#(going to reenact a stupid trip i had a while ago it was really funny looking back on it)

[centipussay]

wennt lookijngaround m room foundd oldbox of makeuo ans.found a blotterr sheet!!!!ima bit fuckedup rightnowj thism mightjhelp

[liibrii]

fem!Miya!reader x Suna Rintarou || mostly platonic || part of the Third Miya series

Synopsis: A glimpse into your friendship with Suna during your 1st year at Inarizaki High school.

Warnings: barely proofread, general stupidity, there's a serial killer joke, reader is a lil shit

wc: 1.6k

a/n: naming chapters is hard 😭 as always feedback is greatly appreciated and if you wanna be tagged in future chapters let me know!

Friendship with Suna is one of those where you can't quite remember how or when it started. One week he was just that lanky guy sitting at a desk to the right of you, the next week you walked home together and you told him your brothers' embarrassing childhood stories in exchange for chemistry homework. In a way it's an echo of all your childhood friendships forged on the beach with other kids you only knew for a week but during that week you'd take over the world for them if they asked. But the one week friendship with Suna became two weeks, three weeks, and after the fourth you stopped counting.

Suna Rintarou is a funny guy. Not funny as in telling jokes or spouting quips and smirks. He's funny in a way that even now you can't really tell who he is. He's quiet. But not shy in the slightest. He moved over from Aichi and you cringe at the memory of saying: “Oh so that's why ya talk funny. I thought yer just pretentious,“ when he told you. Your ears catch on fire by just thinking about it. So embarrassing. But he must have pretty low standards for his friends because at the time he didn't really seem bothered by your slip of the tongue. The next day he offered you a chuupet and that was enough to buy your undying loyalty.

Suna's a funny guy. You don't know how he became your friend, you don't know what he sees in you that makes him put up with you. But you're glad to have an inside man on the volleyball team.

Years of living together with the same person makes one develop the ability of sniffing out trouble before they even start to happen. In this case it's four empty pudding packages in the trash bin that make you decide to nope right out of there before Tsumu tries to blame you for their mysterious disappearance. Again.

You put on music and walk aimlessly through the streets, one of those walks where it doesn't matter if you get lost because you have no clue where you're headed anyway. Everyone needs a stroll like that from time to time. Often they lead to situations that would otherwise probably never happen. Like running into a serial killer, but luck is on your side today so the only person you run into is a familiar lanky figure stretching by the side of the road. “Sunarin! Didn't expect to meet ya here!“

He looks up and his blushed sweaty face wears the same expression as ever. In the last months you've learned Suna has two expressions, the deadpan one, and the deadpan one with furrowed brows. “O, Miya. Well, I live nearby.“ Oh right, you did pass the bus station where he exits just a song ago. “Taking a stroll, are you?“

“Samu and Tsumu are having a screamin' match right now so I decided to get myself out of there before they'd drag me into it.“

“Tragic. Where are you headed?“

Your destination is 'who cares' so you join Suna on a walk. It's good he already ran his evening route because you're not in the mood to reenact a wanna be healthy person's only free time activity.

Just a short walk between the apartment buildings by the side of the road you reach a path of cobble stones that leads further between trees.  

“What? You didn't know there's a park here?“ Suna smirks and you're surprised his face muscles are even capable of stretching so far.

You shake your head, slightly embarrassed. “No, I really didn't. To be fair this neighbourhood used to be ruled by another clan so we never played around here,“ you quickly add as if children clan wars from years ago are a better excuse than simply being unfamiliar with this part of the town.

Suna doesn't comment but the corners of his mouth keep tugging up even after you walk through the park. Or maybe that's because you tripped over nothing while watching a cat cross your path.

“We have a cat back home,“ he tells you and shows you the picture of his little sister with a big fluffy orange cat on her lap.

“So cute,“ you coo, “looks just like ya.“

“Oh yeah, lots of people say she looks just like me. I think I'm more handsome though.“

“No, I meant the cat.“

This time you're the one prepared to jump away form a well aimed kick but Suna only gives you a disappointed glare. “I thought you were the nice Miya.“

You sympathetically pat his shoulder. “Sorry. My sincere condolences. Shall I send some flowers for the funeral of yer last brain cell? Samu always wanted a cat but dad wouldn't let him.“

“Really? Why not?“

“Oh he made the mistake of asking just after the mango incident.“

“The-“

“Only Miyas are allowed to know about it,“ you say, snickering at Suna's furrowed brows. You know curiosity is going to eat at him for weeks to come. Maybe you should come up with a cover story, just in case. “Do ya miss yer friends? Ones from Aichi I mean?“

Suna thinks for a moment, maybe still trying to figure out what a mango incident could possibly be. “Sometimes,“ he says after a while and a poke to his side, “but I met a lot of new people at the dorms. Inarizaki isn't that bad either. There's you and Ginjima, and your brothers sometimes, and ehm,“ he mumbles as he tries to remember whom else he could call a friend.

“If Tsumu or Samu bring this topic up just let them know ya were my friend first,“ you pout. That's the problem with having had siblings in the same class for the entire grade and middle school; all your friends were also their friends. “It can't be easy,“ you say, half trying to make him feel better, and half just changing the topic that's starting to turn his ears red, “movin' over here I mean. Ya really left all ya knew behind for volleyball. That's pretty admirable. Ya just might be as crazy as Samu and Tsumu.“

“Please don't compare me to your brothers,“ says Suna.

