why people be acting like 20s is ancient, omg ... I'M STILL YOUNG. like, i still have things i need & should learn, i still make mistakes & reflect from it, i still try to improve myself to be better, etc. đđ
i have this super important exam tomorrow and i feel like throwing upsvdjsqjs. like, i've been crying FOR it the past week, AAAH. wish me luck, guys đđđđđđ
i have this super important exam tomorrow and i feel like throwing upsvdjsqjs. like, i've been crying FOR it the past week, AAAH. wish me luck, guys đđđđđđ
( ⊠) SFW â slight angst, mention of death, and past lover â repost & rewritten.
satoru would never admit outright at how much he loves the very truth that she resemble you, in all the way it may exist, in every sense which humans are capable of understanding.
ah, no. that's far away from the truth. too fetched from the reality which crawls behind him, as it slowly merge itselfâsteadilyâinto every fiber that runs through his body. it clings to satoru in a manner that has him grasping for air, late at midnight, when silence engulfed the time of day.
he wouldn't dare to let the words slip in-between his lips, in fear it might burn his tongue if he took a step to do the forbidden.
it all lies close to the ground where most people will return to after their death. everything revolves around the very woman whose existence has haunted the man every wake; his past lover.
despite how satoru can feel her whispering in his ears when he sees you, he lets the imaginary words disintegrate into the thin air. because again, satoru found no courage or will in him to acknowledge that you and him may perish once the truth is unveiled.
you, his ever loving fiancee, is truly a carbon copy of his past lover. a woman who, undoubtedly, is the splitting image of the woman he used to call home. the one who should be sitting beside him at this very moment, rather than resting against the earth.
the one whose decomposed existence should never be named or slipped from anyone's parting lips. especially, not around you.
you, with your head leaning on his broad shoulder, have no knowledge of the truth of his past lover and the striking resemblance that you hold dearly. unknowingly.
you, with your fingertips trailing down his palm, doesn't understand that you reminded himâin an unbearable amountâof her, it makes him nauseous.
you, with your heart beating faithfully for him, would never comprehend how your similar scent to hers is tearing away all the truth which his pair of eyes plants behind his eyelids.
you, with your toasted soft smile that exists because of him, will in no way figure out that her photos are tucked in the safest part of his album. dedicated and meant only for her to reside.
you, with your starry gaze staring at him, are in no position to root out at how much your honeyed voice sounds identical to hers, when love was still capable of painting a beautiful expression on her face.
you, with your divine appearance and excruciatingly breathtaking personality, are set to be left in the dark, forevermore, of the unsettling reality that he sees her instead of you when his blue-eyed laid themselves on you.
and maybe, this is how it should be. it's for the better, for your own good intentions, that you're to not dig up the obscure secret he has hidden away in the comfort of his loving being. satoru, truly, rather have you be under the scorching daylight than the haunting night sky.
because how can satoru even begin to explain that her blood is still trickling down his very own hands? how is he supposed to lay it out for you that her life was stolen from her by his own power, ages ago on a mission no one dares to mention?Â
it's true that everything was an accident, yes. it's already written in her scroll of fate, when her feet was set on this earth. however, how will satoru ever find the courage in him to mutter in your ears, that he's more than terrified he might repeat the same thing, to you?
so, for you, for him; for the two of you that he may call âusâ, satoru rather goes down the path in stitching his lips shut and being silent. because if the both of you are going to rot from the glaring truth which will always be buried six-feet-under, let it be the same way silence enveloped her grave.
art credits to @/kcokaine on tumblr, line divider by @/cursed-carmine, first gif divider by @/anitalenia, second gif divider by @/cafekitsune, pics from pinterest!
Sukuna and his possessive girl cat. She's always vying for his attention and never letting anyone come too close to him. That is, until she met you. Maybe, just maybe, you can be the one to win her over.
cw: fuff, girl cat Sukuna, domestic life with reader, reader is implied to be a PhD student, gender neutral reader, modern AU, established relationship, all characters are 18+, proofread, 1.3k wc!
a/n: I wanted to try something different, so here damn, take it LMFAO.... also fun fact! the thesis mentioned is a project I did for my bio class during my 2nd year! this was supposed to be a short fic.. it's longer than I wanted it to be but I couldn't stop writing </3 anyways enjoy!
It was late at night when Sukuna found her.Â
A damp cardboard box next to the trash compactor of his apartment complex, and inside was a ball of fur, curled into itself. Shivering from the cold, while the thin blankets barely did anything to keep her warm. The lamppost over his head flickered on and off, lighting up the pathway leading to the dark, filthy alleyway where she was.
The sound of his footsteps had her curious head peeking from under the blankets, and before he knew it, he was staring back at a pair of green feline eyes. Her brown fur was matted and wet, and her ears stood tall. His hands reached forward slowly, hesitantlyâonly to be followed by a hiss. However, the smell of his sandalwood perfume and his calm patience comforted her. With his hand open and welcoming, she nuzzled her face into his warm palm.
Soon enough, huddled beneath the warmth of his hoodie, she found her home. And Sukuna, who couldn't even take care of a rock, found himself becoming a cat dad overnight.Â
It took some time for her to ease up to him, to trust him, but little by little, with each treat and each scratch behind the ear, Sukuna won her over. She was one spoiled cat; that much was sure. After all, Sukuna could never find it in himself to say no to his pretty girlâwhether it was an extra treat, a new toy, or even a sparkly collar that caught her eye at the pet store.
