#Final Space season 2 spoiler

[mwagneto]

the fact that almost every character in ofmd is specifically a gay man is seriously so fucking special like usually a show will have 1 character from a minority group and then that character has to be every single thing - a person the straight/homophobic audience can accept and even like, someone that deals with their issues the way they "should" be dealt with, someone who's not too much of anything but simultaneously everything because every expected trait has to be displayed at some point or another.... versus this show with its massive cast of characters who are all able to embody specific (and extremely varying) ways to be a gay man where all of their journeys and personalities and approaches to their sexualities are so unique to them but so true to people that exist in real life........ i wish i could express this better coz it's such an incredible thing to see it genuinely makes my chest hurt with how much it means to me

[go-bonkers-go-foolish]

okay for real i have thoughts on the ofmd finale, and they're mostly positive, but i've seen a LOT of takes that are just. not using critical thinking at all. so i wanna outline my stuff here. spoilers under the cut

okay. so, first things first, a round of applause and a bouquet of flowers to con o'neill. brilliant, BRILLIANT work from him in both seasons - no exaggeration, maybe one of the best performances i've ever seen. he put his heart and soul into that role, and i cannot commend him enough. i was moved to tears multiple times this season, and he did wonderfully.

second, i know it's hard to hear, but izzy was ready to die. did he HAVE to die? no, of course not. was it fair that he died? no, death is never fair. but was he, as a character and in terms of the narrative, ready to die? yes. and before we go any further, i am saying this in explicit terms: i love izzy. i've loved him since day one. i've never been one of those people who was rooting for a bad ending for him. and this ending isn't a bad one.

izzy was exhausted. he was ready to resign last season. he was put through the fucking wringer this season. in season one, he explicitly says that the only way out of piracy is death. is that necessarily true? no, but for HIM it is. izzy's whole life was the sea. his whole life was piracy. everything he knew and loved belonged to that life. a life of piracy, constantly surrounded by violence and constantly in danger, isn't a place you can really thrive, but for him to leave it all behind would be torture for him. can you honestly imagine him retiring the way ed and stede did? i can't. i really don't think he'd want to retire. he wouldn't be happy. this post sums it up the best - it just makes sense, both narratively and in terms of symbolism.

and if the only way out for him was death, well, FUCK, then it's only fitting that he got the kindest death imaginable.

imagine if he'd died the minute he was shot and the crew had to leave him behind and we never saw him again. that would have been cheap, empty, and an unfair ending. imagine if his suicide attempt earlier this season had been successful, if he had died alone in the dark from a gunshot to his head. can you IMAGINE how hollow and bitter and cruel that would have been?

but look at him. izzy crawled his way back from the brink of death, he watched the person he loved most become a monster, he did the bravest thing and saved his crew over the person he'd been loyal to for decades, he literally dragged himself to a better life than the one he had before, and then, episode six. la vie en rose.

he was beautiful. he was radiant. he was joyful and surrounded by joy. most importantly, he was loved. i've rewatched that scene half a dozen times and i am not ashamed to admit that i've cried at nearly every watch.

that kind of queer joy and character redemption is not something i have ever seen before, and con performed it perfectly. he was there, surrounded by the crew, literally held up by a physical manifestation of their love for him. that is the apex of a character arc if i've ever seen one. that was his moment.

and for a time, he was happy. did it feel short because the pacing was incredibly rushed this season? oh, absolutely. but that's not the fault of anyone but hbo and their corporate bullshit. they had to jam-pack a dozen character arcs into eight half-hour episodes and do justice to all of them, so of course it felt rushed. but that moment, la vie en rose, and all the times after, that was a character done justice.

and then, he died. but did he die alone, or unloved, or unhappy, or before his time? no.

izzy hands died surrounded by the people who loved him, in the arms of the person he loved most in the world. he died forgiving and being forgiven. he died having experienced pure joy for the first time in a very, very long while. he died accepted and he died belonging to a family, with a leg made by his crew holding him up until the end. he said he was ready, he knew it was his time. he was a fighter, but he died letting himself rest, having fought and having lived beautifully.

it's like he said to ricky. he's gone, but he endures, because he was GOOD. he knew he was good. and for a man that was so thoroughly broken and beaten down at the beginning of his arc, that's a beautiful thing.

we watched him physically drag himself away from everyone who loved him, repeating "you are born alone and you die alone", and then we saw him die surrounded by their love. we saw them prove him wrong.

izzy died knowing he was good, and he died knowing he was loved.

death was not his redemption arc. he was redeemed from the moment he walked out into that rainstorm and saved his crew's lives by standing up to ed. this whole season was his post-redemption life, and he got to experience beauty and joy before he died in the way he wanted to - like a pirate - in the kindest way he possibly could have experienced.

we watched him go from the antagonist to the heart and soul of the crew, and saying it was all for nothing because he died is so blatantly missing the point. (and, just saying, no shade, but the venn diagram of people mad about this and people saying the good omens season 2 finale was bad is a circle. sometimes bad things have to happen in the narrative because it's right. a character you like doing something bad or dying is not bad writing.)

so, izzy, rest in peace. rest surrounded by love. rest knowing you were good.

and con o'neill, rest knowing that you did an amazing character justice, knowing that you blew everyone's minds, and knowing that you kicked ass in every single way possible.

and third, the phrase "rancid syphilitic cunt" is going to enter my vocabulary forever and no one will stop me.

[mental-about-you-too]

There are a lot of layers to The Kiss, but one is the connection to Crowley’s simplistic conception of what it means for humans to be In Love. He says, when scheming about getting Nina and Maggie together: “one fabulous kiss and we’re good” and “vavoom, sorted”. He’s imagining a romantic movie where a kiss is the be-all-end-all, the solution to all conflict, a magical mode of communication wherein two people automatically understand each other from now on, and a definitive signifier that Love has Happened.

This is how he imagines human love. I think he’s always considered his relationship with Aziraphale much more complex and precious than anything a couple of humans could do, what with their longevity disadvantage and limited understanding of the universe. I think he started falling for Aziraphale at “I gave it away!”, and never stopped; nor did he ever really try to resist that pull. I think he has recognized his feelings for Aziraphale for a long time, even if he hasn’t always acknowledged them outright—largely because he knew Aziraphale had some serious fear-based hang ups and would have been uncomfortable, and because their relationship has always been forbidden and dangerous to them both.

So then we come to that scene where Nina tells him “it certainly looks like that”. I don’t think the part of this interaction that rocks Crowley’s world is a sudden realization of his feelings—he knows he’s got feelings, to a degree that they sometimes get him into trouble—it’s the idea that those feelings could be translated into human terms. It’s that final remark: “other people’s love lives always seem so much more straightforward than our own”. He considers his situation so much more complicated than a human relationship, and in that moment he thinks…what if it isn’t. What if I’ve been rescuing him when he doesn’t strictly need it just for an excuse to be near him, indulging his pretenses of plausible deniability, getting all tangled up worrying about what heaven and hell will think, (and even now continuing to live in my damn car in the hope that he might invite me to move in in his own time), and it could all just be…vavoom, sorted? Could it be that simple?

Now fast-forward to That Scene. Aziraphale thinks he has just told Crowley: “I can restore you to the status you deserve, and now everyone will recognize the goodness I’ve always seen in you.” But Crowley’s just heard, “we can be together, as long as you change into someone else.”

I could write a whole essay on everything that might have been said to make this conversation go differently (and on all the character insight revealed by the way it does go--as many people have already done), but at this point Crowley is absolutely hemorrhaging emotion, and he tries, but he’s failing to reason with Aziraphale or explain why this hurts so much, and he invokes the example of Gabriel and Beelzebub, and it doesn’t work, and they’re talking at cross purposes, and Aziraphale still doesn’t get it, and things are spiraling out of control, and Crowley thinks, desperately: maybe the human way will work.

The timing is completely wrong. The approach is completely wrong. He kisses Aziraphale, and it’s not romantic at all; it’s full of anger and hurt and desperate, desperate hope that this might somehow fix everything, like "in a Richard Curtis film". And Crowley can feel it not working, can feel Aziraphale tense and confused, and they’re not falling into each other’s arms in sudden understanding, but he keeps his grip, holds on tight, trying to insist that this should fix it. He gambled on a human fantasy as a panacea, and he hangs on so long because he knows he’s losing the bet.

I first saw the kiss scene before watching S2 (after the season had been out for several days though; I didn't know about the leak) (I deliberately went looking for spoilers to make sure it was gay enough before I committed—I was a Sherlock fan; don’t @ me), and my initial reaction was: how could Crowley be so cruel. To squander something so precious as their first kiss, and use it to convey hurt rather than love. To know Aziraphale is struggling with a choice, and to try to use how they feel about each other against him. But after watching the show properly, I no longer think it was manipulative (though Aziraphale may have taken it that way)— just misguided. Just inept, and desperate, and so, so ill-advised.

[the-bi-space-ace]

Just thinking about how when we get a reunion scene with Tech (because we will) how I want Tech’s goggles to be fixed because Echo couldn’t leave them broken so any free time they had was spent with Echo hunched over them. Wrecker helped when Echo needed an extra hand and promised not to break them while he held them in his hands and brushed his thumbs over them. Trying not to cry.

And I want Hunter to hand them to Tech when they finally reunite with him. Tears in his eyes as he puts the goggles back in Tech’s hands. Because he has never once lost track of where they were since they were tossed at him all those months ago.

Just. Those three handling that grief in ways that might be quiet but still very clearly there. It would kill me emotionally.

[palavapeite]

Ha! Turns out I was wrong. 🥹

But what a finale.

[scottapez]

wait hey also im on the finale of final space :) i was a fucking fool to think theyd bring avocato back by now apparently

[ourflagmeansheartbreak]

Izzy barely talks and when he does he curses a lot because in his head everything he says has to be completely calculated and intimidating and scary and overall just so perfect to make up for it, for the fact that it’s him (and I’m so happy to see him letting himself to just… talk)

never gonna get over "a curse is a curse and once it takes hold... well, it takes hold" because that's such a dumb line! izzy is finally allowed to say dumb shit unironically!he's finally made the genre transition and now everything he says doesn't have to be dark and gritty it can just be silly!

[rafestify]

OMG PLEASE WRITE SOMETHING WITH JJ X FEM READER WHERE HE SURVIVED I NEED HAPPY ENDING PLEASE

Blue Crown — JJ Maybank

**Season 4 part 2 spoiler alert! read at your own risks ⚠️

Summary : In which the only way to help JJ is by getting that blue crown back from Chandler Groff.

JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

Warnings : usage of knife, heavy language, violence, blood, gun, english is not my first language

A/N : im afraid this is my coping mechanism, oh btw rafe's not in this story i just dont know what i would do with him

The midday sun blazed high, unbroken and blinding, but the sandstorm approached like a golden wave, shimmering in the light. The air grew hot and dry, buzzing with an electric anticipation as gusts began to whip up the ground. In moments, the bright world transformed, the desert around cloaked in a chaotic dance of light and sand.

Grains swirled furiously, each one catching the sunlight, creating a blinding haze of gold and white. Visibility shrank to a few feet, the sandstorm casting the world in a strange, glowing fog. It was harsh, relentless, every breath filled with the sting of earth and sun, an unstoppable force of nature bearing down with brilliant fury.

JJ’s feet finally hit the dusty ground, the force of his landing sending a cloud of sand and dirt rising into the air. The narrow alleyway of Essaouira echoed with the sound of his boots hitting the cobblestones as he steadied himself. He clutched the wrapped blue crown in his hands, his knuckles white. “You good?” I asked, my voice full of concern as I stepped closer to him, eyes scanning his face for any signs of strain.

“I’m good, I’m good. I’m better, actually. I’m great!” JJ said with a grin that seemed to spread across his face like wildfire. He rushed over to me, pulling the scarf from the crown with quick, excited movements. “Cause look!” he exclaimed, his voice full of energy.

He held up the crown, now revealed, but it was covered in dust, the rich blue stones clouded by the grime of their journey. Despite the dirt, the crown’s intricate design was unmistakable, its value evident even beneath the layers of dust. My breath caught in my throat as I saw it, this relic, this symbol of everything we had lost. “No way, oh my god,” I whispered, my eyes wide with disbelief. My grin mirrored JJ’s as we both stood there for a moment, taking in the weight of the moment.

JJ’s loud cheer broke the silence, ringing out into the alleyway and bouncing off the high walls of the medina. “I... I did it!” he shouted, the sheer joy and relief in his voice undeniable.

I couldn’t help but laugh, my heart swelling with pride. “Do you know what this means?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, as if I didn’t want to jinx it.

“Oh yeah, I do,” JJ said, his grin widening. His eyes shone with an intensity that made everything feel possible again. “We’re getting it back. We’re getting back our home.”

His words hung in the air between us, full of hope and the promise of a new beginning. I couldn’t help but smile as I wrapped my arms around him tightly. “You did it, baby. You did it!” I whispered in his ear, my heart hammering in my chest.

For a moment, everything felt right, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from our shoulders. But then, a cold chill ran down my spine, and I sensed something shift in the air. JJ’s expression changed in an instant, his eyes narrowing as he looked behind me, his body tensing. Without a word, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back, hard. “Wait, wait, hey! Go, go, go!” he shouted, his voice urgent, his grip tight on my wrist.

Before I could react, a sharp crack echoed through the air. The sound of a gunshot. The bullet whizzed past us, a split second away from tearing through the space where we had just been standing. My heart skipped a beat, and my body went into full panic mode.

