock indignation. “Did I hear that right? You named that pinecone after Aria?”

Suppressing a groan, you kept your voice level. “Yes, Aria. Because I like her.”

“And yet…” Nia's voice took on a wounded, exaggerated tone. “I see no pinecone in this pile named after me—your beloved queen?”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “That’s because you don’t have one.”

Her gasp was loud and dramatic, as if you’d just told her the kingdom had fallen. “No pinecone?! None for me? Not one, even after all the affection I’ve lavished on you?”

You stared at her blankly, half-expecting her to laugh and admit she was joking, but of course, this was Nia. She was dead serious—or at least, serious in the way only she could be, with theatrical flair and a whole lot of misplaced priorities.

“Nia,” you said, your patience wearing thin, “not everything revolves around you. Pinecones are special. I name them after people I actually like.”

“I’m your wife! How am I not on that list?” Nia flopped dramatically onto the grass beside you, throwing her arms over her face as though she were about to faint from the sheer tragedy of being left out. “How can you sit here and name these after everyone else? Aria of all people? I give you everything, and this is how you repay me?”

You shot her an exasperated look, more than used to her dramatics by now. “Nia, it’s not that deep. They’re pinecones.”

“But to you, they mean something! You name them after people you care about! I’m the queen—you should care about me the most!” She flung an arm out, her voice rising as if she was delivering some grand speech to the kingdom. “I’m devastated! Utterly heartbroken!”

You rolled your eyes, brushing some dirt off your hands. “You’re the queen, Nia. I think you’ll survive.”

She peeked at you from between her fingers, eyes wide and imploring. “But it hurts, my love. You don’t even know how much I’ve suffered without my pinecone!”

“Nia,” you snapped, rubbing your forehead, “it’s a stupid pinecone! Why do you even care?”

She gasped again, her voice cracking with false anguish. “How could you say that? It’s not stupid if it means something to you! And if it means something to you, it should mean something to me! I just want to be part of this little… tradition of yours.”

You stood up, shaking the dirt from your pants as you glared down at her. “Well, too bad. I haven’t found a pinecone that reminds me of you. And honestly? I don’t think I will.”

Nia sat up, blinking at you in genuine surprise for a moment. Then, in typical fashion, she shrugged it off, standing up and brushing imaginary dirt from her gown. “Well, I suppose you just haven’t found a pinecone worthy of me yet.”

You huffed in frustration. “Or maybe I just don’t think you deserve one.”

Nia’s lips curled into a smile, and she stepped closer, her voice soft and teasing. “Oh, I see how it is. You’re just playing hard to get, aren’t you, darling?”

“Hard to—?” You groaned and turned away, thoroughly done with the conversation. “Forget it. I’m done talking about this.”

But Nia followed after you, clearly not ready to let go of the topic just yet. “Don’t worry, my love,” she said, her tone impossibly sweet. “I’ll be patient. When you finally find the perfect pinecone for me, I’ll cherish it forever.”

You grumbled under your breath as you stomped off. Nia was impossible, utterly impossible. But deep down, you knew she wouldn’t stop until she had that pinecone.

And you were completely right. Seeing how your side of your shared bed is covered in spiky pinecones, “I ordered a shipment of pinecones, search and find one best for your darling wife! Oh how romantic!” Nia giggles, kicking her feet in excitement as you, exasperated, sort through the pinecones only for her.

#x reader #gn reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere oc #tw yandere #oc x reader #yandere #gender neutral #yandere x reader #female yandere #female x reader #female yandere x reader #queen x reader #Nia Bloodwen

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me-uglypretty · 10 months ago

Text

my brother's wife

Pairing: Carol Danvers x F!Reader

Summary: Carol faces the conflict of war, and the love of her life or more accurately, the sister of a man she married.

Warning: (18+), fluff, mention of battle/war | 4k words

| C.D. Masterlist | Notify | Navigation |

The most confident, bravest, strongest, and coolest hero—spoken with enthusiasm by the honest words of Kamala Khan—was revealed as the heavily adored Princess of Aladna. Captain Marvel, a genuine royalty among her cheerful people. A princess that roused such joy and smiles from those around the symphonic planet.

