#I could have gone with a much nicer 'you will be able to spot a new friend' but no I went the enemy route

[ithinkitsdashingshop]

Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli charms

[bwabys-scenarios]

Fixer Upper

Part 24

Perv!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

part 23

part 25

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

warnings: sexual content, mentions of reader being willing to do anything to keep Leorio with her in the past(including sex, but he doesn’t go through with it obviously), drinking/being drunk

taglist: @fabitheraven @tsukilover11 @ashdownunderscorebeloved @lemonslut @homeinmydreams @superweeniehutjrsblog @bugmomwrites @heartsforseo @lixiawinter @altaircc @itszenava @fiightforlovee @mimi-sanisanidiot @monainanuttshell @wow-im-gay @whorermoviestar @lightshowerrr @mama-m1na @nenggie @wicked-binch @jamayah @themanicwriter01

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The mission was long and hard, but Kurapika gained enough new information to make it worth it. He felt exhausted, and hadn’t eaten a good meal the entire month he was gone. He knew as soon as (Name) saw him, she’s be worried.

He had tried harder to take care of himself knowing he’d be returning to (Name), but it was still a struggle. At least he was freshly showered and wearing one of his nicer suits. Maybe… she would think he looked handsome.

That thought made Kurapika blush. He was only a few minutes from her house, and could picture her smiling face when he walked in. It made his heart race, his palms sweaty.

‘Is this what being in love is like?’

Kurapika wasn’t sure if he liked being in love. It made him nervous and his head was clouded with visions of (Name) and a live with her. They made it hard for the blonde to focus on what he really needed to do.

Find the scarlet eyes, and kill the Phantom Troupe, those were his goals. Part of him knew he didn’t have time to spend gravitating towards (Name), but when he stepped out of his cab and onto her driveway, he felt all of his doubts melt away.

Killua’s bike was lying on the lawn next to one of (Name)’s rose bushes, and he noticed that there were a few Halloween decorations dotting her yard. He stepped over a plastic skeleton hand sticking out of the ground, a smile tugging at his lips when he spotted a little cloth ghost hanging from her ghost.

By the door, there was a hay bale, a small scarecrow sitting on it, with enough room to place other items. Kurapika wasn’t had never celebrated Halloween, but knew the basics. ‘Maybe it’s a space for pumpkins or something?’

Kurapika knocked on the door, his duffle bag still slung over his shoulder. The sound of someone shuffling towards the door made him stand up straight and glance at himself in the window.

His hair was a little messy, so he smoothed it out as much as possible before the door opened.

“Wow, it’s you. I didn’t think you’d actually be coming back.”

Kurapika’s smile fell when he spotted Killua standing behind the door, looking the blonde up and down. “Do you not have somewhere to stay, or something? It’s like feeding a stray dog, they always come running back when they’re hungry.”

Kurapika felt his eyebrow twitch in annoyance, quickly pushing past the boy and into the house. “You know how I feel, Killua. I’m here to see her again.”

Killua stood by the door for a moment, watching as Kurapika paused, setting his duffle bag down. He sniffed the air for a moment, Killua raising an eyebrow. “You know I was joking when I said you were like a stray dog, right? You don’t have to act like one.”

He ignored Killua, walking towards the kitchen instead. Kurapika wasn’t sure why, but he felt drawn to whatever was cooking.

(Name) stood near the stove, bending over to open the oven door. She hadn’t noticed him yet, and he was glad. That meant Kurapika got to stare at her plump ass, the jeans she was wearing hugged the curvature of her hips.

“Mmm… I think it’s done.”

She was talking to herself quietly, something he found endearing. He watched as she set something on the stovetop, the blonde peeking over her shoulder.

This was a mistake, because as soon as he stepped closer she jumped. “Hello?”

(Name) whipped her head around, wielding a wooden spoon as a weapon, only to drop it when she spotted that familiar head of blonde hair. “Kurapika?”

Her eyes widened, and he could see tears prickling at the corners. Kurapika didn’t have time to process anything as the girl wrapped him up in her arms, laughing. “You came back, you really came back!”

She looked up at him, a smile stretched across her lips. “I’m so happy. If I’m being honest, I… wasn’t sure you were telling me the truth.”

He felt his heart break a little at her words, but he couldn’t blame her for her doubt. Kurapika only smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“I missed you, (Name).”

She leaned into his touch, sighing contentedly. “I missed you too…”

The blonde peeked over her again, (Name) turning to see he was staring at the baked good she just took out of the oven. “So… what is that, (Name)?”

She took off her oven mitts, and upon further inspection Kurapika realized both them and her apron her Halloween themed. Her apron was black, with the words ‘gone batty’ written across the chest, and her oven mitts were black with a pattern that consisted of little white skulls and pumpkins.

“Oh, I made some peach cobbler! It’s the perfect treat for the fall season.”

He tilted his head, his eyes following her as she walked towards the freezer. “What are you doing?”

She opened the door to the freezer, pulling out a tub of vanilla ice cream. “You can’t have peach cobbler without vanilla ice cream!”

Kurapika hovered around her. “Well, I’ve never had peach cobbler before so I wouldn’t know.”

(Name) gasped, grabbing a bowl. “Oh, we’ll have to change that.”

She placed a piece of hot peach cobbler into the bowl before leaving two generous scoops of ice cream on top.

“Here you go! I’m going to get bring killua his share, I’ll be right back!”

She walked out of the kitchen carrying a bowl for Killua, leaving Kurapika too look down at his own.

It smelled divine, a strange sense of nostalgia overtaking him as he scooped up a piece of cobbler smothered in ice cream. His mouth watered, he’d missed (Name)’s cooking the entire time he was gone.

He brought the spoon up to his mouth, taking a bite.

‘Oh my god.’

All of a sudden, Kurapika was a child again, sitting in his mothers lap as she fed him spoonfuls of something sweet off of her plate.

“Not too much, Kurapika. It’s almost time for bed.”

He pouted up at her, his little hands grabbing at her bowl. “Just one more, momma! One more bite!”

His mother chuckled, scooping up another spoonful. “Okay baby, one more bite.”

Kurapika felt tears stream down his cheeks as he shoveled the peach cobbler into his mouth, sniffling. Not only was the food delicious, it made him remember when days were simpler. Before he lost his clan.

“Kurapika?”

(Name) stood in the doorway, looking concerned. “Are you alright? You’re crying…”

She used her apron to dab at his tears, the blonde clearing his throat. “I’m fine, just, uh… burnt my tongue.”

“Oh, let me see! I might have something to help.”

He blushed, but stuck out his tongue for her. Kurapika knew she would be able to tell he hadn’t burnt his tongue just by looking at it, but he couldn’t say no.

She hummed a she inspected it, the blonde blushing as she leaned closer. “Hmm… do you want me to kiss it better, Pika?”

His face erupted into a blush. “K-kiss my tongue? Y-you-“

She laughed, pulling back. “I’m joking, I know you didn’t burn your tongue.”

He pouted at her, his face red with embarrassment. “Don’t tease me like that, (Name).”

“Well, don’t lie to me. Why were you crying?”

He couldn’t argue with her, his eyes softening as he took another bite of his treat. “… this food reminds me of my childhood. My mother used to make something similar to it.”

(Name) nodded, now feeling a little bad for teasing him. “I see… I’ll have to make you some more later then.”

She unrolled a section of aluminum foil, covering the pan. “Alluka is flying in today, and I want her and Nanika to try some!”

Kurapika nodded, not taking his eyes off the pan. “Yeah…”

She smiled. “Okay Kurapika, now that you’ve had your snack, I want to show you something!”

He blushed when she grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. “What are you showing me?”

(Name) giggled, leading him to the guest bedroom upstairs. “Open the door and you’ll see!”

Kurapika gave her a curious look before turning the knob and walking in.

His eyes widened at the sight of the room. Before when he peeked, it was a plain white room meant for guests, but now it was furnished with the walls painted a baby blue.

A soft, shaggy rug sat in front of the bed with a pair of navy blue slippers in the middle of it. There was a nice writing desk in the corner of the room for him to work at, and a planter filled with bright red poppies on the windowsill.

“(Name)…”

He picked up the navy blue robe sitting on the bed, seeing an embroidered name written in gold print on the breast pocket.

‘Kurapika’

“This room… is this for me? You… you did this for me?”

She nodded, giving him a shy smile. “Yeah, since you’ll be staying here more permanently, I wanted to make sure it felt like home.”

Kurapika’s breath hitched, his eyes turning that pretty shade of scarlet that only she got to see. “This… this is very sweet, (Name). Thank you.”

He pulled her in for a hug, burying his face in her hair. “It’s no problem, I promise. You have a home here, and I wanted to make sure you knew that.”

The two stayed silent, (Name) raising her hand to pat his back. He wished he could stay this way forever, holding her like this.

“Ah, it’s about time to pick up Alluka…”

She pulled away from him, giving the blonde a smile. “You get settled in, I’ll be back in about an hour.”

(Name) began to walk away, but was stopped by Kurapika grabbing her wrist. “Wait, why did you move me up here? My room was downstairs before…”

Her face heated up, and she stayed facing away from him. “W-well, I wanted to move you upstairs so we’d have the spare bedroom downstairs open for guests. And… it’s more private up here. I know it can be overwhelming sleeping next to Gon and Killua.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty loud.”

They both laughed, (Name) glancing back at him. “Why don’t you go look in your drawers?”

He turned to do just that, and with his grip on her wrist gone, she slipped out of the room.

The reason she’d given him for moving him upstairs was only a half truth. The real reason was a little… selfish.

She wanted him closer to her, so she could bump into him when she walked in the hallway and could share a bathroom with him. It made her blush to think about him walking out of her bathroom wearing the nice robe she bought for him.

And nothing else.

‘Focus! I’ve gotta get Killua so we can pick up Alluka!’

“Kurapika, could you make sure the cats don’t get into the peach cobbler!” she yelled upstairs as she buttoned up Killua’s coat.

He blinked, looking up from the drawer (Name) stuffed full of new clothes for him. ‘Cats? Oh no, the she-devil…’

“I will!”

He walked downstairs as she left, glancing around. “Now, where is it? What was its name again…”

Kurapika scanned the area, grimacing as he made his way towards the kitchen.

The last the blonde had heard, the cat was still at the vet and recovering from giving birth to her kitten. It made sense that it was back, Kurapika had been gone for a month.

‘That kitten must be a month old now. I wonder if (Name) kept it…’

He jumped when he felt something rub against his leg, looking done to see a cream colored kitten with an orange patch on its back. ‘Is this the kitten?’

He reached down to pet it, the kitten purring and butting its head against his palm. “Aww, hey little guy. You like me, huh?”

Kurapika crouched down, scooping up the kitten in his arms and cooing softly as he scratched the top of its head.

This was a mistake, because as soon as the kitten was lifted into the air, it’s eyes went wide as it yowled in surprise.

The sound of something scratching against the floor as it got closer and closer made Kurapika blink. A ball of brown fur appeared in the doorway of Killua’s room, it’s back arched as it approached.

The kitten in his arms squirmed and yowled, causing the cat in front of him to growl and spit. “Shit… hey, hey I’m not hurting it! D-“

Meatloaf got a running start before leaping into the air with its claws extended. Kurapika could only scream.

——————

Kurapika sat behind the kitchen door, holding a hand over his bleeding cheek as he tried to catch his breath. “Jesus Christ… that thing needs an exorcism.”

He stood up and walked towards the sink, splashing some water on his face before holding a paper towel to his cut.

Kurapika tried not to let his eyes wander towards the stovetop where the peach cobbler sat, but the temptation was too strong.

He noticed a small divot in the foil, taking slow steps towards the peach cobbler.

A paw shaped imprint was left in it, and when he pulled back the foil he noticed it went into the peach cobbler as well. “Well… I’ll eat this piece so no one else does. Take on for the team, as Leorio says.”

He followed (Name)’s lead, walking over to the freezer, getting out the ice cream, and fixing himself a serving of peach cobbler.

He sat at the table, a warm and fuzzy feeling washing over him as he ate. “So good… mmm…”

Kurapika felt his stomach drop when he went to scoop up another bite of peach cobbler, only for his spoon to come in contact with the bottom of the bowl.

“…”

He stood up, glancing to the stove, then back to his bowl. “I can’t… I only got another piece to take one for the team…”

But as he approached the stove, pulling back the foil again, he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop himself.

———————

(Name) held onto Alluka’s hand, smiling as the young girl went on and on about her new friends. “Yeah, and we even made friendship bracelets, look!”

She held up her arm to show off a little pink rubber band bracelet. “Oh wow, that’s pretty!”

Alluka laughed and clung to (Name)’s arm, Killua trailing behind them. “I can’t wait to try that peach cobbler, big sis! I’ve never had it before.”

“It’s really good, even if Leorio dislikes it.” Killua spoke up, his hands behind his head as he watched the two, a small smile on his face.

“Well Leorio dislikes any cooked fruit, so I understand.”

The three walked inside, (Name) helping them out of their coats before leading Alluka towards the kitchen. “It’s right in here, you’re going t-“

Kurapika sat at the table, head in his hands. His pants leg and shirt were torn, the signs of catch scratches peeking through the fabric.

On the table was the empty pan of peach cobbler, the foil discarded long ago. Kurapika had given in to temptation, something he didn’t do often.

“Oh, Pika…”

He jumped at the sound of her voice, looking up at her. “I-It’s not what it looks like! I just… the cats! It was the cats!”

Killua poked his head into the doorway. “The cats did what? I know you aren’t blaming my son for whatever you think he did. I don’t care what evidence you h-“

He blinked, looking at the state of the man before him. He was broken and beat down, bits of cobbler clinging to the front of his shirt. “Oh wow. Never mind.”

Killua left the kitchen, leaving Alluka and (Name) to deal with this mess.

“Pika, it wasn’t the cats, was it?”

He looked up to her, his lip trembling. “… no, it wasn’t the cats. I was brutally attacked, though.”

She sighed, turning to Alluka. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I’m going to have to make some more peach cobbler. Go play with your brother.”

Alluka glanced at the blonde, then to (Name). “Is that the guy that was mean to you, big sis? He’s covered in cobbler.”

Kurapika hung his head in shame, now not only for giving into temptation, but at the memory of his past behavior. “Oh, I told Killua to stop telling people about that.”

She gently guided Alluka out of the door. “Go on now, and tell Killua he needs to gossip about things other than my personal relationships!”

Once she was gone, (Name) turned back to Kurapika, the man looking pathetic. “Kurapika…”

He looked up at her shyly. “I’m really sorry, (Name). I don’t know what got into me… it was just too good and… and made me think about my mom.”

She sighed, sitting next to him. “It’s okay, Kurapika but… too much peach cobbler could hurt your tummy and ruin your appetite for dinner.”

Kurapika realized when she placed her hand on his back. “You’re… not mad at me?”

She laughed. “Mad at you? Kurapika, you came into my house today looking like you were about to blow away in the wind like a McDonald’s napkin out a car window. I’ll never get mad at you for eating when you’re hungry.”

(Name) stood up, wiping at his face with her apron. “But, you shouldn’t eat too many sweets before dinner. Ah, but I guess in your case, eating that was like eating a single serving for me, because your nen burns through calories.”

Kurapika nodded, looking down at the dish as if he could still eat. “Honestly, if there was more peach cobbler we wouldn’t be having this conversation because my mouth would be full.”

(Name) snickered. “Yeah yeah, let’s get these scratches disinfected. What did you do to piss Meatloaf off?”

Kurapika grumbled as (Name) sprayed his cuts with disinfectant and placed little Sanrio themed bandaids on them. “… I don’t know, I picked up that kitten and she just came at me like a wild beast!”

(Name) made a face. “That’s her baby, Pika. She’s very protective over him, you can’t just pick up a mothers baby when you’re a stranger in her house.”

Kurapika frowned. ‘Her house? It’s just a cat, an evil, decrepit one at that.’

(Name) took the pan to the sink, filling it with water before taking out the ingredients. “I’m going to make some more peach cobbler, could you call Gon and ask when he’s getting here? Leorio’s supposed to pick him up tonight.”

Kurapika nodded, walking out the door to call Gon.

———————

(Name) grunted as she placed the large baked hen on the counter, wiping her brow.

‘Gon should be here soon, just in time too. All that’s left is for the dinner rolls to finish cooking.’

On cue, she heard the front door open and Killua yell. “Gon!”

(Name) threw her oven mitts onto the counter and ran out the door, pulling Gon and Killua into a hug. “Ugh, now I have all my boys back!”

She tugged Kurapika and Leorio into the group hug. “Oh, and my sweet girl too!” she said, ruffling Alluka’s head.

“Hehe!” Alluka buried her face in (Name)’s shoulder, giggling. “Don’t forget Nanika!”

“Oh, of course. My two sweet girls!”

She kissed Alluka’s forehead twice, once for her and then twice for Nanika. Kurapika watched this, his face flushed and his eyes soft. ‘Cute… she really would be a good mother…’

His face turned a dark shade of red at the thought of her with a baby on her hip, wearing a frilly apron and smiling at him. “Kurapika, welcome home! Say hi to daddy, baby!”

He groaned, stepping away from the hug. Kurapika felt his heart racing, the softness he felt for (Name) almost overwhelming him. He wanted to indulge in her, give into temptation and let his desire take over.

She smelled so nice, the scent of her usual perfume and peach cobbler making his head feel fuzzy. “(Name)… you smell good.”

Killua made a face. “Why are you sniffing my mom? You’re taking this stray dog thing too far.”

Kurapika glared at him, pulling (Name) a little closer so only he was holding her. “At least puppies are cute.”

(Name) laughed, allowing him to hold her. “Oh, so you’re my cute little puppy now, Pika?”

His breath hitched as a blush spread across his face, his cock hardening against her tummy. “P-puppy?”

(Name) felt her face grow hot, Killua scoffing. “Hey, no one is cuter than me, I’m the baby!”

Alluka huffed, tugging on her brothers sleeve. “Hey, technically I’m the baby and I’m objectively the cutest!”

“Objectively? No way!”

As the two argued, Gon and Leorio attempting to calm them down, (Name) glanced up at Kurapika, gently pressing against his bulge. She stood on her tippy toes, leaning in close whisper into his ear.

“You should go upstairs and deal with that before someone notices, puppy~”

She kissed his cheek before walking towards the kitchen to finish up dinner, the blonde staring with his jaw dropped.

He took her advice, running up the stairs, face hot and palms sweaty as he gripped the railing.

———————

A few days passed by quietly, Kurapika settling back into the routine of (Name)’s house. Everyone woke up at around 7-9 am, ate breakfast, then left to do their own things.

Today, however, was different. (Name) had all of the kids bundled up in coats, smiling and taking pictures before turning to Kurapika. “Pika, would you like to come costume shopping with us? The kids haven’t decided what they wanted to be yet, so we’re going to browse. I haven’t got my costume either…”

Kurapika looked up from his laptop, glancing between the three teens then to (Name). “Costumes?”

Killua huffed. “Yeah, for Halloween. But honestly Kurapika, your face is scary enough. I don’t think you need a costume.”

Before the blonde could retort, (Name) placed a hand on Kurapika’s cheek. “Oh stop it, Killua. Kurapika so quite handsome, I think we all know that.”

She smiled, giving his cheek an affectionate pat. Kurapika couldn’t help but blush, gazing up at her with soft eyes. “… I’m come along.”

(Name) squealed, jumping up and down. “Are you going to get a costume too, Kurapika?”

He raised an eyebrow, setting his coffee cup down. “Aren’t I too old for that?”

