#truly a top tier woman. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sukirichi · 4 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄 | 𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

In a world filled with too much cash and flashing lights, will a solemn and ironically private relationship of a celebrity chef and wealthy socialite branded as star crossed lovers remain full of adoration and sincerity?

cw. fem! reader. celebrity chef! reader. gojo is insanely rich. angst. unedited. suggestive (they make out and is implied to sleep together, but no explicit scenes are shown.) hurt with a little bit of comfort.

notes. i can’t explain it but there’s just something about this fic i’m not completely satisfied with... i feel like i could’ve written it better LOL but also i just wanted to write something casual

wc. 17k

divider from saradika-graphics <3

Contrary to what people may say, Satoru knows he’s worked hard to get where he is.

The silent yet sharp-tongued man whose mere sound of his shoes stepping in the hallway sent his employees rushing inside their cubicles with fear. Belonging to the top tier of society as a result of being born wealthy and powerful, his name was enough to have people’s knees quivering of what the young heir was capable of.

He had the world at the mercy of his hands.

His icy blue eyes were empty, cold, and relentless – a stark contrast to his angelic features that fooled people. With his face pasted on almost every magazine, and companies vying for his attention left and right, journalists begging for a five minute interview, it was no brainer the importance of Gojo Satoru. And with his looks that had every man and woman stumbling before his very feet, the line between angel and devil blurred thinner.

You see, being born a God in front of everyone’s eyes was not as easy as it seemed. Tabloids always spread fake rumors claiming the young heir did not deserve to handle his family’s group of companies due to the fact he didn’t even graduate college. Or that was too scandalous for his own good to keep up a good reputation. As someone who holds major stockholders in the mercy of his will, everyone expected better.

Satoru scoffed at it all. To him, those were nothing but measly words.

He was the Gojo Satoru. He could do whatever he wanted, however he pleased, and all the world could do about it was complain. Such rumors (albeit ringing with truth) did not affect his life whatsoever.

Still, it doesn’t come as a surprise to him how uncultured people preferred other companies to be on top of the food chain – like Zen’in Corp, or Kamo Inc. They had far better reputations (ha, Satoru thought sarcastically), and were more well-liked by Japan. Satoru knows better though. No one is truly kind when they had enough wealth to claim the world as their own. Naoya Zen’in’s smile was as natural as his blonde streaks, and Noritoshi Kamo wasn’t even the company’s real heir. The latter was a bastard, and the former an attention seeker.

At least Satoru was honest and did not put on any facades of being a good man. He knew he was not.

The other men were greedy, always ready to pounce at every opportunity to have another digit added to their bank account, their expensive colognes successfully hiding the stench of their evil nature and their perfectly chiseled features resembling those of a seductive demon’s. Satoru was not surprised that he was born in a castle that resembled hell. Though it does not bother him anymore, he used to be saddened by the fact that he had been close with them in his youth. They spent their days spent chasing each other in the garden and pulling the trigger of water guns mercilessly, but all that was forgotten when each of them were groomed into perfection, just waiting to see who would take over the throne and who would end up as subordinates.

A battle which Satoru won without breaking a sweat.

And just like that, friendships dissolved. Men who he once called his comrades became his rivals in the industry.

Being the eldest of the three, their blood boiled when the official announcement came: Gojo Satoru had officially been stated as the new president of the Gojo Group of Companies.

It was not an easy competition. The bond between friends were soon replaced with greed and hatred for each other. Both Naoya and Noritoshi were ready to rip him apart at every mistake he made, but they did not know how fortunate they were. While they spent weekends overseas in cruise ships with flutes of champagne delicately nestled between their fingers, fucking every pair of tits with walking legs, Satoru locked himself in an office at the young age of eighteen. Whilst everyone savored the flavor of youth, he was forced to make the wisest decisions when it came to business. And little by little piece, his humanity had shattered until it was destroyed completely.

Gone was the cheerful boy who always spent too much time playing with his dogs and not minding that his latest Gucci pyjamas had been stained with grass. In fact, he did not even remember that side of him existed at all.

That at one point in his life, he’d been a normal boy with a normal childhood – before the weight of the world wore him down.

Glancing sideways at his security team, the head guard, Toji, nodded and commanded something through his radio. All the guards dispersed and made way for him. In a matter of a minute, the employees who were walking aimlessly in his hallway had scrambled in their offices. Sighing tiredly, Satoru rolled his eyes. Toji opened the doors for him as he stepped out, the dull, gray exterior of the spacious room feeling like home more than anything else.

His secretary, Mei-Mei, bowed politely at him and handed him his caffė macchiato. His fingers reached for the cup before facing the glass walls. Beneath him, the entirety of Tokyo lay pulsing at his feet. With one scoop of his hands and a simple word uttered through his lips, he knew he could take everything. And he could if he wanted to, but such was the dilemma of having everything.

Satoru Gojo desired for nothing at all.

“This,” his father once said at the twelve year old him, his hand sweeping from the exact same place he stood in. “will all be yours soon, my son. You have the world in the mercy of your hands.”

The hot beverage burned his tongue. He reeled back, biting at his tongue in the process of soothing it as he listened to Mei-Mei list his agenda for today. He had just gotten home from Beijing less than an hour ago, and he couldn’t even sleep on the flight because he was swarmed with paperwork and a hundred more proposals to accept. Yet the exhaustion does not show on his face. In fact, there was a not a trace of it. His face remained blemish free and healthy thanks to the dermatologists who always gave him free treatments in exchange of endorsing them – which he never did.

Raising his chin high, he peeked past his shoulder to look at Mei-Mei, who had her tablet tucked in her armpit, silently awaiting his response. “Alert the Board of an emergency meeting within ten minutes, and I want Mr. Ijichi to bring me the real sales report regarding the Wangguo Resort for the past five months.”

Mei-Mei’s gasp is barely audible. Satoru knew his request was absurd, but it was her job to do everything he told her to. If she didn’t, well, the answer was clear as day. She could say goodbye to her lovely job.

Turning his back to her, Satoru scanned his nails lazily. He needn’t worry about anything. He knew Mei-Mei would always do what was needed at the price. But – his eyes narrowed – he was in desperate need of another manicure. Hours spent typing and calculating sales had chipped them, and he had to keep his appearance of a perfect man who had his life together. After all, he was Satoru Gojo – the flawless one. The god walking amongst humans. He could never quite tell when there were cameras ready to catch him off-guard, but he’d never risk that chance.

He had to be without fault.

“An emergency meeting?” Mei-Mei stumbled over her words, chuckling nervously as she swiped at her tablet, looking for a reason as to why he would ask her to do such a thing. Satoru nodded, fully aware that most of the members on the Board were in different provinces out to do their job, but he was the most powerful person in that building.

Nothing was impossible for him. His wishes were the law.

“What for, Sir?”

He slapped a red envelope with a golden seal down his desk, eyes forming into slits. Mei-Mei cowered under his gaze. “When I went to Beijing to check the status of our hotel, I found out that there had been issues regarding maintenance and plumbing reported for five months now, and no one told me about it? I run a five star hotel that exceeds the expectations of even royals, and I won’t forgive this treachery. According to the hotel staff, their supervisor had told them to keep the complaints confidential because they didn’t want me to know there’d been issues in the first place.”

Though he spoke smoothly and did not even stutter or waver the least bit, Mei-Mei had known him long enough to know that even the slightest twitch from his eyes meant he was furious.

This wasn’t the first time your brothers had tried to take whatever was yours in their possession, but the sales report of that hotel had been forged and the Board was aware, yet they did not inform you in fear of what your brother could have done to them.

This wasn’t the first time his staff had kept secrets from him. They all piled up until it became too big to ignore, and then Satoru had to step in. Seriously. Was he a joke to them?

“No, I take it back,” he said suddenly, plastering on a fake smile at his oblivious assistant who tried her best to conceal her relief. After all, Mei-Mei too had been tired with the amount of workload he gave her, but if she wanted remain as a woman with deep pockets, she just had to turn his wishes into reality. “Fire all members of the Board, and blacklist them. Make sure no local or foreign company will ever hire them, but because I am a man of mercy, they can still be hired as waiters or janitors.”

Mei-Mei’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, and it looked so comical Satoru would’ve laughed if he knew how to.

Instead, he smoothened out invisible creases from his three piece suit before sitting down, the harsh yet familiar blue light of his Mac desktop greeting him. His fingers skirted along the keyboard in the speed of light, and from his calm state, you would have guessed nothing happened, but this could be his downfall.

He’d always been warned to keep his temper in check, to think things through before coming to a final decision, but why would he?

If his own people would not respect him, then he wasn’t required to return the gesture. After all, he didn’t need them as much as they needed him. He could easily replace the figures making up the Board. But he was the president, the man who made those lazy, fat fucks rich. They had gotten too comfortable with their positions, and he needed to show them that he still held their lives on the line.

That ought to teach them a lesson.

“Sir, please reconsider this and don’t make decisions compulsively. The Board plays a big role in our company–”

“Tell me, Mei-Mei, is a King only considered a king when he has people to serve him?”

She falters for a bit, her eyes watching him cautiously. Satoru leant forward the slightest bit, the black glasses framing his face in a way he looked almost innocent. But the coldness of his eyes were enough of a telltale that he was not someone to be messed with. Aggravation and mirth danced in them almost mockingly. He could read her perfectly – this secretary of his. He’s not stupid; he knows she hates him. And why wouldn’t she? No one liked Gojo Satoru. He was mean, ruthless, and invalidated everyone who he deemed ‘lower’ than him. And yet, he hadn’t met a single person to prove him wrong.

The truth is that no one was as capable of doing things the way Satoru did.

He was the smartest person she’d ever met to the point it was frightening. Satoru always had a solution to whatever situation, with countless of secrets and tricks hidden under his sleeve. And he wasn’t as awful as everyone said he was. Yes, he was ruthless, that much Mei-Mei could admit, but only to everyone who deserved it.

Anyone who didn’t do their job right, or abused their power wouldn’t escape Gojo Satoru’s wrath. Call him a demon, or the devil’s son, but Mei-Mei saw him more of a judge who brought justice and punishment to those who did wrong.

Satoru leant back against his chair, satisfied with her answer before dismissing her with a wave of his hand. “A king remains powerful when his kingdom is omnipotent. I’m glad you understand that now,” he said, head snapping up as he remembered something. “Oh, and don’t forget to schedule a dinner with the others tonight at that new restaurant everyone has been crazing about.”

Mei-Mei nods, pressing ‘cancel’ to the rest of his agenda for the night. She made a mental note to call the restaurant ahead of time to tell them to reserve the place all for Mr. Gojo. Taking one last look at him, Mei-Mei realizes that if she wants to keep working with the devil, she had to stay on their good side.

“I’m not doing it.”

“Boss,” Yuuji whines, pouting as he holds your hands and shakes them in an attempt to make you reconsider. You merely scoff, freeing yourself from the younger one’s grip with a glare. “They said they’ll pay us handsomely if we reserve the whole restaurant for just the night, and I’m afraid we’ll close down if we don’t do what they tell us to. It’s not just anyone, you know. It’s the Gojo Satoru.”

You looked at him disapprovingly before resuming your task of cutting vegetables. “Our shop won’t close,” you reply confidently, “We only take reservations per table, not for the whole restaurant. They should eat somewhere else, I don’t care about the money.”

Of course you knew who Gojo Satoru was – everyone did. It was kind of hard not to know the guy when the entirety of Japan had been in love with him from the moment he was born. That wasn’t an exaggeration, either, because people actually had photos of the heir from when he was still a baby. ‘Such a beautiful boy,’ they cooed upon the sight of his stark-white hair. And when he finally opened his eyes, it was done for – the young Gojo Satoru had everyone wrapped around his finger before he even babbled his first words. So yes, you knew perfectly well who he was, and that was exactly why you didn’t like him.

For such a popular man, his reputation was anything but good.

You didn’t want him anywhere near you, or the restaurant you shed blood, sweat, and tears to build.

You were the newest celebrity chef the world crazed over. Not only were your dishes to die for, but your looks caught the crowd’s attention, too. Pair your introverted, awkward personality with your endless charm shown in your dishes, you quickly rose to fame. Tabloids and magazines alike starved to get a taste of your dishes – a glimpse of you, even. With the latest opening of your new restaurant in the city, people have been coming in endlessly, wanting to see the infamous chef for themselves behind the kitchen.

Yeah, you wouldn’t let that happen.

Unfortunately for the media, you would rather hide behind the kitchen doors than have to go through another dreadful interview. Apart from a few pictures taken by the paparazzi and endless praises from your customers in your skills in cooking, you remained a mystery – something you’d prefer to keep.

Having Gojo Satoru and his ‘peers’ over would completely ruin that.

As much as you loved your career, knowing you made money doing what you loved, you detested the attention it came with being associated with the rich. One day, you were elbow-deep in your dishes, and then you were suddenly being invited to the most pretentious social events. Wealthy people roamed around, content with making the price tags of their clothes their personalities. You didn’t mind at first. It was exhilarating, even, to be thrown into a world so different from the one you were born into. But after one gathering where three wealthy men offered to hire you as their personal chef, and promised extra pay for ‘special services’, you left that world behind.

You swore not to be involved with the socialites anymore, even if it meant more success for your future. You cared less about the money anyway – you were confident in your skills enough to know you could pave your way with your own hands. You would never accept money from their deep, dirty pockets.

“Boss, you need to see this!” Yuuji whispered harshly, tugging you by the apron. You grumbled upon being separated from your chopping board, but his words fell on deaf ears as you both watched the customers clamor in excitement, phones being pulled out of their pockets. Soon enough, your restaurant drowned with flashing lights, and an equally blinding smile from the tall man who entered, his cheeks flushed from all the attention. “Holy shit. He looks even hotter in person.”

Thankful that you had your contacts on, you could see the scene before you clearly.

The people rose from their seats, eager to have a picture taken with Japan’s most beloved. His security team immediately formed a protective circle around him when the people clamored, the Gojo heir apologizing because he didn’t allow pictures. He claimed tonight was a special night, and he merely wanted to have a private dinner with his childhood friends.

Oh, fucking great. He’s bringing others here, too?

As if the situation couldn’t get any worse, two, black and sleek cars pulled up into the driveway. Naoya Zen’in stepped out of the car, shades propped on his tall nose as he smirked at the cameras already being flashed his way. From the other car appeared Noritoshi Kamo, his lips pressed into thin lines while blatantly ignoring the chaos ensued from their mere presence.

Your eye twitched. You could feel a migraine coming already.

To say you feel enraged would be an understatement. You pushed past your crew with a stormy expression, prepared to tell these stuck-up elites to go visit another restaurant. Was it really that hard to give you peace? You never accepted their reservation to begin with. However, you didn’t make it very far when you felt a strong hand grasp your arm.

“Boss, please hold yourself back, it’s just a dinner they’re asking for. If you intervene now, this could cause a public commotion,” Yuuji glances at the three men from the corner of his eye before warning you, “They’re not people you can mess with.”

Soon enough, his former customers had dispersed out peacefully with the assistance of the family’s security team, and he grits his teeth in an attempt to contain his anger for pretentious people like them, watching as they occupied an empty table. One of the waiters approached them nervously, three menus in her hands and she’s about to hand them out when the eldest looking one spoke irritatingly.

You huffed. You hated how he was right. Successful, you may be, but you could never come close to their level of power and wealth.

With an apologetic smile from Satoru – who made four women faint from the sight – your previous customers dispersed with the assistance of Satoru’s security team. You gritted your teeth in an attempt to contain your anger. They were so pretentious! Naoya, especially, flicking two of his fingers at your waiter as a signal to clean up the table he wanted. Scurrying on his heels, your staff nervously approached them while the others cleaned up in the speed of light, and handing them the menu’s with shaky hands.

Noritoshi nodded once at the waiter who approached him, while Satoru paid them no mind as he flicked through the pages. Meanwhile, Naoya clutched the wrist of the waitress who’d handed him his menu, brushing his lips against her knuckles.

You watched as your waitress froze. You were about to push his hand away from her when Satoru beat you to it, his voice icy and his words cutting like a knife. “Can never keep your hands to yourself, huh, Zen’in? With the amount of women visiting your estate, I’d have figured you would know enough to never touch a woman without her permission.”

Naoya scowled, immediately dropping your waitress’ hands before plastering another smirk. “No need to be a killjoy, Satoru. But anyways, what’s the reason for calling us out of the blue? You know well enough I had matters to take care of in Kobe.”

Satoru doesn’t lift his gaze from the menu. “Actually, I don’t know that. I could care less about your schedule. But I figured I haven’t seen my dear old friends in a while and thought a meal would be nice.”

Noritoshi spoke up, and Yuuji whispers to your ear on how he was one of the most popular models in the industry, and third to to them in the top bachelors of the decade. “Cut to the chase, we don’t have enough time.”

“Calm down, why are you in such a hurry? Let’s order first shall we?” You plaster on a disgustingly forced smile, taking the tablet Yuuji hands you as you gravitated towards Satoru. Stupid bastard – he doesn’t even look your way. “We’ll take the Spicy Uni-Lardo Sushi in Lettuce Cups and Foei Gras-Steamed Clams.”

He listed a few more – the most expensive meals on the menu, too – and you jotted them all down with steady hands. Although the restaurant was eerily silent, you could feel the crew’s eyes watching over you from the kitchen like a hawk.

“Will that be all, Sir?”

Satoru hums, waving his hand in the air. “You’re dismissed. Now leave us.”

Your jaw dropped. This little – Yuuji snatched you back into the kitchen, but you’ll be damned if you didn’t defend your honor. Handing their orders to the other chefs so they could get started, you leant against the kitchen doors and peered out from the cracks to eavesdrop.

“Because I treasure my dear friends so much, I won’t waste your time any longer and get to the matters at hand. Naoya, let’s talk about the chain resort in the Wannguo branch, and Noritoshi, here is your lawsuit for fabricating my sales report that’ll land you a free six year vacation in jail.” A white haired woman appeared out of nowhere, pulling out a black envelope with bold letters reading ‘LAWSUIT.’ Satoru swiftly picked it and slid it towards the raven haired man’s way.

Noritoshi gaped at Satoru, “What’s the meaning of this, Satoru?”

“I should be asking you that. Isn’t it not enough for you I collaborated on this project with you? Are you that intent on kicking me out of my own company you’re sabotaging your responsibilities and lounging around in London?”

Deep down, you knew you shouldn’t be eavesdropping. But this was the type of drama you saw only in dramas, and you couldn’t tear your gaze away from them even if you tried.

Upon looking behind you, you saw your crew had paused in their work, too, intent on watching the drama unfold before your eyes. The Gojo Clan were practically royals in the country, always portrayed as indomitable and powerful beyond belief. It seemed hard to believe there were things that got under Gojo Satoru’s nerve, with his friends, no less. Sure, you’d heard Naoya scamming people here and there, along with rumors of Noritoshi abandoning his work in pursuit of pleasure.

And, regrettably, you assumed Satoru wouldn’t be any different than them. Now, you were getting a front seat view of what truly transpired beyond the surface.

Gesturing for your crew to go back to work, they all grumbled but obediently followed anyway. You took your attention off them and glanced back at Satoru, taken aback at the sight of pure irritation for his company – and if you looked a little closer, hurt pooled around those captivating eyes of his.

Perhaps he was human like you after all, and while he didn’t exactly give you a good first impression, you were decent enough to respect this was not something you could keep on wathcing. Resuming your work, you began to heat up the pans, their voices distant yet clear.

“Jail? Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t belong in a place like that!” Noritoshi, the younger one, shouted with an appalled expression, his hands slamming against the table as he sent an almost pleading look at Satoru.

“Then you shouldn’t have fabricated my documents to begin with.”

“Be careful, Satoru,” Naoya warned with a harsh whisper, “We were born with the eyes of the world around us, one wrong move and I’ll have the media ruin your tarnished reputation even more. You may be the richest amongst us three, but don’t think you’re invincible.”

“You asshole,” Noritoshi retorted, thin lips forming into a sneer. “If you were going to file a lawsuit against me, you couldn’t have done it privately? Don’t belittle us, one bad review of this restaurant and this place will burn down to pieces, and I’ll make sure you go along with it.”

Satoru’s melodious laughter made you all pause. “A death threat, how funny! You both truly are so sweet, but let me warn you that I have the press eagerly waiting for my signal, so act on your best behavior and pretend we’re having a hearty meal together,” In a matter of minutes, you interrupted by showing up with their food. Satoru’s eyes lit up as he clapped his hands in faux enthusiasm. “Oh, the food’s here, eat up! My treat tonight since you’ll all be losing your money anyway.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see Noritoshi glaring at his plate. Satoru had ordered you to serve him the seafood, and judging by Noritishi paling at the sight of it, he must’ve been allergic. Jesus. If he faints, or worse, dies at your restaurant tonight, it’d be completely pinned on you. You didn’t even do anything to be involved, and yet it seemed as if Satoru was dragging you down with him. Nevertheless, Noritoshi picked up his utensils. The scratching of silver knives against the plate filled the room, accompanied by the soft, jazz music that gave off a false, comfortable atmosphere.

