#orange city hospits

[eroselless]

─────────────── somebody else // 1

series summary: you just work in hospitality for McLaren and he’s their star driver. what happens when your paths cross and you find yourself questioning your feelings for each other? [2.8k]

[lando norris x reader]

masterlist 

warnings: insecure reader

note: thank you to the anon that requested this! i absolutely loved writing this. although the anon didn’t specify if they wanted this as a multi-partner, i feel like i wouldn’t be able to do it justice with just one part. i tried my best to make this a little bit of a slow burn without dragging it out too much. happy reading!

The hum of the engines reverberates through the paddock as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. It casts long shadows over the track, the sky painted in soft pinks and purples. You huff as you move around the backroom, not yet used to the fast-paced world of Formula 1, the chaos that comes with each race still new to you. You’ve been working as part of the McLaren hospitality team for a few weeks now, moving from city to city, country to country as the season unfolds quickly. It is a demanding job, with long hours and high expectations, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

You were introduced to the sport later in life, in your late teens. Your father had been involved in karting, often taking you to his races, but he had never considered going any further. You had grown accustomed to the roar of the cars, the smell of burning rubber, the palpable tension in the air – it became intoxicating, thrilling, and nerve-wracking. You had slowly pushed yourself to become more involved, snagging a job that you had anticipated for a long time. Working in F1, even just in hospitality, was a dream that could open doors for you.

Like any other race weekend, you are on your feet from sun up till sun down. You ensure that everything runs smoothly for all the guests that come and go in the McLaren suite. You move through the crowds with a practiced grace, offering smiles and the most attentive service to VIPs, sponsors, and team members alike.

You reach over the table, pouring out champagne to a group of executives, feeling a tinge on the back of your neck. Glancing up, you can feel someone’s eyes trained on you. There is a rush of chatter, a group of young children, all dressed in matching orange attire.

You see Lando standing among them, a smile on his face as he speaks to them. His eyes flicker up to you, attention divided as he tries his best to keep track of what a young boy is telling him and watching you move around the room.

It becomes harder to ignore as the day drags on, his gaze following you whenever he comes in and out of the suite. You try to think nothing of it; you are one of a handful of servers, you would be noticed, of course. It is nothing, right?

“Need a hand with that?”

The sound of Lando’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, startling you slightly. You turn from your spot at the bar, a tray of empty glasses in your hands, ready to be sent to the kitchen for washing. He leans casually on the counter, fingers fiddling with a homemade bracelet he undoubtedly got from a fan. There’s a twinkle in his eyes, a familiar and warm glint you’d only ever seen from afar. He gestures to the other tray that sits on the bar, equally as full as the one you’re carrying, a lopsided grin on his face.

Forcing a smile, you try your best to push down the flutter in your chest. “I think I can manage, thanks.”

Lando leans in slightly, his voice low. “I’m sure you can, but it never hurts to have a little help, right?”

His close proximity makes your stomach burst with butterflies, but you keep your composure. You shift one tray in your hands, holding up one before grabbing the other one and balancing it on your fingers. “I appreciate the offer, really, but you’ve got a race to focus on. Can't have you getting distracted.”

“Maybe I like distractions,” he quips, his gaze following you as you begin to move away from the bar. He meets your eyes as he raises his eyebrows. “Plus, I’m pretty good at multitasking—driving fast and helping with drinks. Can’t be that different, right?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back the smile that threatens to pop out. You shake your head as you take another step, breaking away from his stare. “I’ll keep that in mind when I see you out on track.”

He chuckles, his laugh warm and genuine. “You do that. And I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

With that, he saunters off, leaving you standing there slightly confused and trying to process what had just happened. As you watch him go, he turns back slightly to give you another smile and a nod before exiting through the front doors. You can’t help but feel lightheaded as you make your way to the kitchen, biting your lip as you do. Jesus Christ, what was that?

The rest of the day passes in a blur of activity, the memory of Lando’s casual smile lingering in your mind. It doesn’t leave your thoughts as you continue to run into him at the next few races. He pops in before the day descends into full chaos to see how you’re doing and checks on you at the end of the day, always ready with something to make you feel lighter on a stressful race day.

You find yourself expecting his presence, your banter becoming a regular part of your day, a little slice of normalcy in the otherwise hectic and fast-paced environment. He teases you about your work, making light-hearted comments about how serious you’ve become or how you’re in the know about everyone’s gossip. He pulls you into hugs or gives your nose or cheeks a gentle pinch whenever he gets the chance. In return, you tease him about his racing, jokingly offering tips on how to handle certain corners or shave a couple of seconds off his lap times.

One afternoon, he slides into an empty seat, panting as he sinks into the chair. “Hey, you,” he greets, pulling his hat off and placing it on the table in front of you. “Busy day?”

“You could say that,” you reply, glancing up from your work. “How about you? Surviving the media circus?”

“Barely,” he jokes, rolling his eyes. “But it’s all part of the job, right?”

You nod, smiling. “I guess so. You seem to handle it well, though.”

He shrugs, that easy grin still in place. “It’s all about keeping a cool head. Speaking of which, how about you? How are you handling everything?”

“Me?” you question. “I’m just trying to keep up.”

“Well, you’re doing a great job,” he says, his tone sincere. “Seriously, everyone’s noticed how well you’ve fit in around here.”

Your cheeks warm at the compliment, and you duck your head, suddenly interested in a spot that won’t come off a spoon. “Thanks, Lando. That means a lot.”

There’s a brief silence, the kind that’s beginning to feel familiar between the two of you—comfortable, yet charged with something unspoken. You can feel his eyes on you, observing your gentle movements. When you finally look up, he’s still watching you, a tranquil expression on his face. It makes your heart skip a beat, his blue-green eyes almost admiring you.

“So, what are your plans after this?” he asks, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity.

“I’m not sure yet,” you admit, trying to keep your tone light, not wanting to reveal that his gaze is melting your resolve. “Maybe just relax, take in the sights. I haven’t really explored much outside of work.”

His smile widens. “Well, if you ever need a tour guide, you know where to find me.”

You laugh, gratefully nodding at him, but your mind races with possibilities you quickly shove away.

It’s not until the next race weekend that you see him again. You’re busy arranging the seating in the hospitality suite when you feel a presence behind you, followed by the gentle sound of cutlery clinking. Before you can turn around, Lando’s voice drifts over your shoulder.

"Straighten up those forks, will you? We wouldn’t want our guests to think we’re unprofessional."

You laugh, rolling your eyes as your fingers move to adjust the silverware he’d nudged out of place. "I’m pretty sure they’re here for the racing, not the table settings."

"Well, if the racing doesn’t impress them, maybe your impeccable attention to detail will," Lando teases, leaning against the back of a chair as he watches you continue to move things around.

You turn to face him, a hand on your hip while the other twists a rag you’ve been using to wipe down the tables. A smile tugs at your lips as you meet his gaze. "And what about you? Do you think my attention to detail is impressive?"

Lando’s smile widens, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh yeah, I think you’re impressive, full stop."

You shake your head, looking down at a box full of cutlery rolls, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Norris."

"Who said anything about flattery?" he retorts, his tone light but sincere. "I’m just stating the facts."

"Facts, huh?" you glance over your shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow. "What other facts do you have for me?"

Lando pretends to think for a moment, leaning back in his chair. "Well, let’s see… You’re always the first one here in the morning and the last to leave at night. You keep calm under pressure, even when the kitchen’s on fire—literally. And you have this little tick when you smile—which, by the way, you don’t do enough—you look away or cover your laugh with your hands."

His words catch you off guard, and you pause, unsure of how to respond. You'd grown used to his teasing, but this felt different. He rambles a little as if he can’t get the words out fast enough. It could mean anything, but your mind refuses to acknowledge that it might be more than platonic teasing. You hear the sincerity behind his words, and it makes your heart race slightly, in a way that is both exciting and terrifying.

You quickly mask your uncertainty with a playful roll of your eyes. "And you’ve been keeping track of all this?"

"Maybe," Lando admits, not backing down. His smile softens as he watches you closely, an unspoken question lingering in his eyes.

Before you can respond, the sound of approaching footsteps breaks the moment, and you’re both reminded of where you are. A group of VIP guests enters the room, and you immediately slip back into work mode, offering them a warm smile as you direct them to their seats.

Lando lingers for a moment, his gaze lingering on you before he too slips away, back into the bustle of race day.

Your casual banter continues throughout the day and as the weeks pass. But the more time you spend around Lando, the stronger the urge to pull away becomes. He is so easy to talk to, so genuine in his interactions, but you can’t shake the feeling that you might be reading into things too much. A voice in the back of your mind keeps reminding you of the reality of your situation. He’s Lando Norris—a world-famous racing driver, adored by millions, with the world at his feet. You never doubt your skills, but you are just a hospitality worker, a coworker who happened to become a friend. Just a friend, right?

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A few races later, after a hectic race, the team gathers for a small celebration. Both Lando and Oscar had performed well, amplifying the mood around the whole paddock. You're busy fixing drinks and chatting with guests, your thoughts still drifting back to Lando. You feel your heart flutter every time you catch a glimpse of him, whether he is laughing with Oscar or signing autographs for fans that are brought in. You have no doubt that he is an attractive person and are determined not to let your feelings grow further than they already have, but every touch, every brush of his fingers, or his hand on your back, sends your mind spiraling. Could you be seeing something that isn’t there? Is he just being overly friendly now that you have established a connection?

The questions swirl endlessly in your head as the evening wears on, and by the time the celebration winds down, you feel overwhelmed. Stepping outside for fresh air, you find a quiet spot on the balcony overlooking the track. You let out a sigh as you sit down on the ledge. You lean your head back on the wall, trying to clear your head. Your eyes water up a little as you let yourself relax, but you are quick to wipe them away when you hear footsteps approaching.

Turning, you spot Lando. His hands are shoved in his pockets, a gentle smile adorning his lips.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, his voice soft.

“Of course not,” you say, shifting over a little to make room for him. He sits down next to you, a sliver of space between your two bodies. You sit in silence, the night air filled with the distant sounds of the paddock winding down. You can feel warmth radiating from him, a familiar tension beginning to crackle between you. It is a comfortable silence, weighted down by so many questions and unspoken words.

“Tonight was fun,” Lando speaks up after a while, his tone relaxed. “The team did great.”

You hum in agreement. “Yeah, it was a good day,” you say, glancing over at him. “You did great.”

He smiles, a soft, almost shy smile. It's a smile you have grown used to, always paired with rosy cheeks and a bashful look in his eyes. Your heart betrays you as it flutters in your chest. “Thanks. But I couldn’t have done it without the support of the team—including you.”

You smile, turning away instinctively, suddenly aware of the tick he had pointed out just a few weeks ago. “I’m just in hospitality, doing my job.”

“Maybe,” he says, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, “but you do it well. I’ve noticed how hard you work, how much you care about what you do. It’s one of the things I like about you.” He leans back on his hands, watching as you search for what to say.

The words hang in the air, heavy with something you don’t want to acknowledge. The voice in your head speaks again, denying, denying, denying. He’s just being kind, nothing else.

“I—thank you,” you stammer, trying to keep your voice steady. “That means a lot coming from you.”

He looks at you then, really looking at you. His eyes are hooded, eyebrows drawn together slightly. It’s as if he can see right through the defenses you’ve been trying to keep up. There’s something in the way his eyes peer out at you, a vulnerability that seems to mirror yours. There it is again, the nerves and the ache in your chest.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says softly. “I just wanted you to know.”

There is a beat of silence, and before you can respond, the doors open behind you. Your name is called, and you are quickly pulled back, retreating into the safety of professionalism. You’re needed inside.

“I should get back,” you say hastily, blinking the haze out of your eyes. “There’s still a lot to do.”

Lando clears his throat, sitting up, his expression unreadable. His voice is now deflated. “Yeah, of course.”

As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t dare look back. There are so many emotions swirling in your mind—confusion, longing, and an ever-growing sense of fear. You want so badly to let yourself believe that there could be something growing between you, but there will always be doubts rearing their ugly heads. There will always be whispers telling you that it is all in your head, that you are only setting yourself up for disappointment. As soon as you pass the glass door, you let out a deep breath, a knot forming in your throat.

a/n: thank you so much if you’ve made it to the end! i am already in the process of writing the next part so it should be out soon! any feedback, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated, i love seeing your reactions and notes! 

[inkdrinkerworld]

Oh my god post-prison spencer and sunshine!reader is my new favorite 🥹

Can I request how spencer would react if something goes wrong in one of their cases and reader is held hostage/taken? I imagine she would be shaken ofc and spencer would comfort her after

canon level violence, reader has dislocated her shoulder and was concussed while also trying to fight off the feelings that are rapidly developing for spencer, and spencer doesn't give a fuck about her fighting their attraction

“Unlock the door, Y/n.” Spencer’s outside your door, he has been for the last couple of days. You’d been injured in the field, a concussion and a dislocated shoulder that had come from the unsub taking you during what would’ve been his take down. 

You’d been dispatched from the hospital last week after being less than attractive to the doctor who wanted to keep you there for longer. 

You’d answered texts and calls from your co-workers, but you’d been ignoring Spencer. 

“Go away Spencer, you’re supposed to be in Nebraska.” you were consulting on a case the team is currently on, so he can’t lie. 

He doesn’t try to, like you’d suspected, “I asked Emily to stay behind, you aren’t doing well.” 

You sigh on the other side of the door, relenting because you know that he won’t leave. 

“How can I help you?” You’re a little less than polite, but Spencer doesn’t seem to care. He knows what it’s like to be sidelined from the team due to injury and be upset about it. 

“Well first, you can let me in, I may look strong but these arms were not made to hold more than five bags at a time.” he’s as tender as he always is and it softens you. 

Stepping aside, you let Spencer in. Your apartment is clean, you’ve been surviving off delivery breakfasts and take out lunches, you can’t raise your hand high, so cooking is a no. 

You’re not worried about your attire, you’re in a green tank top with ’save the planet’ embroidered in cursive with a sick earth just beneath it, and a pair of cotton shorts that hit just above your knee- the heat in the city was driving you crazy and you also didn’t have the energy to try for more clothes- certainly not without upsetting your shoulder some more.

If Spencer is surprised by your outfit, he says nothing. You’re hardly surprised by his, a purple shirt tucked neatly into his dress pants and smart shoes; you’re not sure how he’s managed a perfect outfit in this heat.

Spencer sets the bags down and begins the task of taking out all the things inside- he pulls out packages of various nuts, passion fruit juices and a mountain of those clear, plastic bowls filled with fruit. 

“You didn’t have to buy pre-cut fruit; I know it’s more expensive that way.” You say to him, finding a bit of trouble pushing yourself into the chair you have at your kitchen island. 

Spencer sets down the plastic bags and moves around the countertop to help you, “I cut them myself, they didn’t have the ones you like in the grocery store.” 

You’re stunned silent, the bowls are full of watermelon, cantaloupes, orange quarters, mangoes, grapes and pineapple. All your favourites cut exactly the way you liked. Spencer must’ve spent around a hundred dollars just getting the fruit alone, maybe even more if the number of grapes is anything to go off of. 

“Spencer, you didn't have to.” He shrugs, his eyes searching your face. 

“How’s your head? Have you been feeling dizzy or having double vision?” It’s not easy to lie to Spencer, doubly so when he’s standing before you and staring at you so intensely. 

“The dizziness comes and goes, mostly when I’m in the shower.” You say honestly, and Spencer frowns. 

“You could’ve told me,” you blow a raspberry and pull the bowl full of mangoes towards you. 

“You would’ve made me go back to the hospital; I don’t like the smell of them.” you chew on a piece of mango while Spencer carries on assessing you. 

He notes that the mottling on your shoulder has gone down significantly, now it’s just purple and a little blue. Your eyes don’t appear unfocused, and Spencer is glad for it. “I wouldn’t have.”

“So, what’s your verdict, Doc?” you ask, shutting the lid on the mangoes before you burn through the entire container. 

“You’re not concussed, I think your dizziness in the shower is from you moving your shoulder too much and agitating it.” Spencer presses a light fingertip into the bruised skin and you hiss, batting his hand away making him laugh. 

You hum, “So what? I just never shower again? In the middle of this heatwave? I’d rather die.”  

“I forget how dramatic you can be.” Spencer shakes his head, “Or, you could’ve called me, or Penelope and either one of us could’ve given you a sponge bath.” 

You make your eyebrows dance, “You would’ve liked that, wouldn’t you Spence?” He rolls his eyes, tugging on the braid your hair is in. 

“How’d you do that?” he asks, helping you off the chair and leading you into your kitchen. 

Your face is red hot, “I bribed my neighbour’s kid to do it for pumpkin bread the minute my arm is out the sling.” 

Of course you did, you might be sunshine incarnate, but Spencer knows everyone has a spot they don’t want others to see- this is yours. You don’t want anyone in your team viewing you as incapable or in need when they should see you as capable and able to do every facet of your job. 

“I can help you make the bread tonight if you want something to do when the case is over.” 

You tilt your head, watching Spencer look around your cupboards for a glass. “Top left cabinet,” you say and he nods, smiling when he finds a glass covered in stickered ladybugs. 

Spencer fills it almost to the top with passion fruit juice and passes it to you. 

“Are you staying the night, Spencer Reid?” you take a sip and sigh in delight, it’s been a while since you’ve had passion fruit juice, you’re not entirely sure how Spencer knew it was your favourite. 

“If you let me, it isn’t good for you to be by yourself and the more you strain your shoulder, the longer it’ll take for you to get back in the field.”

An impish smile tugs at your lips, your eyes gleaming with a mischievousness Spencer hardly thought you possessed, “So what you’re saying is, you miss me desperately and will sacrifice your hatred of germs and touching other people just to ensure I’m back in Quantico at your earliest convenience?” 

A call from Penelope cuts through the fat of your question, making you laugh when Spencer rushes to answer it and slides you a mock glare that you know is just for show. 

“Yeah, Penelope, what have you got? Y/n and I are here,” well, there’s no escaping his presence now. You find you don’t mind it quite so much, your beginning aims of not falling for him is shredding more and more as the months go on.

[pseudowho]

In from the Cold

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

After a mission gone wrong, the Reader is left wandering confused, cold and alone in the biting snow- only Nanami Kento can save you, and warm you up.

WARNINGS: Angst, fluff, smut, PIV intercourse, fingering, handjobs, fluffy intercourse

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"[...]The only other sound’s the sweep    Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,    But I have promises to keep,    And miles to go before I sleep,    And miles to go before I sleep."

-- Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

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"[...] Hurt myself again today And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame

Be my friend, hold me Wrap me up, enfold me I am small and needy Warm me up and breathe me."

-- Sia, Breathe Me

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Oh, god, Kento. Please find me. I'm so cold. I'm so cold. I'm so tired. I'm so afraid to fall asleep, in case I never get to say goodbye. In any other world, in any other universe, you would find me and I'd be warm.

Curled on wet cardboard boxes against a stack of bins, the shivers had now stopped. You felt the cold deep in your belly as you fought desperately against sleep. Blinking away tears, the thick falling snow and orange streetlights bled together, and you felt yourself drift, heavy, unmoving...

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The day had started like any other. Pulling on your usual mission attire, Kento leaned in and gave you a smooth goodbye kiss while pulling his tie through its loop. Separate missions, separate sides of the city, and neither expected to be much of a challenge to a pair of seasoned, competent sorcerers.

You gripped Kento's hair and pulled him back for a second kiss, his chest rumbling with a deep chuckle.

"Go, love," he had warned, faux-stern as he squeezed your hips, "if we're done with work fast, I'll be all yours, all evening."

You groaned against his lips, and nuzzled into his firm neck, breathing deeply of his smell; a spiced cologne, deep and woody and undeniably Kento.

"Promises, promises, darling. I'll bring the wine, you bring the bread and cheese?" Murmuring his assent into your hair, you reluctantly pulled away, mischief sparkling in your eyes. Kento turned you by the shoulders, and when he patted your bum towards the door, you laughed.

"Be safe, Kento. I love you!" and you had swept out the doorway as Kento shook his head fondly. You stepped out into the bitter cold, hailing a taxi- you would get yourself there today, but Ijichi was on call to collect you later. Enjoying the peace of a taxi journey where neither you nor the driver wished to chat, you rested your forehead against the window and watched as the first fat flakes of snow fell upon the Tokyo streets.

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Many hours had passed. Your curse had been much stronger, more vicious and tenacious than expected. With absolute focus, skill and determination, you had cleansed the abandoned hospital of its filthy inhabitant, and stood shaking, dazed and alone.

As you struggled to collect your thoughts, your arms were heavy as lead as they tried to take stock of your body, your injuries. Multiple and minor, you determined, but a firm crack to the temple as you had been swept aside by a thrashing tail, left your head throbbing and fuzzy.

Pipes had been wrenched from the walls and spewed frigid water. You were soaked through, and as the adrenaline faded you began to shiver, deep violent shivers all the way through to your stomach. Your mask and glasses were shattered across the floor. Face bare, and vision impaired, you reached into your pocket grasping your phone in its ziplock bag.

With despair, you looked down at your phone. It was utterly ruined, smashed and soaked, ziplock bag ripped open by the cracked and warped glass of the device.

Nodding slowly to yourself, and glancing out the first floor windows into the pale of the night, the eerie glow told you the snow had fallen deep and thick upon the ground.

Ijichi will be here by now, you reasoned to yourself. I'll be home and in a nice hot bath before I know it.

You wobbled towards the staircase, assuring yourself you were fine. Gripping the bannister, you took the flight of stairs at an unsteady pace. Your fingers felt like putty, cold and numb against the dark wood.

You pushed the ageing front doors open, hearing the frosted chains clank, broken, against the metal. Looking onto the streets eagerly for Ijichi, you did not notice the sheets of ice beneath the fresh snow on the steps, and slid backwards hard, your head cracking on the concrete.

Crying out, coughing and winded, you slid down the rest of the steps. Vision blurring, you raised a tentative hand to the back of your head, wincing as you felt the sharp tang of split skin. The bleeding seemed minimal, but your head only throbbed harder.

Pulling yourself up from the snow, you heard only the sounds of snow-hushed suburbia. The old hospital was on the outskirts of Tokyo, now silent and abandoned, and faint orange streetlights ahead of you told of a quiet street, its residents all in bed, or soon to be. Ijichi was nowhere in sight.

Unlike him, you thought to yourself with a gulp. Body still wracked with shivers, pain, and confusion, you took a meandering walk through the crunching snow, all the way around the hospital.

As your path reconnected with your original footprints, which were now softened by continued snowfall, you were forced to conclude that Ijichi was not here.

Growing colder and more confused, you set your pace firmly towards the street ahead. If you could find a phone, work out exactly where you were, or hail a taxi home, you would be fine. Patting your pockets with rubbery fingers, you felt for your thin purse, always stocked with emergency cash and your bank card.

Your heart sank. Gone, and lost, somewhere in the chaos of the fight. No phone. No cards. No cash. No idea where you were. You stared helplessly back at the hospital, now as good as miles away with the state you were in. You stood at a crossroads between houses, each rolling street looking just the same as the next, but you saw the Tokyo skyscrapers in the distance and set your course.

Your clothes soon became stiff with the blood and water, and snow collected in your hair, body and soul feeling dank, heavy and wet. Desperate, you hesitated by a house with a light on downstairs. Maybe they'll let me use their phone? At your first step towards the front door, the downstairs lift switched off and you halted.

You laughed bitterly to yourself, at your thought that a soaked and blood covered stranger in the night, and a foreigner no less, would be welcomed into this Tokyo home. If they didn't slam the door, they'd simply call the Police.

No, you thought, best bet is just to keep walking and get home to Kento. Get home to Kento. Get home to Kento. You continued these words like a mantra as you walked, and walked, and walked, dead-legged and deeply, concerningly cold now, and it just went on and on and on, and even when you started passing shops and restaurants and strangers who veered around you with hands clasped over their mouths and words of shock to their friends and partners you just kept walking dazed and lost now and so tired and so cold and you just needed a rest before you carried on into the night and the laughter from bars and music from clubs washed over you as you lost your footing again and again and took a tumble down an alleyway desperate for somewhere out of the snow and fell onto wet cardboard against a bin that was so comfortable as you rested your weary spinning head.

You started to sob, soft and pathetic, whispering pleas for Kento to come to you, to carry you home, to whisper sweet things in your ears. You were too far gone to see reason or a way out, feeling your brain shut down in the cold.

"Hey, hey! What have we got here? Hey cutie, are you lost?" You glanced up feebly to see three or four shadows leaning over you, all men, and the smell of beer hit your nose.

"Please can you help me?" you stuttered in broken Japanese, "I'm so cold."

The shadows laughed and jeered, and you felt a hand grip your arm to pull you up, as the man in front cooed, "Don't you worry sweetheart, we can get you nice and warm, right boys?"

Another, familiar voice cut through the alleyway, dark and threatening.

"Get your filthy fucking hands off her. If her fiancé doesn't rip your dicks off, I'm happy to oblige."

