#i know some of the people i follow follow them

[mightaswelljxmp]

hm ok so interestingly, bdubs’s courthouse is built on an odd number of blocks. note the roof of the facade coming to a point, but more importantly, the nine pillars….

you don’t use an odd number of pillars. like ever.

let me get this out of the way first: i get why you’d build with odd numbers in minecraft. i usually do it myself, to not run into problems like double doors or two-wide pointed roofs or frustrating spacing/symmetry between decorative elements. however. to not even out the design of something so unequivocally done in every other example of columns and pillars…. fascinating implications…

every other example guys. every other building with columns like this has an even number of them.

doing so sets the line of symmetry at an invisible point between two pillars, an even number on each side. but an odd total number of pillars makes the central pillar itself the line of symmetry. this does a couple things.

one, it upends the sense of community and equality. which i know sounds crazy, but really, a group of columns are all put there to hold up a structure. there’s no focus on one because they are all are working as supports.

symbolically, at least when first used in ancient greece, pillars represented people. and it makes sense for courthouses, especially, to want to show an even, fair, equal number of people on each side. no focus on any one, no inherent bias right off the bat just looking at it.

with an odd number of pillars, though, one will always be placed front and center.

and THEN. and then you walk in the courtroom itself (also odd-numbered blocks) and you are immediately opposite the judge, bdubs, located exactly centrally. and true, courtrooms are often set up like this anyway. but bdubs ups the ante and reaffirms that no, focus is on him by staging it all as a daytime court show, boom mic just over his head, cameras pointed in, spotlights on him.

literally by design, it was not built for justice. it’s built for show, for entertainment. and just look at the credits to know exactly what sort of message you’re supposed to be getting from this show.

the biblical story he used, with king solomon. it’s about king solomon. isn’t really about the trial itself, or the babies, or the women. it’s about showing (off) how wise and just he is. that’s the point. hm. interesting.

now, getting to the second point that etho also picked up on: it feels like a prison.

it’s not just the color palette. when your eyes naturally draw to the center point, you aren’t seeing an open space. instead of feeling like an arch or gateway or otherwise some kind of opening, the pillar there makes it feel closed off. the overall effect is that of prison bars. not pillars lining the entrance to a place of order or a temple. bars of a cage, a cell.

imagine the lincoln memorial were set up with 11 or 13 pillars. he’d look so much more trapped in there.

having a central pillar blocks the entrance. it’s not welcoming. you have to go around it; it’s immediately inconveniencing you. and when you go to leave, it’s there blocking you again.

this courthouse was not designed and built to be fair, nor accomodating, nor equitable, on any terms. even if unintentional, i wouldn’t call it so much coincidental as i would… subconscious.

after all, y’know. form follows function.

#this came about by me being like ew why are there an odd number of pillars that’s such a faux pas and just overall odd (haha) choice #but then i was like oh wait. there’s something to this #i dont think it looks BAD. i just think that odd number of pillars causes problems and maybe it doesnt stick out to other people as much #but it bothers ME. okay #bdubs #bdoubleo100 #hc10 #hermitcraft #mightaswellspeak

[pucksandpower]

So Good to Her

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: the public reacts to the TikTok challenge you and Charles inadvertently participated in

Read So Good to Me (about the TikTok challenge) here

The TikTok that the British influencer posted of his encounter with you and your incredibly generous boyfriend quickly goes viral, racking up millions of views, likes, and comments within mere hours.

It spreads like wildfire across social media platforms, with people sharing it on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook — even LinkedIn of all places. Everyone marvels at this mystery woman with the boyfriend of all boyfriends who casually sent her €10,000 just to buy a pair of shoes.

In a cozy London flat, a group of university students and diehard Charles fans gather around a laptop, eyes wide as they watch the now-viral video for the umpteenth time.

“I can’t believe Charles has a secret girlfriend!” Megan, a petite blonde wearing a red Ferrari cap, exclaims. “How did we not know about this? We follow his every move!”

Her best friend Ethan nods in agreement, his brow furrowed. “Seriously, who is this girl? She’s drop dead gorgeous and apparently Charles is just casually sending her 10 grand for shopping sprees?”

“Okay but like, goals though,” Lexi chimes in dreamily, clutching a Charles Leclerc poster to her chest. “Imagine having a boyfriend who’s not only mega hot and talented but also spoils you rotten. She’s living the dream.”

Ethan scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, he can’t just throw money around like that. I bet this whole thing was staged for clout.”

Megan shoots him a withering glare. “Don’t be ridiculous. What would be the point? Charles is already one of the most popular drivers on the grid, he doesn’t need to pull PR stunts for attention.”

“Plus did you see the way he talked to her on the phone?” Lexi points out, rewinding the video. “That was not acting, that was real love and affection in his voice. I’m so soft for them already, ugh.”

The trio falls silent as they watch the clip again, zeroing in on every little detail and facial expression from both Charles’ mystery girlfriend and the clearly shocked TikToker.

Ethan chuckles and shakes his head. “I still can’t get over her reaction though. Just a guy who loves driving fast cars — I mean, the cheek! She really knows how to keep a secret, gotta give her that.”

“An icon, honestly,” Megan declares. “The fact that she told him to donate the money to an animal shelter too ... okay, I can’t even be mad. She seems like a sweet person.”

Lexi sighs happily, starry-eyed. “They’re literally a power couple. The sheer confidence and BDE of it all. I’m so jealous but also like, rooting for them? We have to find out who this girl is!”

As if on cue, Megan’s phone pings with a Twitter notification. Her eyes widen as she swipes to view it. “Guys. GUYS. The TikToker just confirmed her first name is Y/N and posted another video with a few more details about her!”

“Well don’t just sit there, play it!” Ethan demands, practically launching himself across the couch to peer over Megan’s shoulder at her phone screen. Lexi scrambles to join them, bouncing with anticipation.

In the new clip, the TikToker is grinning excitedly at the camera, an extra bounce in his step as he walks along the same Monaco street where he first approached you.

“Right, so I’m sure by now you’ve all seen my video with Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend go absolutely mental viral,” he begins, running a hand through his artfully tousled hair. “Which, can I just say — thank you so much for the insane support and love, you lot are the best fans ever.”

“Get to the point,” Ethan mutters under his breath, earning a sharp “Shh!” from both girls.

“Anyway,” the TikToker continues. “After she left and I finally picked my jaw up off the floor, I did some digging. I headed to that little boutique she mentioned in the call with Charles, just to see if she actually went in and bought anything. Thought maybe if I asked the staff, they might be able to give me some more info, you know?”

Megan, Ethan, and Lexi all subconsciously lean closer to the small phone screen, hanging on to his every word.

“So get this — not only did she buy the shoes, she apparently also went next door and purchased, and I quote, a frankly alarming amount of lingerie. The cashier said she dropped over 5 grand like it was nothing!”

Lexi lets out a scandalized gasp as Ethan chokes on his sip of Red Bull. Megan just shakes her head in wonderment. “The actual legend,” she murmurs reverently.

The TikToker laughs and waggles his eyebrows suggestively at the camera. “I don’t know about you lot, but I’m definitely sensing some spicy thank you for the shopping money activities were planned for a certain Ferrari driver, if you know what I mean. Get in there, Charles!”

“Gross, I so did not need that visual,” Ethan grumbles, but there’s a slight smirk playing on his lips all the same.

“Oh shut up, as if you wouldn’t do the exact same if you were dating Charles,” Lexi retorts with a playful shove to his shoulder.

“ANYWAY,” the TikToker presses on, “I did manage to squeeze a few more details out of the lovely shop girl. Apparently Charles’ girlfriend is named Y/N, no last name given for privacy reasons. But she’s a regular customer and, I quote, an absolute sweetheart who only ever has glowing things to say about her man. So there you have it, folks — Y/N and Charles are the real deal and we’re all just peasants watching a fairytale unfold.”

Megan sighs dreamily as the video ends. “Y/N and Charles,” she repeats to herself, already typing the names into her social media search bars. “God, even their names sound good together. I have to find out everything about her.”

“Dibs on making their ship name hashtag go viral,” Lexi calls out, already furiously typing away on her own phone.

Ethan snorts and rolls his eyes affectionately at his friends, but there’s no denying the small, reluctantly impressed smile tugging at the corners of his mouth too. “I give it two days before they’re papped together on some glamorous date night now that the secret’s out. Hope she’s ready for the attention dating an F1 star brings.”

“With that level of confidence and the way Charles clearly adores her? I think our girl Y/N will handle the spotlight just fine,” Megan says confidently.

Lexi nods in firm agreement. “Yep, a true queen. Charles better lock that down and wife her up real quick before one of us tries to snatch her for ourselves!”

***

In a cozy apartment not far from the very street where you had your memorable encounter with the TikToker, three young women huddle around a laptop screen, eyes wide and jaws slack as they watch the now viral video for the umpteenth time.

“I can’t believe this,” mutters Isabelle, a pretty brunette with an impressively encyclopedic knowledge of Formula 1 stats. “Charles has a girlfriend? Since when?”

“And he just sent her €10,000 like it was nothing!” Exclaims Maia, nervously twirling a strand of her platinum blonde hair. “I mean, I know he’s loaded but holy shit, the way he spoils her ...”

The third girl, Claire, bites her lip, a pensive look on her delicate features. “Did you hear what she said at the end though? Just a guy who loves driving fast cars. She was obviously talking about Charles. But the way she said it, all mysterious and like it was some inside joke ... I don’t know, it just rubs me the wrong way.”

Isabelle scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Please, she was totally gloating. Didn’t even have the decency to act a little humble about the fact that THE Charles Leclerc is apparently head over heels for her.”

“Exactly!” Maia chimes in, nodding vigorously. “Like okay, congrats, you bagged a hot, rich, famous race car driver. No need to rub it in the rest of our faces.”

Claire wrinkles her nose. “I just don’t get the vibe that she actually cares about him, you know? I mean, who asks their boyfriend to send them money in the middle of the day for some stupid shoes? While he’s working? She seems like such a gold digger.”

“Ugh, you’re so right,” Isabelle agrees, her lips curling in distaste. “Poor Charles is probably blind to it because he’s so gone for her. He didn’t even hesitate to transfer that money!”

Maia sighs dramatically and falls back on the bed. “God, it’s so unfair. Why can’t I find a man who’s that generous and totally obsessed with me? I’d treat him so much better than she does, you can already tell.”

Claire hums and taps her chin thoughtfully. “You know what, I think this smells fishy. How do we even know she’s actually Charles’ girlfriend? For all we know, she could have paid some guy who sounds like him to play along for a TikTok clout.”

Isabelle’s eyes narrow as she considers this possibility. “That’s true ... I haven’t come across any photos of them together or anything. Why has no one ever seen her before if they’re supposedly so in love?”

“Exactly!” Claire exclaims, growing more animated. “I’ve been a Charles fan for years and I’ve never seen or heard anything about a girlfriend. If they’re really dating, there’s no way it wouldn’t have come out before now.”

Maia sits up, suddenly energized by this new conspiracy theory. “Oh my god, you’re right! She’s probably just some wannabe influencer trying to get famous by pretending to be with Charles. That’s so pathetic.”

Isabelle nods slowly, a determined glint in her eye. “You know what? We should do some digging. Try to find out who this girl really is and expose her for the fraud she clearly is. Charles and the world deserve to know the truth.”

“Yesss, I’m so down for an investigation!” Maia says gleefully. “Imagine if we’re the ones who reveal that this whole thing is fake. We’d be doing Charles a huge favor.”

Claire is already pulling up Instagram and Twitter on her phone. “Let’s start by going through the comments on that TikTok and seeing if anyone has identified her or posted any receipts. There have to be some clues somewhere.”

The girls spend the next few hours poring over social media, searching for any scrap of information they can find about the mystery woman who has supposedly captured Charles Leclerc’s heart. They work themselves into a frenzy, convincing each other more and more that you can’t possibly be Charles’ real girlfriend. In their minds, you’re clearly just an opportunistic clout chaser looking for your 15 minutes of fame.

“God, I hope Charles sees through her act soon,” Isabelle says for the hundredth time, shaking her head. “He’s too good for some two-bit gold digger who’s just using him.”

“We’ll make sure he finds out who she really is,” Claire assures her firmly. “And then he’ll have no choice but to dump her lying ass.”

Maia sighs wistfully, hugging a throw pillow to her chest. “Do you think once he’s single again, I might actually have a chance? Like, if I run into him at a race one day and strike up a conversation, maybe he’ll realize I’m the girl he’s meant to be with ...”

“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Claire says with a laugh. “First step is taking down this fraud of a girlfriend. Then we can daydream about being Mrs. Leclerc.”

The girls giggle and go back to their social media sleuthing with renewed determination. They’ve decided you’re public enemy number one and they won’t rest until they’ve exposed you for the fake, money-hungry, clout-chasing liar they’re certain you must be. In their eyes, they’re crusaders for truth, fighting to save their beloved Charles from your clutches.

What they don’t realize, of course, is just how very real and very deep Charles’ feelings for you actually are ... and that you’re not going anywhere anytime soon, Internet conspiracy theories be damned.

***

In a dimly lit basement somewhere in Italy, a group of die-hard Charles Leclerc fans huddle around a computer screen, their jaws dropping as they watch the video for the umpteenth time.

“Guys, are you seeing this shit?” Enzo, the self-appointed leader of the group, asks incredulously. “Who the hell is this girl and how did she bag Charles freakin’ Leclerc?”

“Dude, we don’t even know for sure that it’s actually Charles,” Giovanni points out skeptically. “She never said his name. It could be some other rich dude with a fast car.”

Enzo scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, who else could it be? €10,000 like it’s nothing, is it possible that Leclerc has a secret girlfriend we don’t know about all this time? A guy who likes driving fast cars? It’s obviously Charles! Our boy is LOADED and that’s exactly how he’d spoil his girl.”

Luca nods in agreement, a dreamy expression on his face. “God, can you imagine being with Charles though? Having him call you all those cute pet names and just showering you with love and gifts? I’d fucking die.”

“Yeah, she has to be the luckiest woman on the planet,” Enzo sighs wistfully. “I mean, I’m straight, but even I’d let Charles ruin me, you know what I’m saying?”

The other guys murmur and nod in emphatic agreement, all of them momentarily lost in a fantasy of being Charles Leclerc’s pampered significant other.

“Okay but like, how is this even fair?” Giovanni gripes, breaking the spell. “The rest of us mere mortals are out here busting our asses on Tinder and Hinge, praying a decent girl will swipe right, and Charles just gets to date a literal goddess who is probably a model?”

“Life isn’t fair, Gio,” Enzo says solemnly. “Charles is on a completely different level. He could have any woman he wants and they’d all say yes before he even finished asking. The rules don’t apply to a guy like that.”

Luca suddenly sits up straight, his eyes widening with realization. “Holy shit, guys. Do you know what this means? If Charles is taken, that’s one less F1 driver on the market for all those grid girl groupies to throw themselves at! Maybe the rest of us actually have a chance now!”

Giovanni snorts derisively. “Yeah, you wish. Those chicks are still gonna be busy trying to get with Sainz or Verstappen or Norris. They’re not gonna settle for some nobody Ferrari fan. Let’s be real.”

“Wow, way to kill the vibe, Debbie Downer,” Luca mutters. He turns back to the computer and hits replay on the video, watching enviously as the TikToker clearly shows the €10,000 bank transfer on your phone. “Seriously though, how is this chick not freaking the fuck out? If Charles Leclerc randomly sent me 10 grand I’d be screaming and probably pass out.”

“She’s probably used to it,” Enzo says with a shrug. “I bet this is like, a regular Tuesday for her. Just casually strolling around Monaco, stopping into designer stores whenever she feels like it, Charles’ black credit card weighing down her Hermès purse. The bougiest of WAG lives.”

“God, what I wouldn’t give to trade places with her for just one day,” Giovanni says longingly. “Can you imagine getting to wake up next to Charles every morning? Having him make you breakfast and give you forehead kisses and tell you how much he loves you in that sexy accent?”

“Okay, now you’re just torturing yourself, bro,” Luca laughs. “You’ll be lucky if you can get a Tinder match to agree to split the bill at McDonalds.”

“Why you gotta bring me back to my sad reality like that?” Giovanni groans, chucking a throw pillow at Luca’s head. “Let me live vicariously through Charles’ bougie mystery girlfriend for a little while longer, damn.”

Enzo sighs and leans back in his chair, hands behind his head. “You know what the craziest part of all this is? The fact that Charles managed to keep a whole ass girlfriend hidden from the world. Like, the media has been speculating about his love life forever and no one had a clue he was actually in a serious relationship. That man moves in silence like a ninja.”

“Yeah, and did you see how he just casually threw out that he loves her?” Luca gushes. “He was all I love spoiling you, you deserve the world. My dude is head over heels for this girl and I am LIVING for it.”

“Ugh, why can’t I find a man like that?” Giovanni whines dramatically. “All I want is a guy who will write me cute Instagram captions in three languages and buy out the Gucci store for me but I guess that’s too much to ask!”

“Maybe if you stanned Charles harder, the universe would reward you,” Enzo snarks. “Start leaving thirsty comments on his shirtless pics, see if that manifests your dream F1 boyfriend.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t already do that,” Giovanni retorts with a smirk. “How else do you think Oscar Piastri ended up in my DMs last night?”

“Wait, WHAT?” Luca and Enzo exclaim in unison, whipping their heads around to gape at their friend.

Giovanni bursts out laughing at their shocked faces. “I’m just kidding, jeez! You think I’d be sitting here listening to you losers if Oscar freaking Piastri actually messaged me? Puh-lease.”

“Man, don’t even joke about that,” Enzo grumbles, clutching at his heart. “You really had me going there for a sec.”

Luca huffs and slouches down in his seat. “Can we get back to being jealous of Charles’ sugar baby girlfriend now? I was enjoying that more than whatever the hell this conversation turned into.”

“She’s not his sugar baby!” Enzo argues. “They’re clearly in love! Did we watch the same video? The way he talked to her was mad cute. That’s his GIRL girl.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Luca concedes, holding his hands up in apology. “Charles might spoil her but he obviously adores her for more than just her looks. That’s the real relationship goals right there.”

“Imagine being so secure in your love that you can just ball out on your partner like that and know it’s only going to make them love you more,” Giovanni muses. “Cannot relate.”

Enzo nods sagely. “Charles is just built different, man. In more ways than one.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Luca agrees. “So, are we watching this video another 50 times or are we moving on to the Grill the Grid compilation I found of all of Charles’ most adorably flustered moments?”

Enzo grins maniacally and reaches for the mouse. “Oh, you know we’re watching the hell out of this absolute gift again. And then we’re gonna spend the next three hours cyberstalking Charles and seeing if we can find any other crumbs about who this legendary mystery woman is. For research purposes.”

“This is the most productive thing we’ve done in months and I’m not even ashamed,” Giovanni declares, cracking his knuckles in preparation for the intense social media deep dive they’re about to undertake.

***

In a crowded sports bar in Dublin, a group of die-hard Ferrari fans gather to watch the latest race. But today, there’s another bit of F1-related content that has their attention. They huddle around a phone, repeatedly watching the now-infamous TikTok video.

“Can you believe it? €10,000 just like that!” Exclaims James, a tall, lanky guy with a mop of curly hair. “I mean, I knew Charles was loaded but damn ...”

“Forget the money, did you see his girlfriend?” Tom, a stocky redhead, chimes in. “Absolutely stunning. Like, how does a race car driver land a girl like that?”

Mark, a quieter guy with glasses, rolls his eyes. “Uh, maybe because he’s Charles freaking Leclerc? The man’s a beast on the track and has the face of a Greek god. Girls probably throw themselves at him left and right.”

The guys all mutter in begrudging agreement, a note of envy coloring their voices. On screen, the video replays yet again, showing you confidently calling up your boyfriend and securing the small fortune without batting an eye.

“God, what I wouldn’t give to have a woman look at me the way she probably looks at Leclerc,” Tom sighs wistfully.

“In your dreams, mate,” James scoffs. “Girls like that are way out of our league. We can’t compete with a Ferrari paycheck and Monaco real estate.”

“Still doesn’t seem fair though,” grumbles Mark. “The dude’s already got it all — talent, fame, money. Leave some for the rest of us!”

On screen, the video reaches the part where you coolly inform the gobsmacked TikToker that you don’t need his measly €2,000 and he should donate it to an animal shelter instead. The guys let out low whistles, clearly impressed by your classy move.

“See, that right there, that’s what separates the Monegasque princess types from regular girls,” says James with an air of authority. “We would’ve taken the cash in a heartbeat.”

“Speak for yourself, I’m a man of principle,” Tom jokes, puffing out his chest exaggeratedly. The others snort and shove him playfully.

As the video ends, the guys sit back, each lost in their own wistful imaginings of what it must be like to be Charles Leclerc. To have the money, success, and effortless charm to win over a girl like you.

Mark is the first to break the contemplative silence. “Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong,” he muses thoughtfully. “I mean yeah, Charles is a lucky bastard, no doubt. But that girl, she seems like a real catch too. Like the kind of person who’d keep you humble and grounded, even when you’re a superstar athlete with the world at your feet.”

The others consider this, nodding slowly. “Fair point,” concedes Tom. “Behind every great man and all that jazz. Leclerc may have his millions but he still needs someone to call him out on his BS from time to time.”

“Exactly,” agrees Mark. “And did you hear the way he spoke to her on the phone? The dude’s completely smitten. He may have all the money and fame, but I bet she’s the real prize in his eyes.”

“Alright, alright, settle down Dr. Phil,” James interjects with a good-natured eye roll. “You gonna start writing romance novels in your spare time now? Maybe they’ll make a movie — The Tifosi Who Loved Me: A Charles Leclerc Story.”

The guys all crack up laughing at that, the tension broken. Their envy towards Leclerc’s charmed life remains, but it’s now tinged with a newfound respect and even a touch of empathy.

“Y’know, jokes aside, I do hope he realizes how lucky he is to have her and treats her right,” Mark says sincerely as their chuckles subside. “A love like that seems rare these days.”

Tom reaches over to clap Mark on the shoulder. “No worries, mate. Did you see the dopey grin on Charles’ face in those paparazzi pics of them together that came out earlier? That man is whipped with a capital W. He knows he’s got a keeper.”

“As he should,” nods James sagely. “Behind every great Ferrari champion is an even greater woman keeping his ego in check. Tale as old as time.”

On that note, the guys clink their pint glasses together, silently saluting the unnamed woman who stole the heart of Charles Leclerc and the envious admiration of Formula 1 fans worldwide. The mystery girlfriend with impeccable style and a heart of gold.

As the pre-race coverage starts up on the bar TV, the guys settle in to cheer on their favorite driver, their fleeting jealousy replaced by the camaraderie and excitement of race day. But in the back of their minds, a single wistful thought remains — what they wouldn’t give to find a love like Charles and his girl seem to share. Guess that’s just one more thing to add to the list of reasons to idolize Charles Leclerc.

***

Among the hordes of viewers obsessively replaying the clip are three best friends gathered for a girls night at a posh Parisian penthouse. Colette, the willowy blonde draped across a velvet chaise lounge, takes a sip of her champagne and shakes her head in wonder.

“God, can you imagine having a boyfriend who just casually drops 10k on you like it’s nothing? Talk about relationship goals,” she sighs dreamily.

Next to her, Nadia snorts derisively while scrolling through Instagram on her phone. “Oh please, like that’s hard to find. I bet loads of rich guys would do that for their girlfriends. It’s not that impressive.”

From her perch on a tufted ottoman, Stephanie raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? You think Liam would send you that kind of cash without batting an eye? Mr. I-Need-To-Check-With-My-Financial-Advisor-Before-I-Buy-A-New-Tie?”

Colette erupts into giggles at the scathing impression of Nadia’s banker boyfriend. Even Nadia cracks a reluctant smile before tossing her sleek dark hair.

“Whatever. I’m just saying, that TikTok chick’s boyfriend can’t be THAT special. I’m sure if we did the same challenge our boyfriends would come through too,” she declares with more than a hint of competitiveness in her voice.

“Oooh yes, let’s do it! Let’s recreate the video and see what happens!” Colette squeals, bouncing up and down on the chaise with excitement.

Stephanie, ever the voice of reason, looks uncertain. “I don’t know, guys ... isn’t it a bit tacky to demand money from them like that? What if they get mad?”

Nadia rolls her eyes. “Oh come on Steph, live a little! It’s just a silly experiment. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Okay, okay fine,” Stephanie relents, unable to resist her friends’ cajoling. “But I’m blaming you both if Omer breaks up with me over this!”

“Deal!” Colette grins impishly as she grabs her phone. “I’ll go first — let me call Henry and we’ll see if he’s as generous as Mystery Monaco Man.”

With a deep breath, she dials her property developer boyfriend and launches into her rehearsed plea as soon as he picks up. “Baby!” She whines. “You’ll never believe what happened. I’m out with the girls and my Louboutins broke! Like the heel just totally snapped off. I’m absolutely gutted, these were my faves. Is there any way you could send some money to my account so I can grab a new pair on the way home? Pleeeaaase, I’ll love you forever!”

There’s a heavy pause before Henry’s clipped voice comes through, tinged with annoyance. “Christ, again with the bloody shoes? What is it with you women and wasting my hard earned money on bits of leather you don’t need? Can’t you just take the broken ones to get fixed?”

Colette’s perfectly glossed pout trembles, her blue eyes shining with disappointed tears as Nadia and Stephanie look on in pity. “Never mind,” she mumbles. “Forget I asked. Chat later.” She hangs up and flings her phone down despondently.

“What an ass,” Nadia spits. “You deserve so much better.” Colette shrugs sadly but rallies as she turns to Stephanie expectantly.

“Okay Steph, your turn to give Omer a ring! Let’s hope he restores our faith in rich boyfriends everywhere.”

Stephanie grimaces but dutifully calls her Qatar-based hedge fund manager beau. In her most saccharine voice, she makes her case. “Habibi, you know that gorgeous YSL bag I showed you last week? It finally came back in stock but only for today! Could you maybe pop some cash in my account so I can treat myself? I’ve been working so hard lately and-”

“Wallahi Stephanie, how many handbags does one woman need?” Omer cuts her off irritably. “If I buy you this one, I don’t want to hear any more whining for designer things for at least 6 months, got it? I’ll send you 500 euros, that should more than cover it.”

“Oh. Right. Thanks, I guess ...” Stephanie replies glumly before ending the call. She shakes her head at her friends. “Well, it’s something at least?”

“Hardly,” Nadia scoffs. “These men, I swear. Okay, time for me to show you girls how it’s done. Watch and learn, ladies.”

With a confident smirk, she video calls Liam who answers distractedly, clearly still at the office despite the late hour. “This better be important Nadia, I’m right in the middle of-”

“Liam. Focus,” Nadia cuts him off crisply. “I need you to send €10,000 to my account right now. No questions asked.” She arches a commanding eyebrow, daring him to argue.

Liam just blinks at her for a moment before letting out an incredulous laugh. “I’m sorry, you need me to do what now? 10 grand, are you mad? For what possible reason?”

“To prove you love me,” Nadia retorts smugly. “I saw this thing on TikTok, some girl’s boyfriend sent her-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Liam interrupts. “I’m not one of your little social media playthings to manipulate for views, Nadia. My money is not a toy. I’ll buy you a thoughtful gift for your birthday next month, but I’m not in the business of flinging cash at you for no reason. Now if you’ll excuse me, some of us have real work to do. Goodnight.”

With that he abruptly ends the call, leaving Nadia staring at the blank screen, a red flush of embarrassment and anger creeping up her elegant neck. Stephanie and Colette exchange knowing looks.

“So … that went well,” Stephanie quips sarcastically.

Colette sighs morosely as she flops back onto the chaise, hugging a silk pillow. “Maybe that girl’s boyfriend really is one of a kind. God, I bet she feels like the luckiest woman alive. Can you even imagine being THAT loved and adored?”

Nadia seems to deflate, her bravado evaporating. “No,” she whispers. “I can’t. You’re right, Col. Mystery Monaco Man is clearly in a league of his own. I bet he makes her feel like an absolute queen every damn day.”

Stephanie nods thoughtfully, twirling a lock of hair. “You know what though? Good for her. She seems lovely and down-to-earth in the video. If anyone deserves that fairy tale romance, it’s a girl like that who doesn’t even realize how special it is.”

