#some things are meant to be enjoyed by you and only you

[amirasainz]

hi, you write beautifully! i was wondering if you could please write something about lando and the reader, when they have different love languages lando has touch and the reader has gifts

Thank you 😊

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

- xoxo babygirl 🧡

Different Love Languages, Same Love

Lando had always been a tactile person. It wasn’t something he tried to be, it was just who he was—he liked being close, feeling skin against skin, sharing warmth. And then there was Y/N, his polar opposite when it came to expressing love. She’d always had a knack for finding the perfect gift or gesture, something that showed she’d been paying attention to the tiniest details. They were different, yes, but those differences only seemed to bring them closer.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The first time Y/N really noticed how much Lando’s love language shaped his actions was at a fan meet-and-greet.

It was a chaotic day at the track. Fans swarmed Lando as soon as he stepped out of the hospitality tent. Y/N had been standing beside him, holding his water bottle, her presence understated like always. But the moment the crowd surged forward, Lando’s hand shot out, grabbing hers and pulling her in front of him.

“Stay close,” he murmured, his arm wrapping protectively around her waist.

She could feel the rapid thump of his heart as he tucked her into his chest, shielding her from the crush of fans. Even as he smiled and signed autographs, his other hand never left her, his fingers brushing her arm or hip every few seconds as if to make sure she was still there.

Later that night, when they were back at the hotel, she teased him about it.

“Lando, I wasn’t about to get lost in a sea of fans,” she said, smiling as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail.

He looked up from where he was lying on the bed, his face softening. “I know. I just… I didn’t want anything to happen to you. You’re the most important person there, you know?”

Her heart melted on the spot.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Y/N’s love showed itself in other ways—like the time Lando won his first-ever F1 race.

It had been a whirlwind of champagne, interviews, and celebrations. Y/N was right there through it all, cheering the loudest, her face aching from how wide her smile had been the entire time. The next day, while Lando was still sleeping off the post-race exhaustion, she went out and found a small pendant shaped like a racecar. It wasn’t fancy, but it was something to mark the moment.

When Lando woke up and saw it, his expression was priceless.

“What’s this?” he asked, holding it up to the light.

“Just something to remember yesterday by,” Y/N said casually, though her cheeks were already warming. “You can put it on your keychain or something.”

Lando sat up and looked at her for a long moment before pulling her into his lap, burying his face in her neck. “You’re unreal, you know that? I don’t deserve you.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Their differences became even more apparent on the nights they’d go out with friends. Y/N wasn’t a big drinker, but occasionally, she’d let loose. Lando always took on the role of her unofficial babysitter, not that she ever needed it. One particular night, though, she’d had one cocktail too many.

On the way home, she slouched in the passenger seat of Lando’s car, her head lolling against the window. “You’re so pretty, you know that?” she slurred, turning to look at him with glassy eyes.

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “Thanks, love. So are you.”

When she tried to sit up, he reached over, guiding her feet onto his lap.

“What are you doing?” she asked, confused but too tipsy to argue.

“Just keeping you close,” he said simply, one hand steering the car while the other rested on her ankle.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

For Y/N, showing her love meant remembering the little things—like the time Lando casually mentioned wanting a specific pair of headphones while scrolling online. Six months later, on his birthday, he unwrapped the exact pair he’d been eyeing.

“How did you remember this?” he asked, holding them up with a mix of surprise and awe.

“I pay attention,” Y/N said with a grin. “You should try it sometime.”

He tackled her onto the couch, peppering her face with kisses.

“I don’t need to,” he said between kisses. “I already have everything I want.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

One of Lando’s most memorable gestures came during a rare beach day together. They’d found a secluded spot, far from the prying eyes of fans or photographers. Y/N had been lying on the sand, soaking up the sun, when Lando suddenly scooped her up and pulled her onto his chest.

“Lando!” she yelped, laughing as she tried to wriggle free. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping you close,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “And making sure you don’t get sand in your hair. You hate that.”

She rolled her eyes but let him hold her, her head resting against his shoulder as they watched the waves.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The balance they struck was perfect in its own way.

When Lando came home after particularly grueling race weekends, Y/N always had something waiting for him—sometimes flowers, sometimes his favorite takeout, sometimes just a handwritten note tucked into his pillow.

And when Y/N had rough days, Lando would pull her into his arms and hold her until the tension melted away.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

One night, as they lay tangled together on the couch, Y/N looked up at him and asked, “Do you ever wish we had the same love language?”

Lando tilted his head, considering her question. “Not really. I think it’s kind of perfect the way it is. You make me feel loved in ways I never expected.”

She smiled, reaching up to trace his jawline. “You do the same for me.”

And that was all that mattered.

[briefpiratebear]

for me keeping myself high meant in the moment meant more then any amount of sympathy or disrespect anybody could do to me. i didnt want that who would i failed like i fail at everything this time i didnt know many things i thought i did like a mental disorder i could not keep my thoughts and my brain right i was mentally incapable although i could work and i did always did yet with anxiety and no meds i couldnt be normal i lost it again i dont take anxiety meds im a buddha but since my brake down it hurt me physically like i did my entire years growing up this time i only lose it momentarily i need to find some other distractions then this shit feeling im doing alot better like i always thought i would on adderall lol it is a very very sad story of how someone dehuminized and deliberatly terrrorize over drugs they needed to be taking there entire life not only that but so much not knowing there own children labling me as autistic way earlier on before her degrees because of my alcholism changed the way of my thinking seperated us she never new me untill she had to know me thats how sad our relationship has been for along time not now for awhile all in all its dehuminizing her mother does it alot worse all in all its nothing good to lie that is why truth wins everytime i stand on truth and manners i have to we all do anyway i never had a problem i figured my shit out but who was there helping me i dont take for granted but i have to learn to enjoy the ride better myself and family together many people do not know how to communicate like i do not even my mom i see perspectives people dont think about i can wrap my head around alot but damn that shit broke me i spent all my money on shit to feel good i was sad a pig i turned into another animal alcholic ran myself to the ground getting phcho episode i dont even reminber my ex i must have drank popped pills the whole time untill well early november i got hospitalized and i wasnt well untill around chrismas time i was on heavy drugs because physically i would shake people think its ever since the meningitis the spinal tap fucked me up but i dont i think its a anxiety thing cause from nerv damage longer i go on the more it subsided it was bad all in all the monopaly went well another life lesson i would never take those away from anybody idc who you are whether you grew up in catholic schools or the slums you deserve to be heard other people need to hear it...

[funnyjb]

Moon and back

——————-

Early morning light shined into your shared bedroom with Joe. You were comfortable and at ease. Joe was holding you close. His morning bed head still in tact and only thing on was his sweatpants.

The sound of coo’s from the baby monitor woke you both up. Your daughter Amelia was just waking up. Amelia Parker Burrow was born just in late May. The ray of sunshine that brightened up both of your lives.

You both turned

“I’ll get her.”- joe

“You sure?”- you

“Yeah, get some more rest”- joe

You nodded

It was only 6:00am

Joe walked into Amelia’s room. The door cracked open. The room was still dark but Joe could make up the crib and the changing table.

“Hi, baby.”- joe

Joe picked her up and rested her in his arms.

“Shh, it’s ok.”- joe

All of a sudden Amelia started crying. Tears filled her little eyes. The sound waking you up again.

You could always tell what the cry’s meant. A hungry cry, a tired cry, or angry cry. This sounded like a hungry cry.

Joe could tell it was hungry cry to from your tricks and tips you taught him these past few months.

He brought Amelia to you. He didn’t want to, he wanted you to sleep in.

“Hey, sorry but i think she’s hungry.”- joe

“Yeah, it’s ok.”- you held out your hands

He handed your daughter to you.

You pulled down your top and started to feed.

Joe came into bed again and sat right next to you. You rested your head on his shoulder.

——————————

Later in the day you decided to surprise Joe at practice with Amelia. You changed into your black romper and white button up as a coverup. You put Amelia in a cute Burrow onesie then you two were off.

The sub was shining bright and Joe looked great. He had is bengals cap on and was doing some drills.

He spotted you two after practice.

“Babe? What are you doing here?”- joe smiled

“We decided to surprise you! Also needed to get out of the house.”- you laugh

You hand Amelia to Joe.

“Hi, baby.”- joe

Joe held her up to his chest. Some people were watching but really just smiling and making comments about the cute moment. You didn’t mind.

You guys decided to take a family picture that was definitely getting framed.

Joe hit the showers then was going to let you both at home since you had two separate cars

At home Joe sat next to you on the couch while Amelia was down for a nap.

“I really enjoyed having you guys there today. Thank you for coming. I know it’s a lot with the baby.”- joe

“Always. I’ll do anything to support you. Amelia and I are so proud of you.”- you kiss his forehead

You guys end up napping and cuddling

————————-

“Shhhh, calm down baby, it’s ok.”- you rocked Amelia who was crying

Amelia hasn’t stopped crying.

Joe was out at dinner with friends. He insisted on staying to help but you figured he needed a night off.

Your tears started to flow down your cheeks. The exhaustion from the week started to kick in. The waking up early, running around every second, taking care of your baby. It was hard.

As york tears flowed you decided to sing a lullaby to help calm Amelia.

“Goodnight, sweetheart

Well, it's time to go

Goodnight, sweetheart

Well, it's time to go”

Amelia’s cry became faint. The sounds of loud baby cry’s stopped. The house was quiet. The room was quiet and still.

You slowly got up and put her in the crib.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”- you

You quietly left the room.

You decided to head downstairs and tackle the kitchen as quietly as you could. You were tired but didn’t want to do it in the morning

As you were cleaning your mind kept going to that moment in Amelia’s room. How you couldn’t keep it together. Both of you were crying. Even though you pushed Joe to go tonight, you’ve been feeling lonely and alone in your own feelings. Tears started to streaming again.

Just then the door opened.

Joe was home.

“Babe?”- joe

“In here!”- you quickly wipe your tears

You can here is footsteps get closer.

“Hey!”- joe

You try not to look his way so he doesn’t see your eyes.

“Hi! How was dinner?”- you say putting a plate away in the dishwasher

Joe looks at you weird knowing something is off.

“It was..good. Nice to catch up. You ok?”- joe says coming closer

“Yeah,yeah, I’m good”- you

“Y/n, look at me, please.”- joe says softly

You hesitate for a minute

Then you turn

Your eyes are still red but not as bright

“Baby, what’s wrong?”- joe

Just as those words come out of his mouth your tears and sobs start to pour out.

He wraps his arms around you

“Shh, it’s ok. I’m right here.”- joe

He lefts you cry for a few moments.

“Care to tell me what’s bothering you, sweetheart?”- joe

“I..I just don’t know if I can do it.”- you

“Do what?”- joe

“Be a mom. I’m so tired and she kept crying non stop for a whole hour I didn’t know what to do. She’s been getting up early in the morning to be fed and late a night. I’m exhausted. People keep asking me how I’m doing and I don’t know what to say. It’s all too much. And I miss you.”- you

“Baby, I’m so so sorry. You shouldn’t have to feel this way. But its a part of it. And I’m right here.”- joe

“I know, but the season is coming up and I feel like I never really see you. And I’m sorry I probably am such a dick for bringing this on you.”- you

“Y/n, no, you aren’t. It’s ok and I’m glad you’re speaking to me about this. I’m proud of you always. I know it’s hard with the season coming up and I’m really sorry I’ve been away. I talked to coach today and tried to see if I could do some stuff from home like meetings and stuff so I can help you. I’m really sorry you’ve been dealing with this y/n. But you’re an amazing mom. Your wonderful at it. Our daughter is so lucky she gets you as her mama and I’m so lucky I get to call you my wife. I’m always here. Always.”- joe

You hug him again

“Thank you, Joe. I love you so much. More than you know.”- You

“Always. I love you to the moon and back.”- Joe

——-

The end!

I know you guys like mama so I decided to right something like it!

[purplecoffee13]

Kisses to my exes*

Wc: 1k

Warnings: SMUT, dirty talk, degradation, toxic (ex)relationship, Harry being a cocky asshole (what else is new in my fics)

A/N: Hi, so I wrote this blurb a couple of days ago and it was just kinda sitting in my drafts… but sharing is caring so here ya go🤭 enjoy

General Masterlist

Blurb Masterlist

Y/N had sworn last time was truly the last time she'd ever do this, and she had meant it when she said it to Harry. So where it really went wrong she couldn't quite place, but she reckoned it had something to do with the amount of drinks she'd downed after spotting him at that bar tonight.

Harry and Y/N broke up three years ago; different aspirations and such. However, since then, she ran into him at least three times a year, and somehow it would always be the exact times she was finally moving on with someone else.

The first time she ended up in his bed when she was really not supposed to, was about two and a half years ago. She'd had a bad date, ran into him, and that was that. A minor slip-up, she figured. Only it didn't stop there.

Any time she ran into him in a bar, she'd somehow always end up in his bed. It was a curse, she concluded about a year and a half ago. It was the universe fucking with her for whatever evil thing she had probably done in the past.

When about four months ago she ran into Harry again, she truly thought it would pan out differently. After all, she'd been dating a very nice guy for about a month at the time, and it was going really well. And still... still she ended up waking up in his goddamn bed the next morning. She broke up with the other guy that same week, feeling absolutely horrible about what she had done. Right then and there, she decided that that was the last time. Harry was making a bad person out of her and she needed to put an end to the madness.

When she saw Harry tonight and decided to approach him, it wasn't at all with the intention to end up with him drilling into her, but the exact opposite. She found him outside, smoking a cigarette, and when he flashed that signature smile of his at her, she couldn't help but march towards her ex.

"I just want you to know that I hate you, and I'm done with you." She grumbled, pointing an accusatory finger at him. His eyebrows raised slightly, the corner of his mouth tugging up. It frustrated her that he clearly didn't seem to take her seriously.

He'd only nodded, muttered an 'alright', and Y/N had found herself stunned. She'd expected him to argue with her; just have at least some sort of reaction. But he didn't, not really, so she walked into the bar and began to drink the embarrassment away.

After her third drink, Y/N excused herself from her friends and went to the bathroom. Upon returning, a hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards the wall.

"What the fuck was that?" Harry growled at her, and Y/N smiled, glad to finally have an ounce of emotion from his side.

"I told you, I'm done with you and this back and forth bullshit." She said proudly, but Harry didn't look the slightest bit convinced. She swallowed when he leaned in closer, his hand inching up her inner thigh.

"Are you?" He tilted his head, fingers grazing over her increasingly wet panties. She still got soaked easily at the sight of him, even the smell of his perfume could make her go crazy. Y/N didn't dare to move or to speak, hoping he would continue his movements. Unfortunately for her, he backed off.

"I'm going home." He said in a bored tone, and turned around to walk back into the crowd and probably to the exit. Y/N blinked for a couple of seconds before turning on her heels and following Harry. She took a de-tour, saying she was going to smoke a cigarettes with a friend she'd ran into, and headed for the exit.

And now she was in his car, bouncing on his cock and fogging up the windows. Her tits pressing against Harry's face, she moved with a determination to please him. She'd always had that when it came to him. It felt good to make him feel good. She let out a string of moans at each thrust, feeling him deep inside her belly.

"Good girl." He grunted, the vibration running over her chest, and she gasped at the sting on her right ass cheek. Eyes rolling into the back of her head, she savored the burn, and took the brunt of another one.

"I'm gonna cum—" she whined, her eyes fluttering shut as she began to increase her movements. Y/N's fingers moved down to her clit, and she began rubbing on it intensely as she began to chase her orgasm.

"Of course you are." Harry said with such confidence that it could've singlehandedly buckled Y/N's knees. "You always do with me, it's why you keep coming back."

A high pitched moan escaped her throat, trying to handle the physical sensation and the putty that her mind would turn into whenever Harry spoke with those dirty words of his. Another slap hit her cheek.

"You know it's true, you can't get enough of my cock, baby." He said over the sounds of Y/N's approaching orgasm. She swore the car was moving along with them.

"Doesn't matter if you tell me it's the last time, or that you're done with me, you always end up letting me fuck you stupid anyway." He rasped, and it was enough for Y/N to fall apart. She cried out, the high hitting her like a goddamn truck, and she gushed all over his legs. Her breathing was erratic and heavy, and she was not at all prepared for Harry to suddenly start thrusting up into her.

"You always come back to me. Wanna know what I think of that?" He asked, voice surprisingly stoic despite the heavy movements. Y/N felt like she was going cross-eyed. She was so sensitive, but this was typical Harry; always pushing her limit. Gathering every ounce of energy she had left, she muttered out:

"W— what?"

Harry's lips pulled up into a shit eating grin, looking up at her with those irresistible green eyes of his.

"I think that means you're mine, forever."

General taglist: @mema10

[scho17]

Undead Twins AU

Knowing that your little brother had family and didn’t think he could trust you with it is a different type of guilt. 

It’s a guilt in knowing that those tires he was going to steal off your fathers car wasn’t just meant for a quick turn around, that it was meant to sustain an entire other person. It’s knowing that Jason had likely allowed himself to be taken in as a trial run before deeming it safe enough for his sibling. It’s knowing that Jason had found it lacking. It’s knowing that the Wayne’s may have held his wellbeing in their hands but they never held his trust.

And maybe, just maybe, Jason was right for that. 

Dick watches a young scrappy thing settle in front of Jason’s grave. The boy looks just like his brother. Only older. Not fifteen. He looks like a Jason Todd who finally grew into his big hands and broad shoulders. Dick could almost pretend this stranger is his little brother. Almost. 

He's sat on the uncomfortable ground. Dick knows its uncomfortable, he’s sat there too on the anniversary that Bruce refuses to leave the manor on. Too busy staring at a suit in a glass case, waiting, listening, hoping for that bell like laughter to chime once again in the stale air of the cave. He knows because he’s sat there in that very spot that boy is in and played music from bands his little brother liked, read him his favorites until his voice went hoarse, the classics that Dick could never quite enjoy with all their complicated flowery language. 

But there that haggard teenager is, tired and still finding it within himself to gently hold a bouquet in his calloused palm placing it on the tomb of his brother like its the most important thing he’ll ever do. There’s a slim smile on the boys lips as he reads over Jason’s engraved name, running his finger tips across it. His smile is small and soft. Private in a way that Dick knows he’s intruding upon just by laying witness.

And then, then he speaks.

He talks casually, like its any other conversation. Like he isn’t in a grave yard. Like Jason Todd isn’t six feet beneath him. He talks about stargazing, talks about Jason wanting to leave behind Gotham, staying because he felt he had to. He talks about daisies and dandelions. He says goodbye to his big brother and Dick thinks that it must feel agonizing to be older than your big sibling. To reach an age they never did and still keep going with out them. 

Jason Todd had a little brother and Dick Grayson never knew. There has always been anger simmering beneath his skin and Dick has always been good at anger but he’s better at grief. Guilt has always come easy and this is no different. 

*

“No, shut up this is so not funny. I don’t even know what I did but now I’ve got a bird on my tail and he won’t stop making sad eyes at me Jay.”

“It’s a little bit funny.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You are too so I think it might be genetic.”

“Insufferable. Really. By the way, do you know how hard it is to try and lose the Wayne’s attention? I swear it’s like someone left me in a wet cardboard box on the side of the road and they just thought ‘yeah, you’re coming home with me’ like I’m some pathetic half drowned cat.”

“It’s too late for them, I already took you home first. Finders keepers.”

Danny groaned and slumped into his brothers shoulder “tell them that. Besides, isn’t Nightwing supposed to be based in Bludhaven? Whats he doing in Gotham?” 

“Yeah, but he’s Nightwing. He does his own thing. At least Robin isn’t onto you yet.”

“And there you go jinxing it. Watch he’s going to show up while I’m out and about and scold me for being affiliated with you.”

“Well that little shit can go eat rocks. He already stole everything else, he’s not allowed to steal my little brother too.”

“We’re only a few hours apart.”

“You’ll always be a baby in my eyes, Danny.”

“I loathe you.”

DC x DP - Two of a Kind

Danny running away from his home dimension for such and such reasons (GIW, bad reveal, etc, etc) cue him stumbling around Gotham because holy mother of ambient ectoplasm, Batman.

So anyways he’s just chilling in crime alley, as a struggling guy in Gotham does and then. And then there’s someone else. Looks exactly like him. Not like how he and Dani look similar, her features just softer and rounded with babyfat, no, no, this guy looks exactly like him. Down to the barely there scattering of freckles on the nose bridge.

It’s Jason Todd. Danny is his dimensions version of Jason Todd.

[marauder-misprint]

Hi! I have no idea how to request correctly butI really liked how you write fred and I was wondering if I can maybe request you doing qn insecure!fred x reader where they are dating and molly wants reader to come over but fred knowing they are poor doesnt want the reader to see. When he tells her and she agrees to come over and meets his familyi(the ones she hasnt met yet) she slips up on something stupid like saying a twosided comment about their house and molly takes it the bad way, disliking reader and pressuring fred into breaking up with her but reader gets defensive and they fight, the weasley siblings on readers side and in the end molly starts to tolerate you. You absolutely don't have to but thx anyways!!

Thank you for the request! Although, I think you are referring to a Fred fic I reblogged so I can’t take credit for that 😅 ANYWAYS, I hope you like this - my first Hogwarts Era (Trio Era? Golden Era? Lightning Era?) 

