#GPS home code

[mysterioushimachal]

India’s Digital Addressing Revolution: DIGIPIN by India Post and ISRO

[souvenir116]

charles my angel my fashion king you need to get pole even if only for this ring

[a-very-fond-farewell]

:/

[softileo]

Join us to become advance future Online Business Owner. Stay updated with trends, best practices, and insights from our team.

[greynatomy]

make my heart race || leah williamson social media au

face claim - none (fem!reader)

author’s note - i’ve been into f1 fics lately and an idea popped into my head. i’ll disappear from the writing world again after this so please enjoy and lmk what you think!

p.s. the timeline isn’t real life accurate so dw about the dates so much

liked by charles_leclerc, williamsracing and 20,365 others

formula2 Y/N Y/LN IS YOUR 2020 FIA FORMULA 2 CHAMPION

view all comments

user1 that’s my girl!!!

user2 hell yeah!!

charles_leclerc she’s growing up 🥺 doing bigger things

↳ user3 AH i love this friendship

↳ user4 I SHIP THEM SO HARD YOUR HONOR

↳ yourinstagram wtf chucky don’t ever use that emoji again

↳ user5 SHE CALLS HIM CHUCKY😩 IM SLEEPING ON THE HIGHWAY

↳ charles_leclerc but that’s my face right now

↳ yourinstagram well stop it

↳ user6 MAMA Y PAPA, MAMA Y PAPA

user7 girls shouldn’t be in formula one

↳ user8 bitch are you blind?? this is literally the formula 2 account

↳ user9 she not there yet but best believe she will

lewishamilton congratulations y/n!!

↳ yourinstagram ONFGSHDBD LEWIS HAMILTON SEVEN TIME FORMULA ONE WORLD CHAMPION JUST CONGRATULATED ME

↳ charles_leclerc you’ve literally met him before…

↳ yourinstagram CHARLES SHUT UP LET ME FANGIRL

↳ user10 i love her

liked by charles_leclerc, user1 and other 17,749 others

yourinstagram chucky let me drive

view all comments

user1 why does she call him chucky?

↳ user2 they basically grew up together and she’s always called him that

↳ user3 it’s actually pretty cute

↳ user4 her charles and max started carting around the same time

user5 he’s so hot 🥵 my man my man my man

charles_leclerc you drove for five seconds and told me to take a picture

↳ yourinstagram okay???? don’t gotta tell them

↳ charles_leclerc maman always told me to be truthful

↳ user6 why do i ship

↳ yourinstagram you’re uninvited to my yacht

↳ charles_leclerc what yacht??

↳ yourinstagram 🖕

↳ user7 this is so sibling coded

liked by yourinstagram, scuderiaferrari and 22,738 others

formula2 BREAKING: @/yourinstagram steps up to @/f1 with @/scuderiaferrari starting the 2021 season on a three year contract 🪜

You got this Y/N! 🇪🇸

#F2 #RoadToF1 #Y/NY/LN

view all comments

user1 no way

user2 where all the haters at saying she wouldn’t make it??

user3 girls shouldn’t be in formula one

↳ user4 too bad!! she’s making bank while you’re rotting at home!

↳ user3 she still shouldn’t be in racing at all

↳ user5 boohoo bitch go cry about it!

yourinstagram i’m gonna miss you so much admin🥲

↳ formula2 we’ll miss you too! off to bigger things!🍾

user6 she’s replacing vettel??

↳ user7 yes and she’s amazing

scuderiaferrari so excited to have you join us!!

↳ yourinstagram forza ferrari!!!

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 345,638 others

yourinstagram new season, new car 😎

view all comments

user1 oh shit she’s gonna go vroom vroom even faster this year

↳ yourinstagram you know it 😏

charles_leclerc i got a new car too

↳ yourinstagram go to your own instagram this is all about me

↳ scuderiaferrari podium 1-2??

↳ yourinstagram all day baby!!

maxverstappen1 i bet my cat is still faster

↳ yourinstagram nah i’m taking your title this year

↳ user2 spicy y/n i’m here for it

↳ landonorris my car can go fast too!

↳ yourinstagram it better be able to cause if not… then idk bud

liked by f1, user1 and 364,829 others

scuderiaferrari PODIUM for both Charles and Y/n! Congratulations Charles for P3 and a HUGE CONGRATULATIONS to Y/N for winning her first ever Grand Prix!!!

Great day at Silverstone! 🇬🇧

#F1 #BritishGP

view all comments

user1 VAMOS!!!! 🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸

user2 P1 P1 P1

user3 first ever woman to win a formula one grand prix!!!

user4 is that leah williamson on the third slide??

↳ user5 who’s leah williamson?

↳ user6 who’s leah williamson??? she’s the captain of the lionesses!!

↳ user7 what sport is that?

↳ user6 football

liked by alexiaputellas, liawaelti and 132,738 others

leahwilliamsonn Had so much fun at my first GP with my hometown team @/astonmartinf1 💚

view all comments

user1 no way! i’m here too!!

user2 woso x f1 both my worlds colliding

astonmartinf1 so glad you could join us!! 💚💚

↳ leahwilliamsonn thank you for having me!

kyracooneyx did your research live up to your expectations?

↳ leahwilliamsonn don’t expose me

↳ liawaelti she didn’t do any research cause she wanted to be surprised

↳ leahwilliamsonn i guess it’s gang up on leah day 🙄

user3 have fun!

user4 i need her 😩

yourinstagram it was so nice to meet you!

↳ leahwilliamsonn thank you for coming up!

↳ yourinstagram i would be crazy if i didn’t hermosa 😉 come back soon, maybe to a different garage

↳ user5 nurse! y/n is off her meds again!

↳ user6 i don’t think we’re supposed to be here

↳ user7 we’re definitely interrupting something

liked by user1, user2 and 7,648 others

wagdates Y/N Y/LN seen out with Leah Williamson at a skate park in Spain days before the Spanish Grand Prix.

view all comments

user3 they said ‘fuck being secret’

user4 i love them already your honor!

user5 the highway looks comfortable to sleep in right now

charles_leclerc @/yourinstagram busted

↳ yourinstagram shut up

↳ user6 did charles just confirm?

↳ user7 what other confirmation do you need? they’re literally making out

↳ user6 it could be a friendly kiss 🤷‍♀️

user7 okayyy but why is no one talking about the HAND PLACEMENT?????

↳ user8 THANK YOU!! it was all i could seee

↳ user9 i mean if i was dating leah i’d want her to choke me too 🤷‍♀️

↳user10 preach sister 🙌

liked by leahwilliamsonn, liawaelti and 471,739 others

scuderiaferrari pre-race through our lense 📸

#Y/NY/LN #SpanishGP

view all comments

user1 leah better stay away from her she’s mine!

↳ user2 never seen anyone more delulu than you

user3 can’t wait for leah to show up

user4 she so so fineuhhhh

charles_leclerc @/yourinstagram is this a photoshoot or a grand prix??

↳ yourinstagram nothing 🤷‍♀️ just an inchident

↳ user5 i love this little relationship they have

liked by yourinstagram, user1 and 90,739 others

leahwilliamsonn Another amazing Grand Prix with @/astonmartinf1 🤍

view all comments

yourinstagram 🤤🤤🤤

yourinstagram ditch them and come to my garage

yourinstagram i need my good luck charm

↳ leahwilliamsonn we’ll see

↳ user2 the way y/n probably has her post notifications on 😩

user3 she looks so good i need her

liked by user1, user2 and 10,748 others

wagdates Y/N Y/LN runs to Leah Williamson in the stands after her home GP win!!

Relationship confirmed?!

view all comments

user3 NOWAY??? THEY DID THAT?

user4 IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE CROWD?

↳ user5 right when Y/N got out of her car, she ran straight to Leah, ignoring everyone else

↳ user6 UGH that’s so cuteee

user7 that should be me 😫

liked by leahwilliamsonn, charles_leclerc and 502,274 others

yourinstagram number one at home with my number one 🏆

👤 : leahwilliamsonn

view all comments

leahwilliamsonn so proud of you ♥️♥️♥️

↳ yourinstagram te amo ♥️♥️♥️

↳ user1 when will it be my turn??

charles_leclerc double date when?

↳ yourinstagram make an appointment with my manager

↳ alexandrasaintmleux a double date sounds great!

↳ leahwilliamsonn yeah darling a double date is a great idea

↳ yourinstagram …double date it is

↳ maxverstappen1 make that a triple date!

↳ yourinstagram yes! i won’t be stuck with chuck

↳ charles_leclerc i am offended

↳ user2 not them going 3v1 with y/n

user3 i need to stop being single

liked by yourinstagram, alexandrasaintmleux and 116,739 others

leahwilliamsonn who new going to watch cars go vroom will help me find the one

👤 : yourinstagram

view all comments

yourinstagram watching you kick balls is pretty interesting too

↳ leahwilliamsonn being a wag suits you

↳ yourinstagram never thought i’d be a wag but i’m glad i’m yours

↳ landonorris alright! we get it! you love each other…

↳ user1 lando just had to get his two cents in

↳ charles_leclerc you’re just salty cause you’re still single

↳ yourinstagram who taught you that word?

↳ leahwilliamsonn that might’ve been me…

↳ user2 i never thought i’d see charles using gen z slang

user3 wait who is leah kissing??

↳ user4 y/n y/ln she’s a formula one driver

alexandrasaintmleux we gotta hang out just the two of us! have a day without the two!

↳ leahwilliamsonn text me!!

↳ charles_leclerc what??

↳ yourinstagram without us??

user5 bro wtf did author just wrote a whole love story through instagram and twitter?

[fryingpan1234567]

And They Were Roommates | 481 SMAU

a/n: the worms have consumed me. the brain worms. Don’t save me I’m exactly where I want to be

landoscar, background lestappen and brocedes, bearnelli and galex if you squint REALLY hard

All photos from Pinterest; I made the banners

Songs used:

Futureproof (the Rare Occasions)

Where the Light Is (Surfaces)

The Lazy Song (Bruno Mars)

Trendsetter (Connor Price)

Mona Lisa (Dominic Fike)

Babydoll (Dominic Fike)

Tear In My Heart (twenty one pilots)

Way Less Sad (AJR)

My Type (Saint Motel)

Came Here For Love (Sígala/ Ella Lyre)

Dear Future Husband (Meghan Trainor)

Sunshine (OneRepublic)

Warnings: slightly suggestive like twice, swearing

‼️these are real people and I’m not legitimately shipping them irl this is just a silly little serotonin boosting project‼️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

lando

1,284,187 likes and they were roommates (I’m referring to my son, Muppet)

7,276 comments

❤️ by author

oscarpiastri: Don’t ever clock me like this again 

     > lando: it will happen again😇

     > oscarpiastri: 😐

User: did McLaren really okay this??

User: A WIN FOR THE LANDOSCAR NATION

User: best friends core🧡🧡🧡

User: Lando you can’t just say that about your teammate😭

User: oh my god they were roommates

User: THE DOG’S NAME IS MUPPET

User: do you guys think he knows the gay subtext to that meme

     > User: don’t let tumblr see this

❤️ by author

mclarenauto: Early bedtimes for you both

     > lando: 😔

     > oscarpiastri: 😔

oscarpiastri

928,183 likes Woke up to this weirdo in my house😐

5,287 comments

lando: our house*

     > oscarpiastri: How did you get in here

     > User: someone find and insert the Bugs  

         Bunny communism meme

❤️ by author

mclarenauto: Please refrain from receiving burn injuries before the race this weekend. Looks fire!🔥

     > User: looks ON fire maybe

     > User: I know damn well that ain’t in 

         their meal plan💀

User: not Lando burning their house down in the first week

     > lando: I wanted to make pancakes😔

georgerussell63: mate you can’t let him use the stove we know this

     > oscarpiastri: The ONE time he wakes 

         up early and this is what happens

     > lando: bullying. I’m being bullied at 9 in 

         the morning

alex_albon: I don’t think pancakes are supposed to be on fire?

     > lando: YOU’RE SUCH A HATER

carlossainz55: they look wonderful Lando!

     > lando: THANK you finally someone who 

         appreciates my culinary mastery

     > carlossainz55: ❤️

     > lando: 🧡

     > oscarpiastri: Why am I third wheeling 

         in my own comment section

     > User: jealous Oscar?

     > oscarpiastri: Yes

     > lando: good

     > carlossainz55: good

lando

726,287 likes and they say I have a sleep addiction

2,876 comments

oscarpiastri: STOP CLOCKING ME ON MAIN

     > lando: NO

     > User: 😭

User: he’s so sleepy cat coded

User: is that Lando’s hoodie?💀

        ❤️ by author

     > oscarpiastri: It’s good merch

User: my soul is healing one Oscar pic at a 

time

User: so we’re just not gonna address the one where he’s laying on top of him? no? okay

charles_leclerc: nap time for my son

     > oscarpiastri: Dad don’t embarrass me 

         in Lando’s comment section !

     > User: most emotion I’ve seen out of 

         Oscar all season

User: help why is he so tired😭

hattiepiastri: eepy boy

     > oscarpiastri: This is NONE of your 

         business😐👎

     > hattiepiastri: mom said to check on 

         you

     > User: SCREAMING

oscarpiastri

2,287,506 likes Home sweet home. Thank you Australia GP and hello podium👍

10,335 comments

❤️ by author

mclarenauto: Mega job out there!

     > oscarpiastri: 👍

lando: congrats on P2 mate. you know what’s better than P2? P1

     > oscarpiastri: Me looking for where I 

         asked

     > User: OSCAR????

     > User: HE COOKED LANDO

     > User: ATE HIM UP

     > lando: ☹️

     > oscarpiastri: 🧡

georgerussell63: I’ll get you next time

     > oscarpiastri: You can try😎

❤️ by author

charles_leclerc: dethroned by my own son

     > oscarpiastri: 😎

maxverstappen1: I let you past me on the last lap

     > lando: jealousy isn’t a good color on 

         you mate

     > maxverstappen1: me looking for where 

         I asked

     > User: AGAIN

     > User: Lando: 0, everyone else: 2

     > oscarpiastri: 😎

     > User: Oscar there’s other emojis

lando

892,156 likes back home again, got up to some tomfoolery. anyways #/softlaunch

528,512 comments

User: so are we all gonna ignore the tag or

User: THAT LOOKS LIKE AN OSCAR BACK TO ME

     > User: stalker behavior

User: ??????

User: EVERYBODY STAY CALM NOBODY MOVE

User: that’s a man

     > User: a brilliant observation 

mclarenauto: 👀

     > User: ADMIN WHAT DO YOU KNOW

     > mclarenauto: 👀👀👀

georgerussell63: tomfoolery is quite a big word for you mate 

     > lando: I hate you

alex_albon: not you running back home so you don’t have to lose to me at padel?? come back??

     > lando: I would’ve won I just had 

         somewhere better to be

     > alex_albon: I don’t believe you.

maxverstappen1: why haven’t I heard about this?? respond to your phone you twat

     > charles_leclerc: amour be nice

     > lando: yeah be nice you twat

     > charles_leclerc: I don’t know why I try

❤️ by author

oscarpiastri: 😐

     > User: jealous Oscar makes another 

         appearance

     > User: unless it’s him

     > User: don’t be weird 

     > lando: hi osc!

     > oscarpiastri: Hi Lando👋

     > User: OMG

     > User: THEY LITERALLY JUST SAID HI 

         TO EACH OTHER CALM DOWN

carlossainz55: mi amor I thought we promised to wait to tell the public💔

     > lando: I’m sorry Carlos, I just couldn’t 

         wait any longer😔

     > User: here for the soap opera

     > oscarpiastri: Me too

     > User: OSCAR????

author deleted comment(s)

oscarpiastri: 🧡

     > lando: 🧡

oscarpiastri

1,397,176 likes How does a #/softlaunch work again? + Lando and Koala because I live with them

286,751 comments

User: OSCAR AND LANDO SOFTLAUNCHING IN THE SAME WEEK????????

User: WHAT PLANET HAVE WE LANDED ON

User: I’M SCREAMING

User: wtf is going on

User: matching songs…

User: so is no one else wondering when either of them had time to meet people outside of race weekends

     > alex_albon: I did it

     > pierregasly: I did it

     > georgerussell63: I did it

     > danielricciardo: I did it!

     > User: damn I stand corrected

❤️ by author

mclarenauto: 🧡

charles_leclerc: use protection 

     > oscarpiastri: What🤠

     > charles_leclerc: you heard me

     > User: LMFAOAOAOAO

     > maxverstappen1: 💀

lando: copied me

     > oscarpiastri: Bold of you to assume I 

         even look at your Instagram 

     > georgerussell63: as if we don’t see 

         you liking all of Lando’s posts and 

         stories

     > alex_albon: I love stirring the pot

     > lando: my goats🙏

     > georgerussell63: what happened to 

         hating us?

     > alex_albon: PLAY PADEL WITH ME

f1gossip

386,108 likes Following his crash at last week’s GP, Oscar Piastri is sat out of this one to rest and recover. He’ll be back in his seat next weekend, but for now, their reserve driver’s got it covered. On the bright side, OP81 appears to be in his WAG era for a certain Lando Norris!

48,187 comments

User: that was so scary I’m so glad he’s okay

User: I didn’t know WAG!Oscar was something I needed in my life until now

User: Lando seems to be okay with this arrangement 

User: they’re so sweet to each other

lando

982,176 likes 

taking care of this loser so I can beat him again in Silverstone

552,176 comments

oscarpiastri: I’m pretty much back to normal now?

     > lando: TAKING CARE OF YOU 

         BECAUSE YOU’RE A LOSER

     > oscarpiastri: You’re a loser

     > lando: 💔

     > oscarpiastri: 🧡

     > lando: 🧡

     > maxverstappen1: get a room

     > georgerussell63: no don’t I’m 

         entertained

User: what in the domestic life

User: they’ve both been softlaunching for months now PLEASE CONFIRM SOMETHING

User: landoscar hugs>>>

❤️ by author

mclarenauto: Rest up! We’ll see you both at the track!

lewishamilton: And you think either of you are winning Silverstone because…?

     > lando: because we’re better than you

     > oscarpiastri: Because we’re better 

         than you (:

     > maxverstappen1: none of you are 

         winning it’s mine

     > georgerussell63: not if I have anything 

         to do with it

     > User: the girls are fighting

oscarpiastri

2,297,176 likes Being back in the seat feels pretty good😎

176,486 comments

User: right so they’re helmet kissing? is nobody else seeing this?

User: THIRD SLIDE HELLO????

User: I FEEL LIKE I’M LOSING MY MIND

User: CONFIRM THE RELATIONSHIP ALREADY PLEASE🙏🙏🙏

❤️ by author

mclarenauto: Welcome back 81!

lando: damn standing ovulation or whatever the saying is🥵

     > oscarpiastri: It is 8 in the morning

     > User: LANDO???????????

