#they’re are all tired of the same ordeal

[froggo-tea]

It’s funny how Galien could be a life boat for everyone lmfao

Also modern au stuff too

[alexiroflife]

"mutual understanding"

part 1.

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

satoru gojo x reader

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

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

WC: 19,667

Warning(s): none

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

You found this entire ordeal to be absolutely ridiculous.

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

I mean, how unfair was this bullshit?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scowled at the very sight of him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know what-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

“The preparations have already been put in motion.”

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

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

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

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

It was all so unfair. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, sweetheart.”

“And don’t call me that.”

“Alright, honey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut the fuck up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re wrong.”

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

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

“That’s not my name.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “Yeah, but-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...You like to bowl?”

“Don’t piss me off.”

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

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

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

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

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

You took a moment to think. “Wait…”

“Thrown by the Itadoris,” he posed.

Your eyes widened in realization. “No.”

“Maybeeeee,” he continued.

“No, absolutely not.”

“You and I…?”

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

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

“For fuck’s sake,” you groaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d rather die.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, like hell you will.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t sound too excited.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what about my career? My life?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...So, I’m a little late-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who the fuck cares?!” you interjected. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes you are,” he murmured firmly.

“No, I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a ring, Gojo-”

“Satoru.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Then what did you mean?”

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

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

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

“...Engaged?” Jin repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Surprisingly, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m going to get a drink.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I was praying you wouldn’t.”

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

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

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

You rolled your eyes. “Sure.”

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

Great. Another interrogation. “Yeah. So?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you’re always a creep.”

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

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

“Then I was right. You are together.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you entertained it,” you growled.

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

“Jesus Christ, Sukuna, find a hobby.”

“I’ve got plenty of hobbies, doll.”

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

“Sorry, does she prefer ‘baby?’”

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

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

“What the fuck did you just say?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you grimaced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re full of shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you looking at?”

“You’re calling me Satoru now.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re warming up to meeee.”

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

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wanna get out of here?”

You stilled. “For a burger?”

“Why not?” he grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

“Can I ask you a question?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever. You two have your resemblances.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You think he’s jealous?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?” he bit and chewed. “How so?”

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

He snickered. “Do I, now?”

“Yeah, but take that as you will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re wicked,” you frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You seem pretty close to him.”

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

You exhaled. “No.”

“...She’s not dead, is she?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still… I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t kill her, (Y/n).”

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

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

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

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

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

Satoru looked over your face. “Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

You frowned. “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even so, you couldn’t agree with him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you mumbled softly. 

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

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

“Me neither.” 

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

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

“Like what?”

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

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

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

“Start what?” laughter bubbled into his words.

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

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

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

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

“So stop looking at me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[imababblekat]

TmnT Boy’s Meeting Aprils New Roomie; HC’s

Anon Request, “Can I request the bayverse turtles reactions to meeting april's new roomate who is a really a short s/o (like 5 ft) that has a tired and chill personality (has the same kind of personality as aizawa and shinso from mha) and instead of freaking out when they see the turtles they just say "hey" nonchalantly then go back to what they're doing? (You don't need to do this I just think it would be funny)”

~xXx~

Michelangelo:

Mikey had barged his way into Aprils apartment to excitedly talk about the latest episode of their favorite TV drama when he stumbled upon you

April was there with you, equal panic on her face as the orange clad turtle waited for the inevitable screaming or a similar panicked reaction

Your lack of shock left Mikey curious about you; all you had given him was a tired “sup” with a head tilt up and continuing your conversation like seeing a mutant ninja turtle breaking into your apartment was the most normal of things

His brothers wouldn’t have believed him if not for April being witness to the ordeal and are left as equally surprised by your lack of reaction when they ultimately come to meet you

Doesn’t take long for Mikey to practically glue himself to your side; it’s like the golden retriever boy trope

Loves the fact you’re so short; doesn’t out right tease you because he knows what it’s like to be the smallest, but he won’t hesitate to pick you up and throw you on his shoulders to get something from a high place

Donatello: 

His mind is so deep in explaining what he figured out what was wrong with Aprils watch, that he hadn’t picked up on her panicked face till he’d heard the once vacant room in her apartment creak open

Your lack of noticing him at all, which was odd considering he was a literal giant in comparison to your much shorter stature, and making way to grab some water before retreating back to your room had Donnie wonder for a second if he was really that good of a ninja

But after questioning April the next day about whether or not you truly did notice him, it turns out he in fact wasn’t as invisible as he felt, when his friend informed him that you did actually see him that night

Ultimately, he had to introduce himself and his brothers to make sure you wouldn’t go talking about them to the wrong person, but at your simple nod and “okay” while absentmindedly texting on your phone at the end of their empty threat introduction, Donnie was even more confused than he had been the first night

Your nonchalant behavior had left his overthinking brain wondering why you reacted so differently compared to others

It didn’t make any logical sense to him, especially after no indications that you were going through some kind of weird shock symptom 

His time spent trying to understand why you didn’t freak out on him that night turns into a lot of time bonding and forming a friendship he also never calculated to be possible, not that he minded of course; your chill personality was a nice contrast to the chaotic energies of his brothers when needed

Raphael:

He had been asked by Donnie while on a solo patrol to grab something from April, so when he’d stepped through her window he did not expect to see another person there with her

Your lack of a fear struck response leaves him frustratingly confused afterwards

Poor Raph is so used to people screaming or even fainting at the sight of him, that when all you did was wave a simple high and continue watching your Netflix show, he couldn’t help the suspicion he held towards you

Due to his skeptical feeling towards you however, he ends up spending a lot of time around you, and even though it does take some time, your unconcerned attitude towards, well, all of him, eventually has his walls crumbling around you

You make him feel normal, like he’s not some freak of nature; you don’t even flinch when his anger gets the best of him, instead waiting for him to calm some before offering some comfort

As Raph finds himself more lax with you, he opens up quite a bit and finds a friendship he didn���t know he desperately craved

But he’ll never tell you that, not at first at least, and instead just teases you and calls you shorty and time you tease him about how sweet he’s being

Leonardo:

Leo is definitely the most guarded when meeting new people, and your unbothered nature towards him when he accidentally stumbles upon you in Aprils apartment, does not easy his mistrustful thoughts about you

For a while he actually wonders if you’re some kind of secret spy to the foot clan or some other bad group of people, but anytime he tried to get you to confess your secrets, you’d just confusingly ask if you could help him with all the weird staring he’s doing

It lowkey leaves him feeling flustered, because he’s not used to not being taken seriously by anyone except his brothers

It takes a while for him to warm up to you, but when he does he starts to realizes how much he appreciates not being seen as a freak almost like Raph does, he also feels very relieved to not have to worry about his family being in any sort of danger with you

Yeah, you might be the shortest person he’s ever met, but he secretly feels like you could kick some ass

Your unassuming personality also has him thinking you could secretly be a force to wreckin with, and often ponders if he should offer up the idea to train you; definitely not because he wants to spend more time with you or anything of course!

~xXx~

[yawntu]

Okie your right bestie now that your ask box is open you have to do the avatar guys reacting to spicy body piercings. Neteyam, Roxto, Ao’nung and Lo’ak I AM BEGGING YOU

/)/) ( . .) ( づ♡

a/n: Head so empty had to get this out though bc two other people agreed tongue ring was chefs kiss. We have a bunch of ancient cultures who pierced their tongues ritualistically so the Na’vi probably do it

Pairing(s): Ao’nung x reader, Neteyam x reader, Roxto x reader, Lo’ak x reader

word count: Little under or ~1k for each character

warnings: NSFW / MDNI, Characters are 18+, Spice under the cut, all characters are 18+, proceed with caution. Descriptions of sexual activity, Alludes to fallacio, Sexual situations, Vulgar language. Inspecting? They’re looking inside your mouth idk. Spit kink (Neteyam), idk man if there’s something i miss lmk

꧁ Aonung: is no stranger to bodily modifications. He can confidently say he did not love the feeling of being tattooed the way some of his aunties and uncles would swear they did. He didn’t brag that he could fall asleep though the pain of ink being malleted security into his thick skin. Which is why for a second Aonung cannot seem to comprehend how his squirmy little girlfriend could have sat through such an ordeal, cringing at the pang of jealously that rises in him at the idea that others would have the same foul thoughts regarding the adornment that he has.

One of his favorite places to be is the netted hammock that sways outside of his marui. He enjoys the cooling sea breeze through his downed hair while watching the waves dance in the wind. Mindlessly keeping an eye out for anything that may intrigue him. It was undoubtably a good place to be whenever he found himself to be stressed or tired. Even better- it was a peaceful place to relax with you. He can agree to himself that he liked this spot even better when your legs straddled his waist and he got to rub loving circles onto your body with the pads of this thumbs while you joined in on his sea gazing. Its only when you shift on his torso that he realities thoughts had wondered past the words you were speaking. It was not often that you would loose his devoted focus, however, he realized he was not really listening to you as you spoke. Not in a cruel or inattentive way way. He did not mean to disregard you. He was just too distracted at the soft slur you give off. That was different. He has spent so long grasping at every word you said- every noise to fall from your perfect mouth. So he knows that there is something wrong.

“You break a tooth?”

He knows he is rude for cutting you off and even ruder for jostling you up as he sits up slightly in worry. Evident concern that you had fallen or bit into something and broken a tooth and that is where the slur of your words came from. That you were in pain. Though it had been some time since the incident, he remembered when Tsireya’s best friend had faced a similar ailment and his mother had been forced to pull the tooth from her skull. He shuddered remembering the ordeal, and hoped you would not go though the same pain.

“Nuh-uh,” you assure rubbing a hand against his soft cheek, eyes softening in endearment at his worry.

Your sweet boy is sitting up further to move closer to you in query when you greet him with the sight of your pretty wet tongue sticking out past your soft lips. The prettiest adornment nestled on your tongue makes his lower stomach twitch. You can’t help but pull yourself back a bit in surprise at the sight of his imposing form sitting up quicker then you expect him to. The natural reflex of your body as he adjusts your position in the hammock you were both meant to be napping on. Your movement only results in his thick calloused palms making a firm grasp for your cheeks, holding your face steadily in front of him for his viewing pleasure,

“Open your mouth.”

He’s bossy, and for a second you worry he absolutely hates it and will instruct you to remove it once you give into his demand. The thought alone is what keeps you from listening to him quick enough for his liking. Which is probably why once your lips finally start to part again his pointer finger is quick to hook over your lower teeth, pulling your jaw open so he could inspect you once again. Not giving you a choice in closing your mouth once again.

All you can do is peer down at his inquisitive eyes that seem to be judging the very ivory of your teeth and whine at how intently he is staring down your welcoming throat. He does not mean to look so incredulous as he inspects your wet mouth. Your tongue is swollen and the intrusion of his long finger has your salivary glands working overtime coating the little ball in you saliva. You look perfect on his lap, spitting all over his finger as it hooks your jaw wide open for him. He only removes the binding finger from your mouth when he inquires,

“Who touched you?”

You’re confused for a second, not realizing he means the piercing until the pad of his finger caresses the tip of your tongue careful to avoid the sore center. He can’t help but wonder what burly large man had touched your pretty fleshy tongue that belonged to him. He feels terribly for the anger that bubbles at the thought of said man getting to see you sat obediently, mouth open and waiting. He could only imagine what thoughts they had as your big pretty eyes stared at them while they made a new hole in your body. As if you mean to scorn him you only giggle. You giggle at his jealousy, and though it should vex him more he can’t help but feel soothed at your reaction,

“Your mo’ther,” you giggle and the material clinks against your teeth, and you slur over a too long bar that accommodated for the swelling.

It soothes him a little. His mother- your mother- had pierced you and not one of the men he had known with said job. Now the only issue at hand was the fact that he was sure other men would see it and have the same first thought that had crossed his own mind.

“It was for Eywa,”

The holy name cuts him from his unholy thoughts. He instantly meets your words with his objurgate simper that you’re used to. A unique expression that conveyed a playful scold that he knew was sure to leave you putty in his hands.

“Nah, you know better. That’s there for me,”

His words make your face flush a pretty shade of plum and you find it increasingly hard to look up at him. It’s endearing to him really, your cheek warm against his open palm. He runs the finger covered in your spit against your bottom lip,

“Ya, can’t wait till it heals. Gonna feel real good when you gag on my cock, huh tìhona?”

꧁ Neteyam doesn’t really care what you do to your own body. It’s your own body; how could he possibly tell you what to do with it. Besides the fact that he thinks it was cute how brave you were for sitting though it, he can’t help but find the way you toy with it annoying. Neteyam still thinks it has its own unique charn though.

Neteyam is too aware. It’s probably why he struggles so much to relax. Something always draws his attention, and he can’t stop his brain's desire to hyper-fixate on it. For this reason Neteyam is well aware of your tongue ring. In your defense he was aware of the adornment from the beginning. He knows so much about it as he was there as the sharpened point was pushed through you outstretched tongue while his mother howled in laughter at the way your tail extended out in shock at the pain.

In all honesty, he has rarely caught a glimpse of the jewelry since you had done it. Despite your loud mouth, the jewelry stayed relatively hidden behind your ivory canines. he guesses you just don’t open your mouth that wide. It’s a shame he doesn’t get the luxury of just catching a flash of the adornment. Instead, he lays here on an old roll-out woven mat, basking in the warm sun with you draped across him. It should be a calming ordeal. Yet you preoccupied yourself with rolling your tongue ring across the ridges of your teeth with no regard for the safety of the bones.

This is supposed to be relaxing. That was the point of coming out here to nap away from the intrusions of your families and burdens of society. As much as laying with you is meant to calm his ever-increasing nerves the fact that the clank of your tongue piercing gliding across your teeth in some sort of stim is ever present and driving him up the wall.

“Cut it out,”

His voice comes with a bite to your fleshy cheek which makes your eyes blink open. You pass him a displeased glance from where you lay next to him.

“Why? Am I irritating?”

