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『25 y/o | still not over pokemon | gacha player (unfortunately)』

[chrollogy]

𝓤𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝓞𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ♱ ྀིྀ

pantalone x fem!reader x dottore

SYNOPSIS: Seeking to deepen his understanding of the human mind, The Doctor offers a ‘special’ experiment to his favourite subordinate—you—and his dear friend, Regrator. Amidst the heat of the study, the fine line between scientific curiosity and personal intrusion blurs as the Second Harbinger finds himself joining in on the fun.

CONTENT WARNING: DUBCON, fatui!reader, reader is dottore’s subordinate, reader is referred to as ‘miss’, petty bickering between the old men, slight scientific jargon, prob inaccurate science stuff (sorry), slight pervert pantalone, smut (mdni), nipple play (?), pantalone-centric in first half of smut, p*rn w/o plot, exhibitionism, dottore gets FOMO lowkey, implied use of aphrodisiac (m), p in v, protected sex but eventual unprotected sex, threesome, double penetration, anal sex (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, not beta read.

WORD COUNT: 8.2k

NOTES: happy june :”3 !! i hope you enjoy this very self indulgent piece! i haven’t written a threesome in ages so apologies if its a bit clunky </3. div: babyg4rlhelps

The hallway leading to The Doctor’s laboratory was eerily quiet, his subordinates—like yourself—were currently on break at the cafeteria indulging in much needed fuel to power through yet another hectic day. The soles of your shoes echoed throughout the metallic floors, it served as a reminder at how deserted the corridor was; even though you’ve walked down this same path for years, the atmosphere never once failed to lick an icy shiver down your spine. It didn’t help how lifeless and dull these hallways were. As for the purpose of your early return in The Doctor’s laboratory, one of your colleagues had told you that the Harbinger required your presence urgently, and given your colleagues' words, it seemed to be a matter of importance.

Though, you wondered why The Doctor had specifically asked for you; as far as you were aware, your ranking as his subordinate wasn’t anything special—merely conducting experiments and quality control were your tasks, just like all the other subordinates under his authority. Ah, you didn’t mess up anything, did you? You always always followed protocols and it wasn’t like The Doctor had previously given you an earful for messing up an experiment. 

In fact, he had been nothing but full of praise towards you; there was one instance where the Harbinger gleefully praised your intellect. Although to others, he never held back on his dissatisfaction whenever a colleague of yours messed up certain experimental procedures. The Doctor always spoke to them of the importance of materials as they were not easily obtainable, and to always carefully read the protocols. Unfortunately, his rather strange bias towards you made you the butt of the jokes amongst your colleagues in cafeteria conversations, and you were more than certain they were currently laughing at you behind your back.

“Hah! She’s like a teacher’s pet but instead of a teacher it's Lord Dottore! Hahahahahaha!” One of your colleagues started right after you were told The Doctor needed you back at the laboratory.

Of course, it was all light hearted but you wished they were a bit more mature about the situation because sometimes you couldn’t help but feel . . . weird around Lord Dottore at times—especially at times where he’d lean over your shoulder to inspect your task for the day. Maybe he simply needed a closer look but the way his chest ghosted against your back had you biting the inside of your cheeks.

Stepping inside the laboratory, you were greeted with an empty space, devoid of the man you were looking for. The room was how everyone left it before heading to the cafeteria—powered equipment turned off, hazardous chemicals stored away, and several documents sprawled across counters. For a supposedly urgent matter, you expected him to be at least present in his own laboratory.

Confused, you called out, “. . Lord Dottore?”

Silence stretched for a few moments before you received a response, “I am in my office. It would be preferable if you joined me.”

At the sound of his familiar voice, you followed its origin where it led you to the slightly ajar door to his office. Your heart pounded against your chest, you’ve only been inside there once to drop off research notes because the person who usually did it was absent that day, The Doctor also wasn’t inside when you had entered previously so this was your first time in his office with him.

Something about that unnerved you. Sure, he was somewhat ‘nicer’ to you but there wasn’t denying the fact that he was an interesting individual but you were under the same organisation, so it wasn’t your place to question the Harbinger nor his motives.

As you walked inside, you quietly closed the door behind out of politeness before turning around to get on one knee and bow your head. During the brief movement, you caught a familiar tall figure standing just off to the side of The Doctor’s desk.

“Lord Dottore, Lord Regrator.” But what was he doing here?

There wasn’t much you knew about Lord Regrator other than he was the Ninth Harbinger who was in charge of economic policies in the nation.

“There’s no need for formalities. Sit. I called you here to discuss a special experiment.” Dottore gestured a gloved hand at the empty seat before his desk, the corners of his lips slightly curled.

A special experiment? At the mention of an experiment, your heart calmed a little—it was your expertise after all, so there was no point fretting over it but the strange tension in the room seemed to scream otherwise. It also didn’t explain why Regrator was present, it wasn’t like they were about to start discussing finance with you.

You nodded, standing up to quietly make your way to the empty seat, “Of course. May I ask what this experiment is about?”

As you sat down, Dottore spoke up once more, both elbows atop the wooden desk, leaning a little closer, “Recently, I have been expanding my research on the human brain and its connection to the body regarding its response to bodily sensations such as touch. I have appropriate non-invasive equipment in my personal laboratory, however, the procedure is rather . . invasive.”

Invasive? What could Dottore possibly mean by that?

“Naturally, such an experiment necessitates a suitable candidate and their willing consent.”

A participant—you assumed that was your supposed role, the reason why Dottore required your presence. Once more, your heart thrummed out of nervousness, you weren’t going to conduct an experiment, you were going to be experimented on. The mention of an invasive procedure already had your mind spinning in a million different scenarios; he wasn’t going to cut you open, was he . . ?

“Your intelligence precedes your colleagues which is why I have found you to be the suitable candidate. Of course, it all comes down to your decision but it would be a delight to have your involvement.”

You sucked in a small breath, “May I . . read over the research proposal, Lord Dottore?” He wordlessly nodded, opening a drawer on his desk before sliding a neat stack of papers over. 

Written in bold letters was the title: ‘Sensory cortex activation by stimulation’

The human mind remains an imperfectly understood mechanism. This study aims to document and analyze cerebral activity in response to external stimuli such as touch and pressure in order to better identify the relations between the human brain and body. The implications of this experimental research extend beyond mere academic curiosity, a more complex understanding of neurological behaviour under euphoric conditions may provide valuable insight into artificial human enhancement procedures. Experimentation of this nature requires a fully informed and consenting participant.

Methodology: The participant will be situated within a controlled laboratory environment under my supervision to maintain consistency of neurological readings throughout the duration of the experiment. Neurological activity will be monitored and recorded through the use of neural-imaging apparatus for high resolution cerebral observation. The participant will be gradually exposed to sexual stimuli in certain body areas as follows: nipple, clitoral and vaginal (penile penetration) leading up to orgasm which is the expected peak readings.

To ensure authenticity of collected data, the participant must remain aware and capable of providing continuous informed consent during all stages of experimentation and contraception will be used. Furthermore, a second participant (assigned to Pantalone) is set to carry out sexual stimuli mentioned above and is considered a controlled variable along with the primary participant. Collected findings will subsequently be analyzed for potential applications in the fields of cognitive enhancement and artificial synchronisation of human neural patterns.

In simpler terms, Dottore wanted to observe human neural activity during a euphoric state to better understand the connection between the brain and body? In all honesty, you were speechless. Not only was the former supervising the entire experiment but Lord Regrator was also a participant, at this point you were convinced this was some kind of humiliation ritual. There was no denying that The Doctor was extremely professional when it came to research, and you were more than certain it wasn’t going to be his first time seeing a naked human body—he had even written a formal proposal which further confirms that this experiment wasn’t some kind of perverted shenanigan.

“Do I, uh—Does the experiment require the primary participant to be . . fully naked?” You feigned a cough, flipping a page as you tried your best to avoid eye contact with Dottore. Though he wore a pointed mask, you were certain his eyes remained solely on you.

“It is not a necessity. Only stated areas in the proposal are required to be exposed for efficiency. I’d also like to mention that a generous compensation will be given once the experiment concludes.”

At the mention of compensation, your ears perked up. Even though the Fatui was an influential organization in Teyvat, the pay you received was fairly enough to get by but if you were being honest, you could use a bit more mora especially with this month’s bills rolling around. Without another word, you nodded, finally looking up at the Second Harbinger.

“Alright. I will participate in the experiment, Lord Dottore.”

Beneath the pointed mask, his rosy lips stretched into a wider smile, “Excellent. I require you to sign this contract then I shall conduct a pre-experiment interview to obtain better understanding of the participant.” Reaching over the desk, he flipped over to the last page of the proposal and slid a fountain pen over, silently tapping his gloved fingers against the wooden surface as he watched you sign. 

With your participation officially sealed with a signature, The Doctor carefully placed the document inside the drawer and fixed his attention on you, gloved hands loosely clasped around one another, “Are you sexually active?” His question settled into the thick silence awkwardly, it stuck out like a sore thumb—all too sudden and personal yet your commander had simply asked it as if he were asking about today’s weather.

You were aware this was part of the protocol but having Regrator present in the office seemed a bit much for you; what was he even here for? Surely, he wasn’t about to start asking you medical related questions, he didn’t even work in the field. Discomfort enveloped your warmed skin, a thousand kisses akin to small prickles—hot and itchy.

Shifting ever so slightly in your seat, you spoke, “N-No . . but I have had intercourse before.” Archons, if you were given the option between Her Majesty unleashing her unforgiving ice on you or to explain your sex life to The Doctor, without hesitation you’d pick the former. Dottore was still your boss, after all but thankfully, he was as professional as you expected, keenly listening to your reply while nodding—nothing more, nothing less. If he had any reaction to your answers, he didn’t let on.

“And when was the last time?”

God, when was the last time you had sex? You simply couldn’t remember. Being a Fatui wasn’t a walk down the park, days in The Doctor’s laboratory were long and tedious, by the time you return home late in the afternoon, you’d only have the strength to eat and wash up before welcoming the night. The routine was monotonous, yes but there wasn’t room to mope around  and complain.

“I cannot accurately say but most likely a month ago.” With your boyfriend then but The Doctor didn’t need to know about your past relationship.

The Second Harbinger’s questions continued for a couple more minutes, he asked about every single medical related question you could think of—medical history, current medications, prior injuries, and existing neurological conditions. Naturally, you tried your best to answer as accurately as advised by The Doctor and each response was recorded with meticulous precision.

“Good.” The word sounded less like praise and more like a conclusion. “If at any point you wish to withdraw from the study, you will retain your right to do so.”

Silence stretched inside the cold room.

You stared at Dottore. Through his pointed mask, he stared back. Neither of you spoke as his words lingered in the icy atmosphere like wisps of smoke, light and airy yet it held a bitter taste. A beat passed, then, very slowly, one corner of his mouth curved upward.

“I assume you’re wondering whether I genuinely mean that.”

So The Doctor was aware of your growing suspicion regarding his previous statement; you knew well enough how he worked, his experimental endeavours weren’t obtained through ethical and considerate experiments, and for him to state something like that was clearly out of character. Or maybe he actually housed an ounce of decency in him.

“Pardon my brazenness but yes, a little.”

The smile on his lips widened, “Reasonable.”

“Coerced participation produces unreliable results, especially neurological results.”

It wasn’t concern nor ethics but merely data quality, you didn’t know whether to applaud him for being such a dedicated scholar. Surprisingly, his reasoning was sound, emotions can and will affect neurological scans; factors such as stress can create physiological ‘noise’ which would increase variability in data.

At the lack of your reply, The Doctor merely dismissed your silence as acknowledgement and spoke up once more, “As you’re already aware, this study requires two participants. The reliability of the data is dependent upon minimising external variables and, unfamiliarity constitutes as such.”

“In other words, you’re making us socialize.” Lord Regrator finally spoke up, his dulcet voice curling around your body like a serpentine predator.

Well, it wasn’t entirely odd to familiarise oneself with a fellow study participant, especially if intimacy was on the table but the whole situation felt rather awkward. Under more casual circumstances, you’d feel at ease but being confined in your commander’s office with another Harbinger felt nothing but forced; you felt nothing less than a puppet being forced to interact with another toy at the hands of a naïve child.

“Call it whatever you prefer. Participants exhibit measurably different neurological responses when interacting with unfamiliar individuals.” A gloved finger tapped the wooden desk, “Trust levels, social comfort, perceived predictability—they all introduce inconsistencies. Unless, of course, you want me to find another willing participant. After all, you do have the right to withdraw from the study, Pantalone.”

Hidden beneath Dottore’s words was provocation but to Pantalone, the taunt was clear as day. From where he stood, he could see the way the former’s lips curled into a smug smile—a silent challenge between both of them. But Regrator didn’t bite, no, instead, he shifted his attention toward you.

“Well.” He smiled pleasantly, “It seems we’ve been assigned homework. If Dottore wishes us to become familiar with one another, I suppose introductions are in order.”

Satisfied that events were proceeding according to plan, the Second Harbinger immediately returned to his notes. Lord Regrator watched his companion for a brief moment, “He’s actually taking notes. How amusing.” A gentle laugh escaped his lips, he moved a tad closer to get a better view and the scent of tobacco faintly invaded your senses.

For the next hour, conversation between you and Regrator drifted from formal introductions to declassified Fatui affairs to Snezhnayan politics, and for the entirety of it, Dottore wordlessly sat in his seat, taking notes of everything. The conversation started off stiff as expected—Pantalone may be a participant but he was still a Harbinger, and with it came formality but as words flowed, you eased slightly. You learned about his role as a high ranking Fatuus and despite your lack of interest in his field, you simply nodded along.

Lord Regrator differed from Lord Dottore, and whether that observation was positive or not, you were uncertain. Different in a way that the former was clearly built for conversations, he gave flattery when needed, smiled at your words, and gave colourful responses; you assumed he obtained his mannerisms through his role but even with his authority, he was easier to converse with.

“Alright, that is all for today. I shall require both your presence next week once I have the appropriate equipment set up.”

With that, you excused yourself first and headed back to the cafeteria with a racing heart. On the way over, you questioned whether what you were getting yourself into was something you’d regret in the future but all your mind could think about was the coming week. The mere idea of Lord Regrator intimately touching you shouldn’t have invited heat between your legs but with every step taken closer to the cafeteria, the more it grew. It didn’t help how obscene visuals of you and him flashed in your mind every second or so.

The new week rolled around with slight anticipation; it was embarrassing, really, the slight excitement buried in the depths of your core pulsing with expectation. It was weird to anticipate such an erotic experiment but pure lust fogged your mind primarily due to the fact that you simply haven’t had sex in a month. Weeks of pent up stress and emotions? You were definitely overdue for release. Though, you did have to constantly remind yourself that it was a formal study within a controlled environment, and not some kind of one night stand with your commander’s colleague.

“I trust you’re both well rested?”

The three of you were back inside The Doctor’s office, it was late afternoon, the warm glow of the sun spilled through the frostbitten windows, painting the rather dull room in a mellow hue. The rest of your colleagues had already left the laboratory which meant you, along with the two Harbingers were the only ones present. It made you a little nervous—being alone in a room with two of Snezhnaya’s influential individuals.

Pantalone hummed and you replied with a small nod, already feeling your skin starting to prick.

Dottore led you both into another room connected to his office, it wasn’t as vast and you assumed this was strictly out of bounds to everyone but him. The room felt unnervingly sterile, its walls were constructed from smooth metal panels with narrow seams, and bright white lighting illuminated the space.

At the centre of the room stood the experiment’s primary apparatus—a reclining examination chair surrounded by an intricate arrangement of cables, a machine, and polished metallic arms suspended from the ceiling. The most striking feature of the room was the wall opposite the entrance—a single pane of reinforced observation glass stretched nearly from floor to ceiling; beyond the glass you assumed was the control room, housing machinery responsible for operating the experiment.

“For the entire duration of the experiment, I shall remain inside the control room to oversee the study and note down all results. Remove any unnecessary layers of clothing such as overcoats and gloves, and meet me by the apparatus.”

Left in your blouse and pants, you headed to the center of the room where Dottore stood with Pantalone just a step behind. The former tinkered around the apparatus, pressing a few buttons and flipping switches with a gloved finger, causing the machine to whirr to life; it hummed a low, almost quiet tune that somewhat settled your nerves.

“Lie down.”

The Doctor looked over his feathered shoulder, pointed mask gleaming beneath the harsh lighting before turning his attention to the suspended metallic arms for inspection. You did as you were told, positioning the entirety of your body along the examination chair, the leather was cool against the fabric of your clothes which left tiny goosebumps from the difference in temperature. Wordlessly, you watched as he positioned the metallic arms near your head, several inches away from contact; its tips were equipped with a semi-circle that encased your head. So, this was what The Doctor meant about non-invasive equipment.

“Once I operate the machine, you may feel a slight sensation but do not fret, it is simply the apparatus emitting pulses of energy to record neural activity. And as for you, I require complete obedience—every single word.”

“Hah, you act as if I’m some kind of disobedient mutt. I’m wounded.” Regrator pressed a hand over his chest, a mocking smile directed at his colleague.

The latter didn’t bother replying and instead walked off to the control room, the soles of his boots clicking with every calculated step. Pantalone softly shook his head, muttering a faint “Lovely as ever.” beneath his breath, full of sarcasm.

“Any command given will be spoken through this intercom.” 

Your attention quickly moved from Regrator to the mounted speakers on the corners of the room as Dottore’s amplified voice filled the space. Gaze darting over to the foot of the examination chair, just past the Ninth Harbinger’s torso, you watched your commander on the other side of the observation glass. Heat warmed your cheeks at the realisation that you directly faced the latter which meant he’d be able to see everything you exposed.

“Base readings first. In the meantime, Pantalone, I trust you have already taken the concoction I made prior?” 

With the metallic arms whirring to life, you could barely hear The Doctor’s words over the pulsing of the machine. Just as he mentioned, there was a slight foreign sensation in your head, it felt like pressure but also not at the same time, though, it wasn’t painful. You could only watch as the two conversed over the observation glass.

“Indeed.” Regrator nodded.

Two days ago, Dottore had given him a curated substance meant to increase one’s libido, thus concentrating blood flow to the genitalia. He had no qualms consuming it but it was foreign, indeed, he had never taken such a drug before and it took all his willpower not to take you right then and there. It didn’t help how his semi-hardened cock twitched inside his pants, involuntarily rubbing against the fabric of his underwear.

Dottore jotted down a few notes as the monitors displayed your real-time cerebral activity; so far, everything looked good, “Commencing the first phase of the experiment: nipple stimulation. Duration: 30 seconds. For the entire duration—without stopping—the nipples are to be stimulated via gently pinching or twisting.”

Thirty seconds didn’t seem too long, right? With that, you slightly lifted yourself off the examination chair, bringing your blouse over your chest before attempting to unclip your brassiere. Seeing your struggle, Pantalone brought himself closer, a faint whiff of tobacco following, “May I?”

Despite his chivalrous offer, his amethyst gaze kept darting at your clothed breasts and the smoothness of your skin—he knew it was impolite to do so but being under the influence of Dottore’s concoction had him acting a tad out of character. He cleared his throat as his cock twitched at the sight before him, swallowing down the low moan he almost let out. Could you really blame him? The garment was a black lace adorned with intricate patterns, not to mention the fabric being slightly see-through—a feature he found rather brazen. Pantalone could almost assume you wore this specific garment today for him to see. And maybe for your commander, as well.

“Thank you . .” You nodded and allowed Regrator to help.

“Pardon the intrusion.” He laced an arm through the narrow space between your back and the chair, lithe fingers expertly unclasping your brassiere with one hand.

Your heart may or may not have skipped a beat.

In one swift movement, the garment loosened around your torso, threatening to slip off. With slight hesitation and a burning face, you removed the fabric and shyly placed it on the chair right by your thigh. Almost immediately, icy air kissed your warmed skin which caused your nipples to harden, a small hiss almost slipping past your lips. While you were occupied with embarrassment, Pantalone’s gaze traced the curves of your chest, each mound sinfully beckoning his large hands—maybe even his mouth too. Obviously, it wasn’t his first seeing a naked woman but how his mind reeled with selfish fantasies was beyond childish.

In the control room, Dottore was unfazed—he had seen many nude bodies before and yours weren’t any different. It was nothing special, really but your cerebral activity on the other hand . . . That was more interesting.

“Whenever you’re ready.” He spoke into the intercom.

“I’ll be starting now, Miss.” Regrator sat on the narrow space of the chair, his clothed thigh brushing against your own; you tried not to think of the warmth which radiated from his body or how your name effortlessly rolled off his tongue like it was meant to be.

A silent nod was all you could muster—not even a split second eye contact to acknowledge his presence out of politeness but from the looks of it, Regrator didn’t mind at all as he proceeded to bring both hands up to your chest. If only you’d look his way you’d see a shy hue of crimson dusting his pale cheeks and ears but alas, your gaze fixated on the ceiling above.

A small yelp forced its way past your lips; Regrator used both index fingers to gently trace your areolas a couple of times, mere centimetres shy from your pebbled nipples, the tips of his fingers were cold—not icy but enough to send a strong shiver down your spine. You missed the way the corners of his lips subtly curled upwards in utter amusement—who would’ve thought Dottore’s lovely subordinate hid quite melodious tunes? There was no doubt his Harbinger colleague thought of the same thing.

As a matter of fact, despite being behind an observation glass, Dottore heard the sound you made all too clearly. The door to the control room was slightly ajar which caused any noise—minute or not—to spill through. It wasn’t foreign for his experimental subjects to create any noise but today differed, what was usually tunes of pain turned into hums of pleasure, and he couldn’t decide between the two which he preferred.

Maybe, just maybe by a tad bit—from how his core twisted with delight—it was probably the latter.

But Dottore had no room to ponder over that, not when your neurological activity displayed exquisite images on his monitor. As expected, a small cluster of highlights illuminated the somatosensory cortex which indicated its activation; he quickly jotted down notes, eyes trained on the screen before him, trying not to let your saccharine noises get to his head.

Another twitch of his now fully hardened cock had him letting out a low groan beneath his shaky breaths. The sight before him was simply exquisite; Pantalone may not have the best eyesight but he didn’t need a perfect vision to deduce the divine beauty—breasts splayed flat, torso arching ever so slightly, your head turned to the side, bottom lip tucked between your teeth, and brows furrowed in embarrassment.

Oh, what a shy little thing you were.

“Lord R-Regrator—!” He gently pinched your nipples which spread a sharp, quick shock across your chest. Another arch of your back pressed your skin closer to Regrator’s digits, he experimented with a slight twist, turning them between his index fingers and thumbs.

Archons, how embarrassing! You tried. You truly tried to hold back any unwanted sounds but the Lord Harbinger seemed to know what he was doing—how to please a woman—you couldn’t help but moan out his name from how amazing his hands felt against your feverish skin. Save for the low hum of machinery, the room was filled with complete silence and any noise made stuck out like crimson ink on a blank ivory canvas.

“Do let me know if my actions hurt you at some point.” Pantalone mindlessly murmured, mind completely fogged with lust, and senses drowned in your muffled moans.

You finally looked up at him through glassy eyes and wet lashes, it didn’t help how the bright lights above drew sparkles in your irises. He almost missed the wordless nod you responded with, too focused on the growing haze painted on your face. As Regrator continued his stimulation, shallow pants filled the space above your face and by this point, your face was as warm as it could get. Occasionally, your body shuddered beneath his expert touch, slowly and steadily driving you over the edge as each second passed.

Before another embarrassing moan could spill from your lips, The Doctor’s voice flooded the room via intercom, “First phase has concluded. Moving on to the second phase: clitoral stimulation. Duration: 30 seconds. As previously mentioned, stimulation has to be continuous for the entire duration.”

Even though embarrassment had slightly subsided, you hesitantly reached for the button of your pants, undoing them with trembling hands. Once more, the Ninth Harbinger offered assistance to which you thankfully accepted—there was no reason getting shy now, he had already played with your nipples earlier. Driving the soles of your shoes onto the cushioned examination chair, you lifted your hips and pulled your pants down along with your underwear with the Harbinger’s help—just enough to expose your cunt.

His eyes zeroed in on your glistening entrance. All for him? Oh, he was being spoiled, indeed. The sight of your cunt fanned the blazing flames of Pantalone’s ego—all this just from mere nipple play? How adorable. You must’ve been really touch starved.

“Before we commence the second phase, Pantalone, I trust you can find the clitoris, right? Perhaps you need my assistance?”

“I am not ignorant, Dottore.”

“I am simply making sure. No reason to get snappy.”

You wanted to laugh. Two Harbingers bickering should not have amused you but the pettiness behind your commander’s voice and the slight annoyance laced with Lord Regrator’s words was all too amusing. If you were to tell a fellow colleague about them two bickering whether one could find the clitoris or not, they would not believe a single word that’d come out of your mouth. Who knew they could talk about trivial matters, too, how interesting.