“That bad, eh? So what's it like? Livin' in a dorm?“

“Oh. Well. We're four in a room-“

“Yikes. And I thought havin' two other people in your room is a lot.“

Suna laughs. Oh, so he can do that. It suits him, you decide after a moment. “Now take into account that two of those keep leaving dirty socks around.“

“Oh I know what that's like,“ you nod, all too familiar with dirty socks under table, under bed and other parts of bed you'd rather not think about.

“I doubt you'd get in trouble for punching them though.“

“Oh I would.“ You look him over. “Ya don't really look like a punchin' type to me. More a very petty guy. Soy sauce in mornin' tea kind of guy.“

“You're giving me ideas.“

“Thanks, that will be one kit-kat. Or none if ya put some in Samu's water bottle.“

“All in all dorm isn't that bad,“ Suna tells you once you both stop laughing over the prospect of putting soy sauce into Osamu's drink. “Wish I could sleep a bit longer in the morning but what can you do? And I miss mom's cooking. We cook ourselves and the food is good. Usually. It's just not the same, you know? Want a chuupet?“

“Ya brought a chuupet to an evenin' run?“

You still gladly take the fruit stick. It's a rare occasion in which it isn't in danger of being snatched away by one of your co-spawns. You don't comment but the next day a neatly wrapped bento box waits on Suna's table.

Suna doesn't quite remember when you became friends. One day you were a girl from his class that looked suspiciously similar to those loud Twins on the volleyball team (the moment he realised your last name is in fact Miya too he felt incredibly stupid for not noticing sooner), the next day you're hanging with him during breaks and sending him messages along the lines of 'I'll buy you as many chuupets as ya want if ya tell me what happened at practice yesterday, I need to let Tsumu know who's the boss' that usually arrive in the middle of the night. Even if they wake him up your name popping on his screen still makes him smile.

Really it takes impossibly long for Suna to realise he doesn't enjoy being in your presence only because being friends with you is as easy as getting the ball around a block or because you're the one Miya to voluntarily share your food with him.

The moment the cogs finally fell in their place and began to spin, making the little 'there might be something more' thought appear is one he'll remember for the rest of his life, and will quite probably haunt his nightmares too.

That's the thing about emotions (truly the revelations of that day are almost too much for his volleyball focused teenage brain), they take over neurones in charge of sending information around the brain, bribing the ones running toward mouth to run faster than the ones heading towards the comprehension centre, and then you find yourself in awkward situations such as saying your name out loud in the packed locker room followed by: “She's really funny and amazing. I like her a lot.“

But the situation being awkward is the least of Suna's problems as two pairs of almost identical brown eyes stare him down.

Oh, shit.

tag list: @espressons @trashy-simp @nachotrash @megumiisee @foxxtrot-116 @e-wwis​

[emptymasks]

Night After Night for a Hundred Years

Pairing: None

Words: 1469

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Tags: Suicide | Implied/Referenced Suicide | Depression | References to Depression | Heavy Angst | Angst | Character Death | Canonical Character Death | Internal Monologue | Time Loop | Time Loop AU

Read on Ao3 @ emptymasks (can’t link it or tumblr will block this post)

Notes: An idea given by the people in my weekly musical stream chat a couple of weeks ago, so a prompt given in collaboration by... people I wish i could but I don’t know any of your Tumblr names, but by mojito, kingbrandrick, cal, and meanotherfangirl.

So this is the third thing I’ve written this year. How sad. I wrote so much last year, I don’t know what’s happened to me this year. I’ve found it very hard to get inspiration for writing and then even hard to actually do it. But here’s something. It’s not romantic, it’s not sexual, and it’s not for a popular fandom, and it has trigger warnings. Well done, Damien. You’re really out here giving the people what they want to read. /s /jk

More notes under the cut.

His body didn’t twitch like it had the first time. The real time.

Luigi Lucheni, anarchist, watched as blood dripped down from his hand. Her blood. He swung his body in an attempt to see where the blood would land, but everything was so dark he wasn’t even sure there was a ground underneath him anymore.

He waited for the judge to say something. He waited to her the verdict. But there was only silence.

Was there to be no verdict? He was guilty, he admitted it. But here guilt or innocence didn’t matter, what mattered was why he has done it. Lucheni had assumed if he explained he only explained what Death had asked him to do, had sickly, sweetly whispered into his ear, he’d be okay. This was Death’s domain was it not? And he’d done Death a favour.

But he was still just hanging here.

As his arms swung, they brushed against the file he had tucked back into his pocket. He still wasn’t sure there was anything underneath him, but he wasn’t going to just hang here for eternity.

Cutting the rope above his head took longer than he’d thought it would and he tried not to focus on whatever the effects of seeing and doing all of this was having on him. It’s not as though there were therapists in the afterlife.

He wondered if he nicked his skin if he would bleed.

The last part of the rope snapped from his weight before he could cut it and he soon discovered there was indeed ground underneath him as he smacked down onto it. It took a few seconds before he stopped panicking about if he was hurt, remembering once again that he was dead.

He’d already been dead when he’d had to retie that noose around his neck. He’d already been dead as he wanted to fight against his body, jerking as he thrust his file between the Empress’s ribs. He'd already been dead the entire time he'd had to reenact this depressing play.

And it had been funny at first, to watch the royals and nobles trip and stumble and mess up each other's lives. A would-be empress with a father who ran away and a mother who favoured her eldest, and an emperor with a mother so over-bearing he allowed her to bully his own children. Watching them sometimes almost made him wonder if the orphanage had been better than what parents would do to their own children. And then they'd do something so utterly stupid he'd laugh otherwise he'd cry at how incompetent they all were.