You ask him so sweetly that if he had not been so sleep deprived he would have assured you that you were perfect and nothing you could do would ever vex him,

“Very. I’ll rip that thing out of your mouth,”

You laugh because he sounds exactly like his mother, yet had the same scolding undertone his father had often taken on. He is almost pleased with you when he feels you roll over half onto him, thinking you had accepted defeat and would settle down for seep. Relishing in the feeling of you tossing one of your legs over his waist and propping yourself up on one elbow to quickly cuddle against him. His sweet purr as you run your fingers through his braids swiftly almost makes you feel bad for the fact that you lean down to run your wet muscle from the bottom of his jaw to the top of his cheek. It is almost scary how slowly his eyes open. He cannot even feign shock at the way you play with him and his dwindling patience. It is ridiculous- you are ridiculous. Yet you are still shocked (and delighted) at how quickly Neteyam is hooking his leg around yours and rolling the both of you over so your back presses firmly to the mat behind you in retaliation for your annoying actions.

“Does being a imp bring you satisfaction?” He asks, though there’s no indication of real annoyance.

You grin up at him so pretty too, he can’t help but appreciate your mouth. The plush of your soft lips, and the shine of your ivory teeth,

“Undoubtably!” you chip,

And then his thumb runs across your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly so he can look at the red of your gums.

“Open your mouth, annoying girl.” he huffs down at you.

Though you intend to listen to him he does not give you the time too. Squeezing your cheeks between his freed palm until you have no choice but to part your lips for him. With your leg wrapped around his waist your foot rests on the small of his back and you can feel the muscles of his lower back flex as his tail flicks between his legs in excitement at the sight. As you loll your berry-fleshed tongue out for him he wastes no time in returning the crude indecency of your previous actions to you. You’re not dumbfounded when his spit lands on your waiting tongue, but you do jerk under him with a huff. Nonetheless, you are so good for him still, waiting for him to smile and give you a slurred go-ahead before you swallow.

Neteyam guesses he likes the stupid thing. Gives him something to aim at.

꧁ Roxto is shy. Not with normal people. But when you speak to him so pretty him he can’t help but tense up at the way his mind wanders. Especially as you sit there blabbering about your home in the jungle, she should be listening but he’s too busy eying the piercing in your tongue and wondering what it would feel like on him.

Rotxo is sweet. So sweet that he feels terrible for the way he stares at your mouth from where he is lent opposite on a thick mangrove root while you speak. Chirping away at him because you had grown the closest to him out of everyone after your arrival.

Don’t get him wrong. He could spend his whole day and whole night (and whole existence) with you. He liked nothing more than sitting pleasantly next to you or with his head on your lap while you spoke. He had been thankful for the fact that you had gotten the closest to him out of anyone you could have chosen when your family arrived at his home. He truly thought you were the most interesting person he had ever met. Perhaps that is why he watches you so intently. As if he is worried he will miss even a fraction of what you had to offer. He felt like he had known a decent amount about you. Knew you well enough that he could predict what you would say before you had even said it. Which is probably why he is so eager to get his question out.

“What is in your mouth?”

He just faces the nalutsa head-on. Blurts his question out; almost cutting your sentence off early. Once your eyes snap up to meet his from where you picked at stones on the ground. Your tongue is rolling out of your mouth in response as you stand to face him,

“This?”

Of course you sound silly as you talk around your tongue, but Rotxo is just looking at the modification. His first question is did it hurt, and you gave him a deadpan ‘obviously’. Despite this, you seem to be far more interested in this line of questioning than you had been while you were rambling. Ears are drawn forward in his direction, arms behind your back while your tail twirled behind you.

When he asks why you would do such a thing (despite having tattoos himself) you tell him it was a thing some of the more spiritual people of your clan would do. He could not help but feel a little guilty at the fact that all he can think about is how it would feel twirling around the head of his cock. How pretty you would look sitting on your knees with your tongue out waiting for him to paint the shiny little adornment white. He doesn’t even realize that his eyes are trained down on you, and his tail sways between his legs.

But you notice. You notice the way he relaxes on his arms more. How his pretty sea-foam green eyes relax as he maintains tantalizing eye contact. The fact that his ears are drawn back, his jaw is clenched and his tail thumps slightly against his own leg, dragging across the ground behind him would be evidence alone of where his thoughts had traveled to. The thick bulging at the brown fabric of his tweng however seals his fate. You giggle at him. If all it took to work him up was a flash of your tongue then you will surely be the death of him. He is not even listening to why you had done it, what it meant. Ignoring all talks of salvation so he could look down at you and think of what you could only fantasize about.

“Ya, but you do not really care why I got it, huh?”

Your question catches him off guard, mostly because you are right and he’s too busy thinking about you to notice that you had once again begun to ramble. He is terrifyingly intrigued when your moving to stand right in front of him, head cocked up curiously at him, an amorous smirk on your lips.

“You just care about what I can do with it.”

Like the tease you are, you glance down at his hips. It is only then he realizes how tight the confines of his bottoms had gotten.

“You really are a devil huh?” His fingers are digging into the bark of the root he leans on as he huffs out the only thing he could think to say. He supposes there was no honor in hiding anything now- to bashfully try and defend the situation. That pretty tongue of yours sliding past your teeth to lick across your lips,

“If you want a vrrtep I can show you a vrrtep,”

Your voice is charmingly playful, and he can hear the click of the ring against a tooth. As your fingers dance across his lower stomach you’ve all but convinced him to be at your mercy with no effort. When you wordlessly drop to your knees before him he cant help the noise that ripples through his chest. Parts of him buckle at the idea of letting you be in charge and show him more of that pretty tongue ring but he can’t help but be honorable. Try to gain some sort of dominance. He thought he had gained the upper hand when at the contact of one of his big palms to the back of your head. The assumption was foolish of him. To think for a second he had the upper hand. The feeling of the cool material on your tongue sliding up his thigh has his fingers knotting in your hair and his breath coming out in huffs. He thinks it’s perfect- you’re perfect. He can’t wait to feel it everywhere.

꧁ Lo’ak doesn’t mean to not notice really, you were both so busy. You should take it as a compliment how hard he focuses on your eyes when you talk. But when he finally catches on that somethings different about you and you show him he can’t help but get too excited.

You were Lo’aks very best friend. In fact, you could not recall a point in life where he was not at your side while your gaggle of friends got into mischief. In all honestly you had spent your childhood following Lo’ak around like his shadow, and it is a habit that has followed you into your adulthood. You know he is plagued with an overabundance of energy and thus kept you entertained the best. Lo’ak was many things- emotionally aware, compassionate, charming, and with no effort made you feel alive. He’s probably why you were a bit of an adrenaline junky, and why you so eagerly agreed to the modification to your body after your Uniltaron. There was some reason behind the bleeding that you did not quite know if you cared about more then the fact that there was a cool piercing in your mouth.

Most importantly, you had hoped Lo’ak would have noticed the piercing quickly, however, the fact that Lo’aks own Uniltaron was the day before yours and he (like his father) had an intense experience, meant that you had uncharacteristically been apart for what you considered too long. Lo’ak had spent the days in which your tongue was at its most swollen (and thus noticeable) resting at home. Though you had been plagued with your own duties which made any meaningful interactions between Lo’ak and yourself non-existent since then. This meant that he just hasn’t noticed the new addition to a body he was rather familiar with. The lapse in time spent together was not something either of you had been used to, nor particularly fond of.

Which is why Lo’ak is blabbering to you wildly while you both eat your supper. You think he’s cute despite talking with his mouth full, and your dazed staring is what pulls Lo’ak out of his excitement and forces him to stare back at you. It is when he noticed you’re eating lighter than usual.

“Soup? It’s too warm for soup,” his tone indicates it’s an astute observation in his mind, “Are you sick?” He asks, reaching to touch your head. You snicker at him as you smack his lingering hand away,

“No, skxawng- you really hadn’t noticed?”

The playful faux sadness in your voice still barbs at his heart. It is quickly replaced with an indescribable feeling when you open your mouth for him and he’s greeted with a heart-stopping view. Eywa you were pretty, and for a second you looked like you could really be his- looking up right at him with your mouth wide open. It’s innocently possessive for a second, really he hadn’t thought too much into why he had reacted to the view in such a way. That was until he noticed the little ball perched on the center of your tongue. Like the little stones they found in the river mollusks they used as jewelry.

“Oh shit!”

His response makes you shut your mouth and snicker while your tail wags faster than you had been used to. You even turn your head in to avoid his ardent eyes. Though Lo’ak is quick to brace his hands on the wooden table to lean over and follow your gaze,

“I wasn’t done- hey,” and when he pinches your cheeks in his hand he almost knocks over your soup with the enthusiasm he exudes.

“You are acting like a fool,” your smiling half out of amusement, half out of pure inarticulate flabbergast at how quickly he had become interested in the orifice.

“Does it hurt?” He questions.

If it’s possible his smile grows larger at the shake of your head,

“Let me kiss you then,”

It leaves his mouth before you can even tell him how the pain has passed. It’s incredulous, how brazen Lo’aks words are considering his parents were barely out of earshot also enjoying their meal.

“Are you the one with a fever?”

Your voice crack is loud as you grip his wrist, and you make a note that you lean closer to him almost subconsciously.

“What? We have kissed quite a bit?”

In secret- in private- not when everyone you knew was right there, you were sure people presumed but you did not particularly feel the need to deal with the questioning eyes of either your families or your friends.

“You’re parents are right there, Lo’ak. I am not-” But his pretty wide smile cuts you off, and his tail swings down to snatch your swaying one

“We can go somewhere they’re not,”

There’s a snort in his voice like it’s the obvious answer. As though the both of you getting up and walking away together wouldn’t have drawn the same questioning gaze that kissing would have cast upon you, Eywa knows why you are dumb enough to nod at him. Quickly moving to stand up first, but pause when his tail stays wrapped right around yours halting your movement, and you look to him quizzically.

“You gotta wait a minute before we’re going anywhere,”

You’re confused. He was just so eager to be alone with you. How could he possibly be more interested in his previously abandoned meal? And how can he be chuckling at you- and why is the free arm he had propped on the table motioning towards the bench you both sat on and- oh. Thats why. The undeniable tent forming. A reminder why you so quickly agreed to be whisked away by him.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Ortho, Jade: Three Heads are better than Two

Once again, Ortho is a fashion icon 🫶 dbdvwksns His Duo Magic line with Jade is hilarious (they’re so giddy about exploiting their enemies’ weaknesses). In this fic, I wanted it to have more of a wholesome (?) feel. Maybe I’m just too tired right now to write feral, hahah…

Just one more birthday (Riddle, whose duo partner will probably be Rook) before the new rotation with Jamil 👀

A Tale as Old as Time.

Heroes in action poses aplenty decorated the interior of the art museum. Swords and shields in hand, they stood defiant against an onslaught of beasts, beings of shadow and primordial evil. A being half bull and half man, a monster with several serpentine heads, a one-eyes giant, and more.

But what Ortho was drawn to was the painting of two figures on a short marble column. There sat the hero and a squat satyr, locked in a conversation. The former, leaning forward and listening. The latter, mouth ajar—talking.

Strategizing for an upcoming battle, Ortho surmised. One last hope, and they’re seizing the opportunity.

The painting was a simple masterpiece, a work of heart.

Beside him, Jade piped up. “Oya, have you taken an interest in this work, Ortho-san?”

“Yes, this is the hero and mentor that inspired Star Rogue,” Ortho chirped. “The Son of the Thunder God must demonstrate that he is a ‘true’ hero in order to claim his heritage. He seeks the wisdom of a hero trainer.”

“Oh dear.” Jade’s faint chuckle echoed eerily in the room. “It sounds like quite the ordeal. How cruel to force one to labor to acknowledge their birthright.“

“It’s not so strange. There are families in similar circumstances of blood and bond. One does not necessarily guarantee the other. For example, children can be abandoned as well as adopted. Relatives can be shunned or estranged.” Ortho’s eyes drifted shut. “Human relationships are complex. There is no solution that can be applied to them all.”

“Indeed.” Jade tucked a finger under his chin. “Within my own year, there are a number of unique families.

“Ruggie-san is without parents, but was raised by his grandmother. He also maintains close ties with the local neighborhood rascals. For the winter break, he brought them scraps and leftovers from the NRC cafeteria.

“Silver-san is adopted and well-loved by his father. It must be difficult to raise a child as a single guardian, but he manages. I believe Silver’s father has a background as a veteran, so childrearing is a relatively new venture for him.”

“You know so much about your classmates, Jade Leech-san!” Ortho giggled as if he had just been told a funny joke. “And here I thought I was the only student capable of digging up information to that detail.”

Jade smiled sardonically. His answer, intentionally vague. “You’d be surprised what one can glean from a quick social medial investigation.”

“I know! Nothing much gets by me.”

The eel’s glinting eyes cut to Ortho, silently searching him.

“If memory serves, the Shroud family is a sort of unusual as well. It is the mother, the father, Idia-san, and…”

He held his breath, letting the sentence trail off.

“Ortho and Ortho,” the android recited, filling in the open space. He lifted one hand and then the other, as if he were a scale balancing out the weight of the souls. “Three Shroud sons.”

“Of course,” Jade said tactfully. “Having a brother of my own, I’ve learned that they can be a great source of both joy and sorrow. Floyd’s antics are as much trouble to clean up after as they are amusing.”

“Nii-san is the same. He’s the smartest person I know. I just wish he would get out more. They say that touching grass is good for stimulation, but nii-san would rather hole up in his room… Once he made a hissing noise like an angry cat when I tried to open the curtains to let some natural light in.”

“That certainly sounds like Idia-san.” Jade inclined his head. “Ah, but for as much of a handful as they may be… family is family,and we love them as they are.”

“I’m glad I chose you,” he had once said to his twin all those years ago. Again, again, those words rung true in his mind.

Ortho nodded. “Running the simulations and accounting for the changing variables in every possible iteration, it’s entirely possible that other routes result in happier endings. Even then, I don’t think I would give up this reality for any of them. It’s only here where I have two cool big brothers, a mom and dad that love me for being me, and the chance to go to Night Raven College with everyone!