     > User: BEING HORNY ON MAIN IS 

        CRAZY

     > lando: sorry I was fighting demons 

         when I wrote that

     > oscarpiastri: Pick up your phone.

     > User: WOAH

charles_leclerc: looking good son

     > maxverstappen1: not good enough to 

         beat me

     > oscarpiastri: @/charles_leclerc 😎

     > lando: @/maxverstappen1 🖕

hattiepiastri: imagine having to wear that goofy looking onesie all the time

     > oscarpiastri: I’m telling mom

     > nicolepiastri: Leave me ALL the way 

         out of this.

     > User: 😭

     > lando: hi mama Piastri!😁

     > nicolepiastri: Hi Lando!🩷

     > User: LANDO MET OSCAR’S MOM

lando

2,297,917 likes second place at home and celebrations afterwards! winning doesn’t feel nearly as sweet as being with you my love🧡

927,186 comments

❤️ by author

oscarpiastri: Podium looks good on you

User: we know who it is just hardlaunch already

User: he can’t possibly think he was slick with this one😭

User: Oscar in the comments is NOT helping😭🙏

User: “my love”🫠🫠🫠

User: them winning each other’s home races is making me feel things

❤️ by author

lewishamilton: I did give you a fight 

     > oscarpiastri: That you did

     > lando: guess we know who the best 

         Brit on the grid is!

     > georgerussell63: unless the answer is 

         me no the fuck we do not.

     > lando: sorry I can’t hear you from P5

     > olliebearman: ??

     > georgerussell63: the adults are talking 

     > kimi.antonelli: @/georgerussell63 

         rude !

❤️ by author

mclarenauto: Mega race today, Lando! See you next week!

maxverstappen1: how’d the wall taste

     > lando: well I still beat you so it tasted 

         pretty good I’d say

     > maxverstappen1: GO BACK TO BEING 

         A RED BULL FAN GODDAMMIT

     > redbullracing: Concur.

     > mclarenauto: Sorry, he’s ours now!

     > oscarpiastri: Yeah, he’s ours!

     > lando: yours*

     > oscarpiastri: 🧡

     > User: Oscar only uses four emojis and 

         they’re all to flirt with Lando

alex_albon: cringe caption what is this a hallmark movie?

     > lando: never beating the hater 

         allegations

        ❤️ by author

     > alex_albon: you’re right it’s cute I’m ngl 

         I’m just being a hater

oscarpiastri

2,196,497 likes I could get used to winning in your country, sweetheart. ANYWAYS SILVERSTONE DUB WOOHOO😎😎😎

497,187 comments

User: IT’S SO FUCKING OBVIOUS

User: this is JUST BARELY not enough of a confirmation I’m fuming 

User: STOP TORMENTING US

User: so what I’m hearing is he’s British 

     > User: OF COURSE HE’S BRITISH IT’S 

         LANDO

     > User: WE DON’T KNOW THAT YET

lewishamilton: Disrespectful caption

     > oscarpiastri: Wasn’t addressed to you, 

         hope this helps!

     > User: CLOCKED

     > User: Oscar gets feisty after a win😭

charles_leclerc: if you pull this kind of stunt in Monaco, you’re grounded.

     > lando: lighten up dad

     > oscarpiastri: Yeah dad jeez

     > maxverstappen1: we don’t like being 

         shown up by our own family!

     > oscarpiastri: Skill issue? Just get good

     > charles_leclerc: that’s it! hand over 

         your Xbox!

     > oscarpiastri: NO

     > pierregasly: someone get me popcorn

hattiepiastri: why isn’t your dumb boyfriend in any of these pictures 

     > lando: rude??

     > hattiepiastri: SO YOU ADMIT IT’S YOU

        ❤️ by author 

     > lando: I’m defending Oscar and his 

         anonymous partner’s honor. that’s not 

         a crime

     > hattiepiastri: not a crime just mega 

         suspicious

     > oscarpiastri: Hattie it’s past your 

         bedtime little sister

     > hattiepiastri: KYS

     > nicolepiastri: Hattie…

     > hattiepiastri: congrats on the win, dear 

         brother!

     > alex_albon: everyone be quiet my 

         show is on

lando: another race well run Osc, I’ll get you next time

     > oscarpiastri: Can’t keep up?🧡

     > lando: oh I can🧡

     > User: STOP BEING HORNY ON MAIN

❤️ by author

mclarenauto: Another victory in the bag for OP81! Mega work this weekend!!!

     > oscarpiastri: 😎

f1gossip

928,156 likes Lando Norris was seen kissing a tall stranger in Monaco this week— could it be his famed anonymous partner? Someone we haven’t met yet? Maybe even Oscar Piastri? Stay tuned!

58,287 comments

User: I swear to god if that’s not Oscar

User: I NEED them to hardlaunch

User: the height difference is killing me

User: you can’t even tell it’s Lando💀💀

User: through a window is low.

User: feels like a violation of privacy!

mclarenauto: See no evil…

     > User: WHAT.

     > User: HI ADMIN????

     > User: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

     > User: McLaren after dark

lando

3,197,487 likes I suppose I’d be an idiot to not post about you on our one year, so here it is: I love you, my weird little nerd, my favorite person, my teammate, my love, my Oscar. you make my world brighter and I couldn’t think of someone better to share podiums with. happy anniversary🧡🧡🧡

982,186 comments

User: OKAY STAY CALM STAY CALM

User: EVERYONE RELAX

User: I SCREECHED OUT LOUD

User: WE FUCKING KNEW IT

User: GOD I SEE WHAT YOU HAVE DONE FOR OTHERS

User: I CAN’T BREATHE

User: THE SONG????

❤️ by author

oscarpiastri: Hello gorgeous🧡 happy anniversary 

     > lando: hi handsome

     > User: SCREAMING

❤️ by author

carlossainz55: congratulations cabron❤️

     > lando: I’ll miss you pookie

     > oscarpiastri: Wtf

     > carlossainz55: oh, you must be the 

         other girl😒

     > oscarpiastri: Excuse you I’m the 

         original WAG so

     > lando: please don’t fight over me💔

        ❤️ by author

     > oscarpiastri: I don’t have to, you’re 

         already mine 

     > carlossainz55: 💔😔

maxverstappen1: @/charles_leclerc remember when we hardlaunched and they filled my car with rainbow balloons? hm…

     > charles_leclerc: mon amour at least 

         let them settle in first

     > maxverstappen1: they’ve been living 

         together for over a year they’ll be okay

     > lando: are you conspiring against us

     > maxverstappen1: congratulations 

         mate I’m ordering confetti as we speak 

     > lando: for my next podium right

     > lando: right

     > lando: @/maxverstappen1 RIGHT?

     > oscarpiastri: you’re on vacuum duty

❤️ by author

georgerussell63: fucking FINALLY. if I had to stand in front of any more cameras to block your PDA I was gonna lose my shit

     > lando: appreciate the support mate

     > georgerussell63: anytime mate 

     > georgerussell63: I’m still gonna 

         pummel you this weekend though

     > lando: you can try!

❤️ by author

alex_albon: retiring from being a professional hater, you guys are cute asf🙏

     > lando: it’s a miracle

     > alex_albon: I’m going back to being a 

        hater

     > lando: 💔

kimi.antonelli: 🏳️‍🌈

     > lando: 🇬🇧

     > kimi.antonelli: 🏳️‍🌈❓

     > lando: 🏳️‍🌈🤝🇬🇧

     > kimi.antonelli: 🙂‍↕️👍

     > olliebearman: ‼️

     > oscarpiastri: I feel like I just read the 

         revival of hieroglyphics

     > User: that was unironically the funniest 

         thing you’ve ever said

     > User: LMAOOO

❤️ by author

nicolepiastri: 🩷

     > lando: 🧡!

❤️ by author

hattiepiastri: welcome to the family. you still have time to run

     > oscarpiastri: Hattie.

     > lando: you know what you’re right I’m 

         having second thoughts

     > oscarpiastri: HATTIE??

     > lando: @/hattiepiastri about being in 

         laws with YOU

     > hattiepiastri: CLOCKED

     > hattiepiastri: I know when to cut my 

         losses and call it quits🙏

     > lando: love you sis

     > hattiepiastri: love you bro

     > oscarpiastri: I hate everything about 

         this conversation 

❤️ by author

mclarenauto: Congrats! We might need to have another talk about professional workplace relationships, but we’re happy for you both!

     > lando: it started professional I swear

     > oscarpiastri: I don’t think you’re 

         helping our case sweetheart 

     > User: oh my god

oscarpiastri

2,972,276 likes Well, sweetheart, it’s been the most eventful year of my life, that’s for sure. I love traveling the world with you even if you won’t eat fish in any coastal city we go to, which is a lot of them. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Happy one year🧡🎉

826,197 comments

User: GETTING CLOCKED ON YOUR ONE YEAR AND HARDLAUNCH IS DIABOLICAL

User: THIS IS REVENGE FOR ALL THE OTHER TIMES

User: WE’VE WAITED ONE THOUSAND YEARS

User: THEY’RE SO🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

❤️ by author

lando: okay so my caption was sweet and cutesey and you make fun of my phobia. rude asf

     > oscarpiastri: I considered writing 

         about bugs instead

     > lando: I’m breaking up with you

     > oscarpiastri: I could make fun of your 

         fear of fish in a loving and affectionate 

         way. Would it help if I called you baby 

         and reassured you the dead sea 

         creatures weren’t going to get you?

     > lando: yes.

     > oscarpiastri: Anything for you baby

     > User: they make me SICK

❤️ by author 

charles_leclerc: my son all grown up!!

@/lando please report to the Ferrari garage immediately for a mandatory conversation 

     > lando: conversation?? like a shovel 

         talk??

     > charles_leclerc: 🥰

     > lando: OSC HELP

     > oscarpiastri: No this is funny

❤️ by author 

hattiepiastri: do you know how difficult it was to keep this a secret

     > oscarpiastri: Yes actually you called 

         me to complain about it at least once a 

         week

❤️ by author

nicolepiastri: proud of you Osc🥰

     > oscarpiastri: Thank you mum🧡

❤️ by author 

lewishamilton: Now where have I heard this before…

     > nicorosberg: stop making people think 

         we’re divorced

     > lewishamilton: Sometimes I can still 

         hear his voice💔

     > nicorosberg: stop

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2 coming soon🥰

drop your thoughts

[emberphoenixisgoingtolive]

Nublar Six post chaos theory headcanons

cw for slightly suggestive content on the last four bullet points

they all live together on Sammy’s ranch for a year or so so they can reconnect

also rent is expensive and Kenji has nowhere to live (his trailer probably got towed or something)

they delegate chores so one person is in charge of a certain thing (chore headcanons here)

grocery shopping is usually Darius and Kenji’s responsibility but sometimes they all come

Smoothie sits in the trolley basket and loves it

the others all use the animals for comfort. sometimes they just need to hug a horse or pet a chicken or sleep in the cow barn for the night and that is Okay

the idea prompts Sammy and Yaz to start a small therapeutic program for Texan kids who take comfort in animals

Smoothie and Bumpy also become emotional support animals for the kids who are maybe a bit scared of dinosaurs

Yaz does Brooklynn’s hair for her since she finds it hard cos of her arm

no matter what is going on in their day, they all always try to make it home for dinner so they can chat and have a nice meal

Darius usually cooks but Yaz and Sammy enjoy helping him out in the kitchen

Kenji enjoys ‘helping them’ (sitting at the dinner table and talking) too

a good spotify experience is very important to Kenji, so he bought the group premium deal

Brooklynn tried to cook once and was banned from ever trying it again

every saturday evening they hold a movie night with snacks and everyone piles onto the sofas (and usually end up asleep there)

altogether they have most of the streaming services (if only they could agree on a movie to watch)

Sammy isn’t really religious but still goes to church occasionally on sunday and puts Yaz in charge of the ranch

Sammy lowkey loves housewifing. she’ll make tupperwares of dinner leftovers for everyone for their lunch the next day with colour–coded tupperware lids and a smiley face drawn in marker

Yaz can’t run anymore due to her chronic ankle pain/instability but likes going for a solo walk around the ranch first thing in the morning

Kenji likes a late evening walk around the ranch, usually carrying Smoothie or walking with someone else. he lowkey does not like to be alone

sometimes Kenji also goes out for walks in the morning, and one time he finds Yaz having fallen over (she rolled her ankle badly because she forgot her brace and cane/was being stubborn and decided she didn’t need them) and he piggybacks her back to the ranch (should i fanfic this??? /gen)

Darius really vibes with the chickens. he loves feeding them. he loves petting them. he nicknames them all. Brooklynn lovingly teases him for it.

Kenji uses the cows/livestock as therapists. if he’s upset, off he goes to the fields to find the nearest cow that will listen. he’s not above eating grass with them (tried it once and disliked the ‘sour taste’ (pesticides))

Sammy has a massive truck which is the only vehicle that can transport all six of them at a time, and journeys in it are the most chaotic thing ever. the gps is broken and there’s not enough signal half the time and the only ones who can competently read a paper map are Darius and Brooklynn. there is always a argument over who gets the aux cord.

Ben steals everyone’s clothes. good luck to everyone else getting their stuff back

any items of clothing that are plain (e.g. black or white tops, jeans) are generally considered free real estate as long as it fits them

the living room sofa has a giant blanket that, with a lot of effort (and sitting on other peoples’ laps) can fit everyone + Smoothie

Kenji and Yaz bicker a lot but they love each other and it’s never that serious

to fuel Ben’s pyromania /nsrs they have a bonfire with marshmallows and s’mores once a month

the shower has a shower chair (for Yaz since standing too long can be painful for her ankle) and grab rails, but they’re pretty useful for everyone

speaking of, shower headcanons here

Sammy has a required hour where everyone has to go outside and enjoy the fresh air (no matter the weather, unless it’s literally a health hazard to be outdoors. she’s dragged them out into the rain before (they ended up loving it but Kenji would not stop whining for the first ten minutes) and she will do so again)

the group have successfully organised one (1) group holiday, where they all went to Italy for a week to see Gia and Nonna again, and another week in a holiday resort on a gorgeous Mediterranean island somewhere

i have so many holiday headcanons for them going to a holiday resort but i will do a proper post when i go on holiday to a resort myself this summer :D

they have a system where each person hangs a glowstick on their bedroom door handle if they are okay with being woken up that night for comforting someone who has a nightmare

Kenji wanders around shirtless all the time. Yaz throws pillows at him and yells at him to at least put a vest on and Kenji’s like, “it’s Texas, Yaz, I think I might be slowly cooking alive”

in retaliation Yaz wanders around without a shirt on (she has to stop when Sammy stares at her too long and walks into a door and gets a nosebleed)

everyone has probably seen each other mostly naked at least once

*cue modern family–esque scene where the others prepare a breakfast in bed for Sammy on her birthday and they walk into Sammy’s bedroom where her and Yaz are doing it and the others drop the tray and run and start screaming*

if one couple wants to bang, they text everyone else with the boom emoji and everyone else gets out of the house (the walls of the ranch are paper thin)

[academicfever]

45/100

reminder to self: You're doing better than you think. One step, one line of code, one spark of clarity at a time — you'll get there. You don’t have to rush. You just have to keep showing up. And you are.

Log: 18th May || DD_30 Challenge – Day 15

Mental health check _journal

Cook lunch and dinner +Laundry

Call home

Read 50 pages

imola gp

finally managed to fix my laptop... it's so expensive!!

[kindestofkings]

tongue-tied (sunflowers)

lando norris x reader

dets: reader is a pro golfer, a massive f1 fan and best friends with lily muni he. will she enter her wag era?

authors note: I litch dont know a thing about golf and I know you can tell lol xx ENJOY

faceclaim: madeline argy

yourusername

liked by lilymhe and others

yourusername just wanted to assure everyone im still alive ! just working away and falling more in love with lilymhe, better watch out alexalbon xxx

view all other comments

lilymhe my love !! training is always so fun with you

alexalbon heyy you're meant to say stop falling in love with me! ive a boyfriend 😑 lilymhe eh why bother :))

ynfan1 can't wait to see you in action on the green!!

ynfan2 🔥🔥🔥

lilymhe

liked by alex_albon and others

lilymhe the mixed weather has not stopped us getting some practice in! (its impossible to keep her attention when there's a gp on 🙄)

view all other comments

yourusername but it's the azerbaijan grand prix! I never miss a grand prix!

lilymhe first alex now you 🙄 🙄

f1fan1 can alobono fight? CAN HE FIGHT??

alex_albon you mean i'm not the only f1 lover in your life???

yourusername oi I was the first mister ! been a mclaren fan since birth 😤 lilymhe tbf she isn't lying... ynfan1 it is sooo common knowledge that yourusername is a ride or die mclaren fan lol yourusername yeah get with it albon

yourusername

liked by lilymhe and others

yourusername home and showered in time for the miami grand prix this is a full time job !

kind followers this pact of doritos is a secret between us, got it? so if my personal trainer asks you saw NOTHING, got it?

view all other comments

ynfan1 yn and lily being f1 fans is so cute !

lilymhe oooh but doritos are your sad snack ? whats happening

yourusername the fav ended in p17 😭 congrats to albonononono tho, i guess alex_albon wow could that have been anymore heartfelt ! lilymhe sush shes a mclaren girlie, don't kick her while she's down!! f1fan1 soooo me coded. its a hard time for us mclaren girlies rn.

yourusername

liked by ynfan1 and others

yourusername greens beautiful as always! unfortunately inviting alex_albon along with us backfired entirely cause albon didn't bring an papaya wearing f1 friend, so I just thirdwheeled for the day .

view all other comments

alex_albon oh sorry I think oscar was busy today :(

yourusername thats not who I meant and you know it ! 😑

lilymhe at least you look cute tho!

ynfan1 im litch not a golf fan but I'm obsessed with you lol

ynfan2 I feel so seen, I recognise a lando norris fan when I see one !

landonorris

liked by yourusername and others

landonorris freshhhh

view all other comments

f1fan1 lando finally past his puberty danny ric is proud

f1fan2 he so fine

landofan1 😳❤️

yourusername

liked by alex_albon and others

yourusername it's the monaco grand prix and not only am I not missing it, I'm here! thank qqqq mclaren <33

view all other comments

ynfan1 ahhhh OMG I hope you meet lando finally

lilymhe babe come williams garage xx

yourusername on my way bestie! gotta tell you about the most awkward encounter EVER lilymhe 🫢🫢

mclaren so glad to have you with us today!

landonorris just followed you!

yourusername

liked by lilymhe and others

yourusername attended my first grand prix after being a fan of the sport my whole life! was so chronically awkward I'll never show my face in public again, I've turned to the drink and am hiding away xxx

unrelated: is there a support group for people who embarrassed themselves in front of their celebrity crush??

view all other comments

lilymhe it can't possible have been THAT BAD

ynfan1 you looked so pretty tho!