Oh, but it was anything but that.

The tension was so thick in the air you found it hard to breathe. Satoru was like a ticking time bomb, Noritoshi was a few mouthfuls away from turning completely red in the face, and Naoya hadn’t stopped ordering refills of his wine.

Satoru dabbed at his mouth carefully with a napkin. What a shame, he thought. You had such a lovely restaurant, and your food was to die for. He would’ve enjoyed it if it hadn’t been for his so-called friends sabotaging his career.

“Here’s the deal – no, I do not need to make deals with my subordinates – here is what’s going to happen and listen carefully because I won’t repeat it again. Naoya, as from this hour, you are relieved of your duties as supervisor of our resort, but you’re free to have my vacation home there as compensation. As for you, Noritoshi, I’ll burn this lawsuit and forget your crime if you promise not to let even your name be spoken for the whole year. In other words: get out of my sight. Am I making myself clear?”

“How dare you do this to me?!”

“Sit down, Naoya, you wouldn’t want your pretty face to be ruined with that frown. Are we done here, boys?” Satoru enjoyed it, he really did.

To see two powerful crumble before him made him feel things he couldn’t quite put into his words. Entertaining, he called it, to know he was capable of cracking their tough personas. It made him wonder how many more buttons of theirs he could push before he destroyed them completely.

“Yes.” Noritoshi nodded with an almost pained choke, and Satoru leant back triumphantly. Because he was a model and sometimes an actor if he wished, he was more exposed to the media and cared more about his image more than Naoya did, thus making the former easier to manipulate and kneel down to his whim.

Satoru smiled, pleased. “Then you may go. Noritoshi, I’m keeping your car keys under my possession for the meantime, but my chauffeur will gladly chaperone you everywhere as long as I deem it necessary. And Naoya, I already sent my apologies to your escort, she’s as good as a stranger so you don’t have to worry about the press exposing your disgusting behavior.”

The latter looks up from his empty plate with wide, questioning eyes as if to ask how he knew about that, but he had never been a good liar. Satoru knew him well enough that he never took care of business matters and instead spent his days wasting the precious money his family had worked for just to pay the most ‘prestigious’ of escorts. He had a disgusting personality to ever make a woman land willingly in his bed, which is why he resorted to throwing his money just to have someone beautiful in his arms to flaunt off in social events, or warm his bed.

Though not in his line of sight, Satoru knew his bodyguard was watching. He stood up with grace, slapping a wad of cash down the table as a signal of his business finally dealt with. You expected him to leave the restaurant when he surprised you by heading your way. Eyes wide, your hands reached out to feel the doors when Yuuji subtly pushed you towards Satoru.

Oh, dear heavens. Yuuji was right.

The magazines and pictures of him didn’t do him any justice. He was absolutely breathtaking now that he was before you, his cold eyes now holding the tiniest bit of warmth as he regarded you. Back facing the other men, Satoru lowered his head. You stood there with baited breath, your heart pounding in your chest as his lips brushed over your ear. He was close enough that his expensive perfume wafted over you, and you could touch the ripples of his muscles bunching up against his baby blue shirt if you were brave enough to reach out.

“Thank you for the wonderful meal. I haven’t had a proper one since I was a teenager, and please don’t worry about what happened today, you won’t be involved in our personal matters. In exchange for your service, I will pay you generously.”

Satoru took a step back, and you stood there, muted and dumbfounded. You hadn’t expected he’d speak so softly to you when his words were harsh towards his ‘friends.’ And as if realizing the effect he had on you, a smirk ghosted at the edges of his lips. “Mei-Mei.”

Flashing you the best smile he could muster, he extended his hand to the side as his assistant pulled out a cheque. Satoru signed it without taking his eyes off you. He slid it your way, your eyes bulging out when you saw the ridiculous amount of zeroes he’d written on it. Instead of feeling pleased, irritation sparked in your veins.

You pushed his cheque back to his chest. And yes – your theory was proven correct – his muscles were hard and firm underneath that silk shirt. “I don’t need your money.”

You liked to think you had the upper hand when Satoru’s eyes widened by a mere fraction. It must’ve felt like a slap to his face, having someone refuse his money for the first time. But just as it came, the surprise vanished from his handsome face, slowly replaced by a teasing smile. Satoru leaned forward once more, bullying his way into your personal space until you were left with no choice but to share the same breaths of air.

He smelled like leather, wine, and something intoxicating that dared you to have a taste. Just one small taste, even if it meant possibly becoming addicted.

“Uptight and feisty, just how I like it,” chuckling to himself, Satoru draped his discarded suit jacket over his shoulders and sauntered out the door. “Expect me again, Chef. This won’t be the last time we’ll see each other.”

You prided yourself for being someone in control of their emotions.

Yet, you’re overwhelmed by the sight of hundreds of customers waiting in line as they all snap pictures and chatter excitedly among themselves. You frown when Yuuji barges into your office without knocking (a habit that you’ve told him to change, but he never seems to listen) and almost shoves a tablet in your face as he struggled to keep himself on his own toes.

“Boss, you should read this, it’s insane!”

“Gojo approved restaurant of celebrity chef, now a five star restaurant in Tokyo!” You read the headline monotonously, Satoru’s handsome face from that night pasted on the article and waving at the camera. You could almost hear his light, breathy voice telling him that one way or another, he would find a way to pay you. You can’t help but scowl, because out of all things, he decides to pay you with publicity and unnecessary attention.

“‘Members of royal families and prominent leaders from all around the world have been rumored to pay a visit to either one of the five branches of the new rising celebrity chef’s restaurant. Another hit for the Chef!’”

“Isn’t it great, boss?” the overly jovial noy giggled, and you try not to wallow in embarrassment. “That’s not all, watch this video, it was released last week.”

Yuuji clicked on a video clip, and you lean forward, ears intently focused on the footage. You’re not surprised to see Satoru walking down a familiar road inside one of the most well-protected villages. Adorned in a white fur coat with black slacks that hugged his legs perfectly, he approaches the horde of reporters waiting outside the gates with a polite smile. He waves at the flashing lights, careful to show off his Patek Philippe 5004T wristwatch.

Tch. Showy bastard.

“We saw you at The Green Garden last month enjoying a dinner with Naoya Zen’in and Noritoshi Kamo. Tell us, how was the food there?” A report asked, about to shove her microphone in his face that was blocked by his ridiculously muscled bodyguard.

Jeez, you thought, did that guy take steroids for breakfast or something?

“Oh, I don’t have enough words for it,” he purred, and you hold your breath for his next words. You’re a little surprised at how his breathy voice managed to sound commanding and husky at the same time. “When I walked in, the aroma was just mouthwatering, and don’t get me started on the meal itself. It was absolutely delectable, all the flavors practically melt in my mouth, and I don’t think I’ve ever spoiled my taste buds this much.”

Your brows shoot up. Did he mean what he said? People like him rarely spoke the truth – everything was a show for them. He would say whatever appeased the public, and you weren’t sure if he even had the time to enjoy your food considering he was stuck in… quite the predicament. Still, you don’t pause the video, barely hanging at the edge of your seat as you listen.

“I did hear the food there was good, especially since the Chef is quite gaining some popularity over the last few months,” another reporter stated, and soon they were all nodding their heads approvingly. “Still, you’re someone who has probably tasted something better. Would you recommend the Chef’s dishes?”

Satoru smiles, letting his bangs frame his handsome face as he stares right at the camera. You feel your breath get caught in your throat, solely because it felt like he was looking at you. Once again, you’re more captivated by the shine in his eyes, rather than the blinding light of his mischievous smile.

“Of course,” he smirked, “It would be a sin not to have a taste of her.”

Yuuji chokes on his own laughter beside you. He starts shaking you by the shoulders, completely unaware that you’re a goner by now. Everything the younger man says falls on deaf ears. You find yourself too immersed in the video clip, that teasing smirk on his face disappearing as th crowd pushed further and further. His guard steps forward just as Satoru flicks his hair to the side – an action that would’ve been condescending on most, but somehow looked elegant on him – and retreats back to his Audi. Not just any Audi either, but an e-Tron 2010 Spyder Concept.

Meanwhile, you can’t pick what could be hotter – that a man like him had the ability to make your usual indifferent self flustered, or that he drove a classic car instead of a brand-new one.

You shoot up from your seat, eyes narrowed and chest puffed with determination. “I need to go grocery shopping!”

It’s not rare that you went shopping by yourself. Yuuji usually accompanies you to complete the task faster, but you preferred to be alone today to take your time picking only the best ingredients. Not because you wanted to impress a certain millionaire, of course. Or was he a billionaire? You forgot, but he was definitely Japan’s darling, and one word of praise from him now had several bookings sent your way. He’d placed a standard, one you had to live up to.

You had three branches in the entirety of Tokyo, one more in Paris, and another in the Netherlands – the last branch you opened after you fell in love there during your last visit. The country enthralled you with its mesmerizing simplicity and beauty. It felt like a dreamland there, with everything from farm to table, and everyone adored the dishes you came up with. Once you’ve saved up enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life, you planned to live there – to spend the rest of your life in serendipity and contentment – hopefully next to your future husband.

Ever since you received the news (albeit without, the amount of people lining up at your restaurant was a clear tell-tale your sales had been skyrocketing), you admitted you felt pressured. You needed a variety of ingredients to experiment with, and hopefully add to your menu – something that both common folk and socialites could enjoy. After all, your main goal was to provide a wondrous magic in the form of a plate that was both simple yet luxurious enough to enjoyed as a treat to oneself.

Crossing off the carrot from your grocery list, you keeps pushing your cart through the spacious area. Your attention is divided between reading your to-buy list to surfing through each aisle. There was always a hidden gem if you looked hard enough, and that’s what you needed. A wild card of sorts, a completely never-seen before ingredient used in a new dish.

You’re so immersed with the task at hand you fail to hear the sound of footsteps nearing. Reaching for a bottle of wine (you cringed at the price), another arm shoots forward to reach for it at the same time. You pull back, the skin contact almost scalding to you. You open your mouth to apologize, only to have the words die in your throat when you come face-to-face with him.

Satoru was no less than tall and mighty, his cerulean eyes hidden behind black-tinted glasses. You can’t help but run your gaze over his figure – he’s now dressed in a white button-up shirt tucked in his dark blue jeans. Simple enough, yet you knew the price tags of his clothes would be enough to have you faint.

“Hello.”

“Hello to you too,” he grinned, firmly clasping the wine in his hands. He twists it around, analyzing its content before he hums to himself, pleased. “Great choice of liquor. I highly recommend this.”

The words stumble out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“I had no idea you went grocery shopping– I mean, why would you? You probably have others doing it for you and this is just another pointless, boring task–”

Satoru’s laughter is enough to make you shut up. Yep, okay, you totally screwed it up now. You scold yourself for a split second for being so awkward and not greeting him properly. But then irritation creeps in because you know Satoru isn’t different from the others. You should feel thankful for the publicity, yes, because Satoru’s singlehandedly made you skyrocket into popularity, but your pride told you that you don’t owe him anything. However, all rational thoughts fly out the window when you find yourself joining in his laughter – actually smiling – that you have to physically stop yourself from doing so again.

What the fuck?

You don’t smile. You don’t laugh. Everyone’s called you unpleasant and you take that with your chin held high. Yet somehow… you can’t help it when you’re in his presence.

Satoru tips his head to the side, and you forcibly look away with a clear of your throat. “I’m not shopping,” he says, “I was going to ask you what you’re doing here, but then again, no one goes to the grocery but to shop, right? And you’re a chef, so it’d be a rhetorical question.”

You nod slowly, unsure of what he’s getting at. He still keeps a firm grip on the bottle before he hands it over, making sure to brush his skin over yours in the process. You fight back the urge to shiver. “1949 Domaine Leroy Richebourg Grand Cru, a vintage wine whose price was boosted for a post-world war appeal. Only a few hundred bottles are produced annually, and while not exactly scarce, it’s a rare piece.”

You scans the bottle in astonishment, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as you debate whether to buy it or not. A second glance at the price tag and you place it back without hesitation, not caring even if you could afford it, because there was no way on earth you were buying a five thousand dollar drink no matter how good it tasted.

“I take it that it’s not to your liking?”

“I don’t. I’m not much of a drinker anyway,” you reply honestly, mustering all your courage to face him. “If not to shop, then may I ask what you’re doing here?” You look behind him to see if his secretary or guard was around, but he seemed to be alone. As observant as ever, Satoru answers your unspoken questions without missing a beat.

“I’m here for business. This place is mine, and I came here to assess its monthly status.”

You look down at your cart, suddenly feeling small and shy as you mutter, “Of course you own this place.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks innocently, and you stumble over your words, your thumb circling your pointer finger nervously.

“I mean,” you start, pointing to the entirety of the brightly lit store that was almost the size of a concert arena. “This is a private membership grocery shop, and only people who are willing to pay a lot can go here. You’ve got many products here that aren’t available anywhere else, and it only makes sense it would be owned by the Gojo Family.”

“Owned by me, actually. This place was built when I took over, the idea entirely mine,” he corrects you and moves past, looking back with a confused expression when you don’t follow. “Well, aren’t you going shopping? Let me help you with it.”

You don’t know why you agree at his offer to help, but you don’t regret a single moment of talking to him. Satoru is stiff and rigid to his core, unlike his ‘friends’, but he was surprisingly a great conversationalist, and silences with him weren’t painfully awkward. He was also a lot smarter than he made himself out to be, but then again, you supposed one had to be intelligent to take over a group of companies at such a young age. And when he tells you deeply regrets not being able to fully appreciate your meals because he had ‘matters to deal with’, you can’t help the light fluttering of your chest that comes with it.

It starts out as slow burn, with a warmth barely felt if you didn’t focus enough. You can’t pinpoint exactly when you started to see him in a different light. In that moment, Satoru suddenly seemed small and almost vulnerable in your sight. Almost human. You can’t help but notice that he has his eyes glued to his feet – not because he’s uncomfortable with eye contact – making sure to not step over the dark lines from the white tiles. He was like a child going through an obstacle race, skipping at one point to another as he talks, and you stood there, wondering – just how much did this young man lose when he had to gain the world?

Through the eyes of the world, he was someone who had it all.

Born in a wealthy family with ancestors who never knew what the word ‘rent’ meant, and simultaneously blessed with good looks, you even remember a few articles written about him. How everyone was in awe and praising him for being a genius, but you believed everything came with a price – even the grandest of blessings.

You could only imagine what he must’ve been through. To be deprived of a normal childhood in exchange of a life of luxury, instead of being able to play under the rain. You could see him locked inside his father’s office, going through financial statements and attending board meetings at the age of sixteen. Meanwhile, you played at the cornfields with kids your age during that time, enjoying your youth and chasing after your passion.

But Satoru? He was constantly judged by the public for a single mistake, thus turning him into a make believe version of perfection.

Due to his lack of knowledge with cooking, he wasn’t of much help when it came to shopping. He was splendid company, however, and you felt soothed by his presence and his expensive perfume. It’s a scent you welcomed wholeheartedly, and so you find yourself asking him if he’d like to have dinner with you – at your restaurant – on a Friday night. When he doesn’t respond right away, you make up a lame excuse that you’re only giving him opportunities to look at the place much better than last time.

It makes Satoru stop in his tracks. You start to take back your invitation at his lack of a response when Satoru suddenly takes your hand in his, his eyes widening at how perfectly they seemed to fit (no matter how cliché that sounded.) He takes in the way your hands were rough and calloused from your labor, how it was a sign of all your hard work. Growing shy, you begin to pull back, but he keeps you in place – unconsciously squeezing your hand tighter.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes,” he smiles – and this time, it isn’t meant for the cameras. He’s not flamboyantly flashing his pearly whites, or trying to look perfect. It’s just him, with a small, shy smile meant only for your eyes to see. “I’d love to have dinner with you.”

“Okay,” you repeat, smiling shyly before finally – finally – squeezing his hand back.

You tug at your champagne dress uncomfortably. It might’ve been a little too tight for your liking, but Yuuji insisted it was the dress, and no dress would be better for tonight’s dinner. The strapless dress hugged your figure elegantly, the material flowing smoothly as it extends past your knees. Pairing it with some kitten hells, you were confident you cleaned up well – aside from the problem at hand that you couldn’t breathe. You weren’t sure if the dress was too tight, or you were simply too nervous.

You’d closed up the restaurant early in hopes of having some privacy, even going as far to close the velvety black curtains to hide yourselves from prying eyes. But with every minute that passed by, the special dish you’d prepared with your mother’s secret recipe grew cold. Not a single notification beeped from your phone. Not a text, or a call – not even from his secretary. Nothing but pure silence on his side.

Standing up with a grim expression, you pinch the candle to kill the flame.

What were you even thinking? Did you really think someone as untouchable like Gojo Satoru actually wanted to go on a date with you?

You looked around the restaurant that held a special spot in your heart. It might not be up to his standards, but it meant the world you. It was a product of your hard work and passion. This career enabled you to design it yourself, to build it from the ground up. You’ve decorated it solely to impress Satoru for tonight – with golden chandeliers hanging in a waterfall and teardrop patterns, the tables equipped with satin napkins and silverware polished to perfection. All that effort just went down the drain.

Your eyes fall to your wristwatch. Your father leant it to you before you moved to the city to follow his dreams, saying “Keep this, my sweet daughter. Time passes by so fast in the city and I don’t want you to lose a single second of your life. People will always pass by in a hurried blur, or not come at all.”

Isn’t that what you were doing right now, waiting for someone that might never come at all? He was right. You didn’t need to wait around. Satoru had his own life, he belonged to the city and its fast-paced rambunctiousness. You weren’t like him, you reminded yourself. You and him lived in completely opposite worlds.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you sigh and start to pick up the untouched dishes.

Gojo Satoru was a man who lived and breathed along with the city, the erratic pulse of the city lights resembling the skip in his steps whenever the paparazzi caught up to him. Even if you were somehow on par with him with your own successful career, tonight was still a harsh reminder of the fact that there would always be a massive difference between the both of you.

Your purpose was to serve people and give them memories of a hearty meal. Satoru bent people with his own hands, and obviously wouldn’t even give you the time of day. Perhaps you’d read the signs wrong – if there were even signs at all. One praise from him didn’t mean he liked you, after all, and why would he? He’d admitted out loud he couldn’t even remember what your food tasted like. Hours and years perfecting your craft, and he’d forgotten it all because ‘he had matters to deal with.’ God. Did he see you like that, too? Just another issue to be dealt with, another box in his list to be ticked off?

You’re about to throw away the wasted food when the glass doors of your restaurant opened. You stood back, Satoru all but running and heaving so heavily with beads of sweat running down his face.

“Wait,” he gasped out, raising a finger to give him a moment. “Don’t – don’t close yet. Just let me breathe.”

Did he run here?

Frowning, you scan his outfit. He’s dressed up more than usual today, yet his coat jacket is wrinkled and his hair is all messed up, possibly from running all the way here. His baby blue shirt is also damp with sweat. You immediately reach for some towels and make your way to him – reaching up to pat his face dry when the two of you freeze. Your eyes are blown wide, and so are his. His chest staggers with each breath he takes, and delicately, he holds your hand. His brows furrow and he exhales, his breath minty and his scent intoxicating. You’re captivated with every inch of him – from his white lashes, to the slope of his nose, the fullness of his glossy lips.

You never realized how much you’d missed him until you thought he would never come.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice willowy soft. Closing his eyes, he reaches for your hands, burying his cheek into it and pressing a kiss to the insides of your wrist. The action is unbelievably tender, surprisingly intimate, but could anything feel more right? “My latest shipbuilding company just launched, and we had the opening ceremony at my newest cruise. I would have gotten here on time, but the formalities took longer than expected when a Duke came to send his congratulations.”

You open your mouth to say it’s okay, but you know it’s not. He knows it’s not. It’s already midnight and he made you wait for six hours – no calls, no texts, nothing to inform you he’d run a bit late. It makes you feel stupid for taking the time and effort to dress up, enduring the pain of having Yuuji force you to try on different dresses that would suit you best. It’s embarrassing enough that you don’t have friends to share this moment with. The poor boy had been so excited, too, texting you every hour to ask how it’s going. You just didn’t have the heart to tell him Satoru wasn’t coming.

A pregnant pause settles between you. You see Satoru swallow and fidget with his hands, almost as if he knows you’re disappointed in him. You’re really not, though. At least it wouldn’t be disappointment that you’re feeling. You’re just… hurt.

