#I NOW KNOW WHO THIS CHARACTER IS AND I LOVE HIM | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starlightxsvt · 1 day ago

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Ruined | sibilance. 2

synopsis ➳ you are trying hard to move on from him. you thought it would be easy but you should have remembered. never underestimate jeon wonwoo.

pairing ➳ lawyer fem!reader x rich badboy!wonwoo

genre ➳ smut, slight angst, good girl bad boy trope ig

word count ➳ 4.7k

warnings ➳ drunk pi cheolin shenanigans, cursing, wonwoo being a toxic ex, jeonghan being a flirt, pussy eating, heavy makeouts, reader slaps wonwoo.

Chapter 1

The cold night air kisses your heated face, leaving behind a soothing feeling that you close your eyes and savour.

From behind you, inside the restaurant, your colleagues continue chatting and laughing in loud voices, Mr. Pi's voice coming through particularly loud. As much as you enjoy having a drink or two with them after work, the noise was getting too much so currently, you are out here, getting some fresh air.

A figure moves beside you, catching your attention and you look to your left to see Jeonghan standing, a packet of cigarettes in his hand from which he pulls out one and puts it between his lips.

As he fishes into his pocket for something— a lighter you assume, his eyes meet yours and they flash with excitement as a smile kisses his lips. "Hey there. So you were here. I was wondering where you went to."

You laugh softly, crossing your arms over your chest to hide your naked fingers from the cold. "Yep, had to take a break from Mr. Pi's chatter."

Jeonghan laughs, sneaking a glance at your boss through the window of the restaurant and shaking his head. "Oh my god, he is a character isn't he?" You notice him slowly putting the cigarette he took out back in its home.

"I know right," you nod. "By the way," you jut your chin to the poison stick. "Don't stop on my account."

"Ah," he looks down at the packet in his hand and with a smile starts playing with it, moving it between his long, bony fingers. "Nah, I'm trying to quit anyway. And since I'm in the presence of a lady, I should not smoke." He flashes you a lovely grin, the usual teasing present in his voice.

Classic Jeonghan.

You shake your head in amusement, your eyes once again shifting to the packet in his hand.

Wonwoo used to smoke.

You begged him to stop, especially after seeing the harsh fit of coughs he would suffer from.

Gosh, it has been almost a month since you last saw him. How is he doing? Has he gone back to smoking?

Fuck, why do you still care so much?

“If you are really trying to quit, try keeping some lollipops with you,” you offer, giving him the same advice you gave Wonwoo. The man nods and hums thoughtfully but before he can reply, the conversation is interrupted by a sudden commotion. You both whip your head behind to see your three other colleagues supporting your drunk boss by holding him up as they step out of the restaurant, sighing and coaxing the intoxicated man to listen to them. He doesn’t. Instead, Mr. Pi sags lower, singing at the top of his lungs, “Chunsun-ie Chunsun-ie, my dear Chunsun-ie…” You cringe, shaking your head at him mentioning his ex for the hundredth time.

Jeonghan rushes over, pulling the older man to his feet, “Oh dear, Mr. Pi, you are wasted, aren’t you? Let’s get you a cab.”

The man lifts him, easing the burden on your other colleagues who sigh and take a moment to catch their breath. Jeonghan, along with a few others, supports Mr. Pi to keep him standing and hails him a cab while a junior colleague walks to you to hand your purse that you left at your seat.

As a colleague stands at the edge of the pavement, looking for a cab, your drunk boss tries to stand on his own even though his body keeps leaning from side to side. “You!” He points at you with a sudden burst of energy, making you jolt. “My most hardworking, most efficient employee!”

Oh boy.

“You get all the pretty boys, no?” He chuckles. “First the Chairman’s son and now our dear Mr. Yoon!” He hiccups, falling over to Jeoghnan’s side who catches him and flashes a rather amused smile at you.

You tuck your chin low and rub your temples out of embarrassment.

The older man continues, even louder this time, “You chose well! Our Mr. Yoon is a great man! The star of our firm! You guys would be— what do the kids call it these days?” He stops and furrows his brows, concentrating. “Oh, right, a power couple!” He chuckles some more.

“We would be,” Jeonghan humours him, throwing a wink at you. “You are so right, Mr. Pi. Oh look, your cab is here…”

You watch everyone help the boss into the cab and bid him farewell before heaving out a collective sigh of relief and saying their goodbyes. Then once again, silence settles and it is only you and Jeonghan.

His gaze locks with yours and he bursts out laughing. Soon, you follow, a pearl of laughter bubbling up from deep within your belly, so loud and free that you feel a tear form in your eye.

It has been a while since you have laughed like this. After ending things with Wonwoo, you had been feeling low, growing unsure about everything. Then, earlier this week, on Monday, showed up Yoon Jeonghan, a legend at your law firm who was at the Japan branch for the past two years. Charismatic, handsome and smart, Yoon Jeonghan is the perfect package, a natural scene stealer who brought joy to everyone in the office.

You are impressed by him, like everyone else and you consider it a blessing that you are working closely with him. His wits and tenacity were often talked about at the office and you always wondered how he would be as a person.

You were not disappointed.

“He is hilarious.” Jeonghan shakes his head, catching his breath after his laughs die down. You nod, still grinning.

A silence settles as you two start walking side by side. Jeonghan’s warmth next to you is ever prevalent, as you two walk in tandem, the sound of your steps on the concrete in symphony. Sometimes, his arm brushes with yours and you take subtle peeks at his face to see if it was an accident. You find no answers in his visage.

“What do you think of that?” He voices after a long break of silence.

“About what?” You push up your glasses, looking at him.

“Us, being a power couple.”

You flush, quickly averting your gaze, and pulling your muffler up to cover your chin. “Well, by power couple if you mean partners fighting crime then sure, I would love to.”

“But not romantically?” There is that familiar hint of tease in his voice.

You neither reply nor meet his gaze, focusing on the patterns of the asphalt decorating the pavement.

Jeonghan sighs loudly. “Is it about the boy Mr. Pi mentioned? The chairman’s son?”

“Yes.” Your reply is short.

“Lucky guy,” he whistles. “Should have done better.”

You stop in your tracks to face the man next to you. “Mr. Yoon, are you flirting with me?” You raise a brow.

“Took you a while to figure that out, no?” He grins, his smile flirtier than ever. “Also, I told you not to call me that. Jeonghan is fine.”

The smile of amusement creeping up on your lips is hard to resist so you bite down on your bottom lip, searching for words to say.

You decide it is best to be frank and straightforward from the get-go. “I was in a…casual relationship with him. I’m not making that mistake again. I need someone serious.” You explain.

“And you think I’m not serious?” Jeonghan challenges, leaning closer to you.

You open your mouth to reply but shut it immediately when a familiar figure appears in your peripheral vision. Your eyes trace the figure and your heart sinks when you realise who it is.

Wonwoo.

On the other side of the road, in front of the large convenience store, stands Wonwoo. The hoodie and the long coat he is wearing cover most of his frame and you might have not noticed him if it were not for the piercing gaze trained at you.

He stands there, still as a statue, the lights of the convenience store behind him casting weird shadows on his face that do not take away the slightest of his beauty.

What are the chances?

Your heart is galloping.

Frozen in your place, your hands clench into tight fists as the tiny, rational part in your brain screams at you to walk away right now.

Beside you, Jeonghan notices the shift and follows your gaze, looking at Wonwoo, who has now taken notice of the man next to you. Even from a distance, you can see the look in his eyes change as they become sharper and darker, focusing intently on Jeonghan. You know that look far too well.

The look of violence.

Suddenly, you find the strength to move your legs. Prying your gaze off of him, you look at your colleague and speak as calmly as possible. “Mr. Yoon, let’s get a cab from the next block. Come on.”

You take brisk steps ahead, not sparing another glance at Wonwoo. Jeonghan follows you and thankfully does not ask any questions.

—

Your hands stroke the top of his head, fingers combing through his soft fluffy hair in soothing patterns. His face remains pressed at your core, comfortably fitting between your legs as you lie on your back on your bed. A particular harsh suck on your core have you throwing your head back in pleasure, a long drawn out moan escaping your lips.

He raises his head to look at you, a lazy, lustful shine sparkling in his gaze that has your heart and pussy throbbing. Your wetness coats his lips and chin, evoking a deep depravity within you.

“Please.” You whisper.

“What do you want, princess?” He hums, the rich velvet of his voice wrapping around you luxuriously.

“M-make me come, please.”

“As you wish.” He flashes that dashing smirk of his, making you swoon.

His index and middle fingers slide inside you again, nestled between your tight walls. He curls his fingers, hitting that sensitive spot hidden inside you while his thumb brushes over your clit gently, making your whole body shiver.

“Fuck…” You pant, eyes squeezed shut, fingers gripping the bedsheets in an unrelenting hold.

“You like it?” He coos.

You eagerly nod your head.

Wonwoo leans closer to your face his breath fanning your ear as whispers, “Say it. Say how good I make you feel.” His thumb presses into your hard bud, making you squeal.

“I love it! I love your fingers inside me!”

“Yeah?” A harsh breath falls from his lips, his heated eyes boring into you. “You like this?” His fingers pick up pace, moving so swiftly inside your walls, that the coil in your belly is about to snap any moment. You climb and climb, body taut and awaiting the sweet orgasm you can taste until…

You wake up in a cold sweat.

Disoriented, you look around and find yourself in your bed, still dressed in your work clothes.

Fuck, you came home and slept right away only to see that man haunt your dreams too.

You swallow, hands clutching the material of your bedsheet when you realise you are drenched through your underwear.

Fuck, Jeon Wonwoo. Why can’t you just leave me alone?

—

You are back at Jeon Industries for a meeting with the chairman.

The entire meeting room is crowded with the members of the legal team, all gathered to be briefed about the upcoming joint venture between Jeon Industries and a foreign company so that the legal documents can be prepared.

The people are in especially high spirits today because Jeonghan has joined the team. A member of the legal team recently quit and Mr. Pi had Jeonghan take his place immediately, saying that he is the perfect fit.

He controls the attention of the room as everyone gathers around him to hear about his adventures overseas with rapt fascination. You watch from your seat with amusement, occasionally taking sips of your coffee and listening to his story.

You did not have a good sleep last night and the previous two nights, for obvious reasons. Meeting Wonwoo randomly on the street while returning home from having drinks to end the week was not on your bingo card. What bothers you is how much that small meeting has affected you. Why are you still sitting here, thinking about him? Was obsessing over him the entire weekend not enough?

Ugh.

You drag your palm across your face out of frustration when the door to the room opens and the chatter dies down, followed by respectful greetings.

Chairman Jeon enters, followed by his secretary, nodding and murmuring a greeting. As you all take your seats— Jeonghan next to you, the door opens again and this time, Wonwoo saunters in.

A sudden jolt of anxiety flashes from your head to toe as you feel your limbs grow heavy and unresponsive. Only your eyes move, following his every movement with trepidation.

The chairman appears surprised upon his son’s arrival and you notice the apprehension in his gaze too. “I did not know you were coming.” He says curtly.

The atmosphere is charged, everyone in the room collectively holding their breath as if waiting for something to happen, except Jeonghan, of course, who looks between the father and son with inquisitiveness.

Wonwoo, after long moments of glaring at his father, casually pulls a chair and sits down on the other side of the table, a little to the right. “Go on, continue with your meeting. I’m here to merely observe.” He says, his eyes trained on you.

The chairman’s assistant starts the presentation but you fail to process much of what he is saying. All thanks to Wonwoo’s intense glare that is fixed on you, giving you goosebumps as little beads of perspiration form on your neck. Unable to resist yourself, you sneak glances at him and each time, it steals your breath away.

He does not blink. He does not move.

His eyes are filled with emotions, appearing sharper and deeper than usual which makes your breath stutter. You imagine this is how a wolf looks like to a deer about to become prey. You always thought Wonwoo resembles a wolf, in more ways than one.

Wait, what was this meeting about, again?

Fuck, you may pass out at this point.

Thankfully, Jeonghan breaks your train of thought by asking for your attention on a note he made on his laptop, pushing the screen of the device at such an angle that it interrupts your clear vision of Wonwoo. You gladly welcome the distraction, trying your very best to divert your attention to what your colleague is saying and pushing your chair back just a tad bit so that your peripheral view of Wonwoo is completely blocked.

The meeting ends sooner than expected, much to your relief.

While Chairman Jeon talks to Jeonghan, the other members clear out of the room, except Wonwoo, of course, who stands on the other side of the table, carefully looking at your direction. You try to ignore him to the best of your ability which is futile, honestly because there is no way your body can not feel his scalding gaze.

“It is a pleasure to have you with us.” The chairman says, shaking your colleague's hand. “I have heard great things about you from your boss.”

“Trust me, the honour is mine.” Jeoghan smiles, bright and friendly, the skin around his eyes crinkling. The morning light peers into the room from the floor-to-ceiling windows, reflecting beautifully on his blond hair and casting an almost angelic glow around him.

“We also have you on our team,” The chairman nods in your direction and you stand up straighter and push your glasses over the bridge of your nose. “She is a very diligent employee of mine. With you two on board, I’m sure I won’t have much to worry about.”

“Rest assured, sir,” Jeonghan promises.

As the chairman walks out of the room with his secretary on his tail, he stops on the way, saying something to Wonwoo that you cannot decipher. Like always, their conversation appears tense and judging from the expression on Wonwoo’s face you can tell it is nothing pleasant. Wonwoo dismissively walks past his father and towards where you and Jeonghan stand, earning a glare from the older man before he takes his leave.

As Wonwoo approaches nearer, you chew on your lower lip, rubbing your sweaty palms behind your back as you think of a way to excuse yourself.

Jeonghan initiates the conversation by extending his hand. “Mister Jeon Wonwoo, a pleasure to finally meet you. I am Yoon Jeonghan.”

Wonwoo looks at his hand and then his face before gazing at his hand again with a bored expression as he makes no move to remove his hand from his coat pocket. For one too many horrible seconds, you are terrified Wonwoo will not shake his hand as you watch with bated breath. Jeonghan keeps his arm extended, sporting a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes but instead indicates a hint of challenge.

You feel like you are about to pass out when finally Wonwoo shakes his hand, making you heave a small sigh of relief.

“If you are facing any trouble or concerns, feel free to contact me anytime,” Jeonghan says, fishing out his card from his wallet and handing it to Wonwoo. He holds it between his index finger and thumb and observes it for a while before meeting your colleague’s gaze. “Hm, interesting. Are you implying something, Mr Yoon?”

Oh boy, you don’t like this tone.

Before Jeonghan can reply, you insert yourself between the two men and look at him, “Mr Yoon, we are getting late for office. Let’s go.”

“You are too mean,” Wonwoo’s voice cuts through, his fox-like eyes trained on you with an intensity that makes every other thought in your brain slip away. “I understand that we agreed not to…see each other but you are straight up ignoring me. I am hurt.” His tone is light, almost playful, maybe even sarcastic, a complete juxtaposition to the fiery look in his eyes, his gaze ignited with accusation and some loathing.

You wrack your brain for an answer and end up futile, only getting lost in his hypnotic stare that somehow sucks you into a completely different dimension, transcending time and space where it is only you and him and the haunting memories.

A sudden, loud tune echoes through the room, jolting you back into your senses as you look behind to see Jeonghan fishing his phone out of his pocket.

“I have to take this. You go on without me.” The man explains, walking a few feet away from you to attend the call. You take that chance, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you brush past Wonwoo, not even glancing at him and making a beeline down the hallway.

You make it to the elevator, securing yourself inside it and as the doors are about to close, a foot sticks through them, making you shriek and step back.

The doors reopen and Wonwoo casually walks in with his hands in his pockets. As he presses the button and the doors close, you move as far away from him as possible, gathering yourself to a corner and looking down, trying to make yourself as small and invisible as possible.

A pathetic attempt, honestly.

As the elevator slowly starts descending from the twentieth floor, Wonwoo's deep voice cuts through the silence. He utters your name softly, wreaking havoc both in your mind and your body as you feel your knees tremble.

You are fucked.

Carefully, you look up to see Wonwoo standing in front of you, too close for your liking, his large build towering over your frame. He takes a step closer as you instinctively press yourself against the wall despite knowing there is no place left to go. His eyes, dark and breathtaking, pierce through you, appearing calm but turbulent at the same time.

You feel hot all over, your heart galloping stronger than a racehorse, your legs trembling, your fingertips itching to touch his face and trace the hard lines while also wanting to turn into the air and dissipate. “Wonwoo…” You whisper, a breath of a sound really, so quiet it is almost inaudible even to yourself.

The next moment, Wonwoo smashes his lips with yours. As if you calling his name was a trigger.

You are pressed flat against the elevator wall as Wonwoo’s entire body envelops yours in an addictive sense of comfort. Your tongue tangles with his, tasting the familiar and addictive taste of him after so long. His presence, his scent, his hold, his taste— everything is like a balm to your agonised soul as you feel yourself sinking deeper into his touch.

Until you remember everything that happened and the promise you made to yourself.

Until you realise…you are kissing him back.

Your hands suddenly move on their own accord and mustering all your strength, you push him hard on his chest, shoving him away from you as if you have been electrocuted. You pant, harsh, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, inhaling lungfuls of air and then, without thinking, you strike him across the face.

The slap rings through the silence which suddenly amplifies when you realise what just happened. Wonwoo slowly looks at you, his hand reaching up to touch his smarting cheek, an impassive look settling in his eyes. There is a hint of a smirk on his lips but it is unlike his usual one as he scoffs with a subtle tilt of his head. His eyes glimmer with betrayal but along with that, there is that unmissable spark of arrogance that matches the cocky twist of his lips— like he was amused by the kiss you two shared.

You almost want to smack him again but there is guilt blooming in your chest, freezing your hands.

You kissed him back, right? It was not entirely his fault.

Before you can say something— explain or apologize, the doors open and Wonwoo is gone like a swift spring breeze.

You are still huddled in a corner, your hand over your heart, trying to calm the erratic beats as unshed tears blur your vision.

—

1 WEEK LATER

You take the private elevator down with Jeonghan after finishing the early morning meeting at Jeon Industries' head office. The contract has been successfully prepared and reviewed by the chairman so a huge burden is off your shoulders, yet you are more unnerved than ever.

You heard a rumour going around the members of the legal team this morning.

Apparently, Wonwoo has joined the company, not as the president or vice president but as a junior employee of the marketing team. Word on the street says that the Chairman has ordered him to work there for three months to prove himself before he gets a chance to take over the company.

It sounds like a bunch of nonsense to you. The Wonwoo you know would never do that. He hated the idea of working at his father's company. He always treated it as only his father’s, not something he could inherit or lead in the future.

“Do you think the gossip is true?” You find yourself asking as you stand next to the elevator.

The blond haired man turns his head to look at you. “About the Chairman’s son working here?”

You nod your head, staring at the floor.

“Who knows,” he hums. “You are a lawyer. You should only believe in facts, you know.” He playfully shoves you with his shoulder making you smile softly.

Right.

The doors open and you walk out along with Jeonghan into the lobby. It is a little past nine and the floor is still crowded with people clocking in for work. As you navigate your way through the crowd, you are forced to stop in your tracks when you see someone approaching from the other side.

It is none other than Wonwoo.

He is dressed formally; in a baby blue shirt covered by a navy blue suit and pants, paired with a steel framed glasses that do nothing to diffuse the sharpness of his gaze. With his hair slightly shorter than before and falling over his forehead like a curtain, he appears more boyish and approachable, a stark contrast to the image of him you are used to.

And as you dreaded, he does not miss you amidst the crowd, his eyes locking with yours as you inhale sharply.

With a sickly sweet smile, he walks closer to where you stand and you instinctively try to hide yourself behind Jeonghan in a stupid attempt to avoid him.

“The gossip turned out to be true, huh?” Jeonghan begins the conversation as Wonwoo stands in front of the two of you.

Avoiding eye contact with Wonwoo, you observe his outfit, noticing the messenger bag slinging from his shoulder and the cardboard carrier holding four coffees in the other.

He is really playing his part, huh.

Wonwoo chuckles. “It seems so, Mr. Yoon.” Then, he tilts his head to look at you, “Guess we will be bumping into each other every now and then, Miss Lawful.”

Miss Lawful?

You look away, the vivid memories of the kiss you shared last week suddenly flooding your mind.

Sensing the tension, Jeonghan attempts to diffuse it and looking at you, he says. “Let’s get going, shall we? We have a meeting.”

“Hold it, blondie, I am not done talking to her.” Wonwoo snaps.

What?

A shiver runs down your spine as you gape at him, your jaw slack at his brazen attitude. It is like a glimpse into the old Wonwoo masked beneath this new attire.

He did not just call Jeonghan that.

You know your colleague and you are well aware that he isn’t someone to back down or take insults lightly, which means this could very well turn into a fight right here. So, with all your might, you grip his arm and look into his eyes, hoping he sees the helplessness in yours. “Mr. Yoon, could you please wait outside for me? Please.”

The man clearly wants to say more but instead, he just nods and pats your arm. Looking at Wonwoo, who is glaring at him, he flashes a charming smile which is undoubtedly fake before walking away.

A small sigh falls from your lips.

“What is wrong with you? What are you doing here like this? What do you want?” You hiss under your breath, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible.

Wonwoo smirks. “So many questions you have. I am afraid I won’t answer them.”

You grit your teeth. “That is fine. As long as you mind your own business, we are fine, Wonwoo. Besides, you never wanted to work here. I doubt you’ll be here for long.”

Wonwoo grins. “That is where you are wrong. People change, you know.”

“Right.”

“Like you did.” Wonwoo continues, leaning slightly closer to you. “Do you enjoy fucking him? Do you imagine me when you are with him?”

Absolutely stunned and slack-jawed, you blink at him, almost not believing he just said that.

You are hurt and angry at the same time. Conflicted about what to do with the emotions rushing through you, you look up at the high ceilings and take a deep breath, tightly gripping the handle of your bag as you try to summon some strength. “Mr. Jeon Wonwoo,” you start, “We are in a professional setting. Do not cross your lines.”