Lord Regrator returned his rightful attention to you, his dull expression immediately shifted into the soft smile he always wore, “Ready, Miss?” Meek, you nodded. The Harbinger repositioned himself, right knee slotted between your parted legs to get a better view of your wet cunt.

He gathered the slick coating your cunt, spreading it on the pads of his fingers before pushing back your clitoral hood to reveal the swollen nub of flesh all in its needy glory. Embarrassingly enough, a simple ghostly touch on your clitoris had your entire body jerking against the leather of the chair, followed by a wanton moan of the Harbinger’s title. You quickly turned your head to the side and pressed the skin of your forearm against your lips—a futile attempt as the moment you obstructed your face, Lord Regrator’s digit began rubbing your clitoris in tight circles, as though a wordless protest against muffling the sounds you made.

His fingers were good—amazing, even, to the point where you wished thirty seconds went as quickly as a single second. In your head, clitoral stimulation of that duration was doable but you wholly underestimated yourself and the Lord Harbinger’s skills, on top of that, you were still trying to recover from earlier. You weren’t supposed to orgasm on this phase of the experiment otherwise it would ruin it entirely but it seemed like he had a goal: to drive you over the edge before the thirty seconds were up.

“L-Lord Regrator, I think—Mhm!”

“Hm? Were you saying something?”

The arm slung over your face immediately flew downwards to grasp his wrist, attempting to slow down his actions. Your free hand gripped on the side of the examination chair, nails digging crescents into the leather to ground and steer yourself from the impending orgasm. You arched your back and moaned aloud once more, earning a satisfied smile from the Lord Harbinger.

Dottore’s gaze ripped away from the monitors and landed at the centre of the room where you and Pantalone where, he carefully watched as your body pathetically writhed under the latter’s eager touch. He could barely see your lust-bitten face but judging from the moans you let out, his friend was doing exceptionally well at pleasing you—even the activity displayed on the monitors could back that fact; more regions of the brain were now highlighted indicating an increase in activity,

It was indeed fascinating to observe how one’s brain lit up from mere stimulation.

The tune of shallow, soft pants filled Regrator’s ears, it was amusing to watch you scramble and gather the threads of sanity in your palms, refusing to let pleasure take control of your body. Did he feel bad? A little but he was no saint. He switched from tight circles to figure eights, pressing onto your sensitive nub with a little more pressure. Your legs shook with bliss, fingers wrapped around his wrist tightening as you teetered to the brink of an orgasm.

“Ngh—ah! Lord Re—Haah!” 

“I suggest you use your words otherwise I cannot understand you.” Mockery laced his dulcet voice but with the hum of machinery mixed with your shameless moans, you didn’t pick up on it.

When did Pantalone last have fun like this? Sure, he was powerful enough to control the nation’s economic state with a mere snap of his fingers but being able to control the pleasure you felt? Beyond satisfying. Not only was he rewarded with your lust-fogged expressions but also how your body squirmed beneath his touch—desperate and pathetic.

Your core tightened, it stretched and stretched further waiting for the recoil called climax but before you could reach it, your commander’s cold voice filled the room once more, “Second phase has concluded. We’ll be moving on to the final phase after a short interval.”

With that, Regrator pulled away his hand which elicited an embarrassing whine of protest from you. In a daze, you stared up at the ceiling and silently thanked Lord Dottore for the short interval because you knew well enough you’d be a complete mess once the third phase began. Though, the Second Harbinger’s reasoning was most certainly experiment-related rather than pure concern for the subject.

The tight knot deep in your core disappointingly dissipated as each second passed without stimulation—it was beyond frustrating to say the least, especially after weeks without sex. Despite the cool air inside, a sheen of sweat lightly coated your entire body and you felt stuffy; suddenly, the fabric pulled halfway down your legs felt too restricting, the blouse pooled around your neck didn’t help either. At this point, you just wanted one thing, and judging by the crimson blush on Lord Regrator’s cheeks, he wanted it too—release.

Dottore simply wasn’t being nice with the interval, the main reason for it was to let your cerebral activity return to baseline, otherwise readings from the second phase would carry on to the third phase and mess with the experiment. But he did have a more selfish reason that didn’t need disclosing—the growing tent between his legs.

He only needed a few moments to recollect himself. His bodily response to the scene before him was normal—he was still a man, after all— but in a professional setting, it was undesirable. Dottore knew what he was getting into when he first wrote the proposal for this serendipitous experiment but he didn’t expect to be aroused by it. He leaned back in his seat, a subtle glance at the prominent bulge before letting out a soft sigh.

How truly inconvenient.

After a couple moments of recollecting himself—or simply trying to—Dottore spoke into the intercom to commence the final phase, “The third will be slightly different, there will be no set duration as the end goal of this phase is an orgasm but restrictions will be in order. That means strictly no touching aside from vaginal penetration, this would count as kissing, groping or holding one another. Doing so would interfere with results.”

Since Dottore observed the sensory cortex, other forms of stimulation besides penetration would also be recorded, lowering authenticity of the results.

“Contraception is located above the machinery.” He added.

Pantalone reached for the smooth surface of the machinery next to the examination chair where he grabbed a sealed packet. Lithe fingers curled around the waistband of his pants, you watched as he unbuttoned and pulled it down just enough to reveal his hardened, leaking cock. It slapped against his clothed abdomen, donning a crimson blush that mirrored the hues on his pale cheeks. The pearlescent glob of pre-cum coating his slit had you salivating a little, tongue subtly swiping over your bottom lip.

Wide eyed and lips slightly parted, you could only wordlessly stare at the foreign sight before you, he was decently thick and merely looking at it had you clenching around nothing—eager to have all of the Lord Harbinger inside you.

Pantalone let out a low hiss, expertly rolling the latex down his shaft, “Ready?” Amethyst eyes clouded with lust found your gaze. Lord Regrator’s expression was different from what he usually wore, the cunning, unreadable smile was gone, leaving room for a flustered one.

With a wordless nod from you, the Harbinger fully situated himself between your legs, both hands each circling around the back of your knees to push them to your bare chest, “Hold your legs open for me, will you, dear?” You did as you were told, hooking an arm on each knee, keeping your legs in place and eagerly waiting for his next move.

Knees digging on leather, Pantalone placed a hand on the wide headrest of the chair while the other curled around his base, slowly guiding his cock inside your sopping entrance. A mix of your moans lingered in the air as he bottomed out, the entirety of his shaft sat inside you—heavy and hard. The stretch was delicious, it almost felt purely sinful, you’ve never taken a cock that stretched you this good before and it was dangerous because you might just get addicted to it.

Pantalone leaned over you, free hand now joining the other on holding the headrest. The silvery chain of his glasses dangled mere centimetres from your face, teasing and ghosting over your feverish skin. He sat still for a moment to relish inside your tight, velvety walls, he felt like a boyish virgin all over again with how stimulated he was, and he hasn’t even started thrusting yet.

But Pantalone had a job to do: to bring you to an orgasm because that’s what he agreed to upon signing the contract of this study—to put your pleasure before his own.

A beat or two passed ‘til he slowly drew his hips back—with only the bulbous tip remaining inside—and languidly thrusted, your nails dug into your soft skin, leaving small crescent-shaped indents. You could really only hold on to your legs and take the steady yet forceful pace Lord Regrator had set which caused your body to jolt repeatedly with every smack of his hips against your own.

It was pure torture for Pantalone, you looked absolutely divine yet he wasn’t allowed to hold you—to grope and squeeze at your bouncing breasts, to rub at your clit, to suck on every part of your exposed skin and finally taste you for himself. Alas, he could only rake his gaze up and down your semi-naked form and fantasize how you’d react beneath his palms.

The examination chair groaned underneath the weight of Pantalone’s thrusts, high pitched squeaks interlaced with the string of moans and whimpers filling the entire space. Pantalone carefully shifted his weight to his upper body, anchoring his hands on the headrest to piston his hips into your own.

“O-Oh, god! Lord Regrator!”

“God? H-Haah! Ngh—‘M no god, my dear.”

Bitterness laced his trembling words, it's almost as though he took offense and now he expressed his disdain by merely picking up the pace, rendering you a babbling mess to shut you up. Skin slapping and the smell of sex dangerously danced in the air, one Dottore couldn’t simply ignore—especially the former.

The Second Harbinger messily jotted down notes, fingers tightening around the pen every now and then whenever you let out a loud moan. He didn’t stop his gaze from wandering to where you and Pantalone were, crimson gaze locked onto your jolting form while his friend eagerly pounded you like a starved man. How your legs vigorously bounced in the air was enough to let him know how roughly Pantalone went on you.

The problem between his legs worsened and Dottore may or may not have rubbed his hard on a few times beneath the desk. Just to get a small taste of friction his hardened cock desperately wanted. Childish? Perhaps but fuck he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of trading places with Pantalone—even for a mere second or two. He was more than curious what you’d feel like around him.

“Lord Regrator! I’m—aah! I’m close—ngh!” Legs burning from holding the position, you let go and opted to wrap them around the Harbinger’s waist, locking him in a rather intimate distance. Pantalone let out a breathless chuckle and changed his pace into deep, short thrusts, he grinded into you every few strokes or so, allowing you to see the stars.

A few more sharp thrusts and the knot inside your stomach snapped violently as pure bliss engulfed the entirety of your body. Pantalone, unable to move due to your legs tightening around him, sheathed his cock deep inside and grinded on you, his fat tip rubbing against your sweet, sweet spot. He watched your limp body convulsed beneath him as shocks of pleasure came crashing into you.

He followed suit, spilling his warm seed into the latex while relishing in the tightness of your walls, a loud grunt forced from his rosy lips.

The two of you stayed still for a moment, individuals merely reduced to a heaving mess as the fog of orgasm slowly dissipated from your bodies. As if on cue, Dottore spoke through the intercom,

“The final phase of the study has concluded. Your cooperation is appreciated.”

A breathless laugh from the Harbinger above you, “I sure hope you managed to collect ample findings, Dottore.”

The latter could only scoff, of course he was able to do so. As opposed to his hypothesis—where he had only hypothesized two regions would be active—a handful of regions were active during an orgasm. It gave him a better understanding of how to map the human brain.

At the latter’s silence, Pantalone spoke once more, “Though, I am rather curious,” He let out a small hiss while pulling out. “Why did you need a second participant? Surely you’re more than capable of executing this task yourself, no? Unless . .”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you simply can’t do it.” To please a woman, he wanted to add.

There was only one way to interpret the Ninth’s words and despite it being ‘friendly’ banter, annoyance bubbled in Dottore’s chest, “Obviously, I would need to record findings hence my lack of participation in the study. But if you ask me, I would have done a better job.”

“Really?”

Silence followed.

Solely due to their brief exchange—or was argument a better word?—you found yourself sandwiched between Lord Dottore and Lord Regrator; every article of your clothing long discarded on the cold tiles, and machinery turned off, long forgotten. With the former laying on the examination chair, you straddled him, trembling legs on either side of his waist while the other Harbinger pressed his clothed chest against your back.

“Lord Dottore . .” You bit your lip. 

In a haste, he had unzipped his pants and pulled out his leaking cock, rubbing the bare tip up and down your sensitive slit. Behind you, Pantalone’s hands mindlessly wandered all over your naked form—from the plush of your breasts to the fat of your ass, he left no skin untouched. But it wasn’t his hands alone, his lips trailed open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, leaving a few small bites in between.

Pantalone gently ushered you forward, one hand splayed across your back to bring you closer to Dottore ‘til your breasts squished against the latter’s chest. Both Harbingers lined their cocks to your entrances and slowly pushed inside. Slumped against the Second, you trembled violently as they stretched your holes out—one wrong move and you were sure to come undone.

With both cocks fully sheathed inside, all you could do at that point was pant like a mere mutt in heat, you haven’t had proper time to come down from your previous orgasm so any form of stimulation quite literally melted your brain and brought tears to your eyes.

Dottore cupped your jaw with a large, gloved hand and angled your face, he examined your fucked out expression momentarily before closing the distance. Messy and desperate, the Lord Harbinger’s kiss simply knocked oxygen from your lungs, he eagerly plunged his tongue past your lips and explored the inside of your mouth. 

The kiss and the sting of his pointed mask digging into your cheek was enough to briefly distract you from their experimental thrusts. Shameless, you wailed into your commander’s mouth, knuckles turning into a lovely shade of ivory as you gripped the collar of his coat.

The examination chair groaned beneath the weight of the Harbingers’ merciless thrusts and one could only hope it was sturdy enough to last an entire round. Creaks of the chair mixed with the sinful harmony of your moans filled all four corners of the room, thankfully this space was a bit more secluded in comparison to your commander’s laboratory which meant anyone else walking down the corridors wouldn’t be able to hear the lewd sounds as much.

Despite the eagerness behind their thrusts, it was certainly surprising to have their movements coordinate with one another—an unspoken rhythm with the sole purpose of bringing you and themselves to release.

Dottore pulled away to catch his breath, leaving a thin translucent string of saliva connecting his kiss-bitten lips to your own, hot breaths mingling together through rough pants. The corner of the Harbinger’s lips curled upwards upon seeing your drunken expression—who knew you looked utterly divine stuffed with two cocks? It made him twitch.

Pantalone’s gaze fixated on your lower half—how your ass bounced and jolted with every powerful thrust he gave. The mere sight of his wet cock appearing and disappearing between the globes of your ass had him heaving a little harder. Maybe it was also due to the tightness of your rear, or the fact that having another cock inside you intensified the pleasurable friction he felt.

A few more harsh thrusts, the coil inside you finally snapped once more, bringing you to a rather earth shattering orgasm. Your body violently trembled in pure bliss as you tried to moan their names to no avail. With the sensation being too much, you fisted Dottore’s clothed chest as if doing so would somewhat ease the pleasurable pain your entire body felt.

The Second soon followed suit, a couple of desperate thrusts into your sopping cunt—ones that had you wailing in overstimulation—before sheathing himself deep inside and releasing thick, warm ribbons of cum. A string of colourful curses in his mother tongue slipped past his kiss-bitten lips as he came inside. Dottore filled you all the way to the brim ‘til his seed slowly seeped out of your greedy hole and onto the leather cushion beneath.

Ah, he’d have to get it cleaned now. 

This left Pantalone who greedily hauled your limp body against his chest; one hand expertly rubbed your swollen clit while the other held your jaw to angle your face upwards so he could plunge his tongue inside your mouth. You choked on the messy kiss as the new angle invited him deeper inside. Dottore’s cock slipped out from the change in position but he didn’t mind, instead, he sat up and took it upon himself to plunge two long digits in your cunt.

His fingers were already long enough to reach far but the added thickness of his gloves had you arching your back. If it wasn’t for Lord Regrator’s firm hold, you would’ve already been slumped against the chair long ago. The former’s fingers moved in a ‘come hither’ motion which allowed him to brush against your sweet spot. Surely you could handle another one, right?

“Oh—hng! Close! Ah—haah!” Hands flew down to circle around Dottore’s wrist, you attempted to pathetically remove his fingers from your cunt which shortly proved futile as he remained unmoved.

You came once more, another blinding orgasm ripping through your orgasm but this time, you could barely even muster a whimper—only a soundless cry and fresh tears streaming down your face. Pantalone grunted and bit your shoulder as orgasm hit him, hot cum painting the walls of your rear; he grinded his hips against your ass to ride out his orgasm before releasing your skin from his bite.

Nothing but the sound of harsh breathing filled the walls and for a long moment, the three of you remained still to catch your breaths with reality slowly seeping in to replace what was once lust. You wanted to sleep right then and there, exhaustion weighed heavy on your body from how hard they both worked you—too tired to even think of the consequences.

None of this was supposed to happen—at least not the unexpected threesome but now that both Harbingers have had a taste of you, they might just come back for seconds.

[arinxxx]

Trying different flavors of lip-smackers with segments!

Warnings: Making out? Kinda smut? (not with 8 years old one of course, its a cheek kiss for him.) Humiliation kink(idk)?

It's kinda long eheh. Also, I couldn't make the text smaller in some places, so I apologize if it looks strange.

Assistant reader!f (in her +20ies) x Dottore Segments

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ summary: You buy a pack of lip-smackers and you try each flavor with one segment at a time, which is best done by kissing them.

8 years-old (a kiss on the cheek!) cherry-cola You found him in your room again, it was his usual spot when he escapes from olders’ bullyings. Curled up near the edge of your bed with his notebook resting against his knees, scribbling down something with that tiny serious expression he always wore whenever he thought too hard. He barely even noticed you entering. “I bought these a few days ago,” you said while dropping beside him onto the mattress. You held up the little package of lip smackers in front of him. “I still can’t decide which flavor to try.” The eight-year-old glanced up briefly. "And…? I don't see the problem that relates me here?" “Hm. Fair point, Doctor.” You liked calling 8 years old one Doctor a lot, and deep down he liked it too, made him feel important among them. You looked through them dramatically before pulling out the cherry one. “This one then.” He watched carefully as you applied it, quiet as always. Probably trying to understand your reasoning. Then before he could ask anything, you leaned over and pressed an exaggerated kiss against his cheek. “Mwah.” A loud one. He blinked. Slowly, his fingers touched the spot you kissed. Then he sniffed faintly, brows furrowing in curiosity. “…Cherry?” You smiled immediately. “Yeah, aren’t you a smart cookie?”. “I’ve never seen a cherry flavored one before.” He said while ignoring your teasing. “Well,” you answered while nudging his shoulder lightly, “that just means there are still lots of things left for you to research, Doctor.” Then he quietly pulled his notebook a little farther away from you, to hide his face before you could try kissing the other cheek too.

18 years-old, lemon-fanta! Finding the eighteen-year-old was always funny because he acted like he wanted to disappear while leaving the most obvious trails possible. With a pile of stolen books from other segments, and dragged chair to the corner of the library he builds a castle from books and then tries to hide himself in them. And somehow, every single time, you still found him. He even once told you:“You can find me whenever you want. I only find you when you want.” You approached quietly, fingers brushing over his shoulder. He startled immediately. Actually jumped a little. His head snapped toward you before he tried recovering his dignity by looking back down at the book in front of him. “…What are you doing here, handsome?” you asked with a teasing tone. “Ugh…Nothing.” He answered with that sappy-sulky voice. “Why did you even come here and disturb me?” he muttered while turning a page he clearly wasn’t reading anymore. “Don’t you have things to do? Be a useful assistant and maybe bring me coffee.” The moment he saw you, he always tried acting annoyed first. But you knew him too well. “Oh, of course I have things to do,” you said. “And I should probably bring you your coffee too.” He hummed with agreement. “But before that,” you continued while stepping closer, “I need to do something else first.” That finally got his attention(which was actually long lost the moment he heard your voice). He lifted his head from the book slowly, chair sliding back just a little as he looked up at you with obvious curiosity hidden behind forced indifference. “…What thing?” You leaned down before he could think too hard about it and kissed him. Bright lemon flavor spreading instantly against his lips from the gloss you had applied earlier. He reacted immediately. He never misses his chance. One hand grabbing at your hip so fast it almost made you laugh, like he’d been waiting for an excuse all day. Eager. And then you pulled away. A quiet, frustrated whine escaped him before he could stop it. This made you burst into laughter instantly. His face went red so quickly he covered half of it with his left hand, glaring at you from behind his fingers. “Just because I’m not as scary as the others,” he muttered bitterly, “doesn’t mean you can tease me whenever you want.” You stood up again, pretending not to notice the way he tried to cover the immediate bulge occured when you sat down. “I don’t know,” you said lightly while fixing your sleeve. “I think I’d love to see you act all crazy and scary too.” His eyes widened slightly. And before he could recover enough to say something smug back, you were already leaving the library laughing while he sat there completely flustered in the middle of his little book castle.

25 years-old, sprite! The twenty-five-year-old’s room was always quiet in the most unwelcoming way possible. He had papers scattered across the desk, lots of half-written reports, open books etc. The faint scratching sound of his pen moving across paper that you could hear behind the door. You knocked twice against the door. “You can’t come in,” he answered immediately. You leaned against the doorway dramatically. “I mean, there was something urgent I had to ask you.” “Well then,” he replied flatly from inside, “go find someone less bothered by your existence. I’m busy.” You rolled your eyes. “The earlier you help me, the earlier you’ll get back to your report.” A long groan came from behind the door. But since he didn’t actually tell you to leave again, you pushed the door open anyway. He didn’t even look up at first. “You’re too stupid to figure out your own unimportant problems?” he asked while continuing to write. “Why do they even keep you as their assistant? You clearly lack the ability to assist anyone.” You barely reacted anymore honestly. Every segment had their own way of being awful. His just happened to involve constant humiliation wrapped in distinct wording with attractive voice. So instead of getting offended, you simply smiled and walked over beside his chair. “I don’t lack the ability to assist,” you corrected lightly. “You’re simply too good to require assistance.” That made him glance up. You leaned your elbow against his shoulder, close enough for him to smell the sweet artificial citrus from your gloss. He huffed quietly under his breath. Then suddenly his hand grabbed your waist and pulled you directly into his lap. You yelped softly from the force of it, which made him enjoy more. “I’ve never seen anyone as interested in being bullied as you are,” he muttered near your ear while squeezing your thigh harshly. “It’s almost concerning.” “Well,” you said sweetly, “if it’s coming from you, who am I to reject it? I am your assistant after all.” His fingers tightened briefly before he leaned back in his chair with obvious annoyance. “Whatever you needed, ask quickly,” he sighed. “I’m too busy to deal with your lame ass.” Instead of answering, you kissed him. He reacted instantly to that. One hand gripping your hip harder while he bit down lightly against your lower lip in that mean way of his that was always more provoking than affectionate. You were kissing him with that sprite flavor he would definitely despise. You almost laughed into the kiss. Especially when he started to make you lean back towards the desk like he intended to keep you there much longer. Before he could though, you pushed against his chest lightly and stood back up. He looked irritated immediately. “Well, I was actually going to ask about my new lipstick,” you said while fixing your clothes. “But I guess you didn’t like it?” He stared at you for a moment. Then grinned slowly. “I hate it.”

35 years-old(Omega), vanilla-cola! Omega’s room was usually quieter than the others and with Nod-Krai trip approaching, the atmosphere had only gotten worse. Documents scattered across the desk, unfinished calculations glowing faintly across screens, reports waiting for signatures. You’d spent the last hour helping him organize materials for the trip without daring to distract him even once. The moment you entered earlier, you had planned to greet him properly. With a small kiss, you know. But the second he started giving instructions, you abandoned the thought immediately. It felt too risky making him wait over something so trivial. So instead, you focused entirely on being useful. Exactly what his assistant should be, as you could feel that he likes you most when you show usability. So, you barely even remembered the vanilla-cola you had applied beforehand. Until... “Why,” Omega said suddenly from somewhere behind you, “am I smelling vanilla?” Your fingers immediately flew to your lips. Right. The new lipstick. You turned toward him with a small smile. “Oh, I tried a new flavor earlier. Didn’t realize the scent was that strong.” His eyes settled on your mouth instantly. “Get up.” You obeyed before thinking twice. The chair scraped softly against the floor as you stood, and Omega stepped closer without another word. Then his fingers slid beneath your chin, tilting your face upward carefully. Neither gentle nor rough. His gaze stayed fixed on your lips with a level of attention that made your breath catch embarrassingly fast. “I don’t think you wear these because your lips are chapped,” he said calmly. “They always look shiny regardless.” Your eyebrows lifted slightly. You didn’t realize he paid attention to things like that or maybe you simply weren’t supposed to know? “Well,” you answered softly after a moment, “of course I applied this for you.” That earned the faintest smile from him. Then he leaned closer. Close enough that you could already feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. If either of you moved even slightly, the distance would disappear completely. You waited but Omega stopped there. “It smells lovely indeed,” he murmured quietly. Then he released your chin, turned away from you entirely, and continued gathering the papers for Nod-Krai like nothing had happened. Leaving you standing there like that, made you think that everyone was somehow getting a taste of his cruelty.