You were dropped back against the bin as the men scattered, and cool long fingers pulled your face upwards to see the face of Satoru, your dear friend, hair as white as the snow. He pulled you up easily with one arm, his other hand pressing his phone to his ear.

"Nanami. I've got her. I've got her. Come to the car, now." Satoru hung up, and bent down, hoisting you onto his back. "Bet you've never been so happy to see me, huh, kiddo?" His attempt at lightheartedness was tight and easily gave away his fear. You clutched at his jacket, weeping with relief, and opening your eyes as you heard frantic footsteps rush to reach you and Satoru.

"Shit, Gojo, where did you find her? Shit, shit, shit, she's soaked. Darling, are you awake?"

A goofy smile on your face, you gazed at Kento like you'd seen an angel; absolute panic on his usually stoic face, hair messy and wet, and bundling you from Gojo's back into the back of the car, he was still just as handsome as you always knew him.

"Gojo, give me your shirt, anything warm and dry. I've got to undress her. You drive."

You felt Kento's huge warm fingers begin to deftly rid you of your sodden clothes. Satoru, unusually serious and quiet, put the heating on full blast and rumbled the car to life. You remained impassive and smiling blankly at Kento as he pulled Gojo's shirt and his own shirt onto your cold body. He slipped off his shoes, removed his socks and pulled them onto your own, holding your toes between his hands and breathing hot breath onto them. Wrapping his overcoat around you, Kento pulled you into his lap, covering you in as much of his body as he could manage. Warmth washed over you, Kento's body a furnace. He pushed your hands under his undershirt, chilly against his solid chest. You hummed happily, curling your toes, finally safe. You drifted in and out of sleep, taking in snippets of conversation.

"Ijichi...miscommunication...thought he was supposed to get me..."

"No word from her...hours and hours...lost."

You snapped out of your thoughts as Kento insisted that Gojo drive you to Jujutsu High, to wake up Shoko, to spend the night there.

"No!" you blurted out, and both men looked to you, Satoru in the rear view mirror, "No, I'm okay. I just need a warm bath, a warm bed and some plasters. I'm alright. I'm already feeling a lot better."

Kento looked at you like you'd grown another head as Satoru laughed.

"See, Nanami? She's great! No weaklings in this car tonight!"

Kento scowled at him. "She's clearly concussed, Gojo. She's taken at least two knocks to the head. She goes to Shoko, no arguments."

"She's not concussed! Hey kiddo, what's the capital of Azerbaijan?"

"Satoru, I don't know that and I'm damn sure you don't either."

Satoru laughed again, "Alright, what's my favourite drink?"

"You don't drink."

"Ding ding ding! Correct. What's Megumi's surname?"

"Fushiguro."

"Correct again! What month is it?"

"December," you said warmly, excited and reminded of your festive plans with Kento.

Kento had remained silent throughout, peering down at you, and now met your eyes. Reading you gently, he caressed your cheek. "Are you sure? I'd never forgive myself...if you're hurt..."

You put your finger to his lips.

"All I need right now is you, a hot bath, and home."

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

"Ah ah ah, what do you think you're doing?" Kento stood from his stool by the bathroom door, as you began to pull yourself out of the bath. Shirtless, Kento reached his arms into the water, lifting your bruised bodily easily against his own. Ignoring your demands for him to put you down, that he'd get all wet, that you were perfectly capable of walking, he carried you to bed, placing you onto a nest of towels and beginning to lovingly dry you. You softened as he continued in silence, serious and committed in his attentiveness. As he finished drying your feet, he lifted your ankle to his shoulder, kissing your calf gently as you reached forward to brush your thumb against his cheek.

He placed your leg gently down and turned to the drawers behind him, rummaging for pyjamas.

"I don't want them, Kento. I just want you. Your skin on mine."

With a quiet hum, he closed the drawers, and flipped the covers of the bed. Leaning over you, he placed your arms around the back of his neck. You clasped your hands, and he crawled smoothly up the bed, resting you on the pillows and settling beside you with a sigh. Chest to chest, Kento held you, silently nuzzling into your damp hair.

A residual shiver crept along your skin, the memory of the cold still deep within your body, ice cubes in your belly and muscles. Kento felt tense, and you nuzzled into his throat, yearning forthe heat inside that only he could give you. You licked delicately along the front of his throat, raising your thigh up insistently over his hip.

Kento's body stiffened, and he grasped your thigh in his broad palm.

"Don't even try it," he growled, "you've just been through hell, you are injured, and you need to rest." He groaned as you rocked your hips against his, bare pussy whispering against the material of his pyjamas. Gripping your hip firmly, he pressed you back into the bed and loomed over you, thigh still pinned between your legs.

Kento faltered at your expression, tearful and pleading. "I can't get rid of the cold. It's so deep, I was so afraid. Please Kento. I need you to warm me up."

Kento swallowed thickly. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. You could never hurt me." You took his hand, and guided it down your breasts and tummy, ghosting against you as you rested it between your legs.

Resolve broken, Kento laid his body firmly against yours, grinding deftly between your legs. He shuddered, his own eyes narrowed and dark, and kissed you softly, the wetness of his tongue against your own making you moan into his open mouth.

One hand working delicately between your folds, and the other grasping the back of your neck, he dipped one finger inside your pussy to gather its wetness, and brought the finger, agonisingly slowly, back up to stroke circles over your clit. Bringing his face down to your breasts, seemingly unable to look you in the eyes, he glossed his tongue over your nipple, taking it fully into his mouth and moaning around it as he played your body like an instrument.

Warmth began to spread through you, and you whispered your moans and his name like a psalm, rocking against his fingers as he stroked two fingers deep inside you, his thumb continuing circles on your clit with patient consistency. Your hand grasped his hair, hard, as you panted and whined, feeling your orgasm approach.

Feeling his cock, hard and heavy against your leg, you ground up into him and were rewarded with a heady moan against your breast.

"My love," he gasped, as you reached down a hand inside his pyjamas, squeezing his length, his stuttering moans and sticky precum the last element you needed to push you over the edge. You cried out his name, squeezing his cock and hair as heat filled your belly and waves of pleasure rolled through you. Kento buried his face into your neck, slowly thrusting, thick and long, into your hand. He was silent as he kicked off his pyjamas, and, taking your grasping hand from his length, he laced your fingers with his and pinned it above his head.

Naturally, effortlessly, he pressed his whole length inside you, groaning shakily as he bottomed out. Bringing your thighs around his hips, he moaned in satisfaction as he felt your ankles lock around him. You saw stars, feeling him move deeply, kissing your cervix, finally feeling warm again.

"Please don't stop-- you feel incredible-- I can feel you in my belly...I...I..."

You felt a sudden dampness at your neck where Kento's face was pressed, his thrusts becoming more insistent, barely pulling out of you as he rutted you against the bed. With a pang, you realised he was crying.

"Of all the dangers...of all the Curses we...haah...we face--" Kento's voice broke as he moaned against your ear, gripping your thighs tighter around him, "...and I nearly lose you to the fucking cold. You were afraid, but I was too. I thought I'd find you...find you dead... from such a thoughtless mistake."

You held him close, whispering love into his ear, feeling pleasure build and build deep within you again as he gasped and moaned, only ever partially pulling out, hitting your most sensitive spot again, and again.

"Gods, you feel so good. So warm, I...I'm not going to last...please darling..." His clever fingers reached down to draw circles on your clit again, and his thrusts became sloppy as you spasmed and fluttered around his cock, head thrown back in ecstasy as you called his name in bliss.

Kento came hard, white lights in his eyes as he pulsed deep inside you, filling you with his warm seed. Trembling, and laying butterfly kisses across your cheeks and nose, he collapsed to the side, pulling you with him, chest to chest again.

You both lay, warm to the core, in peaceful silence. The snow continued to fall outside, and the wind whistled over the windows, and you felt Kento's chest rise and fall against your own.

"I'm so sorry, Kento. I tried so hard to get home." Kento shushed you gently, pressing his lips to your forehead in a tender kiss.

"It wasn't your fault. It was all bad luck and circumstance. First thing in the morning, we'll look into the most indestructible phones on the market."

You giggled into the pillow, and succumbed to sleep together, Kento still nestled inside you, keeping you warm.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Kento padded around the kitchen the next morning, in only grey joggers and his Danish grandfather's old woolen cardigan. You were tucked up in blankets on the sofa, enjoying your second round of tea and toast, while Kento's phone lit up with messages of concern for you, from students and staff at Jujutsu High. He responded to them all patiently, reassuring everyone that you were now safe and warm and working your way through a small bakery.

Two exquisite bunches of flowers were delivered to Kento's door in quick succession- one from Ijichi and one from Nitta. After collecting Kento from his mission, neither had attended to collect you as both had believed the other to be on duty for you. Kento snorted derisively, considering murder as an option.

He sent thanks to Gojo, whose exceptional six-eyes had found you when nobody else could. Kento tapped his phone thoughtfully against his lips as he draped your legs over his lap on the sofa. Perhaps he would get Gojo a Christmas present this year.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

This was my first smut for quite some time. I hope you enjoyed a read, HMU sometime ✌️💓

[delulujuls]

silent carnival | ln4, op81

i will just leave this here without any particular comment. im glad that the las vegas is over and im even more glad that lando is okay. anyway, please enjoy it as always!

summary: lando crashed and went to the hospital, y/n and oscar coming to the rescue

warnings: nothing i think

pairing: lando norris x fem!mclarendriver x oscar piastri

The prevailing silence in the car was almost deafening, even the radio didn't dare to hum songs. The only audible sound was the quiet engine working at full throttle, ready to reach the destination as quickly as possible.

Y/N and Oscar sat next to each other in the back seat, gazing at the night landscapes illuminated by fiercely glowing neon lights. Neither of them was in the mood for conversation. The atmosphere was truly worse than gloomy.

Las Vegas was way much more than intense. The city pulsated with nightlife, decidedly more than any other place where Formula 1 had the pleasure to visit. That's why the silence that surrounded the McLaren drivers was quite shocking. However, this silence was entirely justified. It emerged when the orange car with number four on it submerged in sparks and concluded its disastrous ride in the barriers. Right then, all of Las Vegas froze; right then, the entire McLaren garage held its breath.

When the taxi parked at the hospital driveway, the pair quickly stepped outside and headed towards the entrance. After talking to the woman in the reception point and facing temporary difficulties finding the right room, they humbly sat on chairs in front of it. They had to wait until the tests were completed and the doctors left the room, allowing them to come in.

Seeing Y/N nervous, Oscar wordlessly embraced her, providing comfort. She closed her eyes and leaned on his shoulder, knowing well that she wouldn't calm down until she saw Lando with her own eyes.

After some time, when two doctors and a nurse left, the couple entered the room. Lando was genuinely surprised to see his friends, but he smiled seeing them.

The girl quickly approached the bed, ready to hug him, but she hesitated and lowered her outstretched arms, not wanting to cause him unnecessary pain. However, Lando pulled himself up a bit, reaching out to her and allowing the embrace. Oscar exchanged a reassuring look with his friend, smiling at him encouragingly. He sat on the bed and also hugged Lando, soothingly patting his back.

"You gave us quite a scare," Y/N murmured, still holding him tightly.

"It looked worse than the actual outcome it brought," he replied.

After some time, she pulled away and sat beside him, scrutinizing him carefully. Fortunately, there were no signs of serious injuries, just a few bruises and bumps.

"Thank goodness you're okay," Oscar said, glancing at him. However, Lando didn't seem overly comforted.

"Maybe I'm fine, but I completely fucked the car. I'd rather something happened to me than—" "Don't even say that," Y/N quickly interrupted him, scolding him with her gaze.

"Our cars have been total crap for a few races now, so I think you did a favor to the factory people," Oscar remarked with a reassuring smile, lifting Lando's spirits a bit, although he still shook his head.

"Total massacre. At least you fought for our honor," Norris said, looking at the aussie.

"Fought is an understatement. Oscar was ready to throw hands," the girl laughed at his comment.

"Maybe it's for the best, considering how much of a disaster the track was. And you just crashed and hopped into the warm and comfy ambulance without giving a fuck—lots of space, delicious, perfectly chilled water, phew," Piastri joked, maintaining a serious demeanor.

Lando chuckled, nodding in agreement. "I'm glad this race is behind us," Norris admitted with a sigh, wincing as he adjusted himself on the bed. "It's just a shame about the outcome."

"It doesn't matter," Y/N said, resting her head on his shoulder. "The most important thing is that you're okay."

"Since I'm fine, you shouldn't waste time here," Lando said, looking at his friends. "This is our last night in Vegas; I'd go for a wild party if I were you."

"Oh c'mon, fuck Vegas," Oscar cut in, shaking his head.

"I can't wait to leave this place," Y/N admitted, taking out her phone "I'll order us some champagne, what do you think? We need to toast to this cursed city."

"I'm a hundred percent in," Oscar nodded.

"I hope no one will be mad at us for a little party here," Y/N said, dialing a number.

"It's an open party, the McLaren house is open to everyone," Oscar added.

And as they said, so they did. Shortly after, three bottles of champagne appeared in the hospital room and each of the trio could swear that the shared evening was better than any party.

At some point, Lando stopped thinking about the past race and the unfortunate crash. His thoughts departed from that incident; he didn't even feel the pain of his bruised body as he held a perfectly chilled bottle of champagne in his hand. He couldn't also contain his smile as his friends danced in the middle of the hospital room, singing a song in his honor. At that moment, Lando was genuinely happy and understood that to feel this way, all he needed was the company of these two, who would do anything for him.

[scuderiasundays]

happy wife, happy life

summary: flights on air verstappen, a game of padel, and declarations of love + a little insta au at the end 💌

words: 919

a/n: here’s part two to better together. i’m considering making this a multi-part story so let me know if that’s something you’d want! hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

"Austin, Mexico City, São Paulo, Las Vegas, Abu Dhabi. Any preference?"

Lando’s voice was drowned out by the celebratory air coursing through McLaren Hospitality. He was calling from his driver room in Lusail, still soaked in champagne after a phenomenal comeback drive.

“I think you’ve earned the right to pick. My God, three podiums in a row, Lando!”

You squealed, as if you weren’t speaking to the very man who had accomplished this feat.

After a quick pause, he replied, “Vegas, it is then. I think I can secure seats on Air Verstappen if I use my charm.”

-

Max, the first of Lando's friends you’d been introduced to, extended his hand as you stepped onboard.

"So, this is 'airport girl.' I've heard quite a bit about you," he said, stealing glances at a blushing Lando.

You shook his hand. "Only good things, I hope."

The setting sun painted the cabin a soft orange as dinner was served, seamlessly shifting the conversation toward plans for the weekend. "Are we still up for padel on Friday?" Max asked, the anticipation evident in his voice.

"We're short a player. Jon busted his shoulder last week, so I'm in need of an alternate," Lando replied.

Max gestured towards you. "She's right next to you, mate."

Mid-bite, you wagged your finger at both Max and Lando. Racket sports weren’t your forte, and the idea of padel with ragingly competitive Formula 1 drivers made you queasy.

-

You’d assumed the 12-hour flight had been long enough for Lando to let go of the whole idea. He, however, promptly proved you wrong as he lifted your bags into the back of a blacked-out Escalade.

“Remember that book you were reading? The one about love languages?” You nodded, climbing into the car.

“Well, I figure my love language is quality time. And what better way to spend our time than with a game of padel?”

You hesitated, jokingly glaring at him. "I never thought that book was going to come back and bite me in the ass.”

“Karma is your boyfriend,” he whispered as he laced his fingers around yours.

The casual mention of "boyfriend" (and his general knowledge of Taylor Swift lyrics) caught you off guard and, as your heart raced, you made a desperate effort to maintain composure. You couldn’t possibly say no to his desperate gaze and, so with a loud sigh, you caved.

-

The days that followed felt more like a haze. DJ Lando stole the show at Omnia, carrying a wasted Oscar home in the aftermath. Golfer Lando took you to glow-in-the-dark mini-golf, subsequently blaming his loss on a lack of practice (“You should see me at my best”). F1 Lando gave you a little peck before disappearing into the media pen. You’d been so engrossed in it all that you were on the padel court before you knew it.

As the points went back and forth, you and Lando found yourselves in a playful dispute over who was the rightful owner of the five dollars you’d won at the slots. Lando had paid but you had pushed the button that had brought you sweet victory.

Max quickly interjected, "Maybe you two should save the bickering for the post-game press conference."

George, echoing Max, teased, "He’s got a point. Beware or you’ll be immortalized as a sassy TikTok sound.”

“You know, I’m here to fight. I’m here to win.” Lando said, taunting George as he prepared to serve.

Much to everyone’s surprise, you and Lando turned out to be a stellar team, securing a hard-fought win. Instead of the traditional champagne spray, you spritzed a sweaty Lando with your perfume.

"I smell like you now," he said with a smirk.

You caught your breath on a bench as George strutted over, towering over you.

"You’re already on his mind 24/7. Now, you want to linger on his clothes too? Greedy!"

As you and Lando were about to head back to the car, a few fans hurried over, their elation palpable.

“We’re huge fans, Lando. Could we get a quick photo before you go?”

Lando was quick to oblige and asked you to hold their gifts (a snapback and a handful of bracelets). You offered to take photos of him with the girls, his aura radiant as he took his time to thank each of them.

Little did either of you know, the photos of you and him at the padel courts would soon be circulating all over social media, your phones blowing up with notifications from countless F1 gossip accounts.

-

In the dim glow of the car's interior, you caught a glimpse of him, jaw clenched and a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. The not-so-soft hum of the engine roared as you cut through the tension.

"Hey, what’s on your mind?"

"I just never want you to feel suffocated by all the noise that comes with being my girlfriend."

"Your girlfriend?" you teased, masking your anticipation with feigned innocence.

He sighed, his hands momentarily tightening on the steering wheel. The car smoothly veered into an old gas station, its solitary lights flickering in the night.

He turned to face you, his eyes searching yours. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

A smile lit up your face. "I thought I already was.”

He shook his head, a mixture of exasperation and affection on his face. "You truly are impossible, y’know."

"Snap a picture of your girl then, Mr. JPG," you quipped.

His hands searched the backseat for his Leica.

"Happy wife, happy life.”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

liked by martingarrix, yourusername, and 41,414 others 

landonorris: on a roll! two more to go 👊🏼

ciscanorris: couldn’t be more proud. i sense a mclaren 1-2 coming!

mclaren: mother knows best ✨

fan1: king of the soft launch

oscarpiastri: let’s finish the season off strong!

maxverstappen1: some of the line calls made by your doubles partner were questionable 🤨 

max_fewtrell: a partner other than i? whoever could it be?

landonorris: i’m starting to doubt my friendships with guys named max

fan2: i’m all for it so long as mystery girl gives us the boyfriend content we deserve 🫶🏼

tags 📝

@silverstonesainz @monzabee @sainzcaleruega @vamossainz55 @0-atmilklatte @aacherrylips @merchelsea @al-luvx @itsjustkhaos @allenajade-ite @simp4f1 @strawberrysainz @avenger122 @405rry @lpab @thebrccoliwasdone @antiheroleclerc

[rahhhbananas]

✭ ✭ ✭ 𝐘/𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐖/ 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐍 ✭ ✭ ✭ ft. miles morales

summary. Basically the title

warning(s). He/Him pronouns

a/n. This is my first time writing in this style so give me tips

✭ ✭ ✭ You and Miles have a very complex relationship, it can go from “I’ll support you in any and everything you aspire to accomplish!” to “I know you ate my breakfast, and I won’t stop until your six-feet-under!”

For example:

*Miles looking over the destroyed city of Mumbattan*

Miles: Did I go too far?

Y/n: No, no, no. You went to far 7 hours ago. Now, your going to prison.

Or

Y/n: I think you’ll find they are called orange-utans

Miles: Wait, wait, wait. You think that type of ape is called a Utan, and is referred to as orange because of the color of it’s fur?

Y/n: Yeah, cause their ginger, innit.

(clearly spends to much time around Hobie^^^)

✭ ✭ ✭ Hell, you two give Miguel a headache more than Hobie. Majority of the time it’s not on purpose tho, you just make a decision, and the decision somehow ends up with you two diving off a cliff or teasing a villain that could end the multiverse.

Spot: I am, the Spot!

Y/n: Meet me at our Spot!!!

Y/n: Caught a vibe!

Miles: Woo, woo!

Y/n: Baby, are you coming for the ride?

Miles: The ride, the ride, the ride!

Here’s another one

Y/n: T-that’s the Rhino..?

Miles: I mean, yeah. But he’s pretty powerful..we’ve fought a lot

Y/n: But aren’t they going extinct, should we really be fighting him?

Miles: What? Are you serious? Rhinos aren’t going extinct! I just saw one on TV yesterday.

Y/n: Yuh-hu, look! *pointing towards an article on his phone*

Miles: What!-

Y/n: You good mans? I mean your people are going extinct, I see why your doing this, but…you’re better than this.

Miles: Did you seriously just try a therapy move on a villain?

Y/n: No! I tried a therapy move on a creature in need of comfort.

Miles: Your gonna be in need of a hospital inna minute…

Y/n: What? *proceeds to get smacked around by Rhino*

✭ ✭ ✭ But, all silliness aside you two make a remarkable team. You’ve helped Miles with his Gwen trouble, and Miles has helped you with your issues. At the end of the day you two are like brothers…very weird, uncoordinated, chaotic, accident prone brothers. But, still brothers.

[notthefirstfallenangel]

Memories IV

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, amnesia

Summary: You had your memory wiped after a messed-up mission. All that you remember is your childhood and fragmented glimpses of your teenage and adult years. Poor Simon, your would-be hubby, is left to pick up the pieces when you can't even recall his existence.

Words: 3.6k

A/N: Hey there! Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I know the fandom has been going through a tough time lately, and I just wanted to remind you to take care of yourself, especially your mental health. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. Stay strong! ❤️

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

The blood-red sun sank slowly below the horizon, casting an amber glow over the world. The sky was a tapestry of oranges and purples, fading into blue and black as night began to creep in. You stood at the entrance of your home, feeling strange tingles in your chest as you paused on the threshold. Simon was behind you, his tall frame blocking out what little light remained outside and casting a long shadow across the front hall.

“Welcome home,” he said softly, breaking the silence.

You stood there, unable to move. You felt like your limbs were made of lead and rooted to the spot. Your mind was a tempest of emotions; you were grateful to be free from the hospital walls, but deep down, terror lurked. Nervous anticipation rose inside as you feared what truth lay ahead about yourself that could shatter the delicate mirrors of your own reflection.

Simon seemed to sense your hesitation and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“You alright, love?” he asked, concern in his voice.

You nodded slowly, staring into his dark eyes, feeling a sense of gratitude towards him. Simon had been by your side every step of the way, watching as you slowly pieced your life back together. He had been there for every physical therapy session, every doctor’s appointment, every setback and triumph.

He had remained a constant in your life, a source of strength and support when you needed it most.

You slowly turned to face him as Simon’s hand remained on your shoulder. You looked up at his face, illuminated by the dim light coming from the living room, and took in his sharp features. His jawline was chiselled, and his eyes were piercing, exuding a sense of confidence and ease that you found reassuring. You felt a sudden urge to lean in and kiss him, to feel his lips on yours and forget about the world outside. But instead, you stepped back and shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts.

“I’m okay, thank you. It’s just strange... being back,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Simon nodded in understanding, his hand still on your shoulder, and gestured for you to follow him into the living room. You walked past him, feeling the warmth of his skin against your own, and took in your surroundings.

After months in the sterile hospital room, everything felt surreal now that you finally got to come home. The world outside looked different as if it had changed in some way while you were confined to the hospital bed. You felt a sense of trepidation as you took in the sights and sounds of the city around you. It was all so overwhelming, so unfamiliar. You didn’t know how to navigate this new world without your memories. But as you stepped inside the house, a sense of comfort washed over you. The scent of lavender furniture polish wafted from within the house, helping to ease the tension in your body.

Simon placed your bags down with a thud like an anchor being dropped from his shoulders. He seemed to sense your unease and gently steered you towards the living room. The familiar surroundings filled you with warmth and peace, and for a brief moment, everything felt just right.

The living room was bathed in soft light, its walls lined with framed photos and paintings, some of which seemed vaguely familiar. You began to explore them, feeling an odd mixture of surprise and recognition as your gaze swept across each face in turn. Some were of Simon and you together, others were friends you had no recollection of. Yet still, something about them made your heart feel warm.

As you studied the photographs, Simon watched quietly as if waiting for you to come to some realisation. But the memories remained just beyond your reach. You could almost taste the bittersweet nostalgia on your lips, yet nothing solid materialised.

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, you let your fingers brush over the frames, tracing the outlines of the people in the photographs as if trying to remember them.

You stopped at one picture, a group photo of Simon, you, and several others at what appeared to be a night of celebrations. Everyone was smiling and laughing, their faces filled with joy. You looked at each person in the photo, trying to place them in your memory, but nothing came to mind.

“Who are they?” you asked, pointing to the group in the photograph.

Simon came over to stand beside you, his arm brushing against yours. “These are your teammates— our teammates. The ones who’ve got your back in the field and in the mess. They’re family.”