She was a feisty cat, and a possessive one too. Ever since the day Sukuna took her in, she never left his side. Constantly vying for his attention with soft meows and her big eyes.
That is until you came into the picture.
With messy hair, clothes stained with coffee and a voice that brought a smile to his face.Â
You met on a gloomy day. The soft pitter-patter of rain against the windows became your company inside the quaint little cafe. The soft yellow lights highlighted your features, and your attention remained undivided as you stared attentively at the laptop in front of you.
The pull was magneticâat least for him. Even as he was giving his order, he couldn't help but keep his eyes on you, throwing a look over his shoulder every five secondsâa small, hopeful part of him waiting to catch your attention.
His gaze wandered across the room, and in a cafe that was hardly crowded, he chose to take the seat right in front of you. The scrap of chair legs against the floor had you looking up, only to be met with, most possibly, the hottest man your eyes have ever laid upon.
Standing before you, Sukuna looked like a man of sin.
His leather jacket hugged each built muscle of his arms, his hair tousled and swept back, as if he'd been running his fingers through it all day. Silver hooped earrings decorating his ears glinted under the soft lighting of the cafe. His lips curved up into a smirk, peering down at you with piercing eyes, catching the way your eyes trailed across the pretty tattoos on his sharp features, until they met hisâmaking heat rush to your cheeks from being caught.Â
It took your brain a moment to process what was transpairing, and once you did, your face warmed with embarrassment. Not only did he catch you staring, but your own attire left you feeling embarrassed. Clothes dishevelled and hair a mess from sitting in this quiet corner for hours, working tirelessly on the last few pages of your thesis on the role of engineered microbial enzymes for plastic biodegradation.
"Hey."
Dear god, his voice was equally as hot as him.
"Hi."
And eventually, you found a home with him too.
You still remember the first time you came over to his place, his arm wrapped around your waist as he guided you through the doors of his apartment. The second the door creaked open, you were greeted by a dash of brown fur, and the sound of excited paws against wood flooring filled the quiet atmosphere. Your heart warmed at the sight, watching her tail curl around his calf as she welcomed him back home.
Reaching forward to pet her, you were met with a hiss, turning her back towards you in rejection. A frown crossed your face, while the man towering behind you laughed as if he was having the time of his life.Â
"What..." You were left dumbfounded, disappointed by her hostility. Sukuna merely chuckled, his arm pulling you to him, planting a kiss to your hairline.
"Don't worry about her," he reassures, while the her in question left the room long ago, preferring to spend her time with a toy mouse and not with you. "It'll take some time for her to warm up to you," his hands reach for the collar of your jacket, helping you slide your arms out and hooking it to the coat hanger, "or to anyone," he said under his breath.
Your ears, however, did not miss his whispered words.Â
Since then, you found yourself competing for his attention with a cat, of all things. Every kiss shared was interpreted with a meow, every attempt to cuddle on the couch met with her sliding herself between you two, and every lingering touch of his trailing further was met with a paw smacking away at his eager hands.
It wasn't until that one night when everything changed.Â
Pulling up to the parking lot of his apartment, you slammed the door to your car shut, locking it while your hands juggled between your purse and car keys.Â
Your phone, on the other hand, was caught between your right ear and shoulder as you stayed on call with him. Sukuna was stuck at work, held back in a meeting, while you were already waiting outside of his door. Digging through the purse, you find the spare keys to his place.Â
"Kay, don't worry," you reply, twisting the doorknob and stepping inside. On his end, all he hears is shuffling, and then the sound of your keys placed onto the counter as you take off your coat. "I can take care of her, Sukuna." You roll your eyes at the thorough instructions he was throwing your way.
With a sigh, you hang up the call, making your way further into his place, your feet leading you straight to the living room where she was perched up on the beige couch, cuddled into herself like a loaf of bread.Â
"Looks like it's just you and me today, pip," you say, placing a hand on your hip, receiving a dejected meow in response from her.
It was going to be a long night.
Your attempts all felt fruitless, throwing a toy or treat, only for her passive attitude to dismiss you. Even following her dinner down to the last scoop, mixing her dry and wet food as instructed, you were met with a flick of her tail in disinterest.
By the time you gave up, the day had already passedâtirelessly at that. It wasnât until you let your guard down, giving up with a defeated sigh and plopping yourself down onto the couch, that she moved. Slowly by slowly, through the periphery of your eyesight, she was inching toward you on the couch, while you mindlessly scrolled through Netflix.
Until she finally reached out, pawing at your hands. Your heart swelled at the sight of her big eyes and the soft meows, letting go of your frustration from the day you finally gave her a petânails scratching behind her ears as her eyes closed in contentment.
And when Sukuna finally came home that night, exhaustion on his face from the day wearing him down, he was met with the sight of you two lying on the couchâher small form cuddled into your chest underneath the throw blanket.Â
i feel like the amount of hate i have for my own writing exceeds my expectations, LOL. like, iâm well aware itâs growing everydayâ but i never expect it to the point where iâm capable of ACTUALLY using the word âhateâ when i genuinely despise using that word. at this point iâm not surprise if someday i actually deactivate and never come back đ i have sooo many story i wanted to share, though, stupid baka life
Tumblr Blog Termination Warning â FOR WRITERS WITH TAGLISTS!
Yesterday my entire blog was terminated TWICE without warning by Tumblr while I was tagging the folks in my Pope taglist in the comments. There was no warning, no email. I just hit 'enter' and boom I got the termination notice.