“Ugh, so true. god I’m depressed now,” Colette groans, reaching for the champagne bottle to refill her glass. “To Mystery Monaco Man — may he set the standard for rich boyfriends everywhere. And to the girl who’s lucky enough to love him — may she live happily ever after and never take a single moment for granted.”

“Hear, hear,” Nadia and Stephanie chorus, clinking their glasses against Colette’s.

As the bubbles fizz on their tongues, the wistful faraway looks in their eyes betray the same thought — what they wouldn’t give to trade places with you for just a day, to know what it feels like to be cherished so completely by a man like Charles. To them, you’re living the ultimate dream.

If only they knew the best part isn’t the extravagant gestures or lavish gifts.

It’s the little moments. The soft kisses pressed to your temple. The fingers intertwined with yours. The sleepy smiles over morning coffee. The shared laughter and inside jokes. The unwavering support and unconditional acceptance. The bone-deep feeling of safety and coming home.

That’s the real fairy tale. And no amount of money could ever buy it.

***

Back in Monaco, Lando Norris slouches comfortably in his gaming chair, eyes glued to the triple monitors in front of him. He’s meant to be reviewing telemetry data in preparation for the upcoming race weekend, but the notification chime from his phone proves far too tempting. Lando picks up the device, fully intending to only glance at it for a second before dutifully returning to his work.

But then he sees it — the TikTok that at least a dozen people have sent to him in the past hour alone. Curiosity piqued, Lando clicks on the video and watches intently, his brows steadily rising towards his hairline with each passing second.

“Wait, is that ...” he mutters to himself as the clip plays out. When your boyfriend’s voice comes through the speakers, Lando’s eyes bug out comically. “Holy shit, it is Charles! And Y/N!”

A knock on the door makes Lando jump slightly. Before he can respond, a familiar mop of tousled chestnut hair pokes into the room. “Hey mate, did you see-” Max Verstappen starts to say.

“The TikTok of Charles simping hard for Y/N? Yup, watching it right now,” Lando finishes for him, eyes still glued to his phone screen in fascination.

Max invites himself into the room fully and flops down on the couch. “Absolutely crazy, right? Who just casually sends their girlfriend 10k for a random pair of shoes?”

Lando snorts. “Certainly not you, you stingy Dutchman,” he ribs playfully. Max chucks a throw pillow at him in retaliation.

“Hey, even I splurge on my girlfriend sometimes!” Max protests. “I just bought her ... erm ...” He racks his brain trying to remember the last lavish gift he purchased unprompted.

“A six-pack of Sugar Free Red Bull last week?” Lando supplies dryly.

“... Shut up.”

The two dissolve into snickers before turning their attention back to the TikTok, which has now looped to the beginning again.

“Charles is so whipped for Y/N,” Max observes, shaking his head in amused disbelief. “He’s just asking to get taken advantage of, throwing money around like that.”

“I think it’s kinda sweet,” Lando admits with a shrug. “He just wants to make her happy. Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same if your girl asked!”

Max scoffs. “What, fall victim to a gold digger? No thanks mate.”

“Y/N’s hardly a gold digger and you know it,” Lando chides. “She works hard for her own money and buys plenty of expensive gifts for Charles too. They just like spoiling each other ‘cause they’re in luuurve.” He draws out the last word in a silly voice, making dramatic kissy faces.

“Yeah, yeah, true love and all that sappy bullshit,” Max says dismissively, though there’s no real heat behind it. “I’m just saying, no way in hell I’m sending 10k on command for a pair of fucking shoes!”

Lando hums thoughtfully. “I would.”

Max’s head whips around to stare at him incredulously. “You what.”

“If it was the right girl? Sure, I’d do it,” Lando says nonchalantly. “Maybe not for something frivolous like shoes, but if my girlfriend called me up and said she needed 10k transferred ASAP? I’d do it, no questions asked. You gotta have that level of trust.”

Clearly torn between wanting to take the piss out of his friend and feeling a reluctant sort of respect, Max just grunts noncommittally in response before turning back to rewatch the clip once more.

Debate rages online among the fans about the cute interaction. Most find the whole thing adorably romantic, cooing over what a doting and generous boyfriend Charles is. They swoon at the obvious love and care between you two, speculating excitedly in the comments about when Charles might pop the question.

Others are more cynical, rolling their eyes at Charles “simping” so hard and accusing you of only dating the Ferrari driver for his money. However, these naysayers are quickly drowned out and ratio’d by your legions of adoring supporters.

Through it all, you and Charles pay the speculation little mind, blissfully wrapped up in your fairytale romance.

Charles returns home that evening to the mouthwatering aroma of his favorite pesto pasta dish wafting from the kitchen. He grins when he spots you at the stove, swaying your hips to the sultry jazz music playing from the speaker as you stir the sauce. Quietly, he comes up behind you and slips his strong arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Mmm, smells amazing,” he murmurs appreciatively.

You turn in his embrace and loop your arms around his neck, smiling radiantly up at him. “Welcome home, Cha-Cha,” you greet him, using the silly pet name that never fails to make him chuckle and scrunch his nose adorably. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“And what’s for dessert?” Charles asks with a playful waggle of his eyebrows.

Biting your lip coyly, you untangle yourself from his arms and saunter off towards the bedroom. “Come find out after we eat. Oh, and I picked up a little something special to express my gratitude for earlier ...” you call over your shoulder with a wink.

Charles’ megawatt grin could power all of Monaco for a year. Viral TikTok or not, the Monegasque knows he’s already the luckiest man in the world to have you as his partner through this crazy ride called life.

No amount of money could ever compare to the joy of being loved by you.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc drabble

[moonstruckme]

request: was thinking about that one video that’s like “my wife, she’ll get upset if she sees you touching me like that on my chest” “i am your wife” and then the heart monitor starts going crazy and that put a doctor remus idea in my head after r gets out of surgery/is on anesthesia for something or other

Thanks for requesting!

cw: hospital, mention of surgery

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 855 words

Lots of people would probably be happy to have their significant other visit them at work, but as it turns out, Remus really doesn’t like it. He’s used to seeing patients post-op, and yet somehow when it’s you it feels sad, all those tubes and wires connected to his girl. The fluorescent lighting turns your complexion wan and the wary frown on your lips as a nurse checks your vitals makes Remus’ heart feel like a bruise. 

It helps some when you notice his entry and they stretch into a dopey smile instead. 

“Hi, dove.” His voice is soft and smitten, an automatic reaction to seeing you that he’s already heard the new residents commenting on in the break room. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m okay.” You tug at the sheets on your bed. Ball them in your fists like you might be nervous. “My stomach hurts a little.” 

“That’s normal,” Remus assures you, even as his stomach dips in sympathy. He sits on the edge of your bed, taking your hand and beginning to draw tight circles into the inside of your wrist. “If it starts to hurt worse, or badly at all, you should let me know, alright?” 

“Okay.” Your voice has quieted slightly, your eyes following the motion of his thumb on your skin. You glance at the nurse as though checking if she sees. Remus feels his lips tip up bemusedly. 

“Everything alright?” he asks the nurse.

She smiles at the both of you, passing him a clipboard. “She’s stable, ready to move when you’d like.” 

“Thanks,” he says, reading over your vitals quickly after she leaves. He sets the clipboard down and gives your hand a squeeze. If your heart monitor gives a quick beep, he pretends not to notice. “You’re all set, lovely girl. We’ll get you to your own room in just a bit.” 

You nod, not seeming to hear him. You look to be gnawing on the inside of your lip. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” Remus says gently, thumbing it free. Your eyes widen, and he drops his thumb to your chin, looking you in the eyes. “Is something the matter?”

You rub your lips together hesitantly. It’s normal to have a small fever after surgery, but your face feels suspiciously warm. “I just, um, I have a boyfriend.” 

Remus feels his face split into an irrepressible grin. He’d been wondering how the anesthesia would affect you. “Yeah, dove,” he agrees, delighted, “I know you do.” 

“I don’t…” Your eyes dart to where his thumb still rests on your chin, your shoulders gravitating towards your ears. “I think it would upset him if he knew you were touching me like this.” 

Truly, this could not be any better. Remus wishes he’d brought a video camera like James wanted him to. “I am your boyfriend, sweetheart.” 

Your expression freezes in place, but your heart monitor starts beeping loudly. Your eyes dart to it, alarm and embarrassment worsening, and Remus laughs, dropping his hand from your chin in favor of rubbing your shoulder until both you and the machine calm down. 

“You?” you ask. You appear nothing short of flabbergasted. 

“Yes.” He brings your hand to his smiling lips, kissing your knuckles as if to prove it. “Why, are you surprised?” 

“You’re serious,” you check. Remus has the opportunity to make a joke here, but he worries it’d only confuse you more. 

“I am,” he says. 

“But you’re so handsome.”

Another laugh startles out of him. “And what do you think you are? Of course,” he gives your knuckles another brief peck just to see your eyes flare again, “I would love you no matter how you looked, but you’re a far cry from hideous yourself.” 

You look taken aback by this news as well. Remus is half tempted to find you a mirror. 

Then you ask, voice soft as down feathers, “You love me?” 

Something in Remus’ chest goes all warm and mushy. “I do,” he says sincerely. “I love you so much, sweetheart, sometimes I don’t know what to do with it all.” 

You smile until your eyelashes kiss, and he can’t resist cupping your face again, smoothing his thumb along the skin of your cheek. 

“So that’s why you’re here?” you ask. 

“Well,” he hesitates, “yes, but I’m also here because I work here.” 

Your eyebrows raise. Your gaze dips to his white coat as if remembering it for the first time in a while. “Oh. You’re a doctor and my boyfriend?” 

“That’s right.” He squints at you amusedly. “Did you think I just snuck in here in a white coat so I could see you?” 

“My boyfriend is a doctor.” You don’t seem to be talking to anyone in particular, perhaps just asking the universe for confirmation. 

Remus decides to get back to business. “Right again, dove. I think it’s about time we get you to your room, yeah? Anything else I can do for you, anything you need?” 

“Nope.” You lay your head back on the pillow, looking somehow more dazed than when he’d come in. “I think I’m set. Like, probably for life.”

#doctor!remus lupin #doctor!remus #doctor!remus x reader #remus lupin au #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x self insert #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin hurt/comfort #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin scenario #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin oneshot #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #the marauders #hp marauders #marauders x reader

[hiraethwrote]

i've always known - satoru gojo

[ satoru gojo - f!reader ]

✧ summary: you'd known each other since childhood, growing as close as two people could grow. there was not anything you didn't do together. but life doesn't always cooperate, creating hurdles even for the most tightknit relations ✧ cw: [MDNI] childhood best friends, afab!reader, college au, fluff!!, ofc some angst sprinkled in here, mentions of underage drinking, swearing, arguing, slightly ooc satoru maybe you be the judge, jealousy, poorly written eventual smut (be patient), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, pet names, no use or y/n ✧ word count: 17.0k (yikes sorry)

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You were six years old when you met him for the first time.

“Be nice and say hi, sweetie,” your mom spoke softly, only making you squeeze her hand harder and hide behind her.

“Hi,” you said more quiet than a whisper, if that was even possible, looking at the two strangers that had made themselves known.

But it wasn’t the unknown woman that had you so nervous, she seemed kind enough. It was the little boy next to her, a mop of crystal white hair hanging above his piercing blue eyes that were staring directly at you. With his hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie, he flashed you a toothless grin.

“Hello, I’m Satoru,” his tone chipper, almost like the line was rehearsed. You only stared at him with eyes big as globes before turning towards your mom again.

“Mooom,” you nagged, pulling at her sleeve. “Can we go back inside?”

“In a minute,” she reassured you before turning towards the strangers. “I’m sorry, the moving has been a lot for her,” she chuckled nervously, but the unknown lady only smiled at her.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she laughed kindly before turning to you. “I’m sure we’ll get to know each other with time.” She shot you a friendly wink, but you only shrunk further being your mom’s leg. Instinctively, she began to rub comforting circles on your back.

“We have no doubt,” she answered for you.

Still feeling Satoru’s eyes on you, you turned to him again. Instantly your eyebrows narrowed in annoyance, not understanding why he was still staring at you, like you were some kind of weirdo.

“I really came by to invite your family over for dinner tomorrow. Wish you welcome to the neighbourhood.” Your mother instantly beamed at the request.

“That’s so nice. We’d love too, right honey?” Shifting the focus to you again. You only shrugged, not daring to look away from the strange boy.

“Great. Just drop by anytime after five and we’ll be home.” The genuine smile only amplified the woman’s already gorgeous face.

Your mom broke the intense staring competition you had with Satoru with a slight shake of the hand. “Why don’t you tell them your name?”

Looking between the two strangers standing on your porch, you shyly mumbled your name, earning you another smile from the boy. What was his deal?

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“Why don’t you show her your room, Satoru?” The man you assumed to be his dad had said nearly the second your family had stepped into their home.

You’d given your parents a pleading look, begging them to come to your rescue seeing as you were already attending the dinner against your will. With stern glares, you knew you had no choice but to follow Satoru.

With a safe distance behind him, you reluctantly followed him up the stairs, which lead to a door at the end of the long hallway. He was clearly a well mannered kid, surprising you as he actually held the door open for you to enter first.

Small steps lead you into his bedroom and your eyes instantly grew big in awe at the sight of the huge bedroom. It was probably twice the size of yours, filled with all the toys you could imagine. Strengthening your envy was the queen sized bed in the corner of his room, because you had always been told that big beds like that were for grown ups only.

But what captured your full attention was the bookshelves in the opposite side of the room filled with manga from the floor to the ceiling. Shuffling over to them, you let your eyes travel over the familiar titles, spotting all your favourite stories.

“Are all of these yours?” You asked, turning to see him already looking at you with his hands in his pockets. He simply nodded, a proud smile plastered on his face to reveal deep dimples on each side of his face.

Unfair, you thought to yourself. What you would give to have stacked shelves like that, so you’d be able to pick up a new manga the second you’d finished another one.

“How old are you?” The random question made you turn to look at him again, his pride shifted into curiosity with his head tilted.

“Six.” He instantly scrunched his nose, seriously unhappy with your answer.

“Hmm,” he scoffed, looking down at his feet. His reaction couldn’t help but offend you, crossing your arms over your chest and sticking your bottom lip out in a dramatic pout. “‘S not fair,” he mumbled as he kicked his feet.

“What isn’t fair?” You whined, drawing his eyes back to you.

“Well, I’m eight,” he complained, but that alone didn’t explain his tone. “So why are you taller than me?” Blinking at him in surprise, a small giggle began to take over your grumpiness. “It’s not funny!”

If your parents had seen you giggle in response to someone clearly upset, you would have earned yourself a strict scowl and a lesson when you got home. Lucky for you, they were downstairs mingling with their new neighbours, so the childish giggle came bursting out of you, causing your to slap both your hands over your mouth to contain yourself.

He knew you were teasing him, but he found himself enjoying the sound of your laugh a little too much to stay upset, his shoulders sinking and eyebrows raising in delight. A subtle blush dusted over his cheeks when he began to think he might just be a little smitten by you already.

Nonetheless, it was the start of your friendship. Throughout the dinner, the two of you held a never ending conversation, which surprised your parents considering how hostile you’d been to even the idea of getting to know the young boy next door.

Both of you put up a fight when it was time for you to leave once the clock had passed nine on a school night. You eventually had to settle for seeing each other again tomorrow. Still so excited to have a new friend, you couldn’t help but tell your parents everything you and Satoru had talked about.

“And he even said I could borrow his mangas if I wanted to!”

“That’s great, honey, but you really have to go to bed now!” Your mom chuckled as she followed you into the bedroom and tucked you in. “Why don’t you tell me the rest tomorrow, hm?” You nodded eagerly, before she placed a sweet kiss on your cheek and wishing you good night before leaving your bedroom with the door slightly ajar.

You wanted to drift into sleep, but you couldn’t find it in your body to rest. So like so many other nights, you walked over to your shelves to find something to read. You didn’t manage to get that far, when something outside your window caught your eye. Curiously making your way over, you climbed up on the stool, only to be staring right at Satoru standing in his own window directly across from yours.

It didn’t take long for him to spot you, instantly waving at you with his entire arm. With the same toothless grin you’d been greeted with the previous day, you waved back at him immediately before climbing back into bed more than satisfied.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You were ten years old the first time he got grounded because of you.

Over the years, you’d just grown closer and closer for each time you hung out, which was pretty much every day. It was just a given that you would see each other at one point or another throughout the day. And if, for some odd reason, you hadn’t gotten the chance to meet up, you would catch up in the evening from your windows.

There was not a doubt that you two had become best friends. His house felt like a second home, nearly spending more time there than your own home.

Sadly, Satoru’s classmates didn’t think it was cool for him to hang out with someone who was ten. Unlike them, you were a child… and a girl, which meant you brought cooties

“Waiting for your boyfriend,” a taunting voice cooed as it gradually came closer, capturing your attention to meet three boys you recognised from Satoru’s class.

“Not my boyfriend,” you mumbled to yourself, not wanting to give them the attention they so desperately wanted. Turning away from them, you tried to ignore their rapid approach. But before you knew it, they had you surrounded.

“You know, he doesn’t really like hanging out with you.” Glaring daggers at the boy standing right in front of you, you chewed the inside of your cheek in an attempt not to let him get to you. “He’s got better things to do than hang out with stupid girls.”

You tried to cling onto the advice your mother had told you time and time again; if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. But in this moment, that seemed like the worst possible advice. Why should you just stand there and take it when they were throwing all these mean words at you?

“You’re just upset you can’t get anyone to talk to you!” Your voice was venomous, but it didn’t seem to have any affect on him as they only snickered in response.

“Think you’re funny?”

“Just leave me alone!” You fired back, challenging his patronising look at you. For a few seconds, he held your stare before he launched forward and yanked your manga right out of your tiny hands. “Hey! Give it back!” Despite being as tall as the dumb boy, he managed to keep it just out of your reach, no matter how far you tried to stretch for it.

“I’m just having a look,” he laughed as he began to recklessly flip through the pages. From each side of you, you could hear both of his friends laugh to egg him on.

Panting and whining, you tried to reach for your book, but froze in place when you heard the sound of paper ripping. Staring at the manga in his hands, you saw how he had started to tear crumbled pages from the spine. With fake sincerity, he squeaked a small “ops” and continued to laugh. Unable to peer your eyes away from your favourite manga in pieces, the tears began to well up in the corner of your eyes. “Awe, are you crying?”

The tears didn’t have time to fall, when a familiar figure came zooming in front of you and crashing into your bully, instantly knocking him to the ground, causing him to scrape his knee. While he kept squirming on the ground, Satoru instantly snatched the book from his hands.

“I told you to leave her alone,” Satoru growled at the boy as he stumbled back on his feet, blood steaming through his torn jeans. His brows were narrowed in pure anger, telling you he was about to retaliate towards your friend, but Satoru sported a stern posture and a look that one would be stupid to defy.

Soon enough, it seemed like the pain set in after a few seconds, and the anger in his eyes turned glossy, trying to hide the fact that his bottom lip was quivering and his nostrils were flaring like he was about to cry.

Satoru shot an ugly glare at the two other boys, who didn’t seem sure what to do with themselves. “You want to taste the gravel as well?” Satoru threatened, the three boys sharing a worrying look. It didn’t take long before they decided to scatter with their tail between their legs. The boy who’d ruined your book, trying to conceal a limp but failing terribly.

The second they had their backs turned to you, Satoru turned his full attention to you with a softened expression, genuinely worried. “You okay?” He hurried to ask, scanning you from top to toe to see if there were any visible injuries. However it was only your pride, and your manga, that was wounded.

Looking down at his hands, the tears came back right away at the scene of the mangled book.

“I’m fine,” you said under your breath, eyes still glued to the manga. Struggling to find the right words to comfort you, his eyes jumped between your glistening eyes and the torn book in his hands.

“I have this one at home! You can have mine, I never liked it anyway,” he rambled as he began to wave the book around, growing more uncomfortable as he saw the small tears roll down your red and puffy cheeks. “And don’t worry about them! They’re just stupid! And jealous. And, and-“ his frantic words stopped in his throat, forming into a nervous lump when you flicked your eyes up to meet his.

Despite the redness in them and the sniffling of your nose, he couldn’t help but think you looked pretty. Which only made him feel even worse, that someone could be so cruel to you.

You shrugged your shoulders slightly, wiping away the snot and tears from your face. “Thank you for stopping them.” In defeat, you grabbed the manga out of his hands and stuffed it into your backpack, not caring if you ruined it any further.

“C’mon, let’s go home.” He placed a friendly hand on your shoulder, and you began to walk home like usual.

The walk home was mostly quiet, Satoru not daring to say anything, not knowing what to say. He wanted to help, make you feel better, but all the things that popped into his head just felt like it wouldn't be enough. So when you reached your house, you simply waved him goodbye before disappearing.

Once he entered his own home, his parents were on his neck instantly. They were furious, because they’d received an angry phone call from a distraught parent explaining how Satoru had purposely attacked their son.

Satoru had tried to explain the situation and defend himself, saying he couldn’t just let them pick on you like that. Somehow, the heroic gesture didn’t seem to outweigh when the kid had walked home with a bloody knee, bawling his eyes out.

“You never resort to violence, Satoru,” his father had yelled at him, before they told him he was grounded for a week. Satoru was speechless. He had never been grounded before, and he didn’t understand why he was being punished when he firmly believed he had done the right thing.

Unable to defend himself further, he stomped to his room and started his homework like he had been told to do. He didn’t get much work done though, as he mostly moped the entire evening, neurotically tapping his pen against the textbook.

You, much like Satoru, spent the entire evening in your bedroom. For the first two hours, you just laid in your bed, sulking. Eventually you wanted to talk to someone — not just someone, Satoru. You made your way to the windowsill, waiting for him to show. And you waited. And waited. And waited some more.

It wasn’t until you were about to head to bed you saw his silhouette cracking open the window slowly. Jumping up, you opened your window immediately. “I’ve been waiting all afternoon!”

“Shhh, you gotta keep it down,” he said softly, barely able to hear him. “I’m not allowed to talk to you right now.”

You raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What? Why?” Leaning forward in the window frame, resting your head on your forearms.

“I’m grounded,” he shrugged, checking over his shoulder every now and then to make sure no one came to check in on him.

“For what?”

“Because I shoved him. He ran like a crybaby, making it seem worse than it was.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, so incredibly frustrated by the outcome.

“Really? I can explain what happened to your parents-“ he waved his hands out the window to stop you.

“I tried. They were quite upset. But it’s no big deal. It’s just a week.”

“So, I won’t be able to see you for a week?” You complained, to which he only looked at you with big eyes. It hadn’t really hit him that he wouldn’t be able to hang out with you while he was grounded, which only made this terrible situation even worse.

Pursing his lips in thought, he opened his mouth again to speak. “Guess we’ll just have to be sneaky with window meetings at night,” he laughed, making you laugh along as well.

“I guess so.”

“I gotta go to bed before mom and dad finds me talking to you,” he sighed. “So, guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow night.” Before he managed to shut his window, you called his name again.

“Hey, Satoru?” Looking back at you with big eyes, you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Thank you for today. It really meant a lot!”

Looking at your glowing gratitude, he did not regret his actions for a single second. He even knew, should the opportunity arise, he would not hesitate to defend you again. He’d risk all the punishment in the world if it meant having you looking at him like that again.

“Good night, ‘Toru,” you smiled sweetly, his heart doing a small flip at the sound of his new nickname.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You were fifteen years old when Satoru finally grew passed you.

And once he passed you, it seemed like he never stopped. It wasn’t just you he passed, it was all his peers as well. And as he grew, so did his ego to match it. Of course, this also resulted in him endlessly teasing you.

“Imagine you used to be taller than me,” he laughed and placed his hand on top of your head.

“Yeah, and you’re the only one who cares,” you sighed, swiftly removing his hand from your head.

This all happened about the time you started high school, something Satoru had looked forward to since he himself first started high school. It finally gave you a chance to hang out during school hours, as you’d mostly been restricted to your classrooms in lower grades. He was also excited to introduce you to the small life he had there, which previously had been separated from you.

There was no doubt that Satoru Gojo, along with his small crew, were insanely popular. They basically ruled the school and they all welcomed you with open arms.

So, by association, you too became popular.

You fitted into his group perfectly, getting along with both Shoko and Suguru pretty much right of the bat. So he shouldn’t really have been complaining — except for the unforeseen circumstances that came with other people finally noticing you.

Ever since you were young, you hadn’t made a huge number of yourself, remaining somewhat anonymous, happy doing your only thing. Satoru had basically been your only friend. He knew he could never mention it to anyone, but he really enjoyed having you all to himself.

So when he noticed all the lingering looks you received just walking down the hall, some unfamiliar anger began to take shape in him.

Pretty much from your first day, he was bombarded with questions from his classmates. Who’s your friend? Is she single? Why aren’t you dating her? Will you introduce me? It got old real fast, and Satoru only found himself growing more and more frustrated by it, coming up with silly excuses to lead them in the opposite direction.

“Yeah, no, she’s- uhm, she’s single but her dad promised her a car if she doesn’t date ‘til she’s eighteen.”

They all gave him the same weird look. “If you’re seeing her, just say so.”

“No! We’re just friends!” He always rushed to defend himself, which always earned him a roll of their eyes before they shrugged off his weird behaviour. Lucky for him, his reputation saved him from anyone pushing it any further.

Despite his best efforts to keep guys at bay, there were still a few headstrong individuals who didn’t care about Satoru’s lame excuses or status, they still tried to pursue you. So to fend them off, he had other ways to make you seem unapproachable; excessive physical touch.

You never thought twice about it, as he had never been a stranger to physical touch. It wasn’t unusual for him to throw his arm over your shoulders when walking, or fidget with your fingers when he needed something to stimulate his agitation. You’d gotten so used to it over the years, that you’d simply grown accustomed to it.

After a while, most of the guys in school seemed to get the message that you were off limits. The hassle of his consistent protection for you combined with his position in the school, it just wasn’t worth it — that was ignoring some of the most persistent seniors, but he only found their attempts amusing as you so obviously found them disgusting.

Nonetheless, with time he could deem himself satisfied with the lack of male attention you received.

“So you’re joining us this weekend right?” Suguru, one of Satoru’s close friends, asked during lunch. You only narrowed your eyebrows at him in confusion. What you didn’t notice, was Satoru sitting beside you, furiously trying to stop Suguru from explaining further, glaring at him and waving his hands like a maniac.

“What’s this weekend?”

“Satoru didn’t tell you about the party?” A taunting smirk danced on his lips as he completely ignored Satoru’s disappointed glare. When you turned to question him, he immediately wiped off his disappointment and flashed you a shy smile.

“Party?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t really planning on going so,” he shrugged nonchalantly, trying to regain his ‘cool’ act.

“That’s not what you told us yesterday,” Shoko scoffed, a smirk matching Suguru’s plastered on her face.

It was in moments like these, you became incredibly aware of the age difference between the two of you. Sure, it was only two years, which you’d never thought much of — until you started high school. His interests and desires skewed in a more mature direction, which you weren’t necessarily ready for. It had become a lot more usual for him to go out with his friends during weekends. Even though he usually returned home early and met you at the window, it still sucked.

Did you want to go to the party? No, not really. But if you were being honest, you were absolutely terrified of Satoru slipping away from you if you weren’t able to keep up with him. Besides, you only felt guilt at the thought that he might have changed his mind about going because of you. So what harm could it do to attend, even if it was for just an hour?

“I mean, if you want to go,” you trailed off, wanting so much to seem natural about it all. “I don’t wanna stop you.” With a small shrug, you were almost certain to managed to seem casual.

“So that’s a yes?” Shoko cheered quietly from the opposite side of the table.

“I guess so,” a small chuckle leaving your lips.

Satoru, on the other hand, wasn’t as excited about you joining them as his friends. Nervously bouncing his leg under the table, he began to imagine all the things that could happen. He tried to tell himself the main reason he was so upset about the whole thing was that he was concerned something bad might happen, but in reality, he hated the idea of an arena for random dudes to hang over you all night.

You interrupted his spiralling when you suddenly raised from the table. “I have to run by the library before class,” you sighed before you rushed off, Satoru’s eyes never leaving you until you’d left the cafeteria.

“What is your deal?” Shoko laughed, drawing his attention back to the table. “Since when do you turn down a party, even if you leave after an hour?”

“I don’t know, just don’t think it’ll be her scene, that’s all,” he excused himself, picking at his food, suddenly not having an appetite anymore.