You shook your head, “I don’t remember them,” you said with a hint of frustration. 

Simon placed a hand on your back, rubbing it soothingly. “It’s, uh, it’s alright, love. You’ll remember soon enough. Take your time. It’ll come to you, alright? So no need to be too anxious.”

But will I really? You wondered silently to yourself.

With a sigh, you turned away from the wall and towards Simon with an uncertain smile.

You noticed that he had changed out of his usual hoodie and was wearing a black leather jacket with a white shirt, looking more put-together than usual, as if he was trying to impress you. The tattoos on his forearm peeked out from under the sleeves of his jacket, adding to his edgy persona.

He frantically spent the day before scrubbing and scouring the house until it shone in perfect preparation for your long-awaited arrival. He felt like a nervous teenager on his first date, desperate to make a good impression. But he knew that this was different. This was about making you feel at home, helping you regain a sense of familiarity in a world that had become so foreign.

You turned to look at another photo, this time of Simon and you with a dog. The memories suddenly came flooding back, and your eyes lit up as you remembered the dog’s name.

“That’s Riley!” you exclaimed, feeling a slight sense of victory in finally remembering something.

“Riley! Here, boy!” you called.

But there was no barking, no sound of paws running across the floor. The house was eerily silent, save for the sound of your own breathing.

Simon’s expression turned grave as he looked at you, his hand still resting on your back.

“No, that, uh...Love,” Simon he said softly.” He... He passed, somethin’ like years ago.”

Your heart sank at Simon’s words, and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You felt a sense of overwhelming loss, as if a part of you had died with the dog. You tried to remember the last time you had seen Riley. Still, the memory was elusive, like a dream that faded upon waking.

Simon saw the tears in your eyes and stepped forward to wrap you in a tight hug. You breathed him in, the smell of his cologne mixed with something else, something comforting like home.

You attempt to grasp at Riley’s memory, but your mind is foggy, and all you can recall is a faint trace of his affection. The anguish seizes you as you try to imagine the days spent together, playing fetch in the park and snuggling up on the couch, but all that remains are empty spots in your heart and mind. Burying your face in Simon’s chest, a harsh truth crashed down on you: You couldn’t even grieve properly because you didn’t remember the moments that connected you and Riley.

Simon’s stomach churned with guilt as he watched you suffer the same agony of Riley’s loss all over again. He had been so busy trying to make everything perfect for your return that he failed to factor in how hard it would be for you to come to terms with what had been taken away. Yet, despite the sorrow and regret, a glimmer of optimism flickered in his chest that perhaps you’d find the strength to remember even more. But for now, Simon knew you needed space and time to come to terms with everything that had happened.

As the two of you stood there in silence, lost in your thoughts, Simon’s grip on you tightened, and he pressed his lips to your forehead.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and it calmed the storm raging inside you.

When Simon finally pulled away, he gave you a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t wanna spring that on you.”

You shook your head, feeling the weight of the loss. “It’s okay,” you said. It wasn’t.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No, not now,”

Simon nodded, his gaze softening. “Alright... listen ‘ere, love. You have been eatin’ those crappy hospital meals. You wanna get something new in your body and your system, yeah?” he said gently as his fingers brushed against yours in a comforting gesture.” I’ll cook somethin’ proper. You’re gonna love it.”

You nodded in agreement, not having the energy to argue. It had been a while since you’d had a home-cooked meal, and the hospital food left a lot to be desired. You followed Simon into the kitchen, taking in the warm, cozy space. It was small but had everything you needed, including a small dining table and chairs. The countertops were cluttered with various kitchen appliances and utensils, but everything was clean and tidy.

Simon rummaged through the fridge and pantry, his eyes scanning the shelves for something to cook.

As he gathered the ingredients for a simple pasta dish, you watched him move around the kitchen with ease. There was something about the way he moved, with such grace and purpose, that made you feel drawn to him. He was like a force of nature, unstoppable and relentless in his pursuit of whatever he wanted.

You noticed how his muscles rippled beneath his shirt as he chopped vegetables, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of attraction in your chest. You almost felt guilty for feeling this way about a man you didn’t remember. You knew you two were engaged, but it felt strange to be drawn to someone you had no recollection of. Being with Simon felt familiar, like coming home even though you couldn’t remember why. It was as if your body recognised him before your mind did.

The hospital breakdown was a pivotal moment in your relationship, and it seemed you two had struck a deal.

And yet, even though your memory didn’t seem any clearer, there was still a sense that your outlook had changed.

You seemed more vulnerable, more reliant on him for comfort and guidance. The barriers and walls you used to keep him away with were crumbling, and the two of you were starting to form a real connection.

This is progress, Simon told himself, hopefully. This is an improvement.

Simon felt both terrified and excited by this newfound closeness. He was scared to get too close too soon, scared of the pain of rejection if your memory did return and you chose not to stay with him. But at the same time, he could feel himself falling even deeper in love with every passing moment.

He wanted to give you some space, but his heart ached for yours.

You wished there was some way to go back in time and remember who you used to be together—but there just wasn’t. You didn’t know how to be the person Simon remembered, and that scared you. You wanted more than anything to make him happy, but it felt like no matter what you did or said, it wouldn’t be enough for him.

After dinner, he showed you the bedroom. The room was simple but elegant, with a queen-sized bed in the centre and a large window overlooking the backyard. The walls were painted a soft blue, and the bedding was white and fluffy, inviting you to sink in and drift off to sleep.

“I...I don’t want to take your bed.”

Simon smiled warmly at you. “It’s our bed, alright?” he said, his hand reaching out to take yours. “I ain’t gonna fight you over who needs to sleep where. I have a couch; lemme sleep on it.”

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you said, looking up at him with a small smile. “Are you sure you don’t mind sleeping on the couch?”

Simon shook his head, his hand still holding yours. “Look, love. We’re both tired here. I want to take care of ya and make sure you’re comfortable. So, you don’t gotta fight, and I ain’t gonna be arguing, or I’m gonna have to tie you down, and force a sleep mask over your eyes, yeah?”

“Okay, Okay,” you laughed. “Thank you,” you said softly.

Simon leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Alright, you rest up. I’ll see ya in the morning,” he said before turning to leave the room. 

You watched him go, feeling a sense of longing wash over you. You wished you could remember what it was like to be with him, to feel his touch and his love.

Laying in bed, the day’s events replayed in your mind like a movie reel. The memory of Riley’s passing still weighed heavily on your heart. Still, there was something else tugging at the edges of your consciousness. It was like watching a horror movie with the sound turned down low; you could sense fear and trepidation from the dimly lit scenes playing out before you, but you couldn’t make out any details.

Your heart raced as you tried to piece together the fragments of this unknown memory, but it slipped away as quickly as it came, leaving you even more frightened than before.

You tried to sleep, but deep in your chest, you felt the beginnings of fear build. You turned over and over again in bed, growing more agitated by the minute. The shadows on the wall from the lamp beside it stretched out like malevolent spirits that wanted nothing more than for you to be afraid. Nothing to see here, they would say as they writhed and clawed at you with their formless hands, almost touching you before receding back into the darkness. Your feet move slowly through the darkness. The floor is cold under your feet as you step lightly through this unfamiliar place that once was your house.

“Damn it,” you said, the fear in your voice palpable in the silent room. You reached for the lamp on the bedside table, flicking it on and flooding the room with light. The shadows scattered, leaving nothing but the familiar sight of the bedroom. You took deep breaths, trying to steady your racing heart.

It was just a nightmare, you told yourself. It’s just a silly, irrational fear.

But deep down, you knew it was more than that. Something was lurking in your subconscious that you couldn’t quite grasp but knew was there. Something that made your skin crawl and your heart race.

You got out of bed, your feet hitting the cool hardwood floor.

Your feet move slowly through the darkness, the floor creaking beneath your weight. You move towards the door, your hand reaching out to grasp the doorknob. As you turn it, the door swings open with a low groan, revealing the dark hallway beyond.

Your heart thunders as you take the first step into the hallway. The darkness seems to encroach on you, swallowing up the light from the bedroom. You take another step forward, your eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. You could hear the light snoring coming from Simon on the couch, but it didn’t bring you any comfort.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something lurking in the darkness waiting for you.

The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, the darkness consuming everything in its path. You felt like you were walking through a nightmare, one that you couldn’t escape from. You tried to call out for Simon, but your voice was hoarse and barely audible.

Suddenly, you heard a sound from down the hallway. It was faint, but it was there. A soft whisper, calling out your name.

Your heart leapt into your throat. You couldn’t see anything, but you could feel a presence in the darkness. You could feel its breath on your neck, its fingers brushing against your skin.

You turned around and ran towards the couch where Simon was sleeping when you saw a figure emerge from the shadows. It was a woman, her face twisted in a grotesque grin.

You could feel your feet sinking into the ground as if the floor was swallowing you whole.

You tried to scream, but the darkness choked your voice. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were sure it would burst out of your ribcage. And then, suddenly, the darkness lifted, like a veil being lifted from your eyes.

Just a dream, a nightmare that left you gasping for breath as you sat in bed. Your heart still raced, and your skin was slick with sweat.

You looked around the room, relieved to see that it was just a dream. But the feeling of terror lingered, its tendrils wrapping around your heart and refusing to let go.

You slid out of the bed, your bare feet brushing against the cool wooden floor. The air was thick with a sense of dread, and you needed to shake it off.

You moved quietly to the living room, past the vase of flowers on the table, their petals soft and pliable beneath your fingers.

Simon lay asleep on the couch near the window, bathed in moonlight that filtered through the blinds. You approached him, hovering over his still form like a guardian angel. The outline of his face was sharp yet softened by shadows; you could see the rise and fall of his chest under the comforter he had kicked off while sleeping. As you considered waking him, his eyes fluttered open.

“you good?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep and concern.

You jumped, startled by his sudden awakening.

“Oh, I’m... nothing,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I just couldn’t sleep and wanted to come out here for a bit.”

Simon frowned, his eyes dark with concern.

“C’mere,” he said, lifting the edge of the comforter. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was a good idea, but the weight of loneliness was too much to bear. As you nestled closer, his arms wound around you, and the press of his chest at your back reassured you that everything would be alright. His breath on the nape of your neck mingled with the scent of lavender fabric softener, and his heartbeat against your spine slowed to match your own. His touch calmed your racing mind until all that remained were the gentle brushstrokes of his fingertips along your arm.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle in the darkened room.

You hesitated, not wanting to burden him with your fears, but then decided to tell him. “I had a nightmare,” you said softly, feeling embarrassed.

“You want to-?”

“No,” you stopped him. You didn’t want to talk about it, not wanting to relive the terror of the nightmare.

He didn’t push it. “Okay... If you have that nightmare again, I’ll kick that thing’s arse, I will. Now, close your eyes. You need your sleep, darlin’.” his voice was low and soothing.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his protectiveness and felt a sense of security as he pulled you closer to him.

“Sweet dreams, okay? And close those eyes of yours, dear,” he murmured, kissing your head.

You smiled, and soon, with the warmth of his body next to yours, you fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of a shushed argument coming from the front door. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and sat up, groggy and disoriented.

You got up from the couch and walked towards the front door, your bare feet padding against the hardwood floor. As you got closer, you could hear the muffled voices growing louder.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should interfere, but curiosity got the better of you. Slowly, you pushed the door open, and sunlight streamed through the opening, flooding the dark living room.

“Go away. Now.” Simon said, his voice ringing with anger, “I swear to bloody god, I’ll break your fakin’ nose.”

He was a silhouette in the murky morning light, feet planted firmly as he stood before an unfamiliar figure. His shoulders were tense, and a single bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. His face was concealed by the usual black balaclava that melded seamlessly into his dark clothing.

The other man seemed taken aback by Simon’s outburst. Still, he quickly regained his composure and stepped forward, revealing himself in the dim light.

“C’mon, I just want to see ‘er”.

The Scottish lilt pierced through the thick silence like a knife, sending a shiver down your spine.

Like an electric shock, you felt a sudden jolt of energy as images of the past suddenly emerged from the fog of amnesia. Images, sounds, and conversations flooded your mind as fragments of memories all clicked into place, and you remembered him.

“Soap?”

Tags: @8sy-errah8 @yyiikes @spencerreidisbae123 @oranoyaora @sae1kie @originaldeerhottub @cr4shposts @caramlizedtomatoes  @ilovehyperfixating @ghostlythots  @dotcie

[artemismoorea03]

DPxDC or Marvel: Amity's Hero

Could be used with the Justice League, Batfam or Marvel! It's completely up to your imagine go ham! But I'm going to be writing this with the Justice League because I know them better <3

The Justice League was devastated when they learned about Amity Park and it's situation. It wasn't until a 12 year old girl grabbed Batman by the cape, shoved a USB into his hand and saved "they need your help" before they mysteriously vanished that they even knew of the problem. The city had been cut off from the rest of the United States due to a government agency which tracked every call, text, and message trying to leave the area all the while a 14 year old kid fought off the same Government Agency, other agencies, and creatures from another dimension called 'Ghosts'.

But the last thing they expected when they arrived to Amity Park was to see the same teenager - Phantom - wounded after a fight. The fight was over by the time they got there but the wounds and fear on the teens face were real. He had no idea that the League was there to offer help and it was clear the teen was of the assumption that they were there to help the Goverment.

He wasn't the only one.

Four teenagers slid in front of the teen, protecting him all ready to fight and they weren't the only ones. More and more teenagers joined the group some wearing football jackets, others in crop tops and jeans. Then the elderly started to join in and the middle age. People in normal clothes, jumpsuits, normal suits, hospital gowns, police uniforms - everybody in the area - made a protective barrier between the Justice League and the teen who seemed confused by the actions.

"If the Justice League is here to cause issues for my city you better turn around now. We have had quite enough for one day." A man with silver hair pulled in a ponytail said.

"No, we're not here to cause issues. We were here to talk to Phantom... to see if he needed help." Superman said as Batman stepped up.

"It's clear now though... he has help. The Justice League has disabled the devices the 'Ghost Investigation Ward' was using to keep you guys secluded... so if he - or any of you - need more help... give us a call." Batman said as the man hesitated, then nodded.

"That's it?" Green Arrow asked as they turned and walked away from the crowd. "We're just... leaving?"

"Yeah. We are. Phantom knows he has more he can depend on and it's not just the league. Amity is under his protection and Amity will protect their hero." Batman said, glancing back at the teen who was being hugged by a couple in teal and orange jumpsuits.

Amity Park and it's hero sure was a sight to see.

[aloneandforsakenbyfateandbyman]

Old Hollywood actress Frances Farmer being carried away by police after having a psychotic episode in a courtroom and then showing attitude in the police station in 1943 is still such a Mood. I think all of us hysterical anti-authoritarian girlies can relate.

Frances was just a woman ahead of her time. It was the 40s and she was a Communist with a Bachelor of Arts in Drama. That’s literally just every millennial girl nowadays. No wonder Paramount called Frances "the star who would not go Hollywood," and emphasized her "eccentric" fashion tastes.

Director William Wyler famously said, "The nicest thing I can say about Frances Farmer is that she is unbearable." She was charged with drunk driving in Santa Monica, then when her agent shipped her off to Mexico City to film a movie, she was arrested there for drunken disorderliness.

1943 was an especially bad year, as she was accused of assaulting a studio hairdresser, not paying off her legal fines, and running down Sunset Boulevard topless after getting into a brawl at a bar. Police went to her hotel and dragged Frances out naked after she refused to comply.

When asked about her drinking habits, Frances told the judge: "I put liquor in my milk ... in my coffee and in my orange juice,” and admitted to drinking Benzedrine. The judge sentenced her to 180 days in jail, and she responded with knocking down a policeman and bruising another, along with a matron.

Frances sprinted to a phone booth to call her attorney, but was subdued by the police. When they carried her away, she shouted: "Have you ever had a broken heart?"

Frances was then taken to LA General Hospital and diagnosed with "manic depressive psychosis, probably the forerunner of a definite dementia praecox."

[isadollie]

break a leg! • chigiri hyoma

★ telling someone to "break their leg" before an important event is supposed to bring them luck; but this time luck wasn't on your side.

★ this fic is a part of an amazing summer olympics collab by @tetzoro !! i'm so happy i'm able to take part in it 🫶 i had a lot of fun writing it!:3

"it's such a pretty city!" you sighed gently, your head resting against your boyfriend's shoulder. chigiri followed your gaze and smiled. "i told you, didn't i?"

the two of you were seated in a cute café, observing the busy streets of paris through the big window next to your table.

you looked into his eyes with a tiny smile. "you don't seem too stressed." he simply shrugged, pulling you a bit closer. "stress won't help me anyway. besides, you're here with me so i'm sure it will be fine." he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

of course you were there with him. how could you not? your boyfriend has been very successful in the football field for quite a while now, but the olympics are a whole new level. and now that his team made it into the semi-finals, you couldn't be happier for him.

you gently played with his beautiful, long hair with a smile. it's a short calm moment, among of all the crazy things that have been happening lately; all the stress, all the emotions that came with the competitions. you wanted to enjoy this moment for as long as you could.

"hey... let's go and take some cute photos together." you chuckled, slowly standing up from your seat and offering him your hand. chigiri raised an eyebrow, but obeyed anyway.

as always, "taking photos together" turned into a whole professional session with you as a model. you kept on coming up with new poses and he's been taking hundreds of photos, already contemplating which ones he'll post on his instagram later. he loved to show you off after all.

"a bit more to the left, baby" he said gently, showing you where to stand. "perfect! now... how about you go up those stairs?" he pointed to the staircase a few meters away from you two. "i bet the pics will be amazing!"

you happily obeyed, climbing up the stairs as you made another cute pose. "oh my god, chigiri look!" you suddenly squealed, getting distracted from your little modeling role. "a kitten! aww, it's so cute!" you cooed, turning around to see as the small creature ran up the stairs next to you.

what you didn't expect though, is that this cute animal will make you distracted enough to lose your balance. last thing you remember is that your foot didn't touch the step as it was supposed to, your body falling down to the ground, followed by your boyfriend shouting out your name.

---★--------★--------★--------★--------★---

"does it still hurt a lot?" chigiri asked softly, gently combing your hair.

you nodded with a grimace as you looked down at your leg in a cast. you looked over at him as you munched on the sweet pastry he brought you. "it does. those chocolate muffins are really tasty though, you were right."

your body was still in pain after your fall, which you blamed entirely on the orange, fluffy cat from the staircase. you got to the hospital yesterday, where they told you your leg is broken. you also had a few bigger and smaller bruises on your arms and back.

earlier today chigiri's team won in the semi-finals, but due to your injury, you watched the whole match on the tv in your hospital room. as soon as the game ended and your boyfriend had a bit of free time, he immediately rushed to your side. after he took the muffins, of course.

chigiri sighed as he put the hairbrush down, pressing a tissue to your cheek to wipe some of the chocolate away. "i'm so sorry, darling" he said so sadly, almost as if your accident was his fault. "did the doctors say anything?"

you looked away slightly, knowing you have to tell him the sad truth. "yeah. i have to stay here for at least three days more. i won't be able to be there to see the finals from the stands."

the long-haired man nodded slowly as he sat down next to your bed. he expected it, but hearing it out loud made his heart ache even more. he didn't say anything, just wrapped his arms around you in a gentle hug, careful not to hurt you further.

the cute moment between the two of you have been suddenly interrupted as bachira stormed into the room with a big grin on his face, and a bunch of colorful markers in his hands. his eyes lit up even more as he saw your cast. "time to let my inner picasso come out!"

chigiri just sent him a glare, but you couldn't stop yourself from letting out a small laugh.

---★--------★--------★--------★--------★---

"i have to go now." your boyfriend said as he squeezed your hand gently. you saw how stressed he was, and you couldn't blame him.

competing for a gold medal at the olympics was not a joke, after all.

"good luck, love. don't you worry, yeah? it will be alright, i promise." you showed him a genuine smile, squeezing his hand back. he just sighed. "i just wish you could be there."

your eyes softened. "me too. but i have a tv here, i'll watch the whole game just like i did with the previous one, hm?"

hyoma smiled and leaned closer to stroke your cheek. "i really need to go now... i already have a missed call from nagi."

"right. i would tell you to break a leg, but i already did it, so no need for you to do the same."

he gently chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before he left the room.

---★--------★--------★--------★--------★---

this didn't look well.

the score was currently 1:0, and chigiri's team was losing. you were tossing in your bed; as much as your broken leg allowed you to.

his team was trying their best, but the opponents always found a way to get the ball back. you'd let out a gasp whenever chigiri had the ball, and then let out a curse whenever he lost it.

suddenly the tv turned off, and your heart almost jumped out of your chest.

"oh no, no, no!" you whined, clicking every button on the remote, but nothing worked. you got out your phone, and attempted to watch the game on it, but your battery was on only 9%, so it soon died too.

where did you put the damn charger?

it wasn't anywhere near you, and you couldn't move much around your bed, not to mention you couldn't sit up on your own.

you desperately asked one of the nurses for help, but she couldn't find your charger in the room as well, which only made you feel worse. she even was kind enough to bring you her own charger, but it didn't fit to your phone. she promised to ask her colleagues for a right type of charger, but because of her other responsibilities, she couldn't come back to you in a while.

you sighed deeply, running your shaky hands down your face, knowing that you ran out of possibilities.

---★--------★--------★--------★--------★---

"sweetheart, wake up..." a soft voice from your left made you slowly open your eyes, feeling your shoulder being gently shaken.

you yawned as your eyes finally opened, taking in the sight of your boyfriend. "ah, finally!" he huffed impatiently, lightly pinching your cheek.

"what's going on..?" you mumbled in confusion.

then the memories started to come back; how you watched the game, how the tv broke and how you couldn't find a proper charger. you must have fallen asleep in the middle of this chaos.

"i swear, waking you up from your beauty sleep is harder than winning a medal." chigiri teased gently, his eyes sparkling with genuine happiness.

"what..?" you rubbed your eyes and gasped, noticing the gold medal hanging from his neck. "you-! but it was 1:0-!"

he chuckled, still caressing your cheek. "at first, sure. but we ended up winning 2:1."

suddenly a pout formed on his face as he noticed your confusion.

"no way! you didn't see my goal?!"

"i can explain--!"

i wrote this in roughly 40 minutes so let me apologize for any mistakes i might have made! still, it was fun to write it:3

[pearlsinmyhair]

₊ ⊹ the price of the name.

synopsis: reader has had a hard life, and now she’s an orphan. but someone just as lonely comes into her life to take her under his wing.

warnings: angst. lots of hurt, very little comfort. miguel is a hardass who pushes people away. death.

platonic!miguel x daughter-like!reader. no seriously, reader is eighteen and young. this is found family, not romantic.

the intention is for this to be multi-part. how many parts? idk.

word count: 1.3k

pt i : fate

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 

being a spider person was always unfair. mercy from whatever divine being that controlled their universes was hard to come by.

you were no exception.

your father died early, shot by a man who ran with someone’s purse. you didn’t know him well, you were only three after all. but your mother fought hard to teach you about him, to make sure you remembered some semblance of him.

and all was well for a time. you went to school, made some friends, started working for some extra cash under the table.

you were reaching up into your attic when the sharp sting of a spider bite zinged up from your hand. you killed it with a slap, but nothing could stop the venom that now traveled through your veins.

the rest was history: you became your universes one and only spider woman, learning her trade as she went.

the cannon event hit later, and it was different from the others.

you had no uncle to find dead on the street.

but you did have a mother.

she was working the late shift at the hospital when a spouse of a dead patient burst through the doors and demanded to see a doctor. apparently, the man wanted revenge for the hospitals failure to save his wife, and he had come to instill justice.

your mother had raised her hands and tried to plead for him to stop, to calm down, to lower his gun.

the shot made your spider-senses go haywire, and you practically flew to the trauma center. the security guards had no idea what to do, so you just ran past them to find your mother bleeding on the cold white tile.

it took everything in you to remember that behind your mask, no one knew you were this woman’s daughter, and you’d have to respond carefully. you watched as the officers called the next of kin, and you were thankful that you had had the mind to put your phone on silent that day.

no one noticed the tears streaming from your eyes behind the suit. you swung back home as fast as you could, answering your phone when they called you again.

pretending to not know what was going on was the second worst thing you had to do that day. you had to fight from chocking on tears as you answered the call.

eighteen and orphaned, standing over your mothers open casket. a part of you thanked that you were older, because it meant that you didn’t have to go into foster care. but nothing could truly quell your grief.

and then the universe decided to send you a big middle finger in the shape of a Doc Oc right after the funeral ended.

you knew that you couldn’t keep going like this. no one should process grief this fast. but as the villain sent a tidal wave through the streets of new york city you relized that you didn’t exactly have a choice.

with great power comes great responsibility.

and saving these people was your responsibility, no matter what mental state you were in.

this Doc Oc looked to be from some other dimension. instead of mechanical tentacles like that of your Doc Oc, he had real ones, and he apparently threw actual octopi at people when he was pissed off.

it was no easy task, and at one point he had thrown you against the wall and knocked your head. as your vision swam, he picked you up with one of his suctioned limbs and squeezed.

it all happened so fast.

a flash of orange and yellow swirling at the edge of your vision. orange silk shooting into your captors face. and then someone shot forward and sliced the tentacle that held you.

you sank to the ground as you caught your breath, vaguely hearing someone say “Lyla, run a diagnostic. what’s the best way to take this guy down?”

as you wheezed, a large hand rested against your shoulder, and a soft voice greeted your ears.