Peculiar

insecure!Fred x reader

3.4k words

cw: angst, fluff, y/n

One thing Fred liked about Hogwarts was his family’s financial situation didn’t matter. Everyone wore the same uniform, even if his were hand-me-downs from Percy, and his family always managed to pull through to get the supplies they needed, which meant his broom wasn’t the newest but it did the job. He knew he couldn’t pretend his family had galleons upon galleons in their vault like other families. He knew he couldn’t spoil his new girlfriend in all the ways he wanted to, and by goodness, did he wish he could spoil you.

Still, things were going good. You didn’t discuss your family’s financial situation much, just enough for him to know you were from a more well-off family. You were only teenagers after all. You enjoyed spending time with each other and all of the other things that came with teenage romances, including the moments where you both that maybe it could be more than just a teenage romance. 

Things were good. Until a letter from Molly arrived. 

Errol near crashed into the Gryffindor table at breakfast in his typical fashion.

“INCOMING!” Lee hollered as the aging bird landed among the plate and globals, sending food and drink everywhere. 

“Oh, Errol,” George groaned as he untied the letter at his foot. “Oi, Freddie, it’s for you.”

Fred took the letter and quickly read it, a frown appearing on his face the further down he got in the letter. George picked it up right away, despite barely being able to see it in his peripheral vision as he tended to the owl. 

“What’s it?” he asked. 

“Mum wants me to invite Y/N to the Burrow over the summer.” His frown was paired with bunched brows and a pale face. 

Katie clapped Fred on his back enthusiastically. 

“That’s good, yeah? She’ll get to experience that Weasley hospitality Molly’s known for!”

Fred just shook his head, rereading the letter. It was bad enough that he couldn’t spoil you at school, but what would you think if you saw his home, how they lived. It wasn’t as bad as some people teased, but it certainly was no Malfoy Manor or Diggory Estate. 

“Mate, am I getting the invite this year?” Lee asked George, throwing an arm around his shoulder and shaking him. 

“Can’t. Mum’s already planning for Harry and Hermione. Plus Bill, Charlie and Percy will be home too. I think Perce is having Penelope over too? It’s going to be a full house.”

Lee swore. “Losing to your girlfriend, Fred. It hurts,” he said teasingly. 

Fred crumpled the letter and shoved it into his pocket. He didn’t say anything for the rest of breakfast. 

“Okay, why the long face? Don’t you want Y/N to come?” George asked Fred as they made their way to their first lesson of the day. 

“I… It’s the Burrow. What if she expects more? Better?”

George just shrugged and then gave his twin a knowing look. “So we don’t wipe our arses with galleons. It don’t matter that much. You know Mum just wants to meet her.”

“Mum really wants to meet her.” Fred stopped walking. “Do you know who told ‘er? I hadn’t mentioned Y/N in any of my letters yet.”

“Probably Ginny,” George laughed. 

“What’d my favorite Weasley do?” you asked as you caught up with the boys, a grin on your face. 

“Aw, I thought I was your favorite,” George whined with a faux-pout. 

“Ginerva is telling Mum all my secrets,” Fred said before planting a kiss on the side of your forehead. You didn’t need to know that you were one of those secrets. 

The boys stopped discussing the letter for the time being. George at least had the tact to talk to Fred about his worries about you at a later time. 

You weren’t oblivious to Fred’s palpable worry during the day. He wasn’t normally this quiet or fidgety. Maybe there were days when he was more restless than usual, but today, he kept checking the clock, nervously cracking his knuckles and crumpling something in his pocket. 

One glance at George told him that you were picking up that something was off.

“Don’t worry ‘bout, love. I’ll get ‘im sorted out for you,” George whispered to you after classes before hurrying to catch up with his brother who had already started making his way to Gryffindor Tower.

You watched them both with a concerned frown, but eventually decided not to think about it too much. Did you wish Fred would talk to you about whatever was eating his mind? Yes. But if George was convinced he could get his brother out of the funk, it couldn’t be too bad. 

“Do you think she’ll dump your sorry arse when she sees home?” George asked once they were far enough away. 

Fred didn’t answer. His brain said ‘maybe’ but he couldn’t bring himself to voice it.

George laughed in disbelief. “She wouldn’t! Bloody hell, why’d you think that?”

“You know she comes from… more,” Fred said quietly, the words feeling uncomfortable in his mouth. You weren’t rich rich, but still, it was more than the Weasleys. 

“Hate to break it to you, but I don’t think she’s a gold digger.” George clamped a hand on Fred’s shoulder as they stood outside the Fat Lady’s portrait. “If she was, don’t you think she’d be with Flint or Pinch-Smedley, or Oggspire? Don’t be dense.” His voice had taken a firmer tone.

Don’t be dense, Fred repeated in his mind as he sat in the common room waiting for dinner. Don’t be dense. It’d be fine. It had to be. Was it a tad embarrassing? Sometimes, but at least they didn’t all sleep in one room like Malfoy had once said. 

Fred called you over to sit with him at dinner and by the way he smiled at you as you sat down next to him, you knew George had worked some magic. Fred was back to being Fred. He leaned in as you filled up your plate.

“So, I was wondering if you’d like to visit the Burrow this summer. Mum’s given permission. She’d love to meet you,” he said in a hushed voice. 

You had heard stories about summers at the Burrow. You knew it was home to more than the Weasleys when school was out; Harry, Hermione, Lee, Angelina, Katie, among others, had all been. There were legends of 3-on-3 quidditch matches and Molly’s delectable meals. And you had just been invited. Your face lit up with the brightest smile Fred had seen since the day he asked you out. 

“Yeah, Fred, I’d love to!” You leaned forward so you could see George on Fred’s other side. “Hear that, George? I’m going to see the Burrow!” 

---

Your mother dropped you off at the nearest muggle village to the Burrow. She waited with you until Fred came to meet you. 

“Your parents will be there the whole time?” she asked him when he arrived.

“Yes, ma’am. Mum is dying to meet her,” he said politely.

You, however, rolled your eyes. You bid your mother goodbye and went with Fred.

“I assured her that your parents would be around. Told her you guys have friends over every summer,” you ranted to him as you walked. “That your mum loves to host and meet all your friends. I mean, how else would she get to meet everyone that Ginny talks about in her letters home?”

Fred laughed. Of course you knew it was Ginny who wrote home the most.

He cautiously watched your expression as the Burrow came into view. They had passed the barn and chicken coop, along with several animals. You were speechless as you looked the house up and down. His worry about what you would think melted away when he saw the pure awe on your face. 

“What a peculiar home!” you exclaimed as you reached the sign that said ‘The Burrow’. “The magic-”

“Peculiar?” Molly gasped from the kitchen. 

You hadn’t noticed her yet, still taking in everything that was the Burrow. It’s many stories with rooms jutting out every which way that gave it a very crooked and semi-lopsided appearance. Just from the outside, it was very different from any house you had ever seen, wizarding or muggle. 

You gave Fred a concerned sideways glance. His mother did not sound happy with your comment. He gave you a soft yet reassuring smile. This was his home after all and you had agreed to come stay and meet his family, and so far, you were taking it well.

“You’re here!” Ginny squealed as she burst out the front door and pulled you into a hug. “I can’t wait to show you around!” 

“I can show Y/N around just fine, Ginny,” Fred said, an easier smile coming to his face. 

You just laughed, taking Ginny’s hand once she released you. The three of you entered into the house and walked right into the surprisingly harsh gaze of Molly. 

“Mum,” Fred said warily. “This is Y/N.” 

“Pleasure to meet you,” you said kindly. “You have a-”

“Peculiar home, as you said outside,” Molly cut you off. 

You took a step backwards, stepping on Fred’s foot. He sucked a breath in, loud enough for you to hear. 

“Dinner’s at seven. Keep doors open,” she added shortly before turning back into the kitchen. 

You tried to give Fred a questioning look but he was staring after his mother.

“Come with me. I’ll show you my room! It’s where you, me and ‘Mione will be sleeping. Like one big slumber party!” Ginny said, grabbing your arm again and pulling you toward the twisting stairs. 

Once you and Ginny were gone, Fred followed his mother into the kitchen.

“Mum?” he asked cautiously. 

In his mind, he wanted to ask ‘what the bloody hell was that? You gave me, George and Ron an easier time when we stole Dad’s car to rescue Harry.’ He didn’t, but he wanted to. And he was glad he didn’t when Molly spun around, glaring and pointing a wooden spoon at him.

“Do. Not.” Her voice was sharp. “That girl… The gall… Insulting us before she even…” She turned back to the pot she was stirring and was more muttering to herself than talking to Fred. “Expects us to feed and care for her… Peculiar… I’ll show her peculiar…” 

The rest of the day and the next two were filled with never-ending fun, except for meals when Molly sat down and glared at you from across the table. You spent most of your time with Fred and George, as you had expected to, but you helped with chores around the house and chatted with just about everyone. Percy and Penelope were more quiet than the rest, often opting to read or discuss their jobs quietly when they returned from them. You tried not to take it personally that Molly seemed to like her much more than you. 

Then you got the delight to meet Bill and be properly introduced to Charlie. The latter had been at Hogwarts when you started but it wasn’t like you ever really interacted. The eldest of the Weasley children were incredible story-tellers and just as hilarious as the rest of them. The way Charlie talked about his work with dragons almost made you wish you had taken Care of Magical Creatures and Bill’s stories about Egypt and Gringotts were overall impressive. 

The fourth day of your stay is when you heard how unwelcome you apparently were at the Burrow. Or, at least, according to Molly. 

The living room was alive with various games being played by the siblings and guests. Exploding snap, wizards’ chess, gobstones, you name it. It was loud and warm and fun. Fred noticed your glass was empty and went to the kitchen to refill it for you. 

“Ever the gentleman,” you laughed as he disappeared through the door.

“Fred, how dare you bring a girl like that into this house!” Molly’s voice could be heard through the walls, sending a sudden hush through the room. 

You blinked, looking from George to Ron to Hermione. 

“I thought your family didn’t care about status?” you asked, confusion obvious on your face. 

The Weasley were purebloods. You were a halfblood but Hermione was fully muggleborn and Molly didn’t seem to have a problem with her. Maybe her issue was with wizards and muggles mating? Certainly a new take on blood status… 

You could hear Fred and Molly arguing although significantly quieter than her first outburst. When he returned, his face was beet red and he had forgotten the glasses of water. 

“So, what was that?” Ron asked, breaking the tension.

Fred shook his head before forcing a smile. “Nothing. Just a miscommunication.” 

You knew it wasn’t nothing. For a prankster, Fred could be terrible at lying if something wasn’t sitting right with him. You and George tried to get more out of him to no avail. He wouldn’t discuss what he and their mum had argued about. You two knew it was about you, but Fred gave no details.

When Fred worried about bringing you to his home, he didn’t know that he was worrying about the wrong person. You loved the Burrow and he felt that that much was plain as day to see. But it wasn’t to Molly and Fred ended up telling George as much when he asked him again when they were alone in their room. 

“She wants me to break up with Y/N,” Fred whispered, his voice shaking from anger. “Said she’s too proud for the family. Too stuck up. That she’s rude.”

“But she’s not!”

“I know she’s not. I tried to tell her that. Explain what Y/N meant by ‘peculiar’ and that it’s a good thing. Mum wasn’t having it.”

And the next day, things got worse. Molly stopped trying to hide her distaste for you. She didn’t mutter her comments anymore, rather saying them with full conviction. You tried to stay out of her way and genuinely tried to keep your expression pleasant, but the constant bombardment of hurtful words was getting too much. You hit your breaking point at dinner.

“Can you pass the salt?” you asked no one in particular. It didn’t matter who passed it to you as long as someone did. 

“In this peculiar home, we use manners,” Molly snapped. “Fred, I told you, you need a girl with manners. She certainly doesn’t have any.”

Your expression twisted. 

“Would you rather I just reach over the entire table? Sorry I forgot ‘please,’” you replied, sounding harsher than you would normally speak to any adult, let alone your boyfriend’s mother. 

Molly scoffed. “You are no good for my Fred. You are lucky I don’t toss you out now. He can do so much better.” 

You stood up with so much force your chair scraped the floor, hitting the wall. 

“If that’s how you feel about me…” Your voice cracked. You could feel the heat rising to your face and your hands beginning to shake. Tears began to well behind your eyes, but you weren’t going to let Molly see you cry. “No need to toss me out. I’ll just leave now.” 

You turned and left the room before chaos broke out. You could hear Fred and George yelling. You could hear Arthur and Molly yelling. Ron, Hermione and Ginny joined in before you made it to the front door. 

When Fred had invited you to spend time with his family over the summer, you didn’t expect to be in their garden sobbing as you launched garden gnomes over the hedge. You could still hear the yelling inside the Burrow. You weren’t exactly sure what you did wrong, what you did to make Molly dislike you so much so quickly. Your wand laid on the ground off the side with a soft glow from the Lumos you had cast so you could sort of see what you were doing.

“Are you… de-gnoming our garden?” George asked, trying to hide the amusement in his voice as you launched another gnome. The yelling had quieted now, but you could still hear that heated words were being exchanged.

“One bit me…” you mumbled before sniffling again. 

One had bit you, but that wasn’t why you were crying and you knew that George knew that. Being bit, however, made you feel slightly better about the tears streaming down your face. 

“You know he’s not going to break up with you.”

You nodded. “What did I do?” You launched another gnome.

“You, erm, called the Burrow peculiar? I guess Mum didn’t like that…” He chuckled awkwardly.

When you gave a loud sniffle instead of laughing with him, he pulled you into a hug. You dropped the gnome you had in your hand.

“She’ll come ‘round. Fred’s in there. Ron’s there. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Percy even. They are all trying to explain to Mum that you didn’t mean it like that. I mean, come on, you got golden boy Percy defending you.”

You gave him a weak smile as you pulled out of his hug. You picked up your wand and pointed it at the Burrow, although it didn’t do much to illuminate the building. 

“It is peculiar though! It’s amazing! Ne’er seen anything like it before. It’s so… distinctly Weasley in the best way possible!” 

George let out a loud laugh and soon enough you were giggling with him. He kept you company outside and kept you laughing until there were no more sniffles coming from you. Eventually, Fred came to collect you both. He led you upstairs to his and George’s room, but George stayed in the living room with the rest of the family. You could hear Molly grumbling to herself in the kitchen as you passed the door, but everyone else seemed to be far more cheerful gathered by the fire. 

You felt your heart jump to your throat when Fred closed the door behind him. You stood in the middle of room, trying to not feel awkward.

“Is this where you break up with me for accidentally insulting your mum?” you asked softly, looking at the ground. You knew George said he wouldn’t but the idea lingered in your mind.

“What are you talking about?” Fred breathed as he quickly moved to you and wrapped his arms around you tighter than George had. 

You couldn’t help it. You started crying again.

“Y/N, no. Not unless…” He pulled back to look you in the eyes. “Unless you want to?” There was so much hesitation and uncertainty in his voice. It broke your heart to hear him like that.

“No, I don’t want to. But your mum-”

“My mum still doesn’t know you meant it as a compliment.”

You rested your forehead on his shoulder. You took a deep breath to breathe in his scent. 

“She just needs to be ‘round you more, get to know you. Then she’ll love you like I do.”

Your eyes went wide against his shoulder. ‘Love you like I do.’ Had Fred just indirectly said he loved you? 

The way Fred stopped talking and stood more frigidly told you that he realized what he said after the words left his mouth. He was waiting for you to give him some kind of reaction. Was it too soon? 

After a moment, you lifted your head and you kissed him. You felt him relax underneath you. Of all your kisses, this was one of the most mild ones yet it was charged with so much emotion.

“I love you too,” you whispered as you broke the kiss.

He smiled at you before kissing you again. 

“You know, I was actually so nervous to bring you here.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Well, because it is a bit peculiar,” he teased. “No, really, I don’t talk about it much but we’re not… rolling in galleons per se. We make do. We get by. It’s just-”

“I don’t care about that, Fred,” you said, cutting him off before gently kissing his cheek. “It’s your home and your family and it’s all amazing. I’d rather be in a home filled with love and laughter than anything else.” 

“Once Mum comes to her senses, you won’t know what to do with all the love she can give,” Fred warned. 

“I can’t wait for that.”

Because I'm a petty bitch who hold grudges, I really see Molly not coming around until like Bill & Fleur's wedding or beyond, and Reader knows this so she just doesn't really visit the Burrow as much and Ginny is v upset that Reader isn't staying at the Burrow for the wedding and Reader is just like 'I'm not going to impose where I know I'm not wanted.'

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Hello hello! I was just reading through your account and saw the ask of some hsr characters being the big spoon, so I was wondering if you wouldn't mind doing hsr characters being the little spoon? I was thinking characters like, Silver Wolf, Asta, Acheron and Firefly, if that's ok with you.

Have a good one!

(H:SR) Silver Wolf, Asta, Acheron, Firefly, Feixiao, Qingque, Serval, and Tingyun being asked to be the small spoon

(Silver Wolf) "'Kay."

Silver Wolf doesn't get flustered nor does she really hesitate to let S/O hold her.

As long as they don't block her arms and hands from moving and to keep playing her game, it's good.

It's a nice feeling, sure, but she's too busy grinding.

For in the grim darkness of the far future, there is only material grinding.

(Silver Wolf) "...What? Turn down the brightness? Hang on, just need to see in this cave for a second-"

(Asta) "A-Alright, go ahead!"

Asta feels honestly a little giddy being held by her S/O.

She isn't particularly shy with her affection, but to be in such an intimate space never failed to get her heart beating faster.

Asta takes a deep breath before exhaling, snuggling into S/O's chest and hugging them back.

For now, she doesn't have to worry about work, she can just decompress with their arms around her.

(Asta) "...Do you think we need to buy a new blanket? This one feels a little too thin-...N-No need? Hm. True, this would be our third blanket.-"

(Acheron) "...You may hold me if you wish."

Acheron takes a second to adjust in their hold. Normally, she was the one holding S/O.

She wasn't entirely 100% positive at first if she liked it, but with how quickly her body relaxed she figured she could learn to.

Regardless, it's something she will start to treasure, any time spent with her beloved is time well spent.

Acheron's face is unmoving until S/O's hand brushes the back of her head, holding her gently yet firmly.

(Acheron) "Is your hand stroking my hair?...No, it is not unpleasant, it's quite nice, actually..."

(Firefly) "If you don't mind...!"

Well, Firefly doesn't really need sleep that much, but she'll never pass an up an opportunity to snuggle!

As much as she enjoyed being the big spoon for S/O sometimes, she could not deny how nice it felt for someone to care for her like this.

Even if it was something small like cuddling, it still meant a lot to Firefly.

Firefly's smile is ear to ear, accompanied by a light blush as she holds S/O back, her head underneath their chin.

(Firefly) "Dream well, S/O..."

(Feixiao) "Hm, alright, guess I could!"

Feixiao as the little spoon? Now that was a novel experience!

It felt absolutely divine to her to be held by S/O like this, as well as very strange.

Usually her strong arms would be holding S/O, sober or otherwise but she could get used to this!...Probably!

Her Foxian ears droop ever so slightly as she smiles, leaning into S/O's touch as their hand caressed her face.

(Feixiao) "Just don't blame me if you wake up when I do! With your arms around me it'll be kinda hard to get out."

(Qingque) "...Is that some kind of joke, S/O?!"

As if Qingque wasn't always the little spoon anyway!

Pouting, she'll just sigh before letting S/O hold her tightly, blushing.

It takes only a few seconds for her attitude to soften, simply yawning and ready to fall asleep.

Even if the hardest thing she did today was play a few games at work.

(Qingque) "...Why am I yawning? I'll have you know I do work from time to time you know!...STOP LAUGHING!"

(Serval) "Change of pace, huh? Sure!"

Serval doesn't hesitate, at least not until S/O holds her closer, making her blush.

She fiddles with her fingers for a brief moment before shifting their arms around her stomach, allowing her to move her head backwards into them.

Serval closes her eyes with a wide smile, already feeling comfortable.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

(Serval) "Hm, you're really comfy too, S/O..."

(Tingyun) "Mind the tail!"

Tingyun giggles at their request, but promptly settles in after doing the proper care for her tail, making sure that S/O can't mess with it during their sleep.

But afterwards, Tingyun happily lets herself be held by S/O.

After a long day, nothing is better than being held coming home. Well, maybe that and a promotion.

But she probably shouldn't complain.

(Tingyun) "Good night, S/O!~...Hm? What about my ears?...Alright, a little touching is fine, but don't mess it up too bad!"

[acesw]

Disabled Characters in Reverse: 1999 - Part 3

Welcome to the final installment of this list of the game's disabled characters (for now), and we are ending it with the most interesting of them: the neurodivergent characters!

These characters are particularly special since a lot of them are mainly speculated, but they draw heavy parallels to their respective conditions that they had to be taken note of.

Now because there are so many characters, they became an entire category of their own instead of being lumped with the previous post, and this became undoubtedly one of the longest texts I've written down among most of the analysis posts I've made for this game.

I hope that you enjoy reading this final piece, let's get started.

Autism: 37, Horropedia, Melania, Balloon Party, Avgust

All of these characters are incredibly similar to each other, and yet they all have their share differences. For example, both Horropedia and 37 are characters that embody one of the main stereotypes about autism: Incredibly intelligent characters who fixate on specific subjects. 37’s focus is on mathematics, while Horropedia’s is the horror genre. Even their personalities are quite similar: arrogant yet kind and understanding people.

They lace their speech with associations to their topic of interest, and will infodump about it unprompted. The two of them also struggle to pick up social cues, nor can tell if the information they’re sharing is unsolicited because the information is normal to themselves.

However, the difference between them in this is that Horropedia is more carefree about it, whilst 37 is more self-aware about the fact that she can’t come to a mutual understanding with others.