Almost 10k followers and thousands of fics gone in an instant.
I raised a ticket and an hour later the blog was reactivated. There was no info about what I did wrong but an email that said, itâs been reactivated. I still didn't have one that told me why I had been terminated. Two mins later I went back to the taglist and picked up where I left off with the Pope taglist and immediately, as soon as I clicked 'enter' it happened again.
So, I raised another ticket. Â
Itâs my belief that theyâve activated a bot to stop scammers from tagging loads of folks in those âsend me money for fake charityâ posts they do, and unfortunately if you have a big taglist youâll fall into that net too.
Iâm not sure how this effects people who put their taglists in the actual post, but I imagine theyâll also be cracking down on that at some point if scammers start to use that method.
I just wanted to make everyone aware so that what happened to me doesnât happen to other people.
ê° summary ê± when a misunderstanding leaves your family convinced youâre bringing a plus one to your cousinâs wedding in Japan, the last person you expect to volunteer for the role is your infuriatingly observant intern, Satoru. itâs supposed to be temporary. professional. strictly off the record. but with your mother already sold on the idea of your mystery boyfriend, and Satoru proving far too good at the role, pretending starts to feel a little too dangerous. also, why is your âinternâ secretly the heir to gojo corporation?!
ê° tags/warnings ê± fake dating âčïž undercover ceo! satoru âčïž accountant! reader âčïž satoru is 29, reader is 26 âčïž lots of family pressure. reader has a complicated relationship with her mom âčïž forced proximity âčïž one bed trope âčïž slow burn âčïž mutual pining âčïž wedding chaos âčïž angst and fluff âčïž some suggestive content but no explicit smut âčïž
ê° authors note ê± hi cuties! this is a commission piece, and it is about 12k total. this first part is just shy of 6k and the second part will be out next week. i hope you enjoy đ«¶đ» (art by @/hanamin_0123 on x)
"Oi. Boss lady."
âNo.â
One problem at a time, and the spreadsheet in front of you wins by default. Because Column F is wrong. Itâs been wrong for forty fucking minutes, and if it stays wrong for forty seconds longer, you may actually die here at your desk â hunched over, half-blind, and found by Shoko on a Monday morning with your face pressed into a pivot table like a cautionary tale.
"But⊠you don't even know what I was gonnaâ"
"âthe answer is no, Satoru."
Unlike the human embodiment of a headache currently lingering on the other side of your desk, the spreadsheet in front of you is at least pretending to be important.
The chair beneath him creaks, and then comes the silence you know too well. Itâs the one that comes right before he decides to be a problem on purpose. Attention is gasoline and Satoru is, structurally, a fire hazard. Still, your eyes flick up, andâ
"No fairâŠâ he huffs, that ridiculous pout tugging at his lips. âYou didn't even let me finish the question."
Your eyes roll back down.
âMhm.â
"And it was such a good question.â
You turn a page. "Really?â
âYup.â Heâs draped over the corner of your desk now, like gravity has wronged him, whining. âIt was such a thoughtful⊠personal⊠deeply relevant⊠extremely genius level getting-to-know-you tier question thatââ
You scowl. "âSatoru, enough. Just do your job."
It lands harder than expected. The sigh he lets out is deeply, theatrically offended. And when you glance up again, heâs sprawled over that same corner of your desk you made the mistake of clearing for him on day one because youâd thought, foolishly, that giving him a designated surface might contain him.
It had not.
Nothing about Satoru had ever suggested he could be contained.
Snowy white hair falls against his brow, sleeves rolled to his elbows; looking far too expensive and far too comfortable for someone whose official title is intern. His coffee is sweating beside your open planner â the one with a date next week circled in red: WEDDING, scrawled across the margin in your own handwriting. The condensation trails towards a stack of vendor invoices andâ
âŠ
Wait.
Are those the same vendor invoices you asked him to file yesterday?
Fucking great.
âOh, câmonnn,â he grumbles, blinking at you over the rim of those absurdly expensive sunglasses he insists on wearing indoors. âOne question. Just a tiiiiny one. Itâs completely harmless. Humor me, yeah?â
You narrow your eyes.
âSatoru, youâve been trying to ask one question for the last four months.â
âYeah,â he says. âAnd youâve been dodging it for four months. Imagine that.â
Technically⊠four months and four days. But whoâs counting?
With an exhausted groan, your eyes fall shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. Noise drifts in from the hall â the elevator, the printer, a phone trilling somewhere nearby. Â But when you look up again, it all seems to fall away.
Heâs gone strangely still. The smug grin hasnât disappeared, but itâs softened at the edges, hooked at one corner with his head tilted slightly. And those eyesâŠ
Oh.
Thatâs â no. Youâve seen his eyes before. Obviously. Four months of them. But right now, with the morning light doing something cruel and unhelpful behind him, they catch in a way that makes you forget you were mid-thought. The kind of blue that doesnât ask if youâre looking. It already knows.
Which means of course, you look away first. âFine.â Your hand drops as you mutter. âOne question. But if itâs stupid, Iâm sending you back to HR.â
Itâs not much of a threat. Itâs his last day, after all, and for reasons you still donât fully understand, Satoru has always seemed oddly immune to consequences â which, frankly, feels statistically improbable given the amount of shit heâs managed to pull in the few months of being here.