“Sit tight, kid. I’ll handle this.”

you didn’t have time to argue when the hand vanished, and you peered up just in time to see a large spider-man in a blue suit throwing himself at the villain.

you stood as you caught your breath, rushing right back into battle to help the man that had saved you. the Doc Oc dragged you both to the bay, sinking down into the water. it was advantageous for him, being a water dwelling creature, and you and the man struggled. it took another spider, a woman on a motor cycle, showing up to help defeat him.

but it was you who dealt the final blow, wrapping the villains limbs to a nearby pier to keep him underwater. when the pair of new spider people got him all tied up and prepared to take away, you just…collapsed.

everything came down on you at once. your exhaustion, your sadness, your loneliness. everything.

you barely heard the spider woman murmur to the brash man across from her, and it was only when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around you and pick you up that you snapped back to reality.

but just as quickly as you zeroed in on the feeling, your brain whispered sleep in your ear, and you passed out.

₊ ⊹

you woke to a strange bare bedroom and an odd watch that flickered with light on your wrist. noticing the glass of water on the bedside table, you chugged it, coughing when you got too eager.

“You’re awake!”

you screamed, a small voice coming from right beside your head unexpectedly. you turned to see a small woman illuminated in the light from your watch.

“no need to be afraid. i’m lyla.”

lyla. that rang a bell.

“where am i?” you asked as you noticed the clothes folded in the corner of the room. you cast a sideways glance at the projection, and lyla turned to give you the illusion of privacy.

“miguel will answer all your questions. i’ve alerted him of your new condition.”

you slipped on the black sweatpants and top gratefully, relishing the feeling of soft cotton against your skin. as your hands moved over your body, you quickly noticed various cuts and bruises.

that’s right, i passed out.

“where is this miguel?” you asked as you studied the watch, noticing the flickering ‘EARTH-928’ across the screen.

almost immediately, little glowing footsteps were projected from the watch, making you whip your hand away from your face.

“i guess that’s my answer?” you asked lyla, and the woman nodded.

you sighed, figuring you might as well follow them.

fantastic survival skills from the one and only spider-woman.

well, you thought, not the one and only.

₊ ⊹

the man before you seemed almost nothing like he was when you were fighting Doc Oc.

he seemed…infinitely tired. his shoulders hunched, head ducked down. you supposed that you were distracted during the fight.

but his expression revealed much more than his body language. he had deep eye bags, and his cheeks were sunken in a way that expressed not just natural bone structure but also a lack of eating and sleeping properly.

miguel looked drained.

you were still processing what he had told you, about the cannon and the ‘Spider-Society’ and the ‘Arachno-Humanoid Poly-Multiverse.’

you had actually openly scoffed at that one, and he looked dejected by your reaction.

“but i can’t just send you home now. i’m pretty sure jess would actually web me for all eternity if i did.” he was saying, rubbing his brow.

“so what exactly am i doing here, then?” you asked, curious but hesitant.

he turned his back to you, looking forlornly at his screens.

“i’m going to train you.”

“why?” came your response, surprised and uncertain. you may have only known miguel for less than an hour, but you could already tell that taking on a young apprentice wasn’t exactly in his character.

he didn’t turn to you. he just kept looking at a picture of a young girl on one of his screens.

“because you remind me of someone.” he said quietly. then he looked at you, and you were struck with the amount of guilt and suffering that lived in his eyes.

“and because you remind me of myself. and i can’t let you become like me.”

masterlists | part ii

[vanishingcherry]

GOT A SENSE I'D BEEN BETRAYED

pairings: lando norris x reader

warnings: swearing, mclaren being shitty, lando being shitty for agreeing with mclarens plans, break ups, general angst

authors note: based on this request hii! thanks for requesting! the start is just a bit of a backstory, so its not that great. prompt 9 is "'you promised' 'i know'", prompt 10 is "none of it was real... was it?" and prompt 11 is "don't touch me". check out my prompt list

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

When introduced to the world of F1, you immediately became a fan.

After a couple years of watching the sport on TV, you managed to get tickets to a Grand Prix not too far from your city. You were overjoyed as you walked through the entrance on Friday, having managed to snag tickets for all three days of the race weekend as well as a paddock pass for free practice.

Decked out in all the merch you owned, you were a sight to see. Lucky for you, the clashing shades of red, orange, black, green and blue were an all too common sight at a race, allowing you to comfortably blend in wherever you were.

Your day at the paddock was amazing, to say the least. Watching pitstop practices, meeting other fans and even taking pictures of and with a few of the drivers. It was, arguably, one of the best days of your life.

You were just about to leave the paddock when a McLaren employee walked towards you, blocking your path.

"Hello! I'm Julie, what's your name?"

After replying with slight confusion, she explained why she was talking to you.

"Lando saw you earlier in the day when you were outside his garage and wanted to talk to you! I'm glad I caught you, he wanted me to give you these paddock passes for tomorrow on behalf of McLaren."

She went on about everything the passes included, but you were still stuck on the fact that Lando was the one who had invited you.

"Wait- I uh- Lando? As in Norris? The driver?"

"Yeah." she laughed at your reaction. "Just come and show these passes to anyone at the McLaren hospitality tomorrow and they'll tell you where to go."

When you showed up the following day, weirdly enough, they directed you straight to Lando. You got to talking, and before you knew it you had spent hours with him. The two of you were interrupted a while before qualifying was meant to begin, and shockingly, he asked to take you on a date the next week.

You were slightly skeptical, it seemed like something straight out of a movie and you knew that going on a date with Lando could have repercussions on your entire life. Nonetheless, even you knew that turning down this invitation would be stupid. Even if it didn't lead to anything, it would be an experience for sure.

To your surprise, it was one of the best dates you had ever been on. A year later, the two of you were still together. Despite the unordinary circumstances that had brought you together, you were glad to have caught his eye that day.

Since then, you had accompanied him to many races, and today was no different. Heading towards his driver room, you lift your hand to knock, before stopping centimeters from the door. Someone else was in the room, you could hear hushed voices. You turn around, taking a few steps away, giving them their privacy.

"Y/N deserves to know!"

It was the voice of one of his friends, and the sound of your name had caught your attention.

"I can't tell her right now, okay? I- I'll tell her soon." That was Lando. You frowned at his statement, now wondering what he was keeping from you.

"Lando the longer you keep this from her, the worse it's going to get. In fact, you're probably lucky if she finds out now and doesn't leave."

"Don't you think I know that? Why do you think I'm not telling her?" Lando's sudden outburst was too much. He was hiding something that potentially changed the entire course of your relationship, you deserved to know what.

You slowly open the door, walking in just in time to hear what Lando's friend says.

"If you're not going to tell her, I am. She deserves to know that this started as a publicity stunt, even if that may have changed now."

"What?" you say in disbelief. Even though you barely heard the word yourself, both Lando and his friend turned to you at the sound. It would have been comical, how fast their eyes widened and expressions changed. But in the moment, all you could focus on was the fact that Lando didn't deny it.

Started as a publicity stunt.

Why do you think I'm not telling her!

You're probably lucky if she finds out now and doesn't leave.

Lando's friend murmurs an excuse, brushing shoulders with you as he walks out and softly closes the door behind him. Leaving you and Lando alone. If it was any other day, you would have been overjoyed to be alone with Lando, with his schedules and races you were rarely left alone. But right now, all you wanted to do was leave. Still, you ask.

"None of it was real... was it?"

Lando didn't answer. At a loss for words, his mouth opened and closed. He was wracking his brain, trying to think of something to say that would make you believe him, trust him. He had fucked up, he knew it. He just had to figure out how to fix it, make things right so that you wouldn't leave him.

You didn't notice the look of anguish on his face, instead you continued speaking, trying to make sense of the situation.

"You just thought that it would be okay to lead me on. That when I found out I was just for publicity, I would be okay with it. Or actually, you probably weren't going to tell me at all, based on your conversation" you all but shouted, referring to what you had overheard.

"I can't believe you!" The room, although large, seemed to be closing in on you. You felt like you were suffocating. "Say something Lando."

He stayed silent.

"God!" you turned around, resting your forehead in your hands, going through every moment of your relationship. The bright and happy memories were now darkened with the knowledge of Lando's initial intentions.

Waking up from whatever trance he had been placed in at the sight of you, Lando silently walks over. He carefully wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

"I'm so sorry, my love. I wanted to tell you I swear, I just chickened out every time. I love you, okay? I love you so much and I swear I'm not lying." He starts off, trying to explain before you cut him off.

"You promised." you whisper.

"I know." he mutters, knowing exactly what you meant.

"You promised, Lando. You promised you would never hurt me." Your voice cracked as you shrugged off his arms. He takes a few steps back and instead picks up your hands and plants a small kiss to your knuckles.

"I know, I'm so, so sorry. Darling, please just-"

"Don't touch me!"

He flinches at your tone, moving his hands from your own and taking a step back. Taking a couple deep breathes, he tries again.

"My love, I am so sorry." He bends down slightly, trying to make eye contact. "It started as a publicity stunt, yes, but I fell in love- I am in love with you."

He pauses for a moment, but remains undeterred when you don't respond. "I swear, all of it was real. My feelings are real, I never lied about those."

"Yeah, just lied about everything else" you scoff.

He almost reaches out to you before remembering that you didn't want to be touched by him. He flexes his hand before balling it into a fist near his thighs.

"I'm so sorry. Please just let me explain and I swear I'll fix this, okay? I- i'll figure something out and I'll fix this and we're going to be okay." At this point, he was convincing himself more than he was you.

Before he could say anything else, there was a knock on his door, signalling that he had to get in the car.

"Lando, its time."

"I know, I- just give me a minute" he begs.

"Lando we have to go right now, the race starts in 10 minutes". His engineer is adamant, slamming the door behind him, leaving no room for argument.

"Fuck!" he turns to you. "Darling, just stay here, yeah? Just for a while. I- we can talk after the race, I'm so sorry, just please stay here."

He waits for you to nod, eyes frantically scanning every inch of your face for a sign that you would stay. When you don't provide one, he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Please. Please, I am begging you just don't lea-"

"Lando! Now." A voice calls through the door.

"Coming." He shouts back. Turning to you again he speaks, walking backwards out the door as he picks up his baclava and helmet. "Please, just stay. I'm so sorry, we'll talk right after the race I promise. I love you."

With that, he leaves you alone in his driver room. You take a deep breath before sitting on the chair. You couldn't find it in you to stay, and so the moment the race started, you were up and finding a taxi back to the hotel.

Lando couldn't focus. From the moment he sat in the car till the moment he got out, all he could think about was you and the pained look on your face when you found out.

He regretted everything. The fact that he had kept this a secret for so long, and the fact that he didn't let you find out this way. But most of all, he regretted the day he agreed to the publicity stunt.

No one was supposed to find out about it. It was simple. He would date you for a couple months, and then make an excuse to break up. You wouldn't find out, the media wouldn't find out and he would have the publicity the team wanted. It would serve as the perfect distraction too, any poor performances would be overshadowed by the news of his new girlfriend. The team thought it was great, it would mean more fans interested in him because it wasn't everyday a driver dated someone that wasn't a model or famous.

Till he fell in love with you. He fell hard too, it wasn't slow and gradual but all at once. He was just sitting at his apartment, watching you read a book on the sofa when the realisation crashed down on him. That he would give up anything for you, that you were it for him. You were the only one he wanted to spend time with, only one he wanted to see when he came home after a race.

Lando knew that he should have stopped it then, broken up or at least told you. But he was selfish, he wanted to stay in the bliss you had created together. And so what was supposed to be a few months turned into 6 and then a year.

The race was shit for Lando. He had half a mind to crash on purpose, just because it would mean getting back to you faster. Nonetheless, he stayed on track, praying that there would be no red flags to delay the end. He had qualified well, at P8, but slipped back to P15 by the time the checkered flag came out.

The second he entered the garage, he walked straight to his drivers room, completely ignoring all the mechanics and engineers trying to console him after the bad result.

Opening the door in a hurry, he swears at the sight of no one in the room. "Fuck fuck fuck!"

He spins around a couple times, making sure you weren't there before opening his phone and walking out of the room in a hurry. At the back of his mind, Lando knew that there were a million things he had to do before leaving, but he forgot about all of them, running to the spot where his car was parked.

He tries calling you, repeatedly pressing on your contact as he speeds past the red light. He'd pay all the fines they wanted, getting to you was more important. He sighs when you don't pick up, face scrunching as he tries to keep the tears back.

Reaching the hotel, he hands the car to the valet, running through the lobby, just managing to slide into a closing elevator. Once at the right floor, he unlocks your hotel room.

He is close to crying when he realises that this room too is empty. You had taken your belongings, and all that was left was Lando's half-open suitcase in the corner.

But what really got him crumbling down is the note you'd written and left on his pillow. He read it over and over, making sure his eyes weren't deceiving him.

I'm sorry, I just can't. Don't message me. Please.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Tears In His Ferrari - 10

Character: Bucky Barnes x Farmer!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, used to a life of luxury, takes on farm challenges in a bet with his father. Mud-stained Ferraris and a rustic farmhouse lead to unexpected personal growth, guided by the stern mentorship of Y/N, a farmer making his city-boy life difficult.

Theme: Fluff, Slice of Life, Heart-Warming.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on: Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2,Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7 , Chp 8 , Chp 9 , Chp 10 , Chp 11 , Chp 12.

Bucky's heroic story of helping Toby's grandmother and bringing her to the hospital with his red Ferrari became the talk of the town.

The next day, he went to the fresh market with Y/N's parents to buy fruits and flowers.

He was planning to revisit Toby’s grandmother. He didn’t know why, but he felt a sense of melancholy toward elders, especially since his own grandparents had passed away before he was born.

As Bucky looked at the oranges, the locals greeted him warmly, especially the elders.

One grandfather said, “Thank you for helping Toby's grandma, young man. Here's some fresh corn and potatoes for you.”

Bucky smiled warmly and replied, “Oh, yes, we should help each other.”

Another grandmother approached him and said, “Are you the Barnes kid who helped my friend? Here's an orange for you.”

The kind old lady handed him baskets of oranges, her eyes twinkling with gratitude.

Then he felt someone tap his shoulder. He felt like a big shadow towering over him. It was Thor.

Thor exclaimed, "Buddy, you were a great help yesterday. Here, I'll give you my biggest catch today."

Bucky widened his eyes in surprise. "Oh no, it's alright. Urghh."

This was the first time in Bucky's life that he carried a heavy fish.

With each step he took, someone would greet him and give him something. He had never experienced this sense of community back in the city, and he appreciated how supportive the locals were of each other.

Samanta chuckled upon seeing Bucky looking clueless. “You've become the local celebrity.”

Bucky blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Yup. Oh, my daughter just called. Some people are at your farm.”

“That's right. I have to go back.” Bucky clapped his hands excitedly. He suspected that what he requested from his dad had arrived.

He stepped on the gas and drove fast to his place. When he arrived, he saw a few teenagers and kids standing near his house.

Y/N was also there, looking a bit overwhelmed as she guarded the youngsters from entering the house.

The truck stopped, and Bucky got out of the car.

He greeted Y/N with a smile. "What's up?"

Y/N sighed in relief. "They want to see your car, but I thought they needed your permission first."

The group of youngsters looked at Bucky with puppy eyes. In a second, he remembered being a young kid, also interested in sports cars when his dad brought him to the F1 race car. The experience was amazing, and it made him fall in love with fast cars.

As a fellow car lover, Bucky welcomed them. "It's alright. Do you want to see what it looks like inside?"

"Yeah!!" The youngsters cheered in excitement.

Bucky showed them his Ferrari car and enthusiastically explained the engine and the machinery.

Y/N observed Bucky, who looked genuinely excited. She remarked, “You've become the celebrity.”

Bucky chuckled, unable to contain his enthusiasm. “I can't help it.”

“By the way,” Y/N continued, “your father sent a pick-up truck. I didn't know you needed another one.”

Bucky's eyes lit up. “It's here? Yes! And it's not for me.”

“Then for who?” Y/N inquired, curiosity piqued.

🏥

At the hospital, Toby was speechless when he saw the pick-up truck. It looked brand new and far superior to the old truck they had to sell to pay his father's debt.

He walked around the truck, inspecting it from front to back, then turned to Bucky and enveloped him in a grateful hug. “Thank you, bro,” he said earnestly.

Bucky returned the hug with a smile. “You're welcome, buddy.”

After Toby rushed back to the hospital to share the news with his grandfather, Y/N approached Bucky. “That was really nice of you,” she remarked.

Bucky nodded, a sense of fulfillment washing over him. “I realized how important a car is for Toby. He needs it to drive his grandma and carry boxes of honey.”

With the means to help, Bucky felt compelled to use it.

Y/N smiled warmly. Witnessing Bucky's generosity and compassion, she couldn't help but admire him even more.

Bucky's generous gift quickly spread throughout the town, making him the hottest topic of discussion. Suddenly, he found himself at the center of attention, not for his wealth or status, but for his kindness and willingness to help others.

The children in the town looked up to him as a cool role model, inspired by his actions to make a positive difference in the community.

With Toby's grandmother gradually improving, and Toby himself working diligently to sell honey at markets and to local households, the spirit of gratitude and determination seemed to infuse the air.

Despite initially finding farming challenging, Bucky began feeling accepted and belonging in his new life.

Though he still encountered difficulties, he realized that the rewards of helping others and being part of a close-knit community far outweighed any hardships he faced.

Bucky hadn't opened his social media for a while since he was already busy with farming.

******

His story has also spread widely on social media. However, it wasn't Bucky who initiated it.

But who did? Of course, it was Kate. She inserted herself into Bucky's story as if she were a part of the effort to help him.

During her live session, she recounted the events with a touch of theatricality, emphasizing her own role in the act of kindness.

"And that's when Bucky and I sprang into action," she exclaimed dramatically, her eyes sparkling with manufactured emotion. "Together, we rushed Toby's grandmother to the hospital, our hearts filled with determination to make a difference!"

Her viewers were quick to shower her with praise, captivated by her portrayal of a compassionate and selfless individual.

"You're such an inspiration, Kate!"

"Wow, I had no idea you were so involved in charity work. You're amazing!"

"Thank you for using your platform to spread awareness and help those in need. You're truly making a difference!"

With each compliment, Kate's smile widened, basking in her audience's admiration as she skillfully crafted her image as a philanthropic icon.

She kept smiling as she scrolled through the comments until she noticed someone mentioning "What about Y/N?"

Kate's smile faltered, and she let out a sigh.

"What's wrong?" inquired one of her viewers.

Kate sighed again. "Well, we only know what people choose to show us on the outside, not what's really going on behind the scenes."

The viewers were intrigued. "Is this about Y/N?"

Kate hesitated, then replied cryptically, "I don't want to name names, but let's just say there's someone who's been quite influential in Bucky's life, and it's had some unfortunate consequences for my brother."

"Your brother, the celebrity chef Paul?" another viewer asked.

"He can't cook anymore because of a car accident, right?"

The comments continued to pour in, each one adding to the speculation. It was precisely what Kate wanted. She leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of her lips as she watched her fans dissect the situation for her.

Glancing down at her ruined shoes, a reminder of her unexpected encounter with the mud earlier, Kate clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Never underestimate me," she murmured to herself, a hint of determination in her voice.

🏎️

Bucky, who had been feeling clueless, had just finished cleaning up the sheep's stable. He made his way back to his house to freshen up.

Archie, the puppy, had eagerly awaited his return, wagging his tail excitedly. "Woof."

"Hey, buddy, I missed you too," Bucky greeted, bending down to pet the eager pup.

Once inside, Bucky headed straight to the sink to wash his hands, feeling the grime of farm work clinging to his skin. As he scrubbed, he couldn't help but notice his phone incessantly buzzing with notifications.

"What's going on?" Bucky wondered aloud, setting down the soap to check his phone. He was met with a flood of messages and tags from various people. Among them was a tag that caught his attention: #Y/N and Paul.

Curious, he clicked on it, and his screen filled with photos of Y/N dressed in a chef's outfit, standing beside none other than Paul, the celebrity chef who also happened to be Kate's brother.

Bucky's heart sank as he read the accompanying captions and watched a reel detailing Paul's accident, along with rumors suggesting that it wasn't him driving the sports car, but rather a woman whose name was still unknown.

His thoughts racing, Bucky was startled when he heard a familiar voice behind him. "Here's the dinner."

He nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to find Y/N standing there, a concerned expression on her face as she looked at him. "What's wrong?" she asked, noticing his troubled demeanor.

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Double Dog Dare

“Are you warm enough?” I asked Paint as we walked. My fingers were chilly against the box I carried, but it was small enough that I could reach to rub them together.

“Yes,” Paint said firmly. She pulled her heat shawl close, nuzzling her scaly orange face into its yellow warmth. “This is fully charged, and much better than my old one.”

“Well, no falling in the water for you today.”

“No falling in the water for me ever!” she said. “Unless the water is warm. Then it would be nice.”

I looked around at the industrial ruins that we walked through, all damp concrete and convoluted passageways. Even the sunlight on this planet felt thin. “I don’t think anything around here is warm.”

“Not yet,” Paint said with a lift of her snout. “I’m sure they’ll get things back in working order soon. That box probably holds a key heating circuit or something, and the area will become more hospitable in no time.”

I smiled at her priorities. As a coldblooded Heatseeker, she could hardly be blamed for expecting warmth to be high on the to-do list. I would have focused more on landing pad repair personally, so visiting couriers didn’t have to walk through this maze of alien architecture to reach the inhabited area, but that’s just me.

At any rate, our delivery timeline was short but so was the best route, at least according to the map on my phone. If we kept up a brisk pace, we’d get there well before the client started to grumble. And in this chill there was no reason to dawdle.

Sudden voices echoed off the walls: laughter from a few people at once. Distinctly human laughter. The locals were Frillians, so who were these?

Paint craned her neck to pinpoint the source of the voices, looking just as curious as I was. Then we walked around a corner and met a cluster of humans in blue jackets with a logo that I recognized immediately.

“Hey, it’s the crew of the good ship Hold My Beer!” I said in greeting. “How’s the droid jousting business?”

“Hello again!” said Captain Parker, flashing that bright smile set off by his dark skin. “We’re here for an outdoor tournament. Just on the way to check in now. You guys making another delivery?” The handful of other humans nodded at us.

Paint said, “Yes! It’s probably important! But we don’t know for sure. They wanted it in a hurry.”

Captain Parker pulled out a holo map of his own, and pointed down a concrete corridor. “This is definitely the fastest route that we can see. Pretty bonkers city design.” He started walking with a glance at the gray sky.

I hitched the box up and fell in step with the group. “I don’t think it was a city originally. No idea what, but these don’t look like stores or houses.”

Paint took short-legged strides beside me, offering suggestions for what these reclaimed ruins could have been, and the walk passed quickly. We’d moved on to discuss the jousting crew’s latest wins and new uniforms — those Stabby the Roomba emblems were very stylish — when we passed through an open doorway and discovered a problem.

The passage ahead of us was a deep chasm between concrete walls, open to the sky and devoid of branching passages, with a doorway at the bottom of several concrete steps. The door was closed. And the steps were filled with water.

I stopped. “Hm.”

“Aw man,” Captain Parker exclaimed, getting out his map again.

“What do we do?” asked Paint, clicking her scaly knuckles together. “This was the fast route! Our client is on a timeline!”

I thumped my chin against the box. “I knew we should have used the hoverbike.”

“You would have crashed into a wall! These walkways are far too narrow.”

“No I wouldn’t.”

A sturdy woman from the jousting crew shone a pocket flashlight into the murky water. It was all in shadow, thanks to an awning up top that seemed ironically meant to protect from the rain. Like everything else around here, it was janky and broken, but made of metal that hadn’t rusted through yet. Canvas would have been long gone.

I eyed the many cracks in the walls, with pipes and alien rebar sticking out. “I don’t suppose anyone feels like climbing over?”

“The box doesn’t have a carry strap,” Paint pointed out. “And I am not one of you climbing experts.”

A heavyset man with gray hair chuckled at that. “You’re not the only one.”

This turned into a side conversation about how Paint was under the impression that all humans were talented climbers by her standards, until Captain Parker interrupted.

“While this would be the most direct route, I see three other possibilities that shouldn’t take us in too many circles. It really is a shame, though. This one’s a nice straight shot if we could get the door open. Can you see the catch, Ruby?”

“Barely,” the woman reported. “This light is garbage. But it looks just like those other doors. Too bad we don’t have a long pole or something to work the catch with.”

I looked up. “That awning looks like it has a couple poles! I wonder if they come off.”

Paint yelped, “The water is rising!” She pointed, clutching her shawl. “It was below that step before!”

“Dang, you’re right.” Ruby stepped back. The other crewmates gestured to cracks that reached above water, which could easily be causing leaks below.