The rest of the characters here also share these traits, but they all stand out in their own ways:

Melania’s intricate way of making plans tends to be in the form of academic exams. These tend to be her greatest motivator when it comes to doing work, and gets easily frustrated when having to change them. She also has a set routine that she gets easily surprised by sudden interruptions.

Balloon Party’s speech is found to be unconventional (i.e. the speech impediment from earlier, the tone of her voice is found to be naturally flat) and is paired with word association and echolalia.

Avgust has a unique understanding of the world around him, with him associating everything and everyone with more innocent concepts. (e.g. his father’s death is often referred to as him “sleeping in the mines”) None of these mean that he doesn’t understand things like death as what they are, only that he’s very young among the cast and has been raised in a healthy environment that allows him to continue thinking this way for a bit longer.

ADHD: Regulus & Eagle

With Regulus, it’s more of a headcanon than it is backed by evidence, but the main points that can be found for her are her restlessness, lacking attention span, and her impulsivity. They’re common aspects (hyperactive) in ADHD, and thus they aren’t exactly conclusive.

But I also found that Regulus also tends to bring her interests to light when navigating through conversations, and this with the reasons mentioned above makes me personally believe that Regulus does not just strictly have ADHD, but still overall neurodivergent.

Eagle seems to have the inattentive type of ADHD. A more established indicator of her likely having it is through her anecdote, where she was said to have had some sort of attention-deficit. In that anecdote, Eagle mainly acts on her own impulses such as jumping to try to find the missing boy scout, and even helping X if it meant that it progressed her mission.

She struggles to take rejection and constantly tries to prove herself to be able to gain the acceptance she’s looking for. It made me believe that she has Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria. (RSD)

While these alone aren’t conclusive either, they still give me enough reason to believe that Eagle could be implied to be neurodivergent too.

AuDHD (Autism + ADHD): Vertin, Marcus, AliEn T

From the earlier points, we find that some of the mixed traits that make for auDHD are found in Vertin, Marcus, and AliEn T. All three of them are quite emotional (even Vertin in spite of her stoicism) and impulsive people, where they tend to jump into action when they have a rough plan set in mind. They also have their own interests (wildlife, reading, Earth) and tend to get absorbed into their own thoughts quite often. Because of the latter, they tend to lead themselves into executive dysfunction. Some things about them differ, however.

Starting with Vertin, most of the “obvious” signs are present in her childhood, where she was restless and curious of the world beyond SPDM, making it difficult for her to focus in school. Yet, she still kept up with topics that interested her, going as far as skipping classes to learn in her own way.

She has gotten punished often for her “defiance,” and ended up being radicalized by it and by the trauma she faced in Chapter 3. Currently, she masks quite heavily to a degree, leaving her main indicators to be her tactile tendencies (i.e. touching things and others out of curiosity) and her becoming absorbed to her own thoughts.

Meanwhile, Marcus is an incredibly anxious person. She often relied on someone like Hofmann to socialize with others and make decisions for her since she struggled greatly in that aspect. She can be easily upset by things and even by her own overthinking, taking rejection quite poorly before resorting to immediately coming up with ways to resolve it.

She often retreats back to reading to be able to ground herself from any stress. But now with everything that’s happened, Marcus has begun working on herself and mustering the courage to be able to push her limits independently.

We’re not entirely sure about how AliEn T’s home society is structured, but it can be argued that his and our societies tend to parallel each other. For example, AliEn T is seen as a bit eccentric to his kind like the regional manager and co-workers because of him being emotionally prone and being very fixated on the Earth. (which his society collectively avoids)

A lot of his notes about his home in the anecdote imply that in his home society, they have their equivalent of some of the struggles found in the neurodivergent experience, which is why he and Officer Williams in the anecdote could empathize with each other.

Others / Related but non-diagnostic: Mesmer Jr., Isolde, Pickles, Kaalaa Baunaa, Tooth Fairy, Blonney

As I explained in the previous post, Mesmer Jr. and Isolde both greatly suffer from conditions that particularly stem from their trauma and subsequent C-PTSD.

Again, Mesmer Jr. is heavily hinted to have OCD, while Isolde has many disorders linked to C-PTSD. (formerly named as "hysteria") Due to the nature of their respective conditions, they both deserve a place here in this list.

It can be assumed that Pickles is neurodivergent due to him being nicknamed as an “indigo pup.” While this might be related to his arcane skill, the nickname is also intriguing because it's like the term “indigo children.” 

“Indigo children” are classified as those who are incredibly intelligent and possess special talents or powers according to the New Age concept. However, this classification is closely associated with neurodivergence due to the similar descriptions.

Meanwhile, Kaalaa Baunaa, Tooth Fairy, and Blonney have shared stories in which they've had to maintain some form of distance towards their arcanist identities due to the hostile nature of their environments. They embraced it as part of themselves in the end, though.

Kaalaa Baunaa has been an avid researcher ever since she was young, and enjoys maintaining punctuality through routines. However, she had been often discriminated against in her initial workplace, where her arcanist identity had been picked out first before taking her research in consideration; even her research had been disregarded due to the “unconventional” methods that she applied to conduct them.

It can be considered a familiar feeling among neurodivergent people and it is incredibly frustrating when it happens. For KB, it had gotten bad to the point of her (and Kumar) getting kicked out of their institution, but it never stopped either of them from continuing to do their work.

Tooth Fairy and Blonney both grew up in mixed societies, where they had to force themselves to conform to be able to be accepted in both human and arcanist social spaces.

Tooth Fairy, while achieving this balance in her college years, had never been treated as an equal by either side due to both her arcanist identity and frequency to interact with humans. She was bullied for it and was even taken advantage of when she made the medicine in her character story. These experiences led her to accept her own identity and eventually stop overtly conforming to both societies.

Blonney meanwhile moved to a predominantly human society, where she greatly conformed to human ideals and trends to “fit in” with the humans. But she was still off-handedly discriminated against due to simply just being an arcanist. She tried really hard to suppress herself, to the point that she dimmed her own “light” and was unable to use her personalized arcane skill. But when she came back to Green Lake, her mask slowly fell apart, and then it reignited her passion, which allowed her to begin accepting herself again.

Honorable Mentions

Sonetto, Matilda, Sotheby, Ezra, Jessica - Autism (mainly credited from: @/H0LOdm on twt)

While these are mainly headcanon, some of these characters here do display neurodivergent traits in their own ways, most especially the latter 3 of these characters here. They all struggle to pick up social cues and tend to struggle in (conventionally) socializing/empathizing with others.

Sotheby and Jessica in particular both lace their language using their interests and the environment they grew up in. Ezra also uses his interests in fungi as a conversation starter with others, eager to see any mushrooms that might be potentially found anywhere.

Final Notes and Thanks

When I started writing these down I didn't really think much of it outside of the fact that there were so many characters who were particularly neurodivergent, which then further extended to the rest of the disabled characters as well. I tried my best to word these as respectfully as I can, and that I hope people could find fun in reading these as much as I did writing them.

I give my acknowledgements to these people for their help and support for the creation of list in entirety: Jager, Lupjo, Reg, Bee ( @e-0timely ) , Abyss ( @abyss-idiot ), and Tokki

Considering the nature of this list, I want to say that are non-conclusive and can be interpreted in any way you want. As I said in my previous version of this post, "...Every experience is different, and I think these characters here openly show that."

Feel free to add your own insights, corrections, and even your own headcanons here. Thanks for reading, and have the two links to the first two lists down here.

Physically Disabled Characters Psychologically Disabled Characters

[nightingale-ghost-writer]

Some things can only be cultivated under pretenses [Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader]

Summary: You were eight years old again, hiding from Satoru's parents in his treehouse. "Then you can marry me, silly!" You sat bolt upright. "Marry me!"

Author's Notes: My first ever anime/manga fic, 17.1K words of fake dating/friends to lovers/idiots to lovers that no one asked for!! The fic practically wrote itself. If you’re reading, I hope you enjoy it! Being an American, my knowledge of Japanese language and culture is quite slim. The Japanese honorifics and nicknames I’ve used are meant to be affectionate, but I realize that the relationships themselves may have quite an American slant. I did my best, but if you notice anything off or out of line, please let me know so I can fix it!

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or events from Jujutsu Kaisen

Warnings/tags: non-cursed AU, best friend! Satoru Gojo, fake marriage, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, fluff, angst, VERY suggestive content, language, minor character death(s) (past, mentioned), mention of (medical) drug usage, spoilers for/references to episodes 25-29/chapters 65-79, not beta’d!

You’re half asleep in the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the window when you hear a key turn in the door. Groggily, you sit up and rub your eyes, picking up your phone. 

“Babe? You home?”

You’ve got a missed text from Satoru that probably explains his otherwise unannounced arrival at your apartment. 

“In here,” you call, yawning. His snowy head pokes through the doorway and, despite the wide grin plastered on his face, you can tell something is wrong. 

“Sorry to wake you. Are you hungry? I brought ramen.” He’s disappeared into your kitchen but, despite this fabulous announcement, he comes right back around the corner to throw himself dramatically onto the opposite corner of your couch. 

Something is definitely wrong.

“Satoru?” You lean forward to touch his elbow, but he throws the arm over his eyes. He mutters something you don’t quite catch. “Say again?”

“It’s finally happened!” he shouts, though the sound is muffled by the hands he’s moved to cover his face. The same hands fly up as his head flies back, long legs kicking up to land on your coffee table with a loud bang. He turns to you with a wild, sarcastic smile. “My parents want me married, and by the end of the year. Or else I forfeit any rights to the family business, the house, my apartment, everything else.”

“Oh, Toru,” you breathe. You feel your heart lodge in the back of your throat before dropping to the ground with a dull thump. He shrugs, not meeting your gaze. 

“It doesn’t matter. I can sign over The Amanai Project to Nanami, go back to the Jujutsu Corporation…” But his voice trails off against his will and you’re already shaking your head. 

He’d started at the Jujutsu Corporation, a private security company, straight out of university. It’d been good for him- structure and discipline, and a new best friend you’d spent years convincing yourself you weren’t jealous of. You and Satoru hadn’t lost touch, but there were huge gaps in your days where he should have been. Until that new best friend called you from the hospital after a job gone wrong. 

Satoru had been hurt, badly. Multiple stab wounds, vicious and tearing. He still had scars from shoulder to hip, and a small one on his forehead from the butt of a gun.

Suguru hadn’t seen it happen; he’d watched their charge die. A bullet to the brain. Quick and clean, unlike the shooter. Satoru had sliced him up before collapsing in a pool of his own blood. 

When he woke up, he was different. 

You’d worried you’d lost him for good, for different reasons than the wounds, for months. Barely eating, hardly sleeping, withdrawn and absent. Suguru told you that at the girl’s funeral, carrying Riko Amanai’s corpse, Satoru had asked why they didn’t kill the whole family who’d ordered the execution. 

Suguru had disappeared not long after, and despite getting your best friend back, you still didn’t quite know why. You didn’t want to bring it up. 

You shuddered, remembering how… hollow Satoru had been after the entire incident. Your other friends had wanted you to drop him, offended for your sake that he’d let your friendship slide in the first place, but you’d remained steadfast. Long nights spent holding him, stroking his hair; long days of pulling him gently up to walk, of coaxing him to eat when he had no interest in it; even stripping him down to his boxers to shoulder him into his ridiculously fancy shower, washing his hair in your bathing suit until he halfheartedly pushed you out to wash himself. 

He’d been a shell, until he hadn’t. You’d shown up after work, armed with takeout and romcoms, and he’d been gone. You’d panicked, calling Suguru, who didn’t pick up, calling the housekeeper his mother had hired in an effort to keep you away, nearly breaking down and calling his mother. Then he’d barrelled through the door, smiling wide enough to showcase those tiny dimples, gushing about the non-profit he was going to start and the teenagers who’d inspired it. 

You sucked in a sharp breath. 

“You could lose The Amanai Project.”

He nodded slowly, not meeting your horrified stare. 

“That’s why I’d go back to Juju-”

“No,” you hissed. You weren’t prepared for the hopeless look he turned on you. He loved The Amanai Project, he loved the teenagers he worked with. He reached forward, clutching both of your hands in his tightly.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” he pleaded. And then you were eight years old again, hiding from Satoru’s parents in his treehouse. 

“They said.”

“Grown-ups always say.”

“What if they make me?”

“They can’t make you!”

He looked at you, much too seriously for an eight year old.

“They made my dad marry my mom. They’ll make me marry someone, too. And then what am I supposed to do?” He crossed his arms, pouting, and grumbled “Don’t wanna get married.”

You grabbed his little hand with your own, beaming with all of the sincerity and cleverness of a child.

“Then you can marry me, silly.”

You sat bolt upright. 

“Marry me!” you half-shouted. At Satoru’s flinch back, you apologized softly and lowered your voice. “Marry me,” you repeated. You leaned forward, excitement brewing at the ingenuity of such a simple plan. “We can get married for however long it takes to cement your place in the family business and then get a divorce.” You squeezed his hands. “Whaddya say?”

Satoru spluttered a bit, pulling his hands back to run them through his hair- a nervous habit you hadn’t seen him make since childhood. “Babe, you shouldn’t- we can’t just- I can’t ask you to-”

“You’re not asking me for anything, I offered! Besides, think of all the fun we could have. It’d be just like our sleepovers from when we were kids.” A strange look had crossed Satoru’s face, hesitation and something like pain. You sat a little straighter, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “U-unless you don’t want to, of course. I just, I thought-”

“It’s a good idea,” he interrupted. He was focused on your hands, intertwined now in your lap. He spoke slowly, measured and thoughtful. “I just don’t want… you know how my parents can be. And what if…” He grimaced. “What if you find someone you want to be with? I don’t want to stand in your way.”

You waved this off airily. “Oh, Toru, you’ll always be part of my life. If I find someone, they’ll just have to accept the situation. Besides, there’s no reason I can’t see someone else, so long as I’m careful. It’s not like we’ll really be married.”

Satoru stood abruptly, pacing to the other side of the room, one hand raised to his chin. He stood, silent, for a long moment. You opened your mouth to say something to fill the suddenly charged space between you, but then he spoke. 

“Let me think about it.” And then in a blink, he was gone, takeout forgotten on your countertop, leaving you to blink in the void created by his absence. 

——————————————————————

The silence lasted about as long as you’d expected it would. Satoru came crashing into your apartment bright and early the next morning, singing your name. You groaned, rolling over to pick up your phone. 6:48. 

You were going to kill him. 

“Satoru Gojo!” you yelled, pulling the covers over your head. You heard him skip down the hallway and into your room. If he noticed that you’d used his full name, it didn’t deter him a bit. He flung himself down beside you, dragging you onto his chest, blankets and all. 

“My future wife!” he crooned, kissing your covered cheek. “How did you sleep?”

“It’s not even seven.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

You fumbled the blankets off your head, baring your face to the weak sunlight coming in through the open window. “How am I supposed to know how I slept when it’s so early?” You rubbed at your eyes while Satoru laughed heartily, making himself comfortable on your mountain of pillows. You paused. “Did you say future wife?”

His smile widened as he sat up, shifting you from your live body pillow. “Well, yeah. That is if the offer still stands.” He twisted himself off the bed to kneel on the floor, turning you to face him all in one smooth motion. Now he held up a small, black velvet box, which he opened the moment he had your full attention. 

A stunning engagement ring glittered up at you, catching all of the light in the room and beaming it upward through the diamond in the center. 

You blanched. 

“Satoru, what is this? This must have cost a fortune-”

“Easy,” he chuckled, setting the box aside to slide the ring onto your left hand. A perfect fit. “If we’re gonna be married, we’re gonna have to put on a good show. Starting with a beautiful ring worthy of the most beautiful woman in the world.” You hadn’t said a word, dumbstruck as you gazed down at your hand. Satoru spoke more softly now. “What do you think?”

“I think you picked my dream ring,” you breathed. He beamed up at you. 

“So does that mean yes?”

“What?” You looked at him sharply, at the hopeful expression he’d turned up to you. “Of course yes, you dork. Remember that this was my idea?”

Satoru launched himself up, bearing you backward onto the bed with his arms around you. “Yay!” he squealed, and then he was kissing your cheek and nuzzling the side of your neck. “I promise to be a good husband,” he mumbled. 

You laughed, somewhat breathless. “I wasn’t worried about it.”

You felt his smile curl up against your neck while he squeezed you impossibly tighter. “You were right, we’re gonna have so much fun.”

You were gasping now, struggling to breathe beneath his weight and in his tight grip. “Toru, can’t breathe.”

He let you go with a soft “oops”, shimmying over to lay beside you with his head propped up on one hand. His eyes shone with something you couldn’t quite place, lips curled in a gentle smile as his cerulean gaze trailed lazily over your face. He finally settled on your eyes, sharing the tranquil moment with you before leaping up. 

“Oh! I almost forgot!” He careened out of your room and down the hall into your kitchen, returning a moment later with a sly grin. “Close your eyes,” he sing-songed. 

“Close m-?”

“Close ‘em, woman!”

With a dramatic sigh, you did. If you hadn’t felt the slight dip in your mattress, you might not have known he’d come back until you felt his hand trace your knee lightly. “Open,” he whispered. 

Your vision was flooded with white and green; Satoru held out a colossal bouquet of white roses and eucalyptus, tied with a fat black ribbon. 

Your jaw dropped. 

Satoru straightened in pleasure. “See, I told you I’d be a good husband!” he crowed. 

You swatted at him playfully before taking the roses out of his hands. “Satoru, you know I don’t need all this.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “I have never, never seen any boyfriend spoil you before. I think it’s time someone did.”

You snorted. “You’re gonna ruin me for all other men if you keep it up.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he looked pleased by that. But before you could analyze the thought, he reached a hand out to you. 

“My lady.”

You laughed out loud, but took the proffered hand and slid out of bed, letting him lead you down the hall. You felt your jaw drop again when you stepped into the kitchen to see a silver tray laid out on your tiny dining table, laden with pastries and fresh fruit and a steaming pot of coffee. 

“Consider me ruined,” you mumbled, beelining for the coffee to the sound of Satoru’s raucous laughter. You smiled to yourself, and over your shoulder at him. 

This would be fun. 

——————————————————————

Reality set in slowly over the course of the next few days, for both of you.

Satoru’s parents were furious, as expected, but enough to call you directly, which was not. After all, they had always refused to acknowledge your existence, as though hoping you might disappear entirely if they ignored you for long enough.

“We know that you’ve always had a bit of trouble staying away, dear, but we had never quite expected this, this…”

“Devotion, ma’am?”

“Parasitic behavior from you!”

Ouch. 

“I assure you, Gojo-sama, I’m not marrying your son for money. As you know, we’ve always been close. I’ve always loved him.” All true, as you’d agreed the story should be. The only lie in it lay in the implication of one, tiny word. 

If anyone was close enough to spot it, it certainly wouldn’t be his parents. 

All the same, his mother groaned and his father scoffed in the background. The elder Gojo’s voice was muffled by distance when he said “Of course she has, but I’d expected Satoru, at least, to outgrow it by now.”

What?

You weren’t given an opportunity to question it, though. Satoru’s mother dismissed you, something about “being in touch” soon. Whatever that meant. 

You sat for several long moments, puzzling over that last comment. Outgrow what? His parents couldn’t possibly mean that he’d been in love with you, you would have known. Certainly, you’d had a crush on Satoru for years- your first and most long-standing crush, at that. That must be what they meant. He must’ve had a childhood infatuation, as well. Nothing more. 

You shook yourself, content to be back on solid footing, and dialed Satoru’s number by heart. He picked up on the third ring, yelling to one of the teenagers he was training, before greeting you warmly. When you relayed the conversation with his parents, minus that strange comment from his father, you could feel the waves of rage rolling off him through the phone. 

“They called you a parasite!?” he shouted, and you heard his students drop their voices to whispers. 

“Parasitic, not a parasite.”

“Oh, don’t you bullshit semantics with me,” he seethed. “How dare they, who do they think they are to talk to you that way? I won’t stand for this. They owe you an apology.” You tried to cut in, to reassure him that you were less bothered than you were, in truth, but his tirade went on without any sign of stopping. You could hear him put his phone down, still swearing and half-shouting to himself. You heard something that sounded suspiciously like wood cracking, heard him pick up his phone again, heard the bell on the gym door opening. 

“Satoru!” you shouted. 

“What!?” he shouted back. You waited patiently as he drew in a deep breath. More calmly, he repeated himself. “What?”

“Don’t give them the satisfaction.”

He was angry enough to sputter, his usual cool, smooth speech long-gone. “They can’t talk to you that way! You’re going to be my wife!”

“Fake wife,” you muttered, half amused and half touched by the vehemence of his outburst. 

“That doesn’t matter. You’ve been my best friend forever. It has to stop!”

You sighed. “You know that they’ll only think I’m a whiny, sniveling leech if you say anything.” He was silent, and you could tell from the steady hum of traffic that he’d finally stopped walking. “Go back to your kids.”

“They’re not my kids.” The reply was automatic, an old joke between the two of you about his students. You heard him start walking again, and a moment later, the bell on the door jingled again. 

You heard the students perk up, clamoring and calling to him. 

“Gojo! Is everything okay?” Yuji Itadori, a selfless orphan with reflexes almost as sharp as Satoru’s. Quick to protect anyone and everyone around him. Heart of gold, worn proudly on his sleeve for all to see. 

“Where do you think you’re going? Were you just going to leave us here?” Nobara Kugisaki, a spitfire girl who masked every insecurity with arrogance to rival Satoru’s, though she hadn’t mastered his admirable level of control. 

