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#make the love more bitter? i guess?
nattikay · 2 months
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man just really not vibing with the fandom at large recently
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lloydfrontera · 1 year
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tfw when you write an entire novel with two protagonists that spent the entire plot getting closer to each other, becoming best friends and eventually both of them deciding they would rather die than allow the other to not live a long, fulfilling life, their friendship carrying most of the emotional weight of the entire plot and the emotional climax being one of them sacrificing his life so the other can live and then the other crossing literal universes to find him, a tearful smile in his face as he confesses how much he missed him. which is the scene you wanted to write and show the most because, again, this is the pay off to the slowburn you've been writing in the entire novel and what everything has been building up to since the very first chapter. and then you end the novel by having them share a smile, finally confident they'll be able to have a happy future.
but you also just gotta have one of them marry offscreen because everyone knows you can't be happy if you're not in a het marriage with kids lmao it's whatever it's okay i'm fiNE-
#i talk a lot <3#the greatest estate developer#lloyd frontera#this post was going to be so much more bitter this is me being nice akjshdkahdk#i just....... i'm sad alsjdsjkal#and i don't think i'm wrong to be. like i'm not disapointed bc i don't actually expected lloyd and javier to be together#i'm not that optimistic lmao#but i did have the hope tged would have no romance#because lloyd and javier were already doing so much in the emotional and relationship development front of the plot#that adding romance just feels. awkward. like an aside. an add-on that affects none of the plot and is just there to make sure#no one accidentally gets confused and think those two are in love#and guess what! most of the romance does happen in literal side stories! literally an add-on that does nothing for the plot! i hate it!#it's the heteronormativity and amatonormativity of it all :/#do i think it would've been cool for llojavi to be canon? absolutely! do i think it was necessary for the plot? nope!#they were already perfect the way they are! their friendship is the core of the entire plot and their relationship to each other#is what ultimately moves much of the plot in the latter half!#which is the way relationships should work in fiction! not just have them for the sake of having them!#lloyd didn't need a romantic subplot because the plot was already working perfectly without it!#also what's the point of having a character constantly think about what their idea of 'happy life' is if you're not going to challenge it#it's about the hero's journey of it all!!!#i have things to say dang it!#javier asrahan#tged
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monards · 4 days
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i know hoyo is setting up rhine to have good intent and whatever in her trying to 'save' khaneri'ah or whatever; but i REALLY hope they stay with the cruel persona thats been built up for her. because it would be so wonderful to see a character who had good intent in the beginning just get absolutely corrupted; with the inability to ever go back to that prior state purely because of what had happened. also because there is NO way in her turning back after all that shit
#sorry. i dont think theres any good and plausible explanation for rhine to still be a kind or gentle person in general#she can (and SHOULD) have her moments. but it'd make so much more sense (and be much more impactful) for her to be inherently cruel#because look at all the stuff thats happened#i love the indomitable human spirit trope. dont get me wrong.#but rhine has that in the way she WONT stop her research till shes either dead or murdered. she is not gonna be gentle kind and optimistic#she watched all her kids (that she was SHOWN to care for) get very brutally murdered.#had to then go and kill her next creations that she didn't consider perfect (which most certainly fucks a women up. no matter what you say)#made the 'perfect creation' and the way she treated him was obviously a HUGE contrast to how she was before (being gentle and nuturing)#and left him (albeit with what we can guess was good intent) with NO goodbye just#a recommendation letter. a text. and his final mission#she could have good intent#and still care for others#dont get me wrong!!!!!!!#but shes. human???#humans can be (as much as i hate to say it) a tad selfish when it comes to survival#and being antagonized demonized AND shunned by teyvat and even her own people. having to survive multiple gods wrath#isn't. gonna be good for the human psych#and it isn't gonna be something fixable#look at how furina progressively faltered over a hundered years WHILE being adored#she already started waning in her ethics and morals (as someone immortalized as a human WOULD)#with exposing lyney and all of that when it was VERY clearly the morally wrong thing to do (which her as a human would know)#and being relatively pessimistic and clearly spiralling#(no hate. i love furina with all my heart.)#if thats how FURINA started going#imagine rhine who has nobody (save maybe alice. but i doubt she'd be constant given her spontaneous nature and refusal to sit still)#shit man. even I'D go crazy and be horrible.#its okay and natural to be bitter#and its not as if anybody was there to help#hexenzirkel has a ton of women who survived their own nations falling yes#but not ONE of them (from what we know) has had circumstances any where near rhine's
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blonkk · 3 months
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just discovered another way i was irreversibly fucked up as a child. the puzzle is getting pieced together but so what. once all the pieces are there they’ll be there but how does this improve or complete my life. it’s literally just like ….ok…cool….that makes sense…that explains some stuff…now what
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gandreida · 2 months
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hheeeuuurrgghppbbtttt
#my dad messaged me today sayin’ he hopes to see me soon and it honestly ruined my day luke#like please leave me alone ://////#then some general normal Every Day BS happened at work and I just had to dip I almost walked off the job no word to my sups#Just makes me think of my mom which#i feel more justified after it I guess ‘cause she’s the one who allegedly approves the messages her husband sent me when we had our fight#tbh life is better w/o her messaging me daily like I spent basically all of 2023#wanting to cut her off and she gave me even the lightest reason to do it so i did and it’s been nice#the pointless guilt I felt for not wanting to see my family has turned into general resentment and annoyance#i don’t even miss her or him like I straight up just don’t want to see my blood relatives they’re not family to me they’re just people#i happen to share genes with like if you really wanted to build a relationship with the person#you forced into this stupid world then maybe you shouldn’t have been such insufferable assholes for the first 18 years#i spent most of my conversations with them over the phone last year basically just saying life sucks and that i want to kill myself#I need them to feel bad for conceiving me i need them to regret it#my cousin Aaron has the right idea tbh like last I heard he wasn’t talking to my uncle or anyone w/ blood relations really#following in his footsteps. I legit just got so full of rage and frustration when my dad messaged me it’s been like 3 weeks since we spoke#it was so obvious that I didn’t like my mom growing up everyone knew it and berated me for it like how am i supposed to accept that?#How am I supposed to take the hate and anger she exhibit and put out there in that unhappy home#and turn the hate and anger her and her family felt towards me for not loving her#and turn that into love? How am I supposed to turn unending anger and hatred and bitterness and just be like ‘yeah i love you’#I love my parents in the sense that I am familiar w/ them and they have had a constant presence in my life up this point and when I was like#8y/o I had some pretty good times w/ my dad that were DIRECTLY related to my mom being out of the house#my mom was just so abusive to that man for 20+ years#and he took the love I had for him and made me hate him by just shoving jesus down my throat#We used to have CONVERSATIONS he & I but then he got his head stuck so far up his ass that he couldn’t see#how he was just ruining everything. Me: Hey so this thing thats goin on?#him: haha yeah that thing thats been goin on!! You know what tho#[starts pitching JC to me again]#that was all I could get from him from 12-18/19#he killed whatever relationship we had together and now it’s a decade later and I have no interest in talking to him#I don’t care to try and rebuild. I don’t want to rebuild anything with him I don’t want him to want that either
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castielmacleod · 1 year
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Hello bitter Cas fans and DestieI dislikers I’m thinking of ways to survive thee fifth this year and I know @vaicomcas has talked about a Bitter Cas Fan Week of some variety, so being inspired by that.. idk. I realise this would be a very quick turnaround for a whole week, so what if to start, and just for the particular occasion, we did like…. Bitter Cas Fan.. Days.
This would be just a small maybe 2-day event, from the 5th to the 6th, to share works or meta or think pieces regarding how Castiel’s story (and Billie’s, honestly) ended in canon. I’m imagining something like:
Day one, Nov 5th, with the prompt “Despair” (obviously the title of 15x18). This is the day were we can all vent and lament about how miserable and infuriating Cas’ ending was, complain about that speech and its assertions, the whole bury your gays element, how unfairly Billie was vilified and unceremoniously killed as well, etc.
Day two, Nov 6th, with the prompt “The Truth” (the original title of 15x18 before it was changed to Despair, aren’t I cheeky!). This is the day where we can imagine a better world where Cas and/or Billie are resurrected after 15x18 and get to freely live on, or maybe even a world where 15x18 never happened or went differently. Our truth if you will.
This could be just a really informal thing for anyone who wants to commiserate with likeminded individuals as the rest of spnbIr celebrates one of the worst episodes of television I’ve ever personally seen. Text posts and overall conversation would be the main medium for it but any art or writing would be amazing if you’re someone who can pull something together that quickly.
I won’t create a whole shiny blog for this or anything, so if anyone’s interested you can just tag your posts with #Bitter Cas Fan Days through November 5th and 6th and hopefully we can all make it through peak Dusty Yell season together!
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truecorvid · 1 year
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god i need to make some more meaningful connections asap this shit is devastating me rn
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mrfoox · 1 year
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Idk how Oliver manage to be both the biggest bitch and the nicest person I know at the same time lmao
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justalilcrowtit · 6 months
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fight or flight reaction whenever satan’s love for cats is mentioned outright is still so real
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thingswhatareawesome · 6 months
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#sorry i'm feeling mentally shitty tonight#think it's hormone fuckery combining with a medication i'm on#and that feeling of being a failure at making friends with someone#and someone on masto jumped on a convo ppl were having about something that was a huge love of mine when i was younger and shat on it#and if that isn't the story of my life that things i really liked/like just get smacked down or sneered at or considered freakish#which yay really kills the enthusiasm for everything#and i'm still missing the sr fandom content on twitter bc there's still so much less here and outright next to nothing about caelus#ie my favorite so i miss those 'daily character' twitters like damn the only 'daily caelus' thing here is on hiatus#bc they're not bothering if there's not new content LIKE WHY NOT FANART THEN oh right bc there's no caelus fanart out there#i love the characters of sr don't get me wrong but i hate they all overshadow the mc#oh except stelle like stelle players love her but caelus players ??? idk what love other characters more i guess#i kinda wish we'd get to the storyline where caelus/mc mattered again bc it's starting to feel like it's been a damned long time#don't get me wrong i love dh and dhil but remember the end of jIV? when we the player were FUCKING AWESOME?#haven't felt like the game's remembered that in awhile#also i'm bitter the weather is shit we're 4 days from october and looking at 6 days in the 80s but also this weekend? two days AT 90#what the everliving fuck other than yeah the world is burning and frying and we're stuck in august and i'm GETTING NO FUCKING FALL#all i look forward to all fucking year is autumn and nope all we're getting is summer nothing but summer#if i have to live in summer forever frankly i'd rather be dead thanks.#just fucking tired of it all rn
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pukicho · 5 months
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i love you flexing how quick and easy you can get 1000 notes on a post. especially when several artists, creators and people who do more than make the same 5 posts on this site can hardly get a fraction of that. really tasteful and good of you funnier than anything youve ever said
This gotta be one of the most bitter asks I've ever gotten lol. If you scroll down my page for literally 2 seconds, you will see both the art and music I made. So what, am I not an artist/creator? or are you just the fucking king of tumblr and you get to pick and choose WHO deserves notes and who doesn't?? You seedy cock. I make posts about ghouls and worms and I answer asks both silly and truly earnestly, and I engage with the following *I* fostered, but I guess I don't deserve it according to you: the nobody who seethes in my askbox anonymously. I hate to throw the term 'jealous' around but that's literally all you are. Reflect on your sad, worthless, aimless life and repent, bitch.
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snekdood · 1 year
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No one accepted you and loved you unconditionally and instead of doing it for yourself you take it out on anyone who has figured out how to do it for themselves.