“We struggled… shed our blood, sweat, and tears… survived and rose from battle victorious, just like heroes. It’s inefficient and perhaps improbable, but it’s something we can call our own.”

The young boy happily floated in circles around Jade. So jubilant, like dandelion fluff dancing on a breeze—it was difficult to think he was anything but living, anything but human.

“The Son of the Thunder God wished to be acknowledged by his own family,” Ortho said longingly as he gazed at the painting. “To that end, he went the distance and proved he belonged among them.”

Jade’s lips quirked. “It’s amazing what he accomplished. The Thunder God must be thrilled to claim him as his own.”

As for you, Ortho-san… You’ve achieved that and more.

“It’s a story with a happy ending.” The boy’s face was bright. “I want to earn that for myself one day—a future for me, for nii-san…”

Ortho folded both hands over his core. The flame there pulsated like a heartbeat.

For him, too.

Three, a lucky number. Three, the heads of Cerberus. Three Fates.

Three brothers entangled in their threads.

And he, the guardian of them all.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

ANGST WARNING: How would Ace!Tav react to Astarion dying and being unable to revive him? Or vice versa -- how would Astarion react?

A/N: There is actually a lot to this, so here is a headcanon in three parts. Apologies for the length.

Warnings: Gore, Blood, Passively Suicidal Thoughts, Major Character Death, Heavy Angst

Astarion x Ace!Tav Masterlist

How Ace!Tav Would React to Astarion Dying and Unable to be Revived

In order for this to happen, it would be sudden and unexpected

There would be no preparing for his death

They always thought Astarion would outlive them, he's an immortal vampire, but, more importantly, he's a survivor, always has been

I'm thinking he'd have to be burned up in the sun or something else like it; revivify and raise dead both require a body and the sun would turn him into ash

Maybe he gets caught by surprise, maybe Tav can’t get to him in time or maybe he pushed them out of the way of a blast; the result is the same

No final words, no last touches, there’s nothing left, not even a body

Tav wouldn’t be able to move, the rest of the world going fuzzy at the edges and silent

It would take another party to get them to move, literally dragging them away from the scene like dead weight

It’s takes them several moments to come to their senses, to fight back because he can’t just be gone

There has to be something left, something they could use to bring him back

If it’s an ally with them then they’d hold them back telling them they need to get somewhere safe

They would be in full denial, trying desperately to think of something, anything, this can’t be how it ends

But there’s nothing, not a single thing they can do

Once that realization dawns, they just go numb

They spent so much of their life just surviving; they don’t want to go back to that, not when they finally had a taste of what it was to live

They’re just so tired, maybe it would be easier to just…sleep

Even the thought of revenge is too daunting, what would be the point? Astarion would still be gone. Can’t they just rest?

It would take their friends to pull them out of it

I imagine Lae’zel and Shadowheart specifically would lay into them about just giving up. What would Astarion say if he saw them like this?

Tag can well imagine, they can all but hear his voice in their ear

“And you call me dramatic,” he tells them. “Flattering as it is to know you miss me, there's still work to be done. Now get up.”

They want to ignore the words, but they have their own survival instincts to contend with

It’s a slow process

The first several months it’s an ordeal just to eat, but they do

Gale, Shadowheart, Wyll, Karlach, Lae’zel, they all take turns checking in, making sure they’re okay

Gale maybe even has them come to stay in Waterdeep just to keep a better eye on them and keep them away from the memories associated with Baldur’s Gate

It’s a kind gesture and one that slowly starts to pay off

They're able to watch a sunrise again without the urge to weep

They sometimes come in to talk during Gale's lectures, recounting some of their exploits with a smile

They never fully recover, their music isn’t quite as lively, there seems to be a spark missing behind their eyes, but they find a way to survive

They have their friends and find solace in knowing they’re not alone

Eventually they go on the road again, taking in every sight and sound, imaging Astarion seeing it with them

They never fall in love again, they knew that they never would and don’t try to force it

Still, they live; it’s brutal work, but they can’t stop now

How Astarion Would React to Ace!Tav Dying and Unable to be Revived (Dying of Old Age Edition)

Couple different options with this one

I picture Ace!Tav as human, so Astarion outliving them was part of the deal when they got together

All the same Ace!Tav dying of old age vs. dying suddenly and horribly, are going to spark two very different reactions

If they die of old age, Astarion has a much longer time to prepare

There's no hiding getting old, even if Astarion makes jokes about them being with a man four or three times their age

Tav is there to help him through it, even as they're lying on their death bed with him beside them the entire time

They don't want him to try and bring them back; they told him as much

They want him to keep going, to keep living, to find love again after they're gone

Astarion doesn't want to hear it, he doesn't want to think about them being gone even when they both know it's coming

One human life time wasn't nearly enough, he wants more, he always wants more

But the end does come and when Tav finally slips away, all he can do is weep

He wouldn't be alone though, he has friends, strange as it might have once been to admit

Gale, Wyll, Karlach, Shadowheart, and Lae'zel would all find their own way to help him as they too grieve the loss of their friend

He's not the easiest to deal with, he lashes out, he argues, he pushes, he finds himself crying at unexpected moments and mortified at himself for doing so

He wishes he could talk to Tav about all these emotions drowning him and ends up curled up on the floor all over again

But somebody is there to help him back up again

He can’t stay in their home anymore, too many memories bombard him every waking moment

Gale offers for him to come to Waterdeep for a time, but Astarion refuses

He needs to get out, go somewhere far away, someplace he’s never been before

So, one day, he packs a bag and just starts walking

The only thing of Tav’s he takes is a that damned violin, they did try so very hard to teach him how to play, but he always was a better audience

Still he can’t bring himself to leave it behind

He doesn’t know where he’s going or what he’s even doing, but he keeps going anyway

One of the nights, months into his travels, a bard plays at the inn where he's staying

He recognizes the melody, one of Tav's compositions

He had finally convinced Tav to write down some of their music, and even publish a few; this one isn't one of them

The bard plays it differently, emphasizing different words and finding a new meaning while still keeping the integrity of the song

He can all but hear Tav’s contemplative approval as they grin in that “I told you so” sort of way

The best ones live in memory after all

The bard is good, reminding him of Tav in so many different ways

He's not sure what exactly possess him to do it, but he offers them the violin, telling them that it's been a long time since he saw somebody play it properly, maybe they'd like a go

Gods do they play it,

Light and music flow from the instrument, evoking the same vivid display Tav had show him all those years ago

Astarion then leaves without a word, leaving the violin behind for the bard to take

He finally understands what Tav tried to explain to him, how much of themselves they put into their music and how even as the interpretations may change it’s still them

So, he keeps going, keeping their memory alive in what ways he can, mostly as an anonymous patron to promising young bards; he’s always been a better audience anyway

Years later he even meets that first bard, the one he gifted the violin; they turned to be a great performer and was thankful to finally track down the man who put them on that path

They form a true friendship, one that lasts years and allows Astarion to know he can form new relationships

Slowly, Tav's death doesn’t hurt the way it used to

They’ll never fully leave his heart; they were his first in so many ways

It would take him years, possibly even centuries to finally fulfill that final promise to love again, but he does

He’s a survivor by nature, but Gods does it feel good to live

How Astarion Would React to Ace!Tav Dying and Unable to be Revived (Dying Suddenly and Horribly Edition)

This can only end in blood

They're in a middle of a battle, something bigger and worse than they anticipated

Both are skilled in their own way, but they each know their strength lies in stealth and surprise, neither of which they have facing this threat

Astarion was sure they were safe, he was watching their back and vice versa as they had for years

He doesn't see exactly what happens, all he knows is one moment his love was standing in front of him and the next, they're pulp on the floor

Air leaves his lungs, the rest of the world fades as all that exist is their blood in his nose and their desecrated body and then everything goes red

He uses everything at his disposal, knives, nails, teeth; more blood fills the air, his body is covered in it to the point he can't even grip his daggers and just uses his teeth

He doesn't stop until the only thing breathing in the room is him

He then goes to Tav's body, and wraps what's left of it in any cloth he can find; he's not leaving them here, there has to be a way to fix it, to bring them back

He finds a place he can keep them, using what magic he can to preserve the remains of their body until he can find a better solution

He reaches out to any contact he has begging for help, surely their friends would come to their aid

What he gets is all but useless, no answers, no solutions, nothing but empty apologies and condolences

They even have the audacity to them him to let Tav go

They don't understand, they never could

After everything he'd been through, Tav was the first real happiness he found; 200 years of torture and just six months with them was enough to counterweight all that misery

He'd had years since then, and now they were just gone

How could anyone expect him to let that go, not when he had expected a life time with them

Their time together was already limited, he would not be cheated into giving up more; the world didn't get to do that to him

He curses his so called friends, burying himself in necromancy and tomes trying to find a solution

There may still be a way, a much darker way, one that would require sacrifice, but it would be worth it whatever the price

He knew that about himself the moment he started to fall for Tav, there was no telling what things he'd be willing to do, all for them

There is a part of him that hesitates, a little voice inside his head telling him to stop, that he can be better

It's the same voice that told him not to ascend, one he curses just as deeply as the rest of them

If he had ascended none of this would have happened; he would have been able to keep Tav safe, he could have made it so not even time could touch them

He had hesitated then, but he won't now

He'll find a way to bring them back and make sure they never leave him again

[juniperjean]

It provides

Lottie Matthews x reader (gender neutral)

Cannibalism as a metaphor for love

TW: Guns, cannibalism, cultish shit, reader slightly losing their marbles at the end.

The leaves make a crunching noise beneath your feet after every step you take, a rifle loaded in your hand. The crisp autumn breeze sends a shiver down your spine, causing goosebumps to rise on your bare legs. The shorts you’re wearing offer little to no protection against the biting chill. You didn’t anticipate the coldness, and you certainly didn’t anticipate the fact you would be hunting for game to simply survive 15 months after winning the state fucking championship.

The trees, once lush and green, now stand adorned in their finest attire, their leaves ablaze with the fiery brilliance of the season. As you wander through the woodland, you’re greeted by the symphony of sound: the rustle of fallen leaves underfoot, the gentle sigh of the breeze as it dances through the branches, and the distant chatter of woodland creatures preparing for the winter ahead. The air is crisp and tinged with the scent of damp earth and decaying foliage, a heady aroma that lingers in the cool autumn breeze. The leaves, now in various stages of decay, carpet the ground in a mosaic of colors, creating a soft, cushioned path for you to follow. 

Your gaze is stuck on the imprints that a prey has left behind, it’s here somewhere, you can smell its scent in the air. Musky, earthy…slightly sweet. Your movements become fluid, instinctual, as you follow the trail with a single-minded determination. Going for the kill. 

With each step, you sink deeper into the wildness of your own nature, shedding the constraints of civilization in favor of something raw and untamed. The tracks become more than just imprints in the earth; they become a roadmap to your own primal desires, leading you to venture closer to the elusive prey that awaits. The rifle burns in your hands, you fire a bullet. Your ears ring. The once unfamiliar sensation has grown to be comforting because you know you will be fed for the night. “It provides” you mutter softly while looking at your coach and former…sanctuary bleeding out.

Dragging the game back to the makeshift-shelter has become a routine for you, a sinister one at that. It rotates often too. Rabbit, deer, teammate. Deer, teammate, rabbit. Deer, Rabbit, teammate, coach. The muscles of your stomach ache from the constant tension and flexing you have to endure to keep you moving while dragging the weight of coach’s body. The grip on his shoe slips and from time to time you have to stop and wipe your sweaty hands on the rough material of your jacket to keep the grip steady. The red flush from the cold is still present on his face and so is the pained expression from getting shot, he’s still warm too. Serves him right, after burning our fucking cabin down you think.

The pain in your stomach is relentless, a constant reminder of the dire circumstances you and your friends are trapped in—if you can even call them friends anymore. They’re only shells of who they once were, their former selves consumed by the harrowing ordeal you all endure. Nearing the shelter, you spot the tree with the ominous symbol. The very same tree Lottie is so often seen kneeling by and where she communicates with it - the divine, eternal spirit of the wilderness who provides for you all. As for right now, no sign of life is spotted near the tree. In fact, the only trace of Lotties presence is her blood-sacrifice staining the ground and the heart of Akilah on the sacrificial altar. The altar’s surface is stained with dark, dried remnants of previous rituals, and it’s adorned with symbols and carvings that speak of long-forgotten tires. Surrounding the altar, there are candles, remains of those who sacrificed themselves who had the honor of feeding the rest of us and herbs. Countless of fucking herbs. The air around you feels heavy, as if charged with the weight of countless, unseen presences. 

“You found him. I knew you would, I felt it” you hear a soft voice say. The air around the sacrificial altar is thick with anticipation, each breath laced with the scent of burning herbs and the metallic tang of blood. As you kneel, head bowed, you can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you. Slowly, you lift your gaze, your eyes traveling over the soft dirt, up the length of the sacrificial altar, and finally meeting the eyes of Lottie Matthews.

Her gaze is intense, piercing through the dim light that dances around her figure. There’s a magnetic pull in her eyes, an undeniable allure that sends a shiver down your spine. The flickering flames cast shadows that lingers across her face, highlighting the sharp lines and soft curves in a way that is both unsettling and captivating. For a brief, electrifying moment, the world around you fades, leaving just the two of you locked in this charged exchange. Lottie’s lips curves into a slight, knowing smile, her eyes never leaving yours. It is as if she can see right into the depths of your soul, unraveling your secrets and desires with that singular look.

As much as you want to resist her gaze, you can’t. Her fluffy jacket is tightly wrapped around her frame, and her pants are stained with dirt from all the kneeling she has done to pray to the wilderness, to pray for everyone who has made it so far. Then, she whispers your name softly to catch your attention. You merely nod at her to signal that she has captured it, exactly the way she always has and always will. 

“Shauna will prepare him. You rest.” She says with a calm tone.

“Okay” You answer slowly. 