“We should go,” decided Captain Parker. “Get a head start on one of the long routes.”

“But our client!” Paint exclaimed. “They need the package in a hurry, and will tell everyone we’re unreliable!”

While everyone voiced an opinion, ranging from “Route B” to “Route C” to “rock-paper-scissors for who gets dunked in the hypothermia water,” I shoved the box at Paint. “Hold this,” I said. Then I got a running start and leapt up for a good grip on a crack in the wall.

There were plenty of footholds. Some of the metal bits sticking out were loose, but not enough to fall out. I focused on making sure each step was secure as quickly as possible, and reached the top in no time.

Thankfully it was wide enough to balance on without too much worry. That water wasn’t deep enough to land in safely, never mind the temperature.

Speaking of water, I thought with dawning horror, This is about to be bad.

Several rows away in this maze was a broken pipe the size of my torso, spewing water into a reservoir that was near to overflowing. Some of the water was leaking out through cracks in the sides already, leading to a puddle that was dripping through to make the one on our side.

The route back is in the danger zone too! Maybe if we’re fast enough, we can get to that open area over there. Or get everybody else up here. But I don’t trust this wall to stay intact if that dam fails all at once.

My phone buzzed, making me jump. It was Paint. I realized she’d probably been yelling for my attention, and I didn’t hear. There were sounds of pouring water up here, not to mention the blood rushing in my ears. I answered the phone.

“What are you staring at?” she demanded. “Get the pole!”

“Right,” I said, hurrying along the wall. “We may not have enough time, even if I can get it free. There’s more water that could flood the area at any moment. I think somebody has to swim for the catch.”

“What! How much water?”

“Lots. Hang on.” I stuck the phone in my pocket to free both hands for the awning. Up close, it looked much rustier and ancient than below. The pole at the side was welded on. I braced my feet and gave it a good yank. That produced a metal screech and a rain of rust particles, but not much else. Pushing and pulling to work it loose let me fold the awning back so watery sunshine illuminated the door catch far below. The jousting crew shouted about it indistinctly.

I leaned against the awning, holding it back while I got my phone out. “It’s not coming loose,” I told Paint. “Tell him there’s a dam about to break, and one of his people needs to open the door.”

There was lots of indistinct shouting at that. I couldn’t make out all of the words, especially since the water sounds were increasing, thanks to a new crack the water levels had just reached. Captain Parker was shaking his head at Paint, who’d set down the box so she could hold the phone and gesture wildly. He waved at me to come down, and pointed back at the way we’d come. I shook my head and pointed at the reservoir, but he was already looking away.

“Paint!” I called into the phone. “Tell him he’s got to!”

“He wants to turn back!” Paint cried.

“Wait!” This was a dumb idea, but I’d had worse. “Paint, tell him you double dog dare him to do it.”

“What?”

“Human thing. If he doesn’t, he’s a coward. Use those exact words: you double dog dare him.”

Paint didn’t answer me, lowering the phone and jabbing a finger at Captain Parker. I could just make out her words over the water.

“I double dog dare you to do it! If you don’t, you’re a coward!”

He gaped at her for a moment while his crew burst into laughter. Ruby clapped him on the shoulder. A smaller man waggled his fingers like he was offering to hold the captain’s jacket. Captain Parker looked up at me, arms spread in a clear WTF.

I held the awning back and pointed emphatically downward.

Water rushed faster out of that new crack. People were laughing below. Paint repeated the phrase like an incantation.

And Captain Parker took off his jacket, handing it to the other man.

“Yes!” I breathed in relief, leaning harder against the metal. It really wanted to fold back down. But the captain would need light to see.

In moments he’d left his jacket, shoes, and pocket valuables with the crew, and was striding forward, shaking his head. Ruby aimed her flashlight at the door, though it was pretty visible now. I pocketed my phone and crossed my fingers. With a worried glance, I sent strengthening thoughts toward the dam.

Captain Parker stuck a foot in, swore loudly, then cannonballed directly into the deep end to the approving whoops of his crew. He surfaced, gasping at the cold, then took a few good breaths and submerged, going straight for the door.

The catch didn’t turn easily. Of course it didn’t. Why would any of this be easy? I watched him struggle with it, flicking my eyes back toward the straining reservoir. Water was starting to spill over the side. The big crack was spreading.

Then something clunked below me, and the door grated aside, gushing water and a very cold human into the corridor beyond.

I yelled my own wahoo along with the crew, and left the awning to jolt back into place with another rain of rust while I hurried back down. One of the pipes almost jerked out of the wall while I was holding it. I jumped the rest of the way.

“Take the box!” Paint told me. Humans were rushing down the wet stairs. I took it just as a thunderous crack filled the air, and the ground shuddered.

“Run!” I said. We dashed down the stairs to the sound of rushing water. The wall I’d just been standing on sprouted dozens of leaks, creaking ominously.

There was still a bit of a puddle at the bottom, but Paint bravely dashed through it with her heat shawl held tight. I was right behind her with the box. The other humans were already climbing dry stairs on the other side.

We made it through the door just as the wall collapsed, sending water and debris slamming into the place we’d been standing moments before.

I don’t think I’ve ever climbed stairs faster. Two of the nearest humans hoisted Paint up, her small legs kicking in the air. Water splashed behind us, wetting one of my pant legs in a terrifying moment that made me think we’d all be washed away after all, but then we were out of range and still standing.

Everybody stood in an open courtyard, breathing hard and staring. The water rushed in every direction below us, filling more passageways than I’d thought it could. We’d reached an area of high ground with the reconstruction offices in view, all freshly painted and gold in the sunlight.

But only just.

“We’ll need another way back to the ship,” said Ruby.

“Good thing we left all our stuff behind.”

“Hey Captain, you can use my shirt to dry off with.”

“Mine too.”

Captain Parker looked a little paler than his skin tone was really meant for as he rubbed his hands together for warmth. “Thanks,” he managed, sounding like he was keeping his teeth from chattering by force of will.

Paint approached him and made an elaborate bow, which I’m pretty sure she got from some media about old Earth customs since that’s not the kind of thing her people do. “Well done, Captain Parker,” she declared. “Your honor is unquestionable; you are not a dog this day.”

He smiled while the crew laughed again. “Thank you. Your challenge was well-timed.” He stripped off his wet shirt and toweled dry with someone else’s, then rolled up his pant legs instead of taking them off.

“Do you need to borrow my heat shawl?” Paint asked tentatively.

Captain Parker frowned, shivering violently. “You’re coldblooded. Don’t you need it?”

“I’ll be okay,” Paint assured him. “You need it more right now. The air isn’t as bad as that water.”

“You’re not wrong.” He accepted it when she handed it to him, settling it over his shoulders with a deep sigh of relief.

When Paint met my eyes, I gave her a smile of approval, and she beamed. Crew members were busy making calls: to their ship, to their local contact, and who knew where else. It occurred to me that we should do the same.

Paint told me, “Everyone’s going to want to hear about this. And you’ll have to explain the details of the double dog thing; I’d never heard of that before.”

I shrugged one shoulder, still holding the box. “It’s not a big deal. More of a kid thing, honestly. I’m sure there are lots of cultures with similar stuff.”

“Not mine,” she said thoughtfully. “Blip and Blop would probably appreciate it. And Trrili would probably appreciate it too much.”

“Oh man, Trrili would be an unholy menace.” I thought of our most frightening crewmate’s love of scaring people. “Let’s not tell her about double dares.”