Killua and Gon grimaced. “Are you forgetting (Name)’s older than you?”

Kurapika blinked and looked to (Name), who was now pouting. “Too old? You’re never too old for a Halloween costume. Besides, I wanted to ask if…”

She looked up at him. “If you wanted to come with me and Leorio to a costume party this weekend.”

The thought of getting to spend more time with her, and away from the children that distracted her made his heart race. “Oh… well, that does sound fun.”

She grinned, pulling him towards the door. “Then put on your coat and let’s go!”

——————

(Name) hummed as she held onto Alluka’s hand while they crossed the street. “Do you three have any ideas on what you’re getting? Did you ask Zushi?”

Killua’s eyes widened. “Oh, no we haven’t, but we’re going to call him so he can help us! And the only idea we have… is ninjas.”

Kurapika snickered. “Oh, is Hanzo your role model or something?”

“No, but he’s a better role model than you.”

The two glared at each other, but (Name) was quick to give them both a look. “Hey, no fighting. We’re going to have fun, and pick out our costumes.”

The two grumbled but listened. Gon, who was holding (Name)’s other hand, laughed. “(Name), you’re just like a mom!”

She laughed as Kurapika blushed behind her. “I guess I am, aren’t I? And you three are my babies!”

She giggled as they walked into the store, squeezing Gon and Alluka’s hands. Kurapika stared at this, feeling his heart thump against his chest. ‘I want…’

He watched as she guided them towards the costume section, following her figure.

‘I want to start a family with her.’

The thought plagued his mind more than once while he was away. Kurapika knew it was wrong to let it linger in his mind, after all he pushed her away for a reason, but he couldn’t stop the fuzzy feeling that overtook him when he imagined marrying (Name), getting her pregnant and having a child together.

He could imagine it now, then living together with a little one on the way. Kurapika would come home after a long day at work and hold his cute little wife in his lap while he rubbed her baby bump. Sweet kisses would turn into lingering touches, before her panties were slipped to the side and he pushed into her, gently bouncing her on his cock. He’d keep his pace slow, a hand on her baby bump to remind him why he was here, why he was still alive.

He shook his head before he could get too hard, glancing back up to see (Name) browsing through the women’s section of costumes. Kurapika decided to approach her, glancing at the costume she had in her hands.

It was a random with costume, with a black dress and witch hat. Even though it was plain, Kurapika’s heart raced thinking about her all dressed and as a little witch. “Is that the one your getting?”

“No, I don’t think I’ll be getting anything here.”

She sounded disappointed, putting the costume back on the rack. “Huh? Why, do you not like the options?”

He glanced down the aisle, spotting multiple costumes that seemed like something (Name) would like.

“It’s not that, Pika. They just don’t have my size. They only go up to a large.”

She showed him the packaging, and he made a face. “But they go up to an extra large in the men’s section, I don’t understand.”

She shrugged, sighing. “Looks like I’ll either have to order something or make my own costume.”

(Name) tried to smile. “Not being a part of the norm means you have to be creative sometimes!”

Kurapika frowned, his eyes following her gaze. She was looking at a pretty angel costume. “… I see.”

The two walked over to the kids section to check on the others.

“You said ninjas!”

“Alluka, we are not going as Naruto characters.”

“But Sakura’s costume is so pink! I love pink!”

(Name) laughed, walking over to the group. She spotted Gon a little further down the aisle, his phone out as he FaceTimed Zushi.

“Hey Zushi!” (Name) called out, leaning into frame. The boy beamed, waving.

“Miss (Name), it’s so good to see you! Mr. Wing told me to tell you he appreciates you letting me stay with you to celebrate Halloween!”

She giggled, waving her hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s no problem, you’re always welcome here, and just (Name) is fine.”

Zushi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, before Gon spoke up. “Have Killua and Alluka stopped fighting yet? I think I found something we can all agree on!”

“They’re still fighting, but I can fix that.”

Within a few seconds, Alluka was in (Name)’s arms and Killua was trailing behind. The poor girl was sniffling, still clutching the Sakura costume. “I like this one though!”

(Name) patted her back, sighing. “I know, but we don’t always get what we want. Let’s try to have some compromise okay? Why don’t you look at what Gon found before making your decision?”

She snuggled, letting (Name) wipe away her tears. “Okay… thanks big sis.”

She set Alluka down, ruffling her hair a little. The girl gave (Name) a quick hug before she turned to see what Gon found. This made Kurapika smile.

‘These kids really love her.’

“Oh!”

Alluka smiled, holding up a TMNT costume, specifically the Donatello one. “Oh, I love teenage mutant ninja turtles! This is perfect!”

Killua looked to Alluka’s choice, frowning but staying quiet. (Name) noticed this, turning to hold onto his hand. “Killua, what’s wrong?” she asked quietly. The white haired boy huffed, crossing his arms.

“… I wanted to be Donatello. But… it’s okay.”

(Name) tilted her head. “Can’t you both be Donatello? There’s multiple c-“

“Mom, that’s not how it works! There can’t be two Donatellos! Who would be Leonardo then?”

She held up her hands in surrender. “My bad, I didn’t know how passionate you were about this.”

Kurapika tried not to snicker, watching as they picked out their costumes. Gon was Michelangelo, Killua settled on Leonardo, Alluka picked Donatello, and Zushi was okay with being Raphael.

(Name) let the three browse the toy and game section while she helped Kurapika try to find his costume. “Hmm, so what are you thinking about wearing, Pika?”

He blushed, looking around the aisle. “W-well, what do you plan on being?”

She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask why that mattered. “Oh, I want to be an angel. But…”

(Name) sighed, looking through some costumes. “They don’t have my size here. I may have to look there again…”

She blushed and started to play with her hair. “There? What do you mean by that?”

Kurapika was curious now, her reaction alone enough to get him asking more questions. “It’s… it’s a lingerie store. Sometimes they sell uh… sexy costumes. I dressed up as a sexy nurse last year when Leorio and I went to a costume party. The costumes are short, but a pair of leggings usually does the trick.”

Now the image of (Name) in a sexy nurse costume was bouncing around his mind. “I-I see. Perhaps I could go with you. To, um, help you pick your costume.”

She held back a laugh, giving him a teasing smile. “Uh huh, sure, you can come with me. Pick out your costume, then I’ll take the kids to Leorio’s so we can do some shopping.”

Kurapika wasn’t sure, but was she… teasing him? He blushed regardless. “I’ll pick out my costume once you find yours then…”

He looked away, clearing his throat. “We can match.”

She felt her cheeks heat up, nodding before she looked away as well. “That… sounds nice.”

As they walked towards the checkout, (Name) couldn’t help but sigh. ‘What are we? We’ve kissed, that stuff in the car happened, and… he tried to finger me while he was sick…’

She didn’t want to get ahead of herself, but most people would assume he had some kind of attraction to her. It was hard for (Name) to believe with him specifically.

She didn’t think she was particularly ugly, but Kurapika had made it pretty clear that he wasn’t interested in her during York New.

‘So why has he been acting so…’

(Name) sighed, scanning the items and putting them in plastic bags. ‘It’s confusing, I never know what he’s thinking or what he truly wants with me.’

He at least considered her a friend, and although she still had feelings for Kurapika, she was fine with just being friends. Hell, part of her wouldn’t mind if all he wanted was someone to fool around with to let off some stress, even if the thought of him using her for her body made her heart ache.

Anything was better than being abandoned again, after all.

————————

(Name) and Kurapika stood outside the lingerie store, the blonde next to her a blushing, stuttering mess. “D-do you come here often?”

She laughed, holding his hand. “No, not really. I’ve only been in here twice.”

Hesitantly, Kurapika allowed her to lead him inside. He’d never been inside a store purely meant for lingerie, and he was already overwhelmed.

“Hello ladies, if you need any help picking something out, please let me- wait, (Name)?”

The woman behind the counter had soft brown hair and big, pink eyes. She left her post, running towards (Name) and hugging her. “Dia? Oh my gosh, how have you been?”

The woman giggled, pulling away from the hug to get a good look at her. “I’ve been great! I just graduated this year, again thank you so much for saving me and mom. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to graduate at all!”

Kurapika listened to this conversation with a confused look on his face. “Saved? What does she mean by that, (Name)?”

Dia blinked, looking at Kurapika. “Oh, is this your girlfriend (Name)?”

Kurapika blushed. “I’m not a girl…”

(Name) laughed, patting Kurapika’s arm reassuringly. “This is my friend, Kurapika. He’s a hunter too. And to answer your question, Kurapika, I work as a support hunter for a private company. Sometimes that work includes provide relief to disaster zones. I saved her from a burning building.”

Dia nodded, clinging to (Name). “Yeah, and my mom too! She carried us out like a fire fighter while crying.”

(Name) blushed. “H-hey! You guys were really heavy I’ll have you know!”

Dia laughed, and Kurapika couldn’t help but feel impressed. “(Name) that’s… amazing.”

(Name) waved her hand dismissively. “It’s nothing, I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

Dia smiled and pulled away, glancing back at Kurapika before looking at (Name). “So, what are you here for today? Is he your…”

She glanced at Kurapika with a sly smile, causing the both of them to blush and stutter. “N-no, he’s just a friend. Kurapika wanted to help me pick out my Halloween costume.”

Dia tilted her head, almost looking disappointed. “Halloween costume? You’re lucky, we just got some shipped in today. Come on, I’ll show you the new arrivals!”

Kurapika tried to stay calm, his face neutral as he followed behind the two. It was just lingerie, and he was helping (Name), his dear friend find a Halloween costume. Nothing more, nothing less.

But when they got to the plus sized section and he got a peek at the options laid out before him, it was hard not to imagine (Name) in them and subsequently get hard.

There was a decently wide variety, but the first thing Dia picked up was a devil themed lingerie set that would barely cover anything. Kurapika didn’t even know if it would cover her nipples.

“How about this? It’s our best seller right now!”

(Name) sighed, lifting the bottoms up. “Sorry, but my…”

She glanced at Kurapika, before continuing. “My um… lady bits would not fit in that. My ass would be hanging out.”

Dia tilted her head. “Is that a problem?”

Kurapika was too busy trying to not get hard to hear their conversation. He focused on the floor, counting the tiles.

“It’s for a costume party, so it will have to at least cover my bits. I’d prefer more coverage if possible.”

Dia sighed. “That’ll limit your options a bit. We have a few costumes this way that would probably work.”

(Name) grabbed Kurapika’s hand to lead him away, realizing how embarrassing it must be to shop for lingerie with his female friend. If only she knew that he was imagining her in each item of clothing he saw.

“These are the costumes with the most coverage. There’s only 7, with varying levels of it.”

(Name) looked over her options, humming softly. Kurapika watched as her eyes caught on an angel costume. It was a short, sleeveless white dress with little wings, and angel themed garter belts. Kurapika also noticed it came with a set of white, lacy lingerie.

He already thought of her as an angel, so imagining her in a costume like this wasn’t hard at all.

It was cute, but one look at the price tag made (Name) frown. “Ah, do you think these will go on clearance before this weekend?”

Dia shook her head, giving (Name) a sympathetic look. “No, probably not. Our costumes usually only go on sale after Halloween.”

(Name) sighed, glancing between the costumes. The cheapest option was a frumpy looking mermaid costume, and the lingerie paired with it was underwhelming at best. She picked it up, looking it over and sighing. “I think I’ll-“

Kurapika grabbed the angel costume in (Name)’s size and began walking towards the counter, not giving her a second glance.

“Pika, what are y- hey stop!”

She followed after him, face hot as she attempted to grab his sleeve. Kurapika gave her a look, setting the costume on the counter. “Don’t worry about it, (Name). Consider it payback for the peach cobbler.”

She whined a little, Dia scanning it with a smirk. “Pikaaa! Cobbler costs almost nothing to make, this costume is nearly $100!”

“Well, it’s the only costume for you. You are my angel, after all.”

She blinked, face growing hotter by the second. Kurapika smiled before leaning in to whisper into her ear. “And that was for teasing me the other day.”

He kissed her cheek before pulling back and paying for the costume, Dia staring at them both with shock in her eyes and a light blush on her cheeks. “(Name), I thought you said he wasn’t your boyfriend!”

“H-he isn’t!”

Kurapika had turned to leave, smirking to himself. “Then why did he buy lingerie for you? Is he some kind of pervert?”

The smirk fell from his face, his cheeks turning red. “W-what? Pervert?”

(Name) rolled her eyes, grabbing Kurapika’s hand. “He’s no pervert, he’s just… a little awkward when it comes to giving gifts.”

It was starting to dawn on Kurapika that he had bought (Name) lingerie. Not just a costume. “Wait, I just wanted to buy it for you, I promise it’s not like th-“

(Name) gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know, Pika. You didn’t realize it, it’s fine. It’s still sweet that you bought my costume for me, I really appreciate it.”

He felt his heart thump against his chest, grateful for her understanding. (Name) exchanged numbers with Dia before leaving, never taking her hand out of Kurapika’s.

——————

It was Saturday, and after texting Dia, she agreed to come over and watch the kids for the night. “I really appreciate this, it’s been so long I’ve been able to go out with all my friends!” (Name) said, packing her costume and makeup into her bag. She couldn’t let the kids see what she’d be wearing, so her and Kurapika planned on getting dressed at Leorio’s apartment.

“It’s no problem, I owe you for saving me and mom.”

(Name) left a few $20 bills on the counter. “Here’s some money for dinner, keep anything left over.”

She turned to the three kids, giving them a group hug before cupping Killua’s cheeks.

“Killua.”

He gulped, staring into (Name)’s serious eyes. “Yes, mom?”

“I expect you to be on your BEST behavior tonight, okay?”

He pouted, puffing out his cheeks. “Hey, why aren’t you saying that to the others too?”

“Because if you are chill, the others usually follow suit.”

Killua couldn’t really argue with that, so he just sighed. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Good, now…” she kissed each of their foreheads before grabbing her keys and purse. “I’ll be back late tonight, hopefully in time to tuck you all into bed. Bye!”

Gon patted Killua’s shoulder as she left, noticing Killua’s face falling. Dia turned to the kids, giving them a peppy smile. “So, who wants to play a board game?”

Kurapika looked up from the passenger seat, giving (Name) a shy smile. “Do you think they’ll be okay?”

“Oh, I’ll just be happy if I come back and the house is still intact.”

The two were quiet as they drove to Leorio’s apartment. Kurapika wasn’t the partying type, but he had to admit it was a little exciting.

This wouldn’t be just any ordinary party, it was organized by the Hunter Organization and would be a good chance to mingle with potential allies. Even though it was advertised as a fun party for the adult hunters of the world to have a moment of relaxation with free drinks and food, Kurapika knew that occasions such as these were not usually what they seemed.

“So any adult hunters are invited?”

(Name) nodded, pulling up to Leorio’s apartment. “Mhm, and there’s a strict no violence rule. So Kurapika…”

(Name) killed the car, taking a deep breath before continuing. “That means anyone, and I mean anyone with a Hunters license can attend.”

Kurapika understood what she was implying. He knew at least one of the Phantom Troupe members had a hunters license and had prepared for situations like this. It’s not like Kurapika was a wild animal, he could control his anger and need for vengeance against the Phantom Troupe if it meant keeping his friends safe and gaining something more important.

At least, he was assuming he could. A quick flashback to launching Chrollo into (Name) when he captured the leader of the Phantom Troupe surfaced in his mind, causing him to wince. “Yeah, I understand.”

She placed a hand over his, giving him a comforting smile. “If it helps, from what I heard the phantom troupe member almost never shows up to these kinds of events, I don’t think he even voted in the chairman election.”

Kurapika raised an eyebrow. “Where did you hear that information from?”

(Name) remained quiet, and she almost looked… nervous. “You remember the person I got the information on Dracule Midnight from? It’s the same guy.”

Kurapika stared at her for a moment, eyeing her as she grabbed her purse and put her keys into it. “I see.”

He decided to leave it at that, not wanting to potentially ruin (Name)’s night. She’d been looking forward to this party all week, and he wasn’t going to ruin it over his usual suspicion and paranoia.

But Kurapika couldn’t get over the lingering thought that she was hiding something from him. Something big.

The two walked up to Leorio’s apartment, the tall man opening the door with a smile. “I finally get to see your costume in person! Go on, the bathroom is all yours sunshine. You go ahead, we can get ready out here.”

She gave him a smile before walking to the bathroom and closing the door behind her. Leorio and Kurapika glanced at each other. “So, did you finally decide on something, Kurapika?”

Kurapika dumped his bag onto the couch, answering Leorio’s question by holding up a pair of devil horns. “(Name) helped me choose.”

The two turned away from each other and changed in the living room. Kurapika gave Leorio a look when he saw his outfit. “… really?”

Leorio was wearing a white robe, a pair of sandals, and a fluffy beard. “Yeah. I’m god, I wanted to fit the theme.”

“Uh huh.”

Kurapika pulled on a shirt black hood, placing the little devil horns to the top of his head. When he looked himself in the mirror, he nearly laughed.

“Oh, Kurapika, your horns are crooked!”

The two turned to see (Name) walking out of the bathroom, both of their jaws neatly hitting the floor.

The short white dress clinged her figure, the sweetheart neckline showing off her ample breasts. She pulled at the fabric around her tummy a little, but besides that she didn’t seem to be too upset with her costume.

The garter belts squished against her thighs, soft flesh spilling over them. The halo on her head and wings on her back wiggled a little with each movement.

Leorio was the first to recover, clearing his throat and giving her a flustered smile. “Shit, sunshine, you look hot.”

Kurapika was still recovering, or else he would have sent Leorio a mean glare. He was definitely hard, but thankfully his cape was able to hide the evidence of his arousal.

“Thank you, Leorio. And…”

She walked over to Kurapika, reaching her arms up. When she did, her breasts squished together, giving the blonde a perfect look at her cleavage. She fixed his devil horns before smiling. “There, that’s better.”

She turned around to grab her purse, the two nearly passing out. Her plump ass was barley covered by her dress, and when she moved to pick up her purse Leorio quickly sprinted over. “Woah there, (Name)! That dress is too short to be bending over in. For tonight, just ask me or Kurapika if you need something grabbed, okay?”

She tilted her head. “Hmm? Okay, I understand.”

Leorio picked up her purse, even opting to carry it for her. Kurapika finally found his voice, letting out a soft. “Y-you look so pretty…” before he groaned and his his red face behind his hands.

(Name) felt her face burn, her hands finally leaving the fabric around her tummy. This made the blonde gulp, finally getting a full view of her figure.

He would give anything to have her in his arms, to squish and knead her soft flesh, but right now he had to focus. This party was a good chance to get more information on the eyes, and maybe even the phantom troupe!

She popped her glossy lips in the mirror, looking over her makeup one last time before before she turned to the other two. “Let’s get going, then!”

The three climbed into (Name)’s van, Leorio taking the wheel. “It’s being held in that big hotel in the center of town. Apparently Pariston rented out the whole thing so Hunters out of town could stay for free.”

(Name) seemed to grimace at the mention of Pariston’s name, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the blonde next to her. ‘Do they have some kind of history..?’

Kurapika didn’t want to think of the slimy, former zodiac having anything to do with (Name), but they at least knew each other.

“We’re here.”

Kurapika was quick to get out and rush over to (Name)’s side, offering his hand. “Here, let me help you.”

(Name) giggled, giving him her hand and allowing him to place a hand on her waist to support her as she stepped out. The two checked over her, making sure everything was in place.

“You two worry too much! Even if something rides up, they’ll probably think what I’m wearing underneath is a part of my costume.”

Kurapika nearly had a heart attack, looking down her body. “W-what do you mean by that?”