The man scoffs with a roll of his eyes.

You bite your lip, hoping the pain will be a strong enough distraction. “I was going to apologize for slapping you the other day but if you keep behaving like this—”

“What will you do?” He sneers, cutting you off. “Sue me? I don’t need your apologies, ___.”

Your name on his tongue is like a forbidden word, sending shivers down your spine. It is unfair how good, how sinful it sounds and you hate how it stops your entire world, forcing you to focus only on him.

When was the last time he called you by your name?

Enough!

You sigh. “For the sake of old times, Wonwoo. Please, just stop. Let me move on.”

“Never.” It is a promise. You see it in his eyes, the way they burn, leaving a mark deep in your soul, branding you for life. “I will never let you go. Remember that.”

He walks past you, his shoulders brushing with yours.

You are ruined.

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A/N: so that was chapter 2! we now have jeonghan to make things interesting 👀 I'd love to hear your thoughts on toxic ex wonwoo and flirty colleague jeonghan! my asks are always open so drop by! i haven't started working on chapter 3 but hopefully it will be out within the first week of december. as always, like, reblog and leave a comment. toodles! <3 (it's my bday but this is my gift to y'all, i really hope you enjoyed tehee)

#seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen angst #seventeen #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo #wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo #kpop imagines #svt fic #svt x reader #svt

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twilightkitkat · 2 days ago

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I feel like Logan is oftentimes written as a character who wants a large amount of distance and space in a relationship but I think that wouldn't really be the case. Obviously he can't be around anyone every waking hour of the day and he's his own person, but I'm convinced he'd be clingy once he got into a relationship. He knows to function on his own, he knows he can go through the motions but he just... doesn't want to.

One of the main arguments I see for him wanting a lot of space is that he has an eternity to live so he doesn't feel constrained on time when it comes to Wade, who's also immortal like him. And yes, that's true, but I raise you this: he's already had 200 years without him. He's had time to do all the things he wanted to (and didn't want to) do alone—he's traveled to different countries, explored his own origins and backstory, learned about different people and places. And sometimes he enjoyed it, even if most of the time he was desperate and angry and isolated from the world.

He already spent enough time being alone that he knows how it feels. He got it out of his system. He was forced to be alone for so long that he almost forgot what it was like to have a companion, let alone someone like Wade. Someone he genuinely connected to for the first time, who understood him and wanted him.

Logan knows what it's like to be alone. He lived through it almost every day of his hellish life in one way or another. He's tired of it, now. He had 200 fucking years to stew in his own company, 3 times longer than most humans even lived.

But this? The feeling of curling next to someone and feeling their warmth? Burrowing so close you can hear their heartbeat? Waking up next to Wade and seeing his bleary-eyed smile? Fighting next to him, trusting someone to watch his back? Waking up from a nightmare and being held and comforted by someone who understands him?

It's so much better than anything he could've imagined. Why would he ever go back to how things were before, when he knows what it feels like to be next to Wade and be loved just for existing? (How could he go back to being alone after finally tasting happiness?)

He'd want to savor it. To lean into the relationship hard and memorize all of Wade's little habits and routine and quirks. He'd be clingy, letting himself demand affection and attention because he knows he can get it. And he's been starved of it for so long.

He knows he could leave, if he wanted to. That he could go out on his own for a while, back out into the cold. But why would he voluntarily do that when he has a perfectly nice fireplace to keep himself warm? If he really wanted to go out to marvel at the snow, now he could bring someone with him and share that joy together. What could be better?

#kitkat #poolverine #deadclaws #deadpool 3 #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #wade wilson #deadpool movie #wade x logan #wade/logan #logan is clingy agenda #my mans feels like hes living instead of surviving for once #let him thrive

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starry-bi-sky · 3 days ago

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haha tags have a 140 character count and a max 30 tag limit, not that i would know anything about reaching max of that....

whole ass fucking backstory is PHENOMENAL-

TY!!!! If you want I gave that whole backstory its own post which, there's nothing NEW to the post other than I gave the rogue cultivator that adopted Xin Yuan a name -- Lin Kai -- and i gave XY a childhood best friend, Liu Zhihao, who I shamelessly based off Liu Qingge. Are they ancestors?? Perhaps. They certainly share a resemblance, not that SY will know since this world's Liu Qingge has passed already.

Altho it'd be so very fun in the tragic sense if SY saw Liu Mingyan and has to do SUCH a sharp doubletake because regardless of the veil concealing half her face, the half he CAN see reminds him so sharply of his dear Xiao Zhi that its like he was slapped in the face. And yk he's purposely avoided thinking about the family he left behind for the last,,, thousand years or so,,,, so he's very rapidly overwhelmed with a bittersweet sense of grief.

LBH talks to LMY for some reason or another and is so surprised when, for the first time ever, Xin Mo isn't roiling in seething jealousy. He's not sulking, or pouting, or emanating discomfort. He's uncharacteristically calm, and if LBH searches, he can catch passing glimpses of grief?? Xin Mo refuses to comment when LBH asks him about it.

(TL:DR; Xin Yuan and Liu Zhihao promised to ascend together prior to Xin Yuan getting sworded, and traveled together constantly when they were adults. LZH was XY's best friend.)

Anyways-- the Shang Qinghua and Xin Mo friendship is probably one of my favorite ideas for this au specifically because neither of them are willing to provide context?? About why they're all of a sudden friends now?? Whenever LBH is in the northern empire, Xin Mo is either sheathed at his hip, or off bothering SQH for reasons unforetold.

Shen Yuan is sprawled across one of the chairs in SQH's provided Spy Office either bitching about some dumb wifeplot they came across, bothering SQH about what Cang Qiong Mountain sect is like -- bc cmon he's SO curious about it, and he wants to know about the peak lords before they're all slaughtered in binghe's quest for revenge, OR they're complaining about their systems or about missing modern amenities. Albeit Xin Mo's memory is probably much fuzzier than SQH's in that regard since he's centuries old.

"Oh yeah I forgot about that" is a bit of a common phrase. Shang Qinghua is probably the first person -- outside of Binghe, although its up in the air whether or not Xin Mo would be that willingly emotionally honest about his past -- to know that Xin Mo was once Xin Yuan. Of which SQH inelegantly goes "WHAT?!"

Add a new conversation topic: SQH bugging SY about what his world was like a thousand years ago and verifying which epic about Xin Yuan is real and which is blown out of proportion nonsense. It's like pulling teeth though, Xin Mo would like to Ignore His Past ty. He is an epic demonic sword now, epic demonic swords don't have families or friends or lost loved ones.

It's actually not that well known that Xin Mo has cultivated a human form I think. Nothing more than a rumor, actually. Xin Mo doesn't take human form unless he's certain that the area they're in is secure. He knows that Binghe can handle himself very well on his own, but still -- it makes him twitchy.

Binghe has to coax Xin Mo out of the sword at every lord's house they take sanctuary in, and at every camp they set up in. It's a coin toss whether or not he's successful, and depends on a ton of different variables. Wifeplots, Binghe's physical state, the terrain, etc. Once Binghe takes over the underground palace, Xin Mo starts to make more physical appearances.

Once they reach the mortal realm is a new ballpark though. Xin Mo has a huge demonic presence that's easier to suppress as a sword -- but as a human? That's a different story. It's probably where Xin Mo finally reveals that he can take in spiritual qi, he just never mentioned it before because it wasn't relevant. Also, his spiritual meridians were in far worse shape than the demonic ones. The equivalent of atrophied muscles from a thousand years of disuse.

I'll need some time to figure out how that works, but eventually Xin Mo is able to cultivate enough spiritual energy to, for lack of better words, switch forms. He can't go by Xin Mo in either human or sword form since that'll certainly raise a few eyebrows, so he tells Binghe to refer to him as Sha Yuan.

Also, Binghe takes one step into the human realm when Xin Mo quite literally throws himself out of the sword and collapses onto the ground. LBH is alarmed for all of thirty seconds, before Xin Mo says "I haven't seen the sun in a thousand years" in this breathy, astonished voice, like he doesn't mean to say it out loud. His fingers are kneading the grass, and he's pressing back into the ground like he's trying to sink into the dirt.

Luo Binghe lets him stay like that for as long as he'd like.

Svsss au where Shen Yuan transmigrated as Xin Mo. Yes, that Xin Mo. Obviously Shen Yuan is pissed at this development and tried to kick up a storm but can't because sword so he is stuck waiting for Luo Binghe to show up.

After dealing with the occasional demon and mindless boredom of being just a sword, Binghe shows up. Shen Yuan is just ready to throw himself at him so they can finally get out of the abyss and the rest of the plot to happen. Binghe is surprised to learn the super powerful sword that can rip through time and space is a chill dude that wants Shen Qingqiu's castration a little too much.

Eventually through the power of the system, Soul Eater logic, or straight up complaining to God himself (sqh), Shen Yuan gets the ability to transform into a humanoid form and Luo Binghe officially needs him carnally. Shen Yuan is so happy to have hands again that he totally missed how Binghe was looking at him.

Rest the au goes on with Shen Yuan pushing Binghe to get the plot going, trying to get him to get his empire, revenge, and wives as Binghe is trying to figure out swordception.

#mmmm i wanna make more posts about xin yuan LMAo. specifically between him and Liu Zhihao. they are special to me <3 #rare show of restraint im ending the post there while the timing's right. its so i can talk more about it later if OP is still interested #i also have thoughts about the earlier idea of Xin Mo gaining a human form from some kind of wifeplot.#and i wanna talk more about Xin Mo being a Freak but the tone didn't feel right here so im saving that for another reblog lol #will probably actually make a post about XY and LZH after this LMAO. the chance of it being a ficlet about how they met is not 0 #OP feel free to add on any of your own ideas if you have any bc i'd devour anything you have to say about it

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thatlotuscookie · 3 days ago

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ok ok, hear me out, hear me out I swear-

a Haikyuu character who's a teacher(you pick which one bc I am indecisive lol) who students don't like because they assign too much HW, x Art-Teacher y/n who's super eccentric and all the students have started calling "Auntie" bc they like her so much... and somehow the students realize they're dating

✧･ﾟ: a/n: hiii thank you for the req anon! i choseTsukishima Kei x art teacher!fem reader cause why not :) sorry for the wait, it got a little busy. please enjoy and thank you for requestinng <3

✧ Title: ✧ Paintbrushes and Equations ✧ ✧ Characters: Math!TeacherTsukishima Kei x Art Teacher!Reader, Fem!Reader ✧ Genre: Fluff, Romance, Slice of Life ✧ Rating: G ✧ Summary: Mr. Tsukishima Kei, the strict math teacher known for his tough assignments, and Ms. Y/N, the quirky art teacher adored by students, try to keep their budding relationship under wraps. But between secret coffee runs and after-school visits, it doesn’t take long for their students to catch on. ✧ Content/Tags: Secret Relationship, Soft Tsukishima, Teacher AU, Slow-burn Romance, Fluff and Humor ✧ WC: 1126 words // 6.8k chars

Mr. Tsukishima Kei was known as the strict, no-nonsense math teacher, infamous for assigning challenging homework and expecting punctuality from his students. Across the hall, however, was Ms. Y/N, the quirky art teacher who taught in a classroom full of painted murals, plants, and knick-knacks. Her students affectionately called her “Auntie,” loving her warm personality and encouraging nature.

Despite their differences, the two had quietly been dating for some time now, keeping things subtle so as not to spark gossip in the school hallways. But as careful as they tried to be, some moments were just too sweet to hide from their observant students.

Every morning, Tsukishima would stop by Y/N’s room before classes started. Though their relationship was mostly kept under wraps, there was one routine they couldn’t help but share—he’d bring her coffee, just the way she liked it, and stay for a few moments before his first class.

One particular morning, a student passing by happened to catch sight of them. Y/N was sitting at her desk, fiddling with paintbrushes while Tsukishima leaned against the edge of her desk, coffee cup in hand. She looked up at him with a bright smile as he handed her the coffee.

“Thank you, Kei! You know, I think your coffee runs are the best part of my day.”

“Maybe if you went to bed at a reasonable hour, you wouldn’t need this much caffeine,” he replied, rolling his eyes, though there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Bedtime? Reasonable? You’re talking to an artist, Kei!” She chuckled, raising her coffee cup in mock cheers.

The student who’d witnessed it ran back to their friends, spilling the details in hushed, excited whispers. “Guys, Auntie totally has Mr. Tsukishima wrapped around her finger. He’s bringing her coffee like it’s a daily thing!”

During lunch breaks, Tsukishima would sometimes slip away from the teachers’ lounge and make his way to Y/N’s art room, which was usually open to students who wanted to work on projects or just hang out with their favorite teacher. Though he’d never admit it out loud, Tsukishima was growing fond of this habit too.

One afternoon, Y/N was holding a brush in each hand, struggling to finish a mural one of her classes had started. Tsukishima approached, watching her for a moment as she fumbled with paint colors.

“Need a hand?” he asked, taking one of the brushes out of her grasp without waiting for an answer. He began painting in neat, deliberate strokes, adding to the vibrant, playful mural.

“Mr. Tsukishima,” Y/N grinned, “are you sure you can handle all this color?”

He just shrugged, pretending to be annoyed, but there was a glint in his eye. “It’s not my fault you’re terrible at ladders.”

The students present watched with wide eyes as their usually stern math teacher helped their beloved art teacher, even taking her playful teasing without so much as a sigh. “Is he… actually smiling?” one student whispered, amazed. “And helping her paint? They’re definitely dating.”

On Fridays, Y/N would stay late to finish up art projects, often leaving well after most of the other teachers had already gone home. But one evening, as she was cleaning up her brushes, she was startled by a familiar voice at the door.

“Didn’t I tell you not to stay this late alone?” Tsukishima’s tone was gentle, though there was a hint of concern.

“Oh, but I had just one more layer of glaze to apply! I didn’t want to leave it unfinished,” she replied, smiling sheepishly.

Tsukishima sighed and moved to take some of the supplies from her hands, setting them aside. “That can wait. You shouldn’t be here by yourself. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

They left together, but not before another student, leaving basketball practice, caught sight of them walking side by side down the hallway, Tsukishima’s hand brushing hers in a quiet, comforting gesture.

“Did you see that?” the student whispered to a friend the next day. “Mr. Tsukishima totally waited for Auntie after school. He’s such a softie for her.”

When Field Day rolled around, Y/N was the designated supervisor for the art activities station. Her students flocked to her booth, excited to paint, tie-dye, and get a break from competitive games. Tsukishima, though not usually one for field activities, had somehow found himself “volunteered” to help out at her station by none other than Y/N herself.

At first, he’d tried to stay in the background, sorting supplies and ensuring everything was organized. But as more students lined up, Y/N pulled him over to assist with face painting. “Come on, Kei, it’s fun! Don’t be so serious,” she teased, handing him a paintbrush.

He gave her a long-suffering look but, after a few convincing nudges, gave in. Soon, students were giggling at the sight of Mr. Tsukishima painting bright flowers and animals on their cheeks.

“Mr. Tsukishima, can you paint a dragon?” one student asked, grinning. And to everyone’s surprise, Tsukishima nodded, actually putting in the effort to paint a rather impressive dragon.

Meanwhile, Y/N leaned in close, watching him with a proud smile. “See? I knew you had a colorful side.”

The students at the booth exchanged knowing looks, watching the way Tsukishima’s gaze softened every time he looked at Y/N. One bold student whispered, “They’re definitely together. I think Auntie’s the only person who could get him to paint a dragon.”

The biggest reveal came on Y/N’s birthday. Her classroom was decorated with student-made banners, handmade cards, and small, thoughtful gifts from her students. But the real surprise came when Tsukishima walked in with a bouquet of wildflowers, which he set on her desk, much to the shock of her students.

“Kei…” Y/N murmured, her eyes shining with surprise. “You didn’t have to—”

“Happy Birthday, Auntie,” he said simply, giving her a small, genuine smile before glancing pointedly at the students, who were watching, open-mouthed. He gave them his usual glare but, seeing the excitement in their eyes, eventually gave up on hiding it.

And with that, the students finally had their confirmation. They all whispered to each other excitedly, some even daring to give Tsukishima approving thumbs-up. From that day on, Tsukishima’s “monster math teacher” title softened in their eyes. He was still strict and demanding, but he was also the teacher who went out of his way to make their “Auntie” happy.

As the weeks went by, more little moments started to unfold between them—moments the students watched eagerly, as if they were witnessing a real-life romance. And while Tsukishima might not have been the most affectionate in public, he showed his care in small, steady ways, making sure Y/N was looked after and supported in the little things.

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trendywaifus · 2 days ago

Text

↳ you know you’re better than this.

featuring — anya x gn! reader (mouthwashing)

no, i don’t write for mouthwashing, there’s just not any anya content.

cw: dark themes, mentions of sexual abuse, abuse, mentions of pregnancy, vomiting, blood, implications of suicide, character deaths, controlling behavior, triggering themes, angst, panic attack, reader is fresh out of medical school, barely hurt and comfort

6 weeks before the crash.

“ guess who~? “

you croon, playfully hovering your hands over the onyx haired woman’s eyes as you snuck up behind her in the med room. anya was standing in front of the sink, quietly washing her hands. a soft giggle rolls off her smiling lips, body language relaxed,

“ hmm, daisuke?”

you snicker, “ i didn’t know i was a silly boy.”

anya hums thoughtfully while the faucet still runs and her hands soaking wet. “ captain? “

“ yes it is i, the big softie blond with curls! “ you proclaimed, goofily deepening your voice to make the voice of the captain, curly. if curly was here, he definitely would of made fun of your half-baked impression of him. anya lets out a bubbly laugh that makes the corner of your lips curl upwards even more. you fight the urge to hug her from behind and squeeze her silly from how wondrous she is. to think you get to be on a space trip with the woman you love and admire deeply makes you wanna float through the endlessly sea of stars and wonder.

“ now that I guessed you right, can i finish washing my hands and greet my lover properly? “ anya asks in a jovial tone.

“ mhmm~ “ you removed your hands away from her eyes and backed off so she can finish washing her hands. it takes a few moments for anya to finish. she turns the faucet off, grabs a paper towel from the dispenser, and wipes her hands off. after throwing the crumbled paper towel in the small bin, she turns around to finally face you. despite her hues resembling a gloomy grey, they brighten as they drink you in. anya immediately seeks for you, wrapping her arms around your frame and gently brushes up against you. you gladly reciprocate the loving gesture, running a delicate up her back and let it rest on her upper back.

“ so, how’s evaluations going three months in? “ you asked, pressing a quick kiss to her brow, “ has the others evaluations been okay? no crazy confessions yet right? “ you inquired with a teasing voice. anya is far experienced in psychology than you are so you leave the evaluations to her. and because anya’s more outgoing and hands-on, you felt like anya’s more capable of taking on medic role. you were luckily squeezed on this ship as a last minute intern similar to daisuke for the experience. six people on a four-man ship is so far quite the experience. you try not to get in the way of the others and besides anya, you mostly interact with curly and daisuke.

anya pauses, recalling her memories from the monthly evaluations.

“ hm. .—oh! daisuke. .a very bright and funny boy that really puts himself out there. he inspires me to be more optimistic. ugh, he’s also disgustingly lucky when it comes to those board games we play. “ her lips ball up in a cute pout, you laugh, “

“ stop saying he’s lucky, anya. you’re just being a sore loser. just accept that he’s better than you at board games! “

anya playfully rolls her eyes, “ oh hush. don’t tell me you’re on his side. “

you smirked, “ i’m on your side, beautiful—buttt i’m still gonna hand you the truth. lovingly. “

anya tells you about the other three evaluations, curly, swansea, and jimmy. her voice is light-hearted when she talks about curly. she describes him as being kind but a bit reserved. he never talks much about himself. everyone has their own story and perhaps even some like him chooses to not tell his as it’s locked away behind the fleshy walls of his bleeding heart. when anya got to swansea, her tone is the same but it’s dampens a bit; melancholic. she describes the crude mechanic as a man who’s been through a lot in life and still lives on despite his struggles. despite how rough he acts, there’s something about him that makes you feel sorry for him. there’s a sort of loneliness that clings to him like the fresh scent of dry balls after drying your clothes in a dryer. however, you can tell that daisuke’s light is smearing onto the much older man’s demeanor. he’s a little more livelier, although very rough on the edges—swansea expresses his care for daisuke in a tough love kinda way.

when anya finally gets to the gruff brunette man, the atmosphere shifts. her words holds a certain weight to them that makes you feel slightly uncomfortable. her voice is meek and reluctant as she talks about his recent evaluation. you pick up on anya’s careful wording and brief pauses during it. she rests her cheek against your shoulder, holding you visibly tighter as if she’s trying to ground herself through you. anya says that he doesn’t really take his evaluation seriously and makes particularly sarcastic comments at her. great. you don’t like jimmy because there’s something about him that rubs you the wrong way. was it that permanent mean look on his face? that judgmental look in his hooded, brown eyes whenever he passes by you in the hallways? what could have you possibly done to him to make him look at you like that? you don’t really talk to him and care more for curly. he is the leader and main pilot after all.

“ . .if he’s making you uncomfortable, i can do his evaluations for you. psychological evaluations require a one on one session and i can do it while you’re outside of the door.” you mutter, rubbing loose circles into anya’s back.

your lover stays silent for a moment. “ . . .no, i can handle it. but, you standing behind the door instead puts me a little more at ease though, haha. “

“ of course. anya, look at me. “ and she does, pulling her head away to peer at you with those pretty, upturned eyes of hers. a tender palm cups her cheek. anya’s skin feels warm and soft to the touch. “ if anything happens, you’ll tell me right? i may only be the intern but i will absolutely raise hell for you. “

anya smiles at you warmly at you, grayish eyes twinkling with endearment. she leans in and kisses your lips. “ i prefer that you not to because i’d hate for you to get booted into space by the crew. “ she remarks jokingly in between brief kisses.