âOne question?â his grin sharpens. You point your pen at him. âDonât make me regret this.â Yet his pleased chuckle is already making you. âAwhh⊠look at you. Finally yielding.â His pen twirls between his fingers, nodding with false solemnity. âOkay. So, hereâs the thing⊠throughout these four months working beside you, Iâve seen a lotâ"
ââthatâs not a question.â You deadpan.
But ignoring you, he reclines back in the chair, hands clasped behind his head.
âLiiiike⊠Iâve seen the exact face you make when Mei-Mei emails you,â he smirks. âEven noticed you work through lunch more than you should. And Iâve noticed that little line right hereââ he gestures vaguely between his own brows ââevery time the budget goes sideways.â
Lips parting, you blink.
âŠwhy is he so observant?!
For someone who acts like he doesnât give a shit, heâs strangely attentive.
You clear your throat, huffing. âOkay⊠whatâs your point?â Your hands straighten a stack of papers that doesnât need straightening. âIs there a question in here somewhere, or are you just reciting my habits back to me for fun?â
His grin is far too pleased. âRelax. Iâm getting there.â And leaning forward, his voice drops, like heâs unraveling a conspiracy. âI just find it interesting how you answer work calls before the second ring. Every damn day. Doesnât matter who it is.â His head tilts with a smug grin. âBut for whatever reason, for the past month, your personal phoneâs been ringing off the hook, and you never pick up. Not once.â
Heat creeps up your neck. Not because heâs wrong â but because heâs right. And he said it like it was nothing. Like noticing the pattern of your avoidance was just something that happened to him between stamps.
Oh.
Way too observant.
Shit. He couldn't have settled on what's your favorite color!? Or, what superpower would you have!? No. Of course he had to go for the fucking jugular.
Okay. Nevermind. Heâs wrong. That is not even remotely whatâs happening. The most committed relationship youâve had is the one with your coffee machine. And yet⊠part of it feels almost cosmically cruel.
Because somehow, this is the second time in a month that someone had looked at the scattered pieces of your life and decided a man must be hiding inside them. Except the first time, you never even got the chance to correct it.
After all⊠how do you tell your mother sheâs wrong?
Last month, you still answered her phone calls.
Not because you expected anything different. But because somewhere between the second ring and the third, thereâs this gap â this stupid, paper-thin gap â where you still believe she might ask how youâre doing and actually wait for the answer.
Some habits taste like smoke. Some burn like liquor. But yours, unfortunately, had always looked a lot like hope.
Hope is a terrible habit youâve never been able to kick.
âOhâuh, hi mom!â
Your phone was wedged between your ear and shoulder while you stepped out of your car, juggling your purse and what was left of your sanity. You were already behind schedule, and your mother was calling â which meant the day had already made its intentions very clear.
âWhatâs up?â the door slammed shut with your hip. âIâm actually about toââ
ââTrish sent the venue photos,â she blurted, launching into a conversation like always.
Blinking, you shook the bitterness away. Striding toward the towering glass of Gojo Corporation. âThatâsâyeah, thatâs great,â you muttered, badge in hand as you pushed through the front doors. âBut Iâm actually heading into work right now? Soââ
ââItâs such a beautiful venue,â she ignored you. âVery traditional, very grand. But you know the Zenin familyâthey never do anything small.â And as she sighed in awe, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.
The rational part of your brain told you to let this go to voicemail. But the rational part of your brain has never once won this fight. BecauseâŠ
Hope is a terrible habit youâve never been able to kick.
"Mom, I'm sure it's lovely, really⊠but I'm kind ofâum, excuse meâŠ" you pivoted around a man in the bustling lobby with a sigh. âSorry. Iâm literally walking into the building right now? But maybe we can revisit this later andâ"
"âhave you booked your flight yet?"
Your mouth flattened.
Clearly, your half of this conversation is optional.
âNo⊠not yet,â you mumbled, as patiently as you could manage, jabbing the up button harder than necessary. âItâs been a crazy ass week so I havenât had a chance to, butââ
ââevery week is a crazy week for you.â The huff she let out sounded almost offended by the inconvenience of your life. âWhy canât you just book it now while weâre talking? I mean, it literally takes five minutes.â
A miracle, really, that your blood pressure isnât a medical emergency.
Every week is a crazy week?
Yeah. No shit.
Two managers resigned last quarter. Another got escorted out by security. And their work didnât disappear. No. It landed on your desk. Because thatâs how it goes. Thatâs how itâs always gone. Group projects. Internships. End-of-quarter disasters no one else wanted to touch. If something needed fixing, it found its way to you.
Youâre the one people relied on.
Just⊠never the one people chose.
âMother. Iâm at work,â you said, stepping into the elevator as the doors slid open, dropping your voice as you stabbed at floor fifteen. âLookâIâm about to walk into an eight a.m. meeting. But Iâll book it tonight, promise.â
ââŠeight a.m.?â she repeated slowly, before letting out a small, unbothered laugh. âOh! Right. Itâs eight p.m. here. Silly me. I keep forgetting.â
âŠ
Keep forgetting?
She keeps forgetting that sheâs ten thousand miles away? Forgetting that twenty years ago she abandoned you in another country to live abroad in Japanâhanding you to your grandparents like a detail she'd get back to later?
How convenient that she forgot that.
The elevator slid shut, and you watched the numbers tick upward. âUm. YeahâŠâ you managed, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice. âAnyways. Iâll book it tonight. After work. Okay?â
"Okay, okay. Sure. Sounds good. But are you bringing anyone?â
Squeezing the strap of your bag, you swallowed the lump in your throat. This again? The last thing you needed was to walk into your shitty eight a.m. meeting looking emotional.