(Name) raised an eyebrow. “I’m wearing the lingerie that came with my costume. I wasn’t going to, but I figured I might as well, considering how expensive it is.”

She giggled, holding onto her purse. “Who knows? I might even get lucky tonight~”

Kurapika nearly choked on his spit, Leorio quickly patting his back. “E-excuse me?”

(Name) snickered, playing with the hem of her dress. “I don’t know, I heard there’s some pretty handsome new Hunters attending this party, maybe I’ll get lucky.”

Kurapika didn’t answer, gritting his teeth as he clenched his fists in his pockets. “…”

He didn’t want to imagine her in the arms of another man, it made his hands itch. Kurapika wouldn’t know what he would do if someone even thought about touching her tonight.

It seemed like the blonde had a new goal. Make sure she doesn’t get lucky tonight.

Leorio gave the blonde a worried glance. He knew (Name) a lot better than Kurapika did, so he knew she wasn’t being serious. (Name) was a virgin, and she was saving it for someone she loved.

He knew this from… experience.

Leorio shook his head, trying not think of the past, a past where him and (Name) clung to each other after the events of York New. He’d been so worried about her after Kurapika’s harsh words and actions, he stayed with her an entire month.

‘… I still wish I never did that, never made her… made her feel like she owed me…’

Even though (Name) had consoled him time and time again, saying it wasn’t his fault she felt that way, he still felt guilty. They hadn’t had sex, and Leorio was glad. She wasn’t ready, and was only willing to do it due to her desperate need to keep him with her.

He could remember her tears, her trembling arms when he pulled her top off. “(Name)? Sunshine what’s wrong?”

She shook her head, hiccuping, wiping at her tears. “N-nothing! Nothings wrong, you can… you can do whatever you want to me.”

Leorio paused, pulling his hands away from her breasts. “… (Name), sex isn’t something I do to you, it’s something we do together.”

She shook her head, her chest heaving. “Please… please I promise it’s okay, j-just promise you won’t leave me, a-and you can do anything. I promise… I promise I won’t cry, I-“

She felt something her fall onto her cheeks, looking up to see Leorio’s eyes full of tears. “Oh, oh sunshine…”

He pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. “No, no I can’t do that to you. I love you, (Name), and that means staying with you, no matter what. Your body is yours, it isn’t something you should… should feel you have to give me.”

(Name) began to sob, and they held each other. Leorio helped get her dressed, ordering takeout before they crashed on the couch together.

Since then, he hasn’t made a real move on her. It was obvious to him she wasn’t in love, that she was so scared he’d leave that she was willing to do anything. Leorio wanted, loved her, but now that Kurapika was back…

The way she looked at him, teased him, blushed in Kurapika’s presence was something Leorio had never experienced. He wanted to hate Kurapika, but he couldn’t. She loved him so much, so much that Leorio couldn’t help but cheer the blonde on a little. At the end of the day, Leorio wanted (Name)’s happiness more than anything, and if that meant letting Kurapika have her, he would be okay with that.

“Leorio, do you think I’ll be able to stuff some of those fancy chocolates in my purse for the kiddos? You’ll cover for me right?”

Leorio let out a barking laugh, joining her side. “Yeah, only if I get some too.”

——————

Everyone’s eyes were on the three when they walked in.

Well, more like everyone’s eyes were on (Name) and her form fitting costume. Kurapika could already feel the leering glares of several men on (Name), his grip on her hand tightening slightly.

“(Name)!”

Kurapika barely had time to react, (Name) was already being picked up and spun around by a certain blue haired woman. “Menchi!”

The two laughed, (Name) hugging her tight. “Oh, I haven’t seen you in forever!” (Name) said, looking up at her.

She was wearing a chef costume, or perhaps it was just her uniform?

Menchi sighed, patting her cheek affectionately. “Well, I was in York New a few months ago, same time as you. I swear I felt your aura when I was shopping, but then it disappeared.”

“Huh? That’s weird. I would have loved to see you!”

Kurapika looked away, focusing on the floor. When they were shopping for her dress in York New, Kurapika sensed Menchi’s presence and had (Name) use Zetsu so she couldn’t be detected.

(Name) didn’t seem to remember this, so Kurapika stayed quiet. He didn’t like Menchi, and didn’t want to admit he did it out of jealousy.

“So who’s all here? I don’t have everyone’s numbers, so I only knew you and Bisky would be coming.”

Menchi hummed. “Well, I know I saw Satotz and that magician guy.”

Leorio and (Name) groaned. “Not Hisoka. Why is he here, who invited him?”

“Me.”

The two screamed, (Name) jumping into Leorio’s arms. Behind them stood Illumi, dressed in a vampire costume. He had snuck up behind them so quietly none of the three had noticed.

“Holy- we need to put a bell on you.”

Leorio set (Name) down, making sure to check her dress to ensure nothing rode up before he began to step away. “I’m uh… going to go mingle with the others. You two have fun.”

Illumi stared down at the two, Menchi having snuck away moments prior. “(Name). Blonde one.”

Kurapika scowled as he held onto (Name)’s arm protectively. “What do you want, Illumi?”

The dark haired man glanced down to where Kurapika held onto (Name). “… nothing. Just wanted to tell (Name) that I’ll be in town next month.”

She stiffened next to Kurapika, nodding. “Okay, just text me when.”

Kurapika blinked, looking between the two, but didn’t ask anything until Illumi was out of earshot. “Okay, what the hell was that? What business do you have with Illumi?”

(Name) let go of his arm, thinking for a moment before answering. “… he’s the one that helped me get the Kurta cookbook, so I owe him a favor.”

Kurapika paused, glancing at the dark haired assassin as he walked away. “I see.”

Kurapika followed (Name) around as she talked to random Hunters, occasionally tugging her away if their eyes drifted below her face.

“Hey, I wasn’t done talking to him!” (Name) complained as Kurapika pushed her down the hallway.

“He was staring at you inappropriately.” Kurapika said as he stared at her ass while she walked ahead of him.

“Yeah, I know. Didn’t I say I was planning on getting lucky tonight?”

Kurapika’s eye twitched. “Yes, you did say that. However, that’s not happening.”

“Excuse you?”

(Name) turned on her heels, poking a finger into his chest. “I don’t know who you think you are, Kurapika Kurta, but I can do what I want with my body. It’s none of your business. It’s not like you’re my boyfriend or something!”

She huffed and began to walk off, the blonde hurrying to catch up. “W-wait! I just want to make sure you’re… you’re safe! Not all Hunters are good people, for gods sake, Hisoka became a Hunter!”

(Name) paused, her pout fading away into a soft frown. “I can handle myself, but… I appreciate you worrying over me. It’s sweet.”

Kurapika almost felt guilty. He didn’t say these things out of genuine worry, he was jealous, yet she was smiling and thanking him. “… I’m not sweet, (Name),”

(Name) shook her head and grabbed his hand. “You are, Kurapika. You’re always worrying over me, it shows me you really do care.”

Kurapika felt his heart squeeze painfully as she followed him towards a large room. ‘No, if anyone’s sweet it’s you, (Name).’

They walked into the room, spotting Cheadle speaking to some new hunters. “Cheadle! Cheadlee!!”

The woman looked up, seeing (Name) approaching with Kurapika not far behind. “Ahh, Miss (Name). I see you were able to attend after all.”

She was dressed as Sophie from Howl’s Moving Castle, wearing the blue dress from the majority of the movie.

Chairwoman Cheadle offered a hand to shake, (Name) pulling her in for a hug instead. “H-hey! I’m the Chairwoman, have some respect!”

But she hugged (Name) back, huffing. “Well, I guess it’s okay, after all you had to deal with Pariston’s antics.”

Kurapika watched the interaction with wide eyes, still trying to figure out (Name)’s connection to Pariston. “Hehe, sorry Cheadle. I forget that you got the Chairman position after Pariston stepped down.”

Cheadle huffed. “Speaking of Pariston, he’s going around telling people we are matching on purpose, so don’t believe him. He heard I was coming as Sophie and bought a Howl costume before I had time to get another one! He just loves to mess with me…”

(Name) grimaced. “Oh, damn it.”

Kurapika scowled, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Howl is that guy from the movie we watched, correct?”

(Name) groaned, leaning into his shoulder. “Yeah, and he’s my favorite character. Ugh…”

They said their goodbyes to Cheadle before moving to the next room. It seemed to be set up with multiple games, including stuff like bobbing for apples, a few different arcade machines, and carnival games.

“Is that…”

Kurapika watched as (Name)’s face lit up. “Knuckle! Shoot! Morel!”

She sprinted away, squealing and giggling in delight. A man with a black pompadour turned, his face shifting from an annoyed one to one of surprise when (Name) jumped up and into his arms.

“Shit, buttercup is that you?”

Kurapika felt his blood boil when the man held her up like she was a cat, his hands under her arms and dangerously close to her boobs. “Hehe, yes it’s me!”

The man pulled her into a hug, spinning her around before placing her on her feet. “I’m so glad to see you’re doing alright now. You’re quite the little fighter aren’t ya?”

The men beside him turned to greet her, the tallest crouching down to her level and ruffling her hair. “Gave us a real scare back then, ya know?”

The other man, one with purple hair laughed, pinching her cheek. “This one ain’t going down without a fight. Remember what she did to that ant?”

Kurapika wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation, just standing behind (Name) and tapping his foot like a petulant child. “Hey, who’s your friend, (Name)?”

Kurapika kept a hand on her hip, eyeing the men. “Oh, this is Kurapika! We took the Hunter Exam together!”

At the mention of his name, the three grimaced. “I see, he’s the rat zodiac c-“

“Ain’t he that lowlife that broke your wrist?”

(Name) frowned, and suddenly Kurapika wasn’t so testy. “Hey, it was an accident. Damn it, Killua needs to stop telling everyone my business.”

Knuckle squared up to the blonde, looking down at him. Kurapika didn’t falter, staring back up at knuckle with his eyes turning scarlet. “He bothering you, buttercup? I don’t really care for men that lay hands on women, I’ll have you know.”

The black haired man pushed (Name) behind him, keeping an arm held out protectively. “No, he’s not bothering me. Kurapika is my friend, and he already apologized for that.”

(Name) stepped between the two before they could fight, immediately changing the subject. “Anyways, what are you all dressed as?”

Knuckle stared at Kurapika for a second longer before taking a deep breath and turning his gaze to (Name). “Well, I’m a greaser. Shoot’s the grim reaper, and Morel is Frankenstein’s monster.”

(Name) giggled. “Oh, those are excellent costumes! They fit you all so well!”

Shoot smiled, patting her shoulder. “Yeah, and an angel fits you pretty well.”

“Though, I don’t think anything’s angelic about how much skin you’re showing, girlie.” Morel teased.

Her face heated up, and she played with her dress as Knuckle blinked. The man hadn’t taken the time to actually look at her costume, too focused on Kurapika.

“O-oh yeah, you look…”

He stare down at her, now noticing just how much skin she was showing. His eyes landed on her ample breasts, and Kurapika growled. “Her eyes are up here, you creep.”

Knuckle blushed, holding up his hands. “I didn’t mean it! You uh, you look real good buttercup. Hot.”

(Name) laughed, giving Knuckle a reassuring squeeze. “It’s fine, I’m dressed like this for a reason. I don’t mind you looking~”

She smiled up at him, giggling. This made Knuckle short circuit, his hands up in the air as he tried to stutter out a response.

“Ehem.”

Kurapika cleared his throat, his scarlet eyes narrowed as he glared at them. “Can I have a word with you, angel?”

He grabbed her arm, squeezing lightly to make sure she understood. “Oh, sure. I’ll see you guys later!”

(Name) waved to them as she was dragged away, Knuckle scowling. “Should we really let him take her away like that? He hurt her before, and he’s obviously pissed off over something.” Knuckle said, watching their figures as they disappeared from sight.

“He isn’t giving off any malicious aura. And I think we more than anyone understand that she can handle herself.” Morel answered, going back to his game.

Shoot put a hand on Knuckle’s shoulder. “I know you have a soft spot for her, but she’ll be okay. Leorio’s around her somewhere, he isn’t going to let anything happen to her.”

Knuckle sighed, finally looking away from the two. “Yeah, you’re right.”

———————

(Name) whined a little, nearly tripping over her own two feet as she was dragged away by Kurapika. “H-hey, slow down, I’m gonna trip!”

The blonde didn’t respond, but squeezed (Name)’s hand gently. She huffed, but let him continue to pull her away.

That was until they spotted Hanzo lingering in the hallway. Everything happened so quick that (Name) could barely process it.

Kurapika scanned the area, opened up the door to the janitors closet, shoved her in, then pinned her to the wall. “Use Zetsu.”

Under any other circumstances, she may have argued, but (Name) didn’t really want to talk to Hanzo in the first place, so she complied.

They watched his shadow pass under the door, keeping as quiet as they could. (Name) squirmed slightly, feeling Kurapika’s knee between her thighs. He had his hand covering his mouth, and when Hanzo finally left he turned those scarlet eyes on her.

“He’s gone.” (Name) said softly, expecting Kurapika to move.

But he didn’t.

He nodded, looking down at her, his eyes traveling from her face, to her chest, and then to the knee he had between her thighs.

She squeaked when he moved it up to her crotch, her hands shooting out to his chest. “H-hey, what are y-“

In a flash, she was turned around, now facing the wall as Kurapika pressed against her. One of his hands moved upwards to her chest, cupping one of her breasts as the other slipped under her dress. “P-Pika! You-“

“You said you wanted to get lucky tonight, didn’t you?”

(Name) felt her cheeks grow hot, and she couldn’t deny that the feeling of his fingers growing closer to her panties was getting her worked up. “I… I did say that.”

Kurapika leaned in, planting kisses on her neck. “Mhm, you did. And god, it pissed me off.”

She squeaked when he bit down on her neck, his index finger tapping against her clothed pussy. “Can’t even think about someone else touching you…”

(Name) let out a shaky breath when he began to rub her through her panties, whining softly. “Kurapika…”

He continued nipping at her neck, gently sucking on her sensitive skin. “Shh, you don’t want anyone to hear us, do you?”

(Name) pouted, but quieted down, squeezing her eyes shut. “There, that’s my good girl. Only I get to hear those sounds, you got it? Only me.”

She felt his hard on press into her ass as he continued to rub her through her panties, his index finger finding her clit. He paused when she let out a soft moan, bucking her hips into his hand.

“Does that feel good, angel?”

He rubbed circles into her clit, kissing up her neck and jaw. “Mhm… r-right there, stay right there.”

He smiled against her cheek before tilting her head to the side to steal a kiss. “So pretty… my angel, I just want to make you feel good, okay?”

She whimpered into his mouth, feeling his tongue slip into hers. “Mmph..!”

She was getting close, beginning to buck her hips into his hand. “P-Pika! Pika!”

He groaned, her ass pressing right into his crotch. “That’s it, almost there. Just focus on my fingers, okay angel?”

She nodded, holding onto the wall, letting out a mewl as she came. When her legs buckled, he caught her with an arm around her waist. “You did so good, angel. Now let’s-“

A loud bang on the door made the two jump, Kurapika having to support her so she didn’t fall over. “(Name), Kurapika, are you in here?”

‘Damn it, Leorio!’ Kurapika cursed in his mind, looking down at the woman in his arms. She was still recovering from her orgasm, clinging to his shirt and whimpering. “Yeah, we’re in here. She had a wardrobe malfunction so I needed to fix it.”

“Ah, okay. I’ll be waiting in the next room, hurry up they brought out drinks, and Kite wants to see (Name)!”

Leorio’s footsteps retreated away, Kurapika sighing before looking down at her. “… you alright, (Name)? Can you stand?”

She nodded slowly, letting Kurapika pull her to her feet. “Yeah…”

(Name) was avoiding eye contact, her face hot and her legs a little wobbly. His hands travelled her body, playing with the hem of her dress. “We can… continue after you talk with Kite if y-“

“I have to go to the bathroom!”

Kurapika blinked, watching her rush out of the closet and to the women’s bathroom. He was left alone, his heart thumping against his chest. ‘Oh, oh shit. Did I do something wrong? Did she… not like it?’

He looked down at his hand, biting his lip. He brought his finger to lip, gently lapping up her juices.

Kurapika’s eyes shot open, quickly closing the door and locking it. ‘Fuck!’

He’d need to deal with his aching cock before he could even think about leaving. ‘She… she tastes so good…’

———————

(Name) sat on the toilet, trying to clean up the cum dripping down her legs as best as possible. When there was no more evidence of her cum, she stood up and left the stall, walking over to the mirror.

She groaned, washing her hands before she placed a finger over her neck. There were the beginnings of hickeys on her skin, and if she didn’t cover them, everyone would notice. ‘Shit… I didn’t have these before, everyone will know someone gave me these at this party!’

She wanted to be upset, but she couldn’t. It felt good, and to have all of Kurapika’s attention on her was something she thought she could only imagine. He’d touched her, kissed her, and god she wanted more.

‘Why did I run away?’

(Name) sighed, trying to cool off the hickeys with cold water to hopefully make them go away as she thought this over. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it, she really did, but…

‘You disgust me.’

Her insecurities were still holding her back, the fear that he only wanted her for her body making it hard to let go. Even after he reassured her that she was important to him, it still lingered in the back of her mind.

Besides, she wanted to give her virginity to someone she loved.

‘Do I love Kurapika?’

This is something she had been asking herself almost daily since he came back into her life. At one point, she did, but…

‘I’m… definitely attracted to him…’ she thought, still feeling the fuzzy feeling in her tummy from her orgasm. ‘And I do like him, romantically…’

But did she trust him to not leave as soon as he got to sleep with her? It made her heart hurt to doubt him, but she did.

She didn’t even know if he liked her, or if he just wanted a sexual relationship. (Name) felt her tummy twist in knots, her eyes brimming with tears. She was conflicted, was she okay with doing more with him?

Before she could think of this anymore, the bathroom door opened, and a familiar head of blonde hair came into view, two twin tails bouncing as the girl walked closer.

“B-Bisky!” (Name) attempted to hide her hickeys, but Bisky only scoffed. She was wearing a princess peach costume, already pulling off her long white gloves.

“Oh honey, I saw those the second I walked in. There’s no hiding them.”

(Name) groaned, leaning against the sink. “Everyone’s going to see, I’ll be so embarrassed…”

She thought back to Kurapika’s words, feeling herself grow wet again. ‘Was he… was he jealous?’

Bisky patted her back, giving her a reassuring smile. “I might have something that can help.”

The woman pulled a pink, fluffy scarf out of her bag, holding it out to her. “Here, hun. This should help.”

(Name) sniffled, wiping her eyes before wrapping it around her neck. “Thank you, Bisky… this is better.”

Bisky gave her a hug, patting her back. “It’s good to see you again. What happened to have you in such a tizzy?”

(Name)’s cheek heated up again, her eyes looking to the floor. “W-well… my friend and I… we um…”

She twiddled her thumbs. “We didn’t have sex, b-but he rubbed me through my panties and gave me these hickeys.”

Bisky blushed. “Oh wow, are you talking about that tall handsome one? (Name), you naughty girl!”

She squeaked and shook her head. “N-no, it wasn’t Leorio! It was Kurapika…”

“The blonde brat? Oh, you could do such much better than that. He’s so… thin and-“

(Name) puffed out her cheeks. “Well I like him! He’s a little skinny, but I don’t mind! He can be really sweet and…”

She played with her hair, feeling butterflies flutter in her tummy. Bisky sighed, closing her purse and walking towards the sink to wash her hands. “You must really like this boy, (Name). You’re all flustered.”