“I know you two, like, grew up together or whatever, and you have this strange need to protect her, but she’s able to take care of herself. You’ve seen how she talks to Fushiguro,” she laughed again.

“It’s not that,” he sighed, avoiding making eye contact with his friends.

“You remember what it was like to be a freshman. Things like these are exciting,” Suguru shot in. Satoru simply shrugged at his comment. “Look, we’ll all keep an eye on her. And you don’t drink anyways, so you’ll be more than sober enough to make sure she’s okay.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Satoru mumbled and stood up from his seat, still not looking at them. “I’ll see you guys later.”

And before you knew it, the weekend came rolling in and you found yourself clutching onto Satoru’s arm for dear life, scared you’d lose him in the crowd.

“We can leave if you want to,” he leaned down to say nearly the second you’d entered the house.

“No, no. It’s fine. Let’s just… find Shoko and Suguru.”

It was a lot to take in. People singing and dancing, chugging drink after drink. But your nerves calmed down when you felt Satoru’s strong hands squeeze yours in reassurance. And once you found the others, your body just felt a lot more at ease. It didn’t take long for you to actually enjoy yourself, even though you decided to stay away from the alcohol, at least for this time.

What wasn’t as enjoyable, was all the female attention Satoru received throughout the evening. It was no secret he was a popular guy, girls lining up to talk to him. But when it came to the girls at school, they mostly just gawked and giggled while he innocently entertained their interests. No, these girls were different. They had clear intentions of taking it further, giving him looks you did not appreciate.

And it bothered you. Oh lord, how it bothered you.

Sitting so close to you, his leg pressed up against yours, you sadly got a front row view of when the girls leaned over and batted their long eyelashes at him, flashing him seductive smiles. You were beyond uncomfortable, trying to look anywhere but scene taking place mere inches from you.

You had no reason to be upset — you were only friends and you’d only ever been friends. Never had the idea of anything else crossed your mind, but you hadn’t ever witnessed ladies glue themselves to him like this before.

“Hey, you okay?” Satoru interrupted your thoughts, turning over to see he was focused on you, the girl at his side quirking an eyebrow.

“‘M fine,” you mumbled, a small smile drawing at your lips. He scanned your face, taking a deep sigh in thought, reading you so clearly.

Out of nowhere, Satoru jumped up from his seat, holding his hand out for you to grab. He wore that award winning smile of his as he opened his mouth, “come on.”

A smile grew on your face to match his as you eagerly let him pull you off the couch before he playfully threw his arm over your shoulder, leading you out the living room. As you walked, you swore you could hear the girl he talked to earlier scoff.

“How does ice cream sound to you?” Looking down at you as he shielded out the tight crowd as he lead you out the door.

And as the two of you left the party, there was laughter on your lips and a genuine, special joy in your eyes you seemed to have reserved only for each other. Shoko and Suguru, however, kept a confused eye on you as you exited the house.

“I’ll never understand them,” Shoko shook her head, before turning to look at her friend who seemed just as frustrated by you and Satoru as she was. “I mean, they’re clearly into each other, right?”

Suguru exhaled sharply through his nose in what sounded like it was supposed to be a chuckle. “It’s weird if they aren’t.”

“When he talked about her before, I just figured they were best friends, like he said. But after meeting her and seeing them together-“

“No, I agree,” Suguru laughed before she was able to finish her sentence. “I’ve never seen ‘best friends’ act like they do.” Shoko nudged his side with her elbow to bring his attention to the girl Satoru had flirted with seconds before he had just stranded her alone on the couch, to see she was pouting, arms crossed over her chest as she stared at the door like she was waiting for him to return.

“Neither has she,” she laughed.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You were seventeen years old the first time you had your heart broken. Really broken.

Standing outside your boyfriend — no scratch that. Standing outside what was now your ex boyfriend’s front door, you tried to wrap your head around what had just happened, silent tears falling slowly down your face.

It had come out of no where. Yesterday, everything had seemed fine, and now he had suddenly come to the conclusion that you were no longer a good match? It made no sense.

Shaking your head as you took a deep breath, you knew there was only one person who might be able to help you feel a little better. Not to mention, he was probably the only person in the universe right now you could stand to see at all.

The fifteen minute walk from where you’d just had your heart stomped on to your neighbourhood had never felt longer. The silence that filled the dark and abandoned streets was numbing, leaving more room for the self deprecating thoughts to fill your mind. What had you done wrong? What could you have done differently? Was there someone else, someone prettier and funnier than you? Had you not been dedicated enough?

Despite the insane sadness that filled you, you thought if it were to happen, this weekend was probably the best timing, seeing as you wouldn’t have been able seek comfort had it happened any other time. Having taken a gap year after high school to earn money, Satoru worked a lot but he had for once gotten a weekend off. And his parents were out of town on some conference, meaning there was no risk of either of them opening the door to greet your grief struck face.

Soon enough you found yourself in front of the familiar front door, a tiny lump forming in your throat as you placed three soft knocks on the door. Before you knew it, Satoru stood right in front of you, his initial reaction of joy melting away once he processed you were upset.

“What happened?” His voice was so soft, eyes filled with worry.

“Can I come in?” Your voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“Yeah! Of course.” He stepped aside, letting you pass him and enter his home. “You want anything? Is this like an ice cream kinda situation, because I think we have some cookie dough flavoured in the freezer.”

A broken chuckle slipped out of you, followed by a sob. “No, thank you, I’m fine. Just needed to see you,” you sniffled furiously.

“Yeah, sure.” Without saying another word, you simply helped yourself up the stairs and to his bedroom. His eyes never left you as you carefully sat down on his bed and he sat down on his desk chair.

Uncomfortable wasn’t necessarily the word he’d use for seeing you like this, because it had happened before — just not very often. You’d always been a quiet charmer, if there was a way to describe it. Out of the two of you, he’d always been the loud and outgoing one, but he definitely saw you as the one who spread the most joy to those around you, a natural sense of cheerfulness radiating from you. Not to mention you were usually the one who stood for the comforting and advice, meaning he was at a loss on what to do.

“What happened?” He asked carefully.

“We broke up.” The words left you so quickly and easily, Satoru had to blink a few times to realise what you’d just said. “Or he broke up with me is probably more correct.” You avoided his gaze, staring directly at your hands tucked between your thighs, the tears leaving dark circles on your jeans.

“I thought things were going well.”

“So did I.” You wiped your nose with the back of your hand, still sniffling like crazy. “I know you never liked him and didn’t get along with him but I really liked him, y'know?”

A pang of guilt came crashing in over Satoru. He hadn’t been subtle about his dislike for your boyfriend, and it started before the two of you even became official. He did not miss the opportunity to throw a snide comment about him when you brought him up or constantly quarrel on the few occasions they were in the same room. But he couldn’t help it.

Satoru had been so focused on all the guys lining up for you in school, he hadn’t even thought of the boys that might find their way to you from elsewhere.

He still remembered the evening you came home from work at the coffeehouse, such a sweet smile on your face and a blush across your nose when he’d met you at the window that night. So giddy over this cute boy who’d chatted you up and ended up getting your number. Had Satoru known then he’d break your heart this badly, he’d tried harder to shut it down.

“I know I gave him a hard time, but I know you liked him,” he tried to comfort you. “And I’m certain he cared for you too. It’s hard not to.”

���Urgh, I’m such an idiot,” you cracked, hiding your face in your hands as the sobs just tumbled out in one steady stream.

“Hey,” Satoru said, rushing out of his chair to crouch in front of you. Tenderly he grabbed ahold of your wrists to remove them from your face, carefully trying to dry the tears away. “You’re not an idiot, okay?”

A small scoff made its way out of you between the sobs. “I’m not even sure he ever cared about me.”

When your name rolled off his tongue with more compassion than you’d ever heard from him before, your eyes snapped up to meet his. “Listen to me! I am certain he did. I know what you dedicated to that relationship, and he’d be crazy not to care for you. Not just crazy, but a damn magician as well because it’s genuinely impossible. Believe me, I know.” A small smile grew on his lips when he heard he was able to draw a small chuckle out of you. “You’re not an idiot. You just have a big heart. And he’s the idiot if he thinks he should let it go.”

He dried what seemed to be one of your last tears with his thumb, before tucking some of your hair behind your ear. His caring gaze traveled your face, taking in every detail he could when the memory from when you were kids popped into his mind. Just like that time, looking at you all red and puffy, he again found himself thinking you were pretty. Not just pretty — beautiful.

“Thank you, ‘Toru,” you whispered.

“Any time.”

“Can I stay here tonight?”

“Scandalous,” he said dramatically, earning him another shy smile from you. Both of you knew you didn’t have to ask, having slept over hundreds of time throughout the years.

“Who knew you were so good at this,” you smiled weakly as he stood up to go get the extra duvet he had in his closet, which was basically just an extra duvet for you.

“Pfft, I am Satoru Gojo after all. Is there anything I can’t do?” He flashed you a proud grin, instantly rolling your eyes at him.

“You’re not the greatest cook last time I che-“ before you were able to finish your sentence, a pillow came crashing into your face. A lighthearted giggle escaped you, and again Satoru felt his heart flutter a little, so pleased he’d managed to brighten your terrible evening a little bit.

“Watch it, sweetheart, or I’ll have you sleep on the floor.”

“You would never,” you smiled before grabbing one of Satoru’s t-shirts, like you always did, and headed for the bathroom.

Once you met your reflection in the mirror, your eyes grew as all the signs of tonight’s sorrow was incredibly visible on your face. And to think Satoru had seen you like this, knowing he’d tease you endlessly about it once things settled down and you could laugh about it all.

Your eyes were swollen from all the crying, mascara lines down your puffy cheeks. Still sniffling, you cleaned your face, dabbing a hot cloth in hopes you might redeem some of your dignity as you washed away your heartbreak. Looking in the mirror, a sigh left you knowing that this was probably as good as it was going to get. At least you didn’t have makeup smeared all over your face anymore.

Shuffling back into his bedroom, wearing his t-shirt nonetheless, a small lump formed in his throat at the sight of you as he had to fight the urge to let his eyes indulge in your entire figure. What was going on? A million times had you spent the night, and a million times had you gone to bed wearing his shirt, yet tonight felt different. He felt there was something in the air that had shifted, but it went unsaid. So without another word, he simply made his way passed you and to the bathroom. You, on the other hand, paid no attention to his odd behaviour, simply laying down on the bed on the side closest to the wall, your side.

Despite not picking up on his averted gaze, you too sensed there was something in the atmosphere that seemed different than usual, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what. You could easily just blame the breakup, which was definitely lingering in the air, but you knew that wasn’t quite it either. There was something in the tension that you felt were directly connected to Satoru.

When you felt his weight press down on the bed next to you, you reactively turned to look at him, surprised to see he was already laying on his side looking right back at you. Staring deeply into your eyes, you felt as if he was trying to tell you something but you couldn’t make it out.

Same went for Satoru, as he felt it deep down that there was something he needed to tell you but he had no idea what it was, only that it weighed heavier on him now that the evening had been so emotional and raw.

“‘Toru?”

“Hm?”

“What was it about him you didn’t like?” Satoru couldn’t help but smirk somewhat shamefully.

“It’s not important,” a slight chuckle slipping out of him.

“With a smile like that, you have to tell me.” Satoru readjusted his head on the pillow, ending up even closer to your face than intended but neither of you pulled away.

“Well, I like it best when I have you to myself.”

“Please,” you scoffed, tucking one of your hands under your cheek, carefully tilting forward a little. “That’s ridiculous, even for you.”

“No, I’m serious,” he gave you a sweet smile. “We’ve been so close for so long, it’s weird suddenly having to share you.”

You took a deep sigh, your heart skipping a small beat at his answer. “Well, I had to share you first.”

His eyebrows instantly pinched together into a frown, a humorous smirk on his lips. “Excuse me?”

“So you’ve forgotten when you first started high school? It was always ‘Suguru this’ and ‘Shoko that’.”

“That’s not the same,” he mocked you.

“How’s that not the same?” Offended at his disregard for your experience of him suddenly having a bigger social circle, you knew it was all in a playful manner.

“Because-” was all he managed to get out before you noticed his eyes betraying him as they quickly glanced down at your lips, before looking back into your eyes. Drawing a sharp breath, you swore you might be able to spot a strong blush heat his face, but it was too dark to tell for sure.

He exhaled a shaky breath, which you felt brush against your face making you realise just how close you were to each other.

All the hairs on your body stood up when you felt his light touch brush against your arm that was resting between you. Was this weird? You didn’t know. It wasn’t like it was the first time he’d touched you like this, so what was making tonight so different?

One slight movement and your noses would grace against each other. He could do it, he could just tilt his head forward and his lips would connect with yours and he was certain it would be delicious. Your eyes had captured his gaze, and he felt as if he could stare into them forever-

No, stop!

You flinched at his sudden movements when he pulled away to turn around, with his back facing you.

His heart sunk into his stomach, mentally cursing himself now that he wasn’t facing you anymore. He couldn’t believe he had actually wanted to kiss you, his best friend. It wouldn’t be right, especially not tonight when you were as vulnerable as you were. He’d be a complete asshole to take advantage of that. Not to mention how embarrassed he would have been in the morning when you weren’t trapped under the haze of heartbreak and would have realised how much of a mistake it had been.

“Good night,” he said in his usual, cheerful tone and the curse was broken.

The next morning, you’d woken up to an empty bed, much like you always did when you spent the night. What was out of the ordinary, was seeing him in the kitchen in full swing serving pancakes and ice cream calling it “the breakfast for breakups”.

You couldn’t tell if you were hurt or not by how he was acting, as if last night never happened. Was he not going to mention how close the two of you had been to locking lip? He simply went about the morning, just as happy as he always was.

And never brought it up.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You were eighteen years old when you and Satoru fell apart.

Satoru had left for college, and at first you’d been so lost on what to do. For the first time since you were six, he wasn’t immediately at your side.

You remembered the day he left so clearly, clinging on around his neck, refusing to let go because you didn’t want him to get in his car and drive off, unsure when you’d see him again. When the two of you eventually managed to break the hug, you heard a not so subtle sniffle and spotted faint redness around his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’re crying, ‘Toru,” you teased in between your own sniffles.

“You got me there,” he said with a sad chuckle slipping out, surprising you that he didn’t even attempt to fire back, just surrendering to his emotions. “Gonna miss you.”

“Gonna miss you too,” you whispered in response. Not much more was spoken before he drove off, like it all was just too much for either of you to talk about.

The first few days you didn’t do much else than lay in bed and wait for him to call, like he promised he would. And exactly at 8 pm, your phone lit up with his name where he told you all about how hectic his days were — and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to have daily calls anymore once the semester started for real.

“No, of course. I mean, I go back to school soon too so.”

And as the time went on, the calls got more and more rare. From every day, to three times a week, once a week, until you were lucky it happened every fourteen days.

Even though you hated it, you couldn’t blame him. Of course he was busy, he had an entirely new everyday life filled with classes and new people. And when he did make time for the phone call, you couldn’t help but feel genuine happiness when you heard how excited he was about all of it. But you knew you couldn’t keep sitting around sulking as you waited for his call. You decided you had to be okay without him.

It was your senior year after all — it was your time to shine, and you were still with the popular crowd even though Satoru wasn’t there anymore. Now you finally had the opportunity to get to know them better.

Turned out you had more in common with them than you thought, getting particularly close with the girls of the group. And it was refreshing to have girl friends, who seemed to match some of your interests in a way Satoru never managed to. Your horizons just expanded, your schedule packed nearly from morning until night. Not to mention your weekends were also busy. The parties you and Satoru usually left early or skipped all together, had become fun.

This weekend was no different. Sitting at your vanity doing your makeup for the evening when you heard your mom’s voice yell from downstairs. “There’s someone here to see you.”

“Just send her up,” you yelled back. But when you turned around to face who you thought was your friend who was coming to get ready with you, your jaw dropped at the sight of the tall figure standing there instead.

“Her? Not the last time I checked,” Satoru smiled.

“Oh, my god, ‘Toru!” You squealed in excitement, running at him as you threw your arms around him in a tight hug, smiling even harder when he hugged you back just as firmly.

When he let you down, your eyes was instantly drawn to his. It’s been so long since you’d been able to stare into those captivating, blue eyes, and now you melted having them look down on you for the first time in months. Now that you were finally able to see him again, to touch him again, it hit you like a semi truck just how much you had missed him. You even found yourself getting a little emotional, blinking away the wetness in your eyes.

“God, don’t wanna ruin my makeup,” you laughed.

“I was just about to say, you look great,” he said, unable to peer his eyes off you, because ‘great’ was an understatement.

“Why, thank you,” you beamed at him, a smile stretching from one ear to another.

“Going somewhere?” His eyebrows narrowed, letting his chipper composure slip for just a second but he quickly tried to shake it off.

“Yeah, there’s a party tonight. The group’s going, but I can cancel if-“

“No, of course not. I’m home all weekend.” There was a slight twinge in your heart, disappointed that he didn’t have the guts to accept your offer. There was not a single ounce of doubt that you’d drop the party for him in a heartbeat — you had after all longed for him to come home to visit since the second his car had driven out of view the day he left.

“Well, maybe you could come along?” You suggested, grabbing his hands in yours.

“I just think I’m going to stay home with my parents tonight,” he swallowed, giving you a weak smile.

He knew he should have just taken you up in the offer to ditch the party, but he didn’t have the heart to, especially when you were all dolled up for the evening already.

All he’d looked forward to was come home and hang with you and catch up all night, never falling asleep because he had missed your voice so much. But he knew that eventually, the guilt would eat him up, hogging you for the night when you were supposed to be somewhere else.

Now he had to sit at home, alone and bored, because he had lied when he told you about his parents, seeing as they weren’t back in town until tomorrow. He knew he would spend the night miserable, but it would beat having to tag along at your heels to a party he didn’t want to attend in the first place and witness how close you’d gotten to all your new friends while he’d been away, still preferring to have you to himself.

“Will you at least stay until I leave? And then I’m all yours for the whole of tomorrow?” For the time being, he managed to let his blues slip away, especially when you gawked at him with a sparkle in your eyes and an infectious smile.

“Of course.” His eyes followed your cheerful walk back to your vanity as he sat down on your bed. Once seated, your conversation flowed like normal, as if no time had passed at all since the last time you saw each other. He told you about classes and how much more difficult it was now, especially seeing as he wasn’t the biggest fan of studying.

And he knew he should be excited when you told him everything about your new life. How you’d finally taken the time to get the know the rest of the group and how great they all were, how fun you had it with all of them with all the stuff you guys did in your spare time, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t sting. He felt as if he was missing everything, losing the spot he used to have with you, replaced by his old friends. He knew it was unfair to think that way, but but there was no stopping his doomed spiralling.

“Oh, and that’s probably her coming now!” You perked up when footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs. The next second, a girl he knew used to be in his friend group stood in the doorway.

“Satoru? What a pleasant surprise,” she beamed at him, and guilt hit him when he couldn’t even remember her name.

“Yeah, just home for the weekend,” he smirked at her.

She flashed him another smile before turning to you. “You ready?”

“Just about,” you sighed. Quickly, you grabbed your purse and skipped over to Satoru. “See you tomorrow, okay?” You said cheerfully as you placed a quick peck on his cheek before running out, leaving him standing alone in your bedroom.

He stared dumbfounded at the empty space you occupied just seconds ago, still surprised by the kiss as it was something completely new. Was that something you’d picked up from the group? Did that mean you went around kissing everyone’s cheeks? His mind ran crazy with questions, all making him equally jealous.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” you whispered into the phone still ringing. It was the third time you had tried to call Satoru and he still hadn’t picked up, which was incredibly unlike him. He always picked up almost immediately, especially when you were calling.

“Hey,” you finally heard him sigh on the other end of the line.

“Thank god you answered,” you said, teeth chattering in the freezing cold. “Could you please, please, please pick me up?”

“You okay?” There was a hint of worry in his voice, but you had a sneaking suspicion he was trying to conceal it.

“No. Or yes. Or I don’t know, but I’m cold and I need to go home!” Another sigh.

“Where are you?”

“You’re my angel,” you breathed before giving him the address.

“I’ll be there in fifteen.” Before you managed to say goodbye, Satoru had already hung up. You stared blankly at the phone for a few seconds in shock of his abrupt ending, but right now, you were too cold to ponder any further on his behaviour. Tightly having folded your arms around yourself and rubbing your legs together, you desperately tried to get some heat in your body.

Finally, you saw the familiar car pull up in front of you, a sigh of relief leaving your body once you were greeted by the hot air as you sat down in the passenger seat.

“You’re really a life saver,” you spoke as you leaned your head back on the headrest, waiting to meet his eyes but he never turned to look at you. His eyes were glued to the road, a tight grip on the steering wheel as he kept chewing on the inside of his cheek. “You okay, ‘Toru?”

“‘M just fine,” he answered simply, still fixated on the road.

“Then why won’t you look at me?” You snorted, which made him quickly turn his head to give you a cold glare before looking at the road again.

“How come you were standing out in the cold all alone?” When he didn’t acknowledge your question further, you just fell back into your seat again and decided not to take it any further.

“You don’t wanna know,” you sighed, staring out the window.

“No, I’m curious.” If his tone told you anything, it was that he was pissed. You just hoped it wasn’t directed at you.

“I was kicked out.”

“What, too drunk to be in the house?” His comment caught you off guard at it seemed nothing but spiteful. You flipped your head to look at him again, only to see he was still unwilling to look at you.

“Do I seem too drunk to you?” He only shrugged, knowing the answer was ‘no’. “If you wanna know, I-“ you stopped yourself from finishing, too embarrassed to utter the words.

“Don’t get shy on my behalf.”

“I was about to sleep with someone, but after we undressed, something came over him and he just threw me out,” you complained, crossing your arms and staring at the road like he had earlier.

“You what?” Satoru exclaimed, and now he finally decided to shoot you a glare. “Who?”

“Does it matter?” You shrugged, avoiding his gaze which you knew was just purely judgemental. It seemed he was more upset about the part where you were going to sleep with someone than the fact that you were literally thrown out, which only ended up fuelling your own anger.

“Who was it?” He repeated sternly.

“Just some guy I met there, I don’t know,” you shrugged, and instantly a loud huff left Satoru.

“Wow,” he said in utter disbelief. “So this is who you are now.” Finally turning to look at him again, your face hot with anger, you saw his eyebrows were raised in frustration and his tongue was poking the inside of his cheek.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Never knew you to be someone who just spread your legs for anyone.” You gaped at him, not believing the words coming out of his mouth.

“Stop the car,” you managed to force out somewhat calmly through gritted teeth.

“I’m not stopping-“

“Stop the fucking car, Satoru,” you practically yelled at him, startled when he suddenly slammed the breaks. Once the car had stopped, you didn’t hesitate to unbuckle your seatbelt and scramble out of the car, hearing him call your name before you slammed the door shut after you.

With your arms wrapped around yourself, you started to walk down the street in the direction of your house, knowing you were still pretty far from home. But you knew you were too furious to get back in the car with Satoru.

“Come on, get back in the car,” Satoru’s voice complained down the street.

“So you can slut shame me some more? Think I’ll pass,” you shouted back. It took only a second until you heard the car engine shut off before hurried footsteps against the wet pavement made its way over to you, Satoru positioning himself right in front of you.

“Fine, sorry, please get back in the car,” he said disingenuous, scowling down at you with his hands in his pockets.

“You expect me to accept that apology?” You scowled right back at him.

“Stop acting like a brat and just-“

“Brat? Really?” You interrupted him, raising your eyebrows at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it just as quickly with a deep sigh. “Thought so.” Keeping your mean glare at him, you tried to walk past him, but he surprised you by taking a strong grip of your arm.

“So is this like a weekly occurrence now?” You forcefully pulled out of his grip.

You simply shrugged while trying to find the right answer, wanting to keep your own anger in check even though you felt you were close to boiling over. “I mean, there’s something happening every weekend but that doesn’t mean I always participate.” He only scoffed, turning away from you and looking around the street. “What?”

“So now you’re just this crazy party girl that sleeps with anyone that’s available?”

You truly couldn’t believe it was Satoru saying these words to you, your best friend in the entire world. The person you’d known most your life, who knew your every deepest, darkest secret and had never judged you in the slightest — suddenly throwing mean words right to your face like you were just some nobody.

“Like you’re one to talk! You flirt with any girl that has a pulse, and not just in school. Remember, you went to parties too and enjoyed wallowing in the attention of anyone who’d give it to you!”

“I never liked going to parties. I still don’t,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Glad to see some things hasn’t changed, unlike the fact that you’ve turned into an asshole,” you spat at him, trying to walk away again, but he yanked a hold of you once more.

“Well, I’m not the only one who has changed,” he said in a low voice, giving you a stern look through his eyebrows.

A light laugh of disbelief escaped you, the tears quickly starting to well up in your eyes. Was this really the same person you’d physically been unable to let go off five months ago? The one person you believed could never intentionally hurt you the way he was now?

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Flickering between his eyes, you knew you’d caught on. “Did you really think I was going to sit around and wait for you?”

“I certainly didn’t expect you to go and replace me the first chance you got.”

“Replace you?!” You exclaimed before the entire sentence had left his lips.

“Yes, replace me!” He fired back, his tone more angry than he wanted it to be, because sadness was all he truly felt.

“So you haven’t gotten any new friends at university?”

“That’s different-“

“Oh my god, Satoru,” you moaned in frustration, your hands rubbing your face. “I am so tired of you saying it is different for you! You’ve done that for years.”

Satoru had his hands deeply tucked in his pockets, his shoulders up to his ears with tension. He was already filled with guilt for talking to you this way, something he’d never done before. Then again, he couldn’t remember having this many negative feelings regarding you running wild in him.

“It’s baffling to me that you’re actually saying all these things to me, like it isn’t you that keep postponing our phone calls.” You said, your tone transformed from anger into the sorrow that had taken residence in you instead.

He breathed your name, almost like he seemed disappointed in a way. “Classes are riding my ass.”

“You don’t think I know that?” You fired back immediately, your tone remaining calm as you continued to hold back the tears. “But truth is, it has caused you to not make time for the phone calls.”

“You can’t expect me to be able to make time-“

What seemed to be the mix of a sob and a scoff parted your lips, cutting him off. It was like talking to a brick wall, because it felt like nothing you said reached him.

Had he always been like this? Too wrapped up with his own idea of being right that he took no regards for your opinion? If so, how had the two of you managed to go all those years without you properly realising it?

“If you haven’t been paying attention, it’s not me that’s had too many expectations, but you!”

His head fell back, retrieving his hands from his pockets to fold them over his chest. As his entire posture turned loose, you couldn’t bare to look at him when the first tear fell. He just seemed to be so sick of this conversation — sick of you — an idea that made you want to throw up on the spot.

“You’re being unreasonable,” he said in a low voice, as if he knew he was in the wrong but too stubborn to back down. He’d already been so cruel, a part of him feeling like he had already gone too far to double down now.

“I’m being unreasonable?!” You snapped, walking right up to him, now close enough to feel the heat radiate off him. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding with me?”

Never in a million years could you have predicted your favourite person in the universe to speak to you this way, biting your head off for simply living your life. But it went deeper than being upset about you going to some random party. It seemed like he truly disliked the person you were right now, and nothing had ever hurt you as much.

“For the record, I did wait. So many nights I just sat in my room, staring at the damn phone, waiting for you to call.” You were sobbing now, all restraints of your tears out the window. “But I think you’re not half as busy with your studies as you claim to be, but very busy making new friends, which is why it’s nothing but cruel of you to go at me like this!”

“You always do that!” He snapped, causing your sobs to halt for a second, eyebrows quirking up in surprise. “You always assume these things about me, paint me out to be this specific person without having all the facts.”

“I know you better than I know myself, for fucks sake! You hate to work, avoid it for all that it’s worth, and now you’re trying to tell me you work so hard?” Silence. “And you’ve always loved attention. You feed on it, and every single living person on this planet can’t help but just give it to you! I’m willing to bet my last dime you’re surrounded with all sorts of people just fighting for your time!”

Without stuttering, you fired shot after shot, feeling bad even though every last word of it was true.

The reality of the fight washed over you, knowing you’d never fought like this before. A friendship spanning twelve years was doomed to have some disagreements along the way. And with both you and Satoru having such strong personalities, there had been quite a few. But never had either of you ever turned mean, like right now, no matter how serious the argument had been.