“Run, run, run!” JJ yelled, pushing me forward, his hand at the small of my back, guiding me with the force of his desperation. The narrow streets of Essaouira stretched out ahead of us, winding and twisting like a maze, but we had no time to think, only to move. The sound of the gunshot still reverberated in my ears as we sprinted through the bustling medina, the faded buildings on either side almost closing in on us, the warm air heavy with the scent of saltwater from the distant ocean.

I could hear the sound of heavy boots behind us, pounding against the stones. The mercenaries were closing in. I could feel my lungs burning as I pushed my legs harder, adrenaline fueling every step.

“C’mon, Y/N, we gotta find the others!” JJ shouted from ahead, his voice sharp but full of focus. He had a plan. I could tell by the way he moved, the urgency in his every step. He was determined, but so was I. We had come this far, and we weren’t about to lose everything now.

We reached a narrow staircase that led downward into the heart of the maze of Essaouira’s old city. The steps were uneven, some worn smooth by centuries of footsteps, others jagged and crumbling. We had to be careful as we descended, not just from the chase, but from the danger of slipping on the worn stones. My pulse raced as we moved, the sound of our feet pounding against the stone seeming deafening in the otherwise still air.

JJ called out to me, “Hey, Y/N! This way!” His voice came from behind, but I didn’t look back. I had a feeling this was our only chance to lose the mercenaries. I kept my head down and pushed forward, following the winding path through the narrow streets and alleys.

Finally, we reached a small open space near the bottom of the staircase, a brief moment of cover amidst the tightly packed buildings. The view of the city below was dizzying, the sea stretched out in the distance, and the maze of whitewashed houses. But I couldn’t afford to enjoy the view, or at least not yet. I turned to take a breath, my body trembling with exhaustion, “J!” I called out and just as I did, I felt a sharp pressure against my neck. A strong arm wrapped around me from behind, dragging me backward with frightening speed.

I gasped, my breath choking in my throat, as I struggled against the iron grip around my neck. My heart hammered in fear. “Shh!” The man behind me grunted, his grip tightening, cutting off any chance of air. My mind raced—how had they gotten so close? Where was JJ?

“Quiet, quiet. Shut—” His voice was low, guttural, as he squeezed harder.

“J!” I managed to croak out, each word a desperate gasp for air.

“Y/N,” I heard JJ’s voice, strained but strong, coming from the shadows. My heart leapt as I caught sight of him, standing firm, one arm shielding his face from the dust swirling in the air. “JJ!” I cried, relief flooding my chest, though fear still gripped me.

“Let her go,” JJ commanded, his voice cold but unwavering.

The man behind me stiffened, and I heard him growl, “Stop right there.” And that was when the weight of the situation hit me. The voice was unmistakable, Chandler Groff. JJ's biological father.

I swallowed hard, every muscle in my body tense, ready to fight back, but I couldn’t move. My body was locked in place, held captive by his suffocating grip. All I could do was let out weak grunts, trying to free myself from the hold, my hands instinctively pressing against his arm in a futile attempt to loosen it.

“Don’t move,” Groff ordered, his voice venomous as he squeezed harder. My lungs burned, and I gasped for air. His grip was like iron, and I could feel my vision beginning to blur. I tapped at his arm in a silent plea, trying to signal that I couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t seem to care.

“You know what I want,” Groff said, his voice laced with a twisted calm as he extended his hand toward JJ. “Give it to me.”

JJ’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it was full of resolve. “Just let her go.”

Groff chuckled bitterly, his breath hot against my ear. “You could’ve stuck with me, JJ,” he sneered, his words dripping with regret. “Think of what you could’ve had."

I felt the cold edge of a knife press against my cheek, and my breath caught in fear. “But now,” Groff continued, his voice growing darker, “you’re going to get nothing.”

I felt his grip tighten again as he hissed, “Nothing.”

JJ seemed distant, as if lost in his own thoughts. His eyes, focused but distant, flickered between Groff and the crown in his hand. Then, in a quiet but firm voice, he spoke. “No.” The word was resolute, cutting through the tension like a blade. He muttered to himself, barely audible, “I already have everything.”

I looked at him, confusion and worry swirling in my chest, but JJ didn’t seem to notice. His gaze grew distant, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And I already have everything I’ve wanted,” he continued, his voice almost hollow, as if he was saying the words to convince himself. “Things that you’ll never have,” he added, his smile somehow broken.

Suddenly, without warning, JJ held out the crown, the weight of it now settling between us like a silent challenge. His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it. “You want the crown?”

Groff’s eyes locked onto the crown, and for a moment, his expression softened, as if the object was the only thing that mattered. “Sure, take it,” JJ said, his words cold, almost dismissive. “Take it. I don’t want it,” he reassured, his eyes never leaving Groff’s.

“Just… let her go,” JJ’s voice was low, but there was a sharpness to it now, a finality. Groff’s hand shot out greedily, reaching for the crown. “Perfect,” he said with a grin, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Hold it out.”

“Take it,” JJ repeated, his voice unwavering, no trace of doubt in it. His eyes were locked on Groff’s, his stance firm. “Easy,” JJ added, the words low, but there was something steady about them. He was ready for this. He was ready for this moment to be over.

I could barely breathe, my chest tight as I watched them, my heart racing. My body was still trembling from the fear, but I could sense the shift in JJ’s demeanor. His resolve was unwavering now.

“Hold it out. Come on,” Groff urged, his hand outstretched, fingers grasping for the prize.

In that instant, JJ pulled me into his embrace, and I gasped as his arms wrapped around me, pulling me close to his chest. I buried my head in his neck, gasping for air, the pressure lifting from my lungs as I felt the safety of his hold. My hands instinctively wrapped around him, holding him tight, as if making sure this wasn’t a dream.

“I got you,” JJ murmured, his voice thick with relief. I felt his heartbeat against my cheek, steady and strong. His arms tightened around me as if afraid to let go. “It’s okay,” he whispered again, the words soothing, though his voice still trembled with the remnants of fear.

I pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes, and my heart swelled. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, the words heavy with all the gratitude and emotion I couldn’t fully express.

JJ’s grip tightened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt like everything would be okay.

“JJ.” Groff’s voice sliced through the tense silence like a blade, and JJ stiffened, his body reluctant but yielding. Slowly, he pulled away from me, his movements slow, almost pained, as if every inch away from me felt like a sacrifice. He turned to face Groff, his expression hardening, the relief of the moment slipping away as he steeled himself for whatever was coming.

Groff stood there, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, like a predator toying with its prey. “It’s a shame,” he said, his tone low and almost mournful, though there was no sincerity behind it. His voice carried the weight of a long-forgotten history, one that neither JJ nor I could escape from. “You and me,” Groff continued, his words heavy with regret or perhaps mockery, there was no telling. I stood silently behind JJ, my hands still gripping his shirt, my pulse racing.

Suddenly, I heard the sickening squelch of flesh, and JJ jerked forward, his body lurching as if the world had been ripped out from beneath him. My breath caught in my throat, and I let out a shaky, disbelieving gasp. No, no, no, this can’t be happening. My mind was scrambling to process what I was seeing, but everything seemed to slow, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

I heard JJ’s groan, a deep, painful sound that tore through the air. My stomach dropped, my heart racing. The knife had sunk deeper. “No,” I whispered, my voice trembling as my hands shook, my body frozen in place. And then, as if to mark the moment, I heard Groff’s voice, dark and cold as it slid through the air. “You could have given me the rope,” he murmured, his voice heavy with cruel satisfaction. His tone was like poison, dripping with malice.

Before I could even react, Groff pulled the knife out with a sickening, deliberate slowness. The sound of it tearing through JJ’s flesh was unbearable, sending a shudder through me. I watched as the dark blood poured from his side, staining his shirt, his skin. Groff didn’t even seem to care, his eyes devoid of any emotion as he took one last, final look at his son.

And then, with an almost casual air, he turned away, walking off as if nothing had happened, as if the pain he caused was nothing more than a fleeting moment in his day.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. My body moved without thinking, rushing forward, reaching for him just in time to catch him before he hit the ground. JJ crumpled in my arms, his body too heavy, too weak to stay upright. His hand instinctively clutched his wound, pressing desperately against the blood that poured from him. His face was pale, his eyes glazed, but still, he tried to hold himself together.

“JJ! No!” I cried out, my voice breaking. I lowered him gently to the ground, my hands shaking violently as I tried to arrange him, to make him comfortable, but nothing felt right. “No, no, no,” I whispered, over and over, as if saying it could somehow make the horror stop.

JJ’s breathing was shallow, ragged, every exhale more painful than the last. His lips parted, his voice barely a whisper, and the words that came from him shattered my heart into a million pieces. "I never told you my wish," he groaned, his hand trembling as he reached up to grab mine. His eyes searched mine with a kind of desperate pleading, but there was nothing I could do to stop the blood that poured from him, nothing I could do to undo the damage.

“JJ–,” I whispered, my voice cracking as tears began to well in my eyes. But his eyes were growing heavier. His body trembled, and I felt him sag against me, his hand slipping from mine. The breath he took was so weak, so labored. It was as if the world was slipping away from him, and I was powerless to stop it.

His lips parted again, and this time, the words that left him were barely a breath. "I already got it" The words were soft, too soft, as if he didn’t have the strength to say them. But in that moment, they crushed me more than anything else could.

“No, no, no, JJ.” I clung to him, my voice barely a whisper, but it trembled with all the fear and desperation I felt. I tried to hold him together, my arms shaking as I cradled his fragile body, willing him to stay with me. “You can’t leave, please don’t leave me.” My words cracked under the weight of the pain.

His breath was ragged, barely audible as he managed to speak, his voice strained and faint. "I love you, Y/N." The words came out in a broken gasp, as though they were the last thing he could say.

“I love you too, JJ. So much," I whispered through my tears, my heart shattering with every second. "Please, please don't go. I can't lose you, not now, not like this. You can’t leave me." My sobs wracked my body, the reality of the moment crashing down on me, but I refused to let go, even if I knew I was losing him.

And still, there was no response. His body became heavier in my arms, his head lolling to the side, and my chest tightened painfully as I realized how much I was losing. I pressed my hand to his wound, but I knew it was futile. His blood was everywhere, soaking through my fingers, and I could do nothing but hold him as he closed his eyes. I could feel the warmth of his fading life slipping through my grasp.

I felt the tears burning in my eyes as I whispered again, “JJ”

And all I could do was hold him, wishing for a miracle that would never come. The weight of his body in my arms felt like a thousand pounds, each breath he took growing more shallow, more labored. The world around me was nothing but a blur of pain, fear, and hopelessness. My hands were shaking, covered in his blood, and I could do nothing to stop it. "John B!" I screamed again, my voice cracking as I looked desperately around, hoping they would somehow hear me. "Pope!" I yelled, but the words felt hollow, lost in the chaos of my thoughts.

It was like time slowed as I held him, the seconds stretching painfully long. My heart was tearing apart with every breath he struggled to take. Suddenly, I heard footsteps, familiar voices calling out to me. I looked up through my blurry vision, and there they were.

John B and Sarah appeared first, their faces stricken with shock and confusion, but it was the moment they exchanged a glance that I knew they understood the gravity of what was happening. The look between them spoke volumes, a shared recognition that this was life or death.

Then, Pope, Kiara, and Cleo rushed in, their faces mirroring the same horror. Kiara’s eyes filled with tears, but she bit her lip, fighting them back, while Cleo’s hand trembled as she kneeled down beside me. Everyone was in shock, but the urgency in the air made it clear: something had to be done, and fast.

I couldn’t hold back any longer. My body shook with sobs, my chest tightening as I buried my face in JJ’s hair, whispering over and over, “Please... don’t leave me.”

Suddenly, amidst the haze of grief, it hit me, the crown. The crown! I gasped, my eyes wide with realization, my voice trembling as I turned to John B. “John B, the crown!” I nearly choked on the words. “Please get the crown back... It could save his life.” I reached for him desperately, my hands gripping his arm. “Please, it could save him. Groff took it. He has the crown!”

John B and Sarah exchanged a quick look, their minds already working, already on the move. John B nodded grimly. “We’re getting it back,” he said firmly, turning to Pope, who was already on his feet, determined.

Pope wiped the sweat from his brow, eyes steely with resolve. “Where is he? Where did Groff go?” he asked, voice low and steady, though I could see the urgency in his eyes.

“Somewhere nearby,” I whispered, choking on my breath. “He can’t be far. You have to find him... the crown can grant a wish... It’s our only chance to save him.”

They both nodded to each other and immediately sprinted off, their eyes scanning the surroundings, their minds racing to figure out where Groff would have gone.

Meanwhile, Kiara, Sarah and Cleo stayed with me, doing their best to comfort me. But nothing could bring me peace. I was too afraid, too consumed by the image of JJ growing weaker and weaker in my arms. Every second felt like an eternity.

John B and Pope moved through the winding streets of Essaouira with a precision born of desperation. They didn’t need words to communicate anymore, their shared focus on getting the crown back drove them forward. They knew the stakes were higher than ever.

After what felt like hours, John B finally spotted Groff’s silhouette in the distance. He motioned for Pope to follow him, and they carefully closed the distance. Groff was standing alone in the alley, the crown glinting in his hands, tucked safely within his grasp. His back was turned, unaware of the approaching threat.

Without a word, John B and Pope charged forward. “Groff!” John B shouted, voice cutting through the air. Groff turned, his face twisted into an amused smirk, as if he’d been expecting this.

“Routledge, you really are like your father, huh?” Groff sneered, his grip tightening around the crown. “You had your chance, kid, but now it’s mine.”

John B didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, throwing a punch that Groff barely dodged, but it was enough to send him stumbling backward. Pope followed, using the momentum to land a hard blow to Groff's side. Groff grunted but recovered quickly, his eyes narrowing with fury.