As you walk away from her, the weight of her gaze heavy on your mind, you find yourself drifting into a detached state. The distant echoes of Shauna cutting him up with methodical precision, fade into the background as you move further away from the altar and to the shelter. The sun begins its descent on the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape. The sky transforms into a canvas of fiery hues, painting the clouds with shades of orange and pink. Despite the beauty of the setting sun, a sense of unease lingers in the air, a reminder of the events that will unfold under its waning light. The distant howl of a lone wolf pierces the silence, sending a shiver down your spine. You close your eyes shut, hoping to forget everything.

Lying in bed, surrounded by the suffocating darkness of the night, your mind wanders to thoughts of home, to memories of a simpler time in Wiskayok. You try to conjure images of your family, of laughter echoing through the halls of your childhood home, but the aroma of him fills the air and one again the hunger gnaws at your thoughts, relentless and insistent. 

It's a hunger that permeates every aspect of your existence, a constant companion that refuses to be ignored. Your stomach protests loudly, a symphony of growls that reverberates through the quiet solitude of your space. It's a sound you've grown accustomed to, one that echoes not only within you but all around you, a shared lament of empty stomachs and unfulfilled desires. 

Suddenly, someone walks into your space of the make-shift shelter. “It’s time” the hoarse voice of Van says. In the heart of the wilderness, surrounded by towering trees and the eerie whispers of the wind, the group gathers—a motley assembly of survivors, bound by necessity and the unspoken pact of survival. One by one, they emerge from the depths of the forest, their forms shrouded in the coarse embrace of fur and the haunting anonymity of masks- all clad in the primal garb of beasts, your faces obscured by the twisted visages of animal skin and bones.

Surrounded by the flickering embrace of the fire, its flames casting eerie shadows that dance across the forest clearing, Lottie sits at the center like a queen upon her throne. A crown of antlers adorns her head, a symbol of her dominion over this primal domain. Around her, the rest of the group gathers, each draped in the coarse embrace of fur and skin, their faces hidden behind twisted masks that echo the spirits of the wild.

Shauna emerges from the darkness, a figure of silence, bearing the meat that will feed them through another night. The sweet scent of your former coach fills the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the forest. The primal musk of the animal skin from your mask hitting your face.

With a graceful gesture, Lottie takes the first piece of meat, her movements fluid and deliberate. She offers it to you, the chosen recipient of her benevolence. You stare at the chunk of meat that once was a man you looked up to. A man you confined in, a man you shot. The others gaze at you, their eyes probing, searching for any sign of weakness. There is no room for regret, no space for doubt. Fueled with the terror of becoming prey, see how quickly we become predator. Without hesitation, you accept the offering, feeling the primal thrill of the hunt coursing through your veins as you bite into the tender flesh.

The act is savage, animalistic—a stark reminder of the raw instincts that lie dormant within each of you. The blood dripping down your chin inspires the rest of the group; they descend upon the feast with a fervor that borders on frenzy. Hands and teeth tear into the meat with primal abandon, the sounds of chewing and growling filling the clearing with a cacophony of wild abandon. And as the firelight dances across the rugged landscape, casting long shadows that stretch into the night, you find solace in the knowledge that, in the end, the wilderness provides after all.

PS. My first story ever. So if you think this is shit, FIGHT ME.

[temnurus]

More Wangxian Faves: Post-Canon & Canon Divergent

This list was made to honor the request in the notes on my WWX recs post from @100percentserenity for some more fics featuring Wei Ying set in canon or canon divergent fics. Now, not all of these are strictly from his POV, but they all feature him at his quick-witted, charming, & hopelessly oblivious best. Canon divergent can be a pretty wide category, so do keep that in mind if you see a rec & think, "This isn't very canonical.." Haha. There are two repeats from my first Wangxian rec list, but they fit the ask & are both excellent & worth mentioning twice! Now, in no particular order, may I recommend:

Far Away You Are by cqlorphan (E, 17,358)

Thoughts: I absolutely loved the idea of the esteemed Hanguan-jun being this not-so-secret purveyor of comfort hugs & heartache advice. Wei Ying’s shock upon finding this out was so funny I couldn’t help but laugh, & my amusement only intensified when he made the scary Yiling Laozu face while asking who broke Lan Zhan’s heart, only to be told it was him who’d done so. I wanted to hug all the Juniors myself. They’re all so very precious. This was a lovely story where very little hurt in the end, & sometimes that’s just nice after the gut punch that canon gives us.

my age has never made me wise by idrilka (E, 63,439)

Thoughts: I absolutely loved this. It was pretty CQL (The Untamed) compliant & told the post-canon story of Wei Ying wandering alone as a rogue cultivator after the events of the show. Of course he was pining after his zhiji the entire time, so when he heard gossip that the Chief Cultivator might be married by summer's end it nearly undid him. The angst was excruciating, but One Brain Cell WWX Strikes Again fics somehow always manage to be fun at the same time. I've read several post-canon, wandering Wei Ying stories, & this one was particularly good.

Not What We May Be by brooklinegirl (E, 29,222)

Thoughts: I love Wei Ying’s cleverness in this. He’s his usual irreverent, chaotic, charming self, & I never get tired of how wonderfully his mind works. The odd phenomenon occurring in the town he’s staying in was an interesting mystery to solve, & I had to laugh when Lan Zhan arrived with the usual Lan Juniors ensemble in tow. Watching them all work together to figure out how to fix the issue while also dealing with the healthy side helping of oblivious Wei Ying & searing sexual tension between him & Lan Zhan was a fun treat.

All Caught Up by brooklinegirl (E, 36,934)

Thoughts: Wei Ying proposing to Lan Zhan to get him out of an arranged marriage he didn’t want is so something he’d do. There is no character more quintessentially chaotic good than Wei Ying. You can’t change my mind. The practice kissing was a lovely regular feature from this author, & my particular favorite thing in this fic was Nie Huaisang’s cameo as their pseudo wedding planner with his classic meddling while insisting he’s useless shenanigans. This was super cute. I liked it a lot.

love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360,042)

Thoughts: This was an example of a cool MDZS-specific trope I hadn't seen before, & in it Wei Ying, the infamous Yiling Patriarch, was a cultivator who had achieved immortality (aka, he's OP as fuck but in a fun way). The great sects enlisted his help to win the Sunshot Campaign, & what did he demand in return? Lan Zhan's hand in marriage, of course! It was a fantastic slow burn in which poor Lan Zhan suffered the mortifying ordeal of falling in love with his own husband. An amazing & complex plot, chock-full of angsty goodness.

Birthday Party by waffles_4_breakfast (E, 100,123)

Thoughts: I loved the idea that Wei Ying would actually get to attend Jin Ling's one month celebration, but I was, of course, still concerned about the continued danger he'd be in. This fic nicely showcased Wei Ying's sharp wit, charm, & ever-present sass. I also loved his dramatics when it came to his interactions with Lan Zhan (and in general, of course, haha), but their sweetness together was ultimately my favorite thing about them. The continued threat to Wei Ying's life & all the plotting surrounding it was interesting, but the best things about this fic were the characters & their bonds with each other.

Fentao-laoshi's Guide to Cut-Sleeve Pleasures by occultings (E, 31,775)

Thoughts: This was set during the Cloud Recesses Study Arc, & it was so, so good. The sexual tension between them was just simmering the entire time, & the idea of them “practicing for marriage” on each other was fucking hilarious. Their banter was top notch, & I absolutely loved Lan Zhan’s nearly overwhelming desperation for Wei Ying, not to mention Wei Ying’s bullshit getting him in over his head (as usual, but this time in a fun way, haha). The feelings were actually very sweet, too. I enjoyed this a lot.

wide enough and wild by impossibletruths (E, 64,120)

Thoughts: I love the tag “Noping Out Of Society With Your Boyfriend And Your 50 Wen Refugees: The Novel”. It made me laugh before I’d even started the fic. While this was set during the time period in which Wei Ying frees the Wen refugees, they didn’t end up in Yiling this time. I won’t get too specific, but they still ended up rebuilding their own little settlement & farming to survive, basically. Lan Zhan found them & decided to stay. The slow burn was so good, & I loved the pining in particular. I cried a couple of times in this. It really was just that good.

your problem as a mountain. by cupofwater (E, 30,989)

Thoughts: It was so cute to see the difference between Wei Ying’s & Nie Huaisang’s fantasies, & Wei Ying’s turning out to be more vanilla & romantic in nature absolutely cracked me up. I nearly hurt myself laughing when Nie Mingjue sent Lan Zhan some of the letters by mistake, & I was delighted by Lan Zhan’s reaction. I won’t spoil it, but the smut was lovely & despite the misunderstanding our boys definitely both got their happy ending, haha.

The Vermilion Ribbon by Unforth (E, 233,368)

Thoughts: This sat on my Marked For Later list on AO3 for the longest time, & I really did myself a disservice by not reading it sooner. It was absolutely fantastic. The world-building, pacing, & intricate plot were all brilliantly done, & Wei Ying being in the Wen clan was nothing like I imagined it was going to be in this. Instead of his core family being the Jiangs, we get Wen Qing in Jiang Yanli’s role & Wen Ning in Jiang Cheng’s. Now I’ll warn you that this got super heavy in some places, so mind those tags & take care of yourselves. Nothing was graphic enough that I had to stop reading, but it didn’t shy away from the serious subject matter it covered either. The whole fic was a real emotional roller coaster, & I can’t recommend it highly enough.

[tunastime]

hello hello! I am insufferable :D (this is really long sorry-)

imagine jimmy and tango so exhausted from rebuilding the ranch and collecting resources for it that the only time they are really together is when they fall into bed and pass out immediately

but jimmy’s hands are still badly burnt from when he was restraining tango, and all that building has Not Helped, but he didn’t stop until tango essentially dragged him away, because of course he felt how much his soulmate was hurting

jimmy kept trying to sneak away when tango wasn’t paying attention (“we don’t have any good armour, we need at least one layer of defence!”) so tango came up with the better plan of just laying on jimmy

it started out as a last-ditch attempt to keep jimmy resting. tango fully expected jimmy to push him off, but instead jimmy just sort of froze in surprise before relaxing into it—it’s at that point where tango realises jimmy is The Most touchstarved person in the world, ever, and will do pretty much anything for cuddles

so what does one do with this information? abuse it, of course!

even after jimmy’s hands have healed (wounds like that heal fast on life games—They find it boring when one person is unable to do anything because of an injury) tango insists on cuddle sessions every afternoon, something jimmy is obviously trying to pretend he doesn’t like as much as he does

tango spends most of the time teasing jimmy about how sweet he is, what with how his will crumbles every time tango asks him for something if he’s holding jimmy’s hand at the same time. so you can imagine jimmy’s delight when he found out tango purrs

they’re especially tired after the whole warden ordeal, both half asleep in each other’s arms. tango has his nose pressed against jimmy’s neck as he rests his head on jimmy’s shoulder, jimmy with his wings around them both.

jimmy blinks sleepily and smiles at tango, who looks like he is about to pass out right there. he moves his head slowly, as to not disturb him, and presses a kiss to his hair.

he almost yelps as he hears a low rumbling, expecting it to be the warden or pearl’s dogs, but as he listens, he realises it’s much too soft to be something aggressive.

for a second, jimmy is utterly confused as to where the noise is coming from. then, he turns back to tango and notices how his throat—currently pressed against his shoulder—has begun to vibrate.

jimmy presses a hand to his mouth to keep from laughing in delight. tango, mr ‘i’m going to bring the warden from the deep dark’, resident redstone mad scientist, creator of decked out, is purring.

“tango,” jimmy whispers gently. “hey, tango.”

tango cracks an eye open, and wow he really is a large cat. “mm?”

“you didn’t tell me you purred.” jimmy grins.

“wha..?” tango does not look awake enough to understand anything.

“you’re purring.”

tango just blinks for a moment, before apparently processing what jimmy just said and going bright pink. “oh! oh, no- I wasn’t- y’see, I just-“

“I kissed your head and you started purring!” jimmy exclaims, partially to tease him and partially because it is, in all honesty, adorable.

“yeah, well,” tango mumbles, trying (and failing) to hide his face. “… shut up.”

“tango, I am never going to shut up about this.”

them <3

HI THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY ASKS FOR MONTHS AND I JUST KEEP RE-READING IT INSTEAD OF POSTING IT.

I don't know if I've ever actually written it, but I'm in love with a tango who purrs. I've assigned this man so many silly cat traits it's starting to get ridiculous. He's got his cat-ish eyes and tail, his purring, his teeth, though there's a special place in my heart for my lovely mutual Theo's hc of something inside him literally glowing, him being toasty warm, and a collective headcanon of him needing his blaze-rod crown to stay energized during the life games. I could go on and on about blazeborn and tango, please hold me back.

And jimmy who won't admit that he enjoys the attention but won't ever say no to it, i adore him. I think about the ranch burning way more than I should for it being a year ago, there's just so much to unpack in relation to what DL was for jimmy as a character.

Also:

mr ‘i’m going to bring the warden from the deep dark’, resident redstone mad scientist, creator of decked out, is purring.

AS HE SHOULD! AS HE SHOULD!! I ADORE HIM.

anyway, I'm still crazy about them! I think about this all the time!! I'm so sorry i didn't get to this ask as soon as you sent it, it's been on my mind since then and i <333

[katsu28]

Ok here are some soft Remus thoughts!

- I just cannot stop thinking about how he definitely has a wonderful sweater collection and they’re all so soft and cozy and he loves seeing you wearing them (this could get smutty lmao but I’ll restrain myself)

- you know that one Taylor swift lyric “just living room dancing and kitchen table bills”? That’s the perfect way to describe your relationship with Remus, like maybe your apartment is a little shitty but it’s home and the two of you make it so cozy and you have a wonderful little life together and just putting on a record while you make dinner and you end up dancing together in the kitchen and maybe your food gets a little burnt but that doesn’t matter

- imagine babysitter baby Harry together omg just Remus holding the tiny little baby and singing to him when he can’t fall asleep and making him laugh that cute little baby laugh and every time you watch Harry you can’t help but think about actually having a baby with Remus because he’s so perfect and him with a baby is just too wonderful

I have more if you’d be interested, I just don’t want to go overboard hahahahha 🥰😚

i would adore more remus thoughts, pls send me everything you've got <3 this applies to everyone btw i need more brainrot food

domestic remus thoughts under the cut!