They thought Death was inhuman? At least they made no attempt to hide what they were. All the while Death had whispered to him, Lucheni had never assumed any of it was for his own benefit. He'd never thought Death was trying to help him. But he had liked the idea. He was so enraged at the aristocracy he didn't care who's body lay impaled on his file. They were all the same. Greedy and ignorant and privileged and petty and blind.

Had he felt for little Sissi? She was thrust into some tormenting situations and her wealth and status didn't make her feelings less real. But she ran away from all her problems when she could have been a voice in the Emperor's ear. If she was so fascinated with the regular people why not make change instead of just gawking at them in asylums?

Perhaps he'd felt something for Rudolf. Born into an already sinking situation, taken from his mother...

His mother had named him Louis... When he'd joined the Italian army he'd changed his name to fit in more. His mother's name had been Luigia.

He wasn't sure if he remembered what she looked like anymore.

Mind frozen and yet moving in slow motion, he felt the tears on the backs of his hands as he hunched over his knees before he fully realised he was crying.

Had his actions made any difference? He'd wanted to cause the aristocracy to realise that the lower masses mattered, that they were powerful. He'd wanted to be a martyr. And instead they'd denied him that right and sent him to a cell. Would anyone read his writings? Had they already been destroyed? Had they buried him or burnt him?

They'd remember his name, at least. The man who murdered the beloved Elisabeth of Austria. His name would be forever tied to her, but it would be remembered.

Rebel, anarchist, murderer. Never martyr. Maybe they'd call him a coward. He didn't care.

He didn't want to care.

The man Lucheni stared out into the darkness around him. The boy Louis stared out into the abyss.

With a sudden lurch in his stomach he pushed himself onto his feet. He had the sudden urge to run, run as far and as fast as he could even though he knew there was no exist.

He took a step.

"But why, Lucheni?"

Instead of jumping he felt ice run through his veins and into his feet.

"Why did you murder the Empress Elisabeth?" The Judge's voice rang out as it had for one hundred years.

Lucheni's tongue was thick and heavy in his mouth.

"Was my last answer not satisfactory enough?" His wanted to scream, but his voice was quiet and sad.

"Answer, Luigi Lucheni!"

"I have! I did! Every night for a hundred years you ask and ask and now I am finally granted the power to show my proof of what Death themself wanted. And that still isn't good enough?"

"The hideous murder of the Empress of Austria, explain at last what was behind it."

"I did, I just did. What, should I have used smaller words?" Lucheni shot back. He hated the formless Judge, he hated his pompous, shouting voice.

"Don't talk nonsense."

"How is this nonsense? Were you not...?"

After going through such an ordeal it was hard to recall everything all at once, especially given how all his conversations with the Judge could blur into one but... This seemed too familiar. The Judge's words they were the same as the last time? Weren't they? Lucheni might be responding differently, but the Judge was saying the same things as last time! As though he was reading a script. But why? Hadn't be done what was wanted of him? Hadn't he explained it?

Perhaps he was imagining it. The Judge was still responding in ways that made sense to what Lucheni was saying. Maybe he was just a man, or whatever he was, of the same few words?

"What more do you want of me?"

"What witnesses would they be?"

No.

No.

If Lucheni still had a beating heart it would have stopped.

"What sort of game is this? What do you get out of toying with me?"

The judge did not respond.

Lucheni blinked grey light slithered in, bringing along with it the stumbling veiled corpses of Elisabeth's family and... well not friends, but comrades.

The curtain was rising again.

He felt his body pulled towards the ramp descending from some dark ceiling. It certainly was not the sky.

The wire railing almost cut through his fingers form how tight he gripped it as he willed for his body to do what he wanted it do to.

Oh, is this how they had felt? The rest of these miserable ghosts, Had they watched on as Lucheni danced around them and moved them?

Lucheni started laughing. He started laughing and he couldn't stop. Oh, alright then. If this was to be show, he'd give them a show. He'd make all of their afterlives as miserable and torturous as his own. He'd already been stuck answering these questions for a hundred years, let's see try and cope with a hundred years of the same boring routine.

"You avoid the point, Lucheni. Love. Death. Don't tell fairytales."

His laughs could be mistaken for sobs as he slid down the ramp. He felt the cold before the turned to see the blue glow from above the other end.

Death's pale eyes regarded him. The white clothes really made them look like an angel. But they was no angel, nor devil. They were no god of death. They were death incarnate, death personified.

"Who were you working for, Lucheni."

Was Death in control here? Why would they return for this? Lucheni tried to convey his need for answers with his eyes. Who was the Judge? Was he more powerful than Death.

Was he God?

Was there a God?

Death only said one word. They uttered her name. Lucheni said it back.

Then Death turned and existed the stage.

"The motive, Lucheni?"

Lucheni dragged himself off the floor and smiled, eyes wide and unfocused.

"Love!" He screamed. "Un grande amoure!"

[petri808]

A Bond Built Through Adversity

For @itafushiweek bonus day

Bang Bang Bang “WAKE UP!!” Gojo cackled in the dorm’s hallway. Bang Bang Bang “RISE AND SHINE!!”

Slowly, but surely two grumpy faces shambled out from their rooms, each using the doors threshold to hold themselves upright. The sun had barely cracked the horizon, and neither were thrilled by the early morning wakeup call!

“What the fuck do you want?” Megumi spat out as he rubbed his eyes. “It better be good!”

But Itadori…

“Oi!” Gojo clapped his hands loudly in front of the man. “Wake up!”