"You’ll never win, you know that?" Groff hissed, drawing a knife from his belt, the blade flashing in the dim light. "I’ve always been one step ahead of you."

John B and Pope exchanged a quick glance, knowing they had to act fast. John B charged again, dodging Groff’s swipe and knocking the knife from his hand. They were both quick, relentless, using every ounce of energy to fight him off.

Groff snarled in frustration as he tried to backpedal, but Pope tackled him from behind, sending them both tumbling to the ground. In the struggle, the crown fell from Groff’s grip, bouncing across the stone street. Without thinking, John B scrambled for it, grabbing the crown and standing up with it in his hand.

“I told you,” John B said breathlessly, looking down at Groff, “we’re gonna take back what's ours.”

Groff, seething with rage, scrambled to his feet, but he knew the battle was lost. He glared at John B and Pope with a venomous look, but he didn’t make another move. “This isn’t over,” he spat, before turning and disappearing into the shadows, leaving them standing victorious, but at a great cost.

John B and Pope rushed back to where I was, their eyes scanning the crowd. When they saw me still holding JJ, they didn’t need to ask. They knew. John B thrust the crown into my hands, his face filled with determination.

“We got it,” he said, panting from the exertion.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I stared at the crown, the only thing that could save him. I placed it gently onto JJ’s chest, my hands trembling. They all watched carefully as I closed my eyes, whispering a prayer to the universe. "Please, please let this work. I can’t lose you, JJ.”

And just like that, I felt a shift, a flicker of hope, a warm light growing from within the crown. The energy seemed to pulse, as if it was answering the wish I had silently made.

The moment the crown touched JJ’s chest, a strange warmth radiated from it, spreading through his body. I held my breath, my hands still trembling as I hovered over him, watching, praying for a sign. At first, nothing happened, just the faint rise and fall of his chest, the quiet whisper of his breaths filling the silence around us. But then, a soft glow began to emanate from the crown. It wasn’t bright or blinding, but it was enough to make the air feel charged, alive.

A shaky breath escaped my lips as I watched, my heart racing in my chest. I whispered again, my voice barely audible. "Please, JJ."

Suddenly, a jolt of warmth shot through my hands, and I felt the familiar weight of his body beneath me shift. His eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened, a faint groan escaping his lips.

"Y/N..." His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but it was there. He was still here. I felt a wave of relief crash over me, overwhelming and dizzying. His eyes met mine, and I saw the faintest hint of recognition.

"J" I gasped, my voice cracking as I leaned down, pressing my forehead to his. I couldn't stop the tears that drop from my eyes "Oh my god, I thought I lost you,"

He blinked a few times, as if trying to make sense of the world around him. His hand trembled as it reached up to touch my face, his fingers brushing against my skin as though confirming that I was real. His voice was still weak, but there was a clarity in his eyes now, a spark of life that hadn't been there moments before. "You're not getting rid of me that easy."

I let out a chuckle as tears streamed down my face, and I couldn’t stop them. "J.." I couldn’t finish the sentence, my throat too tight, my emotions threatening to overwhelm me.

JJ tried to sit up, but the movement caused him to wince, his hand pressing against his side where the wound still lingered. I gently placed my hand on his chest, stopping him. "Don't" I said sternly.

He gave me a small, weak smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I promise."

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me, a sound of pure relief. I leaned down again, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "You can't kill a pogue" He mumbled as he looked around at his friends, his voice thick with emotion.

JJ reached up, his hand cupping the back of my head, his thumb gently brushing against my hair.

I closed my eyes, holding him close, savoring the warmth of his body against mine. The crown still rested on his chest, glowing faintly, as though it had worked its magic. I didn’t know how, or why, or what kind of power it had, but in that moment, I didn’t care. All that mattered was that JJ was alive. He was here. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

I looked around at all of them, my heart swelling with gratitude for the people who had fought so hard to get him back. We had all been through so much, but in that moment, we were together. And no matter what came next, we had each other.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

likes and reblogs are appreciated 🐇

[cosmichorrorlesbians]

These were the Silt Verses.

(closeups/design notes/rambling under the cut, because it took me over a month to make this so I'm going to be a little self-indulgent.)

spoilers for the whole podcast ahead!

Our protagonists! Notes:

Some of these came out more accurate to how I see them than others. Hayward in particular looks much less grimy and haggard than I imagine him. Carpenter, on the other hand, is perfect in my eyes. Shrue is (subconsciously) very much inspired by the wonderful @unbloodiedmartyr's rendition of them (thanks Sacha, your art goes insanely hard!)

Hayward and Paige face away, a nod to their final parting. Carpenter and Faulkner face one another, in deference to their final reunion.

Val and Shrue are both shown at the moment of their deaths.

Paige, the only character confirmed to survive the immediate finale, is the only one with closed eyes.

I'm a blond Faulkner truther. Sorry.

Someone left some really really insane tags on a Valpost I made like a month ago about how Val can alter her appearance as she pleases, but the Last Word can never convince her not to see the actual aftermath of her torture when she looks in the mirror, and it sent me a little crazy, so I was trying to capture that failing self-deceit here. She's meant to look absurdly young, but where the flames overlay her face, you can see the prayer marks and lacerations on her skin.

I had this out on my desk for days and every time a family member dropped by I had to frantically hide the fact I was drawing 'politician gets shot in the head' fanart. RIP.

These are the marks of the Many Below! They look Not Great enlarged, but hey ho. I wanted them to look hidden and incidental, separated in each corner as they are:

'Begin with a balbis on its side. Within the two spaces, a circle marked by a single dot.' Drawn in the silt of the White Gull River.

'Beneath this, a pair of concentric circles. Within the annulus, an ovoid with a slit - a staring eye.' Scrawled across the pug postcard Cross uses to write his idea to scapegoat Shrue.

'Under that, a lemniscate over a heptagram[...]' Made up of the ribbon that binds Mercer and Gage's rifles.

'[...]and three parallel lines beneath.' Faulkner's staff, broken into three pieces.

Interstitial illustrations. There are four sets of these, which (roughly) correspond to more stand-alone episodes & fan favourites. This is my favourite, for my beloved Chapter 36: All Lovers Part As Dust. I had a blast distilling recurring motifs of the episode into one little illustration, and I'm really proud of the result; I think it captures the match of sweet and bitter that the episode in question inspires. The clock points to the eleventh hour.

These are pretty self-explanatory: I couldn't pass up a chance to draw the inciting miracle of the series, and it made sense to pair it with the image of Paige and Hayward sailing downriver at the end of Season 2, an image which has always haunted me.

The hare and the owl are from Chapter 26, a symbol of the Wound Tree's emergence. The lobster and fish are intended as a nod to Faulkner and Rane, a character who I love but couldn't include more overtly. Lobsters are seen as a symbol of devotion and fidelity because, apocryphally, they mate for life, and yet the lobster here is without its pair. The fish was intended to be a remora, which swims beside sharks. (Yes, I'm aware remora are tropical sea-dwelling fish, and humbly beg any marine biologists reading this not to kill me on the spot).

The Killing And Violence Siblings!

These object illustrations were deliberately positioned as parallels and specifically reference Season 2, marking the point of the poem that is made up of that series' titles (an attention to the series chronology that roughly coheres throughout the piece. Very roughly.)

Mercer and Gage's rifles are twisted round with a red ribbon, which bleeds into the White Gull, binding them together and reflecting how they're rarely seen apart. The ribbon's also a deliberate parallel to the banner wrapping Carpenter and Faulkner's hands elsewhere in the art.

Carpenter's axe and Faulkner's sororicidal mirror shard are depicted alongside fish hooks, as though they're separated for much of the season, the Parish draws them back together in the end. Also an echo of Paige's line, 'Love is just a meat hook for you to catch me on.'

There's only blood on one of the rifles, in a nod to Mercer and Gage's uneven dynamic.

Bookend landscapes. The pages were intended to reference the Silt Verses as an in-story document, and represent the themes of truth, myth and record throughout.

The illumination!

It was always going to be a radio-- not a nod specifically to Sid Wright, but really to the use of broadcast, music and sound throughout the show. TSV's sound design is truly one of the things I admire most about it.

The radio is meant to be on Carpenter and Faulkner's dashboard, as they drive along the river in the very first episode, hence its positioning at the start of the poem.

I conceived this as the centre of the piece, and drew the rest around it.

aaaand that was a lot. I didn't cover everything, and I recommend clicking on the final piece to get full quality and see how the details interact with one another-- but if you've read through all these meanderings, thank you, sibling. I started this two weeks after the finale, and managed a full relisten while drawing. It's been a labour of love, and I now hate watercolours more than I have words for.

[fumekara]

ALL THE THINGS I HAVE DONE (Part 2)

SatoSugu x Gn reader 

Plot: Your relationship with the strongest sorcerers in Japan was falling apart after they yelled at you and broke your heart. 

n/a: English is not my first language, there will be a final part of this writing experiment, I am not very satisfied with how it came out. 

Tw: A lot of angst, season 2 spoilers, mention of sex, polyamorous relationship, mention of the death of one's pet, the reader has a cat, in this version Geto is a sorcerer. 

If you are sensitive to mourning for your pets, do not interact with this fic. 

WC: 1.9K

Click here for part 1

You had lain down and held Nuko in your arms the night you found him under the bed in the guest room and, without your noticing, you had fallen asleep, but no one seemed to care, Sutoru and Suguru had not come to wake you up to join them. 

You were sure they were still angry with you for what had happened the night before and you didn't want to think about it, since you now had another problem to deal with, Nuko's. 

He wasn't well, not at all, you could see it from the way he was lying on himself, the way he avoided moving and the way he occasionally meowed as if to warn you that he was still alive, for now. 

You stroked his back and he let you, after all he couldn't do much. 

Suddenly you heard the sound of approaching footsteps in your room. Immediately you rolled onto your back and pretended to be asleep.

When Suguru and Satoru entered your room, trying to make as little noise as possible, Nuko lifted his head as if to find out who was interrupting your fake sleep.   

You felt their weight sink into the bed when they sat beside you and then you felt a hand gently stroking your back.

"Y/N?" Satoru called you in a low voice. You didn't answer hoping that would be enough to convince them to leave you alone.

"We know you're not sleeping," Suguru said as he approached you from the other side of the bed, being careful not to crush Nuko with his weight. 

"How did you know?" you asked resigned by the fact that it was now useless to pretend.

"Your breathing was too irregular, that's not what you do when you sleep. We know better by now after so long sleeping together." you heard Sato chuckle as he rested his head on your shoulder. He was uncertain of the movement because he was afraid you would reject him because of what happened yesterday, but when you didn't he kept to your side. 

Suguru who was in front of you removed a lock of hair from your face very gently, as if you were made of glass, the same gesture you had made to him yesterday, and it broke his heart when he thought back to how badly he had treated you after you had given him a taste of your love. 

You reached out your hand again, but not to return the affection of the two men beside you, but to stroke your cat again, who was taking quick, heavy breaths.

"He's sick" you broke the silence.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Satoru looking at Nuko.

"I don't know, but he doesn't eat, breathes poorly and sleeps all day." You rolled onto your back and the white-haired man pulled away from you to give you space.

"Is that why you didn't sleep with us last night? Or even because of what happened yesterday?" asked Suguru worriedly, but you had a hunch he was using it as an excuse to criticise you. 

"What do you mean, that I use my cat being sick as an excuse not to sleep with you?" you asked without hiding your irritation.

"I didn't mean that, we're just worried." 

"Really?, so why didn't you come to wake me up if you care so much?" you sat up and so did they. "Don't pretend you care so much, I know you don't" you spat, by now you had a feeling you didn't care what they thought anymore, not after the words they said to you last time. 

"Y/N, we do care about you. We came here to apologize to you," Satoru told you, trying to find the right words to keep you from getting angry. 

"We went too far yesterday, Y/N, we shouldn't have treated you that way" Suguru picked you up and made you rest your head on his chest and shortly afterwards Satoru joined in the hug "We are sincerely sorry for what happened".

You felt the strong urge to cry and let them wrap their arms around you, but part of you did not believe their words. By now it seemed to you that they were only pretending to really love you. All you had been thinking about for weeks was how you felt like the third wheel in your relationship, as if they were only with you for convenience, because you were fun for them and not because they cared about you. 

The way they talked to each other, cuddled and had fun without you had started to make you feel insecure about your role in the relationship with Suguru and Satoru, even though those moments made you suspect that they didn't really need you, it still remained an assumption. But you also suspected that they were more aloof and impatient with you in a different way than between the two of them, and yesterday's discussion and the fact that they didn't want you with them in bed seemed to have awakened in you the confirmation of your worries. 

"How many times do we have to go through this again?" you said trying to hide the urge to cry "Now you apologize, but I know it will happen again in the future."

They looked at each other not believing your words.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" asked Suguru. 

Then you confessed: "I am not part of this relationship.". 

"Yes, you're part of it, we love you Y/N," Satoru told her by taking her chin mat so she could look straight into your blue eyes "I know what we said to you was mean, but you mustn't think we don't love you just because we had a fight once. We..." 

"It's not just that" you interrupt him "I watch how you treat each other and you don't do it the same way you treat me. It's not the first time you've made me feel clingy, when you often do things as if I'm not there, when you change the subject as soon as I butt into the conversation or when you get nervous about the smallest things I do." you continued "I feel like that all the time, when we're together, when we talk to each other, even when we make love I feel like I'm just a fun for you, not someone you love."