No thanks.
âI⊠uhâŠâ you cleared your throat. âI umâactuallyâhavenât decided yet. But anyways, I gotta go, soââ
âWaitwatiwait. Havenât decided? Does that mean⊠you actually found someone?!â
Her voice pitched up so fast it almost startled you, and your mouth dropped so low it couldâve hit floor one.
Shit.
âI-IâI didnât sayâ"
ââoh, thank God. This is incredible!!â she squealed. âWeâve been so worried. I meanâTrish is younger than you and she figured it out,â her tongue clicked. âPeople have been asking questions, you know. Your aunt Sara keeps bringing it up every time I see her andââ
ââMom, Iâ"
ââItâs about time,â The laugh she let out was relieved, like a problem in her life had finally begun resolving itself. âYou canât keep putting love on hold forever, because men arenât going to wait around forever. Youâre already twenty-sixânot getting any younger, dear.â
Love?!
Who has time for that?
And why the fuck is twenty-six the age a woman expires?!
âWhatâs his name?â she pressed, practically beaming through the phone. âWhat does he do? Is he from there, orâoh, is he Japanese? Your father would love that, he always saidââ
And she was off.
Spinning an entire man out of thin air. An entire future, really. Building him in real time from a tiny slip up you had because you were too tired and cornered and desperate enough to answer the phone in the first place. And you stood there, letting her. Because interrupting her has never once worked in the history of your life.
ââactually, never mind,â she chirped a moment later, as if she was being considerate now. âYou have work. Iâll call tomorrow and you can tell me everything, yes? Okay, bye-bye honeyââ
Click!
And just like that, the elevator went quiet. You were left staring at your reflection in the metal doors, phone pressed to your ear, listening to the silence where your motherâs voice had been.
âWeâve been so worried.â
âŠ
If they were so worried⊠why had you spent most of your life learning to take care of yourself? And yet, the second there might be a man, suddenly youâre worth getting excited about?
Funny how that works.
Scoffing, you lowered the phone, shoving it into your bag just as the elevator chimed open. Itadori Yujiâs head snapped up behind the reception desk.
âMorning, boss,â he waved, radiating sunshine as you walked towards the conference room. âKentoâs asking if youâre still good for the budget review at eight⊠or if I should just tell him to panic.â
Your smile softened, burying the sting. âYes⊠Iâll be right there.â And as you stepped through the polished glass doors, you played the role youâd always played.
The reliable one. Twenty-six years old, with two masterâs degrees, a career at one of the most competitive corporations in the world, and a team of seven that would quietly fall apart without you.
ButâŠ
None of that glitters quite like a diamond ring, does it?
âOi,â Satoru frowns. âYouâre makinâ that face again.â
âHuh?â
Blinking out of your spiral, your eyes trace back to the man across from you. His chin is resting in his palm, those impossibly blue eyes fixed on you with a quiet stillness that makes something in your chest trip over itself â like a lock turning in a door you didnât know was closed.
âOh.â You clear your throat, forcing the pen back into motion. ââŠwhat face?â
âThe one you make when somethingâs wrong,â he says quietly, gaze unmoving. âWhen youâre upset and trying to act like youâre not.â
For a second â one terrible, unguarded second â you donât have a single thing to hide behind. Itâs just him, looking at you like your well-being is something heâs been keeping track of in a column you didnât even know existed.
But then the sarcasm kicks in, right on time. "Wow," you say, forcing your hands back to the papers in front of you. "So⊠now you read faces?"
âMm... nah. Just yours, sweetheart.â
And that grin â god, that fucking grin â hooks at one corner like he knows exactly what just detonated inside your chest. You donât acknowledge it. Acknowledging things have consequences, and consequences with this man are not something you can afford.
"âŠthatâs highly inappropriate," you mutter, shoving it down. "Letâs maybe redirect some of that insight toward the invoices, yeah?"
âSorry, sorry.â He leans back, hands up like heâs the picture of innocence. âWouldnât wanna start shit with your dear future husband.â His grin goes sharp as he twirls his sunglasses between two fingers. âThough, wow. Tough look for him. Whatever he did, he clearly fucked up bad.â
Why does he sound⊠bitter?
No. You must be imagining it. This is Satoru. Satoru, who treats everything like a joke until proven otherwise. Satoru, who doesnât care enough about anything to sound bitter over a man who may or may not exist.
You scoff. "Youâre making some wildly stupid assumptions right nowâŠ"
He stares at you for a beat, then he flops back in the chair with a dramatic huff, long legs kicking out in front of him, mouth dragging into a sulky pout.
âWell, damn,â he grumbles, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair, rolling his eyes. âNo wonder youâre single if this is how you shut people downâŠâ
The second the words leave his mouth, he blinks. His gaze flicks up to yours like he hears it too late â like he realizes, all at once, how shitty that sounded.And it only feels worse the moment he sees your face.
God.
Of all the places to hit.
âOho⊠wow. Okay. This?â you say with a thin, self-deprecating laugh, chair scraping as you shove back from your seat. âYeah. This is exactly why I shouldnât have let you ask, Satoru.â You reach for your planner, your purse, anything to do with your hands besides let them shake.