45 years-old, strawberry-fanta! The meetings of the Harbingers were sometimes unbearably long. So, even after an hour passed, you were still waiting. Despite the fact that he specifically told you: “If it takes too long, leave.” You sat quietly on one of the hallway benches outside the meeting room, legs crossed while absentmindedly applying the strawberry-flavored gloss you had bought earlier. Mostly just to distract yourself from boredom. Then finally you heard the doors opened. You immediately stood up as the Harbingers began leaving one by one. Voices echoed through the hallway, coats brushing past marble floors, conversations overlapping carelessly. You spotted him instantly. But before you could approach, you overheard Pantalone’s amused voice. “After you’re gone, perhaps I should steal that assistant of yours,” he said lazily. “Even someone like you seems interested in her. There must be something exceptional there.” Dottore laughed softly. “Well, ask her after I leave. If she wishes to join you, she may.” Then he glanced toward you briefly. “Though, for your sake, you should know she only shows interest in me. I doubt she’d perform quite as enthusiastically under your supervision.” Your lips curled into a smile before you lowered your head slightly to hide it. Eventually the hallway emptied, leaving only the two of you. You approached him quietly and took the bag from his hand before he could object, naturally falling into step beside him as you both walked down the long corridor. “I told you not to wait if it took too long,” he said after a moment. “Why are you still here?” “Because I’m your assistant,” you answered simply. “If you had to stay in that room for twenty-four hours, then I’d stay here for twenty-four hours too. I’ll wait whenever you need me.” That made him smile faintly. The two of you continued walking side by side. Then suddenly he spoke again. “Am I hallucinating,” he mused lightly, “or do you smell like strawberries?” You smiled immediately. “Nothing escapes from you, hm, Doctor?” Compared to the other older segments, he was surprisingly easy to talk to. Easier to tease too. But he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “Well, if I fail to notice the changes in my lovely assistant,” he said calmly, “or the little shenanigans she keeps pulling, then I’d simply be ignorant of my surroundings.” Slowly, you linked your arm with his as he allowed it naturally. “So?” you asked while looking up at him. “Is that a bad thing or a good thing?” He turned his head toward you fully then. “You shouldn’t ask such obvious questions.” And before you could reply,he suddenly pushed you gently toward the wall beside the hallway. You let out a surprised sound as your back touched the cold surface behind you. His hand guided your arms down instinctively so he could cage you there easily. For a second, you just stared at him. And then he kissed you. The strawberry flavor mixed between you instantly while his hand rested against your waist with terrifying ease. He made you feel overwhelmed in a completely different manner. Like standing too close to someone entirely aware of their own charm. When he finally pulled away, you almost stumbled forward from how weak your knees suddenly felt which caused a laughter from him. “You know,” he mused while watching your expression carefully, “I think I understand why the eighteen-year-old is so obsessed with you.” You immediately smiled back. “Oh?” you teased softly. “Is it only him?” He extended his arm toward you again patiently, waiting for you to take it. “No,” he answered after a moment. “I don’t think it’s only him.”

65 years-old, fanta! You found him exactly where he always was. Sitting near the large window of his office with a book resting in one hand while the other tapped slowly against the armrest of his chair. The room was quiet except for the ticking of some old mechanism nearby. He acknowledged your presence immediately but didn’t look up. “You’re lingering,” he said dryly. “Which usually means you’re about to become troublesome.” You smiled to yourself and walked closer. “Maybe only a little.” A quiet hum escaped him at that. You had applied the Fanta flavored one earlier, and honestly, compared to the others, you weren’t even sure if he would tolerate it. He always acted above things like that. Still, you leaned carefully against the side of his chair. “So, what are you reading about? Maybe something interesting?” He answers back without waiting, “Not everything we read needs to be interesting, sometimes you just read to… read.” Which caused a small nod from you. To change the topic, to make him talk to you more, “I bought something new today,” you said casually. “Though you’ll probably hate it.” That finally made him glance at you over the edge of his book. “Probably.” You laughed softly. “See? You're too uncurious for a research doctor.” “Experience allows me to predict disappointment accurately.” “But no matter what, don’t you think you should try first, there’s always possibility for a different outcome.” His eyes narrowed slightly. He already understood what the new item was you found. Of course, it wasn’t a dagger or an elixir you came up with. The smell of orange was too heavy to not to notice. You slowly reached toward the lower edge of his mask then, fingers brushing lightly against the material. Waiting, giving him enough time to stop you if he wanted. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t. Instead, he sighed quietly like you were exhausting beyond reason. “Ridiculous girl,” he muttered. But he tilted his head upward anyway. Just enough for you to slide the lower half of the mask away and reveal his lips. You were not seeing his eyes but you were aware that his gaze stayed on your face the entire time as you leaned closer. “You always act like you’re above these things,” you whispered softly, “but you indulge me every single time.” “Someone,” he replied calmly, “has to tolerate your nonsense.” And then he kissed you. The citrus flavor lingered between you while his hand rested briefly against your jaw, keeping you there for just a second longer than necessary before he finally pulled away. You blinked at him quietly afterward. And he simply lowered the mask back into place with complete composure. “…Didn’t you have something else?” he said after a moment. “That’s too sweet.” You stared at him in disbelief. “That’s your review?” “That was your objective, was it not?”

80ies, OG Zandik, coca-cola! When Zandik first took you in, he noticed very quickly that you liked flowers and though he never commented much on it, a greenhouse had quietly appeared not long afterward. At first, it was yours. Then eventually, somehow, it became his too. Now half the plants inside were labeled with small notes in his handwriting, some altered for experiments, others growing under strange conditions only he understood. The greenhouse smelled less like a garden these days and more like a research facility pretending to be one. Not that you minded. You found him there again that evening, standing beneath the warm glass ceiling while examining one of the glowing flowers near the center table. “You’re stealing my greenhouse,” you complained lightly while approaching him from behind. “It was never yours exclusively,” he replied without even turning around. “You simply lacked the intellect to use it efficiently.” You smiled. There he is, you thought to yourself. The old man carefully adjusted one of the leaves between his fingers before speaking again. “The western section requires watering tomorrow. You’ve been neglecting it.” “Wow, Im surprised that you noticed.” “I notice everything.” You moved closer until your shoulder brushed against his arm. He didn’t move away. At this point, Zandik tolerated your clinginess with the same exhausted acceptance one would have toward a persistent cat. Your gaze drifted toward the flowers surrounding him. “You know,” you murmured softly, “I think you spend more time here than I do now. Perhaps green makes you feel at ease, hm?” With dodging your last words, he speaks “That is because unlike you, I possess consistency.” “But you’re also turning my flowers into experiments.” “They should be honored.” You laughed quietly under your breath before gently taking his hand and guiding him toward the nearby table set. He looked mildly annoyed the entire time, but he still sat down, and after a second of hesitation, you settled carefully onto his lap sideways, arms slipping loosely around him while resting your head against his shoulder. The old man let out the deepest sigh imaginable. “Hopeless girl.” Yet his hand still rested against your waist automatically. You smiled against his doctor coat that smells like… science! The cola-flavored gloss still lingered faintly on your lips, and eventually he noticed too. “That scent,” he muttered after a moment. “Artificial. Overly sweet. Also, very unpleasant.” You looked up at him innocently. “Maybe it tastes good though.” His eyes narrowed immediately. “You cannot know without trying it, right?” For a long second, he simply stared at you like he was debating whether or not you were worth the trouble. Then his hand moved slowly to your jaw and despite all the criticism, he kissed you anyway. The faint cola flavor mixed between you while the greenhouse remained completely silent around you except for the soft hum of lamps overhead. When he finally pulled away, his expression remained perfectly composed. “…Still artificial,” he decided calmly. You burst into laughter instantly and though he clicked his tongue in disapproval you still caught the faint amusement hidden beneath it. He was now, too tired to deal with you, but still managing somehow.

end.

[luciismyman]

Slow Mornings with your Boyfriend

You just woke up from your much needed rest for being the head marketing manager at Voxtek is no easy feat. You were about to get up and start your routine, only to have cold metallic claws wrap around your waist and pull you back into a sturdy chest.

"Doll, it's 3 am why are you getting up?" a glitchy voice looked down at you with his neon screen. Who knew that your boyfriend was also your boss, and the biggest, influential overlord.

"Vox, you start work at 4 am." you said in a tired but loving voice.

"So? It's 3 am and you're getting up." he shot back in a irritated tone.

"Yeah and you said you wanted the project ideas by the time you step into the office, so I have to wake up." with a finality of your words you boop his screen where his nose should be.

You can feel his eyes trailing up and down your body as your walking to the bathroom to freshen up. "I can feel you staring Vox," you should out from the bathroom while you're washing your face.

"Can't a guy appreciate his sexy girlfriend?" he said, you could hear him smiling in his voice.

"Besides, it's not like I get to see you every day, it gets lonely being the head hunch sometimes." this was one of the few moments where you could hear the vulnerability in his voice.

"Vox, we see each other every day, and everyone knows that you only call me into your office so we could "talk"," you said using air quotes with both your middle and index finger.

You dried your face off with a towel and turn to him, with his back facing you. Dipping yourself in the bed to hug him from behind, planting your face in the junction is his neck and shoulder.

"You're too sweet for me, doll.", he said with a gravelly voice, before taking one of your arms and bringing them to his lips.

"Well, I am the only one who can tolerate your bullshit," you said in a teasing voice before kissing the side of his screen.

"Now c'mon, get ready so we can get breakfast sandwiches!" yous aid enthusiastically before pulling away and hopping to your closet. He specifically made it walk in.

"You are so lucky you're hot, otherwise you would've gotten a ZAP!", he does it every time sends little but non lethal shocks of electricity, basically his way of saying 'love you'.

"Asshole."

"But I'm yours." he said smugly, while putting on his white button up. Followed by his usually get up, of wingtiped shoes, bow tie, blazer, and hat.

During the drive to the Voxtek building he got you two breakfast burgers, cups of coffee, and a cake pop for you.

"Vox, why was the computer late to work?" you looked at him with feign innocence. He sighed, his voice strained with annoyance.

"I don't know, and I'm not a computer doll."

"Beacuse it had a hard drive!" and immediatley bursted out laughing.

"You are so lucky I love you." he said before pinching your cheek.

a/n: wow my first post, after who knows how long currently writing this at 9:43 pm, even though I have a math test tomorrow but here you are you delusional ppl, and the people who still follow me thank you so much! I got 5 people who know me!

[mawsjaws]

Size difference — Hands

Cw - Size difference, 16+ (suggestives themes)

The first time Vox had placed his hands on you—be it your shoulders, arms, or whatever he could grasp for your attention—you had realized the obvious distinction that his hands were huge.

Not just normal, large hands of a man. No—they were beastly. Large claws that always threatened to cut—yet so skilled in the ways they caressed you, managing to hold you in the gentlest manner.

You have witnessed the shameless things his hands have done—the lives he took whenever someone stepped out of line. Although, his hands were always calculated. Never hesitating—precise and accurate.

You couldn’t help but often allow your eyes to wonder to his hands. Sometimes they were still, claws extended like a predator waiting to pounce on anything that tried to make a wrong move. The way he speaks with his hands—motioning them with every pronounced word. Or whenever he was in deep thought, his claws would sub-consciously tap on the desk he sat at. You’ve grown to be comforted by the noise.

Vox was fast to catch onto your small fascination with his hands. Whenever he caught you glancing at them, he’d purposefully make motions and flexes with his hands and fingers—subtle, but noticeable enough to you. You’ve forced yourself to look away, knowing you’ve been staring at them for far too long.

When the two of you become a couple, Vox couldn’t help but indulge more into your small liking towards his hands, whenever he could, he have your hands in his grasp, making sure you always saw how far larger his was to yours. When your hands where placed on a desk, his would be placed beside yours, showing the size difference between the two of you.

When it comes to more intimate aspects, you can’t help but secretly crave more action from his hands. The way they trailed your skin gently, sure as to not pierce your skin.

By pure curiosity, Vox had placed his hand around your neck. No presssure at all, just holding it there. You where not the same since

Now being open about your liking to his hands, he often allows you to fidget with his claws, admiring his hand in yours. He always has a hand placed somewhere on you—and you don’t mind it. On your shoulder, arm, waist—anyplace where you could feel the warmth of his hand on you was enough to make you melt.

[psikuu]

PLEASE COULD U WRITE HOW THE JOEASTARS (and jobros too..) WOULD GET JEALOUS IF SOME DUDE TRIED TO ASK U OUT OMG IM ON MY HAND AND KNEES PLS PLS PLS PLS I LOVE UR WRITING UR A GOAT

i decided to do a separate post for the jobros, so a pt2 will come out at some point! you can tell where i got a little lazy though...

ᢉ𐭩 characters: jonathan, joseph, jotaro, josuke, giorno, jolyne, johnny

jonathan

being that jonathan came from an upper-class family, events such as dinner parties and extravagant balls were nothing out of the

ordinary. an expectation. this evening in particular was his turn to host, according to whatever customs were set in place among these groups. 

with your help, the night went smoother than smoothly. the mansion was grand and had enough room for everyone to enjoy themselves. there were men in expensive suits and women in large, poofy gowns accompanying them. as jonathan’s partner, you spent most of the evening together, though naturally at some point you had gotten separated while going to greet different guests. 

just as you had started to search for him again, you felt a presence behind you, followed by a call of greeting. in front of you now was a man you hadn’t seen before, but it was obvious he was another noble by the fabrics he wore. “apologies, but i couldn’t help but notice you as you walked past.” right from the introduction, and the way he announced his title so proudly after, you knew he was another one of those snobby men you couldn’t stand. you ought to have rejected his advances right away, but he wouldn’t spare you a second to talk — far too occupied rambling on about whatever legacy his family held and how they ‘desperately require an heir.’ 

typical. 

in the midst of your boredom, you hadn’t even noticed the familiar footsteps of your boyfriend behind you until he placed a gentle yet polite hand to your waist. “there you are,” he smiled with a softness that screamed adoration, before his attention turned to the man in front. jonathan couldn’t lie — the idea of another man trying to court you made his stomach twist uncomfortably. you were his love. his heart. how could he not feel a little protective over you when someone tried to take that away from him? 

regardless, he gave the man a polite smile and greeted him, choosing to keep his protectiveness silent, but it was loud in the way he held you slightly tighter, almost as if silently asking if you were uncomfortable at all. “ah, forgive me. i wasn’t aware they had a partner.” the man chuckled, a little too laid-back for jonathan’s liking — he should be somewhat more apologetic, the thought — but he accepted the apology anyways, not wanting to come across as rude or cold, though you could see the mild tension in his jaw as he eyes the other man with distrust. 

“it’s alright. we’ll be on our way now,” he then turned his head to look at you again, all tension in his body relaxing when he noticed you looking at him too, and he felt a little more at ease. “there’s a cake i wanted you to try.” he tells you, and the thoughtfulness makes you giggle softly. 

the moment you had both walked off together, out of earshot and eyesight of the stranger, jonathan let out a soft sigh, a large hand moving to rest against your lower back, guiding you through the crowd of people. “are you alright?” because he has to check. has to know you’re feeling safe and content. “did that man bother you at all?” 

he was relieved when you shook your head. “i’m fine, but i’m half-asleep,” you admitted, which made him chuckle. “he just kept rambling on about nothing.” jonathan, having grown up around people like this, understood all to well, and although physical displays of affection were seen as vulgar in settings like these, he couldn’t resist sneaking a kiss to your temple. “well you’re stuck with me for the rest of the night. hopefully i won’t bore you as much.”

“never.” you murmured back with a smile.

joseph

joseph could not believe the nerve of this man. he had only stopped somewhere to use the bathroom quickly, leaving you stood outside of the building waiting for him to finish up, and when he came back out he saw some random man speaking to you — or more accurately — flirting with you. 

it had only been two minutes, and yet there the guy was trying to charm you, flashing you a toothy grin that made his blood boil, especially once he had reached out to brush your hair a little away from your eyes. it was obvious you were caught by surprise with the whole thing in how you seemed at a loss for words, but before you could actually say anything, joseph was already at your side, slinging an arm around your shoulders. 

“i’m back, darling,” he announced exaggeratedly, the use of the nickname making you cringe a little internally because he never called you darling. that didn't stop him from continuing with this act, however, eyes flickering up to the other man’s face, watching how his previous confidence fell a little. “and who may you be?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, his words drawled out like some sort of judgemental old woman, which made you bite back a chuckle. 

“oh, uh—” the man didn’t even manage to get a word in before joseph was cutting him off with a smug grin, leaning forwards slightly like he was interrogating the guy, which he honestly kind of was, looming over him and questioning him like that. “if i didn’t know better, i’d say you were making the moves on them.” he pulled you closer to his side like he was signalling that you were taken. that you were his and he had no interest in you. 

the other guy clearly got the message, his hand scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as his gaze flickered between you and joseph, looking more than disheartened now. “sorry, i didn’t realise—” a huff from joseph cut him off again, your boyfriend shaking his head dramatically, conveying disappointment. “well now you know, so i’d suggest you back off and leave us alone.” 

being that he was almost twice the other man’s size, the stranger before you seemed to simply nod in obedience, a smart decision considering joseph had a history of starting fights with those he found to be scum, which in this case, he definitely did. nobody had the right to try and take you from him after all! you were his! he snickered when the guy scurried off with another muttered apology, squeezing your shoulder gently as he watched him retreat. “what an idiot— thinking he was in your league.” joseph scoffed, turning back to you with a grin of pure victory, like he had just won a trophy or something. he was so full of himself sometimes. “now, how about we go for food? all that drama has me starving.”

jotaro 

“can you pick one already?” you groaned. 

you had stood there watching him stare at the spine of about thirty different books already, and none of them were remotely interesting. books about planes and boats and marine life — nothing like the type of books you usually read. on one hand, you couldn’t complain all too much. you had dragged him around to plenty of different stores too, so it was only fair he had his turn. but on the other hand, you could feel yourself aging faster from just how long you were waiting for him to choose something already. 

“don’t rush me,” he grumbled, no bite to his tone with you, but clearly very serious about whatever this was. “if you’re bored you can go look at something else.” 

right. you had free will. how could you forget? 

your legs carried you to whichever section of the bookstore interested you the most, and when you reached it your mood had increased significantly. eyes skimming and stopping on a particular title, you reached out to grab it without realising another hand had reached for the same book at the same time until your fingers brushed. 

a little startled, both you and the stranger pulled your hands back, and when you looked over at him to apologise, he was already doing the same. “it’s okay. you take it.” you offered, feeling nice today. you hadn’t exactly come here yourself, so it wasn’t like you were desperate to buy anything. “no, no, you should have it.” the stranger shook his head to your surprise. “i insist.”

giving him a grateful ‘thank you’ you pulled the book off of the shelf and looked over the cover. meanwhile, the stranger was still looking you over. “you know, you’re really beautiful,” he suddenly spoke up, the compliment making you pause. was he…hitting on you? 

“yeah, they are.” 

the deep, rough voice was unmistakable behind you, one hand in pocket and the other moving to hold onto your hip with that familiar possessiveness. it wasn’t a surprise to you when you looked over your shoulder to see jotaro there, his expression somehow more brooding than ever, and there was a dark look in his eyes that told you he was more than ready to beat the crap out of this guy if he had to. 

“they’re also my partner,” he added with a snarl, uncaring of how he came across because who the hell was this guy to him? “so scram before things get ugly.” heat rose to your cheeks at that. the guy didn’t know you were taken! he was just trying to shoot his shot and be nice. you couldn’t help but pity the slightly nervous look on his face as he peered up at your giant of a boyfriend. “jotaro…” you mumbled, trying to calm him. 

“hey, hey — i didn’t mean any trouble,” the man held his hands up like surrender, clearly knowing there was no use in arguing. “i didn’t know they were taken. my bad.” still, jotaro was uncaring, his jealousy bubbling up rapidly in his chest. he didn’t say anything else, though. just kept a tight hold on you while glaring at the guy like he was two seconds away from either cussing him out or tearing him to shreds. 

either way the man didn’t wanna find out which route he would take, wasting no time in turning around and walking in the opposite direction — books be damned. he could come back another day after all. 

jotaro didn’t leave your side after that. as much as he scoffed seeing the guy hurry away, and despite his grumbled ‘idiot’ when the situation was over, you noticed how clingy he was now. “you’re practically stepping on my toe here,” you snorted as you paid for the book you had grabbed from the shelf, your boyfriend lingering withing an arm’s length at every turn you made. 

“tch,” he turned away like he was annoyed with your comment, your audacity, but that faint blush on his olive cheeks gave him away, no matter how low he tiled his hat. “i’m not. you’re annoying.” 

josuke 

where the hell were you? 

josuke had spent far too long searching around the school for you already, and it was starting to get tiring — especially with the summer heat cursing morioh this year. okuyasu had begged him to come to the nearby store with him to get a cold drink, and he had naturally agreed and thought to get you one too. he always kept you in mind after all. 

but when he returned he couldn’t find you anywhere. 

one of your friends he’d bumped into told him you were probably in the cafeteria by now. feeling a little silly because he hadn’t initially considered that idea, he made his way there with a small smile on his face. he’d gotten your favourite flavour, so it was sure to make you smile. 

eventually, he found you among the busy room, but when he laid eyes on your table, his expression faltered for a split second. not because of you — but because there was some other guy sat opposite you. some other guy that looked way too pleased with himself, leaning back all cocky in a way that made his brows furrow and a wave of annoyance and uncertainty washed over him. 

he wasn’t sure why, but he really wanted to march over there and pull that guy away from you. it wasn’t like you weren’t allowed male friends, because of course you were — but this guy was clearly trouble — and after approaching and hearing something that sounded awfully close to “saturday night,” josuke knew he had to say or do something about this.

“hey,” he greeted you, placing the drink in front of your tray and taking a seat beside you. right away his arm was around your shoulder — casual but almost claiming — a silent statement to say that you were definitely not seeing this guy on saturday if he had anything to say about it. “got you this. your favourite.” he shot the guy a glance at that last word before turning back to see you smile. 

of course, he had nothing to worry about with you. you were way too loyal to even think about hurting him like that, but that didn’t mean it didn’t get on his nerves a little seeing this guy act so confident like he had a shot. he was so flustered he didn’t know how to act. does he warn him? act nonchalant? this hasn’t happened before…

“you need something?” 

the words flow out easily, a tone of distaste in every word that’s only further emphasised by the bored raise of his eyebrow. you almost laugh at the sight. 

“just talking to them.” the guy replies, eyeing josuke suspiciously almost, as if trying to understand if you two were actually together or not. “well if it’s not important then quit wasting our time.” josuke doesn’t mean for it to come out as rude as it does. he’s trying to be nice — he really is! but it’s just so hard when all he wants to do right now is have you to himself without some other guy stealing all your attention away. “can’t you see you’re disturbing us?” 

looking between you and josuke and seeing that you don’t respond to tell your boyfriend to be more polite, the guy gives up quickly, understanding that there was no point, and that his arrogance wouldn't work on you. “what a jerk,” the guy mutters as he gets to his feet, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he storms off like a sulking child. 

the switch up was incredulous, josuke’s indifference melting into a pout right away, and he huffs quietly before leaning back against his seat. “who even was that guy?” he murmured, arms folded over his chest. “couldn’t he see you weren’t interested?” 

you don’t get a chance to even speak or attempt to reassure him before he’s taking your drink in hand and taking a sip. a small one, sure, but a sip regardless. “i spent so much time finding you and getting you this — slurrrrp — and that’s what i come back to?” 

his thievery earned him a swat across the arm. 

giorno 

“ehi, scusi,” 

turning your head around to find some guy calling after you wasn’t part of your plans for today. just looking at him told you he was another one of the many mafiosos that inhabited napoli. the all-too-casual demeanour didn’t help his case either. “you’re looking great today. how about i take you out for coffee sometime?” 

you hadn’t shook your head faster. you were supposed to be meeting at a nearby restaurant with giorno soon who had a meeting to attend beforehand and had told you he’d meet you there. you had no time to stop and chit-chat, and you definitely had no plans of grabbing coffee with another man when you already had your own.

“mi scusa, but i’m in a rush,” you hardly spared him a glance, yet he still persisted, trailing after you like he was desperate beyond belief for some sort of acceptance from you. “awh, c’mon — it’s just coffee,” he insisted, trying so obviously to get you to look at him. notice him. “you got a boyfriend or something?” 

a sigh escaped your lips and you stopped in your tracks, knowing that trying to outrun this guy wasn’t going to work. “yeah, i do.” still, the man’s face hadn’t dropped into that disappointed expression you were anticipating, and instead you watched his lips curl into a grin — one that told you he wouldn’t give in this easily. 

“who? some nobody?” he snorts, shaking his head. “give me a chance, eh? i’ll show you what being with a real man is like.” whatever angels where watching over you found the perfect time to chime in because it was then that a black car pulled up by the side of the road next to you.

out came giorno who had briefly witnessed the situation as he was being escorted to the restaurant, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut and he asked the driver to pull over. “amore,” he greeted with that cool yet undoubtedly soft tone of voice, approaching your side and pressing a kiss to your cheek before turning to face the man in front of you with a neutral expression. unreadable. 

“is this your boyfriend or —” the stranger trailed off, his jaw falling slack mid-sentence once he registered who the hell was actually in front of him. his blood ran cold and you had never seen such fear in another person’s eyes before. nothing like this. “y–you…boss!” 

in an instant he was bowing obediently to giorno, both out of respect and a plead for mercy, knowing that you would inevitably tell him everything if he hadn’t already seen it. how he had insulted him. “is this man bothering you?” there was a subtle sharpness to his voice as he spoke, like he was struggling to hold back from saying or doing something stupid. he was far from pleased right now, but he couldn’t risk acting foolishly or upsetting you any more than you might already be. 