After you opened up to them, your boyfriends stared at you, not believing what you had just told them. They were not sure what had made you doubt the love they both had for each other, but they thought back to the fact that the two of them had known each other longer than you, worked together and always together had faced so many problems and dark pasts that, although they had hurt them deeply, they had learnt to face them together and, no matter how hard you had tried to support them, as they had supported each other in the darkest moments of their lives. You were not to blame, they were simply part of a world of which you were not and could not be a part. 

Together they faced the death of Haibara and Riko and both shared the scars that had been inflicted on them by Toji Fushiguro. For years they supported each other and loved each other unconditionally, sharing everything with each other, everything they loved most, including you. 

They loved you, really loved you, but they knew that they had both shared something in their experience as sorcerers that had allowed them to strengthen their bond and their love, but they had left you behind.

They both did not know what to say because they knew that was the truth. The only thing they felt able to do was to hold you in their arms again, this time with more strength, with more affection, as if they did not want to let you go. Their faces were buried in you, Suguru in your back and Satoru's in your shoulder, and you heard them crying. 

"I have to take Nuko to the vet. But I think there's not much to do with him," you said, letting a silent tear slide down your cheek.

"Let us take you," Satoru told you, holding you tightly, rubbing his head in the crook of your neck.

"No, I need to be alone," your voice broke. By now you knew you had lost the boys you had fallen in love with and you just wanted to run away.

By now you could no longer contain the tears that fell uninterruptedly from your eyes, they let you go, and as you left the room carrying Nuko with you, you heard their sobs and your heart broke. 

______________

And now here you were, in the driveway of your backyard sitting on the seat of your car holding Nuko's yellow collar. 

You had been there for fifteen minutes already, but you hadn't yet made up your mind to get out and go into the house; you didn't know how you would face Satoru and Suguru. You were afraid that after all you had confessed to them before you left them alone in tears it would be the final turning point that would end your relationship. You didn't want to hurt them, just the thought of making them cry made you feel bad, you loved them, you loved them so much and you would probably separate. 

You took a couple of deep breaths and got out of the car. 

After entering the house you closed the door and took off your shoes still holding the collar. 

You had been out of the house all day and by now everyone must have gone to sleep. The house was silent and shrouded completely in darkness except for a light coming from the kitchen. 

As you silently entered you saw Suguru and Satoru sitting on either side of the dining table who, as soon as they noticed your presence, although you could glimpse tiredness and sadness in their eyes, tried to show you their best smile. 

They had been waiting for you.

They both extinguished their smiles when you approached them pointing out the traces of crying on your face, and only then did they realize that you had returned alone. 

You sat by Suguru's side with Satoru facing you and placed Nuko's collar on the table, letting them know that your cat was gone forever. Suddenly you felt tears fill your eyes again.

"Oh love, come here," Suguru hugged you, while Satoru got up from his chair to join you and do the same. You stayed like that for you don't know how long, despite everything that had happened, they were there for you at that moment, just as you were always there for them when they needed you. They let you cry and vent, hugging you as if to protect you from all the evil in the world. 

At one point you felt your body lift off the ground, you didn't know if it was Satoru or Suguru holding you, but you buried your tearful face in his neck as he carried you to the bedroom. 

They laid you in the middle of the bed and held you close all night, even when you all fell asleep together. 

Perhaps there was still hope between you, perhaps all was not lost.  

Click here for the final part

Tag: @tatahungry

[godsfavdarling]

How could you? (pt.2)

my masterlist, part 1

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader (established relationship) words: 1,8k summary: You're still hurt but you don't think you can let Spencer and your love for him go so easily. warnings: angst, hurt, spoilers for season 15! a/n: i'm so happy you guys liked the first part!!! i was asked to write part 2 and I was so flattered! thank you for all the love <3

The following days felt like walking through a dense fog, each step heavy with the weight of pain. You couldn't shake the image of JJ cupping his cheeks, and pressing her lips against his. It was a scene etched into your mind, haunting you like a relentless specter.

His lips. Lips that had whispered sweet nothings to you, that had traced patterns of love and affection on your skin. Lips that had promised forever in each kiss, now tainted by another's touch.

You couldn't comprehend how it had come to this. 

How could he allow someone else to invade the sacred space you had built together?

His lips for years had only ever kissed and worshiped yours. But now, everything felt ruined, tarnished by the image of her lips on his.

The questions swirled in your mind, each one more agonizing than the last. 

How could he betray you like this? Did he ever truly love you, or was it all just a lie?

The memory of Spencer's confession played over and over in your mind like a broken record, each word etched into your heart with painful clarity. 

You knew about his past with JJ, how he had loved her long ago, only to have his feelings unreciprocated. He had moved on from that chapter of his life, leaving behind the pain and heartache to build a future with you.

But seeing them together, so close, her hands on his beautiful face, her lips on his, it was clear that his feelings had not been one-sided.

He had bared his soul to you, laying bare the events of that hostage situation, recounting every detail with a raw honesty that left you reeling.

You remembered how he sat close to you with his hand on your lap as you cleaned his wound. Tears in your eyes as you played with his fingers and soaked in saline solution gauze. Staring at his hand you listened to every word, as he reassured you of his unwavering love. He had made it abundantly clear that his heart belonged to you and you alone. 

But did it?

The doubts crept in like tendrils of darkness, twisting and coiling around your heart with suffocating intensity. 

Had he truly moved on from his past with JJ? Or was it merely a facade, a carefully constructed illusion meant to shield you from the painful truth? 

The thought gnawed at you, clawing its way through the layers of your defenses until it settled like a lead weight in the pit of your stomach.

What if he still harbored feelings for her, buried deep beneath the surface of his professed love for you? What if JJ's sudden confession had reignited the flames of their past, offering him a chance to finally grasp the love he had always longed for?

The thought was like a dagger to your heart.

You wanted to believe in Spencer's love, to cling to the hope that his heart truly belonged to you and you alone. 

But what if it didn’t?

As you grappled with the pain and confusion, a part of you yearned for answers, while another recoiled from the truth you might uncover. But one thing was certain: the image of her lips on his would haunt you for a long time to come.

Could you ever forgive Spencer for what he'd done? And more importantly, did you even want to?

You couldn't help but wish for a sign of remorse from JJ. Spencer had reached out, extending an olive branch of love and reconciliation, despite the weight of his own guilt and regret. He had shown humility, acknowledging his mistakes and expressing his desire to make things right.

But JJ remained silent, her absence a stark contrast to Spencer's efforts to mend the fractured pieces of your relationship. Perhaps she was too embarrassed to reach out, too ashamed to face the consequences of her actions. 

How could she have the audacity to remain silent, to act as though nothing had happened? 

It felt like a slap in the face, a cruel twist of fate that only served to deepen the wound.

The silence between you and Spencer was deafening, each moment stretching into eternity as Spencer waited for you to reach out. He knew he had hurt you, betrayed your trust in the worst possible way, and the guilt gnawed at him like a relentless beast.

He wanted to explain, to make you understand that it wasn't what it seemed. But every time he reached for his phone to call you a wave of uncertainty crashed over him, freezing his fingers before they could dial your number.

Spencer watched helplessly as you withdrew into yourself, your walls rising higher with each passing day. It tore him apart to see you in pain, knowing that he was the cause of it all.

He longed to reach out to you, to hold you close and beg for your forgiveness. But he knew that he had to give you space, to let you come to terms with what had happened in your own time.

As the days turned into weeks, Spencer found himself consumed by a sense of desperation. He would do anything to make things right, to earn back your trust and rebuild what you had lost. 

But deep down, he feared that it might already be too late.

Spencer's heart leaped with a sudden surge of hope as he saw your name flashing on his phone screen. Without hesitation, he snatched up the device, his fingers trembling as he answered the call.

The sound of your voice washed over him like a soothing balm, filling him with a sense of relief he hadn't realized he was craving. Your words, a simple request to meet and talk, sparked a glimmer of optimism within him, a flicker of hope that perhaps all was not lost.

But even as excitement bubbled up inside him, a familiar pang of doubt niggled at the edges of his consciousness. 

What if this meeting was merely a prelude to the inevitable, a final farewell before you walked away for good?

He pushed aside the nagging voice of uncertainty, choosing instead to focus on the warmth and sincerity in your tone. Maybe, just maybe, this was his chance to make things right, to lay bare his soul and beg for your forgiveness.

With newfound determination, Spencer agreed to the meeting, his heart pounding. He knew the road ahead would be difficult, but for the first time in days, he allowed himself to hope that perhaps, against all odds, you were willing to give him another chance.

The air was heavy with unspoken tension.

As you walked in, your eyes were immediately drawn to the spot where JJ and Spencer had kissed. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't look away.

You settled into the silence, your gaze drifting constantly to the spot where they stood. Where they stood when they kissed. This was the spot you saw them in as you walked through the door, the image of Spencer and JJ still burned into your mind's eye. Her lips on his. 

Spencer noticed the direction of your stare, the weight of your gaze heavy upon him like a silent accusation. 

With a gentle touch, he reached out and took your hand in his own, the warmth of his touch a soothing balm against the ache in your heart. Surprisingly, you didn't pull away. Allowing him to touch you, to bridge the divide that had grown between you, sent a rush of warmth through his veins, making his heart flutter with a glimmer of hope. 

In that simple gesture, there was a silent reassurance that you were still willing to give your love a chance.

"Hey," he murmured softly, his voice tinged with a vulnerability that mirrored your own. "I know things are... complicated right now. But I want you to know that I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right."

The sincerity in his words washed over you like a wave, eroding the walls of doubt.

Despite the pain and betrayal, a flicker of hope ignited within you, a tiny spark of belief that perhaps, against all odds, you could find a way forward together. You loved him too much to let go without a fight. 

When you looked into Spencer's eyes that night, the night of the kiss, even then you saw not just the hurt and the regret, but also the love. Just as you do now.

Your mind was racing, your heart heavy with pain, but even then, you knew deep down that this couldn't be how your love story ended. It wasn't over yet. There were still chapters left to be written. And you still believed.

With a steadying breath, you squeezed Spencer's hand, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the midst of the swirling chaos of your emotions. "I want us to be okay," you confessed, your voice trembling with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. "I believe you. I just... I don't know what to do, Spencer."

Spencer's gaze softened with understanding, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand. "I know," he murmured softly.

You could see the turmoil in his eyes, the fear of losing you etched into every line of his face. And as much as you wanted to hold onto your pain and anger, you couldn't deny the love that still burned bright within you.

"But... I love you. Only you. And I don't want this to be over. If you don't want this anymore... I'll understand. Well, I don't, but I'll try to. But I don't want to. I love you too much. I want us to be okay too. And I'll do anything..." Spencer's voice cracked as tears welled up in his eyes.

Without a word, you wrapped your arms around Spencer tightly, pulling him close in a silent embrace. You could feel the tension melting away with each passing moment, replaced by a sense of warmth and security that only he could provide.

"I'm sorry," he choked out between sobs, his voice heavy with regret. "I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you."

You said nothing, letting your actions speak louder than words. Gently, you brushed away the tears on his cheek.

You couldn't walk away, not when his love still held you captive, not when you knew deep down that you couldn't bear to be apart from him. 

You couldn't walk away. His love had woven itself into the very fabric of your being.

As much as your mind raced with questions and uncertainties, a quiet voice within you whispered that you believed him. You believed in the sincerity of his words, in the depth of his love, and in the possibility of you two being okay.

With every fiber of your being, you clung to that belief. 

[galactic-magick]

here i come with arcane prompts bestie >:3

but this one might hurt ;-;

also SPOILERS FOR S1 IF ANYONE HASNT SEEN IT YET

/////

how about a reader's reaction to the council getting bombed O_O

their frantic attempts to find their lover(Viktor ofc :3), but who they find may not be the man they once knew TwT

I got a little carried away with this one bestie...

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I Thought You Were Dead: Viktor x Reader

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Smut about halfway through. I put a *** before the smut starts in case anyone doesn't want to read that part. Reader has afab anatomy but no pronouns or feminine specific endearments are used. Also LORE SPOILERS, if you don't know what happens to Viktor in the League of Legends lore then don't read this!!

Author's Notes: This could be read as a part 2 to my other Viktor fic Nights Like This, which takes place in Act 1 whereas this takes place after season 1.

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The explosion was deafening.

You can feel your soul sink as soon as you step outside your house, watching the smoke surround the council building. Your feet start running before you’ve processed anything, pushing through the gasping crowds in the streets with their eyes glued to the same devastating spectacle.

Tears stream down your face against the dusty wind, praying to anyone who will listen that your worst fear hasn’t happened. Running as if getting there faster might change the outcome.

It can’t end like this. Not when you haven’t said everything you want to say. Not when you have so much left to do together.

Not when you haven’t said goodbye.

The truth is, you haven’t even seen your husband in several days, maybe even a whole week. He’s been distant lately, so consumed by his experiments that he rarely comes home anymore. You knew what you were getting into marrying a scientist, especially the finest scientist in Piltover, but it still hurts. It hurts to see him driving himself mad and getting sicker, refusing to let you take care of him like he used to. He doesn’t like when you come to visit him at the lab because it’s too dangerous, and he doesn’t come home because he wants to be in the lab—so you’ve stopped trying. You can’t bear to see him hardly eat or sleep for days. You know he loves you, and you still love him, but right now there’s no getting through to him, and all you can do is wait it out until he either comes to his senses or succumbs to his torturous research.

Your mind flashes back to all the fights you had, begging him to come home, begging him to let you stay by his side. You both said things you shouldn’t have, hearts torn apart in mourning of a marriage that once was so perfect. You miss the nights where you were each other's safe space, where the world didn’t feel so grand and overwhelming. You wonder when it was exactly that you stopped fighting, when you gave up on begging and simply loved him as much as you could whenever you finally saw him.