“ hmm. “ you bring your lips to the bridge of her nose, under the tender flesh of her eye, everywhere until she’s a smiling mess. “ we’ll have to see about that. “

5 weeks before the crash.

restless, you exhale as you blankly stare at the white ceiling. due to anya’s head laying on your chest and her body nuzzled against your side, you can hardly change positions or get up, really. you don’t want to wake her up either.

“ can’t sleep? “ she whispers out gently, her hand that was intertwined with yours, lightly squeezed.

“ mmm, not really. did i wake you up with my defeated sighs, anya? “

“ . . kinda. but i’m use to this by now since this is a habit you like to do when you can’t sleep, (name).”you can hear the fond smile in her voice. after two years of dating, anya’s able to read and soak up your habits. she’s so attentive to your mannerisms, knows when you’re apprehensive by the twitching of your fingers and eyes. she knows when you’re happy, sad—it’s quite ridiculous how could someone so knowledgeable like her is struggling to get accepted to med school several times while it only took you once to get in. you’re not a registered nurse prior to getting into med school or anything like that. yes, you worked really hard—but lets admit it; you were just simply lucky to get in. lucky and currently hundred thousand dollars in debt after finishing.

“ i’ll let you sleep. i think i will just sneak into med bay to finish reading the social animal. i wanna be good at psychology as my awesome, future wife is.” you asked, pressing a chaste kiss on her temple.

anya laughs sleepily, “ oh, stop it. you’re not going to fall asleep in there, are you? “

“ of course not! i’ll come back to you once i’m feeling tired. but, if you miss me or have a nightmare, you know where to find me~ “

she removes her head off your chest and breaks away from you with a soft pout. “ i suppose so. “

you get up from the bed and dipped down to kiss the tip of her pretty roman nose. “ buh bye for now, beautiful. ” you coo, adjusting the blanket back over her body.

“ see you, hun. “

you slip on your slippers and walked out of your shared cabin. besides the sound of the low humming noise of the ship, silence fills the void of the still atmosphere. it’s surprisingly chilly as you exit the sleeping quarters and walk through the narrow-like hallways to medical. your footsteps softly bounces throughout the metal walls and your distorted shadow follows behinds you. there’s a churning feeling in your gut as you walk and walk. was it really okay to skip off to medical at the middle of “night” just to read? wouldn’t it have suffice to simply stay and talk to anya until you were able to fall asleep?

your eye twitch and your fingers curl ever so slightly.

should you just go back to her?

“ hey, you’re still “up.”

a rough voice calls out, ripping you away from your thoughts. you stop walking. your eyes wander over to the source and a shiver runs down your spine. jimmy, still in his jumpsuit, stands by the hallway leading to the cockpit. there’s a sense of uneasiness in the air as his quiet gaze lingers on you, waiting for your response.

“ yeah, can’t sleep. “ you say in a deadpan voice, “ what about you? “

jimmy runs his fingers through his tousled chocolate locks before shrugging. “ same as you. but i’m just taking a aimless stroll. where you headin’ to? “

none of your business.

“ medical. “

there’s something in his eyes that visibly changes; a taunting glint that has you side-eyeing him. a corner of his thin lips curl into a subtle, smug smirk.

“ you’re a little ways to go, dr. intern. “

you roll your eyes and start walking pass him, “ i know. at least i know where to go, mr. co pilot. “

jimmy clicks his tongue behind you, muttering something under his breath before his footsteps become distant in your ears. you turn your head, throwing a quick glance over your shoulder. you see his tall silhouette walking down the direction towards the sleeping quarters. “ smug fuck, i hope you sleep like shit tonight. “ you murmur, trying your best to ignore the sinking feeling in your tummy.

with a tired sigh, you slumped in the chair, turning one of many pages you gone through. the ticking clock in the background occasionally hits your ears as your fingers lazily drum against the pristine white surface of the desk. your droopy (e/c) eyes skim across a quote that leaves the remainder of your conscious mind wondering.

reason and emotion are not separate and opposed. reason is nestled upon emotion and dependent upon it. emotion assigns value to things, and reason can only make choices on the basis of those valuations. the human mind can be pragmatic because deep down it is romantic.

“is it wrong to use only reasoning to make a decision devoid of emotion . .? or is it actually wrong to let your emotions influence your decisions and reasoning? ” you sleepily muse to yourself.

oh, being human is so complicated.

your head perk up at the medbay door sliding open. surprise is written all over your face once you see a seemingly shaken up anya walking inside. her arms are tucked to her chest, hands clutching her elbows.“ anya? it’s only been. .two hours? you had a nightmare already? “ you asked worriedly, standing up from the desk to make your way over to her.

“ i. .y-yes, it was t-terrible. .” anya whispers in a quivering voice. her head is down, avoiding eye contact. you try to grasp her elbow and lure her into your arms but she violently flinches from your touch.

pulling away quickly, your face contorts into a look of worry. “ baby? “

teary-eyed, anya quickly lifts up her head, mustering a shaky smile. “ oh dear, i-i’m sorry. i-i’m just still quite shaken up from the nightmare, h-haha. i need a minute or so to recoup myself. can i stay here with you? “ anya sometimes get nightmares but it was only due to stress. she never had a nightmare that got her like this.

“ . .of course. you don’t even have to ask. here, you can sit on one of those beds. “ carefully, you ghost your hand over the small of her back as you guide her to a bed. she quietly sits down with a soft sniffle and you follow suit. your heart squeezes at the sound of her soft hiccups and the sight of her head down. you can hardly see her face due to her saber strands hanging down. “ can. .is it safe for me to have my arm around you? “

she meekly bobs her head and you delicately curl an arm around her, taking note of her body momentarily stiffening up before gradually relaxing. “ do you want to talk about your nightmare? “

it takes her a moment to reply. “ . . no. i don’t really remember much of it now anyways. “

you frown, leaving it at that despite wanting to push for more. anya always remember her nightmares. there’s something that’s eating away at your gut and it’s making you anxious. you gnaw at your lip and your eyes twitch. you should be focusing on her. whatever you’re feeling right now is the result of your overthinking. you should trust her. it was just a rare, horrible nightmare that gotten her like this.

things can happen unexpectedly without an explanation.

perhaps you shouldn’t push for an answer and leave it alone?

1 week before the crash.

“ hah! i win! in your face! “ daisuke laughs in triumphant, placing his pink piece over on the next move that solidifies his victory. anya groans loudly next to you, crossing her arms and pouts like a kid who gotten their toy taken away. “ this is unbelievable! i almost had it! “

you laughed, “ better luck next time, anya. it seems like the kid has a brighter future than you when it comes to board games! “

ever since that night, anya’s been uncharacteristically a little distant and jumpy. she’d always seek for your touch. but now, she seems reluctant to touch you first. whenever you try to show anya any kind of affection, it takes her a moment to reciprocate. you can’t really surprise her now or she’ll get visibly startled. anya has trouble sleeping and wakes up from the any sound or movement so you have to be still. for the past four weeks, you tried to ask her about her abnormal behavior, and she’d tell you vague reasons like, “ i just haven’t been feeling well. “ or “ that nightmare got to me more than i thought, i’m sorry. “

you’re worried about her—even her smiles are dampened with a sliver of sadness behind them. you really want to help but you don’t know how. it feels like she’s slowly putting a wall between you, her, and her true feelings. at least right now she’s like her old self again. you’re glad.

“ hey guys. having fun in here, huh? “ curly and jimmy walks inside the lounge. the blond waves at the three of you with a welcoming smile while jimmy awkwardly stood behind him.

“ yeah! i was able to beat anya this time! isn’t that right, anya? “

“ mhm, but as usual, it was luck. “ anya says softly, her voice lacking the enthusiasm as it did before. she tucks her arms into her chest. you flash her a look of concern. there it is again, the churning feeling in your belly. why did her mood sour like that? was it because of curly and jimmy’s arrival? your eyes travel back to the two men, quietly observing them. curly ruffles daisuke’s hair as he stood behind the couch daisuke is sitting on. he’s completely focused on talking to daisuke. your gaze transition over to jimmy and his eyes meet with yours.

that same glint he had in his eyes a few weeks ago, has you feeling more than uneasy. then, your mind suddenly flashes back to the subtle smirk he had and him walking back to the direction of the sleeping quarters. not too long after him going over there and you lounging in medbay, anya joins you, trembling and barely wanting you to touch her. you thought about her saying it was a bad nightmare and didn’t remember enough to tell you the details of it. like what you thought about before, anya always remembers her nightmares and only gets them due to stress.

the horrible realization starts to sink in and your heart drops to the very pits of your stomach. it drowns in a sea of dread.

oh god, did he go to her while you were. . .?

you feel sick. why did you ignore that gut feeling in your stomach during your walk to medbay back then? why didn’t you stay with anya? why did you just figure this out now?

you stand up unexpectedly, startling everyone.

“ (name)? what’s the matter? “ anya asks with clear worry. throat dry, you gathered up the strength to cast her a assuring smile that doesn’t reach your eyes in which she notices right away.

“ i. .i need to go to the restroom. i’ll be back everyone. . “

you quickly slide the bathroom door behind you. unable to hold your own weight anymore, you fall to your knees. there’s a suffocating feeling in your chest that’s causing your breathing to become uneven. your mind races back to the evaluations and how uncomfortable anya looked every time she had to do jimmy’s. yes, you stood behind the door to provide her some “security” in the recent weekly evaluations, but god, you actually let her be in the same room alone with this man? her assaulter? you did basically nothing but blindly trusted her words and ignored your intuition.

maybe anya didn’t want to tell you because she knew that you’d make a big uproar out of it, thus making the situation possibly even worse?

or maybe she was afraid you’d look at her differently?

. . .or maybe jim threatened her to not tell the crew?

t r u s t

she kept this in all this time and gave these inconsistent reasons that you knew was out of character for her to make up. . and yet. .you ignored the obvious signals and trusted her anyway. all you had to do was listen to your gut feeling and sit down with her to talk. all you had to say was that you were there for her and you’ll listen to anything she has to say if she wants to talk. you’d do anything for her—anything. even if it meant the cost of your internship which matters practically nothing to you. it’s not like the company was worth shit anyways. what fucking company doesn’t implement locks on doors in rooms where their own employees sleep in? what company just allows someone like him in?

tears bubble in your eyes as you grit your teeth, seething in frustration. you bite down on your bottom until the thin layer skin easily rips and starts to bleed. you bawl your hands into tight fists, nails dig into your palm until moon crescents dig into the flesh. you’re so horrible.

you feel so sick.

this is what she must of felt but much much worse.

you can’t even imagine how she had to process what happened all alone in the dark and walk through the long corridors in dead silence just to get to medbay, to you. you can’t imagine how it feels to hide something so traumatic from everyone while gathering up your broken shards of identity in silence. you don’t blame her—you can never blame her from hiding what happened between her and jimmy. you can only blame yourself for being ignorant and not fully realizing how dangerous he truly is.

your stomach turns upside down and you feel the sudden need to vomit. you scrambled over to the toilet and puke your guts out. series of fat tears roll down your cheeks.

“ ugh. .” you coughed hoarsely, hunched over.

you feel sick. you feel sick. you feel sick. you feel sick. you feel sick—

a few firm knocks on the bathroom door made you freeze.

anya’s concerned voice calls out behind the bathroom door. “ (name), are you alright? are you feeling well? “

you couldn’t even respond properly without hacking which gave yourself away immediately. alerted by your excessive coughing, she successfully slides the door open and rushes inside to your aid.

you never locked the door behind you, did you?

“ i’m here, (name). please, let it all out. “ anya rubs your back soothingly, not bothered by the drool and vomit spilling from your lips. you feel embarrassed under the worried, gentle gaze of anya. she whispers comforting words as you finishing vomiting. she grabs some paper towels and silently offers to wipe your face. you shake your head and gingerly take the towels from her hands and do it yourself.

anya opens her mouth to speak but you interrupt her.

“ it’s funny, “ you half laughed and sobbed, “ how you were able to come in so quickly just as i realized the door wasn’t locked. “

anya’s eyes widen with shock and looks as if she was about to burst into tears.

1 month after the crash.

“ anya, sweetheart? “ you gently call out to her before resting a hand on anya’s shoulder as stood by the sink, soaking curly’s bandages with soap and water. the fresh bandages are slowly starting to run out because of curly’s nonstop bleeding. you and anya both agreed to clean and reuse the bandages after one use to maintain the supply.

she still slightly jumps and turns her head around with a soft smile. “a-ah! s-sorry, (name). what’s wrong? “

“ let me clean the bandages and give captain his meds. you’ve been standing there for the past forty minutes. sit out in the lounge, okay? after watching you the first few times, i know what to do. “

a look of uncertainty dwells on her face as she ponders over your words. gingerly, you place a hand over her stomach. “ please, anya? i’ve seen how uncomfortable you look when you do this for him, you don’t have to hide it from me because i’m your lover. we’ve talked about this. i’ll do anything i can to shoulder your burden and make sure that you’re not pushing your body. “

anya’s grey hues flicker with appreciation and a twinge of guilt. “ okay, i’ll go sit down. if you need me, please holler out. i-i hate to make you do this after—“

“ anya. “ you interrupt her, reaching out to cradle her pale cheeks. they feel warm under your palms. your gaze pools into her own. “ anything. “ you whisper, resting your forehead against hers. anya’s lips pursue in a thin line. you know she wants to object but she swallows her words without anything to wash it down with, leaving behind a bitter taste. you lift your chin to press a lingering kiss to anya’s forehead.

tentatively, anya walks out of the medical, leaving you and a shell of a man in the room alone. a deep sigh runs past your lips and you go over to the half–foamed up desk to quietly grab a bottle of pain meds. “ captain. “ you mutter, walking over to the bed where he permanently lays. what a pitiful sight to witness. curly resembles a meat bag, his limbs left horribly mutated and amputated, his once tan skin is now all gone and long burned off. he’s stripped from his protection and only his vulnerable muscles are exposed. his only eye, wide and blue, stares up at you. you stare back blankly. through a singular sea of blue, you see a mass of fear, pain, and most of all, regret.

“ i don’t hate you, captain, “ you pop the bottle open. “ i’m sure anya doesn’t either. well, anya wouldn’t bring herself to hate you even if she wanted to anyways. “

he doesn’t respond but his permanent wide–eyed gaze continues to stare you down.

“ i’ll give you 5mg of oxycodone before i do your bandages. i’ll give you your second dose afterwards.”

you shake out two pills from the bottle. “ . . .all of this isn’t really your fault. misguided karma can be cruel. however, “ you slowly opened his jaw, the slimy sound of his muscles moving against each other makes you cringe. you see why anya can get more nauseated off of this. “ misplaced trust in a bitter person who’s undeserving of trust in the first place is what gets someone like you in a position like this. “

you hold his jaw, his exposed, irritated muscles twitch erratically against your protective layer of skin. your stomach swirls with a sinking feeling. curly starts to breath heavily, his pupil dilates. you hold one pill between your index finger and thumb. hot tears prickle at the corner of your twitching eyes as a shaky grin stretches across your face, and a bead of sweat rolls down your brow. you feel sick to the utter depths of your stomach.

“ don’t struggle , yeah? “

this wasn’t your worst moment right , curly?

0 days before the crash.

“ curly, fuck, where did he walk away to? “ you stopped curly in the middle corridors, pulling him back by his broad shoulder with a firm hand. curly, who’s face is full of panic and confusion, frantically responds back. “ i-i don’t know but i’m going to go find him to try and talk—“

“ i-i’m sorry, talk? this goes beyond talking at this fucking point! that fucking dog assaulted anya and she’s pregnant! “ you spat, heart full of frustration, “ do you think talking to her assaulter is going to fix shit? do you think doing the bare minimum is going to take back what she went through?! “

he runs a trembling hand through his blond curls. “ i-i understand but—fuck, let me just try—and—and, “

your hand drops to your side and you send him a look of utter disappointment. “ un—fucking—believable. how many times did anya tell you about jimmy? did you know about his shitty behavior even before she got pregnant? assaulted? she doesn’t want to tell me the answer so i’m fucking asking you! “

he stays slient, the guilty expression dawning on his face says it all.

“ . .what a great leader you are, captain. “ you growled, “ allowing that shitty friend of yours to ride this ship and you do barely nothing until the situation blows up in your face. this is what happens when you let your personal emotions dilute your judgment and reason as a leader. this is the outcome. the crew is my responsibility, my ass. if i had it my way, i would of shoved his ass in the cryo pod the second i’ve found out. but alas, i’m not the fucking leader but a damn intern. i held it allll in for a week for this shit? just imagine how anya felt to endure the awful trauma longer than that only for you, the captain, the only person with power, to handle it so horribly. fool.”you turn your heels and stomping back to medical for anya.

4 months after the crash.

“ daisuke. . kiddo, “ you gently call out to him as you find him somberly laying on his back next to the area leading to the cargo. his forearm rests over his eyes.

“ you okay? “

“ no, not really. .it’s just. .i wonder what my mother thinks right now. .she’s probably thinking i’m finally putting my feet into the water, finally learning and figuring out what i should to do in life during this internship. .meanwhile i’m on my back getting wasted off of. .mouthwash. ”

you sit down next to him. you thought about what to say for a prolonged moment before asking him,

“ before all of this, did you enjoy the internship? “

“ i. . .i did. .i was having fun . .with swansea, anya, you, a-and . . “

daisuke lets out a soft sniffle, you just smile solemnly.

“ don’t cry, sunshine. as long as you enjoyed yourself, that’s all that matters. even in the predicament we’re in now. .let’s have hope. once all of this is over, your mother will be proud that you got through this internship and you should tell her allll about what you did and learned with the ol’ man swansea. that man is a hot mess but i know he enjoys you as his intern.”

“ . . .really? “ he meekly asks, peeking at you from under his forearm with teary eyes. god, daisuke looks like a sad puppy.

“ of course, kiddo. “ you force out a happy laugh to appease him. you hate to lie to him but as long as jimmy is attempting to play captain, the situation will continue to spiral down into the abyss. you know with absolute certainty that jimmy was the one who caused the ship to crash. the fact that man pinned the blame on his close friend, who was trying to see good in him, for crashing the ship is beyond disgusting. judging from curly’s recent evaluation from anya before the crash, he did seem a little melancholic. but, for him to drastically make a reckless decision to sabotage the ship and everyone in it? he wouldn’t do that even if it was on his mind. jimmy on the other hand. .

“ oh. .it seems like you beat me to him. is he alright?”anya’s relieved voice rings in your ears. you draw your attention over to your partner who’s walking down the corridor towards you and daisuke. she uncrosses her arms that was once tucked to her chest and you raise a brow.

“ yeah, just a little sad but i was talking to him. how’d you know he was here? “

her gaze averts to the ground and you jump up, anger bubbles in your chest. “ jimmy, wasn’t it? what did he do? he didn’t hurt or yell at you or anything, did he? “

you pace over to her and rest your hands on her shoulders. “ no, no—seriously, i’m okay. . he sent me here to check on daisuke while he took care of some things. i was just surprised you were here. “ it had to be more then that.

sighing heavily, you turn back to daisuke who was now attempting to get back on his feet. “ daisuke, be careful. .has swansea been making you drink that mouthwash stuff again with him? “ you questioned skeptically, walking over to him to assist him back on his feet. wobbling, the brunette boy softly groans as you let him rest his arm loosely around your shoulders for support.

“. .no. .yeah. . i. .may. .kinda, totally have went overboard with it this time. b-but i gave it to jimmy because i didn’t wanna mess with it anymore. “

aggravated, you smack your teeth, “ so you’re saying that he saw you like that and didn’t even bother to help you up himself and sends anya down here instead? i’m so sick of his shit! some fuckin’ wannabe captain he is! you could of threw up and choked on your own damn vomit! that careless fucker knew that! “

“ you’re starting to sound like swansea. “ daisuke mutters through his drunken haze.

anya speaks up in a soft voice that’s mean to calm you. “ (name), you have to calm down. i understand that you’re upset. .but we need to rest daisuke down somewhere in the lounge. “

your eye twitch and your lips purse. she was right. plus, you don’t want daisuke to hear all of this while he’s struggling with his own inner conflicts. even the effects of the dire situation is dawning down on him and taking a toll on his mental health.

but fuck, you’re tired of being quiet.

d o s o m e t h i n g

? ? ¿ ! months before the ????

you can’t sleep. a soft sigh leaves your lips. anya’s body lightly stirs besides you. you don’t want to leave her but it’d be right to check up on curly to see if he needs his meds. there’s no time clock but curly’s groaning and restlessness indicates you that it’s time for his painkillers. if he is in pain, you’ll just give him his meds and come back to anya. it’s been a straight shot to the medical room ever since the crash. the foam has completely fucked up the sleeping quarters. . maybe it’s for the better or worse now. everyone is bunched together in the lounge room with extra sleeping beds from the medical. luckily, there hasn’t been any problems amongst the crew and it’s easier to keep in eye on jimmy.

“ anya, “ you whispered out to her. she lays on her left side, facing you. pieces of her shaggy hair prettily hovers over her tired eyes as they fluttered open. “ yeah? “ she responds back, you send her a small smile, reaching out to brush the strands away from her face.

“ i’m going to go check up on captain in the medical. i’ll. .be back, okay? if this dumb thing goes off, “ you gesture to the broken robot standing an inch away from you and anya’s sleeping bags. thankfully it’s able to go off, albeit broken thanks to jimmy. originally, anya suggested the idea and you couldn’t agree more with it.

“ i’ll be running to you so fast like how i did after i found out that passed my final exams. “ you whispered playfully.

recalling the joyful memory, a soft giggle leaves anya’s lips. she remembered you were so anxious and restless over the final exams that she kept having to pinch you and make you run with her to get your mind off of things. once you found out that you passed med school, you ran so fast to anya while she was waiting outside of the campus for you and nearly ran her over. she nods with a beautiful smile that you missed so much. anya was always a carefree woman who was willing to go through hardships with a cool–mind and solutions. but, after this overhaul trip going downhill and the terrible shit that’s happened and is currently happening—the light in her eyes is duller. it mirrors her reserved and almost timid-like behavior now.

that’s not who anya is—that’s not her and that’s not who she should by the damages of a terrible, insecure man who refuses to swallow down his own ever-growing problems like a hard pill and take responsibility for his self-sabotaging actions. you bet he’d choke on himself and self-destruct if he ever tried swallowing. all he ever does is vomit and project himself onto others.