#mood#ig im just builp dipperent#like. no one accepted me for shit either. everyone around me had somethin judgemental to say about me.#but i knew it was important to be myself and i knew how much fun i had being myself and that was the most important thing to me.#i always had more fun being myself even when i was alone than submitting and trying to be someone else to make others happy#idk. ig this is the two sides of where ones life ends up of they actually try to do something about loving themselves instead of tkaing it#out on everyone around you. its not like i dont understand its just not an excuse and it still wasnt okay and you've hurt MANY people.#all bc your heart is so bitter and you cant even being yourself to even imagine loving yourself genuinely. you rely so heavily on everyone#outsid eof you to validate that you're good and lovable but even the people around you have shit to talk to#thats an unstable way to feel like who you are is inherently lovable. you and i both know that and you and i both know why#ig lets keep praying they dont find out.#idk why i do this or try to help you sort through your trauma. i guess i feel so guilty that you have no one to work on this with bc you#probably cant afford a therapist or dont care enough abt yourself to get one.#its not my job to help you introspect but ig for the sake of you learning how important it is to be honest with others but more importantly#yourself i feel some type of obligation.#but i cant keep doing this. i cant keep trying to understand you and your thought process.i cant keep sitting here letting you bully me in#public but we both know you're looking at this sorta shit in private.#i dont deserve to be abused like this and its not my job to make you feel better or figure yourself out or help you work on your trauma#or help you recognize where the bs behavior you have comes from and help you try to work on it to become better#bc truth is. idk if you actually care about being better or you just like to know that i still care about you on some level in spite of#everything youve done. ig im hopeful you can be brought out of your shitty resentful bitter vengeful state against humanity that leads you#to hurt people with no mercy all for your own gain. ig im hopeful you can change but quite honestly its not my job to help you with it#esp with the way you treat me publicly anyways.#part of me really hopes you're not just one of those edgy disecfected people from 4chan or whatever who just doesnt care about hurting ppl#and justifies it bc you think someones cringe. im sure thats what you try to tell everyone im like but im finding more and mkre that#iterally everything you accuse me of is projection. even aside from the sa. just so ppl dont look into your history and focus on attacking#me instead.#hell. i wouldnt be surprised to find out you're a kiwifarmer weaponziing ppl on heres intention to help and be moral and weaponizing#the fact that ppl used to think callouts were the way to do that. literally wouldnt surprise me an inch.
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harrylights · 1 year
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studioghibelli · 3 months
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the end of the world- a joel miller x reader
summary: you had a strict relationship with joel that stuck to the rules. fuck, leave, repeat. it was only a matter of time until feelings were dragged into the mix. when joel leaves at the first sign of love, you're left wondering what you had done wrong. (rated explicit, 18+, mdni)
warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!era, implied fwb relationship, heavy handed on the angst, a whole lot of pining, a lot of flashbacks, and smut. (unprotected piv sex, fingering, clit rubbing, masturbation?, dirty talk, pet names, allusions to slapping/rougher sex, brief biting, a tiny bit of daddy kink.) ended with a bit of fluff
note: i think this is my favorite thing i have ever written. i guess i was in some sort of mood or sumfin. also i absolutely hate spell checking so sorry for any errors. enjoy!!
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Joel used to be rough.
He used to imprint his name upon your skin through heavy handed grips and crescent shaped nail marks, left deep into the supple skin of your thighs. Like hieroglyphs on a wall of sandstone, he made sure the world would see what beauty he had left etched into your skin, like a canvas that only he had the privilege of painting.
He used to take you by the throat and kiss you with biblical fervor. He would kiss you so hard the taste of his spit lingered on your tongue for the days following, reminding you who you belonged to, if only for a few hours.
He used to sink his incisors into your neck, suckling at your skin like a vampire in search of an artery. He would leave deep patches of purple beneath your ear, the mark of a man who knew just what you wanted, the mark of a man who was more primal, more animalistic, than he was human.
Then, something changed.
Soft was he, on one fateful night, where his rough palms dragged across the side of your body, gentle waves of pleasure heaving, heaving, heaving, washing over you until you were a shell drowning in an ocean tide, consumed only by thoughts of him.
Joel, Joel, Joel.
A mantra, a promise, a prayer.
Soft was he, his lips molding to yours like cement stuck in the cracks of sidewalks, unwavering and unbreaking, filling you up to the hilt.
Soft was he, as he slipped his cock deep into your pussy, deep and gentle, hitting against every inch, every spot, that made your legs quiver just for him.
Soft was he, as he cradled your face in his rough hands, eyes boring in to your own, the curved bridge of his nose pressing into your rounded cheek, coaxing you, asking you, begging you, to cum for him.
Only ever him.
His hand's had done irreversible damage, taken many lives, and he pushed back the guilt for those crimes long ago, but Joel figured that perhaps holding your face in his hands was worth all the blood, the sweat, the grime and decay. Perhaps touching the skin of an angel was enough to bathe him clean from his past sins, enough to purify the monster which lurked within.
And then one day, he swore you off.
"Can't be around you anymore." He snarled, hand dragging down his face, heavy and hot with the burning poker of shame.
"Says who?" Your voice was cracking, the angry prick of tears stabbing at your eyes, like daggers dripping with bitter venom.
"Me. This ain't.... right. We should never have done this."
"Why isn't it right?" You were begging, trying your hardest to coax put a semblance of an answer from him.
"You're too young for this. For-for me. I ain't good for you."
"Where is this coming from? Just two nights ago you were making love-"
"That's the problem." Joel hissed. "Makin' love." He scoffed spitefully, shaking his head firmly. "It's the end of the fuckin' world and I'm worried about makin' a woman cum, makin' your eyes roll. I should be out fightin', I should be out makin' rounds and doin' my work. Ain't thought of anything like that since I've been with you. I have duties. Responsibilities. I'm too old to be sleeping around like some teenager."
You hated yourself for allowing a tear to slip, hated yourself for showing weakness in his presence. "What about your duty to me?" You cried out, hands tangling into tight fists. You felt your veins pumping with venomous resentment, wondering how you could have been so stupid to allow him respite behind the walls of your soul, sanctuary from the world around the two of you.
"I don't have no duty to you. You're not my wife, not my girl. You're just somebody I was fuckin'."
That was two months ago. Two long, grueling months.
This winter in Jackson was particularly brutal. Perhaps nature had been in tune with your heart, rocking and shaking and screaming in unison with your thoughts, angry and vengeful. Like Poseidon wreaking havoc on the ocean, like Zeus bringing hailstorms of lightning, like Zephyrus playing his hand in an assailing wind; you felt your rage through the soil, the packed snow, the shaking pine needles.
Everyday you would trek to your shop, sit behind the counter, and patiently wait for someone to stop by, wait for someone to ask how your day was (which you would inevitably lie about, tell them how good you were), and wait for someone to barter or trade with you.
A dozen chicken eggs for a woven blanket, a few sprigs of rosemary for some pencils, a handful of sheep's wool for some freshly pressed paper.
It was the same every day.
Rise, work, sit, cry, sleep, repeat.
For the past two months you had lurked around the corners of Jackson with a heavy gray cloud hanging over your head, and each day for the past two months you despised yourself for being so caught up with Joel fucking Miller, for being so upset he left you.
You lived in the smallest house in Jackson. There was no reason for you to take up a big one, no reason for you to have two stories, no reason for you to have a big open kitchen or spacious living room. What was the point? No husband, no children, no nothing.
You had tried to make it yours, and you had tried to make it happier since that horrible, awful, nasty thing happened between you and Joel.
You had bought a thick and oversized crocheted blanket the color of sand with a harvest worth of kale, thrown it over a soft and lived-in suede couch to curl up under. You had bartered a basketful of gourds for two knitted pillows, a brown dachshund stitched into one, and a ginger cat stitched into the other. You had picked up a backpack full of books on a run into the nearest town, settling on classics that you used to read as a young girl, in hopes you could feel that golden peace so often felt during childhood, when the only pressing matters on your mind were untied shoelaces and what mom was cooking for dinner.
A life long ago. A life you could barely remember. You were a small child when the world went to shit, barely starting school, with gaps between your teeth and messy, unruly hair. Still growing out of your sneakers, still biting your nails, still picking up worms from the rich soil with amazement and wonder bubbling in your eyes.
When everything happened, when the buildings were bombed and fields burnt, you were forced to grow up. Forced to toughen up, to be someone you never planned on being at such a young age. You ditched the sparkly backpacks and trips to the library for switch blades and look out towers, for uneasy silence and stale dinners.
Then you met Joel, many years after it first began, and everything seemed a little bit better. It started fast and rough, as though you both thought the world would implode the following morning. And then, when the realization that this was life, that nobody was going anywhere, things grew gentler, softer, more meaningful.
Joel's kisses grew deeper, his touches dragged out for longer, his mouth imprinted upon your soft and lithe skin like droplets of dew on blades of morning grass, gentle and ethereal. His words became breathless, sweet, full of desire and thick with honeyed praise.
"Look at you, such a pretty little thing. Shakin' like this, all for me. Who's makin' you feel like this, sweet girl?" Joel's middle finger was buried to the knuckle in your tight pussy, thumb gently tapping at your clit. A string of saliva strung from your nipple to his lips, where his plush mouth had been covering your hardening bud in gentle bites, sucking like a man on a mission.
"You." Your voice came out as a mewl, quiet and shaking. "You, daddy."
Joel grunted a primordial, brutish grunt that rumbled through the sturdiness of his chest, adding a second finger as his head ducked down to your neck, where his kissing resumed upon the blades of your collarbone. "Good fuckin' girl. Good girl. So fuckin' good, a god damn dream. You know that?"
The wall in front of you was covered in framed images you had found on your travels around Jackson. Some original art you scored in the back of a desolate thrift store, some vintage movie posters you found huddled in the dusty corners of a theatre, some polaroid photos you had taken with old friends.
You blinked the memories of him away.
With each day, you tried to convince yourself it was for the best. With each day, you tried to make yourself understand where he was coming from, why he did the things he did.
"You're just somebody I was fuckin'." You remembered his words like sandpaper grinding against the track of your throat, burning their fiery syllables into your tongue. How true his statement actually was, you weren't so sure.
Joel's forehead was pressed to yours, eyes fluttering open and shut with each deep thrust, hands entwined into your own. Your palms were pressed rigid and unyielding into his, Joel's thick fingers wrapping and molding into your smaller ones, chest rubbing against yours with each masterful movement of his hips.
His hot breath, soaked with the sweet smell of whiskey, fanned across your face, coating you with the ache he felt for you, the love he knew he had growing deep inside for you. Each breath he took was a promise. He was never going to leave you. How could he?
"Joel." You chanted, head thrown back in ecstasy, eyes full of stars.
"What do you want from me, darlin'? Say the word and its yours." Joel's voice was breathless and throaty, coating you in the sweet nectar of his affection, seeping deep into your pores until it filled your soul with yearning,
His cock, thick and veined, was slowly pumping as deep is it possibly could within your walls. You fluttered and ached and wept against him, bodies meshing into one, tight and close yet flowing and gentle, like the Bernini sculptures you saw in an art encyclopedia, a long time ago in Boston. Joel filled you to the brim with his length. You felt full of him, wrapped and wanting and wanton. For his eyes only. Only ever him, always.
"Right there." You begged, nails dragging down the length of his wide, sturdy, strong back, marking him with the love caked beneath your fingernails. That unspoken love that weighed heavy on your shoulders, like a wool blanket in the dead of winter.
When Joel's eyes met yours, hitting against the spot you begged him to touch, he had that gaze glossed over his irises, that heavy, awfully gentle look threaded within the chocolate umber of his orbs, the stare that only a man in love ever carried with him.
The memory stuck to your mind like glue on a school project, drying there with no hopes of ever coming loose.
That night, with Joel so heavy on your mind, you treaded heavily to your record player, sifting through the record's you had collected over the years.
"That'll do." You mumbled with dejected finality, putting the vinyl on the player as you lowered the needle.
Why does the sun keep on shining?
Why does the sea rush to shore?
Don't they know it's the end of the world,
Cause you don't love me, anymore?
As you listened to the sweet voice of Julie London, you looked around your kitchen, the pile of dishes only stacking up, higher and higher. With your hands on your hips you walked over, forcing yourself to do something with your night. You couldn't sit and mope, you had already spent too long doing that anyways.
You let the hot water fall upon the backs of your dainty hands, watching with glass eyes as it fell and dribbled off your fingers, the soapy suds filling the porcelain bowls. You cupped them in your hands, breathing in the citrusy scent, closing your eyes.
Think. You begged yourself. About anything else but him. Think.
Why do the birds go on singing?
Why do the stars glow above?
Don't they know it's the end of the world,
it ended when I lost your love.
You pricked the tip of your finger with the sharp point of the butcher knife, gently twisting it soft enough to only make the hint of an imprint, thinking to yourself. You had lived your entire life fighting, fleeing, hiding, escaping, yet it only ever felt like the end of the world once you lost him.