A large battalion of enforcers encircle the scene, pushing back civilians as they attempt to view what happened. The rubble has fallen into mountains, several of them on fire.

You know he was in there. He must’ve been.

“Where are the survivors?!” you demand, shoving against the enforcers.

“We have not found any yet. Please return to your home-”

You pull out the knife you keep in your pocket for emergencies, pressing it against the enforcer’s throat, “My husband was in there. I am not leaving until I find him.”

The other enforcers turn their weapons towards you, and you quickly realize you’ll never beat them with nothing but a dagger and deep rooted rage.

You drop the knife to the ground and put your hands up, awaiting your fate. Would they kill you? Send you home with a warning? Trial you?

Well, not without a council.

“Please…” the sobs return, their weapons still pointing at you. “I just want to know if he’s alive. Just let me look for his body-”

You’re cut off by hands on your wrists and mouth, handcuffing you and knocking you out.

Several months later...

You should’ve known any retaliation against an enforcer could get you thrown in here.

Back against the stone wall of your cell in Stillwater, you envision that day once again, hating yourself for being so stupid. Without the council, the enforcers have started throwing literally anyone in here. In an attempt to contain the chaos of no longer having a government, even the smallest crime or protest is equivalent to murder. All you did was threaten an officer for information on your husband, but that was enough to banish you from any possibility of ever seeing him again.

If he was alive, would he know to come find you? Or would he go back home to find you gone and assume you died? Would he throw himself back into his research regardless of the tragic accident, not even noticing you haven’t tried to visit him in months?

Most days it’s easier to just tell yourself he’s dead. The man you loved so deeply no longer exists, and you’ll never love again. This is your life now, cold and dark and hopeless.

You sink to the floor, leaning on your side in an effort to get some sleep.

Though your slumber is awakened not long after by terrifying noises down the hall.

A collection of screams, an alarm bell, and loud clanging fill your ears. You jump up, looking through the bars of your cell to get a glimpse. You see nothing, but then begin to hear stomping footsteps thundering towards your end of the hall.

You stumble back to the far wall, shaking as the footsteps get closer.

The first thing you see is a pair of glowing orange eyes staring at you through the bars, and your breath leaves your lungs.

Is this really how you’re fated to die?

With ease, the mysterious figure rips off the door with what looks like a mechanical arm. The dim light hits him, and your entire body trembles. He’s covered in metal plating and armor, his face covered with a thick mask. He doesn’t strike you as human, except for what looks like human hair falling around his head.

He walks towards you, and you cower in his shadow. What does this machine want from you? You have nothing.

He says your name, and you freeze. It’s modulated and echoed from the mask, but you are certain that’s what he said.

And you’re also certain you’ve heard that voice before.

The figure reaches his hand towards you, the cold metal of his fingers touching your face. It tingles, as if there’s energy sparking through. His other hand lifts off his mask and drops it to the floor.

“Viktor?”

Parts of his face are covered with metal plating, but it’s undoubtedly him. Same eyes, same nose, same cheekbones. His hair swooping down the sides of his forehead and the small gap between his teeth.

You throw your arms around him and kiss him, your body hitting his metal torso hard enough to leave a bruise, but you don’t care. You kiss him until there’s not a single atom of oxygen left in your lungs, and even then you risk a few seconds more, his lips worthy of causing suffocation. Your fingers slide into his hair, just as soft as your remember. He gently embraces you back, wary of hurting you with how tightly he wishes to hold you.

“Viktor—I went to find you that day—“ you pant for air. “I thought you were dead—“

“I know, darling, I know,” he kisses your forehead before fervently returning to your lips. “I thought you were dead too before I heard word of people being sent here.”

He breaks apart from you and you let out a soft whine, “Vik-”

“I have to get you out of here now, okay?”

You nod in understanding and grab onto him as he puts his mask back on. He races back down the hall, pushing any leftover guards out of his way. You cling onto him, in disbelief that he moves so fast with ease. So many questions run through your mind, but you know you’ll have to wait for answers.

He carries and holds you in silence until you both get to safety. You don’t recognize the place he’s taken you to, but it’s undoubtedly his space. The tools and gadgets all over the tables and walls, the dim light you don’t understand how anyone could work under, the journals with different equations written barely legibly. You wonder if your old home is still standing or has been taken by someone else. Either way, this is your home now.

With him.

He takes off his mask and you’re once again met with his beautiful face. Scarred and tired, but still more beautiful than you’ve ever seen him.

“I’m so sorry. For everything,” he says. “I know I will never be able to make it up to you, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I am never letting you leave my sight again.”

Your bodies instinctively wrap around each-other, him picking you up and setting you down on one of his desks. The sensation is so new, since he’s never been strong enough to lift you before. Despite the novelty though, it feels as if no time has passed, as if this is a routine you’ve done every day, his hands all over you as soon as you’re alone.

You want to ignore the insanity of all this, how the love of your life has returned to you encased in metal. You want to forego all the questions, letting him continue his kisses on your neck and the wandering fingers on your thigh. You wonder what he feels like now—if it’s different—if what he can do to you now will make you forget every tear you ever shed for him.

You sigh, completely drunk on his touches.

“Viktor…” You look into his eyes, tracing your thumbs along his now metallic jaw. “I want to know what happened to you. Please.”

His caresses slow, his focus shifting to your words, “I will tell you everything, I promise,”

You grasp his hands, “Then tell me.”

He exhales, looking down at himself. He doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to acknowledge the truth. He doesn’t want to risk you thinking of him differently or not loving him the same. Without you, he’d have nothing left to stay human for.

After all, he’s more machine than man now.

“I was as good as dead,” he finally says. “My injuries should’ve killed me, but an old…” he hesitates, “...friend found me. He helped me use hextech and shimmer to fix and augment my body. I’m stronger now, I can help more people now, I can protect you now. I’ve evolved beyond my human ailments-”

“Viktor,” you interrupt him. “Who helped you?”

He falls silent, fully aware you already know the answer.

“How could you?” you scold him. “How could you go back to that horrid, vile man? Who knows what he really did to you?”

“Singed may have unethical methods, but I assure you I’d be dead right now without him. You wouldn’t understand-”

“I understand that he sees you as nothing more than an experiment! What’s going to happen when this new body starts to break down? He’ll replace you with more mechanical parts until there’s nothing left of you. He does anything to make his specimens survive, and you know that!”

“So you’d rather me be dead? You’d rather still be in Stillwater, rotting your days away in misery?”

The floodgates of your glassy eyes break, and you let out the ugliest of sobs that have been building up for too long. No, you don’t want him dead, of course you don’t.

But there are fates worse than death.

You clumsily grab for him, pulling him between your legs and surrounding him with your limbs. Your lips crash together once more, this time more carnal and aggressive. Regardless of how angry you are, you can’t deny that you need him desperately. He cradles your face, wiping your tears away as they fall.

“Just promise me…” you beg into his mouth. “Promise me you won’t go back there again. Stay with me.”

“I promise,” he hums. “But you have to promise me something too.”

“What?” your eyes are already fluttering deliriously.

“You have to promise you’ll let me apologize every day of the rest of our lives,” he brushes his lips against your ear while his hands wander up your shirt, “And I think I know how you want me to do it.”

Your eyes widen, shivers already running down your spine.

***

It’s been so long, your body yearning for his as if you’ve been deprived from him for an eternity. You want to feel his new hands everywhere, his new fingers inside you…

Viktor wastes no time stripping you down, your shirt and bra flung across the room. He buries his face between your breasts for a moment before hoisting you up again, carrying you to the mattress in the corner.

“Since when do you ever have a proper place to sleep in your labs?” you laugh, sinking into the unexpected comfort.

“I didn’t get it for sleeping,” he smirks, placing kisses across your chest and shoulders, “I knew what I wanted to do as soon as I rescued you.”

“You’re telling me you got this bed just to fuck me?”

“Of course,” he shrugs, completely matter-of-factually.

You chuckle, a genuine smile stretching across your face so wide it almost hurts. You haven’t laughed or felt the pure joy and bliss of being in love in so long.

“I…” Viktor speaks again, hovering over you. “I don’t know fully what this new body can do. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” you smile, intertwining your fingers with his. “Is it...different?”

“Everything’s different,” he leans down to kiss you again. “Let’s just hope it’s in a good way.”

You nod enthusiastically, pulling him down to you. His cold metal torso presses against yours, a surprisingly pleasant sensation. You quickly acclimate to the new textures of his figure, wondering if any skin still exists.

He remembers all the places you like to be touched and kissed, and you grow more impatient by the minute. You’ve needed him—ached for him. You want him in any way he can give you.

He pulls off the rest of your clothes, teasing his mechanical fingers in circles around your clit.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Mmhmm,” you moan, slithering your own fingers into his hair.

Viktor’s always been good with his hands, being an inventor and all. He’s never once failed to satisfy you with his hands alone since you’ve been together, and he certainly wasn’t stopping now. He goes slowly, constantly needing reassurance that you’re alright. There’s nothing sharp about his fingers, a relief to both of you. They move just like his old flesh did, pulsing in and out with the finest precision. There’s moments where you feel a slight vibration, although you’re unsure if he’s doing that purposefully. Either way, he keeps you in ecstasy until you eventually come undone.

You pull his lips back up to yours immediately, craving his taste. His hands run down your body once again before returning back to the same spot.

You yelp his name as he works more fingers inside you. This is unheard of, him going back for more so soon. You had grown accustomed to his low stamina from before, and you never minded multiple rounds being a rarity. But now there’s not a single hint of exhaustion on his face, his augments freeing him from much of the pain that used to plague him. Instead there’s determination in his eyes, a drive to make love to you until you can’t take it anymore.

He builds you up to your second orgasm of the night, kissing and holding you softly as you come down from it.

“Viktor…” you sigh, completely out of breath. “I want to make you feel good too.”

He shakes his head, watching as your hands slide down his body, “Darling, I...I’m not sure if everything works the same. You don’t have to worry about me—“

“Let me try,” you plead. “Does any of this come off?”

He nods, removing the outer layers of metal with clicks and hisses. It was hard for you to tell where the armor ended and his body began, but the more he takes off, the more you recognize his familiar silhouette. There’s still patches of flesh here and there—warm skin to your fingertips, fused with the augmentations flawlessly.

And it seems the area you’ve wanted to see is one of the places untouched.

Well, not completely untouched. It’s covered in glowing purple veins, throbbing like they’ll explode any second. Viktor looks into your eyes nervously, and you reassure him with a kiss.

“It’ll be okay,” your breaths are hot, hovering over his lips. “Now tell me what you want, darling.”

“You.” he moans as your hand takes hold of his hardness.

“Everything seems to be working fine to me,” you smile, lining him up with your entrance. “I’m ready when you are.”

He’s shaking, for the first time since all his enhancements. He’s been so strong—no—indestructible, yet one look at you and the vulnerability returns in crashing waves. He’s still the same man you fell in love with, but now he could too easily hurt you.

He presses in slowly, eyes locked on your expressions for any sign of discomfort, but they never come. Instead, the noises and faces you make could be enough for him to finish right then and there if he didn’t have such control.

“Viktor…” you sigh, pulling him towards you as he bottoms out. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

He stamps kisses on your jaw, then nuzzles his nose into your neck, “You feel even better than I remembered.”

“Do I now?” you chuckle, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes as he looks back up at you.

“Mmhmm,” he begins to thrust in and out slowly, earning more luscious sounds from your lips.

There’s so much of him that feels the same, but the sensation is so new. Is he bigger than before? Is it just the different texture from the shimmer experiments? You’re not sure, all you truly care about is that he feels divine.

You’re both getting close, whispering “I love you’s” until the long awaited release. He holds you tightly afterwards, refusing to let go until you both catch your breath.

“Viktor,” you ruffle his hair. “As amazing as that was, I don’t think I can handle a round four.”

He chuckles, “That’s alright. I’ll only go as long as you want me to. There’s always tomorrow.”

You giggle, kissing the top of his head. You push yourself up on your elbows, looking at the mess you both made, “I think we ruined your new mattress.”

He glances as well, noticing the cum stains, some of them a light purple color, a supposed side effect of the shimmer, “We’ll get a new one. For now lets get you cleaned up.”

He picks you up in one swift motion, carrying you outside. His new lab is conveniently next to the river, and far away enough from other houses to protect your decency. The water is cold, but not unbearably so. The stickiness rinses off, and you’re left to admire your lover once again in the moonlight.

He glistens under the stars, his gaze soft and sweet, just as it’s always been. His hands never leave you, caressing your wet skin gently and adoringly.

He’s still everything you’ve ever wanted. He’s still the man you’d die and kill for.

He’s still the one you’ll spend the rest of your days with, no matter what he becomes.

[starmapz]

shame on me || chapter fourteen || lights

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. unprotected. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later.

wc || 7.4k.

edited but not beta-read.

a/n || thank you so much for sticking with me through this fic and please enjoy the last chapter. ♡

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || end ✓

Silence plagues you. Lately, the silence in your mind and around the campus is louder than a rocket taking off, than a crowd cheering, louder even than the endless rambles of your boyfriend. You know he does it to fill the space, though. You don’t dare complain because it helps- god it helps- and he knows it.

Even during moments of silence with no shared thoughts between you and the curse, there was a constant drone, a hum that you had never paid any notice to until it was gone. Every loud noise felt sharper, every quiet night threatened to drown you.

Satoru had taken to humming until he was certain you were asleep in his arms, and even during the cooler nights of early winter he would leave the windows open in hopes that the whistle of the breeze would soothe the mind-numbing feeling of silence.