When the captain had his shoes back on and his jacket thrown over the heat shawl, we all moved on toward the reconstruction office, leaving a trail of water droplets and honor in our wake.

~~~

Captain Parker and co made their other appearance in this story.

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

They're shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include some characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[everythingelseisextra]

First Time

Part Ten: Stand Your Ground

Description: After being discharged from the hospital, you and Tommy visit the racetrack. Warnings: Language, brief mention of rape/trafficking Word Count: 2506 Tag List: @ttaechi @theshelbyslimited @weaponizedvirtue @majesticcmey @optimisticsandwichgladiator @zablife @princesssterek @mm0thie @callsignvenus @babayaga67 @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul

Days turn into weeks turn into a month. As always, you wake before dawn and start your work up in that subliminal time between night and day, simultaneously both and neither. Your work drives you through the day. Eleven horses, each with different needs, different sensitivities, different opinions, and you, the center of their lives. You care for them accordingly. You don’t get days off or breaks, don’t get the chance to catch your breath, to relax, until dusk, when the cab rolls into your driveway to pick you up. You climb in, smelling of horse and sweat and hay, and rest your head back, eyes on the road ahead of you.

The darkening city flows past you, fluid in the falling night, and something like nostalgia washes over you. You remember the girl you loved, her pale green eyes like the hills that surround your home, her naked body trembling next to you, your exhausted bones leaning against each other for support. It was a broken sense of togetherness that came from a godless place, from being surrounded by cruelty and twisted minds. You found each other, and you helped each other, but in the end, you couldn’t save her. Only avenge her. You remember, before you could define the feelings that boiled inside of you, a sense of home, of feeling exactly in place with her, even though your circumstances were unnatural. 

Love, you think, is like most other predators. It tries to warn you before it bites. 

Before you’ve pieced the ragged bits of yourself back together, you’re walking into the hospital and nodding to the woman at the front desk. She knows you now, knows your alliance, knows the only person you ever visit, so she doesn’t have to ask. You reach his room and knock, receiving the answer to come in.This is his last day in the hospital, and the routine you’ve made is about to end, and neither of you will allow the elephant in the room to speak. And you sit and talk, mostly you, with his quiet eyes watching you with a glint inside of them, tracing the outline of your face, memorizing you. There are some days where he talks, and you listen, and you learn about his war in France, and the battles he endured, and how no one wins war, they just survive it. You learn more about Grace, about Campbell, about the guns and the horses. Tommy tells stories as though you’re sitting by fireside, with the flickering gold and orange light on your faces, an aura fending off the darkness, and evokes a life to his words that you’re not used to. You find yourself hanging on each phrase, completely under his spell. 

Sometimes, there’s a holiness to your conversations, your words quiet and respectful, as if so precious that even the air could damage them. Other times, you’re revelrous, and laughter echoes up through the stone walls and bounces around off the slanted ceiling. Days like this lead to nights full of half-reluctant, half-exuberant movement; tossing and turning, standing up to pace, toying with the knife that lies between you, belonging to both of you and neither of you, now. You spend your days working and spend your nights with a comrade against the battle of loneliness, and for the first time in your life, you feel balanced. 

But, days like today, where you’re quiet and reserved, lead to careful, quiet nights. You lay in bed and stare at his bare back across from you. Even though your fear has diminished, he still insists on starting off facing away from you, out of some form of respect, giving you something like privacy. The night curls in around you, chilly and peaceful, and your eyes trace the graceful curve of his back. You allow time to pass, and, when you’re brave enough, you speak.

“Tommy?”

“Yeah?” He responds still facing away from you, but his head tilts upwards, glancing over his shoulder at you. 

“I’ve been thinking about how things change.” You start out slow, then your words cascade out of you, speeding up as you go. “I’ve been thinking about how I used to think I was a terrible person. For loving another girl and for being a victim and for killing a man. I used to think that I had no reason to go on, because I had nothing but skin and bones and muscle and even that didn’t always belong to me. Now I know I was never terrible, I was just fifteen and terrified. Now I think I’m terrible for other reasons. 

“I have this body that doesn’t love me and has never saved me. I have this body that was used against me for years. And I am sorry I was born with it. But I didn’t used to be. When I had her, I used to want to be a body for her. I used to want to give her my shoulder to cry on, used to want to hold her hand as she walked me to the next hotel room or alleyway or basement, used to want to cradle her in the dark. I was thinking about her and it made me realize my body isn’t just for sex, or being abused. But, these days, all I do with it is work. And that made me think of you. Because what’s the point if it’s just work? What’s the point if you’re still being pushed to the brink, even when you’re not supposed to be?”

He’s quiet for a moment before he speaks. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I don’t want to keep autopsying the body of who I used to be. I want to take this new shape and run with it. I— I want to be, unapologetically, without being held back by the fear of scarring myself again.” You take a deep, shuddering breath. “And I want— I want to do this.”

Slowly, with the awkward tenderness of someone who’s forgotten what it’s like to touch another person, you move towards him, hesitant, and lightly drape your arm over his side, so nervous that you barely touch him. 

He takes a short breath, then his hand reaches up to take yours and gently pulls you closer. Your lungs seize and you fight the urge to pull away. Instead, with a streak of bravery you didn’t know you had in you, you bury your face in his back and tighten your hold, almost clinging to him. His bare skin is warm against you, soft and unburdened, not like yours. His hand stays resolutely over yours. 

You stay like that, fighting with yourself, talking back to the fear in your mind that tells you he’ll take it too far. You know he won’t. You trust that he won’t. You will break the habit of being afraid. You will face the gargantuan monster of your past and insist that you will not become it. 

A lump forms in your throat. Your heart beats hard against your chest, and you think he can probably feel it against his back. He’s warm. He’s holding you and asking you for nothing else. His hand tightens around yours, then relaxes, a silent communication; I am here. It’s been years. Only the sun has been this close to you. Only the sun. You close your eyes and a tear rolls out, and you don’t understand it but you think it’s relief. 

“Don’t need to force your—”

“I’ve been thinking,” you say, voice slightly choked. “About what you said. About not having enough time.” 

“And what have you been thinking?” His words are soft, gentle. 

“I think that that makes this more valuable. We’ll never be here again. We’re just a moment, and then we’re gone.” You press your forehead against his back, closing your eyes. “And that’s comforting, isn’t it? We matter so much that we don’t matter at all.” 

“I don’t want to be a moment. I don’t want to be limited.” 

You smile faintly. “Thomas Shelby will live forever, won’t he?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Maybe I will, too. The horses and you and I. Maybe there’s some kind of forever there.” 

There’s a smile in his voice. “You’re dreaming.”

“Yeah, well, I never got to before.” Your breathing evens out, the lump in your throat begins to dissipate. “This is my first time.”

A few days later, you stare at the open stall in your barn, the weak morning light seeping slowly through the rafters. You cross your arms, then turn and head to your house, pushing the door open and going straight to the phone. 

He picks up almost right away and you smile to yourself. “Hey, you up for an outing?” 

“Where?” 

“I still need to keep my promise to you, and I have an open stall.” In your mind, you’re begging him to say yes. You got used to seeing him daily, to spending your nights with him, and you’re starved of his attention. 

“You want to do that today?” 

“Are you doing anything else?”

He sighs. “Charlie asked for me this morning. Not Grace. For the first time.”

You nod. “Spend time with your son. There’s always tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow morning, then.” 

“I’ll see you then. Bye, Tom.” 

“Goodbye.” 

The rest of the day passes agonizingly slowly, and you sleep badly that night, finding yourself in the hazy half-dream state of sticky thoughts and flashing images. You’re grateful when the morning comes, when you can rise and head out in the brisk air to feed your horses. They’ll get the day off from work, a rare treat for them. You’re almost done with their grain when Tommy’s car rumbles towards you. You nod at him, then continue your work. He steps out of the car and comes towards you, head slightly bowed to avoid the fresh brightness of the morning. You look him over once, noting that he’s back to being constantly impeccably dressed, back to the mask of professionalism. 

“You need help?” 

“No,” you chuckle. “I’ve got it. Thanks, though.” 

He watches you as you walk from stall to stall, dumping the grain into the corner bins, the horses calling to you as you approach. 

When you return, his eyes flick over your face, shadowed by his cap. “You spoil them.” 

“I do.” You walk past him, heading towards the car. “They’re the only thing between me and the world, of course I spoil them.” 

He tsks, following you. “Not the only thing.” 

“No?” You glance back at him as you open the passenger door and slip inside. 

“No.” 

You nod vaguely, something like pride welling up in you. “Good to know.” 

He sits down beside you and starts the car, deftly maneuvering out of the craggy driveway. “Pol wants to meet you.”

You let out a short breath. “How fucked am I?”

A small smile appears on his lips. “Depends on the kind of mood she’s in.”

“I can handle a thousand pound animal, but I assure you, I won’t be able to get a word out when she talks to me.” You shake your head. “At least she’s not a man.”

“It would be a tragedy for you to meet a man.”

You grin and look over at him. “Devastating.” 

The rest of the car ride continues in the same manner. You reach the racetrack with a smile on your lips. You’re closer to the city, and the air leaves a residue on your skin, faint smog in every breeze. After you park, you lead the way inside, keeping your head down and on a swivel, and your attention on everything around you. Tommy follows close behind you, his hands in his coat pockets, shoulders back and head held high. You feel safer with him around, braver, more willing to glance up and acknowledge the people around you.

Under the arching gates, you walk into the general area of the racetrack. On either side of you, standards sit sentinel, completely empty, almost ghostlike in the overcast gray. Tommy pauses for a moment, and you notice him take a deep breath, his hands moving slightly in his pockets, flexing and clenching. 

“What?” You stop, turning to look at him. 

He shakes his head, a small movement. “Last time I was here…” 

“You don’t have to tell me.” You step back to stand by his side. “There’s barely anyone here. We’ll be alright. I’m keeping an eye out, too. You’re not on your own.”

He glances at you, then inclines his head, suggesting you move on. You start walking, and this time, he falls into step with you, side by side. 

You reach the stables. You pull one of the workers aside, and, as quietly as you can, explain who you are. She nods, says she’s heard of you, and goes to retrieve her supervisor to bring some horses out. 

There’s a lull. You glance at Tommy. His eyes wander around the track, catching on the wooden standards, the makeshift bathrooms not far off, then to the entrance of the stables. 

You nudge him with your elbow. “Where’s your mind going?”

“Nowhere good.” He looks down at you, blue eyes searching. “Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why?’” You chuckle. “It matters to me where you’re at. I can tell you’re drifting off somewhere.” 

“I am.” His eyes flick to a few horses, tucked-up waists and gleaming coats, being led towards you. 

“Just… try to be here. With me. Don’t go running off to play with the dead while you still have living to do.” 

He nods, then gestures at the horses. “Let’s take a look.”

There’s a sleek black gelding with a star and four socks, flashy and brave, according to his handlers. He has a bone chip and would require surgery, which you can afford. There’s a bay mare with kind eyes and a blaze, with a deep tissue wound in her stifle, with a daisy-cutter trot and swift, clean legs. You see Tommy’s eyes narrow slightly when a small gray stallion is brought out, pink nose and pale body glistening. He stands with his head and tail up, alert and watchful. He broke his leg, they say, but stayed standing, not so severe as to shoot him on the spot. 

“That one has spirit,” Tommy murmurs as they walk him past. 

“Stallions tend to.” You look up at him, trying to read his expression. “The gelding would be the safer choice. Bone chips are easy.” 

“They’ll shoot him if you don’t take him.” 

You nod vaguely, eyes traveling over the compact white horse, getting an idea of conformation, of sturdiness. Then, your eyes fall on a man at the entrance of the racetrack, and your blood goes cold. You waver on your feet and Tommy looks down at you, confused. You grab his arm to steady yourself.

“We have to go.” Your breath hitches in your throat, your lungs contract, and you pant like a dog. “Please, Tom, we have to go now.”

[songsofadelaide]

The Loneliest Time

cw/tw: Company heir Gojo Satoru x novelist (f) reader, no curses au, there is only one apartment, no use of yn and instead follows my usual naming convention (I use Otome as a placeholder for yn since it means maiden, which pretty much means yn too + the surname Koganei [小金井] which means tiny gold town), mentions of (ex-boyfriend) Ryomen Sukuna x reader, meet ugly, drunken flirting, fluff and smut but no actual sex, falling in love, slice of life, drama, mentions of businesses, crime syndicates and racketeering, codependence and independence— both Gojo and the reader run away from personal baggage and eventually overcome them. ✧ Please kindly see yourself out if you're uncomfortable with fics using placeholder names for the reader. I do not use 'yn' in any of my fics. I still use 'you'/second person pronouns and write with a generic (f) reader in mind. wc: 17.3k

Scraping off the remnants of your earnings from your first book to get yourself that 1LDK in the heart of the city wasn't on your plans, but you were desperate to escape from your hometown… But no matter how alluring the city was, its dangers still existed.

There was a handsome stranger in your new kitchen, helping himself to your newly-bought carton of fresh milk. He insists you are the one trespassing in his cosy little home.

In which the elderly landlady mistakenly offers one (1) vacant unit to you— a down-on-her-luck writer looking for a fresh start— and the infamous, runaway, reluctant heir of the Japanese household name, Six Eyes Enterprises, and all the chaos, falling into love and finding yourselves that ensues thereafter.

— You.

The realisation that the world was messy and imperfect came to you the moment you found out your boyfriend of nearly a decade was an underground kingpin in your shared hometown. His notoriety reached you in the form of a nameless, pretty young woman informing you of your dethronement, stupid as it may have sounded. 

It was clear to you by now that the Sukuna you spoke of wasn't the same one you fell in love with before. Sukuna, who was once kind and sweet, now became abrasive and neglectful and he made up for his change of nature by lavishing you with so many presents that weren't exactly to your taste, but you thanked him nonetheless. 

Everyone urged you to be patient with the man, to wait— He's making a name for himself, making sure he provides you with a future worth looking forward to— Marriage has always been a bigger deal for women rather than men, but you could live without it, though sometimes you daydream a little. What's it like to wear a pretty ring? To have someone come home to you?

And what about you? Weren't you trying to make something out of yourself as well? 

He wasn't there on the day your first book was published and released, but in his place came an ostentatious bouquet of red roses and a simple note of congratulations. Still, the publishing house gushed at the sweet gesture of a busy boyfriend who kept his girlfriend in mind and managed to make time for her by sending her flowers. 

It was Yuuji who brought you to the hospital when you came down with a bad case of food poisoning, your family flocking to your side not long after he contacted them. Sukuna was caught up in some business transaction, but apples and oranges and every other sweet fruit that could fit in a basket were sent to your hospital room later that evening. 

You disliked how much Yuuji looked like his brother in his youth. In your drug-induced delirium, you screamed at the boy to leave you alone because that's all his brother has ever done for the last few years. 

In a perfect world, you most probably would have settled down with him— Sukuna, your long-term boyfriend. Yuuji adored you, too, and he'd have no qualm calling you his older sister for real if you ever did end up with his older brother.

Sukuna was there the day you were discharged. His suit and tie were a gorgeous coal-black and didn't look like something a regular salaryman would don to work. His car was new, too something you haven't seen on him before. He apologised for barely being there for you when you needed him most, chalking it up to the demands of his work. He was surprisingly talkative, too, chattering about how he kept your shared apartment clean and how he'd devote this day to you, to make up for all his shortcomings ever since he took on that job, whatever it was. 

How he managed to sweet-talk his way to your bed? You'll never know for sure. He was all smiles as your elderly neighbours cooed over you like mother hens would their newborn chicks after they heard of your last trip to the hospital. When he kissed you goodbye for the day, the older women gushed at him as well. 

"He'll be a good husband to you, just look at how he cares for you now!"

And you… could only smile at them. No warmth or truth, just pure disdain for him— and for yourself as well, for putting up with it. For tolerating it.

You were certain the love you shared in your youth was genuine, but what about now? Was he tired? Unlikely. Sukuna still came to you for solace and warmth— to feel your softness in his arms, but only on his terms. He always made sure that his gestures were grand and seen by everyone in your shared circle. 

Then it dawned on you— You must have been his front, a good woman to match his image of a law-abiding family man. He loved his grandfather and little brother and he probably loved you, too, but not so much to even consider asking you to marry him. It was clear to you by now that marriage wasn't in his cards, and was he breaking up with you out of pity? You didn't need any of it, though.

The pretty thing expected a struggle, perhaps a bit of hair-pulling, too, but you responded with a sigh and a shrug. "I suppose it's been a long time coming."

Ten years ago, your classmate Sukuna, star of the track and field club and the demon of the third Sugisawa Municipal High School, confessed to you while you were sharing your textbook with him in class. And despite his brashness and popularity, he was a surprisingly kind boyfriend to you. 

But now, all he was is a stranger.  

Despite your family's dissuading, as well as Yuuji beseeching you not to leave Sendai (poor kid's just caught between you and his older brother's breakup), you packed everything you could take from this town and just left. You could have your latest manuscript sent to you or burned to ashes, but at this point, it didn't really matter anymore. There was little your family and local publisher could do now that you've moved to Shibuya, in the heart of the city, your hand throbbing in excitement as the elderly landlady handed you the key to your own place after handling your documents for the apartment— a cosy little 1LDK that cost a bit more than you originally budgeted for, but for your peace of mind? 

Priceless. 

— And the other side of the coin.

There were things Satoru Gojo could easily talk his way through: an officer barring his way down the road, a nightclub bouncer blocking his entry, his personal bodyguard Suguru Geto stopping him from making even more unwise decisions, and even his own mother beseeching him to grow up.  

As a child, he was given nearly everything he asked for like a typical spoiled brat— wild and wily and absolutely cunning, too, for he wasn't above using the facade of a precocious, charming boy to get what he wants. He was once his family's delight, but all he was now is a menace.  

He always seemed to grow older and more charming but never really wiser.  

"What use is all that studying English and arithmetic when we all know for a fact that you can't make any sound decisions?" Suguru, his secretary, all-around attendant, bodyguard and confidant, once scolded him in their youth. "You will have to start making wise ones one of these days."

And his bodyguard was right about that. Satoru was smart— book-smart— but not exactly the wisest. His inability to look beyond his current situations and necessities and his precarious lifestyle were liabilities not just to him, but to the company he was set to inherit. As the sole heir to the Six Eyes Enterprises, he showed up to board meetings when it required his presence and was frequently given a pass for all of his supposedly innocent immaturity. However, the shareholders and board of directors have seen enough.  

"I refuse to put my faith in this… boy," said Yoshinobu Gakuganji, one of the company's biggest movers. "If he refuses to step up to the plate, then I will have to take my business elsewhere."  

This was something Satoru Gojo thought he could easily talk his way through, but he didn't since he couldn't. Surprisingly enough, his parents were on the board's side with this one. Suguru didn't have to speak at all— the look of disdain on his face was clear as day. Still, the latter would never give voice to his disappointment since that was above his pay grade. 

Satoru could get behind the directors talking shit about him, but for them to police his every move, his circle of friends, the way he managed himself and his personal affairs, and then there's that potential arranged marriage with that mad woman, too… What was her name again? Ma… Makima? Whatever. He was partly glad the company didn't have such blind faith in him, because the child in him, whose every whim and demand was granted, would certainly doom the entire enterprise if he so wanted.  

And he wanted nothing more than to crush the damn thing to smithereens.  

On Suguru's day off, Satoru solemnly vowed to remain home that very day, but he left so soundlessly that they would've mistaken it for a kidnapping. Satoru was worth millions, if not trillions, and the kidnappers would have taken everything the manchild could easily access by himself. 

Suguru hadn't an inkling of what his charge planned to do. How could he, after all, when Satoru swore to stay in his sweatpants and out of trouble?  

On the day he vanished from his family home, he left all of his credit and debit cards linked to the company and simply disabled his phone's GPS. He took his personal, unlinked credit card, the one he used to buy his sweets and vices with, and paid an elderly landlady a hefty deposit for a tiny, inconspicuous 1LDK in the heart of the city.

Shibuya, the heart of Tokyo. Satoru paid no mind to the moving boxes lined neatly across the living room, bright eyes ever focused on the trees hiding the visible cityscape. The windows were open, too, a cool afternoon breeze blowing into the space. 

He may miss Suguru, but probably not all of his incessant chidings. 

Oh. There was no sharp interjection after realising he just zoned out. 

Perfect.

— Collide.

The excitement of the move and the exhaustion of handling everything that followed afterwards made you incredibly restless overnight, but you still felt quite rested despite all of that. You were awoken by the gentle sunlight that filtered through the flimsy curtains provided by the elderly landlady. 

You reached for your phone on the makeshift bedside table made up of more boxes containing your belongings. You recall turning it off before going to bed so that you wouldn't jump at every notification you received. When you turned it back on, a wave of pings and pops greeted you, but you were more concerned about the sound of gentle clattering coming from your kitchen. 

Shit. Robbers this early? I thought this place was safe!

One of the many lavish yet useless things your ex-boyfriend bought for you was an unused set of golf clubs. The bag rested on the corner of your still half-empty bedroom and you found yourself slowly tiptoeing to grab one. 

Welp. You felt yourself swallow in anxiety. When you twisted the doorknob open and slowly crept out, you found one tall man standing before your newly-stocked refrigerator. His face was uncovered and he was in… sweatpants? He didn't give you robber vibes at all. 

There was a handsome stranger in your new kitchen, helping himself to your newly-bought carton of fresh milk.

"E-Excuse me?! Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my apartment?!" 

The silver-haired stranger spat out the milk in surprise at your remark. "Excuse you! This is my apartment!"

You squeaked in surprise as he made his approach, but you raised the golf club higher as you were backed into a wall. He raised his arm and cornered you before wrenching the club from your hands.

"You—"

But you mustered your strength and adrenaline on your legs and jumped, the crown of your head hitting him squarely on his chin, just enough for him to black out for a moment, just enough for you to make a run for it. 

"Tengen-san!" You screamed as you made your way down to the apartment's management office, not at all caring for your state of undress. "Help! Th-There's a scary man in my unit!" 

It didn't take long for the three of you to be seated altogether in the office, warm cups of green tea served for you and the tall stranger in his— your apartment a few minutes ago. 

The elderly landlady Tengen had nothing but apologies for both of you. "I understand a real estate agent wouldn't have made such an embarrassing mishap, but I'm used to handling tenants and their documents… Perhaps my age has gotten the better of me."

She presented two copies of the lease to Unit 0041, and both of your seals in red signed off on the agreement. "My sincerest apologies. It seems I leased out the unit to both of you, but upon further inspection…"

Satoru held an ice pack to his reddened chin, the grimace on his face still evident even underneath those dark eyeglasses he now had on. 

"If I may, Gojo Satoru-san," the older woman started. "It appears Koganei Otome-san signed with me first. I can refer you to another place nearby if you would like it."

You were pleased to hear your name come out as the true owner and tenant of the unit, even though you were the first to run out of it in your encounter. The silver-haired man inspected the papers and found you edged him out of signing by just a few hours. You really did come first.

"…Sure, all right. Only because it's the gentlemanly thing to do," he stated. "But you should know that she assaulted me—"

"E-Excuse you! I acted out of self-defence because you looked like you were about to attack me!" You argued right back at him. 

"If I wanted to attack you, I would have thrown the carton of milk at you." 

You couldn't tell for certain, but you felt him narrow his eyes at you. "We could have had a perfectly normal conversation without you backing me into a corner!"

And from across the table with the untouched tea, the elderly Tengen could only sigh amid the bickering. 

Upon Satoru's approval, Tengen worked to find the young man a new home nearby, but he would have to remain with you in the meantime. The two of you returned to the minimal chaos brought about by your un-meet cute.  

"Do you even play golf? You don't look like you have the calves for it," the young man stated as he picked up the wood he dropped earlier. 

"No, I don't," you snippily replied. The needless argument somehow drained the energy out of you that you hadn't even the strength to swipe the club from him. "It was a present from my…"

"Ex-husband?" Satoru interjected. "What a strange gift to give his wife."

"No," you shook your head, admiring the shining piece of metal in your hands. "Just an ex-boyfriend."

"And… you moved here after your breakup? What, did he not want to marry you or something?" 

You pursed your lips. Oh, I don't need to get all emotional. He's just a stranger! "I don't have to explain anything to you." 

"I take it you're about to cry," he went on, his blue eyes meeting your glassy ones. "Please don't."

You bent down and buried your face into your knees, unwilling to show any more to the stranger you shared your space with. You were, however, willing to speak. Seeing as you weren't going to see him ever again…

"I'm a writer from Sendai," you started, voice muffled between your arms. "I'm a nobody here, but Sendai considers me a living treasure for encouraging youths to read through my writing. I might just be some shitty romance novelist here, but I paid for this pad with nearly everything I had."

Satoru sank into the couch where he slept last night, eyeing you in the corner of the living room. 

"I'm just trying to restart here, far away from all of the noise back home, with everyone telling me to settle down, even though I'm ready… But the proposal never came and he didn't even break up with me in person," you groaned. "I suppose I've earned your ridicule, so go ahead and laugh."

"A restart, huh?" He said absentmindedly. "Yeah, I hear you there."

You peeked at him through your messy hair. "And you? You look like you can afford better than this…"

"Ever heard of being inconspicuous?" He told you from across the room. "I know I can afford better, but I didn't wanna risk getting caught."

He swore he saw you flinch on the spot. "No, I'm not a criminal."

A sigh of relief. He almost laughed. This was a situation he could talk his way through. He ran a hand over his nape, thinking of the perfect approach. Girl's obviously been dumped, so let's appeal to her emotions a little.

"I apologise for scaring you earlier. That wasn't my intention," Satoru rose from the couch and bent down before you, his large hand now resting on your head, surprisingly gentle with you. "We signed a lease for this unit for the very same reason, so don't you think we should at least restart our first meeting in a more… amicable manner?"

You slowly raised your head to meet his gaze, a piercing bright blue that made you feel both safe and uneasy. "I guess…" 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, writer-san," he said with a grin. "I am Gojo Satoru, a… runaway of sorts."

Gojo… where did you hear that name before? Ah, well… not that it matters.

"My name is…" You gave him your name through parched lips. "You're free to stay here for as long as you need, but please replace the milk you drank earlier." 

"I'll do that and more, so cheer up," he chuckled. "Does chicken and beer sound good? Let's have some delivered." 

Delightful, you thought. I could use some food after all that's happened. "If you're paying, then by all means."

You only realised now that drinking in the afternoon was fun. That playing hooky in the afternoon was fun. The living room hardly felt empty with all the jokes Satoru made and all the laughter you shared in between. Your coffee table was laden with the best fried chicken in town, cans of chilled Kirin Ichiban, and a delectable strawberry shortcake that all went down in the hatch smoothly and easily, but you were probably just hungry after all of that crying.  

"I am on my fourth beer now, Satoru. You hardly touched yours!"

"It's because I only opened this out of courtesy," he said, gently shaking his half-empty beer can in hand. "You're probably tipsy, now that you mentioned it."

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" You drew away as he reached to pull your— he counted the empty silver cans on your side of the table— fifth can of beer from your hands.

"That's your fifth. Come on, you've obviously lost count," he stated, his slender fingers prying away the nearly empty can from your hands. "If you're tired…"

"I'm… I'm not," you murmured, breath hot from all the alcohol you consumed. The two of you sat closely on the floor, knees brushing against each other without a care about the sudden closeness you shared.

"Are you gonna cry again?" He asked, jokingly at first, but he couldn't help but brush his index finger on your cheek to cheer you up. You contentedly melted into his touch, his palm warm against your even warmer cheek. His thumb grazed over your closed eyelids, dragging away the burning hot tears that pooled in your eyes. 

"You have big hands," you said, holding his wrist in place as though he'd leave. 

"I think it's the other way around. Your face is small," he replied, tempering his grip on you. He had this monstrous tendency to break anything he comes into contact with and he didn't want to hurt you any more than you were now. 

"I should be proud of myself for this, for moving— moving forward," you felt yourself cry yet again. Ah, how embarrassing. But this man has seen nearly everything you could possibly show in a day— your state of undress, the indomitable spirit that brought you all the way from your little hometown to the heart of Tokyo, and all the hurt you carried with you even though you could have just left that behind.

"Why do I feel so sad and pitiful?" 

Satoru didn't speak, only listening to how your voice cracked under the weight of your pathetic self-pitying. He thought you were pretty at first, but why were you crying when you were having such a good time with him? He despised crying while having a good time. The women he usually took out on dates were always shining and fun to be around, no matter how shallow and hollow it may have been. Burying the sadness and self-loathing was easy in the noise his life brought him, but to sit here quietly with someone who wanted to deal with the issues in her life made him feel uneasy. And to think she was about to do all of it by herself.  

He didn't want to sit with someone so sad and miserable because now he felt like he was looking into a cracked mirror, a thousand replicas of his own sadness reflected right back at him. 

"I'm sorry. I know we're having such a good time, but the sadness is just there, sitting in the damn corner and I just want to kick it further." 

"Hear you there," he replied. You only noticed now how broad his shoulders really were with his entire torso facing you.

"What are you running away from?" You asked him, your grip on his wrist slightly tightening. 

"Noise," he chuckled. "So I'd appreciate it if you could be a bit quieter."

"Sorry, sorry. Of course," you whispered, nervously licking your lips before pursing them once more.  

Getting drunk with a stranger was against your good judgement. Hell, opening up to him was against your good judgement, too, but you didn't have to worry about that since he'll be moving away once the landlady finds him a new place. He will be a stranger again in no time. 

Oh, the goodbyes never stop, do they? The tears clung to your lashes, but you managed to wipe them away. "No more crying. For now."

Satoru smiled at you. "Sounds good. Now don't fall asleep here."

"Ah, but I'm st— Oh!" You shrieked in surprise at how easily he lifted you from the floor and slung you over his shoulder like a piece of luggage. "Haha! S-Satoru, please! I—"

Part of you was half-expecting him to throw you on your unmade bed and leave you to sleep, but he laid you down with all the gentleness of a mother cradling her child to sleep. His hand was warm on your back, over the cotton of your clothes, and larger than you initially thought.

"Sleep well, my sweet princess. Rest your weary little heart. I will be outsi—" 

You gently tugged at the sleeve of his sweater before he could completely draw away from you. "Satoru…"

His name left your lips so warmly and tenderly that it made him want to hear it again. It was his name. Satoru. Not ouji-san, not Gojo-san, not baby, not brat. Here was someone who saw him as he was, who wanted him with no pretences, who wanted nothing from him.