You look at him one last time. You’re about to call it a night, because you’re a person of punctuality, and you don’t take rejection very well – all of which Satoru has made you feel sensitive over. Right now, you feel humiliated and belittled. Like your time wasn’t worth as much as is. But then you see Satoru, the way he folds in on himself, looking down at his feet and gnawing at his feet that you can’t help that maybe he, too, mustn’t have wanted to miss this.

Sometimes it is so easy to forget Satoru was human too. That he struggled as well, that with his power came with the undeniable fact that this friendship – or whatever this budding relationship is – would not be easy.

You sigh, flicking his nose to call his attention in hopes of lightening the mood.

“I understand your work is more important than a dinner with a friend,” you declare slowly, gauging for his reaction. “But out of courtesy, I would have appreciated an early notice if you couldn’t make it on time.”

Satoru’s face lights up. Pleased with your answer, and undeniably taken aback – he was a master in his craft of sales; he knew the right things to say to get whatever he wanted, but social interactions were not his forte. He realizes though, right in that moment, that it’s something he’d like to work on more. He doesn’t want to see that look on your face again when he ran inside – your crestfallen face, a momentary lapse of relief and worry, and now with hurtful eyes.

“I’ll take note of that,” he promises, already moving to pull out your chair for you. “Shall we have dinner, then?”

“Actually,” you start, with a glint forming in your eye. “I think I’d want to have dinner on this cruise of yours, and maybe I’ll forgive you.”

Smirking at your answer, Satoru tilts his head sideways. “It’s not an everyday occurrence that I have to ask for someone’s forgiveness, so I don’t see why not.”

You liked to think you’re a simple person.

You love nature, and hold the firm belief that whatever is done upon you would always return back to the person. You remember crying in your mother’s arms when you were a little girl, frustrated that humans had tortured their own planet and how you wanted to reverse climate change. Growing up in the countryside surrounded by endless fields of crops and an abundance of greenery, the city and its chaos shook you to your core.

The flashing lights felt blinding and overwhelming. You hated the smell of smoke and pollution, feeling suffocated by the change in atmosphere. You found yourself often glaring at the tall buildings that always stood dominatingly over everyone, as if to say that its towering height could only be reached by those select few.

Its owners stood over you like gods watching from the sky, and they had the power to create their own temples that soared all the way to the sky – a galaxy and universe entirely of their own.

Now, you’re not so sure you still hold that same predicament as you take in the blueness of the sea, the salty breeze nipping at your skin. You welcome it with a shrug of Satoru’s coat around your shoulders, so enamored with the sound of waves lapping against each other. You don’t notice the man standing next to you, or the way he studies your reactions with an amused smile. He realizes you look so innocent like this – your mouth curling into small smiles as you point to the dolphins. The realization comes to him like a sudden splash to his face – that he’s never felt this light before, and it’s always only with you.

After taking you to his cruise, you practically pushed him out of the kitchen as you prepared another meal of two. The meal was nothing short of ravishing, making Satoru momentarily forget about table manners as he inhaled it. The expensive champagne and hors d’oeuvres sloshes around his stomach with each sway of the cruise. Dinner had been pleasant; you were a great listener who gave him his undivided attention – the type that made him squeamish because he felt exposed from the core within. He’d grown up used to people eager to please him, but this was the first time someone had listened to him intently with the intention of knowing him. And when you asked what made him sincerely happy, Satoru realizes that he does not have the answer to everything.

“I’m not sure,” he admits, twirling the fork aimlessly as he tries to avoid your prying gaze. “Happiness is fleeting in my world and… I’ve just never found it. My whole life, all I’ve ever done is work and make my business grow, and I guess I’m happy enough with that.”

You hum in response. He looks up to see you gazing at him, deep in thought. You almost looked sad in that moment – sad for him. It isn’t any later that he realizes you sympathize with him, an emotion he’d been alien to. It goes without saying that you felt the emptiness, the hollowness carved out from Satoru’s heart, and how lonely he’d been all this time. And you found it funny, how someone could have so much, and so very little at the same time.

“Come with me.”

He stares at your outstretched hand. It’s difficult to silence all the voices in his head before he places his hands in yours, trying not to melt when you smile up at him. Gently, you lead him to the balcony – the freshness of the air waking him up from his sense. Due to the fact that Satoru was a perfectionist and had zero tolerance, he designed the cruise himself to its glorious beauty. Yet he remained oblivious to the wonders of it all, the beauty of the moment from where he stood. The sea is calm and soothing, the whole expanse of Tokyo – his empire – visible from he stood. He tells himself the night isn’t beautiful because of the romantic lights, or the jazz music playing from the speakers, but rather it’s the celebrity chef who was starting to grow on him.

From the corner of his eye, he watches your smile grow bigger, your cheeks puffing out from the cold. It’s undeniably adorable. Ever since that night he met you, he’d read a few articles about you, and even had Mei-Mei call publishing companies to give him new copies of whoever featured you. You only had a few pictures taken – his shy, sweet chef – always wearing an apron and never a smile.

To see you with your guard down, looking so happy and free, he might’ve gotten his answer that night.

You were his happiness.

“Doesn’t it look beautiful?” you ask him, smile still so wide, and it is evident you adore nature. He makes a mental note to open an orchidarium soon, or perhaps a tea shop with only the rarest of leaves for brewing, silently hoping he’d get to see more of that smile.

“Yes, it does.”

Indeed, you looked beautiful like this. The bright lights of the city painted your skin in a warm glow. You looked like an ethereal combination between sunset and sunrise, and he swore in that moment you embodied the sea itself. You were calm, quiet, reserved – much like him – but you held this aura from your presence alone that made him feel safe; there was something about you that assured him he could just be… him.

You were like a breath of fresh air, and it would be a waste not to breathe you in.

Satoru calls out your name. When you look up at him, the breeze whips your hair to the side, exposing a set of hesitant eyes that makes him take a tentative step forward. It isn’t the wine, or the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He thinks it’s just you that makes him feel this way – undoubtedly whole and alive. He is not a man fond of making mistakes, and he is not about to make one now and not kiss you.

“Can I kiss you?”

He waits for it – waits for you to tease him, that he doesn’t have to ask. But there’s none of that. There is only the sharp intake of your breath, the minute way you grasp your pearl necklace to yourself. “I-I don’t know how to.”

Satoru steps closer until he’s only a hair’s breadth away. You turn rigid despite yourself, feeling his hand cup the back of your neck. You tilt your head sideways to let him have more access, his warm breath that smelled faintly of wine fanning over your skin.

“May I teach you then?”

You whimper in response, and he holds back a groan at the sound, silently wishing to hear more of it from the future. When his pillowy lips press against yours in the first contact, your eyes remain blown wide as you stare back at his closed ones. Fear settles in you that this is your first kiss, and you have absolutely no idea how to do it. But then he pushes back with a little more force this time, and you close your eyes and moan, your lips moving in rhythm with his. Your hand reaches up to fist the silky fabric of his suit that hugged his muscular figure sinfully. He’s firm and solid under your touch, like an anchor holding you down. And his taste – he tastes like everything you’ve ever wished for, everything you’ve ever wanted. He is the wine you get drunk on, the sugar you lick off your lips, and the taste of heaven on this earth.

Satoru swallows the moans you make, his large hands engulfing your face. With each sound you make, his tongue playfully pokes at your lips, begging for entrance. And you let him, melting at his touch and held up only by his firm grip sliding down to your waist.

The first contact of his tongue coaxing out yours to play has you almost quivering under him. Those large hands come up to the bare skin of your back, his cold skin sending a harsh bite to your warm, flustered one as he holds you steadily. Your other hand reaches out to tug at his hair and he groans, a sound so masculine yet so wanton that a flame burns within you. You find yourself battling your tongue with his – a sensual dance where there are no winners. A minute passes before you two break apart, foreheads pressed against each other as you both try to catch your breath.

“Can I keep going?” He asks, his deep voice faltering due to the lack of breath. You feel triumphant knowing you did that to him. Nodding, he places his hands under your ass and squeezes it in a silent command to jump, and you do so with your hands interlocked at the back of his head. Satoru dips down to kiss you again and turns you into a moaning mess. He rocks his body against you, grinds his muscles to the softness of your body, groaning when his erection presses up to your heat. How he managed to pull away in between kisses is beyond you. “Are you sure about this?” He mumbles against your lips.

“Yes,” you plead, crashing your lips back down to his. And somehow, Satoru stumbles to a room where he finally gets a taste of you.

Satoru is woken up by the harsh lights glaring at him.

Groaning, he places an arm above his eyes before deciding to sit up and start his day. The freshly washed linen of the blanket pools at his waist, and he squints his eyes to take in his surroundings. For a moment, the bedroom is unrecognizable, and when last night’s events become clear to him, he chuckles drily to himself.

Had he gone so far that he no longer recognized his own bedroom? But then again, he rarely went home. His properties all looked differently that he wasn’t surprised anymore.

Your neatly folded dress sits at the bedside table. His shirt – nowhere to be seen. He finds his pants at the pile of clothes left on the floor, though, and he quickly puts them on before the amazing aroma of waffles welcomes his senses. Walking out the room, Satoru is pleased by the sight before him – you in his shirt, bottomless, humming to yourself as you expertly maneuver around his kitchen.

Smiling, Satoru walks to the marbled countertops and wraps an arm around your waist. You stiffen under his hold before you realize it’s him.

“Good morning,” he greets, deep voice still a little croaky and you greet him back, resting your chin on his shoulder as he watches you crack some eggs. “Did you get a good sleep?”

You shrug teasingly and brush your lip against his ear, “Kind of hard not to, after last night’s events.” As you expected, his cheeks soon become dusted in light pink and you chuckle, leaning back to his solid chest with warmth blanketing you.

“Sit down, let’s have breakfast.”

Satoru is more than happy to obey. Munching gratefully, the comfortable silence is almost too good to be true.

It’s been months since you and Satoru started going out. You’ve both done a good job at keeping it from the media so far – a mutual decision because you liked your privacy, and Satoru didn’t want anyone tainting what he held close. He’s grown so accustomed to your presence that half of his closet is filled with your things. You basically lived at his house in Tokyo now, and your body just naturally angles itself in a way that allows him to always have him touching you.

Although you still scrunch your nose in distaste at the thousand dollar monotonous paintings that decorate his walls, you like being with him. You soon learn of his weird habit of not closing doors simply because he’s always surrounded by automatic ones, successfully eradicating his attempts at being a gentleman and having him open doors for you, but you don’t mind. Not really.

The past few months have been nothing but eye-opening for him, as he learns to love for the first time, and he could only hope this feeling in his chest isn’t something fleeting.

You were affectionate, never lacking or selfish when it comes to showing him how much like him, and he’ll admit he likes your kisses more than he’d like to accept, and that’s how he knows this relationship isn’t one sided. Still, the small fear that settles at the back of his head remains, that maybe you don’t love him, or at least, you’re not there yet. Watching you prepare his breakfast every morning, however, Satoru’s worries are silenced. He’ll worry about that another time.

He finishes first and moves to do the dishes, the loud running of water muting your hurried footsteps behind his. He can’t help but smile when you eagerly take the sponge from his gloved hands and look at him determinedly.

“What are you doing?” He asks teasingly, and you stick your tongue at him.

“Move, Gojo. We both know you don’t know how to wash dishes.”

Even after months of being with you, he’s still not used to the fact that he – a man everyone admired and – could experience a love like this someday.

You scrunch your nose up cutely that it takes all of his willpower not to bend down and kiss it. “I said move! Scoot your cute butt out of here.”

“Baby, it’s okay, I know you don’t know how to do it and I don’t mind. Besides, I have to learn to do this. What if we get married and have children, I obviously can’t let you do everything by yourself.”

You freeze at his words, your thick-rimmed glasses sliding off your nose awkwardly. Your whole life, you’ve dreamt of love, and imagined settling down and having your own family. Despite your rising fame and success, turning you into one of the wealthiest women in your country, you never planned to live as a celebrity chef for the rest of your life. You wanted to live simply, much like your parents, and to spend the rest of your days in a farm.

You’ve thought it about before, of course, the possibly of marrying Satoru.

But the thought had been too ridiculous at the moment. Satoru was always somewhere far away, rising from his seat with practiced elegance as he received yet another presitigious award for his endless accomplishments. The cameras would be pointed his way, and he basked under the spotlight. He thrived in it.

Your silence doesn’t go unnoticed by him. He watches as you revert back to your expressionless face, eyes looking directly forward at the white tiled backsplash of his sink that you know cost thousands. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.”

And it is true, you aren’t bothered by the least bit. Surprised, definitely, but you’re beyond elation at this point. You realize it doesn’t matter that you probably won’t get to live the life you want if you marry him – because he’s all you want. If giving it all up meant being with him, you would do so in a heartbeat.

Which is why you grit your teeth silently as you attend your first ball overseas, latched onto Satoru’s arm. You don’t miss the way everyone scrutinizes the seemingly average looking woman next to Japan’s darling.

Satoru doesn’t notice that you’re a bundle of nerves. He smiles brightly at the multitude of cameras pointed your way, making sure to show off the Gojo heirloom he decorated you with. It’s a gold ring with a hundred mini diamonds encrusted in it, the characters ‘Gojo’ engraved underneath. A horde of reports soon come into view, and instinctively, you duck your head when the lights become overwhelming. They all spew out questions asking since when the two of you have been dating – and this is the part you hated the most.

The part where your life becomes a piece for the people to feast on, instead of something you made for yourself.

You opt to stay silent and let Satoru answer everything. He isn’t fazed by the least bit, answering them confidently, although not giving away too much personal information. He tells them you’ve been dating for a year now, and it’s evident in his eyes that he feels strongly for you. Not a moment later, the cameras pan your way, the people eager to hear your side of the story.

“Chef, how have you managed to steal his heart?”

“As the old saying goes, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” you tell them, your heart beating a mile a minute from the discomfort of too much attention. You turn to your fiancé in hopes of consolation. He smiles at you encouragingly, the warmth and adoration pooling behind it immediately dissipates your nervousness. “As long as it’s for him, I don’t mind going to the moon and back.”

They seem satisfied with that answer, and you find yourselves in the front cover of both local and foreign magazines, the world crazed about the latest couple.

Satoru is lying on his tiger fur rug with crossed legs, leafing through every page of your photo album. His free hand absentmindedly rubs circles where it’s settled at your hip, the sound of his breathing steady and almost lulling. Yet, you’re bothered by everything lately – how you’re being reminded of everything you don’t like about this world – his world.

They don’t even know the real you. How could the world go from praising you for your skills in cooking, to being both shamed and admired for being engaged to Satoru? Your heart clenched at the multiple headlines that called you a gold-digger.

As if you didn’t have your own money.

“Hey,” Satoru mumbles, twisting a little from his position. You’re looking at everywhere but him, your heart heavy and mind a mess. It’s too late when Satoru notices the dark circles rimmed under your eyes, and he cups your face worriedly, tilting your chin to make you look into his eyes. Your own face has fallen, your eyes sad. He immediately feels guilt, unaware of what he made you endure at his expense.

Perhaps he wasn’t as observant as he claimed to be. Ever since he’s announced your relationship, you’ve received countless criticism from the public. Satoru never said a word about it, thinking these strangers’ words wouldn’t affect you, or that it didn’t matter because who were they, anyway? And you never spoke about it either, not wanting to put a heavier weight on his already burdened shoulders.

“I’ll take care of it, alright? I promise.”

You know what he means.

It means he’ll end up spending a lot of money – although to him it’s probably just a penny – as he has Mei-Mei get rid of those negative articles. You know he has enough power to shut down even an entire publishing company who attempted to say anything bad about you. You don’t want him doing any of that, abusing his power and throwing around his money just because he can.

Shaking your head, you reach forward and press your face against his chest. “You don’t have to do that. I just have to prove to everyone I am worthy of you.”

It is way past four in the morning, and you wake up with a stir, only to find the light of Satoru’s laptop illuminating his worn-out face. In front of him are a plethora of reports, glasses perched on top of his face. You sit up with a stretch, and he jumps a little at the movement.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No,” you answer, rubbing your eyes tiredly and looking at his work. You don’t understand half of it, but you knows it’s something about a new hotel he’s planning on developing somewhere in the country. “It’s late. Why are you still working?”

“Business is business,” he shrugs, focusing his attention back to his work. The development plan has just finished, and the cost of construction is nothing but another penny less to his account.

The silence in the room stills. You strain your ears to listen to the sound of a faint clock ticking, Satoru’s steady breathing calming your nerves. His eyes are droopy and tired, and he lets out an exhausted sigh. Reaching over to pull the laptop away from him, you gently place your head above his beating heart. His shirt smells faintly of floral detergent, and you fist the fabric underneath your fingers.

He doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t need to.

He places a soft kiss at the crown of your head, once, then twice, and a small smile fights through your face. The rhythmic thumping of his heart is just underneath your open palm, and you realize that Satoru is like the man-made river outside your house. He is calm, steady, always lulling you into a state of relaxation, and the music that is his love hums softly through your nerves until he places himself inside your heart.

The darkness of your room is a huge contrast to the flashing lights always directed his way, but it fits perfectly. Satoru is silent, even if he always brought attention to himself, and his muscles are firm underneath your touch.

His bicep curls around you to wrap you in a one arm embrace while his other hand rubs your back soothingly, and your bare thigh brushes against his groin. An innocent and accidental gesture, but it has your nerves firing up, and it just occurred to you how small you seem inside his arms. You found it funny, since Satoru could threaten to take away everything from you, yet you don’t feel like that around him. Here, you feel safe, warm, accepted.

You nuzzle closer to him with a frown.

“Take me somewhere.”

His chest vibrates with a hum, “Where do you want to go?”

“Take me to where your heart desires. Show me where you want to spend the rest of your life.”

Satoru can’t contain the smile that graces his face, and he holds your hand as you stare at Leiden in awe. He’s decided to take a one week break, and soon the two of you were nestled against each other in his private jet, and he’s not sure if he’s ever felt this happy before.

He learns that you love art and fancy medieval paintings the most, and you bounce happily when he takes you to one of the art museums.

Leiden is rich in history and culture, that much is evident with how the people still keep their traditions alive, and while it is still quite a popular city, the toned down bustling of people will always be a much preferred scene for him than Tokyo. The two of you have rented a bike to Noordwijk Beach, and you make him promise to swim with you there the next day. Wordlessly, he nods, basking in the way the warm light emitted from lampposts turns you into an ethereal being.

After returning the bikes into the rental shop, you swing your intertwined hands back and forth, pointing excitedly and exclaiming your delight at the lakes that surrounded the city.

A windmill sits in the middle of the city, and Satoru falls in love with the place even more. A smile is permanently etched into your face, and his heart manages to stutter even after being with you for so long, but he can’t help it. Lifting your interlocked hands to his lips, he kisses your palm, a fine pink dusting his cheeks as you stare at him incredulously. A moment passes before you giggle, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek.

Satoru didn’t know it was possible to blush even harder.

His stomach growls in hunger and you chuckle, leading him to one of your restaurants. Your waiters and chefs greet you excitedly, surprised that the owner dropped by unannounced. You lift a hand to tell them not to worry – you’re not here to evaluate anything. You’re simply on vacation, and you had full trust in your people. The pleased look decorating the customer’s face said enough that you didn’t have much to worry about.

Shrugging off your coat and placing it on the back of your chair, Satoru watches as you place your head in your palms, eyes directed outside the window. Outside lay the lake and a bunch of canoes housing the body of water, old couples walking around with wines hidden in paper bags, and the soft chatter and melodious laughter ringing from every corner of the place has him believing that perhaps this is paradise.

“Have you ever been before?”

“Once,” he replies with a small smile. “I came here for business. That hotel is mine.”

He points to a building that resembles a medieval castle, and you adjust the glasses perched on your nose to see it better. “Why am I not surprised?”

Letting out an amused laugh at your question, the both of you soon dig into the dish, bellies rumbling in satisfaction. You are half drunk on the way back to the small villa you rented, and he doesn’t question why you didn’t choose to stay at his hotel instead. There’s a little tumble to your steps as you stagger forward, mumbling incoherent words. Satoru presses you closer to his warm body to prevent you from falling forwards, his eyes crinkling when you tell him how much you love him. His heart whines at your words, because you’ve never told him that, and even though you’re drunk, he thinks he will be as equally euphoric if you tell him sober. He actually feels a little ashamed you said it before him because he’s planning to tell you sooner than later, and he clears his throat before pulling away from you.

You frown at his action.

Licking his lips nervously, Satoru pulled out a velvet box and went down on one knee.

“I know you’re drunk and this ring is a little too expensive than you’d like, but I don’t think there’s a better time for this, and we’ve been dating for so long that I just wanted to let you know–”

Grumbling in annoyance under your breath as an attempt to conceal your shaking knees, you lean down and pull him harshly by his collar to press your lips against his.

Satoru stiffens underneath your touch. He stops breathing, eyes wide from surprise. You only pull away when he doesn’t respond, your glasses sliding off your nose and bumping into yours. He lifts a hand to his wet lips, looking at you like you’ve just assaulted him, and judging by how plump lips looked red and swollen, you probably did. Not that he’d complain, of course.