“What crawled up your ass?” Megumi Fushiguro. You didn’t like to pick favorites, but you couldn’t pretend you didn’t hold a special fondness for him. Unflappable, unshakable. Level-headed and calculating. He reminded you of Satoru the most. Maybe that’s why you liked him best. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, the gym would collapse without me in it. Get back to work.” There he was, all smooth edges and silken confidence. Like nothing ever happened. To you, he grumbled, “This isn’t over.”

Once upon a time, you’d believed that nothing could get under his skin. In all your years of friendship, you’d never seen him lose his temper until after the incident. Even since, it was a rare occurrence, but you’d quickly learned how to reel him back. You breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Not over, but over for now. 

——————————————————————

One thing you hadn’t put much thought into was telling your parents. They reacted about as you’d expected, though- thrilled to be welcoming their bonus child to the family in an official capacity, “after all these years”. 

“Oh, hime, how wonderful! He’s such a sweet boy. I’ll come dress shopping with you!”

Your heart twinged with guilt. Your mother would be heartbroken when you inevitably divorced a year or two down the road. 

“Maybe we should tell them,” mused Satoru. He tilted his head back to look up from your lap. “What are the chances that they’ll ever talk to my parents? Or tell anyone else? They can keep a secret.”

You shook your head slowly, focused on a point somewhere past where your fingers threaded through his soft hair. “I think they’d be more heartbroken to hear that we aren’t really in love.”

When Satoru didn’t say anything, you looked down at him. He was staring at you with an expression you couldn’t read, eyes darkening to a rich turquoise. He’d reached up to loop his hand loosely around your wrist without you noticing, stroking the sensitive skin over your pulse. Something about the look in his eyes had you suddenly incapable of thinking of anything but his father’s strange statement. 

“I’d expected Satoru, at least, to outgrow it by now.”

You swallowed, hard, scrambling for some way to ask without making everything incredibly awkward. You knew you were just friends. Hearing him say it would settle it once and for all. 

“Right,” Satoru drawled. He sat up, rising from the couch. “Better to tell them marriage just wasn’t what we thought.”

Somehow, somewhere, you’d made a wrong turn in this conversation. You weren’t sure what had happened, but something wasn’t right. You were getting to your feet when Satoru turned in the doorway, smirking with that wild spark in his ridiculously blue eyes. 

“You probably shouldn’t say it to your parents, but you can tell anyone else who asks that I couldn’t keep up with your appetite.” His smile only widened when you tilted your head in confusion. “Sexually.”

Your mouth dropped open on a gasp of his name, blood flooding your cheeks. His laughter was pealing off your hallway walls by the time you thought to throw the cushion in your hands. It bounced harmlessly off the wall, falling lightly to the floor. 

You sprinted down the hallway, raining your fists down on Satoru’s turned back as he laughed, before jumping up and locking one arm around his neck. You used the other to ruffle his hair as he instinctively took hold of your thighs, giving you just enough height to lean over his shoulder and bite the lobe of his ear gently. 

You were the one laughing uncontrollably, now, but you didn’t miss his sharp intake of breath or the way he tensed within your hold. Interesting. You tucked that away with every intention of examining it later. 

“That’s it!” His voice was slightly hoarse as he spun, racing across the hall to your living room. You shrieked as he wheeled this way and that, his strong grip the only thing keeping you secured to his back. He turned and abruptly released his hold on you, sending you tumbling back onto your couch in a cacophony of giggles. 

He turned a smug smile on you. “And with that, no dinner for wifey.”

You let out an indignant squawk, scrambling down the hall after him. Despite his threats, he was spoon-feeding you miso soup within minutes, smiling wide as you stuck out your tongue. 

“I’m not telling anyone that,” you muttered. 

Satoru nodded sagely. “You’re right, can’t go tarnishing my reputation.”

You let out a loud, undignified guffaw of laughter. “Reputation? You?”

Satoru pulled back indignantly. “You think I don’t have a reputation?” You leveled him with your blankest stare, but he stared right back, one eyebrow quirked up. You found yourself crumbling first, suddenly unsure of yourself. “You have a reputation?”

That broke his stoicism. He cracked a wide grin, looking down to stir his dinner. “Nah, just wanted to watch you squirm.” You both smiled, shoving each other playfully from across the table. 

“I’m sure there have been… people though, right?”

Satoru’s head snapped up, eyes almost comically wide in some combination of shock and… nerves?

“What?” he rasped. You caught him with a mouthful of miso – he was probably trying not to choke.

“I mean I’m sure there have been girls, or boys…” you trailed off at the puzzled expression he wore. But now that you’d thought about it, you’d never seen him with anyone, not since high school.

“How did you know I’m bi?”

Not the question you’d been expecting.

“Satoru,” you deadpanned. “Do you remember when you got caught kissing Yoshio Kiyama under the bleachers in sixth grade?”

A faint blush rose in his pale cheeks. “Oh, right.”

“Yeah, genius, I’m the one who found you?” You started laughing, memories of your eleven year-old self bubbling to the surface. “I remember I was so disappointed, but then you asked out Akiko Hoshino for the school dance and I-” You stopped speaking abruptly, horrified at your partial admission, and prayed to the gods that Satoru wouldn’t notice. 

Of course where the gods were concerned, Satoru would always find favor. 

You swore you could see his ears perk up. “Disappointed, huh?”

“I didn’t mean to say that,” you mumbled. 

“Oh no no, you’re not getting out of this one.” He stood, coming around to your side of the table and pulling you up. Then he sat in your chair, dragging you unceremoniously down onto his lap. “Disappointed why?”

You threw your hands up in exasperation, turning your face away. “Because I had a crush on you, Satoru! We were eleven years old and I had a crush and I thought you only liked boys and so I was disappointed that I wouldn’t have a chance with you. But then you asked out Akiko Hoshino, so then I knew that you liked boys and girls.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And then you pined away for me for the month that I dated Akiko, right?” he crooned, obviously delighted. 

You scoffed, but felt your throat closing slightly. “No, then I got over you.”

Satoru’s jaw dropped. “That fast, huh?”

“Yeah, it was pretty quick.”

He released you in favor of clapping his hands to his heart, head thrown back.

“My darling wife, you wound me so!” he cried. You laughed, tapping your ring finger.

“That’s fiancé to you, I’m not your wife yet.”

He sat back up, grinning. “Soon enough.” His cerulean eyes glittered in a way that sparked something deep inside you, excitement and anticipation lighting in your veins. 

“Two,” he murmured. 

You blinked. “Two what?”

“Two people.” He reached up to smooth a stray hair from your face, a gesture so tender that your breath caught. “One boy, one girl. And now, you.”

“Well, sort of.” You meant to be teasing, but it came out shakier than you meant. What was happening to you?

And there was that unreadable expression, paired with the slightest of smiles. “Yeah, sort of.”

——————————————————————

“I don’t think you’re supposed to get to see the dress.”

Satoru whines from the other end of the phone. “Why nooot? I’m paying for it, aren’t I?”

Despite your mother’s wish to come dress shopping with you, she’d been unable to make the journey. Despite his protests, she couldn’t bear to leave your father alone. He needed her too much after his accident; slow and unsteady on his best days, bedridden on his worst. So you’d settled on FaceTime instead. Now the four of you were on a call together- you, your parents, and Satoru- as you made your way down the busy Tokyo street to your car.

“You know I don’t actually have the dress with me, right?” you said wryly. Satoru’s confused outburst blended with your mother‘s tinkling laughter, tugging at the little girl deep under your skin. You felt your lips curve up in an involuntary smile.

“Patience, bocchan. You’ll see her on your wedding day.”

“That’s so far, though!” whined Satoru.

“It’s only another month, my dear! So eager.” You heard your father chuckling in the background, making some muffled statement about your parents’ traditional, long engagement. Your mother murmured something sweet back to him, but when she spoke into the phone again, her voice was filled with mischief. “Are you sure you’re not pregnant, hime?”

“M-mother!” you sputtered. On the other end, Satoru howled with laughter. All the same, he composed himself much more quickly than you. 

“Okan, no. That would be impossible. I’ve been a perfect gentleman! Besides, we’re not even living together. 

“Oh!” Your mother seemed genuinely surprised. “Well no, I suppose neither of you have said that you are. I see that I simply assumed…”

“Actually, we haven’t discussed the living situation yet.” You leapt on the opportunity to change the subject, still trying to get your breathing under control. For some reason you couldn’t quite pin down, your mother‘s joke had left your heart racing long after the shock should’ve worn off.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make either of you uncomfortable, we’re just so exc-”

You and Satoru cut her off simultaneously, talking over each other to assure her that she hadn’t.

“We’ll just move into your place, right babe?”

You stopped walking. “Satoru, why would we move into my shitty apartment when yours is twice the size?”

“Because your place is so much cozier!” 

Then there was an almighty crash and Satoru began swearing. A moment later, after making his apologies to your mother, he was saying he loved you and hanging up. Your heart raced a bit, even as you giggled with your mother over “his kids”.

As you walked up to your car, you heard your father ask for a glass of water. “Oh, dear, look at the time. I’m sorry my darling, but I need to go. I have to leave now if I want to get to the bank before it closes, and then I have to go to the shops, and then I have to make dinner…”

You smiled to yourself, sliding behind the wheel of your beaten old sedan. “Have a good night, mama. I’ll talk to you soon.”

You turned the key in the ignition and looked at your watch. Satoru’s class would be ending soon. You could spend that time doing errands, washing your car, or even tidying up your apartment. But you felt lazy and lightweight and you hadn’t seen the kids in some time. 

With a smile, you drove to the juice shop you and Satoru liked, ordering the too-sweet strawberry smoothie he loved and something new for yourself to try. After only a second’s hesitation, you picked out an assortment of treats, putting everything on Satoru’s card. Today, for the kids, you’d let him spoil you. 

Arms filled with sweets and smoothies, you managed to get from the shop to your car and your car to The Amanai Project. The gym was housed in a metal and concrete building on the border of one of the poorer neighborhoods in the city. Posters advertising free self-defense classes, public safety seminars, and charity races papered the windows beside a much more understated plaque offering pro bono legal counsel for kids victimized by violent crime.

Every time you came here, you couldn’t squelch the feeling of your heart growing several sizes. You were just trying to decide how best to manage the door when it swung open. Kento Nanami, Satoru’s somewhat business partner and the lawyer offering his services, held it wide and nodded a greeting as you shimmied through. 

“Thanks, Nanami. How are you?”

“I’d be better if I didn’t have to deal with that crazy man,” he grumbled, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “I hear congratulations are in order, though.”

Startled, you felt heat rise to your cheeks. “O-oh, yes, thank you so much!”

He nodded again, turning to step through the doorway, but paused. “You’re good for him, and you’ll be good for each other.” With that, he turned again and left you staring at the swinging door. That was as much a speech as you’d ever heard out of Nanami, but you didn’t have time to digest it. 

Kugisaki shrieked your name, abandoning her training to race across the room to you. Her squeals drew the attention of everyone else in the room, too. Itadori looked up from where he stood patching a hole in the wall, dropping the putty knife he was wielding into a can of spackle, and made to run toward you before Satoru’s sharp voice cut him off. 

“Itadori!”

“Aww, Gojo, I’ll fix it in a second!”

You giggled at the interaction. Clearly, the source of the sound Satoru had hung up for. 

Fushiguro nodded politely at you from his place in the ring, taking advantage of your arrival to gulp down a bottle of water. 

And then there was the man himself, lifting the blindfold he used when he sparred- “to help him hone his senses”. His eyes looked bluer than ever against the black and white contrast of material and hair. He smiled when he saw you, looking surprised but immeasurably pleased. 

Then Kugisaki was shoveling everything out of your arms, extending her hands to grasp yours. “Let’s see this ring!”

At that, Itadori did drop the putty knife, tuning Satoru’s warnings out with admirable success. Even Fushiguro sauntered over, hands tucked into his pockets, to lean down. You locked eyes with Satoru, cheeks warming under the kids’ attention.

Kugisaki and Itadori took turns bouncing on the balls of their feet, shrieking, alternating between hugging you and each other. Fushiguro studied the ring and then turned back to the ring, tossing a genuinely impressed “Nice job, Gojo” over his shoulder. Satoru sidled up to you, snaking an arm around your waist to draw you close enough that he could kiss your cheek. 

He was still smiling at you when Itadori shouted. “Hey Gojo, what was that? You gotta kiss her for real!”

Satoru whirled. “What!?”

“Yeah, kiss her for real!” squealed Kugisaki. She and Itadori swatted at each other in excitement, eyes glued to you and Satoru.

He pointed menacingly at them both. “You little pervs-”

“You can’t shut up about her all day, and now that she’s here you won’t even kiss her?” You laughed at the deadpan stare Fushiguro gave his teacher, highly amused by the entire ordeal.

With a rush of boldness, you grasped Satoru’s collar, turning him to face you, and pulled him down to your mouth. A bolt of electricity shot through you when your lips touched, and if Satoru’s muffled gasp was any indication, he wasn’t unaffected either. The kiss was brief, a slide of lips that was over much too soon, and then you were releasing him. You heard Kugisaki squealing, a loud clap as Itadori and Fushiguro high-fived each other, their thrilled chatter; it all faded to the background as you looked at Satoru.

Eyes half-lidded, color high in his cheeks, he seemed unable to catch his breath. He stood, still bent to your height, staring at your lips. You felt heat rising in your own cheeks, boldness entirely dissipated as you wondered whether you’d crossed some line or other. His tongue darted out to swipe his lips. The tittering in the background was quickly dying. You’d expected Satoru to have some ready quip, to turn and showboat for his students. It was becoming increasingly obvious that you’d have to be the one to act.

Thinking fast, you reached over to the counter where Kugisaki had dumped the haul you’d brought, fumbling a smoothie into Satoru’s frozen hands. You pasted a smile on and patted his cheek, turning to the collection of treats.

“Alright, you hooligans, I brought something for you. Courtesy of Gojo Sensei.” 

The boisterous sounds of teenagers started up just as quickly as they’d stopped, with Itadori and Kugisaki fighting over who got first pick of the sweets. Fushiguro waited patiently for the other two to dispense with their theatrics, picking up a sweet roll with a quiet word of thanks. You waved it off as you raised your smoothie to your lips, flinching when you tasted how overwhelmingly sweet it was. You turned to find Satoru standing behind you, holding out your smoothie. Besides a slight dusting of pink across the tops of his cheeks, he seemed entirely composed again. 

“Sorry,” you murmured, trading cups with him.

He quirked an eyebrow at you as he raised his smoothie to his mouth. Slowly, deliberately, he licked the side of his straw, finally drawing it into his mouth. He took several long swallows, holding your gaze unwaveringly as he did. Something about the action seemed intimate, provocative, and it was heating your insides. What on earth was happening to you?

“Oh, please.” His voice was lower than usual, husky. “Don’t be.”

——————————————————————

For once, you wound up at Satoru’s apartment. He’d walked you to your car, only half a lot away from his, only to find that it wouldn’t start. Why drive across town to your place, only to need a ride back in the morning to meet the tow truck, when you could simply stay the night with him? You had your laptop, there was no reason you couldn’t work from his home office the next day while he was away at family business meetings.

As he unlocked the front door, you tried to remember the last time you’d been here, rather than having him over to your shabby, cramped shoebox. You never could quite put your finger on why, but he loved your place. Cozy, he’d called it. And you guessed it was, in comparison.

He flipped on the light, the sound echoing down the hall, and stepped over the threshold, gesturing for you to step inside. You toed off your shoes, padding through the house to the kitchen. Satoru followed, stripping off his jacket and the blindfold he’d been wearing like a headband.

“I don’t think there’s much in the fridge, but we can order takeout. You remember where the menus are?”

“Of course.” You opened the right-most drawer in the island, withdrawing a stack of takeout menus with a grin.

Satoru grinned right back. “Order whatever you want, pick something good for me. I’m going to take a shower real quick.” You hummed as he dropped his wallet on the counter, thumbing through the worn pages before you.

When Satoru had first moved into this apartment, his mother had hired a maid and a chef. Only the best for her precious son, you thought wryly. Satoru hadn’t been having it. He’d been polite to them, of course, but kept an impeccable house with nothing for the maid to clean, and ordered takeout every night, leaving the chef’s meals untouched in the refrigerator before insisting she take them home herself. When his mother had shown up to scold him, he’d listened patiently to her lecture and then promptly changed the locks. 

You grinned at the memory, but it was short-lived. Your thoughts drifted to the time after he’d come home from the hospital, silent and uninterested in food, keeping a clean house, or anything else. His mother had hired a housekeeper again, insisting that your presence was unnecessary. In spite of her cold words and colder attitude, you’d stuck around, trying to get Satoru to take an interest in… anything.

He’d lost so much weight in those months.

You shook yourself out of your spiraling thoughts. Whatever had prompted him, he’d bought the gym for The Amanai Project, sent the housekeeper home with her next month’s pay, a bouquet of flowers, and his thanks, and changed the locks all in one day.

His mother had been furious.

That thought made you smile, despite yourself.

You heard the shower start, picked a menu at random, and called the number. You ordered enough sushi to feed a small army- an assortment of maki and uramaki rolls, nigiri, sashimi, miso soup, and two servings of deep-fried bananas- and smiled when you opened Satoru’s wallet to a picture of the two of you.

You made a circuit of the apartment while you waited. It looked just like it had the last time you’d been here, neat and bare. You walked into the home office, the only room with any personality, and smied at the photos scattered over the walls and shelves. You and Satoru as children, as teenagers at prom together, beaming together on the day you’d both graduated university; photos of him standing with his parents and grandparents, more serious than you were used to seeing him; and then, another photo, tucked behind several others. You stopped to pick it up.

Satoru, Shoko, and Suguru sat in a line, all beaming at the camera. Satoru’s arm reached around Shoko’s back, hand resting on Suguru’s shoulder. You could hardly see his eyes behind the dark glasses he wore, but you thought his eyes might’ve been on Suguru.

You swallowed back a painful lump in your throat. You’d lied when you said your crush on Satoru had been over quickly. It had lasted well into your teenage years, only abating when you assumed Suguru had taken your place as his best friend. Tall, handsome, charming Suguru with his smooth voice, soft smile, and never putting up with Satoru’s shit. That was until he disappeared, right when Satoru became a shell.

You knew the events were related, but you’d never found the courage to ask. Now, looking at this photo, you wondered what had happened to him. You wondered what had happened to Shoko, too. You knew she and Satoru still spoke from time to time, but they’d been closer before. Jealousy pricked at your heart before you stomped it ruthlessly out.

It had been a silly crush, nothing more. You were best friends. That was everything you wanted, everything you needed, and more than you could say for the other two.

You scolded yourself for being uncharitable, returning the picture frame to its place on the shelf before stalking from the office to Satoru’s bedroom.

The bed was perfectly made, unrumpled and unslept in. You realized with a jolt that the last time you’d been in his bedroom had been during those awful months, two years ago. You scowled lightly, turning back to the living room, and noticed for the first time that the larger couch looked slightly rumpled, with a throw blanket haphazardly hanging from the back- the only item out of place in the whole apartment.

In the bathroom, the tap turned off. You darted out of the bedroom, opting to sit at the kitchen island, watching the city lights from the picture window. It couldn’t have been more than two minutes before you could feel Satoru behind you, even though you hadn’t heard him approach. 

When you turned, he was smiling softly at you. 

“Have you been sleeping on the couch?”

You knew you’d shocked him by the smile he flipped up. “Whaaat? No, of course no-”

“Toru.”

He glares at you, but doesn’t answer. He’s saved by the doorbell, which he bolts to answer. 

You let out a breath, turning to the fridge to get drinks. You pull out two bottles of tea, along with a glass and a container of honey for Satoru. He’s laying out your feast, eyes pointedly on the food. 

You decide not to push the issue. For now. 

“I left some clothes for you in the bathroom,” he says. 

“Thank you,” you hum. “I’ll shower as soon as we’re done here.”

He hums in return, mouth already filled with food, then swallows. “Sorry about the kids,” he says. 

You grin. “Sorry for rocking your world.”

A strange look passes over his features, and when he speaks, you get the feeling that he’s not saying what he had intended to. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re not that good.” The words drip with his customary, good-natured arrogance, complete with the full-blown smirk you’ve only ever seen on him. He winks, making you laugh, but there’s some tiny part of you that’s oddly wounded by this. 

He’s returned his focus to his meal, but then he looks up at you from under his stark, white lashes. His voice is softer, more sincere when he speaks again. 

“We should practice.”

And for a moment, the absurdity of the statement is so intense that you can’t, won’t understand him. 

“Practice what?”

“Kissing.” He says it so calmly, so matter-of-fact, like it’s the most normal thing in the world to say. 

You choke on your tea. 

“We should practice kissing,” you drone back. 

Satoru throws his hands in the air. “Exactly! I’m glad you agree.” When you continue to stare, he chuckles, going back to his food. “I think the gig would be up if something like that happened in front of our wedding guests.” 

And after a moment’s contemplation, you have to admit that he’s right. You hadn’t considered the way you’d appear to onlookers. Years and years of close friendship had you comfortable with each other, in each others’ space, and you knew you’d look genuine to anyone close enough to see you, because your affection for each other was genuine. You and Satoru had always been touchy- leaning on each other or holding hands, arms around each other or brushing when you walked or talked. Physical closeness was natural to you both. 

But kissing each other was not natural, you told yourself. Even as your mind unhelpfully reminded you that it had felt quite natural to lean up and press your lips to his. You blinked away the memory, pasting on a smile to hide your unease at the way your heartbeat sped. 