“That’s so cool! You’re a princess!” Kamala had exclaimed after the moment of revelation had passed. “Oh my god, my favourite…my idol…my captain is also a princess,” she mumbled to herself, eyes widening at each word, and the absolute look of shock on her face when she stared adoringly at Carol.

On the other side, Monica appeared equally bewildered of the infamous hero’s newly revealed title. Carol tried relaying the reasons for her status at the planet, and only received teasing remarks that made her both annoyed and flush at their comical reactions.

Distraction soon arises for the two to further their teasing when the music begun playing. Aladna’s adored couple, the prince and princes dancing together dreamily, voices blending into the other to spoken words of a coming war.

Prince Yan was quick with his reaction, immediately directing them towards a guest room to prepare themselves for battle. Furthering their planning as he spoke privately with Carol then dismissing himself as the three were left assembling their own plan of action for Dar-Benn’s attack.

However, their conversation came to a halt when hushed voices were heard from outside their room. The sounds had diverted their attention towards the closed door, several seconds passed before the wide door was pushed open forcefully and someone entered in a rushed manner, scaring both Monica and Kamala while Carol merely reacted to the sudden intrusion.

“You’re here,” was spoken first, voice conveying brazen anger and eyes staring straight into those visibly cowering. “And you brought guest.”

Carol had flinched. Those words fell harshly from a mouth always sounding so sweet, someone she missed dearly and greatly from the unpleasant time apart. But when her own wide eyes met those orbs seemingly glimmering in pure wrath—she had smiled, dissolved was the sudden fear of what may happened, forgotten was the war that would soon arrive.

It was you, wasn’t it?

Why wouldn’t Carol smile at the sight of you?

It’s foolish to simply overlook the clear irritation on your face, but Carol had always reacted as foolishly possible when it came to you. Her eyes linger on your form, trailing from the strict look on your face to the hues of your clothes that appeared different from the occupants of Aladna. A sort of darkness looms in tinge of yellow, surely making you recognisable in the crowd. Though, that was undoubtedly the truth when you appeared in any places. A beauty like yours, and Carol crumbles at the sight.

You were there. Carol was there. A border that separated two was the upcoming war. Perhaps, it was the continuous voices that sang to their hearts desire, rarely disturbed by anger and unlike how a certain flair of anger seems stuck on your face.

But you’re…you.

“Why…why is Carol smiling?” Kamala whispered, nudging her elbow to Monica’s side at the question. The oldest between two simply shrugged, far too invested to know of her aunt’s new drama.

It was true. Carol was smiling at the sight of you, a stranger simply stood by the closed door. Hands fisted by your side, a frown settled deep on your face as your eyebrows furrowed and round eyes stared in her direction, anger that seems to slip gradually into confusion as your eyes examined the strangers in the room. Then, almost as if the realisation had settled when you noticed the younger girl, your glare was fixed back on Carol with madden intensity.

Carol cleared her throat first, mouth parted to say something then deciding on approaching you instead. “I know what you’re going to say—”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

Those words carried an unpleasant silence through the thickening tension. Carol’s approach was blocked as you swerve around her and walked towards the two guests.

Kamala takes an uncertain step back, seemingly pressing her body closer to Monica. Her wide eyes, those pools of soft brown swirls with an expression of fear, confusion, and adoration.

You lifted your fisted hand, extending towards Kamala and revealed a piece of pink candy in your palm. The puzzled look on her face fades seconds as she accepted the candy and uttered a soft thank you. After the minimal interaction, you glance towards the older woman stood beside her. Monica doesn’t offer a smile of any sort as your eyes squints at her like you found her familiar, before nodding your head at her.

“If you need anything, let me know. I’ll be waiting outside this room,” you stated sternly and spun around to make an exit.

Carol’s hand almost reached for yours but dropped by her side with a tired sigh as a hand was raised in her direction, silencing her from uttering anything else. The warning look remained on your face as you opened the door and closed it behind you.

It was almost too quiet till the sound of soft steps reached Carol’s side.

A hum was followed by the question, “So…who was that?”

Carol seemed to had awaken from her swirling thoughts. The clear curiosity was on Kamala and Monica’s face, neither gathering a reasonable answer for the slightly awkward and entirely too conflicted situation. The oldest of them had choose to ignore the questions looming in utter confusion and gestured for them to prepare for the upcoming battle.