(Name) nodded, pulling her scarf around herself tighter. “I… I do like him.”

Bisky smiled. “Then go for it. He obviously likes you if he got his fingers all up in your p-“

“Bisky!”

(Name) covered her face in embarrassment while Bisky rolled her eyes. “Oh, hush. Now why don’t you go enjoy the party? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

(Name) nodded, about to leave. “Wait.”

She stopped, turning. “You bought another costume from that store, didn’t you? I told you to call me if you needed to find something in your size, you deserve to wear whatever you want.”

(Name) whined. “But you were busy, I didn’t want to bother you!”

Bisky huffed. “Hey, you’re my sweet (Name), I don’t mind spoiling you every once in a while!”

She patted (Name)’s shoulder, the younger girl pouting a little. “Don’t be a brat, I’ll be sending you some new dresses as soon as I get home, and you’ll like them!”

(Name) nodded. “You really don’t have to, Bisky…”

“But I want to. Now shoo!”

(Name) hurried out, taking a deep breath before entering the hallway.

———————

Kurapika sat in a corner, trying not to cry as Leorio consoled him. “I’m an idiot, fuck what if she hates me now?”

Leorio sighed, patting his back. “Kurapika, I don’t think she hates you. She was probably just embarrassed. Or was um…”

He cleared his throat, feeling himself grow aroused just thinking of it. “She may have been dripping, Kurapika. That’s most likely why she ran to the bathroom.”

Kurapika sniffled, wiping his eyes. “You think so? She doesn’t hate me or thinks I’m a creep?”

“How many times do I have to say she likes you before you actually get it through your thick skull? If you could’ve seen how she acted after-“

Leorio paused, but Kurapika had an idea of what he meant. The blonde looked to the floor, sighing. “I know I hurt her, but… but I really want her. I want…”

Kurapika blushed, his heart thumping wildly against his chest. “I want to be with her.”

Leorio didn’t say anything, his face neutral. “… then show her you care. You should try asking her on a date.”

Kurapika choked, coughing and patting his chest. He told himself he would do just that as soon as he got back, but he chickened out last minute. “A date… I’ll… I’ll do it.”

Leorio patted his back before helping out. “You’ll do it tonight?”

Kurapika’s breath hitched. “No, no I’ll need time. If I do it tonight I’ll have a nervous breakdown.”

Leorio laughed. “Yeah, okay man. You should do it soon, though. You’re not her only admirer, not by a long shot.”

Kurapika stiffened at this, his eyes flashing scarlet. “… and you’re one of them, aren’t you Leorio?”

Leorio sighed, putting a hand on his hip. “I am, and don’t get the wrong idea. I’m helping you because she really likes you and I want her to be happy. If you hurt her again Kurapika…”

He placed a hand on the blonde’s shoulder, his grip tightening. “Then I’ll make sure you never get to see her again. Just remember that.”

Kurapika stayed quiet, pushing past Leorio and walking out the door. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As (Name) moved through the building, she felt like she was being… watched. Something was following her, staying in the shadows to try and hide.

“Who’s there?”

She tried to remain calm, but was trembling just a little. She knew Hisoka was there, and the two didn’t exactly have the best track record.

“It’s just me, (Name).”

She nearly screamed when a figure appeared in front of her, pulling her in to a nearby room.

“W-what are you doing here, Shalnark?”

The perky blonde in front of her grinned, glancing down at her costume for a moment before holding a finger over his lips. “Shh, your little boyfriend is here, right? You shouldn’t say my name so loud.”

She pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Damn it Chrollo… Shal, he’s not my boyfriend!”

Shalnark snickered, keeping her pinned against the wall. “Yeah yeah, whatever. That doesn’t matter. The boss asked me to attend last minute so I could tell you that we’ll need you this week, Monday to Wednesday. Meet us in the York New airport at 3pm Monday afternoon, sharp.”

He patted her cheek playfully before pulling out his phone and snapping a picture of her. “H-hey, what was that for?”

He shrugged, walking towards the door and pulling the black hood of his cloak back over his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Then, he was gone. (Name) could only hope he left the party all together. If he bumped into Kurapika, it would be a catastrophe.

She sighed, leaving the room and making her way towards Kite.

————————

Kite sat on a couch, Hisoka and Illumi lingering nearby. The room was somewhat crowded, but there was always space around them, as if people were scared to get too close. “(Name), you’re here.” Kite said as (Name) wiggled her way to them through the crowd.

“Kite!”

They could see the tears welling up in her eye, and Kite couldn’t help but smile and open their arms. (Name)’s lip trembled and she fell into their lap, crying into their shoulder.

“I’m so sorry… if I had stayed with you, m-maybe you wouldn’t have to-“

Kite laughed, patting her back. “You know it wouldn’t have ended any different, (Name). If you had stayed, you would have died then too.”

She went quiet, hiding her face in their shoulder. Kite looked different now. They had long red hair, a woman’s body. But they were still the same Kite she knew before, their aura kind and strong.

“I didn’t even get to see you before you left, I was still in the hospital…” she said softly as Kite wiped away her tears. Kite sighed.

“I know, I was going to visit you, but you were resting and I didn’t want to wake you and Killua up. I left you some poppies, though.”

She gasped, looking up at them. “That was you? I still have them in my garden!”

Kite nodded, a smile tugging at their lips. “I’m glad you liked them. We were all real worried about you, (Name). After all, you did d-“

As they continued to speak, Hisoka watched, a smirk on his lips. “I’ve been waiting to see her since Killua took Alluka back.”

Illumi hummed. “That’s because I forbid you from interfering with her. After what happened with the Chimera Ants, she was placed at the top of the potential threats lists for the Hunter Association. Even I’m not sure why she isn’t under constant surveillance. After she took Killua and Alluka in, I stepped back. I can’t just force myself in, her nen and range is too powerful to risk it.”

Hisoka leaned against the bar, laughing. “So that’s why you’re going about it in a more… subtle way?”

Illumi nodded, sipping on his drink. “If I can take her as a bride, not only will I have her power at my disposal, but Alluka and Killua will be in the palms of my hands. They care for that woman too much, really.”

The two continued to watch (Name), keeping their distance. Hisoka stretched slightly. “I don’t think that’s the entire truth though, is it, Lumi? Your heart beats faster when you look at her.”

The man scoffed, finishing his drink. “It’s because I’m excited to finally have all of that power to myself.”

But they both knew he was only telling half truths.

(Name) sat comfortably in Kite’s lap for a little longer, catching them up on her life. “Yeah, Gon is visiting for Halloween. Are going to come visit?”

“Unfortunately I can’t. I’ll be leaving in the morning and be gone on a mission until late November.”

Kite cupped her cheek when she pouted. “Oh, don’t pout (Name). I’ll still be able to make it to your little fall celebration. Gon will be there, correct?”

(Name) nodded, her eyes lighting up. “Yeah, he will be! It takes place near the end of November, I’ll text you the date when I get home!”

Kite smiled, helping her up before they walked over to the bar. “I’ll see you then, (Name). Your friends are waiting for you, go on.”

(Name) turned to see Leorio and Kurapika waiting by the door, Kurapika’s face and eyes a soft red.

“Okay… bye, Kite!”

She gave them one last hug before walking off, looking over her shoulder to see Kite watching her go with a soft look in their eyes.

“(Name)…”

Kurapika’s eyebrow twitched slightly when he saw the scarf covering the marks he left on her. “Hello, Pika…”

She seemed shy now, holding onto his and Leorio’s hands. “Let’s get some drinks and go dance! We have another hour before we have to be home.”

——————

Kurapika was deemed the designated driver, mostly due to him not being the biggest fan of drinking. The last time he did, he embarrassed himself and clung to (Name) like a child.

But now he was starting to wonder if he should have let Leorio take the responsibility of DD as he watched the two giggle and dance together. He was almost jealous as he sipped on his cola, making a face when Leorio spun her around before resting his hands on her hips.

“Ah, you’ve been staring at her a lot, Kurta. I didn’t know you and (Name) were close.”

Kurapika took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose before putting a tired smile on his face. “Hello, Pariston. I see you’re as annoying as usual.”

The man next to him smiled, sitting down as he watched the two dance with Kurapika. “Annoying, maybe, but am I wrong, Kurta? Your eyes have rarely left her tonight. And I heard Leorio found you two in a closet.”

Kurapika’s cheek lit up a bright red. “… that’s none of your business, Pariston. Who I look at has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh, but it does. That woman… she’s quite special, you know? Not many people have accomplished what she has. Hell, if I hadn’t been in town when it happened, I wouldn’t have believed it myself.”

Kurapika’s eyes narrowed, the blonde setting his glass down on the bar. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Pariston smirked, leaning against his seat. “Oh, I forgot. She hasn’t told you, has she? Not that many people know what happened in the first place, and you weren’t picking up the phone when it took place.”

Kurapika felt his annoyance rising. “Are you talking about chimera ant incident? (Name) was involved!?”

Pariston put a finger to his lips. “Indeed she was, a key player you could say.”

The man downed a shot as he eyed (Name). “I can’t tell you anymore than that, though. I have an agreement with her.”

Kurapika growled, turning towards the man. “I swear to god, just t-“

“Kurapika, come dance with usss!”

(Name) was squeezing through the crowd, being steadied by Knuckle then caught by Leorio when she nearly tripped. She paused when she saw Pariston, her eyes narrowing.

“Pariston.”

The dirty blonde haired man grinned, looking her up and down. “(Name), it’s a pleasure to see you. You’re looking rather… divine.”

She didn’t seem impressed, grabbing Kurapika’s hand. “Come on, Pika.”

He couldn’t argue, especially not when she was pressing up against him, giggling and dancing. But as he spun and held her, Kurapika couldn’t help but think back to Pariston’s words. ‘What is she hiding from me?’

Kurapika sighed as the party began to wind down, his two friends now thoroughly drunk. (Name) was leaning against his shoulder, soft giggles and slurred words leaving her lips. “This was fun… but gotta… gotta get home to the kids.”

She attempted to stand, but fell back and into Kurapika’s lap. He steadied her, his hands drifting to her plush hips. “Hey, let me carry you, angel. Leorio, come on, we’re leaving.”

Leorio finished his drink. “Ya gonna carry me too, Kurta?”

Kurapika scoffed, carrying (Name) on his back. “Absolutely not.”

Leorio pouted playfully, standing up and following the two. “You’re no fun.”

(Name) wrapped her arms around Kurapika, moving to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Pika…”

He blushed, readjusting her on his back and holding onto her thighs. “It’s no problem, (Name). I’ll always be here to carry you home.”

She hummed against his neck, before planting a wet kiss on it. “Mmm… you made me feel really good earlier, Pika…”

His breath hitched, his heart thumping against his chest. “(Name)… what do you think you’re doing?”

She giggled, gently nibbling and kissing his neck. “Giving my Pika some kisses… muah muah!”

He stuttered, face going red. “W-what? I…”

It felt nice, her lips on his neck soft and warm, but she was drunk. He set her on her feet, brushing her hair out of her face. “Angel, you can’t… give me kisses right now. You’re not yourself.”

Her lip trembled, her pretty (e/c) eyes looking up at him filling with tears. “Y-you don’t want my kisses? But we kissed in the closet earlier…”

Now Kurapika was panicking, attempting to soothe her and wipe away her tears.

Leorio snickered next to him. “Heyy, what about me, (Name)?”

She sniffled, then looked up at Leorio, reaching for him. “Lemme give my Leorio some kisses too…”

Kurapika blinked, seeing the two leaning in to kiss, and quickly pulled her away. “H-hey! No, you’re both drunk!”

(Name) whined in his arms and struggled as she tried to get to Leorio. “But m-my Leorio needs kisses! Why are you being so m-mean!”

She began to cry and hiccup, Leorio sighing softly. “Shhh, s’okay, (Name). Let’s get home.”

Kurapika held her to his chest, rubbing soothing circles into her back. If he wasn’t so jealous in the moment, he would think her need to give her friends affection was quite cute. “Come on, let’s get you in the car.”

He drove them home, the car parked crooked as he tried to get out as fast as possible. Kurapika caught the two inching closer through the rear view mirror, having to pull (Name) out by the waist before her and Leorio’s lips could touch.

“Hey..!” she wiggled and squirmed, but was too drunk to hold onto her frustration for long. After a minute, Kurapika was able to carry her inside and up the stairs with no problems.

“You are a real pain to deal with, (Name).” he teased, setting her down on her bed. She pouted at him, eyes half lidded as she looked up.

“And you’re mean… got me all worked up, and I don’t even know if you like me…”

She huffed, pulling her blanket up to her chin and turning away from him. Kurapika felt his heart squeeze painfully. The blonde sat down next to her, playing with her hair.

“… (Name), you mean a lot to me. Really, you do. I just… it’s hard for me to give into my feelings. If I do, then my goals may be at stake. It would be selfish of me to fall in love, but… at the same time I want to. I want to be with you, and-“

The sounds of her soft snores made him blink. Had she heard anything he said? From the look of her peaceful face, probably not.

He pushed a piece of hair out of her face, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight, (Name).”

————————

The next two days, things were a bit awkward between (Name) and Kurapika. They both had hickey they gave one another, and were still trying to comprehend the things they did together at the costume party.

As Monday rolled around, (Name) walked down the stairs with her suitcase, Kurapika jumping up and taking it from her. “Here, let me.”

She blushed, looking away shyly as he took it from her. Being around him wasn’t easy, she could already feel herself growing wet just thinking about the way he touched her. His words then made her so fucking horny, and the way his hand held onto her waist as he guided her outside made her stomach do backflips.

The kids were already gone, staying the first night with Leorio so he could study in his apartment and watch them at the same time. “I’ll be back Wednesday, I made some premade meals, all you have to do is warm them up.”

Kurapika nodded, placing her suitcase in her van. “… are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

She bit her lip. “It’s a solo mission, a favor in exchange for a favor.”

The blonde frowned. “Why won’t you tell me anything about this informant? Don’t you trust me?”

Even Kurapika knew using that line was a little manipulative, but god he was tired of things being hidden from him. He needed to know more.

She blinked, cranking up the van before answering. “Kurapika, it’s not that I don’t trust you. The person just… doesn’t like meeting with strangers.”

This was a blatant lie, and before Kurapika could call her out on it, she kissed his cheek. “I have to get to my flight before I’m late. Bye, Pika.”

He was distracted by the kiss just long enough for her to get into her van and drive away. Now Kurapika was alone, standing in the driveway and watching her go with a soft look in his eyes.

‘Wait… I’m home alone…’

His mind went back to Saturday night, when he got a taste of (Name) for the first time. Kurapika had been waiting for an opportunity like this, and now that he was alone, he could act on his plans.

The blonde walked back inside and up to (Name)’s bathroom. Thankfully, she hadn’t washed the dirty clothes in her hamper yet, meaning…

Kurapika dig through the clothes, and swallowing thickly when he found what he was looking for.

A pair of used panties.

Over the next few days, Kurapika lost buckets of cum, almost turning animalistic when being able to smell and taste her while jerking off.

———————

(Name) was finally home, walking inside only to immediately be tackled by all of the kids. “Mom!”

Killua clung to her, Alluka jumping onto her back and Gon tugging at her arm. “Hey, lay off, she just walked in the door!”

Leorio picked all three of them up, Kurapika grabbing her suitcase. For some reason Kurapika looked… super relaxed? “Welcome home, (Name). I hope everything went well.”

He smiled at her, his eyes gentle and cheeks pink. She blinked, giving him a smile in return. ‘What the hell happened while I was gone?’

After unpacking, (Name) began planning out Halloween, which was only a week away now. Zushi would be flying in two days before and leave November 2nd, so she’d have to pick up from the airport and make sure an air mattress was ready for him.

She spent the week leading up to Halloween decorating, making themed treats, and watching movies with her friends. There was also some last minute fixes to their costumes that needed to be tended to.

The day came for Zushi to be picked up, and she brought the kids along to greet him. “Zushi!”

Gon and Killua ran to meet up with him, the three hugging and smiling. “I can’t believe Master Wing let you come! He’s usually so strict.”

Zushi laughed, shouldering his backpack. “Well, he’s busy this week anyways, so it was better for me to come so he could get some business done!”

The four chatted up a storm on the way home, Alluka being introduced to Zushi and vice versa.

“Just tell me if you need anything, okay Zushi? I sleep upstairs, but don’t feel afraid to wake me up. If you’re too scared to, just ask Killua.”

This was the first time Zushi was staying over, and she could tell he was a little nervous. She tucked the boy in, giving him a kiss on his forehead before standing up. “Thank you, Miss (Name).”

She smiled, seeing the other two were already asleep. “Goodnight, kiddo.”

The four went to the creek at dawn, coming back at lunch time covered in mud, but happy. This repeated everyday, (Name) making sure they had a good time.

On the day of Halloween, they were all getting ready, (Name) wearing a simple black dress and witch hat. There was no way she’d be wearing her angel costume, it wasn’t very appropriate for trick or treating.

She was currently bent over, straightening out Alluka’s green bodysuit before tying her mask. “Oh, sweetheart you look so cute!”

Alluka giggled in delight, spinning around before pulling out her foam staff. “Look at my staff! I’m gonna beat up all the bad guys!”

(Name) nodded, patting her head. “Mhm, but try not to actually hit anyone. Your brother already causes enough trouble all on his own. Speaking of, where are those t-“

“I said no, Gon! Those are dangerous!”

She sighed, standing up and walking towards Kurapika’s room. Gon was holding Kurapika’s weapon in his hands, pouting. “But Kurapika, they’re perfect for my costume! I promise I won’t unsheathe them, I just-“

The blonde took them and put them on a high shelf. Killua was about to jump up and grab them for Gon, but (Name) cleared her throat, tapping her foot. “Boys, listen to Kurapika. He’s right, they’re dangerous. Even if you two can handle them, it’s possible you could end up hurting someone else. Remember, there will be other kids trick or treating.”

Leorio walked in, grabbing the nunchucks. “I think I’ll keep these with me. I know your little tricks, Killua.”

“Tch…” he kicked the ground, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“All of you, out now.”

“But I live here!”

“Yeah, and trick or treat is only until 7pm. Plus I want to watch a scary movie.”

Killua complained as he walked towards the door, only turning back to stick his tongue out at Leorio. (Name) smiled up at him. “Are you sure you’re fine with handing out candy, Leorio? You could always come with us.”

Leorio shrugged, cupping her cheek. “If I don’t hand out candy, they’ll egg your house, it happened to the neighbors last year.”

(Name) laughed, leaning into his touch. “I wish they’d try it. I’d send Killua after their asses. He’d maul them.”

“I would!”

Alluka giggled, holding onto Killua’s arm. “Ooo, I wanna maul someone too! No one gets to be mean to my big sis!”

Kurapika walked out of his room, wearing a sweater and slacks. He took (Name)’s hand, squeezing it. “Are we ready to go, angel?”

She felt her face heat up, giving a quick nod. “Mhm, let’s get going.”

———————

Kurapika walked down the street, hand in hand with (Name). Something felt so domestic, so soft about talking the kids trick or treating. He could almost imagine they were their kids, and that this was his family.

Almost.

They stood at a distance, watching the kids knock on a door. A man that looked to be in his late 30s opened the door, poking his head out and scoffing. “Ah, it’s you. Ain’t you a little too old to be trick or treating?”

“Aren’t you a little too young to be twice divorced?”

The man was silent after that, giving the four their candy.

“How do you even know about that?” (Name) asked as they walked to the next house.

“I like to keep a tab on all of the neighbors. Just in case I need to blackmail them for something.”