"Damn you Julie London!" You shouted, voice mellow dramatic and emotive, face planting into your arm which rested on the wooden counter.
"What'd Julie London ever do to you?"
The voice, raw and rough, startled you, awakening you from your trance. Before you could catch it, a puppy like yelp escaped your mouth, sharp and nasty against the ears.
You knew who that voice belonged to. The voice that lulled you to sleep, the voice that whispered sweet nothings as you lay naked and bare on linen sheets, the voice that called you good girl and sweet angel and pretty princess whilst crammed deep into your cunt.
Joel.
Turning so hard you nearly snapped your own neck, you saw him standing in the doorway of your home, tall and brooding, filling the heavy air with the familiar scent of pine needles and bergamot. He held a basket in his arms. A basket he had bought from your shop, many moons ago.
“Ever heard of knocking?” Your voice was nastier than you meant it to be, but you couldn’t help the emotion rising within the confines of your chest, beating at your ribcage like a wild animal locked in a zoo.
“I did knock. You didn’t answer. Took the liberty to walk on in and check on you.” He shrugged, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world, and slowly shut the door behind him.
“To check on me?” You scoffed bitterly, turning your back to him again as you resumed your cleaning. You heard the vinyl come to a stop, the air silent and palpable, moulding to your rage. You took in a deep breath, looking down at the sponge you were grasping ahold of a little too tight. “Two months go by, and suddenly today- of all days- you decide to take the liberty to come and…. check on me?”
Joel’s sigh, burdened with what felt like guilt, swirled through your ears. “Yes.” Was all he said, simple and plain.
Oh, you had a lot more to say than one meager word.
You were too nervous to meet his gaze, too worried your tears would come flooding, soaking through your skin and deteriorating until you were nothing more than a puddle of nothing on the wooden floorboards.
“I….” You struggled for a long moment, tongue twisted and stuck in your own throat. “I don’t know what to say to you anymore.”
You heard the sound of dense boots against the ground, felt the weight of the air behind you shift. He was close. His scent was coated around the inside of your nostrils, fogging your mind with past memories you swore you’d never ponder on again.
“I know what you want to say.” Joel’s voice was quiet, barely a whisper in the wind. “That you hate me. That you never want to see me again. That you hope I’m ripped limb from limb by clickers. Gunned down by raiders.”
Tears welled within your eyes. You didn’t speak for a long beat, sniffling as quietly as you could possibly muster. “After everything, you know I-…. even after you broke me. I-I don’t wish for that. Never even thought of that.” You admitted your terrible secret with a shaking voice, hand tightening so deeply around the sponge, your middle finger sunk straight through the material.
Joel’s fingers gently traced down the small of your back. An offer. You heard a gentle thump as he set the basket down, followed by his other hand pressing flat into your side.
“I’m scared.” His voice was full of emotion you had never once heard from him. “That’s why I left.”
“What?”
“I’ve lost everyone, ‘cept Ellie. Tess, Bill, Frank, Sarah.” His voice cracked, trailing off. “I couldn’t lose you, too. I can’t watch you…. can’t watch you fall victim to this world.”
You shook your head, dropping the sponge against the metal sink, tilting your head to look out the window which stood in front of you. The night sky was sparkling with millions of stars before you, snow flaking down from the heavens, coating the glass window pane with a copious layer of delicate snowflakes, each so different and unique. It was beautiful.
Joel’s left arm slowly wrapped around you. You wanted to fight him off, wanted to scream and banish him from your home, wanted to promise if you ever saw him again you’d kill him on the spot. But you couldn’t. Not when he was so vulnerable, so warm, so willing.
You shifted against him, leaning back until your bodies were close together. His hand rested taut against your belly, his other arm soon finding solace beneath your shirt, pulling you even closer.
“I’m sorry.” He finally broke the dizzying silence, chin nuzzling into the blade of your shoulder. “I didn’t know what else to do. I- I still don’t know what to do.”
You blinked away new forming tears, taking in a deep breath. “You could start by warming me up.” You were so meek, you were unsure if he heard your words.
Joel’s hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, pressing gently into the skin of your tummy, fingers massaging into the supple skin of your waist, your love handles, drawing circles into the line of skin right above the hem of your pants. Your back fell deeper into his chest as he touched you, felt you, as if he had never known your body before.
You could stand there and argue with him, cry and rage and scream at the universe, or you could let him apologize the best way he knew, let him make it all up to you.
“After this,” you managed to choke out, “am I still going to be somebody you just fuck?”
He wasted no time shaking his head. “You never were. You were, are, the light of my life. I don’t know what I was thinking.” His breath was hot against your neck, his lips pressing kisses, scattered like constellations, into your skin.
“You weren’t thinking.” You moaned a breathless laugh, head tilting to allow him access.
“No, I wasn’t.” Joel’s fingers slipped into your pants, palm cupping your pussy, hot and wet with the promise of his touches. “Damn baby, this horny already?”
“Haven’t been touched in two months. Sure you understand.”
He chuckled a deep, endearing chuckle, nudging his nose into your cheek. “Think I should do somethin’ about this?”
You nodded quickly.
“Words, pretty baby. Use your words.”
“Yes. Please, do… do something about it.”
“That’s my good girl. I’ll give you what you want, I promise.”
You felt butterflies brewing within your belly as his middle finger traced the middle of your green cotton underwear, rubbing where you swollen clit gently poked against. He knew you like the back of his hand, like a map he had spent years memorizing. Giving you pleasure, knowing where and how to make you cum, had become second nature for Joel.
“Don’t be ‘fraid to lean against me. Let daddy take care of you.”You groaned softly at his words, falling back into his body. His strong arms wrapped around you, keeping you up, bicep thick and muscled against you. “Push those down for me.”
You wiggled out of your pants and underwear, bottom half open and exposed for him. His fingers dragged across your mound, brushing against the outside of your pussy that cried out for his touch.
Joel slipped his index finger between your outer lips, finding your clit, slowly drawing circles around your aching bud. You sighed out, once again meshing in to his chest as he touched you, feeling the silkiness of your pink, throbbing cunt.
“I missed this pussy. So wet for me, so needy. You like it when I touch you? Like it when I make you feel good?” His words were hot in your ear, melting into your senses like dripping candle wax.
“Oh, I love it. I love it so much. I love you so much.” You were too caught up in pleasure to understand the weight of what you just said, head rolling against his shoulder as he teased your pussy.
Joel let out a quiet moan at what you just admitted, his hold on you tightening. He was never going to let you go. He sunk his middle finger into your tight opening, slowly hooking it against you G-spot, thrusting it up and down the way he knew made you cry for him.
Your knees were shaking, yet you had no fear of falling. As foolish as it may have been, you had complete trust in Joel Miller. You knew he wouldn’t let you drop. Your walls fluttered around his finger, clit begging to be touched once more. You lowered your hand, gently flicking at your swelling button, moaning out as he added his ring finger to your cunt.
“That’s it baby. Rub that pretty pussy. Cum on my fingers.” Joel whispered m, gently biting down on your ear lobe.
You felt your thighs quivering, belly tightening as your orgasm drew closer. Joel watched you with hawk like vision, relishing in the way your fingers traced and danced across your clit. Before you had the chance to announce your climax, you found yourself cumming on his digits, coating them in you sweet, slick arousal, screaming his name as thought it was the only word you ever had the chance to memorize.
When you came down from your high, Joel slowly removed his fingers, bringing them to your soft lips. “Suck.” He commanded gently. You did, wrapping your mouth around them as you gingerly took them in, all the way to the hilt, sucking them clean and dry, free from any of your cum. “That’s my good girl, my pretty darlin’.”
You shivered against him, your head falling back. Joel gently tapped the counter. “Jump up there.” He whispered.
You did as you were told, grabbing the collar of his flannel, pulling him closer.
“Kiss me, Joel Miller.”
And kiss you he did.
His lips found yours with the passion of ten thousand soldiers, sickly sweet and supple against your mouth. Joel was consuming you with this kiss, torridly leaving his mark into the soft ridges of your pouted lips, blanketing you with the desire he had for you that he so often tried to push down. Your fingers found his graying hair, legs wrapping around his waist until the bulge breaking at his jeans was pressed right into your bare pussy.
You grinded against him, clit still sensitive and aching from the power of your last orgasm. Still, you dropped your hands to his zipper, tugging them down swiftly.
“Want you to fuck me.” You whispered against his mouth, tongue sliding across his. “Want you to cum inside me. Make me yours.”
“You’ve always been mine.” Joel muttered, hand slipping down to remove his boxers. “I was just bein’ an idiot.”
“Then make it up to me.”
The tip of his cock found the slick lips of your pussy, and he slowly pushed himself in through on graceful movement, filling you to the top until your clit was pressed against his stomach. Joel felt your pussy clench against him, and he groaned, letting his head fall to your shoulder. He sat there for a moment, relishing in the warmth being inside of you provided, arms wrapped around you like a belt, pressing you hard into his chest.
You gently placed your hands on the back of his head, pulling away to look at him. Tracing over his features, you took every inch of him in. That Aquiline nose you had grown to love so much, the patchy beard littered with charming speckles of silver, that stray curl in the middle of his forehead that never stayed put. Joel Miller was beautiful. He was an enigma of a man. Stoic, masculine, tender, intuitive, full of emotions and worlds unknown to everyone. Everyone but you. He was a crazy, deep, beautiful paradox of a human, and he was all for you.
Joel slowly pushed out from you, before pumping himself back in. He did this a few more times, his eyes never straying from your own. His fingers slipped to your clit, gently rubbing the pad of his thumb against it.
“Think you can cum on my cock?”
You nodded.
A smile lifted the right corner of his mouth. “Tha’s what I like to hear.” He leaned down, kissing you again as he began fucking you, deep and slow, each move methodical and well planned, as if he knew just what he wanted to do to your body.
Your hands fell to his broad shoulders. His broad shoulders. That alone could have made you cum. The tanned slope of his beautiful, beautiful shoulders, collarbones thick and jutted out just right, followed by patchy chest hair, down to his soft belly that pressed into yours so perfectly. He was beautiful. You traced your fingers down the trail of his biceps, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch, straight to his wrists, lacing with his long, skilled, well worked fingers, palm rough and calloused, tough as leather against the softness of your sweet, smooth hands.
You drunk his figure in like a lovesick fool. Oh, you were, weren't you? So full of love and affection for this brute of a man, well aware he struggled with his emotions. You watched the crows feet by his eyes crinkle as he clamped his eyes shut, watched the line of his neck pulse as he threw his neck back in pleasure.
He was a Baroque portrait of lust standing before you, dark and brooding, thrusting into your cunt as if it were the sweetest thing in the world for him. He growled into the air with each pump of his hips, nails digging into your skin as he held you close, never to let go.
"Joel." You whispered softly, burying your face in his chest as your second orgasm fast approached. You weren't sure why you said his name, not sure what you wanted exactly, but Joel knew. He always knew. He just cradled the back of your head with his right hand, his other gripping ahold of your waist, pounding faster, deeper, harder, hungrier. You were all he wanted, all he ever wanted, all he ever needed.
Joel bit down onto your shoulder softly as he twitched inside you, and you knew his orgasm was soon to come. He kept the same pace on your clit until you were putty in his hands, legs tightening as pleasure washed over you. You both came in harmony, moans mixing and melding into the air which surrounded you. His cock painted your walls with thick, hot ropes of white, and your tightening walls milked every last lick of it out as your came hard, head dizzy with thoughts of him.
He whispered your name softly as he slowed to a stop, pillowing you against his body. "God, I missed you."
You nodded in agreement, sticky skin pressed together like two puzzle pieces. "I missed you." You pulled away, holding on to him for support as you slowly stepped off the counter. You gently pressed your palm into his chest, feeling his cum dribbling down your thigh. You smiled softly at the feeling before glancing up at him. "More than you know."
Joel gently ran his palm down your back as you slipped your underwear on, quickly following suit.
"What's in the basket?" You asked, pointing to the item he left alone on the living room rug.
"Oh. It was s'posed to be a peace offerin'. Makin' up with you was easier than I thought." Joel joked, and you gently slapped his shoulder.
"Whatever." You giggled, walking over to the present.