It's you, it’s her, and it’s time she set aside her personal matters for the sake of their safety.

Out of the various disastrous occurrence, you weren’t prepared for the forced warfare in your peaceful planet. A home that was always glowing in hues of bright colours, people sharing the sounds of their love and embracing each other tenderly. Despite the conflict that arise at some point that made you dim, it was nothing alike the beliefs that your parents had taught you, and it wasn’t alike the absolute chaos you had witness.

Now, you were stood by the window that exhibited a view of the unexplored galaxy and you were fuming at the sight. A single foot taps rhythmically on the metal flooring, it was a song that your mother used to sing when nights were far too dark and worry expands in your chest. The kind of agony that carried forward as you grew older and when you were forced into the space ship with her.

It's for the best, your brother had claimed and pushed your body towards the hovering ship. The best of his decision was questioned in sake for you or for him. You assumed the latter was the obvious answer.

“How are you doing?” the tender voice asked and instantly, you smelled the slightly burnt aroma that carried through the air. “Coffee?” was offered soon after with a friendly smile.

When you accepted the offer, instantly did the warmth from the mug spreads to the width of your palms. A soft hum resonates through your throat as you sipped the bitter drink tentatively, the warmth doesn’t settle the ache in your chest but offer a sort of comfort from the chill that surrounds the unaccustomed space.

A gentle whisper of a thank you, and seconds after, your gaze met those of dark brown eyes swirling with sympathy.

“We weren’t formally introduced…but I’m Monica,” she introduced herself after offering the beverage. “That’s Kamala,” she pointed her thumb back, and you followed her gaze towards the young girl sat at the edge of the desk, kicking her feet absently then waving shyly in greeting at realisation that the attention had diverted to her.

You nodded your head first, followed by the confession that seemingly pulled her attention entirely on you. “I know…you,” and timid smile was revealed on your face.

Monica’s eyes seemingly widen at the revelation, eyebrows furrowed and mouth parted with questions lingering in her mind since your appearance. A taunting sense that hasn’t provided her with an idea of you.

Though, the wanting conversation was abruptly stopped by sounds of metal clattering to the ground, echoing throughout the shared space. Grumbles of sort was heard moments after, and Monica smiled, an apology lingering at the tip of her tongue as she hastily walked towards the urgent noise.

It left you alone, or at least, with the youngest among them.

Kamala’s face settled with an expression of utter concentration, the lines over her eyebrows more prominent as she squints her eyes and in return, you followed the reaction that seems to flutter out of nowhere. A moment shared between two at an hour that wasn’t great to neither, and it was the sign of a slight smile curling at her lips that warmth your heart. The commenced of a staring contest that you knew of well, a game that you had experienced with the children of Aladna.

It takes approximately ten seconds after that your façade dissolved into a smile that pulled at the muscles of your cheeks and laughter which carried happily in the air. Kamala snorted at the reaction, almost dropping the bowl of snacks in her hands from her uncontrollable laughter.

The rush of innocence in that moment, grasped at your heart and hers, which later you assumed. It seemed foreign to experience something so childlike. Life had become nothing but a period of attending to trivial occasions or listening to orders that enforced your presence far from significant discourses. The thought itself makes you feel strange. Did life really succumb into such dullness? If so, and life has truly met the worst then was that why a young child like her had become intertwined with a growing war?

Few minutes after, when neither you or Kamala was at the start of another childlike act, the young girl made a sound alike a hum.

“I like your scarf,” Kamala pointed out, her head nodding towards the fabric that was tired firmly around your wrist. “It’s pretty…like you,” she added faintly as a shy smile appeared on her face.

The mention of said scarf; an iridescence like maroon fabric which surface is scattered with a phrasing that looked faded, and the seams of the fabric was woven with embroidery of flowers in shade of gold and silver. It was one of the many fabrics made in your home planet, though, this article of clothing carried a significant meaning.

It's special, you would explain as a conclusion.

You placed the coffee in your possession by the window before untying the scarf around your wrist. Taking gentle steps forward, a tender smile curls at your lips as you glance at the fabric in your hand then meeting Kamala’s curious gaze. “Here, you can have it,” you said, and waited for the young girl to extend her hand.