"If you can prove to me that you're not as drunk as I think you are…" Satoru had his knee on your bed now, his wide torso looming over you as you sank into your blankets and comforters.

"Did you know that the emperor is the utmost spearhead of the Imperial Family of Japan? Under the Japanese Constitution, Emperor Naruhito is considered a symbol of the Japanese state and the unity of all its people—" 

Satoru laughed— low, hearty and surprisingly sweet. You weren't even able to continue your monologue when he leaned down and kissed you quiet. This was against your good judgement, but the day has been incredibly long and you feel like you've known him for years now. 

There was no leaving the room now that you coiled your arms around his neck. You drew him in every second he pulled away, but you had nothing to worry about. He smiled between your kisses, contentedly drinking in every sound that left your lips until he's had his fill. 

He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, after all.

The morning sun was warm, tickling your eyes open even though you didn't want to wake up yet. Your covers were heavy on top of you, but you moved to reach for the person lying next to you. 

It was Satoru, the morning sun beating over his bare back. He was still soundly asleep, pale lashes fanned out even though his eyes were closed. You gently reached for him, taking a lock of his hair in your fingers. Silver. The strands curled around your finger easily. "Pretty…" 

What time is it? You barely checked your phone after your encounter yesterday and it's completely dead now. On the floor were clothes from yesterday and a few used condoms which Satoru carefully wrapped in tissues. You didn't dare count anymore. 

Strong arms coiled around your waist as you attempted to slowly creep out of bed. Satoru drew you back closer to him, your back softly colliding against his chest. He nuzzled your neck, effectively tickling you breathless. "Come on now… You can't just call a man 'pretty' and expect him not to do anything."

"Sorry, sorry! H-Hey!" You laughed. "Satoru! S-Stop! HAHAHA!" 

He'd usually be in a hurry to leave after trysts and flings, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the warmth of your bed and the feel of your laughter reverberating in his own chest. 

Funny how you were threatening him with a golf club at this same time yesterday.

"Ah, no, please! Let me go for a bit. I-I'm going to the supermarket to buy some stuff," you wheezed at him while gently squirming away from his hold. 

"What, seriously? I wanna go, too!" He stated, rising just as you did. 

"Then let's get a move on!" 

You were used to going to the supermarket on your own, so it was a bit strange having someone following you around. Satoru made himself helpful by carrying the shopping basket for you and reaching for items you couldn't.

"What would you like for lunch?" You asked, not at all turning to him but knowing he was just right behind you. You picked up a bottle of mirin and checked its price. "How about some fish and miso soup?"

"Sounds good!" Satoru replied. You could tell his eyes vanished into his smile even through his dark sunglasses. Every once in a while, he would take your hand in his and beam at you with so much affection that it elicited whispers from the other women in the area. 

Well, he is super good-looking, you thought to yourself. Even in casual wear, the silver-haired man commanded the attention of the room even by just standing impeccably still.

You ran a quick inventory of all the items in your basket before eventually turning to its carrier, satisfied with its contents. "Oh, are you not getting anything for yourself? Like sweets? You should grab some while we're here."

"Ah, well, I wouldn't want to impose…" Satoru said, a little taken aback by your consideration. If it were someone else, they'd just order whatever they wanted without even thinking of me.  

"You know, the cake was the only thing you touched last night," it was your turn to smile at him. "Oh, let's grab some gummy candy or something!"

It was you who took him by the hand this time, leisurely pulling him to the sweets and snacks aisle. "How about some cola gummies? Or fruit gummies?"

On a normal date, Satoru would let the women order whatever they wanted, no holds barred, and many would take the opportunity to try out things they haven't. He was used to that sense of entitlement from other people, but consideration was a rather new concept for him. 

"Fruit gummies would be nice." 

"Let's try these yogurt gummies, too," you stated, happily dumping a few more packs of the said sweets into your shopping basket. When you lined up at the cashier to have your items rung, you were so busy making sure you didn't forget anything that you didn't notice him taking out his wallet from the tiny cross-body bag on his chest. He was already at the supermarket entrance with your groceries in hand.

"Ah, wait! I haven't paid—" You exclaimed, hastily pulling out your own wallet from your purse.

"Your husband paid for your groceries with his card, okyaku-san," the kind cashier stated. 

"H-He's—" You squeaked at their remark, only for Satoru to beckon you to come over, the same Cheshire Cat smile on his face. 

"Let's go home! I'm starving!"

Neither of you paid mind to the shadow that followed your trail because of your preoccupation with planning your meals for the day.

In your old apartment in Sendai, there was a small money box that contained funds for grocery shopping. Sukuna often refilled that box without even looking if you've spent the money beforehand. 

It's been two years since you stopped opening the box because you've only been buying food for yourself. It still sat there along with his other belongings.

You probably didn't notice the twinkle in your eyes while unpacking your groceries from earlier, but you bought food for two people today. 

Well, Satoru paid for it— and without even telling you. "You know I can wire you the money—" 

"Nope, not happening," he interjected, closing the refrigerator door behind him after helping you restock it. "Please, you're letting me stay over at no cost. The least I could do is buy us some food."

"O-Oh," came your response. You didn't really have a rebuttal for that. 

"Mm, all good," Satoru stated with a long-drawn stretch of his arms. "Would it be all right if I take a shower first?" 

"Ah, sure. I'll go after you, then," you replied, running another inventory in your head as you started preparing your brunch. "Let's see, the mackerel, the salt, a bit of mirin… Oh, and the miso and dashi…"

"Orrr… We can conserve water by showering together," he said, placing his hands on the kitchen counter and trapping you between his arms. He leaned down and brushed a warm yet faint kiss on your nape, prompting you to turn back and face him. 

"S-Satoru!" You sputtered, a hand on his chest as you tried to avoid his bright gaze. "P-Please take your bath!" 

"All right, all right," he slowly backed off, but not before brushing another kiss on your burning hot cheek this time. "If you can wait for me, we can prepare lunch together. More hands make work easier, yeah?"

"I-I suppose so…" 

"Great. Then wait for me and I'll wait for you." 

You decided to check your phone and emails while you were waiting for Satoru to finish his shower. Among the many missed calls you received was from Tatara san, your editor from Sendai. What could they want? 

And so you rang them. "Ah, hello, Tatara-san! Yes, it's me…"

"Koganei-san! I'm so glad you got in touch with me. How have you been?"

"I've been well, thank you for your concern." 

"That's good to hear. Listen, I'm not going to beat around the bush anymore because I don't know when I'll get in touch with you again, but it seems the publishing house isn't ready to let you go just yet."

Oh? "Oh. I-Is that so?"

"We're reaching out to some associates in Shibuya who can pick up my work and become your editor. Of course, I would prefer being the one to work with you instead, but I suppose a local editor who can meet with you more often is still the better option."

"I see. Thank you for letting me know about this, Tatara-san. I appreciate it."

"You're a treasure of Sendai, Koganei-san. Many young people have taken an interest in both reading and writing thanks to your influence. Please do keep it up."

"Of course. Thank you for taking care of me and my work as well." 

"Ah, here we are. An associate publishing house will get in touch with you soon, so please make sure you're reachable."

"Yes, certainly." 

Your phone was hot on your cheek despite the short conversation, but you could tell that it was just your elation. It feels good to be wanted.  

You scrolled through the rest of your messages and social media before eventually tossing your phone on your still-unmade bed. "Okay, let's tidy up a bit."

Among the clothes on your bed was Satoru's sweater from last night. It was from a popular high fashion brand and that further strengthened your theory that he must be some kind of trust fund baby. You were halfway through folding the thing when you decided to slip it on, hands trembling as you did so. 

"As I thought, his torso is insanely long," you absentmindedly remarked. Your hands didn't even make it completely through the sleeves yet.

"Well, if you want one in your size, I can—"

"Eep! S-Satoru! I— Th-This isn't what—" You jumped in your spot, startled by his entry to your room. He was clad in nothing but his bath towel, silver hair still dripping with warm water as he stood by the doorframe. 

That insanely long torso was ripped, not that you really noticed it in the dark last night. 

"You look good in that brand," Satoru said as he made his approach. He took your shaking arm in his and smoothed out the sleeve until your hand made it through. He brought your wrist to his lips. 

Ding-dong. "Good afternoon! Delivery!"

The two of you exchanged glances before you managed to tell him, "I didn't order anything, though…"

"Neither did I," he stated. "Wait here. Let me check that."

"H-Hey, at least put a shirt on!"

You were contemplating getting another golf club from your bag as Satoru opened the door. We didn't have anything delivered… Could this be a scam or something? The crashing noise from the living room confirmed your suspicions, so you grabbed the nearest one you could get. "Satoru!" 

The door was wide open, and to your shock, a tall brunette held the half-naked silver-haired man in a headlock. 

"Waka!" The dark-haired stranger exclaimed. "You little shit! What the hell have you been doing?!"

"L-Let him go! Let him go!" You grabbed the man in the suit by his arm and tried to shrug away his grip on your roommate. He eventually relented, Satoru falling on his back as he was unceremoniously dropped.

"Satoru! Are you okay?!" You got to your knees in near tears as you shook him by his bare shoulders. "Satoru!"

"I'm all right, Otome," he said with a sigh. "Took you long enough, Suguru."  

The tall brunette in a neat ponytail grimaced before eventually removing his blazer and dropping it on Satoru. "What? Did you think I wouldn't try everything to find you and your irresponsible ass? Did you think I wouldn't have this city staked out after you ran out on me so many times now?"

"Eugh, it reeks of cigarette smoke," the silver-haired man threw the coat back at Suguru, who then turned his dark gaze to you. 

"Who are you?"

"I-I… Uh…" You raised your hands in defence. "I-I'm just—"

"Ugh, whatever," he slipped on his dark coat as easily as he took it off moments ago. "Surely you're just interested in this guy's money like every other girl he's taken out and paid attention to." 

Your brows furrowed in annoyance at his remark. "Wh—"

"Suguru, I don't appreciate you speaking to her that way," Satoru interjected, finally standing up from the floor. "She's important to me." 

The brunette snorted. "Important? Since when did strangers you picked up become important to you?"

"On the contrary, it was her who took me in."

An unknown ringtone sounded through the living room. It was Suguru's phone. "I have to take this. Please put some damn clothes on." 

You hurriedly removed the oversized sweater you still had on and handed it to Satoru. "H-Here, put this on for the meantime."

"Yes, I found him," you heard the brunette remark from the hallway. "I'll send you the address. Please bring one of his suits… I don't really care which one, just bring it over." 

He had a frown on his face as he took his sweater from your hands. "I'm sorry. I haven't been completely honest with you. I didn't think they'd catch up to me so soon."

"Nanami and Haibara are on their way, so finish your business here," Suguru stated as he entered the unit once more.

"Still, I hope this doesn't colour your opinion of me and our… friendship," the silver-haired man took both your hands in his. "I am Gojo Satoru, heir and future president of the Six Eyes Enterprises."

What? "Eh?" 

"Waka, stop making grand introductions to strangers!" The brunette exclaimed once more. 

"Wait, you're that Gojo Satoru? The only child of the famous supermodel Endou Arisu? Who retired from her life on the runway after marrying into a rich family to raise her son? That Satoru?" You furrowed your brows once more. Why are you telling me this?

Satoru nodded at you. "Sums it up."

"Okay, cool. I don't get why you're telling me this, but if this information falls into the wrong hands, who knows what could happen to you?" 

"What?" He blinked his blue eyes at you as though he was confused. I think he really is.  

"What?" You shot back at him. "You didn't tell me you had an actual job. Let me get lunch done in a jiffy."

"Well, sure. If—" 

"And your, uh…" You trailed off, cautiously looking over at the glaring brunette. "What is he, exactly?" 

"Suguru is my bodyguard, secretary, all-around babysitter… Basically, the guy who keeps me out of trouble." 

"Then he can stay for lunch, too." 

Satoru's pale blue suit was in stark contrast to Suguru's dark set. It was crisp and well-pressed, topped off with a little splash of Versace Eros and paired up with shined mahogany brown dress shoes.

The blue-eyed man sat across you from your dinner table, happily digging into the grilled mackerel you painstakingly cooked under Suguru's watchful glare.

"What's your deal? You even welcomed me for lunch," he started, arms crossed over his broad chest. "If it's a ransom or reward you want—"

"I want nothing from Satoru," you stated plainly, not even looking at him as you placed a piece of steamed broccoli over Satoru's rice. "He's the first… friend I've made here in the city." 

Friend was a strange thing to say, for you weren't entirely sure what you two even were. I mean we did sleep together, but… "And he's obviously unhappy about something in his life if he's running away all the time."

From his left breast pocket, Satoru's phone rang. He checked who was calling before eventually picking it up and excusing himself from the table. 

"What do you do for a living?" The brunette asked all of a sudden. 

"I'm a writer," you replied. "A romance novelist, to be more specific." 

"Well, writer-san, you see that man over there?" He pointed to his charge still happily chattering on his phone. "That man is my job. I pick him up from whatever disaster he gets himself into and make sure it doesn't follow him around."

"Okay?"

"So name your price," he told you. "I know you're no different from them. As soon as they know who he is, everything just clicks and changes."

"You know, what I'd want is for you to stop being an ass," you shot back at him. "I don't care if he's the next Emperor of Japan or what. I want nothing from you, and I definitely don't want anything from Satoru."

Suguru raised an eyebrow at you. "What?"

"So he bought me dinner. He bought groceries, too. But I could have done that without him, too. He did all of that out of goodwill because he was staying with me in the meantime."

"So you're telling me that you want absolutely nothing in return for sheltering him? You've got to be fucking joking with me."

"What I'd like is for you to eat the damn food," you stated before stabbing a piece of the fish with your chopsticks, splitting it in half. "And take your damn assumptions elsewhere." 

Satoru caught you placing the unevenly sliced fish on top of Suguru's still-untouched rice. "Ah, glad to see the two of you getting along."

You could only grin in response to his remark, stuffing your mouth with rice so you didn't have to reply to him. 

"Tengen-san called. She said she found me a place I could move into," he started, taking his seat across from you again. "I said I didn't need it anymore."

You nearly choked at his statement, coughing up a bit of the rice and fish you just ate. "What?!"

"I'm going home, after all."

"Oh, I see…" came your flat response. Alone again, then? I suppose that's fine.

"But I'm personally asking my family if I can move out—"

"No. Absolutely not," Suguru interrupted. "Waka, may I just remind you of your oblig—"

"All right, all right, I won't move out, then. Geez," Satoru replied, reaching for the fish his guardian hardly touched, but only for his hand to be swatted away. "Ow!"

"If it's a little escape you want, then we can arrange that," the brunette stated, finally taking the bowl and chopsticks in his hands. "Your new friend here would be happy to accommodate you, right?" 

Oh. "I-If Satoru needs a place to crash, then he can definitely stay as much as he wants." 

Satoru caught the twinkle in your eye. Adorable.  

"Good. Stay in one place so you're easy to look for, waka," Suguru started. "We'll cover your expenses—"

"I said I didn't need help with that," you interjected. 

"Apologies, but we can't just dump waka's insatiable appetite on an outsider. If you truly consider him a friend, you'll let us handle at least that." 

"Mm, he's right about that, Otome," Satoru smiled at you. "I insist."

"Only if you're staying, then," you said with a small sigh of defeat. 

Before he could leave and close the door behind him, Satoru hurriedly pulled you in for a hug. "I'd probably stay forever if I could, so don't get tired of me yet."

"Do you always do that?" Asked the man in the black suit as he opened the car door for his charge. "Hug your flings goodbye."

"If she's just a fling, then I'm definitely not seeing her again," Satoru chuckled as he sat comfortably in the backseat of the grey sedan Suguru brought with him. "But I…" 

He brought a thoughtful hand to his chin as he concluded, "I think I like her." 

"That'll be the day," the brunette buckled himself up in the driver's seat. 

"So what's the situation? Is it something so urgent that you had to put Nanamin and Haibara-kun to work in tracking me down?"

"The president wants you to look into this," Suguru handed his charge an unlocked tablet with a number of spreadsheets open. "There have been some anomalous numbers in certain cities."

"Natori, Hitachi, Iwaki… they're all coastal cities," Satoru stated as his hand glided through the tablet screen. "And the old farts certainly had something to say about this?"

"They know nothing about it yet. Which is why the president thought it'd be prudent to let you handle it."

"What, like some kind of redemption arc?" The silver-haired man chuckled as he locked the tablet screen. "If this will keep them off my case, then I suppose I can look into it. Let's get Yaga-san and Ijichi onboard." 

"Will do, boss," Suguru chuckled as well, finally driving off. 

"Ah, Shoko! It's me," Satoru spoke into his phone with his easily recognisable cheer. "Do me a favour, would you please?"

For a writer, it's always the lack of inspiration that kills momentum. It's either you're writing endlessly or not writing at all, and the in-between is the most painful part, for there's a world you want to bring to life, but you don't have the right words for it.

So instead of agonising over your lack of inspiration, you decided to spend most of the day unpacking the rest of your things and cleaning the apartment. It was oddly cathartic placing everything in its rightful spot— framed photos of you and your family, a potted plant from one of your co-writers in Sendai, an incense burner from Tatara-san, and your laptop on your desk just overlooking the hidden skyline. Every once in a while, you would scribble a few words into your blank manuscript before starting another task, your frustration serving as fuel to get things done. 

In the midst of your afternoon writing blitz, which was mostly just a lot of sighing and crumpling, and your third coffee, your doorbell rang.

"I'm back!" 

And you could hardly hold yourself up when Satoru happily crashed into your arms. Slung on his shoulder was a duffel bag full of his personal belongings and articles. 

"O-Oh! Welcome home!" You raised your arms to embrace him back. "I, um, made some space for your things in the bedroom, so…" 

"Thank you," he managed a small smile. "And thanks for earlier."

"I'll take that as thanks for lunch and the other thing," you said with a chuckle before eventually releasing him. 

"I suppose I owe you an apology as well for roping you into my business," he replied, fishing out something from the pocket of his pale blue pantsuit. It was a baby pink velvet jewellery box, and inside it was a simple silver string of diamonds he carefully strapped on your dominant wrist. 

"Oh…" Came the faintest reaction from your lips. The bracelet was absolutely gorgeous, the kind worn by beautiful celebrities on Lookbook and Stargram. "Wait, a-are you sure about this? Giving me something so…"

"I had a friend choose this for me. I'm sorry if it doesn't suit your sensibilities."

"N-No! I didn't mean to sound so ungrateful!" You raised your hands in defence. "It's… very pretty." 

Very pretty was the best you could think of, with the writer's block still thrumming in your head. You knew it was a gesture of thanks rather than affection, but it was still unnecessary. 

"I'll be in your care, for now, wifey," Satoru said with a laugh. "Likewise, don't hesitate to ask me for anything." 

"You know I'll never ask for anything," you shook your head at him. "Though I'd appreciate it if you can tell me beforehand that you're coming over. Or not."

"Why don't we exchange contact details, then?" 

"Sure, okay," you nodded this time. "For dinner, I'm thinking of something light, like egg rolls and more steamed vegetables. You okay with that?" 

"I will have whatever it is you want to cook," he told you with such a tender smile before leaning down to brush a kiss on your temple. "So knock yourself out."

You enjoyed Satoru's company more than you let on. You'd expect rich men like him to have short attention spans, but he was surprisingly attentive. He tried to help with the housework, too, to the best of his abilities, but all he could do was shadow you as you prepared your dinner, handing you whatever it was you needed. 

Speaking out your mind to him and expecting him to do so in kind was all natural between you two. It might have been the sadness, but you appreciated his presence nonetheless. 

You sat across each other once more today, Satoru in more comfortable clothes again after playing the businessman today. 

"How was work today?" You asked as you helped yourself to a serving of steamed vegetables, placing a piece of broccoli on the man's rice before he could forget.

"It was all right. Suguru and I will be looking into some discrepancies reported to the president before the rest of the board can sink their teeth into it. We have to work on a tight deadline, though, and I want to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible before we're accused of manipulating sales."

He was a bit startled by your perplexed expression. "What?"

"Did no one notice you gone for the last few days?"

He shook his head. "Suguru knows the drill when I, quote on quote, go missing all of a sudden."

"So did you rent an apartment with full knowledge that you might be found anyway?"

"I always hope I'm never found again," he said with a small laugh. "But for some reason, I'm glad you stumbled upon me." 

You lowered your eyes to avoid his gaze, obviously embarrassed by his bold declaration. He followed up with a question for you. "And you? How was your day?"

"Oh, same same. Answered some emails, wrote and rewrote some stuff, spoke to my new editor, talked about some deadlines… Things really do go fast here in the city, huh?" 

"Hear you there," he nodded, stuffing his face with the egg rolls he helped prepare earlier. 

"Eat your vegetables, Satoru." 

"Yes, boss," he chuckled, helping himself to some steamed marble potatoes this time. "You only added salt to these, right?"

"Mm, yeah. No added flavours, just all-natural goodness."

"It's actually been a while since I had a home-cooked meal. It's always either dine-in or take-out for me, but…"

He spoke about the posh restaurants he's been to, his circle of friends which is composed mostly of the people tasked with looking after him, and his part-time stint as a baseball coach for a local high school where he has to use an alias to conceal his identity. You adored his candid anecdotes and stupid jokes in between his tales and even found yourself slightly kicking him underneath the table because of your own uncontrollable laughter.

"Satoru, I have a confession to make," you started, sitting up ever so slightly. "There's a void you're currently filling."

"Oh?" Came Satoru's curious reply, no hint of hurt, but only intrigue. It didn't take long for him to start wiggling his eyebrows at you. "I'm happy to fill whatever void that is, and any other holes that need filling, too." 

You buried your burning face in your hands at his statement. "S-Satoru! Oh my gosh!" 

He eased you out of the kitchen when you attempted to wash the dishes, insisting he can do things by himself, too. By the time you were done with your shower that evening, he was bringing out the blankets he brought with him from his house earlier. 

"What are you doing?" You asked as you ran a towel through your hair. 

"I'm bunking here in the living room."

"But you can sleep with me in the bedroom, though."

"Really? I thought last night was a… One-time thing." 

"I think I need another warm body in bed, but only if you're up for it," you told him, leaving your door ajar. It didn't even take him a minute to change his mind. You raised the covers to let him in and he contentedly sank right next to you, long arms coiling around you and drawing you close. Warm. "There's still some more I want to confess to you." 

"Hmm?" He murmured, his voice thrumming in his throat. Warm.  

"I meant every word I said earlier… when I called you my friend. I'm glad you consider me such…" 

"Can I make a confession, too?" 

You nodded. 

"Thank you for treating me with so much… decency, I suppose. Suguru must have spoken of the women, right? I dislike the playboy image I've been painted with over the years. I don't always have sex with them and I don't have sex with all of them. Some are rather happy to get a pricey thing or two from me, then they'll just leave me alone like I'm some kind of means to an end."

"Oh…"

You felt him hold you closer, as though you'd vanish into thin air all of a sudden. 

"Disgusting, I know."

"I don't think you're disgusting, Satoru," you raised your hands to cup his face. Warm. "Some women will really put themselves out there if they want to, and I don't judge them for that, either. I'm a woman, too. Just so happens that I don't really like depending on men when I want something." 

Satoru fell quiet, but he didn't feel the need to fill the silence with anything at all. He felt completely at ease. Safe. Here was someone who saw him as he was, who wanted him with no pretences, who wanted nothing from him.

"I will never ask you for anything," you whispered, just enough for him to hear. He finally smiled again. "I just want you around. Always, if possible." 

"And have me, you will."

You contemplated leaving the conversation there. Another incredibly long day has passed and you were once more in the arms of a man who adored you. Let's forget about the fact that I've only known him for a few days… But something bothered you, and it bothered you so much that you couldn't just sleep things off.  

"What about sex with me? Was it… pleasant for you?" 

Silver lashes fluttered open again, his lips curling to a small smile. "Absolutely pleasant."

"Would you like to… do it again?"

"Only if you want to, sweet thing," he cupped your cheek this time, pressing his lips to your brow.

"I'm probably just like everyone else who wants something from you, but you've filled the gaps in my life so… so easily. But you're so warm and shaped so differently and I…" Your voice cracked once more at the weight of your guilt. After all, what you wanted from Satoru at that moment was worth more than—

"Like what I said earlier, I'd be happy to fill that void for you until you're bent and shaped to my size," Satoru slowly sat up, prompting you to follow suit. He held you by the wrist and led your movements without breaking eye contact with you. 

I guess nothing can stop me from falling further and further into this, you thought as he hoisted you onto his lap, his strong hands sinking into your skin almost needily. His affection for you was certainly intoxicating.

"Let me love you, all right?" He murmured against your cheek, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your lips. Warm. Maddening. "Until I'm the one you're looking for. Until you're completely mine." 

You could get behind that train of thought, but he made it hard to think with his lips on yours, coaxing them open to let him in. Oh, his hands were hot. Or was it you? Satoru's hands snaked under your shirt, gently pawing at the flesh he gained access to.

"Hng… Ah… Y-Yes, p-please—" You whimpered against him, jolting upward as you felt his fingers dip into the fiery moistness between your legs. "Ooh…"

Your voice cracked in utter shamelessness this time, but it sounded ever honey-sweet to him. 

"Satoru…"

He licked his lips, curling to another wicked grin. "Yes, say my name. Say it like it's the only thing you know."

— It was love.

Sukuna had no idea why his little brother was so mad at him. It only dawned on him when he came home to your empty apartment after spending most of his week in Hitachi.

Yuuji became the light of his world ever since their parents died when they were younger— too young for his little brother to even recall them, but they honoured their memory by sticking together through thick and thin. After being passed on from relative to relative, the pair of brothers was eventually raised by their paternal grandfather with all the love and care an ailing old man would give to his grandsons. They didn't have much, but they had each other.

And for Sukuna, that was enough.  

Though he barely had the time to be a kid since he had to be an older brother to Yuuji foremost, he held no grudges and made the younger boy swear to him— tell me anything, everything that's bothering you. Big brother will always have time for you.  

Yuuji grew up into a good and honest kid and was insanely proud of his big brother's resourcefulness. With nothing to live on but their grandfather's pension, the older brother had to step up and make sure they'll never go hungry. 

Sukuna relied on his own resourcefulness to get himself through high school without starving. It was a slow boil of eating half a breakfast and trying to survive the rest of the day with snacks handed to him by his friends. He took odd jobs like doing deliveries and waiting tables— heck, he even modelled for a magazine once when the rough and rugged rockstar look was all the rage— all so he could put food on the table for his little brother. 

He managed all of that in high school and even ended up the star athlete of the track and field club. He enjoyed the prestige that came with his smarts and skills and his popularity grew to the point where he was never lacking in friends.

No wonder Yuuji was insanely proud. 

When Sukuna was 17, five-year-old Yuuji was nearly killed in an accident involving a certain trucking and transport company. While the truck managed to swerve and avoid running him over, the whiplash and stray debris injured him to the point where he needed a lifesaving operation. 

And Sukuna would sell his soul to the devil if it meant saving his little brother's life. 

When the trucking business owner Jogo heard of the big brother's desperation, he agreed to pay for Yuuji's medical expenses in full in exchange for Sukuna's full cooperation. 

"You'll be working for me now, street rat," said the old man, who dressed like your regular driver but smelled of expensive cigars. "I'll let you finish high school, but forget about college. Learning from me will cost ya, kid, so you better put yer back into this." 

Sickening, Sukuna thought. But there was no way out of it now.  

After striking that deal with the shady businessman, he found one of his classmates speaking to his grandfather outside their home. 

"…sei and everyone else are worried about Itadori-kun, so… Oh, hello."  

"…?"

"I'm, ah…" The girl, still in her uniform, gave the boy a short bow before handing him a paper bag full of handouts from class. You gave him your name in hopes he might remember. "I'm your seatmate, Itadori-kun. We heard about your little brother from our sensei. We're all hoping he recovers soon."

"Thank you…"  

"Anyway, I just stopped by to drop the handouts sensei collated for you. I hope your little brother gets well soon. A lot of people are waiting for you to return to school. Goodbye!"

By the time you were out of view, the old man whacked his grandson by the arm with his day-old newspaper. "Why didn't you ask her to come in?"

"Ow! Ji-san!"

"I'm sure Jin never would've wanted you to grow up so soon, but you're practically an adult now. You even negotiated Yuuji's medical bills on your own," Wasuke stated. "But you have to live for yourself, too, child."

Live for yourself, huh? Easier said than done. "I'm living the best I can, ji-san."

"Relationships are the most important thing in the world, Sukuna. Yuuji will love you and be eternally grateful for what you've done for him, that's already a given," the old man sighed. "All the money in the world can win you prestige and popularity, but you'll see who's real and who's not in your life when you have nothing to give. People will vanish, but there are those who want you around for who you are, not for what you can give. That is priceless."  

Now that he's mentioned it, none of his friends got in touch or checked up on him after they heard about the accident earlier in the week. 

"You can stay at home and rest for now. I'll look after Yuuji," Wasuke walked past the boy, a handbag with a few clothes in hand. Sukuna held his grandfather by the arm. 

"I can't ask you to do that, ji-san."  

"I don't recall answering to you, Sukuna. Go get some rest and get ready for school tomorrow."

Rest eluded him, though. Sukuna could hardly think of anything else but his little brother— nii-chan, I'll be okay, I promise! 

He dropped the paper bag carelessly, accidentally spilling its contents on his floor. Among the worksheets was the plastic packaging of something…

It was a tortoise melonpan.

There was a lilac note stuck to it, too.

I know you're taking care of your family, Itadori-kun, but don't forget to take care of yourself too. Do your best! ⭐️  

Ah, his head hurt just thinking about things, but when he realised he was running on adrenaline the whole day, he tore through the packaging and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth without a care.

That was his first meal of the day. 

Fuck, he thought, chewing through the bread in tears. I'm so tired of being dirt-poor.

Sukuna showed up to school a few days later, feet still hot off his new "job" with the old man Jogo. He had a driving licence now even though he was still months from turning 18. Jogo must have pulled some strings to obtain that counterfeit. 

He was tired.  

He fell asleep in classes and slept through the lunch break, his stomach as empty as his head at the moment. When his friends came over to see him, they weren't at all sympathetic to his situation and even called him a wet blanket for all the gloom he brought to school. 

Another tortoise melonpan was on his desk when he woke up a few minutes before the end of lunchtime, another lilac note attached to it. You weren't in your seat, but he found the same sticky notepad on your desk. 

Have something to eat. Do your best! ⭐️ 

Good gods, I am trying, he thought to himself as he groaned inwardly and literally. How many more hours 'til this day ends?

"Itadori-kun, sensei is calling you," you nudged your seatmate awake and extended your English studies book to him. "I can share my textbook with you if you left yours at home…"

"Otome-san, I like you. Go out with me."

"Wh-What?" You squeaked, a mix of confusion and embarrassment painting your face. Why was he confessing to you?!

"Pretty sure you heard that," he grinned, or at least he managed to. "I don't have much, but I'll be good to you. I swear I'll be…"

He swerved and fell off his seat unconscious, startling you and the rest of the class. His hunger has reached breaking point and this was it.

"I-Itadori-kun?! Sukuna!"

"Sukuna…" 

It was faint as a whisper, but Satoru heard it escape your lips unsanctioned. Even as you slept soundly beside him, the subconscious you wept for a time that has passed, for a person— only god knows— who was once part of your waking world and everything in between. 

Satoru brushed a cold knuckle to wipe away the burning hot tear that ran down your cheek. "Must be a pretty deep void, huh?" 

— Daylight.  