“Oh yeah, I’d expected a smoother recovery from you,” you teased. “What did the kids have to say about that?”

He grumbled something that sounded distinctly like “lovesick fool”, but when you asked for Satoru to repeat himself, he said “They said it was so cool.”

You giggled. “It’s ‘cause they’ve never seen anyone shut you up.”

He lay a hand against his heart. “It’s because they never believe me when I say the ladies love me. Victory has never tasted so sweet.” You laughed, Satoru smiled, and what little tension had managed to build dissipated. 

You stood to stretch. “I’ll make us breakfast tomorrow if you do the dishes.”

Satoru scoffed. “I have a perfectly good dishwasher, and we both know I’ll be up way before you.”

You stuck your tongue out, earning you a snicker. “I’m going to shower.” Satoru waved you off, stuffing the last of his deep-fried bananas into his mouth as he brushed off his hands. You padded into the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and stripped off your clothes once the door shut behind you. Stepping into the shower, you let the scalding water soothe your muscles as your mind kicked into overdrive. 

Practice kissing Satoru Gojo. Something pooled low in your belly, something hungry and molten.

You knew, logically, that having the friendship with him that you do put you in a position most girls would be wildly envious of. You’d always known that, even if it hadn’t affected you. So why is it affecting you now? 

You knew, logically, that Satoru is insanely attractive. You’d seen it firsthand countless times over the years. Any time you’d go out together, you could feel jealous stares on you, even if Satoru never noticed. It used to make you feel somewhat smug, and somewhat guilty, as though your presence could keep away the girl he was meant to have. You would tease him, shamelessly mocking the fluttering lashes and starry eyes turned his way. So why did you feel so starry-eyed yourself?

You knew, logically, that this was a good and smart plan. His parents would be looking for any sign that this marriage was less than what it seemed, and it was wise to cover your bases. You just had to think about it intellectually. Just had to remember that it was all part of the trick.

Dressing in his boxers and sweats and a shirt two sizes too big, you step into his bedroom to see him reclining on the bed, face flushed and chest heaving, and all wisdom deserts you. 

His eyes are closed. He’s got one muscled arm propped behind his head, while the long fingers of his other hand stroke that damn blindfold thoughtfully. He turns and pierces you with that blue gaze, eyes darker than usual, and inclines his head slightly as he takes in a deep breath. His eyes rake you from head to toe, taking in the way you swim in his clothes. You pad toward the bed, crawling over the expanse of it until you lay next to him, hands laced nervously over your stomach.

He sits up to place the blindfold on the nightstand, then rolls so that he’s hovering over you. “Shall we?” he murmurs. His voice is velvet, soft and rough, and intellectual thought becomes more difficult as you try to remember the last time you kissed anyone before today.

You nod. It feels stiff, and you hope that he doesn’t notice. Hell, of course he notices. You hope that he can’t see why you’re so uptight, and do your best to tuck away your racing thoughts so that you can’t examine them either.

He raises his free hand to brush his knuckles over your cheek, touch so feather-soft that you could’ve almost imagined it. You don’t know which of you moved first, but you’re inexplicably closer to each other now, noses nearly touching. Satoru’s warm, sweet breath ghosts over your lips. His luminescent eyes scan your face, searching for… what? you wonder breathlessly.

It’s an agonizingly long moment in which your traitorous brain chants kisshimkisshimkisshim.

“Relax,” he whispers, and you let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

His lips brush yours, lighter than his fingertips on your jaw. Then again, with the barest hint of pressure. You’ve only just begun, but your heart is already pounding. Satoru kisses you a third time and the trick is all but forgotten.

He moves his lips slowly, carefully against yours. You exercise every last ounce of restraint to move as slowly, as carefully as he does. Gentle as this is, your lungs are burning for air by the time he pulls back, only far enough so that you can both gulp down the warm air between you. He shifts so that his body partially covers yours before descending again. This time, in addition to the soft pressure, his tongue slides delicately over your bottom lip. 

Forgetting yourself, you grip the front of his t-shirt, dragging him down so suddenly that he grunts, mouth parting to allow your tongue to explore. You run it along the back of his teeth, the inside of his bottom lip, sliding it against his as he presses into your mouth for his turn.

His tongue is slow, gentle, as he maps the inside of your mouth. The hand that’s not propping him up is on your neck now, thumb across the front of your throat, caressing the flesh there. You begin to lose patience, unable to grasp how unaffected he is by this when you’re so close to abandoning your dignity for more, more, more. 

With as much self-control as you can muster, you slide one hand around his side under his shirt. His breath catches. Your hands must be cold. You use your grip on his shirt and his waist to pull until he loses his balance, body pressed against you for one short, blissful moment. Your eyes shoot open, meeting a roiling ocean as your hips meet and you feel something hard against your inner thigh. Wait, is he…?

He lifts himself so that he hovers over you, body too far away now for you to confirm what you thought you felt. He kisses you several times in quick succession, lighter than before, as he holds himself up over you. You wonder if you’re imagining the quiver in his limbs; you must be.

Then he pulls back with a crazed smile that doesn’t touch his eyes. His cheeks flame and his blown pupils snap with something you don’t have a name for.

“Well that was much better,” he says. Then you blink and he’s up, sitting on the side of the bed for just a second before standing up. He walks out of the room and you’re left reeling, lifting a hand to your swollen lips.

What just happened?

Anxiety is beginning to build before he’s back in the doorway with a glass of water in hand. He hits the lightswitch before coming in, hiding himself from your searching eyes in the gloom, backlit by the lamp in the living room.

“Here,” he says, handing you the glass. You sit up and take it from his hands, draining the whole thing to wash the addictive taste of him out of your mouth enough to concentrate. It hardly works.

He’s halfway across the room before you realize it, and you find panic flooding your chest again.

“Wait!” you call. He stops, turning so that you can just make out his profile in the dark.

You feel tongue-tied. Against your will, you remember the way you felt at eleven, at fourteen, at sixteen, unable to speak or move or breathe around him, so in awe of his presence.

This would be a really, really bad time for those feelings to resurface.

But you can’t seem to stop them.

“What?” You must have been quiet for too long, because his voice is tinged with worry.

You scramble for any coherent thought.

“Where are you going?”

You see him raise a hand to the back of his neck, a nervous gesture startlingly like one the boy from your scrambled thoughts makes.

“The couch. I figured you could sleep in the bed, and I-”

“You should stay,” you cut off. After what had just happened, after knowing what it felt like to kiss him, if you’d put any thought into anything else first, you’d have never gotten the words out. 

But you couldn't think. Not now, not with the taste of him on your tongue. Regardless of your mounting fear and his being the source, you couldn’t bear for him to be away from you. Not now.

Satoru didn’t say anything. He stood frozen, and again, you began to wonder whether some invisible boundary had been crossed.

Maybe this was why friends didn’t kiss each other.

Shame and nerves choked you. You shouldn’t have touched him, shouldn’t have embarrassed him like that. Of course it was natural for his thoughts to wander, it certainly had nothing to do with you. A natural response, nothing mo-

“Okay.”

You let out a breath and the pounding in your ears subsided. He left the room, returning after flipping off the light in the living room, and lowered himself gently into the bed. He stretched out on his back, hands at his sides, and you lowered yourself to the cushions with yours tucked to your chest.

The silence was deafening. You weren’t used to it, banter flowing easily from both sides for all your lives.

You turned abruptly, unable to bear it any longer.

“Toru, what happened? With Suguru? And with Shoko?”

He sucked in a breath from his place across the bed. You worried again, as was becoming too common, that you shouldn’t have spoken. He didn’t speak for so long that you thought he wouldn't answer you, and then you started to worry that he’d call off the whole fake wedding or, worse, your whole friendship.

You’d never asked, too afraid of sending him spiralling off the precipice and losing him entirely. But you were so off-balance from the raging storm of your emotions that you couldn’t stop yourself. 

“Amanai died.”

You counted several beats before speaking. “I know that part,” you said softly. “Suguru was with her when she was shot, right?”

A long pause. “Yeah.”

“And you were outside.”

“Yeah.”

“Satoru, it wasn’t your fault.”

“We were arrogant.” There was self-loathing dripping from the words. “We shouldn't have assumed the estate would be safe ground.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. This had been a mistake. Damn your curiosity, you should never have dredged this up. 

“I wanted… I killed that guy, the shooter.” You’d known, but the jolt that went through you reminded you that he’d never actually said it out loud. Not to you. “And I wanted to kill the whole group of them, that whole family that ordered the execution. Everyone who stood there, applauding that a fifteen year-old girl was dead. And I would have snapped and done it if Suguru hadn’t stopped me.”

Your heart constricted painfully. Suguru had said, but you hadn’t realized it had been so serious. Satoru let out a long sigh. Subconsciously, you reached out to loop your fingers through his. He squeezed gently.

“Remember the week after the funeral, that day I left you here? When Shoko called?” You nodded. You’d handed him the phone when Shoko asked, watching wordlessly as he stalked out, and then sat in his apartment, drowning in terror until he’d walked back through the door, silent as when he’d left. He turned to you now. Even in the dark, you could make out the faint gleam of his eyes. “Sorry for scaring you, back then,” he whispered. You reached your other hand out to lay it on his chest.

He took in another deep breath. “Suguru went out on a job. He was supposed to bring some guy in for questioning.” You waited with bated breath for him to say the words you didn’t want to hear. “He killed him.”

You sat up, peering down through the darkness. “What?”

“He killed him. Told the board that it was self-defense, but Shoko and I knew it wasn’t. He confessed it to her, and she told me.” You sat in stunned silence. This was so much worse than you’d imagined it could be.

“And you?” Satoru said nothing. Dread pricked your spine. “You… you wanted to…”

“I didn’t, though.” He’d tensed, as though he expected you to draw away at any moment. “Shoko had already built a case against him when she called me. She just needed a confession. So I got it. Even if I thought that it wasn’t fair.”

You scooted the tiniest bit closer. “Not fair?”

Satoru looked at you out of the corner of his eye, seeming to consider his next words. “That he found the absolution he denied me.”

You considered that. “Did you ever find it?” you finally asked. “Absolution?”

He seemed to hold his breath. “I think so,” he said softly. You nodded, and for long minutes, you each sat lost in thought under the cover of darkness. Then, when sleep pressed you down, you closed the last distance between you to lay your head on his chest. You felt Satoru start before carefully wrapping an arm around you. And maybe you were already dreaming, but you thought you felt him press a gentle kiss to your temple.

You wondered again if you were dreaming when you woke, warm and comfortable. You blinked yourself awake, squinting at the clock across the room. Too early. You flopped your head back down and then froze when the arm around your waist pulled you back against a feverish body.

Satoru.

You raised your head, blinking at the clock again in disbelief. Satoru was always up at the crack of dawn. 7:45 was not late, but most days he’d already be out and about. Carefully, so as not to wake him, you turned your head. His brilliant white hair flopped over his eyes, making him look vulnerable. Young, so like the little boy you’d said you’d marry all those years ago.

You smiled at the memory and rested your head back on your pillow. You looked at the clock. 7:46. You’d let him sleep until 8:00. You began to snuggle backward and froze.

You could feel Satoru’s length pressed against the curve of your butt. For one, heartstopping moment, you let yourself melt back. Then you were berating yourself. 

He was asleep, nothing more. No man woke up in bed with any girl without a hard-on and it had nothing to do with you.

The moment you broke contact, that arm tightened again, drawing you back more firmly. You muffled a groan, letting your eyes slide shut. 

A really, really bad time for those feelings to resurface again, you thought dryly, heart speeding against your ribcage. You glanced up. 7:47.

You couldn’t lay here like this for thirteen minutes. You’d just have to slide out from his grasp and hope you didn’t wake him.

Just before you moved though, Satoru breathed in deeply. His arms tightened around you again, one hand lowering to your hip to press you back against him. You held your breath as he nuzzled the side of your neck.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. He curled further around you, molding your body against his. It made you feel weak. “What time is it?”

You turned to the clock again, cheeks burning. “7:48.”

“Shit!” Satoru flew up, making it from the far side of the bed to the bathroom in one fluid motion. The door slammed and you stared at it for a moment before you started to giggle. Well, so much for breakfast.

It’s 7:51 when the bathroom door flies open to reveal Satoru in all his shirtless glory, muscles rippling as he tears through his closet, toothbrush clenched between his teeth. Then it’s back to the bathroom, door not quite shut, and you have to make yourself turn away from the sliver of pale skin you can see through the crack. You hear him spit, then the door swings open again. 7:53. He’s fumbling the last few buttons on his shirt, long legs carrying him to the mirror in the corner.

“Sorry, babe, I have an errand I have to run before the meeting this morning.” He runs a hand through his hair, turning his head side to side, and then spins and walks toward you. “Tow company will be here to pick you up at nine.” He bends down, planting his hands on either side of your shoulders, and kisses you passionately before sprinting out the door. “Call me if they give you any trouble!”

The front door slams, and seven minutes after waking up, the whirlwind that is your best friend storms out the front door. You raise a hand unconsciously to your lips.

What in the world?

By the time you manage to haul yourself out of bed, after an already eventful morning, you’ve convinced yourself that this is simply more practice. Building habits, as it were, so as not to raise suspicion when you inevitably end up out with his family, out with friends.

It makes perfect sense. 

You brush your teeth and get dressed, in the same clothes you wore here yesterday, and open your laptop to get a little work done before the tow company picks you up. Just as Satoru said they would, they ring the bell at nine sharp. You stuff your laptop into your bag, locking the door with your spare key, and follow the driver to his truck. 

You make polite small-talk with the driver- mostly about your crappy car- for the short drive to the tow yard, thanking him as he holds the door open for you. When you turn toward the office, he stops you.

“Oh, miss, I have your key right here.”

He hands you a key that certainly isn’t yours. You look from it to him.

“This isn’t my key.”

The driver scratches the back of his neck, pointing across the lot. “Well, according to Mr. Gojo, it is.”

You turn to see a shiny new coupe with a massive red bow on the hood. You blink at it, then turn back to the driver. “Where’s my car?”

He shifts his weight nervously. “I don’t rightly know, miss. Mr. Gojo called yesterday and said not to worry about it. Said he’d be dropping off a new one- nothing but the best for his fiancée. Came by this morning, handed me the key himself.”

You turn back to the car in stunned silence.

“I can see about getting your old car back, miss…”

“No, thank you.” You turned to smile at the driver. “I can take it up with my fiancé.” 

The driver nodded, shuffling off to the office in the center of the lot at great speed. You walked over to your new ill-gotten vehicle, circling it slowly. This was a huge gift.

You let yourself into the driver’s seat, reveling in the luxury of a vehicle younger than yourself, let alone one of such caliber. Then, calmly, you dialed Satoru’s number.

The phone rang twice, and then he picked up with a joyous “Love of my life!”

You sucked down a breath, and then roared into the phone. “GOJO!”

——————————————————————

The final weeks until the wedding are so busy that you hardly have time to think about the day itself, but they’re a raging success.

You and Satoru go apartment hunting, despite your protests, and end up with a penthouse apartment with an office, a guest room, and more space than you know how to decorate. He hires a moving company to pack your humble, cozy apartment and his sleek one, refusing to hear any protests about keeping your lease.

“Baby, I’ve been trying to get you out of that shithole for years. You really think I’m letting this opportunity pass me by?” You grumble about making rent and he tugs you close with an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Rent, as if. Consider it repayment for going along with all this.”

You don’t bother pointing out that “all this” was your idea in the first place; you know it would be useless.

Your parents fly in the week of the wedding and insist on taking you and Satoru out for dinner “one last time before the big day” as thanks for Satoru’s generosity in putting them up in “such a lovely hotel”.

You go to your final fitting and your dress is perfect, curving and flowing in all the right places. Your mother cries, and that sets you to crying too. 

Satoru kisses you, more than once. He kisses you first thing every morning when you emerge from his room, kisses you each time you pass each other over the course of the days, kisses you last thing at night before making himself comfortable on the couch. You have to force yourself not to ask him to stay in the bed with you, afraid of what you might do if he agrees.

You have to remind yourself that none of this is real.

Shoko comes to town, determined not to miss the big event despite the space that’s opened up between her and Satoru. Seeing them together, you realize that it probably never opened at all. It’s Suguru’s space; a tiny, infinite rift between them. You can see how bittersweet the reunion is, for both of them, and find yourself hoping that it won’t be the last time they meet. Hoping that they can both heal until they can really be friends again.

You have an incredibly tense dinner with Satoru’s parents, made all the more stressful by the agreement to do everything to sell them on the idea that you’re hopelessly in love with each other. At dinner, you hold hands through every course, constantly looking at each other with syrupy smiles and fluttering lashes. When you retire to the restaurant’s overpriced lounge for drinks, Satoru pulls you down into his lap, holding you firmly in place the entire time. He only has one drink, but he gets noticeably more handsy as the contents of his glass disappear.

You ruffle his hair affectionately, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

Only the fact that his parents are sitting feet away stops you from asking whether there’s something in his pocket, or whether he’s just happy to see you. “Lightweight,” you breathe instead, trying not to move too much lest he notice his body’s reaction and push you away. He giggles, dragging you forward to plant a sloppy kiss on your mouth. You allow yourself to relish the moment, embracing the longing you’ve begun to feel. For his parents’ benefit, you tell yourself. You’re only doing your part to sell the lie.

You can practically feel the steam coming from his mother’s ears.

Standing on Satoru’s balcony the night before the wedding, he levels you with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen from him. “Are you sure about this?”

You think back on the past months, comparing them to all the years before. What had even changed, besides the fact that now, you were friends who sometimes kissed? Who sometimes came dangerously close to feeling each other up? What had changed, besides the fact that now, you were almost certain that you’d never moved past your feelings for him?

You forced yourself to relax and smile. “I’m sure.”

Satoru took your hands in his, turning you to face him. “You’re giving up a lot for me.”

That made you laugh. You looked up, pleased to see the curve of amusement on his lips. “What am I giving up? It’s not like I’d be spending my time with anyone else. Besides, you’ve bought me a beautiful ring, a gorgeous dress, and a brand new car. I think I’m actually gonna come out of this pretty far ahead.”

“Don’t forget the penthouse,” he teased, and your smile dropped to a deadpan.

“Satoru, we’ve discussed the penthouse.” He waved this off. “I’m not keeping it!” you protested.

“Yeah, we’ll see.” He grinned down at you, breeze lifting his hair from his forehead. Without meaning to, you reached up to smooth it back, thumb running over the scar over his eyebrow. He cleared his throat, growing somber. “This time tomorrow, we’re going to be married.”

You let your fingertips drift down his cheek, allowing yourself just one more private moment of weakness before your heart ended up on display tomorrow for everyone to see. Hopefully, everyone but him. You nodded, suddenly at a loss for words. For all his sweetness, you’d seldom seen the tenderness he bent on you in the smile he offered. His eyes were liquid, soft as ever, when he raised your hand to his lips.

“Let’s get some sleep,” he murmured, and you agreed, if only to escape before his attention caused you to crumble.

——————————————————————

The wedding day itself is surreal, and it passes in a blur. You wake in Satoru’s bedroom with a bouquet of roses on the bedside, along with a note in his bold writing.

“To the best friend I’ve ever had, thank you for putting up with my shit and having my back. We both know that I’m a treasure. I only hope you know that you are, too. You deserve the world, and I will lay it at your feet. On this, our wedding day, I alone am the honored one.”

The note is signed with a flourish of his name. You smile as you raise it to your lips, taking in the faint scent of his cologne. You are the honored one on this day. You lay the note next to your bra, fully intent on keeping it close, and then you hit the ground running.

You shower and brush your teeth and after that, it’s out the door to the waiting car to be driven to the vast Gojo estate. Despite spending time here as a child, the place is still incredibly intimidating with its marble arches and sprawling gardens. You feel your heartbeat speed as you see the decorations- fairy lights and tulle, vines and roses, black silk ribbons and eucalyptus branches.

It’s more beautiful than you could have imagined.

You make your way to the guest house and sit through an hour of hair and makeup, laughing with your mother about all the childish shenanigans you and Satoru have gotten up to over the years, and calm your anxious hands and stomach by sampling the hors d’oeuvres arranged prettily on silver platters.

Your father sits in the corner, eyes shining with pride and unshed tears. He’s got a cocktail of painkillers ready to go; nothing will keep him from walking with his little girl today.

You would feel guilty if Satoru weren’t already such a fixture in all of your lives. You only hope that your parents won’t be too hurt when this is all over.

It’s only once your parents step out so that you can change into your gown that Satoru’s mother visits you.

“Tell me, my dear, must we really continue this charade?”

You feel your heart prick with ice. “I assure you, Gojo-sama, that there is no charade,” you lie smoothly. “I love your son.” Just enough honesty to ring true.

Her glare is frozen. “I will give you six million yen if you walk out of here and away from my son.”

You raise your chin in defiance. “No.”

“Seven million.”

“You cannot buy me, no matter the price.”

“Ten million yen.”

Your ire has been steadily rising since she stepped into the room. Now, it eclipses your anxiety like a crashing wave. You lean forward, well into her space, and feel a mean thrill when she leans away from you. Your voice is cold. “I do not care what you think of me. But it’s clear that you have no concept of your son’s worth.” You tilt your head, summoning the haughtiest tone you’ve ever used. “You dishonor him.” His mother reels back, scowling.

“You don’t deserve my son,” she sneers.

You laugh at that. “I agree. Yet somehow, he’s decided otherwise.”

She peers down her nose at you. You expect another round of vitriol, but to your surprise, she turns on her heel to leave. Round one, you.