… Itadori was sleeping where he stood. “Huh?” One eye cracked open. “Ye-yeah I’m up. What’s up?”

“Today we’re going on a special field trip to the mountains!” Gojo clasped his hands in front of himself with a mischievous grin. “You’re growing too soft, so a lo—ng hike is just what you need.”

“Are you crazy!” Megumi snapped to attention.

“Of course, I am,” Gojo’s smile never faltered. “Isn’t that obvious by now?”

Megumi crossed his arms in a huff. “Well, I’m not moving until you give me a damn good reason.”

“Megu—” Gojo reached out with a whiny voice, and pulled his hand lose, throwing on his saddest, please, for me smile. “Be a good boy for me, Megu…”

Yuuji quickly straightened up stiff as a board in annoyance and smacked Gojo’s hand away from Megumi. “Stop it with that cutesy stuff, just answer the question.”

“My, my, Yuuji, such a morning grump,” Gojo teased knowingly. “Fine. It’s a bonding exercise, so dress for a hike, pack a backpack with water, a towel, and be out front in 20 minutes.” But still when nobody moved. “Chop, chop!” He clapped his hands condescendingly. “It’s best to get an early start before the sun is high.”

Through the muttered swears and slams of dresser drawers, the students gathered the things their teacher had told them to pack. Megumi was the closest to a morning person of the pair and even he was fuming over being awoken at such an early hour. If it were for a mission, fine, but not some stupid hike into the mountains! They each had their reasons for being annoyed with the whole situation, but for Yuuji it was different. Frankly, he didn’t care about going on a hike, or a bonding exercise. The moment Gojo grabbed Megumi’s hand it woke him up and not in a happy way.

“Oh, hell no!” Megumi snapped as his eyes trailed up the steep, long, narrow stone steps leading through and disappearing into the thicket of pine trees. “You’ve got to be kidding us!”

“There’s a prize at the end,” Gojo wrapped an arm around Megumi’s shoulders, taking his time to lean in and whisper close to the man’s ear. “I promise you’ll like it.”

Seeing his friend’s fist ball up, Yuuji pulled Gojo off Megumi. “Come on, come on, let’s get this shit over with.”

Yuuji did his best to stay between Gojo and Megumi as they walked up the stairs, but it wasn’t easy. The incline was quite steep, following the side of a mountain, with dense brush along the edges. It was certainly a very old, worn trail and one not used very often in modern times. Could anyone be blamed for not using it? First off, it was in the Hakone national park, half a kilometer off a hidden trail, and up a ridge. Park rangers probably didn’t know it existed, so how Gojo knew of the place Yuuji had no idea. He assumed this would lead to some ancient and abandoned mountain shrine once used by jujutsu sorcerers. Maybe Sukuna would know of its existence?

‘I don’t, so don’t ask,’ the voice in his head answered the question. ‘I’m old, but I don’t know everything.’

‘Surprising,’ Yuuji growled back at Sukuna for eavesdropping on his thoughts.

‘Oi, pay attention,’ the voice growled back.

‘To what?’

‘Your boy.’

‘My—’ Yuuji cut off his response when he saw what was happening ahead of him. He’d been so focused on the natural surroundings, he forgot about the unnatural one taking place. ‘That damn, irritating!’ Yuuji walked faster to catch up with Gojo and Megumi, cutting in between and forcing Gojo to step backwards. “Less talking, more walking.”

“But Yuuji,” Gojo wrapped his arm around the man and forced him to line up with him. “How are we supposed to…” he leaned in with a grin, “bond without talking to each other.”

Ugh! Gojo’s voice was so irritating when he whined and acted childish. “You can talk,” Yuuji shoved the man off. “But talk doesn’t involve hanging all over us.”

Gasp! Gojo feigned surprise. “Yuuji are you jealous of me touching Megumi?”

“WHA— what?!” Yuuji caught himself quickly before Megumi would hear him. “I am not!” He spat back through gritted teeth. He crossed his arms. “I’m still annoyed you dragged us out here so early.”

“Oh…” Gojo chuckled. “Mmhmm, I guess that would account for your behavior today.”

For two hours the back and forth continued. Yuuji watched with a locked jaw in frustration when every chance Gojo had he took to touch Megumi. Playing with the man’s hair, hanging on his shoulder, talking so closely as if the man was deaf and it was necessary. And each time, Yuuji would cut between them. Oh, Megumi fought back too, snapping at Gojo, and pushing him away, but the man never took the hint. What was up with their teacher today! This was not the norm for Gojo. He never showed so much interest in either of the students before! So, why now? Why bring them here? ‘And what was with the obsession with Megumi!’ Yuuji snapped in his head.

It took almost three hours, but the trio finally reached the top of the stairs and breached the tree line. Okay, Yuuji had to admit the view was quite spectacular from this vantage point. On one side Mt. Fuji rose like a Goliath ready to smite any who dared to disturb it. On the other side, they could see the expansive blues of the Pacific Ocean stretching out to the horizon. And lastly, a handful of steaming hot ponds in various sizes. A couple of them were small, enough for maybe two people to be comfortable in, and one was large, almost the size of a residential swimming pool.

“Surprise!” Gojo’s arms raised above his head as he cheered. “A secret onsen! Isn’t it cool! Geto and I found it years ago by accident while tracking a curse.” He pulled the two students close, one under each arm. “It’s perfect for a little bonding time.”

Megumi shoved Gojo away. “I can’t believe you dragged us up a mountain ridge just for this.”

“Oh, don’t be like that!” Gojo flung himself onto the man in a tight hug from the back. “I wanted to share something special with you,” his voice whined.