A soft gasp was heard when the scarf was entirely in her touch. The sudden glow that resurfaced wasn’t unusual as you smiled at the sight. It was always a special fabric, and you believed that—Kamala is even more special.

“It’s glowing! Oh my…” she exclaimed, excitement seemingly losing an understand of what she was saying as you chuckled at her reaction. “Really?” she asked, after settling with a wide grin on her face. “Thank you!” she rushed to warp her arms around you as returned the show of affection.

“It’s a special scarf,” you spoke fondly of it. “Promised to guide in time of trouble…” you briefly explained, and witness the young girl inspecting the scarf intriguingly then her eyes, round and wide, stared into yours with questions that you waved off. “No, it’s not going to help you in every situation. It comes and goes, you’ll feel it when it does,” you wiggled your hands to emphasis it’s magic.

You wouldn’t exactly utter the word of magic. It’s not a trick. It’s just, that, something special and only worthy to those of pure heart.

“What’s that?”

The question was rushed, hand grasping your wrist that was once tied with a scarf. It doesn’t occur to you of Kamala’s sudden interest till the next question dropped from her mouth in utter surprise.

“Is that a glowing tattoo?”

You hastily pulled your hand away, and feign obliviousness as you shrugged. “Don’t know.”

The lie that slips from your tongue feels customary. It was a part of you that you hid well. The very emblem that stirred your chest with such rage, waiting for moments after another to erupt in sheer bloody wrath, and express the very notion that made you feel lost. At that same instant, where those feelings roused in such situation, the reason appeared in lurid steps.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Carol’s voice carried warmly through and her body inched closer, while yours visibly retreated with a livid scowl on your face.

Carol has always been the reason.

And there, she crossed her arms. “Are you serious? You’re still mad about what happened?”

Anger flash in your eyes, widening in sheer frustration and irritation. All those crimson flush that seems obvious to her, and you hoped for the least that she reconsiders her next choice of words. You take that step first, forcing your body into her proximity. A single finger pointed at the centre of her chest as you spoke the next line in blazing fury and in a tone that surely left everyone close stunned.

“No. You don’t get it, Carol. You got the prosperous ending with my brother, the chance to leave and continue your beautiful life in space. You had that, just pick up everything and leave to your lonesome like you always do,” you glance around her space ship to emphasise her isolation. “But I didn’t. I faced the backlash for not choosing the right person, for not— you promised that it will always be me and you.”

The breath released after your admission, it pulled at your chest and settled a heavy there. It doesn’t improve when your eyes started into hers, those spheres that you once compared to the sun.

Carol—she was the person you fell so hopelessly for—and she felt that same too, at those hours spend conversing of everything to nothing. You were sure of it. Those eyes of light brown held a heavenly like adoration for you. The mundane act of life, where her hands always find yours or the crimson flush on her cheeks when your hand rest firmly on her thigh. Carol always held a look in her eyes that others would express of how you perceive said person who painted the starts specifically for you, only someone loves you truly would go beyond to achieve that.

She speaks of it too, the love that she holds for purely for you. It was never doubt that she would have seize every colour in the universe for you. The promise that sealed her lips over yours at the first night you presumed her as another space adventurer. She wasn’t, that she swore upon.

It was love. You were confident of it.

Why must she had done everything against it?

You haven’t found the answers. Carol had left you abandoned while you still saw her face everywhere you turn and your brother’s satisfied smile at the mention of his wife.

It wasn’t fair to you—to your aching heart that stayed, still waiting for the glow of the night to appear and to see her smile. You waited for Carol every night till your mind settled with an end.

She could never settle herself for something permanent.

“You have always been so good at leaving, Carol Danvers,” you uttered with finality, and immediately walked away from her.

Pretence slips instantly. You ignored the look of disappointment on Monica’s face or the sounds of shock from Kamala at the revelation. Life was always like this; pretend, speak of every hurt, and pretend again.

Carol acknowledged the mistakes she made from the first that she remembers to the expense of the last. It takes saving the world with such reckless actions before and after, and the most horrible parts of it for her to finally understand. It was the same route that leads for another mistake.

Her heart ached with knowing that neither could compare to the shame that bathe her at leaving you in such state, and the absolute betrayal of accepting the marriage proposed by your brother. It was a documented act to solve a conflict. Merely an act, a performance for the politics that blurred heavily between social construct of Aladna and the heir of the throne.