ynfan1 also have you forgotten you're a PROFESSIONAL sportswoman yourself lilymhe they are so right ! you slay always yourusername 🥹🥹

mclaren please come join us for another weekend ! celeb crushes can go both ways you know ....

ynfan1 OH OH OH NORIZZ has a crush on you YAYYY

alex_albon leave you both unsupervised for a DAY and you implode

yourusername you said you would be my wingman, I was unprepared 😔😔

landonorris if you do find one can I also get the number to that support group?

osarpiastri please for the well being of everyone, I cannot hear a recap of this meeting alex_albon we should have stuck with the original plan and gone golfing ffs landonorris kick a guy while he's down why don't you yourusername hello ! hi guys just gentle reminder this is my comment section so I can like ... see everything.... landonorris hi 😳 alex_albon oh ffs help lilymhe

britishgq

liked by landonorris and others

britishgq meets yourusername in our next edition. yn is the pinnacle of modern women, with titles like the 'people's princess' circulating. we believe it's high time for a proper catch-up.

oh, and did we mention she's currently britain's highest-ranking female golfer?

view all other comments

yourusername ahh this is surreal, I had so much fun!!

britishgq 💓💓

lilymhe I say thats my bestie and I am PROUD

lilymhe a model and a killer sportswoman, someone wife her up before I do ! f1fan1 hahaha thats landos warning

ynfan1 I feel so proud omg!!

ynfan2 oh hello lando lurking in the likes

alex_albon oh?

landonorris

liked by maxfewtrell and others

landonorris have been getting some private lessons in between races, watch out carlossainz55

view all other comments

carlossainz55 aye you'll need a miracle

landonorris and who says I haven't got one...

alex_albon you'd wanna start returning my calls mate

landofan1 oh hello WHO ARE YOU SOFT LAUNCHING

ynfan1 *whispers* please be yn please be yn 🤞

lilymhe BESTIE STEALER

ynfan1 ahh its SO is yn

yourusername

liked by landonorris and others

yourusername golf golf golf, also I drove a fancy car and didnt crash! waiting for that call from mclaren any second now xx

view all other comments

lilymhe look at you all adorable and loved up <3

alex_albon these kids are growing up so fast ! f1fan you are everyones parents xx

mclaren getting rid of our first driver as we speak !!

landonorris you are leaving out the detail that you mounted the curb...

yourusername and I can leave the detail of you out of my life if you dont watch ynfan1 HE KNOWS THE DETAILS

landojpg

liked by yourusername and others

landojpg summer break well spent.

view all other comments

ynfan1 I spot my hero !! must be dating if she's on holiday with the friends

landofan1 ew is lily's friend hanging out of him AGAIN?? get a job christ

ynfan1 you do realise shes a professional golfer right?? ynfan2 there's this thing called holidays ....

lilymhe please give her back to me... you can take alex!

landojpg he's not as cute tho 😔 alex_albon so you're saying I am cute tho? 😎

landonorris added to their story!

the prettiest papaya supporter🧡

replies:

yourusername ah give a girl some warning before you hardlaunch her to your millions of fans... yourusername kinda so cute tho Ill let you away with it <3 lilymhe AH hardlaunch on main danielricciardo does landonorizz have ... rizz??

_finished_

as always would LOVE to know you're thoughts! come chat about this fic or even ideas you have for my next one??

[nanamineedstherapy]

Literally cannot wait for the next chapter to drop!! Please post it soon so I don’t end up sneaking chapters at work again.</3

Thank you for reading it all Pookie, my sincere apologies for the delay. I'm unfortunately a perfectionist and needed to add more details to make it real. Hope you enjoy it :)

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader x Gojo Satoru x Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage. Trigger/Crack Warnings: Graphic Violence, Emotional Abuse, Medically accurate Pain/Injuries Horror (yes, I do alot of research), pregnancy complications, Weaponized Guilt, Mentions of Rape (past, non-graphic), Psychological Manipulation, Mild Suicide Ideation (implied), Brainrot-Inducing Dialogue, Reader May Require Therapy After This, Emotional Damage Simulator 2025, Sukuna is Down Bad – Yuji said so, Mafia CEO AU (kinda), Reader is So Tired, Found Family? Or Found Emotional Damage?, Gojo Satoru's Consequences, Nanami Kento Deserves a Nap & to be able to pee in peace without his wife+husband combo broadcasting it, Unhinged Girlboss Reader, Murder as Romance, This chapter is a war crime. Trillionaire Tech Wife With Two Useless Men, Emotional Support Chicken. A/N: I feel like the reader is the biggest comedian in this series, tbh lol. Like??? She's fighting for her life, trauma bonding with eldritch horrors, & still has time to serve face & sarcasm in the same breath. Queen behaviour. Honestly, if I were her, I too would commit crimes while sipping Sprite out of a hospital cup. POOKIE SUKU IS HERE!!!!

Previous Chapter 23 (alt ending 2.14) - How the Salt in Our Wounds Was the Ocean - [Tumblr/Ao3]

Chapter 24 (alt ending 2.15) - Shattered Constellations

Aftermath | Their POV

They called her mortal.

They forgot she was trained by monsters.

Hour One

Nanami burned through every Tokyo contact. Then called Anna Wintour.

"Who did she meet tonight?"

There was a pause. The silence that comes when too many people are in the room, and you suddenly realise you’re the prey.

Anna’s tone was clipped, as ever. “Kento.”

“Anna. She’s missing. We can’t find her.”

“You must be very upset.”

“Who did she meet today? What was the investor’s name?”

“I was told if I revealed that name, if I tell you anything about her movements without her consent, I’ll be dead before the phone line disconnects. And you—you won’t even know who killed me.”

He closed his eyes. “It’s not about control. I think she’s in danger.”

Silence. Not even the buzz of static.

“Goodnight, Mr. Nanami.”

The Koenigsegg Jesko had been the first to betray them.

It shouldn’t have.

It was registered to her company but custom-built by Megumi’s black-ops R&D. Eight embedded trackers—nano chips, tyre sensors, two voice AI failsafes. The works.

But one by one, the signals blinked out like dying stars.

First, the GPS. Then the emergency LTE backup.

Then the engine monitor started sending Morse-code gibberish, as though something inhuman had possessed the car.

“She cut the battery?” Megumi asked, horrified.

The smoke alarms were disabled.

The flames were superficial, controlled—nothing damaged except the bed, the mattress soaked in Tom Ford and Dior and spite. Nanami didn’t smell arson. He smelled intent.

Megumi’s team—your personal security detail, his people—had been scrambled into a full lockdown.

“She shut down the internal feeds,” he gasped, crouched on the cold marble. “Her penthouse went dark mid-step. She disabled the elevator cam.”

“She shouldn’t even be able to do that,” Gojo said, eyes flashing cerulean. “The feed’s encrypted.”

“She built the system,” Nanami added quietly.

Gojo activated the Six Eyes at a higher altitude.

He’d only ever used them like this twice—once, back when they were hunting the remnants of the Star Plasma cult. Back when Geto still— And the second time was when he was trying to find you in your home country when you’d disappeared after the gaming convention.

Nanami was watching the flame flicker and die in Gojo’s face.

Gojo balled his fists in frustration. “Why can't I see her? There’s no cursed energy hiding her. She’s not suppressing her aura. She’s not using a veil or a curse technique—she can’t. She’s just a normal woman!”

“No.” Nanami corrected coldly. “She’s lived with you for years, and you talk alot about your conquests, Satoru. By now it’d be a miracle if she didn’t figure out how to counter you, given the way she is – all or nothing.”

Hour Two

“She’s still not showing up,” Megumi whispered.

Not on satellite. Not on traffic cams. Not even on Gojo’s six eyes, which were burning as he stood barefoot on the balcony, sweat crystallizing on his cheekbones.

“No cursed energy signatures,” Gojo muttered. “No barriers. No pings.”

“She’s not a sorcerer,” Haibara said, leaning against the glass. “She’s just angry.”

“She’s not just anything,” Nanami half-yelled, eyes scanning five monitors showing nothing but static. “She disappeared mid-day. Mid-breath. That’s not normal.”

The Jesko went through one toll booth. Then stopped showing up.

Gone. No transponders. No speed violations. No tyre marks.

“Tracker’s off,” Megumi said, barely keeping it together. “All of them. Phone, car, security fob, coat lining. Gone.”

“She’s still wearing the tracker from last week's security update,” Nanami muttered, clicking on her medical vitals screen.

"Not anymore," Haibara said, holding something bloody in his hand. A tiny sliver of metal he'd found on the toll booth she’d disappeared from. "She cut it out. Used the same blade she cut me with."

"Was she bleeding?" Gojo snapped, voice shrill.

"Not when she bit me. After? Who knows."

Hour Three

They stood in the war room.

Screens everywhere. Her last known locations. Holograms. Pulse tracking. Voice AI failed prompts.

A red string corkboard in a glass room.

Haibara, biting into an apple like it might be poisoned.

Megumi, rocking back and forth, hands pressed to his skull.

Nanami, silent.

Gojo pacing like an animal.

“She fucking ghosted us,” Haibara laughed like the irony was too much.

“She can’t ghost the Six Eyes,” Gojo muttered. “I’ve found people in other dimensions. She can’t—she’s not supposed to be able to—how is she doing this?”

“She’s deleting herself,” Megumi whispered. “Not hiding. Erasing.”

They all turned to him.

He kept staring at the floor. “You don’t know what she’s capable of when she feels cornered. You don’t know what she learnt from my father. Hell, even I never really knew what they talked about.”

Hour Four

Your location-shared signal blipped once.

A rural highway. Eastbound. Then silence.

“She left it on just long enough for someone else,” Haibara murmured. “Not us.”

Gojo slumped to the ground, blindfold in his fist.

Security teams deployed.

Megumi’s own private elite—trained to hunt rogue sorcerers—went silent within thirty minutes. They followed a false signal to the western district. Found nothing but a pile of burner phones duct-taped together.

It wasn’t signed. It didn’t need to be.

Haibara laughed, unwrapping the bandage on his bitten hand. “God, I love her. Bites like a jackal.”

“Shut up,” Nanami hissed.

“She’s fucking incredible.”

“Shut up.”

“She could’ve been a serial killer.”

Gojo slammed him against the wall. “Shut. Up.”

“Are we trying to find her or fight each other!” Megumi yelled, and Gojo backed off with a grunt from a smirking Haibara after a beat.

Hour Five

“She was smiling when she lit the bed on fire,” Haibara whispered, staring at the footage one of Megumi’s corrupted drones caught before she destroyed it.

The flames danced across your face like a rite. You looked holy. Like a woman who knew God personally and had decided He wasn’t worth the apology.

And none of them—not even the strongest sorcerer alive, not the meticulous executioner, or the boy born of a cursed blessing, or the resurrected demon from society’s trash heap—

None of them could stop you.

Because you weren’t human anymore.

Hour Six

They found a lead.

Not from tech. Not from tracking.

From blood.

Haibara licked his injured hand, still oozing from her bite. He stared at it. Smiled.

“She didn’t take the knife to hurt herself. She took it to threaten us. And this? This isn’t desperation.”

“What was the reason then?” Gojo whispered, eyes burning from overuse.

“It’s theatre. She left us a trail. Just enough to make us panic. Just enough to remind us…” He looked at Gojo, gaze gleaming like a blade.

“…That she’s smarter than all of us combined.”

And somewhere, far beyond their reach, in an untraceable place with prepaid electricity and blackout curtains, you stared at your own reflection.

Still. Silent. Pregnant. Waiting.

Then you peeled back your coat. Checked your stomach. Ran your fingers over the black bruise near your ribs—where the babies kicked too hard in your stress while you were pulling out the car batteries.

You weren’t safe. Not really.

A phone ping.

Mom: Flight's delayed a little further. Get yourself food but stay away from view.

Hour eight

“Why can’t I fucking see her?” Gojo demanded again, voice rising. He was glowing faintly now, like a sun left to rot in a glass coffin. “I can see everyone. I can see through walls. Why not her?”

“Because you don’t know her,” Haibara said without looking up from his phone.

The words dropped like a knife.

Gojo turned. Nanami didn’t stop him.

“You wanna say that again?”

“You don’t know her. You know the woman who cooked for you and sucked your cock and gave you children you aren’t worthy of. You don’t know the girl who broke her own jaw so her cousins wouldn’t rape her again. Or the girl who lived under a bed with rats and still makes Blackrock shudder. The one who cried blood the night you came on each other right next to her sleeping body.”

Nanami’s jaw clenched, hard enough to hear a faint crack.

Haibara kept going. “You didn’t even know she was pregnant. You called her bipolar. Your little baby killers club didn’t tell her shit.”

Megumi punched Haibara out of nowhere, and the latter straightened back up like an unkillable pest, spitting the blood from his lip tear.

Megumi yelled, “If you can’t be bothered to help, then get lost.”

“I am helping.” Haibara smirked, “By laughing at them.”

Megumi eyed him suspiciously. “You know who she called, don’t you?”

Haibara smirked.

---

Before the meeting with the investor and the subsequent disappearance—

You’d barely slept.

Not because of discomfort, though your swollen ankles and the relentless ache in your lower back would’ve justified it. No, sleep had eluded you because of them—the disasters you somehow forgave, loved, and carried children from. After months of icy silences, bruised egos, and walking on eggshells sharpened by betrayal, a night last week had finally broken the drought.

Satoru cried five times. That you know of.

The first time was silent—his face buried in the curve of your neck, a hand trembling on your side, like he thought if he held too tight, you’d vanish. The second was louder, gasping, muttering apologies into your skin like they were spells. By the third, he’d woken you up entirely, whimpering as he clung to you in his sleep, kneading the soft swell of your hip like a needy white tiger. The fourth came when you cupped his face and kissed his lashes and whispered, “I missed you.” And the fifth—well, that one came when he was already inside you.

Slow. Soft. No cocky grin, no teasing flick of his tongue. Just desperate Satoru with tears slipping down his cheeks and his forehead pressed to yours, as if he were scared that blinking might separate you again.

Kento didn’t cry.

But he looked at you like a ghost. Like if he blinked, he’d wake up so he’d woken before either of you, face buried in your neck, lips pressed to your pulse like he was checking you were still warm. There was no ceremony to it—he was already hard, already leaking against your thigh. His hand curled protectively over your bump, reverent, steady, like he was anchoring himself to proof that this—all of this—was real.

You don’t remember how it started. Only that your hormones had made you wet and half-dazed. Satoru had slid inside you without even waking properly, moving in that lazy, sleep-drunk way he always did when overwhelmed. You'd been too sensitive lately—your body a minefield of electric nerves—and soon you’d ended up on Kento’s lap, Gojo moving behind you while Kento’s cock rested hot and hard under your soaked folds, rubbing him and you off.

It wasn’t pornographic. It was tender. Messy, yes. But real.

Your arms around Kento’s shoulders. Satoru's hand splayed over your belly like a talisman, anchoring you so as not to hurt the twins. The low, breathy sounds you made when Kento pressed kisses under your jaw, whispering that you were beautiful. Sacred. A miracle.

You moaned so sweetly that Kento chuckled low in his throat, eyes closed, face tilted to the ceiling in something like prayer.

Then came the chaos.

You were so lost in the rhythm that you didn’t notice Satoru getting bolder—until he grabbed Kento’s thigh and tried to shift his leg up in a mating press. Kento’s leg jerked with surprise, and he just snorted. Loudly.

“I’m not a yoga mat,” he groaned, covering his eyes with one arm, stifling his laugh.

You burst out laughing. And felt it in your ribcage, like someone was letting light back into your lungs.

Satoru paused mid-thrust, blinked, then looked sheepishly between the two of you.

“Well, you both keep trying to get me pregnant, so this is me turning the tables,” he said, deadpan, then he kept thrusting.

Kento’s laugh shook the bed.

You turned and kissed Satoru—salt and saliva and need—and then turned and kissed Kento, who looked more in love than he’d ever admit. For a second, the three of you just stayed like that. Tangled. Breathing. Full of each other.

By the time the sun climbed over the skyline, you were dozing again between them, skin sticky, sheets tangled, legs heavy. The morning routine happened in sacred silence—no fights, no tension. Just Kento helping you into your dress while Satoru brushed your hair, quiet and reverent, as if caring for you was penance and prayer combined.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “You look powerful,” he whispered.

Kento kissed your wrist, slipping your wedding ring back on after cleaning it. “And the mother of my children.”

“Mine too,” Satoru chimed in.

“You’re such a narcissist,” Kento said.

“So are you,” Satoru shot back, smiling now, eyes clear.

You rolled your eyes, heart full.

This was what peace looked like. No chaos. No yelling. Just the quiet, perfect calm that came when everyone chose to stay.

You had ten minutes before take-off. Your phone buzzed.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, depending on what he wants and the flight time,” you promised, turning at the door.

They both followed you—of course they did. Satoru tugged your hand. Kento wrapped his arm around your shoulders. They walked you to the elevator like you were made of glass and gold and unspeakable power.

You kissed Satoru first. Then Kento.

They both held your gaze as the doors closed. You caught Satoru mouthing I love you. Kento didn’t speak, but his expression was the same one he’d worn when you walked down the aisle.

The last thing you heard before the metal doors shut was Satoru murmuring, “Call me if there’s even an ounce of doubt. I’ll teleport you out.”

And Kento’s quiet, unwavering, “Keep the life vitals tracker on and call me once you land.”

---

The jet was quiet, save for the muted purr of climate control and the occasional shift of turbulence against steel. You’d boarded at noon—twenty minutes ahead of schedule—surrounded by a sixteen-person armed security detail and your logistics assistant, who kept glancing at your ankles like they might explode mid-flight.

She asked if you were comfortable three times before takeoff. Like she was stalling. Like the jet wasn’t just taking you to New York, but to the guillotine.

Anna hadn’t sent the jet. He had.

The new investor. No name, just gravity. A black hole in the shape of a man—silent, never photographed, but powerful enough that Anna had stumbled over her sentence when his assistant called.

When you’d first told Nanami about the request for an in-person, he’d exhaled like a loaded gun. Pressed his hand to his forehead and muttered, “Can’t we just kill him?”

He wasn’t joking. He spent the next three hours building worst-case flowcharts in that calm, terrifying way he did—like even apocalypse could be optimized.

Satoru had stopped joking altogether. That was worse.

Takahashi, at least, had behaved for his first flight. Curled at your side in a little albino ball of privilege, snoozing through turbulence like he was made of clouds and sedatives. You kept stroking the patch between his ears. It soothed nothing, but pretending helped.

Across from you sat a PR assistant barely old enough to rent a car. Her eyes kept flicking to your bump like it might blink back. “You don’t look that pregnant,” she offered hesitantly.

You smiled, didn’t answer.

Because it wasn’t the look of it. Never had been. It was the feeling—like your body was being rewritten in a language you didn’t speak. Nights were the worst. The way the skin moved—too fluid, like something inside was stretching out. Like it wanted more room.