“Despite what you might think, I’m not one of your silly school girls who just follow you around to stroke your ego. I’m my own person, always have been. And I’m sorry you’re pissy about the fact that I’m doing fine without you here and I’m sorry that the image you had of me is finally shattering.”

You felt you’d gotten what you had on your mind off your chest, and all that fell out of you now were uncontrollable sobs. Not only were you absolutely devastated, but you were scared. The person that stood before you didn’t feel like someone you knew, meaning you had no idea what might come out of his mouth next.

“Think I see you clearer than ever.”

Sucking your bottom lip in between your teeth, you tried to choke back your sobs, not feeling he was worthy of hearing the affect he had on you right now. You slowly began to nod your head, looking about for a few seconds before you simply began to walk away without saying another word. And this time you didn’t feel his hand grab your arm.

The second your head had hit the pillow after you’d gotten home, you erupted into loud, unruly sobs, that even managed to wake your parents. They stormed into your room, beyond scared something was terribly wrong, and your mom managed to pull your head into her lap, stroking your hair in an attempt to get you to calm down so you’d be able to tell them what had happened, but to no prevail. While she desperately tried to hum you to peace, your dad stood watching in anguish as he had no clue what to do in order to help.

Eventually, the sobs wore you out to the point where you fell asleep in her lap.

Waking up the next morning, you’d felt like it had all been just a horrible nightmare, and in just a few minutes, Satoru would stand at your door, so excited to just do absolutely nothing with you like you had planned.

But you sat in your bed and stared at the door, waiting for him to show up but he never did. When you became restless, you paced around the room, daring to glance out the window in hopes you’d spot him sitting by his windowsill. But here too, you were left disappointed. No Satoru shaped silhouette made himself known, and at some point during the day, he had shut the blinds without you noticing.

Two days later, your mom came into your room and asked why Satoru had left to go back to university already when you guys hadn’t hung out yet.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You were twenty years old when you started university.

After a therapeutic gap year of working and travelling, you were finally ready to go back to school, excited to see what the life of a university student was all about.

So far it all seemed to go as smoothly as one could hope for — moving in and setting up in your small dormitory, putting in a lot of effort to make it a space where you could feel at home. Signing up for classes and getting all the books you needed was easier than expected, some kindhearted strangers more than willing to help you get it all right. And lastly, finding your way around campus wasn’t nearly the issue you thought it would be. You easily manoeuvred your way around the grounds, quickly coming across spots you could picture yourself just hanging out.

You were more than prepared by the time the first class rolled around, entering the huge auditorium, nervously walking down the stairs and sitting down in an available seat in one of the rows closer to the front.

Suddenly it began to dawn on you that you were actually in university, working your way to a future career like you’d always talked about. All your hard work in school, your academic achievements, finally paying off, letting you be in environment of equally dedicated individuals.

However, even though your peers seemed to be on the same level as you academically, you got the impression they had excelled passed you socially already. As you let your eyes roam the crowd, you noticed how people had already made friends and even formed groups, greeting each other with warm smiles as they sat down together.

You didn’t have the chance to brood about it for too long, as a roaring voice spoke up from the front of the classroom, drawing everyone’s attention to him, the chatter quickly quieting down. The assertive figure introduced himself before heading straight into the plans for the semester, asking if anyone had any questions. While a few students raised their voice, you just desperately wrote down everything being said, just in case it might be useful somewhere down the line.

“I look forward to teach you this introductory class in education. I’m sure you’ll make great teachers one day,” he smiled. “Before we get started, there’s someone I’d like to introduce. I have the privilege of being assigned a TA this semester — come on up.”

Everyone’s eyes followed the professors gesture towards the person who’d just gotten up from his chair by the exit. All the air was immediately sucked out of your lungs when your eyes landed on the one person you hadn’t expected to see.

“Good morning everyone,” he said in his characteristically suave voice, hearing the girls in the auditorium instantly begin to whisper amongst them at the sight of him. “I’m Satoru Gojo, I’ll be the professors teacher assistant this semester. Any questions you might-“

The words instantly died in his throat when his gaze landed on you, tensed up in your seat. He could almost see you shiver under his intense glare.

Nearly two years had passed since the last time he saw you, and not a day had gone by where he hadn’t cursed himself for how he treated you that night. He regretted it all, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to face you and apologise, even though you more than deserved it.

Eventually, the days just passed him by and it felt like an injustice for him to just jump into your life again so he decided not to, which resulted in the most miserable two years of his life.

You wanted to look away, but the shock of seeing him again had taken over your body, holding your attention hostage under his drilling blue eyes.

He’d let his hair grow a little longer, which suited him, even though he didn’t need it to improve his looks. It also seemed to have bulked up a little. Not much, just enough for you to notice as his navy, button up shirt hugged his arms in a way his clothes never had before.

“Mr. Gojo?” The professor’s voice broke his stare, bringing him back to real world and acknowledging all the faces staring at him.

“Yeah, sorry-“ he cleared his throat. “Any questions you might have, don’t hesitate to come to me,” he stuttered over his sentence, shooting you quick glance even though he tried to keep his attention on the crowd.

With a shy smile, he made his way back to his seat, his eyes once again finding you as he was seated. You shrunk in your seat, your entire body on fire from having his eyes observe you for the first time in so long, sure you’re heart might actually stop from the stress.

Throughout the entire lecture, you both kept stealing glances from one another, an unspoken sensation filling the air between you, like you both could feel how badly you’d missed and craved the other the period you’d been separated.

His eyes carried the same weight they always did when looking at you, uncomfortably restless in your seat, fidgeting with the paper of your notebook and trying to keep the tapping of your foot to a minimum. When your eyes weren’t automatically drawn to Satoru, you peeked at the clock hanging above the whiteboard, begging for time to pass so you could storm out of the classroom and finally be able to breath properly again.

You were sure the seconds lasted longer now than normal, but the lecture finally ended and you instantly began to gather your things, shoving them in your bag as quickly as possible. Daring to shoot Satoru another look, you were glad to see he’d been surrounded by students (mostly girls), hindering him from making his way to you — or so you thought.

“I have a meeting to get to,” Satoru lied, looking at you packing up your stuff before rushing up the stairs towards the auditorium exit. “But here’s my email. Just… send whatever questions you might have and I’ll answer as soon as I have the time.” It didn’t seem like anyone picked up on the fact that he was lying through his teeth, but they all wore a disappointed expression when he began to push his way through the crowd, sprinting up the stairs to catch up with you.

You stopped dead in your tracks, even though you wanted to just keep moving, when you heard that silky smooth voice speak your name. You reluctantly turned around to face him, still only managing to let out shallow breaths.

“I- Uhm.” Now that he finally had your full attention, his mind ran blank and his mouth dry, in awe at your familiar eyes staring up at him, lips pressed together in a tight line. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you tried to reply, but barely a sound could be heard. His eyes shot to your feet, as you kept shifting your weight from one foot to the other, clearly not at ease seeing him again.

“You look- I mean I didn’t know you wanted to become a teacher,” he stumbled over his words, his hand coming up to rub the nape of his neck.

“Me neither,” it slipped out of you, instantly pinching your eyes shut when you reflected on what had left your lips. “What I mean is I only decided recently.”

He groaned softly, feeling like nothing he wanted to say would be enough. “You finding university alright?”

It hurt. Holy hell, how it hurt, not to have the conversation flow as natural. Every atom in your body tried to convince you to just lean into what you were used to, resurrect the friendship just like that.

You nodded frantically at his question. “Yeah, much to see.”

Clearing his throat, he gathered up the courage to ask what had roamed his mind since he spotted you at the start of the lecture. “If you’re ever available, I’d love for us to grab a coffee or something,” he said it so quickly you were barely able to decode what he even suggested, but once it registered, you drew another sharp breath.

“Sure.”

“Really?” Narrowing his eyebrows at you, he hadn’t expected you to accept so willingly. He hadn’t really expected you to accept at all, if he was honest.

You didn’t know if you regretted accepting his invitation so quickly, but if there was a chance he’d apologise, you wanted to hear it simply because you deserved it. Or maybe that was the excuse you told yourself because you so desperately wanted to hang out with him.

“You haven’t changed your number, right?” You shook your head. “I’ll just text you.” The faintest smile grew on your lips as you simply nodded, a light blush spreading across Satoru’s face at the delightful sight.

“See you around, ‘Toru,” you said out if habit, quickly turning around and walking away so he wouldn’t be able to see that you too were blushing, regretting the use of his old nickname.

It didn’t even take two hours before your phone dinged with a text from him, where he suggested a time and place.

toru <3: how about next friday after the lecture? there’s this great coffeehouse five minutes from campus

you: sounds good :)

It seemed Friday couldn’t come quick enough, your anxiousness building up every lecture you had together. Despite feeling like the worst of the shock had passed as you simply flashed each other a friendly smile and a small wave when you saw each other, your mind would never get peace until everything was out in the open.

And now you finally sat opposite him, a strong grip on your mug to put your nerves somewhere. Satoru was scared you might shatter it, your knuckles turning white by how hard you were clutching at it.

“I’m really glad you decided to join,” he started awkwardly.

In all the years you’d known him, you’d never had the satisfaction of witnessing him awkward. It seemed like his default setting was mr. smooth talker, always able to find the right words in order to get what he wanted no matter how unlikely it seemed. But all that was out the window, staring at you with a sense of embarrassment, looking like a scared, young boy forced to face his stupid crush, waiting to get rejected after a sorry attempt at asking for a date.

“Me too.”

“You look really pretty- I mean, you look great. You’ve turned out pretty. Not that you were ugly before, you’ve never been ugly. In fact-“

His clumsy attempt at talking to you was cute, which was all it took to start chipping away at your cold exterior, the corner of your lips betraying you as it curled up in a small smirk.

“Thank you,” you said softly, his shoulders instantly relaxing.

Something about you was definitely different, but the tone in your voice made him realise it was actually you that was sitting in front of him; his best friend. There was no reason he shouldn’t be anything but comfortable around you. Especially now when he’d been offered the opportunity to maybe make amends, he couldn’t throw it away.

“I’m sorry,” he said genuinely. “I don’t want to give you any dumb excuses, because there aren’t any. I’m sorry and you didn’t deserve any of what I said to you that night.”

His voice had turned steady now, taking back the assertiveness you were so used to hearing. “I’m sorry too.”

He instantly snorted, much to your surprise. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about.” He seemed to hold back a chuckle.

“Well, duh, but thought it was polite thing to say.” You were surprised by your own words, mirroring his humoured and shocked expression. Maybe he didn’t deserved to have you resort to playful banter already, but it just fell out of you so naturally. “You look great too, by the way.”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” he smirked smugly, while you rolled your eyes at him.

“Uneasy is the head that wears the crown,” you corrected him, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

“Okay, nerd.”

Your lips pursed together, unable to fight it anymore, a sweet smile hiding under the annoyed facade — and he noticed, his heart doing a full flip at finally being able to see it in person again. He’d only been able to dream of it in the time apart, and a hope began to spring in him that finally he might get you back in his life.

And this was just the first coffee of many. It started as a weekly thing, in the beginning consisting of airing it all out in order to establish the trust again. But it didn’t take long until you both fell into an old and familiar pattern.

It started with tagging along to lectures. Next thing, Satoru suggested you ordered dinner while studying, however not much studying was done. The evening was spent sitting on the floor of your dorm, stuffing your faces with take out and reminiscing of your days back in high school, talking about all the gossip and drama that went down.

There was a mutual understanding that you both had to make up for the lost time, both sad you’d wasted so long not being in contact when it could all have been resolved if you’d both been mature enough to just reach out.

But despite both of you resorting to old habits, quickly acting as close as you were back then, things had escalated.

Before, he’d simply thrown his arm lazily across your shoulders without a single thought. Now his muscular arm held a more possessive grip on you like he was preventing another outcome of you slipping away. And unlike before, you matched his energy, letting your arm slide along his back and grab tightly ahold of his waist to secure him close to you.

When he subconsciously began to fidget with your fingers, you eventually let your fingers glide between his to interlock your hands, where both of you just let them rest, his thumb softly stroking you.

And when he was gentleman enough to open the door for you every chance he got, he gawked at you with pure affection in his eyes and he sneakily let his hand rest on the small of your back as you passed him.

Neither of you ever mentioned it. You gladly just let it happen, both leaning into it, getting more and more touchy as time went on. And it didn’t go unnoticed by your fellow students, ugly glares in your direction as they wondered how you’d gotten so close to the incredibly hot TA in the matter of weeks, also considering how many people he had throwing themselves at his feet.

You couldn’t care less however. You were simply living in the joyful bliss of having your best friend back.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

His jaw dropped to the floor when you stepped out of the bathroom, not even noticing his lingering gaze on you, simply walking over to your purse to get your lipgloss.

The sinfully short dress hugged your curves just right, leaving little to the imagination. His eyes darted to the knee high, leather boots that elongated your enticing legs before letting his eyes indulge up your body, tracing your exposed collarbones-

“Satoru?” Drawing his attention to your face, which genuinely left him stunned having enhanced your already beautiful features, hair tucked up messily by a claw clip. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

More like an angel, he thought, trying to snap out of the haze you had him under as he slowly began to approach you.

What was happening?

There was a hunger in his eyes you’d never seen before, at least not looking at you. It was like he moved in slow motion, your heart quickly picking up the pace the closer he got. “Satoru?” You asked again, but a tremble in your voice exposed your nerves. “What are you doing?”

A confident, on brand smirk made its way onto his face, revealing his infamous dimples as he let his hand slip to your cheek, sliding it to the side of your throat and letting his thumb draw graciously soft lines along your jaw.

“I should have kissed you that night.”

His quiet confession filled the room, having your sole focus be his eyes, those beautiful, heavenly eyes that always saw right through you. The night in question had often played in your mind, fantasising about what could have happened if either of you had decided to cross the line.

“Would you have kissed me back?” The dominance in his voice had a weird influence on you, causing your eyes to flicker away from his eyes to travel across the attractive line of his curved lips.

“Without hesitation.” His grin widened, his thumb now moving to stroke your bottom lip. Much like that god forsaken night, he leaned forward, but this time he let his nose brush against yours, his breath brushing against your lips.

“We’re skipping the party,” he whispered.

“Didn’t wanna go anyways,” you huffed before finally being the one to engage the kiss, crashing into his lips, just as soft as you’d always imagined them to be.

Hungrily tying you arms around his neck in order to help deepen the passionate kiss, you felt his tongue slide along your bottom lip as if he was asking for you to open your mouth, to which you happily obliged.

His firm hands slid down your waist before stopping at your thighs, squeezing slightly into your plush flesh. Without breaking the kiss, you jumped into his arms with ease, wrapping your legs around his slim waist as he placed his hands on your ass, not an ounce of fear in you that he’d ever drop you.

Your hands found their way to his soft hair, instantly drawing out a soft moan from him, causing you to smile into the kiss.

“That’s what you like, huh?” You teased, pulling away from him order to get a look at his face.

“Shut up,” he chuckled before reconnecting your lips when you felt he began to walk in the direction of your bedroom.

Since rekindling your friendship, everything had moved at the speed of light. As it all had happened, you’d noticed the increased intimacy, both physically and mentally, but you hadn’t wanted to assume it was anything more than just a result of missing each other.

You’d experienced a new sensation of yearning for Satoru, one that had previously only passed you by in random split seconds which you’d always suppressed to the back of your mind. Never had you wanted to jeopardise your friendship for anything, especially for what you thought was just innocent lust that naturally washed over anyone that was in the close vicinity of Satoru.

But clearly you were wrong. Maybe there had always been a stronger desire to explore him in a different way that had just been buried because it seemed illegal. Not to forget the fact that it was being reciprocated, his strong hands exploring your body with an urgency you had never experienced with anyone before.

The meaningful and deep history only appeared to fuel the hunger you felt for one another, behaving as if neither of you had experienced the phenomenon of another person’s touch in a lifetime — and it was only specifically each other who could satisfy the need.

Still with a tight grip, he hesitatingly let you down, his hands sliding up your body to hoist your dress so it gathered around your lower abdomen. “This dress need to come off, baby,” he breathed into your mouth as he continued to pull it up your body.

You simply lifted your arms to let him twist the dress over your head, his eyes instantly locking to your perky tits as if they were calling his name. Before he had the chance to give into the temptation of fondling them, playing with your nipples, you tugged at the bottom of his sweater. No way you were going to stand in all your glory while his clothes served as a hindrance to your desire.

Again his alluring smirk greeted you, more than willingly pulling it over his head to reveal his chiselled torso, confirming your theory that he had gotten bulkier, because you would definitely have remembered if he looked like that before.

“Is this crazy?” You asked shakily after having removed your shoes and reaching for his belt buckle. Noticing the slight jitters hiding between your excitement, he snatched ahold of your chin to force you to look at his face.

“Not crazier than the fact that I should have done this ages ago.”

Pulling your face towards him, he had you standing on your tip toes in order to dedicate as much of yourself to the kiss as humanly possible.

Once the pants were off him, your hand found his chest, fighting the urge to dig your nails into his toned pecks, guiding him backwards to sit down on your bed. With glee you straddled him, embarrassment flushed your cheeks as a needy whimper just fell from your lips when his huge bulge ended up pressing against your clothed core, an amused eyebrow quirking up on Satoru’s face.

“Damn, calm down,” he teased, your nose scrunching up to conceal the playful smile that was taking over.

“Idiot.” Grabbing his face, you let your open mouth graze against his when one of his hands palmed your clothed pussy, pulling another moan from your lips.

Without warning, he pulled your black laced panties aside, his thumb rubbing small circles on your clit. You bit your lip to choke back yet another moan. Knowing Satoru, you knew he’d forever hold it against you — how he managed to withdraw those lewd sounds from you so easily.

“So wet for me already, sweetheart,” he panted, enjoying the view of your scrunched up face of pleasure. “Can’t wait to feel you around me.”

“‘Toru, I-“ you forced out when you felt him slip two lengthy digests inside you as he traced soft, little pecks along your collarbone that he had admired earlier. Hearing you barely able to utter his nickname mixed with the low squelching of your pussy, basically drenched already, was something he had only been able to imagine before. And god, was the real thing ten times better than his fantasy.

“Getting shy around me, pretty? That’s unlike you.” Again you wanted to roll your eyes at him, because he was even more cheeky when having you at his mercy than normal. But the consistent pressure on your sensitive nub along with the movement of his fingers were too much to even give that a try.

Fingertips clawing at his shoulders, slowly starting to rock your hips as you were being drawn closer and closer to the edge.

His smooth motion had you seeing stars behind your eyelids, the tingle of orgasm bubbling up inside you when he had you gasp in disappointment when you were deprived of his skilled touch.

Motherfucker.

“What-“ your eyes fluttered open in confusion before you were thrown off his lap, landing softly on your back, sinking into the mattress. Next thing, his boxers hit the floor, exposing his already rock hard dick. Eyeing the size, his cocky personality suddenly made a whole lot of sense.

Hovering over you, he swiftly tilted your head to the side to place a series of open mouthed kisses as he used his leg to spread your legs apart, setting himself up between them, feeling his tip slightly touch your entrance as it twitched.

“I need you,” it vibrated against your skin, one arm wrapping around his back in a desperate need to feel every inch of him, while the other traveled south to lace around his dick. It was your turn to draw sounds from him, a small, satisfied giggle ringing in his ear as a reaction to hearing his pathetic whimper.

“Sorry,” your giggle trailed off when he lifted his head to look down at you, the ghost of a smile on his face telling you he enjoyed the small banter during it all.

You gave him a few slow pumps, using your thumb to rub some of his precum across his tip, aligning him with the opening of your cunt as he punished you with a rough kiss on the lips.

That’s when you finally let go, your hand finding his back again to prepare yourself to be filled with his dick. He didn’t wait to slide into you with ease, gasping softly as you involuntarily clenched around his size, trying to get used to it.

“You okay?” He mumbled as he rested his forehead against yours. You only nodded before pulling him in for another kiss, reassuring him that you were alright and more than ready.

The line was officially crossed — no going back now. You could never go back to being just best friends, but maybe that was for the best, that maybe you’d always meant to be more. Every fibre of his being had for a long time ached to have you like this, spread out and desperate for him and only him.

At first he moved in a slow and sensual pace, wanting to be entirely sure you could take it. Eyeing your expression in awe, finally being able to be the one to make you grimace with pleasure.

“Wanted this for so long,” he murmured, being driven to lose all control hearing all your sweet whimpers, occasionally mumbling his name, which had him buck his hips faster and deeper, desperate to push you to climax.

Taking every inch of him over and over, stretching around him, he glanced down to get a look of the beautiful sight, his cock moving in and out, in and out, like you were made for him.

Your nails burrowed into his back before dragging down, too dazed in the bliss of Satoru’s cock stuffed in you to care about the red lines you knew you’d created, marking him as yours. Your toes curled as he kept feeding you horny affirmations and heartfelt compliments.

“Fuck fuck fuck, look at that.”

“God you’re so beautiful.”

“Taking me so good baby.”

“Fuck, should have done this ages ago. Look so pretty around me.”

“Hngh, ‘Toru,” you mewled. “I’m gonna c-cum,” you begged, squeezing your eyes shut and arching closer to him to chase your high.

“As you wish.” Something snapped in him, slamming into you at an unbearable speed, balls smacking your ass as he kept shoving into you. You tried to make out words to tell him you were about to reach your limit, but you were too fucked out to form anything coherent, just a string of cute sounds of pleasure leaving your pretty mouth. “Cum f’me.”

His simple command had you nearly scream as the sweet release washed over you, head pushing back into your pillow as he gave you the most intense orgasm you could remember. He fucked you through your high, feeling your body pressed against his until he too reached his climax, filling you with cum, a loud groan left him before his thrusts became lazy and sloppy.

He pulled out, collapsing on the bed beside you. You both turned to look at each other, instantly making eye contact. Whatever flashed between you caused you both to break into a calm laughter. Once it died down, your flipped to lay on your side and rested your chin on his shoulders.

“Should have known you’re quite a talker during sex, it adds up.”

“Is this complaining I hear?” He taunted, pinching his eyebrows together to challenge your statement. “Because the way you just moaned my name like a slut-“

“Okay, fine, I’ll sush,” you laughed before hiding your face in the crook of his neck in embarrassment. Carefully he nudged his shoulder to have you look at him again, needing to take in your flushed face after it all, eyes roaming every part of it. “So what happens now?” You breathed softly as your finger began to trace weak circles on his still damp chest.

Without thinking, he tilted your head up and placed an affectionate kiss on your forehead. “I know I don’t wanna waste anymore time not being with you.”

“We really screwed up there, huh?” As his secure arms wrapped around you to have you as close to him as possible, his chest vibrated with a low chuckle.

“Not my fault you were out and about, throwing your phone number at your customers.”

“Oh alright, if you wanna blame previous conquests, then there’s-“ he instantly placed his large hand over your mouth to muffle the list of girl names you could remember him being with.

“Still such a brat-“ you interrupted his insult by defending yourself the only way you could, sticking out your tongue to lick all over his palm. Before you even had the chance to understand what was going on, it backfired when he instantly rubbed his hand all over your face, smearing your spit.

“Satoru,” you squealed before you both fell into a fit of laughter again.

Well into the night, you just talked and laughed. Sharing every single moment from your friendship that might have been pent of feelings for each other, realising this was how it always should have been. Neither of you had to hold back on the affection or affirmation anymore in fear of jeopardising what you already had. If anything, the relation you already shared only seemed to further ignite what would come to be.

For the first time, you fell asleep in his arms, being his.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You were twenty-seven years old when life was just perfect.

“But pretty please!” Nobara complained, hands pressed together in prayer, close to falling to her knees to beg you to do her this small favour. It earned her an offended frown from both her classmates standing on each side of her. “It’s a testosterone nightmare.”

Before you were able to give her any form of response, two lean arms came lurking around your waist to spin you around, drawing bubbly giggles from your lips.

“My god, Satoru, we’re at work!” You managed to force out between your joy, eventually feeling your feet planted safely on the ground again. He lazily rested his arm across your shoulders, towering over the group with a content smile on his face.

“Sorry, just got excited.” He placed a small peck on the crown of your head, sprinkling a tint of pretty pink on your cheeks.

Over and over you’d told him to keep his devotion to you on the down-low in public, especially in front of the students but he never managed to follow the simple request, having the two of you act like love sick teenagers. And as much as you pretended not to, you melted as much at his antics now as you did way back when, rarely putting up much of a fight to actually tone down his behaviour.

Looking at the three first years in front of you, both Nobara and Megumi had a hint of disgust at the sight of how mushy Satoru got with you, always having a desire to be in contact with you one way or another. Yuji, on the other hand, always admired the sheer transparency of the relationship.

“So what’d I miss?”

“Nobara want me to give her private lessons because she’s sick of you boys.”

“Young miss Kugisaki, dare I say I’m disappointed?” Satoru said, acting overly dramatic, sporting pinched eyebrows to have them believe he was actually hurt.

“Gojo-sensei, I have reason to believe I’ll learn even more having a female teacher,” she pouted.

“Ouch,” he breathed in response.

“You’ll tough it out,” you chuckled, a small thank you whispered from the tall man pressed against your side before you opened your mouth again. “I mean, think about how I have it. At least you’re only linked to him during school hours while I live with the guy. I can never catch a break-“

A grunt escaped you as the arm draped around you tensed up, pulling you into a strong headlock. Endless laughter leaving you as you so desperately tried to pull out of his grip but to to prevail, cheek smushed against his ribs.

“Can you guys believe it?” Satoru gasped before carefully pulling up his blindfolds slightly to reveal one of his eyes to look directly down at you. “My own wife?”

“‘Toru!” He just smiled down at you at the happy sounds from your beautiful mouth, also amused by your weak attempt to break free from his hold on you, messing up your hair as you desperately tried to pull your head back.

“You’re both insufferable,” Megumi rolled his eyes, just wanting to go on with his day.

“All I’ve done for you over the years, and still you find it in you to talk to me like that,” shaking his head in faux disappointment. You were finally able to pop your head out from his grip, not at all due to the fact that he intentionally loosened his hold on you a little. A low chuckle rumbling at the sight of your pouty lip hidden behind your bristly hair.

Pushing it out of your eyes, you clicked your tongue as you turned your attention to his students again. “Don’t listen to a word he says.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m their favourite teacher,” he said proudly, shoving his hands in his pockets, leaning forward a little to me on the same level as you.

“Isn’t much competition when you’re their only teacher.”

“You’re feisty today. Get up in the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

“No, I think it might have something to do with you hogging the covers all night.”

The bickering continued, bickering only possible to come from two people who’d been best friends for decades, eventually causing the three friends to walk away with either of you noticing.

“Wipe of that grin, sir, or you’re sleeping on the couch,” you threatened, nothing but pure amusement in your tone. His fingers found your face, squeezing your soft cheeks together, causing your sweet lips to stick forward looking more than inviting. A low giggle once again harboured deep in your throat, trying your best not to let them spill.

His face came closer — oh how he still managed to have the butterflies go crazy inside after all these years never seized to amaze you, feeling the alluring look through his blindfolds.

“We both know you’d come crawling into my arms after an a hour,” he teased, close enough to your puckered lips for you to feel his warm breath.

“Nuh uh-“ was all you were able to muffle out between his fingers.

“Damn, I love you,” he spoke softly before planting a kiss on your mouth, unable to hold back the smirk that grew when his grip changed to a tender cup of your cheek.

Sometimes it baffled you how you both managed to be so incredibly, deeply and stupidly in love with each other. You’d think after all those years with so much devotion and admiration shared, you would have grown tired of each other by now.

But you guessed it helped to be best friends with the person you’d chosen to be with for the rest of your life.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

a/n hehe this is long... this is basically a love letter to gojo after 261, where i had my heart absolutely shattered like most of us yk. ive been super motivated to write it tho so just last week i had 30 hours screentime on my notes app lol... now, ive said it before and ill say it again, i am NOT a smut writer (clearly). personally, thats the part here i like the least bc i just feel like i cant get it to flow naturally... besides that hope you guys like this

reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated

plagiarism not authorized

#⋆⭒˚｡⋆ hea writes #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru imagine #satoru gojo imagine #satoru oneshot #satoru gojo oneshot #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jjk satoru #jjk satoru gojo #satoru gojo/reader #jjk imagine #jjk imagines #gojo satoru x reader #jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen onehsot #jujutsu kaisen imagines #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #gojo

[rin-may-1103]

The Wrong Robin Au (part three)

Previous | Next

Danny never said he knew what he was doing, but he thinks he's doing something right if the kid hasn't started crying yet. so you know, that's great. now, he just needed to get the kid out of here, so Danny could have a moment to mourn his retirement plans.