“Killua.”

“I’m joking! Mostly.”

They go to a few more houses and no problems arise. Kurapika and (Name) were chatting as the kids walked up to the next one, giving each other shy looks and occasionally laughing.

That is as until they heard a car alarm going off and watched the four sprint past them. “Go, let’s go!”

Killua yelled out as he sprinted down the street. The two glanced at each other before following suit. “The hell did you do?”

“She was giving our raisins! On Halloween! So me and Alluka whacked her car with our weapons!”

(Name) wanted to laugh, they were totally running like little ninjas and she almost found it cute. Kurapika, however, wasn’t having any of it.

Once they were far enough, Kurapika confiscated all of their foam weapons. “Alright, that’s enough of that. If you can’t behave, you don’t get these.”

Gon and Zushi whined. “But we didn’t do anything!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t stop them either. If you keep your toys, you two would buckle and let them use them.”

Kurapika wasn’t wrong, Gon and Zushi weren’t exactly strong willed when it came to giving in to their friends.

Nanika appeared, holding onto (Name)’s arm. “Momma, why is Kurapika being mean to Alluka and big brother?”

(Name) smiled. “Nanika, hello! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

She picked up the girl, letting Nanika hold onto her shirt and rest her head on her shoulder. “He’s not being mean, he’s just making sure no one gets hurt.”

Nanika sniffled, clinging to her. “Momma, Alluka is upset. She wants her toy back.”

“I know, but we can’t always get what we want. She needs to be a brave girl.”

Nanika nodded, and (Name) carried her to the next house. “Alluka must be tired, are you staying out for a bit?”

“Mhm. I want to trick or treat too!”

(Name) almost felt a little bad. She hadn’t even thought to ask if Nanika wanted to join them, or if she wanted to have a separate costume. “I’m sorry, Nanika. I should have invited you to come with us, I didn’t even think about it.”

“S’okay momma. I’m just happy I get to see you and big brother…”

Nanika didn’t want to let go of (Name), so she walked with the rest when they trick or treated. This wasn’t too bad, because now she got to keep a better eye on them. It did leave Kurapika the odd one out though, the blonde having to wait alone for them to finish.

Nanika opened a piece of her candy, eating it as she held onto (Name)’s arm. “It’s so good, momma!”

She ruffled the girls hair. “I’m glad you like it, love. Make sure to save some for Alluka, okay?”

“Kay!”

Killua held onto (Name)’s other arm, chewing on some gum. “Do we really have to go home now? It’s only 6:30!”

She laughed, patting his back. “Yeah, but do you see any lights on? We can go from house to house and get nothing, or we can go home, order some pizza, then eat all those treats I made.”

Killua thought for a second. “Let’s go home then.”

Kurapika watched the two cling to her as he carried Gon on his back and held onto Zushi’s hand. ‘They’re so cute, even Killua.’

Maybe he was getting used to this, but the thought almost made him… anxious. The only thing he felt right now was peaceful, and that wasn’t good.

‘The only thing that scares me is that my rage will fade away with time.’

He took a deep breath, following them. ‘I won’t lose my rage, even if it means…’

Kurapika swallowed thickly.

‘Even if it means I have to distance myself.’

——————

After eating pizza and pigging out on the Halloween themed sweets (Name) made, the kids headed to their room to watch some Halloween movies and settle down for the night. Alluka made some room for herself on Killua’s bed, (Name) giving them all a kiss on their foreheads before walking downstairs.

“Just in time, sunshine. The next movie is starting and I got you those fruity drinks you like.”

He handed her a strawberry flavored beer, Kurapika already sipping on a similar one. “Ah, so we’re getting drunk and watching horror movies? Sounds fun.”

She plopped down between the two, talking the drunk and chugging half of it. After it began to set in, (Name) hummed happily, pulling the throw blanket she had over her. “Hey, let me get some of that, it’s cold.”

Leorio scooted towards her and took a bit of her blanket. Kurapika didn’t like this, instantly moving closer as well. “I’m also cold.”

Now, (Name) was sandwiched between the two, and she couldn’t be any happier. She pulled them both close and planted a kiss on each other of their cheeks.

Leorio was quick to fall asleep, only a few beers in. Once he did, Kurapika pulled (Name) a little closer, leaning his head against her shoulder. “This has been fun, I’ve never really celebrated Halloween before.”

(Name) hummed, now a little tipsy. “I’m glad you got to celebrate with us. Wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Kurapika blushed, sighing in contentment. The alcohol was making him a little braver, so he glanced up at her, his hand beginning to move from his lap to hers.

“Do you want t-“

He stopped when the he heard the kids’ room open. “Miss (Name)? Where’s the candy bucket, I want more snickers.”

“It’s in the kitchen bud, do you want me t- oh my god!”

Zushi stood behind them, his face a little swollen and red.

“I love snickers, you know how when your face gets all puffy and you start sweating because it’s so good?”

“No?! Buddy that sounds like a nut allergy.”

“Master Wing never lets me have them, but there’s a bowl and he’s not here to stop me!”

(Name) stood and stumbled to the kitchen to grab the epipen she kept in case of emergencies while Kurapika handed him some skittles. “Eat those instead. Leorio!”

Kurapika began to shake Leorio awake, the man groaning and looking to where Kurapika was pointing. “Aww, bud you look awful. What happened?”

(Name) used the epipen on Zushi, the boy squeaking. “I think he had an allergic reaction to the peanuts in the snickers. Sweetheart, no more snickers. Just stick to these skittles okay?”

He pouted, but began to eat the skittles as his swelling began to go down.

Once Leorio checked over him to make sure he was okay, he walked back to join the others. (Name) sat back down, looking to Kurapika with a smile. “What we’re you going to say, Pika?”

The situation had sobered him up a bit, and his courage had faded away. “Nothing, I forgot.”

She nodded, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Oh, okay…”

He cursed himself for chickening out on asking her on a date again. ‘I’ll do it next time, I will.’

The three watched horror movies late into the night, drinking and laughing at the bad jump scares. Eventually, Leorio and (Name) fell asleep, the former laying his head on her lap.

Kurapika played with her hair, planting kisses on her forehead. Those feelings of his kept growing, making his head spin and heart pound. Moments like this, where she was leaning against his shoulder and sleeping peacefully made him fall even deeper in love with her.

And that was a problem. He felt so conflicted. Something about this felt so right. Of course she was supposed to be there, in his arms, she was his love, his dearest friend.

But something also felt incredibly wrong. Why was he here, relaxing and drinking while his clan’s eyes were still in the hands of those who only wanted to use them? Did he really deserve to feel so happy, so content when his people couldn’t even properly rest in peace?

After a bit, Kurapika picked (Name) up, carrying her upstairs again. He didn’t mind it, really, she felt nice and warm in his arms. It reminded him that she was alive, brimming with life and love.

But just being near him could bring about her death. The very thought of it made his blood run cold, his chest ache. The thought of losing her made him want to throw up.

He sat her down on her bed, looking over her. She was beautiful really, her face a little hot from the alcohol and hair messy, but he wouldn’t have her any other way.

Before he could leave, she grabbed onto his sleeve, barely awake. “No… don’t go… I don’t want you to… leave me again…”

His heart broke for her, and before he knew it he was climbing into bed with her and pulling her into his arms. Maybe she could sense his unease, his hesitance.

She nuzzled into his chest, sighing happily. “I love you, Kurapika… I don’t… want you to leave.”

He felt tears prickle in the corners of his eyes, slowly placing a kiss on her lips. “I know, I know (Name).”

She was already asleep again, clinging to him so tight, as if she wanted to make sure he couldn’t leave her. Kurapika wouldn’t sleep for a few more hours, his mind and heart racing.

‘Can I really love her? Is that even fair to either of us?’

He sighed, his eyelids finally dropping, sending him into a restless sleep.

[elsweetheart]

maybe tomorrow you’ll know

🎀 summary: when your girlfriend ellie can’t make it to patrol, you take her slot and go with joel. your father figure comforts you when you get overstimulated.

🎀 an: trying out the diary entry kind of cover picture ?? idk if it looks cute or not but idk what else to put so there . another ldr song title lol … this fic is kinda odd ,, kind of a weird ending and idk if i like it. feels kind of ooc. oh well !! ppl requested it. this is a prequel to this fic and a late sequel to this one !!

🎀 warnings: implied acknowledgment of neurodivergence from joel ?? joel is a little nicer / more healed than he is canonically,, reader gets overstimulated and upset ,, mentions of daddy issues lol ,, mentions of grief ,, i think that’s it ??

It wasn’t unlikely that common colds and flu’s swept Jackson this time of year. It was the pollen from the trees, or maybe the sap, or something like that. Ellie had explained it you a while back but you were more focused on her freckles than the scientific explanation of illness, so the information was kind of buzzing around loosely at the back of your brain.

Ellie, who’s immune system seemed to be made of gold in other departments was hit by the cold. She had the runt of it, red nose, sore throat, awful mood. The one upside was you swanning around looking after her, but that one upside was accompanied by several downsides— as per mentioned, really shitty mood, and the God awful medicine that Maria had cranked out to those hit by the illness.

That left very few people to go on patrol, and you being the helpful angel that you were signed up without second thoughts. You, who had very little patrol experience — your talents thriving more in the gardening area or barn. The shell shock Ellie experienced from hearing you’d signed up didn’t last long thankfully, when you’d rushed to tell her that Joel told you that he’d accompany you. She relaxed a little, if she was going to feel that you were safe in anyone’s hands, it would be Joel’s.

She was honestly feeling much better, the headaches and most of the sniffles had gone away by the time the day of your patrol rolled around, but the antibiotic she was still unfortunately taking made her drowsy for the better part of the day — so for safety reasons, she wasn’t able to up and snatch your patrol slot like she’d so cunningly planned.

She’d watched you get ready, watched you pull on your jeans and a tight white t—shirt. She could tell you were trying to look ‘practical’, outfit removed of any frills and decoration like it usually would garner to seem more Ellie-esque, apparently manifesting her courage and skill to support you on the patrol. It was sweet, but she worried for you, and kept having to remind herself that Joel would be there, Joel would be there, Joel would be there. Nothing was going to get you. She didn’t let this show of course, flashing you a winning smile before you left, helping you tighten your backpack straps and kissing the nervous line between your eyebrows. “Go get ‘em, patrol girl.” She was as cool as ever.

You’d spotted Joel waiting by the gate, and your own nerves settled into a quiet hum in your chest at the sight of him. He looked unafraid, as usual — but when did he ever look afraid? His worn brown jacket was a familiar sight, and you smiled— giving him a sweet wave when he noticed you emerging.

“What, Ellie not here to send you off?” He smiled, in his gruff Joel way as soon as you were in hearing distance.

“She’s on strict doctors orders to rest and stay in bed.” You recite proudly, the two of you sharing a chuckle of disbelief at the fact that someone had managed to tell Ellie what to do. Who else would it be?

“Alright Kiddo, up you get.” He aided you onto his horse, wedging himself in the front saddle. You weren’t offended that he hadn’t trusted you with your own horse today, in fact you felt safer like this.

Joel liked spending one on one time with you, like the time you introduced him to skincare. He found you to be rather seraphic in nature — a glow of purity and light heartedness in an otherwise dark world. He was the most happy to see that you and Ellie were dating, as he found your ways to rub off on her. He’d notice the way she would actually think twice or hesitate before snapping at someone, always making sure to check for you first to gauge your emotions. Ellie was gentler than before, her jagged edges buffing themselves down as to not catch you on its spikes. In fact, Joel had notice everyone that had the grace of being around you had softened up slightly and not in a bad way, you were your own little patch of sunshine. The sugar in the tea that was Jackson.

Which is why he was happy to let you wear yourself out with words, burbling about some funny incident that occurred earlier on in the week with Jesse — Joel chuckling along due to the expressive nature in which you told the tale, glancing at the shadow in the snow of your arms waving about wildly in gesture as you did so despite the older man not facing you.

“I don’t know how you got this much energy so early in the mornin’.” He chuckled with an amused shake of his head. You sat with this for a moment, staring out at a gaggle of birds flapping about causing ruckus in the tree top. You wondered if the birds knew the world has ended, and exhaled through your nose at the thought — leaning forward to rest your cheek to Joel’s back. You suppose you were a little tired, not having much sleep from the night before.

“Changed your tune.” He hummed, a little more quietly. The sun had only just come up, and you felt the adrenaline of leaving past the gates beginning to seep out, your eyes feeling puffy and dry from perhaps lack of sleep.

“You reminded me I am a little sleepy.” You yawned and he chuckled, steering the horse round a bend making your fingers dig into his jacket just a little more. You stayed this way for a while, the two of you plodding along on the horse as Joel took mental note of routes and watched for foot prints and such. Your peaceful reverie was broken by the terrifying groan that could only belong to clickers. Your head snapped up, heart clenching in that dreaded way but Joel didn’t seem to react in the slightest. His back continued to slowly expand and deflate with his slow breaths as the two of you located the small gaggle with your eyes. He drew his weapon, a knife with a thick handle and slid off the horse.

You felt slightly vulnerable as he stepped away, weary of his feet crunching in the snow as he stalked towards the screeching clickers ambling around amongst themselves. Perhaps it really had been a long time since you’d been past the gates, as your gut tensed up as you watched Joel brutally take down the small group. You didn’t quite notice that you were clutching at your jacket, jaw tense and eyes wide until he started trudging back towards you slightly lost of breath. His eyes caught yours and gave you a curt nod to signify he was okay, watching you for a moment longer as you uncurled your hands letting your jacket free from its clammy grip.

“Been a while since you been out here, huh.” He slung himself back onto the horse with a quiet grunt of exertion.

“Yeah. I’m super out of practise, it’s bad.” You shook your head fearfully, eyes boring into the mangled figures staining the snow red as you passed them, flinching when one of their legs twitched ever so slightly.

“You’re alright. S’the people who aren’t infected you gotta watch out for.” He remarked. You stayed silent, pensive at this comment that slightly set you on edge and he added “Don’t get many o’them round here though. We’d know about it.” to soothe your anxiety.

Perhaps you’d been spoiled a little with your working hours at Jackson, because being on patrol was more demanding and time consuming than you’d have thought. Some parts were nice, like chatting with Joel when you got to sit on the horse— but the rest of it was a lot more physically challenging than you were used to. Being hoisted up onto walls, climbing over fences, Joel was giving you quite the workout in comparison to your usual quiet and peaceful days. Your backpack had grown heavier from being filled with useful items you had found to bring back home — and it was beginning to make your shoulders ache, weighing you down uncomfortably.

The sky was aglow with a breathtaking abendrot, the day been and gone having been travelling around with Joel all day. You’d mentally clocked out around 2 hours ago, feeling the exhaustion push you past your limits. You never wanted to be in a bad mood with Joel — so you hid it, but you were starting to feel a little shitty. A close run in with the infected made your ears ring from Joel’s gun shooting a little too close to your ear— the annoying humming sound making it hard for you to concentrate. All of the physical exertion made you hot and clammy beneath your layers, but it was too cold without them. You could feel your hair sticking to the nape of your neck, getting tangled in the back of your necklace bringing it taut against your skin leaving a thin chain print indent against it. You could feel a pebble rattling in your shoe that you couldn’t get out, your knee was grazed slightly from a stumble trying to get away from a clicker, and you could feel the blood from the injury sticking to the inside of your jeans. Worst of all, you could feel a slight tickle at the back of your throat — the start of what could be the cold Ellie had.

“You listenin’?” Joel glanced round at you, on top of everything — he had decided now was the time to launch into a long and detailed story. You loved when Joel told stories, it was usually a moment of comfort or bonding — but you couldn’t help but feel irritated at the fact you could barely hear him, ringing in your ears seeming to grow louder.

“Huh? I— ugh, i can’t—” You stressed, fingers prodding inside your ears trying to wiggle the blockage out. Your face was screwed up slightly, overwhelmed by the feelings and sensations you were experienced. The man craned round slightly, taking a look at you.

“Y’alright?” He gave you a once over and you simply huffed, deciding that you didn’t care about the Jackson chill anymore as you practically fought your jacket off your body, immediately going back to sticking your finger in your ear trying to unplug it to escape the incessant ringing. You groaned agitatedly, not noticing your jacket dropping off the back of the horse and into the snow as you continued your pressurised ministrations. It all had seemed to hit you at once, your face heating up as you felt your heart rate pattering against your chest. “Kiddo?”

“What? I— I don’t know I don’t feel good I’m— I hurt myself and i’m getting sick and — everything is too much and —” You exploded, cutting yourself off as you burst into tears. You were frantically, nearly wailing as you grappled with yourself like you were covered in tiny ants. Joel frowned, quickly steering his horse beneath an old bridge and parking up, jumping off — hoping you didn’t fidget your way into falling off. You slid off the horse by yourself, pacing for a moment as you cradled yourself before sliding down the wall.

“Hey, kiddo. Look at me.” His movements was slow, purposeful. He didn’t freak out, he never did. Just slowly coming to squat infront of you, knee’s clicking with the gesture. You pulled your face from your hands, face hot and sticky now which only seemed to worsen your reaction. “You’re panickin’.” He observed. You nodded, unsure of what to say as you scrubbed your face, trying to rid of the feeling of your sticky tears. “Be gentle. Gonna hurt yourself.” He spoke even quieter as you did so, weary of hands rough swiping.

You leant back on the brick, letting your eyes flutter shut as you sucked in breaths. Joel took the time to look around, checking that there were no unwelcome visitors approaching. “Y’alright.” He soothed as you continued breathing. After a moment, you whined quietly into your hands.

“Too many feelings and sounds.” You shook your head, embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck. Joel probably thinks I’m insane, spoke the loud moth’s buzzing around from ear to ear.

“I get it.” He drawled, shrugging and sliding up beside you to sit, drawing his knees up. “We’ll sit here ‘til they go away.”

You went to complain, knowing he probably just wanted to get back, you were only holding him up — “Joel—”

“We’ll sit here, ‘til they go away.” He repeated with determination, turning to look at you seriously. You glanced at him, nodding before you closed your eyes once more — focusing on your breathing.

What did you find relaxing? The gentle breeze that fanned over your face as you sat and caught your breath, caressing the overly warm places on your body and soothing you as evening crept in. The thought of Ellie back in Jackson, the domesticity of it, thinking about how she was probably laying on her bed resting wearing her warm grey hoodie, tongue poking between her lips in concentration as she doodled in her diary. A butterfly sketched with a chewed biro, your profile drawn in the margins. The sound of birds tweeting as they settled in their nests for the evening, rustling their feathers slightly and cooing to their babies. Joel beside you, same old worn brown jacket and the deep lines of age embedded into his skin. You could hear his slow breath, in and out. In and out. You matched his speed, and before you knew it you were calm.

“Sorry about that.” You croaked, voice hoarse from your freak out. You didn’t feel hot with irritation anymore, just a slight warmth to your cheeks from embarrassment. “Didn’t mean to have a tantrum on you.” You sniffled, still clearly upset by the occurrence.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about. I think going on patrol just ain’t for everybody.” His deep voice reverberated beside you. The two of you sat for a moment, and you felt him observe you for a few seconds before he pushed himself to stand. He wandered off, returning back a moment later with your jacket that you had chucked off the back of the horse in his hand. He draped around you and you stuffed your arms back in, feeling the chill consuming you a little more now. Standing above you, Joel held out his hand.

You took it and he pulled you up. The sky seemed a shade darker, and a pang of guilt smacked your chest — realising how much time you’d wasted. You started busily dusting yourself down, adjusting your backpack waiting for him to step aside. When he didn’t, you stepped around him.