Inside were some paintings Ellie had made you that Joel never had the courage to send before, some sprigs of dried herbs they were growing in their back yard, some handmade goats soap from a lady down the street, and a long, narrow velvet box. You picked it up slowly, turning to look at him.
"Now if you don't like that I might as well go out and die in the woods. Took me fuckin' weeks to find." Joel admitted, rubbing his neck nervously. "I remember you sayin' you wanted one of them."
You slowly opened it, met with a shimmering string of pearls. A necklace. A necklace you had spent your whole life yearning for. Your lips parted with surprise. "I-I've never seen one in person. Only in those old magazines they had back at QZ."
Joel walked towards you, nodding a bit. "Spent a whole weekend with Tommy, all the way in Cheyenne. Almost got me killed." He chuckled, hands falling to your hips.
"Oh, Joel. It's beautiful. It's.... I've never seen something like this before." You whispered earnestly, gently sweeping your hair up. "Put it on me?"
He smiled a soft, rare smile, gingerly clipping it around your neck. He took a step back, admiring you, soaking you in, memorizing the way it looked on you. "Yeah, that was worth the trouble."
You smiled happily, falling into his arms. He held you tightly to his chest, fingers sweeping through your locks of hair. "By the way..." Joel murmured into your head, pulling away slowly as his fingers found your chin. Your eyes met in a searing gaze, full of summertime warmth that fell over you like golden sunlight. He stared at you long and hard, and you saw something like tears gloss over his gaze.
And when he spoke, his voice was calm, steady, devout:
"I love you, too."
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babypinkhearts · 18 days
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“and then i go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like, ‘i love you.’”
- g. satoru
pairing: gojo satoru + reader
summary: when does one cross the line of a mere friendship?
warnings: angst, mention of intoxication (alcohol), gojo is a FOOL for you, drunk reader, hidden inventory arc didn’t end so horrifically and everyone is safe <3, cameos from suguru, shoko, haibara and nanami, everyone is in their early twenties, some crude humor, comfort & fluff
word count: 11.4k
a/n: inspired by the song “somethin’ stupid” by frank & nancy sinatra. this fandom is allergic to happiness - you guys make me SAD.
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1:15am.
“oh my gosh - ‘toru! you answered!”
satoru wants to laugh at your excitement. he really does. but instead of feeling that instinctive sense of amusement you always provide him with, he feels a little bitter. it alarms him.
your voice is loud. a volume he doesn’t recognize too well. you sound drunk. ideally, he would relish you. to see you so careless was a rare sight. satoru had only really seen you intoxicated once, and even then you seemed to be hyper-aware of everything. like your body was inhumanly fighting for it’s willpower. as if the consequences of alcohol didn’t affect you - or, maybe because you feared it to. now, with your words slowly slurred and overly enthusiastic, he can only question himself as to why you were accepting the lack of self-control this time. there was something uneasy about it.
“are you having fun?”
his voice is soft. he sits at the edge of his bed, phone pressed lightly to his face. he finds your initial shock to him answering the phone silly. satoru has never missed a call from you. he had a bad habit of even answering you during missions - you always scolded him for it. but he didn’t care. it was you, how could he ever ignore it?
“i am, i am! shoko says we have to leave soon, but - oh my god, ‘toru, you know what i was thinking about?”
satoru lets himself chuckle at your jumbled thoughts. you’re like child who’s had far too much sugar, bouncing off the walls in excitement. despite his worry, he loves you like this, he thinks. happy.
you were no where near as unrestrained as he was, but you weren’t exactly reserved either. it was never often that you seemed to cross over the line, always cautious, meanwhile satoru always oblivious. he was an open book with captivating allure. but there was a difference in your demeanor, he had noticed. satoru was admittedly not too skilled with advice - at least, not pertaining to serious circumstances - but, you were important to him. seeing you so dull worried him. it was even noticeable to shoko, who had forced you to go out with her when the weekend finally came. drinks on her. judging by your state, you might had gone overboard.
“your eyes, ‘toru! they’re so pretty.”
satoru stiffens immediately.
you teased him a lot. it’d be soft, witty comments that would break his unbearable charm in seconds. but they were never flirtatious. that was satoru’s realm. an arm around your shoulder, him occasionally sprawling himself over you if you were laying down, him falling asleep on you more times then he could count, even going so far as to playfully kiss your cheek. satoru never hid his infatuation with you.
however, the thought of voicing it - with full authenticity, no humor embedded, was more terrifying than anything.
satoru tended to evade reality. he was a jester, even being carefree in moments that were painstakingly grim. to satoru, the world seemed to only spin with banter. ignorance is bliss.
“i’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
another voice, which satoru immediately recognizes as shoko, is heard through the phone. she was scolding you, and it was clear that she was much more sober in comparison. completely, even, satoru would guess.
“shoko!” satoru hears you giggle, and suddenly your voice sounds distant. there’s rustling, before a voice interrupts the brief silence.
“gojo.”
he feels a sense of relief wash through him. something that can take his mind off of your words. you were drunk, he reminded himself.
“what can i do for you?”
a grin appears on his face, finding the obvious tone of annoyance in shoko’s voice amusing. it was safe to assume you had most likely been somewhat problematic during your evening.
“come get her, gojo.”
satoru coughs, eyes widening.
“why? you’re out with her right now. what happened to girl’s night?”
it’s not that satoru doesn’t want to come get you. he would do anything for you. but with the state that you’re in - he’s not sure if he could handle it. you’re not like yourself.
“all she’s talking about is you. it’s driving me crazy.”
he isn’t given a chance to respond as the call promptly ends, leaving him to stare at the blank screen.
his eyes travel to his car keys on his bedside table.
•••••
1:35am.
satoru arrives at the bar in less than fifteen minutes. thankfully, the two of you share your locations with one another on your phones. it was a mutual exchange. for safety reasons, of course. friends being friends.
he’s tempted to call you again, just to find out where exactly you are (and maybe to hear your unusually upbeat voice once more), but he decides against it. he knows you probably won’t be the one to answer this time, given your inebriation. he rather face the humiliation of shoko’s teasing in one go.
the bar is lively, despite it nearing it’s closing time. at least shoko hadn’t dragged you to a club. it was safer this way, and while he trusts shoko with every fiber in his body, he’s aware that having a drunk person around is like having dead weight. shoko can be impatient at times.
scouting out the bar ultimately ends up being futile, with his search ending surprisingly quickly. satoru takes in the sight. you stick out like a sore thumb, smile bright and radiant as ever. shoko looks rather dreary beside you.
“finally.” shoko sighs, approaching him. she’s holding a lit cigarette in her hand, and satoru silently wonders if this bar even allows smoking indoors. “i’m gonna call geto or something. i need an actual drinking buddy… think there’s a bar around here that closes later?”
and while satoru wants to scold her for being out so late, he decides against it. he’s already appreciative enough that she had the willpower to stay sober.
instead, he snickers at the mention of his best friend, tilting his head. “replacing them just like that, huh?”
shoko smiles slyly, sending him a pointed look. “don’t act so nonchalant. i know when you’re nervous.”
satoru’s eyes widen, and he attempts to mask his surprise with a dismissive laugh.
“when - when have i ever been nervous?”
shoko’s face falls, and she simply blinks at him. satoru swallows thickly.
yeah, she was right.
he spares a glance over her shoulder, eyes landing on you. he almost winces. it’s a sight that even has him feeling lightheaded for a second.
your eyes are glossy and narrowed, and every movement you make seems to be in slow-motion. there’s a lazy grin on your lips as you talk to the person beside you, who satoru just knows is a poor stranger.
“jesus, shoko.” satoru breathes, momentarily glancing back at her. “why didn’t you give her a limit?”
shoko purses her lips, taking another hit from her cigarette. her face is difficult to read, though it morphs into something solemn - a twinge of sadness satoru can’t seem to understand. she looks back at you for a second before turning to satoru again.
“she needed it.” she gently replied, quiet enough to be heard by only him. “and-“
satoru’s unimpressed expression appears when he recognizes the familiar card in shoko’s hands.
“thank you, for it.” she cheekily responds, handing him his credit card back.
he hadn’t even realized it went missing.
before he could whine and scold her (and jokingly ask for the money back, despite his fortune), he feels the warm grasp of her hand around his wrist, and suddenly he’s being pulled towards you.
“alright!” shoko claps, grabbing your attention immediately. your head turns, and satoru swears he sees stars in your eyes. and maybe a little bit of confusion. you seem to have trouble processing his sudden appearance before an even wider grin adorns your face, if even possible.
“‘toru!” your arms find him, and satoru has to face away from shoko to hide his pink-dusted complexion.
you weren’t one for affection. he had expected a snarky greeting, per usual. this was different. his face feels like it’s boiling as he registers the feeling of your lips smacking against his cheek.
“how’d… how’d you get here so fast?” you giggle, pulling back from him to see his face, though keeping your arms loosely secured around his neck. “i was just on the phone with you!”
satoru has to remind himself how to breathe.
“uh-“ he glances at shoko. “i was just in the area. funny, right?”
and your body folds over, laughing as if he had just spoken the most hilarious sentence.
“what the heck?!” you gasp, and you playfully hit him in the chest. “so funny.”
shoko is beet-red from holding in her laugh. satoru glares.
“well!” she interrupts, smiling at you. “satoru’s gonna take you home now, alright?”
you gasp again, your hand falling upon your heart. “but girl’s night, shoko!”
shoko nods, faking a sad sigh.
“i know... but i’m not feeling too well, and i think i’m gonna stay here ‘til i feel better.”
she ignores the kick that satoru gives her. thankfully, you don’t seem to notice.
you blink, nodding back at her. “okay… call me when you’re home.”
shoko only hums in response, waving a dismissive hand before grabbing her phone to presumably text suguru.
satoru turns to you. you smile brightly.
you probably can’t walk straight - or go very far without falling. so, he offers an arm.
only to immediately retract it when your lips form into a pout.
“what?” he asks, confused. that familiar wit is crawling back into him, and he’s met with relief like no other. he could feel his heart rate finally slowing down, and a grin breaks out on his face. “you don’t want help, pretty?”
and he feels the world align once again, your dynamic back to normal as he observes your flustered expression. satoru smirks.
back in business.
“well…” you mumble, bringing your fingers to your chin in faux contemplation. you’ve let go of him now, though he’s resorted to firmly grabbing both of your forearms because unfortunately, your body has begun to involuntarily sway. “my place is farther, right?”
satoru tilts his head, from what? his brain is muddled, the forced proximity still affecting him indefinitely.
and though your mind is equally as scrambled from a completely different reason, you have the ability to read his.
“from here.” you clarify, and for a second satoru believes you’re sobering up, just a tad. it might have been the way you suddenly stand straighter, or how your expression relaxes. but that must be the fatigue, he thinks. satoru is a lightweight, he would know.
“we should just go to your place.”
satoru’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and while he wants to act completely shocked, he isn’t given a reason to be. you’ve always slept over, it was like second-nature. his home to be lived, to be simply loved. remnants of you everywhere, as if you shared the space. a routine that oddly encompasses what the two of you were. something never explicit.
“okay, we can go to mine.” he breathes, looking at your dilated eyes. you were staring at him differently. it was more intense. he chooses to ignore it. “grab on to me, though. i don’t want you breaking an ankle trying to get outside.”
you sluggishly wave an arm, rolling your eyes, though your head unconsciously tilts back with the movement. satoru’s eyes narrow.
“pshhh, i’ll fall just to spite you.”
•••••
2:07am.
the car ride was peaceful, surprisingly. at least to satoru, your drunk topics were like music to his ears. spontaneous and effortlessly random, though his creative mind seamlessly let him answer your brooding hypothetical questions.
“what if you crashed right now?”
“your hair would dye really easily, right? let’s do pink.”
“have you and suguru kissed before? i bet you have.”
the journey to get you inside his home was more of a different story.
“okay,” satoru breathes, leaning against the open car door, beckoning you with his hands. “stand up.”
somehow the alcohol in your system was just progressively ruining you, and you only could manage to blink up at him. it felt like the world was spinning, and satoru was just a painter’s mix of white and blue color. blurry, infuriatingly blurry.
“i don’t think-“ and you laugh, head bowing as your body shakes. a part of you is still conscious, in disbelief that you’re as fucked up as you are. “i don’t think i can stand up.”
his mischievous smile hadn’t returned since you were at the bar, and instead satoru had begun to exhibit a softer demeanor. voice patient, touch effortlessly gentle. you didn’t think too much about it, mostly because you mentally couldn’t.