You blow out your breath, shake your hands, and straighten your shoulders. Within a few minutes, your parents are back and then it’s smooth sailing again. 

Right up until you and your father hobble to the door to walk to the ceremony. 

Your father starts to sniffle. You turn and realize that he’s tearing up, putting on his bravest face and doing his utmost not to blubber. 

“Oh, papa,” you murmur. You turn to take his face in your hands. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, hime.” He reaches a hand up to your face, carefully avoiding your hair and touching lightly so as not to smear your makeup. “I am just so happy. Your mother and I used to talk about what a wonderful life you and Satoru would build together and now it’s finally beginning.”

The shock nearly knocks you off your feet. “You… what?”

He sniffles, patting your cheek and lowering his head to compose himself. “You make an old man proud. There’s no one else I’d rather give you away to.”

You move your mouth, but can’t form any words.

And then, it’s time. The great door creaks open and you tilt your head down to hide your expression. You take a few deep, steadying breaths before raising your head… and promptly losing them.

The lawn is surprisingly empty, though you suppose his parents planned it that way. Regardless, every face fades as you set eyes on Satoru.

Satoru, the best and oldest friend you’ve ever had.

Satoru, who’s always been in your corner, no matter what.

Satoru, who looks devastatingly handsome in black and white, with a boutonniere of one, single rose almost the same color as his eyes. Almost, but not quite. Satoru, whose eyes are wider than ever, staring slack-jawed as you make your way toward him down the aisle, moving slowly for your fathers’ sake. Satoru, whose hands drop from where they’d been fiddling with his cuffs.

Satoru, who looks at you with such longing that you nearly collapse.

Your heart stops, and then sprints to make up for lost time.

This day is going to kill you. 

You know that your face is bearing every emotion, that nothing is hidden in this instant. 

And it’s nothing compared to the way he looks at you.

It’s all an act, you remind yourself. Tears spring to your eyes. All an act, but every person in this room is eating it up. Including you. When did he get so good at acting?

The corner of his lip curls in an awestruck smile and you’re a goner.

Who were you kidding?

You let the tears stream, grateful at least that they would lend authenticity to the performance. And for the first time, you feel your heart sink. 

You’re just as in love with Satoru Gojo now as you had been at eleven years old.

You’d been a fool to think you’d get out of this unscathed.

Over the course of your mental collapse, Satoru’s smile widens until you can just make out the tiny dimples at the corners of his mouth that only ever show themselves when he’s at his happiest.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You just have to remember that it’s all for show.

You force yourself to smile.

And know instantly that you’ve made a mistake.

You had to be twenty paces or more away, but those dimples disappeared the moment your lips spread.

No one else would ever notice, but you did.

Because no one else would ever notice, but he had.

Those cyan eyes narrowed fractionally and you knew that he could tell that something was off. You could see the anxiety surfacing as you got close.

To feel so seen…

You pursed your lips, just by a hairs’ breadth, and Satoru’s face relaxed. The silent conversation you had in those last few steps did wonders to ease your nerves, and you could tell that it did the same for him. Between one heartbeat and the next, your father was kissing your cheek, placing your hand firmly in Satoru’s outstretched one.

You couldn’t hear a word anyone said- not your father, not the priest, not even Satoru. You blinked rapidly, finally locking eyes with your fiancé.

“Baby? Are you okay?” he whispered, and you could tell from the slight strain in his voice that he was repeating the question.

You squeezed his hands. “I’m okay,” you whispered back. You let yourself fall into your role, embracing the fantasy. You felt nearly giddy. “Let’s get married.”

And oh, there was that smile again, canyon-wide and dimpled just for you. “Let’s.”

You could hardly concentrate enough to repeat your vows, too caught up in the way Satoru’s eyes sparkled, locked onto you. Too mesmerized by the way his mouth moved to truly hear what he said. Before your head could catch up with the feelings speeding through your heart, Satoru was wrapping a strong arm around your waist, pulling you firmly to his chest. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his smile.

“Hi, wifey.” And then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. You couldn’t stop your hands coming up to cradle his face; couldn’t stop your mad smile when he bent you back nearly parallel to the ground; couldn’t stop the shudder that ran down your spine at the soft moan he let out when you ran your tongue along the seam of his lips. They parted, allowing you to lick along the inside of his lip before you bit down softly.

Only the applause from your guests covered the animalistic growl that tore itself from his throat.

You felt a heady thrill at your apparent power and giggled. After a heated moment and a shaky breath, so did Satoru. He straightened, pulling you up with him, and raised your joined hands overhead for all to see.

Mr. and Mrs. Satoru Gojo.

——————————————————————

For being largely made up of Satoru’s colleagues and the elder Gojo’s business acquaintances, your guests were incredibly gracious. Every person seemed to want to personally convey their best wishes; a happy marriage, good fortunes, continued health. You and Satoru thanked each person in turn, holding hands all the while.

And each time someone new came to express their pleasure, you felt your mind and heart crack just a bit more under the weight of the lie.

“We’re almost done,” he murmured against your ear. You’d finally made your way to the dance floor, taking solace in the security and solitude of Satoru’s arms. You nodded, cheek rubbing against his chest. “You okay?” he asked.

You nodded again. “Just counting down the minutes until we can go home.”

He chuckled, drawing you closer. “Well, tell you what, then. Let me go say goodnight to my parents and then we can leave, okay?” You smiled up at him, grateful.

“That sounds wonderful, husband.”

He grinned at you with a childish sort of glee. “Glad to hear it, wife.” He leaned down, pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and then spun you away from himself. “I’ll meet you by the altar in a few minutes?”

You smiled over your shoulder, turning to survey the crowd. Your parents had left an hour ago with profuse apologies; your father’s medication was wearing off and he was going to need to be off his feet, quickly. You waved and smiled at the few friends of Satoru’s you knew- Kento Nanami, Yu Haibara, Utahime Iori, Kiyotaka Ijichi- and waded through the crowd of celebrating people.

Satoru had asked whether it bothered you that none of your friends had come. The truth was that when life got busy and your friends stopped reaching out, when no one could accept how much time and emotion you put into Satoru after the incident, you’d let most of those friendships slide. Why should you beg for anyone’s attention when the only person whose attention you truly craved centered on you to begin with?

You’d never regretted that conviction, never even questioned it. Not even today.

You made rounds to the tables that gestured you over for long minutes before excusing yourself, breaking for the altar. You were passing an alcove when you heard Shoko’s voice, and you felt yourself perk up. You hadn’t had a chance to thank her for coming, and you wanted to make sure that you didn’t miss the opportunity to talk to her. Even if you didn’t feel the need to have a lot of friends, it would be refreshing to have a girl friend again- and she’d been important to Satoru, once. You wanted to make sure that she knew her presence was more than welcome in your lives.

It was only once you reached the garden wall that you realized she didn’t sound happy.

Then you heard Satoru’s voice.

“I just really don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal out of this!”

“Because, Satoru! I understand that you care for her, but I really think you’re making the biggest mistake of your life!”

“Then let me make it!” Satoru roared, and the words had you breaking out into a cold sweat.

They couldn’t mean…?

He seemed to remember where they were and lowered his voice. “Then let me make it. If it’s such a huge mistake, you’ll be the first to know, alright? I’ll call you myself. ‘Shoko, you were right, I never should have married her.’ Is that what you want to hear?”

Your hands flew to cover your mouth, but they weren’t quick enough to muffle the pained sound that escaped you. You darted to put your back to the bower leading into their little section of the garden, praying to all the gods that you hadn’t been heard. For once, despite Satoru’s involvement, they listened.

Shoko sighed. “No, Satoru, it’s not. I just want you to be happy. I just don’t think you’re-”

You raised your hands to cover your ears and bolted away. You didn’t care how childish it was, you couldn’t bear to hear another word. You ran, heels catching small rocks and roots as you held your breath in an effort not to cry. If the tears fell, your face would puff up and your makeup would be ruined. There would be questions. You couldn’t deal with questions, especially not now.

You tucked yourself into the greenhouse and sucked down mouthfuls of cool air, staring straight at the ceiling. That was supposed to help, wasn’t it?

You couldn’t stay here for too long. You had to get control of yourself, and quickly. You tried desperately to conjure up any happy memories that didn’t involve Satoru and came up woefully short.

Maybe you needed some friends of your own, after all.

You breathed in, held, released. Breathed in, held, released. You repeated this until your hands stopped shaking, and then did it five more times for good measure. You straightened your shoulders. Then you walked back out into the throng. Head held high, smile firmly in place, you strode to the altar, catching sight of Satoru as he stepped out of the shade of a tree and into view.

Your breath caught in your throat. He was so beautiful. He beamed when he saw you, looking a touch deflated, but irritation all but vanished. You knew by the subtle shift of his eyebrows, though, that your own smile wasn’t fooling him.

——————————————————————

The ride back to your new penthouse was blessedly short, and blessedly quiet. With a driver from his parents’ staff, neither of you dared to say a word of meaning, settling on holding hands and whispering to each other about dinner and movies and sleep instead. When the car stopped, Satoru was out in a flash to open your door, handing you out like some Victorian lady. No matter how confused you felt, it made your mouth twitch up in a smile.

He led you through the apartment lobby and into the private elevator to your new home, even holding the door open for the driver following with a cart of wedding gifts. You clutched his hand the whole ride up, gluing yourself to his side even if you couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him. You could feel the worried glances he shot your direction when the driver wasn’t looking, though.

As soon as the elevator door opened, he was sweeping you up into his arms, striding purposefully across the short hall to your front door. You let yourself laugh as he managed to fish the keys out of his pocket without letting you slide so much as an inch, and swooned dramatically as he kicked in the door. He kissed you again and you felt your heart clench painfully. Then he turned to the driver, thanking him for his service and advising that he leave, lest he see something he’d rather not.

You’d never seen someone excuse themselves so quickly.

You both paused once the door clicked shut, waiting for the chime of the elevator, and then Satoru lowered you gently to the floor. You turned quickly, practically running into the living room. You began unfastening your jewelry, anything to keep your hands and eyes busy.

“Sweetheart?” He was worried. You knew better than to try to hide from him, but you’d hoped you could have even a moment longer to collect your thoughts. The drive here hadn’t been nearly long enough. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He was halfway across the room already. You knew that if he touched you, you’d lose your nerve.

“What did Shoko mean by ‘the biggest mistake of your life’?” The words were out before you could think better of them.

Abruptly, his footsteps stopped. The silence was deafening. With shaking hands, you laid your wedding jewelry on the coffee table, steeling yourself for whatever answer Satoru gave you.

You turned to face him and found him looking ashen and sick.

He swallowed hard.

“You heard that?”

Somehow, you’d expected something different. A denial, an indignant retort, even a joke. You scoffed in disbelief, only it didn’t sound much like a scoff. It sounded like a sob.

Satoru took two steps forward before stopping at your raised hand.

“Listen, I can explain.”

“Explain what, Gojo?” A look of profound hurt crossed his face at your use of his family name, but you couldn’t… You had to put some distance between you. You didn’t want to believe that there was any truth to the words, but you knew now that there had to be.

“You didn’t even argue with her! ‘The worst mistake of your life’?” He flinched then, finally breaking eye contact to look across the room past you. You choked on your tears, voice coming out harsh around the growing lump in your throat. “I know you never wanted to be married, but I-I thought I was helping you. I thought you wouldn’t care since it was only temporary. I thought you said this would be fun! You never told me you were having second thoughts!” 

“You’re right, I didn’t,” he said softly. “Shoko thinks I’m making a mistake because… because I’ve been in love with you since we were children.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he was reeling back, breathing ragged as his hands went to his hair, as though maybe he’d never said the words aloud. As though maybe he’d never admitted them to himself. You nearly staggered backward, too. “Please, sweetheart, just let me explain. I swear, I-”

“You’re in love with me?” you whispered. Your heart raced, hope lighting your veins aflame. Tears had been building since the conversation started. They began to run down your cheeks now, and you saw Satoru move as though he was going to come to you, to do anything to make them stop, before forcing himself to stand still. He’d always hated to see you cry.

He clenched his fists. His eyes slid shut, and the pain evident on his face was so great that you flashed, for a moment, to him waking up in that hospital bed; bindings around his wounds and tubing in his arms, oxygen mask on his face, waking so slowly, so grievously wounded that he’d asked you if he was dead.

“I would never,” he began slowly, “have made you stay.” He let that sink in before continuing, so softly that you could barely hear him. “I thought…” His voice trailed off as he sank to his knees, almost as though the words had sapped him of the strength to bear his own weight.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I tried so hard not to feel the way I felt. I know you never felt the same about me.”

Just like that, all of the pieces clicked into place. Every blank expression at every stupid joke or offhanded comment you’d made about your inevitable divorce; every flash of doubt, of disappointment in his eyes when you brought up that it was only a fake marriage; the way he’d answered Shoko, as if it hurt him to say the words; the fury he’d felt toward his parents; even the way he’d detached himself from you when your kisses had been too heated. He’d been afraid.

You began to shake your head.

Shoko thought he was making a mistake because she thought you didn’t love him. 

Because Satoru thought you didn’t love him.

He hadn’t stopped talking while your world crumbled around you.

“I thought that this was it, my chance for a little piece of all my dreams. I thought that I could have you by my side, just for a little while, that I could kiss you just once, and that it could carry me through the rest of my life.”

Your mind was spinning in a thousand directions, including a hysterical amusement. “You kissed me a lot more than once,” you whispered, a near-automated response borne of your shared sense of humor. 

Satoru let out a strangled noise. “I was selfish.” You opened your mouth to protest, to deny it, to say that you didn’t mean it like that- to tell him you loved him. But he barreled on, voice strained. 

“When you said you’d had a crush on me all those years ago, I thought ‘what if I could make her fall in love with me?’ I thought ‘this could be the rest of my life.’ And then you kissed me in the gym, and I knew that I had to try something, anything, everything. I knew that I…” He sucked in a deep breath and let out a breathless, awful, self-loathing laugh. “I thought that I couldn’t survive on just one kiss.”

He hung his head, burying his face in his hands. “Shoko knew the moment that she saw us together that I’d never told you how I felt. She figured it out so fast, I didn’t even get a chance to deny it.”

You’d unconsciously moved closer as he’d spoken. You threaded your fingers lightly through his hair and the air went out of him. He folded forward, hands coming to rest on either side of your feet.

“Please, baby, please forgive me. Shoko was right, it was unfair. It was so unfair to you. I’m so sorry.”

You tilted his head back to look up at you. He let you do it with a sharp intake of breath, gazing up at you with so much feeling that it nearly swept you off your feet.

“Please, sweetheart, say something. Anything,” he pleaded. He’d leaned forward to wrap his hands around the backs of your knees, drawing you closer to him. “Please.”

You had never in your life, ever heard Satoru beg for anything. Your heart galloped in your chest. 

“You weren’t unfair,” you whispered. You opened your mouth to say more, but he was already stuttering out more apologies as if you hadn’t spoken. If he was experiencing anything like the roaring in your ears, he probably hadn’t heard you.

“Please, please, forgive me. I’ll do anything. We can get an annulment tomorrow if you want, to hell with my parents. Just please, let me make it right. I’ll never say another word about this, not one.” He pressed his face further into your thighs, murmuring against the fabric. “I can’t be without you. I would die without you.”

Everything in your chest constricted violently. 

Of course, Satoru had a penchant for wild dramatics, making insane exaggerations out of anything and everything. A papercut was a mortal wound, a stubbed toe a shattered leg; a few degrees too warm and it was the seventh circle of hell, a few degrees too cool and it was the ninth; a runny nose might as well be a terminal illness, and boredom was just as serious.

This was not one of those exaggerations.

You didn’t want to think about a life without him, couldn’t dream of it, not even in your worst nightmares. Separating the two of you from each other was impossible, in any circumstance, in any world.

You knelt down, slotting your legs with Satoru’s, and tugged him forward by his hair. Your breaths mingled in the infinite, infinitesimal space between you, before you kissed him. The groan he let out was that of a wounded animal- pleading, haunted, and full of despair- as his hands rose to your cheeks. You could feel his restraint in the way his hands held you from coming any closer, in the way he barely moved his slack mouth, letting you kiss him. 

“Please,” he whispered again, and you could hear his heart breaking on the word. “Please don’t leave me. You can’t say goodbye to me. Not like this.”

“You idiot,” you whispered. Slowly, between kisses, you murmured, “Don’t you know I’ve been in love with you since the day we met?” Against all odds, Satoru pulled back from you, holding your face away from his between shaking hands. 

“Say it again,” he whispered, voice shot. 

“I’ve been in love with you-” And then, he’s kissing you, and there’s nothing restrained about it, and you realize just how much he must have been holding back when he’d kissed you before.

This isn’t his stunned inaction from the kiss in the gym; not the gentle exploration of your practice kissing, where it should have been obvious that he meant to memorize the way it felt; not the giddy, showy kiss from the altar and certainly not the chaste, PG kisses you’d shared throughout the reception. 

No. This kiss was all-consuming, desperate. Like Satoru meant to devour you, and maybe he did. He lapped at the inside of your lips, moaning softly. His long fingers roved over your body, pulling you closer until you gasped, and even that seemed to be not enough. 

He let out an impatient noise, low in the back of his throat, before dragging you forward and up in one fluid motion. His hands gripped you with near-bruising force, pulling you by your knees to wrap your legs around him, and then your back hit the cool glass wall of your penthouse with a dull thud.

You half gasped, half giggled through Satoru’s apologies, muffled by the incessant slide of his lips on yours. His lean, hard body pressed fully along yours, moving against you almost of its own accord. You could feel the thundering of his heart against your chest. With his hips pinning yours to the wall, he lifted one hand from its place at your waist to grip the back of your neck. 

Your hands finally, after all of the shock and movement of what was probably only the last 20 or so seconds, landed in his hair to tangle in the snowy strands. Satoru keened into your mouth, pressing even harder against you, a vibrating mass of wiry muscle and lanky elegance. You dropped one hand to squeeze at his bicep and wondered how you had ever ignored how hot your best friend was. 

The hand on the back of your neck tightened, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, allowing Satoru to stroke your tongue with his, gentle and searching and urgent all at once. The hand at your waist pulled you relentlessly forward, molding your bodies together, and you squeezed your legs to keep his hips locked against yours.

Satoru was murmuring against your lips, against the sensitive skin of your throat, against the shell of your ear, hot breath lighting your skin on fire where it touched. You caught only snatches of what he was saying, a litany of praise and pleading.

“I love you, I love you, I want you, I need you, stay with me, don’t leave me, let me please you, my wife, my wife, my perfect wife.”

Your head thumped against the wall as you tilted it back, granting him access to leave a trail of sloppy kisses from your mouth to your ear, down your throat to your collarbone, across the sheer material of your wedding gown to bite softly at your shoulder.

“Marry me,” he groaned.

You couldn’t help the airy giggle that bubbled up. “I already did.”

“Marry me for real,” he whined, breathless.

“Yes. Of course, yes.” “Yes,” he hissed, finally shifting away from your poor living room wall with you in his arms. He stumbled down the hallway, drunk on you, toward your marital bedroom, unable to stop kissing you. “I’ve been in love with you for so long that I don’t even know who I am without loving you. If I’m even a person without loving you.”

“I was so afraid that you didn’t love me the way I loved you that I spent years trying to convince myself that I didn’t love you, but I never could,” you confessed, words rushing out, and Satoru let out a sob against your throat.

“I could never not love you,” he groaned. “Never in a million years, not in any life. I have wanted you…”

He bit the sentence off, stumbling as his knees hit the bed. He lowered you reverently to the plush duvet with an arm braced above your head, kisses slowing and softening as he stroked your cheek. “I’ve always wanted to marry you,” he murmured. “I’ve wanted you for so…” He trailed off, trembling as your hands slid up beneath his shirt to trace the lithe muscles of his back, and nuzzled behind your ear. He moaned brokenly. “Tell me if I’m moving too fast,” he whispered. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

You traced your hands down his sides, revelling as he panted in your ear. You raised your knees to stroke his thighs, his hips, before wrapping your legs slowly, deliberately around his slim waist, locking your heels at the small of his back. He took a great, shuddering breath, instinctively bending toward you when you raised your hands to shuck off his tuxedo jacket. Your fingers danced up to unbutton his vest before moving to his shirt, torturously slowly. You forced yourself to take your time, forced yourself not to yank and hope that the buttons would fly off like in some cheesy rom-com.

By the time you finished, you almost worried that Satoru would shake apart above you. He looked absolutely ruined; jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut, a euphoric pain painted across every feature. You let your eyes rove his beautiful body, tracing scars with sight and touch alike until you reached the waistband of his trousers. All of the breath went out of him in a loud whoosh, and he dropped the hand stroking your face to the mattress to stop himself from crushing you. His eyes snapped open, a brilliant, dark turquoise nearly eclipsed by shimmering black. His mouth hung open, lust and love and disbelief warring as he frantically searched your face.

You crooked a tiny smile at him, and then leaned up until your lips brushed his. “I don’t want to stop.” He whined, surging forward to kiss you, grinding his hips down to yours with delicious pressure. “I think… we’ve waited… long enough,” you panted between kisses.

Oftentimes, Satoru couldn’t shut up. You’d been friends for so long that his incessant chatter ceased to phase you in the slightest. But you’d never heard him talk so much.

Any time his smart mouth wasn’t occupied with you, it was running. He alternated between babbling praise and incoherent adoration and begging you, though for what, you couldn’t be sure, since he was, by his own distraught admissions, getting everything he’d ever wanted, dreamed of, hoped for, waited for. He couldn’t seem to stop, and it stoked your ego in ways you’d never known you’d wanted, never imagined could turn you on so much.