“Gosh, it’s getting late already— we better get going I’ve wasted enough time.” You released all in one breath. Your voice was strained, odd, like you were still barely holding it together. You turned to Joel, who still stood there and watched you analytically.

“Hey.” He interrupted, as you turned back to him.

“What?”

He held out his arms, and you didn’t hesitate.

Joel had only hugged you a few times before. From his demeanour, it was clear he wasn’t much of a hugger. Once when your dad left, and once when you had a frightening run in with an intruder. He had been there to comfort you in your lowest moments.

He wrapped his arms around you as you pressed your ear to his chest, hearing the slow and steady thump through his shirt. You let out a quiet sob, shoulders relaxing. You hadn’t realised how badly you just needed fatherly love until this very moment, the hole in your heart slowly but surely being filled by Joel’s presence.

“M’grateful you’re here. You’re the closest thing I have to…” You stopped yourself, deciding it would be too… much to say. You decided it would probably stay unspoken forever — the grief on his behalf too large to mention. You had only hoped he felt your gratitude and love without saying it.

Part of him tensed, but relaxed in allowance after a minute. “I know, babygirl.” He spoke his appreciation. It was quiet, almost like he had hoped that you and maybe even himself wouldn’t hear it. Another moment passed, and he cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer. “Same goes to you.” Your heart was warm when you pulled away, Joel not quite being able to meet your eye — as if processing what he’d just quietly admit to. You didn’t bring it up, and the two of you never discussed it again — climbing up onto the horse and galloping back in the direction of Jackson’s gates with quiet conversation as the sky melted into navy.

You were half asleep by the time you’d gotten back, Joel walking you back to Ellie’s door. Your breakdown had pretty much exhausted you, and Joel decided not to press you on it — silent footsteps in the snow as you reached the porch. Ellie came to the door, welcoming you inside with a kiss on the cheek as you sleepily mumbled to her before toddling inside the house disappearing into the dark hallway.

“How’d it go?” Ellie gave a once over to Joel’s pensive expression.

“Good.” He looked passed Ellie for a moment, to see whether or not you lingered. “Keep an eye on her, yeah?” His brow furrowed slightly and Ellie mirrored the expression, saying nothing as she urged him to continue. “Reckon she… she’s a little … different to you and I. Feels things different. She got… upset. Said she was feelin’ too much. Got all… overstimulated. Think that’s the word anyway. You know me, m’not good with all that stuff but… maybe you can talk to her, Kid.” He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah.” Ellie frowned, the syllable coming out in a fog of cold Jackson air. “I’ll ask her… thanks.” She nodded.

“Yeah. ‘Night.” He smiled, turning and plodding away tiredly.

Ellie curled up behind you in the moonlit room, your body was still cold having simply shed your clothes and dropped into the bed. The freckled girl rubbed your arms as she pulled the blanket over the two of you, pressing kisses to the back of your head.

“Missed you today, brave girl.” She whispered and you hummed, hand tiredly closing around her own on your shoulder.

“Missed y’too.”

“Joel told me you got upset. We gotta talk about that tomorrow, you know that right?” Her voice was gentle as she craned around to watch your face in the dark room, dropping a kiss to your cheek. She watched your eyelashes move, a failed attempt to open your eyes and your hand closed around hers just a little tighter.

“Tomorrow. M’okay.” Your voice grew weaker as sleep faded in around you.

“Okay baby. Get some sleep.” She tucked herself in behind you, trying to erase the worry from her mind.

[umlewis]

lewis hamilton is interviewed after qualifying, japan - april 6, 2024 (transcript under the cut)

Interviewer: "Lewis, your best starting position of the year, your final flat-out laps of Suzuka for Mercedes. You certainly looked like you left it all out there today." Lewis: "I did. I was giving it everything. The team did a really great job this past week, making adjustments to our setup. This is actually the first weekend I've not gone crazy with setup and I'm not testing a bunch of things, so I'm back to a bit more normal and I think we got the car into a much nicer working window. So every lap's been really enjoyable driving. The guys are just [laughs] a little bit faster. I mean, we were a second or just over a second off last year to the Red Bull, and seven-tenths is better. I think maybe if we'd done something a little bit different, maybe we could have been another tenth faster, maybe, but other than that, that was everything. So I think what it's given us is, I know exactly where the car is not strong enough. I can feel it in the car and I know, now, to be able to tell them, like, push in this particular area. But I'm hoping the race will be stronger for us tomorrow, and I've really enjoyed driving so far this weekend." Interviewer: "So does that mean that you and the team have a direction now? A good direction to go with this car and potentially…" Lewis: "I personally believe so, yeah. I mean, what we've noticed is from track to track it's been really, really hard to get the setup right [laughs] and it's been so far out each time, and in some places it's just felt like nothing we could do gets the car in the sweet spot, but this weekend it's much more in a sweet spot, so I hope that continues in the following races, and then we just gotta add performance."

[hockybish]

Bean groaned throwing another piece of clothing on the floor "I'm fat, nothing fits, nothing looks right."

"Well you are pregnant, with twins" he pecked her cheek, rubbing small circles into her bump

"I know but I'm like two times bigger than I was with Zeph or Percy. When I was this far with them everything still fit."

"Momma again, twins"

"Again you aren't helping" Bean pouted, he wouldn't understand.

Trevor sighed. He never would be able get why she feels the way she does, she literally had two little lives growing in her, but he could try to help her feel a little better.

He drew her a nice warm bath, making sure to add extra bubbles, and some pretty dried rose petals. Trevor even lit one of Bean's favorite candles to give the room more a relaxing atmosphere.

"You relax for a while, take a nap even. I'm gonna take the boys out for a bit, we've got a few errands to run."

"Don't be gone too long. Percy has eat in a few, and he's teething so he might be a little cranky." Bean sank into the water. "Oh and Zephyr needs to-"

"Bean, pretty Momma, I got this. Don't worry." Trevor kissed the crown of her head. "We'll be back later."

Trevor had a plan, while they were out they were going to get foods Bean was currently craving and a few other little goodies that will left her mood. Today was about her.

At the grocery store they had gathered everything they need and were about to check out when Zephyr spotted the bunches of pretty flowers. They were calling him, especially the tulips as they were Bean's favorite.

"Daddy we need to get flowers fo Mommy. These ones!" Zephyr held up a bunch of red tulips.

"Those are perfect little dude." He agreed, purchasing them plus another bouquet, because Bean could never have enough flowers. "What do you think Perce?"

Percy grunted glaring at his father while he nawed on a frozen toy. Trevor tickled the baby's foot to get him to smiled, but he just kicked his hand away. Teeth are not fun.

"Mommy wants cupcakes too. The ones with frosting." Zephyr tried again since Trevor listened to him about the flowers. He didn't wait for his dad to reply and put the desert in the cart as they were on their way to checkout. Trevor never noticed and bought them anyways.

While the boys were out Bean got the little break she very much needed. She got enough time to finish the bath, take a nap and even watched an episode of her show without any interuptions.

She was getting anxious as the minutes ticked on, it was getting close to feeding time for the baby and that little boy could be a terror when he didn't get fed right away. As soon as they were through the door, she snagged him from his carseat and went off to feed him.

Zephyr went off to play and Trevor got to work on lunch. Rice and ranch for Bean, mac and cheese for everyone else. He decorated the table with the flowers and some nicer tableware. The whole set up look pretty good if you asked him.

Bean was very surprised by it all.

"Mommy can I try that?" Zephyr pointed to the odd combo on her plate.

"Of course Zeph. It's pretty good"

Zeph put a small spoonful in his mouth and swallowed. The combo wasn't gross or disgusting by any means, but he didn't really like it. His parents laughed at the face he made.

"weird" He shoveled noodles into his mouth.

"That's okay babe, you don't need to have anymore"

"Can I have cupcake?"

The little family ended the night in a little cuddle puddle on the couch watching a movie. Zephyr was snuggled into Bean, the child had one hand on his mother's bump, talking to his brothers and Trevor had a sleeping drooly baby on his chest.

"Feel better Bean?"

"Yes. Thank you for everything"

[head-in-the-stars0305]

Enjoy the silence

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏

𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟗

Going to one of those big parties was never really your thing, usually being considered an outcast so you weren’t used to loud music, drunk people and football players being.. well.. football players. You would have never gone to a party like this, but here you were, being dragged to the party by your stepsister Carol because she said you need socialization.

“You know we could’ve walked right?” You told her, knowing the place was just a 10 minute walk from your home.

“Yeah it would’ve taken us like half an hour to get there by foot” she replies, but the truth is that she’s wearing jellies and those things make your feet hurt.

“there’s a shortcut through bachelors in the forest”

“The haunted cemetery? You know they do witchcraft over there, I don’t want to get sacrificed” Carol always believed any rumor she heard so you weren’t surprised by her believing the whole witchcraft and cult thing about the graveyard.

“It’s not haunted, it’s just abandoned and desecrated. I think it’s really peaceful and quite, it’s my reading spot” since you were forced to move here you became really attached to the graveyard, a quite place where you could read without interruptions, you never understood why it was such a comforting place to you, thinking that maybe being surrounded by nature helped you relax. “I like to do wax rubbings of the tomb stones, I also have a favorite” you said with a smile thinking about it.

“You have a…favorite one?…” Carol said, probably weirded out by this hobby of yours, you knew it was weird but you enjoyed it, going to the cemetery, doing wax rubbings, reading.. without anyone to disrupt your peace.

“Yeah, it’s this young man from the 1800s, I tend to his grave and leave him flowers..I talk to him sometimes” oh that young man, you didn’t know his name sadly, sometimes you would guess names that would suit him, like.. Victor or Walton.. he was such an intriguing man, you wished you were able to talk to him, maybe he would get you, just maybe. Visiting his grave was your favorite part of the day, not for a macabre reason, you just enjoyed talking to him and feeling like he was actually listening to you in that moment, that feeling helped you a lot after the accident.

“That’s really weird y/n, please don’t tell that to anyone” you knew you should’ve kept your mouth shut, she thinks you’re a weirdo now.

“I just don’t think anyone should be forgotten..”

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

When you got to the party Carol instantly left you to join her friends, you stayed for a while at the car looking around before going to the mini fridge near the pool. As you opened it and took out a Pepsi somebody started talking behind you.

“If you’re looking to fade out the booze is inside”

You turned around to look at him and instantly recognized who he was, Andy Clark, a guy you’ve never spoke to but still had a crush on, it was very silly to be honest.

“What?” You asked, already confused as to why was the Andy Clark talking to you.

“The booze, it’s in the house”he replied

“Yeah I think my stepsisters friend brought most of it, I think her name is Taffy or something” You remember Taffy, she was the nicest one in your stepsisters friend group, even nicer than Carol, sometimes she would come to your house to hang out with Carol but you didn’t talk to her much. She was really nice though, you wished she was your stepsister.

“Mhm, you’re y/n Gardner. Andy..Clark” he said, why did he know your name or better, how did the know your name, you’ve never even talked to him how the hell did he know your name.

“Why?.. why do you know my name?” You whispered looking at him and he just laughed, oh my god he has a nice laugh.

“Well you submitted some really strong poems to the Grackle, I’m one of the editors. You’re poems are great, very dark but they’re great” you could’ve died right then and there and you wouldn’t even have cared, he likes your poems, he thinks they’re great.

“Thank you” you said with a smile before Tamara, she has English class with you, came and interrupted your conversation, talking to Andy. “Hey Tamara” you didn’t mind her, she was pretty cool actually.

“Hi, sorry how do we know each other?” She asked.

“We have English together, I usually sit in the back”

“Ohhh you’re y/n right??” Some people would say she was mean but she was actually really nice, at least to you she was.

“Yeah that’s me” you said cracking open your Pepsi.

“Do you.. want a sip?” She said offering you her cup, you weren’t sure what was in there but you didn’t want to look uncool in front of Andy, so you accepted it and drank almost half of it.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

You were high, like super high.

You ended up inside the house and Doug found you, you trusted him, he was a nice guy, he asked you about your favorite director, he even held your hair back while you threw up in a trash can.

He took you to a random bedroom, away from all the noise, you were thankful for that. Then a thunder erupted making you jump slightly by the sudden noise.

“Oh no, looks like the angels are bowling” he said, making you smile.

“My mom used to say that” your eyes were closed and you smiled thinking of your mother, though your thoughts were interrupted by Doug.

“Does that feel good?”

You looked at him and then slowly looked down where his hand was.. he was touching you, what. The. Fuck.

You just stood up and ran out the door, Doug shouting something in the back, you didn’t listen you just kept running out without a certain direction, all you knew was that..

Doug was not a nice guy.

Tamara was not sweet.

And you were an absolute idiot accepting a spiked cup, it was all your fault you ended up in this situation.

You just kept running, you stopped when you realized you were surrounded by some familiar trees and in front of you was a familiar grave. Getting closer to him made you feel more at ease, like everything disappeared.

You looked up to the statue that somewhat represented the face of the young man, lightly touching his stone cheek.

“I wish I was with you”

[rose-riot-johnson]

Argh my Tumblr Peeps🏴‍☠️🦜 Today I have a treat for you😃👍I just have been requested to work on Captain Hook from Peter Pan🦜🏴‍☠️😁👍Since I'm open to try writing about Disney characters anyways, Captain Hook will be the 1st Disney character I will be writing about🦜🏴‍☠️😁👍And there will be smut in this particular fanfic🏴‍☠️🦜😁👍 So enjoy🦜🏴‍☠️😁👍Argh🦜🏴‍☠️🦜🏴‍☠️🦜🏴‍☠️

💎🦪💰You Are Captain Hook's Most Favorite Gem, Sea Pearl, And Treasure, In The Whole World💰🦪💎(Captain Hook x Female Reader)

Genres: Smut (And a brief mention of pregnancy in the end) (Warning +18⚠️: sexual contact (that includes cream pies, fingering,oral sex (female receiving and Hook recieving), breast kink(s), dirty talk, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, and Dom! (Hook is Dom!)) nudity, and Language)

Eversince the day Captain Hook met you, you became part of his pirate crew and you pretty much fell in love with him after you heard of him (which was sometime before he met you). Before meeting Captain Hook, you had a roommate who made you do everything she told you to do. You felt there was no escape, until that very day Captain Hook invaded your village. Once you saw him through your window, you finally realized that you can finally get out of the life, your roommate forced you to feel obligated to do for all those years you lived with her.

Once you decided to make your escape, you ran outside of your roommate's house, to catch up to Captain Hook. After both you spoke to him, you explained that he is your idol, why you feel you would be a great pirate crew member to him, why you wanted to join his crew, and why you wanted to leave your village to come with him. He felt bad and was angered about the treatment your roommate gave you, so he accepted your plead to take you with him. Before your roommate (who is no longer your roommate) was able to make an attempt to demand for you to get back in her house, you were willingly gone with Captain Hook.

Your life was so much better after joining Captain Hook's crew, as if it was the best decision of your life. Captain Hook, also has a soft spot for you, so he is much nicer to you than he is anyone else. You're just his favorite person, ever.

One night, you decided to visit Captain Hook's room to (office or room since his office might be his room), to check on him, considering he has been stressed, depressed, frustrated, and beside himself due to his, your, and the rest of his crew's most recent defeat against his arch nemesis, Peter Pan. You felt sad for him that he hasn't felt like his self, as of late. You will do anything to makesure he is his usual self, again.

When you entered Captain Hook's (office or room), as you expected, he was trying to cry himself to sleep, as he has been having a hard time sleeping. You then went up to Captain Hook to massage shoulders, as you then ask him, "What's been troubling you, Captain Hook? Is there something I can help you with?". He then vented his frustrations, as he said, "Well, (Female Reader Name)... I tried and tried to execute my plans... Sadly most of my plans have failed... Thanks to that, meddling, Peter Pan, especially the last time I battled him in a sword fight! I've been defeated countless times by that meddling, Peter Pan and sometimes the brats he has with him definitely didn't benefit with my plans one bit... I'm so beside myself to the point where I'm down, depressed, overwhelmed, and frustrated with the fact that I keep being defeated by Peter Pan and that same pest ruining most of my plans... I've been even getting nightmares about him to the point where I'm not sure, if I should even bother trying to sleep, anymore...", as he continued to sob and only you knew what to do about it.

"Well Captain Hook, I definitely know how to make you all better...", you cooed, as you stopped massaging his back. Captain Hook stopped sobbing, as he was surprised you said this to him. He then replied, "You... Make me... All better? Now how could you possibly get me to feel better?". You then got off the bed, as you then moved in front of him, touching his shoulders with both of your hands, as you then answered, "Well... You can always take your stress out on me...". "Huh?", Hook said confusingly, as he then finally realized the fact that you're completely naked.

This was Captain Hook's first time seeing you naked, as he then stares at your naked body, including your breasts, as your breasts are the best breasts he has ever seen. You even squatted with your legs apart to let him look at your pussy. Seeing your naked body as a whole has definitely made his cock feel, so hard where he realized, your idea would definitely make him feel much better and this definitely has given him alot of devilish ideas on what to do with you, as he smiled in, such a naughty way.

You then cooed to Captian Hook, "Well, Captain... When life gets you down... Whenever you're stressed or overwhelmed or both... Whenever you're depressed and frustrated... Or maybe possibly aggravated... You can take it all out on me, as much as you want...". He gently pinched and pulled your nipples separately with his right hand, then he went to grab your boobs (left boob before the right boob), as he replied, "I get to everything out on you by doing naughty things with you? Well, as much as I don't want to resort to taking anything out on you, my treasure... However, if taking my frustrations and sadness out on you is all those naughty things to you and with you, then I love this idea of taking it all out on you this way, my gem.", before he started fingering you, as he started to suck on your nipples, as you started to moan.

Once Captain Hook finished sucking on both nipples (and fingering your pussy), you decided to sit on the floor, as your legs got tired from squatting. Captain Hook then praised, "My, my... You have such an incredible pussy to play with, while your boobs are also amazing, as a whole, especially your beautiful nipples, which boobs are a kink of mine, and your breasts are so perfect for me, including your nipples...", you begun to lay on the floor as he continued, "The fun has only begun... Since I don't eat often, I might as well taste your pearl, considering you are my sea pearl after all...", while he smirked. They way he was licking and sucking on your pussy, was so amazing to the point where you had to cover your mouth, inorder to prevent anyone else to hear you moan, as you then finally cummed. Captain Hook, looked at you, as he was eating your cum, as he couldn't help, but notice that you covered your mouth, so stopped sucking on you as then he cooed to you, "Please, uncover your mouth, my gem... I don't care if the rest of my crew nor anyone else hears you moan, because I would like to hear you moan... And since I caught you covering your mouth, I might as well feed you, too.", as he decided to stand up and pull his pants (and boxers ofcourse) down to have his hard cock dangling down, as he then continue, "And when I get done feeding you, don't think that i will be done with you, yet... When I say I'm done taking my stress out on you, I will let you know, my sea pearl...".

You then got on your knees to start sucking on Captain Hook's cock, as he already used his right hand to push your head to get his cock deeper into your throat, to makesure to he is feeding you well and to show you that is the dominant one of the two, when it comes to anything sexual both you and Captian Hook do together. As he was giving you deep throat, he then praised, "I'm so glad that you're taking, my cock well, my dear... At this rate I'm about to cum inside your throat soon... It's not where the fun ends, like I said, my treasure...", as he then came inside your throat like he said he was gonna do. Once he finished cumming in your throat, he knew he was still gonna be hard, as you then laid on your front side. You laying on his front side, definitely gave him an other naughty and devilish idea.