He wasn't going to blame the kid, ancients know Danny would have gone back to hero work eventually. He just couldn't let things go if he could help it, and he could in this situation.

"Alright, here's the plan." Danny announced, slapping his legs as he stood up. "it's late, you're a kid who needs sleep. let's get you home, then we can get a game plan on how to do this."

Tim had been nodding his head, even if it was reluctantly, before freezing in sudden realization. Danny raised his eyebrow in question, wondering what was wrong now.

"you want my help?" Tim asked, absolutely gobsmacked.

Oh, the kid thought Danny was just going to send him away like any reasonable adult would. Ha, Danny wished. but no. He had no clue what he was doing and this kid was his only trump card for making any of the half-assed plans still forming in his head work. AND he had a feeling if he didn't keep Tim close by, the kid would run off and do something stupid.

"Yep," Danny snorted, "you were smart enough to figure out who Batman was, and then you decided to take it upon yourself to help him; whether by convincing me to do it or yourself."

"Now then," Danny said as he walked over to the couch and pulled his hoodie from under Sam. Sam, to her credit, told him to fuck off and went back to snoring. Tucker, somehow having heard her, responded with a 'Go fuck yourself'.

Shaking his head, Danny turned back to Tim. "Let's get going. It's-" Danny turned to look at the clock, his eyes narrowing when he found it; 4 am. The kid was up and coherent enough to try and blackmail someone into being Robin at four in the morning. "-four. you seriously need to get some sleep kid. It's a school night." actually, what day was it???

Tim rolled his eyes but started to follow Danny out the door. "It's Saturday, and I've stayed up longer," he grumbled.

Danny snorted, "So have I, but we still need to sleep." He should probably try and prevent the kid from staying up longer than he should. Danny knows what years of not sleeping properly does to someone. The kid's obsessed with Batman and Robin, right? He'll just use them then.

"Robin needs all the sleep he can get. Otherwise, Batman will bench him. If Robin is benched, then who is out there helping Batman?" That's convincing, right? Does Batman even have the power to bench Robin? From the sounds of it, Robin is his kid's vigilante name. Which means he totally has the power to ground them.

Wait...

If Danny was going to be Robin, does that mean Batman would think he's his kid?

Oh, hell naw. He was not going to be adopted by another fruitloop! If Bruce Wayne even thinks about it, Danny will be out of there so fast even the Flash couldn't stop him.

Tim stumbled, his eyes wide in surprise. "Really?" he asks, turning to look at Danny in horror. Danny blinked, brain failing to remember why the kid would be surprised.

shit, what were they talking about?? Robin... It's four am... Right!

"Yep," Danny chirped, leading the kid to his car. "Now, I know everyone says not to get into a stranger's car and all that jazz, but it's the only way I'm getting you home. So, hop in."

Tim didn't even hesitate to jump into the passenger seat, pulling the seat belt across his chest. Danny stared at him for a second, before opening the car door and sitting down.

"kid, you do know you're not supposed to get into strangers' cars, right?" Danny asked, closing the door and buckling up. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys and started the engine.

"Well, yeah?" Tim replied, turning to face him, "But you're not a stranger. You're Robin. You protect people not hurt them."

and well? Danny can't argue with that, now, can he?

"Right, fine. Just promise not to get into strangers' cars. I don't care how much you think you know about them. It's not safe, and you could get hurt."

Tim hummed, thinking about it for a moment before nodding his head. "Yeah, alright. I promise."

"good." Danny sighed, turning to look at the road to see if it was clear. then he sighed again, "Don't tell strangers where you live, please."

Tim looked at him in amusement, a small smile spreading across his face. "Drake manor. 1015 Mountain Drive. It's in the Crest Hill community."

"You're killing me here, kid." Danny groaned, hitting his head against the steering wheel. Then he slowly lifted his head and turned to stare at Tim, "Kid. How the hell did you get all the way over here? Mountain Drive is all the way over in Bristol??? That's, like, twelve miles outside of city limits?"

"I have my ways."

Danny narrowed his eyes, "You bribed someone, didn't you."

Tim looked away from him, fiddling with his fingers.

sighing, Danny sat up and started driving down the road. They sat in silence for a while, just listening to the chaos that was Gotham City as they drove. Tim eventually slumped over, his head resting against the window.

It took a good thirty minutes before Danny could turn onto the bridge out of town. The traffic wasn't heavy, just the occasional car here and there. It was almost peaceful.

"Turn here," Tim suddenly instructed, startling Danny.

"Tim!" Danny cried, turning to look at the kid, then back at the road. although, he did do as the kid instructed. "don't do that! you'll give me a heart attack or something! Ancients!"

Tim blinked, then shrugged. "ok," he yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"my house is the one with really stupid-looking ducks carved into the gates." Tim supplied, waving his hand at the road ahead of them. "Bruce's is the one with bats, but you knew that."

"Right," Danny agreed. What were the chances that Batman happened to live in a place called Gotham and in a house with black iron gates covered in bats? It was almost as coincidental as Danny's last name sounding like Phantom. Fate really had quite the sense of humor, didn't they?

after they passed a few more dirt roads, Tim pointed at a specific one, "Turn here. The gates a little further back than everyone else's."

Danny hummed, turning the car onto the road. What was his life at this point? Driving children to their huge houses at four-thirty in the morning? agreeing to become Robin? coming out of retirement because a kid asked him to?

Bruce Wayne better appreciate all the effort this kid was going through...

A tall gate slowly popped into view, making Danny slow the car down until he could stop right in front of it. "Alright, kid. You're home. get some sleep. Go to school, I don't know, what do you rich kids do on the weekends? actually, you know what? It doesn't matter, do you have a phone?"

Tim blinked as he slowly unbuckled, "yes?"

"One that's not monitored by your parents or anyone else?"

"..."

Danny sighed, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his phone. "Here," Danny unlocked it, went to settings and pressed the factory rest option. Once the phone finished the reset, he quickly scanned through it to make sure it was all gone before adding his second phone number. once done, he tossed it over to the kid. "here, should work for now. Don't let anyone else have it."

If this was any other situation, Danny would have gone straight to the kid's parents; but considering it was past four in the morning and there wasn't a city-wide amber alert? He has a feeling the kid needs a safety net, and well? What better than a direct line to him?

"I can't just take your phone!" Tim cried, catching the phone before it could fall to the ground.

"It's my backup one. I tend to break my phone pretty often, so I always keep an extra one on me. my current number is saved on it, you can reach out and get in contact with me now." Danny waved off the kid's concern, reaching into the back of the car to grab a bag.

with how often his phone had broken during ghost fights and how frequently his parents dissected his phone for parts? It's a habit at this point to have a backup. or Ten. Pulling the bag to the front, Danny showed the kid what was inside.

"..." Tim blinked, then looked up at Danny. "why do you have a bag of broken phones in your car?"

"Because my phones keep breaking and I figured it would be easier to just keep them for extra parts than toss them. Now," Danny tossed the bag into the back, ignoring how it tipped over and spilled the contents all over the seat. He'd clean it up later. Maybe. "It's early. You need sleep, I need sleep. We can pick another day to sit down and build a game plan."

Tim sat in silence for a moment, staring at the phone in his hands, before glancing up at Danny. "You really mean it?" he asked, turning the phone around anxiously, "you really want my help?"

"kid, Tim," Danny started, tilting his head so he could make eye contact. "with how bad you say Batman's gotten? I'm going to need all the help I can get. Who better than the one who went out of his way to try and actually do something about it?"

Tim's eyes watered as he looked back at the phone. "ok," he whispered, nodding his head. Reaching up, he wiped his face clean before taking a deep breath and letting it out.

"ok," he repeated, voice stronger now. "I'll help. I want to."

"Good," Danny nodded in agreement, then smiled. "get some sleep kid, you need it."

"I don't need it," Tim grumbled, turning to open the door and get out. "but if that's what it takes for you to allow me to help, then I guess I can take a nap or something."

Danny snorted, watching as Tim closed the car door and started making his way to the gate.

as soon as the kid was out of view, Danny slammed his head onto the steering wheel and groaned. He had definitely jinxed himself earlier. How hard can being Ribin be? Yeah right. He hasn't even gotten to meet Bruce yet and he's already stressed.

...

Glancing up, Danny watched as the clock glitched then turned to five am.

...

Well then, he might as well do something productive since it was unlikely he'd be getting any more sleep if he went back. Sam would be up by the time he got there, which meant he'd have to answer all of her questions... which would wake Tucker up, which would mean Danny'd have to explain all over again.

Glancing around, Danny suddenly realized something.

Batman.

Bruce Wayne was Batman.

Bruce Wayne; as in, Gotham's own himbo billionaire.

Who lives in Bristol.

Which is where he is right now. Logically speaking, he'd be able to find it pretty fast if he just looked at the gates. It's probably just a few houses from Tim's too, now that he thought about it...

Oh, this was a terrible idea, but when had that ever stopped Danny?

Jazz was so going to kill him for this.

Next

#Tim Drake saw someone do a quadruple somersault #It was Danny using his powers to do it #And thought for years Robin was Danny #He still figured out Bruce #But thought Dick was in the dark #Danny pretends to be Robin #Post Jason's death #The Wrong Robin Au #danny's only had tim for two hours #but if anything happened to him #he'd kill everyone in the room and then himself #Bruce has no clue what's about to happen #Tim is definitely sticking around to watch this go down #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp #tim drake #Wrong Robin Au #bruce wayne #batman #danny phantom #dpxdc #dick grayson #i think i got all the tags #but i don't know #oh well #there's already alot of them

[haikyu-mp4]

Sponsored

word count; 742 – gn!reader who likes makeup

“Sugarpill… what is this?” Kenma mumbled as he opened another PR package. This one was a bright pink box, on the smaller side. He scrunched his nose as he opened it, finding a little flyer and something square with a pixelated cat on the front. “Fun size… eyeshadow palette?” he read off the label and looked up as the chat suddenly went crazy.

kozuluvr: omg its makeup

kenkenspudding: will we finally get beauty guru kodzuken?

raginggamergirl: I dont even use makeup n I want this palette

Kenma hummed under his breath, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know why they would send me this,” he said honestly, twisting and turning the palette in his hands before opening it and showing the bright colours to the livestream, also doing his best to read off the names, which were all gaming related.

urfavkuroo: makeup tutorial for your next follower special?

He looked down at the palette, seemingly studying it. “The names are cool.”

When you came home from work, you kicked your shoes off and sighed loudly as you strolled into the kitchen. You knew Kenma was playing on livestream, so you picked up two juice boxes from the fridge and went to his office.

“Hey, baby,” you cooed, waving at the camera as you stepped up beside Kenma and pressed a kiss to his cheek. You two announced your relationship a long time ago, and after getting through the short period of intense hate comments, most of his fans seemed to get over it. They realised that you were kind of awesome.

“Hi, how was work?” Kenma asked, taking the juice box from you with a small thanks after pausing the game.

“Same old, same old.” You glanced at the screen and then back to him. “And yours?” you asked back with a teasing tone. “Looks tough.” Kenma scoffed and pinched your thigh, making you giggle. He ignored your question in favour of leaning across his desk to pick up the pink package.

“Look what I got in my sponsored mail,” was all he said, handing it to you and watching for your reaction with a small smile on his face. He really likes it when you get home.

People started posting suggested makeup looks with his name on Twitter and you even responded to a couple of them from your account, agreeing with what would suit him and what would not.

That’s why you two agreed that you would do the makeup on him, announcing on Kodzuken’s channels that if they got him to his next follower milestone, they would get a makeup special.

And what do you know, Kenma got a follower boost from all the posts his fans made about him and the palette.

You happily helped him set up to film in your living room, so you could sit cross-legged and face each other on the couch where the lighting was a bit nicer. In preparation, you cleaned your eyeshadow brushes and put Kenma’s hair in a nicer bun so the camera could properly catch whatever you did.

He raised a brow as you held up the eyeshadow palette to the camera and put your hand behind it, explaining the product. “What are you even doing?” he asked you, pointer finger drawing stars on your knee while he watched you affectionately.

“This is what us beauty gurus do,” you said in a jokingly posh voice, also telling him “You wouldn’t understand.”

“This is my channel, you know,” he teased, using his other hand to tap your cheek. If he focused more on you, he didn’t think too much about how much more exposed he was to his viewers in a video like this compared to what he was used to.

“Shh, I’m talking to my devoted followers,” you said before laughing, picking up the next colour on a new brush and putting a quick kiss on his lips before you continued with the makeup. “We’re all Kodzuken fans here.”

Kenma knew some people expected him to act annoyed, but he also knew there was no way to hide how much he loved your soft touches and the concentrated look on your face as your brushes ticked his skin to give him a (supposedly trendy) “rainbow blush”.

There were even more mentions of him online after the video was posted. Now the fans shared screenshots and video clips of him and his partner, discussing how adorable you were together. Couple goals.

masterlist

#haikyu #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #fanfiction #hq #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyu fluff #kenma fluff #kozume kenma #kenma #kenma x reader #hq kenma #kodzuken

[evilminji]

O.O!!! :Dc wait a second.... Aquaman >.>

Good JOB Brain! That IS a good idea!

Don't know if YOU GUYS all know this? But Arthur? Son of a Lighthouse keeper and the Queen of Atlantis? THAT Arthur Curry aka. Orin? Has CONSIDERABLY enhanced durability. Like... *hit by a car* "ha. Cute." Enhanced.

It's because of the DEEP Sea water pressure he's built for.

I bring this up? Because the man is a legit BAMF. Absolutely TERRIFYING near any body of water. Dude has SUPER STRENGTH AND HYDROKINESIS. Not ONLY are YOU filled with water, but every street corner in the world has pipes! He is NEVER not armed.

That's not including the "yes I can ask a lobster to take your dick off" thing.

But most of all? He has the RAGE. The lifetime of injustice after injustice. His home under attack, his people suffering and regarded as LESS. The poison dumped into their air. Their lands taken, PRESUMED the property of land dwellers.

Treated as criminals and monsters should they DARE defend themselves.

Yet? He is a leader. A husband, father, mentor. The death of his child can not take from him that title. Nor years numb that pain. He strives to be good. Be wise. Live well.

Yet? There is once AGAIN fuckery in his ocean. Some "secret" lab. Poking at a swirling green portal. At the BOTTOM OF THE SEA. For God's sake, they DO REALIZE, you can't HIDE things from him down here, RIGHT?

It looks radioactive.

He refuses to have that so close to Atlantis.

Sends a notice up to the Watchtower, a call back to his Wife, and leads the gaurd team in. Painfully easy, really. Bog standard humans, caught off gaurd. Right until one of them does something... stupid.

He tries to blow the place. Destroy evidence. It would kill all of them. Which is not Arthur's main concern. No, what IS? Is that it would dump radioactive SOMETHING into the waters near Atlantis.

He dives forward. They struggle. A button is smashed and...

Their containment field drops.

They had been keeping it in a perfect vacuum.

Arthur is sucked in.

Watches, in free fall, as his men's faces turn to horror. As they desperately dive to follow him. Loyal. True. But ultimately too late. He curses himself as he loses sit of them. But forces himself to focus, twist, get his feet under him. His is in air, above LAND.

He hits HARD.

But not the ground like he had planned.

He's slamed, at an awkward, frantic, angle and knocked off course. His weight crashing down onto a scrawny slip of a boy, who weezes and struggles to get a proper grip. His arms not quite long enough to go all the way around his barrel of a chest.

He helps, by slinging an arm over his young savior.

Only then, does he notice, the tiny crown of ice and nebula, poking at a jaunty angle from the child's head.

Their landing would be rough, had Arthur not caught them, once he gets close enough to the ground. The young royal gasping for air, having clearly pushed his limits to get to Arthur in time. He hauls himself up. Not yet a man, but not as young as Arthur feared. His eyes glow.

"Hoooly SHIT. Are you okay?! I hit you really hard! I'm so, SO sorry! I panicked! And-"

Honestly? A little bruised. But nothings he's going to ADMIT too.

More concerning? The injuries.

There's a screech of tires turning sharp corners. Sirens getting closer. The young king whips around. Terror seeping onto his face. It gives Arthur an unobstructed view of pointed ears, softly glowing skin with star like freckles, and scars that creep up the child's neck. He does not like the picture being painted.

"We have to GO. Now. Please, I'll explain in a moment! But we have to go NOW!"

Really, REALLY does not like the picture. And he has WAYS of dealing with such things as this. But safety first. Prioritize the children. They go. He vows to get answers. And all around Amity? Certain individuals days are NUMBERED.

@babbling-babull @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation @lolottes @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #aquaman #minji's writing #AquaDad Au #Water Wrath Au

[mostlysignssomeportents]

UK publishers suing Google for $17.4b over rigged ad markets

THIS WEEKEND (June 7–9), I'm in AMHERST, NEW YORK to keynote the 25th Annual Media Ecology Association Convention and accept the Neil Postman Award for Career Achievement in Public Intellectual Activity.

Look, no one wants to kick Big Tech to the curb more than I do, but, also: it's good that Google indexes the news so people can find it, and it's good that Facebook provides forums where people can talk about the news.

It's not news if you can't find it. It's not news if you can't talk about it. We don't call information you can't find or discuss "news" – we call it "secrets."

And yet, the most popular – and widely deployed – anti-Big Tech tactic promulgated by the news industry and supported by many of my fellow trustbusters is premised on making Big Tech pay to index the news and/or provide a forum to discuss news articles. These "news bargaining codes" (or, less charitably, "link taxes") have been mooted or introduced in the EU, France, Spain, Australia, and Canada. There are proposals to introduce these in the US (through the JCPA) and in California (the CJPA).

These US bills are probably dead on arrival, for reasons that can be easily understood by the Canadian experience with them. After Canada introduced Bill C-18 – its own news bargaining code – Meta did exactly what it had done in many other places where this had been tried: blocked all news from Facebook, Instagram, Threads, and other Meta properties.

This has been a disaster for the news industry and a disaster for Canadians' ability to discuss the news. Oh, it makes Meta look like assholes, too, but Meta is the poster child for "too big to care" and is palpably indifferent to the PR costs of this boycott.

Frustrated lawmakers are now trying to figure out what to do next. The most common proposal is to order Meta to carry the news. Canadians should be worried about this, because the next government will almost certainly be helmed by the far-right conspiratorialist culture warrior Pierre Poilievre, who will doubtless use this power to order Facebook to platform "news sites" to give prominence to Canada's rotten bushel of crypto-fascist (and openly fascist) "news" sites.

Americans should worry about this too. A Donald Trump 2028 presidency combined with a must-carry rule for news would see Trump's cabinet appointees deciding what is (and is not) news, and ordering large social media platforms to cram the Daily Caller (or, you know, the Daily Stormer) into our eyeballs.

But there's another, more fundamental reason that must-carry is incompatible with the American system: the First Amendment. The government simply can't issue a blanket legal order to platforms requiring them to carry certain speech. They can strongly encourage it. A court can order limited compelled speech (say, a retraction following a finding of libel). Under emergency conditions, the government might be able to compel the transmission of urgent messages. But there's just no way the First Amendment can be squared with a blanket, ongoing order issued by the government to communications platforms requiring them to reproduce, and make available, everything published by some collection of their favorite news outlets.

This might also be illegal in Canada, but it's harder to be definitive. The Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms was enshrined in 1982, and Canada's Supreme Court is still figuring out what it means. Section Two of the Charter enshrines a free expression right, but it's worded in less absolute terms than the First Amendment, and that's deliberate. During the debate over the wording of the Charter, Canadian scholars and policymakers specifically invoked problems with First Amendment absolutism and tried to chart a middle course between strong protections for free expression and problems with the First Amendment's brook-no-exceptions language.

So maybe Canada's Supreme Court would find a must-carry order to Meta to be a violation of the Charter, but it's hard to say for sure. The Charter is both young and ambiguous, so it's harder to be definitive about what it would say about this hypothetical. But when it comes to the US and the First Amendment, that's categorically untrue. The US Constitution is centuries older than the Canadian Charter, and the First Amendment is extremely definitive, and there are reams of precedent interpreting it. The JPCA and CJPA are totally incompatible with the US Constitution. Passing them isn't as silly as passing a law declaring that Pi equals three or that water isn't wet, but it's in the neighborhood.

But all that isn't to say that the news industry shouldn't be attacking Big Tech. Far from it. Big Tech compulsively steals from the news!

But what Big Tech steals from the news isn't content.

It's money.

Big Tech steals money from the news. Take social media: when a news outlet invests in building a subscriber base on a social media platform, they're giving that platform a stick to beat them with. The more subscribers you have on social media, the more you'll be willing to pay to reach those subscribers, and the more incentive there is for the platform to suppress the reach of your articles unless you pay to "boost" your content.

This is plainly fraudulent. When I sign up to follow a news outlet on a social media site, I'm telling the platform to show me the things the news outlet publishes. When the platform uses that subscription as the basis for a blackmail plot, holding my desire to read the news to ransom, they are breaking their implied promise to me to show me the things I asked to see:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-need-end-end-web

This is stealing money from the news. It's the definition of an "unfair method of competition." Article 5 of the Federal Trade Commission Act gives the FTC the power to step in and ban this practice, and they should:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

Big Tech also steals money from the news via the App Tax: the 30% rake that the mobile OS duopoly (Apple/Google) requires for every in-app purchase (Apple/Google also have policies that punish app vendors who take you to the web to make payments without paying the App Tax). 30% out of every subscriber dollar sent via an app is highway robbery! By contrast, the hyperconcentrated, price-gouging payment processing cartel charges 2-5% – about a tenth of the Big Tech tax. This is Big Tech stealing money from the news:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-must-open-app-stores

Finally, Big Tech steals money by monopolizing the ad market. The Google-Meta ad duopoly takes 51% out of every ad-dollar spent. The historic share going to advertising "intermediaries" is 10-15%. In other words, Google/Meta cornered the market on ads and then tripled the bite they were taking out of publishers' advertising revenue. They even have an illegal, collusive arrangement to rig this market, codenamed "Jedi Blue":

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jedi_Blue

There's two ways to unrig the ad market, and we should do both of them.

First, we should trustbust both Google and Meta and force them to sell off parts of their advertising businesses. Currently, both Google and Meta operate a "full stack" of ad services. They have an arm that represents advertisers buying space for ads. Another arm represents publishers selling space to advertisers. A third arm operates the marketplace where these sales take place. All three arms collect fees. On top of that: Google/Meta are both publishers and advertisers, competing with their own customers!

This is as if you were in court for a divorce and you discovered that the same lawyer representing your soon-to-be ex was also representing you…while serving as the judge…and trying to match with you both on Tinder. It shouldn't surprise you if at the end of that divorce, the court ruled that the family home should go to the lawyer.

So yeah, we should break up ad-tech:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-shatter-ad-tech

Also: we should ban surveillance advertising. Surveillance advertising gives ad-tech companies a permanent advantage over publishers. Ad-tech will always know more about readers' behavior than publishers do, because Big Tech engages in continuous, highly invasive surveillance of every internet user in the world. Surveillance ads perform a little better than "content-based ads" (ads sold based on the content of a web-page, not the behavior of the person looking at the page), but publishers will always know more about their content than ad-tech does. That means that even if content-based ads command a slightly lower price than surveillance ads, a much larger share of that payment will go to publishers:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-ban-surveillance-advertising

Banning surveillance advertising isn't just good business, it's good politics. The potential coalition for banning surveillance ads is everyone who is harmed by commercial surveillance. That's a coalition that's orders of magnitude larger than the pool of people who merely care about fairness in the ad/news industries. It's everyone who's worried about their grandparents being brainwashed on Facebook, or their teens becoming anorexic because of Instagram. It includes people angry about deepfake porn, and people angry about Black Lives Matter protesters' identities being handed to the cops by Google (see also: Jan 6 insurrectionists).

It also includes everyone who discovers that they're paying higher prices because a vendor is using surveillance data to determine how much they'll pay – like when McDonald's raises the price of your "meal deal" on your payday, based on the assumption that you will spend more when your bank account is at its highest monthly level:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/05/your-price-named/#privacy-first-again

Attacking Big Tech for stealing money is much smarter than pretending that the problem is Big Tech stealing content. We want Big Tech to make the news easy to find and discuss. We just want them to stop pocketing 30 cents out of every subscriber dollar and 51 cents out of ever ad dollar, and ransoming subscribers' social media subscriptions to extort publishers.

And there's amazing news on this front: a consortium of UK web-publishers called Ad Tech Collective Action has just triumphed in a high-stakes proceeding, and can now go ahead with a suit against Google, seeking damages of GBP13.6b ($17.4b) for the rigged ad-tech market:

https://www.reuters.com/technology/17-bln-uk-adtech-lawsuit-against-google-can-go-ahead-tribunal-rules-2024-06-05/

The ruling, from the Competition Appeal Tribunal, paves the way for a frontal assault on the thing Big Tech actually steals from publishers: money, not content.

This is exactly what publishing should be doing. Targeting the method by which tech steals from the news is a benefit to all kinds of news organizations, including the independent, journalist-owned publishers that are doing the best news work today. These independents do not have the same interests as corporate news, which is dominated by hedge funds and private equity raiders, who have spent decades buying up and hollowing out news outlets, and blaming the resulting decline in readership and profits on Craiglist.

You can read more about Big Finance's raid on the news in Margot Susca's Hedged: How Private Investment Funds Helped Destroy American Newspapers and Undermine Democracy:

https://www.press.uillinois.edu/books/?id=p087561

You can also watch/listen to Adam Conover's excellent interview with Susca:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N21YfWy0-bA

Frankly, the looters and billionaires who bought and gutted our great papers are no more interested in the health of the news industry or democracy than Big Tech is. We should care about the news and the workers who produce the news, not the profits of the hedge-funds that own the news. An assault on Big Tech's monetary theft levels the playing field, making it easier for news workers and indies to compete directly with financialized news outlets and billionaire playthings, by letting indies keep more of every ad-dollar and more of every subscriber-dollar – and to reach their subscribers without paying ransom to social media.

Ending monetary theft – rather than licensing news search and discussion – is something that workers are far more interested in than their bosses. Any time you see workers and their bosses on the same side as a fight against Big Tech, you should look more closely. Bosses are not on their workers' side. If bosses get more money out of Big Tech, they will not share those gains with workers unless someone forces them to.

That's where antitrust comes in. Antitrust is designed to strike at power, and enforcers have broad authority to blunt the power of corporate juggernauts. Remember Article 5 of the FTC Act, the one that lets the FTC block "unfair methods of competition?" FTC Chair Lina Khan has proposed using it to regulate training AI, specifically to craft rules that address the labor and privacy issues with AI:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3mh8Z5pcJpg

This is an approach that can put creative workers where they belong, in a coalition with other workers, rather than with their bosses. The copyright approach to curbing AI training is beloved of the same media companies that are eagerly screwing their workers. If we manage to make copyright – a transferrable right that a worker can be forced to turn over their employer – into the system that regulates AI training, it won't stop training. It'll just trigger every entertainment company changing their boilerplate contract so that creative workers have to sign over their AI rights or be shown the door:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/13/spooky-action-at-a-close-up/#invisible-hand

Then those same entertainment and news companies will train AI models and try to fire most of their workers and slash the pay of the remainder using those models' output. Using copyright to regulate AI training makes changes to who gets to benefit from workers' misery, shifting some of our stolen wages from AI companies to entertainment companies. But it won't stop them from ruining our lives.

By contrast, focusing on actual labor rights – say, through an FTCA 5 rulemaking – has the potential to protect those rights from all parties, and puts us on the same side as call-center workers, train drivers, radiologists and anyone else whose wages are being targeted by AI companies and their customers.