“That it is!” Megumi completely snapped. He wiggled out of Gojo’s hold and swings a fist at the man. It misses, but that didn’t stop him from continuing his tirade. “You damn perverted teacher! Go flirt with someone who wants your attention, cause I don’t!” Without waiting for a response, Megumi grabbed his back and stomped away to one of the smaller hot ponds further away with Gojo only standing there watching him leave, with a big grin in his face.

That’s when Yuuji, who’d had enough as well, followed the energy left in Megumi’s wake to confront their teacher. He whipped Gojo around, grabbing the front of his shirt with his hand raised to strike. “Talk! What’s your deal? Why are you acting like this?!”

Gojo shrugged, his trademark cool grin never leaving his expression. “Someone had to push you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” Yuuji screamed.

Gojo simply flicked the hand of Yuuji’s holding onto his shirt causing the man to let go and wince in pain. His simple strikes were always so much harder than they looked. He then smoothed out the wrinkles on his shirt left by Yuuji. “Two weeks ago, do you remember the day you were supposed to be mopping the dojo?”

“Yeah.”

“Mopping the dojo,” Gojo reiterated, “as in cleaning and not dancing…”

“Yea— oh… maybe…”

“It was adorable, really, and that dip— I was impressed that you knew how to dance like that Yuuji. Your partner was a lucky… mop,” he snickered.

“Ha, ha, funny,” Yuuji pretended not to care. “So, what if I was dancing with a mop? As if I don’t do weird things sometimes.”

“Oh, that’s certainly true,” Gojo chuckled again, “but I heard you thanking your partner…” He wrapped his arms around his body in a reenactment, adding exaggerated kissing sounds for effect. “Thank you for a lovely dance, Megumi. smooch, smooch, smoo—”

Yuuji slammed a hand over Gojo’s mouth to stop him. “Shhhh!! I get it! Okay, you caught me!” His ears burned and heat dusted his cheeks in embarrassment. “So, you were actually trying to make me jealous.”

“Yup! As if it was hard to do.” Gojo jabbed a finger in Yuuji’s chest. “Now, run along young one and go bondwith your love interest.”

“Ugh,” Yuuji groaned. Did Gojo have to be this transparent?! “You’re not cute.”

“Yes, I am.” Gojo turned away to leave. “Oh, and by the way, Nitta will pick you up at the bottom road at 6pm, so don’t be late. That gives you…” he checked his phone, “at least 4 hours of cuddling time.”

“Bastard!”

Gojo winked in a side-eye with a two-fingered wave. “See you back at campus!”

‘Wanna kill him?’ Sukuna laughed in Yuuji’s head. ‘Push him off the cliff?’

“No…” Yuuji sighed, and shoulders slumped.

‘You’re so not fun.’

“Hush!” Yuuji snapped at Sukuna. “Go back to sleep or something!”

‘Pfft, suit yourself loser!’

And just like that, Yuuji was alone again. Hopefully. After dealing with Gojo, the last thing he needed was an annoying Sukuna in his ear constantly teasing him too. He had a much bigger issue to deal with now. Megumi. What to do about Megumi?!

He followed the same trail around a sheer cliff face and found the man already submerged in a hot pond at its base. It was a cute little tucked away spot, and under other circumstances the perfect place to relax away from society. But not today, and for probably the first time in Yuuji’s life he was embarrassed to undress in front of another person. He’d never been the shy type about his body, at least when it came to other men, but this wasn’t just any man he was facing. Yuuji took a deep breath with an even longer exhale in preparation.

“Hey!” Yuuji waved as nonchalantly as he could under the weight of emotions circling his brain. “Mind if I join you?”

“I don’t care.” Megumi responded. He looked around. “But where’d Gojo go?”

“Oh, um… he left.”

Megumi sat up in the water. “Seriously?! He dragged us up here only to ditch us?!”

“Yeah…” Yuuji scratched his head nervously. “Said something about giving us time alone to bond. Nitta’s gonna pick us up at the bottom road at 6pm.”

Megumi groaned and slumped back into the water. “Guess, nothing else to do but forget about him then.” He closed his eyes and leaned back. “Actually, the peace and quiet is a good thing.”

Yuuji chuckled nervously. “Oh, yeah, that’s true.”

He removed his clothes and slipped into the water adjacent to Megumi. The water was the perfect temperature, not overly hot but bearable on this light snowy day. It was deep enough to where the water almost covered their shoulders too and wide enough with legs stretched out not to hit the other’s feet. Yuuji does his best to relax, closing his eyes and letting the steamy waters melt away the torment brewing in his heart. Gojo had put them in this situation for a reason. He knew the answer, but did Megumi suspect anything? Kami he hoped not! It was his fault for getting caught in the first place. Gojo wasn’t even supposed to be on campus that afternoon, off on a mission a few towns away outside of Tokyo. In fact, none of the other students had been on campus except him. So, he’d thought, why not have a little fun? ‘I got carried away,’ Yuuji groaned in his head.

Several minutes pass by in relative peace and quiet. The only sounds were of the water anytime one of them shifted, occasional birds risking the winter air, or just the natural sounds of the forest. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Their profession could be daunting at times and breaks like this one a luxury. Yuuji couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to an onsen. Was it before he’d even become a jujutsu sorcerer? But now that he thought about it, this spot was also romantic in its own way. The natural beauty bathed in the shadow of Mt. Fuji. The random, wispy little snowflakes that fell around them, to the instrumental music of the forest lulling them into a comfortable mood. Even the heat played its role, soothing their muscles and warming their bodies. A great way to hide the emotional heat stirred up on his skin for sure! If Yuuji stopped controlling his mind, his cheeks would certainly be marred by a cherry finish.