“i’m fine,” you simply replied to the other man’s relief, and he let out a more than nervous chuckle. “i had no idea this was your partner, signore. believe me — i wouldn’t have—” the moment giorno raised his hand, however, the man was silenced, eyes practically bulging out from their sockets as he waited anxiously for whatever giorno would say. 

“run along and make yourself useful.” 

jolyne

this wasn’t really happening, right? 

there was no way in hell someone was seriously hitting on you while she had turned her back for one moment to throw something in the trash. yet despite how many times she rubbed her eyes and blinked, the man in front of you didn’t disappear. rather, he was leaning in even closer to you with a toothy grin that made her skin crawl. 

“you like japanese?” the guy practically purred, tilting his head a little in an attempt to be charming. it only made jolyne’s fists clench at her sides though. “there’s a new place open a few blocks away. meant to be good. wanna go?” 

a strong hand wrapped around your wrist the moment the words left his mouth, and suddenly you were being tugged away from the man and beside jolyne instead. “hey, i dunno who you think you are but they’re taken.” it surprised you just how hostile her voice was, but then again — this was jolyne — and she’d be damned if anything threatened her relationship with you. you meant too much to her, and you knew that all too well. 

“woah— i didn’t know!” the guy retorted with a frown. “jeez, woman. you don’t have to be so aggressive.” 

oh, now she was more pissed. 

“yeah? well you do now, so beat it.” she scowled like she was about to pounce at him while clinging to your arm like some attention-starved puppy all the same, dragging you in the opposite direction without a second thought because she really didn’t wanna have a back and forth with this guy right now.

“the nerve of some people,” she grumbled as the two of you walked off, her hold on you relaxing a little now that you were away from the guy. “if he ever tries to hit on you again, i’ll kick his ass.” 

your amused laugh made her soften almost entirely, and a smile graced her lips in return, chuckling at her own behaviour. “it’s not funny. i’m serious, y’know.” she watched as you shook your head and pressed a kiss to her cheek, her body leaning against yours more now. 

“i know.”

johnny

lazy afternoons like these were always sweet, especially with johnny. the warm sun on your skin, the gentle breeze and the slow rhythm of everyday life. you hadn’t done much besides go for a short stroll with him, stopping at a market to buy some fruit that was now in season. the intimacy of doing such mundane things never failed to enchant you both. 

“i’ll have two of those, please,” you asked the guy behind the stall, who nodded kindly and placed two fruits into a bag for you, handing them over once you paid. “grew them myself. they’ll taste great.” you hum in acknowledgement, not wanting to be rude while tucking your change back into your pockets again. 

“i don’t think i’ve seen you around before,” the man continued despite your lack of response. “you live around here?” giving him your politest smile, you nodded at his question. “i moved not too long ago.” 

“ah, figures. think i’d remember a face like yours.” 

you pause at that comment, eyes flickering to johnny who you had quite literally handed the fruit to, implying you had come together, before looking back to the face behind the stand. “i’m right here?” johnny frowned, clearly unimpressed with that little attempt at flirting, his hands clutching the bag on his lap in irritation. 

“there’s a new play in theatre in town,” the man didn’t seem to care or acknowledge johnny whatsoever, which had his blood boiling in rage. “you like theatre? we could go sometime. on me.” the audacity this man had was beyond him, and he was stunned at what he was hearing and seeing before him. 

“did i not just tay she’s taken?” johnny speaks up again, his voice a little rougher now, catching the attention of both the man’s now bored face and a few people nearby. “no, you didn’t.” the man deadpanned, making johnny snarl. “think you’re funny, huh?” 

he reached over his laced his fingers with yours, shooting the guy the filthiest glare he could muster up before already beginning to push his wheels to drive him away. “let’s go already,” he grumbled, more than displeased with whatever this was. “before i punch this guy in the jaw.”

masterlist

[meringuedete]

𝑳𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝑨𝒃𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒐 𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝒂𝒍𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒕

𝘐𝘥𝘬 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺. 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵. ♠ 3,6𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘊𝘞: 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘺𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘗𝘛𝘚𝘋

𝑨 = 𝑨𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 (𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚? 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏?)

𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱. 𝘐𝘯 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤, 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘺. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱, 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘐𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘺𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘵. 𝘈𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝑩 = 𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 (𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒃𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅? 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕?)

𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦, 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘈𝘣𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘚𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘓𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦.

𝑪 = 𝑪𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔 (𝑫𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆? 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆?)

𝘓𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘵’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘵’𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵. 𝘖𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘏𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘳. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘺. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘤𝘳𝘺.

𝑫 = 𝑫𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 (𝑫𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏? 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈?)

𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘰, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘐𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘳. 𝘐𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘴. 𝘐𝘧 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳. 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘈𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩, 𝘴𝘰 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶. “𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦? 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.” 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘏𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘺 𝘶𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘨𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥, 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘺. 𝘔𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘊𝘋 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘺𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮.

𝑬 = 𝑬𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 (𝑰𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒖𝒑 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒏𝒆𝒓, 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒐 𝒊𝒕?)

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘺, 𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 24/7 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘵, 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵, 𝘩𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘠𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘥. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘩𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘏𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘐𝘧 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘪𝘵’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺. 𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘌𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝑭 = 𝑭𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆(𝒆) (𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕? 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅?)

𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮? 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘵, 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘴. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘵. 𝘉𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦, 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.

𝑮 = 𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒆 (𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚, 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒉 𝒑𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚?)

𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦... 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴. 𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘳𝘢𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰’𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘣𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘩𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘵, 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 (𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘵, 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬…) 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.

𝑯 = 𝑯𝒖𝒈𝒔 (𝑫𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒔? 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒐𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒐 𝒊𝒕? 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆?)

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘶𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘪 𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘥, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵, 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.

𝑰 = 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 (𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑳-𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅?)

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘱 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝑱 = 𝑱𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 (𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒈𝒆𝒕? 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚’𝒓𝒆 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔?)

𝘏𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘓𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬, 𝘩𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘏𝘦’𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴. 𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘩𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰 “𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨…” 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.

𝑲 = 𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔 (𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆? 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖? 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅?)

𝘖𝘩 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘳. 𝘖𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥. 𝘐𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘓𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘶𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴. 𝘖𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 𝘐𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘣𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.

𝑳 = 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 (𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒏?)

𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘣𝘯𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴, 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘏𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘏𝘈𝘝𝘌 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮… 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘯𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘏𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘪𝘭. 𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥, 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘐𝘧 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦.

𝑴 = 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 (𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎?)

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘺-𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘺𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬, 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘐𝘧 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦. 𝘐𝘧 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱. 𝘏𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘳𝘩𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘮, 𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘏𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵, 𝘩𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳. 𝘏𝘦’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳.

𝑵 = 𝑵𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 (𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎?)

𝘎𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘤… 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥. 𝘏𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘐𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭, 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦.

𝑶 = 𝑶𝒑𝒆𝒏 (𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒔? 𝑫𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒚?)

𝘐𝘵’𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘔𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘪 𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘳. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘏𝘦’𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘐𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘺. 𝘐𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝑷 = 𝑷𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 (𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚?)

𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘮𝘣 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴: 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳. 𝘐𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘏𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨’𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝑸 = 𝑸𝒖𝒊𝒛𝒛𝒆𝒔 (𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖? 𝑫𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒐𝒓 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈?)

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘓𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘺… 𝘐’𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵, 𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘥𝘢𝘺. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘵, 𝘩𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘰𝘱𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘺. 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦. 𝘚𝘰 𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝑹 = 𝑹𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 (𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑?)

𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯… 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥. 𝘈 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘛𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘺𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘯. 𝘚𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. “𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴?” 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘶𝘱 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.

𝑺 = 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒚 (𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚? 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖? 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅?)

𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦. 𝘔𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘉𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘏𝘦’𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘬𝘴, 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦.

𝑻 = 𝑻𝒓𝒚 (𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒆𝒇𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒑𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒈𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒔, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒔?)

𝘏𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘴 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘏𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴; 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳. 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘴. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴, 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘢𝘤𝘶𝘶𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?

𝑼 = 𝑼𝒈𝒍𝒚 (𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓𝒔?)

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘐𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭, 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘳, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 (𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶). 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝑽 = 𝑽𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚 (𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒔?)

𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴. 𝘖𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳. 𝘏𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘵.

𝑾 = 𝑾𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆 (𝑾𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖?)

𝘐𝘵’𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵… 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘴. 𝘈𝘴 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘣𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 “𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦” 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 “𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦”, 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴.

𝑿 = 𝑿𝒕𝒓𝒂 (𝑨 𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎.)

𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥. 𝘏𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘔𝘐𝘓𝘌𝘚. 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘚𝘌𝘌 𝘏𝘐𝘚 𝘛𝘌𝘌𝘛𝘏. 𝘈𝘊𝘏𝘐𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘔𝘌𝘕𝘛. 𝘉𝘙𝘈𝘝𝘖.

𝒀 = 𝒀𝒖𝒄𝒌 (𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏’𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆, 𝒆𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒐𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒏𝒆𝒓?)

𝘈𝘯𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦… 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭. 𝘛𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤, 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘰, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰’𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵.

𝒁 = 𝒁𝒛𝒛 (𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓𝒔?)

𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳. 𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦: “𝘏𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?” 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘐𝘵 𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘶𝘱.

𝘛𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵: @theshatteredstar

[nojoki]

jotaro & iggy

[theshatteredstar]

Okay random character list and ideas incoming

Helping Ceaser draw on his little pink triangles on his cheek and put his headband on for him (after a smooch on his forehead ofc)

Helping polneraff, kakyoin and jotaro do their hair (while in their lap possibly)

Stressing out while doing josuke's hair not wanting to mess it up but him trusting you anyways

Kira and fugo getting their tie tied and a little check kiss like kiras stand in wife in pt4

Helping Bruno with his little braid and hair clips

Putting on abbacchios lipstick for him (TESTING IF ITS SMUDGE PROOF)

Trying to help narancia put on his headband wrap thing (it seems like it's tied so weird and would be a nightmare to put on for me)

This is literally just copied from my notes app so I'm sorry if it's hard to understand. Just ask me questions if you need to I got post notifications on, a phone addiction and no shame so I'll probably answer fast

-🍒

Looking Good, Feeling Gorgeous - Multi Character x Reader

A/N - 🍒 Anon I am still very amused that you were actually not asking for all of them HAHAHAHA But I did all but Narancia because I couldn't think of ANYTHING for him and I feel so bad... Thank you so much for the request this was super fun to write! I hope you enjoy it! <3 I warned y'all about the word count hehehe...

Characters - Caesar, Polnareff, Kakyoin, Jotaro, Kira, Josuke, Fugo, Bruno, Abbacchio

Cuore Mio - My heart Amore - Love Vita Mia - My life Tesoro - Treasure Cara - Dear The song used for Josuke is That Don't Impress Me Much - Shania Twain

♡ Fluff ♡ Word Count - 11000 Yeah that is not a typo... Warning - Non sexual intimacy, some suggestive language in a few of them.+ A bunch of kissing lmao.

Caesar - 

The sun is gentle as it streams through the open curtains, warming your skin faintly as you wake with a content sigh on your lips.

Caesar’s arm tightens slightly around your waist when he feels the way you shift away while he sleeps, almost trying to keep you as close as possible even though he isn’t even conscious.

You don’t dare to attempt to move again from your comfortable spot by his side as he breathes faintly against your throat, knowing if you wake him up or he gets up with you not by his side he’ll get… Insanely pouty.

“Stop thinking cuore mio, it’s too loud.”

His low tired voice startles you slightly as his lips press against your skin, moving to leave a trail of faint kisses against the column of your throat.

“How did you even know I was awake…”

He doesn’t answer, laughing against your skin instead, pulling you closer to his body as his fingers thrum against your stomach rhythmically…

There’s no way.

“Caesar… Were you using Hamon in your sleep?”

“No… I would never…”

You laugh in disbelief as you turn your head to look at him, only for him to already be watching you with a lazy grin on his face, eyes dropping to your lips for a second before glancing back up with a light blush.

“You’re insane, Caesar.”

“You’re beautiful.”

He’s always so much flirtier in the morning when he wakes next to you, hands gentle as he traces light patterns on your skin with a sweet smile.

“Will you shower with me, amore?”

“Will you keep your hands to yourself this time?”

“Of course I will.”

He doesn’t.

He never does…

But the sweet look on his face when he pulls you closer to him under the cascading water makes you not mind so much, your hands nudging him back so you can try to grab the body wash. 

“Love… I can’t get my stuff if you just pull me back in.”

“That’s unfortunate, you’ll just have to stay here with me forever then.”

His eyes are relaxed as he looks down at you, fingers brushing your ribs as he leans to kiss you lazily, a content hum in his throat when you lean into him more.

Maybe staying like this for a little while longer wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. 

When you do eventually make him pull away from you so you can wash your hair he pouts immediately, a small huff on his lips as he turns and lets you run your fingers though his hair, a complaint on his lips as your nails rake against his scalp.

“You wound me, amore… You won’t even let me look at you, what am I…”

It’s immediately cut off with a low whine when you pull his hair, a blush resting on his cheeks as he stops talking in embarrassment and lets you keep massaging the shampoo into his hair before kissing his shoulder and rinsing it out fully.

“You can look back at me now, you’re so dramatic, my love.”

He’s pouting slightly still when he looks back at you, not lasting long when a giddy smile pulls at his lips again just from seeing you.

A kiss pressed to your cheek as he turns the water off and helps you out with gentle hands before pulling you close to him again with a laugh when you try to pull away and reach for the towel before you get cold.

“Love… Do you really want Joseph to come looking for you?”

“Amore, if he even dares to come in here…”

He sighs anyways and lets you pull away, you both know what Joseph is like. His eyes watch you intently as you wrap the towel comfortably around you before you hand him one with a sweet smile and pulling him out of the room.

But him complying never lasts very long.

“Love… Please sit so I can dry your hair…”

“But you’re so warm, vita mia.”

His arms are wrapped around you as you stand in the middle of your shared bedroom, his chest resting against your back as he leans his head into your throat. Your fingers gently pull his hands from against your stomach so you can get him to sit down for you. 

But you should have moved quicker when he finally sits, a huff falling from him as you push him into the seat carefully. 

The grin on his face widening as he drags you down onto his lap with a little laugh when you glare playfully down at him, you can’t help the twitch of your lips as you sigh and relax against him.

“Will you help me today, tesoro?”

“You ask me that every day…”

“Would you like me to stop?”

He leans in softly to press his lips to yours with a gentle hum, leaning away as he pulls you closer and reaches over onto the dresser to grab his eyeliner.

“Don’t you dare… I like doing your makeup.”

He watches you settle against him lazily as you take the pencil from him, holding his face in your hand so he doesn’t move while you put it on.

But you know better.

He leans in immediately to kiss you the second you move closer before you pull away slightly with a knowing glare, a soft sigh on your lips when you kiss him quickly anyway, just once. Not that he doesn’t try to keep you pressed against him with a pitiful whine when you don’t let him kiss you again.

“Stop moving. Let me do these first…”

“I’ll try my best. You’re just too tempting, amore.”

You exhale lightly as you focus, making sure that his little triangles are straight as you lean back to check them with each other before fixing the one on the right with a faint hum.

“Okay… All done.”

“No, don’t move yet…”

“Caesar, we have training soon.”

He doesn’t let you move anyway with a groan in protest when you try to, leaning in to kiss you softly even though he knows your lipstick will transfer again.

When he pulls back you can see the light smirk on his now stained lips, waiting patiently with a sad look on his face. Rolling your eyes as you cup his jaw in your fingers and lean up slightly to kiss his forehead before pulling away, making him grin.

“You’re so dramatic.”

Polnareff - 

You can’t help the grin pulling at your lips as you watch Polnareff brush his hair after his shower, pout evident on his face while he tries to detangle it before catching your eyes in the mirror.

“Mon amour… Are you laughing at me?!”

“No no no no! I wasn’t, I swear Jean!”

You giggle out little pleas as you try to get off the bed before he can catch you, standing quickly as he grabs your waist before you can bolt away from him. A dramatic gasp on his lips when he holds you still in front of him while he looks down at you.

“You were going to run from me!”

“You always tickle me…”

“I would never!”

His fingers are already against your ribs before he can even finish his sentence, watching you writhe trying to get out of his strong grip with desperate begs falling from you in between your giggling.

You’re at least thankful he never keeps it up for very long when he pulls you into his chest with a deep sigh, water from his hair dripping onto you.

“Pol… It’s cold.”

“You should have thought about that before you laughed at me…”

“You just looked so cute.”

A hum in his throat as he pulls away to look down at you accusingly before leaning to press his lips to yours when he decided you were telling the truth.

When he pulls away slightly you’re both grinning, the gentle glow of the sunrise licking at your now wet skin, he is not good at drying his hair.

At all…

“Come on, let me do it for you.”

Your fingers ghost across his as you take his hand and pull him back over to his dresser, making him sit with a sweet smile when he looks up at you like you’re a deity.

“I love you…”

“For doing your hair for you?”

“No! Well I suppose yes that too… But no!”

“I love you too Pol.”

His sigh is almost a huff as he relaxes back into the too small wooden seat, a lazy smile tugging at his lips as he pulls you onto his lap making the chair creak loudly under both of you. This was not made for two people… 

“You should have joined me in the shower this morning… But no… Instead you abandoned me in bed and went to shower by yourself.”

You knew it was a terrible idea…

“Jean, you wouldn’t get up and I felt gross.”

“What am I supposed to do when the person I love doesn’t even love me back… There is nothing that could fix my broken heart… Maybe a kiss could tempt me to forgive you.”

“You’re so dramatic in the morning.”

“How dare you! I’m dramatic all the time!”

You laugh as you lean and kiss him softly, grabbing the brush from the dresser as he groans pathetically into your mouth before you pull away.

“Forgive me yet?”

“Another… Please…”

His eyes are wide and pleading as he tries to pull you back down to kiss him again, almost a whine from him when you stop just before pressing your lips to his.

“We have to meet up with the group soon, Jean.”

“Just one more?”

You can never say no to him like this, sweet begs for you to kiss him just once more… It’s never just one, but you do it all the same.

His arm wraps around your waist as you press your lips back to his, his other hand immediately keeping your head still so you can't pull away from him for a few seconds as you laugh softly into his mouth.

When he finally lets you go he looks ecstatic, a sweet grin on his face as you finally get to run the brush through his hair.

He hates using a hair dryer, says it “burns his precious hair.” But you’re always careful, relaxing into him as you turn it on the coolest setting, brush keeping it nice and straight as you hum lightly until it's fully smooth and dry between your fingers.

“Can I style it for you, my love?”

“I’d let you do anything you wanted to me…”

“Jean…”

Your amused giggle makes him grin more, fingers entwining into yours as you lean to grab the hair gel he uses, running your fingers through his hair with some on as you try to style it with one hand. Try.

“Can I move my hand without you getting pouty my love?”

“No…”

You wiggle your hand out of his anyway to do his hair, watching as he looks away from you dramatically, chin raised in defiance even when you can see him glance at you every few seconds.

His pout slips from him when you claw your nails lightly against his scalp before styling his hair fully and leaning closer to wait for him to turn and kiss you.

“You don’t love me, Jean?”

“You let go of my hand.”

You curl your hands back into his when he finally looks back at you with sad eyes and a smile tugging at his lips.

“I promise I’ll never let go again.”

Kakyoin - 

The soft knock on your hotel door wakes you with a panicked jump, not expecting to be woken so early in the morning, the sun not peeking over the horizon yet as you sit up with a shuddering huff.

The floor is cold as you step onto it with bare feet, quickly padding to the door and opening it with a small yawn into the back of your hand.

“I’m sorry… Did I wake you?”

“Hey Nori, what time is it even?”

He looks guilty as he takes in how exhausted you look, debating just going back to his shared room and leave you to sleep more. Even after he woke you up.

“Uh around 5…”

“Can’t sleep?”

Your voice is still laced with exhaustion as you try to focus on him more, he looks just as tired as you but you can tell there’s something else wrong.

“I had another nightmare. I didn’t even think before coming here. I just… I had to see you.”

“Come in, Nori.”

He hesitates in the doorway when you move, guilt still curling into him for disturbing you over something so stupid, quickly slipping in when you tilt your head and motion him to enter.

Your hand entwining with his as he passes, closing the door with a soft click and pulling him over to the small bed so can get in beside you. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He immediately shakes his head as if he can’t stomach the thought of even remembering it, sitting down on the edge of the bed when you lay down with an understanding hum.

His hand raises to rub lightly at his tired eyes as you poke his arm to get his attention, patting the spot by your side when he looks down at you.

There’s a sweet smile on his lips when he lays down and curls into the covers facing you, a sigh into your skin as he relaxes and wraps his arm around you.

“Thank you for this… I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Nori. It’s okay, I want you to come find me when you need me okay? Awake or not.”

His content hum tickles your throat as he nuzzles further into you, another thanks whispered into your skin as sleep claws at him, unable to stay awake when he’s so comfortable in your presence.

Your fingers are gentle in his hair as you ease him lightly into sleep, tiredness pulling at you but wanting to make sure he’s okay before you let it take you again.

You groan when you wake to hear the incessant knock as Polnareff shouts through the door with an audible grin.

“Wake up you two! Breakfast is in two hours and I’m hungry so hurry up!”

“Why does he think if we get up faster that we get food quicker?”

Kakyoin’s voice is a soft tired whisper into your throat as he wakes with you, an amused laugh on your lips as he complains lightly and pulls you closer into him.

“And he acts like he doesn't always take the longest to get ready anyway.”

His hum in agreement is almost sassy when he leans back to look at you, eyes lidded as he watches you with a grin pulling at his lips.

“Don’t look at me like that… I know I look…”

“Perfect,”

Your cheeks flush under his admiring gaze as you try to cover your face, only for him to grab your wrist with a soft kiss to your hand and a laugh when you get more flustered.

“Can you help me with my hair? I don’t want to go back to my room yet…”

“We have to get up for that.”

“Good point.”

You lean in softly to kiss his cheek as you sigh and get up anyway, his hand slipping from your back as you stand and stretch with a little groan.

He watches you the entire time with a fond look, gentle smile on his lips as he debates getting up or just admiring you for longer, your eyes widening slightly as you turn and see him staring so intently.

“If you don’t get up, Polnareff will kill us both.”

“Also a good point.”

He looks so sleepy when he sits on the comfortable chair by the dresser, eyes tired as they follow you while you find your hair spray, snapping from his daze when you come to stand in front of him.

And he definitely looks like he’s up to something…

His mischievous smirk widening when you try to step away before he grabs you... Too slow.

His hand wrapping tenderly around your wrist as he pulls you on his lap with a chuckle when your eyes widen in shock.

“Nori! You could have just asked.”

“Sorry…”

He looks sheepish when he looks away from you, a soft twitch of his lips when you lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth lightly before pulling away and grabbing the brush, running it through his hair carefully with a hum at how soft it is even after he’s been sleeping.

“You’re so pretty.”

His face flushes at your praise, feeling you split his hair into sections as you style it for him with a laugh when he can’t meet your eyes.

“You… I’m not…”

“Hmm. Yes you are.”

Your fingers move from his hair to his jaw as you make him look back at you with a sweet smile on your lips, watching his blush deepen with a complaining groan as you make him more embarrassed.

“The prettiest. I mean it Nori. You’re so perfect.”

His hand immediately moves from your waist to cover your eyes so you can’t see him, an amused giggle pulled from you at his dramatic fluster.

“Stop it…”

“I can’t do your hair if you blind me.”

“Stop saying I'm pretty…”

“Is cute better, my love?”

Jotaro - 

“You’re staring.”

“Am I not allowed to admire my boyfriend?”

“No.”

It took you a long time to even tell if it was annoyance or embarrassment that makes his tone so gruff and snappy.

But like this it’s easier to tell, his hat on the dresser as he lays in bed with his head resting on his hand as you get ready for the day after your shower, his eyes following your every movement as you dry your hair.

His blush is faint but painfully obvious in the soft sunlight as it illuminates the room, it’s not as early as you’d like it to be but at least you don’t have to leave just yet.

Your gaze staying on his face in the mirror as he admires you, the tired look on his face replacing the usual annoyance that he wears.

“Did you know there’s a shark that can live to over 500 years old?”

“Really? Will you tell me more?”

“It’s slow as shit. But it’s also poisonous so it doesn’t have any predators.”

He’s much more talkative in the mornings, little facts slipping from him about things he’s been reading about whenever he gets time to. It’s usually sea life… Not that you mind.

“Wait how slow?”

“You getting ready is faster.”

“I am not that slow! You’re not even out of bed anyway.”

“Because you’re so slow. I could shower and you still won’t be done.”

The soft teasing is almost loving with the way he’s still staring at you with adoration in his eyes, watching you pout as you turn back to the mirror and continue drying your hair as he drags himself out of bed and to your side.

“I’m just kidding, take your time. I’m going to shower and if you’re done by the time I get out, I'll be pissed.”

He leans down to press his lips against your temple with a gentle threat before he rubs your shoulder and steps away to head to the bathroom.

“Ohh... I’m so scared…”

He can't bite back the grin as he moves from you, an annoyed mutter that you already know is “good grief.” even if you don’t hear it as the door clicks shut behind him and the sound of the water fills the small hotel room.