Policy fights are a recurring monkey's paw nightmare in which we try to do something to fight corruption and bullying, only to be outmaneuvered by corrupt bullies. Making good policy is no guarantee of a good outcome, but it sure helps – and good policy starts with targeting the thing you want to fix. If we're worried that news is being financially starved by Big Tech, then we should go after the money, not the links.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/06/stealing-money-not-content/#content-free

#pluralistic #competition #advertising #surveillance advertising #saving the news from big tech #link taxes #trustbusting #competition and markets authority #uk #ukpoli #Ad Tech Collective Action #digital markets unit #Competition Appeal Tribunal

[g0dlyunsub]

on your own. | part two

you’re strapped to an explosive and left with three minutes to convince spencer to leave you. (part 2 of 2)

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

contents :: general cm themes, mentions/depictions of stalking, kidnapping, death, drug injections (dilaudid), explosives, angst angst angst so much angst

word count :: 3.3k

author’s note :: it's out!! reader is so mean to spencer in the beginning, but it's all an act, i promise :( please read part one if you haven’t already, and let me know what you think!

accompanying song :: as the world caves in by matt maltese

taglist :: @myuhh8, @pleasantwitchgarden, @babyspiderling, @kitty-kei, @delusional-4-fake-people, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @themindofmoe

can you hate someone for what they have done, but still love them for whom they had been? – jodi picoult, nineteen minutes

his voice instantly fills the deep chasm in your heart.

the woman you were – a soul eager to give and receive love – died a year ago. lynne davis replaced your smile with the expression of a self-loathing woman, fed you with humiliation instead of warmth, and made you forget the taste of human companionship. you watched yourself fall apart more and more with each passing day and you never grieved your own loss, for you didn’t have the time.

so when spencer finds you in your wrecked state, slick strands of hair sticking to your forehead and the cuts on your face begging for urgent attention with their swelling undertones of red, you instantly put your head down. hearing your name stings your skin with humiliation and trepidation.

you curse under your breath. your cap wasn’t on your head anymore, so there was no shadow under which you could hide your eyes. there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, nowhere to fake. you were like a deer caught in his headlights, or like a rabbit caught in his bear trap, the shame swallowing you whole. maybe this was all karma coming to bite you in the back, its teeth sinking into your flesh so you would go cold in front of the one you once loved so selflessly.

still looking at the rocky asphalt floor, you contemplate whether you should make a run for it. for some reason, being chased down to the ground sounds more welcoming than being chased down with his words. you already knew a confession wouldn’t make up for your treason. so you turn and walk with heavy steps, steps weighed down with fear.

but spencer wasn’t willing to sit in silence for eternity. he felt a burning sensation crawl through his skin. all these months he was mourning your loss with the regret of washing the same hands that touched you. he relived your absence every day like a haunting crime, cursing his photographic memory for detailing every inch of your face as he ripped through your flesh in his imagination. he was hungry for answers.

his wide strides follow yours as the splitting sounds of the asphalt crunching under his shoes echo in your eardrums. each step pulls at the strings of your heart like a violent demand. crunch. say you’re sorry. crunch. say you’re sorry. crunch. say you’re sorry.

“y/n, wait.” 

you don’t stop. the air hits your tongue like bitter regret and sour ignorance.

“please!” 

the desperation in his voice knocks the wind out of you. hesitantly, you turn around.

you know he can smell the blood on you, the dirt rubbed into your wounds, and the grime stuck to your sweat. you clench your fist. you’ve seen this ending in your dreams so many times, where he lashes out at you with his boiling rage, and you listen because that’s the only justice you deserve. but you didn’t expect it to come so soon.

“you… you’re okay,” he says with a feathery voice, and his softness feels unintentionally cruel. why is he talking to you like that?

and why is he looking at you like that? you don’t deserve to be looked at with his puppy eyes, glossy with concern for you. 

why isn’t he yelling at you like a man seeking revenge, or glaring at you with monstrous rage?

your tone, by contrast, is icy and dark. “yeah, i… i am. you didn’t have to come looking for me.” 

“your stalker. what happened to him?” he ignores your statement and his cavernous eyes dig deeper into your gaze.

so he knew. you suck in a breath slowly as you grit your teeth.

“he’s down. i got him in the leg.”

a minute into a conversation that’s overdue by a year, and you’re already lying. but you’re so preoccupied with the thoughts of getting out of this helpless situation, you don’t realize how you’re putting down your defense.

he narrows his eyes as he studies your face. you hate when he does this, because you don’t know the thoughts he’s stirring in his head. 

after a second, he pipes up with a desperate roughness in his voice. “we need to get you to the hospital, i-i’ll let them know right now. let us help you.”

the urge to yell out no dances on your lips dangerously. you will not bring the others into this, especially not the rest of the bau. sensing the danger of his implication, you realize it’s now or never.

“there’s no need. i’m fine. i… really need to get going now.” 

you wish to say goodbye, just this once, but the hesitation that’s latched onto you since last year isn’t so easy to get rid of.

he scoffs and you think you see his hazel eyes flash with a speck of red. “yeah, just go and leave me, it’s not like you’ve done this before, right?”

your toes curl and dig into the foam of your shoes. his stare bores straight into your soul.

he doesn't give you a chance to reply. “all of our lives were in your hands. you didn’t think we had the right to know?”

his question sweeps your breath away. you wish he never asked. emotion cascades over you like a crumbling rock, and you can practically hear his rage gnawing at whatever patience was left in his body. 

“i just… i was never meant to make it this far,” you whisper quietly, so faintly you ponder for a brief moment if your voice is even audible. a penitent expression paints your face as you look away.

your response is the last straw.

spencer decides to wear you down to oblivion.

“you were never meant to make it this far? i didn’t leave my room for three weeks. for three weeks, y/n, i had to find a reason to stay alive!”

his icy tone impales your heart, and it’s a thousand times more painful than the needle your stalker pricked you with. but he doesn’t stop there.

“i’ll be honest with you because you can’t. i hated myself, y/n! did anything we ever talk about leave any impression on you? because the day you walked out of my life, just like my dad did, it really made me think that maybe everyone i loved was out to ruin me!” he throws fiery jabs with his words, each hitting harder than before.

with a crack in his voice, he adds, “i thought it was something i did that made you turn against me.”

a whimper threatens to leave your mouth. 

a choking cry sounds as he spills more heart-wrenching words. “i couldn’t pinpoint what it was, so i… i injected myself again so i could feel something. so i could feel sorry. it’s nothing you would care about, though.” he wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve, his chest heaving with shuddering exhales. 

you feel so stupid, so cruel, so god damned fucking stupid. his words tear your gut like it's a punching bag, knocking you down and throwing you around until you’re bruised to the bone. even the sun turns its warmth away from you, shunning you by making you face the shade. you stand like a lifeless doll, feeling your jaw clench as you bite down on the inside of your cheeks because the agony is too much to bear. 

for a year, you had to withhold yourself from running back to the office, to collapse into spencer’s arms. now that you were face-to-face with him, you couldn’t even look him in the eye to say you missed him.

“you’re right. i’m sorry that i couldn’t care. i don’t trust you, reid.” 

you shock yourself with the words that come out of your own mouth, and it feels like your body’s being controlled by someone else. the worst part, it’s not that he wouldn’t understand if you tried to explain. rather, it’s that you simply don’t have the time to explain. you couldn’t afford to toy with the idea of death when it was grabbing you right by the feet. 

“you’re lying.” his quiet voice ruffles the hairs on your neck, and you can almost feel the ghost of his hands brush your face. 

you certainly are. your shaking shoulders, your reddening cheeks, your watering eyes. your twitching lips, your sniffling nose, your sweating upper lip. the forced prolonged eye contact. after a year of not seeing each other, you wish he would’ve forgotten the behavioral markers that were your dead giveaway. but you couldn’t fool anyone with an eidetic memory.

with the outward shame crawling to your cheeks with a burning flame, your hands instinctively reach to touch the back of your neck. you stop when you feel a wire peeking from under your jacket collar.

shit.

“what is that?” spencer’s voice quavers with disturbed curiosity as he lowers his head to get a better view of your clothed neck.

you try to mask the wire by turning to the side ever so slightly, but spencer never fails to let a single detail slip past his attention. he’s already making steps towards you, and you take several of your own backwards, waving your hands.

“stop. don’t come any closer. don’t!” you yell, frantically shaking your head as you hold your arms up to try and bar him from coming any closer.

but he doesn’t listen.

he grabs both of your hands with one of his, overtaking your arms with such force you worry that he’s going to tear your limbs out, and unzips your jacket.

the last of your hope splinters like a glass vial.

a tear slides from your bottom eyelid, and you watch helplessly as it drops and trickles down along the vein of his arm. you hang your head low, afraid to look into his eyes.

but you’re forced to anyway, because the timer for the bomb on your chest activates with a beep, startling the both of you.

2:59.

“fuck. y/n, you…” the harshness of his voice scathes your already-wounded heart.

you shake your head, the darkness closing in as you fight to keep a steady breath.

“i need you to leave right now, spencer reid,” you beg with the words of a desperate plea.

“no,” he responds sternly, a glare splitting your walls with such anger you clamp your mouth shut. 

he forces the jacket off of you and turns you around to get a better view of the electrical components. he reaches for his phone, but you grasp his arm before he can call for a bomb squad.

“don’t bother. we don’t have time.”

and your cover’s blown. the moment you say we, you know you’ve made a fatal blunder. if you really didn’t care, you would’ve let him dial the number.

he knows you care deep down, despite your abrasive words. 

“four wires, red, white, blue, and yellow,” he begins, and you know your denouement is set in stone. 

2:40. 

“if we cut the wire or fuse connecting the trigger and the explosives then we’ll have a chance at disarming the bomb. we still need to account for the possibility of a secondary trigger or the existence of several detonators, as well as if there’s a trigger mechanism that monitors when they’re being cut.” you can’t tell if he’s trying to comfort you while he starts his inchoate examination or if he’s trying to comfort himself. maybe it’s both.

“spencer, i’m begging you, please. go,” you say as you try to move away again, but he backs you up against the brick wall of the alleyway. he grips you even tighter, nails digging into your skin. it hurts like scalding pain.

you’re dying for him to stop trying. 

the kid inside of you cries a bitter symphony of hot, painful thoughts. you don’t want to die, not when you have decades ahead of you to redeem yourself. but you reason that you don’t deserve a good ending, and that spencer is the only one that should come out of this alive. 

but then again, survivor’s guilt is a dastardly power.

2:15. 

“spencer, please. it’s my last wish.”

he looks at you for a brief moment, locking his gaze with yours. he’s so close to you yet feels so far. 

“l-look. i need you to let me concentrate,” spencer says shakingly, lightly tracing his fingers along the blasting cap. your breath hitches in the back of your throat, and you forget how to exhale.

1:59. 

sweat trickles from your forehead, and you don’t dare move to wipe it. you hear his elevated breaths and watch as a concentrated expression overtakes his face. 

you close your eyes.

you hear the bickering chirps of the birds in the distance, the sounds of construction as steel clashes against steel, and the faint laughter of women ringing out like freedom.

it’s a beautiful rhapsody to listen to when you’re dying in the subtlety.

1:30. 

you open your eyes. in a stupor of fatigue, you decide to apologize.

“i’m so sorry, spence, i’m so sorry.”

it feels pathetic to say it now.

“i’m such a coward,” you cry, and you carry the blame with your fingers as you try to release his grip on your arm one last time.

1:15. 

“d-don’t. say. that.” the tears are now streaking down spencer’s face, merging at his chin and dropping like raindrops to the floor.

“you need to leave,” you croak out, biting back a bitter sob as he tries to look at the device harnessed around your chest again.

“please,” you try once more.

“i’m never leaving you.” his hushed voice cracks and slaps against your eardrums like whiplash.

0:59. 

“i never stopped trying to reach for you, y/n.” he breaks the brief silence like waves crashing against the coastline.

“you didn't say goodbye and a part of me thought you were coming back,” he continues, and you break down, the words gutting you like a brutal kick to your stomach. the waves relentlessly lap, rumbling deep in your shredded horizon. 

“i… encountered your article in the news journal by chance,” he reveals, and your heart plummets even further.

of course. how naive of you. how could you forget that he was subscribed to every news journal, when you knew he read the news columns and the advertisements every day? you should've known you would fall straight into his hands.

“all of the linguistic features screamed that it was you. you… never moved up to new york.”

a hiccup leaves your chest between gasps.

“i confirmed it was you by asking garcia to cross-check every writers’ name and id in the database.” his knuckles are white, and the vapor from his breath fogs the silver metal of the device.

“i went to every managing editor’s residence to ask if they knew anything about you,” he huffs and you hear a click as the glass shard he’s using as a makeshift knife saws through something. you don’t look down.

0:20. 

“i eventually came across the right person, because she gave me your email address. i sent you that email 48 days ago regarding your article, the hygiene hypothesis as an explanation for the increased rates of allergic disorders.”

“that– that was you?” a breathless whisper escapes your lips as disbelief tangles your thoughts.

you remember the email as clear as day. it was the only email that complimented your style of writing among the crowded stash of spam mails, and you starred it so you could look back at it any time. to think that spencer would never reach out to you online because he hated electronic correspondence made you completely overlook the option in the first place.

but did it matter? knowing this or knowing that couldn’t change your fate — and because you couldn’t even convince the man you abandoned a year ago to leave you, you were bringing him down with you.

0:10. 

you sigh.

what a shameful ending, to seal your fate in the arms of someone who never deserved to share your pain. what a terrible ending, to have just three minutes to let the world know your time is up. and what a regrettable ending, because even after losing everything you ever had, your stalker’s still forcing you to reap what you sowed.

if it makes you feel better, spencer, i've lived with regret every day since i left you.

if it makes you feel better, spencer, maybe in an alternate universe you and i never met. 

if it makes you feel better, spencer, you won’t ever see me again.

they’re all fragments of an apology left unsaid.

“why did you go through all of this… after everything?” you ask.

you don't expect an answer.

you let your hand fall to the ground because you don’t deserve to hold his.

0:03. 

0:02. 

0:01. 

——

“because i needed to hear you say it to my face,” a shaking voice pulses from your right ear. 

it sounds too real to assume that you’re in heaven.

you open your eyes. spencer’s eyes are already fixed onto yours, radiant under the sun's golden rays. they're almost blinding.

you look down at the timer.

it’s frozen at 0:01.

a quivering exhale leaves your mouth, and you let out a painfully scratchy sob. spencer’s hands lie pressed against the wall right above your shoulders, and his hot breath fans over your neck as he leans over you. his mop of hair lightly brushes against your skin, and goosebumps scale down your body as you catch your breath.

you then feel him tear the explosive vest away from your body, the sounds of velcro crisp against the still air. 

you don’t even ask how he did it. he’s alive, you’re alive, and that’s the only thing that matters.

a million thoughts buzz in your head, and you don’t know what to say, so you just breathe out his name with panting breaths. 

“you didn’t have a choice.” spencer gives you a sorrowful smile, and his words seem to absolve you of all of your mistakes.

with an angelic stare, he takes in the sight of you. every tear, every eyelash damp with your sweat, every crack in your dried lips.

“please don’t ever leave again, y/n. i don’t want to lose you.” he says beseechingly, his face peppered with glimmering tears. the sentence burns your tenderest flesh.

“i won’t, i promise,” you whisper hoarsely, and the two of you fall to the ground slowly, taking in each other’s hold for the first time in a long time.

as you hear the sirens sound in the distance, you let yourself succumb to spencer’s grasp and whisper a hundred thank you's against his chest. 

how beautiful, the way your heart beats in unison with his as he murmurs words of abounding love and warmth, the way his arms press against your convulsing muscles to summon comfort, and the way you don’t even have to say a word for him to understand.

because in every universe, spencer will fight everything and everyone to extinguish death from your sight, even when you have nothing to return. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #matthew gray gubler #dr spencer reid

[facioleeknow]

The art of pleasure ch.1

Caress ° Bang Chan

When one girl in your class makes fun of you for being a virgin at a party, you are left distraught. It's only natural that you decide to whine about it to your best friend, Bang Chan; but he does more than lending a shoulder to cry on, he comes up with a solution. He and his 7 friends will help you and teach you all about the pleasure of the flesh. What could go wrong?

Genre: College AU, SMUT 18+ ONLY wc: 1431

Warnings: fraternity skz, inexperienced reader, experienced chan and stray kids, kissing, frat party, a bitch, insecurities

The art of pleasure masterlist

A/N: Hello, thank you so much for the support on this series!! This chapter is pretty tame BUT IT IS THE FIRST, so don't worry about it!! Channie girls don't worry he's gonna get some later ;)

Another semester. Another party at the only frat house on campus, it was nothing out of the ordinary. The usual room filled with flowing alcohol and the usual people, dancing to the usual songs. You’re sure it might be the idea of fun of some of the people that surrounded you but not yours, obviously not yours. That was why you were the only unusual thing in there. You weren’t a party animal, you weren’t so extroverted as to go to a party to have fun. Unfortunately it was also your best friend’s birthday who happened to be the president of the fraternity, so you really couldn’t have said no to his invitation. 

The scene in front of you shifted. A drunk girl started approaching you.

“Oh my god, Y/N! You’re here, I’m so happy to see you,” the girl, from one of your classes, threw her arms around you and squeezed tightly. The feeling of her foreign body pressed against yours made you shiver uncomfortably. 

“Oh, c’mon Y/Nnie, loosen up a little!” Alice said with a sly slime. Before you could commit murder in cold blood in front of your whole year, your two (out of three) friends pulled you away into a more secluded area of the room. In front of you laid a messy circle of people, intently focused on a spinning bottle.

‘Yuck’

“I can't believe people still play spin the bottle at their old age,” Shuhua mumbled as disgusted as you.

“You read my mind,Shu.”

“Omg Y/Nnie! You want to play spin the bottle? Wouldn't it be embarrassing tho? Since you're a virgin at your big age,” Alice fell into a fit of giggles, soon followed by her friends.

“God, she cannot be serious,” you whispered to your friends while you all collectively side-eyed the bitch. And that was exactly what she was, nothing other than a bitch. But then why was your face burning in shame and your heart racing? Why were your palms sweating so much? You shouldn't have been that affected but you were.

For the whole night you couldn’t help but think about Alice's words, because no matter how spiteful they were and how much of a bitch she was, they were also true. You were a virgin “at your big age”, but that had never bothered you until you had entered college. Never in your life had you seen so many people get involved with each other and in some ways you felt pushed aside and in the dark about this magical new world that everybody had already discovered, everybody but you. 

The red solo cup in your hands wrinkled slightly under your fingertips as you squeezed it. You shouldn’t have been thinking about those things, why were you hyperfocusing right now?

“You’re supposed to collect the cups, babygirl, not strangle them,”a masculine voice pulled you out of your train of thoughts. Bang Chan, the birthday boy and your best friend. You and Chan had known each other since your first year of college, he had saved you from making a fool out of yourself the first day and walked you to your lecture hall. Since then he had stuck by your side and helped you make some new friends even if you were extremely picky with people.

“Ew, Christopher, I told you not to call me that,” you grimaced at the cringey name. He just giggled.

“I know, but I like annoying you too much,” another giggle. A small smile threatened to break your “angry” facade, this carefree side of him was a rare sight and the fact that he was showing it to you was making you giddy.

His warm hands snatched the trash bag away from you before clasping around your smaller ones. 

“Seriously, what is going on?”

Lying wasn’t an option, he was way too observant for his own good, he always knew when you lied even when you didn’t yourself. You scoffed.

“Just something Alice said,'' and with that you tried to grab the bag from behind him to resume your job. No movement, he had an iron grip on you.

“What did she say?”

“Just her usual nagging, you know how she is,” you tugged and tried to get away from his grip to no avail.

“Tell me,” he wasn’t asking and that was obvious to the both of you.

“She said that it’s embarrassing to be a virgin at my big age.”

Chan finally let your hands fall to your sides and in exchange wrapped his arms around you and squished you against his chest.

“Bitch, she shouldn’t have been here, she wasn’t invited,” his chest rumbled with his words, “I’m sorry Y/N, I hope you know she’s in the wrong.” 

With your arms wrapped around Chan and your face squished against his chest, with the gentleness of his voice caressing you, you found it hard to lie so you just stayed silent.

“Oh baby, don’t think about it, okay? She’s wrong and there is nothing wrong with you. Let’s go to bed, I can clean up tomorrow morning.”

For the whole night you tossed and turned with always the same thought in you mind, hoping not to wake Chan who was sleeping soundly next to you for once.It was no surprise that early in the morning you felt exhausted, your limbs were heavy and your mind was foggy, but you still couldn’t fall asleep. 

“Did you sleep at all? I heard you move around a lot,” Christopher groaned next to you, his arm lazily draped over your middle.

“Sorry,” you tried to utter in your half dead state.

“I had an idea while I was sleeping,” he dragged your body against his and started to gently rub your arm to ease you to sleep. You only hummed in response.

“You should let me and the kids teach you about sex, you know us and we’re good people, we would never push you to do anything. We can take anything at your own pace, we’ll teach you well,” he spoke like he was saying the most natural thing in the world and not suggesting you get passed between him and his other seven friends. Sensing your confusion, Chan gently shushed you and started rubbing your arm again.

“Think about it, we can talk about it when you wake up.”

A witty response was about to come out of your mouth but darkness enveloped you like a hug. Chan hugged you tighter to his chest and sighed. ‘That went well’, he thought.

When you woke up, a blinding light was filtering through the window. Damn Christopher who never closed the blinds.

“Good morning,” the said man chirped happily from next to you. The moment you laid your eyes on him, the conversation from that morning resurfaced to your mind. The frantic beating of your heart sent a shot of adrenaline through you.

“I take it you remember what I asked you,” he put his phone back on his nightstand to fully give you his attention.

“Chris..” you started but he swiftly interrupted you.

“We’re not doing it out of pity, we are all attracted to you, we wouldn’t make it awkward and if you refuse it’s gonna be like it never happened,” Chris answered all of your questions like he could read your mind. You were confused, your heart (and your vagina) wanted to say yes but your head told you to refuse. 

‘Fuck it, stop thinking.’

“Okay, let’s do it.” Chris stayed silent, only your synced breaths could be heard in the room. The tension was thick and full of desire.

“Can I kiss you, pretty girl? Just a kiss and you can stop me anytime you want.”

“Yes, please.” With that Chris  pulled you in his lap in mere seconds and attached your lips together. He wasted no time and pushed his tongue in your mouth, still his movements were gentle and slow just like yours were slow and hesitant. His whole persona dripped in gentle dominance, it made you hot and sweat and made your pussy throb. His hands roamed your body and tentatively groped around, testing your limits. Your lips moved more and more confidently the more time they were attached to Chan’s.

Your lungs burned from the lack of air but you didn’t care, you were drunk on his touch, his taste, you were drunk on him.

Chan was the first to break the kiss and immediately giggled when you tried to kiss him again.

“Patience baby, we have a lot of time.”

Taglist:

@kflixnet  @hann1bee  @bahng-chrizz  @staysinbloom  @laylasbunbunny @caitlyn98s

#straykidsland #kpop #reader insert #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan #bang chan smut #stray kids college au #bang chan college au #lee know #lee know smut #changbin #changbin smut #hyunjin #hyunjin smut #han #han smut #felix #felix smut #seungmin #seungmin smut #jeongin #jeongin smut

[jesuistrestriste]

hi i’m also a cancer 🫶🏼

anyways this isn’t a new thought on this site but art would get floaty when you praise him more than two times in a row. like it’s overrrrr cancel your plans he’s mush

on a sweet note he would love to match outfits/ color coordinated with you !

🌸

oh my gosh, art donaldson absolutely melts at praise. 100%. a few sweet whispered words in his ear, and he's gone. weak in the knees with a pounding heart !

while he does love when you praise him for mundane things (i.e., 'you always make such a good cup of coffee for me in the morning' or 'you look extra handsome today'), he loves to hear it most when he's getting touched or fucked or licked or bitten.

it's easy for him to let your affectionate words coax him into a quick orgasm. he does try to hold back, but it's extra hard when your lips brush the shell of his ear, or the nape of his neck, while you whisper things like:

"such a pretty boy for me"

"you feel so good inside me, art"

"oh my god, don't stop— your mouth is fucking amazing"

"you're fucking me so well, baby"

"you're a good boy"

the latter phrase is his personal favorite. maybe a bit cliche, but it always gets his cock throbbing and squirting immediately. he moans the loudest when the sound of those four words dance around in his head as he comes. he loves it.

you are always happy to indulge his pleas for praise, which almost always follow the same sort of verbal pattern:

"please, tell me im good" or "am i doing a good job?"

he likes to ask leading questions. ones that guide you to understand that he wants praise, without him having to ask for it directly. even though you two have been together for a while, and he knows that you know that he loves that kind of talk in the bedroom, he still goes pink in the cheeks and gets sweaty palms sometimes when he's tasked with asking for it. it's just his nature; something in his dna, maybe. he's a nervous little thing from time to time. and yet, he's usually so confident on the tennis courts. admittedly a confusing phenomenon at times.

in terms of the color coding, I think he absolutely loves to take you to his tennis events. the ones where you're expected to dress up. which is essentially all of them.

he'd see what color outfit you were planning to wear, and he'd match his tie to it every time. he liked being able to walk around the events and show people that you two were together. in some ways, it felt like he was showing people that you owned him. it wasn't like he was wearing a collar or anything like that, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel some stronger sense of devotion to you when he put in the extra effort to coordinate his outfit with yours. and he'd be lying if he said it didn't boil a soft heat in his gut.

#🌸 - ask prompts #🩷 - thirsts #hiii moot ! <3 :D #also omg hello fellow cancerian hehee #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #art donaldson fic #art donaldson x you #mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist smut #challengers smut #challengers fic

[epiphainie]

why do you think bucktommy has been "hitting differently"? i love them don't get me wrong, but i don't think it's been written much differently than buck's previous love interests (yet)

Hi anon, 

I don't think I agree with you there. Well, first of all I think talking about all of Buck's previous romantic relationships as one thing is doing injustice to those different arcs and Buck's character journey. All served different purposes, all were written differently from each other. When I make the distinction that BuckTommy has been "hitting differently" what I mean is that it has what worked in those previous relationships as well as what was lacking. And I think the reason is twofold: the writers being intentional with their choices and how it's all been executed. 

Intention:

Just to be clear, I don't mean anyone has had endgame BuckTommy intentions. Tim has been very clear about how he doesn't plan that far ahead and it's hard to talk endgames with a procedural format like this. But we know they wrote the bi Buck arc with more care, hence being more intentional with their choices than some of his previous relationships. We know that their first kiss had taken multiple shapes before it ended up being this gentle, surprising but still mutual kiss. We know that they wanted to create a story where Buck felt connected to this guy but also safe and light. We know that they wanted to make Tommy a character who can be understanding and lead Buck as he stumbles. We know that Tim thought Lou's buy was important because he didn't want to repeat the same mistake of creating a LI who didn't fit with the rest of the cast etc.

Now you can say some of these fit previous LIs one way or another but it brings me to execution:

Many people talked about this before me, obviously, but I think the execution of everything they planned with Tommy has been great. I mean before their first kiss, this guy goes out of his way and shows up at Buck's to "clean the air" with this virtual stranger because he believes he caused bad blood between him and his friend. Not just that, he reassures Buck about his place in his friend's life and apologizes for making him feel excluded. Now as the audience we know Buck is the kid who'd get hurt on purpose so his dad would pay him attention, he's the guy who sued the fire department because he felt pushed out and isolated, but Tommy doesn't. I think an LI addressing one of Buck's core insecurities in such a direct and reassuring manner before even knowing him is a great way to set up why Buck would feel safe with and understood by him.

Another is that Tommy immediately meets Buck at that vulnerable place when he admits to being jealous of the 118's bond and Buck reassures him back. This for example, is something Abby had done with Buck imo but Buck back then didn't know himself enough to embrace his own insecurities and at a maturity level to address Abby's despite his best intentions. With Taylor, their whole issue was that they couldn't be honest and vulnerable with each other. BuckTommy in this aspect feels different because from the get-go as they're being honest and are on the same frequency when it comes to this.

Episode five, we see them on their failing date, then we see Buck being nervous that he fucked it up in the coffee scene. We've seen this Buck before, when he got into that anxious mode to make sure Abby knew he wasn't cheating on her. Obviously, the context and the stage of the relationship are very different and they both reassure Buck about it not being his fault. Great on both Tommy and Abby.

But then, the immediate follow-up in Abby's case is that she's leaving for abroad. I don't think Abby is being evil or mean with this decision (where I have a problem with is when she starts ghosting him and doesn't just end it, but that's another topic) but again knowing what we know about Buck as the audience, we know this is a big deal. We know this - and later Ali leaving - adds on his issues of feeling like he's not worth it, we know it leads to him basically trapping Taylor because he's so afraid she'll leave. Again, Tommy doesn't. But Tommy gives him a second chance and then shows up at the wedding.