“Of course I’ll marry you.”

Satoru lets out a nervous laugh that is laced with elation, his breath coming out in cold fogs due to the cold weather. His hands are shaking as he struggles to wear the ring around your hand, to which you roll your eyes and wear it yourself. He looks sheepish for a moment, scratching the back of his head, but you can’t find yourself to care.

This is where you belong, with him, in Leiden, and little did you know that you were fulfilling his dreams one by one.

The both of you walk back home with bashful grins coated in glee.

Satoru feels stupid that he suddenly feels shy. It would be a lie to say he’s dreamt of this ever since he was a child because he grew up knowing very little of it. He’s never dated nor felt any attraction for someone, always focusing on his work and further expanding the business to the best of his abilities. He never dreamt marrying for love could be a possibility. That this was now his reality. And when you steal a peck to his cheek that makes his face heat up further, he realizes nothing has ever felt more right.

You’re the only one he would ever need.

To say that you’re ecstatic to plan the wedding would be an understatement. Ever since you came back to Tokyo with hearts overflowing with joy, you could no longer contain the love you had for your fiance. You’d been looking at endless articles of what makes a wedding perfect, and you already had your wedding dress in mind.

The food tasting appointment you had this weekend was on hold since Satoru still had a tight schedule, something about the launch of a new resort in Bali, but he comes back to you with tired eyes and a satisfied smile.

“Hey,” you greet, rising from the couch to help him with his bags. Not that you needed to, Mei-Mei and Toji were already taking care of them, but you still wanted to be of help. Shrugging off his coat, Satoru plops down the couch with a groan. “Long day?”

He pops one eye open to offer a languid smile, “Long week, babe. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you mumble, going behind him and massaging his stiff shoulders. Satoru lets out a moan at the sensation. And you? You can’t help but smile when you see that your engagement ring is still wound around his finger, and you wonder if the press had already noticed and started making a fuss about what you knew would be the wedding of the century.

Truth be told, you preferred the wedding to be small – with just your family and close friends. Satoru didn’t have any, but you respected his decision of hiring a wedding planner whose service cost a million. You protested at first, thinking it was unnecessary, but Satoru had already given you the check. The wedding planner seemed genuinely pleased to be working with you as well, leaving you with no other choice but to press your mouth into a thin line.

Ah, now that you think about it… “Are you free this Thursday? I wanted to introduce you to my parents.”

He stands up from the couch and walks to your shared bedroom, gently dragging you along with him. “Introduce me? Shouldn’t your parents already know me?”

You force a small smile as you bury yourself underneath the covers. “I meant formally, they’re going to be your parents soon, too.”

“Okay… talk to Mei-Mei to schedule that.”

You fight the urge to raise a brow. You couldn’t see the need to talk to his secretary to have time with your fiancé, but like you have been doing for the past few months, you only nod. Satoru wraps his arms around your waist after that, and it doesn’t take long before sleep blankets you both.

Somehow, you’d always known.

A relationship with Satoru wouldn’t be easy. There was too much unwanted attention and too little time to be with him. But he was worth the wait.

The food tasting went well. He ended up being more than pleased at your food choices, and you even bump your hips against his. Satoru wanted a cake that was two feet tall, with golden drapes hanging from the rods, silently demanding for caviar to be included. You shrugged it off, not minding his preferences as you continued speaking to the chef. The poor man had been trembling ever since Satoru walked in the kitchen, his phone pulled out and constantly interrupting the tasting as he speaks to his clients.

You felt bad for the old man, you really did. He was far more skilled than you, and you shook his hand politely before walking back to Satoru’s limousine.

It was finally time to meet your parents.

Reaching out for your fiancé, Satoru flicks your hand away. He shoots you an irritated look as he gestures to his phone, as if to say not to interrupt him during an important phone call. Reluctantly you retract your hand, biting the inside of your cheek as you let him go back to his business. Hurt and undeniably upset, you distract yourself with the small iPad on the seat in front of you, watching a lame show about fashion runways and whatnot.

“Yes, I know,” Satoru says through the phone, exasperated as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “What do you mean he can’t make it on time? He needs to be there to check the labels – you know what? Whatever, fire him, I’ll go there myself.”

Sensing his distress, you turn to him. He’s huffing and crossing his arms against his chest, a livid expression on his face. You don’t ask what happened because you know you won’t understand. You’re only happy Satoru finally lets you hold his hand. Pressing his head against the seat, Satoru squeezes your palm, watching as the familiar buildings of the city soon blur into a scenery of corn fields and flowery land.

To be truthful, you think he’s a little too overdressed for this occasion. He’s wearing the latest Burberry collection, the shades he’d pulled to shield his sensitive eyes from the sunset a little too… flashy. But, you thought to yourself, Satoru could do whatever he wanted.

Finally, after a long and grueling car ride that seemed to last forever, you reached your destination.

You immediately run to the farmhouse, leaving behind Satoru in your excitement. You’d been away from your parents too long that you missed them dearly. Behind you, Satoru tries to keep up his face – gladly welcoming the fresh air. From afar, the door to your house opens as you tackle a small, older woman into your arms.

Satoru’s gait is slow, precise, and elegant. He walked with purpose, standing behind you silently as he witnessed the sweet exchange between you and your mother. It’s then he notices, when your mother looks up from your shoulders, that her eyes twinkled the same you did whenever you saw him. She’s sweet, and a little too bubbly, as she welcomes him to your humble home.

And as if you’ve sensed his uneasiness, you look back to Satoru and offer an encouraging smile.

The entirety of your house is as large as his bathroom. And your couch squeaks uncomfortably when he sits on it. The leather is tattered and foam springs out from the little cracks and you almost look embarrassed, but he kisses your cheek to reassure you he doesn’t mind. Your father soon emerges from the kitchen holding a fresh pot of tea that he offers, and Satoru takes a hesitant sip – your family anxiously gauging his reaction.

The tea… It was actually sweet and better than anything he’s ever had, and when his cheeks start to warm from the attention, you all start laughing for no reason.

Satoru joins in the laughter. He doesn’t know why he did when he found nothing funny, but felt that it was the most appropriate reaction.

It was no wonder then that you were such an amazing chef. You must’ve inherited it from your father’s impeccable cooking skills. The stew he prepared was amazing, and Satoru had to control himself from slurping the beef stew – it tasted that good. Dinner was absolutely amazing, and you kept laughing and smiling from your seat as you conversed with your parents. Satoru doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this happy.

The baby pink turtleneck sweater you wore highlighted the softness of your heart, and even a blind man could see you really missed your parents. He felt like a stranger then; someone who watched from the outside as your mother reaches over the table to wipe a rice grain from the corner of your mouth. You whine at her gesture, obviously not wanting to be treated like a little kid.

“Mum, that’s embarrassing. I’m with the love of my life, you know,”

He almost chokes at his spoon when you say that, and your mother grins at him. “I wouldn’t worry about that, my dear, it looks like he really loves you no matter what.”

“Yes, Mother,” he agrees, squeezing your thighs from under the table, “I really do.”

There was a warmth in your home that he’d never known, and laughter was always present. Much like you, your father was a man of few words and passed out on the couch after three bottles of soju, leaving you and your mom to clean up after dinner.

Satoru offered to help, only to receive amused glances as if you knew he couldn’t do it. Embarrassed, he excused himself as you cleaned up, and sat on the curb outside your house.

From his peripheral vision, he could see Toji beside the car, standing tall and straight. The cold breeze from the countryside made his dark hair blow across the wind. As if feeling there were eyes on him, Toji peered at Satoru, nodding politely before looking straight ahead. His suit was Giorgo Armani, the one he’d gifted him on his birthday last year. He’s well-aware that Toji ended up making more money driving for him than you ever could with your restaurant.

And this was his reality. This was his world.

Someone like Satoru shouldn’t be sitting on the molded curb of a farmhouse with nothing but mountain and hills surrounding him. The moon and the stars were the only things that gave light to the field, and it was too humble for his liking. He didn’t belong here – that much was clear – and even the scarecrow standing a few feet away from him seemed to agree with its mocking glare.

Much too soon for his liking, Satoru feels a wool sweater being wrapped around his shoulders. He turns to you, a smile already on your face as you plopped down beside him. Playing with your fingers, you keep your gaze down at your feet, hesitant and nervous.

“Satoru… I know you won’t like it, but I’d like to wear my Mom’s wedding dress. It’s fine if you say no, I know you had Vera Wang make an entire collection for me already, but I thought I had to let you know…”

Satoru starts to play with the straw in front of him. He sighs, fiddling his smooth fingers around it before he clutches your hand in his lap. He’d held you a thousand times before, and yet he couldn’t remember if your skin was rough or smooth – only that it felt warm and he liked holding it. And as if he couldn’t help himself, his gaze studied you – how your boots are a little too big on your feet, and you smelled faintly of hay unlike the Maison Francis Kurkdjian perfume he’d gotten you. It was limited edition, too, and he’d had to pull strings just to get you one.

And you couldn’t even wear it for tonight.

An almost choked sob leaves his throat, his heart clenching uncomfortably. He did want you to wear your mother’s wedding dress. Being here, away from the press and businessmen who always tried to mess up his deals when he worked honestly, made him feel like for once – he was a normal human being. That he wasn’t some god whose footsteps were worshipped.

Your mother had welcomed him warmly, and she didn’t even gush about the expensive fabrics of his clothes. She saw him as if he was her own son, and he supposed soon enough he would be, but would he be good enough? She’d raised her daughter as a warm, loving, and humble person. You were down to earth and loved to stay solid and grounded – Satoru was a man who always reached for the stars.

What did that make you then? His fall from the heavens?

Satoru wonders how much of his thoughts were written on his face. You watched him, brows dipped downwards with a clenched jaw. He knows you’re fighting back something to say. He was too familiar with that look – since Mei-Mei always looked like that. The type of expression etched into his employees’ faces when he shouted at them for their incompetence, and they felt the need to defend themselves. They never did, out of fear Satoru would fire them.

Although you never said it, your face said it all.

He remembers the longing gazes you had to the farmhouses in Leiden with its windmill barns, or how your smile got bigger when a cute kid walked by and waved at you both. You don’t need to say anything because he knows what you’re thinking – that you’re blinded by your love for him.

He still remembers that damned event when your grip on his cat got a little tighter, how your hairline beaded with sweat as you kept fidgeting. You’d been uncomfortable that night, as you always did when you were in his world. You weren’t like this – placid, unreserved, happy.

And now he’s in your world. The words bubble up in your throat, wanting to wipe that disappointed look in his handsome face. You knew even if you say it now, Satoru wouldn’t listen or understand. And it’s funny – how he asked you to marry him, and how willing you were to give up on your dreams if it meant being with him. Even if it meant throwing yourself into unwanted attention, only to be criticized mercilessly – because that’s what it took to be with him.

He was a man with an empire, but with it came the price of being someone who destroyed others.

Somehow, it never crossed your mind it might include you, too.

“You’re right,” he says after a moment, “I would rather you wear Vera Wang’s gown. I hope you don’t find any offense in it, but our wedding will be the wedding of the century. I can’t have you wearing a nameless gown when the whole world will be looking.”

Your grip on his hand tightens for a second before it loosens. Satoru watches, with a heavy heart and an aching soul, as you nod slowly. Forcing a smile on your face, you stood up and walked away from him. You bid your farewells soon after that, with Satoru cringing the moment your parents began to refer to him as their ‘son.’

The whole ride back home is silent.

You’re passed out on his side, your soft snores filling the silence. Satoru reaches over to caress your cheek before leaning back in his seat, clenching his teeth hard to stop the tears from falling. He couldn’t put it into words – the air of finality settling over you once you reach his penthouse.

You’re exhausted from the day, stripping your clothes off before burying yourself under the covers. Your arm seeks out the familiar feeling of having him close next to you, and he indulges you, burying his face against the crook of your neck one more time – one last time. When you mumble his name in your sleep, Satoru swallows the lump forming on his throat, biting down on his lip before gazing at you – knowing you’d been his, knowing he’d miss this. Miss you.

And perhaps that’s what hurts the most – that he’s already missing you when you’re pressed up next to him, that he’s already mourning the presence of someone who he hasn’t lost yet.

But he knew, the end was inevitably near.

So he kisses you, long and hard enough that it hopes it leaves an imprint. You’re unaware of it all, still deep in your slumber even when his eyes betray him and a tear falls. The teardrop lands on your cheek before it slides down your jaw.

Above you, Satoru’s shoulders are shaking and he wants to laugh – because he’s never cried before. He’s never cried when his own friends tried to sabotage him. He’s never cried when the whole world called him a heartless demon walking in the body a wannabe man. He never cried when the world misunderstood him, yet here he was, perfectly content being in your arms, even if he doesn’t deserve it.

For once in his life, Satoru wanted to do what was right. If he couldn’t stop himself from ruining things and hurting those around him, then perhaps this time around he could prevent the only good thing to ever happen to him from shattering.

No amount of money would be able to give you what you truly wanted, and that’s all he had. Satoru had nothing but money, had nothing but it to offer aside from giving you back your freedom. He may be the one that you loved, and for that he would always be grateful, but he was also old enough to know that sometimes, love simply wasn’t enough. You had your own world, and Satoru had the entire universe.

The only world where the two of you could live happily was the one you spent apart from each other.

Unwrapping his arm around yours, Satoru silently trudges to the bedside table to wear his coat and shoes. Giving you one last glance, he takes off his engagement ring, and places it beside the framed photo of you and him in Leiden – this time with no flashing lights.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x you angst #gojo x reader angst #gojo x reader fluff #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo satoru x reader angst #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk x reader fluff #gojo x you fluff #gojou x reader #gojou x reader angst #gojou x reader fluff #gojo satoru fluff

553 notes · View notes

goldsainz · 1 year ago

Text

CANDY — one shot.

pairing: mick schumacher x reader

2K CELEBRATION. MASTERLIST.

taglist: @lorarri @lpab @whatthefuckerr @noncannonships @lunnnix @elliegrey2803 @schumacheer @saintslewis @leoramage

request: “can i get ‘candy - rosalía + mick schumacher’ please?? thank you!” by @hevburn

NOTE: this song is too good… i need y’all to listen to it bc rosalia’s vocals are top tier. i love how i’m making so many summer fics to compensate the fact that i’m freezing bc it’s winter in my country😭 sprinkled in some drama bc why not

liked by mickschumacher, dualipa and 807,263 others

yourusername verano de soltería single summer

view all 12,108 comments

ynfan1 i need her reaction to mick dating a girl who looks just like her😭

⤷ mickfan1 THISSS

mickfan2 mick liking this💔

mickfan3 never getting over them

gina_schumacher 🩷

liked by yourusername and 10,637 others

ynfan2 when you remember that mick said they fell in love in the summer🥲

⤷ mickfan4 this hurt me

mickfan5 GINA COMMENTING

ynfan3 mick fumbled badly

mickfan6 if my bf was liking his (liked by everyone) ex i wouldn’t know what to do with myself

ynfan4 LA MEJOR EX-WAG THE BEST EX-WAG

liked by mickschumacher and 41,038 others

saskiarhode ❤️

view all 615 comments

mickfan21 girl are you not embarrassed

mickfan22 we love a micky/n fan!

ynfan21 I NEED YOU TO BE SO SERIOUS

mickfan23 you sure did more than meet him😭

ynfan22 my fav y/n fan😍

mickschumacher ❤️

⤷ ynfan23 como y/n no hay NINGUNA theres NOBODY like y/n

⤷ mickfan24 mick blink twice if she’s holding you hostage

mickschumacher has uploaded an instagram story!

yourusername has uploaded an instagram story!

liked by estebanocon, quevedo.pd and 913,208 others

yourusername escuche que te gustaban las rubias i heard you liked blondes

view all 13,698 comments

ynfan31 SHE LOOKS SO GOOD

ynfan32 the caption😭

mickfan31 i just know mick saw this and cried

⤷ ynfan33 as he should!! she’s a queen

ynfan34 que mujer por diosss what a woman my goddd

rosalia.vt MONÍSIMA BEAUTIFUL

⤷ yourusername mira quien habla😘 looks who’s talking

ynfan35 saskia has nothing on her

user31 suddenly brunettes are my type

⤷ mickfan32 MICK THIS YOU???

ynfan36 the micky/n ship has truly died

1K notes · View notes

rizsu · 1 year ago

Text

observations with gojo ﾉ height differences.

short reader.

he's tall. like freakishly tall. when he comes over, his legs dangle off the bed. his hands are also huge — its size, lengthwise, being almost as long as a litre bottle. he's aware of his proportions; having lived with them all his life, it never dawned on him that he's a towering giant until he met you. you are short. when standing next to him, you only make up half his height. he thinks it's cute— waking up to you in random shorts and a white tshirt that's swallowing you in its depths.

he likes holding hands, you don't. his idea of hand holding consists of firmly caging your entire hand in his, leaving no room for your blood vessels. most times, when he's feeling funny, he'll throw things on the highest shelf just to mess with you. it's cliché, he knows, but it's funny watching you super jump to reach the top of the fridge. it's also top tier comedy seeing you tiptoe to reach at least his chest when you're taking pics together. you know what isn't funny to him? losing you in a crowd. it scares him how easily you blend in. makes him want to buy you those umbrella hats so he can spot you easily.

tall reader.

all his life he walked among others as the tall, lanky fella with an odd hair colour. this, of course, didn't stop the people from thinking he's attractive. within the group of his glazers, he found himself attracted to the woman whose legs make up a third of her body. maybe you're just wearing heels? wrong. that height is nothing short of natural and trust he's intrigued. what's a fine woman like you doing in the men's section? dumb question, he knows it's because the ladies section doesn't have your shoe size. he just needs a reason to flirt.

he's aware that the height difference isn't much. probably just a three-inches difference at most. however, it tickles something in him. without heels, you reach his chin. with heels, you're as tall as he is. he knows you sometimes think of your height as too manly for your gender. for example, there were times you immediately got sad when his shirt didn't travel down your thigh. instead, its hem sat perfectly on your hip. he didn't truly understand why you were sad — in his head he loved the way his clothes fit you. makes it way easier to sneak in his clothing in your closet. he's a simple man to amuse: once you're in his clothes where he can smell his cologne it's gameover.

#. ae-generated: jujutsu kaisen #this for the short & tall girlies #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x fem!reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru headcanons

720 notes · View notes

copperbadge · 3 months ago

Note

I’ve been watching a lot of Olympic surfing since it’s soothing and beautiful sprinkled with moments of mouth-dropping excitement and it got me thinking - would Monday compete for Askazer-Shivadlakia? I could totally see the royal family on a boat screaming at the top of their lungs for her :D

I see you've seen the picture of the king and queen of the Netherlands at the Olympics :D

[ID: A photograph of two people wearing orange hats and sunglasses, looking very much like a mom and dad cheering on their kid; the woman has a floral peasant blouse on, and the man is wearing a ring tee that reads PARIS with a VIP badge around his neck.]

I swore I had made a post about Monday competing in the Olympics but it turns out it was a discussion carried out in comments. :D So allow me to elaborate....

To represent a country in the Olympics you have to be a "national" of said country. Broadly, that's anyone who has significant allegiance to a country. By the time August 2024 rolls around Monday will have been a resident for two years and she has a royal visa plus biological children who are citizens, and her brother-in-law is the elected head of state, so I'm thinking that qualifies. Fons-Askaz is a popular surf spot but it's mostly tourists, so she's not taking a spot from someone who should be representing the country, which is important to her. One reason Monday and Eddie like Shivadh culture so much is that it's very like their own -- sportsmanship is a closely held value.

Now, not to be a killjoy, but would Monday choose to compete in the Olympics? Like a lot of sports, surfing has its own competitions, and does she want to associate with an organization that she must, being her, have serious ethical concerns over? Setting aside that she's competing in Tahiti, and I can't find much coverage about how Tahitians feel about that, olympic host cities regularly do brutal clearances of unhoused and poor people, constantly overspend on elaborate athletic facilities that then rot emptily, and in the case of Paris, create what critics have called a "two tier" system based on how much you can pay. As I predicted, temperatures in the olympic village are regularly hitting the eighties indoors, and those who couldn't afford air conditioning struggle to compete at the level of their wealthier peer countries. An Italian gold-medalist swimmer has taken to sleeping in parks because he can't sleep in his room. Monday can bring her own personal chef to Tahiti with her, but that's because he's her brother. Not to mention the issues surrounding the way wealth improves training and skill, the way genetics play a part, and the appalling record of the IOC on gender and race.