- the sweater collection is absolutely off the charts! drawers and drawers of the softest sweaters ever and even more stashed in different parts of the apartment for when he or you need it. some of them are solid colors, some of them have fun little patterns, but all of them are equally as comfy bc they're his and they smell like him and every time you put one on it's like being enveloped by him even when he's not there and it's the best thing in the world.

sometimes he'll be looking for one specific sweater to wear but he just can't find it no matter how hard he looks and he's just like have you seen my green one love? i think i might've lost it. but then he looks at you at you're wearing exactly what he was looking for and he just. melts. because he loves you and because you look so cozy and comfy and cute in it and he's just like oh ☺️ you can keep it i'll grab another one ☺️ and then he comes and sits with you for the rest of the morning.

- your life with remus isn't what some people might call perfect but it's just the right fit for the two of you! your apartment is a little cluttered and the paint is chipped and yeah maybe the front door gets jammed sometimes but it's your home and you couldn't love it more. you try your best to eat dinner together and unwind from your respective days with each other and most of the time that means a bottle of cheap wine and whatever dinner you can scrounge up from what you've got on hand. sometimes you do a puzzle together, other nights you'll talk for hours, and sometimes you both just sit and do your own things in the same space (parallel play LMAO). remus always makes sure to press a kiss to whatever part of you he can reach every so often just so you know he's still there. post full moon nights are fairly quiet though. remus just wants to sleep and you let him. sometimes he wants to be alone and you let him do that too, but he knows you're right there if he needs you <3

- babysitting harry is such an ordeal, especially the first time bc i feel like it might be a spur of the moment thing? james and lily desperately need a day to themselves and sirius is out of town and euphemia and fleamont are also busy so they're like surprise you get to watch harry for the day! obv you're not gonna turn them down and at first it's awkward bc you're both just staring at harry in his little baby buggy and he's staring back at you and neither of you really know how to take care of a baby?? but then harry starts crying and it's like a flip inside remus switches. he's just like yeah i think he's tired but then little harry refuses to go to sleep and remus starts humming a song and you see him start to drift off as remus bounces him in his arms gently.

when harry wakes up uncle moony is his new favorite person so they're inseparable for the day. at one point harry bumps his head on the couch or something while he's crawling around the living room and you can both tell he's about to start bawling but remus is so quick on his feet and picks him up and does something funny so harry gets distracted and suddenly he's shaking with peals of that infectious baby laughter and you're just like what. what is this i'm feeling is this baby fever??? and you can't stop thinking about having a little remus or yourself running around the place one day. obv you've got some talking about it to do since you haven't even discussed kids yet, you don't even know if remus would want kids with everything he's had to deal with his whole life but it's worth a shot right? to have someone who's a perfect mix of you and your favorite person in the world, to be able to raise them into someone who could quite possibly change the world, even to just have someone else to love more than you love yourself.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for keeping my revived husband in an illusion to keep him happy?

I (27M) am a necromantic witch who recently revived my now-husband (25-28M, depends on if you count the years when he was dead). I was not a necromancer at the time, so I had to travel for a while to learn, and take him with me in a chest. As a result, his body was in less than optimal conditions at the time of revival, so I actually ended up running into some complications with the ritual. I love him regardless of the condition of his flesh, but for his own wellbeing, it was best to keep the state of himself (also myself, and also the entire surrounding area due to further unimportant complications) a secret, so I asked an illusionist friend (24F) to put up an illusion over all of the above issues. She said yes at the time, but has recently shown discomfort around the subject, and has been letting the spell slip whenever she thinks my husband won’t notice. She claims it’s because she’s tired, but I know she can do better; I taught her and used the same enchanted items to keep myself awake that she does. I’m worried that if the spell slips at a bad time, my husband will freak out, and we’ve already had some close calls, but after explaining this to her multiple times she still seems hesitant to continue

Additionally, I tried to tell her to keep this whole ordeal a secret from our mutual friend (chronomancer of complicated age) since I’m sure the illusionist’s inability to stay calm about the situation has made them suspicious. The chronomancer and I have grown very close over what is likely multiple timelines (about a year but they’re weird about measurements), and out of respect I tend to keep whatever ritual I’m doing that week pretty open if she decides she wants to know what I’m doing. This is the first time I’ve intentionally kept them out of the know like this, but it’s because I’m afraid they won’t understand the importance of it all and then roll their eyes at me before reversing time itself, which would undo all my hard work up to this point. I tried to explain this to the illusionist, but she still didn’t get it, and she’s started interacting with me less and less every time it comes up.

My husband is perfectly happy (and healthy, if that was of concern; I made him immortal). Despite this, the illusionist hates me, and my chronomancer friend is squinting at me suspiciously as I type this. AITA?

[miela]

Shattered Memories • Chapter V: The Do-Over • {Peter Parker x Stark!Reader}

Chapter Genre: Comical Angst, Comical Fluff Chapter Warnings: Very dialogue-heavy Masterlist

↪ divider by firefly-graphics

“FRIDAY,” you sighed. “When is a riddle, not a riddle?”

You were at the Avengers Compound in your lab with information about none other than Peter Parker displayed on every holographic screen. You questioned yourself many times when you did this, and you felt like the character in those movies who obsesses over something because they definitely know something but everyone else around thinks they’re crazy or something. You considered stopping and going on living your life but you, your dad in heaven, and everyone around you know that once you set your mind on something, you cannot stop until you fully understand it or are satisfied with the facts that you have. You needed to know this for your own mental and physical health and you just about had it with not having the answers.

“When you have all the answers,” FRIDAY responded.

“And when is a puzzle, not a puzzle?”

“When there is nothing to take apart and put back together.”

“So, whoever Peter Parker is, is both a riddle and a puzzle,” you began with frustration in your voice. “I don’t have all of the answers nor do I have all the pieces. FRIDAY, I think I’m going insane.”

You rubbed your hands down your face slowly to try and calm yourself down. You had another dream last night. A wet dream. A wet dream about the Faceless Boy. 

You couldn't get it out of your mind how…sweet he was. The way he touched you, kissed you, caressed you…he was so sweet and gentle and caring. He made you feel like you were the most precious thing in the world. Though you couldn't see his face, he kept eye contact with you. 

But of course, you woke up once again in a sweat and with a migraine. 

You were at your limit. 

“Incorrect," stated the AI. “You are just showing signs of obsession.”

Your face twisted. I’m not obsessed. I’m just tired. “Way to make me sound like a loser,”

“Also incorrect, you just need to know everything about everything before you are satisfied.”

You deadpanned and took a deep, annoyed breath as you leaned your head in your hands again. You wanted to throw and break something. 

“Trouble in paradise?” You heard a deep voice ask.

You look over to see Sam and Bucky in the doorway. Bucky was holding a brown paper bag that said sweet greens across it and Sam was leaning in the doorway.

It would have to be a fun time to be paradise, you thought.

"Sergeant Barnes. Captain Wilson." You responded. 

“Should we be concerned?” Sam asked, looking at all the Peter Parker content surrounding you. “Because this is not looking good on your part.”

Bucky and Sam were two of the only Avengers that were left after the big battle with Thanos. Since the whole ordeal, they’ve been like big brothers to you since then. You were thankful to have them in your life still because they’ve been nothing but supportive through everything that you have been through and you have done your best to give the same support to them. 

You rolled your eyes softly. “Is that my salad?” You asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky confirmed, walking over and setting the bag next to you on the table you were currently sitting on top of.

“Thank you,” you opened the bag took out the food, and immediately began eating it hoping to get some dopamine and serotonin pumping in your system. 

“How can you eat that stuff all the time?” Bucky asked. “Isn’t too much of something unhealthy?” He looked up at the screens and then back at you.

You paused knowing what he was insinuating and sighed. “Brain food,” you replied. “You should try it sometime.”

He smiled in response and crossed his arms. “Alright smartass, wanna tell us why you're investigating this kid?”

“Not investigating him.”

“So then you're stalking him,” Sam asked.

“I’m not stalking him.”

“Well, you’re either investigating or stalking him. You gotta choose one.” Bucky replied again.

You looked at both men hard. “I’m studying him, thank you very much.”

They look at each other with looks of concern, confusion, and playfulness. 

“Stalking?” Sam asked.

“Stalking,” Bucky repeated but as a statement.

Sam turned his gaze back to you. “Sounds like stalking to me.”

“Yep, I agree.” 

“I’m not stalking him!” you exclaimed in frustration. “I’m trying to figure out who he is. You guys, wanna help? Help me figure out who he is and I can stop obsessing over it and move on with my life and run a company and be a normal fucking human being for once in half a decade, alright? If not, just leave me the hell alone to go insane.”

“Like I said, obsessive behavior,” FRIDAY added.

“Not in the mood, FRIDAY,” you responded as you put your food down harshly and rubbed your temples from the headache that had been forming since you woke up that morning from your dream about the Faceless Boy.

“Hey, kid,” Bucky spoke with a concerned tone. “Are you alright?”

Of course, you weren’t alright. After everything that you have gone through this month alone was making you sick. You had so much on your plate and so much to deal with that you had no idea how anyone made it through this before you. You may be being a tad bit dramatic, but you really didn’t care. Anybody in your position would most likely react the same way. You just wanted to figure this all out and move on with your life. 

“No.” You replied. “On so many levels, no.”

“What’s wrong?” Sam crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on the table next to you as you sat on top of it. Bucky did the same on the other side. You sighed. How were you supposed to explain this entire situation to them without sounding like what you are appearing to be?  

“Promise me you won’t laugh.”

“Oh god,” Sam replied with a cringed wince.

“I’m serious,” you said sternly, looking at him hard. “I need you to promise me you won't laugh. Because if you laugh I swear to god,” you turned to Bucky. “I don’t care if you’re a super soldier,” You turned back to Sam. “And that your Captain America. I will kick both of your asses and web-cocoon you to the ceiling.”

Bucky snorted.

“Alright, little tough shit, calm down.” Sam smiled. “Promise.”

You looked to Bucky, who also promised. 

You take a deep breath to prepare yourself for what you’re about to say. “I’ve been having these…dreams...about a boy. But they’re more than dreams…they’re like...visions, vivid memories. But the thing is this boy doesn’t have a face and this has been going on for a while now. So when going through the Avengers files this came up.” You pull over the holo screen of Peter Parker’s file.

“So this is the infamous Peter Parker you asked us about.” 

“Famous actually,” You took another bite of your salad. “He’s an Avenger.”

Both of their faces twisted in confusion as they looked from you to the screen to each other searching for answers. 

“I’ve never seen him before,” Bucky stated.

“Me either,” Sam said with obvious confusion in his voice.

“Yeah and me three-ther.” You said as you click on a tab on his file and it pulls up information on Spiderman.

“He’s Spiderman?” Bucky asked but it came out more like a statement.

“Yeah,” You confirmed. “You guys don't recognize him and neither do I.”

They look at you with even more confusion and concern.

“Wait, you don’t?” Sam asked with doubt in his tone. “But y’all were partners in justice. Thick as thieves. The Iron Spider Duo. You two had inside jokes for days and were always with each other. How could you not recognize him or know his identity?”

“How can any of us not recognize him or know his identity?” you crossed your arms over your chest in thought.

“Well, we just figured he only showed you his true identity,” Bucky added. “We just thought he was shy or something.”

“Nah,” you shook your head. “He would trust you guys. He would trust all of us… unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless he did something wrong…or worse.”

“Okay, Like what?”

“I dunno, Bucky.” You replied and pointed your fork at his head. “What did I tell you about Brain Food?”

He deadpanned. 

“So you think that Spidey Parker is the boy with no face in your dreams?” Sam asked and you nodded. “But you can’t remember him.”

“Yes. I’m eighty percent sure that it’s him but I can’t remember that it’s him. So I’m unsure if it’s him. But my gut tells me that it’s him. So whenever I get too close to knowing, my head feels like it’s splitting in half and I end up with a migraine all day.”

“Do you have any clue how this all happened?”

“I have some hypotheses. One, if it is him and he did something bad and if we can't remember him, he somehow did it to cover his tracks. Two, if it is him and he didn’t do something bad and we can't remember him, someone did it to him to ruin his life. Three, Somehow too many people, or all people found out his identity and for his safety and the safety of others, he or someone else somehow made it so everyone doesn't remember him. Four, one of the big three is involved with some other unexplainable shit.”

“So you’re researching him,” Bucky said to no one in particular.

“Those are some good theories,” Sam responded. 

“But.” you started.  “There’s a question I've been brewing in my mind.” You put the bowl of greens down again. “If we can’t remember him are there others we can’t remember as well? Like a memory blip?”

A moment of silence fell between you guys. It was a thought that terrified all three of you. If one person can be forgotten by the world, who can say there aren't others? Who’s to say it’s not a villainous person? The more you thought about it, the more it struck fear in you. Anybody could just be forgotten and go on with their lives doing something. Or someone good in life has to start all over and be lonely.

Suddenly you felt bad for your other arachno-half.

“Have you tried talking to him?” Sam asked, breaking the silence.

You let out a deep sigh as you remember the entire event clearly. “Yeah…”

“And?”

“And, he won’t tell me anything, which is why I formed my hypotheses. But I get the vibe that he’s harmless.”

“How are you so sure?”

“We got bit by the same spider, I can sense his intentions.”

Another silence fell over you all for a moment. 

“We have to go on a mission for a few days,” Bucky stated. When we get back, we can help you figure all of this out.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

“In the meantime,” Sam added. “Don’t do anything you would do.”

You scoffed and smirked. “Alright, I’ll just do what my dad would do.”

“Nah, you stay put, alright?” Sam chuckled. “Focus on being one of the 1% who actually give a damn about something.”