Damn.

Maybe you are slow…

You still aren’t done when he steps out of the bathroom, slipping his shirt over his head with a huff when it sits too tight against his skin.

“Good.”

“That shark actually might be faster than me… I can’t get my make up right.”

“You look fine.”

You exhale softly as you meet his eyes in the mirror, he might not be good with words but his eyes tell you everything he refuses to say.

He debates for a second to just get his hat and not bother to fix how fucked up his hair looks before sighing and stepping up behind you as if you can read his mind for what he wants you to do.

“You know you’re a little ominous just standing behind me and glaring at me Jo…”

He still doesn’t answer you as his fingers curl lightly into your hair, enjoying the feeling of how soft it is without messing it up and leaning to kiss your temple again.

“Will you do my hair? …Please.”

The please is absolutely an afterthought when he hesitates, almost shy as he asks you for help even though you’ve been dating long enough you’d think he wouldn’t be so embarrassed.

But you sure as hell are not passing up the chance when he asks you so nicely. For him anyway, standing immediately and getting him to sit in the comfortable chair.

“How did you manage to get it tangled without even brushing it?”

“Just fix it.”

“Of course I’ll fix it for you, thank you for asking so sweetly. My loving boyfriend.”

“Please... Fix it.”

You hum softly as you grab the hairdryer from the dresser and hesitate for a second, a little grin pulling at your lips as you climb on his lap and settle comfortably against him, even as he glares down at you.

“Good grief.”

“Would you like me to move?”

He doesn’t answer you but his hands immediately hold you in place, fingers gentle against your sides as his thumbs rub faint shapes into your skin. His eyes look down at his lap before looking to the side away from the mirror as his cheeks flame under your soft teasing.

“Aww my love. You’re blushing.”

“No I'm not.”

You can’t help but tease more as you turn his head to force him to look into the mirror, his blush deepening when you coo in his ear lightly.

“Still not blushing?”

“I will push you off.”

You don’t goad him further as you let go of his jaw and kiss his forehead with a light hum before flicking on the hair dryer and running your hands through his hair as you dry it.

He looks so relaxed like this, deep breathing as his eyes flutter shut, enjoying the feel of your fingers against his scalp. 

“You’re so cute…”

He opens his eyes to lazily glare at you but he can’t even look intimidating as your nails run against his skin, eyes shutting again with a low hum in his throat as you turn off the small drier and put it back on top of the wood.

“Can I style it for you as well?”

“I suppose…”

“I’m going to bite you, Jotaro.”

“I’ll bite you harder.”

That shark is real btw, they're called Greenland sharks. They're almost fully blind and move less than 1mph and have a lifespan of 270-520 ish.

Josuke -

You should have known.

“No… Babe, don’t leave! You’re so warm… I’ll freeze!”

His voice is desperate in your ear before his arm pulls you even closer to his chest, begging pleas into your hair making it almost impossible to bite back your laugh.

He’s so dramatic in the morning… But if you laugh you know it’ll only be worse.

“Josuke… I need to shower, it’s too hot.”

“But I thought you loved me…”

A gentle sigh falls from your lips at how devastated he sounds, for a second you think he’s being serious until he giggles but you still stop trying to wiggle out of his grasp anyway, he isn’t subtle, you can feel the smile on his face when he moves to press his head back into your shoulder.

“Don’t you have plans today Jo?”

“They can wait, they’ll understand… This is important.”

“No… This is kidnapping.”

The heat is uncomfortable against your skin already when you feel his warm breath against the back of your neck, he’s such an asshole but you can’t help but find it incredibly endearing that he wants to be around you so much.

Even if it’s at the cost of both of your comfort.

“Josuke, 5 minutes. I mean it, how are you so warm?”

“I guess I'm just too hot for you…”

“Are you saying I’m not hot…?”

He can feel his smile fall immediately as he pulls away from you, staring at the back of your head as you try to stay quiet.

His fingers immediately poke your sides to get you to look at him as you bite your lip not to laugh, your body trembling slightly as you silently giggle.

“Babe? Wait... Are you crying? No no no, I’m sorry I didn’t mean you weren’t hot… You’re so hot, please! You believe me, right?”

He practically climbs over you as he falls off the bed with a loud thud that makes you cackle, unable to stop the laughter as you look at his panicked face staring up at you from the floor, breathy giggles shaking your body as your eyes fill with tears.

“Jo… I wasn’t crying… I’m sorry… How did you fall out of bed?!”

“You tricked me…”

“You tricked yourself, Josuke.”

Well… At least he was out of bed, but the look on his face doesn't exactly make you feel safe as he rises to his feet with a mischievous grin.

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing! Can’t I admire you?”

“Not when you look like you’re going to kill me…” His hand flies to his chest in mock hurt as he leans down and kisses your head with a laugh.

“Go shower so we can go meet up with Okuyasu.”

“This is still kidnapping, I wasn’t even invited…” 

He holds his hand out to help you out of bed like it’s a carriage and he’s your servant, bowing slightly when you take it and slip out of the warm covers to step past him.

“We’re a package deal Y/N, they know this by now!”

He does have a good point, you usually are with him all of the time even if you aren’t invited, it’s a good thing his friends like you so much… Maybe even more than they like Josuke. 

The second you step into the shower and turn your music on you can hear him singing. Loudly.

Terribly...

To Shania Twain.

“Babe! Can I open the door? I want to listen too!”

He doesn’t even let you answer as the door clicks open with a loud gremlin like giggle as he returns back to do his hair, continuing to sing at the top of his lungs. 

You’re glad his mom isn’t home this morning with how… Extravagant, it is.

You can already tell he’s dancing in the room even though you can’t see him, cool water instantly making you feel better from the hot early morning sunlight.

“And all that extra hold gel in your hair outta lock it! Wait…”

You laugh immediately as he pauses, hand hesitating before he touches the gel on his dresser as he realises the words he’s singing.

“‘Cause heaven forbid it should fall out of place.”

You finish the rest before you grab your towel and wrap it around yourself as you close the door slightly, placing the cd player by the opening for him as you get dry and dressed, it's almost concerning how quiet Josuke suddenly is.

You step into the room while you keep humming lightly before freezing, eyebrows furrowing as you stare down at your boyfriend.

“Jo… Are you okay?”

It’s almost a laugh as he lays on his back on the carpet, staring up at the ceiling with wide horrified eyes as they meet yours with a scared whisper, his long hair fanning around him on the plush rug.

“...You’re impressed by me right?”

“Of course I am…?”

“More than Brad Pitt?”

You choke on your laugh as you drop to your knees beside him, fingers playing with his still un-styled hair as stares up at you with sad eyes.

“More than Brad Pitt. He doesn’t impress me much...”

“Ok… Ok. Cool, so I still have a chance right? Even if I don't have a car? Or that I'm not a rocket scientist?”

“Josuke, we’re dating…”

“Oh...”

You can’t help the small giggle as you nudge him to get up while you turn the chair for him to sit in, eyes soft as he leans to kiss your cheek with a blush when he gets up with an audible groan.

“Did you really forget you’re my boyfriend?”

“I guess that I got caught up about Brad Pitt… Can you maybe do my hair? You know... Make me feel better... About Brad...”

“...Are you sure?”

You choose to ignore how hung up he is over Brad Pitt as if he isn't in his mid 30's...

His fingers push the tub of gel into your hand with a grin, nodding when you hesitate before you pick it up and he settles back into the chair with a giddy look on his face.

He doesn’t realise how close you have to be to do his hair, immediately looking away when you lean towards him slightly, fingers curling into his hair as you section it before kissing his forehead.

“What was that for?”

“You just look so cute, it’s that or I bite you…”

His cheeks flame as he questions you with a little ‘Oh’ on his lips before looking away again when your fingers claw lightly at his scalp, making sure it's all in place before you even look at the hair spray.

You have a soft pout on your face when he glances back up at you, your eyes staring at his hair like you’ve destroyed it beyond repair.

“How bad is it, doc?”

“I don’t think it’s that bad it’s just not… Good?”

Your fingers catch his jaw before he can turn to the mirror, a small terrified look on your face as you kiss his cheek again.

“Don’t hate me… I tried.”

When you let go he can’t help the giggling that falls from him, staring at his hair in his reflection with a grin on his face as he looks back at you with adoration.

“It's still better than Brad Pitt... It's not like he's Elvis or something.”

Kira - 

Your fingers are gentle while you run them through Kira’s hair, admiring him as he sleeps peacefully by your side, sunlight shining through the fabric of the curtains. 

You’re glad he gets to go into work later than he usually does today, a smile pulling at your face as you snuggle further into him with a content hum.

His strong arm curled around your waist comfortably as you press your face back into his throat, fighting the urge to bite him because of how cute he looks sleeping. Almost fight back the urge. 

The second your teeth graze his skin faintly, he laughs making you jump in shock, eyes wide as you pull away as his eyes flutter open with a lazy smile on his lips.

“Relax, darling. You didn’t wake me, I was just enjoying the moment. Before you bit me.”

“Sorry… You just looked so cute.”

An amused hum in his throat as he pulls you closer with a light sigh, head resting on top of yours as you relax fully into him.

“Bathe with me this morning?”

“That means getting up Yoshi…”

He coos playfully in your ear when you pout against his neck, soft fingers running against your spine as he traces shapes against your skin.

“I know, darling. But I have to head to work in a few hours.”

“Okay… I’ll go run the bath, would you like some tea?”

You feel him tense his muscles slightly in a stretch as he moves away from you to lean and kiss your temple, a hum in his throat when he fully pulls away.

“I’ll make it, use some of those bath salts you like, hmm?”

You don’t often get him as loving as you do in the mornings, usually not a fan of so much affection, but waking up in your arms every morning makes him enjoy it just a little more each time.

The water is warm under your fingers as you check the temperature when he comes in behind you, leaning to kiss your cheek before placing your tea on the side of the bath.

“Sleep well?”

Your hum is soft when he wraps his arm back around your waist, relaxing against you as the bath fills, his head resting on your shoulder with a tired smile.

He never thought himself to be someone who could ever fall in love, he never cared to try. Nor to want to have a partner, but you slid into his life chaotically. Unpredictable. 

And he wouldn’t change that for the world.

“I did thank you, my love. Did you?”

“I always do by your side, Y/N.”

His fingers are gentle against your skin as he helps you into the bath, a relaxed sigh in your ear when he settles behind you, it’s always slightly cramped but not uncomfortably. Just close. 

You know he struggles with affection after so long believing it isn’t something he ever wanted or needed, but you can see how much he’s trying when he holds you against him as he runs his fingers against your stomach.

“There’s a cute little restaurant that just opened nearby, can we go when you’re done with work?”

“Of course, darling.”

You can hear the tiredness in his voice as he rests his head against your shoulder with a light hum, relaxing against you as you lean into him. It’s disgustingly domestic when he’s like this, having him so content compared to the composed businessman everyone else gets to see.

Most of the time...

The sound of his phone ringing snaps you both out of your relaxation violently, a sigh on his lips as he reaches to grab it with an apologetic glance at you when he sees the caller ID.

“Yoshikage speaking… Yes… No, I’m supposed to be… Right. Understaffed… Of course, I’ll be there soon.... Goodbye.”

The second the call ends he huffs, letting his head fall back to your shoulder with a muffled apology into your skin as your fingers curl into his hair and massage his scalp lightly.

“It’s okay, my love… It isn’t your fault. Drink your tea, I'll make you breakfast okay?”

“Thank you… I love you.”

His fingers trace lightly against your leg as you stand and step out of the bath, leaning to kiss him quickly before grabbing your towel and heading back to your room to get dressed.

Humming a song softly as you slip into your dressing gown and head downstairs to make him something to eat before he leaves, settling for some pancakes and eggs.

You don’t even notice him come into the kitchen, soft steps muffled on the cold tile as he accidentally sneaks up on you, a tiny smirk on his lips as he slips his arms around you quickly once you move away from the stove so you don't hurt yourself.

“Surprise.”

“Kira! How are you so quiet?!”

A gentle rare laugh on his lips as you jump hard in his arms, his head resting back against you as he looks down at the hob in front of you.

“Sorry, darling… I couldn’t help myself.”

“I’ll forgive you… If you let me tie your tie for you.”

“I was going to let you anyway.”

His fingers squeeze your waist slightly before he pulls away to let you turn, a sweet grin on your lips that makes his breathing hitch in his throat. 

The tie is soft in your hands as you take it from him, slipping it around his shoulders as you lean up to kiss him lightly and making him sigh as he pulls you closer.

His eyes are tender when you pull away with a kind smile, fingers straightening the fabric before you tie it for him carefully, tightening it as you fix the collar over it. 

“Thank you, darling.”

You hum lightly as you lean up and press your lips to his cheek before blushing and rubbing off the lipstick mark you leave behind with a pout.

“Always, my love.”

Fugo - 

“Did you know that sea pickles can grow up to 60 feet long?” 

Fugo’s voice is laced with sleep as he reads next to you, your head resting on his chest as you listen to his relaxed heartbeat and soft breathing. 

He sounds excited even though he’s barely awake, reading the new book you just bought him for his birthday, it isn’t even about sea life, just animal biology in general. You sound exhausted when you whisper back a horrified question, not bothering to move from your spot half on top of him.

“Fugo… My love. What the fuck is a sea pickle?”

“I actually have no idea…”

You hear the page turn as he reads quickly, trying to find the answer to your question as you hum and curl your fingers more into his shirt as you close your eyes again.

The vibrations of his voice tickling your skin as he starts reading aloud the part about pickles, sounding both confused and interested all at once.

“Wait… So they aren’t even pickles?”

“They aren’t even pickles…”

Your disappointment is immediate as you huff out a faint grumble about pickles and hide your face into his shirt.

“Why are they even called pickles then, no pickle I've ever seen is 60 feet long…”

You can hear the grin on his face without even looking up, his fingers running through your hair as if trying to console you. About pickles.

“Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places.”

“Fugo, have you seen a 60 foot long pickle?”

“Who hasn’t.”

You can’t help the soft laugh against him as he turns the page, a little amused exhale from him as you groan against his chest.

“Are they at least green?”

“Do you want me to lie to you?”

“No…”

It’s barely a word as you groan dramatically into him before moving your head to look up at him, he looks so relaxed as he lays on your bed, book still in his hand as his tired eyes meet yours.

“They aren’t green, and it’s an animal. Well, animals.”

“What?”

“Animals, look…”

He angles the book so you can see what it looks like, a breathy chuckle falling from him when your face flickers into disgust, staring down at the slimy tube full of microscopic animals.

“That is not a pickle?”

“Are you asking me if it isn’t a pickle?”

Your playful glare gets another tired laugh out of him as he pulls you back down to lay next to him, reading out loud again when you settle back into him.

“Stupid sea pickles.”

“You don’t want me to talk about sea cucumbers then?”

You blink in surprise when he wiggles out from next to you and stands, placing the book onto the bed with a faint smile on his lips. He looks so sweet like this, no stress or responsibility, just getting to enjoy a lazy morning together.

“I’m going to shower, let’s go out today? The weather is nice…”

There’s a soft pink blush on his cheeks when he asks you, like he’s flustered about the thought of going on a cute date with you.

He is, you already know he is.

“Can we go to the bakery? I’ll get you some cake!”

“That’s a bribe, and it’s against the law… I might have to turn you over to the authorities for that.”

“What if I offer you a kiss?  To overlook my crimes…”

He leans over the bed with a playful grin, lips barely brushing yours with his hand cupping your jaw to keep you from moving as he watches you.

“You’re going to jail for attempting to bribe me again.”

“That’s not how…”

He closes the distance before you can finish, a soft squeak leaving you when your lips meet, it’s sweet as he traces his thumb against your cheek before pulling away, blushing a deep red as he looks away. 

“You’re so cute, Fugo.”

“I’m going to shower… Then I’ll take you to the bakery.”

You grin at his retreating figure as he slips into the bathroom with a small flustered laugh, closing the door behind him before you flop down on the bed, your smile not leaving as you lay there in a daze.

He’s so sweet to you, especially when no one else is around, his warm playfulness leaving you giddy every time.

You turn to the window as soon as you hear the water shut off, a tiny smile pulling at your lips at the excitement of him coming back. God you’re so in love it almost hurts…

“You just waited here?”

He seems a little shocked to see you sitting staring out over the city, suddenly self conscious even though you aren’t looking at him, fingers securing the towel around his waist in a light panic.

“I can leave if you want me to, I won’t peek. I promise.”

“I know you won’t… You can stay...”

His voice is still a little nervous even though he trusts you, it isn’t the first time he’s changed in front of you but it still makes him embarrassed each time. You never look, but his cheeks flame nonetheless.

“Can I tie your tie for you?”

“Do you even know how?”

He regrets not changing the wording immediately when he can practically feel your pout before you even say anything, the teasing words already on your lips before he cuts you off.

“I didn’t mean it like that… You aren’t stupid, I just meant…”

“I wasn’t going to say I was… Oh my god. Do you think I’m stupid, Fugo?”

“I just…”

You hear the deep breath as he stops getting ready, annoyance curling into him before he relaxes again, he knows you’re just teasing him.

A careful grounding breath out before he speaks again.

“I just meant, do you know how to? If not I can teach you. If you’d like…”

“Sorry Fugo, you’re too cute not to tease. Will you teach me?”

He doesn’t tell you to turn around like usual, just steps in front of you with a soft blush on his face as he hands you his tie, nervously swallowing when you stand and step towards him.

“Tell me?”

You slip the fabric around the back of his neck as he refuses to meet your eyes, blush deepening when your fingers brush against his collarbone.

“Okay… This bit here, pull it over the top and then back underneath.”

“Like this?”

“Y/N. Stop it…”

You drop the soft whisper as you laugh at his embarrassment, watching him take a deep breath to try to calm his rapid heartbeat.

“Back over the top. Yeah, just like that… Don’t say it. I know, I heard it…”

“What next, Fugo?”

It’s a gentle question as you try not to laugh when he stares down at your hands before glancing up into your eyes and looking away immediately in surprise, not expecting you to already be watching him.

“Take this bit and pull it through here, and then back down through this part…. Perfect!”

You lean forward to kiss his burning cheek while he looks out of the window and refuses to meet your loving gaze, pulling the tie up to rest more against his skin before leaning back to inspect it.

“That wasn’t too hard… I forgot it all though.”

“That’s okay… I’ll teach you again tomorrow.”

Bruno - 

He always wakes before you, tender fingers curling against the material of your shirt as he snuggles closer to you in the early morning sun, he doesn’t mind as much anymore that his body wakes him so early in the day, getting to rest by your side until you wake with him.

Your breathing is soft and rhythmic against his throat as you sleep peacefully, a faint huff on his lips when he realises he has another mission today and can’t even stay by your side. 

Careful hands resting against your back as he holds you, thumbs rubbing lightly into your warm skin under the sunlight.

“I love you, I know I tell you everyday but I hope you never forget it…”

It’s barely audible in your ear as he kisses your temple, soft adoration whispered into your skin as if your soul will remember every word he speaks to you in the morning before you wake.

“Do you always tell me you love me when I'm sleeping?”

“I do… Did I wake you?”

His voice is apologetic without even needing to pull back and look at him, brows furrowing as he leans into you with a faint hum in his throat when your fingers curl into his hair.

“You didn’t, I promise.”

“Would you tell me if I did?”

Your laugh into his skin tells him the answer before you ever open your mouth, but you can feel his smile against your forehead as he presses another soft kiss to your temple.

His hands keep you close to him for a few more seconds as he leans back and looks down at you with a lazy grin, eyes lidded as he wakes up slowly.

“When do you have to leave today?”

“10AM… But you know how long it takes Mista to get ready, I can stay for a little longer with you… If you’ll have me?”

“If I ever say no to that. It isn’t me.” 

His laugh is tired and low as he cups your jaw, lips pressing softly against your forehead before he sighs and moves to slip out of the bed, earning a complaint from you as you grab at his side with a huff.

A loving smile on his face as he leans to kiss you properly this time, lips soft against yours as you hum into him before he pulls away with a light brush of his thumb against you.

“Stay here amore, I'll make us something to eat.”

“Bruno. My love… Let me help?”

How could he ever say no with how sweet you’re looking up at him, his hand slipping into yours as he helps you up, eyes adoring as you slip your arms around his waist and hold him close to you.

“You’re so beautiful… Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me, love?”

Your eyes meet his with a faint furrow of your brows, question on your lips as he glances away in embarrassment, hoping that you would just overlook his accidental breathy thanks.

“I… I just meant that I’m thankful that I have you… Truly, amore.”

“You’re so cute when you get shy Bruno… I love you. I’m grateful I have you too…”

The light pink deepens faintly, evident in the golden light from the window as you coo and drag him down to kiss him with a small giggle when he groans against you before you pull him towards the door.

He looks a mess when you both slip into the hallway, oversized pyjamas making him look a lot smaller than he is, eyes tired and hair mussed as he follows beside you with a playful grin on his lips.

He rarely gets to be like this, always so composed and calm as he keeps his team safe in missions. He looks sweet and relaxed.

Perfect.

“You’re staring at me, amore…”

“Sorry… I just love you so much.” 

He’s taken aback by your reverent confession as you turn fully when you reach the kitchen, your eyes watching him as he steps into your space to tuck your hair behind your ear and kiss your head lightly as he moves to the stove with a tilt of his head.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t think this far ahead.”

“Oh! How about I finally teach you how to make French toast?”

“I think I'd like that…”

His eyes are intense as he watches your hands like he could embed what you’re doing into his mind so he won’t forget, his hand resting on your waist when your eyes glance back to him before he looks back up with soft furrowing brows when you place the bread into the pan.

“Got it?”

“I um… Could you show me again?”

You laugh softly at his embarrassment before flipping the one in the pan and showing him again with a sweet smile before nudging the bowl to him when he nods.

Hands taking over what you were doing like he’s done it a thousand times before, it’s almost rude the way he seems so good at everything he does… 

Until he drops the bread on the floor, horror on his face as he looks at you ashamed at his mistake, your hand covering your mouth as you hold onto the counter and try to muffle your laughter to not wake anyone up.

“It was a lot slimier than I expected it to be…”

Your laughter becomes silent painful giggles as you press your hand to your stomach, tears falling down your face as you watch him blush and look down at the pile of mush on the floor with a light giggle, soon slipping into full laughter as you try not to look at each other and make it worse.

“What the fuck are you both doing?”

You both jump mid cackling and whip around to see Abbacchio watching with tired eyes, a tiny smile pulling at his lips as he takes in how domestic you look together. 

“I dropped it…”

A roll of his eyes as he turns and leaves the room when Bruno laughs out choked words before snorting and laughing harder when you start giggling again.

“You’re both so weird… Clean it up when you’re done.”

You lean on Bruno’s shoulder as you both calm down, his eyes loving as you plate the slightly burnt food and giggling again when you lean to clean up the mush.

“I’m… Sorry I made a mess.”

“Bruno, I think that’s the hardest you’ve ever laughed… That was cute, don’t apologise.”

His fingers entwine in yours as he grabs the plate and pulls you back to the stairs with a tiny amused huff.

He looks almost pouty as he watches you style your hair after eating, eyes following your every move when you stand to grab your makeup off the dresser and hesitating before you sit back down, gaze catching his in the mirror with a smile.

“What's wrong, love?”

“Will you do my hair for me?” 

He looks so sweet as he stares at you, blushing gently as you reach your hand out for him to come to you with a faint hum.

“Of course I will, sit for me?”

He stands quickly, almost tripping over his long pyjama pants as he hops off the bed and walks to sit in the chair you just stood from, biting your lip lightly to stop the giggle at his stumble.

You don’t get to say anything as he covers your mouth before he sits down, blush deepening as he kisses your temple with a gentle whisper.

“Don’t laugh…”

“Mmfph.”

“Exactly.”

You playfully glare down at him when he sits, biting his palm gently making a dramatic yelp falling from him as he pulls his hand away in mock pain, a look of horror on his face for a second before he settles back with a little laugh when he pulls you into his lap. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Bruno.”

“Not as much as you, cara…”

The hum in your throat is almost a sigh as you get comfortable and grab the brush on the dresser with a light kiss to the bridge of his nose as you run it through his messy hair.

“Why pill bugs?”

“Pill bugs?”

He looks confused as you fix his fringe with a light hum, eyes flicking down to his with a sweet smile before looking back up and fixing the rest of his hair.

“Yeah, your clips… Wait, are they not pill bugs?”

“No… They’re just… I don’t know what they are actually.”

“Oh…” 

His fingers rub your waist slightly as you pout and place the brush down, sitting up on your knees as you start braiding his hair as he holds you steady, he doesn’t need to. But he wants the excuse to touch you anyway.

“Thank you for this, tesoro…”

“You don’t have to thank me, I’m happy to do it for you.”