As may be evident, I'm not a fan of the olympics. I don't watch them and haven't for 25 years now. I'm not going to claim the reason is ethical concerns, because I just plain don't give much of a damn about olympic competition and I follow soccer which is as abusive and toxic just in different ways. But it doesn't help that there are so many issues. And yeah, it absolutely is also thrilling and fun, which is why I feel bad talking about this! And for some sports truly it is the only place they get to show or compete (don't get me started on television networks who get to call what is and isn't broadcast, let alone archived) but this is a moral question athletes are going to have to start to grapple with.

And ALL THAT SAID....

Monday knows this will realistically be her last olympics. She will still be competing at the elite level for a few years and will have a long career as a coach if she does well; she might even qualify in 2028, but at that point she'll be in her mid thirties and likely not still in championship form, and will have had time to train Shivadh surfers so they can compete. And Gregory is not only fond of Monday and kind of in agreement about the olympics, but he is very, very loyal to the woman who carried his children.

So she has nothing to lose, really, and competing in the Olympics, especially if she does well, is a fantastic way to bring attention to how fucked up they are.

I doubt I'd ever write it, except maybe as a short story, but if I did it would be about Monday declaring herself an Activist Competitor, putting the olympics on blast every time she's got a mic in her face, and plotting it with the boys ahead of time so that when the press or even the IOC runs to them, they shrug and say, "What do you want us to do about it? We agree with her. If the IOC doesn't like it they know what to do," basically daring them to fix their shit or ban her.

And there is some fun to be had with it too! You've got Georgie becoming an inadvertent icon as Monday's girlfriend, Gregory and Eddie cheering her on while holding the twins, Joan (and possibly Noah, given he'll be on summer break from college) romping around the place with recording equipment. And also fun, Michaelis and Jes agreeing to go to Paris instead because there are other Shivadh competing and they have to represent the side.

Monday didn't even ask the others to join her in activism because she didn't want them to risk their careers at her say-so, but they are Shivadh, after all, and one of their favorite things to do is fuck shit up, so they absolutely would lead an insurrection in Paris, probably wearing shirts that read WE'RE TOO HOT TO SLEEP. Jes absolutely has a shirt reading NB FOR AC.

I think you have to actually commit war crimes to get a country banned from the olympics (and even then, sometimes you get a pass) but I do think it would be funny if the Paris contingent caused so many issues that I could title the story "We Got Banned From The Olympics And All We Got Were These Dumb Gold Medals". Especially if the gold medals aren't even olympic medals, they're medals Gregory had made to reward the Shivadh athletes for their actions. Gold medal in activism for everyone!

#shivadhverse #olympics

142 notes · View notes

imaginingbleach · 4 months ago

Text

Surprise Bunny kisses!

(where you nuzzle noses)

Included: Shunsui, Shuhei, Halibel, Neliel, Ulquiorra, Nnoitra, Grimmjow

[Part 1] [Part 2 (you are here)]

Shunsui Kyoraku

It is fairly easy to find this man lazing about--

It's not that he's not aware of your presence, but rather, he has allowed his guard down whenever you're around.

He's definitely the type to act more surprised than he actually is, which you can catch onto.

You don't mind, of course, but it does make those rare occasions when you genuinely surprise him that much better.

He's a little cheesy with his over the top reactions whenever he's acting surprised...

But when he is actually surprised? He'll let out a full bellied laugh or a heartfelt chuckle.

He finds it endearing and enjoys it just as much as you do.

Even when he's pretending to be shocked, he still thoroughly enjoys it.

He loves getting attention from you, so~

Shuhei Hisagi

His mind is usually off somewhere else so it's surprisingly quite easy to surprise him with bunny kisses

His eyes will get all wide, cheeks flushing with color before gently pulling you close and kissing your cheek

It's his go to in order to hide his embarrassment, so, just let him.

Plus if it gets a laugh out of you he enjoys doing it more.

Sometimes he'll turn the tables and surprise you with bunny kisses!

It doesn't happen that often, so it's even more shocking when he does it!

But you're both giggling at the end of it.

Tier Halibel

It's a bit hard to give her bunny kisses when she's not in her resurrección form...

Though she does get very embarrassed when you still kiss along her lower face/jaw despite what she looks like

Her eyes get wide and she gently wraps her arms around you

She loves any affection she gets from you and will absolutely return it in any way she can.

Since she can't quite give you bunny kisses, she'll lean in and boop your nose randomly

She enjoys seeing you get shocked by the sudden boops

And if you happen to not be an arrancar? She teases you about how squishy your skin is :p

If you are an arrancar, she'll still make a joke about being squishy even if your skin is as tough as hers.

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck

Oh my god you cannot surprise this woman with anything.

The second the thought to sneak in a bunny kiss arises-- surprise!

She's tackling you and giving YOU the bunny kisses!

She's a very affectionate girlfriend and will absolutely shower you in kisses

She loves learning about different kind of ways to show affection--

She will ask you to tell her about things from the World of the Living because she wants...

To learn every kind of way to give you a kiss >:3

Only ones that you enjoy, of course, but...

Her favorite is still bunny kisses

She can just press her nose against yours happily and enjoy the little giggles you give off.

Ulquiorra Cifer

Let's be honest, human emotions are very confusing to him.

The first time you lean in suddenly to nuzzle your nose against his?

He's staring at you blankly.

"What is the purpose of that action?"

"It's called a bunny kiss!"

"... Like a rabbit? Why would you-"

"It's just called a bunny kiss because they press their noses together! It's a sign of affection, Ulqui!"

You proceed to explain it fully to him and he learns to accept it.

Like kisses, he eventually learns to like it too.

Gradually he will start to initiate the affectionate touches...

It's a slow and steep learning curve for him, but he is grateful for your patience and understanding.

You don't mind because you love the way his eyes widen just slightly in a bit of confusion.

You think it's adorable. :)

Nnoitora Gilga

The only times you truly surprise him are:

A. When you're just starting to date...

B. When he's sleeping.

When the two of you are closer, he will pretend to be surprised but...

You know he's just pretending.

You still enjoy jumping up and wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling your nose against his.

He does instinctively wrap his arms around you to keep you from falling.

He doesn't understand why exactly you do it, but he'll let you.

He doesn't really initiate it back, but he will poke your cheek to grab your attention.

He will actually complain about you not giving him any attention that day.

He doesn't frame it as wanting a bunny kiss, but you know him well enough to know what he wants >:)

Grimmjow Jeagerjaques

Like a cat, he is extremely aware of his surroundings in most cases.

He doesn't dare risk someone surprising him and attempting to do him harm, so he hardly ever even has a deep sleep.

In the beginning, he would never get surprised by your sudden bunny kisses...

but as time went on and the trust between the two of you grew, he allowed himself to relax more around you.

The very first time he nearly body slammed you into the bed, but luckily for you he restrained himself.

It was instinctive and he apologized sheepishly afterwards, but warned you that it might happen again.

Over time he stopped nearly throwing you off of him and would just grumble into your shoulder afterwards.

You know he likes it, even if he's acting like he doesn't.

You always feel him smiling against you.

72 notes · View notes

ninapi · 11 months ago

Text

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ Family ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Premise: Raising someone else's child is one thing, but raising your own while dealing with your insecurities could be quite a task, especially for a man like Satoru, but the moment he saw the baby his life turned upside down.

Word Count: 3104

Note: This is the third installment for a short series of mine, they all have different titles because I'm weird like that lol, but you can read the first part here, and the second one here.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

When Satoru took Megumi in, he didn’t have to do much besides giving him financial support and make sure he had everything he needed as a growing child.

He was already the person he is to this day, and Saturu had very little to add to this. So when he realized what having his own baby was going to be, his already existing demons started to kick in.

While is normally the mother the one who tends to spiral into despair thinking of the future of their newborn and the changes impacting daily life, Satoru had more than one reason to feel uneasy.

He loved his girl and his unborn child, there was no doubt there; but the implications of being a parent were heavy for a man like him.

Dealing with the elders was one thing, but being a good dad was a very different one.

All he was good at was fighting curses, that’s what he came to this world to do, but having to think of how to be a good dad was definitely more scary than a special grade curse.

Megumi was way more ready than he was, in fact, without Megumi your pregnancy would have been quite the nightmare. But he was always checking up on you, helping you with tidying the apartment, even took you to the hospital check ups and went in the doctor’s office with you.

Some even thought he was your son, to Megumi’s displeasure.

Satoru on the other hand tended to flee when things like this came upon, excuses were easy to come by when you’re the strongest sorcerer. But in reality he was beating himself over and over again for his own behavior while sitting on a cliff.

He wanted this, he wanted to be with you, wanted to have a family with you. Or so he thought at first, but what does it even mean to have a family? His was anything but conventional and he had no idea where to start.

You were his life now, he didn’t care about the future of this world if he was being honest, he never did really, all he wanted was to take you to a Polynesian island and live in a fancy luxury tree house with you, the baby and Megumi. But life wasn’t as easy, he had to deal not just with the damn old men hunting his every step, but also his responsibilities in the school, he couldn’t just disappear, not with another teacher and a top tier student tagging along.

He wanted to do better, be a good husband, a good dad, not just to his baby but to Megumi as well, he felt like he’s been failing everyone he truly cares for and that was a feeling like no other, one he could live his entire life without encountering it ever again.

But time for cowarding around ended sooner than he expected as time runs extremely fast when you don’t want to deal with your problems.

He got a call from Megumi, he was at the hospital, water came out of you and you were tugging on his hair while screaming in pain, you were certainly dying so he had to come fast. It all sounded like a nightmare to Satoru, he truly thought you were dying, he’s never seen a pregnant woman on the later stage of pregnancy deal with it, and Megumi either, so they were both panicking on a bench this very same moment.

“I can’t lose her, Megumi…what am I going to do if she dies? What if the baby dies too? What if I have to raise the baby on my own? I can’t do this…I would rather be killed by a curse…maybe I should turn off my infinity…yes, someone would come and kill me as well, then we would all die together…” a loud smack could be heard rumbling over every wall of the hospital. He’s never seen Megumi this angry before, “Can you stop and be a god damn adult for once in your life? (Y/N) needs you. She’s in labor right now, delivering your baby! She’s in so much pain, things are coming out of her, she’s probably so scared right now, and all you’re thinking about are ways of getting yourself killed!”

Satoru’s cheek was quickly getting red and swollen, how did he even manage to touch him that easily?

Zenin’s are truly a terrifying clan.

“Why does nobody care about me being scared? I can be scared too you know? I know I’m the strongest sorcerer, but that doesn’t make me the strongest husband or the strongest dad…”

Megumi was left speechless, he never thought the great Gojo Satoru would admit being scared, “Do you think I’m not scared? I love her ok? She might be your girl, the mother of your child and what not, but she isn’t just a crush to me, she’s also the only mother figure I’ve had, the only person who truly understands me and cares for me. I don’t want her to die!” tears were falling down Megumi’s cheeks as he vented all his worries out of his very constricted chest. He’s the one who’s been by your side during your whole pregnancy, what if this was his fault? What if you were in so much pain because he didn’t take good care of you? Those words kept flooding his head and Satoru was just as lost as he was in that moment, he didn’t know how to reassure his adoptive son and was in need of reassurance himself.

That was until loud cries could be heard coming from the room you were being kept in.

“What was that-“

Megumi’s ears perked, he couldn’t hear you at all, why was it so loud, he needed to confirm you were fine. “I don’t know, who’s crying? That’s not her, I’m sure…”

“Of course is not her, you idiot…” the door opened up to a very tired looking nurse, her gown was covered in what looks like blood wiped out not long ago, Satoru’s face paling the moment he saw her.

“Is…I-Is (Y/N)…” his voice was cracking, all his memories with you going into his brain like a movie.

“She’s fine, she’s currently holding your son, would you like to go in? She’s asking for Megumi, I assume that’s you?”

“No, that’s me! Can I go in too then?” the nurse was very confused but nodded anyways. Megumi ran inside the room, falling down to his knees when he saw you smiling, holding a little bundle to your chest, “Oh thank god….”

“Gumi, my love, come meet your baby brother!” you looked so tired, yet so happy, he thought he’d never get to see your beautiful smile ever again.

“Are you ok? Is the pain gone?”

“She’s fine kid, giving birth is no easy fit, hope this experience helps you respect women for what their worth. Men would never be able to give birth, they’d die within minutes.” the nurse’s words made you chuckle, it was true after all, especially for your spoiled boys.

“Toru? I didn’t know you were here, I thought you were at work! Come meet your son~” Satoru was still by the door, he thought he’d lost you, the very same feeling he felt that one day you almost die in front of his eyes, just that this time felt even more real as he saw the dried blood on the nurse. He didn’t know how to react, relief was present that’s for sure, but he was also terrified, he was happy to hear you were fine, but you were holding his son right this moment. He had a son now, officially, he is a dad now.

“Babe?” the confused look in your face made him move from his spot, he couldn’t put more stress on you, not after you had to deal with all that just to bring his son to this world.

“So a boy, huh? I thought it’d be a girl…” Megumi really wanted the baby to be a girl, to look just like you so he could snuggle the baby’s cute cheeks and spoil her rotten.

“Mhm, I haven’t named him yet, I wanted Toru to see him first…” Satoru was now standing beside you, his eyes not going down just yet, though his range of vision was so wide, he could see a tiny hand moving out and about and it made it so hard for him to keep ignoring him.

Once he finally got the courage to look at his son, his brain released a triple shot of dopamine right to his heart.

How can a newborn be this cute? They’re usually all red and wrinkly, not at all pretty. But his son…he got his blue eyes and silvery hair, but his face, he looked just like you. The cutest thing he’s ever seen. “Is he…” the moment he opened his mouth the baby started wailing loudly, startling his father.

You were rocking the baby from side to side making him know everything was fine, “Sweetie, c’mon hold your son.”

“But he’s crying (Y/N)! How do I make it stop?” you set the child in his arms, once their eyes met the baby stopped crying, a lil yawn leaving his lips, this causing Satoru to smile. “Oh, I think he’s just tired…aren’t you my beautiful son?”

“It’s a combined effort of both sides after all, he did have to help mama a lot during the birthing process.” The nurse was finally ready to leave you to rest and needed to take the child with her. “He needs to come with me, Gojo-san. But I need a name so I can set him in the room with the other newborns.”

“I was thinking of naming him Suguru…you know…to honor your frie-“

“No.”

“But baby…”

“I said no.” his stern tone of voice made your heart sink, you thought he’d be happy about this, it was some sort of a surprise even.

Megumi saw darkness loom over Satoru’s eyes and thought of intervening. “Shion.”

“What was that, love?”

“Shion, my brother’s name I mean..” the fact that he referred to the baby as his brother made you feel so much love, even Satoru’s face softened at his words.

“Gojo Shion it is then.” the nurse took the baby from Satoru’s arm and he’s never felt this empty before. “Do you really need to take him? I mean he’s a newborn, is not like he needs friends right now. Wouldn’t it be better for him to hang out with his family than with other babies?” his reasoning was beyond cute, even to the stoic nurse.

“Look sir, the child isn’t going to a baby party, he needs a check up and that’s the process in general. If everything goes out well you’ll be able to take them home in a couple of days. Now if you excuse me..” The baby was half asleep and his little hand was out of the blanket still and Satoru felt like his life lost all purpose, his son needed him so much right now, he needed to be tucked cozily under his blanket and there was nothing he could do to help him…he felt completely useless…

Megumi was cleaning your face with a wet towel, making sure your pillow was all fluffed properly, while Satoru spiraled into sadness.

“Can you get the blanket in her baby bag? There’s also some warm socks in the front pocket.”

Satoru could feel Megumi’s murderous stare and that made him go back to earth, “Yeah sure. Socks…socks…here.”

Megumi just stared at his hand with so much hate, yet he didn’t know what he did wrong this time. “What?”

“(Y/N)’s socks, not the baby’s socks…”

“Oh! Right…” he needed to get himself together, you needed him just as much as his son did.

“Here, my love.” he got your feet covered with your favorite fluffy socks, then leaned to kiss your head lovingly. Megumi covered you with the blanket he brought for you and went over the snacks he packed to replenish your strength.

“Isn’t he the most beautiful baby you’ve ever seen?” you sounded so tired, exhausted even, but to him you were the most wonderful and beautiful women in this universe. The mother of his son.

“Of course he is, he’s my son~” that made you chuckle.

“We are parents now…how does that make you feel, Toru?” that question hunted him for months, but now he was ready to answer it truthfully. “I’m scared…I don’t know if I can be a good dad…But I’m also the happiest man alive…you’ve given me so much…I want to be the man you and my son need me to be…” his face wasn’t one of happiness, it was more one of realization.

He felt so much…it was overwhelming.

But the moment he locked eyes with his son, he just knew it, this was it, this was the real reason he came to this world, to bring his son to life, to give you and his son a happy life full of beautiful memories.

“Gojo-sensei…I think she needs rest…” you were giving him a soft loving smile, your thumb rubbing the back of his hand while he processed what just happened.

“I’ll stay here, you go back to the school.” he wasn’t there for you when you needed him most, when you were confused and in pain, when you needed his love and care. But he was here now, and he wouldn’t let that happen again.

He grabbed one of the chairs by the wall and brought it next to your bed, his hand reaching for yours once more before dimming the lights, “I’ll stay here with you, baby. Just rest.”

Megumi left after making sure you had everything you needed with the promise of coming back next morning with a fresh change of clothing for his guardian.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Having a newborn baby in the house was a whole adventure, at least according to Satoru.

He had to learn everything about babies in a couple of days and lets just say books aren’t as reliable in the subject.

Babies cry a lot and figuring out what the problem was isn’t as easy as he had hoped for.

Not only that but your nipples were sore from breastfeeding causing you to frown all day, Megumi was in a bad mood because the baby didn’t let him sleep at night and he ended up stepping on a dirty diaper this morning, twice, barefoot.

While to others this might sound awful, Satoru was living his best life.

His son was just as in love with him as he was and he was livid. Putting him to bed was his self assigned job and his favorite part of the day. He’d go on talking forever explaining how his technique works and all he had to do to perfect it, of course his son didn’t understand a thing, but his voice really soothed the child so they both loved their bonding time.

Megumi would sneak in your room and sleep while hugging one of your legs while Satoru took the child out to get some sunlight in, even if he denied it, he was very much jealous of his baby brother, he just didn’t get as much time with you as before and he had no excuses to be babied like the infant was now. He wanted more and didn’t know how to ask for it, so even if you and Satoru were aware of his sneaky nap times, you both appeared ignorant to the teen.

Being a mother suited you so beautifully though, there was nothing Satoru loved more than seeing you with his son in your arms. The way your loving eyes landed on his little face, the kissy sounds you made at him to make him giggle, it was all just so perfect to him.

And being a father suited him just as much. The baby carrier he had hanging from his chest daily and the way he would always hold one of his tiny feet in one of his hands as he walked by proudly was the cutest thing this world had to offer.

He was a happy man.

Of course, him parading around with his child made the elders realize what was going on pretty fast.

Thankfully the child didn’t display any sign of inheriting infinity, at least not yet, something he had shown almost since birth, which made them back off quite fast with the promise of him trying to conceive further children with you.

Of course, he didn’t want this. Not because he didn’t want more babies, but because it terrified him knowing one of them could very well have it and be taken away from you. The thought of his son being exploited the way he was as a child was a constant nightmare for him.

But reality plays dirty tricks on you when you least expect them..

You being such a cute mama and having those swollen breasts full of milk caused…unexpected results…getting you pregnant once more before Shion even turned four months of age.

For someone who didn’t understand the concept of family, he was quite good at making one.

His first family member being the lovely teenage boy who loved the mother of his children more than anything in this world, more than him to be quite honest. But he regretted nothing, Megumi was as important in this family as little Shion was and the little baby girl inside your growing belly.

The family kept growing at an exponential rate, and this world was anything but safe. But having the strongest sorcerer by your side did help quite a lot, specially now that he’d gotten the titles of strongest dad and strongest husband to the list as he very much wished and thought never would.

His family was not conventional, it was broken even, starting with him.

But it was perfect the way it was.

He chose his own family after all.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Masterlist

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu fanfic #fluff #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo #jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #daddy gojo

167 notes · View notes

writtenfangirl · 1 year ago

Text

Secrets and Good Luck Charms

Plus size!Reader, angsty turning fluffy

Listen, as a plus size woman myself, I know that the chances of an F1 driver being attracted to me is close to 0, especially when they're literally always surrounded by supermodels. But I can live in my delulu era, even for a little while.

I challenged myself to create a fic with top-tier begging and I genuinely hope I accomplished that cause this was so much fun to write.

Enjoy!

Part 2

“Charles, I think we should break up.”

The words left her in a sudden whoosh, ceasing her boyfriend mid-story. His apartment went quiet, and Y/N felt the little hairs on her arms rise but her goosebumps wasn’t from the cold.

Charles’s luminous green eyes widened.“What?”

A part of her wished she could take the words back, snatch them from the air where they hung heavy like smoke. But she’d been building up her courage all week and she wasn’t about to back down now just because he flashed those beautiful green eyes that Charles knew she could never resist. She said the words slower, kinder. “I think we should break up.”