You smiled at that. “Be safe.”

Bucky put a comforting hand on your shoulder with a smile, “Be good.”

And with that both of your big bro figures leave and you sighed as you looked up at the screens. You thought about the possibilities of your hypotheses, the conversation you had with MJ, and the discussion you just had with Sam and Bucky. You mentally laid everything out and tried to decipher the missing pieces that you didn’t have. 

Then it hit you. A light bulb went off in your mind. 

“FRIDAY, pull up my dream logs and the information about Me and Peter Parker that we have and put them in timeline order to the best of your ability.”

“On it,” The AI replied back and instantly went to work. “This may take a while.”

“Trust me,” you replied. “I’ve got time.”

It’s been a week since you walked back into Peter’s life and he hasn’t heard from you since. He knew why though. You were very busy, especially when you had an entire company to run and a family to attend to. Peter was pretty busy too so he had no idea that the days had come and gone so quickly. 

But he did have you on his mind the entire time. 

He was thinking about all the memories that you two had together that you didn’t have. Or maybe you did and his face just wasn’t there in any of them. He thought about you during class, during work, and patrols. His mind was just filled with you, you, you…

He didn’t mind. In fact, he was wondering how he could contact you again.

After classes ended, Peter met up with Gwen, Miles, and Harry again, He usually walked to the train station with Gwen and Miles to take the train home together. Cindy and Pav lived in the dorms so they would usually just go there after classes and relax for a bit before studying and doing homework.

Miles had his arm around Gwen’s shoulders and she had her arm around his waist. Peter thought the high school sweethearts were a cute pair but it only made him miss you more. He was both happy for them and also jealous of them and he felt very juvenile for it. 

“What are your plans for your day off of work, Peter?” Gwen asked.

Peter adjusted his backpack on his shoulder and shrugged. “Probably just gonna take it easy at home.”

“You’re not gonna just sit there and watch Star Wars again are you?” Harry asked with a playful groan in his tone. “I swear you can quote the script of every movie forward and backward.”

Peter laughed. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.” 

They walked out of the doors and down the steps of the historic building. The campus was filled with students going to and coming from classes in the New York City sun as they walked down the sidewalk. 

“So how are things with you and your girl going?” Miles asked. 

“Uhm…I haven’t spoken to her…in like….a week?” Peter said as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Dude?!” Gwen exclaimed and punched his arm slightly. “A week?! Really?!”

“She’s a busy person!” He defended.

“We’re all busy people!”

Peter turned and started walking backward on the sidewalk to face his friends as he addressed them. “Listen, I just don’t want to come off too strong too fast. I want things to go smoothly.”

That was only half true. In reality, he didn’t have your new number and he was terrified to call your office number at the Avengers Building and Nika answered the phone. 

“Yeah but a week?” Miles asked raising an eyebrow. “You could at least ask her how she’s doing and stuff like that.”

Peter chewed his lip as he stopped walking and his friends followed suit. “I mean…you’re right but…I don’t want to be overbearing and overwhelm her or anything. Especially considering everything happening with her, you know?”

“Yeah, totally,” Gwen replied not looking at him.

Peter noticed that they were looking right past him at something behind him and he followed their view. His face softened when he noticed a figure he wasn’t expecting to see.

There you were leaning up against a black convertible with a red interior. You were wearing your usual leather jacket with a black tee shirt tucked into a pair of fitted jeans and those Ghostface Doc Martens again. Peter concluded that this was your staple look. It was far from your oversized flannels, crop top tees, mom jeans, and Converse that you used to wear most days when you were seventeen. You wore a dark pair of sunglasses while scrolling through your phone. One of your legs was bent as your foot was flat against the door of the car. 

“Hey Parker, your girlfriend’s here.” Harry teased. 

“She’s not-...I mean she is-...I mean-” Peter didn’t even really know what to call you. “She’s not…my girlfriend…right now.”

“Oh? ‘Right now’?” Gwen also teased. “Maybe if you stopped fucking around she would be already.” 

Peter rolled his eyes at Gwen with a small grin. He turned to you and watched you for a moment. Man, you’re so pretty. And he wished that at this moment things were very different.

He wanted it to be that you came to pick him up after class and he would run up to you and pick you up spinning you in a circle and you would squeal and laugh happily. Then you would grab his face and kiss him deeply and show the world that you were his and he was yours. 

“Hey,” Harry elbowed him softly knocking him out of his daydream. “Staring at her like a creep won’t do anything but freak her out. Go talk to her.”

“R-right” Peter stuttered before taking a nervous breath. “Come on, Peter,” He said to himself, “you got this.”  

He started walking towards you and the more he did the more his senses began to pull towards you. You felt it too because you perked up and looked at him. The shaded lenses of your glasses faded to clear lenses and he saw your beautiful (e/c) eyes meet his. He stopped walking when you noticed him. 

“Parker!” You chimed. “Fancy seeing you here.”

He smiled as he stepped closer to you. “I should be saying that to you.”

“I was meeting with the admins about the gala. I plan on doing scholarships for incoming freshmen and offering financial aid to upperclassmen who are running out of money from the government. Same With MIT and the Ivy Leagues,” you explained. “But I thought I might catch you out here, so I stayed to say hello and to give you these.” You pulled a pair of glasses that were identical to yours and held them out to him. “They’re Stark Specs. Dad had blueprints made for them, one for me and one for you, so I decided to bring them to life. I connected EDITH and Karen to them and you can speak to them interchangeably. Don’t use them to cheat on your tests or anything, but I don’t control your life so do what you want.”

Peter chuckled and smiled. “Thanks (Y/N).”

“Don’t mention it,” You reply with a wave of your hand. “Try them on.”

Peter put them on and the glasses automatically began their work of data scan to identify him. Littler blue circles and squares showed up around the lens as they scanned his eyes to identify who he was. Beeping and other computer noises sounded as they worked and loaded information. His eyes darted from each thing that popped up on the screen out of curiosity. Once it finished five seconds later, there was a green bar that flashed in the corner of the screen that said “access granted” and “complete.”

“Hello, Peter,” EDITH Chimed. “Welcome to your new Stark Specs.”

“Uh, thank you…!” Peter replied. 

“Friend detected,” the AI said as it narrowed in on you and your glasses. “Hello FRIDAY.” 

“Hello EDITH,” Peter heard through his glasses.

“Whoa!” Peter replied with wide eyes as he looked at you. “Whoa…”

All of a sudden hearts start forming around your head through his lens. Peter blushed knowing that EDITH knows how he feels about you and with the Bestie Feature, she was messing with him probably just as much as Gwen or MJ would. He noticed that your smile was sheepish and he assumed FRIDAY was doing the same to you. 

“Pretty cool right?” You asked. 

“Yeah,” He smiled softly with hearts in his own eyes as he looked at you. 

“They also will detect whenever you are by any Stark Tech. It will help you on your…y’know.” You said referring to his hero duties.

“Oh yeah for sure,” He nodded understanding as he put his hands in his back pockets.

You smiled and looked behind him. “Friends of yours?”

Peter followed your gaze to his three friends who were looking at both of you eagerly before turning away to look at different things pretending they weren’t just eavesdropping on your conversation. Peter let out a breath of amusement nearly snorting at them before he looked back at you and nodded. 

Oh, those losers?” he responded in a playful tone. “Nah, they’re just whatever.”

“Huh?!” Gwen exclaimed hearing him.

You laughed softly at her outburst as she walked over and wrapped her arm around his neck.

“Hello,” Gwen smiled. “You must be the girl Parker can’t stop gushing about.”

Peter looked at Gwen with wide eyes as Harry walked over and put his arm around Peter’s neck as well with his arm resting over hers. Peter looked at Harry also with wide eyes and an unsure expression on his face. He got the feeling he was about to be tag-teamed by his friends. When Gwen starts some shenanigans, Harry soon follows suit, and vice versa. It’s something Peter had to get used to with them because once they start they don’t stop until they’re satisfied with themselves. It was like they shared a singular brain cell. Usually, Peter just laughs it off, but at the moment he really hoped that he wasn’t about to be the ass end of their lighthearted bullying.

Not in front of you anyways. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that kind of embarrassment as a makeshift first (really second or third depending on how one looks at it) impression.

“Hey Stark,” Harry smiled. 

“Osborn,” You smiled back. “I thought I might run into you here too but I had no idea you were friends with Parker.”

“Oh, this loser?” Harry replied in the same tone as Peter a few moments ago. “Nah, he’s whatever.”

You and Harry had known each other since middle school and spent your freshman year of High school together at Horizon High before you transferred to Midtown Tech your sophomore year. Peter remembered when you told him that you transferred because you didn’t want to go to a genius school when you just wanted to have a normal high school experience. You also couldn’t stand how stuck up a lot of the students were there. He was always thankful that you transferred otherwise your relationship would probably have been very different. 

You hummed in amusement and Peter blushed. He was definitely about the be the ass of the joke here. 

Peter cleared his throat and swallowed hard as Miles joined in by putting his arm around Gwen with a teasing smile on his face. He had a very different vision of how he thought this moment would go. 

“(Y/N),” Peter started before any of the others could attempt anything. “This is Gwen, Miles and…well you already know Harry. Guys, this is (Y/N).”

“Hello, (Y/N),” Gwen chimed. “It’s nice to meet the girl that has Peter so enamored.”

“Th-that’s a bit-”

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you,” Miles also smiled. “He talks about you like nonstop, always daydreaming in class. Good thing he’s a genius or he would have been falling behind in class with how much he’s a million miles away.”

No not you too, Miles.

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Harry added. “He even doodles your name in his notebook when he should be taking notes. It’s kind of adorable.”

Peter pulled out of his rather annoying friend's grip and looked at them with a face of disbelief and shock. 

“Guys!” He whisper-yelled.

“Uh oh, we’re in trouble,” Harry sang as Gwen and Miles snickered. 

Peter wanted to run. He wanted to escape. He wanted to not be here at this very moment. He glanced at you to see you looking at him with an endearing smile. 

“Aw, you like me, Parker?” you asked.

“No,” he answered as a reflex. “I mean yes, but…I mean…I…”

Harry pat his back. “That’s our cue, guys.”

Gwen and Miles nodded and said little goodbyes before scurrying away with Harry and snickering at their antics to tease Peter to no end. He glanced at them as they left before turning back to you with a blush dancing across his cheeks, nose, and ears. 

“They seem nice,” you smile genuinely. 

“When they want to be,” Peter responded and rubbed the back of his neck embarrassed. “Sorry about them.”

“Nah, it’s fine really.” you chuckled. “They remind me of my friends.”

Peter smiled thinking about Celina, Ned, and MJ and sighed softly at how much he missed them. He loved his friends now but nothing compared to the history he had with all of you. 

“Are you busy?” You asked. “I promise I won’t corner and interrogate you again.”

“I have time,” Peter responded a little too eagerly for his liking. He mentally scolded himself.

“Great,” You smiled and shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “Wanna go for a ride?”

“Sure!” There goes that high-pitched voice again, he noted.

You giggled as you opened the car door. “You’re cute, Parker.” 

Peter blushed and made his way to the other side of the car. He’s pretty sure if you knew how he was last weekend at a party you wouldn’t find it so cute. He was thankful that his friends didn’t bring that up. He didn’t even wanna think about how humiliating that would’ve been if you knew he had a meltdown because his senses were crazy and craving you so badly. He just missed you so much and reacted in a not-so-healthy way. He wanted to put that all behind him and follow his friend’s advice about starting over with you. He got into the car and put his seatbelt on. 

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Where do you wanna go?” You asked as you put your phone on a dock that was connected to the dashboard. “It’s on me.”

“No, it’s okay! “I-I can pay for myself, it's fine.”

“Consider it an apology for disrupting your day last week.” you grinned as you turned the car on.

“You could never disrupt my day,” Peter mumbled, not realizing that he didn't keep that thought in his head.

“You're sweet,” you smiled in response. “But I’m still paying. So where do you wanna go?”

Peter smiled knowing how stubborn you can be and looked up in thought for a moment. “I can go for a good sandwich right now,”

“Okay,” You nodded. “I know a place.”

You backed the car out of the parking space and drove off. Peter took the time to notice how customized your car was on the inside with various Stark Tech and a fiery red interior and yet the exterior was of a classic sixties Mustang. Peter figured it was your way of being discrete. 

You turned on the music in the car and to Peter’s surprise, it started playing a song that pulled at his heartstrings. 

It’s our love song.

One of the ways you and Peter communicated your feelings to each other in your relationship was through music. He sent this very song when he first said those famous three words and eight letters to you and gave you the necklace that he still keeps close to him. He decided that when you two got closer, he would give the necklace back to you. 

“Oh my god,” you smiled big. “I love this song.” You started singing the lyrics and glanced over at Peter a few times as you sang the first verse. 

Hey, hey, hey, lover

You don't have to be a star

Hey, hey, hey, lover 

I love you just the way you are

For love is just the same

Without fortune or fame

Just give me

True love and understanding

True love and understanding

Peter watched you and smiled as tears brimmed his eyes behind his shaded stark specs. He was so thankful that they automatically shaded themselves earlier. 

“Come on, Parker,” you giggled. “I know you know this song. Sing with me!”

Peter laughs and wipes his eyes as he begins to sing. 

Hey, hey, hey, lover

You don't have to be a queen

Hey, hey, hey, lover

You don't have to have a thing

For I'll be satisfied

Long as you are my bride

Just give me

True love and understanding

True love and understanding

For the rest of my days

You smile listening to him sing before join in to sing the rest of the chorus together. 

No, you shouldn't have to worry

Love's no problem in my hands

Just know I really, really, love you

And in your heart, I'd be a big man

Hey, lover, won't you treat me right

And be with me tonight?

Just give me

True love and understanding

True love and understanding

For the rest of my days

You both laughed as the song continued to play. Peter looked down at his hands contemplating his next words carefully.

“I…uh…showed you this song,” he said sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. 

“Did you?” you asked. “So I have you to thank for this being in my playlist. Well, you have good taste in music.”