“She’s very angry with you,” Kamal mumbled nonchalantly which ultimately directed Carol’s attention to her. “But she’s very pretty…” she trailed, momentarily getting distracted by the transparent screen which possessed classified information. “Actually, I think every beautiful woman…hates you,” and with that, she gasped dramatically at the realisation.

Carol argued with the brewing thoughts in the younger girl’s mind. “That’s not— stop, not every woman hates me.”

“Okay,” Kamila answered sarcastically. The utter shock of seeing her idol had fade into confidence if she was speaking like this without a worry, and it kind of made Carol wish back for the early stages of meeting Kamala.

A tired sigh emits from her throat, her hand brushed the blonde strains that fell to her forehead. “Kamala, she doesn’t hate me.”

Kamala scoffed at the statement. Carol’s eyebrows furrowed, and she titled her head, a look that made the younger girl raise her hand in surrender. It was followed by soft mumbles of apologies.

“She’s not happy with me right now, and I understand her,” Carol claimed, confidence wavering at each word after the tense and one-sided conversation with you. “Anyway, why do you even think that?” she questioned, before pushing the younger girl’s hand from messing with the buttons close by, and a cheeky smile soon resurfaced on her face.

“Because she gave me her scarf, she helped before and after the fight, she’s really nice…then you appeared and suddenly, I feel like a child of divorce…” Kamala expressed with a pout.

Carol’s mouth parted in shock, open and closing as though she was trying to comprehend the way to breath or find a suitable way to response. Ultimately at her speechlessness, Carol huffed and turned around, swiftly leaving the young girl giggling in her dismissal of the subject.

How could Kamala have assumed that, as if, the relationship shared between two was obvious to everyone. Carol knew you enough and that served as the only motive as search for you in the space ship.

It hasn’t left her mind since the night she had left. The circulating questions on if your brother was aware of the relationship that brew between you and her. Did the proposal of marriage arise after knowing the truth or was it proposed at the state of unknown?

Then she heard your voice, reaching her ears to where her mind drones the questions and her chest soothe with a warmth from a voice she had missed. You sounded so you, so gentle, so affectionate, and so unliked the voice that spat angrily in her direction.

You were sat by the monitors with Monica. A conversation flowing easily between two people who had never met before this. Carol was careful as she stood behind the wall, enough to stay hidden and still eavesdrop which she knew was a bad thing, but she couldn’t hinder her curiosity.

“Carol talk about you,” was the revelation that shifted Monica’s attention entirely onto you and deserting the classified information she was reading through. “There was so many stories that it felt like I knew you…but you’re obviously not a kid anymore and I don’t think your Aunt Carol had accepted that yet,” you teased at the end, resulting in chuckles from the other women.

“Our relationship feels weird,” Monica admitted, a sort of comfort disclosed in her posture as she shared her thoughts with you. “It’s been years since I last saw her and…” she paused with a tired sigh.

You nodded your head understandingly. “Regardless of what had happened in the past, I know very well that Carol misses you and she loves you so much,” your hand rested comfortingly on Monica’s arm as you continued, “I really do believe that she wants to try and make this better.”

The conversation fades into the background when Carol turned away from it. After all she had done, the absolute heartbreak that was vivid in your eyes, and you still spoke of her so kindly with someone sharing the same angry for her leaving. It wouldn’t make sense if someone else heard this, but Carol knows your compassion goes beyond.

You were rooting for her relationship with Monica to heal. It felt like your anger as fated at her, but never around what she was for everyone else.

Carol wishes and hopes that she could have the chance to fix the mess she created, and to hear your voice speak sweet to her.

The feeling of something horrible occurring—that ache which drew the most horrifying scream from your chest, your throat burns from the sheer strength it took, your hands trembling, your eyes blurry as tears shed—and the aftermath of it.

To witness someone, not just anyone, but the love of your life confined in a battle that doesn’t present an idea of who would survive. To ready your heart for the worse rather than the good, as the later hasn’t transpired for years, and you were always expecting the worse when it was intertwined with you.

Carol was, is intertwined with you.

The reality of a dreadful battle had disregarded the resentment which stirred in your chest at the sheer mention of her. Betrayal of such, wasn’t promised forgiveness. A part of you knew, forgiveness materialised in your heart when you first saw her on the dance floor, despite her close embrace with your brother.