The silence was surely a side effect of your grief. Although you’d finally gotten to lay Kento’s body to rest at a proper funeral surrounded by the faculty and made peace with his loss, you grieved for the loss of the constant presence of Miriko.

There was no funeral to aid with the loss, as the people who truly knew her were limited so heavily, and there was no body to bury. Still, it didn’t stop Yuji from holding a small event in her honor with you, Satoru and Yuta in attendance alongside him. It was thoughtful of him and though you could never blame him for what happened, you know he feels guilty.

It was a strange time for the school in general. With Miriko, Kenjaku, and Sukuna gone, most curses remained in the shadows, dormant for the time being. Any that dared rear their ugly heads were generally an easy job for the students alone.

You had expected the lack of missions to get to Satoru, but he seemed content. He busied himself with continuing to train his students and, most importantly to him, taking care of you.

You’re capable of taking care of yourself of course even without Miriko, and he knows that too, but you wouldn’t dare turn down his kindness. In the dead of night when you’re at your most vulnerable, it’s him that brings you back to earth and calms the mighty storm raging in your brain.

This is one of those many nights. Not the first, and doomed to not be the last, either.

You jolt awake when Taro hops on the bed, seeking your warmth. Letting out a breath, you try to relax with the pup between you and your boyfriend’s legs and the sorcerer’s arm draped over you. Yet sleep eludes you, and now that you’re awake, the still air grows increasingly loud, like a buzzing in your ears.

Even with the window open, the air is so quiet that it threatens to drive you mad. Pulling your knees to your chest as you curl up under the covers, you press your fingers into your temples. Anything to dull the feeling that drags at your chest and clutches at your throat.

You breathe as steadily as you can but your heart pounds and races until it’s in your ears. The pounding, the ringing, it’s all so much that you can’t handle it anymore.

Flipping the covers desperately off of yourself, you clutch at the wall as you race to the ensuite, shutting the door behind you and gripping the edge of the sink. You fumble with the tap, turning it on and focusing on the running water in an attempt to drown out the deafening noises plaguing you.

It’s not the first time Satoru’s woken up this way, with Taro accidentally pulling you from the gentle hands of rest and the covers flipped over him. The sound of running water tells him everything he needs to know as he gets to his feet, making his way around the bed and to the shut bathroom door.

He knocks on the door once, twice, three times, a rhythmic sound. The door cracks open like a ritual, something the two of you have grown accustomed to as he slips into the washroom and envelops you in his strong arms.

Your tired and distant expression examines him in the mirror. He’s just in black boxers and you’re in one of his T-shirts. It hangs off your body like a dress and you know the sight of you in his clothes drives him crazy in all the best ways.

Right now, no matter how much he adores the sight of you in his clothing, that’s not at the top of his mind.

Like clockwork, he knows just what to do to bring you back to earth. He kisses your cheek, parting from you to turn on the bath. The tap is louder than that of the sink as he runs his hand under it to check the temperature and you’re thankful for the way your brain seems to soothe as the water drowns the silence.

While you wait for the bath to fill, Satoru returns to your side, humming to you the first song that comes to mind. His choices vary wildly by the day, ranging from whatever pop hit he heard the second-years listening to earlier to a rock song he heard while passing Kusakabe’s office.

Today, his choice surprises you. You don’t recognize it in the slowed, mellow way he hums it gently in your ear as he slips his fingers deftly beneath the hem of the shirt you’re wearing. He’s soft and slow as he slides his hands up your body and slips the shirt over your head. Every movement is understanding, passionate, and filled with love.

No matter how tired he is, Satoru doesn’t blame you for waking him night after night. He doesn’t blame you for the amount of bath salts you go through. Which is a lot, by the way.

He doesn’t blame you for grieving. He had expected it to be similar to when you had awoken to the loss of Kento, but your grief came in a different form this time around. He knows it drives you crazy and he knows you feel guilty. You’ve expressed to him how weak you feel, although with his new insight into real strength, he would call you the strongest.

Carefully setting your shirt aside, he holds your cheeks as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. His eyes have dark circles beneath them, something that not even his reverse cursed technique can fix, but he doesn’t mind. Not when he’s doing it for you.

When the bath is drawn, he leans down and fills it with lavender bath salts, a sleep aid for the both of you. He drops his boxers to the floor after testing the water once more and silently guides you to the bath. He lets you get in first before sliding in behind you.

Strong arms pull your back against his chest. Your head falls back on his shoulder as he continues to hum a tune you still don’t recognize.

Taking a deep breath, you let your muscles relax in his embrace with warm water surrounding you, lashes fluttering as you stare at the ceiling.

“What song is that?” You ask him when your heart calms enough that you feel at ease for the time being. Your voice is hoarse, scarcely used for the past few hours and you clear your throat.

“It’s that Avicii song I really like,” he tells you. You tilt your head on his shoulder to get a better view of his face. His eyes are closed, but he still takes the opportunity to give you a little headbutt. He feels you smile against his cheek.

“The one that says ‘I could not live without you’, right?”

“That’s the one, baby cakes.”

You smile softly, shutting your eyes in turn as he continues to hum. His voice is always so sultry and you love the way it translates into his humming or even the way he loves to sing with goofy voices.

“Toru, I’m so-”

“Don’t even think about it, pretty girl,” he interrupts. “Don’t apologize for grieving.”

“I just feel bad for,” you gesture in the air at nothing in particular, “all of this.”

“You feel bad for giving me the time to have a nice bath with my gorgeous, wonderful, sweet, pretty baby girl?”

You can feel the way his lips pull into a grin against your heated cheeks when you can’t hold back a giggle.

Satoru can be… oblivious at times. For someone known across the world of sorcerers as the Six Eyes, he can be completely blind to very obvious signals from yourself and others. The same can’t be said when it comes to his attentiveness towards you.

While he may not always pick up on the obvious, he knows the subtle signals of your body like the back of his hand.

He knows the way your brow pulls together, knit with a look of pain and frustration when the silence gets to you. He knows the way your muscles loosen and your eyes light up when he drones on about some story that’s barely interesting, but you’re just relieved to hear something to ease your tension.

More importantly, he knows the way your body reacts to his every touch. He knows the subtle way you grind against him when you want something more. When you want a different form of stress relief.

He groans, hands moving to your hips to temporarily halt your grinding. “Are you sure, sweetheart? How’s your head feeling?”

“My head’s fine, just let me ride you,” you whisper breathlessly in his ear as he allows you to continue grinding against him. “I need this.”

Satoru’s head falls back against the wall of the tub, letting out a breath shaky with pleasure. He only lets you grind against him for a few moments before he turns the tables to put your pleasure first.

One arm snakes around your middle, holding you tightly against his broad and muscular chest. You can feel the way his breathing speeds up with his growing lust as it fans against your shoulders.

His other arm slides down your waist to your hip, before he squeezes a handful of your inner thigh. Your breath hitches when you feel his fingers lightly brush the puffy lips of your pussy. He kisses the shell of your ear lightly, repeating the movement.

You buck your hips, yearning for friction but he holds you tighter, keeping your hips still while he teases you with the tips of his fingers. You whine, gripping the edge of the tub as you wriggle against his grip.

Satoru’s warm and teasing chuckle sends a shiver up your spine. “Easy, baby. Le’me take care of you,” he hums, his voice low and honeyed like a sickeningly sweet tea. The effect his voice has on you drives you crazy as you moan his name from just his words.

“S-Satoru, please.”

His name on your tongue is like a drug that he can’t get enough of, a drug that sends him spiraling as he spreads your folds, desperate to hear it again. He drags his middle finger down your slit before sliding it into your entrance.

Your lips part in a silent cry of pleasure at the sudden intrusion, his finger dragging so deliciously and teasingly slowly that you arch your back until he sinks to the knuckle. He hums into your neck, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin.

His ministrations against your gummy inner walls are so slow that you can’t help the desperate whine you let out. Satoru takes that as his sign, gliding his ring finger in along with his middle finger. A sudden gasp cuts off your whine as your walls pulse and tighten, slowly adjusting to the additional digit.

“So tight, my love. Relax f’ me,” he hums against your skin, licking a stripe up the column of your neck. He pulls back to watch the way your jaw hangs slack, practically drooling with each slow curl of his fingers.

As he curls and shifts his fingers slowly, he knows he’s found your g spot when you cry out and arch your back so perfectly for him to drag his fingers at the perfect angle in your sopping cunt that you think you might just cum on the spot.

The coil in your stomach tightens as you teeter on the edge of release, only for Satoru to withdraw his fingers with a dark chuckle. “Not yet, my love.”

You let out a surprised yelp when he flips you to face him, your glazed over eyes and blissed out expression like a damn masterpiece in a museum to him. Your hands rest on his shoulders as you grind hard against his rock-hard, twitching cock in an effort to chase your release.

His breath hitches in his throat, his hands finding your hips to still your movements. “Shit baby,” he groans, exhaling as his cock twitches again. He has to remind himself that these moments in the early morning he always wants to focus on you, make them all about you. Your comfort, your pleasure.

He’ll chase his release through yours.

“Toru, please,” you whimper, having been so close to your release only moments ago.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he smiles cheekily, raising a hand to the back of your neck to pull you down for a heated kiss. You know from the sloppy way he claims your lips that he’s just as desperate as you are, and you use the moment to your advantage as his grip on your hips loosens and you’re able to grind your pussy against his hardened member.

He moans into your mouth, his hips bucking involuntarily.

“Tsk. What’d I say, baby? Patience,” he hums in your ear, tightening his grip on your hip again as he brings his other hand down to your clit, circling it slowly and teasingly. You throw your head back, writhing desperately as your nails dig into his shoulders, raking his collar bones.

“S-S’toru,” you mumble, your words catching in your throat. His cock throbs against your pussy, pulling another whimper from your pretty lips. “Please- f-fuck- le’me ride you,” you barely make it through the sentence, holding his shoulders tight for purchase.

“Ngh, you- hah- make a good argument,” Satoru barely manages to tie his sentence together, unable to resist the way your swollen lips seem to pull him in, the way you beg for him. “You sure, baby? We don’t have a condom-”

“Baby,” you groan, nails raking his skin when the tip of his cock brushes your clit as he moves his hand to grip both hips bruisingly. Your knees press together on either side of Satoru, closing around him as you seek friction and it drives Satoru crazy, he’s never able to hold back, to resist you, when you make it clear what you want. “I’m on birth control, just-”

Satoru gets the message loud and clear, wasting no time as he pumps his cock a couple of times before lining it up with your entrance. “S’ fucking hot, ah-” his mind blanks when you move to slide down on his cock, tightly gripping at his shoulders. “Shiiiiit- So fucking hot.”

The drag of his throbbing length in your tight walls pulls a gasp from you as you take him in one slow movement, swallowing every thick inch of him. Your body shudders involuntarily when you reach the hilt, chest heaving as you both stare at one another through lidded, lust-filled eyes.

God, the feeling of the pulsing veins running along your walls raw as they clench around him already, it’s a layer of pleasure that makes tears prick in your eyes, the feeling so intense. You almost think you could unwind right then and there.

“S’ fuckin’ gorgeous riding me,” Satoru purrs, leaning his head back against the tub as he lifts your hips effortlessly with his built arms. The blues of his eyes are nearly invisible behind his blown pupils as he admires you, his gaze completely glazed over in pleasure, swirling with admiration and lust.

He’s slow and sensual, not moving with his usual zeal. He lifts your hips again, a deep moan parting his lips when your nails rake over his shoulders and collarbone as you slide back down on his length.

His grip on your hips grows stronger, more bruising, as it takes every last ounce of self control that he has to keep the pace slow, to focus on your comfort, your pleasure. He lets out a shaky breath, his baby blues flickering up to your blissed out expression as he leans forward, pressing tender kisses to your chest as he rolls his hips.

A breathy moan parts your lips when he sucks on your nipple, tongue swirling around the hardened bud before nipping the skin. His eyes never once leave your expression, drinking in the way you gasp, the way your fingernails curl into his skin. He hisses through his teeth, releasing your nipple at the sudden sting of your long nails, but wastes no time paying attention to the other bundle of nerves.

The stimulation of your chest has you growing more needy as you take it upon yourself to move your hips faster. Satoru’s lips stutter against you as he loses his ability to hold back at the feeling of your walls clenching around him with each movement of your hips.

“Fuck, p-pretty girl,” he growls against your tit, nipping fervently at the plump skin. His strong grip stills your hips, smirking when you whine at the lack of friction.

In one quick movement, he fucks up into you, thrusting his full length into you until his swollen tip reaches your cervix as he so skillfully brushes your most sensitive spot with each thrust. “Ah! S-Shit-” Your mewls become mindless babbles very quickly, brain turning to putty as Satoru moves one hand from your hip to rub little circles over your clit with his thumb.

He pumps into you fast and relentlessly, moving his hips at an unforgiving rate as he chases your- and his- orgasms. The sounds of the warm water that surrounds you fills the air with rhythmic sloshes like music for the moans that leave your lips.

Pressure builds in your pelvis as the knot at the base of your stomach tightens. When your thighs press into Satoru’s hips, he knows you’re close. “T-Toru-”

“I know baby. Tha’s it, sweetheart,” his voice is strained as his own orgasm rapidly approaches. “Let go f’r me,” he hums sweetly, still focusing on walking you through your orgasm.

Your legs tremble as your climax barrels into you, pulling a loud cry from deep in your throat as you cling to your boyfriend’s shoulders for purchase, collapsing against him as he fucks you through the high. Your chest heaves, sweat-slicked as it sticks to Satoru’s wet skin beneath you.