“right.” satoru chuckles, momentarily pressing his hand against his mouth to muffle the sound. this was undeniably strange for him. had he stepped into a parallel universe? the roles are meant to be reversed. he was supposed to make shitty decisions, not you.
however, he doesn’t pester you further, simply approaching you and lifting you from under your arms. you try to support yourself to be of some use, but your hands fall upon nothing, vision whirling until it feels nearly nauseating. you give up.
“i got you.” satoru reassures, and suddenly, you’re pressed against him. an irritating reminder of his strength.
in a bittersweet way, it was kind of nostalgic. memories of past summers where you would be too tired to walk back to your dorm, the feeling of security from being so close to him warming you infinitely. he would tuck you into bed. and maybe you chose to overlook the fact that satoru had always been gentle with you.
you were in your early twenties now, that boyish charm still following him - and you’re sure it would never leave.
“do you feel sick?” he asks, now carrying your sluggish body. he had tried to let you walk on your own, but the attempts made were laughable. he’d rather avoid causing you trouble.
surprisingly, you didn’t. you felt more warm than anything, the buzz making your scalp tingle. you shook your head.
“feel…” your head leans against him, lolling to the side as if it’s suddenly become too heavy. “good.”
satoru hums in acknowledgment, fishing in his pocket with one hand, the other still holding you. he opens the door to his home with ease, heading straight to the bathroom after he’s closed it. you’re staring at him in wonder, and he senses the question before you ask.
“gonna get you ready for bed.” he answers, helping you up as you sit rather hesitantly on the counter. you hold your hands in your lap, closing your eyes. nostalgic, again.
it’s too domestic, and yet so normal.
it was usually you who would have satoru sit, gently removing his eyewear and helping him brush his teeth. he’d complain about anything - whether the water was too hot, the light was too bright, or the silence was too loud. despite the nagging, you loved taking care of him while he was drunk. and satoru craved the affection. sometimes, he got tipsy with hopes you’d be there at the end of the night. you always were.
“is this fun for you?”
satoru looks up from the cotton pad he had been coating with your makeup remover. during the times you’ve slept over, he’s picked up on the little things.
“fun?” he sends you a questioning look, a smile on his face. you diligently nod for longer than needed.
“yeah. when i’m drunk.” you reply, eyes still closed. “i like taking care of you… when you are. it’s been a while.”
satoru’s heart melts at that, though he only visibly snickers.
“well,” his hand reaches up to your face, keeping it in place as he begins to glide the cotton pad across your skin. it’s pleasant. “you haven’t thrown up, so i like it so far.”
you giggle, peeking through narrowed eyes at him. he’s awfully close.
“i don’t feel sick, s’ don’t worry.” you mumble, your body suddenly feeling numb as you try to force yourself to stay as still as possible. the bathroom light makes satoru look better than he should. you would argue it was because you weren’t thinking straight, but he always looked good. it was stupid.
“good.” he whispered, and for a moment you feel the ministrations on your face stop. the sound of your toothpaste opening fills your senses, and you silently watch as satoru coats your toothbrush. you smile lightly.
“i can do that… myself.” you slowly speak, grabbing it from him. you’re grateful that he refrains from teasing you as you almost completely miss the toothbrush with your hindered sight. he also nearly pouts, but doesn’t object. he likes to be babied by you, and he wants to return the favor. some of his best memories are ones he could hardly remember after nights out. unexplainably, it bothered him that you didn’t let him treat you the same. vulnerability is beautiful, satoru had found. he enjoyed it when he was around you. he wonders if he’d be as sane without it.
he watches as you jump off the counter, wobbling a little, which results in him immediately wrapping an arm around you.
“you sure?” he teases, and it takes everything in him to not pull out his phone a record a video for later. this is hilarious to him, truly. he’s surprised shoko hadn’t enjoyed it as much as he currently was.
you sigh dramatically, leaning against him in submission. a bit of your normal self shines through the reluctancy. satoru doesn’t say anything, only sneaking an occasional glance through the mirror you both faced. you brush your teeth like that, bodies pressed against one another. he holds your hair as you rinse your mouth. the stability is comforting.
you make no effort to separate from him after you finish. satoru doesn’t seem to mind. you’re not sure whether or not you imagine his grip getting tighter.
he guides you to his familiar bedroom. surprisingly neat, as he always seemed to leave it. it looked like the set of a movie - maybe too prim and proper. satoru was never really home anymore, business meetings and missions taking up the majority of his time. he was training to be a teacher, after-all - as strange as it was to you. despite it, you always valued how high you were on his list of priorities. he continuously made time for you.
the warmth you had felt is suddenly gone, and you complain as he leaves you sat on the edge of his bed.
“i’m getting you clothes, i’ll be back, sleepyhead.” he teases, and you watch as he disappears into his closet. you wonder if it also looks the same. you vaguely recall his uniforms neatly hung, casual clothes on the other side of the walk-in. on nights out, you used to help him pick his outfits. help me pull tonight, he’d beg. then, he’d go out with you and buy you a new outfit of your own. he loved being a judge in the dressing rooms. but you’re not sure if he was ever really honest; he would just end up buying everything your eyes lingered on. stupid gojo satoru. they’re fond memories, leaving you smiling while looking down at your hands.
satoru’s wealth was never forgettable. he was not humble by any means, but he was generous. with money, he had never been greedy. he’d spend his fortune on you if you let him.
that’s one thing about friendship, right? you give them your all.
“here.” a t-shirt and sweatpants are placed on your lap, and you recognize them as his own. they’re pure cotton, the material smooth as you feel it against your skin. curse men with money. “change, and i’ll let you sleep.”
inertly, you nod. your eyes follow him as he exits the room and closes the door behind himself.
every person has their own version of how they perceive someone else. to the rest of the world, satoru might be oddly optimistic. egotistical, definitely. you’d grown to love the fool, despite the flaws he continuously claims he lacks. denial seems to only be bearable if he’s the one complaining.
your limbs feel heavy as you replace your clothes with his. they engulf you, feeling like a warm hug. you have bundles of his wardrobe back in your own closet, for the nights when he would sleepover. strictly. and perhaps you had prolonged returning them to use them as your own. satoru never made the effort to ask for anything back, though. it frustrates you, the craving of his touch and scent so intense you’re embarrassed by the mere thought of it. he makes it all too easy.
the door slowly creaks open before your vision happily welcomes him back. you raise a brow at him from instinct.
“and what if i was still changing?” you asked teasingly, voice clearly worn out. you let your body collapse on to the outrageously comfortable mattress, sighing as your head hits satoru’s expensive pillows. they smell like him. “you didn’t even knock.”
your eyes trail to him, watching as he leans against the doorframe. his arms are crossed as he stares down at you, playfully rolling his eyes. the blue is ever-so-slightly visible as his glasses sit at the edge of his nose.
“you were taking too long. thought you might have passed out or something…” he replies, letting himself in. you only respond with a mocking laugh, eyes narrowed as they threaten to close.
“you’re a bad liar.”
he ignores you, and a satisfied smirk appears on your face.
you hear the click of satoru’s bedside lamp, and sigh in relief as the main fluorescent lights are turned off. your eyes invite the ambient orange with open arms.
satoru chuckles at you, removing his glasses and leaving them on the bedside table. you watch in curiosity as he crouches down beside you. he only smiles in response.
you try your best to hide your surprise as he lays his head on the edge of the bed, facing you. his legs are crossed as he sits on the floor, comfortable and casual. you blink at him slowly, shamelessly staring. he’s awfully close again.
“hi.” he whispers. that stupid smile, again.
you’re speechless for a moment, trying to overcome the feeling of your stomach flipping, as if you’ve just dropped from a rollercoaster. with the forced proximity, you’re nervous he can practically see your heightened senses. your entire body feels unbearably warm.
“hi.” you whisper back, finding yourself bashfully grinning at the intimacy. it’s involuntary, pure instinct. there’s blazing resentment that sits uncomfortably.
there were so many people in the world. why must cupid have you chase after the most unattainable one?
“tired?” satoru asks, tilting his head. his question lingers in the air for a while. you like the silence, relishing in how soft his voice had sounded. he chuckles when all you do is hum in response. “sleep, then. it’s late.”
slowly, your head shakes. “… i don’t want to.” your voice is muffled by the pillow. “i wanna talk.”
satoru rolls his eyes at your stubbornness, words completely defying your appearance. he’s sure if he stays quiet for over a minute, you’d be out like a light. regardless, he grants you your wish.
“about what?” he asks, and you appreciate that his tone is of genuine interest. you’ve never felt like a burden around him. your eyes close as you feel him caress the top of your head.
no matter what, there would always be a touch of bitterness towards gojo satoru, despite the tenderness he handles you with. and the most frustrating part was that he had never done anything wrong. he’s just himself. and you suppose that’s why it hurts a little more.
you’re left to collect your scrambled thoughts, eyes tiredly looking into his, as if they’ll give you all your answers. and a part of you thinks they might.
it’s the world’s most intimate staring contest. dilated pupils that you can’t register, the longing for something so mutual it’s painful.
to his dismay, you look away.
satoru is reminded of the night, despite the fuzzy feeling in his chest. he’s the first to break the silence.
“what’s wrong, pretty?”
satoru knows this is unfair. he’s taking advantage of the state that you’re in. drunk words are sober thoughts, he once heard. but you’re always so private. never letting anyone in, succumbing to your own thoughts until something like this happens. where you’ve drank an entire night away, and somehow, your mind is still plagued.
you look back at him innocently, and a pang of guilt seeps through his being. he’s tempted to retract his words, to climb and lay down beside you. to lull you to sleep. but he favors his curiosity and pure concern over anything. it blinds him. he’s sorry for this, genuinely.
you’re slow to answer, and while satoru tries tells himself it’s because of the inebriation, he knows it’s because you don’t want to tell him. your mind was everything but pliable.
your eyes leave him again, staring off at the wall over his shoulder. an attempt to escape his attention, but you still have it completely. you’re all he can focus on. your voice is still muffled by the pillow.
“you.”
the confession stings. and suddenly, satoru wishes he hadn’t asked. it’s too serious, too heartbreakingly honest. you deserve to have this conversation in a better state. but he’s evil at times. so he doesn’t stop you.
“you’re all i think about.” you confess, voice exasperated, and satoru feels his stomach drop at the view of complete hopelessness in your eyes. “it’s driving me crazy.”
he recalls the initial phone call of the night.
shoko’s complaints about how often you brought him up, saying you were driving her crazy. was that really the universal way of describing it? the confirmation only came when he got to witness your affection first-hand. the hug, the kiss on the cheek.
his mind is racing, heart beating so fast he’s afraid he will combust. feelings that had been years in the making with pitiful secret glances, all amounted to a confession that he’s not even sure he can convince himself is genuine. yet he licks his lips, breath faltering. he can ruin everything with a snap of his fingers - but this friendship? he can’t. he won’t.
“is that a bad thing?”
the question leaves him quicker than he expects, and he surprises himself with the bluntness. it eats at him, the yearning for your adoration so eager it scares him. the impulsivity of the sentence makes him think, yes, he wants to know what you feel. how you feel about him? do you think the two of you would work out? is it too complicated to even try?
a breathy chuckle leaves you. the sound reminds him of shoko’s solemn expression from back at the bar.
“i don’t know anymore.”
satoru swallows thickly, throat feeling dry. there’s delusion that takes over him, and he lets himself have this moment of bliss. he used to beg the universe for something like this. sitting outside, taking walks during the night on his own, hands in his pockets as he followed nothing in particular. his head would tilt to the sky, eyes shining at the stars. he’d beg everything that someday he’d get over his fear and admit his infatuation. that maybe he’d have a chance. that he wouldn’t ruin the two of you. the bond you had was too precious to him.
gojo satoru sometimes lacks self-control. he can be selfish without meaning to be. he likes talking, loves evading. because again, the world only seemed to spin with banter.
but now, it feels like the spinning has stopped. the earth is stable, frozen in time, being so generous with leaving you both to move freely. as if it’s fate. satoru thinks, just for a moment, that this feels okay to admit. he’ll be honest. even if it makes his world break.