Scans didn’t capture that. Machines didn’t feel the slow-shifting horror of cartilage loosening, knees dislocating if you stood too long, lungs compressed to the size of childhood grief. The doctors said miracle. You said miscalculation.

You’d worn red today. A deep, cruel red. It felt… appropriate for some odd reason.

---

Vogue Private Office — Manhattan

The orchids were wilting by the door. You walked in like the third act of a tragedy—heels cracking marble like closing statements.

The staff didn’t question you. They swung the lobby doors wide, as if bracing for a storm in stilettos.

Inside, the air clung with the scent of dying flowers and fragile wealth. Glossy surfaces, curves designed to look expensive, chairs meant to be admired, not sat in. They led you to a glass-walled suite where the city still bent to your silhouette—even if your shares never did for them.

You folded yourself into the seat, spine negotiating with memory. Accommodations were never an option.

Anna was late.

Of course.

When her heels finally announced her, you didn’t rise. Couldn’t, really—not with the way your body had begun to betray you, bone grinding against bone.

She stood haloed by light, a magazine-cutout of power, her smile sharp with the arrogance of someone who still believed timing was a weapon.

“You glow,” she said. “Like women do before they’re devoured.”

“Unmedicated,” you replied.

Her grin widened, all teeth and conquest. “We’ll keep this clean. You know why you’re here.”

You blinked, slow.

“The new investor wants your story. The twins. The empire. The marriage. He thinks your silence is sinking your company.”

One of the twins kicked—hard enough to fracture breath. Lately, it didn’t feel like movement. It felt like revolt.

Anna tapped her nails against the table. “How are the husbands?”

You exhaled.

“Protective. Armed. Near breaking.”

She tilted her head. “Would they die for you?”

You mirrored her.

“They already did.”

A pause. Her eyes flickered—assessing whether it was poetry or prophecy.

Then, the ice of her smile.

“Now that,” she murmured, “is a Vogue quote.”

Soon enough they led you through a corridor so silent it felt like something had been sacrificed to keep it that way.

No corporate logos. No gaudy art. Just sharp edges, sliding doors, and the kind of air that had passed through too many purifiers. The kind that made you feel sanitized, surgically so. You were shown into a tea room so traditional it bordered on uncanny for New York—tatami mats, shoji screens, and incense coiling faintly in the corners like an old ghost. For a second, you thought it might be a set. A psychological stage.

And then he walked in like a theory made flesh. The kind of man who survived the apocalypse by looking like prophecy.

He wasn’t what you’d expected.

Long raven hair swept back into a precisely tied half-bun. He wore a form-fitting black turtleneck beneath a long trench coat, the fabric whispering as he moved. Polished leather shoes. No noise. No dust. The kind of outfit that commanded attention without asking for it—quiet, curated power. His face was too symmetrical to be trustworthy, his skin untextured in that uncanny, expensive way. No jewelry except for a Rolex that said old money or old blood.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m Geto Suguru.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Geto,” you shook his hand briefly. “You’re very composed for someone hiding behind NDAs and empty LinkedIn profiles.”

He smiled, unfazed. “I don’t like being photographed. It makes it harder to disappear when people disappoint me.”

You blinked and filed that away.

Another man stepped in—vaguely inbred in posture and temperament. The kind of man who inherited his surname like a loaded weapon. He poured tea like it was beneath him.

You didn’t need an introduction to know what he was.

Zenin.

Naoya, specifically. Blond, lean, the sharp-boned entitlement of someone who'd never been told no by someone who could make it stick. There was a feral brightness behind his eyes, like something hungry and bored. He poured tea with the grace of someone imagining your autopsy.

Geto glanced toward him. “Naoya. Thank you.”

The man gave a short bow that wasn’t quite a bow.

You smiled, tilted your head slightly—your expression deliberately soft, even as your voice curled with something sharper. "You're really beautiful. You shouldn’t be in corporate. Milan seems more appropriate."

Suguru chuckled, almost surprised. “Fashion is a battlefield. This is where I’m better suited.” He gestured to the tea cup in front of him. “I hope the flight was comfortable.”

“It was fine. Apologies if I kept you waiting—my husband insisted we play a little longer.”

He didn’t blink. But in the corner of the room, a man with stitches across his face twitched slightly. Like the mention of something domestic scratched at his teeth.

Naoya, who was now pouring your tea like it was poison, said nothing. Suguru didn’t offer introductions. He just let the platinum blond ghost linger at the room’s edge like a lion watching your blood pressure with a smirk.

Then he looked back to you and said, with no real warmth, “Ah. Is he still obsessed with Digimon?”

The shift was instantaneous.

You didn’t move. You didn’t breathe wrong. But beneath the table, your fingers twitched once—an involuntary microexpression.

Satoru had never said that online. Not to fans. Not to journalists. Not even in investor decks.

But you didn’t bite, not so easily. “So tell me, Mr. Geto, what are your plans?” You didn’t specify whether you meant plans for your company or for you; he’d clear that for you soon enough.

He began flipping through a file. “As I’m aware, you’ve had… an eventful quarter.”

You kept your smile. “Define eventful.”

“The employee assault. The digital blackouts. The marriage leak. The #TwoHolesForAReason campaign. Your stock drops. The public threats. And of course…” His eyes dropped, just briefly, to your stomach. “The pregnancy reveal.”

You took a measured sip of tea. Let the silence breathe. You could feel a fish curling beneath the floorboards—koi or curse, you couldn’t tell.

“I didn’t come here to relive the timeline.”

“Of course not,” he said gently. “You came here because I asked politely.”

That stopped you. Just a breath.

Suguru chuckled, as if he'd made a harmless joke. “Satoru always did get possessive when he felt threatened.”

You blinked once, slowly. He was no longer implying leverage. He was showing it.

“How do you know my husband?”

“From a different life. We were in Jujutsu Tech together, some ten years ago or more.” He didn’t elaborate. “He’s... very consistent. Even back then.”

“Were you close?”

“We were best friends. Classmates. Same special grades. Different curse techniques, same suicidal ambition.” His voice didn’t change. “Then the world changed after your guardian killed a girl we were protecting, and I… left.”

You didn’t react.

You recognized the tempo. The bait. He knew more about you than he was supposed to.

“Are you still in touch?”

“The last time I spoke to him was eight months ago.”

He said it like a wound. Or a warning.

Blood crawled up your throat, but you smiled and sipped your tea like a lamb, luring him into a false sense of comfort. “What happened eight months ago?” you asked softly, like you couldn’t put two and two together.

He smiled—not kindly. “I lost.”

The silence that followed was polite. Hollow.

You inhaled. “You joined the corporate sector after that?”

“Mm. Sorcery has its limits. I realized my skills were better suited to cleaning up PR messes.” His eyes flicked over your bump, your body, the controlled inhale of someone used to performing normalcy under duress. “Your company’s been through enough chaos lately. The world turned fast.”

You didn’t rise to the bait. “That’s the risk of marrying violently private men.”

“Or of marrying two of them,” he said, too evenly.

You didn’t reply. Let him talk.

He didn’t. Clever bastard.

Instead, the blonde set down another cup of tea with a thud that felt deliberate. You glanced at him, properly now.

“You didn’t introduce your company.”

Suguru didn’t look at him. “Naoya Zen’in. Logistics director. Don’t take his silence personally—he doesn’t like powerful women.”

“Must be exhausting,” you said, sipping your tea without breaking eye contact with Naoya’s sneer.

Naoya’s lip curled, but Suguru raised a finger, and the man stilled like a dog leashed by old violence.

You glanced around the room again—and noticed the other man was too still. Too silent. Sitting near the incense tray now, legs folded like a child mimicking meditation. Young. Heterochromatic eyes. Face like a cherub carved by a sadist—unblemished except for the stitches, soft, but off.

You didn’t recognize him.

But something primal in you curled. Not fear—yet—but revulsion. He watched you with a kind of gleeful interest people usually reserved for vivisection videos.

Suguru didn’t introduce him either.

The air felt heavier suddenly. Your skin began to itch under your dress, and you couldn’t tell if it was hormones or the way that stranger tilted his head slightly every time you moved.

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t ask. Let the wrongness root itself in your memory.

“So what’s your plan, Mr. Geto?” you asked calmly, eyes never straying. “You want to scrub my company’s image. Why now?”

He met your gaze with something that almost felt like recognition. “Because Satoru did what he did for you. And the world saw it as a threat.”

You stayed silent.

He was skirting around Kento’s name—which meant Nanami, in Suguru’s eyes, was just as guilty.

And neither of you were forgiven.

He continued. “Beating your own employees in the middle of a crisis? Then disappearing. Leaving your CHRO and Higuruma to spin internal terrorism as a ‘security concern’ while the internet tore you apart. And the marriage leak…”

His voice lowered. “The rape threats. The arson calls. The memes.”

You exhaled, slow. Steady.

He didn’t know Higuruma either.

His mouth twitched. Almost sympathetically. Almost.

“Your men love you,” he said like an obituary. “But the world is still too cruel to forgive a woman for being adored.”

You tilted your head and met his violent violet gaze. “And you do?”

Suguru leaned back, folding his arms. “I understand optics. I understand what it means to be seen as unnatural.”

He hadn’t once referred to Satoru by his full name. Hadn’t asked how he was. Hadn’t asked to set up a meeting to catch up. Hadn’t insulted him either.

Every mention dripped with intimacy. Personal. Familiar. Irreversible.

You glanced at the tea again.

You were being dissected.

Not you exactly. The idea of you. The blueprint. The soft horror of a woman who had everything and bled alone.

You smiled. Not sweetly.

“So you stayed hidden all this time. Why?”

His eyes glinted. “Because sometimes, anonymity is power. I don’t need to be seen. I need to move.”

You hummed, sipping.

You weren’t stupid enough for men like him. Suguru wasn’t obsessed with investing in your company. He was trying to replace you in your own life.

Naoya stepped forward again. This time, it wasn’t tea. He whispered something into Suguru’s ear. A coded phrase, maybe. Or a trigger.

Suguru nodded once.

And then the man with the uncanny smile by the incense tray finally spoke.

“Has it kicked yet?”

The room shrank by degrees. You froze mid-breath, head swivelling toward him slowly. “What?”

He beamed. It didn’t reach his eyes. “The baby. Or babies, I suppose.”

Your stomach twisted—not from pregnancy. Instinct. Deep and ancestral. Like recognising a predator that shouldn’t exist anymore.

Suguru didn’t stop him. Naoya grinned.

Your fingers brushed the inside of your coat pocket, finding the cold edge of your phone. You didn’t need to see the screen—just feel the lock button. One long press, and the emergency contact would trigger. Satoru had set it up himself, laughing like it was a joke. “Just in case you’re ever too tired to scream.”

You weren’t screaming now. But you were tired. And surrounded.

Your thumb hovered over the side of the phone, ready to press and hold.

He’ll feel it. He’ll come. He always does.

But you needed answers.

Across from you, the scared man’s gaze skittered over your body, hesitating on the weight of your pregnancy like it offended him. Like he was doing the math on your vulnerability.

Your fingers twitched again—hovering but not pressing.

"Funny," you murmured, voice honed to a razor's edge—quiet enough to slit the throats of every man in that room who dreamed of hurting you. Of hurting them.

"You didn't introduce him, either."

Suguru’s gaze dragged over you—slow, careful, like he was calibrating the threat level of a black widow spider beneath his shoe. “Ah. That’s Mahito. He’s not an employee. Just… an enthusiast.”

“Enthusiast of what?”

“People.”

Mahito’s laugh was a rusted scissor drawn softly across silk. “Of change.”

Your fingers tightened around your teacup, the heat biting into your palm. “I don’t discuss my children with men I don’t know, Mr. Geto. Remove him, or this meeting ends now.”

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then, at Suguru’s faint nod, Mahito walked out—but not before his eyes dipped to your swollen abdomen, lingering like a promise.

Suguru tilted his head. “You’re not what I expected.”

“And you’re exactly what I prepared for.” You didn’t take the bait, just sipped your tea and wished you could gouge out Naoya’s wandering eyes on your body with the teaspoon.

“Your men could’ve fixed this,” Suguru mused. “Instead, they buried you alive under their failures.” He leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper. “Let me dig you out.”

You let out one sharp smirk. “You want my loyalty.” Naoya’s gaze continued to crawl over your skin, but it was Suguru’s quiet hunger that made your pulse stutter.

He didn’t just want your empire. He wanted what you had with him.

“No,” Suguru said, and for one suspended breath, you saw something ancient behind his eyes. “I want the myth they buried you in. I want to rewrite it in your bones. You can keep your loyalty. I know how fragile that is.”

Naoya smirked.

You traced the rim of your cup again, as if you weren’t about to be eight months along and evaluating three likely special grade threats in a building without exits.

“I remember he used to hoard candy in his coat pocket,” Suguru said idly. “Said it was for focus. But he always saved the strawberry ones. Said they tasted like the spring of youth.”

Your breath caught—only for a second.

He smiled.

You didn’t give him more.

“Why now?” you asked. “You’ve had years to insert yourself. Why wait until after they ruined everything?”

His smile thinned. “Because now the narrative is fragile. Vulnerable. Editable.”

You didn’t smile back. You narrowed your eyes, the way a knife narrows a throat.

“Editable?” you repeated, voice flat as the heartbeat monitor they once used when your blood pressure dipped from stress-induced anemia. Third trimester. High stakes. Too much noise. Too many men trying to rewrite your obituary before the children even arrived.

He leaned forward with the casual precision of a man who’d once taught his enemies philosophy before killing them. Elbows on the table. Like a professor who enjoyed watching you fail upward and spiral into myth.

“Everyone loves a redemption arc,” Suguru said softly. “Especially when the protagonist is already bleeding.”

You watched the way his fingers interlocked, how his eyes held yours without fear, pity, or desire. Familiarity, yes. But it was impersonal. Surgical. “You’re smart. You built a world-changing company, held it through five hostile acquisition attempts, and somehow survived being married to two emotionally repressed men with god complexes.”

A pause. Letting it land.

“But your narrative is a mess. Right now, you’re not a visionary. You’re a punchline. A cautionary tale.”

You didn’t blink. You’d stopped blinking for fragile men a long time ago.

“So you want to help me out of the goodness of your heart, Mr. Geto,” you sarcastically mocked, voice like cooled steel.

“I want to curate,” he corrected. “The public needs a villain. I’d rather it not be you.”

Your breath didn’t change. Your spine did.

“And who should it be instead?” you asked quietly.

His gaze didn’t falter. “The men who made you disappear.”

You didn’t answer.

Because your brain was already screaming. Eight months. That was the moment the light began to fracture. The lies weren’t clumsy—they were rehearsed. Gojo crying in the shower without making a sound, standing too close to the shower faucet like he wanted to burn off his skin. Nanami avoiding eye contact with you like you were Medusa.

They hadn’t just betrayed you.

They’d buried someone.

And this man across from you—

—this Suguru—

He wasn’t the villain of the story. He was the page they tore out.

You shifted slightly in your seat, careful not to press too hard against the left hip joint. It ached from carrying too much weight—twins, fear, expectations.

“I don’t trust men who speak softly for a living,” you said, finally.

He smiled, not kindly. “Then you’ll appreciate that I don’t live. I manage. I observe. I insert pressure.”

“That sounds dangerously like extortion.”

“That sounds like truth.”

You stood, feeling the subtle catch in your hip again. A strain, not a collapse. You could handle it. You’d handled worse.

“Then here’s some truth for you, Mr. Geto,” you said, staring him down while Naoya twitched beside him like a dog smelling meat. “I don’t care what happened between you and him. I don’t care if Satoru fed you strawberry candy with his mouth. I don’t care if you’re here to drag me into whatever unresolved soap opera you three left fermenting in a casket.”

Naoya flinched like a puppet yanked by ancestral strings.

Suguru just kept smiling, unflinching.

“But if you want a stake in my company, you’ll need to do more than spill secrets and wear pretty silk. I’ve already survived two of the most powerful men in Japan loving me to the brink of destruction. Fear’s a luxury I ran out of two assassination attempts ago.”

Suguru rose slowly. Elegantly. Offered a hand as if any of this was normal.

You didn’t take it.

You left.

And you didn’t realise your hands were shaking until the door sealed behind you. The tremor was slight, concentrated in the fingertips—just enough to betray you to yourself. Just enough to remind you that no amount of tech, intelligence, or control could reverse the trauma of being known by dangerous men.

You didn’t take Suguru’s jet.

Instead, you boarded your own—slid into the leather seat with Takahashi curled against your belly like a breathing talisman—and told your assistant not to speak unless the plane was on fire.

By the time you hit cruising altitude, your nails had already scrolled through Nanami’s phone.

Not because it was hard.

His password was still the same.

Gojo never had one.

You found messages you were never meant to see.

Shoko: 15 days until abortion is off the table.

Gojo: She won’t agree.

You: Then we don’t ask.

You stared at the screen for a long time.

So they all lied.

Not just Gojo. Not just Nanami. All of them. Shoko even pretended to be in your corner.

There it was.

It wasn’t just about control. It wasn’t even about love.

It was the assumption that because you didn’t throw cursed techniques like tantrums, you couldn’t possibly comprehend risk. That your life—your mind—was collateral. Disposable in the face of their warped logic and misplaced savior complexes.

Like talking to you was useless. Like reasoning with you was redundant.

Like you were some beautiful, ignorant thing to be protected and deceived in equal measure.

Like you were some animal incapable of critical reasoning when your own life was in danger.

So they could fuck each other guilt-free.

So they could play noble martyrs in the privacy of the wounds they gave you.

And still, that wasn’t enough. Because anger—real anger—needs witnesses.

You opened a signal sniffer, rerouted through two proxies, and tapped into your neighbour’s WiFi. Not because you couldn’t afford better surveillance, but because her router overlapped with the garden of Megumi’s penthouse.

You shouldn’t have looked.

You: She wouldn’t have agreed.

Haibara: Then don’t give her the choice.

You: She’s not a sorcerer. She doesn’t understand what these kids could be. My mom almost died trying to give birth to me, and I wasn’t even half as cursed.

Haibara: Yeah, she’s blind to what they’ll do to her.

You: I’m not going to let her die over a fucking ideal.

Haibara: That wack doctor says she’s fine, so stop obsessively worrying.

Your vision blurred—but not from tears. From calculation.

The rage came quietly. It didn’t scream or collapse. It focused.

You unclasped the ring from your finger. Gojo’s design, Nanami’s metal of choice. A perfect storm of sentiment you no longer had room for.

You handed it to one of the PR assistants travelling with you—someone young, hopeful, still romantic about the world.

"Get rid of it," you said. "Melt it. Turn it into something you like. Give it to your girlfriend. Or your mother. Or leave it on the street. I don’t care. Just make sure I never see it again."