“Will you put in my pill bugs in for me then? Hmm?”

You tilt his head up once you finish his braid so you can kiss him lightly before settling back down with a sweet hum.

“Give… You’re being too nice, you could order me to you know? My capo.”

His eyes roll immediately at your playful tone, taking the clips from him as you hold his head still to make sure you get them perfect, leaning back as you inspect them.

“I won’t demand you to do anything, amore.”

“I know, my love…”

“Although I did like you calling me capo… Say it again for me?”

You glance down from his hair to look in his eyes, a small playful smirk on his lips as he rubs your skin softly.

“You have to go soon, behave… My capo.”

Abbacchio - 

The soft chatter in the restaurant is a welcome noise to fill the silence as you relax by Abbacchio’s side, barely grazing his leg with your own but enough to comfort the both of you as you sit amongst your team.

You feel the tense in his body as he glares down as the cup in his hand, tea cooling slowly in the ceramic, but that isn’t what he’s annoyed about. You assume anyway.

“What’s wrong?” 

Your voice is barely audible over the clamour of your teammates as they make loud jokes over the table, glad that there aren't many people here to be disturbed by them this late in the day.

“Nothing. It’s fine.”

“Are you trying to shatter the cup with telekinesis or?”

His eyes flit to you with the tiniest twitch of the corner of his mouth, an exasperated exhale on his lips as he places the cup back down and turns it to you.

“Your lipstick?”

He doesn’t answer, just glares at the cup harder as if it’ll undo the marks left on the rim, his eyes staying fixed on the side with disdain.

“They all transfer. I’m getting sick of this shit.”

“All of them?”

“Every one I own…”

You hum softly as you inspect the faint lavender left on the cup, a tiny grin pulling at your lips as he huffs at your amusement by it.

“It isn’t funny… It’s like the shittest calling card”

“I think it’s cute, Leone…”

You barely see the small blush on his cheeks as he turns his head, refusing to look at you again as you tease him softly with a sweet smile on your face.

“Let's go get some other ones then, it’s still early enough that the store won’t be closed yet.”

“You want to go shopping for me? Really?”

“I do… If you want to, I know it’s…”

“Shut up. Come on.”

The gentle demand is barely a whisper as he stands, drinking his tea quickly in a few swallows with a huff when the lipstick stains the cup again.

You stand beside him with a stifled laugh at how dramatic he is, a soft smile given to the rest of the team as you slip out of the door, only Bruno noticing as you both leave.

“Are you hungry, Leone?”

He doesn’t answer but you see the roll of his eyes when he slips past you to stand on the side closer to the road as you walk, his hand brushing your back gently for a second before letting it fall again.

“You can just say you’re hungry, Y/N.”

“But I don’t want to eat if you aren’t going to…”

“I can eat.”

He’s never very affectionate when you’re both in public but you can tell how much he cares with the small things he does for you, a tiny quirk of his lips as he watches you spot a particularly fat pigeon with a grin and a glance back at him as you point to it.

He doesn’t look, eyes staring down at you with adoration that he quickly turns into an annoyed sneer when someone gets too close to you.

“Can I do your makeup for you tomorrow then? Since I’m buying you your lipsticks…”

His head snaps back to you from glaring at the man in front, brows furrowing at your teasing words. You don’t even look at him but he can see you trying not to laugh, a playful grin on your lips as you stare forward.

“You aren’t”

“Try and stop me… I gave Bruno your wallet as we left.”

His fingers immediately raise to press against the pocket he always keeps it in, a shocked glare on his face as you meet his eyes with a mischievous cackle.

“You little… You need to stop hanging out with those 3. They’re making you sneaky.”

“I was already sneaky. You just never noticed… “

He barely aware that you’re already standing outside the store with a saccharine smile on your face, your fingers almost reaching out to touch him before dropping again, knowing he doesn’t like being touched in public.

For both of your safety.

He almost looks guilty for a second when your hand falls, covering it quickly when you nudge him slightly to go in the store with you.

“Come on, before they close.”

You don’t mean to get as many as you do, a grin on your face as you place down the bag on your dresser, turning as he sits on the edge of your bed and reaching his hand out for you to come to him.

Fingers brushing yours when you entwine them together, lips gentle against your knuckles as he presses soft kisses to your skin.

“Are you just trying to cover me in your lipstick?”

“Would it be so bad if I was?”

He looks so much more relaxed like this, eyes lidded as his mask slips completely, exhaustion licking at him as he breathes in your perfume.

“Not at all… I’ll miss it when you find one that doesn’t transfer.”

The hum is faint as he smiles against you, letting your hand go so he can shrug off his jacket and get ready to sleep, his gaze tired as he stands and leans down to kiss you.

You know that you’ll smudge his lipstick even more but you can’t seem to care as you pull him closer, a breathy laugh falling from him when he pulls away again.

“Come on. Sleep, I might even let you do my makeup tomorrow.”

The sun flickers across your skin softly, warming the dark covers above you and making you curl closer to Leone, the warmth fully enveloping you in the quiet morning…

Mostly quiet.

You can hear the faint crash as Narancia trips over something downstairs with a loud apology, you try not to laugh but fail as you bury your face into your boyfriend's throat to muffle it.

“You’re lucky I love you. If anyone else woke me up by giggling in my ear…”

Sleep coils into every whispered word as he pulls you closer to his chest, a low laugh vibrating your skin at the little squeak in surprise when he speaks.

“Sorry, Leone… Narancia just fell over and I couldn’t help it.”

“If he broke something I swear… It better not have been my damn teapot.”

“The one I got you?”

A short hum in his throat rather than answering as he breathes out slowly and squeezes your waist before sitting up, fingers still pressed against your skin.

“Get up. Before I regret letting you do this.”

“Wait! Really?”

He slips out of the bed as his hand falls from you, running his fingers through his mussed hair as he grabs the bag from yesterday.

“Test them before we shower. Then I'll let you do it.”

He sits back down on the bed beside you as you get comfortable, taking the bag from his hand with barely contained excitement.

He can already tell he’s going to regret this but he can’t bring himself to care when you look so happy getting settled as you sit right in front of him.  

“Okay… Let me... I have nothing to wipe this off.”

Your fingers are gentle as you hold his jaw, realising when you put the lipstick on that you can’t really test if they smudge if you can’t take it off.

Actually maybe you can…

He barely has the chance to see the playful smirk on your face as you lean in and press your lips to his, making him groan softly into your mouth before you pull away.

“What…”

“Hmm, no good… This one smudges. Let's try this one…”

Your thumb rubs the last bit of purple off of his lips as he stares at you in shock. Eyes wide as you pull the next lipstick out and tilt your head at how freaked out he looks.

“Sorry… I should have asked first, I’ll test them properly.”

“Don’t... Please?”

His cheeks flame softly as you press it to his lips, humming when it isn’t the usual shade he wears as you inspect it with narrowed eyes before leaning in and kissing him again before pulling away with a little huff.

“Not this one either, and it’s not the right colour.”

He looks fucked up.

His eyes wide and dilated even in the sunlight as it caresses his face, a pretty smile on his face, purple still staining his lips as you gently kiss him over and over in order to ‘test’ his new makeup.

He can’t even tell if you’re taking it seriously or not but you look ecstatic, his hand coming up to cup your face as you talk mindlessly about only having a few left.

He leans in his time, lips pressed to yours almost in worship as his fingers curl against your skin, gentle.

Reverent.

So loving that it leaves you breathless when he pulls away again.

“Hmm. This one is good.”

“...Yeah. Good.” 

You can barely choke the words out as he grins down at you, your eyes wide as you watch him, swallowing at how intense he can be even without meaning to be. A whispered question on your lips as you break eye contact before you blush even harder.

“Can I do it again tomorrow?”

“I’d let you do it for the rest of my life.”

Tags - @trash-flowerss @hierophantpistols @dotfuzzy @sxrsie @momentomoribitch @esikas @rqwrsh @jewishweeb @serafimkrex @capricornywrites

[dioslesbianwife]

Hello!! First time requesting aaaa! May I have Giorno, Narancia, Josuke, and Jotaro with a sibling reader who is completely nonverbal, but for the first time in years they speak. Its during a quiet moment, maybe they're around others, maybe not, but the only thing they say is "I love you" to them. I am craving some good sibling fluff/angst :3 Thank you so much!

hii! ♡ sure, no problem, thank you for requesting and hope you enjoy!

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno has always been gentle with you.

He never expected words from you -  never pressured you, never looked disappointed when you communicated in signs or gestures.

Even when others looked at you strangely, Giorno would shut them down fast, defending you like the most precious treasure.

One evening, after a long, tense mission with Bucciarati’s team, the two of you are in the garden of the hideout.

You’re sitting beside him on a bench while he quietly reads aloud from a book you picked out. It’s one of your usual routines.

His voice is soft and steady. Gold Experience occasionally helping turn the pages for you.

Then suddenly, you reach over and rest your hand on his. And for the first time in years -  maybe ever -  you whisper,

“I love you.”

Giorno freezes. You never speak.

He looks at you, wide-eyed. The book slips from his fingers. 

“You spoke,” he breathes. His voice breaks a little. “You… you spoke to me.”

He’s quiet for a long moment before smiling -  so softly it hurts. He gently holds your hand and leans forward to kiss your forehead.

“I love you too. More than anything. Thank you.”

He doesn’t stop holding your hand for the rest of the night.

Narancia

Narancia always treated you like a little shadow -  someone to protect, tease, and cling to.

He never made you feel weird about being nonverbal. In fact, he kind of liked your way of communicating. He picked up signs, gestures, and even had his own little code with you.

But he always wondered if you’d ever speak one day.

One afternoon, you’re both hanging out at the hideout while the others are out. He’s rambling on about music, fixing up his headphones, asking you random questions he answers himself.

“I swear, you should listen to this one song -  even though you’d probably hate it,” he grins. “But I dunno. I think you’d love it. Or not. I’m talkin’ too much, huh?”

You tug on his sleeve.

“What’s up, squirt?” he asks with a grin.

And then you say it. Quiet, soft, but clear:

“I love you.”

Narancia’s eyes go huge.

“Wh- what?! Did you just-  did you say something?!”

He jumps back and stares like he’s seen a ghost. Then he immediately pulls you into a hug, almost sobbing.

“You-  you spoke! That was-  that was awesome! Oh my God, I love you too! You’re the best sibling in the world!”

He’s literally bouncing around after. Tells everyone later. Bucci’s like, “Narancia calm down” but he’s like “MY SIBLING SAID I LOVE YOU GET ON MY LEVEL.”

Makes you your favorite snack to celebrate.

Josuke Higashikata

Josuke is the most protective big brother ever.

He learned sign language just for you and takes so much pride in knowing how to communicate with you better than anyone.

Even though he gets teased by others sometimes for babying you, he doesn’t care. You’re his baby sibling.

One day, you’re both hanging out with Okuyasu and Koichi. It’s a chill day -  some snacks, a movie, you curled up next to him on the couch.

The others are arguing over something dumb, and Josuke’s got his hand on your shoulder, gently rubbing it while you lean into him.

And in that quiet moment, you say,

“I love you.”

Josuke turns so fast his pompadour nearly whips you.

“Did you- ?!”

He stares at you, mouth open. “Did you just say that?!”

You nod, a little shy.

He immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. “I love you too, dummy! Oh my God! I can’t believe it -  you talked to me!”

Okuyasu: “Wait-  they talked?! FOR REAL?!”

Josuke: “YES! MY SIBLING IS THE CUTEST HUMAN ALIVE!”

He brags to Tomoko later and literally sobs to her about it. She tears up too.

He’s gentle with you the whole rest of the night, petting your head and bringing you snacks.

Jotaro Kujo

Jotaro never needed words to understand you.

You were his soft spot -  one of the few people he allowed himself to truly care for.

And he always made sure you were safe. No one was allowed to look at you wrong, let alone treat you different for being nonverbal.

He always seemed so stoic, but you knew how much he cared.

After everything with Dio, and all the fighting and loss, the two of you are resting on a quiet beach in Egypt. The others are nearby, but it's peaceful.

He’s sitting with you under a shade, watching the tide roll in, occasionally glancing your way.

You rest your head against his arm. Then…

“I love you.”

Jotaro blinks. Turns to you slowly.

“Say that again,” he says, voice low.

You repeat it, a little more clearly this time. “I love you.”

For a long time, he says nothing. You think maybe you upset him -  but then you see it.

His shoulders tremble. His hands clench. Star Platinum appears behind him and puts a hand on your shoulder.

Jotaro turns fully and pulls you into the gentlest hug you’ve ever gotten from him.

“Yare yare daze… I love you too.”

He holds you a little tighter than usual. And for the rest of that trip, he never strays far from your side again.

[mantis-dea]

Bruno Bucciarati X Reader - Drunk Friends

Prompt: Bruno helps reader with her drunk friend then finally asks her out.

I, myself, drank a lil today. So I ain't too sure what's going on. Watch me come back and regret.

Contentment washes over you as you settle into the welcoming embrace of your couch. With a sigh of satisfaction and a glass of red wine in hand, you reach for the TV remote and press the power button. This has become your nightly ritual ever since moving to Naples, Italy.

As your soap opera runs in the background, you absentmindedly reach for your flip phone. To your surprise, you’re met with a barrage of notifications from none other than Matteo, a close friend of yours. 11 miss calls. 14 text messages. All within the span of an hour.

“He cheated on meeee.”

“Pick up, I need you bestie.”

“Bestie :(”

“I NEED YOU, BITCH. PICK UP.”

“WAKE UP. GET UP.  GET YOUR ASS UP.”

Your brows knit with worry as you make four consecutive attempts to reach Mattero, your calls met with his voicemail. You look at the home screen of your phone for the time.

22:00.

You sit back on the couch, placing a finger thoughtfully on your cheek. You recall him insisting on taking you to a club tonight. However, you declined his invitation, not too fond of clubs, or crowds in general.

With that in mind, you get up, get dressed, gather your belongings, and set out into the night.

Your first attempt to locate Matteo at a club he told you about proves unsuccessful. Disheartened, you sit at a metal chair located near a fountain, a sinking feeling of worry gnawing on you. As you reach for your phone to see if Matteo has responded, a sudden realization strikes; your phone was left behind on the coach in your haste to find him.

You sit there, contemplating your next step when you hear a familiar voice calling your name.

“Is something the matter?” He asks.

“Oh, Bruno,” your frown instantly turning into a smile, “It’s good to see you.”

You first crossed paths with Bruno a little over a month ago. You were walking home, clutching a bag of oranges an elderly lady gifted you for helping her. As you approach your abode, you overheard a conversation about a kind old lady gifting him a bag of apples; he couldn’t refuse the apples, he told his friend, but he isn’t too fond of apples. Mustering up the courage within you, you approach him with a nervous smile, mentioning that you were also gifted a bag of fruit, but it was oranges. You offered to trade, mentioning that you loved apples.

From that moment on, you began crossing paths with Bruno on a regular basis, which prompted a growing friendship. You never actually hung out with Bruno, but you did share a cup of coffee together a few times.

“I’m actually looking for a friend of mine. They-“

As you explain your situation, you see him reaching for his phone. Giving an apologetic smile, he holds up a finger before answering.

“Bruno? Where are you? Giorno said you had important matters after the conference … WAIT. Are you finally going to ask your crush ou-“

He hangs up abruptly and glances your way, hoping you did not overhear what Mista just said. When he sees you smiling at him, the soft moonlight casting a gentle glow on your face, he feels his heartbeat pick up.

He clears his throat, “I sincerely apologize. Can you tell me once more what the issue is?”

“It’s no problem-“

“HEY CUTIE.”

Once again, you’re abruptly interrupted. However, this time, it is by the source of the problem – Matteo. He comes sprinting towards you with the goofiest smile, arms outstretched, looking for a hug. Before he can even get close to you. Bruno swiftly intervenes. He extends his arm, blocking Matteo’s path and fixes him with a stern, disapproving glare.

Matteo scoffs, “Bro, nah, she’s mine, bitch.”

Bruno, taking it as fighting words, readies himself to exchange harsh words with Matteo. However, the sound of your laughter breaks the tension, drawing his attention. When he looks over and sees you smiling and laughing, his stern expression melts away, a soft smile taking its place.

“He’s my friend, Bruno,” you begin, getting up and walking over to Matteo. “He’s the one I’ve been trying to find.”

You outstretch your arms. With an exuberant leap, he tackles you, and you both tumble down to the ground with an “oomph.”

As Bruno stands there, his gaze fixes on you, a pang of longing tugs at his heart. He didn’t know you had a partner. The revelation fills him with a mix of emotions. How long have you been together? Is he overthinking this? You did just say he is a friend.

 He wishes that he could be the one to hug you like that.

“Why didn’t tchu ansswer my calls?!” he asks, crying. You can tell he had too many drinks tonight based on all the words he slurred.

You attempt to get up, but Matteo keeps you down, his face in your chest, much to Bruno’s disdain.

You place a hand on Matteo’s head, giving soothing pets. “I think you had too much to drink tonight.”

“I am not think as you drunk I am.”

You chuckle, “Yeah? Well, can I at least get up?”

“No, your boobs are nice.”

Before you can utter a word, Bruno moves swiftly, almost in an instant. He assists in gently helping Matteo get off you and onto his feet. Slinging Matteo’s arm over his shoulder, Bruno hoists him up.

“Oh, Bruno. It’s okay. I know you must be tired. I can do it.”

“It’s not a problem,” he responds, “I can help him get to where he needs.”

Amid your insistence, Bruno decides to take charge. With a semi-conscious Matteo who can barely stand, Bruno begins walking. With a smile, you hurry your way over to Bruno.

During the journey back, you and Bruno engage in small talk, sharing stories about your days and experiences. The exchange of conversations makes the trip feel like an enjoyable adventure, one you wish you could continue forever. However, all good things must come to an end, and you finally arrive back at the apartment.

Bruno places Matteo gently down onto the couch. As he takes a moment to look around the apartment, he is pleasantly surprised to find it matches his expectations. The space exudes a warm, homely atmosphere with its cozy and charming décor. The delightful aroma wafting through the air only adds to the overall welcoming ambiance.

He’s surprised to see nothing that looks like it belongs to Matteo.

“Does he live here?” Bruno inquires.

“No, he used to live with his boyfriend.” You answer, “His boyfriend cheated on him, and I don’t want him back there until I know it’s safe for him.”

Boyfriend, Bruno chants in his head. They aren’t a couple. Bruno feels a breath of relief amongst hearing that. While he processes his thoughts, Bruno’s phone continues to vibrate. He takes out his phone to see if it’s anything of urgency.

“Just ask her out, ffs.”

“Did you do it?”

“Y’all fucking or what?”

While Bruno reads the colorful messages Mista sent with a darkened face, you crouch down and offer comfort to Matteo by gently stroking his hair.

“Do you need to throw up?”

“Nnn. Nyoh.”

With Matteo in a more stable condition, you determine it would be safe to leave him alone momentarily. You follow Bruno out of your apartment.

“Thank you so much, Bruno,” you express your appreciation sincerely. Is there something I can do to pay you back?”

“Dinner. Go out to dinner with me.”

Your face flushes with hues of red and pink. You hide your face in your hands, embarrassed by your reaction. “Are you sure… with me?”

Bruno gently removes your hands from your face and places a finger under your chin, tilting it slightly so you would look at him directly. He laughs at your adorable reaction, finding it endearing and charming.

“I’m very sure, with you.”

Extra:

“Mista.” Giorno starts, eyes closed in an attempt to remain composed. “Please exit my office. Now.”

Mista, phone in hand, lays on the only other chair in Giorno’s office, his legs dangling from the chair’s edge, swinging back and forth as he awaits a response from Bruno.

“You think they’re fucking?”

Giorno pinches the bridge of his nose, “Volevi questo, Giorno. Volevi unirti alla mafia.”

[adeadcreator]

Hey girly! Could you please write Bruno fluff & crack. Basically Bruno and reader being affectionate and all lovey dovey at mafia house so someone like narancia and Mista r being those type of kids that go “ewwwww” when they see parents kiss (pls tell me u get what I mean😭😭🙏🏼🙏🏼) basically they become noisy and mocking etc etc and like sweet moment with Bruno maybe it happens when reader and bruno r in the process of taking care of the rest of the group eg cooking dinner or something. BUT ANYWAY feel free to ignore it!🙏🏼

(Holy moly what am I yapping)

STEEL BALL RUN TRAILER

I love this request so much🥲 I hope you enjoy!!

The kitchen smelled like simmering tomato sauce, fresh bread, and garlic. You and Bruno were moving in easy rhythm, he chopped herbs, you stirred the pot, your hands brushing here and there as though it were second nature.

He leaned close, murmuring something soft in Italian that made you giggle before pressing a kiss to your temple.

Cue Narancia’s horrified shriek from the table “EWWWW! Did you see that?! They kissed! In the food zone!! My appetite is ruined forever!!”

Mista immediately piled on, dropping his fork with dramatic flair. “We’re children! CHILDREN shouldn’t have to see their parents making out in front of them!”

You and Bruno broke into laughter, but he still took your hand with a proud little smile and said, “Ignore them, amore. They’ll survive one kiss.”

Narancia clutched his chest like he was about to faint.

“ONE kiss? You guys are always doing this! The hand-holding, the forehead touching, the ‘cara mia’ this and ‘tesoro’ that. I can’t live like this!”

Fugo, trying and failing to hide a grin, muttered from his spot at the counter “Narancia, you’re seventeen, not seven. Grow up.”

“EXACTLY! Seven-year-olds shouldn’t have to witness this either!” By now Trish had come in, giving everyone a flat look.

“They’re literally just cooking and being normal. You’re acting like they’re filming a soap opera in the kitchen.”

Mista threw his hands up. “Normal?? He just kissed her while cutting parsley! Do you know how scandalous that is?!”

Bruno, ever composed, just lifted the ladle and tapped Mista on the forehead with it. “Then perhaps you should focus on setting the table instead of narrating our lives.”

The audacity. Mista groaned, but still trudged off to grab plates. Narancia whispered dramatically as he passed you:

“You’ve corrupted him, y’know. He used to just be scary and mysterious. Now he’s scary, mysterious, and disgustingly in love.”

Bruno leaned down again, pressed a quick kiss to your cheek just to spite him, and whispered against your ear, “He’ll live.”

You nearly doubled over laughing when Narancia screamed again from across the room.

[adeadcreator]

hii another request 😛 just something cute 💕

Caesar, Jotaro (3), Josuke, Bruno, Mista, and Johnny x Reader who’s super affectionate and loves to compliment them<3!! Reader loves to hold hands, randomly hug them, and remind them that they’re beautiful 😚.

this was me at some point but he blocked my ass

just wanted to send this in before Wednesday🤧

Anyways I would love for you to write this 💕🌻

Yes of course and thank you :3 I hope you enjoy!!!

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗

Caesar:

At first, Caesar teases you endlessly about being clingy “Dio mio, bella, you really can’t keep your hands off me, huh?”

But the truth? He’s secretly melting every single time you squeeze his hand or kiss his cheek mid-conversation.

He starts pretending he needs to “adjust your grip” just so he can intertwine your fingers tighter.

Compliment him once and he smirks. Compliment him ten times a day and he starts blushing like crazy even if he hides it.

Sometimes when you call him beautiful, he’ll quip back with, “Of course, I am a Zeppeli.” But he’s glowing inside.

Jotaro:

This man. This stoic, grumpy man. He acts like he doesn’t want it.

You hug him out of nowhere, and he grumbles, “Yare yare…” but his hand always finds your back, holding you in place.

You tell him he’s beautiful and he scoffs. But the tips of his ears go red every time.

He’ll let you hold his hand, but only under the table, or when no one’s looking. If anyone teases, he’ll deny it immediately.

Lowkey? Your affection is his anchor. He never says it outright, but on days when he’s feeling especially heavy, he holds on to you longer.

Josuke:

Absolutely thrives on your affection. He loves it.

You hug him randomly? He hugs you back twice as hard and spins you around just to make you laugh.

Call him beautiful and he’s practically wagging his tail. “Aw, come on babe, you’re makin’ me blush!”

He’ll brag about you complimenting him to Okuyasu like, “See? My s/o gets it, I am gorgeous.”

Josuke gives it all back, too, he’ll hold your hand in public, kiss your knuckles dramatically, and toss compliments at you like candy.

Bruno:

He absolutely adores your affectionate nature.

Hand holding? He’s always the one to reach for yours first, weaving his fingers with yours as if it’s natural.

He smiles so gently whenever you remind him that he’s beautiful, he’ll kiss your forehead and tell you you’re his angel.

You hug him randomly and he’ll hug you back with such warmth, rubbing your back and swaying slightly.

Bruno sees your affection as proof that love doesn’t have to be complicated, it can be steady, safe, and overflowing.

Mista:

Lives for your compliments. Actually fishers for them sometimes.