“i’m always thinking about you.”
gojo satoru. triumphant to all, though perfectly okay with losing a battle to you.
he’s not sure how to describe the look you give him. it’s hazy, and he prays he’s right about detecting joy.
there’s a pause that makes him nervous. more nervous than he’s ever felt.
and then you lean forward to kiss him.
a hand raises to gently pass through his hair. the softness of it makes him shiver. he feels you cradle his face so innocently, noticing how the touch is there, but also not. you’re giving him a chance to pull away. always selfless, never forceful. the beauty of your nature. too aware of everything.
how heartless of him to kiss back.
it shouldn’t feel this good. he shouldn’t love how your hand buries itself in his hair, or how he could feel your smile against his mouth. it’s addictive.
he separates from you for a moment, watching as you sit up hastily. you claim his lips once more, as if they should never be apart. and they shouldn’t, he thinks.
the bliss is euphoric.
and yet, there’s a pit of uncomfortable shame that wrecks through his entire being.
when you part, satoru’s throat feels tight. his eyes are watering, and yet he’s unable to look away. it’s horrific.
what did he just do?
“i…” he quietly speaks, though it gets lost in the darkness of his room. a single look at you and all words are gone.
you have a sleepy smile on your face, eyes twinkling. satoru stops himself from talking, because he knows he’ll just find a way to ruin the moment. it’s serene and he knows he doesn’t deserve it. but he wants to enjoy it for as long as he can.
a soft sigh leaves your lips, and you breathlessly laugh. it’s fatigued, but you’re still there. present. satoru feels like he might cry.
“i love you.”
satoru’s eyes shut tightly, and he silently hopes he could conjure the ability to just disappear. to be gone forever, to never have to look back. anything to escape this, because his heart hurts. and it’s the kind of feeling that makes him sick.
he can’t say it back. he refuses.
adolescent love is one like no other. puppy love, is what it’s mostly called. puppy love that never fades, puppy love that never dies. what is that? just plain love? that didn’t feel right. it was bland and boring. a phrase that certainly couldn’t encapsulate what he truly felt. maybe it needed a metaphor. fireworks blazing in the night sky, the unexpected spark you feel as you accidentally shock yourself, the sight of the most heavenly sunset. even then, nothing completely translated.
satoru can see your eyes struggling to stay open, fluttering desperately with exhaustion. you lay back down. his body generously lends him the strength to raise his hand to cup your face. he caresses it gently, doing his best to mask the tremble in his limbs. your hand rests over his own.
this wasn’t a mere friendship.
in fact, there’s something in the back of his mind screaming at him that it never was.
satoru is right, you fall asleep quickly. your body gives into the the necessity, liquor bothering you no further.
claws grasp at him, pulling him back to consciousness. be realistic, they say. because this, this can’t happen.
his head bows down, and his body curls in itself. he feels sluggish as he stands up, slow steps taken as he feels like be may collapse if he moves too quickly. he takes one last look at you before he shuts the bedroom door. the sliver of light that comes from his open blinds leaves the remnants of his shadow, darkness looming over you. like a devil over your shoulder.
you probably wouldn’t remember in the morning.
his voice is a whisper that he’s sure you aren’t able to hear, even if you were somehow awake. it’s hesitant, mostly because the words make him feel bile crawling in his throat. he’s dizzy from it.
“it’ll pass.”
•••
11:47am.
it hurts to move your head. and blink, and think.
“don’t let me drink again.” you whine, arm over your eyes. it’s pitiful, and the boy beside you only snickers.
“complain to shoko.” he muses, eyes closed.
he lays beside you in his bed, enjoying the sunshine peeking through the window. satoru had disturbed your slumber in worries that you had planned to spend the rest of the day rotting with your hangover. it was a pointless concern, as he now knew you were going to do it regardless.
there was nothing different about this. it was normal. no uncomfortable tension. friends being friends, or so it seemed.
“thank you for taking care of me.” you breathed, leaning over to pat his chest lightly.
you don’t mention kissing him.
“it was…” satoru clicks his tongue in thought, humming. “an experience. for sure.”
satoru doesn’t either.
the avoidance aches.
“do you want water?” he asks, peering at you through a half-opened eye. he’s relieved when you nod, desperate to flee your overwhelming presence for a few minutes.
he wonders who would be the first to bring it up - if it would get brought up. did you even remember? he doubts it.
defeat looms through him, and he knows that he can’t just let the night go. now that he’s had a taste of it, of you, he’s not sure he could live without it.
so what does he do?
he begins to ignore you. as stupid as that sounds - yes, gojo satoru begins to ignore you.
•••
2 weeks later.
well, he tries to ignore you.
he doesn’t cut contact; he doubts he’d ever be able to stop talking to you for more than a day, but there is less vigor there. no flirting, no physical attention. it’s as if you’ve become poisonous.
it confuses you, and it makes you helpless. you start to doubt everything.
sure, having satoru rampantly run through your mind was exhausting, but you preferred it more than acting like he didn’t exist. you’re sure that if the thought of him was wiped from all your memories, you’d feel obliviously empty. gojo satoru was meant to be there. he had made his mark.
“you’re a terrible baker.”
you glare at him through the sides of your narrowed eyes, attention reverting back to the microwave in front of you.
“it’s microwaveable popcorn, satoru. i’m not baking anything.”
satoru grins in response, “but you tried.”
the both of you stare off to the end of the kitchen, looking at the trashcan that currently held a failed attempt at cinnamon rolls.
“you didn’t tell me the timer was going off!” you defend, arms thrown into the air. it causes satoru to let out a laugh, and you have to ignore how you see his hand stop itself from patting you on the back.
after all these years, you had always hypothesized (and tried accepting) that the relationship you had with satoru would mostly likely end with a premature death. yours, you had always assumed. jujustu sorcery kind of made that an unavoidable mindset.
never, never in a million years, would you expect it to be turned brittle with a kiss. a kiss that had began to shatter everything. ugly thorns showed through, stabbing at every attempt to make things seem normal again. it was an idiotic kiss caused by an idiotic mind.
did you really think you’d have him? you yourself called him unattainable.
“are you sleeping over?”
you’re not sure why you ask. maybe it’s to hear something, anything; a confirmation that what the two of you have isn’t fucked forever. but you see how he tenses. how his eyes avoid yours. you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from having a complete outburst.
ignore it! you want to beg. act like it never happened, please.
“no, i have to finish up some work.” he answers, finger tracing over the kitchen countertops. his voice is low, and an awkward cough follows his words.
he would have never answered like that before.
despite your visible disappointment, you nod, fighting the urge to slap yourself across the face.
stupid.
“same.” you mumble, and while it’s obviously a lie, satoru doesn’t question it.
it’s just how things go for a while.
you text him every day, see him occasionally, and life simply continues. it continues without him really in it. at least, not as present as he was before.
you spend a majority of your time with shoko and suguru. they never ask you anything, but since that night you notice how they both stop bringing satoru’s name up. you wonder if it was a collective agreement, if they had spoken to each other privately beforehand. was the change in your relationship that obvious? it’s as if satoru doesn’t exist when you’re around them, and oddly enough, it helps.
it isn’t until suguru’s birthday that you really begin to crack.
organized by you, shoko, and satoru (though, mainly you and shoko), you plan a small party for suguru. it was an act of appreciation, you adored the man infinitely. possibly more than satoru did, but you refrained from saying that out loud. satoru was prideful in his love for his best friend.
“where do i put these?”
you raise your head from the cake you had been frosting, eyes falling upon a grinning haibara. nanami was here too, the two of them arriving early to help with decorations. haibara holds party streamers in his hands, assorted with all different sorts of color. you smile back at him.
“around the entrance, i think. i want his eyes to be overwhelmed as soon as he walks through the door.” you beam, eyes mischievous. haibara laughs, nodding in agreement. you watch as he walks away towards the front door.
suguru would be here in twenty minutes, according to his text. you had invited him over for what he assumed was a movie night. you had a lot of those now, fighting off the dread of your lonely nights without satoru. it admittedly felt wrong to have shoko or suguru fill that void, but you weren’t sure what else to do. satoru wouldn’t come over during night anymore. he’d linger in the afternoon, then be gone just as quickly.
“nice hand-writing.”
you freeze in place, the piping bag you were writing with stopping at the end of ‘birthday.’ satoru watches from above your leaned figure, eyes taking in the small drawings of balloons and neat cursive letters.
“the best, right?” you attempt to act nonchalantly, continuing to fill out the bottom of the cake with suguru’s name. “and i told you i was a good baker.”
satoru laughs at that, nodding. “i’ll believe it when i get a piece.”
you roll your eyes, shaking your head at him with a smile, and you finally look up, snorting at the sight of him.
loving him was so easy.
he wears a party hat over his head, the elastic band around his face looking somewhat uncomfortable. you notice he carries another hat in his hand.
“match with me?” he grins, stretching out his arm, hoping you would take it.
you don’t even complain. you’re so derived of him, the thought doesn’t even cross your mind.
there’s a certain type of joy that you could only feel whenever you were around satoru. his childishness definitely was a factor, but you wonder if it was also his unintentional kindness. you’re aware of everything, but him? you can’t imagine what his mind must look like. he knows how to fill a room with his presence. he knows how to make you smile. had he studied the world, or did it come naturally?
your thoughts die down when you watch his expression turn into pure glee as you attach the reflective plastic to your head.
it’s the most attention you’ve received in so long, and frankly, it’s pathetic that you feel your heart beat just a little faster from it.
in twenty minutes, you’re all stood around the front door, party whistles in hand.
door is open, let yourself in, you had texted suguru.
the lights are off, everyone hidden under the darkness. even with the lack of light, your eyes had begun to adjust, seeking out the silly decorations you had all put up. posters of cats and dogs with party hats, similar to you and satoru, along with streamers that extended to entirely other rooms, and balloons that took up the majority of the ceiling.
“i’m surprised you kept it a secret.” you mumbled, voice low as you crouch beside the white-haired male. satoru’s jaw momentarily drops, characteristically dramatic.
“mean.” you hear him mumble, and you gasp as you feel him pinch your side. you slap his arm, and he giggles.
it’s familiar, and you try not to dwell on the action for too long.
when the door knob tilts, you cease all noise. the creaking of the door is thrilling, the gap widening by the second.
you all jump out once it’s opened, haibara being quick to turn the lights on.
“surprise!”
suguru’s face makes you want to laugh. he’s surprised, definitely, but there’s also a glint of playful annoyance. he stands at the doorway for a moment, scanning the room to look at everyone he’s seen for years. all together, grins on every face. he momentarily observes the random decor.
“movie night, huh?” he muses, and you giggle in return. his hair is half-tied up, pieces naturally falling by the sides of his face. there’s that gentle smile that he always holds.
“worked out pretty well.” you shrugged, grinning as you approach him.
his arms are outstretched, and hesitantly, you find yourself in them. unlike you.
shoko’s eyes glance over to satoru.
“happy birthday.” you mumble into suguru’s shirt, squeezing him tightly.
and you’re ripped away from him as satoru throws an arm around the two of you.
“happy birthday!” he interrupts, and suguru makes a face as he obnoxiously plants a loud kiss on his cheek. you’re taken aback for a second, surprised at the casualness of his body against yours. as if the past two weeks hadn’t happened.
haibara, nanami, and shoko approach to give the male the same attention, half-hugs all given. and maybe satoru is reading into it a little too much, but suguru isn’t giving them the same amount of affection as he gave you.
his eyes land on the party hat you’re still wearing, a small frown on his face as he messes with the elastic of his.
he kinda feels like a lost puppy for a bit, following you and suguru as you seamlessly chat amongst yourselves. his two favorite people, mixing as they always have - but for some reason, it feels a bit different. it’s pitiful, the way he watches you interact with each other. shoko has to look away, while nanami and haibara are thankfully oblivious.