You can say showing up on one date is not proof that Tommy will always be there for Buck, but I think the execution is so good in painting Tommy as very reliable concerning this. Because Tommy doesn't just show up. If the writers' only concern was to write Tommy out of the A plot of episode 6, he could just come to the ceremony and be like "my shift just ended". No, Tommy says he'll try his damnest to make it to the wedding and then he enters the hospital all rushed, haphazard, covered in soot, hair a mess. The dramatique of that entrance immediately validates in the audiences' mind that yeah this is a guy who will do his damnest to be there for Buck. It, again, addresses a core insecurity of Buck's.

Back half of the season doesn't do anything different but we again see Tommy notice Buck's emotional state, meet him in that vulnerable place, and also match his flirty vibe. They're comfortable; it feels earned even in such a short span because of the well execution of their initial arc. This to me what Buck said about Natalia when they thought the show wasn't coming back (and before that relationship was recontextualized as being a dud), about how he feels seen and comfortable etc. Only this time, there's intention, effort, and execution.

One final note in execution - and this is very ymmv because I've seen even from some BuckTommys that they wished they did this differently - I genuinely love how little BuckTommy there is in 7x03. More specifically, I love that Tommy's reintroduction to the series is not through being Buck's potential love interest. He's there in that episode for Hen, Chim, and Bobby. In 10 mins screentime he's quickly established with motives and personality quirks, is involved in the main plot, bounces off of other characters. Again, great execution of a thing Tim intended to do: a love interest who can fill more roles than just the love interest. This basically makes him in his own category in how purposeful and functional he can be as a character in the greater narrative. So yeah I think both as a person in-story and a character, Tommy has been hitting different.

#very long answer lol couldnt stop yapping about tommy sorry my bad #mimi talks #bucktommy #911 #tevan #kinley #also ill get to all the other asks i promise

[dcxdpdabbles]

I was thinking about Danny talking about Dan to the Justice League and all it would take would be a little slip of the tongue for Danny's "he's my evil future self" to be heard as "he's my evil future son." Because it's one thing to have futures where You turn evil, but another thing to have futures where your family members, your KIDS, turn evil.

Phantom was new to the Justice League team. He had been inducted only three months ago and could be seen coming and going at odd hours. No one really knew much about him.

Phantom was recommended by Wonder Woman during the last selection. Apparently, she knew him due to a mutual acquaintance, a woman named Pandora, who had asked the princess to meet the boy—teenager? Man? It was hard to know what to call him because his physical appearance was that of a youth when he was immortal. She rarely nominated anyone for membership, but the person was precious to the team when she did.

And the ghost was.

Although he needed some formal training, Phantom had an excellent grasp of his powers and the cleverness to pull off moves with them, which Batman even praised. Many of the members adored Phantom's willingness to take on any role in a team.

He never complained about letting someone else take the lead, followed orders without much trouble, blended well with anyone as a teammate, and, most of all, had compassion for civilians. Phantom was often the hero who lingered after a battle to help clean up and provide relief aid.

Civilians adored him, and his fans were growing in numbers.

Despite all of this, Phantom wasn't really close with anyone. The ghost rarely lingered after his missions or monitor duty. He flew in, kept to himself, and left out once he was done.

Phantom never started or helped the conversation progress if it was not mission-related. He wasn't as bad as Batman, but he made it hard to connect to him. Diana assured everyone it wasn't because Phantom did not like them—he was only shy.

It was hard to put the being who single-handedly held off Superman the last time he was mind-controlled next to the word shy. Yet they've seen it.

They saw him nervously play with his gloves as someone spoke to him, struggled to think of what to say in conversations, and even ducked his head when he got too anxious.

It was like whiplash to see the ghost go from a shy, nervous teenager to the one that stopped and held Superman in a taekwondo hold until Batman could stab the needle to get him free of mind control.

Then, that same powerful fighter drags himself to the crowd and the smocking city, ready to assist in any way.

Despite being exhausted and covered in wounds, Phantom helped the crew in charge of clearing the debris by lifting heavy objects and scanning the building for people needing medical attention.

Phantom had been more than willing to follow emergency services' commands, personally thanking the EMTs and firefighters once the chaos was over. When a little boy asked for a photo, Phantom told him they could take one when everything settled.

No one expected the ghost to keep to his word, finding the boy and his mother later at a hospital for that photo. He has been awfully apologetic that the camera could only catch a blurry outline of him with his glowing green eyes.

The little boy hadn't stopped grinning despite suffering a broken leg.

He was literally the sweetest little hero—Bruce had to remind himself that he was not an actual child and was, in fact, thousands of years old whenever he saw the ghost fidgeting with something while on monitor duty.

That's why, the day Phantom threw himself into one of the lounges couches with a distressed sigh, everyone in the area surrounded him.

"Everything alright, Phantom?" Asked Oliver as the ghost's glow flickered in and out of his usual glow.

The immortal did not remove his hands from his face but nodded. His glow lowered again as if reacting to his lie.

The heroes gave each other loaded looks before Diana stepped forward. "You seemed troubled, dear friend. Are you willing to allow us to lead an ear to your woes?"

"Dan is just giving me trouble," Phantom mumbled, his words muffled by his hands.

Wonder glanced at the others, but when they shrugged in confusion, she sat next to the teenager. Placing one supporting hand on his shoulder, she rubbed it gently and leaned towards him. "Who is Dan?"

"Me."

Barry blinks. "You?"

"Yeah, the evil me of the future."

Phantom becoming evil? That was inconceivable.

"Did something happen to make you think you're going evil?" Barry asks gently, taking the other open seat on Phantom's left. He places a warm hand on Phantom's hunched-over back and is violently reminded of how tiny the boy must have been when he died.

It breaks his heart. He's smaller than Wally.

"The ancient of Time showed me that he destroyed the world. I helped create him, so I had to be the one to stop him. For the good of the world."

Diana sucks in a gasp, making Oliver, Hal, Barry, and Dinah weary at once. She made the hand motion, signaling that she would explain later, making the other heroes nod. "I know you may blame yourself, but that was merely a warning from the gods. You still have time to change the outcome."

Phantom glances up from behind his fingers. "You really think so?"

"Yes, of course."

The ghost offers everyone a small smile before vanishing from sight. There are gasps and a desperate cry for his name, but eventually, they realize the ghost has left.

"What was that about?" Hal asks after a moment.

Wonder Woman stands, striding over to the large windows of the watch tower. Her eyes turn to the brightest star visible with a small, sad smile. "Clockwork is the name of the ancient- one of the gods- that controls time. He rarely has champions, but when he does, he often gives them glances of their future. Many claim it's more of a curse than a blessing, for they often see the worse of what is to become."

Dinah straightens. "You're saying Phantom really will go evil?"

"No." Diana closes her eyes. "Ghosts are formed in three ways. The first is death. Someone or something dies, and they are formed from the souls getting attached to ectoplasm. The second is that they are bestowed a duty and are created to keep that duty alive. It often governs a part of our reality- space, dreams, wishes, and even plants. The last is the least common due to how rare it is for ghosts to have powerful enough cores. It is to be born from a stronger ghost, taking pieces of their core and growing into their own person."

Diana turns back to the confused-looking heroes to deliver her blow. "Phantom said it was himself that turned evil, but referred to himself as "Dan". Ghosts do not change their names, for their names are part of what holds their cores together. This means Dan is not him but came from him. His son will grow to be evil, and Phantom will likely have to put him down per Clockwork's instructions for the good of the world."

Hal bites out a curse. "That's sick. How could the time god ask Phantom to kill his own kid? Even if he is evil, Phantom doesn't deserve to have that duty placed on his shoulders. He's just a kid."

"But he isn't," Barry sighs. "Phantom is older than ancient Egypt. He just looks like a kid."

"It does not matter." Wonder Woman declares. "Clockwork's warnings can be overturned. We just need to help Dan off the road of darkness while he is still young."

They call for a Justice League meeting, one that only includes the original team that founded the league, to discuss a strategy plan. At first, some want to change the meeting to discuss how to put down Dan, wondering if being Phantom's son made him just as powerful before Batman stands up.

Bruce does not like the idea that the boy will end up destroying the world, but he is the most outspoken about Dan's innocence in the present day. His scorching words make a few ashamed of themselves for giving up on saving the boy before even meeting him.

The meeting drags on for hours until they eventually agree that they will monitor the child. If they realize he is too far gone to save, they will be the ones to end him. Phantom did not deserve to be the killer.

Clark asked Phantom to bring Dan around and introduce him. They dress the indentation as a league-wide party for the member's family (those in the know). The ghost looked spooked before he agreed to bring his child to meet the team.

A week later, every hero smiles politely at the six-foot-tall man with flaming hair who introduces himself as Dan. He's as bulky as Bane, and his low, dark voice echoes through the room. It's comedic compared to the cracking voice of his father, who has to flout to make them the same height.

As soon as the pair of ghosts fly away to speak to Supergirl and Robin, Barry grabs Bruce's cape. "That's a full-grown man."

"I know"

"Bats, that man is built like a brick house. "

"Yes"

"I thought Phantom said he was three? How in the Speed force is that man three?"

"It seems ghosts age differently. Or they are formed to take on the age they desire. I need to do research."

While the surrounding founding members whisper to each other, more heroes arrive at the makeshift party, some in their costumes and some in their civilian identities.

There are various reactions to Dan. A few consider him Phantom's father or brother, but both ghosts quickly make faces. Phantom reminds someone no less than five times that Dan is his future self.

Wonder Woman has to follow the pair whispering to confuse members about the cultural differences between ghosts and children. She doesn't have to explain that to the magic users or those who have worked with ghosts before.

There were a few who had vastly different reactions.

The members of Young Justice, including Secret, all backed up the claims that ghosts did not change their names and were treating Dan as a Phantom's son without blinking an eye.

John Constantine looked at Dan and cooed. "Aw, a baby core. How old is he?"

Phantom cracks a smile while Dan scoffs. "Three"

"Adorable." He raised his flask in salute, "He's powerful. You must be so proud."

Phantom's smile becomes strained. "Thank you."

Across the room, the founding members swear they will save Dan no matter what, as the larger ghost rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #misunderstandings #The cinnamon roll's son #Danny is the office (Justice Leauge) sweet heart #They think Dan is destined to destroy the world #So they will baby this full grown man to teach him right from wrong #Dan's core is only three years in that time 's earth #So he does register as a BABY GHOST #Part 1

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule Season 2: IV

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which he lost his latibule.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

Masterlist, Latibule 2.III

The fact that he was not even trying anything was what was making you be more on edge.

It had been more than three days now and he still hadn’t done anything except following you wherever you went. He turned into your very own version of a shadow, never straying more than a foot away. Despite your diminishing sight, you could see how people went out of their way to avoid your path. You surmised that it was because of the man following you closely. You didn’t have to turn to see the glare he was freely giving anyone as though he was your guard dog, or the dark energy he was emitting like a disturbed cat you used to frequently liken him to.

You were close to your breaking point. Your future laid uncertain, more so about your survival and likelihood that you would see your beautiful son once again just because his father was confusing you.

His motives confused you. If he was here to end you, why hadn’t he done so, yet? If he wanted to talk to you and ensure that you wouldn’t blab to anyone about who he truly was, about his other identity, why hadn’t he done so yet?

Why hadn’t he done anything except to follow you?

You were never a good actress, and you knew sooner rather than later that he would inadvertently notice. Honestly, you were already sick with anxiety and you didn’t know what you would do should you take this one more day. This had to stop and you needed to know why he was doing this.

And what exactly was he doing you asked?

Take for example, right now as you were trying to enjoy your meal in a small diner. His presence was unsettling and his eyes, like dark pools, seemed to follow your every move with a mix of intensity and longing that sent shivers down your spine. Not only was he eating on a booth in front of yours, but he also paid for your meal. He even went as far as threatening the waiter with his eyes to make it appear that the meal was free due to some made up celebration.

You couldn't help but scoff at the absurdity of it all. Unicorn Day? What kind of excuse was that? What even was a unicorn day?! That did not even exist! But even as you stopped yourself from rolling your eyes, a nagging question lingered in the back of your mind. Why was he going to such lengths to keep you close?

More so… why was he pitifully eating his meal alone, his gaze held a certain softness and daresay yearning in them? Why did he look so…lonely?

Confusion and frustration warred within you as you struggled to make sense of his intentions.

However, it was becoming less likely now that he wanted you gone when you came home and finally found solitude. You were going through the motion for the night. Your hands were running across the table as a guide, a thing that you had learned to do when you hit yourself too many times from the edge of the table, when you felt what seemed to be a protective gear used in the corner of tables. And then all at once, you noticed all the little things that had changed without you fully noticing.

The bathroom tiles had more friction to what you were used to, the kitchen utensils lost their heaviness, and the doorknobs were now noticeably noisier than before.

And now that you were alone without his overbearing presence clouding your judgement, without him breathing down your neck that caused you to immensely fear for your life, that you started to look on the other side of your horror: did he do all of these for you?

Perhaps, you were able to tolerate it all because of the anticipation of pain you thought you’d get from him. But this softness and tenderness displaced you. Somehow, this was worse. This was something you couldn’t bear, not when you now knew who he truly was. You couldn’t take this, you couldn’t let all of this change anything – especially when you now had someone to protect. You struggled to think of what could happen should he find out that his clever deception brought someone in this world.

Sleep had greatly eluded you that night regardless of how weary you felt. Your thoughts were all over the place, consumed by worry for your son right now. You couldn’t even step out to find solace and watch the stars like you used to do when your thoughts were just too loud. What was the use, you thought, when you could no longer see their beauty?

You had your eyes closed, now accustomed to darkness and your body was even when you heard it– a miniscule creaking of the floorboard, followed by the gentle opening of the door. He was here, you surmised.

Agustd was here.

Was he here to finally do the deed? Was he here to finally end all of this chaos? Did he wait until the dead of the night so that there wouldn’t be any witness? So that the job would be easy? So that he wouldn’t have to look into your eyes as he delivered the final blow to your heart?

Despite the terrifying thoughts racing through your mind, you were still as a board. You were greatly anticipating the pain as he drew near, his familiar scent, once beloved by you so much, was now making you acutely aware of his proximity more than ever before.

You could feel the heat from his body. You could hear the gentle rustling of his coat as he moved. This was it, you thought. This was your end, and maybe it was for the best. Hoseok would take care of your son. He was evidently fond of him. You knew that multifaceted man loved your child despite who his father was. You knew it the moment you woke up when your child was only a month old and found him gone from your side only to discover Hoseok gently comforting your crying son with his ridiculous stories, his voice painting a story. You knew it the moment he patiently stood by your son’s side when he was sick. You knew it when he cried when your child took his first step. Despite what transpired that fateful night, Hoseok was good to you and your son.

You trusted him.

You felt the side of your bed dipped from Agustd’s weight, yet it was his hand that you first felt. His calloused hand tenderly caressed your face, his touch so faint that you almost wondered if this was real. His thumb softly touched your lips and it lingered there for a moment that you wondered how you were able to control your breathing. You had gone years without him, his existence merely both a nightmare and a wonderful dream only in your memories. You had put him behind, hadn’t you? You had fully squashed any hopes that you and him would be anything other than a disaster, hadn’t you? You had repeatedly told yourself that you would never again let yourself feel anything for him, hadn’t you?

So why then was your heart shattering? Why then now that he was near, now that he was touching you, did your beliefs and your resolute heart wavered?

You could take him following you around. Honestly, you would rather take him being your shadow instead of this because then you could play pretend that he was not here.

You were about to open your eyes when you felt a drop on your cheek. Then, it was as though a dam overflowed as you felt teardrops cascading down your skin and the hand touching you trembling with both grief and relief.

Perhaps, if you could see him now, you'd understand how deeply you were intertwined in each and every part of him. If only you could witness how your absence and your inability to see now broke him, then all your hesitations about him would vanish because no man whose heart was not owned by you would cry as much as he was right now. No man who loved you as hard as he did could withstand this.

“Thank you for not leaving me alone in this world, my angel. Thank you for being alive,” he whispered in the silence of the night.

Min Yoongi’s POV

You were alive and it should be enough for him.

But Min Yoongi had always been a greedy man. He was a despicable man who always craved for more and blamed it all on from his terrible childhood to his twisted parents. He knew he was greedy when he took the organization that had been in his Jin hyung’s family for decades and ventured into darker places no one dared to go. He knew he was greedy when he didn’t stop there and even took hold of the police force for himself. More so, he knew he was greedy when he found you alive and instead of being contented that you were here, that you made good on your promise and didn’t go where he couldn’t follow, he still wanted…no. He craved the warmth brought by your proximity. He wanted you so near to him that you couldn’t breathe without him knowing, that you couldn’t think without him hearing your own thoughts.

He wanted you by his side that you couldn’t leave again. He wanted you so close that no one would dare to hurt you anymore.

However, there was this part of him that was good regardless of how minuscule it was. It was the same part that you were able to reach, the one that made you believed that he was incapable of inflicting pain to others, the one that made the betrayal so much more painful to you. And now, that part was warring with the dark side of him to let you be. It was the same part that whispered that he was somehow to blame for all of this, that had he left you alone, you wouldn’t be in this mess. It was the same part that whispered that he should be happy that you were alive, and that alone should be enough. It was your second chance in life but this time, it shouldn’t be with him.

His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, fingers curling into fists as he wrestled with the conflicting desires raging within him. He wanted to reach out to you, to pull you into his embrace and never let you go, but he knew he had already hurt you enough. And so, he stood there, silently battling the demons that threatened to consume him whole.

Perhaps, this was why he did nothing but to follow you and to watch you from a distance, only letting himself near you when you couldn’t know, only letting him touch you when you wouldn’t be able to push him away in disgust.

His train of thoughts and self-hatred were interrupted by his phone. Yoongi looked down at his ringing phone before bringing it to his ear, turning away from you as he answered. The street was busy but he had clear vision of you from behind, and the crosswalk hadn’t signaled yet for pedestrians to proceed.

“Yoongi-ah, where’s my niece and nephew?”

Here he goes again, Yoongi thought. He chuckled at his ridiculous question, his Jin hyung still hadn’t given up on his agenda of them having families of their own. His hyung's unwavering determination to see all of them settle down and start a family was both endearing and exasperating at times. “You won’t even ask how I am?”

Jin's response was swift and filled with characteristic enthusiasm.  “You found her. I’d say your more than okay. That is exactly why I’m expecting a nephew, preferably, within 9 to 10 months, okay? I’m buying Louis Vuitton onesies as we speak.”

Yoongi listened to his Jin hyung’s plans of buying his supposed nephew the most expensive and ridiculous clothes a newborn could have with a heavy heart. Listening to him made the situation so much heavier. Listening to him made him realize how further he was to realizing that dream…and how impossible it would be now.

“Are you really just going to let me buy him his first custom made toy gun? Really? Because your silence seems like you are agreeing-“

“She’s blind now, hyung.”

That statement alone finally made the mafia prince to cease from speaking, the weight of Yoongi’s new reality was slowly settling in. “She cannot see me. She still doesn’t know that I’m here-“

But Jin's response was unexpected, cutting through the air with a coldness that sent a shiver down Yoongi's spine. "Bring her home, Yoongi."

Yoongi's brows furrowed in disbelief, his mind reeling at Jin's insistence. "What? Didn’t you hear what I just said? I said—"

“I heard you, Yoongi-ah,” he stated with his cold voice he seldom used. “She’s blind now,” he repeated tonelessly. “But I’m telling you to bring her home. We might be able to do something. It’s not over until I, the greatest doctor to ever exist, tell that it is.”

“Hyung,” he sighed, looking down as he processed what Jin said and his poor attempt at making light of the situation. There was a possibility that he could fix you. But did you want anything to do with him now? What if you looked at him with hatred and disgust in your eyes? What if you saw him and decidedly left him again? Was he being selfish for considering the alternative? Could he even survive after that?

And for the first time in his life, he admitted that he was beside himself for terror that you might want nothing to do with him, that you would rather forever lose your sight than see him.

But before he could dwell on his fears any longer, Jin's voice cut through the turmoil, filled with frustration and exasperation. “Then make her fall in love again with you. You did it once, Yoongi. I cannot believe after all the education I all gave you, after sending all of you to the best universities and ensuring that you all would be the top of your chosen profession, you are all still idiots! This is such a simple problem that requires simple solution. For the love all of all that’s-“

Yoongi’s turned to where you were, only to find you crossing the road behind other people. He was a good foot away from you when he heard the screeching sound of tires that seemed to have spiraled out of control and horrifyingly, in its path was you.

His angel.

He moved before he could even think, his legs powered through, pushing people out of his way just to get to you. He remembered thinking to himself at that moment that he this time, he would harshly refuse losing you. This time, he would fight harder against destiny that was so hellbent on taking you from him.

And that time he swore that the universe was on his side as he reached for your arm and firmly pulled you to his chest. The screeching tires and the shocked sounds of the city faded into the background as he felt the force of the fall. With a deep grunt, he absorbed the impact, his body tensing with the weight of both of you as you collided with the ground. Despite the pain shooting through his body, his only concern was for your safety.

His arms remained a steadfast barrier, shielding you from harm as he felt the ground beneath him. The world seemed to slow down, time stretching out in that moment of crisis. The sound of your shock was drowned out by his pounding heart and the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. For a split second, time seemed to freeze as he held you close, shielding you from the impending danger.

As the screeching tires came to a halt, Yoongi's focus remained solely on you. He felt a surge of relief wash over him as he realized you were unharmed, safe in his arms. His heart was beating so fast brought by the sickening worry that he wouldn’t make it in time that he failed to notice the consequences of his actions.

“Are you okay, Angel? You’re not hurt…right?”

“Suga…”

#bts fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x reader #yandere min yoongi #mafia bts fic #yandere min yoongi x you

[swordsandholly]

Across the Way

Chapter 4: New and Old Problems Alike

Retired!Ghoap x Fem!Fat!Reader

Ao3 | Previous - Next | Masterlist

MDNI | cw: fainting, some medical inaccuracies

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

You haven’t texted them, even three days later. That little sticky note haunts the surface of your kitchen counter. It taunts you - tells you that you should text them and at least give them your number. That you’re being a terrible neighbor. They might need you too, after all. Even though you can’t figure out why they might for the life of you. On the other hand, you can’t help but feel wary about it. Men don’t take an interest in you - people in general rarely take interest. It’s hard not to feel suspicious, as pure as you’re sure their intentions probably are.

More so than any of that, you don’t know what to say. If it had been day one you could have just put your name, but now you feel like you need to explain. Or at least be funny or something. Tossing and turning on your designated rest day about what the hell you should do.

You’re overthinking it. You know that. You can’t stop, either.

They just seem so cool - so put together. So unlike you. You want to impress them. You don’t want to ruin the first possibility of friends in this new life you’re building for yourself.

Eventually you work up the courage to send off an initial text to each of them. Just to give them your name to save if they so choose - plus an extra thank you to Simon for giving you their numbers in the first place. Something simple and borderline cold. Too cold, maybe? Maybe you sound irritated. You hope not. You just want them to like you. Friends in new places are hard and to have someone around you who gets how it feels to need accommodations would just feel so… lovely. Your phone may or may not go flying onto your bed while you bury your face in your hands out of sheer nervousness.

You don’t expect it to chime about a minute later. Right as you’re staring to calm down, of course. It sends your heart violently pounding all over again.

J >> Bonnie lass!

J >> So glad u texted!!

>> Sorry it took so long lol

Oh, you could just slap yourself. You don’t have anything better than that? At all? Christ.

J >> Nah Nah

J >> No worries

J >> Actually I was wondering if u would mind if I came by tomorrow

J >> Just to chat

J >> need an excuse to get out of the house

“How the hell does he type that fast?” You scoff to yourself.

>> Yeah, come by anytime.

>> totally

>> yea sounds cool

>> rad, man

A message from Simon pops up mid your internal battle with how to respond, replying with a simple thumbs up. Very in character, you think. He knows how to be nonchalant. What would Simon say? Something casual, maybe a little formal.

>> If you like. You’re always welcome.

Okay maybe that was too much like Simon. You sigh heavily m before adding,

>> I’m trying out a new blueberry loaf

>> If you want to test for me :)