He straightens, watching you scramble. âWhoa. Wait. Iâ"
ââbecause you donât know when to stop!â The words come out louder than you mean, blinking at the sting behind your eyes. âYou just keep pushing and pushing and pushing until you get what you want. Well good. I hope youâre happy.â
Before you can turn away, heâs on his feet. âWaitââ And the moment his hand catches yours, you freeze, breath snagging.
His voice is quieter now. His grip is firm yet gentle, and the air between you shifts, while something warm and uneasy twists low in your chest. The kind of feeling that makes you want to lean in and run in the same breath.
Though your eyes stay down. âSatoru⊠let go.â
âI didnâtâŠâ he starts, then stops, gaze flicking to where his fingers still circle your wrist â before climbing back to your face, slower this time. âIâm⊠sorry. I justââ His mouth tightens. âI see how hard you work, okay? I see it. And every time that phone rings, you get this look on your face like itâs already ruined your day before you even touch it. AndâŠâ His brows pinch. âFuck. I dunno why, but it pisses me off!â
Your gaze hesitantly drags to his, and the look in his eyes is softer than they have any right to be â all that blue, stripped of its usual sharpness, turned careful. Like heâs stepping toward something breakable and knows it. Like⊠if he asked once more, something in you might actually give.
âSatoruâŠâ your breath hitches. âI-Iâ"
âOh, finally.â
Shokoâs voice trails in, and your head snaps up so fast your neck almost goes with it. Sheâs leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, coffee in hand â looking like a woman who arrived exactly on time for something she's been expecting all week.
Her gaze flicks down to where heâs holding you, and the corner of her mouth twitches.
"Sooo⊠not to interrupt whatever this is," she says, taking a sip, "but Kento's one eye-twitch away from a medical event. He needs you to sign off on the variance line before he starts reconciling his own will andâ"
You're already jerking your hand back. "Yupâcoming!" And as you step away, heat floods your face, but you don't look back. Not once. Not even when you feel him still standing there, watching you go.
Because looking back would mean acknowledging that something just shifted. And you are not â not â doing that today.
Unlike those invoices, perhaps some things are better left⊠unfinished.
Youâre gone in a blur of heels, nerves, and professional self-preservation, leaving Shoko trailing behind and Satoru staring at the empty doorway like maybe the conversation might wander back through it.
It doesnât.
And itâs not long before his mouth is pulling into a slow, petulant poutâjust before he flops back in the chair with all the elegance of a man personally betrayed by the universe.
Un-fucking-believable.
Heâd almost had you! After four months and four days of being stonewalled, redirected, and professionally shut down, youâd finally looked like you might give him something. A crack. A sliver. And then Kento had to ruin it with his stupid reconciliation sheet, his stupid earnest face, and his stupidly impeccable timing.
âŠ
He could fire Kento.
Should he fire Kento?
As tempting as that thought is, Satoru settles for glaring at the empty doorway a second longer before dragging a hand down his face and raking it back through his hair. Thereâs no point. This performance will end soon. Because by this time tomorrow, heâll be on a flight back to Tokyo. Where he can resume the slow, agonizing process of preparing to inherit a company he didn't actually give a shit about.
'Grow up, Satoru.'
'Apply yourself, Satoru.'
'You have no idea what it takes to run something like this, Satoru.'
Right. Because apparently, the heir to a multinational corporation needed to learn humility. Alphabetize files. Sit in a cubicle. Fetch coffee like some goddamn spreadsheet slut with a trust fund and nowhere to put it.
Four years of business school, two years shadowing his father; and yet, this is what they had for him?!
He scoffs. And when his gaze drops to the wreckage of your desk, heâs pulling the stack of vendor invoices toward him with a sigh that sounds put-upon even to his own ears. Youâve been nagging him about filing them for the better part of the week and⊠the least he can do is clear one thing before he goes.
The stamp thuds against the first page. Then the next. Then the next. And with muscle memory taking over, his face goes blank in the way it always does when boredom finally wins. Itâs mindless shit. Still, heâs used to it. So naturally, when the phone on your desk buzzes, he doesnât think twice; snatching it up, tucking it between his ear and shoulder as he reaches for the next invoice.
Itâs probably another budget nuisance. Or Mei. Or one of the other thousand little crises that seem magnetically drawn to your extension.
âYo,â another stamp echoes. âSatoru speaking.â
Thereâs a sharp inhale. ââŠwho?â
His brow lifts. âUh⊠Satoru?â Another thud of ink slams against the paper and he huffs, annoyed. âWhat do yâneed?â
The line goes quiet for a beat too long. Before the woman on the other end finally murmurs, âSatoruâŠâ Sighing in awe. âWhat a lovely name. Is that Japanese?â
"Uh⊠yeah?â he snorts, flipping to the next page. âI mean. Last I checked.â
âMm⊠I thought so!â She giggles. And her voice pitches like she's just unwrapped a present she didn't know she was getting. âSo⊠Satoru. Why exactly are you the one answering her phone, hm?â
âŠ
Why the hell does this woman sound so invested. And why is she asking questions that should be obvious?
Frowning down at the invoice, he stamps it harder.
âBecause it rang?â He says it like itâs obvious. âAnd uhâsorry, but. Maybe because Iâve been with her for months, so⊠why the hell wouldnât I?â
"Months?!â A soft gasp crackles, far too delighted. âYou'veâyou've been with her for months?!"
"Mmm⊠four months and four days, technically."
Heâs been her intern for that long.
Thatâs the question, right?
"âtechnically?!" she squeals, like the word personally seduced her. "Ohmygoodnessâoh, this is perfect. Four months and four daysâthat is so specific.â
He blinks. But she doesnât give him time to process.