Peter smiled as you hummed the rest of the song to yourself. In this moment, he was truly the happiest he has been in a while and couldn’t wait to create new memories with you. Even if you couldn’t remember the history you had together, at least you were back in his life to create new beginnings.

~

Tags:

@chrisevans-realwife @riordanness @peterdarlingg @thecrystalclarity @brckenmemories @paleprincesssxo @blackcanary130

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 22: Nonexistent Normal

The next few days bring a feeling of rushed anticipation. The familiar atmosphere in the kitchen hits me like a slap in the face. 

“Strange” is all I can comment on as people bustle around the office, hands full of documents and betting papers.

“What did you expect when you came back?” Finn asks from behind me.

“I’m not sure. Maybe a sliver of happiness. But the only one I see with any amount of happiness is you, Finn. This expansion doesn’t seem to be pleasing anyone but Thomas.”

He clears his throat and I turn to face him. Two years has done its work on Finn. His child-like face is still there but his eyes have grown with the deep ambition of a young man. 

“I missed the lessons. I really did.”

“Aw,” I smile and give him a quick hug. “I promise as soon as I carry out whatever Thomas has planned for me, I will schedule more. Speaking of which, where is Thomas?”

Hurried footsteps echo through the hall and we turn to see a woman hastily throwing on her coat as she heads for the door. There’s no question about her business here. We both know it. Thomas’ door opens and he steps out in a clean suit. Finn now decides to wander off to the parlor, leaving us alone.

“Still gallivanting with ladies of the night?” I taunt slightly.

“You still think I’m a good man after all these years?” Thomas lightly argues back as he approaches me in the kitchen.

“I do, Thomas Shelby.”

This surprises him. Thomas’ eyes search me for any hesitation, as if he was expecting me to scold his sinful behavior. It is disappointing to see him still turning to whores to keep him happy, especially after his ordeal with Grace.

“I will admit that this type of sin is no business of mine, but it’s your life. Just remember that your actions will have consequences.”

Why does he have to look at me like that? My words seem to fly right over his head but he’s still looking at me. 

“Verena! Come help me with these!” Polly yells from the office.

I give Thomas a shrug. “Duty calls. Anything you’ve got on the docket for me today?”

Thomas, still with the same look, shakes his head. “No. We’ll sort out the tough work first, then you lot can come in with the paperwork.”

Tough work? What kind of expansion is this anyway? Or by words or by force?

“Verena!”

“Coming, Polly!”

I hurry past the handsome gangster into the bustling office. People are pouring into place bets and Polly’s swamped with counting cash. The Romanian woman grunts in annoyment as soon as I join her.

“Talk talk talk! If you want to chat so much with Thomas then go on a date. Time to work!”

My head jerks to look at her once I process her rushed words. “Haha. We’re just catching up.”

“Yeah. Right.” Polly drolls sarcastically. “Catch up after we’ve handled this mess.”

Back to work it is. Customers pile in one after the other. I lose track of how many times I pass through the safe. What I do notice is the pile of money inside growing bigger and bigger. Thomas wasn’t kidding in his letters. Profit has been good.

“Alright, time to clock out.” Polly locks the door and collapses into a chair. 

“Already? Wha-? Oh!” I gape at the clock. “It’s already five!”

“That’s how it’s been,” Polly grunts. “I might have Thomas make you the new bookkeeper since he’s so keen on finding a new one.”

Oh. That was Grace’s job. He still hasn’t found a replacement. 

An ember of hope ignites in me. If I really want to stay here maybe I can convince Thomas to promote me. Something concrete that will prove to father that I have an official job and will keep them off my back.

Finn walks through the door and notices our tired state. 

“Where have you been?” Polly asks.

“Helping John pack the car.”

My head perks up. “Car? They left already?”

Finn shakes his head and points to where he’s just come from. “Not yet, but they’re about to. Now’s the time for any goodbyes.”

My exhaustion vanishes and I sprint out the door despite Polly’s callings. Sure enough the older Shelby brothers are gathered around their car ready to depart. But where’s Thomas?

“Hello, gentleman. Off to a new adventure?”

“If we can quit from arguing for five minutes,” Arthur grunts.

“Oi, Steenstra! You don’t need to do that,” John rejects when he sees me helping to pack a few bags. “They’re too heavy.”

“Are you saying I’m weak?” I joke and lift up the bags anyway.

“‘S just that you’re not the sturdiest ox of the group- Ow!”

John rubs the spot where I just punched his shoulder. He complains and Arthur can’t stop laughing.

“Call me that one more time and I will literally punch you in the nose,” I warn lightly. “I’m not a strong ox, no. But I am a fierce tiger.”

John scoffs and shrugs the threat off. “You don’t have the guts to- ah!”

I get him in a headlock and soon he’s bent over. “Need I remind you that I am American?”

“Alright alright, I give in!” John gasps and flinches away. “Jesus, Verena! What happened to you?”

I smirk proudly at his arrogance. “That’s what happens when I spend an entire month with my brothers.”

“I was on my way to step in but I see you’ve got it covered.”

I look behind me and see Thomas approaching. Another fine suit as usual. He seems to be in good spirits. I hope it lasts at least for a day. He looks between John and I with an amused smirk.

“Just get in the fucking car, John.”

“Good morning, Thomas. New car?”

John goes to sit in the back while Arthur taunts him. Thomas walks up beside me and lays a hand across the shining metal.

“Business has been good. Why not use the profits?”

“You should be proud,” I praise. “Have fun on your holiday. Polly’s going to miss you.”

“And you?” Thomas asks with slight interest.

His question holds layers of hidden hope. Does he want me to stay? I want to stay. I just got here.

“I’ve been gone two years. What’s a few more days? Besides from what I hear, you lot deserve a vacation. London sounds exciting.”

“At least we can drink legally, love. Though no doubt it’ll be just as hectic as your American speakeasies.”

“Haha, very funny.” I smirk and put my hands on my hips. “Be careful. Right, then. Cheerio, you wild gangsters.”

Thomas gives a salute and climbed in with his brothers. The engine spurs to life and the car begins gliding down the road.

“Right! Peaky Blinders are going on fucking holiday!” Arthur cheers.

“Sit down, you mad bastard!” John pushes him down.

Never a dull moment with this lot. Once they’re out of sight I hear footsteps from behind. It’s Finn.

“Are they gone?”

I nod. “Just left. What say you about a walk along the Cut and a catching-up chat? After all, I've hardly seen you outside of family meetings since I got back.”

He nods eagerly and we start off towards the river. Finn might have grown too but he’s still the same kind boy I remember.

“Do they still fight all the time?” I ask softly.

“They’ve calmed down a bit but Arthur’s head still strays from time to time.” Finn pauses. “How’s things in America?”

“In my case, terrible. My father’s been under lots of stress because of the new Eighteenth Amendment. Now we’re relying more on bootlegging, which is today's topic. The term came into general use in the American Midwest in the 1880s to represent the practice of traders concealing flasks of illegal liquor in their boot tops when they went to trade with Native Americans. Now my father runs a speakeasy. It’s called that because of how low you have to speak the password to gain access. It’s also called a blind pig or gin joint, but speakeasy sounds more classy in my opinion.”

Finn keeps nodding along. “Thanks for this. It’s… Nice to get away from the office. I want to run the family business but at the same time I don’t want to always obsess over it. Like Tommy does. Is that bad?”

Poor Finn. It’s come to the fact that the only way to gain his family’s respect is to strive in their world of treachery and killing. Polly once believed that he could grow up to be a normal man. But when you’re a Shelby no one knows the meaning of normal.

“In a way, I understand. My family’s trying to either fix me up with any businessman they can find or get me employed in our own brewery.” I stop walking to get Finn to look at me. “Family is important. But they can also let you down. You know that, Finn. If you’re doing something that doesn’t seem right, don’t question yourself. Ask God.  Above all else, His word is what matters.”

Finn gives a satisfied hum and looks away at the murky waters below. “If God is so righteous, why does He allow misery? Why did my mum have to die? Why did my brothers have to go to war? Why do we have to keep up this madness with the Blinders?”

All good questions. Ones that no mortal will ever have the answer to. It breaks my heart to see Finn’s innocence being swallowed up by these mobsters.

“I mean, even if Sabini wasn’t posing a threat-”

My breath hitches and my panicked eyes meet his. “Dear Lord. Sabini…”

Finn frowns at my reaction. “You’ve heard of him?”

On the East Coast Sabini isn't a name that's thrown around without concern. They have connections. And the Italians are not on good terms with the Irish.

“There are rumors even in Brooklyn,” I answer slowly. “Finn, why on Earth would you lot be involved with him?”

He shrugs. “Donno. Only overheard Tommy muttering to himself.”

I point a scolding finger. “Finn, you are a good boy. No eavesdropping on people even when they’re conversing with themselves. As for Sabini… I will ask him about it later. Let’s get back to our walk.”

Days tick by. I help Polly with more chores. Go on walks with Finn. It feels like nothing’s changed. Can it stay like this? I know it’s not a perfect world but it’s a comfortable one. I’m not the one killing or lying. But when I talk to the Blinder boys who do it almost seems like they’re normal people too.

“So you’re really from America?” A Blinder named Harry asks as we lounge in the office.

“Hasn’t Thomas told you?” I ask back.

He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “No. Mr. Shelby doesn’t like us asking too many questions. We were only told to keep guard on you.”

“Oh well, isn't that sweet,” I mutter. A babysitter. “Just how dangerous has Small Heath gotten?”

“Don’t hold your breath, love.”

Footsteps echo throughout the hall and Thomas struts towards his office door. Why is his coat all dusty? How is he back already? Does a holiday for them last only a few days?

I get up from my chair and slowly approach. “Back so soon?” 

“Yes.”

Time to bite the bullet. “And you’re looking for a new secretary?”

“Already found one,” he replies and pours some whiskey into a glass on his desk. “Lizzy.”

Disappointment stings hard. Lizzie? A prostitute acting as a secretary? Granted the Shelbys have known her far longer so her trust must be stronger. But I’m disappointed nonetheless.

“I thought she…?”

Thomas downs his drink and gives a nod. “I changed that. I need someone who can look the other way, and I’m afraid you care too much.”

Ouch. 

“And what about Sabini?” 

The gangster’s eyes flash with warning but I push on. He’s not leaving me in the dark. He puffs out his chest and attempts to back me out of the room but I stand firm.

“Finn overheard the name and told me. That won’t go away, Thomas.”

That hardened stare makes my blood run cold. I’ve been met on the downside of Thomas’ anger only on a few occasions but this time it’s different. No words, no shouting. Just those unblinking blue eyes ordering me to stand down. So this is his secret of taming the Peaky Blinders.

“I can handle it.”

I set my jaw straight. He’s mad if he thinks this won’t end with bloodshed. I put a hand on my hip and point to the main office. “What about Polly? Ada? There are more ways he can hurt you besides pulling a gun to your head.”

Thomas sets down the glass and puts both hands on my shoulders. In an unspoken battle we glare back and forth, morals against pride. 

“I can handle it,” he repeats. “‘S not for you to stress over, love. Our family is stronger than him. Shelby Company Limited will persevere without any problems from Sabini.”

I want to believe him. But something deep down makes me consider something darker.

[heliads]

hey :)

i really like your blog and i was wondering if you could do a zoya x fem!reader where like zoya saves reader from a mission gone wrong when they were younger and ever since then y/n is zoya's biggest fan, she's always complimenting zoya and blushing in her presence and giving her little gifts made by hand... zoya finds all of this incredible irritating and she's always ignoing her presence in a very zoya nazyalensky way, untill one day she finds y/n crying and bleeding and feels like she could quite literally murder half the little palace, with the iconic "who did this to you" and a veeeeery protective and touchy (like, making sure reader is always close enough) zoya, please <3333

who wouldn't be zoya's biggest fan tbh

masterlist

Zoya Nazyalensky is not alone.

She’s known it for a while, actually. Her mornings start mostly the same way, anyway, so at this point, she’s got nothing to worry about. Besides, her idea of personal space in the Little Palace was mostly just an illusion. No matter where she goes, Zoya will never be fully unattended. 

It used to bother her. Still does, actually. Zoya is not a girl nor a god, just a soldier. She’d like the others to recognize that, but until then, too many people will still follow her around to figure out what to do next. Sometimes they’re looking for tips on how to master their grasp of the Small Science. Other times, they’re clamoring for an amplifier or some other way of achieving great power.

Right now, though, Zoya’s little stalker isn’t after any sort of violence or conquest. Zoya allows the sensation of eyes on her back to trouble her for a few minutes longer, then sighs, pushes in her chair, and poses a question to the bookcase right behind her.

“Is there something you need, or are you just going to stand there all morning?”

There’s a brief silence, just long enough for Zoya to wonder if she was wrong and she’s well and truly lost it after all this time. Then, the bookcase starts giggling back at her.

“Sorry, sorry! I got distracted. Coming out now.”

There’s a rustling sound, and then a girl appears out of the shadows of the library. She’s beaming at Zoya like she’s all of the Saints trapped in one physical form, and Zoya fights the urge to groan.

“I got you something,” the girl announces, and holds out something for Zoya’s inspection.

Zoya peers at the green stem, the mass of bright petals, and belatedly realizes what it is. A wilting wildflower, probably freshly caught this morning. Saints, and she was just starting to think that maybe this little ordeal could end.

Zoya stares at the girl; the girl stares back at Zoya. Tired eyes meet wide ones. Zoya waits, and when it’s made abundantly clear that the girl won’t be going anywhere unless Zoya accepts her offering, she bites back a scream of irritation and plucks the flower from the girl’s hand.

“Thank you,” she manages.

The girl’s smile broadens, if that was even possible at all. “Of course!” She chirps, and disappears back into the shelves once more.

Not willing to take the risk that the girl could still be watching her from some crack or crevice of the shelves again, Zoya grabs her things and puts them in a small bag, heading out of the dark library and into the bright sunshine. She’s about to shove the accursed flower into the bottom of her bag, where the petals can rip and tear to their heart’s content, when someone interrupts her. Not an admirer, this time. A friend, and one Zoya is glad to see.