“By the way, thanks back there,” Megumi broke the silence. “You know, with Gojo.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. He was being overly annoying today.”

“Yeah, I don’t understand what his problem was. He’s usually not this bad.”

Yuuji chuckled nervously. “Yeah, that guy is something else.”

Catching the anxiety-laden tone in Yuuji’s voice. Megumi opened his eyes and stared at the man. “Do you know why he was acting like that?”

“What?! Me, ehrm, no!”

“Now I know you lying, cause you suck at it. Yuuji, why was Gojo being an idiot?”

“He, um… It’s because he, you know, notices things.”

“Uh-huh? Like what?”

“Things.”

“What things?!”

“You know, like about people. He’s perceptive.”

“While I don’t disagree, I’m sensing a specific thing is the reason. So just tell me what it is.”

“I told you. He said we needed to bond more.”

“Bond? As in what? We already work together just fine, what more bonding do we need to do?”

“Um… I don’t know… he’s got weird ideas sometimes; you know that Megumi.”

“If you don’t want to tell me, then fine.” Megumi closed his eyes again in a huff.

Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Yuuji cringed all the way down until his nose barely treaded water. He could tell plain as day Megumi was irritated with him by the inflection of the man’s voice. This wasn’t good! Ugh! It was going so smoothly too! Tell him? Don’t tell him. Tell him? Don’t tell him… the choice flipped back and forth in Yuuji’s head.

‘For fucks sake just tell him you damn virgin!’

“Shut up!”

“What?!”

Oh, fuck! “N-not you!” Yuuji waved his hands to clear the air. “Sukuna. H-He won’t shut up in my head.” He watched Megumi’s eyebrow raise slightly before he closed his eyes again, seemingly satisfied by the answer. Yuuji breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Let me run my own life!’ He screamed at Sukuna.

‘Fine. Virgin boy, I’m just trying to help so you’d shut up about it.’

And again, silence once more in Yuuji’s mind. Oh, how he wished he could reach into his own head and strangle the cursed user! ‘I’m gonna enjoy killing you,’ Yuuji spat back a final retort.

But both Gojo and Sukuna were right. Yuuji had a choice to make. Tell Megumi how he felt or forever bury his peace and learn to live with the pining… which would include not getting jealous— ‘that’s not happening…’ Yuuji sighed internally. Lately it’s been getting harder and harder to curb those tendencies. With Gojo, well, it’s Gojo, so he’d reacted on instinct. But others, the public, victims, fellow students… Yuuji might develop TMJ if kept his jaw locked any more times just to stop from reacting. He didn’t want anyone too close, especially men. Things were getting out of hand. ‘This isn’t me! I’m the nice guy!’ And yet here he was acting like a fool.

“Yuuji, why do you look so tense now?”

Eek!! Yuuji sat up quickly. “No, why do you ask?”

Megumi narrowed his eyes. “Because you looked constipated. Talk.”

“I—” Yuuji started ready to make another excuse, but his mouth slammed shut when Megumi’s brow raised with his ‘no bullshit’ look. “Okay,” he sighed. “I’ll tell the truth.” Yuuji shrunk down as his voice lowered and eyes turned away. “I… like someone… like, a lot and well, you know how Gojo kept bugging you, he um, was actually trying to rile me up about the… person… but yeah, so that’s why I was acting weird.”

“I already know you like me idiot.”

“Wait! You do?!”

“You’re not hard to figure out. That’s why I never said anything when you kept running interference with Gojo.”

“I can’t believe you knew all this time… now I’m so lost.”

“Also not surprising, good thing I don’t mind.”

“Don’t mind?”

Megumi rolled his eyes. “Will you just ask me out and get it over with. I’m trying to relax.”

Yuuji moved over tentatively until he was sitting next to his friend. “Megumi, will you be my boyfriend?”

Megumi chuckled under his breath and simply closed the small gap between them, leaning his head against Yuuji’s shoulder with a contented sigh.

Oh, this was perfect! Yuuji sighed too and leaned his head against Megumi’s. His heart still raced, but for a new reason. It was an exciting rush to have his best friend at his side, in a new relationship built on trust and bonded by experiences. Yuuji felt invincible at that moment.

‘You’re still a virgin idiot.’ Sukuna laughed.

‘Tch. Not even you can ruin this for me,’ Yuuji spat back and closed his eyes with the biggest smile of his life.

[atinykidult]

His Stupidly Tall Self - Kim Mingyu

[fluff full-length] - 2247 words

[summary] - highschool!au, his pov, song inspiration I Don’t Care by Ed Sheeran/Justin Bieber (doesn’t really connect to the story, but the key and beat suits its pace), featuring some of SVT, super fluffy

[author’s note] I’m trying a playful style - I hope you like it! Also, I typed “look” intending this to be under 500 words... so, uh, yeah. That happened. Also, I know the reader is assumed to be short — tbh, as a short girl, it was my default. Super sorry, my tall friends! I love you and hope you still can enjoy this? The reader’s height isn’t that prominent.

[thanks for reading! your support means the world to me, always!]

Look.

Being the tallest boy in class had its perks; Mingyu wouldn’t argue with that. In fact, his height was how he first talked to Y/N. Shorter than him, his crush had asked him for help reaching a basket of supplies on a too-tall shelf.