Better. That’s a little better. With another heavy sigh you decide to drop your phone into your nightstand for the rest of the day. Your heart really cannot handle this much emotional pressure.

~~~

You sort of end up just forgetting about the texts. With your phone out of sight and out of mind upstairs in your apartment it almost catches you off guard when Johnny comes striding through the door just before close. He’s dressed more casually than the last couple of times you saw him - having broken out the summer shorts and a graphic tee for some band you don’t recognize. It suits him, though.

“Hey, bon.” He grins.

“Hey.” You smile back, finishing with putting up your stocking baskets before dusting off your hands and turning around. “Simon closing up?”

“Aye.”

You hum. “Come on back, I’ll get you a slice of that loaf I mentioned.”

Johnny follows you quietly. Uncharacteristically quietly. That’s okay - you don’t have a problem with hanging out in silence. It doesn’t feel tense, surprisingly enough. He leaves Riley out front again. Should you get her a dog bed? Maybe if he comes by consistently. That would be nice. Maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“It’s sort of a pound cake but fluffier. I might make an icing for it but I don’t know if that would be too sweet…” You trail off, focusing on plating up the piece. You’re not sure what compels you to try and make it pretty for him. Probably something you could blame on your grandmother. She did have an obsession with presentation.

Johnny hums loudly after taking a bite, talking around the mouthful. “Y’should totally make an icing.” He swallows roughly. “Si would go crazy fer this.”

“Oh?” You smile. “I’ll send some home with you.”

There’s a lapse of silence while Johnny chews on his slice of bread and you pack up some in a paper bag for him to take home. The only sounds in the room comprised of your cutting and folding and the hum of the cooling oven.

“You’re being weirdly quiet.” You blurt, immediately covering your mouth with your hand. “I, uh, I mean that isn’t a bad thing! I don’t mind… I just, uh, was… sorry, never mind…”

“Well I did come wit’ a bit of an ulterior motive…” Johnny admits, glancing off to the side shyly. It’s a show, you think. Johnny doesn’t seem the type of man to have felt shy a day in his life.

You tilt your head. “Oh?”

He dusts off his hands and grins. “Let us take ye out! In celebration of yer first full month.”

Has it been a month already? “Oh - no, no you don’t have to-“

“C’mon! It’s a big accomplishment.” His smile is so bright that you almost believe his idea that you’ve done something great.

“…alright.” You give a tentative smile. It’s hard to believe they like you enough to want to hang out casually in the evening. Hard to imagine anyone liking you that much but you’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“There’s a pub down the street - the one on the corner. Want tae meet us there around six?” Johnny gives you that lovely smile. How could you ever say no to a smile like that?

“Okay.”

You spend far too long changing in and out of clothes and fussing with your hair. Up-do’s and buns and braids. A tank top then a sweater then a t-shirt. There’s no reason to feel this stressed over it. It’s not a date or anything. Besides, it doesn’t seem to make a difference. Either way you look like a frumpy dumpling. Eventually you land on jeans and one of your designated ‘going out tops.’ At least it’s a good excuse to wear something other than work clothes or loungewear.

Excitement and anxiety thrum under your skin like electricity as you make your way down the street. You feel painfully nauseous - stopping once or twice just to make sure you aren’t about to throw up for real.

The pub is surprisingly quiet when you enter. Obviously somewhere only real locals hang out - there’s no theme or really any decor in general. Just a bar, some booths and a couple pool tables. You scan the floor a few times, not seeing either Johnny or Simon (not that they would be hard to miss). Eventually you just grab a soda from the bar and slide into one of the booths closer to the back. A quiet spot facing the door where you can easily watch for them.

As time ticks on you begin to grow increasingly nervous. Did you get the time wrong? No, no you triple checked. You even wrote it down in your planner. Your leg begins to bounce furiously, heart nearly beating out of your chest. Did they decide to ditch? You wouldn’t really blame them. They’re way out of your league when it comes to friends. Maybe Johnny had an emergency? Should you call Simon? If he had an emergency it would make sense that they would forget to notice you. What if something really bad happened? What if-

The front door opens and Simon’s wide frame strides through, holding the door for Johnny and Riley to come in behind him. You let out a quiet sigh of relief, willing your leg to stop bouncing with a pinch to your thigh. Why are you always so damn dramatic?

Johnny lights up with an ear to ear grin when he spots you, bee-lining for the booth while Simon casually walks up to the bar. It’s almost comedic, the way he dwarfs the counter. Johnny leans on the side of the booth, waiting for Simon, you think.

“Glad ye could come out.” He looks you over, eyes flicking from your plain top to the very practical, not at all stylish up do that you landed on for the evening.

You do your best not to squirm under his gaze. “Me too…”

Simon comes back with two beers in hand and slides them onto the table. He scoots into the inner booth to give Johnny the outer edge. Riley happily sits beside his leg and practically grins at you in a near mirror image of Johnny’s. You’d never do it while she’s on the job, of course, but part of you wants to give her a pat on the head and coo at her for being so polite.

Johnny gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry we were a bit late-”

“Johnny redid his hair about five times.” Simon butts in, not reacting at all to Johnny’s sputtering protest. He glances at your half-drunk soda. “Want me t’ grab you a beer?”

“Oh, no, I’ll just stick to coke.”

They blink at you. Simon cocks his head slightly. “You sure?”

You chew your lip. “Uh, alcohol tends to aggravate my symptoms is all...”

“Then why’d ye agree to drinks? We coulda gone somewhere else.” Johnny frowns.

You shrug. “I don’t mind. I… maybe this is over sharing but I’d rather go out and be kind of normal than just… not ever. Y’know?”

His expression softens. For having such icy blue eyes they are so, so warm. “I get it.”

“How’d you two meet anyway?” You blurt, taking a left turn to get the conversation off of you. It’s the first question that comes to mind. Maybe it’s rude - maybe you’re prying too much already.

“Military.” Simon grunts. “SAS.”

“Si retired wit’ me after I was discharged.” Johnny points to his scar the same way he did when you first met. “Russians scrambled my egg a bit.”

“Couldn’t do the time apart…” Simon murmurs, eyes locked on Johnny’s face. It’s vulnerable. More than he’s used to - you can see it in the way he tenses after saying it.

Something passes between them that a deep, wounded part of you desperately wishes to understand.

You can’t help but start giggling to yourself. They both give you an incredulous look. “Sorry, sorry - it’s just, that’s like… totally a romance book premise. It’s sweet. Really.”

“Och, aye. Wouldn’t know it t’ look at him but Si’s a real romantic.” Johnny bats his eyes at the other man, who just rolls his in response. The corner of his scarred mouth quirks up subtly.

“SAS…” You repeat, staring at your drink. “That’s like Navy Seal shit, right?”

“We worked with them a few times, yes.” Simon nods. There’s an air of ‘do not ask anything more specific’ in his voice.

“Huh.” You take that for what it is and sit back, squinting at them. “You don’t look it, honestly.”

Johnny laughs. “Tha’s just cause ye havennae seen Simon with his gear on. The Ghost.” He wiggles his fingers along as he makes a stupid, spooky sound effect. “I domesticated him.”

Simon scoffs but doesn’t deny it, just takes a quiet sip of his beer.

“Riley’s a vet, too.” Johnny pats her head. “Got too skittish around loud noises but she transitioned into a service dog nicely.”

“Now she’s just spoiled.” Simon rolls his eyes in faux annoyance. You get the strong feeling that he’s the one doing the spoiling.

You find yourself relaxing as the night goes on. Slouching in your seat rather than sitting ramrod straight and nervously twiddling your thumbs. They never press you to drink, never insist that you’ll be fine with just one. They take your statement as fact and it isn’t brought up again. That shouldn’t be as significant as it is, now that you think about it.

Johnny’s words begin to slur a little bit on his fourth, no maybe fifth, beer. You aren’t sure. It’s very cute, the little blush that forms across his cheeks. Simon loosens up, too. He slings an arm around the back of the booth and Johnny readily tucks himself into the open spot. You find yourself wondering about their military career again. You can’t picture either of them committing violence - especially Simon. Sure, he’s big and gruff but he looks at Johnny so, so softly.

Simon is the one to call it a night - though you have a feeling its because you nodded off a couple times. Not out of boredom, you try really, really hard to pay attention to Johnny rambling about the chemistry of different explosives. He makes it interesting, somehow. Really it’s just that you’ve been awake for… holy shit almost twenty hours!

“D’you need a ride?” Simon asks as you exit the pub, hands firmly shoved into his pockets.

“No, I’ll be fine.” You don’t know how to interpret the look he’s giving you. It’s intense, but not annoyed or displeased. He has such a weird knack for unreadable but distinct expressions. You wonder if you’ll ever get close enough to get good at deciphering them.

You jump when Johnny takes both your hands in, kissing the backs of them with a sloppy, drunk smile. “Thank ye fer comin’ out. “

Somehow your face feels hotter than a damn oven. You tuck your hands to your chest, kicking shyly at the sidewalk. “Th-thanks for the invite. We, uh, we could do it again sometime?”

You glance up hopefully, praying that you didn’t misread the situation. You’ve done that before - thought people liked you more than they did. Johnny just grins wider somehow and nods excitedly.

You watch them walk off in the other direction, hand in hand. Johnny giggles about something loudly and you can see Simon’s shoulders shake with a far more silent laugh. All the way until they disappear down the street.

The sheer amount that the image hurts your heart makes you feel evil.

~~~

The pub changed something. What, you don’t know. Either way, you fall into an easy pattern with Johnny and Simon over the next couple weeks. Exchanges of food, leftovers or morsels about to turn, little visits back and forth between your shops. Johnny continues to stop by after close, just hanging around with you while Simon closes up shop.

You can’t deny how much you look forward to hearing that door chime followed by a too-loud greeting from Johnny. How your heart flips in your chest when those bright blue eyes peek around the corner into the back room or light up while trying a new recipes you’ve been testing. You’re still a bit awkward - unsure how to react when he throws an arm around your shoulders or listens oh so intently while you talk about nothing important.

Things can’t ever be all sunshine and rainbows, though. Not for you. A new problem has arisen as summer truly sets in - the comfortable spring breezes giving way to nothing but bright, unfiltered sun. One you didn’t expect to impact you this much living this far north.

Heat.

It’s hard to breathe in the back room while you’re baking. Hard to keep your water and salt intake high enough to compensate for how fast you lose them. You might as well get a permanent saline drip attached to you at this point. You definitely didn’t google if that was physically possible. Your budget for liquid IVs and other supplements nearly doubles. Standing over the massive oven in the back room has your head swimming a few times. You end up resting longer on your weekends, unable to keep up like you could in cooler weather.

It’s okay, you tell yourself, the summer here isn’t like back home. It will pass quicker. Plus, you at least have methods of dealing with it now other than crossing your fingers and praying.

“Bonnie!” Johnny suddenly appears in your doorway - that charming smile splitting his face from ear to ear. “Ye made it up Main Street yet?”

“No?” You tilt your head and try to ignore the way your vision spots momentarily at the motion. “Why?”

“Ye dinnae hear about the summer festival?” He leans on your counter. You shake your head. “It’s a yearly thing. Not that big a deal but they have some fun games an’ it’s nice tae see everyone out an’ about. Si an’ I are about tae head down. Come wit’?”

You hesitate. The exhaustion in your body tugs at your spine. Your limbs feel heavy. This morning really got to you - out of towners who must have come for the festival flooded your shop the moment it opened on top of your Saturday regulars. Not that you’re complaining, really. It’s easily your best day so far. You want to go with them, though, despite the ache in your back and the sting in your joints. It sounds so fun and it’s never a bad idea to take part in your new community’s festivities.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.” You smile. You can tough it out for an hour, then come back home. Yeah, just an hour. You’ll be fine.

You hadn’t noticed Simon leaned up at the entrance to your shop. Your eyes lock on his arms. This is the first time you’ve actually seen him in short sleeves. You can’t help but stare at his half-sleeve tattoo - all skulls and bombs and other military motifs. Faded and sun worn. Yeah, if you’d seen that sooner you definitely would have picked up on the whole military thing. You bite your lip to keep from snickering about it.

You can hear the music drifting from the speakers down the street. A few kids run by with balloons and cheap carnival prizes. It almost reminds you of the Spring Fling back home, just missing the extreme American flag theming across every booth and vendor front. Now that you’re looking around, you can actually see several booths that have been sponsored by various businesses in the area. Even the post office has a snow cone stand. The deeper you get into the event, the more flamboyant the decor becomes. Multicolored streamers and pennet flags connect stands, creating an almost canopy effect.

Simon stops rather abruptly at a booth, waiting behind a few teenagers tossing rings onto bottles. You stop with Johnny about two feet away. What’s he thinking? Simon doesn’t seem like the type who would be too entertained by basic carnival games. Even so, he steps forward and passes over a couple bills to the vendor as soon as the teenagers leave.

“Si’s really good at these. Watch.” Johnny grins beside you.

“Aren’t they rigged?” You raise an eyebrow.

Johnny doesn’t answer, eyes locked on his husband as he lines up one of the rings. You have to lean slightly to see around the breadth of the man - the multicolor rings almost cartoonishly small in his hands. Cute. Your eyes get impossibly wide with each toss, every single one landing comfortably on the bottle necks as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. As if this isn’t one of the most commonly rigged carnival games.

“Holy shit…” You mutter, still staring.

“Aye, tha’s a SAS sniper for ye.” Johnny laughs. “Glad tae see it still comes in handy.”

Simon huffs out a quiet laugh at that. Almost more of a sigh if it weren’t for the shaking of his shoulders. You love it - their little dynamic. The bond between them that’s so strong it’s almost visible.

“‘ere.” Simon turns to you suddenly, holding out a cheap little carnival prize. You can’t even begin to decipher what it’s supposed to be - some sort of furry puff ball with big, embroidered anime eyes and two felt antennae sticking up out of it’s purple head… body… thing…

Your face heats. “F-, uh, me?”

He shrugs. “Suits you. Riley will just chew it up if we take it home.”

“Aye. She’s so good with everythin’ but cheap plushies.” Johnny snickers.

You glance down at the dog in question - her dark eyes glued to the toy in Simon’s hand. Her tail thumps against the ground where she sists dutifully, but you can see the desire to snatch the thing away in her twitchy ears and pleading eyes. You snort, taking the stupid thing and tucking it under your arm with the prayer that they don’t notice the heat now spreading from your cheeks to your ears.

“Thanks…” you murmur, already mentally deciding where to add it to the mess of stuffies covering your bed already.

Somehow you end up walking between them down the street - Simon on your left and Johnny on your right with Riley in tow. You stop at a few other games here and there. All pretty basic. Johnny absolutely kills at the dunk booth.

Simon tires his hardest to help you with your terrible aim, “Just visualize it. Y’have t’ account for the arc.”

You get to the point of sticking your tongue out in concentration. Even so you only manage to knock down a couple of the wooden ducks at the ‘Dunk-A-Duck��� stand. You do, however, win one of those rock candy sticks at the guessing booth. You just hand it off to Johnny. It’s probably not best to load up on sugar in your current state.

Johnny excitedly points to different buildings giving you a rundown of the history of his hometown as you walk. Simon seems to barely be listening. He’s probably heard this a thousand times. Prattling on about the old town square, the church bell that a bunch of teenagers spray painted one time (Johnny was not involved, how could you accuse him of that?)

You find yourself focusing on your feet - keeping each step even and fast enough to remain on pace with them. One, two, one, two, one, two. The air begins to thicken. Muggy and heavy on your skin. Your breaths become shallow and fast. You can’t catch it, the air seeming to get stuck in your throat rather than reaching your lungs. Spots begin to dance across your vision. You stumble over nothing.

Not now! Come on! You’ve been doing so well!

Riley presses against your leg acting as a counter weight. Your body moves on instinct to grab whatever you can - hands wrapping around something strong and covered with cloth. An arm solid as rebar. Hopefully it’s someone you know. All you can see are colorless shapes.

“Gonna pass out - don’t freak!” You gasp before your legs give out.

It’s not that you go entirely out - it’s rare that you fully black out. It’s more like being stuck. Limp and fuzzy and confused. Almost like sleep paralysis. There’s voices and people moving around you. Someone has picked you up, you think, based on the swaying motion and the passing shapes around you. Maybe that’s just vertigo. A door bell chimes.

You finally begin to really come to when something icy is pressed to your forehead. It couldn’t have been more than a handful of seconds that you were gone, but it takes much longer for the world around you to come back into focus.

“I’m sorry…” You murmur, eyes stinging. Even after all these years it’s so damn embarrassing. You blink, the distinct mural that decorates the ceiling of the post office slowly coming into view. Johnny said a big time traveling artist painted it back in the nineties.

“Ye alright?” Johnny murmurs, crouched down beside you. Riley sniffs at your hand, seeming satisfied when you finally move it on your own.

You nod slowly. “Overheated…”

“Give her this.” Someone says. An event medic, you think. The boys must have flagged them down. Fingers press to your pulse point, a light shines in your eyes and you follow it. A quick check of vitals. Johnny shoves a water bottle in your hand as soon as the medic decides you’re fine to move - the contents distinctly murky from some sort of electrolyte pack that’s been shaken into it.

“Up y’get. Slowly does it.” Simon helps you sit up with a hand on your back. It’s so gentle. You don’t miss how he cages in your body the way only someone intimately familiar with caretaking might. Fully ready to catch you if you go limp again.

You sip slow, eyes glued to the ground. You feel so fucking stupid. Can’t even walk down a street without creating some sort of scene. They’re never going to want to hang out with you again, are they? You can’t go out drinking, can’t walk around a festival for longer than a couple hours. You distracted Riley. What if something happened to Johnny while you were having your spell? She might not have alerted correctly because of you. She might have gotten confused and then he could have gotten hurt. He might have-

“Ye really should drink tha’ instead of glarin’ at it.” Johnny pulls you from your thoughts. He’s now sat with his legs crossed beside you. Riley’s head rests in his lap. She seems calm. Content now that the emergency is over and happily lying on a cool floor.

You hum, chugging the last bit of it quickly. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Simon says curtly. “Does this ‘appen often?”

You shrug. “Not as much anymore… usually my medication keeps me stable.”

“Do ye need a doctor?” Johnny tilts his head slightly. There’s no judgment in his tone - in either of their tones. Just calm concern. It probably shouldn’t make you want to cry as much as it does.

You shake your head. “I’ve got liquid IV at home. Just need to sleep it off.”

Hopefully. In reality, a pain flare up is inevitable now. You just won’t know how bad until you’re fully in it.

“Let’s get ye home.” Johnny says, knees popping as he stands.

“I-I’m fine!” You insist, mentally preparing to get yourself up off the floor. “I can get home on my own - I don’t want to ruin your time.”

Johnny levels his gaze onto you, so serious it almost looks angry. It doesn’t match his face. “We’re not leavin’ ye tae get home alone like this.”

You’re caught off guard when an arm slides under your back and another under knees - lifting you like you weigh half of what you do in reality. Like you’re a paperweight instead of a boulder. You blink up at Simon, far too surprised to be embarrassed. At least at first. You splutter out a poor attempt at convincing him to put you down. Excuse and reason after reason and excuse. They roll off him like water off a ducks back. Your face burns as he steps out of the post office with you neatly tucked against his chest - Johnny and Riley in tow.

If you allow yourself to be honest, to give into that weaker part of you (or, at least, the part you consider to be weak) you could possibly admit that this feels nice. Being cared for feels nice. Having your body up against someone else feels nice. It’s been a long time since anyone touched you outside of a polite handshake or accidental bump. You sink into it despite yourself - relaxing against Simon’s chest. They were right, you wouldn’t have made it back. Your head is too fuzzy and there’s that telltale pain in your shoulders radiating up to your neck that signifies an oncoming Bed Day.

It doesn’t take long with Simon’s lengthy strides to get back to your building. You probably wouldn’t have been able to keep up to that running. Well, you can’t really run much at all so you definitely wouldn’t. A stupid, muddled train of thought that melts into the hazy bog of your current mental state. Even Johnny trails a few feet behind. Neither of them speak, marching in determined silence. You attempt to subtly check their faces for any anger. You’d understand if they were angry. Most people would get angry. You interrupted their day out with your useless drama. All you get is a wide, bright grin from Johnny when your eyes eventually meet his.

Simon puts you down with all the care in the world. As if you’re made of fine china. His hand stays on your upper back - planted firmly between your shoulder blades and ready to catch you if need be. Your vision swims a bit, your joints feel like jelly but you manage to dig your keys out of your pocket and unlock the door.

“Here.” Johnny plops the puff ball back into your hands just as you turn to say goodbye. To say thank you - to apologize profusely.

Your brows raise. You completely forgot about it while swimming around in a sea of embarrassment - he must have picked it up for you. You hug it to your chest with a quiet, “Thanks.”

You shift your weight side to side, psyching yourself up for the crawl up the stairs. Probably literally. You don’t think you could stay upright if you tried to walk them like a regular day, or even with an aid. Like a regular or semi-regular person. Fuck.

Johnny follows your eyes up at the staircase. He must sense some hesitation in you. “Do ye need help up?”

You bite your lip, staring at the ground. Standing in one place seems alright, but the thought of climbing is so daunting, even with the cane you have stationed at the bottom of the steps for that exact purpose. It’s embarrassing. You’re young, you should be able to walk up some damn stairs. It isn’t even that many. It’s barely a full flight. Just one story of stairs for fuck’s sake.

“Hey.” Simon touches your cheek, the action snapping your eyes to his in surprise. “It’s okay. C’mere.”

He picks you up again in the same fashion with barely a grunt, taking his time up the steps so as not to jostle you. How many times has he done this with Johnny? you wonder. That’s the only explanation for how good he is at keeping your equilibrium so even. You wonder if he practiced - if he took caretaking classes. He probably did. Does he keep up at the gym just so he can take care of his husband? Simon might be quiet and a little formal, but he exudes dedication.

“Sorry it’s messy…” You murmur when they reach the top of the steps. Glancing behind you, you see Riley sitting patiently at the bottom. Johnny must have told her to stay. “Haven’t gotten to fully unpack…”

You’ve been spending too much time in bed on the weekends. Fucking lazy.

Johnny just laughs. “Ye shoulda seen the first place Simon an’ I had.”

“Wasn’t that bad.” Simon argues, carefully setting you down on the couch. His hands hold your waist to steady you. They’re so warm… It feels wrong to be disappointed when he lets go.

“We hadnae figured out a system yet.” Johnny huffs, hands on his hips. “We ended up hirin’ a specialized maid service the dishes got so backed up.”

You scoff, laying back against the couch with that stupid carnival prize still in your arms. Like it’s the only thing grounding you to reality. The tears that have been stinging your eyes this entire time continue to threaten to spill - a myriad of blinks and careful breaths the only thing keeping them back.

Johnny sits beside you slowly. You can’t meet his eyes. “Do… do ye want tae tell us what it is? Ye donnae have tae - it’s up tae ye. Just if somethin’ happens again…”

“We’d like to be prepared.” Simon jumps in where Johnny trails off.

You chew your lip, still staring up at the ceiling. It splits and that coppery taste coats your tongue for a moment. “I, uh, it’s called POTS. There’s different types but basically my body can’t regulate blood flow and pressure right…” You shrug. “Like I said my medication usually keeps me mostly okay.”

It’s the pain that really gets to you usually, but you don’t need to start dumping on them about that. There’s no reason to spill your guts about things they can’t fix.

“Thanks fer tellin’ us.” Johnny smiles. You stiffen slightly when he reaches out to tuck some hair behind your ear. You tilt your head, still resting on the back of the couch, to meet his eye. “Get some rest, yeah? We’ll lock the knob behind us. Call if ye need anythin’.”

“Okay.” You nod, keeping your eyes down and picking at your nails. “Sorry… about all this… I didn’t - I don’t… I’m sorry.”

“Donnae apologize.” He says softly as he stands. “Never apologize. We’re your friends, aye? Friends help friends. Tha’s all there is to it.”

Simon gives you a discerning nod behind him, expression both soft and deeply serious.

Friends? They consider you real life proper friends? Really? You can’t help but beam up at him. “Yeah.”

A/N: I’ve re-read this chapter so many times that it’s total mush in my brain which tells me it’s time to be done with it.

Bonus: I made a Pinterest board for this fic

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #cod #ghoap #cod x reader #ghost x reader #soapghost x reader #soap x reader #ghost cod #fem reader #reader has pots #fat reader #plus size reader #reader insert #johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mctavish #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #across the way

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

Hermitcraft / Life Series Fic Recs

Because I love so many of them...

I'll split the fics into completed and updating fics, and try to only recommend currently updating fics (i.e., not abandoned). I'm going to write a little about why I like each fic and what the general vibes are - so this is also a kind of review I guess?

I've tried to @ the authors if they have a public tumblr. Sorry to anyone who didn't want to be tagged, I can remove any @ if you ask (or if I have embarrassingly tagged the wrong person). Anyway, enjoy, and I appreciate reblogs because I want as many people to see these fics as possible!!

This ended up being incredibly long so I'm putting a divider here. Click to keep reading!!! Also, fair warning: shipping ahead! Some fics will have mild sexual content, please read the tags if you are unsure <3

Updating Fics

I have already recommended Help Me To Breathe, lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart), and There Are Monsters Nearby in this post, so I won't explain why I like them a second time, but definitely check them out!!

Death's A Good Gig by @mawofthemagnetar is probably going to be finished by the time this post gets to you, reader, but I'm putting it here anyway. It's short and sweet, one of my favourite representations of Zedaph (or, Zedeath) I've read, and just a joy to experience. If you like grim reapers and discussions of unions, this one is for you. Also I need more Zedaph in my life.

Look, I'm Sorry, Please Stop Scaring Everyone by @cat-in-the-desert reminds me a lot of a particular TV drama I liked when I was younger, which followed a similar premise. This fic follows Mumbo (vampire) and Grian (ghost) as they get up to various housemate shenanigans and meet their local magic-expert and salesman Scar. This fic is fun, but still includes a nice amount of Feelings and hinted-at Angst which I really love. It's lighthearted, but never boring.

It Hurts To Hope by Inquillitory is my favourite of the "Grian crash lands into Hermitcraft and causes problems for everyone" genre. Seeing how many fics there are with that premise, I think that says a lot. It handles Grian's weird Watcher stuff really well. Honestly, I just want to know what happens next!

killing the boy in the tv by @raspberrystruck is like a sickfic on steroids. If you want Grian with so much past trauma he forgets how to function in society, this is basically the fic for you. I really love how hybrid traits affect the characters' interactions in this fic, and how everyone is kind of messed up because of the imbalance Grian brings. It is wonderfully descriptive in all the right places!

Love Me Like I'm Dead by @daniofcrows is such a gem. You know how hard it is to find good Xisuma whump? It's impossible. I absolutely love how Xisuma and Evil X are characterised in this, and I am obsessed with the unique take on hanahaki disease which I have never seen handled in this way before. The balance between flashbacks and present day is maintained wonderfully and I cannot wait to continue reading this one. Wow.

Oh, you wanted me to do a verse? by @bugbbear is... kind of indescribable. It's horror. It's comedy. It's the apocalypse. It's boatem. Scar eats someone. One of the most interesting and unique apocalypse stories I have read. Slowly updating but worth the wait, in my opinion. This one NEEDS more attention.

So Much For Stardust by @a-plethora-of-peters is basically one of my all-time favourites. Which is a damn good achievement seeing as I don't usually read ZITS fics. Like, ever. In this fic, Skizz is a human abducted and hurt badly by aliens, now recovering in the care of good aliens who don't know how 'sentient' he is. Every update of this one makes me smile, it is wonderful. I love how the characters are written and how the different perspectives are shown. It is just great.

Solar Waltz by @raspberrystruck and aroundtheclock is a brilliant and very very sad regression fic. I love fluffy regression fics as much as the next guy, but this one just... hits different. The hurt/comfort levels are off the charts. Grian is so damn cute the whole time, while also being harrowingly complicated and sad. I am so ready for whatever comes next.

Tango's Castle of Cards by @evilrat-sabre is the one where Tango is a BUG. He's just a little guy (horror). This one is so beautifully written, with poetry-type interludes and perspective changes that really make everything feel so much more impactful. Finding out your buddy is a murder bug isn't the easiest thing in the world. I love this so much.

Traveling Thieves {Dark Fantasy AU} (series) by @amethystfairy1 is basically one of the series of all time. I know I keep saying that but it really really is. I love a good fantasy au, and I love an au with hybrids even more. In this world, hybrids are treated like slaves, but it isn't all doom and gloom for the main characters of each installment. There is a lot of hurt/comfort and the different stories feed into each other in really interesting ways. I try to read as much as I can, though I've missed a few because my emails are buggy. Definitely worth reading these fics, especially since now they're all starting to come together!

Completed Fics

Solving Counting Sheep by @theminecraftbee might have rearranged my brain chemistry a little. Another strong contender for 'fics that inspire me to kill Grian', this time with a more concrete notion of "replacement". Three is my favourite fucked up living weapon. It's so rare to find Evo fics in this day and age, too. This fic had me immediately clicking on every update as soon as I got the emails.

Rescue Fire by @imaginethat0327 is one of the most unique takes on a fictionalised life series game that I have ever read. The whole concept is explained in a realistic and easy-to-follow way, as we learn what's happening with the characters. There are several brilliant storylines happening in this one, but my particular favourites are Jimmy & Tango, Joel, and of course Scar & Grian. This fic is full of whump and, well, read the tags, it isn't always pleasant, but those are my favourite things ever. Definitely worth checking out this fic and its currently updating sequel.

don't you know about me? by takenbadgering is a wonderful comedy of errors with just the right amount of angst for a realistic setting type of fic. If you enjoy polyamory miscommunications, rave aesthetics, kandi, school teacher dynamics, and a lovely blend between grumbo, cubscar, and mumscar, this is the one.

Eventually the Birds Must Land by @milo-hypno follows a polyam ship I would have never thought of, and I cannot believe how much I loved it. This married-as-friends fic premise is wonderful, and captures the main trio (Grian, Mumbo, Impulse)'s personalities so well, while balancing them with the incredibly terrifying descriptions of the Watchers and their power. There's a lot of angst here, but it is ultimately hurt/comfort to the maximum degree. I loved reading it as it updated. Yay for gay marriage!

From The Archives (series) by @sixteenth-days was the absolute inspiration for my own Comms AU, and I will never forget its influence on me. As someone basically unfamiliar with TMA, I thought this series might be hard to follow, but it was not! I read all 57 parts in the span of two days, and I think it altered my brain chemistry. Please read it, even if (especially if) you don't know anything about TMA. The Cleo and Grian storyline lives in my head rent free. I mean it. This is horror at its finest. Also there's an audio series of this fic being released rn, which is very cool.

SUPERCRITICAL by @masque-of-plague hits different. It is such a wonderful take on the superhero/HotGuy trope, and it gets so super dark at some points! This one really takes swings at it's fictional government, which of course I love, while at the same time building this brilliantly emotional relationship between Scar and Grian. I do enjoy a bit of enemies to lovers, but the actual plot mixed into the story makes this one extra special. It is thrilling, with action that I don't get to see too often! Great work.

I am weary with contending! is one of the mumscarian fics of all time. From 'this house has people in it'-type horror, to magic gone wrong, to childhood trauma, to attempted assassination, to gender fuckery, this fic has it all. Usually I don't go for convex siblings, but this one is good enough to get a pass from me. Amazingly detailed worldbuilding alongside a brilliantly creative story.

It Spreads by @foxxology may not count as a fic, actually. It's a comic. But it's posted on ao3 so it counts. I was obsessed with this one as it was updating, honestly. It rocked me to my core. The art is phenomenal. The writing is brilliant. I love sculk.

Luck of the sea by Sleepy_Duck is a lovely take on mermaid and human interactions, with Grian as a marine life conservator and Scar as a very neglected mer. This one takes us emotionally in all sorts of directions, and offers lots of hope for the future of the characters. I heavily enjoyed this fic - if you like mermaids and marine biology, check it out.

there are many downsides to being a marine biologist by donnerstag is another mermaid fic but with a pretty different vibe. First of all, it follows what I would consider a rarepair Doc/Martyn. Second of all, reading this as it updated was a thrilling experience that nearly made me cry at certain points. I love how the relationship builds in this fic. It is honestly amazing. The whole idea of experimenting on a sentient sea creature, learning that he can communicate, then losing funding and having to save him from being dissected?!?! It's crazy. I love it.

Thus concludes my fic recommendations. I hope you enjoy at least some of these, and consider reblogging to spread these wonderful fics around <3

#ben chats shit on the internet #hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitshipping #fanfiction #fic recs #life series #trafficblr #traffic smp #trafficshipping #traffic series #traffic life #??? what else do i tag this uhh #long post