“ okay. we can also clean his bandages after we’ve rested. “ anya suggests.

you shake your head, ghosting a hand over her belly. the bump has slowly been getting bigger but isn’t very noticeable to others. “ there’s no we, just me. the last time you got nauseated, you asked jimmy to give curly his meds while i was busy with daisuke and. .he. .” you trailed off and sighed with frustration. you still can’t get over anya telling you the truth about jimmy getting frustrated at her for asking him to give curly his meds because of her nausea.

absolutely horrible.

before anya can say anything, you give her a quick kiss on the forehead.

“ i’ll be back this time. “

you got up carefully to not alert the broken robot and paced towards medical. as you did, you glanced around the lounge to see who’s in their respective sleeping bags.

daisuke is laid out asleep.

swansea has been sleeping by the utility and now you know why he was does. you don’t have any objections to it. it’s only fair for the sunshine to be preserved.

jimmy is no where to be found. cockpit, maybe?

as you near the medical, alarming sounds of struggling and curly’s groans made your heart drop. frantically, you sprinted towards the door and slammed it open.

s e c o n d c h a n c e

“ wh-what the fuck are you doing, jimmy?! g-get off of him! “ her

you ran over to the self-proclaimed captain who was hunching over the defenseless curly, shoving pills into his mouth and down his throat while beating at his stomach. with all of your strength, you shoved jimmy backwards, pulling him away from curly’s mutilated body, who helplessly laid there in the bloodied medical bed, crying and groaning in pain.

“ are you out of your fucking mind, you crazy fuck?!”you screamed at him while he has this mixed, horrid look of panic and frustration on his unshaven face. the pill bottle clutched in his hand made a loud rattling noise as he drops them on the tile floor and it rolls next to you.

“ i-i— h-he was. .m-making too much n-n—oomph! “

thanks to your adrenaline, you shoved him—hard, causing him to stumble back against the desk. pill bottles tumble and crash onto the floor.

hurried footsteps approach the medical from the loud crashes and yelling.

“ so your fucking solution was to beat up that poor man who can’t even goddamn defend himself now? let me fucking remind you since you’re too busy trying to play captain and can’t take responsibility! that man is laying there, the way he is now, because of—ugh! “

in a burst fit of blind rage, he returns the favor and presses his heavy palms against your chest, harshly shoving you backwards. you try to maintain your balance, but your foot accidentally steps on one of the pill bottles, and you fall backwards onto the solid floor, hitting your head. hard.

crack!

you almost instantly black out. not before hearing a loud gasp and anya’s frantic shouting.

“ (name)! j-jimmy. . . at . .did. . .u do?! “

¿!!! ?????????

just me and you vs the world, anya.

“ seriously? this show is so horrible, anya! even my dad who has terrible taste in tv shows, can’t watch this! “ you groaned exaggeratedly, sinking your cheek into your palm, slouching on the elbow of the couch. anya shrugs with a smug smile, placing the tv remote down on the coffee table.

“ well that’s tooo bad, hun. i need to binge this show to clear my mind out completely. all i need is my go-to-combo i usually get from wendy’s. “

you roll your eyes, “ it could of been at least mcdonald’s or something. but. .wendy’s? “

“ they have the best frosties! don’t act you dislike it because they messed up your order once. “ she giggles, leaning over to playfully hit at your ankle.

the show starts and you can barely stomach it. you don’t understand how she zeros out her mind from watching this stuff. it’s so cheesy and bad.

you peer over at anya and just as expected, she’s watching it like she’s into it. anya’s sitting up against the couch, legs crossed while she’s wearing a oversized t-shirt and pajamas. her heap of black shaggy hair that reaches just below her shoulders, was beautifully messy. usually at night, she doesn’t really bother with it. her fair skin shines pretty under the tv light. her pretty lashes fluttering and downturned eyes glistening with interest as she watch the corny reality tv show—god, she’s so breathtaking.

“ so, anya. “ you speak up as soon as the tv cuts to commercials. her undivided attention draws over to you and you cast her a goofy, suggestive smile.

“ while this commercial runs, wanna makeout? “

she blinks at you several times as if to process your question and bursts out laughing.

“ ewwww! “

“ ewwww? what the hell, baby! c’meree. “ you get off the elbow of the couch to playfully grab and pull at the laughing anya’s arm to pull her closer.

“ we’re not some bored teenager couple, you know! “

you successfully pull her into you, wrapping your arms around her body. “ feels like we are when i’m with youu~ “ you coo, puckering your lips at her with teasing intent.

anya blocks your lips with her palm and you immediately lick at it. she gasps and retracts her hand away, allowing you the opportunity to topple her over and kiss all over her pretty face and pouty lips.

“ hehe, (name)! “

once you’re done with your barrage, you bury your face into her neck.

“ marry me once me and you become doctors, anya~ ” you croon, melting into her body.

there’s a momentary pause before her smiling voice responds to you, full of adoration,

“ of course. i wouldn’t have it any other way, (name).”

??? ??¿ is it finally over ??¿!

your eyes peel open, a surge of sharp pain and confusion shoots through your body like a needle. but, once your gaze immediately locks onto the woman you love above you, your heart calms a little. she doesn’t notice that you’re now awake and stares off into somewhere with brooding eyes.

“ a-anya? “

anya’s eyes widen and she snaps her gaze down at you in surprise as your head is currently laid on her lap. tears swell in the corner of her reddened eyes.

“ y-you’re awake again! i-i thought you were finally. .”

despite not being able to move your body from the waist under and through the pain pounding in your head, you smile weakly at her.

“ f-finally what? i-i told you i’ll come back to you. although. . .“ your eyes search the dim setting around you. it’s blurred and bright. it seems like you and anya are in the medical? didn’t you come back from medical after checking up on curly?

c o n f u s i o n

“ why aren’t we in bed? we’re in medical right now. . “

anya’s lips trembles as she struggles to not cry.

“ we’ve decided to rest in here and talk like we’re a bored teenage couple. “

you let out a weak laugh. “ r-really? my br-brain is all over the place right now. everything is starting to feel and look fuzzy. “

your eyes starts to dilate and unfocus but they never leave anya. she says nothing, and quietly caresses your cheek.

your skin has become more discolored while you were unconscious.

how many hours?

how many hours has it been since she locked herself with you and captain? and how many times has her thoughts endlessly ponder and ponder over jimmy’s words he once said to her months back?

t a k e c a r e o f i t

“ a-anya. .? “

anya forces out a smile. her quivering fingers brush away the sweaty hair sticking to your forehead.

my hands are s h a k i n g.

“ . .y-yes? “ anya can barely contain the heartbreak in her voice.

“ w-we’ll take of it together. “ you slurred, “ o-once i get my l-license, i’ll support us and you don’t need to w-worry about a thing. o-once the baby is born, i’ll take care of them while you st-study to get into medical school again. i-i’ll. .even help you. .too. i st-still have my. .notes. “

dark red liquid seeps down your nose. she sees the light becoming dull in your dilated (e/c) hues that she adored so much.

the external bleeding and swelling in your head is pulling you under.

a quiet sob slips from her throat and she gently brings your head up to her chest. her body shudders as she weeps.

there’s a few broken whimpers that sounds far too strangled to be hers or yours.

“ . . d-don’t cry, an. .ya, i. .i’m just g-gonna sleep. y. .you holding. .me like this. .makes me feel at ease. .i. .can finally sleep. .without. .leaving. .ou. .”

your eyes vanish behind discolored eyelids and your head slack against her.

and there’s a gaping hole akin to a black hole that swallows everything that bounded her down, her dreams, her hopes, her love, her fear, her emotions.

what’s left is reason—a reason to the best decision that anya alone can finally act.

with a strangely calm mind and red-rimmed solemn grey eyes, she glances up at the few bottles of pills now left on the desk.

you know you’re better than this.

m a k e n o m i s t a k e , t h i s i s n ‘ t m y w o r s t m o m e n t.

far from it. this is the best decision i’ll ever make.

i’ll take care of it.

everything’s black—but you hear banging, voices, bottles rattling, pained whimpering and strangled noises that sounds similar to a heartbroken man crying.

you slip back into momentary consciousness. through blurred vision, you see a slumped figure above you. you can’t identify who it is but red smears leaves a bit of a hard contrast to your unfocused eyes. without thinking, your feeble hand reach out and you’re only able to make contact with their chin, just with the tips of your fingers.

from one small touch, you can tell the skin long since lost its warmth and now is cold to the touch.

an unknown sorrow strikes your chest and you finally pass with a heart full of confusion, leaving it in a headlock.

#anya x reader #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing #anya x reader mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing

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sticks-stones-sonic-insanity · 19 hours ago

Text

This is exactly what I was sayin man fr!! I hadn't seen this dialogue yet but it feels really fitting that Gerald would just tell it to him straight.

I really hope that sega isn't just going to throw in the towel like "Yep! Shadow's story is over now! Let's never have him be a focal point again!" Because to me, we're only just getting started. Shadow has made peace with his past, and like Maria said in Dark Beginnings; its now about Shadow making new connections with people he can trust. Finding out more about who he, Shadow, is.

Not Shadow the Black Arms Warrior. Not Shadow The Ultimate Lifeform. Not Project Shadow. Just Shadow the Hedgehog himself.

I know they love to get really really close to giving their characters development before skirting away to restart the cycle though so time will tell...

Gerald tells Shadow not to let his promise to Maria be his only cause in life, and to live for himself once they're gone

#its very had getting invested in a story where you know theres a chance of none of the characters will actually ever grow but oh well #thats why im glad we have fandom in that case lol #still sad but yk. i want to be optimistic so fingers crossed!!#ive said it before and ill say it again. i think shadow as a character is very very interesting #im curious to see where they'll take it next #sxsg #shadow the hedgehog #sticks can talk!?

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vrystalius · 3 days ago

Note

AAAAJAJA I LOVE UOURR BLOGGG AND HOW YOU ENVISION EACH CHARACTERS XDD may I pretty please make a request for angst/fluff hcs on female human reader, who’s very insecure, paired with the upper moon trio and Muzan?Whether it’s about her looks, or that she feels like they don’t genuinely love her (esp since they are demons and she’s a human, so what’s stopping them from leaving/killing her and dating other demons instead(˃̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣ )

Insecurity

What stops your demon s/o to get bored of you one day and eat you? What if they’re only pretending to love you? And what will your partner do to fight those insecurities?

Pairing: Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Muzan x gn!reader

Kokushibo

He is taking your insecurities very seriously. Kokushibo knows and felt it himself plenty, during both his demon and human years. Despite that, his “comfort” and “reassurance” methods are quite unique. Your husband will not react immediately to your feelings, rather being more quiet and reserved than usual, wich at first makes you doubt yourself even more. Perhaps he is finally realising that he is much better off with another human or even demon… Although you started to notice how Kokushibo was hovering around you more and more. Silently, but he was still there, watching you while you go on with your day. You could be doing some mundane task like cooking yourself a meal and he would be standing behind you, not noticing how intimidating he is being right now.

In his mind, Kokushibo was showing more interest in you. He believed that you felt insecure about him not being around you enough or paying attention to you, instead being out on missions or training. So, now he’s watching you everyday all day, trying to show you through his ways that he cares about you and cherishes you very much. Once he finally notices how he is achieving nothing but making you confused or intimidating, Kokushibo begins to show affection more openly, although it felt forced at first.

His calloused hand would slowly slip into yours, intertwining fingers while he was meditating, or him holding you close to his body while you napped or slept on his chest, spending the precious and scarce nighttime with showering you in affection while you were resting, not even aware about how he was trying to show his love in his own way.

“I’ll stay for the night, I asked that man to give the other Upper Moons any of my remaining missions. I’d rather spend my time with you.”

Kokushibo is silently worrying about not being good enough for you. Although he is Upper Moon One, wouldn’t a human want to marry another human and start a family? What stops you from leaving him? He will not stop or hurt you when you choose to do so, he would completely understand.

Douma

You immediately saw Douma’s face shift into the expression he gives to all his followers once they start speaking about their woes, while you were trying to explain to him how you were feeling. You silenced yourself the second the pity-tinged smile appeared on your face, knowing that he is not listening or acknowledging your feelings in any way. He told you times before how he feels exhausted when listening to his followers whine and cry about their problems while Douma barely cares, giving them the usual advice. Talking about your insecurities will definitely not work with Douma, so you’ll have to resort to other things to make him listen. Ignoring him is a not very nice way to do it, but at least he’ll start to wonder why you are not around.

He notices immediately when you stop being near him. You’re not sitting by his side during sermons, you’re not in your shared bedroom and the followers commented about how you were seemingly avoiding the Founder. That’s when it finally clicks, you were talking about not feeling enough for him and being insecure about yourself earlier, right? Once Douma chased you down (and persuaded you to leave the garden and step into the shade with him so you two can have a conversation without him needing to yell all over the estate), he theatrically kissed the palm of your hand and kept apologising over and over, almost nervously trying to explain how much he loves you and how irreplaceable you truly are to him and his heart.

You are the first human, first being he felt emotions for. Happiness, sadness, anger, jealousy and most importantly love— all the beautiful and unpleasant feelings, Douma began feeling them because of you!

To prove his point in a way, he introduced you to all the unimpressed Upper Moons and his master as “the love of his life”, his wife, his life partner, soulmate and so on and on, mentioning many other petnames until Muzan finally silenced him. Douma invites you to sit right beside him during sermons, instead of having your own cushion, keeping you closer and having the opportunity to openly shower you in affection. He sometimes sends out followers to pick up flowers for you in the garden and then presents then to you as if he picked them out himself, acting like the sun wasn’t out for the last hours, making it not possible for him to get those flowers for you. You appreciate it nonetheless.

“I have an idea! How about we hold an official wedding ceremony with all my followers! We cab invite my other friends too! Ohh, Akaza can be my best man, imagine how that could be, haha!”

Even if Douma is rather comical and theatrical, deep down inside, he is rather afraid of you getting sick of him one day. He knows he can keep his followers charmed and close, but his speeches and charms do not work on you. You see right through him and know the true person, or demon, he is. He is insecure himself because why would you stay with a man-eating demon? Once you mentioned your own thoughts and feelings, he took it as an opportunity to prove that he does cherishes and loves you so, so incredibly much.

Akaza

You… You seriously think that you are not good enough? Not pretty or strong enough? Seriously?

You are the best thing that ever happened and will happen to him. You are patient with him snd so kind, so gentle and affectionate. You heal his soul and now you are talking about being replaceable? He feels incredibly horrible for making you feel so terrible about yourself.

Akaza tries to be more obvious about his feelings for you, trying to reassure you how beautiful you look or saying “I love you” more often, taking your smaller hand into his, nuzzling his cheek in your warm palm. He gets much more touchy, trying to get you to cuddle more and more so he can relish in your warmth and bask in your arms. His time with you is scarce, especially with how Muzan keeps drowning him in more and more exhausting missions that keep him away from you (and sometimes it feels like his master is doing it on purpose), that’s why his eyes do not leave your form for even one second, sometimes quietly mumbling “I love you” against your warm skin, his lips placing kisses between his muffled words.

“There’s no one else I want by my side, bunny. You make me feel warm, fuzzy… safe, y’know. It’s weird but nice. You should feel like that too.. you deserve it.”

Akaza sometimes notices how disgustingly desperate he sounds to comfort and reassure you. It made him cringe once he realised how hard he fell for you, how much he clung onto you and how desperately he craved your love, your touch. Once you start talking about your insecurities about your beauty, self-worth and so on, he realises how much he appreciates you more and more. You’re the most beautiful human he ever came across, you’re heaven-sent. Is it selfish of him to think of you as a blessing from the gods themselves?

Muzan Kibutsuji

He was very perplexed when he first listened to you talking about being insecure, not quite understanding how you out of all people feel replaceable and not enough for the demon king. How could you think such things? Do you not understand how vulnerable he is with you without an audience? At first, he’d dismiss your worries for you just being confused or not feeling well, but a little after a day after your initial conversation, the gears inside his five brains begin to shift and work again. At that moment, he finally realised what you really meant.

Muzan didn’t want to be more affectionate with you, mistaking love with weakness, but after finally realising how you needed the reassurance from him, he begrudgingly gave into his fears of appearing soft and began to show his love more openly.

The demon king began to shower you in various gifts that mark you as his partner, such as a necklace with a ruby matching his eye colour, multiple rings he owns himself so you two can match and an artificial flower crown for you to wear as his soulmate and in a cute way to show off your “royal status” as the partner of Muzan.

“You are the one and only for me, and I am the only one for you. If the gods exist, they have blessed me with merely meeting you in your lifetime… it would be a pity to let it expire so soon. I will happily give you my blood if you’d like, my sun.”

💠

I am back with the Upper Moons, I hope you don’t mind if I changed the female reader to gn, anon! I felt like I wrote a lot of fem reader lately so I wanted to switch it up again. I wonder if it’s obvious wich demon is my favourite XD Anyways— I’m heading to bed now, I an exhausted :,)

Make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

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bokutosbabe · 15 hours ago

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Did You See Me On TV?

( bllk boys and being in a long distance relationship )

a/n — thought about this and just HAD to write. no long distance relationship experience, but def some long distance friendship experience. rather short, but i had to get it out.

content — fem! reader, set in the ' Neo Egoist ' era, some characters repeated, all characters 18+, angst, fluff, maybe some ooc for some people??, nicknames 'love' , 'babe' , 'baby' , ' my girl ' , and 'sweetheart' used

synopsis — yes, he's a world famous soccer player, but he's also your boyfriend. how does this effect your relationship?

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' you tell yourself it's fine, ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' radio silence '

it's been a month since your boyfriend had left to go play for the soccer team he'd been assigned to, and what had you heard from him?

...complete and utter silence.

you understood he was busy now, you really did, but he hadn't even called while he'd been gone. any text he sent was no more than 3 words.

you were still in love with him, but was he in love with you anymore? had he forgotten all about you? was there another girl that was better than you?

the promise the two of you had made before he left sat on your tongue like lead now.

" you'll come back whenever you can, right? " you'd asked him. " for you? always. i couldn't imagine a life without you. i promise i'll call every chance i get. "

you stared at your phone, the text you'd sent him before his game started staring back at you...mocking you.

you: good luck, love!! i'm rooting for you from home! i love you, have fun, don't get hurt. call me when you can <3

it was almost pitiful. three almost exact texts sat above that one, and he hadn't even bothered to read them until after the game, simply replying with a...

him <3 : thanks

and no, if you were wondering, he hadn't ever called you.

and here you were, like a fool, curled up in your bed watching his game on live TV, watching as he made his second goal of the day.

maybe, just maybe, he'd call you after this one.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ SAE ITOSHI, isagi yoichi, RIN ITOSHI, oliver aiku, OTOYA EITA, rensuke kunigami

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' a complete mess '

he'd been gone a month, and you can't count a single day he hasn't called you three times at minimum. you'd been together for a while, but you never realized how much he relied on you to do basic everyday tasks for him.

"babe? do you know where i usually keep my long socks?" you heard come from your phone speaker as you were trying to do your own homework, mind you.

" usually in the middle of your top drawer next to your underwear. unless you've changed it. " you stated, he'd asked you this question every single time he had a game since he had left, but you wouldn't dare expect him to remember that.

" you're the best, baby. what would i do without you? " your boyfriend asked as he pulled socks out of his drawer, propping his phone up on the bedside lamp as he slid the socks onto his feet.

" lose your head, probably. " you joked, looking up from your work to admire him.

yes, everyone got to see him as the big, bad soccer player on TV, but with you? he seemed like a completely different person, not someone who could get a hat trick and also simultaneously asking where their phone is while it's in their hand.

" your games soon, love. you gotta get going. " you helpfully reminded him, as if you were his personal alarm ( you were but that's besides the point )

" ah crap, thank you baby. i'll call you after i win," he said cheekily. " i'll score a goal just for you, so make sure you watch!"

" you know i will. call you later, i love you. " you reflected his smile through the phone. " i love you too! " he repeated. and just as you were about to press the 'end call' button...

"oh, baby? do you remember where i put my jersey?"

yeah, without you he'd be a train wreck.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, bachira meguru, HIORI YO, gin gagamaru, ZANTETSU TSURUGI, ranze kurona

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' basically married '

it'd been a month since your boyfriend had left to go play professional soccer, and out of the four games he had played, you'd been flown out for three of them.

" do you like it? " he asked giddily, as if he was a child on christmas morning waiting to open presents. but instead of a gift, it was him showing you the hotel room he'd gotten you so you could watch his game this week too.

" you're too sweet to me, love. i would've been happy just sitting at home and cheering you on from there. " you told him. " nope! you're no longer allowed to watch the games from home," he said as if it was a fact.

oh, soccer players and their superstitions.

" even the whole team agrees! my girl is our lucky charm! "

the one game you missed, because you had a big test may i add, they lost. it wasn't a horrible loss, no, they went into additional time and lost 5-4.

your shock and confusion must have been written all of your face, because he just laughed. " c'mon sweetheart, why don't you just come live with me here ? "

many reasons, actually. you still had school, it was across the world (not really but it felt like it ), your family, your friends.

he knew all of this, of course. there usually wasn't a day that you seriously considered it. considered being here, with him, instead of having to facetime and miss him.

one day, you would, but not now...you think.

"oh, hush. you gotta get going, you have a game to win." you huffed, pushing at his shoulder to hopefully get him going out the door.

"alright, alright. i'll come back with you after the game, sweetheart. i love you, see you after my win! "

and win he would, because he swore to himself that if he won this game the velvet box that was hiding in his dresser would finally be able to come out.

but, hey, even if he didn't win, would you say no to the ring he had custom made for you?

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ REO MIKAGE, isagi yoichi, YUKIMIYA KENYU, chigiri hyoma, nijiro nanase, BARO SHOEI

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' you're just in love ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

this was really written on a whim, but i hope yall liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!