Captain proceeded to grab both of your hands with his right hand inorder for him to have his hook around both of your wrists (which was part of his left arm), as he began to insert his cock inside your pussy. As you're still on your knees, he began to thrust into your pussy. As, he was thrusting inside of your pussy, you began to realize that he managed to put his Hook around your wrists. He did this to show dominance and so you don't cover your mouth. "You have such a tight pussy I see, my sea pearl... My cock is starting to feel warm inside of your pussy already... No matter how much more you cum I will keep my cock inside you until I say I'm done...", he praised, while feeling more relaxed, and ensuring your moans are heard. You tried holding your moans in, as he then praised you again, " C'mon, my favorite treasure, gem, sea pearl... Don't hold yourself back, if you need to moan, my dear...", as he trying to encourage you, as he kept thrusting faster.

You couldn't hold back any longer as you then started to moan in a whimpering sense, "Oh Captain Hook! Your cock feels, so amazing! Don't stop, please! Cum inside me! So warm!", as you started to get cock drunk to the point where you don't care who hears your moans and whimpers. Captain Hook then continued praising, "That's it, my dear, sea pearl... Forget about anyone else... The only things you need to focus is me, you, your pussy, and my cock...", as he kept thrusting faster, while you kept moaning loudly. The more (and faster) he thrusts, the more (and louder), you moaned and whimpered, no matter who else heard you. It lasted for an hour or so before he managed to empty his load into your now sore pussy, considering that your pussy ended up being sore for quite sometime before he came right inside of you.

Once Captain Hook, letted you know he is finished, he decided to carry you to his bed, so he can cuddle with you for the rest of the night. He then rubbed your tummy, as he knew you will be having his child. After that night, he is no longer stressed, nor beside himself, nor depressed, nor frustrated, as he is finally his old self and that's all thanks to you, especially letting him take every issue he has out on you sexually...

The End

I hope you enjoyed this Captain Hook smut my Tumblr Peeps🏴‍☠️🦜😁👍And as for you @disney-girl67, I hope you enjoyed this fanfic most of all🏴‍☠️🦜😃👍 It did took me alot of time to think on how to write this before and during the smut parts of this fanfic, however I did managed to complete this fanfic 🏴‍☠️🦜😃👍I hope you have a good day and/or night🌅🌌🌊⛵😁👍

[little-lee-froggie]

hi I read your writing about how some of the pillars with ticklish s/o could you plz do rengoku, tengen, and sanemi

Of course! This is literally the second request I’ve ever completed- wow, I’m such a good writer. Anyway, if you haven’t seen part one, here it is! Well anyway, let’s get into it:

IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ: while I’m a completely sfw blog, I do just want to say that tengen’s headcanons do mention some nsfw type things, but it’s the last one and very short. You can skip it if you don’t want to read that.

———————————————————————

Sanemi💨💥:

Sanemi Sanemi Sanemi… where to begin with Sanemi

Ok, yeah, first of all, MEAN

Mean bitch

But surprisingly gentle. Growing up with a bunch of little siblings made him able to just know everything, like how much someone can usual take 

And also alllll you spots. He doesn’t even need to see someone else tickle you, he just KNOWS. I don’t know how, but he just does.

A word of advice: PROTECT YOUR WORST SPOT. AT ALL COSTS. I don’t care if it will give away where it is, I don’t care if you like being tickled, (but like, same bro,) PROTECT. IT.  Because if you don’t, that’s when his ruthless side shows. You are being pushed past your breaking point, you are going to almost die, and you are going to wish you took my advice. At that point, you will have unlocked the monster within that man. If you thought he was already a monster, you haven’t seen SHIT.

But other then the fact that if he finds your worst spot you will literally almost die, he’s pretty fair.

Not that into teasing, he more just… glares.

But he will be a bit nicer to you then usual after 

Do make sure you’re always prepared for an attack after the first time. Because if this man tickles you, that means he sees you like one of his little siblings. And while that’s great, it’s also TERRIFYING. Because he’s always ready. He can strike at any time. 

Please do not provoke him, he will go straight for your worst spot, you will die, it won’t be fun. Trust me, you don’t even need to provoke him, he will sense what you want and eventually give it to you. Don’t provoke him, it’ll only end badly. Just be patient, it’ll work out so much better for you.

It’s also the only way he knows how to cheer someone up, so if you don’t want to wait, just act really sad, he’ll tickle you :)

Rengoku🔥🍩:

Everyone step aside, the king is here

Sweetest, nicest, kindest, most lovely ler ever, I will not be taking criticism.

He just…. Ahhhhhhhhhh!!! You know? Like he’s the kind of ler that could literally tickle you for a second and all your problems… GONE. Never to be seen again.

It makes him so happy to see people smiling. If you want tickles, just ask him, he won’t even be mean about, he’ll just give you what you want because he likes to see you happy 

He doesn’t really tease, but he will laugh and smile along. He can’t help it, he finds all laughter contagious 

He’ll take little breaks through out and check up. Do you need food, do you need water, do you want him to be more gentle, do you want him to be more rough, do you want him to stop, do you want him to tickle a different spot, do you want him tickle in a different way, all of your needs are met and tended to with a smile. If you need literally anything, just tell him and he’ll adjust to it.

Also, can I just say, aftercare ✨KING✨

Literally the definition of ‘head up king, your crown is falling’. He is so gentle and kind, he will take care of you. Holy shit, he is the definition of perfection 

He really really likes tickling people’s sides. He likes it because he can easily make sure you’re still breathing as normally as possible so he can adjust based on that and make sure you’re safe.

Once again, literally PERFECT 

Tengen✨🎵:

Okay, I’m not sure how to start this one, so I just will 

I feel like he definitely likes it more sexually. I’m not really comfortable with writing about kink, but I really can’t see him liking it any other way, so that’s why this one is really short.

Just tickles his wives, not really anyone else.

Though he does like it when people laugh loudly when tickled, he finds it flashy.

Anyway, yeah, that’s Tengen’s

———————————————————————

And those are my headcanons! I hope you enjoyed them. Once again, I’m sorry about Tengen’s. Anyway, I hope you have a wonderful day/night! Byeeeee!!

-Froggie :p

[goodgirlgonebard]

Moodboard for ch. 12-17 of Dealbreaker on Ao3 🩸

Teaser for Ch. 13, the entire fic is on Ao3 if you want to read ❤️

Willow

The tavern is rowdy tonight, just as Willow thought it would be. Astarion frowns as she leads him by the hand to the bar, rather than a more private table, but they’re able to take a corner spot a few seats away from some drunken men.

“You weren’t kidding,” he mutters as he pulls Willow’s stool out for her still, as if they are in a much nicer venue. She had told him on the way here that she was taking him to a tavern a bit less nice than the Elfsong, to lower his expectations - but a bit less nice is maybe an understatement. The lights inside are dim, and the wooden furniture all looks a bit sticky between the splinters.

“Thank you,” she says with a smile, satisfied with her choice to come here.

The bartender approaches them in a rush, throwing them a paper menu with ripped edges that Astarion immediately snatches up to inspect.

“Mead, please,” Willow says quickly.

“Your finest mead for her,” Astarion adds. “And your finest wine.”

Willow can almost catch an eye roll from the man at the bar before he nods, turning away from them.

“We finally get to eat together and you take me here?” Astarion whispers, showing her the bleak menu.

“This is a peak, human eating experience, Astarion,” Willow says with a laugh. “I think you should try some… potato wedges. Or poutine, even better,” she suggests, her mouth already watering at the thought.

“This is the best?”

“Not the best food. But an experience I want to give you,” she says with a shrug. “If you were my little boyfriend in the lower city, this is where we would have gone out together.”

Willow did not grow up in Baldurs Gate, rather in a much smaller city on the Sword Coast with an absolute lack of sticky little taverns such as this that she could have enjoyed as a teenager. Instead, she spent her spare time learning how to play her flute.

“I am not that,” he responds, his mouth curling up into a smile. “But I appreciate the thought, Willow.”

“So informal I even get to hear my own name?” Willow laughs. “What a treat.” She thinks for a moment, pretending to look over the menu despite having already chosen what to order. “You can pick next time, if you can behave yourself this time.”

“Behave myself?” He questions. He turns to look at her, but Willow keeps her eyes on the menu despite the heat she can feel curling up into her cheeks. Teasing him could have been her favorite pastime while they were out saving the world. He’s easily worked up, and it almost always ended with her being pushed up against a wall or a tree to be kissed in frustration.

"How has eating been for you, anyway? Do you like it?" She asks, ignoring his question.

He takes long enough to answer that Willow wonders briefly if he isn't going to, because he's frustrated with her suggestion of behaving. She turns to look at him, and finds him merely staring at the menu in her hands in thought, until his eyes meet hers once again. "Not as invigorating as you may imagine," he says, the distinct sound of disappointment in his tone.

"Really?" She nearly gasps. "I've always thought I would give my left tit to try coffee for the first time again."

"You wouldn't dare," he gasps back at her, his eyes flitting briefly to the aforementioned body part. "I've not tried coffee. But I've grown so accustomed to... other flavors," he says, tilting his head to indicate the closeness of the bartender, "that the things I have tried simply have not been horribly exciting."

"We're going to have to get you to try coffee," Willow says. "That has to be better than-"

"Not yours," he says quickly, shaking his head vehemently.

"I- well," Willow attempts to continue her train of thought, but whatever she was thinking about suggesting he try to eat drifts away from her mind at the thought of him indulging in the taste of her blood. He stares back at her with a humored smirk, turned enough that his knee grazes against her thigh under the bar. This feels normal. This feels like them.

[bobzora]

more reload thoughts, this time on the characters, heavy spoilers under cut (for p3 content, and also spoilers on some of the new stuff!!)

akihiko and mitsuru got arena era characterization blasted it's actually really sad he is not protein. she is not a helicopter mom. they are equals and friends who respect each other. please get the memo. most of the others' characterization seemed fine but man they got the worst of it

it's really funny that akihiko has gone from best to worst party member. i'm thankful to be free from the shackles that forced me to use him. i beat nyx with junpei aigis yukari. ken and yukari i swapped between for other fights.

yukari is one of my favorites. and she still is. i'm kind of bummed they made her nicer though

this is my first time actually saving chidori. ok time to mention junpei's new english va did a banger job. most of the cast in general killed it. shoutout to yuko (strength sl) ? for an unexpected banger of a natural sounding voice? anyway junpei's second theurgy. goes hard.

i still dont care about koromaru nothing could make me care about koromaru he's cute. i guess. lol. i like that you can pet him.

i love you aigis! there's nothing notably new for me to say about her but i lvoe her i love her i love her. she matters so much if you even care. crazy how i actually used orgia mode in reload

KEN AMADAAAA. ken. ken. ken. ok FIRST of all he's usable now! yay! i love having non-instakill light and dark skills. SECOND of all oh my god the first couple ranks of his not-SL drove me crazy. i went Uh. Uh. Um. it's like awww he likes featherman :) oh. yeah. this ten year old is actively planning a murder-suicide. he wants you to look after his hamster named hamburger if (when) something happens to him. i have such a big soft spot for ken he is my favorite child soldier. jesus christ. slightly sad that they removed some relevant dorm dialogue. i dont have the fes screenshots on me those are on my old laptop. but trust that they are missed.

i'm not a true shinji-er, frankly i mostly care about him (and akihiko) just through his relationship with local justice kid ken. it was nice hanging out with him though...jumpscared by his smile. his last hangout event (the post-mortem one) was good. oh yeah he's such a strong battler i wish i could keep him around. his theurgy is over the top with the bloody tear but i love that lol.

ryoji mochizuki voice "I know I said I wanted us to be friends, but... I actually want to be something more."

not being able to say "same":

they actually fucking did it. dude. they actually fucking did it. throughout the hangout i was like okay which 5 royal writer was working on this because this is some pretty good bait. and as it progressed i was like there's no way they're actually going for it, right? man they went for it. ryoji makes good on his word that he would love mc whether girl or boy. love wins. or loses i guess. good fucking content. movie ryomina is still on top but well that is the movies and this is video game. and this is the first time minato and ryoji can actually hang out in a video game. i love you bisexuality

i prefer "that was my name for a time. i didn't mind it." over the version in reload but man that's just me being attached to lines lol. also nyx (avatar) gets he/him-ed. shoutout detransitioned ryoji ( :( )

i wish i could put aigis in a butler outfit.

i miss femc.

[funnylittlelad]

Shelter From The Storm - Steddie

Page Three

<< Page Two | Series Photo Album | AO3 | Page Four >>

summary: “My dad’s sick. My mom told Hopper so he could tell me. Apparently, it doesn't look good,” he explains hollowly. 

Jack is too busy building with her legos, lost in her own world, to pay them any attention. Eddie immediately goes up to Steve and grabs his forearms in a distant, comforting, hold. He’s unsure of Steve’s wants and needs.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?” 

Steve gives him a wry smile.

“Cure my dad so I don't have to call my mom for the first time in six years?” He asks playfully.

“I can't do that, but I can be there when you do call her,” Eddie suggests.

Steve thinks about it for a second. He drinks in the care he finds in Eddie’s dark eyes. Sometimes he catches himself pretending Jack gets her eyes from Eddie instead of Sarah. It’s probably weird and unhealthy, but Jack is more Eddie’s than she is Sarah’s anyway. Steve accepts the offer of support. He truly has no idea what awaits him on the other side of that phone call.

wc: 9.3k

series tags/notes: Steddie Dadfic, single dad!Steve Harrington, Music Teacher!Eddie Munson, girl dad Steve, Jewish Eddie, Steve's parents are The Worst, mentions/talks about past abuse, complicated family dynamics, pretty Steve-centric, implied past suicide, talks about illness and death, Fluff, angst, mutual pining, slow burn.

Steve brings Jack to Eddie’s on his way to the interview. Robin had offered but rescinded it the moment she heard Eddie did as well. What? I’m in the opposite direction and he’s on the way! Besides, who would she really rather go with? was her argument. It’s his first time seeing Eddie’s apartment. It strikes insecurity into his heart. Eddie’s apartment is so much different than theirs. It’s nicer and bigger and Steve finds himself feeling incredibly small as he hovers near the front door.

He seems to have two bedrooms based on the number of doors, a kitchen that can hold more than three pots, an actual designated dining area, and more than one window in the living space. Jack immediately becomes enamored with all the decorations on the warm-toned walls. Posters from tours he’s gone to over the years framed so they're more adult for his living room along with other little prints and oddities are fixed on every wall. Short bookshelves are packed with novels, notebooks, and binders. A few dozen D&D miniatures- or the little guys, as Jack calls them- sit on top of various surfaces. The bookshelves, some of the picture frames, the television, and even the door jamb Steve is currently near are all home to some.

A black acoustic guitar that wears its age on its face hangs on the wall above his couch. White lettering is scrawled across, most likely by a younger Eddie. The writing curves with the body of the guitar. THIS MACHINE SLAYS DRAGONS. It’s all so painfully Eddie that it makes Steve's chest throb. 

Eddie discovers he loves having Jack at his apartment. She’s amazed by everything, but especially his six-string on the wall. He spends most of the time answering her questions about everything. He didn't know what's that? and why? could be said so much they lose meaning. 

It feels like the entire world holds its breath for the duration of Steve’s interview. When he's offered the job on the spot he nearly cries. He’s never stepping foot in that fucking quarry again. He’ll be able to stabilize Jack’s life again finally. The relief is so evident that Eddie knows the moment he answers the door Steve got the job. Steve wishes beyond wishes he could live in the following moment forever. 

Eddie all but tackles him into the door with cheers. Jack comes sprinting from the dining area. Why can't she ever just walk? She wedges herself between them at their legs. Before Steve can, Eddie scoops her up so she can be sandwiched in the middle. She giggles wildly despite not knowing what they're celebrating, just happy to be with them. 

Steve gets through his first week. The improvement is felt immediately. He’s more rested, he’s around more, and Jack is clearly ecstatic to have him home by five-thirty every night. Weekends he has off, which he still can't believe. All in all, he has a damn good week. Eddie is on the cusp. He’s so close to asking Steve out. Robin all but begs him to.

“I just wanna make sure he gets settled into the job before I throw anything new at him,” he explains.

“None of this is new!” She argues.

He has a hard time countering that. Either way, they come to an agreement. Eddie will ask Steve out at the end of his first pay cycle. That'll give him time to get used to the job and spend his extra time with Jack. As it creeps closer, Eddie grows antsier. Everyone notices. Max snatches pens from him so he can't turn them into drumsticks. Dustin calls him out when his leg bouncing shakes the van. Gareth clamps a hand over Eddie’s rambling mouth a few times when he wouldn't shut up. Little things that makeup everything. 

The visits start with Jack forgetting her zip-up hoodie. Eddie noticed the little green thing when he was locking up for the night. Without a thought, he brings it over to Steve’s, knowing he’ll be home thanks to the new job. His knock is timid as anxiety settles in. Steve opens the door while calling out for Jack to turn down whatever she had playing over his shoulder. The smile Eddie is met with when Steve registers it's him is enough to power a city. 

“Eddie, what are you doing here?” He asks, sounding pleasantly surprised.

“Jack left this at the store earlier. Figured I’d drop it off on my way home,” Eddie holds out the offending hoodie.

Steve’s eyes shimmer in the dull yellow light of the outside sconce. An appreciative smile sweeps across his lips as he takes the hoodie.

“Thank you, you didn't have to go out of your way-”

Eddie is already waving him off.

“Not out of the way at all,” he assures Steve.

“Is that Eddie?” Jack’s excited voice carries from across the small space.

“Uh-oh, trouble hears me,” Eddie grins mischievously.

Steve chuckles as Jack sprints to see Eddie. Steve shoos her back into the apartment, inviting Eddie in. The hours get away from them as Jack and Eddie put on a show for Steve about dragons. Eddie thinks, perhaps fears, it's just a one-time thing. The next time Jack is at the store she doesn't leave anything behind. So, Eddie does what any sane person would do. He pretends she left her music workbook and brings it over to Steve’s. Jack sells him out so quickly he doesn't know why he bothers feeling betrayed.

“That’s supposed to stay at the store in my folder,” she informs him and crosses her arms.

“Ah- n-no, remember? You were supposed to bring it home this week,” he tries weakly.

“Daddy says lying isn't nice, Eddie,” she chides with stern brows.

“Yeah, Eddie,” Steve mirrors her posture but with an amused smirk, “lying isn't nice.”

With a flushed face, Eddie puts his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, you caught me,” he admits with a chuckle.

“You can just drop by, y’know. We’re friends, it's okay,” Steve chuckles as they settle onto the couch.

Eddie smiles, the tips of his ears pink.

“Yeah, you don't mind? It's okay if it's weird. You guys are on the way home from the store. I’m not like trying to go out of my way to be creepy or anything. I totally get it if-”

“Eddie.”

“-this is too much or crossing a line. I mean, phone calls every night are one thing. I don't want to disturb Jack’s routine or-”

“Eddie,” Steve laughs, growing louder.

Eddie halts his babbling and blinks at Steve with a huh?

“You’re rambling. That's my move,” Steve teases.

Eddie’s still-open mouth snaps shut. He gives a shy smile, twisting his rings in his lap. Steve isn't used to seeing him so nervous like this. It’s unbearably cute. If Jack weren't watching Scooby Doo three feet away, if Steve’s life were a little simpler, he might have kissed Eddie then. Jack is three feet away, though. Steve’s life is complicated and messy. Instead of a kiss, he places a heavy warm hand on Eddie’s forearm and gives it a squeeze.