He looked at her as if he couldn’t believe the words he was hearing. “Why?”

“Because you’re ashamed of me, Cha.”

And there was the truth, the conviction that had Y/N’s resolve strengthening. Charles could deny it all he wants but Y/N knew the truth, deep down. He was ashamed of her. It was a truth that had been sitting in her chest for the better part of 9 months and it was a truth that had begun to eat at her as their relationship progressed.

He said his next words slowly, like a child struggling to learn new words in a language he wasn’t familiar with. “What would make you say that?”

She kept her own tone even, betraying none of the hurt that sat heavy in her chest. “Because, Cha. We’ve been together 9 months, close to a year, and yet you have never introduced me to your mother or your brothers. Not even to your friends. No posts on social media, no mention of my existence at all.”

He frowned. “I thought you wanted your privacy.”

“I do want my privacy.”

“Then I don’t understand why you want to end things!” His voice grew in octave and Y/N could see him fighting to keep his calm.

“Because, Cha,” she said, struggling to keep the exasperation from her voice, “you’re ashamed of me. I don’t care that you post me on social media or not. I don’t care if the world knows about us. If you want to keep our relationship out of the public eye, that’s fine. I know you’re doing it to protect my feelings and I appreciate it, I do. But, you refuse to let me meet your friends or your family for that matter. They’re the people that matter to me because they’re the people that matter to you. But I’ve never met them, even after you’ve met mine! And I’m—“ she took a deep, shuddering breath, fighting the hurt that threatened to have tears spilling from her eyes. “I’ve dated enough guys to know when they’re ashamed of me.”

“I am not—“

“Don’t deny it, Cha, please. It hurts even more if you do.”

His mouth snapped shut. There was confusion in his face, and maybe a bit of hurt, but Y/N saw the truth in them too. The shame that coated his eyes like paint.

“I know I’m not conventionally beautiful like your exes.” Y/N said, her words soft. “They’re thin and slender and they’re beautiful. They really are. Models and influencers that I could never compete with and I’m okay with that because you were okay with that. But I see now that you’re not. You don’t like that I’m big, that I have a stomach and huge thighs. You don’t like that I have stretch marks and rolls. And you know what, it’s fine. If you prefer thinner girls, it’s fine. I won’t hold it against you because I know some people just have preferences and it’s okay. But I refuse to ever change myself and hate myself just to fit into a person’s standards. I’ve spent so much of my life being ashamed of my body, I can’t do that anymore, Cha. I love you and you are literally the man of my dreams but I love myself too, and I love myself too much to let someone do this to me.”

“You can’t just leave me. I love you.” Charles rushed the words out as if somehow, his words would stop Y/N.

“I don’t doubt your love for me, Cha. Not one moment. I know you love me. But you don’t take me on dates in public places where people can see us. When we do go out in public, you keep a physical distance between us. You never even so much as look at me unless you have to. I’ve never met a single one of your friends, work related or not. I don’t think you’ve even mentioned to them that you were with someone. Never met Arthur or Lorenzo and I’ve definitely never met Pascale. You love me in secret and that’s not okay.”

He reached for her hand but Y/N pulled away. The hurt that flashed in his eyes made her want to tell him to forget about her confession, forget about what she said so they can return to normal but Y/N knew she couldn’t do that. She owed it to herself to do what was best for her, to love a man who loved her so much he had to shout it from the rooftops.

“Y/N, please—“

“It’s okay, Charles.” She stood up from where she sat, pushing down her own feelings as Charles looked up at her, disbelief in his eyes. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Really, no hard feelings. Let’s just forget that this, us, ever happened. I wish you good luck with everything, I really do. I’ll pray to every God that exists that you become a world champion with Ferrari. I’ll always root for you.”

“Y/N, wait—“

But she fled the apartment before he could say anymore.

And Charles Leclerc is out of the 2023 Belgian Grand Prix! I have to say, Crofty. Leclerc’s string of bad luck and terrible performance has really been a blow to Ferrari’s morale as of late. It really is such a horrible way to end the first half of the season, especially after such an incredible six months! It truly is such a shame. With the way things are going, what was once a tight race for the championship between Verstappen and Leclerc could simply become Verstappen’s third world championship. Let’s hope the summer break gives him the clarity of mind he needs to get his head back in the game and the championship race back on track.

Charles wasn’t stupid. He knew why he was losing and it wasn’t his car or his team or their strategies.

His abysmal performance could only be blamed on one person and try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to blame Y/N.

Because really, the only person to be blamed was himself.

Because she was right.

And he hated that she was right.

He never thought he was the kind of person who was vain or who particularly cared about the opinions of others. He knew what it was like to be scrutinized by the media and while he justified keeping his relationship with her private by believing that Y/N was a private person, he couldn’t justify hiding her from his friends and family.

It didn’t even really matter to him what she looked like. He loved Y/N, not for her body but for her soul. He was the moth attracted to her bright flame and he would have gladly let himself burn if it meant feeling the heat of her touch on his skin. She was kindness and warmth and compassion all rolled into one person, the kind of person people wished God made more of.

And he found her beautiful. Yes, she wasn’t thin but he never cared about that before. Y/N was beautiful in his eyes. The kind of beauty meant to be admired in paintings. Her soft, curvaceous body and her sweet face made her beautiful. She may not have fit society’s standards but she fit his and that’s all that mattered. That’s all that should have mattered.

So why did her words, her accusations, cut him so deep?

Was she right? Was he ashamed of her?

“Mate, you okay?”

Carlos’s voice broke him out of his reverie. It wasn’t like Charles to get distracted from the matter at hand, but his mind kept wandering to his girlfriend. Or rather, ex-girlfriend.

“You’ve been distracted.” Max noted.

It was the summer break, a rare time in their hectic lives when they got a chance to take a breather. One of the drivers, Charles couldn’t remember who but he suspected it was George, had arranged a little get together for them. Alone time on a remote island in the tropics far from the prying eyes of their fans and the media. Not all of the drivers could make it, but those that could brought their girlfriends with them. The irony wasn’t lost on Charles that he was the only single man in an island full of couples.

It was the kind of outing he would have wanted to include Y/N in but wouldn’t have, choosing instead to stay at home so they could spend some time alone. It never occurred to him if Y/N would have wanted to come.

“I’m fine,” was his only brusque reply.

“You don’t seem fine.” Pierre chimed in.

Charles tried not to scowl. The other drivers were his friends as much as they were his co-workers and competitors. He grew up racing and competing with most of them. Max, George, Alex, Lando and especially Pierre, were constant figures in his life. If there was anyone who could help him, who could understand him, it would be them.

But it was so hard to accept the help when Charles was so… down.

He looked at his friends, saw the expectant looks on their faces and sighed.

“My girlfriend broke up with me.” The words left him before he had a chance to think about it.

His friends’ expectant expressions turned into surprise before shifting to mild curiosity.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” Pierre’s frown could only be described as hurt. Not that Charles could blame him. Pierre was his best friend and the first person who supported him when it came to his relationships. The fact that Charles kept his girlfriend a secret probably hurt him more than he let on.

“No one knew,” Charles said reassuringly. “Not my brothers and not maman.”

“So you were only together for a short while,” Carlos guessed. “What’s the big deal?”

Charles couldn’t blame Carlos for assuming that Y/N was only in his life for a while since he never told them she existed but the insinuation hurt all the same.

“We were together close to a year. 9 months actually.”

“That long?” Alex asked, surprised. “Usually you introduce your girlfriends after two months. You kept her a secret for nine months?”

Charles winced. What sort of excuse did he have for keeping her a secret? No flimsy excuse could ever justify what he did.

“Why did she end things?” Max asked him.

Dread pooled in Charles’ stomach. What does he even say? He looked at his friends, at their earnest and open expressions. He knew no matter what he says, they won’t judge him. Or at least, not to his face.

“She ended things because she thinks I’m ashamed of her.“ Charles’ admission tasted like metal in his tongue.

“Why would you be ashamed of her?” George asked, raising a quizzical brow.

“Because she’s nothing like my exes. She’s not thin or slender, she’s full bodied. I’ve never introduced her to any of you, not even to my family. She thinks I’m embarrassed to be seen next to her.”

“Are you?” Lando asked, judgement ripe on his face.

“No!” Charles’ defense was quick. “I am not ashamed of her. I never have been! I’m… I’m more ashamed of myself. That I didn’t reassure her. I’m ashamed that I did something that made her feel bad. I hate that I did that to her.”

“Why didn’t you introduce her to us and your family anyway?” Carlos asked this time.

“Because with her, I feel real. I feel different. A good different. And I know how cruel people can be. I know you might not have judged her and I know if my brothers and maman met her, they would love her. Maman, especially. But if I introduced her to you, then that’s one step closer to introducing her to the world. I was scared she couldn’t take the attention and run.”

“Is she why you’ve been so bad in track lately?” Max asked.

Charles simply nodded before closing his eyes and rubbing his face in frustration. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Well there’s only one thing you can do,” George said in that tone he uses when he thinks he knows best. “You have to go after her. Go back to her and beg her to take you back.”

“And then what?” Charles snapped, unable to stop himself from voicing out the fear that’s been plaguing his mind, “She’ll still be watched by the media. Y/N is soft and she is kind. I don’t know what I would do if people say bad things about her and I know they will. I’ve dated literal supermodels and people were mean. What more someone like her? If someone insulted her in front of me, I might actually commit assault.”

“Mate, that’s up to her and you to talk about it,” Max said. “You can’t really take the choice away from her. If you love this girl, then be with her. Fuck what other people think.”

“Charles, all that matters to us is that you are happy. If she makes you happy, then we will be happy,” Pierre reassured. “You don’t have to worry about us. This girl doesn’t happen to be an ax-wielding psychopath, right?”

The rest of their group winced at Pierre’s poor attempt at a joke but Charles smiled nonetheless. Trust Pierre to always try his best to lighten the mood. “No, she’s kind of perfect actually. I really love her.”

“Then go to her so you can get your head back in the game and beat Max in the championship,” Carlos urged.

“I don’t know about beating me,” Max smirked and the topic of their conversation shifted to playful jibes and jokes. But Charles’ mind stayed on Y/N, at his friends encouraging words and before his mind could reconcile what his body was doing, he was already on his feet, heading to one of the yachts moored on the island.

“Where are you going?” Pierre called out as he ran from his friends, towards the woman he loved.

Charles answered, his mind racing as fast as his heart. “To get my girl!”

When Y/N heard the frantic knocking on her apartment door at 1AM, she expected the worst.

Which of her family had died? Which of her friends was laying in a ditch somewhere with their car wrapped around a tree? What was the tragedy so urgent, so horrific, that it couldn’t wait until the next day and had to knock on her door at 1AM in the morning?

But when she opened the door, all she saw was Charles, eyes wide and frantic.

“Cha?” Y/N asked, not quote believing her bleary eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he grabbed her face, bringing his mouth on hers in a searing kiss that had Y/N’s eyes shuttering close and her breath leaving her lungs.

She tasted the salt of his sweat, felt the searing heat of his hands on her skin as his tongue swept across her mouth, kissing her as if he was underwater and she was the siren able to grant him his oxygen. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her heart deciding what her mind already knew but refused to believe.

She had missed him, wholeheartedly. And she knew that if Charles ever came knocking back, her self restraint would crumble like chalk on pavement. She would accept him, consequences be damned.

“I’m sorry,” he panted when she pulled away, her mind racing. “I’m so sorry.”

“Charles, I don’t understand. What are you doing here? I thought you were—“

“It doesn’t matter where I was,” he insisted, his grip on her tightening, like he was afraid that letting go would cause her to disappear. “I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough. Cherie, tu es belle. Je suis vraiment désolé. Je n'ai jamais eu l'intention de te blesser.”

“Charles, slow down,” Y/N urged, pulling him into her tiny apartment and closing the door behind her. Her french was rudimentary at best and with how fast he was talking, she was struggling to translate what he said. “You’re speaking in French. I don’t understand.”

“You are beautiful.” He blurted, stopping Y/N in her tracks. “You’re the most beautiful woman I know. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you but I did anyway and I hate that I hurt you. I’m not ashamed of you but I am ashamed of how I acted. Forgive me, cherie, please. Please take me back.”

“Charles—“ Her phone trilled from where it was charging in her living room and Y/N pulled away from Charles it, ignoring her best friend's flashing face and clicking the red button to silence it.

“You deserve better than me, I know,” he continued, “and I know I don’t deserve you. But I will do everything I can to at least be deserving of your forgiveness. Please, Y/N. Say you forgive me.”.

“Charles—“ her phone rang again and with a growl of frustration, Y/N grabbed it, answering it upon seeing her best friend’s face flashing. “Y/BFF/N, I can’t talk right now. I'm in the middle of—“

“Did you see?” Y/BFF/N said frantically on the other end, causing Y/N to frown. “Tell me you saw it!”

She sent Charles an apologetic look as she answered. “Saw what?”

“Check Charles’ instagram! And I mean, right the fuck now! Call me back when you do.” And she hung up.

Y/N glanced at Charles before following her best friend’s instructions, opening up the app and searching for Charles’ account. When she saw her picture on the first square, Y/N’s eyes snapped to Charles.

“You told your friends about us,” Y/N said, stunned.

“I told the world about us,” he clarified. “I never told anyone because I was selfish. I am not ashamed of you. I never have been, never will be. I was scared because introducing you to my family and my friends means that you’re one step closer to being known to the world and I was scared you would run from all of it. From the fame, from the mean comments. It’s happened before and I didn’t want it to happen again, especially not to you. I’m not naive. If people can be mean and ruthless to girls who look like Charlotte and Alexandra, what more you? I thought I was protecting you. I don’t ever want you to leave. Please, come back to me.“

“I can’t believe you told everyone about us.” Y/N still sounded dumbfounded, even to her own ears.

Charles gave her watery smile. “People should know about you and the love I have for you.”

Y/N wasn't entirely sure what it is about Charles that could have her melting into a puddle on the floor. She's been with good looking men before and none of them ever had that effect on her. But his confession, his conviction, had her abandoning her phone's incessant notifications, her arms automatically wrapping around Charles' neck, pulling him to her. His hands rested on her waist, ghosting down her back.

And, despite herself, Y/N felt her lips pulling into a soft smile. “You know, when I went to bed a while ago, I wasn’t expecting to see my ex knocking at my door, begging me to take him back at one in the morning. Especially since I know he’s suppose to be somewhere in the tropics on vacation.“

“Begging?” Charles raised a brow, almost in challenge, a small smile playing at his lips. Mirth and hope mixed in his green eyes and Y/N knew that there was never any chance she couldn’t accept his apology.

She nodded, her smile turned teasing. “Oh, yeah, definitely begging. Groveling at my feet, asking for forgiveness. Never seen anything like it, to be honest. You know, some girls have a thing for that and I never really understood it before but now, I kinda do. I might not forgive him just so I can listen to him beg again.”

“You are a cruel woman,” Charles said as he pulled her closer to him, his hands warm on her waist, his nose barely touching her own as his breath tickled her mouth.

“Is that what you’d call the woman willing to forgive you?” She batted her eyes, feigning innocence. “Even after she knows you’re only begging for forgiveness because of your losing streak? You did always call me your good luck charm.”

“You are my good luck charm.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in those things?”

“When it comes to you, I’ll believe in anything and anyone,” he said seriously before he grinned, wide and infectious. The kind of grin that promised an evening of debauchery and laughter. “So you forgive me?”

“Well, you did tell the world that I was your girlfriend so now I have to forgive you and take you back. I wouldn’t want to make a liar out of Charles Leclerc.”

He smiled triumphantly and this time, when Charles dipped his head for another searing kiss, Y/N didn’t pull away.

396 notes · View notes

spnfanficpond · 4 months ago

Text

June 2024 Angel Fish Awards

(Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words. (Click here to learn more about how to nominate a fic for an award!)

Nominated by @autisticandroids

The Horror of No Detrimental Redaction by sp8ce (AO3)

Really top tier whump that is also a super attentive cas character study which is also willing to sit with him in a really uncomfortable space

The Trapdoor by hal_incandenza (AO3)

it's an epic rewrite of dabb era with a level of attention to detail that i've rarely seen in any fiction. the metatextual elements are carefully woven in and the character beats feel real. plus, it's an almost episode by episode rewrite and the new monster of the week casefic elements are fresh and fun. also it answers the question what if apocalypse world was good.

finer things by @explainslowly

i think it's maybe the ultimate pinnacle of the deancas triangulation of desire genre. when dean and cas have weird sex via a woman... one of my favorite things. and this is my favorite iteration.

By Your Hand by @restlesshush

this is my favorite relitigation of moriah that i've ever encountered. cas is so crazy in it. you can kind of feel that things will eventually work out without that coming off as cheap. it's perfect

~*~*~

Nominated by @candygrammes

LIMBO by entselene (AO3)

It's the creepiest. angstiest, scariest story I've read this year. Sam wakes up in Sioux Falls Hospital horribly injured, with no idea what happened. Not only that, but Dean is nowhere to be seen. Why? Has Dean abandoned him?

Nominated by @charliethealpaccaso

Strange Encounters by deanandsam (Ao3)

I loved the idea that there are dog versions of dean and sam along side the main sam and dean that I found it cute but also opened up a whole side story I wish there was more of.

Dogs Don't Pay Taxes by Zetal (Rodinia) (AO3)

There oddly is a huge lack of dog!sam fics on A03 that I love to try and spread the word of the ones that are out there. This one was cute both prompt wise and just made my day when I came across it

Faithful Companion by brokenlittleboy (AO3)

What if during season two Sam developed a whole new issue with his psychic powers and turned himself into a dog then this is the fic for you. Dean does mess around with him in this fic but I think it was a fun and interesting read for the concept

~*~*~

Nominated by @glygriffe

Why’s every song is about love (or drinking too much) by @quietwings-fics

They didn't give us enough Sam and Castiel scenes in the show. Here's a bitter-sweet one between the two of them, talking about Dean and the whole 'unrequited love' thing. A ficlet the gives a Destiel fan just the right amount of heavy heart.

It’s the Stars that Lie by @seperis

Ok, this fic doesn't need recommandations, but it's still needs public praises. To fully appreciate it, you need to read the fever dream that is Map of the World first, but I love how the author builds on the glimpses that the episode The End gave of the apocalypse!world. The OCs are interesting (and many of them are POC), and the lovely slow burn between Dean and Castiel is spiced up with the fake boyfriends trope.

Since I've Been Loving You - Remaster by tgel210 (AO3)

I like Castiel's first-person POV, Dean being a musician without being a rock star: it feels close to home like my next-door neighbor is talking to me about the love of his life.

Closer than they appear by sunkenfox (AO3)

Dean and Castiel figuring out what their life could be together by looking at Misha and Jensen is interesting. Even more interesting is the concept that like it or not, the Supernatural characters would not exist in their world without the writers and the actors in an other world. That Dean and Jenses share more than a face; same for Misha and Castiel (even if the difference are more obvious between the last two). A story of discorvery on a meta level, hiding inside a cute Destiel and RPF romance.

he feels no control of his body by withthekeyisking (AO3)

A wonderful but sad exploration of Sam Winchester throughout his life; from his lack of bodily autonomy to his dying faith in god(s) and humanity. With just enough brotherly love to leave the reader aching from loss and something like betrayal. (I love Dean, but he his a royal dick to his brother sometimes)

~*~*~

Nominated by @handsliketruth

evergreen endless by @whiskeyjuniper

A glimpse of endverse!Dean and Castiel during the earliest days of The End, via Chuck (prophet? god? something in-between?) as he continues to chart their story...and struggles to keep them from their inevitable collision despite their wildly infuriating pattern of falling into it... (full disclosure, this one was a gift for me, but I would rec this anyway 💛 dark, spicy, funny, clever meta fun)

But I Ain't Dead Yet by @bloodydeanwinchester

I cannot wait to see how this one plays out! Clever and charming with a fun hook: what if s4 Dean and Cas time-traveled back to 1x12 Faith to save Layla? (I would read a million words of Dean watching faith!Dean and Castiel get along 😂)

~*~*~

Nominated by @heavenssexiestangel

Bad Day Love by @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

it's a cute pick-me-up story with one of my favorite ships. I really like how Arthur is so soft with Dean here.

Bedtime Routine by @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

It's another rareship of mine andI love how they care for each other here and take care of Emma.

The Fool's Journey by @ladyknightskye

I know I was the artist for this story but - what Meg wrote for my art is awesome and it features one of my favorite characters - Gadreel. The journey he has in this fic is extremely important

~*~*~

Nominated by @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis

Presence by @ani-coolgirl

This story broke my heart in the absolute most beautiful way. It's sad and sweet and doomed and it haunts me still.

~*~*~

Nominated by @mariekoukie6661

Stitches by @kittenofdoomage

Its cute! I like it!