She didn’t ask questions.

And you didn’t explain.

Because you knew your husbands were capable of cruelty. You’d lived long enough in the shadow of it. But what you hadn’t expected—

What truly broke something you couldn’t name—

Was Megumi.

Megumi, whom you’d grown up with. Who unknowingly saved you. Who you’d trusted with more than your safety. Who you’d let in on the soft, unfinished parts of your life.

He hadn’t just betrayed you.

He’d calculated your erasure like a business decision.

And somehow, that hurt more than anything Gojo or Nanami had ever done.

---

That was yesterday morning.

Now it was twilight in Tokyo.

They probably thought you’d thrown yourself into the sea.

But instead, here you were, crying into a bucket of fried chicken.

And you were borderline dehydrated, emotionally overloaded, stuck in a fucking KFC parking lot on the outskirts of the city, trying not to break down into raw animal sobs as you cried into your Zinger.

Your hypercar—a pearlescent black Koenigsegg Jesko Absolut—was parked sideways across two spots, hazard lights blinking like a distress beacon. The carbon-fiber passenger door still hung open. Your mascara was not waterproof.

The sandwich was getting soggy in your hand, fries had gone cold, and the second tub of soft serve was pooling slowly into your leather seat. Your coat smelled like fried oil, and you didn’t care. Not after the two days you’d had.

You missed Takahashi. You hadn’t meant to leave the house without him. But you had to run. And your mother's flight had been delayed without warning, your pelvic pain had spiked again, and your body had decided—in the grand tradition of pregnancy craving betrayal—that you absolutely needed karaage from KFC right now or you’d lose your mind.

You shoved another fry in your mouth. Your sunglasses slipped to the tip of your nose, and you wiped your nose on your sleeve. Your phone buzzed again in your coat pocket—ignored. The car’s touchscreen blinked up missed calls: Nanami. Gojo. Fushiguro. Haibara. CHRO. Keji. Shoko. Even Higuruma and Kashimo.

But your fingers only twitched when you reached into the Karaage Kun box and found it empty.

You blinked at it. Then stared at it again like it might refill itself if you focused hard enough.

It didn’t.

You muttered something vile under your breath, threw it into the bag, and reversed sharply out of the space, startling a group of high school boys who had been trying to take selfies with your car.

You pulled up to the drive-thru window again.

The teenage employee there—a scrawny, gentle-eyed boy with two acne patches on his chin—took one look at your blotchy face, your designer maternity wear, and the angry tears still clinging to your lashes like guilt, and leaned in awkwardly.

“Would you, uh… like to eat inside? In the back? It’s private. No one will see.”

Your eyes narrowed. Not because he was wrong. But because it was too damn late.

Fushiguro probably already had Tokyo’s entire surveillance grid running facial recognition on CCTV footage. You had thirty minutes, max, before someone pinged your license plate and alerted the staff that you were a missing trillionaire heiress with a God Complex Husbands Alert Level 5.

You opened your mouth to politely decline—and that’s when it happened.

A sharp, gravel-thick voice from behind your Jesko snarled loud enough to startle pigeons off the KFC’s roof.

“What’s taking so fucking long?”

You froze.

This. This was your final straw.

Not the delayed flight. Not the ghost of Geto Suguru. Not the stress migraine. Not even the go-bag full of burner phones in your trunk.

No. It was this man, some impatient Tokyo businessman with too much money and too little self-awareness, honking at a crying pregnant woman ordering a ¥700 chicken snack set.

The teenage cashier turned pale and scrambled to shush him, mumbling something apologetic and helpless in corporate lingo.

But you were already getting out of the car.

Your heels—flat, orthopaedic, pregnancy-safe—hit the pavement with a purposeful thunk. Your bump was covered in a loose belted trench, collar flipped up, eyes bloodshot, mouth red from crying, ketchup and eating your own lipstick with the fried chicken.

You strode across the parking lot like your water might break from rage alone.

The man was in a Porsche 918 Spyder.

Rich, then. But not you – rich.

You knocked on his tinted window hard enough to make the glass vibrate.

The man inside—long dark hair, too many rings, cigarette hanging from his lip like an accessory—rolled it down and looked at you.

Your heart stalled. Had Geto found you?

Then he turned fully—and no, you didn’t know him.

“Hey,” he started. “I’m sorry for—”

He trailed off. His eyes didn’t leave your face. But his hand went back, casually, like muscle memory. He grabbed something—or someone—in the back seat and yanked.

A pink-haired burly man, Fushiguro’s age, popped into view. Eyes wide. Face pale.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, staring at you.

You didn’t care. You were done being polite.

“Do none of you have the decency to wait your fucking turn? You’re not the only ones starving!”

The pink-haired one gawked. The long-haired one blinked, snuffed his cigarette.

And then—

The rear door of the Porsche opened with a heavy, expensive click.

A man stepped out.

No—a wall of a man. Towering. Black spiky hair. Tattoos across his neck, his hands, the visible sliver of skin beneath his bespoke coat. His suit looked Brunello Cucinelli. His gait was slow. Controlled.

Somehow, he was taller than Gojo.

Which should’ve been illegal.

You took a step back. Your hip twinged.

He looked at you the way sorcerers looked at curses: like you were made of secrets and danger.

His voice was almost gentle when he spoke in English to you.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m sorry for yelling. I was just… stunned. We were supposed to meet yesterday in New York, but you never came. Do you remember me, princess?”

You stared at him.

Confused.

Nauseated.

Because you did not remember him. Not the face. Not the voice. And especially not the “princess.”

Your hand—coated in fries and fatigue—slowly curled into a fist at your side, “Don’t call me that. Who the fuck are you?”

---

He’d seen a lot in his many lives.

Flesh peeled from bone in war. Gods weep beneath shrines. Kingdoms rise on the shoulders of men who lied.

But nothing—nothing—had prepared him for this: A woman powerful enough to end markets with a swipe of her hand, pregnant and a little crazy, yelling at a man twice her size at a Tokyo KFC lot like he’d committed a crime.

And to him? He had.

Because she didn’t remember him.

Not the face.

Not the voice.

Not the name he’d written for her the first time they’d met in Norway—softly, like it would break something if said out loud.

She stared at him now like he was a stranger. And it knocked the breath from his lungs harder than any curse ever had.

The same eyes. The same sharpness in her jaw when she was pissed, the same raw edge to her voice.

He opened his mouth. Could’ve told her. Could’ve said everything.

But the car behind him honked. Loud. Disrespectful.

And she turned.

Didn’t even wait.

Walked back to her car like he was just another suit in the noise.

Slammed the door. Didn’t look back.

He stood in the fading orange-pink glow of Tokyo twilight, heart slightly colder.

“Broooo,” came Yuji’s voice from the passenger seat. “You got rejected by a pregnant woman, in public. That’s generational humiliation, man.”

“She didn’t reject me,” He muttered, eyes still on her.

“She forgot you existed,” Junpei added helpfully from the back, licking spicy powder off his fingertips. “You’re a ghost. A failed Tinder date. A plotline that didn’t make the final cut.”

“Don’t you think she’s kinda scary, though?” Choso chimed in quietly, looking almost reverent. “She gives off strong mom-you-don’t-wanna-piss-off energy.”

“She is a mom,” Yuji pointed out.

“To twins,” He corrected, voice too soft.

They all looked at him.

“What?” He snapped.

“Nothing,” Choso said, already climbing out of the car, like that was answer enough as he walked to the car that had honked.

So of course, he didn’t think. Just walked.

Over to her Jesko, one hand raised, careful to keep his body language non-threatening. He knocked. Once. Lightly.

She looked up. Eyes bloodshot. Hands gripping the tub of chicken like a war trophy.

He held up the takeaway bag like a peace offering. Didn’t say anything.

She didn’t roll the window down. Just glared at him like she might reverse into him and not lose sleep.

Behind him, Yuji, Choso, and Junpei leaned out of the Porsche like hyenas watching a National Geographic special. “Go on then, Romeo,” Yuji stage-whispered.

The giant man ignored him. Nudged the bag closer. Still no window roll.

She shifted slightly—hand brushing toward the ignition.

But then… her stomach growled. Loud.

An indecent, almost comic little groan from deep within.

She froze. Looked horrified.

He bit back a smirk.

She sighed, finally rolling the window down with the resignation of a god forced to make peace with a lesser deity.

“Who the fuck are you?” Her voice was sandpaper and citrus. He almost missed it. The familiarity.

“Calm down, woman. I don’t hurt defenceless pregnant women.”

“Who. The fuck. Are you?” She snapped again, unbothered by his size, his tone, or the heat radiating off him like a threat.

He admired that. Always had.

“Ryomen Sukuna,” he said, slow, voice low. “From Itadori Industries, we specialise in market manipulation. I was trying to invest in your company. We met in Norway.”

She blinked. Sniffling. Mistrust etched deep in the slope of her shoulders.

“Show me your passport.”

He didn’t argue.

Instead, he turned and yelled, “Choso. You got the passports?”

Choso, saint that he was, was already halfway out of the car, rummaged around in his coat and brought it over.

As he handed it over, he leaned close and whispered, like it was sacred, “He wore this suit just because he was excited to meet you.”

Sukuna shot him a glare that could've flattened cities. Choso walked back, unbothered.

He flipped to the front page of the passport with one hand, takeaway bag still in the other.

Held it out.

She scanned it on her phone with the tired efficiency of someone who’d been betrayed before.

It pinged. Verified. Real.

She gave it back.

“I came to the meeting,” she murmured. “Some guy named Suguru showed up instead of you.”

Sukuna’s face darkened.

Who the fuck was Suguru?

Before he could say more, she sniffled.

“Princess,” he started, softer now. “Do you want to have this conversation while I stand outside your car with a takeaway bag like a solicitor?”

She wailed, openly now. “Nooo. Give me the food.”

And she got out of the car.

Didn’t stray from the door, but her body relaxed the slightest bit. Maybe from the scent. Maybe from the warmth of fried food. Maybe from the fact that Sukuna didn’t flinch when she got close enough to punch him.

He leaned against her car’s hood, offering the bag.

She rummaged through it like a raccoon with opposable thumbs.

Found too much food—because of course, he’d ordered one of everything Japan-exclusive. KFC bento. Teriyaki Twister. Pepper Mayo Twister. Chicken Katsu Sando. Matcha Tiramisu. Peach Mango Pie. Sakura Milk Tea.

She blinked. Whispered, almost suspiciously, “Did you poison it?”

He raised a brow.

Sukuna had been trying to meet with her for months. Months. And yet here she was, passing him the milk tea like it was some kind of test, like he wasn’t exactly who he said he was.

His hand almost brushed hers as he took the cup, and for a moment, he wondered if she’d noticed the slight tremble in his fingers.

He doubted it. She was too busy with the storm that raged behind her eyes to care about something as trivial as that.

He took it. Sipped. “Sweet,” he said, licking the sugar off his lip like it might make her remember.

She didn’t respond, her eyes still sharp like she could see every secret he kept buried behind his smirk.

“You look like you’re going through something,” he said, stealing a fry with the air of someone who didn’t have the blood of entire lineages on his hands. (He did. But not today.)

Her gaze barely moved, and her voice came out in a low, bitter monotone. “I hate my husbands.”

He smirked wider, his amusement sharp as glass. “I’ve seen the news.”

Yuji snorted from their car, and Sukuna glared at him.

She narrowed her eyes. “You look like a criminal.”

“'Cause I am,” he said, but shrugged. “Nah, just a sorcerer. Was."

“Get away from me,” Her mouth twisted as she began to pull away, pushing herself back into the uncomfortable space of her own thoughts. “God, they say sorcerers are rare but I keep encountering them like flies. Like cursed venereal diseases. It’s disgusting.”

Sukuna jumped to his feet without thinking, like it was second nature to console her, even if the reason felt foreign—some instinct buried deep in his chest, one he couldn't quite shake. He didn't need to comfort her. Hell, he probably shouldn't have. But for a moment, he wasn’t the monster he had been in another life; he was just a man, holding out a hand when it was needed. “No,” he said softly, his voice almost gentle. “I used to be one, but I’m not anymore. Don’t care about it, either. My brothers over there, and Yuji’s friend? They’re sorcerers too, but none of us participate in that die-a-thankless-death game.”

Junpei made a gagging sound behind the car. Choso threw a napkin at him.

“That’s what he said too,” she mumbled, shoving a mango pie into her mouth with the viciousness of someone who wanted to eat and disappear.

“Who?”

“The guy who showed up instead of you and … And there was this stitched-up guy and that fucking Naoya, and I thought I was going to die, and my husband lied to me about Suguru and his beautiful hair; he never told me about him.” She continued wailing.

Sukuna was confused between her sniffling, eating and crying combo. “Wait, slow down; start with the smallest one. Who’s the stitched guy? What did he look like?”

“His name was Mahito; he had stitches on his face and pale blue hair and looked at me like he was gonna open my stomach and take my babies like a claw machine prize.” She continued sniffing and also somehow sipping her tea.

Sukuna’s fists clenched.

He turned to Choso and yelled out, “Find where Mahito is. Now.”

Choso already had his phone out, mouth a thin line.

Sukuna turned back to her, voice low. “What about the other one? Naoya?”

“He looked at me like he wanted to assault me. I wanted to blind him with a tea spoon.” She said it so flatly, like violence was just a normal Tuesday.

“Naobito’s kid?” Sukuna asked. She nodded, still chewing. He gave a nod to Yuji, who was already on a call, voice sharp.

And then:

“Who’s Suguru?”

She went quiet.

Then, with all the ceremony of a royal confession, she slid him her half-eaten burger.

He accepted it like it was holy.

Then ate in silence with her for a while.

She began again, “He told me his name was Geto Suguru. That he and my husband were soulmates. And that I was their enemy. How the fuck am I someone’s enemy when I didn’t even know he existed?”

“Wait—Geto?” Sukuna stopped mid-chew.

She nodded, slow. “Yeah. Long black hair. Pretty, in that ‘will definitely commit a felony against humanity’ kind of way.”

Sukuna felt something shift in him.

“He’s supposed to be dead. There was a war a few months ago in Kyoto. Your husband killed him.”

Her eyes widened, horror blooming.

“Did I see a ghost? A curse?”

“Not possible. He was a curse user, yeah, but no one survives your husband.” Then he smirked. “Unless it’s me. I’m very strong, princess.”

She rolled her eyes and buried herself in the chicken like it could shelter her from the fact that apparently nothing in her life was real. “Less peacocking. More finding who’s impersonating you.”

“I’ll find out,” Sukuna said. His voice was flat, but his chest thrummed like a curse trying to break its seal. “And I mean that.”

Of course he did. She just nodded absently, like it was a customer service promise she’d heard before. There was Sprite condensation running down her fingers. Her lips were slightly swollen from all the salt. She looked exhausted. And holy.

That part hadn’t changed. Not in a thousand lives.

But then she said, “I have two husbands. And they’re both absolute clowns.”

Sukuna didn’t laugh.

(Okay—he let out a very soft, involuntary snort. Behind him, Junpei was wheezing into his Armani jacket, Yuji muttering “bro’s down bad”, and Choso took a photo of the moment like he was documenting a rare animal sighting.)

She kept going. “I wake up every morning to a new scandal,” she said, gesturing vaguely with a limp fry. “They bicker like old women in a laundromat. One of them tried to cheat on the 3AM Test with a voice actor, and the other failed so hard the internet started a NanaMoobs hashtag.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, more amused than he’d let show. “And yet, you are still married to them.”

“Bad decision-making, obviously.” So she was still in love with them.

He hummed, reaching for one of her fries again. Her wrist didn’t flinch this time. Small victories. “What did they do this time?”

She sighed, the kind that aged you five years in one breath. “Oh, nothing major. Just tried to abort my babies without telling me.”

Sukuna’s drink went down the wrong way. He coughed, violently, his eyes watering as Junpei whispered, “Bro…” with the reverence of someone witnessing an execution.

“…Excuse me?” Sukuna rasped.

She took a slow sip of her Sprite, eyes dead. “Yeah. Something about ‘if it was her or the baby, we’d choose her’ blah blah blah.’ I don’t know. I stopped reading after.”

For once in centuries, Sukuna had no words.

And that, in his world, was a fucking problem.

Because he’d once bathed in the blood of tyrants. He’d reduced kingdoms to ashes and made death feel like a mercy. His name had been enough to unmake faith.

But he had never, not once, been asked to comfort a furious, hormonal, fast-food-devouring, betrayed woman who used to be his entire world and now didn’t even recognize him.

And who was still, somehow, unspeakably radiant through it all.

This—this was worse than war.

So he said the only thing that came close to honesty. “You love them, right?”

She glared. Not just at him—through him. “What does that have to do with it?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. “So hypothetically, if they were pregnant and historically too stubborn to save themselves, would you let them die?”

She blinked. The words caught her off guard. Her fry stilled halfway to her mouth.

“That’s an oddly sentimental thing to say,” she said.

He smirked. A slow thing, calculated, but tired around the edges. “I’m a businessman. Can’t let my biggest asset disappear, can I?”

She rolled her eyes, but the edge had dulled. “Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Mr. ‘Not a Criminal.’”

But she wasn’t crying anymore.

And Sukuna decided that—pathetically, pathetically—that was his greatest win in years.

She turned to him again, half her chicken gone. “But like—hiding an ex that fucking relevant is still bad, right? Like ‘my one and only’ and shit.”

The words twisted something deep in his ribcage. Deeper than his heart. The one that still beat only for her, even after all this time, all his deaths.

Sukuna hummed. Not dismissive, just thoughtful. “I guess. But then I have an ex—though I never called her that—who nearly set my entire life on fire. Yandere, textbook. I don’t talk about her. Not because I’m hiding her, but because she… made living unbearable. Some people are like that. Maybe your husband didn’t tell you because it hurt too much, and the other one didn’t because it wasn’t his secret to tell.”

He looked at her then. Really looked.

There was mango sauce on her lip. Chicken grease on her coat. Her hand trembled just slightly, probably from the sugar crash. And still—still—she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

But she didn’t remember.

Not the wedding. Not the way she’d laughed into his neck. Not the way she’d once laughed when he brought her those blobfish plushies for the babies.

She didn’t smile that tired smile while saying his name now.

There was no hate in her voice. No love either.

Just air.

She kept eating. Sipping her Sprite. Talking about two men who didn’t know what they had until they almost threw it away. Two men she still loved.

Behind him, Yuji laughed under his breath, “he’s got it bad.”

Choso handed him a tissue for the Sprite spill that hadn’t happened. Junpei was still smirking.

And Sukuna—he just sat there, breathing through a heartbreak that didn’t even have a name in this timeline.

---

Small A/N: Before/After reading the next bit, to draw the parallel, read this - [Tumblr/Ao3]

---

On the other side of Tokyo, the Fushiguros had gathered.

“Mom.” Megumi offered a hand when she climbed out of the jet.