And despite his obvious anguish, despite the delicious agony it took to exert his control, despite fifteen or more years of never daring to hope, or perhaps because of that, he put you first just like he always did, following only once he was satisfied that you had been, too.

——————————————————————

It hadn’t been the wedding night you’d expected- as far from traditional as it was from the plan- but you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, no matter how it had come about. 

In the watery sunlight, you rolled to face your husband. Husband. He loosened his grip to let you, hand coming to rest on your bare hip as you settled to face him. His eyes bored into yours, sharp and bright as a storm.

“Hey,” you whispered.

“Hey,” he replied, and the low rumble of his voice sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine and straight between your aching thighs.

You reached up, carding your hands through his hair, and marvelled at the way his eyes fluttered closed. He was like putty beneath your touch. He turned to kiss your palm, drawing your hand down to cover his heart. He stared at you intensely.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming,” he murmured.

You raised one eyebrow in amusement. “That’d be some dream.”

“Best dream of my life.” He pulled you flush against him, pressing his lips to yours and sliding his tongue across your teeth, morning breath be damned. “Be better if it never ended.” He kissed from the corner of your mouth across your jaw, to that sensitive spot behind your ear. “Be best if it wasn’t a dream at all.”

You gripped his neck, pulling him closer, drowning in him. “It’s not a dream,” you whispered.

“Thank goodness,” he groaned. He rolled over to pin you to the bed, hands coming up to lace his fingers with yours. “I am so in love with you.” He traced your rings with one finger, lips spreading in a sleepy, adoring smile. “My beautiful wife.”

You giggled, face splitting in an uncontrollable smile, and leaned up to kiss him. “And I am so in love with you.” Another kiss as you stroked his ring in return. “My handsome husband.” And if the curve of his lips against your jaw and the movement of his body against yours was anything to go by, you were about to be shown how in love with you he was all over again.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

[no-144444]

famous or not- c.sainz

summary: everything falls apart?

pairing: carlos sainz x fem! actor! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

It wasn’t the plan for everything to fall apart, but that’s just kind of what happened… 

For the first few months, everything between you two had been great. Carlos adored you, treated you like a princess, and you did the same to him. Your relationship was full of romantic dates, cozy nights in, and various trips to races to support. 

Then, he stopped returning your calls, stopped answering your messages, and really only came to you for one thing. He was stressed, you knew it. The new season had just started and he’d been struggling to out-pace Alex, let alone get in the points. You gave him grace. You gave him time. 

That was until Miami. He’d gotten in the points. He’d out-performed Alex. He’d done it. So you went out. And half way through the night you lost him, and just stayed with the other girls instead. When you woke up, you were not expecting to see photos of your boyfriend tonguing another girl. You called him, you texted him, you did everything. 

Still, no response. 

You didn’t go to the next 3 races. You left him alone, assuming you both knew you two weren’t together anymore (especially considering the fact that you explicitly told him you two were done), and you moved on with your life. Did it hurt? Yes. Were you going to let the world know that? No. 

It all kicked up again after a damn interview on the red carpet of your new film. 

“What about your alleged boyfriend Carlos Sainz? Is he here tonight?” 

You laughed. “Oh him? We were just fucking, nothing too interesting there.” 

It was meant to be a throw-away comment. He wasn’t even meant to care. 

But then he was standing in your hallway with a hardened look on his face, and you gulped. 

“Hi,” you smiled politely. “Nice to see you again.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a premiere,” he said, his voice low, warning. 

“We’re not together,” you shrugged, putting your coat away. “I didn’t think you’d need to know.”

He scoffed. “Who says we’re not together?”

“Me,” you answered plainly. 

“You don’t just get to-”

“Oh, I do though. You didn’t respond to me for weeks, Carlos. There’s photos of you kissing other girls, and guess what, I’m not just going to be your girlfriend for the weekends and let you off because you’re an F1 driver,” you scoffed. “You can go now. We’re done.” 

“Baby, what? They don’t matter, and even if they did, I only want you. Sometimes… things happen, and we don’t mean them to,” he shrugged, trying to get closer to you, but you just walked further into your home. 

“I’m not one of the girls that let those things ‘just happen’, Carlos. If you’re with me, you’re with me. Not some random groupie, not some girl you’ve just met, me. Now, please leave.”

He grabbed your arm. “Come on, you enjoyed being my WAG so much-”

“If you’re only doing this to get Williams more popularity, I suggest you fuck off,” You cursed, grabbing your arm out of his hand.

“You’re not famous enough for that anyway,” he mumbled. 

“Oh! So now I’m not famous enough for you? Pick one, you dick,” you laughed, your blood boiling as he continued insulting you. 

“Cariño, calm down,” he said, and there was silence. Mostly because your jaw was dropped at his fucking audacity. “You must admit, I did have a hand in making you more… popular.” 

You laughed in his face. Angrily and loud. “Go fuck yourself! Oh my god, the sun actually doesn’t shine out of your arsehole, though I know James has made you believe that! I am far more famous than you are, because you’ll always just be the guy that Lewis Hamilton replaced.”

You were both quiet. You’d hit a nerve. 

“Well that’s…” he trailed off. “I’ll see myself out.”

And that was that. He never bothered you again. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

williams & merc masterlist (omfg it's so weird to write that ew)

navigation for my blog :)

[couch-potato28]

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽

VERSION I.

(a/n: Hey everybody, back with the continuation! 🙋‍♀️ as you can see from the title this is only the first version of my bllk manager 'story' meaning there's more to come ^^ The current plan is to write with multiple players a similar episode like the one below. So I hope you enjoy it!! ❤️)+if u see any grammatical errors let me know tyy

WARNING!-none

wc: 1.4 k words, so buckle up cause it's gonna be a looong ride again sry T_T

ALSO: requested tags ❤️-@ttheggrimrreaper @god-is-disappointed

——————

FROM THE PROLOGUE:

“Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number…

…1, Itoshi Rin.”

'Player number one, Itoshi Rin. Player number one, number one…number…'-the words rang in your head like a mantra as you tried to process the information over and over again.

“PLAYER NUMBER ONE?!”-you exclaimed once realisation hit you in the face. Perhaps, a little too loudly, earning yourself quite a few envious looks and surprised glances. Standing in the room for a few seconds, you didn’t move due to the shock of what just happened. You might have stayed like that forever, if one of the girls who were still waiting for their turn, hadn’t shouted at you.

“Yeah, we heard that the first time!”

Rude. You thought, before snapping back to reality and heading towards the door that had the ‘MANAGER’ label on in bold, black letters. Stepping into the room, to your surprise, was Anri waiting there, sitting at a desk with neatly arranged papers, folders, and all kinds of pens on it. Sensing your presence, she stood up, and when you got there, she extended her hand, saying “Congratulations” with a bright smile. You thanked her before she turned around, searching through a pile of booklets before stopping her finger on the with your name written on the cover.

“Here. It’s kind of like a little guide, it will be very helpful for adjusting to your player. This thing contains your new routine and some useful information as well.”-she said, handing it to you.-“Good luck and welcome to Blue Lock!”

She then directed you to Team A’s soccer field, where the boys were currently training. Walking your way there, you felt your hands starting to sweat, heart beating a little faster than normal, and the feeling of excitement from earlier coming back. After all…

Imagine being THE Itoshi Rin’s manager, who’s the best in Blue Lock with his jersey number confirming his position.

Itoshi Rin, with whom your first meeting couldn’t have gone worse. Who, after only 5 minutes, tells you with a straight face that:

“I don’t need a manager.”

Leaving you stunned at his plain attitude and bluntness. Seeing as you stare at him, without another word, he turns around and starts to walk away, which causes you to panic. Not knowing what to do in this case, you call out his name multiple times, hoping he stops. That doesn’t seem to work, so you decide to shout at him the first thing that comes to your mind.

“ARE YOU ITOSHI SAE’S BROTHER?”

The moment those words slipped out of your mouth an incredibly awkward silence fell over the room. Oh. My. God. This was probably the dumbest thing you could have said, but in your defense, it did make the boy stop in his tracks.

Catching up to him, you apologized, saying this was just a slip of the tongue. Rin looked unfazed, but the way his body tensed up told you that you probably touched a sensitive topic there. Before you could open your mouth again, he sighed and gave you a nasty stare, walking past your figure without sparing a second glance.

Great first impression.

——————

•Rin, who after that incident starts ignoring your presence. Whenever you hand him a water bottle or try to strike up a conversation, the only thing you get back is an uninterested look. Your apology the day before was also left on heard.

•Learning it through the hard way, but working with him meant keeping his brother’s business or any news or posts related to him out of your mouth. Even mentioning the famous footballer's name was forbidden territory, and although you never questioned his strange behaviour towards the older one, you do wonder what happened between them.

•Rin, who has a particularly strict routine that he follows without a break, doesn't expect you to be near him, but when the opposite happens with you sticking around, like an annoying fly 24/7, he wishes to find a way to somehow get rid of you.

•He doesn't know that you work your butt off, spending your free time watching every single match he has previously played in as well as analysing and taking notes of his every move. From waking up earlier than the player himself to prepare his yoga mattress and drinks for the morning to staying up until midnight to help him collect the footballs he shoots for late-night practices and cleaning up as soon as he finishes.

•However, it takes weeks until he finally talks to you, his first words being "Move over!" because you were standing in front of the weights he was gonna use. Over time though, even if it's just a short yes or no, a huff or an ugly look, but he starts to answer the many questions you ask every day out of concern or curiosity.

•Rin, who’s stoic and not a man of many words, silently starts to appreciate the way you have his daily routine and training engraved in your mind. You, who's always within arm’s length making sure he doesn’t overwork himself to death or forget his meals. You, who never knows when to shut up, sticking to his ass all day to confirm he’s alive and well, complaining or scolding him for being rude and unfriendly to his teammates, and showering him in compliments from time to time like:

•“You were amazing on the field earlier!” or “I’m jealous of your eyelashes!” and then there’s his favorite line that goes -“Isagi looked soooo shocked at your goal!” (it’s not a compliment, he thinks it is)

——————

•After weeks of working together, you’ve mastered the art of reading his microscopic facial expressions to know what he wants or thinks without him having to tell you directly. You’re busy, work schedule being fully packed, but still making time to accompany him in the evenings to rewatch and analyse his games before bed.

•However, sometimes too tired to stare at the screen, you end up falling asleep on his shoulder, making him complain to you the next day to quit drooling on his uniform and get a grip. He doesn’t want you to 'slack off' he says, but ultimately the underlying message is to take care of yourself.

•Rin, who works ten times harder during the preparation for the U20 match, training to face his brother on the field and making you constantly remind him to: “Get some rest” or “Relax, otherwise you will get injured before the real match!”-your words being ignored as usual.

———————

AFTER THE U20 MATCH…

•Rin’s popularity skyrockets following the victory of Blue Lock, yet he always manages to respond in a raw, unfiltered way at press conferences and interviews, that leave many reporters and paparazzi speechless.

•His newfound fans, on the other hand, adore his cold demeanor, and the comment sections are each time filled with either compliments about his plays or looks and never the ridiculously simple answers he gives to the media.

•Joining the team of PXG also makes the teal-eyed boy change in many ways, but surprisingly his attitude towards you somehow remains the same.

•Rin got 'new' teammates, a new coach/mentor, and new training routines. Everything is new. Better. Yet, he’s somewhat relieved that you're still his manager. The one who’s not afraid to call him out or nag at him. Knowing when to leave him alone at times. Letting him focus on his goals without getting in his way. Keeping him away from Shidou Ryusei outside the field as much as possible. Shoving down his throat the meals made according to his diet and making sure he sleeps exactly 7.5 hours.

•He hates to admit it, but you’re perfect…for being his manager of course. The only problem he finds is the way you make his heart move a little when you come to his games, supporting him with his jersey on, proudly wearing the name Itoshi Rin and number 10 across your back.

•Heck, these days he also can’t seem ignore the way you stare at him for an unnecessary amount of time during his warm ups and stretches, the slight shade of pink covering your cheeks every time he runs to you after a match, covered in sweat asking for some water and his towel.

•He notices your flustered state when he bends down a little to hear you better, or the way he sits just a tad bit closer to you during your French tutoring. It’s distracting. Not only to you, but to him as well. Yet, he doesn’t mind it nor does he do anything about it.

•Maybe in a few years, he thinks, if you'll still have some affection left for him, he could allow something other than just a strict, professional relationship between to two of you.

•However, currently, there’s no place on his priority list for you since football is his number one goal after all. He knows you understand that, that’s what he loves about you. Besides, you’re going to stay by his side for a long time, so what’s there to rush?

———————

(Gosh, my eyes gave up after rereading this for the third time 😭 hope you guys enjoyed it, let me know if u think this was a little too long and tyyy for the support ❤️ (★‿★)

[wilted-society]

nervous

pairing: hamzahthefantastic x reader

warnings: anxiety, mentions of alcohol

synopsis: reader goes to a party only to see hamzah, but she's too nervous to even do anything at all. so she just admires from afar, but what happens when hamzah takes notice of her?

a/n: i had the biggest urge to write this fic when i listened to nervous by the neighbourhood.

parties weren’t really her thing—especially house parties. the music was always too loud, the crowd too chaotic, and the vibes too much for her quiet nature. but mandy, her best friend, had begged her to come to the party her boyfriend was throwing.

"come on," mandy had said earlier, practically bouncing as she raided her closet for something to wear. "martin promised it wouldn’t be a complete rager. besides, you can’t spend another saturday night cooped up in your room. it’s just one night. please?"

against her better judgment, she caved, figuring a couple of hours wouldn’t hurt. what she hadn’t counted on was seeing him there. hamzah.

so there she was, in martin's kitchen, holding a red cup filled with the sweetest, most non-alcoholic drink available.

mandy had already disappeared into the crowd, probably off to find martin or drag her into some social circle. she leaned against the counter, the bass of the music pulsing through the walls, trying not to feel too out of place. the noise didn't help, but it was easier to keep her thoughts to herself in the middle of it all.

she was doing well, just standing there, when her eyes accidentally landed on him—hamzah. he was standing at the far side of the room, chatting with some friends, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he talked.

it wasn't that she was staring, but there he was, effortlessly being... well, hamzah—loud enough to fill the space but calm enough to stand out.

a small shift of movement caught her attention. he turned toward her. just a glance, a flicker, and then back to his conversation. she quickly focused on the bottom of her cup, feeling the faint heat on her cheeks. she couldn’t tell if it meant anything or if she had just been imagining the whole thing.

"heyy! there she is!" there came martin, with spiderman-themed paint on his face, seemingly drunk as he stumbled through the crowd towards her in the kitchen. she snorts, amused.

"nice look you got," she teased, struggling to keep her tone casual as he reached her, leaning a little too heavily against the counter for balance.

"what can i say," he grinned, swaying slightly, "spidey’s gotta blend in with the party crowd."

she rolled her eyes, amused despite herself. his antics were ridiculous, but he had that kind of charm, the type that was impossible to resist—even for her, who usually preferred to avoid attention.

martin, ever oblivious to her discomfort, gave her a nudge. "come on, loosen up! enjoy the party, yeah? no one’s gonna bite."

she smiled faintly, unsure how to respond. as martin launched into a story about his disastrous attempt to climb a tree earlier that afternoon, her attention—despite herself—shifted back to the living room, just in time to catch hamzah looking in her direction again.

"yeah, you're drunk as hell. where's mandy?" she shot back with a smirk, raising an eyebrow as martin almost tipped over his own feet. "where’s mandy?"

he waved a hand dismissively, clearly more interested in keeping his balance than answering her. "she’s around here somewhere, probably causing chaos." he let out a low chuckle, clearly amused by whatever image that brought to his mind.

her eyes wandered across the room, scanning for mandy, but her focus kept drifting back to the spot where hamzah had been standing.

"hey," martin nudged her with his elbow, pulling her attention away, "you should really talk to him, y'know."

"talk to who?" she asked without thinking, her gaze darting once more toward the guy she hadn’t meant to be staring at.

martin gave her an almost smug look. "don’t even try to play it cool. you’ve been looking at him all night."

her cheeks flushed, and she quickly took a sip of her drink to cover it. "shut up, martin." to which martin snickered.

"i'm just sayin', there's no harm in shooting your shot, giiiiirlll," martin added with a dramatic flourish, leaning in too close and wiggling his eyebrows like he was some expert in romance.

she scoffed, trying not to laugh despite the awkwardness of the whole situation. "yeah, because that's exactly what i'm gonna do. just march right up and-what? start a conversation?"

“why not?” he shrugged, still grinning like an idiot. “he already looked at you like three times. you're practically halfway there.”

her eyes flicked back to hamzah for just a moment, but when she saw him talking to someone again, she quickly looked away, trying to hide her nervousness behind the rim of her cup.

"you're delusional," she muttered, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

shortly after, mandy found her way to martin, dragging him away by his shoulder with a mock-serious expression. “come on, you’re making a scene.”

“hey! i’m just giving her life advice!” he protested, stumbling forward. mandy shot the reader a wink before hauling him off into the crowd.

left in the quiet of the kitchen, she found herself standing there, cup in hand, staring at the half-empty drink like it was the most interesting thing in the room.

and then, as if the universe had a twisted sense of humor, there he was—hamzah.

he leaned against the kitchen doorway, looking at her with that same relaxed demeanor she had noticed from across the room earlier. his gaze lingered just a little too long, but not in a way that made her feel uncomfortable—more like he was waiting for her to acknowledge him.

for a moment, she considered bolting. her hands felt suddenly too clammy, and she couldn't quite remember how to form words.

but before she could get lost in the panicking whirlwind in her head, he smiled—genuine and easy—like it wasn’t the most unexpected thing in the world. “hey.”

she smiles back, "hey."

there was a brief pause, a silence thick with her racing thoughts. her heart was pounding in her ears, but she forced herself to breathe, to stay grounded.

hamzah glanced down at the cup in her hands, then back at her with an eyebrow raised. "nice drink," he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

“it’s... the safest option," she replied with a laugh, hoping it sounded more casual than she felt.

he chuckled, his gaze still soft but now fixed on her in a way that made her feel like he genuinely wanted to keep talking. “looks like we’re both playing it safe, then."

she chuckled softly, her grip on the cup tightening as if it might give her the courage she was desperately trying to summon. “yeah, guess so,” she replied, her voice barely above the noise of the party. “could say it’s a safe night for me.”

hamzah's smile deepened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “same here, honestly. this place is... well, a lot." he gestured vaguely at the chaotic scene unfolding behind her.

she nodded in agreement, her gaze flicking to the crowd briefly. “definitely not my scene.”

“no offense," he said, then hesitated, "but you don't exactly seem like you’re enjoying it."

the way he said it wasn’t critical, just curious, as if he could see right through her. for a second, she couldn’t help but wonder how much he actually noticed.

“you’ve got me figured out,” she replied, trying to match his easy tone, but her heart was still hammering.

he shrugged lightly, stepping a little closer as if he was more at home in the quiet of the kitchen than the chaos of the living room. “not hard to figure out. but if you want... we can escape this madness for a minute.”

the offer was casual enough, but her stomach did a flip anyway. escaping with him seemed both incredibly tempting and terrifying at the same time.

“escape, huh?” she said, looking up at him, not sure if she meant it seriously.

"yeah. might be nice to... i don’t know. just, talk. somewhere less noisy." he shifted his weight, clearly waiting for her to either back out or agree.

she paused, clearly thinking. she opens her mouth to say, "yeah, i think my eardrums need a break."

hamzah smiled, a knowing look passing between them as if they were both relieved at the escape from the noise. “perfect,” he said, stepping to the side. “follow me.”

they moved quietly through the party, slipping through the crowd without much attention. the moment they stepped out the back door that led out to the balcony, the atmosphere seemed to shift. it was just them now, and the distant thumping of the music was muffled in the background.

she took a deep breath, feeling the cool air calm her nerves. "thanks," she said, her voice sounding more genuine than she expected. "this is... way better." she breathes out, eyes wandering over canada's city lights.

hamzah leaned back against the railing, crossing his arms, giving her a casual yet thoughtful look. “anytime. you can’t have a good time if you can’t hear yourself think, right?”

she laughed lightly, the sound more relaxed now. “exactly. though, i’m sure it’s more fun for people who... enjoy loud music and crowded rooms.”

he gave a small shrug. “not everyone’s thing, but that’s the fun of it. you get to find your own space.”

she caught the shift in his tone—a little more thoughtful than before—but she didn’t mind. It felt good to be outside of the noise, and even better to be standing here with him.

hamzah leaned against the porch railing, the soft glow of the outdoor lights casting shadows over his face. “so,” he started, glancing at her, “you’re mandy’s friend, right?”

she nodded, suppressing a nervous smile. “and you’re martin’s.”

“guilty.” his lips curled into a half-smile. “guess we’ve been orbiting each other for a while, huh?"

“something like that.” she looked down at her cup, chuckling lightly. “funny how we’ve never really... talked. properly, i mean.”

“i know, right?” he said, sounding genuinely amused. “kind of weird, considering how often those two throw us into the same space.”

“very weird,” she agreed, daring to look up at him. “though, you’ve always seemed... busy.”

“busy?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, his smile widening.

“yeah,” she said, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal. “always in a corner laughing with your friends, or... i don’t know, just existing really loudly.”

hamzah burst out laughing at that, the sound warm and genuine. “existing loudly, huh? i think that’s a new one for me.”

she shrugged, her own smile growing. “it’s not a bad thing.”