“Hey, babe, don’t I look hot in this hat?”

He loves when you hug him from behind, arms around his waist. He’ll lean back into you, grinning, and squeeze your hands.

The Sex Pistols tease him about how whipped he is for you. He pretends to argue, but honestly? He doesn’t care.

He tells the others you’re obsessed with him, but in private, he’s the one clinging to you. Especially when you call him beautiful, he melts every single time.

Johnny:

At first, he doesn’t know what to do with it. He’s awkward when you grab his hand or hug him randomly.

But over time, it becomes something he secretly craves. He’ll reach for your hand when he’s nervous, letting you ground him.

When you call him beautiful, he always goes quiet, eyes lowering. He struggles to believe it but hearing it from you chips away at his self-doubt.

Hugging him means the world, especially when you don’t let go too quickly. He holds onto those moments like treasure.

Sometimes, late at night, he whispers back “You’re the only one who makes me feel that way.”

[brandour]

Gyro calls Johnny ‘amo’

[al3xandraareads]

Stay

⁺ . ✦ .　⁺ jojo’s bizzare adventure (abbacchio leone x reader) ⁺ . ✦ .　⁺

content: fluff, slight angst??

synopsis: after a long mission leaves everyone exhausted, tensions simmer beneath the surface. as Abbacchio struggles with jealousy and the belief that he’s too broken to be loved, you refuse to leave his side. in the quiet that follows the chaos, walls fall, truths are spoken, and two people finally admit what they’ve been afraid to want.

The mission runs longer than it should.

By the time the last enemy drops and Bucciarati signals the all-clear, the sun is already slipping toward the horizon, painting the rooftops of Naples in burnt orange and violet. Your muscles ache, your ears ring faintly, and your Stand feels sluggish, overworked but steady.

You stretch your shoulders as Narancia lands beside you, Aerosmith dissipating into light.

“Did you see that guy I took out near the alley?” he says, grinning wide. “Boom. Right in the—”

“Yes, Narancia,” Abbacchio cuts in flatly from behind you. “We all saw it.”

Narancia pouts. “You don’t have to sound so impressed.”

Mista snorts as he holsters Sex Pistols. “Kid, if Abbacchio ever sounds impressed, we’ll know the world’s ending.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head.

Mista glances over at you, eyes bright. “You good? You took a hit back there.”

“It’s nothing,” you say. “I’ve had worse.”

Narancia gasps dramatically. “You’re telling me you’ve been injured worse than that and didn’t tell us? That’s cold.”

You shrug. “Occupational hazard.”

“Still,” Mista says, stepping closer, voice dropping just a bit. “You handled it like a pro. Kinda impressive.”

Narancia nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! You were super cool. Like—bam, bam—no hesitation.”

You feel heat creep into your cheeks. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Am not,” Narancia insists. “If I weren’t already me, I’d totally—”

“Narancia,” Abbacchio snaps. “Enough.”

The air shifts.

Narancia blinks. “What? I was just—”

“Mission’s over,” Abbacchio says sharply. “Focus.”

An awkward silence settles over the group. Mista raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push it.

You glance at Abbacchio.

He isn’t looking at you.

The walk back is long and quiet, broken only by Narancia’s occasional humming and the sound of footsteps echoing against stone. You fall into step beside Mista without thinking, listening as he mutters about food and showers and how he swears the next mission better come with hazard pay.

Narancia drifts closer too, nudging your arm lightly.

“So,” he says, “you wanna sit with us later? We’re probably gonna steal whatever snacks Bucciarati hid.”

You smile. “We’ll see.”

“Hey,” Mista adds, grin lopsided, “if Abbacchio gives you trouble, just come hang with us.”

You laugh softly.

Behind you, Abbacchio’s jaw tightens.

He says nothing the entire way back.

⸻

The safehouse greets you with its usual stillness, cool air, drawn curtains, the faint hum of electricity. Everyone disperses quickly, the team falling into familiar routines.

You’re halfway toward your room when you hear it.

“Don’t.”

You stop.

Abbacchio stands at the end of the hallway, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“Don’t what?” you ask.

“Don’t go with them,” he says.

Your heart skips. “Go with who?”

“Mista. Narancia.” His voice is controlled, but tight. “They’re not—” He exhales sharply. “Just stay.”

The word lands heavier than it should.

You hesitate, then nod. “Okay.”

He gestures toward his room. “In here.”

The door closes behind you with a soft click.

His room is darker than the rest of the safehouse, curtains drawn tight. A faint scent of incense lingers in the air. Everything is neat, precise-like order is the only thing keeping chaos at bay.

Abbacchio doesn’t sit. He paces.

“I don’t like how they talk to you,” he says finally.

You lean back against the wall, arms folding loosely. “They’re just being themselves.”

“They’re careless,” he snaps. “They don’t think. They don’t understand what kind of world we live in.”

“And you do?” you ask gently.

He stops pacing.

“That’s exactly the problem,” he mutters.

Silence stretches between you.

You watch him carefully. His shoulders are tense, jaw clenched, eyes dark with something unspoken.

“…You’re jealous,” you say quietly.

His head snaps up.

“No,” he says immediately.

You raise an eyebrow.

He scoffs, turning away. “I don’t get jealous.”

“Abbacchio.”

“I don’t,” he insists, voice sharp. “I don’t have the right to.”

That makes your chest tighten.

You push off the wall and take a step closer. “Why not?”

He laughs softly, bitter. “Because I’m not someone people choose.”

The words hit harder than you expect.

“You don’t believe that,” you say.

“I know it,” he replies. “I’ve lived it.”

He faces you again, eyes hard but tired.

“I’ve watched people leave,” he continues. “Because I wasn’t enough. Because I was too angry, too bitter, too broken.” His voice drops. “Because loving me is exhausting.”

You shake your head. “That’s not true.”

“You don’t know that,” he snaps.

“I do,” you say firmly. “Because I’ve stayed.”

That gives him pause.

“I see the way you look at me,” he admits quietly. “And I hate myself for noticing.”

Your breath catches.

“I see how easy it is for them,” he continues. “How they laugh with you. How they don’t carry the weight I do.” His hands curl into fists. “And I think… maybe that’s what you deserve.”

You step closer until there’s barely any space between you.

“And what do you deserve?” you ask softly.

He doesn’t answer.

So you do it for him.

“You deserve someone who sees you,” you say. “Someone who understands you. Someone who doesn’t run when things get heavy.”

His expression fractures.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” he whispers.

“You’re not,” you reply immediately. “You never have been.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and the vulnerability in his eyes steals the breath from your lungs.

“Why do you stay?” he asks. “Why do you look at me like that?”

You swallow.

“Because I like you,” you say. “Because I care about you. Because when things get quiet, you’re the one I want beside me.”

The room feels too small.

Abbacchio’s breath shudders.

“You shouldn’t,” he says weakly.

“But I do.”

He reaches out, stopping just short of touching you, like he’s afraid.

“If I let myself want this,” he murmurs, “I won’t know how to let go.”

“You don’t have to,” you say.

That’s all it takes.

He closes the distance between you in a single step, hands coming to rest at your waist, hesitant but firm.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers.

You don’t.

His lips meet yours, slow, careful, like he’s afraid of hurting you. The kiss is warm, lingering, filled with everything he’s been holding back. When you kiss him back, he exhales softly, relief flooding through his posture.

The second kiss is deeper.

His hands tighten slightly, grounding himself, grounding you. You rest your hands against his chest, feeling his heart racing beneath your palms.

When you pull away, foreheads touching, he laughs quietly.

“…I really am jealous,” he admits.

You smile. “I noticed.”

He presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Stay tonight.”

You nod. “Okay.”

Later, you’re curled up in his bed, the lights dim, the world reduced to the quiet rhythm of shared breathing. His arms wrap around you protectively, one hand resting against your back like an anchor.

You fit together easily, like this was always meant to happen.

“I don’t usually let people this close,” he murmurs.

“I know,” you say. “Thank you for trusting me.”

He shifts slightly, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Thank you for choosing me.”

Sleep comes slowly, gently.

And when it does, Abbacchio holds you like he’s afraid the night might take you away, like this moment is something sacred.

For the first time in a long while, he lets himself rest.

With you.

[naomijoestar]

⋆.ೃ JJBA SCENARIOS ࿔*:･

Masterlist here <3

genre: erotic fiction

warnings: boners; doesn’t lead to anything tho, slight NSFW

characters: bucci gang

notes: F!reader, also i wasn’t going to include the 18- characters (giorno, narancia, fugo) but i set up a poll yesterday on whether I should include or exclude them and the majority of the votes told me to include so here you guys go!

Bucci gang members getting a hard-on from their crush

Giorno Giovanna

You and Giorno are sitting on an ornate balcony overlooking Naples, enjoying the sunset. The atmosphere is warm, the golden glow of the setting sun enhancing the intimacy.

Giorno listens carefully as you speak, but he's acutely aware of the way your body shifts closer, your fingers lightly brushing his thigh as you adjust yourself on the seat. The touch is innocent, but it sends a ripple of heat through him. He prides himself on his control, but he feels his breath hitch when you lean in even closer, your lips just inches from his ear, as you softly ask him a question.

His pulse quickens. His hand rests on his knee, and he clenches his fist discreetly, trying to maintain his calm façade. But beneath the table, he subtly shifts, trying to hide the involuntary reaction your proximity is causing.

You tilt your head curiously when he doesn't immediately answer, your eyes meeting his. "Giorno, are you okay? You seem a little... distant."

Giorno's face remains calm, though his voice is deeper than usual. "I'm fine," he replies, his words a touch slower, as if carefully measured. But the heat creeping up his neck and the tightness he feels under the table say otherwise.

His composure slips for just a moment as he brushes a strand of your hair away from your face, his fingers grazing your cheek.

Your soft smile doesn't help. It only fuels the heat in his chest, making him long for more, but Giorno, always the gentleman, leans back slightly to catch his breath, hoping you don’t notice the subtle tension building between you two

Bruno Bucciarati

You and Bruno are working on a mission late into the night. The small room is dimly lit, and you're seated next to each other, sharing the same space.

Bruno's focused, but as you lean over to point something out on the map, your chest lightly presses against his arm. He freezes for a split second, the warmth of your body suddenly igniting something in him. He keeps his eyes fixed on the map, trying to maintain his usual collected demeanor, but inside, his thoughts are racing.

Your breath tickles his ear as you speak softly, oblivious to the effect you’re having on him. The sensation of your body so close, combined with the scent of your perfume, stirs a primal response that even Bruno struggles to suppress.

His jaw clenches slightly, and he subtly shifts in his seat, his hand pressing against his thigh to calm himself. But when you laugh softly, your lips so close to his neck, he feels a surge of warmth, and he has to cross his legs beneath the table to hide the growing tension in his body.

You turn to him, your lips still curved in a smile. "Bruno? You're awfully quiet." There's a playful teasing in your tone, but Bruno only offers a tight smile, his usual confidence faltering.

"I'm just... concentrating," he says, though the slight huskiness in his voice betrays him. He swallows hard, his hands resting in his lap, hoping you don’t notice how affected he is by your presence.

Leone Abbacchio

You and Abbacchio are seated at a secluded corner of a bar, the dim lighting creating a sultry atmosphere. You have been teasing him all night, your laughter cutting through the low hum of the room.

Abbacchio's used to keeping his emotions in check, but you know just how to push his buttons. You lean in closer, your leg brushing against his under the table as you smirk at him.

"You're really fun to mess with, you know that?" you tease, your voice a little lower than before.

Your lips are dangerously close to his ear now, and Abbacchio tenses, feeling a surge of heat course through him. His body reacts instinctively to the closeness, and he grits his teeth, shifting slightly in his seat to try and adjust himself without making it obvious. The tightness in his pants is becoming more noticeable, and he silently curses his body's reaction.

He turns his head to glare at you, his usual scowl in place, but his eyes betray him-they're darker now, filled with something he's trying to keep under control. "You're playing with fire," he mutters, his voice low and gruff.

You lean back slightly, still smiling, but your eyes linger on him, noticing the tension in his body. Abbacchio crosses his arms, but it doesn't help; he's still keenly aware of the way his body is reacting to your proximity, and it frustrates him that he can't maintain his usual composure.

He quickly finishes his drink, hoping to distract himself, but the heat between you lingers, and Abbacchio is left sitting in silence, pretending he's unaffected, though you both know better

Guido Mista

You two are walking down a quiet street after a late-night hangout. The moonlight making everything feel more intimate.

You're laughing, the mood light, until you playfully nudge him, your hand resting on his chest for a moment longer than expected. Mista stops mid-sentence, the playful vibe suddenly shifting. Your touch sends a jolt through him, and he feels a wave of heat spreading downwards.

"Uh, wow," he says, his voice cracking slightly as he laughs awkwardly, trying to shake off the feeling. But his body's already reacting, and he glances down quickly, panicking as he realizes the situation unfolding in his pants.

Mista's always been confident, but right now, he feels the need to hide his growing arousal, pulling his jacket down to cover himself. "Hey, you wanna grab some gelato or something?" he blurts out, his voice a bit higher-pitched than usual as he tries to change the subject.

You look at him, amused by his sudden shift in energy, and arche a brow. "Mista, are you okay? You seem... flustered." Your tone is teasing, and Mista feels his face flush as he desperately tries to keep his cool.

"I'm not flustered! I just-uh, I really want ice cream, that's all," he says, laughing too loudly. But as you walk, his steps are a little stiffer, and he keeps his hands awkwardly in his pockets, trying to play it off. Inside, though, he's mentally cursing his body for betraying him so easily

Narancia Ghirga

You are hanging out on a rooftop, watching the city lights flicker below. The cool night air contrasts with the growing warmth between you as you sit close together.

Narancia's usually full of energy, but tonight, he's more subdued, his attention drawn to the way your leg brushes against his. You shift closer to him, your body pressing lightly against his, and Narancia feels his throat go dry. He's not used to feeling this kind of tension-it's different from anything he's experienced before.

Your hand grazes his knee, and suddenly, his body reacts with a jolt of heat. His breath hitches, and he shifts uncomfortably, feeling the tightness in his pants as his arousal becomes undeniable. He glances at you, panic flickering in his eyes as he tries to play it off.

“S-sorry, it's just a little cold up here," he stammers, though his voice betrays him. It's not cold at all, and the heat radiating from his body is unmistakable.

You look at him, your expression soft, but there's a hint of something more in your gaze. "Narancia, you okay?" you ask, your voice gentle, but your touch lingers on his leg, making his pulse race even faster.

He laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Y-yeah, I'm fine! Just.. you know, uh... the city's really pretty tonight, huh?" He's babbling, trying to distract himself, but the tension between you is growing, and his body isn't giving him any breaks.

Narancia shifts again, pulling his shirt down as subtly as possible, hoping you don’t notice his very obvious reaction. But the way you’re looking at him with that knowing smile, makes him realize you probably already have

Pannacotta Fugo

The both of you are in the library, studying together late into the evening. The quiet atmosphere is heavy with tension, and the dim lighting makes everything feel more intimate.

Fugo’s eyes are glued to his book, but his thoughts are elsewhere. You are sitting right next to him, leaning over to look at the same text, and the scent of your perfume is clouding his usually sharp mind. Every now and then, your arm brushes against his, and with every accidental touch, Fugo feels his composure slipping.

He adjusts his collar, suddenly too aware of the warmth building in his chest—and lower. His mind races, scolding himself for letting his thoughts wander like this, but the tension between you is growing, and he can’t ignore it any longer. Your hand grazes his knee lightly, and the contact sends a shockwave through his body, stirring something deep inside him.

Fugo’s body reacts before his mind can catch up. He shifts awkwardly in his seat, crossing his legs beneath the table, but the pressure in his pants is undeniable. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, hoping you don’t notice the slight tremble in his hands as he grips the edge of the table, trying to stay focused on the book in front of him.

You lean in closer, your breath warm against his ear as you ask him something, your voice soft and teasing. “Fugo, you seem distracted… everything okay?”

He swallows hard, feeling a rush of heat up his neck. His voice is lower than usual as he replies, “I’m fine. Just… trying to concentrate.” But his body betrays him; his heart is racing, and the tension in his pants grows harder to hide.

You smile knowingly, your eyes lingering on his face for a moment longer than necessary. Fugo clenches his fist, fighting the urge to lose control. He’s always been careful, disciplined—but right now, with you so close, he feels himself dangerously close to crossing a line he’s never dared before.

In a sudden move, he pushes his chair back slightly, creating more space between you. “I need some air,” he mutters, his voice strained as he stands up quickly, hoping you don’t see the flush creeping across his face, or the other, much more obvious reaction he’s trying to hide

[hierophantpistols]

how they (fall in love + ) confess to you [pt 2]

ft. Mista // Abbacchio

Bucciarati // Giorno

a/n: part 2 is here!! sorry mista’s is so long it’s basically its own whole ass fic hghsdhajhasg i locked in on one (1) idea and had to see it through bc i am deeply in love with him 

TBH i’ve fleshed out all my ideas thus far so much that if anyone’s interested in a continuation fic for any of the Bucci gang members i’d be very down to write them :3c

in hindsight i’m sorry i made Abbacchio’s so long and so angsty too i couldn’t help myself HAHAH shiet

contents: fem!reader, fluff!!!! they are in LOVE, angst/hurt but there will ALWAYS BE FLUFF AND COMFORT IN THE END, descriptions of canon-typical violence, insane levels of yearning, jealousy, size difference (you are smaller than Abbacchio tbh he is just tall af), mild nsfw in Abbacchio but nothing explicit (you sleep with each other regularly, fwb to lovers?), self-destructive tendencies (Abbacchio)

w.c.: 4.3k (zoo wee mama)

Guido Mista

he says his first “i love you” at a very inopportune time

bleeding out and lightheaded from the pain of the four deep gashes across his chest, Mista watches you lean over him and the words just slip out without a second thought. he just can’t help himself. he’s always thought you were the prettiest girl he’s ever met and now, with the sun forming a halo around your head, you look straight up angelic 

by this time you’re past the point of being just “friends who work together”. having joined Bucciarati’s team shortly after Mista, you’d bonded particularly well as the two newcomers at the time. by now, you’d very comfortably consider him your best friend

it helps that your Stand complements his fighting style pretty well—shooting and getting shot at—by mere virtue of being able to move anything inside living bodies. of all your teammates, Mista’s by far the one you’ve patched up the most. you’ve probably removed more bullets from his body than you’ve personally shot from a gun—and you’re a gunslinger just like him

“you’re delirious.” you summon your Stand to prevent any more blood from exiting his nasty wounds. “you don’t mean that.” carefully, you begin removing the shredded remains of his cropped sweater.

‘i do mean it. let’s go on a date,” is what Mista tries to say but the moment his pale lips part and his quivering chest heaves a strained breath, you shoot him a sharp glance.

“don’t speak. just focus on staying awake,” you instruct, with a coldness in your tone that Mista knows, by now, he shouldn’t take personally. it’s a persona everyone in Passione is familiar with—well, the ones who’ve received your medical treatment, at least. 

still, he tries again. Mista manages to get a syllable or two out before his throat gives out on him and a fresh mouthful of blood splutters out of his lips. bitter regret overrides any pain he feels when your eyebrows furrow and a scowl snaps onto your face. 

he hates upsetting you. 

the second time he says “i love you”, it goes unnoticed

barely a whisper, Mista mutters it after draping a spare blanket over your sleeping form. the tv’s playing some random movie at a low volume, its screen being the only light source in the safehouse tonight

as the don, Giorno constantly has business to attend to all over Italia. unsurprisingly, Bucciarati’s group was chosen very early on to be his bodyguard team—not that he really needs it. a whole gang of Stand users at his command serves as a nice display of power, though, so nobody’s ever had any complaints 

taking a seat beside you on the couch, Mista carefully lifts your head and rests it on his lap. when you stir slightly, a tiny part of him hopes you’d wake up so that he can see your reaction. would you grace him with the cutest, sleepiest smile of all time? or would you push him away in disgust? 

eventually, Mista dozes off himself and by the time he wakes up, you’re staring up at him. 

“hi.” you smile, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

”hey.” the gunslinger resists the urge to grin like a dumbass.

”i don’t remember falling asleep on you,” you yawn as you sit up and stretch your stiff joints. Mista wishes you’d stayed longer.

”well, i don’t remember falling asleep underneath you.” he raises an eyebrow. “you must’ve crawled on top of me in your sleep. it happens to the best of us.”

you laugh aloud and the sound shoots straight into his heart. 

“sure, Mista.”

the third time he says “i love you”, it’s technically not him who says it

he’d forgotten to bring enough snacks out for a mission and the Sex Pistols were fuming. absolutely refusing to cooperate, the little rascals scream and dart around like crazy, demanding food for their poor empty stomachs. at some point you think you see Number 1 and 2 making tiny picket signs. meanwhile, Mista’s in a panic, wondering out loud to himself how he could’ve forgotten their lunch on such an important mission

in the midst of his worrying, you pull out a sandwich you’d prepared for yourself and carefully pick out all the meaty bits. Mista’s head snaps in your direction when his Stands immediately stop whining and begin rushing your way.

“yippee!! (Y/N) is the best!!”

“yahoo!! ham!! ham!!”

“we love you (Y/N)!!”

“yea! we love love love you!!”

“Mista does, too! but he’s too pussy to commit to it!!”

“hey! what the fuck!” Mista feels his face heat up as his Sex Pistols go on and on singing your praises while they stuff their greedy little mouths with ham and bacon. 

when he sees you’ve started munching on the remnants of your sandwich, not saying a thing, he wonders if you really didn’t catch that last part or if you’re just pretending you didn’t.

the fourth time he says “i love you,” he makes you upset. something ugly and raw twists so deep in Mista’s stomach, he thinks he might throw up

”how many girls have you said that to?” you snap. your eyes look tired and dry—not an uncommon sight during hour-long stake-outs such as tonight’s. he’s sure he doesn’t look any much better.

”i…” Mista swallows thickly. a gust of night air hits his bare, sweat-slicked skin and forces a shiver down his spine. 

how’s he supposed to answer your question? 

sure, he used to flirt with lots of girls in the past. he’s even slept with quite a few back when he was just some guy; but he hasn’t done any of that since joining Passione—since meeting you.

“cara, where’s this coming from?” MIsta asks gently. he’s terrified of upsetting you any further but he’s also baffled by your response. up till now, he thought he’d been doing pretty good at expressing how much he likes you.

you rub your face harshly with the back of your hands.

”no, i—” you inhale sharply and exhale slowly, breath trembling. “i’m sorry, Mista.” you meet his eyes once again as you bite your bottom lip raw. “i shouldn’t have been so rude.”

“it’s alright,” he responds softly, reaching an arm around your shoulders. when you don’t back away, Mista pulls you towards him and brushes his lips against your temple. “y’know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

you hum, leaning into his warmth. “i know.”

the fifth time he says “i love you,” he isn’t sure if it’s going to be the last time he’ll be able to say it

missions under Passione don’t often go wrong, especially since Don Giovanna took over. it’s an open secret that he favours Bucciarati and his men, so very rarely are any of you sent for particularly life-threatening jobs unless absolutely necessary

”they can’t be efficient bodyguards if they’re dead, no?” is Giorno’s go-to excuse when, in reality, he’s had enough of watching dear friends nearly die for him in a lifetime; he’d just rather not see it again

which is why, despite the endless blood gushing out of your torso, Mista finds it incredibly hard to blame Giorno for sending the team on this mission. it’s pure bad luck what’s happened tonight, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time and now you might lose your life over it

”shhh, amore mio.” Mista tries to steady his voice as best he can but even he can tell much of his efforts are in vain—his entire body is trembling. “Giorno’s on his way. he’ll be here before we know it. you’ll be fine.” the words tumble out of his mouth carelessly, a last ditch attempt to soothe his own nerves.

“i… i—” barely any sound manages to slip past your lips before you choke harshly, splattering bits of blood into Mista’s wide-eyed face.

”don’t speak,” he pleads, “just stay awake, okay? please don’t go to sleep. please, amore mio dolce, you can’t go yet. i love you so much.”

there’re tears running down his face now, you notice. in all your years of friendship you don’t think you’ve ever seen him cry before. he’s always been so silly and carefree. crying doesn’t feel like a thing he should be allowed to do.

he keeps saying he loves you and you want to believe him so badly. as your vision fades, you allow yourself to do so, at least this one time.

”hey, you,” an unfamiliar voice called out. when you turned around, you were faced with the most gorgeous woman your eyes have ever laid on. long legs, silky hair, flawless glass skin. “you’re Guido’s coworker or something, right?” she asks once she’s gotten your full attention.

”we work together, yes.” you decided against saying much else despite ‘we work together’ being perhaps the poorest way to describe the kind of relationship you share with him.