He holds your hips still as his pace increases. “Where d’ you want me?” He asks breathlessly.

“Inside,” you whisper into his ear, entirely too exhausted to even lift your head.

Like music to his ears, Satoru’s climax hits like a tsunami as he unloads into you, painting your walls with his cum. He keeps you still as your walls clench around him, milking every last drop from his leaking slit while his cock throbs within you.

Slowly, he releases your hips and allows your body to slump forward against him. His breath hitches when your walls clench again with the movement, brushing his oversensitive length.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers into your ear, holding you tightly to him. Your eyes remain shut as you bury your head into his shoulder, slowly coming down from your high.

When the white-haired man beneath you begins to regain some energy, he runs the soft pads of his fingers gently over your bare back. The sound of the droplets of water falling from his hand soothes the silence, keeping your mind occupied.

You’ve come to know that Satoru isn’t necessarily tender, he doesn’t always know what you need, but he’s willing to learn. He wants nothing more than for you to be happy. You reciprocate those feelings but he insists that he is happy, simply because you accept him as himself. You understand him.

You see him for who he is.

Your communication isn’t perfect still, but you’ve both gotten better at it.

“I love you, Toru.”

His heart accelerates rapidly in his chest, you feel it as you lay against him with heavy limbs. Smirking, you kiss his shoulder as your heart speeds up in tandem with his.

“I love you too, my princess.”

It doesn’t matter how many times either of you utter those three loaded words, they never lose their meaning. They never fail to make your heart falter in your chest while your stomach flutters.

Satoru hums contently, squeezing you once before he pulls you off his cock, swallowing hard at the feeling of your walls attempting to hold him hostage.

“What do you say we get you all cleaned up?”

You pull back to look at Satoru, nodding with a blissful smile. You both help one another up as Satoru drains the tub and turns on the shower.

You rarely get moments with him where he isn’t a ping pong ball of energy or cracking jokes and flirting left and right, but these early mornings have become somewhat of a common occurrence lately. You do feel bad that he’s losing sleep, but you also cherish these moments. Away from work, away from your doubts and your anxieties, just you and him.

Of course, he panicked the first time he woke up to find you holding your head. He didn’t know what to do, how to help. He knows you’re strong, knows you're capable, but he still fears losing you. You already nearly died twice, so even so much as a headache seems to find him in a panic.

Eventually, you found the middle ground. You told him what was going on and what you needed. Satoru fell into the routine quickly and no words could possibly be enough to thank him properly.

“Turn around,” he instructs softly, pulling you from your thoughts. He lathers your back with soap, sweetly kissing your nape as he does so. You rinse off and return the favor, running your hands over the peaks and valleys of his abs.

A small smile graces your tired expression, one that Satoru regards fondly.

“Enjoying the view?” He teases, that familiar lopsided smirk returning to his lips.

“If I am?” You respond cheekily.

He playfully squeezes your waist.

“Toru!” You yelp in surprise, “that tickles!”

Your pout doesn’t stop him from grinning, pleased with himself. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.” His voice is low and sends electricity straight to your stomach that you choose to ignore as your legs still shake from the sex just a few minutes earlier.

You both finish rinsing off and shut off the shower. When the hum of the shower stops, Satoru mindlessly hums a tune, never once forgetting the reason you’d awoken in the first place. He tosses you a towel and grabs one for himself.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Satoru wraps a towel around himself, his humming coming to a halt as he stares at you.

“What’s up?” You ask curiously, tilting your head.

His smirk turns to a grin as he violently shakes his head like a dog, sending water flying across the bathroom.

“Satoru! Cut it out!”

He laughs wholeheartedly when you’re unable to contain your own giggles, unable to keep a straight face even as you reprimand him.

Using the back of your hand, you wipe the stray droplets from your cheek. “You’re such a menace,” you grumble, but your eyes shine with adoration even so.

“You love me,” he slips his hands beneath your towel, fingertips brushing your hips before he pulls you closer to him. His grin never once falters as he watches the way you try to contain your smile, but it spills over. “See? You looooove me,” he teases.

“Shut up, Toru,” you push half-heartedly against him, hiding your blush in his chest as you nuzzle into him when he doesn’t dare let you go. He envelops you in his strong arms, peppering the top of your head in kisses.

“Say it,” he kisses you again. “Say it,” and again. “Say-”

“Okay, okay!” You giggle, finally looking up at those eager blue eyes you’ve grown to love so much. “I love you, Satoru.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiles affectionately.

You lead the way out of the washroom, slipping one of Satoru’s shirts over your torso before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Not tired?”

Your brow knits with guilt as you look up at him. “Not really.”

He nods, sitting beside you. “I thought I had ya all tired out,” he chuckles.

Early morning light filters through the blinds from the window above the bed. A cool breeze brings with it the smell of fresh frost settling on the grass through the crack of the window. You shiver as it grazes your bare skin. 

“You know,” the white-haired sorcerer hums, “I have something for you. It’s… not quite ready but-” he pauses, glancing at the window. “Y’know what, get dressed.”

You tilt your head at him, curious. “What is it?”

“Get dressed or you won’t find out.”

Exchanging Satoru’s shirt for one of your own, you throw on a pair of jeans and a jacket, following your boyfriend to the door. Before he can open it, you suddenly gasp.

“Wait!”

Before Satoru can protest, you dash back up the stairs, searching for his glasses or blindfold. When you don’t find either, you grab the bandages you know he wore long ago, bounding back down the stairs.

It’s his turn to tilt his head curiously now, understanding when he sees what’s in your hand.

“It’s not a big deal, love, I’ll survive without it,” he assures you, but he still kneels to let you wrap it around his head.

“I know, but I want you to be comfy.” You brush his hair from his face as he lets you delicately wrap the bandages over his eyes. You can’t see the way his eyes close as he practically melts into your touch, his muscles easing beneath your oh-so-gentle fingers. You adjust the bandages over his eyes, leaning back to take a look at your work.

With a satisfied nod, you press a chaste kiss to his lips and head back to the door. Satoru pauses for a moment before following you, his hidden gaze locked on you. He knows you can’t see the love pouring from his eyes behind the bandages, but he does know you’ve grown to be able to read his expressions effortlessly in spite of the covering. When you turn to see why he isn’t following, you demonstrate that exact ability when you spot his smile and your gaze fills with the same outpouring of love that Satoru’s has.

You can’t see it, but you know.

Hand in hand, Satoru leads the way past the forest clearing, further into the trees on the outer edges of the school’s barrier. You lean into his warmth as the trees block the early morning rising sun from warming you.

Peeking through the trees, you spot a structure but can’t quite make out what it is. Ducking beneath a stray branch, Satoru picks up the pace and tugs you along with him until the structure is in sight.

Before you, a greenhouse stands in a small clearing. The door has no hinges and there’s tools and tables everywhere surrounding it, clearly unfinished.

Gaping at the structure, you round the front of the building, your stomach fluttering as you see four flower beds all protected from the cool winter air. Satoru lifts the door out of the way before replacing it as he nudges you into the greenhouse.

Each flower bed has a collection of flowers you’ve shown your boyfriend over the past few months and alongside the two blooms that follow you everywhere are blossoms that mean nothing but love. Roses, tulips, carnations, each one carefully chosen to wordlessly show his adoration for you, as if the act of building you an entire greenhouse wasn’t enough. Every single petal practically oozes with his undying love for you. Even the flowers that are wilting from overwatering show just how hard he’s trying.

The butterflies in your stomach stir to life as you turn to face him, stunned to silence.

“Do you like it?”

You can barely manage to squeeze out a single word as you glance back at the flowers again. “Toru- I-” Your throat clenches as you try to hold back tears, cutting off your words in the process. Silent tears stream down your cheeks, unable to hold them back as you stare in shock again at the sight.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t cry. What’s wrong?” He panics with wide eyes, cupping your cheeks as he wipes the tears away.

“Nothing, baby,” you sniffle, chuckling as you wrestle with your disbelief. “I just- you made this? You built this?” Your voice is smaller than you intend, shakier than you intend.

“Yeah! Well, sorta. I can’t take all the credit, I’m not very good at building. Or taking care of flowers for that matter,” he chuckles, glancing at the wilting flower beds, “Kusakabe helped to build it. It just needs hinges for the door.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you shake your head in his grasp, chuckling again. You had noticed that Satoru had been disappearing on occasion throughout the day, though you had always assumed it was work-related, not that he was being a massive goddamn sap. “Thank you so much,” your words come out unintentionally as a whimper, another tear slipping down your cheek.

Your boyfriend’s thumb wipes the tear away and he kisses your nose. “Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he kisses your forehead gently. “I know you’ve been a bit lost lately without your technique and I don’t want you to feel like you need to be a part of-” he lets go of your cheeks, motioning to the school grounds behind you both, “-of all that, but I know you won’t go back to your cottage without me.”

You nod slowly, blinking as you take everything in.

“You know I can’t leave the school. So-” he inhales sharply. “I wanted to do something. For you.”

Your lower lip trembles, unable to tear your gaze from him.

Somehow, this man always finds a way to surprise you. Life hadn’t been easy since Miriko’s loss. Between the silence, the grief, and the loss of your ability to grow plants on a whim, you’d been feeling rather lost. Of course, it’s not like you couldn’t take care of plants the usual way, but losing something you could do after ten years had its effect on you, especially given that you didn’t have a greenhouse at the time and winter was approaching, killing your summer flowers in the process.

In the span of one day, you’d buried a past lover, lost a friend, lost your passion and hobby, lost your job, and damn near had to bury your current lover. How were you not meant to feel lost?

“I know it’s not super big or fancy, or-”

“It’s perfect, Satoru,” you interrupt him, glossy eyes shining as you pull him down to you for a kiss. Your lips move passionately against his, trying to say everything words failed to. His hands find your waist and he pulls you flush to his body, holding you tightly to him. When your lips part, you finally get a good look at the garden before you. “You’re overwatering them, my love.”

He groans playfully. “How can you overwater something in the ground? What would they do if it rained too much?”

You giggle, lowering yourself to the ground to admire his work. Many of the flowers are wilting, there’s patches throughout each bed of flowers and it’s rather uneven, however it’s clear that he paid attention whenever you spoke to him about flowers. Lilies and Peonies sit at the edge of the closest bed of flowers just as you always have them, followed closely by hydrangeas, your favorites.

“I don’t know how I can ever repay you-”

“Y/n.” Satoru’s tone is firm as he tilts his head to look down at you. “My kids are alive because of you.” It’s rare he refers to them as his kids, but it warms your heart nonetheless. “Sukuna never got a hold of Megumi and Yuji is free from him, because of you.”

“But I’m alive because of you,” you insist.

He shakes his head, averting his gaze. “You know you were better off before I…” He trails off, not wishing to bring up how you ended up here in the first place.

“I love you, Toru. I don’t hold that against you.”

He grimaces, his adam’s apple bobbing as he sighs and plops down beside you. “I love you too.”

You know the guilt keeps him up from time to time. You’re sure it’s a part of the reason he seems to work overtime to impress you as though your heart isn’t already his to hold. It almost surprises you the tenderness at which he does hold your heart.

“Did you plant these all yourself?”

Tension seems to seep from his body as the air lightens around you and he details his endeavors with the garden until the sun has risen just above the trees. Although there’s still a pang of sadness that you aren’t able to use your technique on the flowers, you know you’ll get over it with time.

Eventually, his non-stop chatter begins to die down as he grows more weary from waking up so early with you and he pulls you into his lap while you tend to the garden. His chin rests on your shoulder as his strong arms hold you tightly.

His breathing gradually evens out and you’re positive he’s asleep until he whispers something in your ear.

“Let’s take a vacation.”

You jolt in surprise at the sound of his groggy voice, setting your shovel down. “Shouldn’t we stay here with Yuji and Megs?”

“They’re fine. We haven’t had issues with Sukuna gone. They have Kusakabe and Choso.”

You nod slowly. He’s right, a strong curse hasn’t been seen in a while.

“You can get on a plane now, right?”

“Yeah, I-” you hesitate, “-I guess I can.”

“It’s settled, then.”

“Is it?” You chuckle, given that none of the details have been discussed.

“It’s settled,” he yawns, weary body slumping onto yours again as he returns to his world of napping. You blink at him in surprise as he passes out on top of you, nearly toppling you over. You can’t bring yourself to move though, he looks too peaceful passed out on top of you.

A trip, huh? You can’t help but wonder where he has in mind.

–

A light layer of snow coats the ground beneath your boots, gleaming in the evening sunset light. The glimmer of the flakes that slowly fall before you is mesmerizing as you let Satoru lead the way through the Akureyri Gardens.

He seems to always find ways to surprise you, including when he had decided you would go on a vacation. You hadn’t expected him to choose Iceland in the middle of winter, but who were you to decline when he’d already booked everything?

It’s chillier than you’re used to, but it’s a good excuse to cozy up to your boyfriend and enjoy his body heat through the chilly nights. He’d booked a beautiful AirBnB isolated in the wilderness with beautiful glass panel ceilings to stare at the moon and stars before you slept each night.

Somehow, he never fails to find new ways to make you stumble over words as butterflies flap in your stomach.

He pulls you over a bridge, not missing the way your eyes sparkle as you glance down at the flowing river beneath you. It’s not cold enough yet for it to have frozen, and some small winter flowers still peek through the layer of snow that threatens their lives on the river bank.

He chuckles, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as you kneel down to admire the flowers.

“These are Lupine!” You smile at him over your shoulder, tips of your fingers gently sliding along the greenery. It has yet to bloom and though you long to see the beautiful purple flowers, you figure that gives you an excuse to come back someday. “They’ll be purple when they bloom.”