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jam3sacaster · 2 days ago

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“I can’t sleep. I just think of you.”

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by the wonderful @nebulastarr / Rupert realises he’s in love with reader.

Sorry if this seemed a bit long winded, I just like a slow burn ya know.

18+ FANFIC / No smut, just a few lewd references & a soft, soppy mess 🫶🏽 Blood mention! Reader character aged 21. Please request any pieces you want! Just hit my ask box with a character and/or suggestion 💋

Whilst chopping a medley of large misshapen onions, the incessant ticking of your dining room grandfather clock taunted you — a constant reminding of passing time. You had been seeing Rupert Campbell-Black for a few weeks now. Well, you say seeing, more-so arriving at Penscombe Court as soon as he clicked his fingers, spreading your legs and letting him blow off steam. All truth be told, you hated being his personal call girl but you believed there was something so much more to it. You’d seen the way he’d glared at you as you unclipped your bra, eyes ablaze with passion. The way he touched you was no longer fuelled with lust, but was intricate and gentle — the tender touch of a man so eager to please such a dainty woman. Was he really beginning to fall for you, or is it wishful thinking? Seeing his chest rise and fall as he slept beside you kept you awake, speechless by the serenity of such a raucous man. Watching his lips contort as he laughed at your hopeless jokes, most likely out of pity, but sent a chill through you nonetheless. You were beginning to… grow rather fond of him.

Right on time, three firm knocks on the door made you jump, and you jolt slightly, scratching a wonky line into your chopping board. Before waiting for a response, Rupert entered the wooden door of your cottage and lowered himself into the kitchen. Leaning against the doorframe, he took a long pull of his cigarette, casting his carven face in an ashy amber glow. “Afternoon.” You chirp, pumping your speech with fake enthusiasm. Rupert replied only with a suave wink as he puffed once more on his cigarette. “I thought I’d cook first.” You respond to yourself, motioning to the variety of fresh vegetables laden across your kitchen countertop. “Oh darling, I haven’t come here for that.” Rupert chortled, his eyes following your every move. You felt your eyes subconsciously roll back to the back of your head.. you could call out his bullshit straight away.

“I’ve just been to look at a horse. Beautiful. Thoroughbred. And the woman advertising her was just gorg-“ He began, evidently trying to rile you. You felt your hand tighten around the large kitchen knife as you kept your eyes focused on your chopping board .. feeling your slices get more and more harsh by the second. “I don’t… want to hear it, Rupert.” You bark, gently placing down your knife and momentarily turning round to face him. You want him to see the jealousy flooding your eyes green. Rupert knew exactly what he was doing. Fighting back the most marvellous smirk, he lowered the cigarette from his mouth to add fuel to the fire, but decided against it.

Continuing to prepare your unromantic meal, your heart pounded furiously and the repetitive thump of blood coursing through your body blurred any other sound from your ear. “I wasn’t interested anyway, angel. She was all over me like a rash.” The chiselled man continued to coax vexation from you. Who the fuck does he think he is? Coming into your house and telling you about- “Fuck!” You bellowed. Your frantic chopping had gone rather wrong— the pure spiteful mess of Rupert’s words had riled you so heavily that you had miscalculated the direction of your knife and chopped straight into your finger. Blood crept into the natural layers of the onion, and began to seep into the wooden cutting board. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You scream again, applying pressure to your finger with the nearest tea towel, immediately soaking it. And of course, you feel your body weakening and your mind dizzying. You do NOT like blood. Springing into action, Rupert stood directly behind you, using his body as a human shield as you inevitably fell into him, just on the brink of fainting. “Are you okay, angel?” He whispered, taking control of the tea towel, squeezing it tight onto your finger and placing a gentle kiss upon your forehead. But the words he spoke sounded too heavy to make any coherence in your head and your vision grew thicker and hazier.

What felt like an eternity later, you awoke on your sofa, head propped up on a pillow and covered in thick, woollen blankets. “Rupert?” You croak, and look down at your finger. Perfectly cleaned up, and wrapped securely in bandages. The bitter smell of TCP filled your nose and made you wince. “I’ve disinfected it. I managed to save your finger, but the onions are a little worse for wear I’m afraid.” He mocked, and took a gentle seat beside you. You managed to push out a chuckle, and sat yourself up on your elbows. “You scared me, angel. Please be careful next time.” Rupert warned, waving a cautionary finger in your face. How dare he! “Are you serious, Rupert? The only reason I cut my finger in the first place is because you come in here, gloating about a woman being all over you. Shoving it into my face like I’m supposed to care…” You can feel fury coursing through your veins and attempt to speak in the most coarse tone possible, but you still feel incredibly weak and hunker back down half way through. Your usually supple porcelain skin has been drained of blood, and your limbs tremble under your weight.

“Shh, shh, angel. You need to relax.” Rupert speaks in a hushed tone — one so soft and gentle that it feels otherworldly from his lips. He caresses your mottled cheek with the back of his hand and just.. freezes. His cerulean orbs study you intensely, admiring every freckle. Every crinkle of your nose. Every misplaced hair on your head. “I didn’t come to have sex with you, you know, angel.” He murmurs, hand unmoving from your cheek. Your breath catches in your throat — too afraid to exhale. Even the sound of your breathing will be much too loud of an interruption. “Seeing you hurt like that… it was as though it hurt me too. All of a sudden, I feel this great wave of protection flow through me. I think of you constantly, you’ve infiltrated my mind. I can’t sleep. I just think of you.” Rupert blurted out, filled with unwavering confidence and an expression of adoration.

“Rupert…” You begin, but there are simply no words to say. This is what you have craved to hear all along. “I feel as though I cannot shake you. You are a part of my soul.” He whispers softly now, placing your hand on his chest to feel the rapid thumping of his heartbeat.

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” - Wuthering Heights

#rivals #rivals fanfic #rivals fanfiction #rupert campbell black #rupert campbell-black #alex hassell #Rupert & taggie #Rupert and Taggie #ily rupert #my own dreadful writing

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katyawriteswhump · 1 day ago

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Steddie Wiggly Wednesday🪱🐛🪱🐛

Thanks for the tag @wheneverfeasible and @medusapelagia and possibly some other lovely moots. Sorry, I move in ice ages!

CW for original character death. Don't worry, Steddie and all canon characters are safe.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Steve has an older brother, Cal, less than two years older than him. He loves his brother and hates his guts because Cal is stupidly perfect.

Not just grade A student perfect and state championship tennis finals perfect. Cal is so ridiculously, effortlessly nice. He floats above the High School popularity monster on some cotton-candy cloud of perfection—so high above all the shit that he can play Dungeons and Dragons with Eddie ‘freakshow’ Munson every week and walk away untarnished.

Steve’s pretty popular too, but he’s laboring for it the hard way— hanging with the ‘right’ crowd, dating the ‘mean’ girls. He’s sweating it out on the basketball court, barely scraping through the classes that Cal aced. Of course, his parents are pissed, and he knows he’ll never emerge from Cal’s perfect shadow. Cal secretly gave Steve all his old class notes to copy and offered to coach him, but Jesus, who’s gotten time for that shit?

So yeah, Steve hates Cal, and he loves him too. When Steve figures he might be bi, he’s in need of his brother like never before, though can’t find the right words. He’s got a dumb crush on Tommy H and… Ugh, it’s not like he can tell Tommy, and even when Steve gets over his crush, nobody in Hawkins is gonna accept that kind of shit.

Naturally, his perfect brother sees when Steve stops hanging with Tommy and the others. Sees when Steve stops dating. On that spring night, when it’s only the two of them and a sixpack at home by the pool, Cal knows. Even before Steve starts to inarticulately explain how confused and screwed up he is. Even before Steve tells Cal he’s over Tommy, but he’s definitely queer, and faking being the Steve Harrington the world wants to see is killing him. He’s failing his classes, and Hargrove is humiliating him on the basketball court. Steve’s got a totally messed up crush on Billy too, even though the guy treats him like dirt. Steve is scared Billy knows, and… Crap, why is his life such a mess?

He cries. He hates himself for it, but he cries, and it’s okay, because he’s got his brother, and he hates how perfect Cal is. But Cal is always gonna be there, and he’ll always have his back.

Cal is off to MIT in the fall. So yeah, that’s gonna suck, until… Cal doesn’t go. Instead, he gets sick.

Really sick. Steve’s worried, but this is Cal, he’s perfect. Everyone says that Cal is gonna ‘beat it.’ As if, because he’s a good person, he’s going to somehow exert his magic over whatever fucked-up biology is destroying his body.

Cal has three months to live.

Eddie is devastated. It was supposed to be Cal’s final campaign before he ascended to the higher plane of an Ivy League school. Now it’s simply final.

Suddenly, Eddie is moving Hellfire Club to Hawkins General Hospital, and then hosting it at the fucking Harrington’s. Nobody is shrieking or dousing him in Holy Water, and it would be hilarious, if it wasn’t so horrible. Obviously, Eddie is determined to make it the greatest, most metal campaign he’s ever conducted. He’s crumbling inside. They all are. These are the last days he gets to share with the guy from the ‘right’ side of the rails who looked at Eddie and saw Eddie, rather than the con-supremo-spawn of Al Munson.

Cal’s a-hole kid brother, Steve, starts hovering around when they’re playing. For obvious reasons. He needs to cling to every last moment with Cal, too. Lurking in dark corners, Steve starts staring at Eddie so hard it gets creepy. Eddie knows he’s pretty magnetic when he’s in full-on DM mode, but this is weird. Obviously, Steve must want ‘in,’ so Eddie reluctantly offers to help him draw up a character card, and… shock horror.

Steve Harrington isn’t that much of an a-hole. Now, it’s just the two of them, laughing and sketching and conjuring with D and D ideas, and Steve’s oddly jumpy. He doesn’t seem to be able to look Eddie in the eye, keeps staring at Eddie’s mouth, then touching his own, licking his lips. Eddie is… confused. Steve Harrington is cute. He is also supposed to be a repellent jock—not this guy who swerves maniacally between hilariously bitchy sniping and self-effacing over-apologies.

Once Eddie gets Steve going in Hellfire, Steve is stupidly over-confident, almost back to dumbass-Steve-the-jock. Eddie has a billion chances to slaughter him, and he refrains. For Cal.

Oh, and because, Eddie’s got a stupid crush on his friend’s kid brother. He figures out there is barely a year age gap between him and Steve, though. Cal was old in his year group, and Eddie one of the younger ones.

Still irrelevant. Steve is straight. Eddie’s 100% sure. Well, he would be, if Steve would stop blushing and glancing away whenever Eddie seeks eye contact.

Then Cal calls Eddie one night, asks him to come over. Cal’s getting sicker, so he detonates the bombshell.

You’d be perfect for my brother, man.

What the fuck?

Okay, so he doesn’t press Cal for details. It’s implied that Steve is into guys, but… Woah! Too much! His sick friend wants him to date his younger brother? Like, a dying wish? Yeah, Eddie likes Steve, and now he’s starting to read Steve’s feelings into the way Steve acts around him. But no way are they perfect for each other.

He gives it a shot.

On their first date, Eddie takes Steve to a dive bar Cal used to love more that it deserved, and where Eddie sometimes performs with Corroded Coffin. They make out around the back, against some dingy brick wall. They’re slightly drunk, and the kiss is wet and messy, and they’re stupid happy and then both so stupid sad that they stop trying not to be. They can’t kiss away the pain, but they can kiss. They cry so hard.

Eddie has found another Harrington brother who actually sees him. It occurs to him, more gradually, that he’s the only person in the world, other than Cal, who actually sees Steve.

What the fuck AGAIN?

And then he’s the only person left in the world who sees Steve, and besides Wayne, Steve is the only person left who really sees Eddie.

Steve loves Cal so much, and he hates him. He was so fucking perfect that he couldn’t possibly ditch his little brother without setting him up with a soulmate.

🪱🐛🪱🐛

My ST fic on AO3

no pressure tags: @mugloversonly @tea42 @fuctacles @queenie-ofthe-void

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve and eddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #wriggly wednesday #wiggle wednesday #steddie au

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xxacidnekoxx · 58 minutes ago

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I'm so happy that Pega is known as a boy now.... And that he has a character gimmick.... (The gimmick being that he dies a lot) I created him when I was a girl and didn't know my personality completely yet and I made comics about him that was usually him just struggling with being a girl and it was really funny at the time but looking back on it breaks my heart .. and people loved him back then too but it was ... In a different way... And I didn't know how to properly set up boundaries with my fans so I got trampled by my fans a lot and even did things I didn't want to because when I received threats I got scared,,, like now days if people tried to pull that shit on me I would make a bigger deal out of it but back then I really kept my problems to myself... Someone once told me if I didn't do their horny commission idea for them and post it to main they will spread rumors about me everywhere and I as an autistic person in his early 20s who was couch surfing didn't have a family or a support network I really just did anything to keep myself safe.. but I wish that I was more open about the problems I was having.. because now days I realize the world isn't against me and there are kind people everywhere who are understanding .. now I just really want to go back and hug my past self

#ramble

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taliesin-the-bored · 3 days ago

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It was a musical, but...I am not beating the allegations.

I shall take this as an opportunity to ramble about Rómeó és Júlia, the subject of said allegations by @unstark, who may have created a monster (/j; thank you for doing so).

The first thing to know is that I haven't read Romeo and Juliet since middle school and liked it well enough then but wasn't really enthused because I liked the poetic elements but found the romance somewhat grating. However, I am a theater kid/opera nerd at heart, and looking at different versions of things and analyzing the connections, sometimes to an obsessive degree, is one of the things I live for (that's part of the lure of Arthuriana).

The second is that Rómeó és Júlia (ResJ) is fantastic, in large part because the cast is incredibly talented. I've seen all or a good portion of several different language versions of the musical, which originated in France as Roméo et Juliette (RetJ), and they all have good or decent but reasonably similar Juliets and mostly fine to mediocre Romeos. In addition to having a good Juliet, this Romeo, played by Dolhai Attila, was quite charming as an actor as well as a great singer so the rest have been mostly downhill. I am afraid, though, that like most of the people on ResJ/RetJ Tumblr, the characters I found most interesting were Mercutio and Tybalt, who both vary wildly from production to production. In ResJ, Mercutio (who fans call Zolicutio because he's played by Zoltán Bereczki) is a force of nature, and I did not properly appreciate that the first time I watched it. He sings, dances almost constantly, acts well, and raps in Magyar, and he never seems to stop or slack in energy until he dies. Tybalt, on the other hand, is a deeply tortured soul who's occasionally comedic in his melodrama (he does the Mr. Bean walk once) but has genuine pathos. I originally watched the first half without subtitles and did not realize the...ahem...concerning nature of his thoughts about Juliet, but that's in almost every version of the musical, and it is not as big a trigger warning as the obvious one, which is that Romeo and Juliet includes onstage suicide and murder, as well as references to sexual content. This is probably the first thing anyone learns about Romeo and Juliet, but I thought I should put that out there to be safe. Anyway, Szilveszter Szabó was vastly different than how I pictured Tybalt while reading the play, but he was excellent and brought a new perspective to the character. You love to see it. Also, ResJ Benvolio is a punk with the heart of a golden retriever, another far-from-the-play take which works in its context.

Now, the 2010 French version. I followed ResJ with the RetJ revival because John Eyzen's Mercutio is the second most popular Mercutio on Tumblr, after the inimitable Zolicutio, and I wanted to see what the hype was about. He is vastly, vastly different, both from how I imagined Mercutio and how Mercutio is in any other production. Eycutio alternates between stillness and over-the-top energy. He may or may not be bad mental illness rep. He may or may not be beholden to the madness-inducing entities of Chaos. Eyzen fully embraced the vibes of "La Follie" and the Queen Mab speech Mercutio has in Shakespeare to create a very unstable dude who revels in unpredictability and danger to a greater degree than Zolicutio and has probably won Best-Haired Veronese Man three years in a row. He has a love/hate relationship with Tybalt and flirts with him while fighting. (Zolicutio also flirts with Tybalt, but less in a I've-secretly-liked-you-since-we-were-twelve-but-also-hate-you-and-we-kissed-at-a-party-once-but-you-pretend-you-don't-remember-and-I'm-going-to-make-that-hard-for-you way than an I-bet-you're-into-me-and-also-that-you'll-hate-this-and-I-could-be-into-you-but-it's-not-clear-and-I-canonically-kissed-Romeo-but-didn't-seem-serious-about-it-and-I-rap-about-not-liking-romance-and-it-might-be-to-hide/drown/prevent-the-pain-or-I-might-be-aroallo-and-thriving way). Tim Ross's 2nd Tybalt looks and acts like the unlikely and maltreated test-tube child of George Michael and Cruella de Vil, and I'm going to leave it about that, because I have rambled too long without mentioning that Romeo's costume is exceptionally terrible in this one, that I really did not like Escalus, and that the Nurse was fantastic. All in all, what this one has to recommend it is the excellent Nurse, plus Tybalt and Mercutio's unevenly acted but ultimately interesting dynamic, which is the stuff of Fanlore pages.

I have not watched all of the 2001 French original, even though many people say Cécilia Cara is the best Juliet, because the other Juliets are also good and apparently a bald Mercutio is one thing I cannot take. (I could under certain conditions. If he were a young cancer patient, then that would add an urgency to his fervor for living life to the fullest, and a suspicion that he's going to die painfully soon whatever he does could influence his recklessness, but him being considerably older and more sophisticated than Romeo is weird). I might watch more of it, but it's low priority.

Apart from those, I've watched large parts of the Italian and Israeli ones, which I prefer to the French ones in acting but not in singing. The Italian one is a lot more dramatic than the Israeli one, which is maybe the least dramatic RetJ variant ever but pulls it off really well. The characters seem like normal people you would meet who try their best but get caught up in a tragedy bigger than they can understand. Of special note, as usual, is that ever-shifting scene, the duel between Mercutio and Tybalt, and this is the most original take on it I've seen. What sets it apart is that THEY DON'T EVEN DISLIKE EACH OTHER. You get the sense that they've had a lighthearted rivalry since they were kids but they're sort of friends and it's all a game to them. It's also the only version I've seen where those two actually have fencing swords, so the fight looks more realistic, emphasizing that they're playing with fire. When he realizes Mercutio is dying, Tybalt is visibly devastated and seems to lose the will to live. I don't usually cry at movies or shows, but that is the version which brought me the closest to crying.

I would like to watch the 2019 Toho version, since it comes highly recommended, but am not sure where to and might have to wait a while on that one. After I'm done with the Italian one, I intend to watch the Russian one, the German one, and the alternate cast recording of the Hungarian one. As for the English one...well, I've listened to a bit of it, and it was awful.

If you want to watch multiple versions at once or see which ones you might like, there is a great playlist on YouTube where someone edited together parts of the videos of different versions. If you want an incoherent-without-watching-the-full-thing but possibly still entertaining look into it, watch this compilation someone made, which is extremely funny if you've actually seen the full musical.

If you've read this entire semi-coherent ramble, you're a trooper. I hope it was vaguely interesting. Have a wonderful day!

it’s really easy to become obsessed with a shakespeare play you just have to watch one version of it and then read the play and then go mad trying to watch every possible version of it you can find and then study several centuries worth of performance history and controversy

#I suppose I did this to a lesser degree with Hamlet #but that was more a reading all three versions and reading up on different performances without actually watching them thing #Apart from the one I was in #the only Hamlet I've watched is the weird poorly dubbed '60s German one on MST3K #I've also watched the Gilligan's Island Hamlet episode #a thing of glory #Mary Anne sort of slays as Laertes #This post is not about Hamlet #Only the tags are about Hamlet #If you've bothered to read this far do not be deceived #romeo es julia #resj #retj #romeo et juliette #musicals #wormholes but not the science kind #long post

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hunter470 · 3 days ago

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My 9-1-1 RANT

Ok, I don’t normally do these types of posts, but I can’t move on until I get some things out. These are just my thoughts about the latest episodes of 9-1-1 as well as overall comments on the Buck/Tommy relationship. These opinions are mine and are based on the countless hours of TV I’ve watched in my 54 years on this planet, as well as my knowledge of writing and how Hollywood operates. I’m not confirming that any of this is true or are the real intentions of anyone involved with the show. Just my opinions. So, you can agree with me or not. I’m not trying to persuade anyone in any way. Also, I’m not going to get into endless arguments about my opinions but feel free to comment if you want, I just don’t promise I’ll reply.

Ok, here we go. Sorry it’s so long. Like I said earlier, I just needed to get it out. So many wasted opportunities.

If you think TM cares what the fans want, you’re seriously kidding yourself. If he did, Buddie would have been canon a long time ago. The only thing he cares about is ratings and his vision for the show, which can change at a moment’s notice with no rhyme or reason as we’ve seen.

Although I loved Buck and Tommy together, I knew the show wouldn’t do their story justice. So, no matter what TM or OS have said, the bi story was only to garner publicity, draw in new viewers, and increase ratings especially with the show moving to a new network. There was no altruistic reason behind it so don’t kid yourself. They knew there was an audience for the story because of all the Buddie shippers. Just remember, it’s called show business, not show friends for a reason.

Do you think OS really cares about bi representation? Based on his latest comments and non-apology it’s obvious he only cares about getting the stories that garner him the most screen time and press. Seriously, read his latest interviews. He’s excited to get to have fun now. So, congrats OS, Buck gets to F around. Just shows how most, if not all, actors are ego driven no matter what they say. Sorry not sorry.

TM has commented that he doesn’t owe anyone anything. In fact, I recall him saying to Buddie fans if they don’t like it, read fanfiction. If that didn’t clue you in, then you weren’t reading the room. Kinda reminds me of another show runner…for those who watched H50 you know who I’m talking about. That’s why I don’t get heavily invested in these shows. I’ll watch but I never expect anything I like to last…especially if it has to do with gay relationships.

It says a lot that the show remained completely silent about the bullying and death threats Lou received just for playing a role he was happy to play. Again, they really didn’t care because they knew he wasn’t going to be there after episode six. What a great message for all the bullies…just keep bullying and you’ll get what you want.