”great! i’ve been trying so hard to reach him lately but i think he must’ve changed his number or something and i—”

”i’m sorry, i’m in a bit of a rush.” you smile awkwardly. “what is it you need me to do?”

”oh! yes!” she claps her hands together before digging in her bag. “i’d really appreciate it if you could hand this to him for me.” she passes you a small decorated box covered in hearts and sealed with a satin bow. “and also, if it’s not too weird, tell him i miss him and i love him soooo much, and to call me soon, okay? thanks! ciao!”

like a hurricane, she left as destructively as she came.

the room is dark when you finally open your eyes. just from the familiar cornice design along the perimeter of the ceiling, you know you’re back at home—it’s technically Team Bucciarati’s headquarters but no one ever calls it that.

blinking the dryness out of your eyes, you crane your head side-to-side to loosen up your stiff neck as well as to check if you’re alone. 

you’re not.

Mista’s sleeping body is sprawled on the floor beside your bed like a corpse. judging from the chair that’s been haphazardly pushed to the side, you suspect he might’ve fallen off it and just continued sleeping without getting back up. he is a heavy sleeper, after all.

bracing yourself, you take in a slow deep breath before sitting yourself upright. your muscles are all screaming but there’s not a single bandage in sight—which makes sense considering you only could’ve ended up here if Giorno had used his Stand in time to save you.

stretching your arms, one of your joints pops and a hiss escapes your lips. it’s barely any sound at all and yet it wakes a part of Mista in an instant.

”(Y/N)?” Number 5 cries out, floating over to your shoulder before sobbing into your cheek. “(Y/N), you’re finally awake! we’ve all been worried sick.”

”hey, Five,” you greet hoarsely with a smile. “how long have i been out?”

”almost a week,” he sniffles. “Giorno—i mean, Don Giovanna fixed you up but said it’ll be easier on your body to recover the blood by itself. so he told everyone to just let you rest.”

you hum in agreement as you reach your hand up to pet his head with your index finger. Five chirps happily whilst still endlessly shedding tears.

”Mista barely leaves the room,” he shares. “tonight’s the first time he’s actually fallen asleep. he kept saying he wanted to be here when you wake up but his body couldn’t take it anymore.” a small smile tugs at your lips.

”sounds like such a him-thing to do,” you reply but Five vehemently shakes his head.

”he wouldn’t do this for anyone else,” he insists, crying less and less as he rises to clear things up once and for all on Mista’s behalf. “he’s only doing this because it’s you.”

”i’m sure there’re other girls he’d stay awake for—” you bitterly recall the interaction you’d had a little over a month ago with the woman you’d later learn via Narancia was Mista’s girlfriend from before he landed himself in jail.

”i dunno,” Narancia said with a shrug. “all he’s ever told me is that when Bucciarati got him out, she never looked for him again.”

”no, no, no!” Five shakes his head even harder, nearly losing his balance and falling off your shoulder in the process. “he only loves you. we all love you.” 

you feel your eyes begin to sting with hot tears, a deep ache forming in your chest as you hear those godforsaken words again.

“what about the girlfriend with the present?” you mumble, barely able to form a coherent sentence. you suck in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, too delirious from just having woken up from a coma to properly get a hold of your emotions.

”he threw it away!” Number Five reassures, patting your cheek comfortingly. “he didn’t even open it! we even told him we wanted to see what was inside but all he said was—”

”—it’s not from (Y/N) so i don’t want it,” Mista completes Five’s sentence. your head snaps over and the moment your eyes meet, he rises from the floor and crawls into bed beside you. “i love you, amore mio. you’re it for me. i can’t imagine falling in love with anybody else.” he presses his forehead against yours, warm breath brushing against your tear-stained skin.

Five nods and snuggles up against you, pressing his own tiny lips to your cheek. 

“you’re all i ever think about,” he whispers, tilting his head ever so slightly until the tips of your noses touch. “please give me a chance to prove it once and for all.”

without another word, you capture his lips with your own.

–

Leone Abbacchio

the words slip out before you can help yourself and you can physically feel Abbacchio freeze on top of you. face flushed from the alcohol you’d brought over to his room earlier, his expression hardens while his arms flex as he pushes himself into an upright position, still straddling your hips

“wait, wait,” you babble, reaching your hands out to coax him back into continuing the heated makeout session. you’d been fairly tipsy as well but the shock of his warm body suddenly detaching from yours sobers you up almost instantly. your finger tips brush against his bare chest and he scoffs before slapping your hands away.

“Leone…” you whine, a deep ache forming in your already-racing chest when he does nothing but glare down at you.

“get out.” Abbacchio swings his legs off of you and storms into his en-suite bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

half-undressed and still breathing heavily from your prior activities, you stare wide-eyed at where he’d disappeared. a twisting, bitter sensation forms at the base of your stomach when it dawns on you that you might’ve just destroyed a long-time friendship–or is it a relationship? you aren’t even sure anymore.

you’ve been friends since the day Bucciarati introduced him as the newest member of the team and you’d started sleeping together regularly after Giorno took over Diavolo’s place as the don of Passione. however, you realise as you begin putting your clothes back on, you’ve never really quite discussed what you are to each other, huh?

it’s obvious to everyone that something has happened between the two of you. as early as the morning following your slip-up, your teammates catch on to the tense atmosphere between you and Abbacchio

it’s no secret that you’re sleeping with each other–Narancia and Mista even thought you were actually dating until you told them otherwise–so they chalk it up to something awkward happening during your last tryst and leave it at that, naively believing you’d return to being attached at the hip sooner or later

years’ worth of habits revolving around one another get overridden within the span of weeks. every time you sit beside him, Abbacchio immediately leaves to sit elsewhere; when you offer to make coffee for everyone in the morning, he refuses to drink whatever you pour him; Abbacchio no longer chooses to accompany you on missions, eyes glancing away when Bucciarati scans the room for volunteers

Abbacchio’s aware that the drastic shift in dynamic not only really hurts your feelings but also bums out the rest of the team but he can’t bring himself to confront you about that night. on matter how much he catches you staring longingly at him, every time he feels like he just might be able to muster the courage to speak to you, his throat clamps up and his mouth goes dry

when he’d heard you mutter those three words against his spit-slicked lips while your hands roamed his bare chest, it truthfully had been a dream come true for Abbacchio. for the longest time, way before you even began casually sleeping with each other to satiate your needs, he’d already known he loves you so much that it physically hurts sometimes when he thinks about it too much

but you’re too good for him. he’s too broken of a man to deserve love from someone like you–from anyone, really, but when it’s you, it feels particularly sacrilegious. Abbacchio already counts himself lucky enough to be able to spend time with you so intimately. he’s terrified that if he tries to ask for anything further, the universe would somehow rip you away from him when he least expects it

and he had been proven right, hadn’t he? the moment you said you loved him, your relationship shattered into pieces. 

‘it wouldn’t have if you didn’t push me away,’ Abbacchio occasionally hears in his head, in your voice, whenever he’s particularly drunk and depressed at night. he knows ‘you’re’ right but he tries not to think about it anyway. the misery he wallows in is too familiar to try to break away from. 

whenever you’re not around, the others try to talk him out of his self-pity but it’s hard when both of you refuse to share what exactly had happened to cause all of this tension. whenever he’s not around, they try to speak with you as well but they can’t seem to accomplish much aside from lifting your spirits by keeping you company 

“i think you should talk to (Y/N),” Bucciarati says out of the blue one day, when it’s just him and Abbacchio in the house. “it’s been nearly three months. surely that’s more than long enough to give someone you care about the cold shoulder.”

“i don’t care.” Abbacchio lies through his teeth and takes another swig of wine straight from the bottle. 

“you should consider it, at least.” his capo’s eyes harden. “or you may find yourself running out of time,” he sighs with a heavy sense of foreboding. Abbacchio drinks more so that he doesn’t have to think about it. 

a week later, he wishes he’d listened to what Bucciarati said.

“(Y/N) has defected from Passione.” Giorno announced without warning after calling for an emergency meeting in the middle of the night. eyebrows furrowed deeply, this is the first time in a while their don has worn such a tense expression.

the air goes so still it’s as though everyone has collectively stopped breathing at the exact same time. Narancia breaks the silence by calling Giorno’s bluff, yelling and flailing his arms as Mista struggles to hold him back. that’s when the living room truly erupts into chaos.

“what’d you mean ‘defected’?!”

“we’ve gone through so much together, there has to be some kind of misunderstanding!”

“she’d never leave us behind like this! i refuse to believe it!”

Abbacchio’s chest feels like it's been hollowed out as his friends’–his family’s–declarations of disbelief echo in his head.

his vision blurs and his knees buckle before he drops unceremoniously into an armchair and buries his face in his hands, fingernails digging into the skin of his cheeks. his breathing becomes heavier and more strained as endless thoughts run through his mind.

why would you do this? 

were you blackmailed? did someone hurt you?

if Abbacchio had told you he loved you, too, that night, would you still be here right now? 

fuck. fuck. fuck.

your defection leaves a gaping wound in the heart of Team Bucciarati. on the surface, operations carry on as normal. an organisation as large and influential as Passione can’t crumble just from the betrayal of a single soldato

though, calling you just a regular soldato wouldn’t be quite as fitting

“last intel i received,” Bucciarati explained that same night the news was broken, “Ardore coveted (Y/N) to join their assassination team. our best guess is that somehow they’d gotten hold of how her Stand functions and thought they’d be better off buying her over than killing her off.”

“she doesn’t even like killing,” Abbacchio murmured to himself but it was loud enough for the rest to hear in the dead of night. “she told me before that she hates using Silver Springs to kill people… it doesn’t make sense.”

“Abbacchio…” Fugo placed his hand on his shoulder. “(Y/N) was probably lying to you.”

“no… she wouldn’t ever lie to me.” his words were slurred, courtesy of the nightly alcohol binge he’d been partaking in ever since you stopped talking to each other. “she told me she loved me.”

in spite of the complex feelings everyone else has to deal with, Abbacchio’s aware of how they make time to comfort him in particular. a part of him feels like he should be touched but he’s constantly so numbed by booze he doesn’t quite feel anything anymore

five months pass by painstakingly slowly as life becomes an endless drone of working, drinking and passing out, just to wake up and go to work again. the worst part is that he knows he’s spiraling and yet there’s nothing anyone–not even he–can do about it because every night, without fail, the only time he feels anything is when he hears your voice again

“Leone… I love you… Leone… I love you… Leone… I love you… Leone… I love you…” 

Abbacchio lies in bed, arm slung over his exhausted eyes as Moody Blues replays the last thing you ever said to him over and over and over. 

“Leone… I love you…” 

then why did you go?

“Leone… I love you…” 

you’re just a fucking liar and a traitor

“Leone… I love you…” 

i’m sorry i didn’t say it back

“Leone… I love you…” 

will you come back now?

hot tears soak into the sleeve of his shirt as he grits his teeth and hisses out a shaky breath. the alcohol isn’t quite working tonight. he’s feeling too much–it’s crushing his chest and knocking the wind out of him.

he feels pathetic.

“fucking… shit!” Abbacchio curses as loud as his lungs would let him, as if saying it hard enough would alleviate some of the weight on his shoulders.

a beat of silence passes.

and then there’s a knock on his door.

“go away,” Abbacchio yells as he stumbles back onto his mattress.

the door creaks open and just the sound alone sets his tender heart ablaze with rage.

“i said, fuck off–” the words die in his throat when sees you, just standing there, with a battered suitcase in hand, dark eyebags and a smattering of cuts and bruises–old and new–covering your skin.

“hey, Leone.” you offer him a tired smile and drop your suitcase onto the worn-out floor by your feet. “i’m home.”

“what the fuck… are you doing here?” he replies, softly at first, in sheer disbelief, before anger overrides all his senses yet again and his sentence crescendos into a snap.

before you can reply, Abbacchio storms over and grabs your face in between his hands. he forcefully tilts your head upward so that your eyes meet. already, you can see the tears dotting his lashes and feel the shakiness of his breath against your cheeks.

he wants to be angry but it goes against his baser instinct of needing to be closer to you.

“they told me you betrayed m– us. you defected.” the ends of his mouth twist into a scowl.

“i was undercover,” you reply softly, without missing a beat. “we couldn’t risk the info leaking so only Giorno and Bucciarati knew.” your eyelids begin fluttering closed but you fight the urge to sleep, now that you’ve finally reached the moment you’ve been dreaming of for months.

“you couldn’t have told me, at least?” Abbacchio hisses but his softening of his eyes and the way he’s rubbing your cheeks so tenderly with his thumbs betrays him. “i would’ve taken that secret to the grave.”

“i know.” you cup his hands with your own so that you can press your face harder into his soft palms. “but you were so angry at me before i had to go.” your bottom lip quivers and an overwhelming wave of shame washes over the man. 

“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry,” he whispers, letting go of your face to pull you into a firm hug. with one hand cradling the back of your head and the other clinging onto your waist, Abbacchio holds you so tightly it feels like he’s trying to merge your bodies into one. “i’m sorry i was being a fucking idiot. it’s haunted me ever since.”

“no! i shouldn’t have said it, it must’ve shocked you–” you sob into his chest, shaking your head, the guilt you’ve been harbouring over that night rolling off your shoulders with every word before he cuts you off.

“but i love you, too.” Abbacchio mutters, leaning his temple against yours. “i love you so much. life without you sucks so much, i hate it.” 

you choke out a laugh through your tears and he does the same.

“i love you, too, Leone.” 

[theshatteredstar]

Send in requests? SAY LESS!!!

Ok so how would bucci gang (separately) would be acting around fem!reader they’re painfully into? Yk this awkward period when you both are plainly into each other but don’t have the balls to confess? I can imagine Abba playfully teasing and poking half-hearted jokes at you or Fugo blushing madly around you and making up ridiculous excuses just to be around reader! I love the way you are writing characters and would be very happy to see your take on it:3

No pressure at all, please ignore if you don’t like this idea or just don’t feel like writing it! Muwah muwah🩷🩷

Bucci!Gang being head over heels for you - Bucci Gang x Reader

A/N - Thank you for the request anon!! I love writing sweet things so much, they all have so much personality to work with, Narancia's kinda sucks cos he's super friendly with everyone so it was a lil difficult, i hope you enjoy! We ignore that i make Abbacchio soft AF anytime i write him i need to stop hehe

♡ Fluff ♡ Word Count - 2360

Bruno - 

Bruno is great at staying cool and professional in public, hell even around the rest of your little gang.

But as lays sprawled on your bed it’s almost comical, he looks so relaxed like this, comfortable as you rummage around your room. He watches lazily, intensely, as you dance around your room, cleaning up from your latest crafting fixation.

“Can I do your makeup?” Your question snaps him back out of his daze, your face inches from his as it rests on the edge of the bed. 

A soft blush on his cheeks, startled by the closeness, by you. 

A sweet hum on his lips as he watches your face light up, hopping up and walking to your dresser. He sits up to watch you with interest, a devastatingly soft look in his eyes, grin pulling at his lips as you excitedly bounce around.

When you turn he’s still watching you so intently that it takes you off guard, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anybody look at you with such adoration and it makes your heart pound in your chest.

“What colour…” You try to question, but as his eyes meet yours it slips out as a breathy statement instead.

“You pick.” He’s not ashamed, he doesn’t look away, he’s not afraid of his love towards you. He’s afraid you won’t like him back. That you don’t love him. But when he sees you like this, just unapologetically you, spending your time in his presence. 

He can’t seem to care.

“Bruno, please close your eyes…” Barely a whisper as your face sits inches from him, tender hand holding his jaw as you apply his lipstick.

“You’re not doing my eyes yet.”

An amused grin pulling at his lips as you blush, eyes unable to meet his. You looked so beautiful like this, the temptation to reach out and touch you almost impossible to stop.

He didn’t try to stop it.

A soft hand under your jaw, tilting your head to make you look into him, a shuddering breath from your lips at the intimacy. A soft blush on his cheeks as he lets go, a little embarrassed by how close you were, how much he wanted to lean in and kiss you.

“Close your eyes Bruno.” A soft laugh slips from his mouth, still he listens and closes his eyes softly as you relax your frantic heart.

“Anything for you.” 

You believe it.

Abbacchio - 

Abbacchio doesn’t seek out people, he doesn’t mind usually if they want to spend time by him but he doesn’t care to fill the silence with someone else’s company.

But you, you were different.

New vinyl in his hand as he waited outside your door, hand twitching by his side before he knocked, why was he so nervous? It’s just you.

“Do you want to listen to it with me?” His tone seems disinterested on the surface, eyes looking anywhere but you as you grinned at the man in front of you. You knew you were the exception to his mood, even if he pretended you weren’t.

“Of course I do, Abba.” He willed himself not to blush at the nickname as he slid past you into the room, eyes glancing curiously between the things in your room before he sat on your bed. 

This was a common occurrence with you both, listening to music while you lay sprawled out somewhere in the room, usually close to him. Even if he sat stiff on your bed the entire time he enjoyed it more than he admitted out loud.

Tonight was almost painfully domestic, your head resting against his leg as you listened to the song together, a small smile on his face as he looked down at you. He was happy you weren’t looking at him so he got to admire you in such a soft moment.

“I can feel you staring, you know.”

“No you can't.” Your eyes flicking up to him as you grinned, the softest look in his eyes as he watched you before snapping his head away from you, embarrassed.

“Sure Abba.” 

“You’re imagining things.” A tiny quirk of his lips as he quipped back at you, gentler than most have seen him to be, maybe more than anyone.

“I have eyes.”

A hand slipped over your face to cover your eyes carefully. Sweetly. A laugh slipping from your lips at his dramatics.

“See. Imagining things.”

You were the only one that got to see his side of him, a relaxed playfulness about him, even if he was too afraid to tell you about his feelings.

You were his exception.

Mista - 

You always found it hilarious when Mista tried to flirt with you, so suave with everyone else but the second he threw his arm around your shoulders and your eyes met he was a stuttering mess. 

Completely tripping over every word he said as he tried desperately to savage it, all while you smiled so sweetly at him.

“Hey babe, you’re uh… You um…” A small smile, a soft attempt to encourage him. But the way his cheeks flame under your gaze shows you it has the opposite effect on him. 

“Are you… Damnit stop looking at me like that.” A small pout on his lips as he turned away, arm twitching around your shoulder as he freaked out. 

Should he move? Were you uncomfortable? Oh god did he smell? Every small panicked spiral slipped from his head as you leaned into his touch silently.

“Do you…” Your eyes found him before he could finish his thought, his voice trailing off as he blushed. It makes your stomach flutter everytime, you started doing it on purpose more often to see him freak out.

A soft touch on his hand, teasing, simple.

He’s staring at the floor before you can make a joke.

“Finish what you were saying Guido?”

You were cruel, did you know how flustered you made him? His name from your mouth making him stare at you in awe? Disbelief? Love? He couldn't tell anymore.

“Do you want to go to the park… With me?” 

Yes! He finally got it out! Thankful you hadn’t looked up with those pretty eyes that made him so nervous.

“Is that all? Of course I will Guido.” A grin on your face as he looked back at you, nerves coiling back in his stomach, your soft eyes making him self conscious as he trips over another soft flirt, giving up with a gentle sigh.

Maybe if he got you some sunglasses…

Fugo - 

“Hey, Y/N?” Fugo’s soft voice makes you look up from the book you’re reading, a smile already on your face. He was always such a sweetheart to you, it wasn’t a surprise that you quickly fell for him.

“Here’s your book back.”

You glanced towards the book in his hand, the new Game of Thrones book? It had barely been out a week… How did he even manage to get this?

“Fugo? This isn’t mine?” A soft confused look on your face as he blushes, eyes looking away in embarrassment.

“Oh. You can have it though.” A grin pulled at your lips softly as you realised what he was doing.

“Fugo?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you buy this for me?” His cheeks turn redder at the teasing question, his mouth opening and closing softly, goddamn it he should have known you’d figure it out. His voice was small when he answered, tempted to lie and say it was just a mistake.

“...Yes.” 

You’d have to make sure to put some notes in when you let him read it later.

“You know what I'm craving?” You call to Fugo as you sit in his room as he darts around, reshelving his books, you buy him so many that he quickly runs out of room.

An acknowledging hum in response as he turns slightly to face you, a light pink already dusting his cheeks as he looks at you, eyes already soft when they find yours.

“Blueberry muffins, I used to get them all the time at the bakery nearby but when it closed I couldn't find anywhere that did any…”

They had blueberries, Fugo perked up slightly, maybe he could make you some…

Okay this was a little harder than he expected it to be, flour scattered across the counter and all over his shirt as he tried to stay calm in the empty kitchen.

He can do this. 

And he did, barely. And he only tried to break one pan, after he burnt an entire stick of butter…

They looked…Edible? God how did he fuck them up so badly, they were supposed to be domed, how are they so flat?

“Fugo?” A soft panic flashed across his face at the sound of your voice behind him, a blush settling on his cheeks already.

“Y/N…”

“Did you bake muffins?” 

“I don’t think they can legally be classed as muffins anymore.” His shoulders slumping slightly as he glared at the pan in front of him.

“Can I have one?”

Maybe it didn’t matter that he messed them up so much, your eyes looking up at him so happily, love flickering through your fingers as you hug him softly.

“Thank you Fugo.” A blush burning into his face as he refuses to turn towards you, unable to stop the smile from slipping onto his face.

He’d do anything to make you happy.

Nara - 

The whirr of the plane's propellers pulled you from your painting in front of you, brush softly in your hand as you turned to the noise.

“Hey Aero, what do you have for me today?” Almost as if reacting to your voice it started doing small tricks in front of you before dropping down, landing gear opening to drop the ribbon held tightly between the metal, the small bag underneath landing in your hands.

He was such a sweetheart.

You find Narancia outside in the sun, music playing loudly in his headphones as he watched the sky above him.

Hand soft when you nudged him so as to not startle him, he jumped anyway. A hand jumping to his chest in shock.

“Don’t do that Y/N!” 

“Sorry Nara…” A laugh from your lips as you sat next to him, leaning the bag of sweets towards him, sharing.

“But they’re yours…” He looked almost sad that you wanted to share the gift with him.

“I want to share them with you.” 

A grin slipping onto his lips as he happily took one from you, a very sweet common occurrence lately. Narancia brings you small gifts and treats with his stand, getting excited when you’d come to find him after.

You remember the first time it happened, you’d mentioned that you’d wanted a small porcelain figure, he ran back to the store after you left just to buy it for you, wrapping it so neatly so it didn't break and tied it to his stand to bring it to you.

He was practically bouncing in excitement when you found him after, happy you came to see him. Now he does it with everything, the nerves in his stomach flickering to life any time he wants to come and see you. So he found a work around of you coming to him.

It was incredibly cute, you weren’t sure why exactly he was doing it but you enjoyed it regardless, a small excuse to come and hang out with him for hours, laying in the sun together while his stand flew in circles above you, his fingers twitching as he wanted to hold your hand but fought against it.

You don’t think you ever want the gentle affectionate gifts to stop giving you excuses to spend all day with each other.

You don’t think he does either.

GioGio - 

“Can you help me, Gio?” A small blush on your face as he looked up, eyes immediately soft as they fell onto you, knitting needles in hand as you struggled to start.

“I never learned how to cast off right…” Your quiet voice embarrassed in the reverent glow of the sun, light catching your hair so perfectly as he stares. An unintentional smile slipping onto his lips.

“Come, I'll cast off for you.”

He showed you with a delicate patience, fingers finding yours as he corrected the placement, his cheeks dusting with a soft pink in the domestic intimacy.

“Is this right?” 

He wasn’t watching your hands anymore, eyes tracing the way your hair sits lightly over your face, brows furrowed slightly in concentration, lips pulled into a soft smile beside him. His breathing stuttered slightly as he fell harder for you, if that was possible, an agonising tenderness in the way he was looking at you.

“Giorno?” Shit when did you turn to look at him? A grin on your face as you watch him stare so unashamed at you, accidental. 

“I… Uh, sorry. What did you say?” A soft whisper falling from his lips, eyes flickering back up to yours, heart skipping in his chest when you didn’t tease him, didn’t pull away.

“You’re um… blooming?”

Blooming? He blinked in confusion before looking down, flowers and vines coiling around your arms with a painful gentleness.

“Shit, I'm…” Flustered. His cheeks flamed as he pulled back the ability, a pout lightly on your lips as the flowers returned back to the small charms on your clothes.

An awkwardness seeped into him, not being able to look back towards you as embarrassment took hold.

“Giorno, it’s okay. You didn’t have to stop.” A sweet laugh from your lips as you comforted him, making him look back up at you in a faint shock.

You didn’t care?

“You’re beautiful.” It hadn’t meant to slip out but he didn’t regret saying it either, the smile on your face infectious as a smile curled at his lips, pink cheeks and an awkward embarrassment that no one else got to see.

You’ll always go to him first for help, even if it ends the same way every time.

Maybe that’s why you did.