“good to know.” his expression softened then, his eyes lingering on her a moment longer than she expected. “but... i feel like i should apologize. if i’ve been ‘too busy,’ that is.”

“apologize?” she asked, blinking in surprise.

he nodded. “yeah. i guess i never really tried to talk to you, either. figured you weren’t exactly... interested.”

his honesty caught her off guard. “interested in what?”

“you know.” he gestured vaguely between them. “this. talking. i mean, you’re always kind of...” he trailed off, searching for the word. “quiet.”

she tilted her head, fighting back a laugh. “and you’re... not.”

“touché,” he said with a grin. “but hey, better late than never, right?”

“yeah.” she felt her nerves ease, the tension between them melting away. “better late than never.”

she paused, studying him for a moment. “you know, mandy always said you were loud, but i didn’t think she meant it literally.”

hamzah chuckled, a warm, easy sound. “hey, loud people make life interesting, don’t we?”

“that’s one way to look at it,” she said, unable to stop the small smile forming on her lips.

there was a brief silence, not awkward but just enough to remind her of the cool breeze brushing past her skin. she fidgeted with her cup, unsure where to go from here. talking to hamzah felt... natural, but at the same time, it wasn’t something she’d prepared for.

he noticed her quiet, tilting his head slightly. “you good? i didn’t scare you off with all this loudness, did i?”

she snorted softly. “not yet.”

“good,” he said, grinning. “because if i’m being honest, this is kind of nice.”

she looked at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “what is?”

“this,” he said, motioning vaguely between them. “you and me, actually talking. not just, like, awkward ‘hi’ or ‘bye’ moments when our best friends drag us into the same room.”

she laughed at that, shaking her head. “yeah, those moments are always... something.”

“but this?” he continued, leaning forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees. “this is better.”

she felt a flicker of something unfamiliar, a warmth rising in her chest. “i... guess it is."

the sound of muffled laughter and music seeped through the windows behind them, pulling her briefly back to reality. she could still hear mandy’s teasing voice in her head: “just say hi to him, what’s the worst that could happen?”

never in a million years did she think the "hi" would spiral into this—a quiet, private moment with him, away from the noise and chaos.

“so,” he said suddenly, snapping her attention back to him. “honest question: was this party worth showing up for?”

“hmm.” she pretended to think, letting the faintest smirk tug at her lips. “ask me again when the night’s over.”

“deal,” hamzah said, his grin widening.

they fell into a conversation, casual and easy, touching on everything and nothing at once. the nervousness she’d carried all evening seemed to fade with every passing minute. she didn’t know if it was the cool air, the calm of the backyard, or just the way hamzah spoke, but for the first time that night, she felt... okay.

better than okay.

[kathlare]

this love

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: As the group enjoys a private tour of the zoo, Pietra observes the undeniable chemistry between Lando and Amelie, which shifts Lando's usual confident demeanor into something softer and more vulnerable.

Wordcount: 1.2 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

February 14th, 2024 - Melbourne, Australia

It was a warm, sunny afternoon in Melbourne, and Pietra could feel the buzz of excitement in the air. Max, Lando, and herself were heading toward the zoo where Amelie, Lando’s girlfriend, was spending time with her sister, Elysia, and the rest of her team before the big night. Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour was in full swing, and Amelie had been opening for her, which meant the energy was high.

Despite having been in Amelie’s orbit for some time now, Pietra was nervous. This was the first time she was meeting her in person, and she had heard so many things about her. Not just from Lando, but from Max too. Max had warned her—half-joking, half-serious—that she was about to witness firsthand how "touchy and horny" Lando became around Amelie. Pietra had laughed, but now, as they drove toward the zoo, she was beginning to understand the weight of his words.

Lando, sitting next to her in the back seat, was checking himself in the rearview mirror for what felt like the fiftieth time. He ran a hand through his messy hair, adjusting his shirt, then checked his phone—Amelie had texted him a few minutes ago to confirm they were on their way. Lando’s heart seemed to skip a beat at the mention of her name. Pietra watched him for a moment, a small smile tugging at her lips. He was definitely a little bit smitten.

As the car hummed along the streets of Melbourne, Pietra tried to hide her curiosity. She was still processing everything Max had said about Amelie and Lando’s relationship. She had heard snippets of their past—how they were once friends who casually dated before drifting apart, only to rekindle things in 2023 at the Mexican Grand Prix. They had such an intense connection, one that Pietra could tell was undeniable, even if Lando never fully admitted it.

Max, sensing Pietra’s growing curiosity, shot her a teasing glance. —I’m telling you, you’ll get it once you see them together. It’s like… pure chaos. But it’s sweet chaos.—

Pietra raised an eyebrow, still not entirely convinced. —Is he really that bad?—

Max let out a chuckle. —Oh, he’s a simp. Straight-up. But don’t tell him I said that. He’ll never live it down.—

Pietra tried to hold back a laugh as she glanced at Lando again. He was still adjusting his shirt, seemingly unaware of the tension he was creating in the back seat. His nervous energy was palpable. —You look fine, Lan,— Pietra said, half-teasing but also trying to reassure him.

Lando’s eyes darted to her in the mirror, a nervous smile creeping onto his face. —You think so?— He ran a hand through his hair again, clearly trying to look effortlessly cool, but Pietra could see through it. It was all for Amelie.

Max, who had been listening to their exchange, smirked. —Pietra, trust me, once we’re at the zoo, you’ll see what I mean. Lando can’t help himself around Ames. She’s his kryptonite.—

Finally, the car pulled up to the zoo. The private event felt surreal to Pietra—everything had been arranged just for them. A private tour of the zoo, with Amelie and her team. As Pietra stepped out of the car, her eyes widened at the sight of the exotic animals, but her mind was focused on the real reason she was there: meeting Amelie.

Max nudged Pietra as they walked toward the group. —There she is.— He gestured toward a small cluster of people ahead. Amelie was standing with her sister Elysia, laughing at something Alex had just said. Her hair cascaded in soft waves around her shoulders, and her radiant smile lit up the area. She had a natural beauty that almost took Pietra’s breath away.

Pietra couldn’t help but feel a little starstruck. She knew Amelie’s reputation and had seen her perform countless times on social media, but now, standing in front of her, it was something entirely different. Amelie was even more stunning in person. As if sensing her approach, Amelie looked up, and her eyes locked onto Lando. The soft smile on her face grew, and Pietra noticed how Lando’s whole demeanor changed the moment he saw her. It was like he became a completely different person—softer, more open, and undeniably smitten.

Pietra watched, her heart doing a strange little flip as Lando practically lit up when he saw Amelie. His nervousness melted away, and a huge smile spread across his face. It wasn’t a casual smile either—it was the kind of smile someone wore when they were completely at ease and utterly happy.

Amelie was wearing a simple yet effortlessly chic outfit, a loose white blouse paired with a pair of faded denim skirt and sneakers. She had an air of comfort, as if she were entirely at home in the world, and it made her even more magnetic. The way she greeted Lando with open arms, almost as if she was waiting for this very moment, made Pietra’s stomach flutter in a way she wasn’t expecting.

—Lan!— Amelie’s voice rang out, her accent thick but warm. She practically bounced over to him, her arms wrapping around him in a tight hug. Pietra couldn’t help but notice how Lando immediately pulled her in, his hands lingering on the small of her back as if he couldn’t bear to let go. The connection between them was undeniable.

—Hey, Ames.— Lando’s voice was soft and affectionate, the way he said her name sending a slight shiver down Pietra’s spine.

Pietra blinked, trying not to feel too out of place, though she was admittedly a little overwhelmed. Max had said it, and now she could see it for herself—Lando was completely and utterly wrapped up in Amelie.

After a brief moment of holding onto each other, Amelie pulled back, but only slightly. She looked up at him with those big, blue eyes, and Pietra swore she could see the unspoken words floating between them. They didn’t need to say it, but it was clear they were so far past just being friends. There was something deeper, something raw, underneath all their easy banter and flirtation.

Then, Amelie’s eyes shifted toward Pietra, and she smiled warmly.

—You must be Pietra!— she said, her voice laced with excitement. —I’ve heard so much about you.—

Pietra was caught off guard. She had known Max spoke about her a lot, but hearing Amelie confirm it made her feel a little shy. She smiled, her cheeks flushing slightly.

—Hi, Amelie, it’s so nice to finally meet you in person!— Pietra said, extending her hand. She was trying to keep it cool, but she could feel her nerves rising as Amelie’s warm smile remained steady.

Amelie took her hand, giving it a firm yet friendly shake. —It’s great to finally meet you too! I’ve heard so many stories from Lando and Max. I feel like I already know you!—

Pietra laughed nervously. —I hope they’re all good things!—

—Oh, mostly!— Amelie teased with a wink.

Max, standing nearby, nudged Pietra with his elbow, a knowing smirk on his face. —Told you, didn’t I?— he whispered.

Pietra rolled her eyes playfully, trying to hide the flutter of embarrassment in her chest. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it was certainly a little overwhelming to see how comfortable Amelie and Lando were around each other. Still, Pietra was happy to see them both so happy, and she couldn’t deny how easygoing Amelie seemed.

As the group continued to mingle, Pietra found herself drawn to Amelie’s presence. It wasn’t just her beauty—it was her confidence, the way she moved and spoke with an ease that made it obvious she was used to being in the spotlight, yet somehow, she made everyone around her feel at ease. Pietra couldn’t help but compare her to what she had imagined in her head after hearing all of Max’s stories. Amelie was definitely more grounded than the glitzy, Hollywood image Pietra had expected. She felt a little silly for being so nervous.

After a few minutes of chatting, the group began the private tour of the zoo. They were guided through the paths, the animals roaming freely in the carefully crafted enclosures. Pietra, still trying to get used to everything, took in the vibrant surroundings while trying to keep up with the rest of the group.

As they strolled through the zoo, Pietra marveled at the unusual creatures. But she couldn’t fully concentrate on the animals, not with the electricity in the air between Amelie and Lando. It was palpable, like an invisible string pulling them together, no matter where they were. Pietra found herself constantly catching glimpses of the way Lando’s gaze softened when he looked at Amelie, or how Amelie’s smile seemed to shine even brighter when she caught his eye.

They paused by the giraffes, their long necks reaching for the treetops. Max, ever the joker, leaned over to Pietra and whispered, —Look at him. That’s how he’s been since he knows her. Completely mesmerized by her.—

Pietra couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Lando standing just a little bit too close to Amelie, his hand brushing the small of her back as they both laughed at something Alex had said. They weren’t even trying to hide it anymore. Lando was openly fawning over her, his usual cocky demeanor replaced with a soft vulnerability that only Amelie seemed to draw out of him.

As they moved to the next exhibit, a playful group of kangaroos hopping around, Lando fell back a bit, walking next to Pietra.

—So, what do you think?— Lando asked, his voice lowering just enough that only Pietra could hear him.

Pietra hesitated for a moment. —I didn’t expect this... but it’s great. You two seem... really comfortable together.—

Pietra glanced over at Lando, still a little taken aback by the dynamic between him and Amelie. She could see it now—the effortless way they interacted, as if they had been in their own little world for years. There was an undeniable chemistry between them, and it was impossible to ignore.

—You’re… something else,— Pietra replied, her voice tinged with awe. —I can see what Max meant. You’re totally wrapped around her finger, huh?—

Lando grinned, but there was a certain tenderness in his smile as he shifted his attention back to Amelie. —I’m not complaining,— he said softly. —She’s… well, she’s Amelie. She’s got that effect on me. Always has, probably always will.—

Pietra couldn’t help but chuckle, though she also understood the sincerity behind his words. There was something about the way Lando spoke about Amelie that made it clear—this wasn’t just a fling. He was deeply invested in her, in a way she hadn’t seen him with anyone else.

—It’s cute, though,— Pietra teased, nudging him playfully. —You’re all soft when she’s around. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you like this before.—

Lando raised an eyebrow, looking both embarrassed and amused. —Shut up,— he muttered, but there was no hiding the grin that spread across his face. —You have no idea. You’re just getting started, Pietra. Wait until you see us when we’re really alone.—

Pietra smirked, her curiosity growing even more. —Oh, I’m sure I’ll have the pleasure of seeing that at some point.—

Lando gave her a mock glare, but there was no malice in it. It was the same playful banter they always had, though now with a touch more vulnerability that Pietra hadn’t expected.

Pietra watched, feeling a strange warmth in her chest as she saw the connection between them. It was clear that, despite all the time apart and all the ups and downs, they were completely in sync with each other. She could see it in every look they exchanged, in every little touch, and it made her smile. This was real, and it was undeniable.

[rileythelonelyalien]

What? don't you recognise me?

A/N: soooo Caleb's trailer recently came out and it been living in my brain ever since I'm actully so excited to see how the story will unfold with Caleb coming back! I was feeling a little inspired by the trailer so I wrote this short little fic just to scratch that Caleb itch in my brain lol I hope you enjoy it! Whilst the reader is meant to be MC i have kept the gender as vague as possible to make sure that anyone can enjoy this fic!

TW/CW: stalker vibes, yandere?

word count: 655

fic is under the cut :)

“Ah… I see you’ve not changed much huh?” 

Words are mumbled as a looming figure stands in the shadows, always watching yet never reaching out. Not yet. The time to touch will come eventually… skills honed from various experiences that are far too much to spend any time ruminating on give him the best advantage of overseeing the activities of his most prized possession. Although she doesn't know that yet, in due time it all won’t matter anyway. What they don’t know won’t kill them after all, he wouldn't allow it to.

Hours would pass by like minutes, so enraptured he observed his obsession… an intense set of eyes fixating, analysing, admiring taking in their figure move freely within their apartment like they were the only thing that kept the world spinning. Distinct squeaks emanate from the leather enveloping his hands, fingers tightening the pendant gradually getting nestled deeply into the glove far enough to feel the pressure of it pushing against the skin of his palm painfully through the gloves. The delicate silver chain glinting within the moonlight, a memento of a time long gone, of a man he used to be… the man who would roll over and play nice at their every whim because he loves them so dearly. That man was long dead now, in fact maybe he didn’t even exist in the first place? This feeling of deep desire, the wanting, the need, the overwhelming all-consuming urge to possess… take… own. Always there simmering beneath, deep in his skin, beneath the flesh or what was left of it digging deeper into the very bones of his body. He was no longer the puppy dog left yearning and pining all for just a drop of attention, to have their gaze linger, to want the same way he wants so desperately.

Well, he's done waiting now, there was no reason to keep it dug beneath a smile and facade of tenderness. He knows what he wants and he won’t stop until he finally has what is rightfully his.

Slowly his hand still clenching the necklace in his palm unfurls exposing the pendant and the little charm teasing him, tormenting his mind with all sorts of delicious ideas for when he obtains his greatest possession. His uniform rustles quietly as he brings his hand up to his lips pressing them against the pendant lightly a shiver running down his spine just at all that his mind was conjuring up. Alas this momentary slip is quickly hardened once again as the distant sound of a door clicking open alerts his senses. 

You step outside of your apartment into the small balcony needing some fresh air as you take in the night air just collecting your thoughts on the most recent case you have been dealing with at the Hunters association. A gentle nightly breeze brushes over your skin cooling the surface as goosebumps become more prevalent over your skin. Time seems to pass so slowly in the night, it's so quiet and almost tranquil with the rest of the world seemingly asleep at this moment save for the glow of the stars above. Twinkling so softly in the distance they shine so bright despite how far away they are you lose yourself to your thoughts, ruminating over the past few days thoughts barely staying for a few moments before another takes its place. How has your life become so complex and convoluted? So many trials and tribulations that you have faced in what seems so little time when will it all come to a still? Will it ever be ‘normal’... things you can’t dwell on too long to fight off the inevitable spiral a mindset like that could lead too. Completely absorbed in your own world you would notice the sense that there are a pair of eyes not too far away staring at you.

“Oh, Pipsqueak… I wonder if you’ve missed me”

[welcome-to-green-hills]

Why do you think that Sonic 3 received much more critical praise than the previous 2 movies in the franchise? What do you think was improved?

Hi Hon❤️✨

I promise that I haven’t been ignoring your asks concerning this question topic. I was trying my best to locate some interviews and commentary to support my answer to your question. However, I can give you a quick response without extra fluff.

I feel that the third film did as well as it did due to the crew listening to the fans and evaluating critiques. Yes, these are Sonic fans making the movie, but they’re also making professionals in their field. They know how to cater to film critics, casual movie fans, and Sonic fans very well.

One of the things that I feel that they listened to was focus on the characters that they’ve wanted to use. There is absolutely nothing wrong with using original characters. Not at all! And from these original characters, we’ve grown to love Tom, Maddie, and Agent Stone very much. We’re vocal about loving these characters and how they work well with Sonic-based characters. Therefore, we didn’t have any other side characters to worry about as well. It’s creates a balance.

The story focused on one main issue rather than having a subplot. We focus on one problem and how to solve it. I am in no way, no how saying that subplots are bad. What I’m saying is that a subplot can work if it matches the story’s pacing. Sonic 2 (2022)’s subplot needed to happen. We had to have the wedding scene in order to know that Walters and G.U.N. was active and watching the Wachowski family. That, as we needed to know that Rachel’s heart wasn’t broken in the end by an Agent. However, what got in the way was the subplot’s pacing. If the pacing was reevaluated just a tad, then I think that Sonic fans would be more open to it. Other than such, I think that it was a good close to Rachel’s story in the SCU. She’s finally happy.

Sonic 3 felt more like Sonic 1 (2020), which was a movie that a lot of people enjoyed. It focuses on a uniqueness and charm that was there from the film. It makes it a point to show that Sonic and Shadow are “what if situations” if they took different paths.

The music. Holy shit the music. Mr. Fowler explained a couple of years ago that inserting Sonic music into the movie was problematic due to how SEGA copyrighted their music for the games (info on that it’s in my pinned post from January 2024). It’s not that they didn’t want to use it, it’s how the video game company copyrighted it. Whatever Mr. Fowler did to convince SEGA to lift their copyright agreement on the music changed the soundtrack for the film. There is DEFINITELY Sonic music to a movie that is meant to be a representation to a very beloved Sonic game.

Shadow. Just. Shadow. Whether some fans like it or not, Shadow is an extremely popular character. And he’s very popular for a reason. He’s a character that people can relate to on an emotional and mental level. If people have experienced loss and anger, then they relate to Shadow. This is not me saying that fans can only relate to Shadow. What I’m saying is that there are many layers and personalities to Shadow that fans might like where you might not get that with characters like Tails or Amy Rose. With the promotion of “Fearless: Year of Shadow” all through 2024 and a remaster of Sonic Generations, I think that influenced many fans to appreciate him on a level that was never considered before, as well as create new fans to the fandom. Plus, I can definitely see Hollywood utilizing Shadow the Hedgehog more in future films. That, and banking Keanu Reeves to voice Shadow (a very popular fan casting since the early 2010s) has helped tremendously.

And finally, the SCU crew knows now to make fans want to come back for more. They leave trails of breadcrumbs through movies and the miniseries that leads to you research how the “rules” work for the SCU, as well as encourage you to explore Sonic through the video games. When lore differs a between the games, the SCU crew knows how to make it faithful and pay homage to the original idea without trying to proclaim that one idea is better than the other. Both ideas are unique and cool in their own ways.

Anyways! These are my thoughts for now. I’m sure that I’ll have more later down the road.😊

[prettylynnpup]

For the first time tonight, you were at this party alone. You'd only come because your roommate practically begged you to, and now she's nowhere in sight. "Lame asshole..." you grumbled to yourself, knowing you didn't mean the words. You'd always had a soft spot for her, after all.

Party guests were intermingled, voices and conversations you could only slightly follow rang about as the smell of alcohol coated the air. You hoped that your roommate would eventually find her way back to you, but it didn't seem like you'd be so lucky this evening, so you took it upon yourself to do a bit of exploration. If you were tipsy, maybe meeting new people wouldn't be quite so bad, right?

As you approach the cooler, you notice someone. It's a bit taller, dressed in all black. Its black hair shines an almost bluish color in the light, and teases its mid-back like waves meeting the ocean. Its clothes are laced with different chains and embroidered with a few fun patches. You walk closer - it's right above the cooler, after all, and you wanted a drink. It notices you staring, and clears its throat a bit.

"Hey, pup, eyes up here." *click* It snapped its fingers... At least you think it did? It was a click of some sort, and your eyes meet its. You feel like you can't look away, your eyes are locked to its. And, you think you enjoy it?

"Hey, uh, wh-why'd you call me 'pup'?" You manage to stammer out in response, eyes still locked to its. Your breath steadies itself again, and you feel really strangely relaxed. "Why do you think, puppy? Hey, mutt, *click* sit."

You fall to the floor, knees and paws hands also finding their way to the floor. You're stuck in this position, sitting strangely similar to a dog. "Oh, what a good puppy that is!~" The woman in black pipes up again, and your brain feels foggier than before. You're trying so hard to keep thinking, and mistress the woman in black knows it.

"Look at you, little mutt, trying so hard to use that brain of yours!" Foggier it goes. Harder to think it gets. How long have you been on the floor? People are starting to gather around you, and they're talking about you. Saying, something? You can't quite make out any of the words, your mistress being the only thing you can hear.

You look around yourself, and you notice your roommate in the crowd. She winks at your mistress, and then walks up to you and puts a strange necklace on you. Then, you feel the necklace tug you forward, towards your mistresses.

"Alright Lynn, you wanna go use our new toy?" Your roommate mistress asks your other mistress, and you feel them drag you out of the party, still on all fours. As you were meant to be.

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