She didn’t take it, just kept walking with her guards.

“I didn’t know. Then that doctor said she was fine, so there was no need to tell her in case the stress got to her.” He snapped.

She turned to him, “Your father would be disappointed in you.”

Megumi didn’t speak after that.

---

Across town, Nanami and Gojo were in hell. Again.

Nanami looked like a man trying to mathematically quantify grief. A golden ratio blade flickered and died in his palm every few seconds,  uncontrolled—his body stuck in a loop, like it was trying to fight something that wasn’t there anymore.

Gojo’s Six Eyes still burned. Pupils dilated too sharp, skin gray-blue, the corners of his mouth twitching from the static in his brain.

Neither had slept in twenty-eight hours.

They had tried every scenario.

None of them ended with a pin drop at a KFC.

Incoming Message: Location

They stared at the screen.

Gojo broke the silence, cautious—hopeful like a man hoping the corpse in the morgue might still breathe.

“She’s—?”

“KFC,” Nanami said. Flat. Not deadpan—dead.

Gojo squinted. “You think the universe hates me personally?”

Nanami didn’t answer. Just turned the key and revved the car like he meant to drive it through Heaven’s gates and make someone answer for it.

---

By the time they arrived, the sun was bleeding into the horizon.

She was outside. Sitting on the hood of her car like the world hadn’t just ended two days ago. Barefoot. Anklets catching light. One hand held a melting Sprite float, the other a neatly folded napkin like she’d just wiped off a joke.

She was laughing.

Not alone.

Two—no, four others lingered around her. All vaguely wrong. One looked like Haibara on benzos, another like a Megumi with worse judgment and better hair. A third had cult survivor written all over him, and the last—

The last looked like he’d walked out of an ancient curse and decided to become a CEO.

Nanami’s breath stalled. Rage bloomed slow and clinical—an aneurysm waiting for a reason.

Gojo’s voice was already splintering. “Who the fuck—”

Nanami’s cursed energy cracked across his wrist like stained gold glass—subtle but loud if you knew him.

She saw them.

Across the street, with her mouth still full of fries, she called out, “Oh hey, look who finally decided to show up. I was gonna save you some, but figured you’d make me eat a granola bar and cry about my blood sugar.”

Gojo stopped in his tracks.

Nanami blinked.

She grinned like she hadn’t haunted them for past 29 hours. Like she wasn’t the reason Gojo started drinking his coffee black again.

“Come here,” she called, louder. “You two look like you haven’t peed in hours.”

Gojo, under his breath, muttered, “Because we haven’t.”

Beside her, reading their lips, Choso grimaced. “Jesus.”

Sukuna chuckled low in his chest, his attention never leaving her. “You really made them come to a KFC?”

She laughed harder, grabbing her side. “You don’t get to judge. You literally told me you’ve been burning cash just for a ‘chance meeting.’”

“Your business is lucrative,” Sukuna said.

“You’re covered in money.”

He glanced at his bespoke three-piece. “It’s decorative.”

“Okay, American Psycho.”

Sukuna smiled. His hand twitched once—almost like he was going to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, but didn’t.

Same as Nanami, Gojo was already halfway across the street. “Who are these people?”

“They’re my friends,” she said sweetly, swinging her legs off the car. “Don’t be jealous, Satoru.”

“I am jealous,” he muttered, eyes glued to her.

Nanami’s voice cracked, sharp and brittle: “What did you tell them?”

She stood. Twirled her straw once. Shrugged. “That my idiot husbands forgot I was dangerous. Corrupted my friends. Lied to me. So I made new friends. Ones who don’t gaslight and lie to me.”

Nanami took a single step forward.

She pointed a fry like a weapon. “Don’t. If you breathe without apologizing, I will stab this into your brain through your nose.”

Gojo wheezed. Somewhere between a sob and a snort.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky I was already craving wings. Otherwise, I’d be halfway to Bhutan.”

She stepped off the curb.

Licked sauce off her thumb. Like she hadn’t been running for her life a day ago. Like she’d never had a panic attack in a jet with the lights off. Like the world didn’t owe her blood for making her survive it.

Her gait was relaxed. Chin high.

And then—

CRACK!!!

No echo. No cinematic recoil.

Just nerve, bone, and fate snapping in sync.

It was intimate. Like an exhale through a silencer. Like a trapdoor closing.

Her hand jerked. The Styrofoam cup slipped from her grip mid-sip, spiraling sideways—Sprite and melting ice cream spraying in a soft arc. Her other hand, still holding the napkin, trembled like it knew something her mind hadn’t yet registered.

Then—

Red.

A bloom at the base of her skull. Not metaphorical. Not poetic. Surgical. The kind of red that silences conversations mid-sentence. That never washes out.

Her shoulder twisted, tendons snapping like overstretched cables. A clean fracture. Deliberate.

And then she dropped.

Mid-step. No scream. No gasp. No hands thrown up in defense.

Just a body folding in on itself. Puppet. Cut strings. Floor.

Her knees hit first. Then her hips. Her skull would’ve cracked open if—

“NO—!”

Gojo’s voice split the air.

His body slammed the pavement just in time, arms sliding under her skull before it struck asphalt. His knees hit hard. He didn’t notice.

She was convulsing. Fingers twitching. Legs spasming like her nerves were glitching through static.

Her eyes fluttered open—barely. One blown wide. The other slow to respond. Her mouth moved, soundless, forming shapes she couldn’t say.

The back of her head was caved in. Blood bubbling at the base, wet and hot against Gojo’s thighs.

“Hey—hey. Look at me. Look at me—fuck, baby, just stay. Please stay—”

His voice was wreckage. No power, only panic. Shaky hands curled around her cheeks like he was afraid he’d break her worse.

She blinked. Just once. Then her pupils rolled up.

And still, he held her. Cradled her like a lifeline. A wrecked thing trying to hold together something softer than himself.

Her breath came out uneven. Like a machine trying to reboot.

Gojo didn’t feel the pain in his legs. Didn’t feel her blood soaking his clothes. All he saw was her face—lagging, like her brain was buffering behind real time.

For one breathless second—

Even Sukuna forgot who he was.

He blinked. Twice. His head tilted. Like something ancient had stirred from beneath his ribs.

Her face. Her blood.

The stillness.

He didn’t move. His hands twitched once at his sides. His throat clicked dry.

It was like watching a ghost die again.

“…No,” he breathed. “No—no, no—fuck.”

A memory surged:

He’d seen her bleed before. In another life.

Him, cradling her. Her gaze empty. The room sterile and humming with cold fluorescents. That awful antiseptic smell. The nurses whispering about miscarriage like it was a math error. All because the trauma to the womb was too violent.

A month later, Gojo. And Nanami. Suicides. News headlines.

She hadn’t remembered him in this life. Hadn’t even looked twice.

But Sukuna remembered everything.

The way her breath had sounded when she laughed in that life. The shape of the twins she lost before he could name them. The soft sigh she let out as she fell asleep in his arms. The nightmares—always the same men, the guilt too heavy to swallow. The way her eyes had looked when he told her she deserved to live, to be happy anyway—even after everything. The way they had looked when she told him she loved him. The way her lips had moved when she tiredly said his name for the first time.

That "Ryo" still ran through his bloodstream like a curse—he’d remember even if he forgot his own name.

The way she had asked him for help, like he wasn’t cursed.

He hadn’t begged for reincarnation.

He’d ripped it from the jaws of nonexistence—not to be a god, not to be reborn.

To see her again.

And now—

“No—” Sukuna’s voice came low. Not pleading. Not broken. Controlled.

Like a warrior watching the aftermath of an explosion he couldn’t stop. A man built to destroy, watching the one thing he didn’t want broken shatter anyway.

His hands curled into fists. Slowly. Silently.

Across from him, Gojo was still holding her. Still whispering like prayer was a reflex he’d never believed in until now.

“Stay with me. Just stay with me. Please, stay—don’t fucking do this to me—don’t—”

Choso turned pale, like the horror had wind behind it. “Who do we call?” he asked. “Hospital—police—do we—what the fuck do we do? We need a doctor—who’s treating her—”

No one answered.

Gojo didn’t even hear him. His voice kept going. Quiet. Shredded. “Stay. Stay. Please, stay. Just… just stay with me.”

Choso ripped Gojo’s phone out of his coat pocket, fingers slipping. His hand shook as he dialed.

Somewhere behind them, Yuji and Junpei were already moving—eyes dark, steps soundless, splitting off like wolves catching a scent. Trained. Tracking. Gone.

Nanami hadn’t moved.

Not yet. Not immediately.

Like his brain had glitched mid-frame. Like the universe had misfired—like the seconds between the gunshot and the collapse were just another nightmare in the endless reel of them.

He stood there.

Still.

Watching her bleed.

A man built on logic. Precision. Ratios and rules. Cause and effect.

But this?

This was mathematics without an equation. Balance without meaning.

Another cosmic joke played on a man foolish enough to believe he could keep something sacred in a world like this.

Then he saw it.

The red halo at the base of her skull. The unnatural kink in her spine. The shoulder pulled out of socket like a bird with a snapped wing. And the exit wound—clinical, too clean. Efficient.

Something in him shifted.

Not broke. Shifted.

Like a knife turning in its sheath.

He straightened.

He moved like something had been switched off.

Like the weight of a man whose grief wasn’t a feeling—it was a law.

Rage in Nanami was never hot. Never loud. It was the collapse of structure. The moment when the scaffolding gives and all that’s left is gravity.

He didn’t speak. He just walked.

His technique activated without gesture. No ritual. No threat.

The ground cracked beneath him. Golden ratios burned through the pavement like divine geometry. Reality bent into fragments, everything around him rearranged into lines of perfect consequence.

He was already measuring the moment—the bullet’s entry, the blast radius, the arc of collapse. Calculating, silently, the seconds she had left before brain death.

“What did you do?” Nanami asked. His voice didn’t raise. It was the sound of a hypothesis being disproven. A balance sheet that refused to align. A verdict already passed.

Behind him, golden blades began to hum violently—too precise to be called weapons. They weren’t made for war. They were made for correction.

Weak points blinked into the air like constellations on a surgical map.

He moved toward Sukuna.

And Sukuna didn’t retreat.

His hands twitched—not from fear, but restraint. Part of him wanted to summon every cursed tool he’d buried across the globe. His mind cycled through the names of every mercenary he had killed in secret to keep her safe. The spells he’d never used—not even when dying.

And the rage—the sheer, blistering fury—that he had let his guard down for one hour just so she could feel normal.

And this was what happened.

“You shouldn’t have looked at her.” Nanami’s voice landed like cold steel. “You shouldn’t have breathed the same air.”

Around Sukuna, the air sliced itself into pieces. Invisible blades hovering in calculus patterns—dozens of trajectories, all of them fatal. Reality split like a frog in a biology lab.

Sukuna didn’t flinch. Didn’t lift a finger.

“It wasn’t me.”

Gojo looked up, blood in his mouth, his eyes, his thoughts. Staining. Hers. “He’s lying—she was smiling,” he looked back at her. “She was smiling—”

“I didn’t,” Sukuna said again. Quieter. Still watching her. “I couldn’t. Why the fuck would I—?”

Nanami’s voice came like frost on a blade.

“I will burn down the laws of this world if it means ripping you apart.”

Sukuna straightened. Deliberate. Like a tree refusing to bow in a storm.

“You want to fight me now?”

Nanami didn’t answer.

His Domain cracked open behind him—reality cracking, rewinding, clockwork splitting open like a broken timepiece. Golden lines spun outward in spirals, mapping every single version of this moment.

Every version where she survived.

Every one that didn't.

This wasn’t rage.

It was annihilation.

Sukuna’s own Domain shuddered into existence—scarlet, grotesque, brute, heavy, like an axe swung through a cathedral.

The shadows warped around his frame. The air vibrated with it. The ground buckled.

“I didn’t fucking touch her.”

Even he—he—hesitated when he saw Nanami’s face.

Because there was no wrath there.

No vengeance.

Just the flat certainty of a man with nothing left to protect and nothing left to fear.

Sukuna’s rage curled inside him like a parasite chewing through meat. But he couldn’t exorcise it. Couldn’t spit it out.

Rage was all he had.

And rage felt like prayer.

“Do it, then,” he growled.

His voice cracked once—just enough to show the rot underneath.

“Fucking do it.”

Gojo didn’t move. He just held her.

His mouth against her temple. His hands cradling what they could not save.

“I didn’t say sorry,” he whispered. Not to anyone. Not to her.

Just to himself. Just to the air. Like he was giving the words permission to leave him now.

“I didn’t even get to say sorry…”

His fingers were red and shaking.

Her coat stuck to her ribs, soaked through.

Sukuna had trained himself not to feel. Feeling made you fail. Love made you late. Attachment got people killed.

But then she’d said his name.

In this life.

In that soft, exhausted voice. With eyes like she’d already forgiven him for whatever he hadn’t even done yet.

He wasn’t a god anymore. He knew it the moment she touched his wrist and didn’t recoil.

He was just a man.

A man who remembered what her laughter sounded like. What it felt like to be seen.

A man who was about to end a continent for her.

But she wasn’t blinking anymore.

And then—

A twitch.

Small. Shallow. The kind of movement most people would’ve missed.

But Sukuna wasn’t most people.

Her eyelids fluttered. Once.

Only he saw.

His jaw locked. A breath hitched in his chest—sharp and quiet.

He didn’t scream. Didn’t shout it aloud. Just—

“I didn’t do it,” he said again. The words were sharp now. Precise. Not a defence but a promise. “But I’ll help find who did.”

Behind him, Nanami’s golden blades froze mid-rotation. Suspended like judgement delayed.

The air stopped humming.

“Why?” he asked. Flat. Unbelieving.

Sukuna’s eyes never left her. “Because in another life, I watched a woman like that bleed out protecting idiots like you. And I don’t even know her.”

Nanami didn’t lower his hand. “I don’t care if you knew her in a fucking dream.”

Choso stepped between them—hand up, body rigid, his own technique thrumming in a futile attempt to shield his brother. But even he knew he was useless here. He was trying to hold back two tectonic plates with nothing but his spine.

Sukuna opened his palms. Empty. Still.

“I don’t want to fight you.”

“I don’t want to think,” Nanami replied like a man who didn’t want to hear his own thoughts anymore.

Gojo’s shoulders shook like a child’s.

Not from panic. From something worse—recognition. That this was real. That this might be the last time he held her with warmth still in her skin.

He whispered again.

Not to her. Not to them.

Just to the shape of her still in his arms.

“I didn’t even get to say sorry.”

His voice caught in his throat. A hiccup. A prayer’s corpse. Like he was whispering it to the version of her who’d already left.

Choso’s voice broke through in the background, rising in panic as he screamed into the phone. “She’s bleeding from the brainstem—there’s spinal trauma—we need an ambulance NOW—”

Gojo folded over her, head bowed, as if shielding her from the sound. “Baby, no,” he begged. “You’re strong. Stronger than both of us. So stay. Just a little longer. Just—stay. Please. Protect me. One last time…”

Something in his voice—not words, but the way he said them—stopped Nanami cold.

The blades vanished. His Domain closed.

And the silence returned—not peace. Not grief. Just that awful stillness that comes before a scream.

Gojo leaned lower.

His lips brushed her stomach.

“The twins…” he whispered, breath hitching.

His voice broke.

“I didn’t even get to say sorry.”

Sukuna moved again.

Slow. Controlled. Cautious, like approaching a dying god.

Red stained his collar. His shirt. His wrists. Her blood had dried at the corner of his mouth, but it still glinted in the light.

Yuji and Junpei were already gone—disappearing into alley shadows like bloodhounds with no leash. Their cursed energy sang behind them in violent harmony.

And the street was painted red.

Gojo rocked her body slightly. Whispering into her hair now. The words meant nothing. They were only shape and sound. “Don’t go,” he kept saying. “Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go—”

Except—

Her hand.

A twitch.

Not a movement. Not a miracle.

Just a final neuron firing.

---

📱Twitter/X

@CHRO, Gaming Studios | May 2, 2025

Today, the unimaginable happened.

Our CEO, founder, and my friend of seven years was the victim of a targeted shooting outside a private engagement. We are currently working with authorities. Out of respect for her family and those of us who love her, we ask for space and privacy.

She built a dream from nothing. She made this world more than it was.

Please keep her in your thoughts.

🗞️Official Press Statement

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Gaming Studios | May 2, 2025

Our studios are devastated to confirm that earlier today, our Chief Executive Officer and founder was involved in a violent incident outside a private location. The matter is currently under investigation, and we are fully cooperating with law enforcement.

A visionary behind one of the most influential gaming empires of the decade—a friend, a to-be mother, a wife, a daughter, a relentless force who refused to build anything less than a revolution.

We ask for patience, respect, and privacy for her loved ones and the gaming family during this profoundly difficult moment.

Further updates will be provided when appropriate.

---

After the hit

Haibara didn’t blink when the sniper’s echo died. He just exhaled softly, like he’d been holding in a cough. Then, with a gentleness that made Naoya shift uncomfortably, he patted Maki’s shoulder—twice. Like a priest giving last rites to someone still breathing.

He turned. Winked at Naoya like they were sharing a private joke.

“Let her go.”

Naoya scoffed but obeyed. His fingers slipped from Mai’s arm, slow with disdain.

Haibara’s voice lowered, flat and unimpressed. “It’s just a bullet. You’ve choked your own blood out for less, haven’t you?”

Maki didn’t flinch. Not when Mai stumbled into her arms. Not even when Mai clutched at her ribs and rasped her name. Maki’s gaze stayed fixed on Haibara. Unshaken. Surgical.

“You picked the wrong sister to threaten.”

Haibara smiled without teeth. “See, that’s the part I liked. Do you know why?”

No shout. No gloat. No warning. No waiting for an answer. “Because you shouldn’t have said that.”

He raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

Click.

One shot. Centered. Clean. Right between Mai’s eyes.

The sound was small. Not dramatic. Not final. Just... clinical.

Mai’s spine locked—then folded. Her weight slumped into Maki’s arms like a structure losing tension.

Maki didn’t scream.

She laid Mai down like she was putting her to sleep. One hand on her shoulder, the other cushioning her fall. Quiet. Focused.

Haibara didn’t wait for grief. He turned, flicked a hand in the direction of the body.

“Naoya. Get her out of my sight. My shoes are limited edition.”

Naoya grunted and kicked Mai’s corpse to the side like loose garbage. The body thudded against gravel, limbs folding awkwardly.

Still, Maki didn’t move. Her hands were slick. Her face unreadable.

“Megumi will kill you for this.”

Haibara grinned. All enamel. “Good. I’m counting on it.”

He paced a tight, deliberate circle around her. The gun swung in lazy loops from his fingers like a child’s toy.

“I’m not doing this for sport,” he said. “Or politics. Or whatever messy little revenge fantasy you’ve spun in your head.”