“you made a cake?” suguru smiles, eyeing the colorful frosting. ‘happy birthday sugi-poo’ is written, a forceful demand on satoru’s part. suguru’s eyebrow raises, knowing only one person would suggest it. “… with satoru?”
satoru gladly attempts to interrupt with an enthusiastic “yes!” but you cut him off with a scoff.
head shaking, you gave him a pointed look. “no, he made me write that.”
suguru nods, though his eyes linger on you and his expression turns into amusement. he can see satoru in his peripheral vision. he doesn’t question you any further.
the night is enjoyable while it lasts.
you end up staying beside shoko the majority of the time, the two of you chatting about whatever comes to mind. you always found it easy to talk to her, like she had a level of understanding that you couldn’t comprehend. you’d argue that it was the future doctor in her, but she’d scold you and tell you she wasn’t nearly done with her studies yet. you liked that look of annoyance on her face though, so you’d probably never stop poking fun at her career choice. a million years in debt if you weren’t a sorcerer, you’d grin. you wouldn’t call her lucky, though.
satoru is glued to suguru’s side, as he always was, though you notice how his expression seems a little less cheerful than usual. they’re talking, but you’ve never been a good lip-reader, so you disregard your concern and avert your attention back to your brunette friend.
as soon as he senses your eyes not on them anymore, suguru breaks.
“something needs to change.”
satoru leans forward, sighing heavily. there’s an exaggerative slump in his shoulders, and he slowly looks up at suguru. the repetitive topic being brought back up again.
“no.”
“yes.”
suguru scoffs, rubbing his eyes with his hand in annoyance, a level that only satoru could tread on and reach as easily.
“you looked like you were gonna kill me.”
satoru laughs, rolling his eyes. “i did not-“
“satoru.”
he looks back up, quirking a brow at the seriousness in suguru’s face.
“she kissed you. do something about it.”
suguru was the only person satoru had gone to, while you had stayed silent since that night. normally, satoru was reclusive with feelings, but suguru was more in-touch with reasonable actions than he was. he needed advice, though he never took it because he disliked the options given. stubborn.
“what if i don’t want to?”
there’s a small beat of silence, before suguru’s head perks up.
he smirks happily, eyes closed, almost like he had expected a response like that. he provides a solution of his own, voice light and airy as if it’s an easy compromise. it definitely isn’t.
“then i’ll kiss her.”
satoru stills, eyes widening.
realistically, satoru knew it was an empty threat. suguru would never do something like that to him - he was too civil and kindhearted. but his words bothered him nonetheless, because even if suguru wasn’t going to, someone else eventually would. he’s playing the waiting game, but for what, exactly?
the friendship didn’t feel the same anymore. beating around the bush was becoming a little pointless because satoru was distancing himself anyway. he wanted to keep you, but how could he when there’s something there that the two of you are both equally as afraid of saying out loud?
it’s conflicting emotions, all too grand for a man that fears showing them. he offers no verbal response, and suguru keeps up his smile, all-knowing and finally satisfied.
suguru leaves him after that, his back turning to walk the other way, his long black hair being the only thing satoru could really focus on. reluctantly, satoru stands straighter, feeling as though something had rid of him of his strength. it takes him more effort than usually needed to simply walk to the kitchen.
he pauses in his steps, and stands at the entrance for a bit. it’s you.
satoru’s brows raise in curiosity as he observes you scrummaging through every possible drawer. there’s a frustrated tone in your feverish movements. you hadn’t noticed him, too concentrated in your search.
“what are you looking for?” he bluntly asks, and stops himself from chuckling at the way your body tenses in surprise. you compose yourself quickly, sighing and turning back to look at him. your arms cross, and you lean against the counter.
“i can’t find my lighter for the birthday candles.”
satoru snorts, raising a brow. “oh no, the entire party is ruined.”
“shut up.” you groan, glaring at him. “it’s important! that’s like the biggest part of birthday parties.”
satoru leans back against the doorway, eyes spotting suguru in the living room chatting amongst other people. he’s lively, extroverted in a way satoru isn’t.
“i’m pretty sure he’d be okay without making wishes this year-“
“can you drive me to the gas station? please?”
you already have your wallet in your hand, and satoru isn’t sure how he feels about the fact that you just know he would say yes immediately.
“it’ll be fast.” you insist, and he’s not sure why you’re adding on to it, because he’s already grabbing his jacket from the other room. his mind is on auto-pilot around you.
you don’t tell anyone you’re leaving, simply expecting the trip to last less than ten minutes. the gas station is a few streets away, and you trust that your only mission is to buy one measly lighter from the convenience store beside it.
birthdays were always a big deal for you, it was something satoru quickly learned from your days back at jujustu high. if it was someone’s birthday, it was safe was assume you’d be outside their door waiting with a cake. birthday candles too.
even now, several years after graduation, you still have the ability to conjure up everyone into a single location for a celebration. you were difficult to refuse. it’s one of your traits that satoru found the most admirable.
it’s painful that the drive is mostly silent, only filled with small talk that friends of two days would engage in. only, you’ve known satoru for much longer. there had been tension gradually building over the past couple of weeks, thick and ugly. satoru knows it’s his fault entirely, but he’s selfish and would rather let you suffer to keep his peace.
you arrive faster than you anticipate, a breath of relief leaving your lips as you unbuckle your seatbelt, hand on the car door.
“two minutes, tops.”
satoru watches as you step out, hands in his lap.
he feels the cold breeze of the night air before the door is closed, and he’s left alone with his thoughts again.
fuck. fuck this.
this was torturous. with every passing day, he had only been pushing you further away. suguru’s words had been passing through his head like a broken record, repeating the same verse until it was beginning to drive him mad. something needs to change.
yes, yes it does.
he needed to take the initiative, as much as he dreaded it. he missed spending countless days together. he wanted them back.
satoru was just being a stubborn idiot, one that knows he’d be unable to really control his feelings. he’d just dig his own grave deeper, he supposes, until spontaneity ate at him and he could finally confess.
he remembers his teenage years, recalling the first actual time that shoko and suguru had cornered him.
it was a rainy day, excruciatingly slow. the three of them were hauled in satoru’s dorm, having nothing better to do than watch bad romcoms. you had been the only person sent out on a mission - only because you had been the only person who volunteered. it was uncommon for your classmates to worry about you in a a situation like this, knowing that yaga would only send you out so randomly when the issue wasn’t that big. two grade three curses, you’d be back soon.
except that wasn’t really the case.
you arrived back hours later than expected. bloody and bruised, clutching your arm to your side. grade one. jujustu high had incorrectly identified the curse. it had been able to split it’s body in three, as well as equally distribute it’s cursed energy. that was why it had fled detection.
impressionable, young, and (more notably) driven with anger, satoru argued for weeks with the higher ups.
gojo satoru was among one of the most respected jujustu sorcerers, even before adulthood. but it was an attempt in vain. jujustu would not fold by his say alone. he hadn’t even completely proved himself worthy of his title yet. the strongest, in jujustu high, definitely. but not strong enough. not yet.
and sure, you had made it out alive, but barely. weeks later, he’d wince at the announcement of your promotion to a grade one sorcerer. you were in the same boat as him and suguru now, all labeled as some of the best of the modern age for only being sixteen. he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
the perception of satoru changed after that. maybe he wasn’t just a heartless comic. of course, suguru and shoko were well-aware of it, but this was something deeper. the entire experience had shifted their white-haired classmate.
while you recovered in the infirmary, suguru and shoko took it as their chance. it was during a training day. shoko had stared for a while, meanwhile suguru was looking in every other direction. they ended up both speaking at the same time.
“you like her, don’t you?”
and satoru had just dumbly blinked.
more than anything, he had wanted to say. but he remembered how much of a coward he had been that day. he denied everything, even going so far as to get uncharacteristically upset. suguru and shoko never directly brought it up after that.
satoru sighs, leaning back against the car seat, raking a hand through his hair.
it had definitely been longer than two minutes. where were you?
uncomfortably, he sat up straighter, grabbing his phone to look at the time.
8:43pm.
ten minutes had gone by.
without thinking too much about it, satoru exits the car, heading straight towards the convenience store a few feet away. maybe you were grabbing something else?
the bells on the top of the door jingle as he enters, his eyes scanning the area. there’s a sense of relief that flushes through his body at the sight of you.
though not visibly damaged, satoru could easily tell from your posture that you were feeling some discomfort. you’re talking to the cashier - or, rather, the cashier was talking to you. there’s a safe distance between the both of you, the counter providing a more comforting separation.
you’re smiling, and it’s stiff. satoru recognizes it to be forceful. there’s hesitance in your polite nods and undoubtedly fake chuckles.
“i’m off in an hour.”
satoru’s eyes widen, and he steps behind an isle to hide his obvious eavesdropping.
“no… ha, i’m actually pretty busy at the moment-“
“give me your number, we can reschedule.”
the cashier’s voice sounds more demanding, remnants of the seductive tone he held dissipating. how long had this been going on for? satoru shakes his head, stepping back out.
he’s not really sure what takes over him. protectiveness, yes, but pleasure? excitement? maybe a little.
“hi, baby.”
it comes out too casual, and satoru raises an arm to wrap around your shoulders. he flashes the most shit-eating grin at the cashier. this feels right.
“you finish checking her out?”
there’s a flush of satisfying red that darkens the man’s face, and satoru chuckles.
“no, no, checking her out.” he points at the lighter on the counter with a raised brow. “we’re in a bit of a hurry.”
satoru could feel your gaze, head tilted upwards as you watch the entire interaction in silence. he could sense how tense you were, though you made no effort to separate yourself from him. whether it’s from the situation itself, or satoru falling into old habits, you nearly flinch when you feel him press a small kiss on your cheek.
“three dollars, please.”
beating you to it, satoru hands him his card. the man is avoiding all eye contact, head tilted down to stare at the counter.
you often forget how shamelessly smug gojo satoru can be. he never really exhibits that attitude around you, always sweet and respectful. you’ve only really gotten a peek at this different demeanor once or twice - back when you used to accompany him on missions. he can be ruthless. frighteningly ruthless.
after satoru pays (with an obnoxiously toned ‘thank you!’), there’s a hand on your back that leads you out the door. you’re compliant, mind wracking with undeniable confusion, submissive in a way that you’re sure you’d be embarrassed of under any other situation.
you’re nervous, you realize. because this is flirtatious, intimate, and it’s been so long since he’s had you this close.
“what a creep, huh?”
you’re back in the car, fingers fidgeting with one another as you force your eyes to stare out the window. there are so many words begging to be spoken on the tip of your tongue.
is it really possible for someone to spring back like that? as if it’s natural? no mind to the grief of a rotting friendship, or whatever the two of you had. you appreciate satoru’s concern for you like no other - but when it’s dominant like that? composure lost, behavior cocky. a glimpse of it is all you need, because how can he act like that after everything? it seemed so natural for him to be so possessive.
“you okay?” satoru’s eyes glance to you for a split second, fingers moving to turn on the engine. he pulls out of the parking lot, and in seconds you’re back on the main road. you’re digging your nails into your palms.
satoru worryingly looks over at you again, unsettled by your lack of response. he acts before he thinks, a hand reaching over in an attempt to gently grab yours.
“i’m really sorry i didn’t notice sooner. i would’ve-“
“are you upset that i kissed you?”
his hand retracts itself immediately. satoru wants to slam the breaks and scold you; complain to you for saying something so sudden as he’s driving. instead, his entire body tenses, and his grip on the steering wheel becomes incredibly tighter. you remembered, is all he’s thinking.
you mean for the question to come out more hostile than it does. instead, it’s weak. defeated, even.
“… what?”
“i’m just confused.”
it’s ugly word vomit, thoughts you don’t want to say out loud, but you’re frustrated. because how can he be so carefree, knowing that everything is dwindling? how much longer can you passively stay alive, ignoring that stinging wound in your heart that cuts itself deeper by the minute?
and why does he looked so shocked?
“you’re so… complicated, satoru.” you whisper, head leaning back as you close your eyes. you’ve had enough. if confrontation was something he was avoiding - then, fine. you’d hurt yourself first.
so many years of pining after him, just to have your heart broken in a few mere moments. darkness bites you, everywhere all at one. clouds appear, rain trickling down as if it's just routine. a hallway of endless disaster. maybe you had done some horrible things in your past - but was getting put through this turmoil really necessary? your heart hurt.
“i’m sorry i did it.” it’s cruel that you can physically feel your body giving out on you. your limbs lay heavy, lip trembling. “i really, really, am sorry.”
you look to the side to avoid everything about him. you weren’t going to be able to do this if you saw his face - that much you knew. in more comedic (and equally as depressing) lighting, you wanted to jump out of the car. anything sounded better than being beside him at the moment, really.
but you also wanted to see his eyes roll with affection. a teasing smile, a soft mention of your name. but nothing comes, and it leaves you to fill the unpleasant silence.