He’d remembered feeling awed, wondering if this was some alternate universe where everything was cliche and perfect and just right. 

Even two years after that first contact, he could vividly recall the flush that had run through his entire top half when you’d met his eyes. Smiled. And told him that you appreciated him.

Yes, you’d said it jokingly.

Yes, it wasn’t that deep.

But Mingyu had nurtured that exchange like a gardener fussing over their, well, garden. (So he wasn’t that great with metaphors.)

But he was great with pine trees...

Or, rather... You know...

Pining.

Yipee.

Back to his height.

Although it certainly brought him some perks, it generally caused him more pain than help. Physical pain, in that he spent too many trips down the stairs a little faster than intended... with a little less foot-to-step contact than desired, too. (Sometimes this would happen when he planned to travel up rather than down, too. Thinking about that, his ribs throbbed in sympathy.)

And emotional pain, too.

Exhibit A: When he let his friends — a terrible, thirteen man group which eternally abused Mingyu with jokes about his height and personality in general (really, Mingyu didn’t know why he kept sitting with them for lunch) — choose his Freshman-year Halloween outfit. A giraffe. Really.

Exhibit B: When Mingyu had magically been paired up with you during Sophomore year for an English assignment... Only for you to hesitantly ask him if you could request to change partners, because there was this new kid, and your mom was friends with the parents, and you had the same interests... Of course, Mingyu agreed, falling in love with you slightly more. (The stupid, lovable compassion! he later moaned as he vented to Jeonghan.) And at a larger distance. (Okay, so height wasn’t really in the equation here, except for the fact that you were the same height as your partner, which really hurt his heart when you performed a reenactment of Titanic’s pose and he knew, knew he would be a better Jack).

(So he needed to vent about it, years later. Problem?)

Exhibit C: When against all odds, Mingyu and you ended up at the same table for some school function where there happened to be a dance floor. He’d found enough courage to ask you to dance the last slow jam with him, and nearly screeched when you easily agreed. As he led you to the floor, he decided that he would have lived a full life as long as he didn’t step on your toes during the four minutes — he’d die kiss-less and dateless, true... but he’d die fulfilled.

He didn’t step on your toes, and he felt like this could, just maybe, if he was lucky, just possibly could turn romantic (Ed Sheeran worked miracles) —

Then you burst out giggling.

“It’s just!” You heaved a breath. “It’s just that!” Mingyu’s eyes nearly fell out of their sockets as you gripped his forearms for support. “You’re so tall — I feel like I’m dancing with your bowtie more than you!”

Well.

He had felt like crying.

His twelve abusers had found the entire event hilarious, but Mingyu most certainly disagreed.

The next time he ran into you, you’d casually caught his wrist as he began to walk away from what had been a stilted, though perfectly lovely, exchange. (He’d moved past the teasing and near-crying, heading back to school with his best foot forward. [Neither foot was the best foot, but that was beside the point.])

“Hey, Mingyu,” you had said, somewhat redundantly because your hand on his wrist said plenty. 

Mingyu was nearly sweating (read: sweating buckets) and feeling very impressed by your hand-eye coordination (read: Mingyu’s arms were too long and ever-changing for him to romantically slam you against a wall, casually catch your hair in his fingers, or anything actually useful for his life, such as, in this case, catching his wrist and staring up at him with thoughtful eyes).

Yeah. His blood pressure was in a rough place.

“Are you listening?” you’d asked.

“Uh,” was all he could say, eyes dropping to your lips as though he could look back into the last few minutes to understand your speech. “I am so, so sorry.”

“Exactly.” At this moment, he doubted his entire existence. What did that mean? Was it sass? Anger? Disgust? Rejection? “That is exactly what I’m telling you: I am very sorry for not being a kind person when we danced. I thought you’d find my shortness funny — but Seungkwan told me how it really made you feel.”

Sincerity!!! it dawned on him.

“I didn’t mean to laugh at you. In fact, I think your height is very attractive.”

His voice was hoarse the next day from screaming into his pillow.

Emotional and physical pain all in one (yipee!) thanks to his height.

“I’m confessing to her today,” Mingyu told his reflection. “Today. Before three. I’m doing it. For real.”

He ran his hand over his carefully selected shirt, looking for wrinkles, and reassessed his appearance for the thousandth time.

Senior year.

Exhibit D wouldn’t get to happen (really, though, he’d passed Z long, long ago).

At lunch, his now smaller group was all support and gentle teasing. Now one of the hyungs, Mingyu received much less abuse. (He repeated that with enthusiasm whenever Vernon or Seungkwan, or both, stumbled into the spotlight instead.)

“Just... be romantic,” Vernon suggested.

“What does that even mean?” scoffed Seungkwan. He sat up straighter, mimicking their self-important History teacher. “Go for genuine. All the girls like how you’re a human puppy. Exploit that.”

“Maybe have flowers?” offered Chan.

“We’re at school, our dear maknae.” Seungkwan squinted at the rest of his table, disappointment dripping in his tone. “We don’t want ‘Gyu suspended before he can confess. You’d think I’m the only reasonable one.”

Minghao raised an eyebrow at that, although he wisely kept quiet.

The silence stretched out until Vernon piped up again.

“Be poetic, hyung. You aren’t bad at speaking unless you’re nervous. So, just... Don’t be nervous and pour out your feels, y’know?”

Seungkwan beamed at Vernon.

“Finally someone else contributes useful advice.”

You’re kind.

You’re beautiful.

I’ve loved you since you asked me to get a basket down for you.

All too generic, and even creepy.

You, a highly attractive person, called me attractive, which really means the world to me.