He stopped beside her. Then shifted slightly—gun lowering, gaze sliding past her.

Toward the street below. Toward you.

“Two heartbeats,” he murmured. “Feather-light. One flutters more than the other. Girl, maybe. You hear it?”

He didn’t wait.

“Twins. Inside her. You don’t need Six Eyes to hear it. Just patience. Stillness. Obsession.”

He smiled then. But it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I want them.”

It wasn’t said with lust. Or cruelty.

It was said the way collectors say, I want that painting.

The way scientists say, I want that body for dissection.

The way sorcerers say, I want that power.

“They’ll make glorious cursed objects,” he added. “Personal. Tragic. Intimate.”

Maki didn’t speak.

She moved.

No warning. No scream. Just acceleration—like a spring snapping forward.

Pure Toji’s curse. Clean, unstoppable violence.

The gun didn’t rise fast enough.

Haibara stepped back off the rooftop ledge.

But not in fear.

In invitation.

Behind him, his Domain bloomed open—slick, immediate, and silent.

Like silk unfurling from a box.

A trapdoor for gods.

He fell into it like he'd done it before.

Like he wanted her to follow.

And she did. Her foot crossed the threshold—

crack.

Another shot.

Clean. Efficient.

The bullet hit her mid-air, just below the sternum—left side, precise angle.

Her breath hitched. Her spine jerked. Blood bloomed from her chest like a curse blooming into form.

She shook.

Mid-lunge. All momentum gone. Her body folded in on itself—like a puppet yanked by frayed threads.

She never reached him.

She never touched the Domain’s edge.

She crashed. Bone snapped. Limbs bent wrong.

No scream. No dignity. Just meat hitting stone.

Ten minutes later, Yuji and Junpei found her.

There was no poetry. No storm. No wind cue. Just heat and buzzing flies.

Just traffic that didn’t stop.

No mourning. No rage.

Just reality. Still moving.

And somewhere else—clean, calm, unbothered—Haibara sent a message:

"Hearts are still fresh. You’ll need gloves."

---

A/N: hehehehehehe laughs like Mahito in a Gucci showroom this chapter was a psychological workout & a KFC commercial in disguise (Yes, I did it to torture Gojo; idk why he's growing more on me lately.) This chapter took a LOT of rewrites & delulu-fuelled breakdowns, but shoutout to my Todo (my beta bestie), who simultaneously enabled my fictional insanity & made sure I took naps like a toddler on a juice crash (she also made me eat fruit). My brain feels disturbingly relaxed even though I finished this in 2 days like a woman possessed by a keyboard demon. Thank you, girl, for keeping me from rewriting the ending 17 times. Did anyone clock Mamaguro?? LMAOOO & not Megs catching strays for existing 😭😭😭. Idk why I've been torturing him; he didn't even do anything except exist & love her. And, btw—Nanami’s reaction isn’t emotion bc he’s not regular, tax-paying Nanami anymore; he’s a special grade war ghost with grief compression issues. Also: HOW MUCH DO WE HATE HAIBARA NOW??? Please scream in the comments. I crave your rage essays like cursed energy. Your thoughts genuinely help me improve & shape this story—it’s my first time writing something this long & plot-based instead of just vibes & hot people with serious issues. How’d we like Suguwu-chan (or… whatever he is 👀) & the reader’s convo?? Was she not peak powerful, bad-bitch energy?? And don’t EVEN get me started on Sukuna!!! This man reappeared after 84 years & somehow aced every column with the highest marks possible?? I’m not even a Suku-girly, but maybe I’m also fictionally insane & it’s showing (but no, I’m not talking about canon Sukuna—I have no interest in murder or maternity, pls. I’m just tired). Also, Sukuna’s hair being black in this ending was an aesthetic choice bc I’ve seen the manga panels, & he’ll be built different next season. You’re free to hallucinate him however you want, just like my beta is doing as we speak. Also when he said “Ryomen Sukuna”? I flatlined. And not even his own spiritual homeboys spared him 😭. Absolute roast session. Peak television. Not Gojo crying like Andrew Garfield in The Amazing Spider-Man when Gwen died. Lmaooo. Loser. Please send your essays, memes, analysis & betrayal theories in the comments!! I re-read & reply to every single one like Gojo rereading her texts at 3AM.

Next Chapter 25 - Losing Sun - [Tumblr/Ao3]

All Works Masterlist

Beta - @blackrimmedrose

Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth @austisticfreak @helloxkittylo @itoshi-r @kodzukensworld @revolvinggeto @luringfantasy @xx-tazzdevil-xx @unaaasz @thebumbqueen @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @whos-ruru @helo1281917

[martygraciesversion381]

Heyyyyy i wanted to request an Ollie Bearman fluff fic. I don't really mind what it is but maybe something about race weekend. ❤️

PAPER RINGS (OB87)

summary: Ollie comes back home after the brazil gp

warnings!: none just fluff and a bit of angst

a/n: it took me so long to write it i'm so sorry just been pressured cause of school and all. this was actually so cute to write ollie is just so fluff coded<3 kinda short but i'm really proud of it (might be my best work)

masterlist

the results in brazil weren't what ollie had expected. he recieved a 20 second penalty and ended p12, out of the points. he shouldn't be mad after all he's still an f2 driver even if he'll be in f1 next year. he's already extremely talented but it's just not enough.

he didn't even stay to party with the drivers just went back to you in your shared hotel room. he was so happy that you were able to come to his race even with your busy schedule cause of your studies.

ollie opened the hotel room door before slamming it closed making you jump. you were laying on the bed while reading a book. when you saw ollie. you put down the book and rushed over to him hugging him.

"m'so proud of you olls you did so good today" he wrapped his arms around you and forced a smile but it didn't last long.

a few seconds after, his head was burried in the crook of your neck and he was crying and sobbing. you rubbed his back softly while praising him and assuring him that he was the most talented driver you've ever met and that you were so lucky to have him.

after his sobs had calmed down, you both stayed there unmoving until you spoke up.

"wanna shower and watch a movie?" you asked and ollie nodded in the crook of your neck.

you stood up and the both of you walked to the bathroom with your fingers linked. once you reached the bathroom, you turned to ollie.

"take off your clothes baby i'm gonna prepare the shower okay?" ollie nodded and you turned on the water making sure that it was warm enough before taking off your clothes too.

you and ollie held each other under the warm water just enjoying the calm that only the other could provide. people called it soulmates, you called it home.

you started to wash ollie's hair. massaging his scalp with your fingers as you poured shampoo in his air. he leaned into the touch closing his eyes and letting out a small sigh. you then washed his body slowly massaging every part of him and especially his shoulders to relieve the pressure caused by the race.

ollie did the same for you even if you insisted that you could do it alone. you both washed and held each other needing the physical touch after the time spent apart from each other.

after you both dried each other, you put on some fresh clothes and headed to your shared bed. you pulled the covers over the both of you and cuddled closer to him. people would find weird that he is the one holding you even if he's the one in pain but ollie found more comfort in holding you than being held.

you put a movie on but it was quickly forgotten as you both were just content cuddling. you shared some sweet pecks and ollie flet his eyelids grow heavy.

"tired pretty boy?" you asked using the nickname that you used before dating to flirt with him. ollie smiled and nodded.

you turned off the tv and you both layed down together. you rested your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

"good night olls"

"good night love"

you both succombed to sleep quickly. people would say that it wasn't much, just young love but for you it was home and ollie knew that wherever he'll go, you'll be here for him. he sometimes found himself planning your future together and your wedding. You knew that you'd be happy even if it was only with paper rings.

taglist:

get added to the taglist!!!

@motorsportbarbie13 @f1addict3 @gorgeusreputation16 @swiftlyconehead @carloswinner @g00d--vibes @paulinegba @linnygirl09 @rd14 @itsleslie1998

[humblequestvinyl]

boston's red

BOSTON’S RED, CONRAD FISHER X FEM!READER

APART OF THE “ANOTHER ON THE WAY” SERIES

SUMMARY: conrad fisher quickly meets a girl from the bronx, and despite their rival teams she starts to fall in love with him under those fenway lights.

inspired by tennessee orange by megan moroney

◀ ⏸ ▶

lowercase is intentional! wc: 1.9k

warning: underage drinking, and swearing

a/n: so i actually had a cute little note written out about how this is so boston sports coded when i started writing this OVER A YEAR AGO. but this is actually just my boyfriend and i with our rival sports teams. anyway enjoy!

“MAMA I STILL DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY I’M HERE.”

y/n l/n spoke as she drove through massachusetts in her run down mustang, knowing this was the last place she wanted to be.

“because it’ll be good for you! you’ll be able to hang with your auntie mia, be right by the beach and maybe meet a few people this summer!’her mother told her, and y/n rolled her eyes, “i’d rather be at yankee stadium.”

“you’re right by fenway! why not go there when the yankees are in town?”her mother questioned, and y/n made a face as she passed by a sign, welcoming her into cousins beach massachusetts, knowing she was close to her aunts.

“absolutely not.”

“why not?!”her mother questioned as y/n’s gps directed her to take a left, and y/n had an absolutely disgusting feeling.

“that’s an absolute sin in new york.”the h/c cringed at the thought, “jail time, punishable by death.”

“alright i get it.”y/n’s mother chuckled, knowing how dramatic her daughter could be about her favorite sports team, “text me tonight alright?”

“will do, bye mama.”y/n spoke, and the line went completely dead with cruel summer by taylor swift starting to blast through her speakers.

it was a few minutes before she pulled into her auntie mia’s driveway, and laid on the horn to signal her arrival to her aunt’s home, only to see her walk out from the house next door with her hands in the air. 

“i thought you weren’t supposed to be here for another hour?”her aunt questioned as y/n hopped out of the car with a wide smile spread across her face, “your favorite niece is a speed demon!”

mia let out a laugh before y/n raced across the yards, tackling her aunt in a tight hug, “i’ve missed you!”

“i’ve missed you more ruthie!”mia exclaimed, before walking with the girl back towards the house she came from, and y/n threw her head back knowing her aunt was referencing her middle name.

“where are you taking me?”the h/c girl giggled as her aunt walked her inside the next door neighbors house, “i am not even properly dressed mimi.”

“oh who cares!”mia exclaimed, waving the teen girl off as the two walked inside, and y/n spotted a blonde woman walking back into the beach house that had been deemed as ‘beck’s house.’

“i thought that was you i heard!”the woman exclaimed as she walked towards the two with one of the biggest smiles spread across her face, “you must be y/n!”

“yeah.”the bronx girl smiled as she was brought into a tight embrace, and y/n chuckled a bit,

the woman pulled back, and cupped the girls' shoulders, taking in her appearance, and she saw her eyes drift back over towards mia, and y/n bit back the smile that threatened to peak out.

“she looks so much like sierra.”the woman pointed out, and y/n’s eyebrows furrowed, “you know my mom?”

“you know how mom and i always talked about laurel and beck from college?”mia questioned, and the h/c girl nodded, before mia nodded her head towards the blonde woman that stood in front of her, “this is beck.”

the girls mouth made an ‘oh’ shape, causing the older women to laugh, and ushered the l/n girl to sit down.

“where are the kids?”mia asked as beck ran around the kitchen, gathering things for the two girls.

“well, somehow laurel convinced all of them to do the grocery shopping for the week, and they’ve been gone for almost two hours.”beck explained, and a loud laugh escaped from mia’s lips before the three started to talk about anything and everything.

it felt like hours before the peace was disturbed by a loud crash as soon as the front door was opened, and yelling soon followed.

“i told you not to pack these bags heavy!” y/n’s head snapped towards the front door, silently observing the scene in front of her as the two boys struggled to pick up whatever had fallen out of the bags.

“it’s not my fault that they aren’t sturdy!”another argued, before y/n saw a beautiful girl walk through the front door, carrying another bag and a pizza in her hand.

“hi susannah!”the girl greeted beck before waving to y/n, one the new yorker returned back.

y/n continued to watch the front door as the last of the groceries came in, along with another boy, wearing a red sox cap on the top of his head.

“new york, huh?”the boy questioned as soon as he made his way into the kitchen, nodding towards the aaron judge shirt y/n had on, causing the girls cheeks to become inflamed.

“forgot i had it on.”y/n admitted, before standing up and pushing her chair in, “on that note, i have a lot of unpacking to do.”

“thank you, beck.”y/n thanked the woman, before rushing out of the house and towards her aunts, where her mustang sat with all of her luggage.

as she unraveled her luggage from the car and brought it in, her head was filled with the boy who had called her out in red sox territory. brown hair, blue eyes and the cutest dimples she had ever seen.

there was one problem throughout all of it though,

he was a red sox fan.

it was y/n’s number one rule when it came to even liking someone. if they were a red sox, islanders, or patriots fan, they were absolutely out of the question. she couldn’t stand them half the time, so how could she be in a relationship with one?

‘absolutely not.’ she thought as she placed her clothing into drawers, making the guest room feel somewhat like home, ‘you don’t even know him.’

and so that’s what y/n sat with, for days. it was all she could think about. the boy next door with brown hair and blue eyes, with that stupid red sox hat on.

it wasn’t until days later that the two met again, and when they did, it was during beck’s fourth of july party. 

y/n was already two drinks in and had kept by her aunt's side as much as she could without interacting with many people. she didn’t know anybody, and the new yorker did not want to run into the boy with the red sox hat.

but, the universe had other plans for the girl from new york.

“y/n! i forgot to introduce you to conrad the other day!”beck exclaimed, and y/n furrowed her eyebrows as she saw the woman waving over someone.

“conrad, this is y/n.”susannah introduced the two, and y/n looked up at the boy with slight confusion, “she’s staying with mia for the summer.”

“red sox boy.”y/n blurted out before she could even stop herself, and she saw a smile spread across conrads face as mia hit the girls arm, “little miss bronx.”

a scowl fell across y/n’s face as she heard mia and susannah chuckle, and y/n heard her aunt mention something about conrad taking the girl down towards the beach.

next thing she knew, she was stuck with the boy.

“so, new york?”conrad questioned as the two walked, and y/n took a sip of her drink before nodding, “what brought you up to cousins?”

“a mother who wants me to live my life outside of yankee stadium.”the girl grinned as a laugh fell out of the boys lips, “found out how much i was spending on yankees tickets and sent me here.”

“how much?”conrad questioned, and the girl shook her head, “too much.”

as the two continued to walk the beach, talking about their teams dislike for each other, what the boy had planned for the summer, and what games conrad was going to see in boston this summer.

“have you even been to fenway park?”he questioned, and y/n shook her head with a laugh.

“why would i do that?”the girl fired back as she took a sip of the water conrad had snagged for her. “i have yankee stadium at my ready whenever i want.”

conrad chuckled as the two continued to walk down, before looking down at his phone and turning to the girl with a smile, “you busy on friday?”

the h/c raised an eyebrow as she looked at the boy she was walking with, letting her curiosity get the best of her, “why?” she questioned as she watched the wheels turn within conrad’s head.

a wide grin spread across the boys face and y/n instantly knew whatever he was about to suggest would mean having to go into the city she absolutely despised.

“the sox are home.”conrad brought up, with his boston accent peeking through, something that y/n hadn’t noticed til that moment, “you could go see the oldest ballpark ever.”

“hell no.”

“why not!”the boy laughed as he threw his arms up dramatically, and y/n rolled her eyes, “you cannot tell me you have never wanted to experience sweet caroline on a friday night in early july.”

“i haven’t.”y/n reassured him as she brushed some of the hair that was stuck to her face away, “and i never will.”

“if you ever think i will end up at fenway park when the yanks aren’t playing, you’re dead wrong.”y/n continued on with her tangent, and conrad had a wide smile on his face, “especially in red sox gear.”

“keep dreaming pretty boy.”

★

SOMEHOW, ALMOST THREE DAYS LATER Y/N ENDED UP INSIDE OF FENWAY PARK.

it was the middle of the eighth inning when the opening notes to sweet caroline had started to play throughout the stadium, and conrad had a wide grin spread across his face.

“c’mon ruthie, it’s a classic!”he shouted over the music before helping the girl stand to her feet, and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

ruthie, never did y/n think someone calling her ruthie would send butterflies throughout her entire body, especially at a stadium she thought she would hate. but yet here she was, under the lights of fenway park with sweet caroline blasting and she was quickly picking up the words to it.

she had never felt this way with anyone back home. y/n never thought that someone would be able to get her inside a rival stadium when the new york yankees weren’t the opposing team. as she looked over to the blue-eyed boy, she could feel herself quickly falling more and more for a boy she barely knew.

as sweet caroline faded out, y/n watched as conrad took the spoked b hat off of the top of his head, and place it onto the top of hers. the boston boy expected her to immediately rip it off and throw a fit, but as the first pitch was thrown, she kept in on.

in new york they’d call it a sin, but y/n l/n was wearing boston’s red for conrad fisher.

[suhnshinehaos]

⚘  growing pains

series synopsis : people say that you’ll experience three kinds of love in your lifetime. the first is an idealistic love, the kind that feels straight out of a fairy tale. the second is the hard love, the kind that will leave you with lessons about yourself and the love you want and need to experience. finally, the love you never see coming. this is the story of your three loves. pairing : svt 97 line x gn!reader genre/s : non-idol au, coming of age, angst, fluff, my attempts at humor

act three : the unexpected love

after years studying and working abroad, yn is finally back home to a new job and new faces. all they want now is to focus on nothing else but their career and one of their coworker’s friends, minghao, makes it all the more interesting. 

part seventeen : mirrorball

previous  ➤  interlude ii next  ➤  part eighteen growing pains  ➤  masterlist

from reese, with love <3

gp!yn is so mirrorball by taylor swift coded and i stand by that wholeheartedly !! anyways emotional support 95 line came throughhh and yn is coming homeeee and gp act 3 is only 20 parts (plus an epilogue) aaaaah can u believe how time flies?

thank you for reading and making it this far with our yn :) appreciate all asks/rbs/replies,, promise i will get around to replying hahaha hope you're all doing well and taking care!

[todayisdeadinside]

My Thoughts on @quietasides 'Just Like You' Analysis (x) (x)

Okay, I'm going insane, I need to yap. I just read the two part analysis for the first time, and I have some background info on Simon Cowell that I wanted to tie into this since OP pointed out how many Simon references there are in JLY.

This bullet point list is about as organized as this post will be. After the cut I start quoting and talking about OP's analyses, elaborating on what I picked up on. I really tried to make this coherent.

Immediately I picked up on the overall themes/repeated concepts-

Louis comparing himself (and artists at large) to race horses, who are very notably worked until death and killed when they are no longer in peak condition.

The Weinstein case being shown in articles, including statements from his accusers, as well as various related and unrelated snippets and headlines about sexual abuse and specifically pedophilic sexual abuse.

"Everyone else here before me" repetitive themes of Louis not being the first artist to be used by the industry, with precedent of Weinstein's accusers and Pat Sephton.