âLook at you Mr. Devoted. Keeping track. I was starting to worry sheâd never find someone like you. Every time I asked it's like pulling teeth. But I knew there had to be someone. I told her fatherâI said, there is a man, I can feel it.â
Pausing mid-stamp, the words slowly begin to catch up. Satoru straightens.
"âŠsorry. Who is thiâ"
ââeveryone is so excited to meet you at Trishâs wedding. I already reserved your seat andâ"
Her voice keeps going⊠and going⊠and going. He pulls the phone away slowly as her voice echoes on the receiver, staring down at the phone in hand to see:
đ Mom
Oh.
Oh, shit.
This is not your work phone. Your work phone is currently sitting at its dock twelve inches to his left. And it dawns on him that he accidentally just spent the last sixty seconds answering your personal phone like an absolute jackass andâ
"UhâŠâ he backpedals. âWait. Iâ"
"I told Sara, I said, we have to meet him andââ
"Stop. I-I really thinkâ"
ââSatoru, what are you doing?â
His head snaps up at the sound of your voice, mouth dropping as he sees you standing at the doorway, eyes wide in horror.
Oh, fuck.
âWho is on the other end of that phone,â you hiss.
He winces, pulling the phone from his ear like itâs toxic â and youâre snatching it right out of his hand. He lets you have it without a fight, sinking back into the chair like heâs trying to physically dissociate from the situation heâs just created while you press the phone to your ear.
âAnd I meanâŠâ she rambles. âI certainly was never one to wait around at twenty-six, believe me. Butâ"
"Mom."
"Oh! Honey!â She gasps. âOh, my goodness, hiâI was just having the loveliest chat withâ"
"I'm at work. Gotta go."
"âokay! I can't wait to meet Satoru, heâ"
Click!
The phone sits in your hand like evidence.
And Satoru â to his credit â has the decency to look like a man standing in the blast radius of his own stupidity. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Like heâs rehearsing an apology in a language he hasnât learned yet.
You stare at him.
He stares at you.
And somewhere ten thousand miles away, your mother is already calling your aunt Sara.
âSooo⊠funny storyâŠâ
ââwhat did you do?!â
Satoru flinched, and now, the tears were already rolling down your cheeks â hot, fast, completely unauthorized. Not the kind you could disguise as allergies or blame on the air conditioning. No. The ugly kind.
Great. Fucking great.
You were standing in the middle of your own office, in the building where you work, crying in front of your intern. And Satoru felt the weight of it all at once. In the last four months, he had seen you in every flavor of workplace misery there was. Pissed off, stressed out, one spreadsheet away from actual murder.
But cry?
Never.
And this had his fingerprints all over it.
"Shit," he breathed, panic flashing across his face. "Iâfuck. Okay. Please don'tâI can fix this. I canâ"
"Fix this?" A splintered laugh ripped out of you, and you hated how thin it was. "Fix what, Satoru? You just confirmed a boyfriend to my mother, a boyfriend that doesn't existâand she is, at this very moment, probably alreadyâ"
Another break in your voice cracked, and you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your hand to your forehead hard like you could hold the tears in by sheer force. But it only made it worse, because now you could feel the wetness on your own face, the heat of it under your palm, and the mortification landed like a second wave.
God. How fucking humiliating.
"Hey, heyâit's okay,â his voice softened. âWe'll just⊠call her back. Right? Tell her it was a misunderstanding. Easy."
âEasy?â you scoffed, the word coming out strangled. âY-You donât understand my mother, Satoru,â you managed, voice gone thin as thread. God, you sounded like a child. âIf she thinks something is true, then itâs true. Thatâs it. Thatâsâthereâs no correcting her, thereâs no walking it back, sheâs already told my aunt Sara by now and Saraâs told Trish andâoh, fuckââ
Another sob tumbled out, and your fingers dug harder into your temple.
God. Stop it.
Stop it stop it stop it.
Think.
Think logically. You're good at this. You solve problems for a living.
But every time you tried to grab onto a thought, it slipped â replaced by the echo of your mother's voice, high and delighted. The happiest she'd sounded talking to you in years. Maybe ever.
âŠwhat look will she give you when you show up alone?
"I canât," you whispered, and the word came out waterlogged. "I-I'm supposed to get on a plane to Japan in a week andâdo what? Tell them there's no one? Tell them I'm stillâ"
Single.
The word sat in your mouth like a stone. You didnât realize youâd gone silent until the silence itself started ringing â your sniffling, the hum of fluorescent lights, the muffled life of the office continuing beyond the door like yours wasnât actively coming apart at the seams.
And through all of it, you could feel Satoru looking at you. His stillness; holding you with an expression you'd never seen on him before and couldn't categorize if you tried.
"UmâŠâ he looked down, scratching the back of his neck. âSoooo... the wedding's in Japan?"
You blinked. âWhat?â And as you wiped your face with the back of your hand, his gazed tentatively flicked back up. âThe weddingâŠâ he repeated, voice careful. âItâs in Japan?â
"Yes." Your brow furrowed, not understanding. "Why?"
He didn't answer right away. Just looked down at the floor for a second, jaw shifting, like he was turning something over in his head â something he hadn't fully assembled yet but could already feel the shape of.
"Huh⊠okay."
Okay what?
You watched his expression change in real time â from guilt to calculation to something else. "Right then!" He said, clapping his hands once, bright and sudden. "No biggie. I'll just go with you."