Again, reread OS’s interviews. He was doing the Hollywood double speak. Says just enough to keep you hooked with hope to get you to watch even when he knew all along it wasn’t lasting. It really was as clear as day if you go back and read what he said.

Also, if you thought Buck was going to get into a meaningful long-term relationship, then you didn’t watch the video from the You Tuber “Call Me Chato” that TM posted on his Facebook. The video was all about characters and how they should always stay fundamentally the same with minimal development - I’m paraphrasing. However, Buck is the golden retriever, heart so big it gets broken, character who will remain on a hamster wheel and unlucky in love because that’s who he is. If he changes too much it shifts the dynamic, which only happens if the show was ending.

If you thought the writers would do justice to a bisexual story, then you haven’t been watching the show closely. There’s been minimal Buck/Tommy relationship development on screen. Taylor got more. Viewers were lucky to get crumbs in the limited screen time Buck and Tommy got. Then, a breakup out of left field? One minute Buck is saying Tommy is it for him and he wants him to move in, and then it’s over? If he truly felt deeply for Tommy, why not fight to keep him? Why give up so easily and let him walk away? What’s the point? Also, to end it on a terrible stereotype is yet another clue. Horrible writing and another sign that TM and OS had zero investment in the relationship. The whole break up was rushed and made no sense. Essentially, it was just used to draw people in and to get Buck single and sleeping around again because that’s who he is. I for one won’t care for any of Buck’s future relationships. I mean, why would I when they never last.

Also, writers that give you a 66-year-old police sergeant and a 10 y/o boy landing a heavily damaged plane on an active freeway in LA with no prior training, and sorry playing video game flight simulators is not training, is some Sharknado level writing, which is not a compliment. Oh, and that whole story was truly the shows “jumping the shark” moment. If you don’t know what the term “jumping the shark” means, look it up and try to tell me I’m wrong.

Not having Tommy involved in the three part premier episodes, other than a few minutes at a birthday party, was so obvious as to the show’s intent. I mean, the fake captain from Hotshots got more screen time.

They claim they wanted someone for Buck that was connected to him and the 118 and then you don’t use the character at all. You wanted Buck off the hamster wheel? What a crock! Such a wasted opportunity.

Since it’s been confirmed episode 6 was filmed before 5, Tim’s just playing god with peoples’ feelings and crushing their hearts at this point. I mean, how do you have such a great episode (5) and a wonderful speech by Josh (6) just to break them up? Plus, having Tommy break up after six months? That man was all in, which was obvious in episode 5.

Guess it shouldn’t be a surprise that’s how TM would handle things after that horrible Tarlos breakup. At least on Lone Star we knew Rafa (Carlos) was a main cast member so there was hope. Lou was a guest star so it seems kinda final based on his interviews. Again, what was the point? They could have had Buck's bi revelation be with a random character. So, building up the Buck/Tommy relationship just to take it away was to inflict the most pain. Good job.

Do I think the show will make Buddie canon? Who knows…one thing I do know is I wouldn’t trust them if they did. Also, even if Tommy somehow returns, I don’t trust TM with anything related to this story. Sure, hope he’s happy with ruining the show for so many people. Again, like another show runner I mentioned in item 4 above. Honestly, I can’t believe the Buddie fans have stayed for so long. That’s commitment, I guess.

Do I think Lou should go back to 9-1-1? Hell no! He was screwed over by both TM and OS. Prove it to me otherwise. However, it’s up to him and of course, he loves acting so I wouldn’t blame him.

Finally, even though I’ve watched the show since the beginning, it no longer brings me joy. There are too many other TV shows to stick with one I no longer enjoy. So yes, I’m announcing my departure, and I don’t give an F what OS, you, or anyone else thinks about it. Not that any of this matters any way…

#911 discourse #911 show #911 spoilers #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 general audience

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ariseur · 16 hours ago

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✧˖° - DESIDERIUM.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ - featuring ; satoru gojo x fem!reader, slight hints of suguru geto x fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ - synopsis ; “ for what is love if not brought back grief but just a little bit smaller? ” satoru wonders as he thinks about the time you got away from him, little does he know it’s eating you up inside everyday.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ word count ; 13.7k words, 74.2k characters

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ cw ; sfw, fem!reader, fluff to angst with little comfort, canon au, not proofread, interchanging povs but for reader it’s always second person, technically need a pt2 but lmk if u guys want it, not proofread, mainly satoru x reader but hints of sashisu x reader for a while, spoilers / allusions / mentions of jjk 0 and later manga chapters ( after suguru’s left obv ), mentions and cameo from kenny later, canon character death, mentions of smoking, mentions of blood and typical canon violence, mature language, intended lowercase

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ notes ; ( request linked here !!) wow so this has been sitting in my inbox for a few months now, this was actually requested but i forgot to link it to the post so this idea was brought to us by the wonderful @skypperlegacy — sobbing in my bed writing this i hope you all enjoy. ( edit: i wrote this note on 8/24 and i’m assuming i’m posting this AFTER my birthday, so take this as a little treat for not posting for my birthday ^.^ )

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ notes (2) ; it is currently 10/26. i have not finished this yet either. what the hell is wrong with me

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ notes (final) ; i did it. i finished it. 11/13 oh my days i finally completed this thing. i didn’t even flesh out the full idea so lmk if you guys want more of sad pathetic gojo and reader

i. sunlit hallways in 2005

your footsteps bounce off of the walls of the hallway, sun rays ricocheting off the floor and projecting onto your body as you make your way to your classroom. your eyes zip around in every direction as you tried to scan the room numbers to try and find the one yaga had referred you to. you grimace at his booming voice replaying in your memory talking about these two boys who were supposed to help you — idiots he referred to them as. ‘strong idiots’.

you assume you’d be heading into the classroom with the most noise in it, as the sound of muffled chattering pricks your ears from beyond the sliding door of the homeroom to your left. a long exhale leaves your lips, your shoulders rolling backwards in an attempt to try and alleviate the weird pressure that settled upon them before your fingers find the little slot that allowed it to open the door, cursing yourself as a loud squeak emits from your action.

you scrunch your eyes shut in a wincing manner, taking in the silence before peeking an eye open to see two boys — which you presume were the ones that yaga had mentioned to you. both of your eyes shoot open at the sound of a small laugh, seeing a boy with spectacles and snow white hair snickering to himself while his friend shook his head at him and instead greets you with a small smile.

you clear your throat. “are you suguru geto and satoru gojo?”

they nod, the dark-haired boy scooting out of his seat to get up and properly greet you while the other lazily grins at you, the cerulean lenses of his gracing his face and framing his teasing gaze behind a deep blue. “geto,” the former gestures to himself, “and this is gojo,” his hand waves over to the seemingly brash boy who stands beside him, giving a small wave as his hands come to intertwine behind his back.

you lean forward, ducking your head as you bow out of respect for your new classmates. hair falling in front of your face, you introduce yourself quietly as you hear small shuffles emerging towards you until sheen black shoes come into your peripheral.

lifting your head up a little further, you’re met with the bright face of ‘satoru gojo’, the name striking a familiar cord within your brain. gojo, you think, as in the gojo clan? however, you don’t get to ponder on that for too long before he chuckles at your expression — clearly somewhat impressed with his appearance. either that, or you’re completely freaked out. although, gojo’s pride would only let him choose the former.

“so,” the boy, gojo, begins, “are you the little shrimp yaga-sensei told us we’d be looking after?”

you press your lips together in a soft frown, before your eyebrows furrow with the small huff that left you as geto smacks the back of his palm against his friend’s chest. “‘m not a shrimp, you know — not even that much shorter than you.”

as if to further prove his point, you get an eyeful of white hair as he leans down to meet your eyes, just barely but enough to provide the message. “yeah?” he breathed. his grin makes you nauseous, pearly whites on display and dimmed with the backlit centered illumination giving him a frontal shadow. you tilt your nose up at him before holding his own gaze, his bright ceruleans on display as you replied with a passive-aggressive, “yeah.”

geto laughs, pressing his arm against his friend’s chest to get him to back away from you, the intense scent of cypress and a deep sea breeze no longer engulfing your senses. soft snickers instead fill your ears as gojo stuffs his hands into the pant pockets of his uniform before slipping past you with a hum. geto follows in suit.

you turn your head back to the open doorway, seeing the boys make their way out before gojo turns to you once more. “you coming or what, shrimp?”

you groan under your breath and he smiles at your reaction, now no longer in your sight as he turns the corner; struggling to hold back a grin at the quick footsteps that trail behind him with a hesitant, “hold— hold on a sec! i’m not a shrimp!”

“you are too.”

“are not,” you huff.

his eyes trail up towards the ceiling for a second, tapping his chin as he feigns a long, hard thought before cracking out into another smile. “are too.”

this game continues for a while, and you almost feel bad for geto — except the little game of chicken that you and his counterpart had going on was taking up more of your attention at the moment. with his obnoxiously long legs, gojo purposefully takes wide strides to try and tease you at least a little bit, having you make more of an effort to keep up — just because you’re new doesn’t mean that you should be let off the hook so easily, he thinks.

“are too—“

“these are the dorms,” suguru interjects, his tone clearly exasperated at this point. a few minutes of walking and the poor man felt like it was hours of meaningless boredom.

your eyes follow the direction of geto’s finger over the trail of doors that lay before you. he leans his head forward, the golden sunlight capturing his face as a few strands of raven hair from his bun slip out from their ties. “my dorm’s on the very end right there,” he gestures his head to the door at the corner, “satoru’s is two down to the left.”

speaking of him, gojo slings an arm around your shoulders; keeping a firm grip even with only his bicep as you try to squirm away. “don’t worry, i’m sure yaga’ll help you in no time. by the end of the day, you’ll be lazing around in a nice bed with your feet kicked up, thinking about how you met the most beautiful man ever today,” he says to you.

“don’t you think it’s a little weird to call your friend the most beautiful man ever?”

to gojo’s horror, geto snickers from behind him.

“you’re a sassy one, aren’t you. .” he mutters under his breath, a sigh escaping him as the warmth of his arm leaves your shoulders and is instead met with the cool air conditioning of the halls, only the sun’s peeking through the windows warming you up. he takes a step near his friend, hands stuffed in his pockets once again. “well, you can always stop by whenever you do get your dorm, i’ll always be here,” he singsongs. you fake gag at his playful wink.

geto steps towards you, leaning into you as he mumbles a little too loudly ( whether that was on purpose or not remained unknown ), “don’t worry, the girls’ wing is on the other side — luckily you won’t have to see that idiot all the time.” you laugh at your eyes trail to gojo’s small pout from behind the boy, his shoulders deflating instantly once he realized he was left out.

“hey, so like, can we not bully me for today? just once?” he chimes in, tilting his head to the side a bit in question. you and geto share one last glance and laugh together before he walks ahead of you again, gojo lagging behind so you’d walk next to him as well.

he couldn’t help but glance at you, noticing how you keep your eyes trained in front of you. only occasionally flitting to the window to admire the outside scenery. it wasn’t everyday that they got a new student, and if they did, they never lasted long. despite still only being a first year, geto and gojo adapted to the harsh environments of jujutsu society — fully aware of the consequences and what it would take to save non-sorcerers. which only made gojo all the more curious as to why you were here.

“pervert, quit staring at me.”

“hey, people would pay for these eyes on them — you’re a lucky girl, today,” he explains, bumping his shoulder with yours. you glare at him. his smile doesn’t falter.

“so do all new recruits get this treatment or what?” you chide, putting a hand on your hip comfortably as you walk. he hums for a moment. “nah,”. he decides, “you’re special,” his grin only widens the more you banter, bright blue eyes mimicking yours in a sharp narrowing. you hold his gaze for a bit, before ultimately deciding it wasn’t worth it — turning your head with a low, ‘tch’ as you keep your feet moving. gojo does the same.

they walk you around the campus, showing you the track field and the direction in which the girls’ wing is, telling you to report back to them once yaga had assigned you a room, gojo urging you to invite him over one day to which geto nudges the back of his leg with his shoe. and at the end of the day you’re left with a small wave goodbye to your new classmates, smiles on their faces as they walk off back into the dorms; leaving you to roam around with the new-known information.

you look back at the stone arch of the school’s entrance, the stone pathway beneath your feet as you squint from the brightness of the sun just beyond the horizon. a perfect point of which the ground and the sky meet.

you can feel the blocks of sunlight on your chest as you take one last look at it, face softening at the sight.

gojo takes one last look behind him to check on you, seeing your frame simply stand and soak up the golden skies. his lips only quirk the slightest bit upwards, geto quirking a brow beside him only to let an amused breath out at his best friend’s infatuation. “don’t start going all mushy on me now, satoru.”

said friend turns his head back ( geto notices how he takes one last quick glance back before fully rotating his head ) and scoffs, “no way.” geto merely hums and closes his eyes, a knowing feeling growing in his stomach. “she is kinda cute, you know,” gojo mumbles — closing his eyes when geto opens his own to look at the boy dubiously.

he, too, looks back at you only to find you walking off to another section of the high school; presumably to go and talk to yaga to find out where the hell your dorm would be. he chuckles. “don’t ruin another friendship for us by going a little too far with the flirting, this time.”

the snow-haired boy stays quiet at that, creating a small lull in the conversation only filled by the clacking of shoes against pavement. the sun on the nape of his neck slowly eases up with how it lowers beyond the skyline, small beads of sweat slowly seeping back into his skin before he huffs. “can you believe the way she talked to me?” geto looks over to him once more. “‘yeah’, who does she think she is talking to us like that?” gojo makes a dumb face as he mimics you, hands on his hips momentarily as he mocks the way you stood — it was surprising how he was the one saying this.

geto snickers. “you mean the way she talked to you.”

“whatever,” his classmate responds with a yawn, being able to crack a small smile at geto’s laughs of amusement at his frustration ( or how gojo would call it, his ‘suffering’ ). “you’ll learn to like her eventually,” he chides. his friend stays quiet at that once more.

gojo tilts his head up at the darkening sky. he swears he can feel the sun on his chest, too.

ii. the way the clouds shape us

“special grade? guess satoru was wrong about you being a shrimp,” the sound of geto’s laughter fills the air, thin fingers handing you back your student id as you pocketed the small, white card back in the pocket of your uniform.

“he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” you shake your head, placid smile painted on your lips. geto leans against the tree, careful not to ruin his sleek hair against the chipped bark. he watched as you lifted your hands up to the sky. you extend your fingers and stretch them out — watching as the light blue of the sky above you illuminates your open-faced palm and casts a shadow for the rest of your arm.

gojo wasn’t wrong, you were definitely beautiful. even geto knew it, taking in the way your hair splayed out delicately against the vibrant grass, as he could hear the distant chatter of his other two best friends making their way towards you two. you had to thank gojo for this, considering he was the found who found this little safe haven in the first place.

over the past few months ( even if you joined a little later than halfway through the actual school year ), it became quite comfortable for you to chat with these newfound friends of yours. you quickly got along with ieiri, much to gojo’s dismay as he has discovered you two make the best team against him with your sharp words towards him. he’d savor the way you’d lean in and tell him you were never really serious afterwards ( even though he was well aware of that fact, he’d like knowing you still didn’t want to really hurt his feelings ). it really felt like home when you were with them, a sanctuary only for the four of you.

with your eyes flitting closed, geto finally tears his eyes from you to gaze at the duo approaching the two of you, gojo whining about something like usual as shoko barely humored him with the little tolerance she had left; a pale cigarette hanging from between her lips.

you relish in the sun on your skin, lessened from the months before that first day you came to tokyo’s jujutsu high as you’ve adapted. you must adapt in order to survive. you realize that now, which is why you indulge in the small moments you can get — even if it’s just silence with geto or the fact that suddenly, even behind closed eyelids, the sun was gone.

allowing your lashes to flutter open, you see a familiar brunette stand above you. a combination of the sweet, earthy tones emitting from the dewy grass below you and her perfume suddenly hit your nose, surprising but definitely not unpleasant. you hummed, eyebrows furrowed.

she laughs, “eh? you two are just out here without us?”

“sigh,” you roll your eyes at gojo who audibly says the word ‘sigh’, “so inconsiderate, you two.”

geto laughs, resting his hands upon his stomach as he closes his eyes — nose twitching with the leftover pollen floating along with the soft, spring breeze down from its habitat within the trees and the plants enclosing you all.

he doesn’t exactly fall asleep, especially in such an uncomfortable position. but he makes peace with this discomfort and instead seeks refuge in his own place of serenity, only him and his thoughts ( and the quiet chatter of you and shoko ganging up on your white-haired friend ).

you exhale smoothly through your nose, a breath of fresh air leaving your lungs as you stare up at your friend, a smirk threatening to unleash itself on her face even from behind the cancer stick. “those things kill, you know,” you playfully chastise her, watching as she chuckles before crouching down.

she slips the cigarette from past her mouth, the end stained glossy and pink from that one lip product you always forget the brand of, before offering the smoke to you between her two fingers. she hums as you take the tube, the material dry against your lips. “might as well while we’re still alive and young,” she says — and the morbidity of the question no longer bothers you like it would have a few months earlier. instead, you actually chuckle at her dry delivery. you struggle not to choke with your laid back position as you hold it before letting it escape you, a hot puff of smoke emitting in the air.

“so, what’re we doing today?” a pair of lanky, slack-clad legs come into your peripheral along with a familiar mop of snowy hair before it disappears, his voice trailing off as he sits next to geto. you prop yourself up on your elbows, squinting at the sudden bright light as shoko sits beside you inside.

you crack a small smile at the feeling of her fingertips messing with the ends of your hair, shaking out the small bits of grass that got stuck in the delicate strands. gojo, however, thinks you’re smiling at him so he grins in return before your smile is soon replaced with an unsure expression — almost like you’re gonna throw up just from looking at him. he still doesn’t falter.

“what do you think we should do?” you ask after a bit, thanking ieiri under your breath as she’s done helping you primp.

“what if we go to the convenience store for a bit and get some snacks? i was thinking—“

“boringg..” shoko’s thoughts are interrupted by gojo’s loud interruption, her face immediately dropping as she looks at him. “hey, you don’t have to show off in front of your girlfriend every day, y’know,” she shoots back.

he pouts at the brunette, his shoulders deflating as his hands come up to his face to mimic a fake tear rolling down his cheek. a nervous huff escapes you as you look between her, geto, and gojo before you start, “he’s not m—“

“how about we go to the arcade in shinjuku city? they close in like,” he checks the imaginary watch on his wrist ( whether he didn’t know he had interrupted you or he didn’t want you to finish your thought was something you didn’t understand ), “two hours, i guess.”

you roll your neck around on your shoulders, sighing at the low cracks that escape your aching bones. eager for some activity, you shrug. “hate to admit it, but that might be the greatest idea gojo’s ever had.”

to that, he beams. you hear a duet of groans come from your other two friends. “aw, c’mon. don’t give into him so easily,” geto chides playfully.

“not to brag—“

“—all you do is brag, gojo—“

“—but i, personally, think i have a ton of great ideas.”

geto tips head back and laughs. you see the way his eyelids twitch and scrunch with his soft smile, outer corners crinkling as the airy sound frees itself from him. he crosses his arms. “that’s why you personally think that, im afraid ‘s not a very common opinion,” he answered calmly. gojo sulks as he looks to shoko for help. she shrugs and puffs out another cloud of smoke between the small opening she’s created on the side of her mouth.

“we can always bully him some other time, i’m bored and i’m practically losing years off of my life just listening to him,” you mutter to her — perhaps a little too loud as you see gojo’s jaw drop open from your peripheral.

geto gets up, dusting the damp pieces of grass sticking to his pants and the back of his legs before taking a big stretch. you wrap your arm around the other, extending your elbow and mimicking his motions as you let out a sigh at the feeling of weary muscles ( which you can already tell that geto and gojo will use against you when you spar ).

“why don’t we go already then?” he inquires, causing gojo to shoot up as you already start to slowly walk back to the campus entrance. shoko snorted as she shook her head, trailing behind to walk and talk with the raven-haired man. your eyes scan over the perimeter of the horizon, spotting all the grass and the vast architecture of the highschool, squinting as you look for the way you came from.

feeling the air change from behind you and the soft sounds of quick footsteps on grass, you begin. “hey shoko, do you ever—“

then you see his stupid smile.

“oh,” you say. he scoffs, almost like he’s offended that you had such a tame reaction. gojo huffs a bit, still attempting to keep up with your pace. “just ‘oh’? you aren’t excited to talk to me at all?” he groans.

you shrug. “just thought you were shoko ‘s all.”

oh, you really shouldn’t have said that. you think — because once you see the way his face splits into a grin once more, you instantly grimace. “so you are excited to talk to me.”

“never said that.”

“you didn’t have to. i’m psychic.”

“that so? what am i thinking right now, then?” you ask, finally tearing your eyes away from the ground and tilting your head at gojo; who taps his chin and pretends to think ( although, you know that there’s a seventy percent chance that whatever comes out of his mouth will be bullshit considering the way he’s struggling to hold back a smile ).

your question evokes a long hum from him as he looks up to the sky, to the right, and then back to you before he answers, “how handsome i am?” your eyes narrow a bit, one of the rare moments where satoru gojo could render you speechless.

once your mouth drops open, void of sound, gojo’s almost ready to backtrack and apologize before you finally laugh. a nice, hearty laugh that makes your chest rumble in between every breath. and if that isn’t the biggest ego booster for the boy then you’re not sure what is. he couldn’t care of you were laughing at him or with him, all he knows is that he can’t help but chuckle along with you. his chest swells with pride as you lean on the stone archway as the cacophony of giggles slows down.

you wipe the corner of your eyes, looking back at geto and ieiri as they eye you in confusion — but nonetheless give you a pity snicker in response.

“you’re hilarious, gojo — keep it up,” you finally say.

he beams boyishly at you, a warm wave of something washes over him albeit he can’t figure out what. “nice to know i still got it,” he asserted, making you give one last eye roll before you looked back at the stone steps leading to the front entrance.

you skipped forward and turned your body a bit to look at your classmates. the usual scowl on your face no longer evident anymore for it was replaced by a soft smile, one so foreign even to shoko who’s company you more or less enjoyed the most. she pursed her lips around the tobacco stick in an uncharacteristic curiosity, wondering what that fool could’ve done now to make you genuinely laugh.