Silencing and victims being too afraid to speak out, and various subtle calls for the industry to change. Subtle visual allusions to the GP having access to more info than they know because they choose not to look at what's in front of them.

Various allusions to One Direction and sometimes specifically Harry.

Thoughts on Part 1:

Okay. Louis being blurred out by the word "cash." He's a product, he's a dollar sign.

"Right to oppose despotism" I didn't know what despotism meant so I googled it. It's essential tyranny. Right to oppose a dickhead ruler who controls your life and fucks you over. So, Simon Cowell, in context.

“Hairdresser with HIV pressured victim into having sex” headline comes up SO many times and I think the hairdresser with HIV part is less important, and it's meant to drive home that theme of being pressured into sex acts as an aspiring artist.

And it showing up on the same page as the name Pat (Sephton), tying in the theme of being a child or otherwise young when this pressuring typically occurs. And add what I talked about in my Simon Cowell post about his pedophilic sex parties he hosted with Max Clifford.

“In sentencing the judge said he had taken into account psychiatric issues...” I wonder if this is about the trend of pedophiles and rapists in the industry accusing or painting their victims as mentally ill, or crazy, to destroy their credibility. We see this all the time with artists being slandered because they were going to speak out about something. There's that theme of silencing and fear again.

The crossword being brushed over with transparent white paint makes me think it's conveying that the puzzle pieces and hints of what goes on in the industry are all there, just thinly hidden behind plausible deniability and distractions so few people ever figure it out GP-side. It's right in front of you, it's barely hidden.

The race horse tables. It's all about numbers in the industry. For horses it's times, for artists it's sales. Money. And that appearing with the lyric "same shit/stress." Again Louis saying this is nothing new, and he isn't the first.

The court thing reoccuring- contracts, being sued, lawsuits, all the settlements that abusers have with victims to avoid charges, this is all very common in the industry. Also "bounty pursuit" is very much how these moguls and industry folks see artists- a bounty, a pursuit towards money. Louis could be the Daring Guest, a speck in the wider industry who's daring enough to subtly speak about it.

The whole bit about the owners and the codes being old, this is a cycle, this is STANDARD, artists aren't just seen as objects by some shitty managers, the system is designed to treat them as walking dollar signs. This and the "gun reform" mention make me think Louis is calling for the standards in the industry to be changed, to be more humane.

"It's like we take, then backwards—form of distraction—enormous reaction—so we—instead of talking" Take, then backwards. They get a win, they get punished. Form of distraction is about the media and tabloids, how they control the narrative and distract the GP when they need to, enormous reaction is what the form of distraction wants to prevent. Instead of talking about the music industry's systemic abuse, distract with glitz and glamour.

Followed by another direct mention of sexual assault and victims being afraid to speak out.

The silhouette over Louis' shoulder is a clear metaphor for management, as an entity, contracts, whatever and whoever is keeping eyes on him.

Followed by another mention of sexual harassment with Cara Delevigne's story.

The three strongest themes are artists being dollar signs/objects akin to race horses, Simon Cowell, and sexual assault/pedophilic sexual assault. I think it's clear what this is getting at, maybe not specifically but broadly with what I've uncovered about Simon and what I know broadly about the music industry. Combine those entwined themes with the subtle calls for the industry to change, but fear holding victims back. It's starting to tell a story.

Half of the story with the 1D fonts on Story, comes after all of that set up for the main themes Louis is trying to convey. Simon of course owned One Direction since they were teenagers. Louis is saying we only know half of the story about Simon Cowell and One Direction, how we can find the bits and pieces of how this industry works, of Simon's pedophilic sex parties, but we don't know the other half of how 1D was affected specifically. But with Louis' repetition of him not being the first, and the Weinstein case being prevalent as an example of the past, I think the message he's trying to convey is clear.

Five pound notes for five members of 1D, again that money cash cow comparison, how we only know the glorious story of world famous boyband One Direction, but not the other half.

Followed by the hairdresser with HIV pressures victim into sex article again. I think this is poignant.

The bits about "his downfall not being by chance" is about the fact that most big exposures of pedophiles and rapists in the industry are planned. The Diddy case, for example. A kingpin who gets thrown under the bus is thrown under the bus for a reason, because this industry has ways of protecting the kingpins it values. Diddy was caught on purpose, Weinstein was exposed on purpose. If Simon's crimes ever get exposed on a major scale, it will be by design. The info about Simon is out there (at least as off 2024-25) but he won't have his downfall until the people above him want him to.

"...Even life under—radar in the UK can—better than life at home where economic opportunities can be extremely poor..." And of course alluding to the fact that Louis and the boys (and most aspiring artists) were promised the world in exchange for just a little bit of their human rights and sanity. Being under radar- constantly monitered or filmed- is better than being poor, right?

"Weinstein’s disgrace and defenestration are not happening now wholly by chance. They are part of a changing world." That call for change again, the outright statement of Weinstein's downfall being planned. Louis is telling us how the industry functions as a precedent for the side of the story with Simon that he can't outright tell.

A hallway where it's dark and things are hidden behind closed doors? The metaphorical sense of things being hidden behind closed doors, but also the related metaphor of "behind the curtains" in industry speak, and also also the fact that there's been multiple instances in my recent research of illegal sexual "favours" taking place in LITERAL dark rooms behind literal closed doors, usually in strip clubs or members-only clubs (Groucho club, anyone?)

...And Louis being placed in that hidden hallway. Being whited out with that transparent paint that shows what's going on if you were to pay close attention, that transparent paint of distraction that the GP accepts, so that nobody pays attention to what's right in front of them.

"Look" and "Do" being important makes me think he's saying to look at what's happening, and then do something about it. Observe the information, then take action. It's another subtle call for change.

Alongside Pat Sephton's obituary. According to OP's post, a 14 year old who performed naked on a stage. This being an older example, again hammering in that Louis isn't the first. "Like everyone else here before me" and then he proceeds to show Weinstein, Weinstein's accusers, and Pat Sephton's names.

And references to Simon Cowell again after that. Really clearly outlining the message, I think.

The bit about a powerful and dangerous weapon, which I think is less about Louis and more about the industry and it's ability to "bomb" someone's credability in an instant- a very powerful ability to possess- if they speak out. Or even the bomb that is controlling when a kingpin gets exposed, also a very powerful weapon to possess.

Followed by the hairdressing pressured victim into sex headline, again.

Thoughts on Part 2:

Starting off strong with the word "watch" telling us to open our eyes.

“open secret—for years that—is a sexual—epic scale but—the horrific—the public.” With THIS basically saying "look at the sex abuse in the industry it's literally an open secret."

“...He was surrounded by yes-men and despite stories of his appalling behavior being rife in the industry, senior figures queued up to laud the producer...” This being followed by the bullhorn is showing us that these kingpins are protected up until they're not. They're lauded and praised and beloved- until the industry needs a scapegoat, or they've stepped out of line. Bullhorn! Weinstein in the news. Bullhorn! Diddy in the news. This is the cycle.

Followed by Cara Delevigne's accusation of sexual harassment. Perhaps highlighting how victims only feel safe to come out with their stories after their abuser is already disgraced by the GP? How the industry controls when victims speak out with this planned downfall pattern?

(It's an open secret -> industry protects abusers until -> bullhorn! planned exposure -> victims feel safe speaking out)

And followed by the bit about fear of speaking out again.

"late because—in the same—2013 he said—make good" This stuck out to me because Jeff Azoff started scouting Harry in 2013. The Azoffs are known for being big kingpin names and they have some sex abuse stories attached to them, but they haven't been bullhorned yet. Shelli Azoff sexually abused her maid for a year, Irving Azoff supposedly funded a sex trafficking plot. The rabbit hole with that family goes DEEP, I need to make a post about it.

"if only you knew" "stared at me like I was a piece of meat." These being right alongside each other on screen feels very intentional. He's saying "if only you knew how I was treated. That other half of the story you don't have."

That image ripping away to uncover “I wish I had—have been braver—I will be when I—that sexual abuse—in Hollywood” is continuing the story. "If only you knew I was stared at like a piece of meat, I wish I had been braver, I will be [braver] when (something comes out about Simon?), that sexual abuse in hollywood." Look I know I'm probably insinuating a lot here but this is what the video is conveying, to me at least.

The dog barking poem, I feel is an analogy for the constant expectations and constant surveillance in that industry. Always being barked at to do this, do that, perform better, sell more. Day and night. "it never stops."

By Louis' photo the bit about “brothers who grew up—the abuse they suffered” and 1D being as close as brothers, I think it's another 1D reference with them being teens when they formed and growing up as essentially brothers in this industry. With the Simon is a rich twat bit, and then court being mentioned again. Being threatened via contracts or with threats of lawsuits is very common in this industry, and Syco contracts and known to be INSANE (see: Katie Waissel)

2 speakers but one is off and one is on. I think this is another "half of the story" bit. Followed by the photo of Louis edited onto the article about Weinstein's victims, and followed by the phrase "I was a kid, and I was petrified." Louis mixing himself into the precedent is an even more clear show of Simon being another Weinstein, and Louis being another victim who was too young to know what they were getting into.

The part where the Weinstein article highlights the line about "him sexually abusing women over decades" which then switches onto the race horse article and a circled letter H. I think this is meant to portray the power dynamic in the industry, and maybe an allusion to Harry? The Weinstein and sexually abusing over decades bit, then it shows the H and race horse bit. So far, these kinds of stories being laid out have alluded to Louis, but the H? Is that alluding to Harry as well? 1D on the whole has been alluded to multiple times, so it's plausible.

“unsatisfactory” experiences for owners... want to see “fair, transparent and responsible practices in place to remove significant actual and perceived barriers to new owners” joining the sport" Another call for change, to stop treating the "race horses" (artists) so inhumanely.

Then Louis sets off a bomb and walks away, the same Louis cutout who's pointed to different bits in the articles. The call for change followed by Louis bombshelling the truth, essentially saying he's shown us the missing half of the story through this video, and he's been calling us to LOOK and DO about it. He's telling us to pick up what he's put down.

I don't think OP picked up on this in their post but the guitar doodle encases the phrase "brain-dead bigot" and then of course the jetski -> Simon Cowell reference. Louis called Simon a brain-dead bigot. Thought that was very important to add.

So Simon Cowell, followed by "come and see" and "no further warnings needed." Louis again saying "Look at this, it's visible, I've given all the warnings and precedent with Weinstein and whatnot, so now take that knowledge and look at Simon. Look at my story I'm telling."

"I thought I was safe" "I asked him if he knew I could sing." Louis hammering in that point that this is all precedent that explains his untold story. His face is on the screen during this bit. History is literally repeating itself so clearly he can use past stories to explain his own.

End Notes:

This was driving me crazy, sorry it's such a long post, but I hope I got my point across with what I was seeing. OPs analysis is amazing and I'm just expanding on it with my own thoughts and connections/themes I picked up on, mostly aided by my background knowledge on the music industry and Simon Cowell. I'm not saying I'm definitely correct, but I'm curious to hear people's thoughts.

The Simon Cowell post I mentioned is under my "The Music Industry is FUCKED UP" tag, it gets into alllll of the evidence I have for Simon Cowell being a pedophile and running underage sex parties during some of the years 1D was active & before.

The stuff about Groucho club I'm planning a post on, but basically: pedophilic sex trafficking. Again.

And the Katie Waissel mention on Syco contracts is about her reading her original Syco contract on her twitter a while ago, which I also plan to make a post about.

[pupyuj]

gp itzy thoughts i beg cuz ur yuna one has me GIGGLING

i got you anon 😩😤😤 i personally view all of g!p itzy as subs (yes even ryujin don't fight me on this 🤭🤭) unless the scenario prompt is specific SO IT'S DOM READER TIME 😏 their names r color coded cuz some are longer than others i got a bit too into it 💀

that g!p yeji thought i posted a while ago is kinda perfect bcs it's just so her?? like to be so weak n pathetic when it comes to you :(( a little tease n baby is immediately rock hard, weakly asking for you to stop messing with her but secretly wanting for you to just,, ride her already 😭😭😭 she definitely likes being forced into having sex in like, public spaces 🤭 like she's saying "no stop (y/n) we can'tttt there's people here :((" but then why is she eagerly pounding into you while she's holding you up against the mirror in a changing room?? why isn't she doing anything other than sitting there n letting you jerk her off while you're in the movie theatre??? 🫢

lia's never beating the pillow princess allegations to me, even when she has a dick 🫡🫡 you're so pretty to her that she just wants to sit back and watch you do whatever you want to her with her cock :(( which ties into her voyeurism bcs she definitely gets off to the sight of you playing w your pussy in front of her,,, and n also in front of the mirror but like you're giving her a handjob n whispering dirty and borderline mean shit to her ear it gets her sooo horny you have no idea 😭😭😭 n she loves when u give her head bcs she can just look at your pretty face taking in her cock, she gets so proud :( big on praises during those moments but ultimately she's a slut for you 🫣

ryujin is kind of the tsundere-ish, pissy pants, big pride = big dick girl who hates being teased and played with but unfortunately you're a fucking brat 🤭 you're always groping her cock while people are around (they never notice), telling her things in her ear, wearing revealing clothing to rile her up, being touchy w people... but see, even if that makes ryujin pissed as hell she will not like, grab you and ruin you— no, that's what you do to her 👀 coming home from a party after flirting w the entire fucking house n ryujin is soooo mad 😭 like she's huffing, arms crossed and glaring at you while sitting on the bed as you're talking like nothing happened.. then you notice that look in her face n you laugh at her, making her even more mad 😭😭 but then you stand in between her legs and make her look up at you.. suddenly her eyes were the same as a puppy's?? like glossy and pleading while you're talking to her like, "d'you get jealous of that guy? c'mon, ryu, you know i only want your cock..." and "want me to prove it?" then she's nodding w a pout 🥺🥺🥺

making ryujin lay down on the bed to give her the best head of her life, one that pushes her to tears and has her seeing stars 🫠🫠 by the time you're riding her, she's crying bcs you feel so fucking good, like she's in literal disbelief over it 😩 sometimes the pleasure gets too much that ryujin will be so lost in her head while you're forcing orgasms out of her, but you're there to keep her grounded 🤭 leaning down to kiss her just to keep her eyes open and saying, "s-see, ryu?? fuck... i only want you..." she never doubted you ever again, but that didnt rlly stop you from just pissing her off anyway 😭

chaeryeong's reputation ain't the greatest bcs of her permanent rbf but that's what u love about her :( bcs she looks like this mean bitch who could kill anyone that thinks to approach you in a way she doesn't but u know how she is behind closed doors :(( she's your whiny baby who hides her face whenever you're touching her dick 😔 she's big on mommy kink and she's super polite 🥺🥺 always using 'please' whenever she wants to do something to you, or asking for your permission before coming she's the cutest 💔💔 and she looooves the collar + leash combo while fucking you from behind 😵‍💫 you pulling on the leash to bring her down, telling her to fuck you harder n then she's moaning "mommy!" in your ear the closer she gets to coming it makes her feel crazyy 😩

yuna is the type that can't keep her hands or her dick off of you 😭😭 she's always touching you and finds all the ways to feel your ass on her cock whether by sitting you down on her lap or hugging you from behind 😵‍💫 quickies happen a lot bcs again, she's just so addicted to the way your pussy clenches around her cock she literally cannot go a day without fucking you :(( so being apart from you is hard, sex wise!!!! she gets so pouty n she complains a lot,,, sends you photos and videos while you're away, and PHONE SEX!!!!! but it's never enoughhhh 😔😔 when you come back however.. be prepared for an entire day of fucking bcs yuna will literally not let you go anywhere once you're back with her 😭 yuna immediately pulling you to the bedroom as soon as you step inside her house :(( undressing you swiftly, pulling you to her lap to have you ride her cock for god knows how long 😵‍💫😵‍💫 her cum filling you up for hours but neither of you stopping bcs her cock and your pussy are just.. the perfect match 😔😚😚

[whetstonefires]

After seeing your weatherbugapp reblog i installed duckduckgo and tried it.

I don't know much about technology tbh but i downloaded this app less than 30 mins ago and in that time google tried to track me 112 times?? And they tried to collect finger prints? And my first and last name? And my gender? And my country, state and city? My gps coordinates? My postal code? My network carrier? My fricking battery level for whatever reason? Can you please tell me if this is normal at all, because i'm freaking out right now. I just turned 18 and started using mobile banking and stuff and this shit scares me

Why tf does it need to know my screen density???my system volume????my charging status????? What tf are they cooking

Now it's at 476 tracking attempts bro???? barely 5 mins passed.....

I condensed your three asks into one for readability!

And yeah, I'm very far from an expert about any of this, but as far as I know that's just. Normal. That's the normal amount of spying they're doing on your phone. I assume the numbers we see are to some extent because having been foiled, a lot of these scripts try repeatedly, since I can't imagine what use thousands of trackers per phone would be even to the great aggregators.

Tracking the phone stuff like screen resolution and battery level is because (apart from that definitely not being considered remotely 'private' so it's Free Real Estate) in aggregate that data can be used to track what phone use patterns are like on a demographic scale and therefore. Where the smart money is.

Almost all of this is getting sold in bulk for ad targeting and market analysis. This does presumably make it very hard to notice when like. Actually important stuff is being spied on, which is why I feel better about Having Apps with the duckduckgo app blocker thing.

My bank's app reportedly sells data to a couple aggregators including Google. Not like, my banking info, but it's still so offensive on principle that I avoid using the app unless I have to, and force stop it afterward.

The patterns that show up on the weekly duckduckgo blocker report are interesting. Hoopla attempts about two orders of magnitude more tracking than Libby, which makes sense because they're a commercial streaming service libraries pay by the unit for access, while Libby is a content management software run by a corporation that values its certification as a 'B' company--that is, one invested in the public good that can be trusted. The cleanness of their brand is a great deal of its value, so they have to care about their image and be a little more scrupulous.

Which doesn't mean not being a little bit spyware, because everything is spyware now. Something else I've noticed is that in terms of free game apps, the polished professional stuff is now much more invasive than the random kinda janky thing someone just threw together.

Back in the day you tended to expect the opposite, because spyware was a marginal shifty profit-margin with too narrow a revenue stream to be worth more to an established brand than their reputation, but now that everyone does it there's not a lot of reputation cost and refraining would be sacrificing a potential revenue stream, which is Irresponsible Conduct for a corporation.

While meanwhile 'developing a free game app to put on the game store' is something a person can do for free with the hardware they already have for home use, as a hobby or practice or to put on their coding resume. So while such apps absolutely can be malicious and more dangerous when they are than The Big Brand, they can also be neutral in a way commercial stuff no longer is. Wild world.

But yeah for the most part as far as I can make out, these are just The Commercial Panopticon, operating as intended. It's gross but it probably doesn't indicate anything dangerous on an individual level.