“If you’re not going to appreciate that wildflower, can I have it?”

Zoya glances over at the approaching Genya Safin, one eyebrow raised in disdain. “You want this?”

Genya laughs. “Some of us would be happy to receive flowers, you know. You’re treating that thing like it has a death wish.”

“I think it does,” Zoya harrumphs, “or its giver does, at least.”

Genya presses her fingers to her lips, trying to hide another laugh. “Can I guess that you’ve been visited by Y/N L/N again?”

“Who else?” Zoya groans.

Who else indeed. Genya knows what Zoya knows, what the rest of them at the Little Palace know, for that matter:  Y/N L/N is absolutely obsessed with Zoya. It’s not Zoya’s fault, not really. It started a long time ago, back before Zoya knew better.

Zoya had been minding her own business on a scheduled trip outside the walls of Os Alta when she’d stumbled upon a girl getting attacked by a band of thieves. Zoya could sense strange currents in the air, and realized that the girl was Grisha, which was likely why she was set upon by thugs. Zoya had quickly handled the situation, sending the thieves rocketing through the air to connect with a brick wall with enough force to knock them unconscious.

When she’d checked to see if the girl was relatively unharmed, though, Zoya had been confused to notice the beaming smile on her face. For someone who’d suffered a few blows, the girl was way too thrilled to care about her injuries in the slightest. The only thing on the girl’s mind was Zoya, her rescuer.

Zoya had brushed the whole matter aside. Things like this happen all the time; Grisha who’ve had to hide their gifts to blend in at home often fixate on the first powerful Grisha they see. It certainly didn’t hurt that Zoya had saved the girl’s life. Most likely, the whole thing would blow over once the girl stayed at the Little Palace a little longer, got some more experience under her belt, and learned to fear Zoya just like all the other Grisha.

The girl Zoya had saved was Y/N, though, and that moment of peace Zoya anticipated never came. Instead, Y/N started following Zoya around, pestering her with insignificant questions and presenting her with random gifts like the wildflower from this morning. Zoya couldn’t practice her gifts without Y/N falling over herself to compliment something asinine like Zoya’s precision or form.

It was ridiculous, that much was certain. Zoya’s certain that the other Grisha talk about it behind her back, how Zoya’s managed to get a cult following of one by pure accident. Zoya would like it to stop, but no matter how many times she’s tried to avoid Y/N or discourage her from spending so much time around Zoya, nothing has ever worked. Y/N’s idolatry remains just as strong as ever.

Genya has heard a great deal of Zoya’s griping on the matter, which is why she’s able to grin as she twirls the wildflower between her fingers. “You know, you’re going to have to accept this at some point. Y/N’s not going away any time soon. You might as well just learn to live with the attention.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Zoya says, chin jutted up, and she most certainly does have something to say about it.

Genya just smiles to herself, as if she knows something Zoya doesn’t. As if she could understand a fraction of Zoya’s indignation on the matter. No one does, that’s why Y/N hasn’t yet learned to just stay away. It’s insufferable, but, much like Genya has threatened, it is starting to seem like something Zoya must adapt to instead of forcing aside.

It does seem like an immovable fact of Zoya’s life. Y/N shows up most mornings with a saccharine word or petty offering, disappearing as quickly as she appears. No matter what, she’s always there.

Until, one morning, she isn’t. Zoya notices the girl’s absence immediately. She didn’t think she would, but– well, maybe it’s just because she’s so glad to be alone at last. Yes, that must be it. That, and no other reason.

Zoya goes about her business as per usual, but Y/N still fails to show. Not only that, but Zoya’s starting to attract stares. People are whispering on the edges of Zoya’s consciousness, just loud enough that she can’t help but notice.

Zoya runs into Genya again, and she can’t help but ask what all the fuss is about. Genya looks at her, surprised, and says that she would have thought Zoya would have heard about it. You know, the morning’s incident.

Y/N’s face pops into Zoya’s face unbidden, but she manages to tamp down the memory before it can cause her too much trouble. “What do you mean, the morning’s incident? What happened?”

Genya shrugs liberally. “Just some nonsense in some of the Grisha quarters. One of those roving gangs of mean girls– you know the ones, we all do– they decided to pull a prank on one of the other Grisha. It was something stupid like collapsing her bed while she was sleeping or something so she’d wake up in the middle of the night. Only problem was, the girl was annoyed, obviously, and the girls said they felt threatened and they attacked her.”

“Saints,” Zoya said, “what kind of nonsense is that? They should all know better than to pull a stunt like that. I can’t believe no one told me until now.”

Genya offers up a wry grin. “Probably because they were afraid you’d punish the lot of them. As you should, by the way. I am surprised you didn’t get word of it, though. It involved your little follower.”

Zoya stops walking abruptly, feeling her blood course like ice through her veins. “Was Y/N hurt?” Then, “Who were her attackers, exactly?”

The wrath of Zoya Nazyalensky is something that not even the bravest amongst the Grisha would trigger upon fear of death. The look in her eyes is something murderous indeed, and as Zoya draws near her targets, Grisha are quite literally leaping out of the way so as to not attract her indignation for even a moment.

Zoya’s work is also precise. She does what she wants when she wants. And, when she wants to cause pain, she can do that with great capability. The girls who hurt Y/N– well, they won’t be trying anything like that ever again, and not just because they’ll be under the care of the Little Palace Healers for at least a week.

It feels good. Shouldn’t, because Zoya is far more skilled than them and it barely took any of her energy to beat them, but it does. Something loud in her chest is roaring its approval. With that taken care of, Zoya turns to the next task on her list:  namely, making sure that Y/N L/N is alright after all.

Zoya finds her easily enough. The girl has a few favorite spots on the grounds of the Little Palace, one of them in the shade of an apple tree farther away from the main buildings. Zoya finds Y/N there, but judging by the unsurprised look on the girl’s face when Zoya stops in front of her, she was expected.

Zoya eyes her gingerly. “Are you hurt?”

“Not too badly,” Y/N says. “Mainly just my pride.”

Zoya smirks. “Trust me, they’re far worse off. In body and in pride.”

A pause. The wind whistles through the branches of the tree above, and it’s funny, Y/N’s never had a problem in coming up with random things to say, but they’re absolutely silent now.

Then:  “Why would you do that?” Y/N asks softly. So softly that Zoya almost doesn’t hear, except she does. She hears everything.

Zoya blinks in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Y/N’s laugh is jaded. It actually hurts Zoya to hear it; the thought that Y/N, sunny, cheerful Y/N, could harbor that much pain in her is unnatural. “I’m not blind, Zoya. I know you don’t like me. I know I vex you and whatnot, I know I’m overwhelming in my hero worship or whatever. I see that when you look at me. I pretend otherwise, but– I know. No one expected you to save me, not again.”

Zoya feels as if she has been struck by a clap of lightning. Thunder booms in her temples, drowning out any sort of reasonable thought. “You thought I hated you?”

Y/N gives her a very watery glare. “You were never happier than when I was out of your sight. The impression was solid.”

Zoya runs a hand through her already unruly hair. “I didn’t– I mean, I did, but– Saints, Y/N, I don’t anymore.”

As she says it, she realizes it’s true. Zoya does not hate Y/N L/N in the slightest. In fact, the very moment that she found out Y/N had been hurt, her entire system shut down with the only goal to get revenge. It’s like protecting Y/N is supposed to come first before everything. It’s like how it was when Zoya saved Y/N’s life the first time around.

When she looks back at Y/N, she realizes Y/N is smiling. A real smile, too, not like the polite one she’d forced when Zoya told her that she’d handled the other girls. “And how long did it take you to admit that?”

“Not that long,” Zoya says, feeling the odd urge to blush. It’s an odd emotion for her to feel, and she swears that Y/N picks up on it, because her smile broadens even more.

“Alright, then,” Y/N says, “Are you going to help me up? I’m sure I’m still injured.”

Zoya manages a smile, extending a hand which Y/N takes. For a moment after she stands, Y/N remains there still, fingers interlocked with Zoya’s, smiling with that same warmth in her eyes. Zoya doesn’t want the moment to end; it does anyway, time has never been her friend nor that of anyone else, but it’s better afterwards somehow. It belongs to her, these memories, everything she does from here on out, and Zoya has an idea that she’d like to change quite a few things indeed. Perhaps she’ll start with never letting go.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @amortensie-moved, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy

[saltminerising]

Sigh. I'm so frustrated.

So I bought a G1, it was an XYZ, nothing special, its eyes don't even match (they actually really really clash with its colors tbh). But I liked the dragon and whatnot, and spent a fair amount of money gene-ing it up. Now, a few days later, the seller messages me and seems kinda upset about it, because apparently they hadn't meant to list this dragon on the AH at ALL. And I mean it wasn't cheap, so I didn't... think it was a mistake/mispricing/etc.? Like why would I even think that when I had no indication they DIDN'T mean to even list it up on the AH??

And, normally I'd totally be willing to resell the dragon back to the person that I bought it for, for that same price, but... I did spend a decent chunk of money on gene-ing it? And they seem really upset now since to buy it back, it's like, a hassle at this point. And it really does seem like they genuinely didn't mean to put it up on the AH, so I don't know how the heck that happened. :/

I feel like we both lose out here. If I resell it for the amount they originally listed it, then I lose out on all those genes I spent on it, and that money too. But if they compensate me for the loss, then THEY have to pay way more just to get their dragon back, like extra fees on top of everything that they don't deserve either. (I mean I know they technically sold it, but like, an error is an error, you know?? I know you can "blame" them for making the error but like. It sucks to make some kind of mistake and then there's no easy fix to the situation / it's not something they meant to do and now they gotta pay more for an honest mistake. Like the genes I got were NOT CHEAP genes btw, like actual gem genes so uh... heckkk.) I just REALLY wish they'd messaged me before I did anything to it?? Because like it's been a few days now, and I get not everyone logs in all the time, but I just... ugh. This situation just really sucks, you know??

Also, I know the whole "once the dragon leaves your lair it's no longer yours" and that I technically own the dragon and don't HAVE to resell back to them, but like. I also get that it sucks to accidentally lose something you were attached to because you made a mistake. Everyone makes errors, does something when they're tired or I don't know and didn't mean to do something like list a dragon (maybe they meant to price a different one at that price?? I don't know). I'm just lamenting the fact that it's now become such a fiasco for everyone involved, and I don't have a clue what to do. I'm willing to resell the dragon to them. But I just don't know how to fix the other price difference in a way that's fair to both of us, and it's distressing.

It just feels like such a lose/lose situation for the both of us, and that super sucks. :/ Also I'm now highkey very stressed out about the whole ordeal and I don't know what to do. And I'm upset that they're upset. (they didn't get angry at me, they're just?? rightfully distraught over accidentally losing this dragon, which I think makes sense??)

Sorry for the long post. This situation sucks so much and I just needed to vent about it. Sighhhhhh. ughhHHhHhH. i'm already physically sick at the moment and dont need this extra stress. i just wanna play pretty pixel dragon in peace to unwind and have fun maybe. i don't need more stuff added onto my plate right now. :( upsetti spaghetti times. #FeelsBadMan blehhhh blarghhhh

[cookies-over-yonder]

hermie's first christmas!

CO-WRITTEN BY @silverlistenstothings

Taylor and Hermie exchange Christmas presents!

ao3 | Part 25 of The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Roommates

Hermie wakes up with a vague sense of dread. That isn’t necessarily a novel sensation for them, but at least this time around they know why; it’s Christmas morning.

Hermie doesn’t exactly like Christmas, really it’s only rivalled by their birthday as far as ‘the most disappointing time of the year’ goes. Presents looked about the same; a note on a pair of 20 dollar bills, if they were lucky enough to receive even that.

What makes Christmas worse is that Taylor apparently loves it. He’s been singing Christmas carols for weeks, and the entire house is decorated head to toe with red and green and bells and glitter. Hermie can at least spend their birthday being miserable without anyone being so persistently and aggravatingly cheery in their general vicinity.

Still, they have the dignity to hate Christmas privately, without making it Taylor’s problem. They’re an actor, after all, they can play along.

They got Taylor’s gift a long while ago, stolen from the jewellery section of a chain store in the nearby mall. It’s just been sitting between their mattress and bed frame all month.

As they get up and retrieve the box, they realise the state of the box shows it. Luckily, the gift itself is unharmed.

Hermie knocks lightly before carefully opening the door to Taylor’s room.

He’s still sleeping soundly, face squished into one of his numerous body pillows.

They carefully place the small jewellery box on the blanket, and thankfully he doesn’t stir.

At first, anyway.

But just as they turn to leave…

“Hermie…? Wha’s this?”

Fuck. They were hoping to get out of this interaction without interacting at all, actually.

“It’s nothing,” Hermie says, heading out the door.

Taylor squeals, and next thing Hermie knows, Taylor is tackling them from behind with a hug.

“These are so cute, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Taylor shouts far too loudly for how close he is, and he plants a kiss on Hermie’s cheek before running away saying something about a present for them.

Hermie doesn’t really hear it, blinded by their confusion at the sudden affection, but they don’t need to, because next thing they know, Taylor is dragging a large gift bag from his room to theirs, and then dragging them in as well.

“Open it!” Taylor says, tail swishing behind him with excitement.

Hermie grabs a ton of tissue paper and tosses it onto their bed, and underneath it there’s… a blanket.

A weighted blanket.

“I saw you eyeing it when we went furniture shopping. I kinda guessed which weight to get, so I hope it’s okay.”

This must have been so expensive. Taylor got them something of so much value and all Hermie could give back was a flimsy set of earrings?

“Do you like it?” Taylor asks.

“Yeah… thank you, Taylor.”

Taylor hugs them again, and they freeze for a second before returning it.

“We can ask Mom to help us put it on your bed when she wakes up ‘cause my arms are tired from lugging it around.”

“Okay.”

“Merry Christmas, Hermie!”

“Merry Christmas, Taylor.”