The morning sun was warm on your back, the rays like wings you had no idea how to fold. You curled inward, gathering your blankets into your arms in hopes they might embrace you back. 

And then you felt it— as quick as a butterfly beating its wings yet as soft as a little breeze— the warmest yet faintest kiss on your knotted forehead. 

"Good morning. Go ahead and sleep in," Satoru's familiar voice murmured directly in your ear. He gently pulled the remaining covers from his side of the bed and placed them over your bent figure. When you came to, he was already half-dressed for the day, in another one of his impeccably pressed suits. 

"Where're you goin'?…" 

"Duty calls," he replied with a chuckle. "Suguru said we're making a trip to the coast since there's been a breakthrough in our investigation." 

"The coast, huh?" 

"We'll probably be out late, but don't worry," he sat down on the edge of your bed, slender fingers reaching over to cup your face. "I'll be home, I promise."

You sank into his touch and sighed as though you were defeated. Satoru brushed another kiss on your temple, with no hint of hesitation as he continued his show of affection. You grasped his wrist as he slowly pulled away. 

"Can I come with you?" 

There was an odd twinkle in his bright blue eyes as he caught your question. "You… want to come with me?"

"Only if I can," you managed to smile at him. "Though I doubt Geto-san would let me. Where exactly on the coast are you heading?" 

"Natori."

"Oh, it's so close to my hometown," you replied, slowly sitting up from your position. 

"Yeah, that's where the whistleblower's based," said Satoru. "I can make arrangements if you want to come with me, but I'm assuming you actually wanna catch a train to Sendai." 

"If at all possible," you reiterated. "Hmm… I don't think I'm homesick at all, but why do I have this feeling that the coast is calling me?" 

"Better answer it, then," he smiled at you. "And don't worry about Suguru. Just call in all the favours you want."

"I don't want Geto-san to dislike me more than he already does…"

Satoru would grant your every wish if he could since he was hardwired to do so, but taking advantage of that surprisingly pure heart of his would make you no different from the women who asked him for pretty and expensive things. 

"Trust me when I say he's already warmed up to the idea of you, Otome." 

But the scowl on the tall brunette's face when he saw you all dressed up next to Satoru was hardly an image of warming up to you. 

"This ain't a field trip. What are you even planning to do in Sendai?" 

"I-I know, I know. I promise you I'll stay out of the way of your business," you raised your hands in defence. "Sendai is my hometown. I think I'll pay a visit to my family and publisher while I'm there. You won't hear a peep from me."

Suguru narrowed his dark gaze at you before eventually letting out a sigh of defeat. "Ugh. Fine. It's not like Satoru here will agree to leave you now that you're here and all."

"Th-Thank you, Geto-san! I promise I'll steer clear of your business," you happily bowed before the man in the dark suit, only for him to smirk at you. 

"Whatever, kid. Now come on, we're losing daylight. The drive's hours long and Nanami has been waiting for us since yesterday."

"Oh, you're driving? But we can take the Shinkansen if you're pressed for time. We'd get there in two hours tops," you raised a peace sign at Suguru, only for him to glare at you even more. "Whoops! There goes steering clear from your business!" 

"No, on second thought, our supposed grand arrival might scare away the whistleblower," the brunette stated, a thoughtful hand on his chin. "Nanami brought his car anyway, so the train's actually a good option."

"From here, we can ride the subway in Omotesando to get to Tokyo Station. Once we're moving, you'll both get off at the Joban Line to get to Natori, then I'll—" you started, only to be cut off by Suguru's ringing mobile phone. 

"It's Nanami," he said, checking the caller ID. "Hello, Nanami?… Yeah, we're on our way. We might take the train since— He what?!"

The sudden angry rise in his voice made you jump. 

"All right, I got it. Just… Hold onto that guy, no matter what. We'll handle things when we get there."

"What's the matter?" Satoru asked. The brunette turned in his direction as he slipped his phone back into his pant pocket. 

"The whistleblower nearly made a run for it. Apparently, he wants to bring us to one of his conspirators, the one earning the most from their racketeering, their boss's pet or something," Suguru stated, the edge in his voice gone, with only traces of exhaustion left. "Change of plans, kid. We're going to Sendai with you. That's where their base of operations is."

"I see. You know, Geto-san, if there's anything I can do to assist you, I—"

"We're gonna have to part ways the moment we get there," the brunette stated, cutting you off again. "We're dealing with a possible crime syndicate here. We can't guarantee your safety if you stay with us."

You pursed your lips and solemnly nodded at the truth he spoke. "Yes, of course. We'll part ways in Aoba, then. If I finish my business early, I suppose I'll see you both back here in Tokyo."

"A sound idea," said Satoru as he took your hand. "Well, Suguru? We're losing daylight, aren't we? Let's get walking."

It took every ounce of Suguru's patience not to react to everything Satoru did as you all made your way to Sendai, such as ordering every kind of ekiben the train had, having two beers halfway through the trip and constantly getting up to go to the toilet. 

"Driving would have taken longer, but at least that man's just strapped in on his seat," the brunette sighed once more as his charge headed to the toilet for the third time. 

"Is he always like that?" You asked the man seated across you. "Babyish."

"With me… and everyone else tasked to look after him? Always," Suguru replied, taking a sip of his canned black coffee. "But you'd mistake him for another man when he's with his flings." 

"Yeah, Satoru's mentioned that."

"Come to think of it, you're the only one I've seen twice," he went on. "Satoru's usually in a hurry to leave his flings like he's gonna get caught at a crime scene. How he is now kind of scares me." 

"Why does it scare you?"

"Because Satoru doesn't care about a thing in the world. He doesn't care about the company or his inheritance. His family can never disown him because he's their only son, so he capitalises on that and does whatever he wants. And the women he gets involved with… They don't really care as much, either. They all know they can never fit in his world, so they'll settle for a night or a pretty trinket. Him suddenly caring for someone is new to me."

"I'm pretty sure Satoru cares for you, Geto-san," you managed a smile as you held your canned milk coffee. The two of you sat in silence before you eventually spoke up again. "I don't really care if I don't fit in his world, either. All I know is I want him in mine."

"His world won't be ready for someone like you," Suguru chuckled. "You are something else entirely."

"Hey, what did I miss?" Satoru suddenly popped up from behind you, prompting Suguru to narrow his gaze at his charge once more. 

"Sit your ass back down here, you no-good prince!" 

The thought of coming home only after moving out a few days ago was funny. When you messaged your mother that you would be coming home to see her and everyone else at home, you'd expect an angry reply from her or possibly a joke about being homesick.

But when she replied telling you not to go to the old apartment you shared with your ex-boyfriend because some strange men had it staked out, you figured that something was up.  

It was your editor Tatara-san who came to the station to welcome you back to your hometown. The publishing house was happy to see you doing well even though it had only been a few days since you last came to say your farewells. 

"If you don't mind me asking, Otome-san, who were those two men you were with earlier? They don't look like tourists," your editor asked as they served you some tea. 

"Friends I made in the city. They have some business to attend to here."

"I see. You don't suppose they're involved in that scandal with the local Six Eyes office, do you?" 

Your curiosity was piqued now because the pair was certainly there to address something. What it was, you really didn't know. You couldn't ignore that awful, gnawing feeling you felt in your chest now. "What scandal?" 

The tall blonde in a sleek beige suit handed his young master a tablet containing even more spreadsheets and numbers ranging from millions. Satoru did away with his long coat now, blue eyes running over the screen as he scrolled through pages, graphs and charts of data. 

"So… These thugs take our products, force the regional head to alter the price market, then have those shipped overseas for even crazier prices, huh?" 

"That about sums it up, waka," Nanami stated, tossing the other man's coat in the back of his grey sedan. 

The trio of suits and the finely-dressed whistleblower were in an unmarked location near the Port of Sendai, an inconspicuous lot the whistleblower led them to in a frantic hope that he'll be redeemed for the crimes he partook in. 

"Tell Ijichi I won't be accepting his resignation. He did nothing wrong," Satoru stated. 

"All right," the blonde nodded his ascent. He and Suguru remained unfazed as their young master uncharacteristically grabbed the blue-haired whistleblower by his collar.

"What did you say your name was again?" The silver-haired man started, his grip on the other man's collar slowly evolving into a chokehold. 

"M… Mahito…" Came the whistleblower's strained reply. 

"And how long has this been going on, Mahito? How long have you been threatening my man to do your bidding?" 

"Ghh… I-If you want to k-know who's running the show, I can lead you to him!" 

Mahito paled by the moment, and he gripped Satoru's rigid arm in a bid to free himself from the other man's hold, only for him to be unceremoniously dropped to the ground. 

Suguru lit another cigarette as he continued observing their surroundings. 

"You know, Mahito, there's a reason why we aren't getting the police involved here, though we're technically dealing with a theft now. Your little outfit here has stolen goods worth around 500 million Yen from our company for the last two years. Now that we've caught wind of it, you came to us looking for a way to save yourself, right? As though everything's as simple as washing your hands from the crime. You can look for your salvation all you want, but one thing is for certain," Satoru stated with a wicked grin. "I am your god now, and right now, you're going to do exactly as I say."

— Leave as though fire burns under your feet.

The panic that set off in your heart gave no space for common sense to prevail. You ran to your old apartment as fast as your feet could take you, only for you to crash into an equally distressed Yuuji, the boy in tears as he scrambled back on his feet. 

"Otome-nee! It's nii-chan! He's—!"

"Yuuji-kun, c-calm down!" You held the boy by his shaking shoulders, anchoring him to you. "Can you tell me from the start what happened?"

Yuuji nodded, though not at all calmed down by the presence of an adult he knew could help him."…Someone from my class called my brother a thief. They said nii-chan's been involved with some shady business for a long time now…"

What?

"Our house, my tuition, the money we buy food with… they said it's all stolen money! Of course, I didn't believe them because I know how hard nii-chan has been working! He even told me he planned on proposing to you soon!"

"Where is Sukuna now?" 

"I… I don't know! He hasn't been answering my calls! I was so angry with him for not doing anything about you leaving town, but now there's all this… stuff about him being a thief! I…" 

"Don't cry, Yuuji-kun. Let's… Let's go to our place together, all right? Only your brother can answer those questions for you, but I…"

No. All the pieces fit so strangely. I don't want to believe it, but…

When you and Yuuji arrived at your old apartment, you weren't completely surprised to find Satoru and Suguru already there, along with a number of men in suits you didn't anticipate at all. Their presence now confirms your suspicions, though you didn't want to believe it at first. 

"Otome?! What are you doing here? Suguru said you—" Satoru tried to block your path to the apartment, only for you to hold his arm down. The lack of verve didn't go unnoticed by him.

"I know the man who lives there. The man you're looking for," you looked up at him with shining eyes once more. "He's… He's my…"

The words you wanted to say remained unspoken, but Satoru understood enough. "Otome, that man is party to a crime— a theft worth millions. We'd appreciate it if you can coax him out here. We really don't want the cops to get involved."

You nodded at him, taking a deep breath before eventually banging on the locked door. "Sukuna, it's me! Yuuji-kun is here, too! If… If you're going to feel sorry for yourself, you should at least apologise to your brother!"

Suguru disposed of his cigarette with a flick of his finger. "Damn. What a small world we live in, huh? You don't suppose she's an accomplice here as well, do you?"

"I don't think so, Suguru," the silver-haired man shook his head. "Otome left Sendai after some chick told her to get lost because she was that asshole's main woman now. Turns out that woman was just bluffing. When she was refused the second time around, that's when word got out about his job. He never even found out about Otome leaving until now."

Their heads whipped up when they heard the doorknob click open, only for you to be hastily pulled into the unit with the door quickly bolted shut behind you. From inside your shared apartment, you could hear Satoru's aggravated shouts as he banged on the door even louder than you did moments ago. "Otome!" 

"Sato—" You tried to run back, only for you to be held back. You swiped your hands away from Sukuna's hold, not at all surprised by his lack of strength. "I didn't want it to be true at all, but when I heard from Tatara-san that you were… I… Didn't you even think of Yuuji-kun?"

The sheer exhaustion he felt manifested itself on his face as you looked up at him. "Sukuna…"

"The job was a downward spiral. I knew that from the start," he stated. "When I first started out, that old man Jogo called me a street rat who had to work for everything he spent on when Yuuji got into that accident. And in everything I did, I made sure I did right. He said I had potential. He put me in charge of everything here, and that became my ball and chain."

You didn't pull away when he reached for your hand again. 

"I know that telling you now that all I did was for you and Yuuji… doesn't really matter now because everything has gone to shit. And now Yuuji's being ostracised at school because word got out that I'm a racketeer… I can't even face him! I just wanted to…" 

You were unexpectedly pulled with him as he broke down in tears on the floor. 

"I just wanted to give you the world…"

"Sukuna… I never expected you to give me the world. All I wanted was for you to be in mine… But ever since that… job of yours, you…" And your tears, hot and unbidden, came falling down as well. "You were rarely there. For me. For Yuuji-kun. When Wasuke-san passed away, you had to leave as soon as the ceremony for him was over. And where were you when Yuuji-kun was about to enter high school? It was just us two back then and you promised to show up for him, but you…"

The rest of your muddled thoughts were drowned out by the sound of his sobs. 

"Sukuna, I didn't need someone to give me everything, I just wanted someone to come home to. Someone who will come home to me."

File: RikuganKigyo_Sendai_Market_Case_File.docx The issue surrounding the anomalous market numbers in the coastal cities of Natori, Hitachi and Iwaki has been resolved by the following members: Gojo Satoru, partner and family shareholder  Geto Suguru and company Nanami Kento Haibara Yu The enterprise did not want any police involvement with the issue surrounding the three coastal cities since it meant having to open the case to the media as well. The stockholders suspected of assisting in this market manipulation turned out to be innocent as well. The discrepancies were all the work of a smart underground syndicate. 

"Writing a report, I see," you placed a cup of freshly brewed green tea on the dining room table where Satoru had set up his makeshift office. He raised his arms, stretched his legs and let out an unsightly yawn before eventually coiling his arms around your waist and nuzzling your chest. You threaded your fingers through his hair as he took a short break from his document. "You know, I'm surprised Geto-san allowed you back here with me." 

"Yeah, he didn't like the string of coincidences and had your background checked without your consent. But you cooperated with our internal investigation and even turned over all the gifts your ex-boyfriend gave you for consolidation." 

"If only I knew sooner, though…" You sighed.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You've done plenty. Just the fact that you managed to take the fight out of the man was a feat in itself," Satoru stated as he eventually let you go. "I'm glad we managed to keep the damage to a minimum. The shareholders don't know about all of this, but we're gonna have to come clean with it eventually."

"But I thought you didn't want the media all over this issue," you replied, taking a seat across from him. 

"That's why we're presenting the thing as a whole, no loopholes for them to poke their fingers into, all the crannies plugged. Basically, we're going to tell them all about the problem and how we resolved it without their intervention. It's probably a bad move, too, but if word of this ever got out to the media, the people would lose faith in the company. They'd say the Six Eyes allowed a local small-time outfit to heist away millions." 

You held your own cup of tea in your hands. "I see. You've really thought this out well, huh?"

"Suguru helped out a lot, too," he stated. You could hear him press the backspace key of his keyboard numerous times. "Apparently my old man's been wanting to retire for quite some time now. He figured that issue in the coastal cities would be a great springboard for me and my reputation. Now that it's been settled, he has no choice but to officially name me his heir." 

"So you'll be president soon, then?"

"Pretty much," he nodded. "I told him to call off that stupid arranged marriage, though."

"Wh-What? W-Were you actually engaged to someone?!"

"I wouldn't call it an engagement," he thoughtfully looked up. "They just wanted my gallivanting to stop. Not that an engagement would have helped at all…"

"I see…"

"To be honest, now that my father has officially named me his heir and my parents and I are all right, part of me kind of regrets being such a brat to them. When people say Six Eyes, they consider it one of Japan's most timeless companies, and for it to withstand all of the tests of time was a treasure all in itself. That company will be mine to lead in the near future. Along with it are the hundreds of thousands of people working to ensure everything runs smoothly." 

You smiled at him from across the table. "I'm glad to know you realised that much."

"Yeah, I'm pretty surprised myself," he chuckled. "Sukuna, wasn't it? This is just a personal opinion of mine, but I think he's actually a good man who just got caught in a bad circle. It was pretty honourable of him to take all the blame. Not even once did he speak about the ringleader Jogo."

You gasped. "Ah! That's—!"

"The man he owes his brother's life to." 

During the internal investigation, Sukuna answered every question thrown at him by the investigators, all except for one. 

"Believe it or not, that man was my only salvation back then. I don't care about the money anymore. Lock me up if you must, but please… I just want my brother to live a quiet life." 

And when you pleaded his case in an attempt to earn him some lenience, the best Satoru could offer him was a chance to start anew in a foreign country— they'll have to start from scratch, though, in a new place with new identities. Sukuna had nothing but apologies for you when you last came face to face. 

"And for what it's worth now, all the days I spent with you were the happiest I've ever been. I'm sorry things had to be this way."

"Sukuna… Thank you. I'll… treasure those days in my heart as well. But, please… Don't ever disappoint Yuuji-kun again."

The consequences were not at all heavy like you originally thought them to be. The young president-to-be was lenient, but that would be the first and last time he'd ever grant clemency to anyone who dared hurt the company. The pair of brothers were nothing but thankful for the decision. Being shipped off to China didn't sound like a bad idea to them as long as they were together.  

"I don't have a brother, so I can't claim to know how he feels, but I do know this," Satoru reached for your hand from across the table. "I will never, ever lose myself trying to give you the world, Otome. I know well enough that you don't want it." 

"You're right. I don't," you squeezed him back. "All I'll ever want is you and your boundless energy and all of your love for me."

— We've had the loneliest time.  

In the days that followed, Satoru spent most of his time ironing out what would be his first business presentation as the president's named heir of the enterprises. Thus, his presence was required in every major board meeting that lined his daily schedule. The responsibilities rattled him, but not enough to scare him back to his old ways of running off whenever things got too overwhelming for him. He fronted every meeting with a game face and a gaze that would unsettle even the most seasoned businessman in the conference room. 

However, there was no concealing his delight whenever he came home to you and your open arms. 

When Suguru invited you out for coffee one morning to discuss Satoru and his plans for the future, you didn't expect him to spring a surprise on you.

"Good morning, Geto-san," you greeted the figure in black. He stubbed out his cigarette the moment you made your presence known to him.  

"Hello, Otome-san," he handed you a menu. "Help yourself. My treat since I called you out here." 

A waitress came up to take your orders. He ordered an espresso for himself. "And you?"

"Oh, I think I'll have a café au lait," you replied as you thoughtfully scanned the menu. "And a kaya toast, if it's all right." 

"Of course." 

It didn't take long for your coffee and toast to arrive, the sweet aroma of your milk coffee and the kaya jam filling your nose. "So, um, what was it you wanted to discuss?"

You heard from Satoru once that Suguru was given the nickname Bloody Obsidian by his fellow bodyguards and subordinates. He didn't like it much though many said it suited his rather cutthroat nature. And when he spoke, he always made sure it was straight to the point. Today was no exception. "Satoru will be taking up his business studies again. He'll be heading to New York in a week in time for the start of the semester." 

"I see. Good for him, then," you remarked, halfway through a bite into your toast. 

"He's asked me to arrange for you to go with him. We can start with your passport and work on your visa afterwards. Then we'll—" 

"Aghk!" You coughed out your toast in complete surprise. "What?!" 

Suguru pushed your milk coffee in your direction, brows furrowed as he watched you take small sips of the beverage. "Did he not tell you about this at all? Or ask you at all about any of this?"

You dabbed a napkin over your lips as you shook your head at him. "No, not at all…"

The brunette sighed, leaning back on his seat. "Then he must have assumed that you'd willingly go with him."

"I-It's not that I wouldn't! It's just… things are moving at a pace I can't seem to keep up with yet," You raised your hands in defence. "Satoru will need all the room he can get to grow into his role as the future president of the Six Eyes." 

"I thought you wanted him in your life."

"I do. I'm so happy to have him around at home. I know it's probably strange hearing this from me now, but I don't think it would be right for me to be with Satoru. Not now, at least," you nodded before eventually lowering your eyes to your toast. "When he starts his studies again, I'm certain he'll meet people who will like him for the person he truly is. He'll make friends who will adore him for who he is and not because he's some rich kid."

Suguru watched as you helped yourself to your kaya toast, the flavours dancing in your mouth as you carefully thought of what to say next. 

"And I… think I still have a lot of growing up to do as well. Uprooting myself from home was awful enough for my family. They'd probably lose their minds if I go to the States. And there's that thing with Sukuna, too… Our relationship didn't really end on our terms, and if I'm going to be completely honest, I don't think I'm ready for another one just yet," you said with a small sigh and a smile. "I adore Satoru, I really do. I appreciate his sentiment, too, but I think I'd rather not let men dictate the course of my life now."

The brunette nodded at your statement, a small smile on his face as he drank deep into his shot of espresso. 

"What about you, Geto-san? Interested in meeting anyone? I have some writer friends at home who would love to date a guy like you," you beamed at the man in black, only to earn his signature glare once more.

"Oh, please! Do I look like I have the time to be dating when I've got my hands full with that manchild of yours?!" 

Satoru recalled going to sleep with you last night on the very same bed he woke up in, but you were nowhere in sight the morning after. While most of your belongings remained in your apartment, the place was eerily empty. The only person he found outside your bedroom was Suguru, who helped himself to a freshly brewed cup of green tea. 

"Good morning, waka," the brunette stated as he blew over the steam rising from his cup.

"Where'd Otome go?" 

From inside his coat pocket, Suguru pulled out a sealed envelope and handed it to his charge, Satoru quickly yet carefully ripping it open. In it contained a sheet of manuscript paper with your distinct handwriting. 

Satoru,  

I'm not sure when this letter will reach you. I'm not sure if it will, but Geto-san said he'll ensure it does. I suppose only you can say that for certain.  

You know, I was about to earn a quick buck from selling that set of golf clubs in my room. Little did I know I'd end up threatening you with one on our very first meeting. Oh, god, seeing you drink milk straight from the carton annoyed the hell out of me even more than the fact that you were actually trespassing.  

For the record, I'm glad I actually let you buy me fried chicken and beer. You spent that entire night trying to cheer me up and you never talked over me even once when the sadness came rearing its ugly head. You just let me be sad, but not be sad at the same time. 

When you opened up to me about your own sadness, even though you had the world in the palm of your hand, it made me realise how everything isn't always as it seems. That behind all of that glamour in your world, you were still so human, so alone, and so hurt. 

At the end of the day, we were just two human beings trying to exist. 

I enjoyed every moment of 'just existing' with you. Just existing, orbiting around each other like the planets and the moons in the sky. For the short time we've lived under the same roof, you gave me all the love I never even dared to ask for, even though you were only filling the void. 

I hope you know I still want nothing from you but you. That hasn't changed. Sure, the food was better when you were around, but listening to your shitty jokes and laughing with you always made our meals even more inviting. 

We never meet the wrong people in our lives, and I know I met you for a reason. I can spend decades trying to figure out why you ended up in my apartment that fateful morning, but I wouldn't mind if I never come up with an answer. All I know is that you're a part of my life now, and I can only hope I'll remain part of yours. 

For now, I hope you'll allow me this time to outgrow the grief that forced me out of my life in Sendai in the first place. I think it would be awfully unfair to you if I go with you as I am now. 

I don't want to reach for you and think of a future long lost to me. I want to be able to reach for you and think of the road we'll walk on, hand in hand and side by side. I don't want you to fill this void anymore. I want you to exist as your own person in my life. And know this: I will want nothing more than for you to come home to me all the time. 

Until then, go prove them wrong. Prove to everybody who doubted you that you aren't some pushover. 

I adore you so, my president of the world. I apologise for not telling you earlier. 

If you find yourself looking for your home after all of this, you'll know where to find it. The light is always on for you.

PS: I went home to Sendai for the weekend. My mother's been worried sick about me ever since that incident with Sukuna and your men. I left you a copy of your key here. Please don't lose it! Also, here's my e-mail address. You can also get in touch with me here once you land…

Love forever…

True enough, the envelope contained a certain weight just light enough for him to confirm that it was indeed a key to the unit. It fell into his palm, quiet and cold, just like how you left him this morning. Along with it was an adornment of the most recognisable Donald Duck holding half of a cartoon heart. They can only assume that half of the cartoon heart was held by Daisy Duck in your own pocket. 

"Awfully thoughtful of her, isn't it?" Suguru stated with an uncharacteristically warm smile on his face. "I'm certain she'll work just as hard as you, but I think your world will never be ready for someone like her."

"Of course. She's so amazing, after all!" Satoru exclaimed with an equally bright smile. "I guess I'll have to work hard, for her sake, too."

"That's what she would have wanted, waka. Better not disappoint her, then."

— Epilogue.

~ two years later.

Tokyo Haneda Airport remained bustling with activity even as the years flew by. For Satoru, it almost seemed like nothing changed at all. Several flights from different parts of the world have descended on the Land of the Rising Sun, including his own, after finally concluding his long overdue studies in business administration in New York. He hasn't been home in months, being a slave to the grind in hopes of finally passing and successfully defending his thesis. 

Today marks his homecoming, or a break, at least, after having masterfully defended his thesis to his professors at the esteemed SC Johnson College of Business at Cornell University. (It was the only school that would credit his previous classes and allow him to continue his studies after a rather lengthy hiatus from school.) Graduation was just around the corner, as well as his official inheritance of the role of President of the Six Eyes Enterprises. Despite his inheritance having yet to be announced, he has been making some major business decisions on behalf of his parents, making him the de facto leader of the company for the last few months. 

"Oh, Tokyo. You and your relentless cold," he remarked as he stepped out of the passenger terminal, his arrival met by none other than his ever-dutiful all-arounder, Suguru Geto. The brunette gave his young master a quick bow before reaching for what little belongings he brought back home with him and loading them into his sedan's compartment.  

"Welcome home, waka. How was your flight?"

Satoru's homecoming in a navy-coloured suit almost felt like the arrival of a dark horse meant to cause discord in the company. At least now, he meant it in a good way. "Good! But I've only had coffee and cola for the last 15 hours, so I'll probably be annoying."

"Like you aren't already?" Suguru scoffed at him. "Where to?"

"Where else?" The young president chuckled, finally removing his silver-rimmed sunglasses. "Home, of course."

The car ride from the airport to home was short and uneventful, with Satoru browsing through different radio stations in hopes of hearing something good. What he chanced upon was something even better. 

"…back, everyone! We're in the second hour of Seishun Book Club. Talking with us this hour is the rising novelist and scriptwriter from Sendai who…"

"Oh!"

"…jo Otome-sensei!"

"Good morning, friends and listeners! It is such an honour to be live on air with you!"  

The sound of your voice on the radio was music to his ears. "It really is her!" 

"Ah, but the honour is all ours! You are one of Sendai's 'living treasures', after all. And you've brought your craft to the city and have given so many people something delightful to read." 

"I'm so happy a lot of people found my new novel an entertaining read. I had such a wonderful time working on it for the last two years. Of course, I must thank my kind editors Marin-san and Tatara-san from Sendai for keeping track of things. Without them, people probably wouldn't have been able to rea…"

"She sounds so relaxed. This probably isn't her first radio show."

"Yeah, she's been doing more radio shows after her second book got popular. She's been to a few TV appearances, too. Nanami and Haibara have been driving her around town for every interview she's been invited to."

"…nd people both young and old have been captivated by the story you delivered in 'Up The Winding Stairs', particularly the enduring love of the Crown Prince for his long-lost childhood friend, but there are also elements which parents of young children also…" 

"…suppose you could say some elements of the story were inspired by real-life events…"

"She's a living treasure, Suguru," Satoru stated, sitting there in content silence as he listened to the first part of the interview, which was mostly about your book and the working process, most of which was composed of endless nights of writing and typing and random video calls with each other. The second part was composed of producer and listener-sent questions pertaining to your personal life this time. 

"…rious about your marriage to the president of Nikkei 225-listed company Six E…"

"…toru will be graduating soon and I'm very proud of him and his achievements. We haven't seen each other in months since he's been busy preparing for his thesis defence, but he'll be returning home soon. I'm actually a bit nervous, but I'm looking forward to seeing my husband fo…"

The said president could only contentedly smile to himself as he listened to his wife sing his praises.

"Well, don't you look awfully smug," Suguru chuckled. 

"That's my wife talking on the radio, Suguru! How on earth can I not be so smug and so proud?!" 

The two of you got married sometime in the last two years in a simple, uncomplicated beach wedding ceremony that only included your closest family and friends. Satoru's family may have had some qualms about your dubious origins, but they recognised how much of a positive influence you've become in his life. You made it clear to them that you could live without any aid or part of his family's fortune, eventually earning their respect, and later on, their adoration.  

But every once in a while, you'd allow your husband to spoil you with a pretty thing or two. It was his pleasure, after all. 

Perhaps his greatest pleasure and treasure was coming home to someone who wanted nothing at all from him but him. 

"Satoru! Welcome home!" 

…And the smile that lit your face whenever he walked into the door of your shared home. 

"How was your flight?"

"Pleasant, but awfully long," Satoru replied, carefully dropping his luggage to tenderly pull you into his arms. "I heard your interview on the radio on my way here! You were fantastic!" 

The world may have been messy and imperfect for you not too long ago, but that may have been because you had too many pieces in your hands. But now… Everything that you needed now was always only an arm's length away from you.

And with your husband now in your arms after months of being away, you were well and truly content, and everything in your world was absolutely perfect.

Author's notes:

Hello, friends! 💛 I decided to publish one of my most favourite Gojo fics here.

This fic's namesake is one of my fave songs by Carly Rae Jepsen and it speaks of an unfinished love! (And here it pertains to Sukuna and Gojo but mostly yn's love for herself too.) If I went with my original plan for the fic, it would have definitely ended with yn going with Gojo to the US and thus forgetting her book!! So I said, well fuck it better stay at home for now. This must have been incredibly fast-paced too, but I'd like to think that stuff like this happens in real life! The premise of this one-shot is from a dream I had after a night of drinking with my sister sometime last year. 

This fic follows a true-to-life timeline, with yn, Gojo and Sukuna aged around 27 to 28. Also, forgive me for my awful attempt at writing a business fic— I only realised now that I can't do serious fics like this ever again because I have no idea how offices and companies work lol.

Something about the way the manga's going has disillusioned me, and I know a lot of us would prefer ignoring canon altogether. Others will argue that Gojo's death was necessary and all of that… Okay, cool, point made, but please let us ignore canon in peace, please! Gojo wasn't even dead yet when I wrote this but this serves as a perfect escape for me… I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much! 💛

💛 Here's the AO3 link, too. This was originally published on 10 January 2023.