Sweet Little Lies by @impala-dreamer

I like how funny it was despite all the angst!!

~*~*~

Nominated by @masoena

Nothing Ever Really Ends by @nyxocity

Beautiful heaven fic with Sam and Dean, bring tissues, post S15E20

In Silence Sealed by @fiercelynormal

Dean loses his hearing but starts talking his thoughts out loud beautifully written Smitty short

Love, Your Brother by @eninkahootz

Sam and Dean communicating by letters btw heaven and earth post-series. Work in progress and so well written

~*~*~

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

Cretaceous by tiamatv (AO3)

This is a cute, fluffy romp through Jurassic Park as a Destiel fic! You don't have to love dinos to love this fic, but I imagine it would make it even better. If you're looking for something sweet and light to read before bed, this is the bedtime story for you!

~*~*~

Nominated by @rainythursdaynight

Clean Air by @anactorya

I read this story when I was maybe 16 and re-read it twice or three times in the year after. That being said, I can remember it almost excruciatingly well. I'm a post-apocalypse gal and I crave anything in that genre, so it was doubtless that I'd love this story. But the world-building done in this story? The characterization? The tension it manages to build? It's so gripping and exciting and I remember reading it worried out of my mind for the characters and exhaling the deepest breath as the story drew to a close. It's a not too dense read and an enveloping one, you'll forget you're above ground by the end of it!

Empty Spaces by @schmerzerling

This story made me fall in love with writing again. It's so heavy with how it distributes emotion in its words, but also so soothing too. This reads like watching a glass vase get tipped over the edge of a table and, maybe distantly, wondering if someone will catch it in time. But it doesn't quite matter because the flowers are beautiful and if you're crying then it's about the flowers and not the vase. I highly recommend this story to everyone, heavy as its contents may be. I felt safe reading this, I ached, I adore this story beyond words can capture.

Phantasma! by @thisisapaige

I very rarely read things that are horror inclined (funny as that is given the nature of Spn), and maybe this story is not considered horror either, but it left me just on that edge of eerie and it was exhilarating. Most of the story is sweet, and cathartic, as Dean rebuilds his life outside of his family and finds that in Castiel. But the mystery of it all, the unknown, it left me waiting for the other shoe to drop and this writer was excellent at making that payoff worth it.

The Art of Falling by @zipegs

This story was gritty and ugly and didn't pull back punches when it came to its emotional weight. Recovery is a nightmarish process of relapse and pain and relief and this story embodied this with its characters beautifully. This story was lonely, in the sense that its only two characters yes but it also felt a lot like reading about two characters pitted against the backdrop of everything. The world, the universe, existence. It made me feel small but so vast at the same time, and it was so utterly human (funny given the context of the story). It's a short and beautiful read that left me aching but in a way that was comforting as opposed to alienating.

With The End Came You by @lotrspnfangirl

I adore zombie apoclaypse AUs but so few of them focus on the characters' growth alongside the events of the series. And so few of them do side characters justice. This story was THE exception. Not only does the progression of the characters not sideline the plot and vice versa, but the story handles people so so well. You have those that stick around for long, and those that don't, and it treats both parties so faithfully that I'm left emotional over side characters I've only had a page worth of content with as much as the main characters I'm with the entire time. This is a zombie apocalypse AU that puts people first and foremost, and its so human and such a rewarding story to those that have even the smallest interest in these types of AUs. And the progression of the plot is so smooth and natural, TWD could never (and I love that show so take with that as you will).

~*~*~

Nominated by @samanddean76

Dark As Midnight (And You Don’t Look The Same) by @kassyscarlett

This is a story that follows a young Dean (17 years-old) out looking for a good time and running into an older man that gives what he wants. Not realizing he knows him, that he is in fact his Sammy. This story is so good! Time-travel, the follies of youth, needing to be protected from yourself, and realizing years later what that random encounter really was. It is part of a series, but works as a stand alone. But the entire series is worth checking out.

Coming Out Of The Dark by firesign10 (AO3)

It's a story about others helping one they know is broken, giving him what he needs so he can move on and live the rest of his life. The Richesters visit Sam in the bunker after Dean's death, and give him one final night together, so that he might carry on. It tragic and beautiful and has all the feels. Highly recommend.

~*~*~

Nominated by @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

Interspecies Romance and Its Associated Perils by suspiciousflashlight (AO3)

I have read this story many, many times. It’s adorable and hilarious. It’s cute and awkward in a way that someone who isn’t sure how to tell about a weird scar or birthmark is. The ending is the best part of the entire thing.

A Helping Hand and Thrilling Touches by mydestielbabies_67 (AO3)

I don’t normally nominate smut but this was just amazing. It was beautiful, and what and intense.

The Cherry Pie Club by zation (AO3)

This is a work in progress. It’s great! Zariah is such a great writer in so many genres. This one is about Dean exploring bdsm for the first time and ends up also realizing things about himself too. Poor Dean learns the hard way that it is Cas he loves about bdsm but still. Their connection and energy with each other is felt as you read. Highly recommend reading!

Absolute Beginners by @ahurston

Chapter 5 made me scream then go feral and foam at the mouth.

Dancing moves by faithlesshunter (AO3)

I am not normally one to read infidelity fics; however, this is destiel. It’s the holidays and Cas and Dean get left alone to reconnect. They tried to be a couple at the beginning once Cas came back from the Empty but they weren’t ready for it. Now, years later and they are! The confessions and the hot smut is just so exacting for them. It’s gorgeous! Dean has always loved Cas and Cas still loves Dean. Oh, I’d love to see how it works out but this reconnection is just purely intense and the dopamine is addictive. Good luck. MUST READ!

The Case of Dean and Castiel's Extremely Resolvable Tension by CanonFodder (Tartan_Temptation) (AO3)

This is hilarious and hot AF! It starts out explaining the premise and drives right into it where Dean finally gives in. He is so happy he does too. He gets a wonderfully deserving reward. Poor Sam and his need for eye bleach. Lol!

Objects May Appear Smaller by @valandrawrites

The instant connection of Cas and Dean, and the science of this story makes this a one-of-a-kind a/b/o. Despite it being incomplete, it’s such a fluffy and fascinating read. It keeps you wanting more with every one of the six chapters. I hope one day they get inspired to write more.

Sentinel by Followsthebees (AO3)

I love this story. I love that it’s a different take on Castiel—he’s a gargoyle. It’s such a fascinating story and their connect is seen by the readers but not Dean. It’s interesting how Dean starts to notice and how intense and romantic it gets. Sex and flying are fascinating, man. This is written oh so well!

Three's Company by @luci-in-trenchcoats

Cas x f!Reader that becomes Cas x f!reader x Dean. It shows a very healthy ethical non-monogamy relationship. I love how the Reader initially freaks, I think, and when Cas and them come to talk to Dean, he freaks too. Everyone is patient with each other though. It’s as it should be when introducing polyamory to non-poly experience people. It’s so sweet and wonderful to read. It’s adorable. This is how poly fics should be.

Ketch and Release by NichePastiche (AO3)

Oh, the fluff and growth! I love this series so so so so much! I always get excited when I see they wrote more. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

~*~*~

Nominated by @spnbabe67

Finish What You Started by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

I love the tension that melts into silly goofiness.

Spin Cycle by @winchester-girl67

I usually don't do a lot of fluff but I loved the way the writer did this one.

~*~*~

Nominated by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Take A Shot by @rizlowwritessortof

It's just so sexy and Dean. Guh.

Rest by @zepskies

It's swoony and cozy and melancholy, and I love that for us.

The Iceman Cometh by @talltalesandbedtimestories

Ice play is one of my favorite things. Pair that with Dean Winchester, written by Sandra, and, well, you've got a winner.

Damned If I Do by @zepskies

I liked Lisa and Ben, and this is a very satisfying way to show that!

~*~*~

Nominated by @whiskeyjuniper

Truth & Despair by @shallowseeker

It's so compelling, every time a new chapter is posted I'm so excited to see what happens next. Also it's Shal's first fic and they're almost done with it so I wanted to celebrate it :)

(Divider by @glygriffe)

THANK YOU ALL, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

- From your Admins and Manta Rays, @manawhaat, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @thoughtslikeaminefield, and @heavenssexiestangel!

77 notes · View notes

bestygogirl · 9 months ago

Text

BEST YGO GIRL: FINAL ROUND

please use this as an opportunity to say why you like a character, not why you don't.

Propaganda under the cut!

Isis Ishtar

gorgeous, very caring sister, strong duelist, and the only woman to ever make Seto Kaiba squirm

anyways. not only as mentioned above is she the first woman to make kaiba squirm, but she was by all means going to beat him if not for the millennium rod's millennium interference. yami marik admits that she's a strong duelist with a strategy that's been working for literal years-- and given that she's not like, a professional duelist, thats pretty impressive

she also recently got some really cool meta bumps and let me point out that an "ishizu deck" now includes obelisk the tormentor-- which we knew she had prior to giving it to kaiba, but i think it only solidifies my opinion that she very much could wield an Egyptian God Card, an exclusive little club for top tier duelists

as a character she presents herself with an amazing amount of poise and grace, shes compassionate and kind and stays with mai and serenity even though she only just met them. shes struggling through living the past 5 years of her life drowning in guilt for her family's tragedy just because she wanted to make her little brother happy and shadi is a fucking liar. shes foretold her own death and marches towards it grimly but with so much love in her heart. and even then shes 20 years old and holds an important position in the egyptian government that typically requires a doctorate degree AND has been dealing with mariks off-and-on bullshit entirely by her lonesome. she also likes to flex her fortunetelling a little which is awesome i think she should do that more that scene where she tells the guy exactly how the stele is being transported was so everything

speaking of shes got such an attitude. "is it your destiny to waste my time?" iconic. never seen before will never be seen again. watch the duel between her va and joeys its so fucking funny

shes excult. shes doesnt flinch in the face of god nor death. seto kaiba and yami marik respect her. shes so sad and so sweet and battle city couldnt have happened without her.

also her parallels with kaiba are what motivate kaiba to give yugi the card he needed to beat marik.

kaiba, in duelist kingdom, was ready to jump off a ledge if yugi didnt let him through to face pegasus while trying to save mokuba out of sheer desperation to save his little brother. he KNOWS what that dedication feels like and the iron kind of will you need to have to make that kind of gamble. isis is being so fucking legit with what shes saying and he respects that and her judgement enough to change his mind and not only watch the duel, but give yugi a card that eventually helps him win, even if he has no real confidence in the odds. but theres a CHANCE, which is the same thing he taught her when he beat her in a duel. the layers its her faith that moves him to act. which is so crazy

anyway vote isis shes my best friend forever and a real rep for all the 20 year olds who honest to god did not sign up for this bullshit

Yuzu Hiragi

The entire show would not work if the cast wasn't obsessed with her, and they're all right to stan her, literally gets Sora and Serena to defect from Academia with her sheer charisma, beat Masumi at their gay little rivalry, Yugo spends a few days with her and is ready to die for her, Yuya is simply just the loudest about adoring her And why not? She is so clever and determined, doing the most work out of anyone to figure out the myth plot. Actively trains to keep up with the rest of cast. Even when the universe is conspiring against her and trying to keep her down, she fucking headbutts Roger and tells him off or manifests to help save the world in the ultimate girlboss team-up that was the Arc V finale. Truly any dimension without her is worth upending.

The mysterious magical bracelet that isekai's her to different worlds, the Can-Do attitude, the cool poses (fusion summoning), the ADORABLE character design, AND she was 1/4 of a world-saving hero in the past?? If it weren't for the meddling writers, she would have been the main character

yuzu is everything. literally the plot of arc v hinges on the fact everyone who meets her become just as obsessed with her. and they are totally right to do so

#best ygo girl poll #final round #yugioh duel monsters #isis ishtar #ishizu ishtar #yugioh arc v #yuzu hiiragi #zuzu boyle

96 notes · View notes

transmascaraa · 4 months ago

Text

random but yes my final thoughts on all the new natlan chars with a conclusion in the end lmao

mualani .

i love her she's so cute help i knew i would love her ever since her first appearance i literally can't wait for her drip marketing tmrw

the tattoo typa things on her skin help?!????!??!? beautiful?!!?!!?!??

hydro women>>

kachina .

SHE'S ADORABLE HELP

i love all the genshin children sm they're so precious i swear even dori /p

i love her hair a lot tho

kinich .

LOOK.

MY FAVORITE CHARACTER(scara) HAS COMPETITION NOW.

I WILL REFRAIN FROM SAYING TOO MUCH BUT BASICALLY I LOVE HIM. (and ajaw lmfao that little thing about to become like boothill)

citlali .

ANYWAYS LOOK AT HERRRR

she's so cute i love her

something about her reminds me about hsr fu xuan but either way she's probably the cutest char from the trailer imo^^

xilonen .

help me i can't do this anymore the women are literally top tier(offtopic but she's almost identical to one of my ocs which i won't rant about rn lmao)

THE MAKEUP AND HAIR???? MY FAVORITE WOMAN FROM NATLAN?????????

SHE'S THE DEFINITION OF SMTHN LIKE "in war rn but at least i gotta look hot" AND IT'S TRUE

iansan .

somebody help why did we only get like 0,6sec of her😭

still i'm very excited for her

for the design at least since i truly have no idea of her personality lol

chasca .

i love this woman already

also the mole she has on her shoulder bro i have the one on the same place

cowboy vibes from her btw??

capitano . and ororon(olorun?) .

about capitano; first, i'm very excited, and second, i wish he said more than just "hmph."

about ororon(olorun?); heard that he turned out very bad based on who he references and even his name is very messed up i'm pretty sure?? basically the same situation that happened with candace/kandake EITHER WAY i'm excited to see him more and like will he be the first tall male anemo help lol i like his design

can't wait for them although i have other preferences for now

~ ~

mavuika .

THANK GOODNESS SHE'S NOT LIKE THE LEAKS

i absolutely love her design and everything sm about her literally please don't die and yeah she's now my third favorite archon along with furina and nahida

also despite the outfit not being revealing and all and literally a 10/10, i have a feeling she's gonna get very sexualized because of that zipper😭

in conclusion, i absolutely love the characters.

the only problem is that there's not really many dark skinned characters aside from iansan and kinda tanned mualani and xilonen ig

here's a link to a petition to try and stop hoyo from making the skin colors as light as they always do😭 i personally didn't look into it too much at first because of which countries the nations were based off of, but now this is supposed to be africa/south america and there's not really much skin representation

yeah, sure there's representation, but not of skin color other than iansan(and mualani and xilonen too)

finally, i think that all the designs are truly 10/10 it's just the skin colors bothering me aka hoyo's typa racism due to them being a chinese company. again, don't get me wrong, shitty company and i hate racism(as a white person) but the characters are great in all honesty and all the other types of representation are great^^

(good thing i personally don't play the game because of my phone storage and i'm just in the fandom from it's release bro and i love the lore so that's how i know the characters and story in the first place)

update:

my honest thoughts on the drip marketing(no pictures)

KACHINA IS ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE SHE'S SO CUTE AND PRECIOUS TO ME THAT'S IT(what animal is she supposed to be btw??)

MUALANI LOOKS SO PRETTY!!!!!!! I LOVE HER SM PLUS HER SHARK IS ALMOST AS CUTE AS HER

KINICH JUST LOOKS SO GOOD. I LOVE THAT MAN. I AM NOT USED TO LIKING TALL MEN AT ALL BUT HEAR ME OUT...........

I LOVE ALL OF THEM FR I'M SO EXCITED FOR MORE CHARACTERS

(is it just me but do they look like they all have the same skincolor on their drip marketings???? like are kinich and kachina a bit darker OR is mualani lighter than she looks???)

51 notes · View notes

rom-e-o · 8 months ago

Text

Nobody's Approval (Constance/Ebenezer) (Modern AU)

@quill-pen has been providing some top-tier fashion inspiration for the Scroogeverse, and a spicy, academia-inspired fic was a natural result of all the top-tier headcanons. I had so much fun with the fashion, motifs and scenery in this story.

That being said, THIS IS AN 18+ FIC. Minors, DNI.

Fic is below the cut~

He … had to be dreaming. The sight before him couldn’t have been real.

Just moments before, Ebenezer Samuel Scrooge had been twisting about in his bed at home, furiously trying to find some position that would prompt his body to slip into the catacombs of slumber.

He’d been trying in vain all evening to get the visions of his uncomfortably beautiful clerk, Constance DoGoode, out of his thoughts. They’d spent the entire day alone in the office together, working in tandem in a tense silence that was thick and cloying.

Every time his mind had drifted, he’d thought of her. Now, even as he attempted to rest his mind (and certain parts of his anatomy) he remembered the scent of her vetiver perfume and the way her copper hair caught the light, and he was tossed right back into the throes of delusion for her.

Then, with just a flutter of his eyelids, she was miraculously in front of him.

She was there … but not in his bed.

In a manifestation as quick as lightning, he was back in his office, still dressed in his starched work shirt, slacks and tie. It was as if he’d never left for the day, as even the accidental ink stain on the joint of his thumb was still present from the leaky pen he’d thrown out earlier in the day.

The sky was dark, and all the other offices were shuttered. Everyone else appeared to have gone, as they should have been at such an hour.

Yet, somehow, he was right back at the bank. And he wasn’t alone.

Constance, dressed in the same brown, tweed pencil shirt and matching blazer that she’d worn mere hours before, was waiting for him at his desk.

The woman was facing him, her posture deceptively casual as she leaned against his lacquered, executive desk. Her cornflower blue eyes remained trained on his icy ones, her lashes painted dark with mascara and her smirking lips a delicious shade of rosewood. Even her freckles seemed to pop more than usual.

Gods, she was a vision, he thought. Framed against the backdrop of an after-dark London skyline, a blend of historic spires and modern skyscrapers, her already disarming beauty was inscrutable. Her mile-long tanned legs were crossed casually at the ankle, the additional height of her faux-crocodile Manolo Blahnik heels only serving to further highlight the glorious build of her legs and thighs. Speaking of her thighs, her pencil skirt was pulled up to reveal more skin than before. The slightly taut fabric accentuated the softness at the tops of her legs, and he wondered how they would feel under his hands. Or around his hips. Or around his face.

Her coppery hair was curled delicately and styled so it fell in loose spirals about her shoulders. Half of her hair was pulled back with a satin ribbon, tied neatly in a bow with matching tails that fluttered when she walked. He had admired the look on her many times before, as she wore it daily to the office. He’d lost count on how many times he’d longed to thread his fingers through those sun-kissed strands. How he’s been bombarded with daily thoughts about twirling those glowy strands around his fingers or lifting delicate curls to his lips to place delicate kisses upon.

Of course, on either side of her face were those familiar, unruly curls that always seemed to spring up and rest upon her cheeks. He secretly adored those springy little curls of hers, taking extra joy in occasions when she didn’t try to gel them down or pin them back.

Her blazer was, oh … she was opening it. How had he missed that? Had he truly been so distracted? Was he so predictable of a man.

She then laughed; a musical, casual sound that he could have listened to for hours. Had she read his mind? He blushed at the realization, and felt his trousers become slightly more constricting in the same breath.

As she popped the last button of her blazer, she pushed the coffee-colored top aside to reveal her ample bosom donned in a beautiful (but delightfully flimsy-looking) lace bra. The fabric provided virtually no tangible support, but sod that, he was of the mind that she looked even more lovely for it. The natural slope of her heavy breasts, combined with the slightest peek the garment offered at her apricot-brown nipples … it made his legs buckle. His swallowed thickly, consumed with thought of kissing down her cleavage, and taking the peaks of those woman mounds into his mouth, worrying them until she was mewling and whimpering. How would her skin taste? Would it be as soft on his lips as her hands were when she grazed his fingertips by accident?

His hands remained clenched at his sides, his restraint waning.

He wanted to reach out. To touch her … but the second he did, he knew it would be gone.

As if she couldn’t drive him to further madness, the woman threw another match on the already churning fire.

Moving her hands to the edge of the desk for support, she leaned back, hopping up so that she was seated upon his desk. Then, with maddening slowness, she parted her legs inch by glorious inch.

She was bare beneath her skirt, and already wet with need.

He inhaled with a hiss, shoulders arching and chest expanding. Fuck, it couldn’t be real.

“Make love to me, Ebenezer…” she whispered pleadingly, eyes glazing with a wetness that matched the yearning between her legs. “Right here. Now. Please. Please…”

If only, he thought.

He took one step forward, and the vision faded, the beautiful woman before him becoming a fuzzy distortion, until finally, she was gone.

Yet, for a moment, he swore her gaze still lingered through the illusions.

“Please.”

He awoke with a start, snapping upright in bed as if he was a drowning man who had just pulled himself up and free from a tide pool.