You can do it all — laugh recklessly and fix any damage right after.

I think you actually complimented my giraffe costume way back? It’s blurry, but I think that happened. As a gangly freshman, that meant a ton.

Mingyu banged his head on his desk, only to realize he was sitting in math class and... now everyone was looking at him. He loved that. Totally.

No! No! No! he was screeching internally.

“The brain’s just struggling a little bit,” he was saying externally. “You know how with laptops, how you just slam it shut and it usually works after that? Just...”

From in front of him, you had turned around to watch him, looking at him dare-he-say... fondly?

“Um,” he choked. He looked away from your lips, curved upwards, and met the teacher’s amused but tired eyes. “Sorry. Reboot complete. Loading... and good. I’m back.”

Hearing you laugh, he melted into his seat with a wide, satisfied grin.

Embarrassment aside, he’d do that all over again if you’d watch him like that again.

Then a note slid onto his desk.

Are you saying you’re as smart as a computer? ;)

His brain needed to shut down and restart after staring at your handwritten wink face.

NOOO! he furiously scribbled back. I’m just I I would never imagine to be so intelligent.

As he waited for your response, if he would get one, he winced at his wording. That alone was judge-worthy.

Don’t sell yourself short. Sell yourself worth your full, lovely height!!! xD

You’re someone who makes me feel like I’m worth something, he writes in tiny letters — a draft and guide for himself to use very, very soon. You’re the type of person I’d want with me, stranded on an island. You’d say something funny, then meaningful, then sweet, then magic us off the island because you’re amazing like that. I take that back, because I don’t want to expect the impossible from you as your boyfriend. I’d want you with me, and I hope you’d want me with you, too.

When I’m with you, I don’t care that I’m 187 cm of hopeless energy. All I care about is making you smile because I’m already smiling. Although, I take that back, too, because whenever we’re near each other, my friends have told me that we both smile a lot.

So I change this to, when I’m with you, I know we make each other happy. And I want you to be mine. And I would die if you’d let me be yours. I want to just do life with you — the ordinary, domestic things, the cute dates, the casual ones, the couple’s outfits, the whatever you picture as us being us (just... in love).

So, Y/N Y/L/N, be mine?

By the time he asked you to wait for him after school, he had already internalized a neater version of what was essentially his love letter to you.

As he snuck up behind you, covered your eyes and cheesily asked, “Guess who?” he’d been mentally reciting the first sentence of the second paragraph.

While you rattled off a list of idols and turned around to beam at him, his mind echoed unhelpfully, You’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, you’re beautiful.

“So what’s up?” you asked.

He inhaled deeply and dove in.

“You’re someone who I —”

WAY OFF, KIM MINGYU, he thought, mentally hearing Seungkwan tsk sadly.

You’re beautiful.

I don’t care if the height difference is weird and makes slow dancing awkward. I can get a bowtie with my face on it, if it helps.

I want you to be mine.

He took another deep breath, thankful that you hadn’t tried to speak. (In fact, your heart was racing as you watched him chew on his lip and cast glances at you like a driver might steal glances at the sunset on a commute home.)

Mingyu let the flood out:

“I want you to don’t care if you’re beautiful, mine!!!”

As he blurted the last word, Mingyu decided that he truly, really, unequivocally wanted to die. Right then and there, satisfied or not, kiss-less or not.

Just... let it be immediate.

Humiliation followed his stupidly tall self everywhere, so why not let it rest with him in the grave?

Just end it all.

“Hey, I’m getting worried about your health over here,” he distantly heard you laugh. Laughs weren’t elegant things, but he swore that if he could see it, it would be all his favorite colors mixed in a perfect arrangement.

“Can you at least open your eyes?”

Your voice was soft this time, and he complied. (He hadn’t realized he’d squeezed them shut to begin with.)

“I like you, too,” you murmured.

His stomach? Electrocuted.

His eyes? Eternally lost in yours like a cat in a newly found box.

His heart? Approximately the same heat as one of those 200,000 K stars.

His cheeks? Gently covered by a certain pair of hands.

“Can you please look at me?”

Mingyu realized that he’d been vacantly staring over your head.

“Yeah — uh, sure.”

He felt a tingle run through him when he found you nearly chest to chest with him, your hands slowly leading his face closer to yours.

“Mingyu, I’m going to kiss you, because I like you very, very much, too. And because you’re someone who makes me feel like I’m worth something, too.” Mingyu’s heart soared as you said this, eyes staring into his, blush on your cheeks. “But I’ll need you to lean down for me.”

As he complied, eyes drifting closed, he realized three things:

A. Without his height, he wouldn’t have this perfect, oh so perfect, view of your face — even the slightest change in either of your heights would be an indescribable loss.

B. Sure, he was gangly and uncoordinated, but he still got the beautiful girl who liked him as much as he liked her.

As he pulled away from the soft brush of lips, straightening and checking his pockets, he blurted C out loud.

“You found my rough draft, didn’t you?”

The brightest, most carefree grin spread over your features, and Mingyu felt himself fall deeper in love as you nodded like it weren’t a big deal.

Balanced on your toes, you slung your arms around his like you were about to slow dance. He smiled softly; you smiled right back at him.

“When I picture us just being us, but in love... I picture this,” you told him.

Then another playful grin spread over your features. “And by ‘this,’ I mean all 187 cm of you being a cutie.” Mingyu felt his cheeks heat up, but you weren’t finished. “Also, as I’m now yours, it’s good to finally know the exact height! It’ll help with the couple’s outfits!”