No biggie?
Your mouth dropped.
That wasnât even an option, was it?
âŠis he crazy?
âYouâre kidding,â your laugh was awkward and breathless. His eyes rolled with a smug grin. âSweetheart, câmon,â and he was gesturing between the two of you like the answer was sitting there in plain sight and you were the only person in the room committed to not seeing it. "Your family thinks you're bringing someone? Cool." A hand pressed to his chest with theatrical solemnity. "I'm someone."
You stared at him. Genuinely stared.
Oh. He wasnât kidding.
Yup. Heâs crazy.
"You are not 'someone,' Satoru. You are my intern."
âYeah. For like⊠another six hours?"
He checked his watch with a shrug, and your lips flattened.
"âŠthat is not the point."
âMm⊠feels a little like the point."
He smirked, but it faded faster than usual, dimming at the edges as his blue eyes hesitated on yours. Something shifted in his posture; the performance pulling back, like a tide going out. "Um⊠lookâŠ" He pushed off the desk, stepping closer. "Itâs really no hassle." He said, hands sliding into his pockets. "I already have a flight scheduled. My family's in Tokyo. And I was going back after this internship anyway, so⊠this just moves my timeline back a little."
He was shrugging like it wasnât a big deal. Like he wasnât agreeing to fly across the world with you and walk straight into the disaster that was your family.
âŠ
His familyâs in Japan too?
You barely knew anything about him. He kept his life sealed off with the same practiced deflection you kept yours â jokes in place of answers, charm in place of honesty. You never bothered to ask, because asking meant caring and that was a door you never intended to walk through with anyone.
ButâŠ
"Just⊠let me come with you. Iâll be your boyfriend for the weekend. For the wedding. For⊠whatever you need,â he said. And this time, when he stepped closer, there was no grin to hide behind. "I can be useful. I caused this. So⊠let me fix it."
Heat creeped up your neck, and you scoffed, weakly.
"Okay⊠but you can't fix my mother."
"NoâŠâ he murmured, tilting his head. His hand came up and brushed a tear trailing down your cheek with a careful gentleness. âBut⊠I can make sure you don't have to walk in there alone?"
Your breath hitched, and when your eyes finally lifted, the morning light was being cruel again â catching in that impossible blue and turning it soft. Like stained glass dipped in sunlight. Like something holy made dangerous by the simple fact that it was looking straight at you.
âShut up,â you mutter, looking away too fast to be convincing.âThat was not a look. I was justââ You grimace. ââŠnever mind.â
Heâs chuckling as you brush past him. And his words are what scared you the most. Which was bad. Very, very bad. Because your mother was one problem. Japan was another. But Satoru looking at you like that?
ShitâŠ
That felt like the kind of complication that didnât stay neatly contained. And you know better than anyone. Nothing about Satoru had ever suggested he could be contained.
a/n: hehe. this has been fun to work on! i am excited to share the next part. clearly i love these fake dating/fake marriage tropes aha đââïž bc this is like... whatâmy third time doing it? soooo i tried to change things up and make it feel less standard/generic :) but anyways, like i said pt 2 will be out in a week, pls lmk if you wanna be tagged đ
just now noticing that i haven't really re-add my moots to my "new" discord acc ... a part of me yelps in pain every time i remember i deactivated my main one ... welp, it is what it is ... i guess ...
select your color effect + gradient then copy and paste the html text into your post (note: will need to be on the web or desktop version for to select the settings that includes text editor!)
GLITTER TEXT?
use dagrand39.neocities.org
offers a ton of different options, but simplest way to use it is to enter your text, select the color of text and glitter tile, and check whether or not you'd like to use a background (not using one makes the back transparent!) then click export gif!
you can download your text as a gif and then upload it as a image here :3
the creator is on here and has a post about it here so give them a follow if you use! :3
DIVIDERS + GRAPHICS?
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came back to say that i'm SICK of uni. i know i'm more than lucky to be able to attend, i really do đ i just ... one more exam and i'm JUMPING off a cliff.
I probably haven't said this but i love going to shops and looking at maroon lipsticks (if you can't tell by the annoyingly obnoxious maroon theme on my blog, it's my favourite colour!!), and sometimes the makeup people swatch them on my hands.
So, last week my aunt was home and we did some shopping (I got a red devil wears prada tank top, a periwinkle blue shirt, and a maroon gown ish stuff hehe) and I had the opportunity to get some swatches done. Unfortunately we didn't buy the lipstick but on god it was so nice I thought of you. The colour was soooo fitting for your blog my thoughts straight up went, oh Em (oporotheca) and Rie are going to love this.
That's all for Lia Podcast, hope you're having a good day ml!
THIS IS SO ADORABLE, HELLOOO??! you thought of me when you swatched a lipstick ...?! i'm so giddy reading this, hihi. but, uGh, there's just something about maroon, am i right? like, for me, it's so calming to see. it doesn't necessarily overwhelm me or anything. it's different with anyone, though, but i find it as a comforting color!
i absolutely love anything red, sigh ... i suppose anyone can tell from my themes that somehow always the color red, LOL. but, this girl LIVE the color red. my hair is red, my wallpaper is redâ everything. i got cranky if i don't use my red lipstick, it's actually kind of funny.
also, yippee on the shopping?! i'm sure all of the stuff you brought is pretty, hihi. i hope you have a wonderful week and that the day treats you nicely, LIAAA đ€