Satoru smiles wholeheartedly at you, the blues of his eyes filled with a gentle tranquility from behind his sunglasses. You return the smile, taking the hand he outstretches to pull you back up. He kisses your forehead languidly, clearly enjoying taking time off for what you can only imagine is the first time in his life. He moves slowly, with little regard for the world as the reality is that it’s just the two of you.

For the first time ever, it’s just you and him.

At least, he thinks so. With his arms wrapped around you in an embrace, enjoying the simple serenity of the Icelandic landscape, you don’t see the way his eyes flicker open. Over your head, something catches his eye as he stares down at the spot you were just sitting in.

Purple flowers sway in the breeze, in full bloom and Satoru second-guesses himself. Hadn’t you mentioned that they would be purple when they bloom? But that would have to mean they hadn’t yet bloomed, so why…? His brow furrows, deep in thought, before he comes to the conclusion he must have misheard you, because the other possibility…

No. He misheard you. That couldn’t be possible, not after all this time.

Brushing off the thought, he pulls back and smiles down at you, glancing at the setting sun and deciding the two of you need to keep moving.

“C’mon,” he tugs you gently along with him. It takes you only a moment to fall into step with him. “We’re almost there.”

“We’re going somewhere?” You had honestly assumed that, much like every other place the two of you had visited, you would just wander until one of you got hungry, but it seemed Satoru had other plans.

He hums affirmatively, rounding a small hill and hopping up a set of rocks, letting you use his hand as leverage to hop up. He repeats the action two more times until you’re standing before a small bench overlooking the entire garden.

A small gasp parts your lips. The view is absolutely breathtaking and as the last bit of light glimmers over the thin layer of snow on the ground below, the smile that plays on your lips is inevitable.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumble, pulling Satoru along beside you to take a seat on the bench.

He hums as he pulls you into his lap, enveloping you in his muscular arms. “You’re beautiful,” he mumbles cheesily in your ear, not an ounce of tension or worry to be found in the man’s bones as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

Your cheeks burn as you shoot him a sheepish smile. “You’re cheesy,” you giggle.

“Maybe,” he agrees, a dorky grin crossing his features. He doesn’t care how cheesy it is, he’ll spend every minute of every day telling you so if it means he can spend each of those minutes with you.

“Why were you in such a rush to get here?” You question, tilting your head to get a better look at the sorcerer. With a gray beanie adorning his snowy white hair, he has a sort of boyish charm to him that’s horribly endearing.

“So impatient,” he grouses playfully as he pokes your side. You yelp in surprise, wriggling in his hold in an attempt to return the favor but Satoru holds you too tightly. You pout at him when he grins victoriously. “Was worried we’d miss somethin’.”

You’re not quite sure what he means by that, but he’s clearly dead set on keeping the surprise exactly that- a surprise.

He hums softly in your ear, filling the silent air as he stares out over the garden with you. The silence gets more bearable with each day, but you’ve grown rather fond of his humming.

You’re not sure how long you sit together like that when suddenly, it happens.

You’re not sure why you didn’t connect the dots, but the conversation you’d had with him about vacations was so long ago you could barely remember. There was a reason, after all, that you had mentioned wanting to visit Iceland. A reason that Satoru had clearly held near and dear to his heart as he excitedly grins beside you, his arms tightening excitedly around your middle.

The sky becomes alight, very subtly at first, with gentle blue and green hues that fluoresce into purples and bright, brilliant blues like those of Gojo’s eyes.

Your eyes widen in awe, jaw slack as you watch in wonder as the sky dances before you.

“You chose Iceland in the dead of winter for this, didn’t you?”

Just like when he showed you the greenhouse, you want to cry. You feel the tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you find yourself giggling happily in an effort to dissuade your watery eyes.

“You said it was your dream!” Your boyfriend insists, his eyes glimmering as they reflect the beautiful hues soaring through the sky.

“I did, I just- I didn’t-” You shake your head, wiping the tears from your eyes as you chuckle again. “I don’t know what to say.” Your voice is small as you stare up at the aurora that paints the sky colors you could only have dreamed. “This is a dream come true.”

You can feel Satoru’s cheerful grin against your cheek when he nuzzles into you. “My pretty girl at a loss for words again? I’m on a hot streak,” he teases. Twice now since the green house, he’s pretty proud of himself for that.

“You’re such a dork,” you grumble, your cheeks alight with heat, but your heart pounds in your chest. He never fails to find new ways to make you tumble and fall head over heels further in love with him, if that’s even possible. “What’s your dream, Toru?”

He kisses your cheek. “I’m living my dream.”

“C’mon,” you roll your eyes playfully.

To your surprise, his simpering demeanor sobers. “I’m serious. You know how I was raised.” His brow furrows slightly. “I never thought I would have the chance to do something like this.” His irises seem to swirl like galaxies under the vivid lights as he turns you slightly in his lap to meet your gaze. “This is all I could ever want.”

Your lips part again and you lean in, kissing him unhurriedly, embracing the languid nature of your vacation. After all, you have a lifetime of moments like these to enjoy with him. It’s all so domestic, so sugary sweet it threatens a cavity.

“I think I’d choose a beach next time, though.”

You smile against his lips.

“It’s cold and I have Infinity off so it’s also snowy.”

You giggle now against his lips. He follows suit, his chest rumbling.

“A beach it is.”

He leans in again, savoring the taste of your tongue when he swipes at your lower lip. You grant him access, enjoying the taste of the tea you’d had earlier lingering on him.

You suppose now that you have the opportunity to travel and take vacations, not to mention Satoru’s seemingly limitless sorcery money, you’ll have to tighten up your bucket list given you’ve now crossed off the only real thing of substance on it.

You already know the first item, anyway. A warm beach, somewhere sunny and tropical, with your boyfriend (shirtless, of course) dripping wet from spending time in the ocean.

Yeah, that sure sounds like a dream.

You hold back a giggle at the thought, smiling against Satoru’s lips.

“What’s up, love?” He tilts his head slightly as he catches the action, his eyes flickering open to give you a lidded stare.

“Thank you, for everything, Toru.”

“Mmm, I should be thanking you,” he hums, his eyes flashing a glorious green from the vibrant lights above.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, pretty girl.”

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || end ✓

a/n || WOW if you're reading this THANK YOU for reading my whole fic, it's been such a fun experience to not only write a completed fic but also to get to share it with all of you (who have been so kind and lovely, btw) and each and every single one of your comments make me SO happy ♡ i'm not even really sure what to say aside from thank you so much for reading and know that my inbox is always open, i love chatting with y'all

on that note i do wanna give a shoutout to all of the lovely people who have sent me some love whether that be via my asks, comments, or reblogs, know that i love you all and it means the world. shoutout as well to 🌻 anon, you are such a gem ♡

i have quite a few other long oneshots and short series planned, as well as some drabbles and a rockstar!gojo longfic so it'd mean the world if you gave me a follow and stuck around for those as well ♡ i've also got a very cute (in my humble opinion) sukuna oneshot that i'd love if you checked out if that interests you, link in my masterlist.

ANYWAY thank you and ily all ♡

[doorhine]

One of many things I like about Blue Eye Samurai is how it portrays its disabled characters. There's a lot to talk about with each of them but for this post, I want to talk about, not the step dad, but the dad who stepped up, Sword Father!

*Spoilers below

Him and Mizu's relationship is one of my favorite dynamics in the show and seeing how that developed over the years was one of my favorite things about the pilot. It felt very symbiotic and good for the both of them emotionally to have that company and support, especially on Mizu's end.

I really liked seeing how the two worked together and how Mizu accommodated to his needs. I also liked the respect given to Sword Father's ability to take care of himself as an adult even without Mizu's assistance. He's been blacksmithing for years and he's respected in his line of work. Losing his sight did not and does not change that.

I personally think the show does a good job at balancing the reality of him being blind and the accommodations he needs while also respecting him as an autonomous individual and talking about his blindness in a way that feels natural and respectful when it's relevant.

But my favorite thing about this dynamic and Sword Father as an individual is probably the use of audio design in the show in relationship to them. As we see the two of them become a family, and develop this language with each other/way of interacting, sound becomes a key element and that carries over into the entire show.

Being blind, Sword Father relies a lot on his hearing. But we as the audience don't just see this aspect of his character. We're actually made to hear from his perspective and apply that sense to how we perceive the entire season even when he's not present.

The most obvious example is the sound of metal which is used to indicate things like:

Mizu revealing to Sword Father that she forged her sword from the meteorite they found before the camera pans up to the space it used to occupy

The symbolism around Mizu and mixed metal in general

Sword Father realizing that Mizu's at his front door when Ringo brings her and Taigen there which revealed to us, the audience, where Ringo brought them before we see Sword Father come on screen (I loved that moment so much)

and emphasizing the moment of shock the characters in the show had when they heard the sound of gunshots for the first time in the finale in contrast to the clang of swords that we as the audience have gotten so used to hearing.

But the reliance on hearing doesn't just apply to that. In the second episode Mizu encounters Chiaki, a man from her past who she defeats in the present. And you know the biggest tip off the show gives us to recognize him before he reveals himself? His laugh. A noise we would've recalled from the flashbacks he was featured in.

LIKE I JUST THINK THAT'S SO FRIGGIN COOL XD

There's a lot more that can be said about Sword Father and how the show portrays him and his blindness. I personally can't speak on this as a blind person so I'd love to hear what people who are think about it. These are just my 2 cents that I felt like sharing.

[locitapurplepink]

I'm so glad to hear it @dawnchaser 😊🥰

As someone who's written fanfics where Hunter sits at Omega's bedside while she's sick/injured and does affectionate things like run his hand through her hair and take her hand, you better believe I SQUEALED internally when we finally got those things in canon.

[fanatic-writers]

Loki Drabble

A/n: Just a little thought I had while watching the new episode of Loki. Requests are open!

Word Count: 844

Pairing: Loki x TVA!Reader

Summary: The three times Loki sees you in the past and the one time he finally catches up to the present

Warnings: Unedited, Season 2 spoilers ish

You were at your desk in the TVA when you heard the commotion of your coworkers gawking at someone in front of you. “Y/n,” a strange man gasped as his hands came to cup your cheeks “gods darling you have to help me.” Your brow furrowed in confusion as you moved out of the man’s grasp. “You have five seconds to explain why you’re grabbing my face and calling me darling before I prune you.” You huffed in response, hand already searching for your weapon. “Darling, it’s me. It’s Loki.” He raised his hands in surrender as you shoved your time stick in his face. “Loki!? You mean the variant I’m supposed to be hunting down Loki?” You raise a brow, charging up the weapon and preparing to use it. Loki looked hurt, defeated even, as he seemed to melt into despair “You-you don’t remember me?” He frowned “I remember it's my job to get you off the timeline so the world doesn’t end.” You spoke as you lunged towards him. Loki was quicker though, sprinting through the hallways as you called for backup. You turned around a corner after him and heard a sort of yelp before you watched him seemingly get ripped from the universe. “What the hell was that?” You frowned as you looked to the men around you who just shrugged in response.

He had been moving through the TVA for a while now, through time more than space it seemed. He felt his body being ripped apart and pulled back together, he kept his eyes closed for a moment before he registered a scream that sounded oh so familiar. “Y/n?” He started hands already up as he approached you apprehensively. He’d had his fair share of run-ins with the past yous now and he just wanted you to recognize him. Maybe this was the actual war that He Who Remained had promised him. A war inside himself every time he saw you and you didn’t recognize him one bit. Didn’t remember the fight you’d put up for Mobius to keep him around, didn’t remember the adventures you’d been on with him. “Please don’t hurt me.” You mumbled and it was then that Loki realized that this you was different from the others. You were younger, the emotions you usually kept steeled away were present on your face, the main one being fear. He took a cautious step toward you “I could never hurt you.” He mumbled, looking into your confused eyes. He opened his mouth to speak again but before he could he was being ripped away once more, his hand reaching out to you as if you could save him.

“Where the hell do you think you’ve been?” Your voice echoed down the hallway as you marched up to Loki, looking decidedly pissed. “Darling-“ He started but you stopped him before he could get to far. “I stuck my neck out for you and then you escape?” You huffed, arms crossed over your chest. “I should’ve just let Mobius kill you after your little movie but no, I felt bad, and this is what it gets me.” You paused for a moment in your rant “And stop calling me darling, it isn’t going to win you any brownie points.” It must’ve been his first day he realized a little too late as you began to slip cuffs over his wrists and drag him back to the room he was held in. “You’ve got the wrong guy.” He tried to explain but even he didn’t know if he would be able to talk his way out of this one. “Oh, so there’s some other you running around wearing the exact same clothes doing the exact same thing as you?” You raised a brow as you shoved him into the room. “Honestly, for the god of lies, I thought you’d be better at the whole talking your way out of things. I mean seriously ‘you’ve got the wrong guy,’ I’m not a child Loki.” You mocked his voice as best you could and he couldn’t help the small smirk that came to his lips, remembering the other times you’d done it in far less serious matters. “Stop looking at me like that.” “Like wha-“ “Loki?! LOKI! What the hell!?” You looked down at the cuffs that had fallen to the floor and sent a message to Mobius that Loki was still at large.

You were walking out of the war room the next time he spotted you “Y/n, I don’t have time to explain but you know me and I need your help.” “I know I know you?” You looked at him confused “I’m more concerned about the whole appearing in front of me as a stringy flesh monster.” Loki breathed a sigh of relief and wrapped his arms around you “I love you darling, please don’t forget me again.” He paused for a moment pulling away to look at you “Stringy flesh monster?” “I’d say that’s a good way of putting it.” Mobius piped up from behind you.