“i’m gonna grab something from my dorm real quick, ‘kay?” although you were probably saying it to the group as a whole, gojo nodded eagerly as he flashed you a thumbs-up with a small, ‘okay’ as well.

he turned to shoko and geto as you rushed up the stairs and into the building, running along to the girls’ wing as they glared at him. “what?” his voice was too innocent to be gojo, just the sound of his “oblivion” made them want to facepalm. geto held a thumbs up as he mocked his friend’s earlier face while shoko have a light huff, the sound somewhere in between sounding both exasperated and entertained.

“th’hell was that?” she asked, finally stubbing the cigarette out with her shoe ( still keeping a pack on here though, you never know when you might need one. especially when you’re friends with the biggest idiot in tokyo ).

“what?” he repeated.

“nothin’,” geto shrugged, the tiny front piece he kept loose from his bun swaying as he shook his head. he shares a look with shoko that definitely throws gojo off though. he narrows his eyes at them, spectacles somewhat hiding the oceans that are his irises.

gojo crosses his arms. “you guys are just jealous that i can make a pretty lady laugh.”

“you— you don’t think . .” shoko trails off, her forehead crinkling as she looks like she’s trying to decipher something. gojo quirks a brow even though she was thinking aloud or possibly talking to geto instead — he still waits for her to finish her sentence. “what?” he repeats only to be met with a dismissive shake of the head from her.

he opens his mouth to ask what they’re talking about before he hears hasty shoes against stone and looks behind him to see you, walking back down with a small pin clasped in your hand that shimmers in the sun when you hold your hand up.

gojo’s eyes take their own route as they fly away from your palm, down your arm until it reaches your face — a fond smile written on your face like you had been claimed victorious. it made his own smile quirk back up again.

you only spare him a glance before you lope to shoko. he watches as you hand the item over to her before she takes it, a faint half-smile twitching on her lips bemusedly.

“so you can keep your bangs to the side,” you answer — even when no one has asked why you gave that pin to her. “i got it from osaka on that mission last month — thought it’d look cute on you.” geto cocks his head as he tunes out your conversation before shrugging and walking back over to gojo, hands shoved in his pockets.

he chuckles, “no need to pout, satoru.”

“i’m not pouting,” he placed a hand on his hip. unbeknownst to him, he totally was; whether it was unintentional or not. “she’s just playing favorites over here when i’m the one who so graciously invited her to start hanging out with us,” he frowns.

a laugh and a rough pat on the back from geto interrupted him from entering his soon incoming villain arc as he walked back over to you and ieiri, pulling his dramatic friend along with him. gojo’s ears perked up at your voice in the conversation once more.

“oh, you know i don’t like all those weird hair clips ‘n’ stuff—“

“don’t worry,” you lean over, brushing some of her bangs out of her face as you clip them to the side. gojo watches afar as your thin fingers work to cover the small pin with another piece of shoko’s hair, successfully getting it out of her face and concealing the pin in the process. you grin, mission accomplished.

pulling back, you watch as shoko touches her hair — smirking when she realizes how useful it’d be. she pats your head and looks at you before her eyebrows furrow; only then do you realize what she was focused on behind you.

“uh, where’s my souvenir?” your face instantly drops as you feel gojo’s chin on your shoulder, words purred dangerously low next to your ear.

“up your ass.”

“mind fetching it for me?”

“you’re disgusting—!” you push him off as he chortles, his eyes crinkling softly as bouts of laughter overtake him at your exaggerated reaction.

“we’re not gonna make it to shinjuku if you guys keep bickering like children,” you both hear geto chide. you look over to the entrance, a small smile on his face as he teases the both of you.

you scoff, stuffing your own hands in your pockets as you walk over to the dark haired man. “he started it,” you mutter.

he gasps. “nu-uh!”

“yu-huh,” you retort. he sticks his tongue out at you in retaliation whilst shoko follows you and geto in return. gojo smirks as you huff and turn around, watching as his friend bumped hips with you on the way there, making mindless conversation.

the air wasn’t so bad, the light breeze felt more refreshing than over. he looked back over at shoko’s hair in thought.

perhaps he’d have to work harder at officially getting on your good side some other time, he thinks.

iii. the taste of blue raspberry

vibrant lights and loud video game chirps wasn’t exactly gojo’s scene despite how he always presented himself; extroverted and inherently obnoxious ( although, he’d prefer to use the word ‘comfortable’ rather than obnoxious whenever you’d refer to the latter ). all he could do was trail after you and shoko, geto following him as he observed the random teens and little kids accompanied with their parents that kept the arcade flowing.

cerulean eyes follow your movements in hopes that he’ll keep track of you. that he wont lose you in this crowd. he’ll occasionally look over at shoko and geto to make sure they’re still here, too.

“so, you chose a shitty arcade spot to hangout in? such poor taste,” he leans down over you, hoping that mild jabs and soft teasing will help keep his mind off of the fact that there’s snot nosed kids running around the already narrow spaces between the machines; their flat footsteps melding together with all the loud sounds as they become synchronized with the beat of the music.

your lips twist into a sneer at the sound of him, slowly turning your head to look behind you at the boy who grinned so slyly. gojo knew exactly what he was doing.

“would you rather have yaga put us to work and sweep the dorms?” you bat your eyelashes as he only smiles further, reveling in how you play along with his little game.

“i dunnooo.. wherever you go i go, i suppose.”

“such a flirt.”

“just being honest,” he puts his hands up defensively as he walks past you to a random machine that stands stationary in front of you, untouched with whirring, vibrant lights that glow brighter when he thumbs a few tokens in the slot at the bottom. as you hear the clinking of the coin hit against the curvature inside of the machine, the snow-haired boy turns to look at you with a boyish smile as he crouches down and points a finger to the blinking button saying, ‘play now!’

you have the urge to warn him about how the game is most likely rigged. you don’t. instead your parted lips close with a huff. gojo is said to be able to do anything, you remember, he’ll learn the hard way.

“you mind getting me a slush at the machines?” he says, lanky body extending to its full height as stands upright again.

“that’s so far — and scary,” you feign a pout. realistically, you were just too lazy to walk all the way over there and back for one item.

“take suguru with you,” he tips his head up to gesture in the direction of the dark haired friend, to whom you see looking out the glass doors at all the kids who run through the place.

so there you are, walking along with geto as you huff about how gojo could have gotten the drink himself. he hums occasionally, looking around and observing the environment to try and make sure you don’t run into anything during your chatter.

“he does care about you, though. you know that right?” his fingers sift through the yen in his palm, the coins clinking around as he grabs some and puts it into the thin slot of the slushee machine.

your lips press together as you hum almost dismissively, head cocked. the cup makes a soft thud against the metal as he puts the cup inside and closes the small glass opening. the machine whirs as he clicks the blue raspberry flavor almost like it’s muscle memory — the blue button lighting up with the white kana in front of it.

“you want something?” geto asks quietly, leaning down to interrupt your analysis.

the thought makes you crack a small smile as you think for a moment before turning to face him. “do you want something?” you inquire. “i’ll pay.”

he waves you off with a soft smile. “it’s alright, i’m not much into sweets.”

you grab gojo’s cup out of the dispenser, putting a clear lid and straw in it as you grab another disposable cup. if you were going to get a slushee, you weren’t going to let geto pay for it by himself. the whirring of machine’s drink being poured almost drowns out the loud, coinciding beeps and animated sounds of the nearby screens you both hear.

“then let me buy you something when we get out of here,” you smile at him.

you fail to notice the way his face softens at you when you’re too busy grabbing the cup, licking off the excess that spills over onto your thumb as you laugh. his smile falters a bit, before he walks with you back to go get shoko and gojo.

you scoff at the sight of the white haired man smirking at the pixelated screen, pointing it out to you and geto. the two of you lean over as you heard gojo sip on the drink while you roll your eyes at the big blue kanji in bold spelling out, ‘top score: satoru gojo’.

“thought you weren’t a fan of blue raspberry,” you hear from behind you.

already, you see the man in question leaning on geto as he looks at you with a quirked brow. you look down at your cup. ah, you think, guess you did. your expression must give something away because you hear shoko amusedly huff next to you.

you shrug. “guess i just wanted to try something new.”

clearly a mistake because his smile only widens as he slings an arm around your shoulder too. “nah, you know what i’m thinking?”

“you never think.” that earns you a flick to the forehead.

he leans down. “i think i’m rubbing off on you,” he laughs.

you try to push him off of you yet he manages to let his weight relax as you struggle to keep him up, “gojo, you ass,” you mutter.

he turns to look at you, his smile looks different. feels different. “call me satoru,” he beams.

iv. ‘the star plasma vessel?’

riko amanai is a pretty girl, you think. you have no idea why she wanted to be the star plasma vessel in the first place. you weren’t there when satoru and suguru went to go meet her, instead hearing her version of the story where they practically tortured her — and knowing the boys, you’re not quite sure that she wasn’t exaggerating.

she likes you, definitely favoring you a little more than tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum, you think as you pointedly look at the pair of friends, walking ahead of you.

you look down at riko’s arm interlocked with yours and smile. “so,” you whistle, “what do you think of those two?”

her green eyes dart up to yours before looking at suguru and satoru and squinting. “they’re interesting, that’s for sure,” she mumbles. her lips twist into a sneer-like pout just at the sight of them, evoking a lighthearted chuckle from you. you fail to notice the way satoru’s head turns to look at you ever so slightly at the sound.

it makes riko grin as you playfully bump your hip with hers. satoru had never seen you so lax. maybe because the young girl was easier to handle than himself. he didn’t mind seeing you like this, but he couldn’t deny that it was pretty fun to work you up, too.

he smiles at the thought of your puffed cheeks with furrowed brows, narrowed eyes burning holes into him as he would flick your forehead for the third time in a row.

“what’s gotten you all cheesy?” he hears suguru inquire from beside him, tearing his eyes away from the stone road beneath him to look at his snow-haired friend. “eh? just thinking about stuff,” satoru replies.

suguru hums, his hand still shoved in his uniform’s pocket. “you sure it has nothing to do with—“

“a-tat-tat-tat—!” satoru waves a hand in front his friends face, holding another finger up as a gesture for him to silence. “what’d we say about sharing private stuff in public, suguru?”

“i can’t help it, some ‘gossip’ is too hot,” he shrugs.

“that does not help me—“

“what gossip are you guys talking about?” riko chimes, crossing her arms as the two of them look at her. you quirk a brow yourself.

if he’d had known better, satoru would’ve flinched at the rough hand you had smacked down on his shoulder. his eyes flickered towards you, already spotting the sly smile on your face. fuck you for being so beautiful, he thinks.

“yeah, what gossip are you guys talking back?” you press. he scoffs, waving you off as he continues walking. your lips press into a pout as you cross your arms as well, mimicking riko’s motions as you two whisper about whatever. suguru laughs at the two of you — only a few days and you guys were already twins.

sometimes the thought made your smile falter ever so slightly, knowing that you had to escort her only in a day or two was saddening. but for now, you’ll enjoy the smiles and pats on the back — knowing you’d have to part soon was only so minuscule in a world drowned in familiarity.

you intertwine your fingers with hers instead and swing your arms back and forth before you turn your head to your aforementioned friend.

“hey suguru, what do you say we show riko-chan here that little coffee shop downtown?” you ask, watching as he turns his attention away from his small flip phone’s messaging system ( as he’s most likely texting shoko and making fun of satoru in the process ) before his eyebrows raise with a soft smile.

you hear satoru huff again as his head whips around to look at you. stifling a laugh, you take in his furrowed brows and jutted lip as he sulks.

“hey, why don’t i know about any secret coffee shop downtown?”

“we had just found it walking around one day,” suguru deflects.

“and you didn’t tell me about this super-cool-top-secret-no-satoru café?”

you beam before resting your hand on his shoulder. satoru swears electricity shoots through his nerves as he turns to look at you. he wouldn’t spoil it now, but he’s seventy percent sure that this is the first time you’ve touched him without pushing him ( or as he’d like to call it, abusing him ) away.

“don’t be so jealous, satoru,” he ignores the way you call of his name makes a pit settle in his stomach. you turn to riko, “we’ll share the spot, yeah?”

“if you say so,” suguru puts his hands up in playful submission. satoru only chuckles.

your laugh synchronizes with the sounds around you, like music to satoru’s ears whilst you skip ahead with riko and scan your perimeter. everything sounds clearer now; the birds outside zipping around trees, chairs and drinks clinking, a heavy pair of distant footsteps that you can only assume is the trailing of a few people on their way to the same place.

but none of that really matters, although you’re sure everything does. all these sounds are apart of you and you’re willing to make the most of it. you walk hand in hand with riko as the boys follow in suit.

you scoff at the way satoru pulls the chair out for you before sitting himself in his own and kicking his feet up. his brow quirks cockily at the sound. “ah, so you’re only nice to me when amanai is around?”

“someone’s still gotta keep you in your place, satoru.”

“yes, ma’am,” he laughs, tipping his head back lazily as his hands fold over his chest. suguru huffs and grabs his friend’s feet before shoving them back down onto the cement. “decency, satoru?”

“ehh,” he groans, only peeking an eye at suguru before closing them again and letting his body go lax. you shake your head and laugh, watching as riko eyes him in annoyance. they’ll warm up to each other eventually, you think — and you can tell suguru feels the same.

“this is so cool—!” you chuckle at the way the young girl gleams at the intricate details of the outdoor table and the faint music playing from inside the café. her green eyes shimmer in the light, you notice; perhaps maybe just curiosity glinting in them. she’s only fourteen.

your eyes flicker around your environment yourself, hearing the mindless chatter that riko and suguru partake in about, presumably about what they’re going to do next. you squint at the distance, seeing an unusually tall man towering over a few people as he looks in your direction. your lips purse as you narrow your eyes at him further before he tilts his head up and turns away.

you watch as he walks away, his toned back all you see before you hear a mumble of your name and a tap of your foot.

you look over to see satoru, who stares at you with an indecipherable expression — something between an uncharacteristic curiosity and a standoff-ish glow. your head tilts before you look back over at the front of the café. that man is gone.

you turn back to see satoru leaning over the table with a sly smile. “penny for your thoughts?”

you shake your head and dismiss him with a weary smile and a lazy shake of your hand. “just looking around,” you say — even if you know that you can’t fool satoru gojo, his eyebrows only pinch a bit before slightly rotating his head to look behind him a bit.

“you want a sweet?” you ask, tapping his side of the table to get his attention.

had his eyes always looked so piercing, you think to yourself, as you feel something move around in your chest. rearranging itself along with the soft onomatopoeic thumps of the organ that lays inside.

he hesitates. “nah, i’ll get something on the way back later.”

“who are you and what have you done with satoru?” you chuckle. he ignores the way the usage of his given name makes him feel, the way you say it — syllables still fresh on your tongue. instead, he laughs along with you while looking over to his friend. he doesn’t know what he expected, suguru was always observant; so why was he so surprised to see him looking at the two of you with a raised brow?

you look back at riko before gasping out a small laugh at her chubby cheeks, full of food as she eats it like it’s the last meal she’ll ever have. it only makes your grin grow wider when her eyes meet yours, like a deer in headlights whilst she stops chewing. you both take a pause, even when the boys turn to look at you as well — before you burst out into bouts of laughter. riko’s giggles are muffled by the parfait that’s swelled in her cheeks but she covers her mouth with a polite hand as she tries not to choke.

your cheeks feel warm with the way they stretch to curl into a smile. suguru and satoru exchange a look before satoru smiles right along with you. it wasn’t so bad, he thinks. if amanai made you act like this then maybe he didn’t mind her as much as he thought. his foot taps against the concrete underneath the table. he can feel something wriggling around in his chest.

v. deficit

riko amanai’s beauty, no longer will it be seen as the white sheet frames her features instead, you think.

the deafening sound of applause almost takes your mind off of satoru’s expression; only coldness lies within his features, now.

your hand clutches your side, even with the greatness of the stitches that shoko had blessed your wounds with — you could almost still feel his knife in your abdomen. the stinging never seemed to go away. the clapping doesn’t help, all of your senses are occupied on trying to focus on satoru.

with the close proximity of suguru next to you, you can feel the way his hand twitches against his side while he looks at riko, or more so, the sheet that covers her. you can feel his horror, too. just a couple of days ago, she was fourteen, trotting along tokyo with you

you’re almost upset you weren’t there for her death, you weren’t there to comfort her in her last moments or save her at all. you were only there for the aftermath, the same man who you saw at the coffee shop just days prior. you look at suguru to your right — who knows what he’s gone through, you think.

and yet throughout all the booms of cheers and applause, you can hear satoru’s voice and your head whirls back to him. you almost don’t recognize it when he utters, “i screwed up, it’s not your fault.”

your hand comes up to gently rest upon your mouth in a soft gasp as your eyes try not to trail down to where riko’s shoe clad feet swing with satoru’s steps, the only part of her that’s left unsheathed from the horror of what’s underneath the cover.

his next words come out muffled yet you know you couldn’t escape them even if you tried, so close yet so far to avoidance — but you know you heard him clearly.

he calls your name, then suguru’s. “should we kill these guys?” your stomach churns, the pain in your side gets worse — your head hurts and it feels like you don’t know where you are at one point. you start to question whether anything is real at this point. he adds, “i doubt i’d feel anything about it.”

his eyes don’t dart to yours like they had the few mornings prior, before you had gone to escort the young girl. he had smiled and slapped a comforting hand on your shoulder once you explained how you had a bad feeling. you still do. you wonder if there’s any other feelings you could have, anymore.

you hear suguru’s soft mutter next to you, the applause only simmering down as you try to hyper-focus on his voice. perhaps to ground you, or perhaps you couldn’t escape it; a reminder of what this world is really like. “no,” he says. “there wouldn’t be a point.”

your vision glosses over into a blur and you go to look at the light above you, florescent and blinding. your heart hurts and you do your best not to clutch it through the fabric of your uniform, you can’t be seen like this, you think. you can’t let them see what’s happening to you.

fingers digging into your palm, you tune the rest of suguru’s voice out; even though you can feel his eyes on you regardless. instead, the pair of your own follow satoru, seeing riko’s hand, partially crusted with the leftover pool of blood that had flowed beside her head, swing lifelessly as he walks past the two of you.

your brows knit closer together as you stare at him. everything clips in and out. the noise, the cheers, suguru’s voice slowly melding into satoru’s. “no point, huh?” he huffs. “does there need to be a point?”

“of course there does,” suguru snaps back. mauve irises are nothing but void now, his eyes only fixated on the ground a few feet in front of him. “especially for jujutsu sorcerers.”

your eyes burn with the way they’ve been mindlessly gazing at the snow-haired boy, the back of his head the only thing you can catch a glimpse of behind suguru’s dark hair. it doesn’t feel like they can close, only the sheen layer of oncoming tears coating them so they don’t entirely dry out. “satoru,” you breathe — and with the way things are going, you’re surprised to see cerulean eyes turn to meet yours.

suguru doesn’t bother to look at you since he can already anticipate the crumbling feeling of guilt when he sees your expression. it doesn’t matter anyway. it almost feels like nothing does.

glossed lips don’t part like how they’d usually do, they don’t even grace you with the smallest sight of a smirk like how satoru always would. you’re not quite sure why you whisper his name, what you’ll even say. maybe a mantra that only connects the two of you, something that’ll keep you sane.

he keeps his eyes locked on you for a second more before turning his head and walking away. your hand comes to grasp at your side. the stinging comes back.

vi. pinky promises (of two)

sentimentality was a privilege in a world of jujutsu — you learned, after riko. sensitivity wasn’t trained into sorcerers, in fact, you’d say it was actually trained out of them. it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing to be sensitive. although, surrounded by the strong, tears burned hot on your skin and your hand burned even harder when they’d come up to wipe them away.

the birds outside the encapsulated feeling of the trees chirp, showcasing what once looked golden now is tainted with a dull grey that seems to gloss over everything now. your eyes feel droopy, no longer laced with sleep but with the dread that’ll come with the rest of the day.

you wonder how satoru’s doing, how shoko’s doing. how suguru’s doing. his face looks thinner, you noticed as you think back from the recollection of your faded memories from two mornings ago. he won’t go out with you as often, you wonder how badly it fucked him up. you wonder if anything will be the same again.

you run a frustrated hand through your hair, cringing at the way oil meets your fingers. you know you have to wash your hair, but you can’t bring yourself to. it almost feels like a chore, combined along with your classes and being put on your ass every time when you try to spar with satoru.

(he always says he’ll go easy on you and let you win. you huff in annoyance — he never does.)

despite all the breaths of fresh air you try to take, your lungs can never feel free of the burden that they’re tainted with. you close your eyes and savor the heat of the bark against your palm, in hopes that it’ll finally soothe the ache in your chest like how it did all those weeks ago — at the beach in okinawa.

you remember the warmth of the sand against your skin, smacking your hands together when you’d sit upright to rid your skin of the small golden flecks. you remember seeing riko and gojo splashing each other in the water as you heard kuroi and suguru’s soft voices conversation from beside you. the feeling of your hair tied, the brightness of the sun drowning your skin. it’s so vivid in your mind, you wonder if everything was all a dream, sometimes.

a raspy voice breaks your reverie as it excuses itself before you move your propped leg and look down below you. a faint smile finds its way to your lips as you see a familiar brown bob accompanied by the scent of tobacco and rose body spray.

“so distant out here,” she cranes her neck up at you with pressed lips, you internally sigh in relief at the lack of a cigarette that’s usually rested between them. a small pout forms on your lips at her extended arm, looking down at her hand and then back up at her with a cocked head. “i’d say with more to do out here, i would understand why.”

you huff. “i was brutally injured not too long ago, and this is how you treat your favorite patient, let alone favorite friend?” shoko smirks with an entertained scoff.

“i don’t see utahime around here anywhere.”