Everything that you felt was dismissed completely at the sight of her, alive and breathing as she stood just steps away from you. Carol frowned, cheeks crimson and skin gleaming of sweat. It takes one move for her mouth to part, and for you to leap into her arms as she held you close. They won, and she was alive.

In the heat of such reunion, you pushed yourself back slight, your soft eyes gazing into hers and like nature pursuit the sun’s shine, your mouth hovers over hers—

And you kissed her.

One kiss after another, mouth pressing into the other as though air was transfer in that way, her touch melting you into a puddle of love for her.

Carol was stunned and hoped the forbidden wake from a dream wouldn’t ruin this moment with you. It doesn’t happen, not when your hands grasped her face or when her hands fell to your waist. You were kissing her so fondly that the smile on her face the only reason you stopped.

“You kissed me,” Carol whispered, her minty breath fans over your mouth, and you used to tease her for her habit of eating mint candies when she was stressed. “You kissed me.”

You hummed. “And you kissed me back.”

However, the sweet reunion of love was interrupting by a cough. Carol shifted her head slight, looking over your shoulder to see Monica stood there with an unamused expression. You tenderly turned around in her embrace, back pressed into hers as Carol rested her head on your shoulder.

It's perfect, she confessed to her heart. The bad was resolved, and you still love her. You love her enough and haven’t left her side since the start of this unavoidable war.

She doesn’t need any other proof of love than the way your hand grasps her wrist and hold her closer. The glimpse of a mark on your wrist proof of it more, a matching emblem of love that glows warmly on her skin and yours.

“So…you forgive her for being problematic?” Monica teased, and instantly raised her hands in feign surrender when Carol glared at her. “Okay, calm down, Aunt Carol. I was just…stating the obvious.”

A groan trembles through your shoulder at Carol’s annoyance. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Where’s Kamala? Go take care of her, please,” Carol plead in the end, and Monica smiled, waving her hands at you as she walked away.

Carol turned your body around, facing you entirely as the smile on her face widens as you were smiling at her too. It’s unreal, she thought, as her fingers trace the curve of your lips and you lean into her touch.

You felt the texture of her skin, the print of her birth and the ones occurred from her life filled with action. She wasn’t a fragment of a memory that made you curse and cry the night away. Just knowing she was there with you, lessen the ache that was so persistent in your heart.

“I’m sorry for messing up,” Carol whispered, her hand grasps your jaw tenderly. “I shouldn’t— I should have never left you. It’s my fault, and I would do everything to fix this, fix us.”

You simply listened or more, admire the little furrow of her brows as she spoke, the line that drew over forehead which appeared more prominent when she was frowning, and the way her eyes visibly softened, it’s not the look of a warrior but of someone blooming with sympathy. Your body seemed to react first as you pressed your mouth firmly over hers, lips completely shutting her from her rambles of apologies.

“I forgive you,” was whispered as another kiss was followed by, “But you have a long way to fix everything,” you pointed, and she chuckled, nodding her head in agreement.

This was entirely the way either of you expected for rekindle of a relationship, but she was there, you were there, and safely together. Life, rough as it always had been, but it would eventually resolve into better thing. You accepted this at once as her eyes gaze into yours, the tender touch of her hand, and the sweet smile on her face.

You kissed again—just for her.

“But you are divorcing my brother or this,” you pushed yourself back, creating a gap between bodies. “Would never work out,” you stated as you removed your hands from hers and patted her chest softly.

The response that came after was the sound of your distant steps, and Carol’s eyes followed your figure retreating to where the rest were surely waiting.

“Wait! Stop!” Carol shouted suddenly, realisation dawning on her after completely losing her state of consciousness from your touch. “We got married on papers to solve a conflict! It’s not real, hey!”

The laughter that echoed through the space ship was shared among those surviving another formidable battle. You were laughing with Monica and Kamala while Carol was trying her hardest to justify her political marriage, and the slight appearance of a smile when she realises that this is her family. Loneliness doesn’t dwell at each corner of this floating ship, but the warmth of friendships, and rekindled relationships.

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#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x you #carol danvers imagine #captain marvel x you #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel imagine

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