“you confuse me-“ you pause, wiping a stream of unwarranted tears that fall from your eyes. humility seeps through your soul. “you confuse me because you kissed back. and that gave me hope for a little.”
and it really had.
you had awoken that next morning with the biggest grin, an army of butterflies swarming through your stomach. you had laid in his bed for hours, up until you knew he was awake. you were anxious - thrilled to hear him ask you about it. satoru had always been confrontational, which is why when he had said absolutely nothing when he first saw you, it crushed all those butterflies in an instant.
you cried once you were finally home.
gojo satoru does not do anything to ease your pain. not then, not now. his eyes are stagnant, only focused on the road. for a moment, you genuinely wonder if he had even heard you. or, more realistically, if he was choosing not to.
bitterly, you press your palms to your eyes, sighing softly.
this would be it, then. you would have to walk back into your home, light candles on a cake, and wish his best friend a wonderful birthday. all while looking unaffected. because the boy next to you just refuses to respond.
everything, all this, just because you liked a boy.
satoru’s eyes are hazy, and he’s sure he might leave indents on the wheel from his grip. everything about him feels unstable. the world is out of orbit. it's spiraling, keeping him unbalanced. he can't think clearly.
“… you don’t understand.”
no other word choice could have possibly made you more aggravated. a simple rejection could have cut it, and you would have miserably accepted it too. but now, he’s just making it more convoluted, too irritatingly intricate.
“then, god, satoru. help me understand.”
that meekness once displayed is substituted with hurt. genuine, genuine hurt. hurt because this is your fault, hurt because you know you’re being selfish by solely blaming him, hurt because nothing can ever be straightforward when it came to satoru.
you notice him pull-over. it’s an empty parking lot, the only light coming from distant street lamps. you reckon you’d prefer if he just left you stranded there, or if he could have the heart to simply kill yours and take you out of your misery.
“you have a knife back here?”
“shut up.”
it’s dejected, and your attempt at making the tense situation a little more light-hearted fails disastrously. you don’t remember a time where satoru had ever looked this serious. the closest would maybe be when you were sixteen and stupid, almost getting yourself killed when fighting a grade one curse. you wonder if satoru thought of the ordeal with the same fondness.
probably not.
“look-“ the car is parked, and you almost back away when you register him leaning over the console. “listen to me, please.”
you forget how much you cherished the sight of his eyes. as did everyone, you imagined. if you could, you’d paint the world that color. cerulean blue, the shade that mimics real art. unobtainable naturally, but satoru has always been an exception, hasn’t he?
“you told me that you loved me.”
blunt and honest, staring into your very soul.
and you nod, eyes wide, flushed and suddenly embarrassed. because you did. and you meant it.
you loved him more than earth, more than words could explain. you’d recognize his touch under a hundred others, his hands by sight alone. but his stare is all too intense now, and you cower, backing up as much as the small space could let you. and he only gets closer, like a moth to a flame.
“i did.”
satoru lets out a heavy breath, eyes blazing. it’s the most obvious form of visible relief you think you’ve ever seen. because you actually remembered. and you weren’t robbing him by taking back your words.
“you kissed me.”
disbelief, satoru understands it as. he’ll keep asking, because his heart won’t believe it otherwise. this wasn’t a sick, barbaric dream. he’s here with you. and everything is reciprocated.
swallowing thickly, you nod again. the start of the mess.
except, this didn’t really feel like a bad thing anymore. there was tension, so evident it clouded your head, but the reasoning felt different. you lay down your defenses, subconsciously leaning into his warmth. your angelic being, a savior worthy of everything he wished to touch. you’re enchanted.
“i thought…” and his words are almost breathless, because he can feel his body moving closer to yours. he doesn’t stop it. “i thought you wouldn’t remember.”
you feel like a teenager again, hands shaking in nervousness - in fear. what if you closed your eyes? would he still be there?
and you almost want to laugh; tell him that it was all you could really think about for weeks. that softness in his eyes, the gentle affection of his voice. the kiss, god, this kiss.
instead, you shake your head.
“how could i forget?”
that felt impossible. satoru was an idiot, but not like that. he’s rational when he wants to be. you hope he knows that.
there’s a shy smile that adorns his face from your response, and you think you have never seen a more heavenly sight. he’s hesitant, gentle again, as he always was with you.
you lick your lips, sighing deeply in an attempt to fix your labored breathing. you feel like you might pass out.
“satoru.”
there’s a fondness in your voice that is unfamiliar. satoru likes it. he hums, not trusting his voice. he’d happily listen to you forever. you can ask him anything.
“what do you want?”
it’s patient, the tone you hold.
he’s not sure how to answer.
was that fear still there? he can’t turn back now. the friendship has sailed away, going miles overseas. it’s changed. for the better, he now thinks.
he wants you. he wants you so fucking badly that it might kill him. impatience surges through, annihilating the chance of peaceful composure - of any chance to be fair.
because his hands are in your hair, and you register the feeling of his lips before you can fully blink.
it’s pure selfishness, a carnal desire that takes you aback as you struggle to match his feverish movements. his hands are everywhere, grabbing, feeling. but you want it just as badly, if not more. you don’t protest, body moving by will as he grips the bottom of your legs to pull you over himself.
satoru can’t describe the feeling. he’s kissing you stupid. like he’s wanted to since he was sixteen. as an adult, now, he feels as if the wait was worth it. everything was worth it. you were worth everything.
it’s with hesitation that he pulls away, breath heavy, eyes incredibly dilated. his hands are firm on your hips, and he doesn’t dare to move them. they’re under your shirt, feeling the heat of the bare skin. you’re soft.
satoru thinks his heart will explode at the sight of you.
he can see your chest rising and falling. quickly, at that - he hadn’t given you time to breathe. you’re holding on to his shoulders, eyes avoiding his. there’s a pretty shade of pink he can barely see from the dim street light. satoru’s hold on your hips tightens while he stares. your lips are glistening and bruised, all results of him.
you’re shy, head bowing because your mind is reeling.
“hey.”
you feel satoru’s hand leave your side, and it settles itself on your chin. the movement is gentle, but firm. he tilts it up.
the look he gives you flips your stomach. if the universe placed it’s heavens and stars into his eyes, it’d surely be lackluster in comparison.
“hey.” your voice shakes, and it makes satoru grin.
he taps your thigh, tilting his head. “you okay?”
eyes wide, you nod quickly. “y-yeah. yeah. i’m okay.”
that dazed expression you have might be engraved into his memory until the day he dies.
“okay.” he whispers, smile so lovesick it kinda hurts. he brushes a hand up to your face, softly caressing the skin. you only watch him, trying to memorize every single feature - the way his hair falls, his lashes white as snow - as if you hadn’t already after all these years.
there’s a glint of wonder that you see, and you raise a brow, waiting for him to voice his thoughts. you try acting normal, though when you could audibly hear your heartbeat, it was difficult to do.
“what?” you mumble, smile now matching his. it’s infectious.
satoru hums, and you shiver as he leans forward, giving into the temptation to press an incredibly soft kiss on your lips. you let him - it’d be a crime to refuse.
you think you see blossoming gardens when you close your eyes. it’s colorful, mimicking that unexplainable feeling in your chest. unfamiliar, but welcomed. like a paradise, inviting you. you don’t want to leave.
when satoru pulls back, he keeps his forehead against yours, a breathy chuckle leaving him.
the words don’t feel rough on his tongue anymore. it’s only natural. keeping feelings bottled up was bad to do, right?
“i just love you, is all.”
satoru thinks he may have been horribly wrong.
no, this wasn’t scary at all.
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xhopelesslyromanticx · 4 months
Text
Delusional - Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader
Masterlist
summary: In which the internet once again is fooled by your slightly overdramatic side. Rumors about Lando dumping you circulate but luckily the Mclaren driver is just as delusional as you are. Social Media Au
y/nfewtrell
Home
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liked by kellypiquet and 60‘797 others
y/nfewtrell in my feelings bruh
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maxfewtrell did you take my hoodie?
y/nstans what why????
user567 sense a breakupppp
f1islife stunning
arthur_leclerc *plays taylor swift
user345 arthur what do you know
y/nandlan Lando didn’t like?!
user567 see his post? he seems completely unbothered
user898 Landos too good for her anyw
f1gossip you sound bitter
user787 i just always had weird vibes from her
f1gossip we‘ve met y/n and she‘s literally an angel
y/nfewtrell thanks means a lot
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landonorris
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liked by maxfewtrell and 567‘897 others
landonorris how I try to entertain
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user687 such a hottie
f1fans someone say unbothered cough
georgerussell63 I thought you were on a diet?
alex_albon he‘s abt 4ft tall he doesn’t need a diet
mclaren next week we back to veggies
f1lover wheres the missus
user789 y/n doesn’t attend most gps she goes to university
f1fans yeah but so do Alex and Kika yet they seem to be way more supportive
user789 I‘m sure shes supportive just maybe also focused on her on career?
y/nstans y/n not liking landos post has me scaredddd
maxfewtrell looking smug
landonorris thanks bestieeee
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maxfewtrell
Paris
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liked by landonorris and 123‘890 others
maxfewtrell took the little nugget to paris @y/nfewtrell
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user578 she‘s so cute
f1lover peeping the papaya phone case
norrisandme yes also Lando liked! they goood
y/nfrance we met her yesterday and she seemed fine
arthur_leclerc the nugget in the big city
y/nfewtrell miss you archer
f1gossip my fave friendship
user787 why is she already flirting with guys when the rumors aren’t comfirmed
maxfewtrell oh god if you think y/n can flirt you‘re in for suprises
y/nfewtrell thanks maxie :) loved the trip
team_quadrant let’s go to Brazil!!!!
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f1gossip
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liked by user676 and 12‘899 others
f1gossip You guys know we normally don’t cover anything realitionship releated but it looks like Lando and Y/n are going through some crisis. She appeared on a tiktok crying after a series of mysterious tweets and instagram posts. Neither her or Lando have yet confirmed the rumors. But she has been absent from his likes and vice versa.
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user676 she’s making it obvious
f1fans cloutchaser?
y/nstans shut up
landonorris @y/nfewtrell care to explain missy
y/nfewtrell no i dont care to, peace out
user676 omg they commented
norrislove they clearly are clowing y‘all
maxfewtrell the woman cries like twelfe times a day and people still wonder?
landonorris twelfe is a little much, ten maybe eleven
y/nfewtrell I have my reasons this time!
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y/nfewtrell
Austin Texas
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liked by charlottesine and 234‘890 others
y/nfewtrell my lanlan. I formally apologize for being a lot to handle sometimes. I do love you more than words could even get close to explain. Thanks for being the best boyfriend and bestfriend. Thanks for pretending I‘m 21 forever.
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landonorris my world, anything for you 🧡
y/nfewtrell love youuu
maxfewtrell disgusting
maxfewtrell we all know she aint 21, plus he’s MY bestfriend
f1gossip we stan an overdramatic queen
charlottesine power couple
y/nfewtrell thanks chacha
user787 how annoying all that for such a petty reason
f1fans right i was relieved he had dumped her ass
y/nstans sad people you are, she clearly makes him happy
arthur_leclerc happy 21st I guess ;)
landonorris whats with the wink you twat
f1user y/n control your mans
landonorris
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liked by f1 and 1‘124‘799 others
landonorris happy 21st birthday to the most beautiful 21 one year old I know. I love you so much eventhough your overdramatic soul makes people assume we broke up every couple of months. I love you my angel.
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user676 21!?!?
f1gossip look at y/ns post
f1lover they have me dead
charles_leclerc isn’t she-
arthur_leclerc shut up charlie
maxfewtrell tell them!
y/nfewtrell thanks bean. I love you more.
maxfewtrell bean? cringe
kellypiquet such a beautiful girl
f1gossip so the whole drama reallly was bc she doesn’t wanna turn 22 hahaha
user67 she‘s truly overdramatic
f1 we love a supportive and delusional king
mclaren like a true gentleman Mr.Norris
maxfewtrell
Sao Paulo
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liked by oscarpiastri and 123‘788 others
maxfewtrell happy 22nd second you LIAR, never thought Lando would go as delulu as you. Love you nugget.
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