“shoko!”

she snickers as she makes her way over to the grass, the plush dirt cold against her upper thighs as she unceremoniously plops down onto it. you begrudgingly ( but not really, as the lack of social interaction practically burns your throat ) hop down from the branches of the tree, the heat finally capturing you in all of its glory as you carefully sit down next to shoko.

“always reminiscing, huh?” she asks. you can see the way she fidgets with the turtleneck of her uniform, presumably from the antsy withdrawal of her cigs. you give a small hum — whether it’s an affirmation or not, you don’t know. all you know is that it’s a noise that escapes you, now only a rare sight for the people closest to you.

your tongue tingles with the longing of verbosity. eager to say something, except the brunette beats you to it first. “i get it,” she sighs. “it’s nice to be alone out here.”

“we can’t ever be alone with those two idiots,” you remind her playfully, a chuckle managing to slip past your lips as she groans at the mention of the two familiar boys.

“how’s satoru doing?” you ask softly, plucking at the dewy grass that lay beneath you. shoko looks at you quizzically from out of the corner of her eye before closing her eyes with a snorted laugh. your heads whips around to look at her as you see her head shaking fondly.

a small, contagious huff makes it way out of you at the sight before she looks back at you, honey eyes narrowing once she realizes that you’re genuinely asking. her smile never falters, though ( which is usually a bad sign considering of the sadistic streak you’ve seen her partake in ).

“have you got it for the satoru gojo?”

you gape. “i don’t—! i just,” lips pursed, you huff and tilt your chin up with crossed arms. “the escort was a bust, just wanted to see if his ego wasn’t too hurt.”

at your brash synopsis; your ears grow hot when you realize shoko definitely doesn’t believe you — especially with the way she hunches over a fit of silent snickers.

“shut up.”

“ah, i won’t bully you,” her lips twist into a grin. “for now.”

“shoko!” you throw your head upwards while you fall back and ragdoll, your back hitting the solid dirt beneath you as you put your arms over your head, blocking the sun’s view from your eyes.

all you can feel is the ache in your stomach, even with your friend’s reversed cursed technique, you can still feel the knife that once pierced the flesh linger on. your lips twist until you hear the shuffling of weeds and dirt swipe next to you. you turn your head, lifting your arm only to see the brunette scooting closer. she pauses, “what?”

“you don’t wanna lay down with me?” you feign a pout as you look up at her on propped elbows, the corner of your lip quirking up when you see how unenthusiastic she looks with your antics.

“you can get bugs on you,” she chimes before leaning against the bark of the tree.

“it’s nature, sho.”

“some of it’s pretty gross. you ever see tortoises fuck?”

“you’re so weird,” you laugh before rolling on your back again and looking back up at the sky; eyes gazing at the sun until when you look away, you see faded, floating shapes in your trajectory. she snickers too, looking up at the sky, too.

she’s starting to get eye bags, you notice — the fold of skin forming under her eyes along with faint, darkened circles that sit right under her splayed bottom lashes. unable to blame her, you simply lay there and stare. your eyes still pick up on the way she fiddles with her thumbs placed in her lap, pale yet irritated hands a stark contrast to the darkness of her uniform.

“y’know if it’s me you want instead of gojo, you can say so,” she laughs, interrupting your analysis with how hard you were staring. but this time, you don’t say anything. nothing at all, not even a small twitch of your lips in annoyance or a giggle to her joke, you simply keep staring at me.

she barely tilts her head yet it’s enough for you to notice. she finally asks, “something you’re thinking about?”

the words sit heavy on your tongue, laced with a bitterness you could only describe as filth. “do you ever wonder what’ll happen when we’re older?”

“what do you mean?”

“look at what happened, now.”

her brows relax. “oh.”

shoko’s lips pout out a little bit as she looks off into the horizon, where the school lays dormant with only few staff occasionally walking out or a few students walking out to their drivers to participate in another assignment.

your hands feel hollow with the way they’re too weak to even ball your fists, so you swallow the pit that forms in the hollow crevice of your throat and look back up at the sky.

“we’ll be together forever, right, shoko?”

you hold out your pinky to her — and despite her scoff, she interlocks hers with yours anyways.

vii. words left unsaid, words always heard

“you think it’ll get any better?”

your turn your head to the velvet voice emerging from the shadows, tensing in your spot atop the dorm balcony as you slowly look behind you. long hair is seen first; thick, ebony silk cascading down suguru’s thin t-shirt. you can’t count how many days you’ve seen him wearing that familiar white oversized tee, you wonder if it’s become a second skin for him at this point.

you hum at his presence, turning back to the dark sky that lay before you. looking at the exterior of the school that lay in the courtyard, painted with darkness as only the soft glimmer of moonlight embraces them, embraces you.

“you act like everything will go to shit.”

“i’m not saying that,” his tone is sharp — no longer smooth as how it used to be, he sounds on edge, like the rubber band inside of his throat will snap at any moment.

you hear a few small steps shuffle closer to you whilst you turn around and lean your body forward, the metal of the railing cool against the sweat of your arms. another nightmare, geto notes; from the way your hair is still frazzled and your breaths come out heavy with few quick intervals of inhalation.

you could feel his presence beside you, the aura of tensity thickening the air as you struggled not to say anything. you could feel his eyes on you, observing you. suguru was always observant somehow — you wonder how long he had been that way before you had found out. he was a very interesting boy, you learned early on.

“i never said you did,” your lips twisted like something sour fell damp in your mouth. “you’ve just changed, suguru.”

“have you not changed also?”

closing your eyes, you hope for one more breeze to pass through — for one opportunity, for one sign that’ll release you from this energy. it doesn’t.

“suguru—”

“don’t you ever wonder how the world would be,” a pregnant pause wriggles its way into the two of you, “without curses?”

you look at him only to see violet eyes focused straight ahead of him. he doesn’t glance at you nor even breathe in your direction, his shoulders don’t seem as tense though.

you shake your head with a breathy laugh. “yeah, i guess so.”

you lean further to try and alleviate the pain in your stomach, a churning inside of your gut that gives you a bad feeling just at the thought of it. sharing a look, your heads turn toward each other in the moonlight — he looks paler, you notice. sickly.

“hasn’t everybody? or at least hasn’t every jujutsu user?” you mumble.

( you notice suguru pauses, an uncharacteristic habit that he’s slowly developed — once always so sure and witty with his remarks, now wilted with the uncertainness that’s plagued him. )

“why do we exist?” he finally says.

your eyes dart around, stomach finally squeezing at the discomfort you feel at his question; yet you laugh it off anyway.

“philosophical, are we?” you meager a forced grin, although it only falters slightly once you feel him sigh out a breathy laugh. “a human’s purpose on earth is undefined, i don’t really know the answ—“

“i mean as a jujutsu sorcerer: what is our purpose?”

“i don’t know where you’re going with this,” you finally say. suguru takes a step back and stops resting against the railing. you look down at the high drop, then back at the sky — you wouldn’t want to jump to conclusions, but you can’t help but look at him out of the corner of your peripheral.

( at your absence of an answer, he fills in the quietude for you. )

“we fight curses, right? to protect civilians?” he runs a hand through his dark hair, the sweaty strands connecting with the callouses that lie embedded his fingertips.

you swallow. “uh-huh.”

“but who’s saving us?”

your lips twist into a small pout as you try to comprehend the underlying meaning of his words, you wonder what sort of plan he’s dancing around — why he can’t share it with you. he always shared everything with you.

( your mind mainly focuses on that one blanket that he would always hog when he was over, fleece and blue with white polka dots; now faded and worn, and you’re pretty sure it has one hole in it from when satoru tried pulling it towards him at the foot of the bed. )

“curses are created from human negative energy, the shit that stirs within non-sorcerers that finally manifests itself,” he spits. you don’t move.

“i know what you saw out there. about r—”

you cut him off. the topic ends at the beat of your heart.

suguru calls your name softly, looking back at you with furrowed brows and an inquisitive look upon his face. he seems like he’s genuinely considering this, you think.

a pause ensues, and all you hear are the distant chirps of crickets that inhabit the area. suguru doesn’t, he only looks at you — his ears drowning out any other noises besides the soft breathing exerted from him. he doesn’t seem fazed, he’s thought about this for a while — regardless of your answer, even though he knows it’ll hurt him either way.

“satoru,” you mutter.

“what about him?”

“he doesn’t know?”

“the burden he carries is unlike no other, and i have a feeling we can change that.” he places a soft hand on your shoulder, the warmth of his hand spreading along your arm and only furthering your nausea. “i think you know that, too.”

you turn on your heel, feet similar to lead as it takes everything within you to turn away and head back past the glass, trying to make it back to your dorm before a deft hand catches your wrist. it’s bordering tight, but your head whips around to see him nonetheless.

“promise, right?” his other hand holds out his pinky — almost ironic in a way. you can feel your eyelids heating with the oncoming wave of tears threatening to spill. you can’t though, not now.

it takes a second or two but you apprehensively bring your hand to interlock pinkies, a childish but fond gesture the four of you had always done.

soon, he will have coffee and crepes in the street. he’ll breathe in bliss. empty his cup of its grief, for the new life he will lead — you think.

“promise.”

viii. satoru gojo - the strongest

satoru gojo often feels like he’s not as strong as he can be.

how silly is that?

goodness, to him, is adjacent to a rock flowing slowly through the rapids. he’ll float there first. although, he knows it’ll follow him — he can only hope he’ll meet you in the river, up to his knees, both hands full of something good, like silverfish wriggling for the waters.

a bright, childlike grin on his face as it meets your sheepish one, as if when he were to meet you as a child — being your friend would be worth more than being the heir of the gojo clan. his yukata dirtied and muddy from the cross contaminated water, soaked and dripping once the two of you would make it onto the small rocks. he would’ve been punished by the elders for the mess he had created, but he wonders if it would have made a difference.

he wonders, if you had been there, whether you would have made a difference.

he knows you’ve made one now.

and when he hears the news from yaga, he can’t help but clench his fists like his heart had clenched alongside it. his head pounds with blood thumping through his veins as yaga’s voice muffles.

he doesn’t remember much — he remembers being told about you and suguru, he remembers yelling, he remembers the hot tears that welled up in his lashes as he walked away. he remembers going back to your dorm room, opening your door, and feeling his gut drop at the sight of it.

satoru remembers the lingering scent of your body spray and how it engulfed your room. the small scratches satoru had carved into your desk with a pencil once he had tried tutoring you (it ended horribly and you didn’t get anything done, a smile threatens to tug at his lips at the memory).

the small notes you used to pass in class with shoko folded neatly in an organizer. he picks one up and squints at the shaky kanji of shoko’s handwriting bunched up on the page compared to the way your characters floated on the small ripped piece of paper.

‘did you do #14?’ he read shoko’s.

yours read, ‘yep’.

he could almost laugh at her last response — which read, ‘nerd.’

he wonders how you’re doing with suguru — satoru wants to believe you had no part in the massacre he had inflicted on the village but there’s no way to no for sure, all they can tell is that they found one was suguru’s buttons on the scene. his fingers run along your sheets, neat and made from the days before you had left — he feels his breathing quicken at the sight of your fluffed pillows.

(you knew you were leaving, and that part hurts the most.)

his eyes dance around the decorations of your room, littered with cheery figurines and souvenirs from past missions in shibuya or sapporo, ones you’d always have to march back into satoru’s room for because you knew he had taken at least one.

he had never told you that the only reason he did that wasn’t to be obnoxious, but so that he could pull you into his room and coax you to stay a little longer — how he’d promise you wouldn’t get into trouble with yaga if you just went out for a plate of takoyaki in the middle of the night.

when he had seen suguru in shinjuku that day, all he could think about was that he wanted to tell you — how he wanted to just see you, even if it was only a glimpse; even if you hadn’t said anything to him. he just wanted to see you.

words lingered in his brain, suguru’s request burned into his head. because he didn’t come to fight, he didn’t come with aggression. he only requested that he saw his side, too. a part of him was relieved you weren’t there with him, because he was always weak to you — it would’ve made it so much harder, he thinks.

has he always felt this way about you? feeling what way? what the fuck is he thinking? he doesn't even know.

there's a big, hot, white ball of something within him — something wiry inside of his gut that cuts and scrapes at every edge inside his intestines. satoru doesn’t know what it is but he’s never felt this way before.

but he’ll go outside, and he’ll see shoko or wave to his classmates. he’ll hear the whispers float around in the halls, overshadowing the faint sound of soft laughs he used to hear when he’d bump hips with you when you would take your daily rounds — to help with the dreams you had, you said.

satoru gojo didn’t get nightmares, he just woke up with once again another weight on his shoulders the next morning, groggy with the idea of obligations that would only pile up on him. and although satoru never dared to dream when he was asleep ( nor did he know how to dream when he was awake ), he would only pretend to so that he could roam around at night in search of you.

and when he’d find your figure, shaky breaths escaping your lungs with disheveled hair and tear stained eyes — so beautifully illuminated by the celestial pearl in the sky, the only beacon of light suspended in velvet darkness. you’d look up at the moon, perhaps with a prayer in mind, as you’d only think about what to do next.

like always, he’d sneak up behind you. only this time, he wouldn’t startle you with a playful call of your name or tap your shoulder and be on the other side to confuse you. he’d merely slip behind you in silence, leaning against the railing of the open-view gap that’d let you view the outside of the high school. he’d feel you glance at him with a wobbly bottom lip, swollen from the chewing you’d had to do just to silence your cries.

satoru wouldn’t say anything. but you knew why he was there.

(or at least, why you thought he was there.)

your head would drop low with eyes screwed shut, and only satoru could hear the quaky breath you’d take as you’d try to compose yourself. azure eyes would rake across your figure with a furrowed brow, he never understood why you were so emotional — yet he’d lay a comforting hand on your back anyway. you’d savor the warmth of his palm with only more tears building up in your lashes.

he’s strong. he has to be — whether it’s for you, for suguru, for jujutsu society; doesn’t matter. that’s neither here nor there. for now, satoru will nurse the thought of your memory until it bleeds and stains the very bed he dreams of you in — knowing he’ll awake the next morning and jolt at your absence. he’ll then wash his face, hold his head high, and walk right back outside. the hurts only scabs over for the day before he opens it up again the same night.

ix. migration

“you— what?”

“i’m going to the states.”

geto’s lips quirk into a soft pout, one you’ve gotten accustomed to for the past few years.

“how come?” he asks softly, albeit you almost frown at his tone. a sound that had come to be so comforting — it tingles at your bones in small zaps and shivers. it makes you feel terrible, but you can’t help but indulge in the feeling.

“always wanted to go,” you shrug. your eyes glance to the girls’ bedroom; the two twins suguru had found in that small village that had come to be but a large pile of ash and dismay. hand still warm from tucking the two of them in, it fills you with bitter sweetness.

his eyes linger on your face — you can tell he doesn’t believe you because he always has this tell, where his lips will shift to the side momentarily as he presses them together, almost in thought. you’re not sure you believe yourself, either.

staying in japan does nothing for you but weigh you down with the slow, imminent guilt that swells your chest from the fact that you’re stuck here. of course, it wasn’t an involuntary choice to go with suguru — you felt you had no other choice but to escape the things you had seen at the place that had hurt you most.

although, you can’t help but think about the boy who’s hair lights up the room, who’s eyes can see right through you — it’s almost unsettling how much you remember the flecks of blue and detail within them, practically painting the sky in those colored irises. often times, you’ll lie awake at night; hands folded neatly over your chest as the external stimulus of the outside world provide you with a sense of security, realness.

the expensive eau de cologne of his lingers in your nose, the almost spice of the musk permanently altering your brain that’s only triggered when you walk past advertisers outside of the store trying to sell a similar scent.

you swear your eyes don’t water, even though no one’s presence is there but yours — so there’s really nothing to swear about. you just don’t want to seem like something you’re so foreign to; vulnerability. letting the tears flow down the curve of your cheekbones. you don’t wipe your eyes for it’s the only reminder you have left that that boy exists.

so the next morning, you’ll wake up. slumped over from the thing that eats at your bones, your cursed energy being the only thing you can feel running through you.

fingertips coated with the smallest bit of dust, the leather cover of the suitcase is practically unused save for the few times you’d use it when you’d be sent to the outskirts of japan for certain missions. you almost smile at the faint memories that cloud your brain around that time; shoko’s quiet laughs while utahime and you would whine at small inconveniences on the trip. stopping by certain food stalls that weren’t available in tokyo, trying new things — it makes you miss it.

but you know you can’t go back now.

you pretend not to notice the watery eyes of nanako and mimiko once they see you walking out of the door, nor do you notice suguru watching you walk out the door all the same; the robes clinging onto his figure disfiguring him into a man you no longer knew.

the soft smile that once lied on his young face now replaced by one of feigned amicability; like a customer service smile. you’ve known him over a decade and yet it seems like the two of you’ve only been roommate faintly acquainted with each other. it makes your heart thump a little harder.

you pretend not to feel the way your throat closes up as a single tear courses down your skin; leaving a residue that coats the linear path trickling down your cheek — this time, you wipe your eyes.

x. (not so) divine intervention

tongue sticking heavy in your mouth, any form of noise that you could’ve possibly made dying on your throat. your hands feel a surge of pressure through them, fingers twitching along as the gears in your head turn.

you look different, he takes note of. your hairs parted a little different, a few inches of extra length added on as well. a smile tugs at his lips; one full of mirth and almost jocularity. you look so clean, healthy — strong. there’s potential, he realizes, as he searches suguru’s memory bank of you; your face making a constant reoccurrence throughout his mind. the day you left, you cooking for the girls next to him, you lying next to him, your tears that night.

his half-smile only grows wider.

he cocks a brow before he holds his hand up in salutations. he says your name, but it’s not how he would usually say it. it’s almost raspier, lower. your lips press together as you examine him, your eyes keep flitting back up to his head — intricate stitches wrapping around the width of his forehead.

“hey,” geto looks you up and down. “shrimp.”

tilting your head up, you roll your eyes at the nickname before continuing to walk forward. you don’t know what you expected because he follows you anyway, hands clasped together under the warmth of the sleeves of his robes.

his soft footsteps easily match your quick ones, stern and at least trying to flee. you don’t wanna look at him, whether that’s because you know you’ll crumble or because you’re so upset, you don’t know. all you know is that you can’t look at him now. even when he observes the bustling streets of and makes passing comments about the citizens of tokyo.

“i wasn’t sure that you had gotten back — how come you didn’t find me?” he asks, and you know it’s only because he’s fishing.

you spare him a glance out of your peripheral. you frown softly, it doesn’t even look like suguru anymore. paler skin, thinner cheekbones, lips now a lighter shade of pink with small cracks lining them. an angry, irritated color begins to form around his forehead where the stitches lay, the thread sunken so deep in his skin that it makes your own head hurt at the probable tightness.

you quietly exhale, but you know he can hear the shaky breath that comes along with it. “didn’t know if you were busy.”

“you know i can always manage some time for you,” he smiles bittersweetly. tilting his head up, he looks up at the tall buildings that surround you, admiring the straying leaves falling from the trees. one floats down and makes its way onto your head — your eye twitches as he plucks its off your hair before holding it up to his view.

you take your time to look at it, too. it’s starting to brown with the oncoming seasonal change, an amorphous combination of a golden crisp and veranda green.

“i’ve been meaning to ask your help with something,” he doesn’t look at you, still trained on the leaf. “only if you’re ready to be my partner in crime, again." he smiles at you, one that seems more like suguru. it’s confident and teasing, and with the way he leans a little more forward brings you memories of his old demeanor back in high school, the way him and—

you pause, because for a moment, you swear you could’ve seen a glimpse of white hair behind him. it’s almost concerning how quickly your blood runs cold at the thought. it’s not out of dissent nor is it out of a manifest of obscureness to which you’ve rendered him to.

but once you hear geto speak of his name — it’s like you crumble all over again. your hands going soft and clammy, your chest surging with an almost sort of giddiness at the thought of him again. just like a wishful coin in a pond, it’s beautiful to know that there are still glimmers of this feeling. even this deep in.

“suguru?” you tilt your head back, meeting his relaxed gaze as he halts his movements.

“hm?”

“what are those?” you gesture to your own forehead, keeping your eyes locked on your head as you talk about the stitches on his own. you don’t get a reply.

after that, you don’t pay attention half-way through his explanation, stopping him again with a closer step forward as he talks about some sort of plan. really, the only thing you listen to is the small glimpses you hear of satoru’s name. he talks about something going on in shibuya, he talks about jujutsu high — and you would be lying if you said that the mention of the school didn’t make you a little sad.

you wonder what satoru’s doing, you wonder what shoko’s doing. hopefully, you’ll see them soon — even if it’s just in passing. you know nothing will be the same as it was before, but you can help but wonder what they’re doing now.

you won’t know her now — but as she puffs the remaining tobacco through the small opening of her swollen lips, shoko shakes her head and looks down at her pinky. she wonders if that promise had gone down the drain like you had. she swears she can feel the corners of her eyes dampen a little.

and you won’t know it either — but satoru can’t help but see you everywhere he looks. when he sees the first years walking back home from the mission, he trails behind them just to get the view of them lined up together; yuuji bumping hips with megumi while all he gets is a glare in return. nobara looks up on the sky and drags her feet out of boredom, spewing off mindless bits of chitchat about how she totally ‘did that’.

his neck will crane up to the horizon as his lips only recite your nothings. all he is sees is sunset, yet he’s scarred with the melancholy he carries. he’ll try to close his eyes, your hands coming up to his collarbones before you press down. until he’s bruised with incompetence; until his shame has configured the astronomical.

and satoru will smile, a slew of memories seeping back into the curves of his brain as he thinks back to those times of you — of suguru, shoko, nanami. he never stopped hurting that day, but he can’t help but smile at the sight of something begun anew.

oh well, satoru thinks — he can only wonder to what you’re doing now. something inside him hopes for a day where he’ll see you soon. he’ll wait for the day where he’ll see you soon.

𐙚 holy shit i did it

𐙚 taglist ; @kasumitenbaz @sad-darksoul @seternic @kalulakunundrum @2ukika @sugimvra

𐙚 requests are open — november thirteenth, 2024

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