The first thing he registered was the sweat rolling down his brow and back, then the suffocating feel of the linen pajamas he wore. Cursing, he reached down and pulled his shirt up and off, tucking his chin to his chest to easily pull it up and over. Once he’d balled that up and flung it across the room (careful not to hit Prudence, who was blissfully out like a night in her bed in the corner) he reached for his pajama pants. Upon pulling them down, the relief on his erection was immediate.

“Fuck…” he gasped, laying a hand over his forehead.

Arching proudly toward his navel, his cock was already nearly purple at the tip, a small beam of precum shimmering at the top. All that, just from a dream about her?

Swearing, he reached down with his free hand and clenched the base tenderly, attempting to belay further pleasure.

“Down, boy…” he whispered, head falling back with a sigh as he settled back into reality.

As the tenderness ebbed and rigidity fled the tense sinews of his body, his mind still wandered. Speaking her name like a prayer, he shut his eyes and willed himself to relax.

Tomorrow, he had to do something to ease the tension. They’d been on two dates already, but things had become more complicated since then.

When they’d first started seeing each other, she had been working as a barista at the coffee house. Then, she’d gotten fired from the nightclub (well, all the staff had been fired, as was the natural result of a fraud investigation), and he’d invited her to work as a clerk for him, Bob Cratchit, and his twin brother. It was a perfect arrangement, in a business sense. She filled the role of a clerk perfectly, her poise with people and her knack with numbers making her a one-in-a-million find. She was perfect.

“Which is why you can’t continue to court her, you daft buffoon,” he reminded himself aloud, the words as worn as if he’d dragged them across concrete to speak them. “You’re her employer. It’s not ethical.”

He was being delusional, he thought. A man like him, lanky and graying – a literal lifelong bachelor, with a woman who was literally a former model? It was a joke.

“She … deserves more. Better.”

He rolled over to face the window of his bedroom. He glimpsed the same skyline he’d seen in his dreams and grimaced against the pale silk of his pillowcase.

Fuck. Fuck.

What the hell was he going to do?

“You’re going to ask her out again. That’s what you’re going to do, mate.”

Ebenezer's left-brained twin brother and business partner, Ebenezar Charles Scrooge, stared up at him with an unamused expression.

“H-How can you say that so easily?” Ebenezer asked, pacing another frantic lap around the outdoor café table they were both seated at. “Do you know what could happen? We could lose our best clerk! S-She could walk.”

The older twin’s latte sat vacant, quickly growing cold, while the other sipped hot chai and watched the man pace about. His eyes followed him over the paper rim of his cup, his gaze unamused and his brows furrowed.

“This isn’t about losing a clerk, Sammy,” Ebenezar remarked. “We both know that.”

As if caught in a spotlight, Ebenezer turned and flashed him a wide-eyed stare. “The bloody hell do you mean?”

“Mother of—we’re too old for this.”

He finished his tea in one swig and thumped the cup on the table with adamancy that made his twin jolt. “I mean that we both know we don’t put business relations above personal ones. Not anymore.”

He leaned forward in his seat, eyes boring into his brother’s. Searching. Knowing. They were identical twins, after all. They could attempt to keep secrets from each other, but it had been a fool’s errand for decades.

“Come off it,” Ebenezar said, “You’re afraid of losing her, not her position.”

Blanching and blushing at the same time, Ebenezer slid into his seat and steepled his fingers at the accusation. “Now look here—”

“You don’t have a leg to stand on,” his twin said, “You’ve been out with her twice already, you’ve bought her flowers, you took her to Estella’s for your first dinner date, you always stare at her at work—”

“Not always!”

“—Blimey, man, it’s so obvious!”

Ebenezer slinked back in his chair, caught but not defeated.

“The fact remains that it would be extremely improper for us to be in … any kind of relationship. I have superiority over her! Not literally, but technically, in the eyes of our company. You know. I-I wouldn’t want her to feel forced to comply…I mean…”

As he tripped over his words, Ebenezar smiled gently. “You care for her, and don’t want her to think she has to agree to a relationship with you to keep her employment. Yes?”

“Exactly!” The sound came out as both an exclamation and a sigh. “That’s the last thing I want. I-I’d never want to pressure her into anything, or even imply that our relationship was something that needed to be reciprocated. I-I don’t need us to be involved. I certainly…would like it, but I’d never use that as any leverage for anything.”

“So, you don’t want to fire her?”

His head bounced up from sulking as if he’d been electrocuted. “No!”

“Or break things off with her?”

“No!”

The word came out more strident than he intentioned, and the guests at the smattering of other outdoor tables glanced over in concern. Muttering a hushed apology, he turned back to his brother, returning the man’s chuckle with an embarrassed glare. “Of course I don’t, you twit!”

“You two began dating before you brought her aboard, you know,” he reminded gently. “Last I checked, she agreed to go out with you. Quite enthusiastically, it seems.”

“I’m aware,” he drawled, pinching his brow. There wasn’t a day that didn’t go by where he didn’t recall her giddy smile when he picked her up for their first date … nor a night where he didn’t think of their first kiss on her cottage doorstep. He still swooned when he remembered the feeling of her plush lips against his, and smirked at the memory of her roommates on the other side of the door audibly whispering in excitement and cheering in hushed tones (or, what they’d thought had been ‘hushed’ at the very least.)

“And you two work quite well together in the office,” he said, casually smirking at the incriminating blush that spread across his brother’s cheeks at the insinuation. It wasn’t uncommon for him to spot his brother speaking with Constance regularly, even when matters of business were not the topic of discussion. “I don’t recall any awkwardness.”

“It’s…amazingly pleasant to be with her, I’ll confess.”

“No need to confess. I have eyes.”

“Smart ass. You know, it’s been forever since I enjoyed the company of another so much. Not since…”

“Since Isabel?”

He froze, realization hitting him like a brick across the cheek.

Isabel, the woman he’d loved with all his heart … and one whom he’d lost to the same hesitation. Due to inaction, he’d sent away the woman he had once dreamed of marrying. The woman he, at one point, had wanted to start a family with.

“I … see,” he whispered.

Then, with a puff of laughter, his head fell into an overturned hand. “Damn. I’m an idiot.”

“You’re overly careful, and a little dense, but not an idiot,” his twin corrected. “Well, not yet. But if you keep dawdling here and waste the rest of this lovely spring day with me instead of her … well, then you’re irredeemable, I’m afraid.”

No further advice was needed.

After throwing down some bills to pay for the latte he’d been far too nervous to drink, Ebenezer thanked his brother and left the café immediately, starting down Cooper’s Row and moving briskly northward in the direction of Lloyd’s Avenue. In one hand, he held onto his bifold, making a beeline to an esteemed florist he knew to be nearby. In another, he held his cell.

He punched in Constance’s number by heart, then crossed his fingers she would answer.

Just two hours later, right as the sun set, Ebenezer was en route to the cottage Constance shared with her three roommates.

She’d not only picked up, but … she’d sounded happy. Relieved, even.

“Really? Y-Yes! I was hoping you’d ask me out again. It’s been a while…I’d love too!”

After purchasing a large bouquet of forsythia dressed on golden tissue and coffee-colored satin ribbon, he’d gone back to his flat, changed into one of his finest suits, and drove to her home to pick her up. It was nice enough that he could have walked, but he had special plans for the evening, and wanted to make sure her every whim would be catered to. Whether it was the comfort of not catching a chill on a nighttime walk or the relief of not having to walk blocks in tall heels (which he knew she liked to wear) he was devoted to anticipating her every need and catering to it.

There would be no more half-measures.

As he drove, his thoughts droned in his head like a hive of aggravated bees.

“It’s been a while.”

She’d been waiting. For him.

Bloody hell, his heart ached to think that she had doubted his interest in her. He’d had her best interest in heart, true, but he’d made assumptions.

Not again, he told himself firmly, gripping the wheel firmly as he turned into the cottage’s narrow drive from the side street and parked his car.

His long legs carried him from the driver’s seat of his car and to the front door in record time. After a small internal debate about ringing the bell or knocking, he opted for the bell. It felt more gentlemanly, he reasoned, which is what he wanted to be for her.

He’d braced himself the best he could before the front door opened, and yet, he still wasn’t prepared for what he saw.

“Gods above.”

Constance stepped out, dressed in a spaghetti-strapped satin dress that rested as beautifully over her as a second skin. The color, a deep coffee shade, transported him to his dream from the night before. Her hair, pulled back partially with a black ribbon, was curled to perfection. A pair of strappy, black heels artfully laced up those wonderfully sculpted legs, the patent black color matching her handbag.

As she stepped out into the night, she smiled bashfully. “Hi.”

“H-Hello,” he said, then brandished the flowers for her. “For you.”

At the sight of the impressive blooms, her eyes lit up in joy. He took equal pleasure in placing the bouquet in her arms with ginger care, taking a step back afterward to admire the full sight of her.

She cradled the long stalks of forsythia like one would cradle an infant, her disbelief as endearing as it was legitimate. “T-These are beautiful … and the ribbon! I-It even matches my dress! How did you know?”

“I just had a feeling you’d wear that color tonight,” he said, “Brown does looks gorgeous on you. Like every other color.”

He paused, his gaze licking up and down her form. “You … look breathtaking.”

Burying her face in the golden petals to conceal a laugh, she peered up at him with excited eyes. “T-Thank you.”

Heat passed between them – a raw need clothed in tepid exteriors.

“Ebenezer, I…”

“Con, don’t forget a jacket!” a voice called from within. “You were shivering in the house in that dress. It’s going to be even colder outside.”

Elizabeth "Bess" Sullivan, Constance’s best friend (more like a sister, from how close they were) stepped out from behind the door brandishing a lace trimmed, wrap jacket for her to slip into. At the sight of her date standing there, her sapphire eyes took a moment to read him up and down, as if sizing him up.

Before a word was spoken, he knew what was coming.

“Why, hello there, stranger,” she said, her tone unreadable. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

So, it had been noticed. Of course it had been.

“A horrible oversight on my end,” the man replied, dipping his head respectfully to the midnight-haired woman. “Rest assured; it won’t happen again. I’ve missed having this lovely lady in my life far too much.”

Constance blushed and Bess hummed.

“Trust me,” he added, “If I ever forget myself, you have permission to initiate some choice words with me. Although, you may have to get in line behind my brother to do so.”

The corner of Bess’ mouth quirked upward. “Ah. Good, then.”

After a small detour inside to place the impressive flowers in a vase of water, Bess hugged her friend and bid her off into the night, telling her to be safe, and to enjoy her evening.

“Call if you need anything,” Bess muttered, helping to fix the jacket prettily and evenly upon her shoulders, “I’ll be up and have my phone on me.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Constance replied, but her tone dripped with gratitude all the same. “Oh! Um, should I pick anything up while I’m out?”

“What? Of course not, you goofball! You’re on a date. Just have fun.”

After one last hug and whisper of encouragement, Constance drifted to Ebenezer’s side. Offering her an arm, he carefully led her down the cottage walkway and to his McLaren 540C, where he opened the door for her to slide in. She did so with a murmured ‘thank you’ that made the hairs on his neck stand on end.

With one last polite wave to Bess, he rolled out of the narrow drive and merged back into the main roadway, the sounds of regular city traffic rushing to meet them as he accelerated onto the freeway.

As they cruised through the twinkling streets of an after-dark London, Constance took the opportunity to glance over and smile. “I didn’t have a chance to say so when you were picking me up, but you look … very handsome tonight.”

She blushed then, averting her eyes nervously. “I mean, you always look handsome! It’s not like tonight is the exception. But you look … especially dashing tonight.”

One hand remaining on the wheel, he reached over and took one of her smaller hands in his. Lifting it to his lips, he kissed her knuckles, allowing his touch to linger for a few extra seconds after the initial caress ended.

“I’m glad you think so,” he said truthfully. “Thank you.”

He wore a dark navy Brioni ensemble with soft, pale blue stripes and darts to add just enough texture without being too busy on his tall frame. His belt and shoes were made from a deep, dark brown leather, matching her outfit yet again. It was a choice he’d instinctually made at the last second, but it was paying dividends in spades. Judging by how her keen eyes examined him, she was … impressed.

“By the way, you never said where we’re going tonight,” she realized aloud. “Is it a surprise?”

He chuckled as they lazily rolled to a stop at a red light.

“Not an intentional one, but I hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless,” he said, shifting the gear manually. “Want me to tell you?”

She hummed, considering the offer, then shook her head. “No. I think I’d like to be surprised!”

He laughed, nodding in agreement. “Very well. We’ll be there in five minutes, so you won’t have to be in suspense long.”

Her eyes widened, the bright blue orbs practically neon against the dark cityscape behind her. “Five minutes? It’s that close?”

“It’s a secretive, hole-in-the-wall place. Exclusive, you could say. I’ve known about it for a while.”

“Have I been there?”

“Not that I’m aware.”

“Hm. Well, I'm still getting used to the city, so it'll be exciting to see anywhere new! Heck, it may become a new favorite spot."

He chuckled warmly, snapping on his turn signal to weave down a slightly tighter street in a more historic area of the city. "I certainly hope so."

True to his word, five minutes later, he expertly parallel parked his car in a free space along the cobbled street. Stepping out after a cursory glance to make sure the street was clear, he rounded the car and opened the door for her. “And here we are. Here.”

Dipping down and offering a hand to help her stand, he guided her out of the car with expert poise and grace. He was quick to note the slippery glaze coating the cobblestones below.

As poised and professional as Constance was, she wasn't the steadiest on her feet. Ever.

Just as she lost balance, his arm flew around her waist to support her. "Woah! Ha...careful there. I've got you."

Her hand landed squarely over his chest, as if magnetizing to the pulsebeat of his heart.

“Oh! U-Um, thank you.”

He nodded, his hands holding firm even after she was momentarily steady. “Anytime.”

As they walked into the small, vertical brownstone, his arm remained protectively around her. For good reason too, as she looked around in intrigue as they drew closer, focusing anywhere but where she was walking. Unlike the other bars lining the street, the one they were advancing into has a large stoop and spacious windows with blooming boxes of pansies, ironically hardy against the spring night chill.

The centerpiece of the establishment was a palatial arched doorway, the columns on either side made of emerald green marble and gilded rings of sculpted flowers.

The warm, Italianate features of the building were a stark contrast to the moss-dappled stone walls and dark iron accents featured on other pubs and shops dotted along the lamplit historic streets.

Her eyes sparked at the scenery, and he couldn’t resist smirking at the fact that he knew why.

“Does it remind you of home?” he inquired as they reached the door. “Of New York?”

“It does,” she answered. “W-where are…”

With a light shove, he pushed the door open to reveal a cozy, dimly lit speakeasy. Stained glass lamps diffused soft halos of warm light over an impressive bar. Tall bookcases lined the walls, each one stacked to the brim with novels and vintage paperbacks. Potted plants and palms of all shapes and sizes were scattered about, all as lush and green as if they’d been planted in the Amazon. The walls, patched with peeling wallpaper, displayed framed prints of Matisse’s Polynesian-inspired works, alongside other impressionist, oceanic pieces.

On the sill of one of the front windows, a glass bowl was adorned with sticks of orange and cayenne-scented incense, the smoke filling the air with a biting, fruity aroma.

It … looked like home.

“It’s a New York-inspired dive, right here in London,” he said. “Completely authentic. Well, as authentic as you could manage here, of course.”

He took a peek at her face, delighted by her obvious excitement. Still too thrilled to speak, the woman allowed Ebenezer to help her out of her jacket and escort her to the bar, lined with mismatched stools that looked like they’d been plucked out of a handful of diners from across the country.

The bartender, in a decently-passing American Midwest accent (it was a little too Patrick Bateman-esque to be convincing, she thought with a grin), ask the two what they’d like for the evening.

“Don’t even try it, man,” Ebenezer teased. “She’s from Manhattan. Born and raised.”

Blanching, the man looked to her with a look that begged forgiveness. “Ough, sorry! Cripes, that must’ave been like getting a knife in ya ear!”

“No, not al all!” Connie replied with a laugh, waving a manicured hand about as if to wave away his worries. “It’s not like I can pull off a convincing London accent on my end, and I live here!”

The good faith earned them a free preliminary round of drinks, put on the tab of “American generosity.”

One scotch and vodka soda later, the two tucked themselves into a corner booth, their small table forcing the two to cozy up, their legs practically crossing over the other’s. They were practically joined at the hip, yet it wasn’t an arrangement either of them minded in the slightest.

As they sipped their drinks, the antique speakers played a tinny recording of Tracy Chapman, the soft vocals filling the intimate lounge wall to wall with swells of sound. Each crescendo or thrumming melody reverberated with the passion of a second heartbeat.

Maybe together we can get somewhere Any place is better Starting from zero, got nothing to lose Maybe we'll make something Me, myself, I got nothing to prove

“This place is so perfect,” she whispered, glancing around the space, breathing deeply, as if she was trying to lock the memory away in her brain and her lungs to live in for as long as possible. “I…really feel like I’m back in SoHo. Or Brooklyn.”

Laughing in equal parts relief and joy, he eyes her idle hand on the table. His free hand itched to reach out and take it. “I’m so glad you like it here.”

“Oh, I love it! I’ll have to come here more often. It’s not too far from the bank, yes?”

He hummed as he calculated a rough estimate of the distance in his head. “It’s … fifteen blocks, maybe.”

“Not bad at all! Oh, I’ll definitely be coming here more often after work. Imagine this place on a humid, rainy day!"

"I thought you disliked rain?"

"Oh, I do, but here on a rainy day? That's different!"

"What? How so?"

"Listening to jazz while thumbing through old books and drinking espresso all day? Oh, I already have chills!”

She was so visibly enthralled and happy … it was impossible for him to take his eyes off her. Well, truthfully, that was the case for him anytime he was fortunate enough to share space the same space and breathe the same air as her. Yet, in that moment, her palpable glee was so contagious that he found himself homesick for neighborhoods in a city he’d never set foot in before.

“Well, if it’s not far from the counting house, perhaps we could … both come here more often?” she asked tentatively, peering up at him through spiked, mascara-coated lashes.

The man’s expression softened, but his smile broadened.

“I…think I could absolutely agree to that arrangement,” he replied.

Reaching out, he took his hand gingerly in his own, his thumb stroking the underside of her warmed palm.

“In fact, Constance, I’d … very much like to see you as often as possible,” he began softly,

“Oh?” There was a skip in her gasp.

“I’d…quite like the honor of officially courting a lady like you,” he whispered, leaning in close enough so his words were audible only to her. She followed suit, the resulting proximity nudging them close enough for their foreheads to touch.

The feeling of skin on skin made her shudder, and when their eyes connected again, he spied the most lovely, apricot blush on her cheeks.

“I’d very, very much like that,” she replied, just a touch breathless. "Is it ... alright for us to do this? I'm not going to...put you at risk for losing credibility, right?"

Of course, she was concerned for his reputation, not her own.

"Nothing would put me at risk," he said, his tone hushed but firm. "I have everything I could want, in a business sense, and additional resources to be comfortable forever even should the market plummet tomorrow. I need nobody's approval for us to be together ... except yours."

“Ebenezer. I-I don’t know what to say.”

“I do,” he said.

You gotta make a decision Leave tonight or live and die this way

“I’m sorry it took me so long, angel.”

With a sound that sounded something between a sob and a laugh, she leaned forward and urged him into a kiss. He accepted readily, tilting his head to meet hers, then moaning one their mouths molded fully. His free hand traveled up her arm to grip her shoulder, her tanned skin practically branding him. Holding her was like embracing condensed sunlight, her form blazing with heat and radiance.

The dimness of the space concealed them from nosy onlookers, keeping each other’s looks of bliss and gasps of delight a secret from everyone else except them.

Their kiss ensnared the attention of all his senses. He all but drank in the taste of vodka on her lips, and practically melted when he felt her lift one of her bare legs to possessively twine around one of his, her heeled foot running up and down his leg.

He could have nudged her against the closest wall and kissed her senseless, and a primal part of him wanted to do just that and more. Yet, the other part of him wanted to be … softer. To hold her, Kiss her. Stroke her hair, and continue to tenderly hold her hand all through the night.

When the kiss broke, punctuated by her giving his bottom lip a playful bite, he swore he’d never felt such fondness for another in all his days. In that moment, she had his body, mind and heart as her playground … and instead of toying with him and having a field day, she laid her head of cinnamon-colored hair upon his shoulder.

He was quick to angle himself so she could rest as comfortably as possible, a hand falling upon her back to caress lovingly.

Lovingly, he thought, practically delirious from joy.

When he did look up and saw the bartender making his rounds and polishing up the water rings and napkins left behind by other patrons, he held his hand up, calling for another rounds of drinks.

They were going to be there for quite a while, he figured.

After all, they had a lot of lost time to make up for, and all the approval they needed to get started.

Tracy Chapman always makes me tear up, but these two find it romantic! Silly geese, these two.

#scrooge 2022 #scrooge x oc #oc constance dogoode #scrooge netflix #scroogeverse

30 notes · View notes