“Our door’s never closed to a Munson. You can thank Jack for that,” Steve echoes Eddie’s words from so long ago back when he was saving Steve's day the first time.

Eddie is sure his smile is so soft it's pathetic, but he doesn't care. His anxious energy turns to excitement as the end of Steve’s pay period draws closer. He’s going to ask Steve out and he’s pretty sure he’ll say yes. Eddie isn't blind, he isn't stupid, he’s just fucking nervous. He knows he has a shot with Steve. Steve just has so much on his plate right now as his and Jack’s lives adjust once more. The last thing Eddie wants is to add to that plate. He can wait until the end of the pay period, he continues to reason with himself. At least then Steve will have settled into the new job. Hopefully, he’ll have found his groove with Jack. A groove that Eddie can slide right into.

Then Steve gets a phone call the day before the pay period ends. Eddie stops by on his way home from the store. It’s nice being home to let him. Not that his visits replace their nightly phone calls, of course. Steve goes into the bedroom to take the call when he hears how grave Hopper’s voice is. When he steps back out he’s pale, his hands shake slightly, and his face is blank.

“My dad’s sick. My mom told Hopper so he could tell me. Apparently, it doesn't look good,” he explains hollowly. 

Jack is too busy building with her legos, lost in her own world, to pay them any attention. Eddie immediately goes up to Steve and grabs his forearms in a distant, comforting, hold. He’s unsure of Steve’s wants and needs.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?” 

Steve gives him a wry smile.

“Cure my dad so I don't have to call my mom for the first time in six years?” He asks playfully.

“I can't do that, but I can be there when you do call her,” Eddie suggests.

Steve thinks about it for a second. He drinks in the care he finds in Eddie’s dark eyes. Sometimes he catches himself pretending Jack gets her eyes from Eddie instead of Sarah. It’s probably weird and unhealthy, but Jack is more Eddie’s than she is Sarah’s anyway. Steve accepts the offer of support. He truly has no idea what awaits him on the other side of that phone call.

They get Max to come over so she can watch Jack. Steve doesn't know how long this call will last and doesn't want to leave her alone in the living room for that long. Max hugs him when she arrives, reestablishing that she's there for him if he needs it. 

Steve and Eddie sit side by side on the edge of Steve’s bed. The heat from Eddie’s thigh against his keeps Steve grounded as he stares at the phone.

“You don't owe them anything,” Eddie tells him quietly.

“I know,” Steve sighs before dialing the number Hopper gave him.

Eddie fiddles with his rings as Steve listens to the line trill. Each passing moment makes Steve’s heart beat a little harder in his ears. His stomach seems to think he’s on a boat. Eddie can tell when she answers because Steve stops breathing. Eddie’s hand finds his thigh, grounding him once more. 

“Uh- hey, Mom. Hopper got your message to me,” Steve says nervously. 

He’s silent for a while. There's just the muffled sound of Max tickling Jack through the door. 

“Yeah, she’s good. We’re doing good.”

No thanks to you, Eddie wants to spit into the phone. 

“Did they say how long?”

Steve takes a stuttering breath. His hand grabs onto Eddie’s on his thigh. Eddie gives it a comforting squeeze.

“Okay, yeah, I’m off on weekends- What? ”

He pauses with an incredulous expression staring off to Jack’s side of the room.

“That’s not happening. I don't want her near him,” he states firmly.

Eddie's eyebrows furrow in concern. 

“You know why,” Steve scoffs.

His grip on Eddie’s hand tightens.

“I'm her father. It's my job to protect her and keep her safe. A job I take seriously, unlike Dad,” he snaps.

Eddie sits with him patiently as he sets up a time and day to go see his dad. Steve doesn't ask, but Eddie takes a mental note of it to make sure he’s available for Jack. When he hangs up he only gives a curt bye. He throws the phone into his pillows and runs his free hand over his face.

“They gave him three months max. He… he fucking wants to see Jack. Can you believe that? After what he did- everything he did, he has the nerve to ask to see her?” Steve says, but it sounds more like thinking out loud. 

Eddie sits awkwardly wondering if he can ask, if that's too much. He has no context outside of what Robin said and what he picked up in high school, which wasn't much. Steve doesn't talk about his parents. He doesn't talk much at all about his life before Jack. It’s like his life didn't start until hers did so that's as far back as his memory stretches.

“I… You don't have to tell me, but I don't actually know what he did. I mean, Robin mentioned you getting kicked out, but other than that…,” Eddie says tentatively.

Steve sighs and drops his gaze to his lap. His and Eddie’s hands are still conjoined on his thigh. He has no plans to change that. Eddie is his anchor in stormy seas.

“I'm sure you remember all the parties I used to throw back in high school,” he starts.

“Yeah, I made a killing at them.”

Steve actually lets out a single exhaled laugh. 

“I did that because they were never home and, honestly, I hated being in that house alone. It was so big and empty all the time. Doing that worked for a while. Hell, even the clean-up after kinda became therapeutic. Then they would come home and it would be worse,” he tells Eddie.

His eyes stay on their hands. Eddie’s stays on Steve’s profile. His eyebrows knit with a hundred different emotions, but most prominently empathy. 

“Worse?” He prompts, afraid he knows the answer far too intimately.

“Y'know how I had to quit basketball junior year and it was a whole thing? I told everyone I just liked swimming more, but that wasn't exactly true. Turns out after a few concussions, your hand-eye coordination can really go to shit,” Steve huffs a sarcastic laugh.

Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand so he’ll look at him. When Steve does, he finds nothing but total understanding. Respect.

“I get it. Why d'you think I lived with Wayne? He had enough of me calling him crying at night. One day he just showed up with a suitcase and told my dad to fuck off,” Eddie says.

“He sounds like a badass,” Steve replies.

“He kinda is. You two would probably get along.”

Steve smiles at the thought.

“I kinda wish I had a Wayne growing up,” he muses.

“Yeah, me too. I would’a never guessed you had that going on at home. I probably would’a actually talked to you.”

“No one did, but Hopper. He couldn't do anything about it, though. My parents would’ve had his job and I would've been in the same position,” he sighs. 

“That why he’s so sweet on Jack?”

“I would argue it's hard not to be sweet on Jack,” Steve quirks a small smile.

“I’ll give you that. You made one cute kid,” Eddie agrees.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great, isn't she?” His nose wrinkles a little when he asks, face full of pride.

“I think she might be the best kid that's ever existed.”

“Even after all the trouble she gave you?”

“Especially after all that.”

Fuck if that doesn't knock Steve through a loop. His stomach is upside down, his heart is beating so fast he's sure it's disintegrated, and he wants nothing more than for Jack to be sandwiched between them again. The safety of Eddie makes more truths fall out. Suddenly, he wants to be seen by Eddie. He wants those deep coffee-brown eyes to glide over him and see all of him. Then, hopefully, Eddie won't run like Steve is always afraid his past will make people do.

“I dunno how much Robin told you, but my parents were pissed when they found out about Sarah. Wanted me to marry her, drop out of school, and work for my dad. I didn't want any of that, though. I knew Sarah didn't want a kid and I knew I didn't want to marry Sarah. So, there were about nine months of arguing, give or take. Then on my eighteenth birthday, I woke up and became a dad two hours later. I never understood my father less than when I saw Jack for the first time. I just don't get how you can look at something like that and feel anything, but love,” he tells Eddie, semi-lost in thought.

“I take it he wasn't happy,” Eddie replies.

Steve snorts sarcastically.

“My things were at the end of the driveway when I went home to grab a change of clothes. Well, the things they tossed out for me at least. I didn’t bother going back for the rest. If I’m being honest, I almost caved that day,” Steve shakes his head at the memory.

“What d'you mean?” Eddie asks softly.

“I was able to sleep at the hospital while Jack was there, but once she was discharged we would have been in my car. It felt over before it even began, like I lost. Like I proved everyone right immediately, that I can't do it. I was going to forfeit my custody, but Robin came barreling in and told me her parents wanted me to move in. Not that they said I could, but that they wanted me to. I guess… The Buckleys were my Wayne,” he realizes out loud. 

Eddie offers him a lovely little smile that draws Steve’s eyes to his lips.

“How long have you and Rob been friends?”

“Uh- Since about… two? No, three weeks before all of that. I had been hopping around jobs and ended up at Scoops Ahoy for a little while. We worked together,” Steve tells him. 

Eddie can't help, but laugh because of course. Of course, they had known each other less than a month, and yet the spunky little lesbian was offering him a home. Steve chuckles with him.

“Yeah, I usually leave that part out. It doesn't matter anyways, once you and your kid live with someone you get to know each other very fast,” he says. 

“Funny to think I started out as your sub,” Eddie jokes.

Steve gapes at Eddie for a moment. When he realizes Eddie doesn't know what he did, a smirk curls onto his lips.

“I don't recall you ever subbing for me,” he teases.

Eddie seems confused at first. Then it dawns on him and his face flushes red. He pushes into Steve with his shoulder playfully.

“Dick,” he jibes, “you know what I mean.”

“I don’t know, do I?” 

“I’d be careful, Harrington. Don't wanna back yourself into a conversation you can't get out of,” Eddie says tauntingly. 

“Alright, alright,” he concedes. 

“C’mon we got a little girl and a nosy young adult waiting for an update,” he gives Steve’s hand a tug. 

Steve tries to hate when Eddie accidentally makes them sound like a family. He doesn’t. He tries to hold onto Eddie's hand after the door opens. He wills himself not to let go. He does. 

Robin doesn't waste any time pestering Eddie when the end of Steve’s pay period comes and goes. Eddie still hasn't asked Steve out. He hasn't done anything more than the flirting and embarrassingly unsubtle back and forth. How could he? 

“Rob, his dad is dying. I'm not asking him out when he's in a vulnerable state,” Eddie scoffs.

Robin groans over the phone.

“This is what I was trying to tell you! There is no invulnerable state! I love him, but Steve’s life is a mess, Eddie. And it's not his fault. Shit just happens to him. A lot. He doesn't deserve any of it, but he deals with it anyway. You’ll die waiting if you think you’ll find a time where it doesn't feel like everything is falling apart for him,” she half argues, half complains. 

Eddie pushes all the air out of his lungs through his nose. He knows she's right. Yet, it doesn't feel right to put Steve on the spot at a time like this. 

“I only need it to calm down for a day,” he reasons.

“It calmed down the first two weeks of his new job, but that still wasn't calm enough for you. What is?” She counters.

“Just a day when there's nothing. Nothing new, nothing bad, nothing stressful, just a day.”

“Okay, I’m going to say this as plainly as possible,” she sighs, “Just a day for Steve always has something new, something bad, and definitely something stressful. There will never be a time that feels right. I know you know that. So, just admit what this really is.”

“And what is this, really?” He questions.

“You’re scared,” she deadpans.

Eddie lets out an unconvincing pfffft.

“I��m not scared. I’m just… nervous,” he admits.

“About what?”

Eddie fiddles with his rings while holding the phone between his ear and shoulder. His legs are lounged up on the back of the couch while the rest of his body lays across the cushions.

“What if we don't work? What if we start dating and all that was really there was just flirting? Besides, he has a kid, Rob-”

“That you adore!”

“Yes, I do! That doesn't mean Steve wants help raising her from an ex-drug dealer with a truancy and trespassing record,” he argues. 

“Okay, first off, Steve is an ex-drug doer. Do you not remember you selling at his parties? Second off, none of that other bullshit matters. Steve knows who you are now and he likes that person. A lot,” she contends.

Eddie sighs, knowing she has a point. Actually, she has a few.

“After he sees his parents, alright?” 

“Eddie-”

“Look, Rob, I know. This is different, though. He told me about his parents and I get what he went through. This is gonna bring up a lot of shit, he's gonna need friends. I don't want to risk anything being awkward,” he all but pleads. 

He can hear her exhale sharply through her nose.

“Fine.”

Eddie may have bought himself some more time, but he still hasn't found the extra confidence he needs to follow through. 

The house doesn't quite exist in real life the way it does in Steve’s mind. Years of thick muddy emotion have warped its image. He expects it to feel looming, maybe even look sinister. Something more akin to the boarded-up old Creel house over on Morehead. Anything to make his trembling hands feel more valid. It doesn't, though. It’s just a house. A house haunted with memories, but a house all the same.

It’s strange. He thinks the doorbell may even sound different than he remembers. When his mother answers the door she has the gall to do it with a soft face that looks far too much like Steve’s. That's one thing he's always been grateful for: he looks just like his mom, his dad is barely there. Maybe the Harrington men just have weak genes.

He’s in clothes he knows will look vaguely familiar to her. Faded, thrifted reminders of what he used to wear. The polos were ditched after Jack threw up on his last one. Turns out, they're pretty expensive. If there's one thing Steve has learned over the past six years, it's how much the Harringtons live in excess. When you always have it you don't think about it. When you don't it's impossible not to. 

Steve’s mom spends a lot of time catching him up on what they've been up to over coffee. He occupies his thoughts with his goodbye to Eddie earlier. It's funny how Eddie has gone from his last to his first call for Jack. He doesn't answer by asking if she’s okay anymore. Now, it’s usually a simple Everything good? Need a hand with the menace?

 Steve dropped Jack off with him at the store. Eddie set her up on her little keyboard he keeps behind the counter for her. That way she’s practicing, entertained, and supervised. He smiled when he placed the big black headphones over her ears. She’s started putting stickers on them. A lot of little stars, a few dinosaurs, and even a pink band-aid on the headband. 

Eddie pulled Steve a little off to the side before he goes. He offered him a soft, comforting smile. For a moment, Steve thought Eddie might kiss him. Their bodies hovering close, Eddie’s hand still holding Steve’s arm from pulling him, and Eddie’s tongue darting out to wet his lips. Then he started talking.

“Listen, don't be afraid to bail, okay?” He said in earnest.

“What does that mean?”

“Don't be afraid to just get the hell out of there if you want to. I know it's not your go-to move, but you need to put yourself first. Jack needs you to put yourself first… I need you to put yourself first, Stevie,” he studied Steve’s face as he spoke, voice gently cradling Steve’s heart. 

The words turned Steve into jello. He felt like he was wobbling uncontrollably. The only thing keeping him steady was a warm hand with freshly polished fingernails holding his arm. 

“I will,” he promised.

Eddie grew a fond little smirk.

“Take care of yourself for me, yeah?” He said.

“You first,” Steve matched his expression.

Eddie’s eyes melted into something tender.

“I mean it.”

“I know, Eds.”

Steve, of course, doesn't depart without a round of I love you mostest with Jack.

The whole world feels a little tilted. Or maybe that's just Steve. His mother talks, but he barely listens. Until he hears his name.

“How’s Little Steve?” She asks.

Steve takes a measured sip of his coffee, staring his mother down across from him in an armchair. 

“Her name is Jack,” he tells her cooly. 

“You named your daughter Jack ?” 

“No, I named her Jacquline, but she prefers just Jack,” he informs her.

“Well, she's still little, you can force that out of her,” his mother says like it's a relief.

Steve can't help it. Honestly, he doesn't even try to. His eyebrows furrow, he shakes his head a bit, and his mouth curls in distaste. 

“Why would I do that?” He questions.

“Something like Jackie would just be better suited for a cute little girl.”

“You don't even know what she looks like,” he breathes a disbelieving laugh, “She likes the name Jack. It's her name.”

His mother sighs and places her mug gently on the coffee table. Just like she used to when she was about to tell him how disappointed she was. The action alone raises Steve’s hackles.

“I’m not trying to argue, Steven. I’m simply trying to give you advice as a parent. You have to know what's best for your kids, even if they don't like it,” she says.

Steve’s nostrils flare. Don't be afraid to bail. He should. He knows he should.

“Yeah, well, forgive me if I don't take parenting advice from you. Jack is happy and healthy, not that you really even asked. Jack is only six years old and can play more than one instrument. You don’t care about any of that, though. Do you? You just care that I’m not raising her like you would; forcing her into an identity that she’ll grow up to hate,” he bites. 

She frowns, but Steve can't find it in himself to care. He takes another casual sip of his coffee. 

“Right… Well, it sounds like you’re doing okay, then,” she comments.

“Yeah, sure am. Is he awake yet?” 

His mother goes to check if his father’s woken up. When she comes down to beckon him up, he follows. Strangely, his heartbeat slows with each step closer. It’s like time is moving through him at the speed of molasses. After a small personal century, he makes it to the door. It's already open and waiting for him, making the terrible journey marginally easier. 

The man in the bed before him is a memory and not a good one. He’s gaunt, pale, with paper-like skin, and thin hair that he once would have paid anything to hide. The comforter nearly drowns him, just his neck up is visible. He offers Steve the smallest of smiles. Steve doesn't accept or return it. He just stands at the foot of the bed, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

“I’m glad you came,” his father’s weakened voice says.

“Why did you want me to?” Steve can't help but ask.

“Steven, there's no nice way to put it. I’m dying. I didn't want to do that without seeing my only son again. Without meeting my grandchild,” he answers.

“You can forget that last one. Jack isn't coming near this house. You get me, that's it,” Steve tells him.

He lets out a rattling breath that Steve thinks may be a sigh.

“How is her mother?” He asks. 

“I wouldn't know.”

“I suppose you never did learn a lesson.”

What kind of lesson is kicking your kid and his baby out? Steve thinks bitterly. Again he hears the words: don't be afraid to bail. 

“Is there an actual reason you wanted me here or am I free to go?” He questions.

“My estate.”

That takes Steve off guard. He didn't think his father's estate would be a discussion he's involved in.

“What about it?”

“I want to leave a good portion of it to my grandchild. That way she can do what you couldn't,” he informs Steve.

Steve’s heart drops to the floor. That would be life-changing money. It would mean college for Jack. He knows there's a catch, though. There always is.

“And what's that?” He asks tensely.

“Make the Harrington name proud.”

Steve's stomach joins his heart in a pile on the hardwood. There are so many things he could say, so many things he wants to say. He doesn't, though. Instead, he thinks about Jack and her future. 

“What do you want from me?”

“Weekends.”

“Weekends?”

“Now, because I believe you're stupid enough to turn down money that could change your daughter’s future, I only ask for time with you. I want to reconnect with my son in my last months. Perhaps by the end, I will get to do so with my granddaughter as well,” he explains. 

“So, you just want me to come by on the weekends?” Steve checks suspiciously.

“I want you here nine to five Saturday and Sunday,” his dad states. 

Steve scoffs.

“What the hell do you want me here that long for?” 

“In addition to spending time with me, you will relieve the regular nurse so she can be with her son on the weekends,” his father informs him.

Steve gapes in disbelief. He knows he needs to say no. He needs to stop entertaining this. There’s no way. There is no way he’s giving up his weekends with Jack. You need to put yourself first, he remembers Eddie telling him, Jack needs you to put yourself first… I need you to put yourself first. The problem with that promise is the fact that Steve Harrington is a father. A damn good one at that. Jack will always come first. He can't not entertain even the most ridiculous of ideas if there's a possibility of providing something for her.

“How much?”

“Does the amount matter that much? Isn't the knowledge it’ll be more than you could ever give her enough?” His father inquires.

Steve swallows the insult that pops into his mouth.

“It matters,” is all he can get out.

“In total, my estate is around $250,000. 100,000 would go to your mother and 150,000 to your daughter.”

Steve wipes the corners of his mouth as he takes that in. Roughly three months, maybe even less, of his weekends and Jack could have a bank account full of $150,000. How does he turn that down? How does he say no to his daughter’s choice to go to college? To have the secure life that he can’t give her? Then an awful thought strikes that causes bile to burn the back of his throat. Would denying her that make him no better than his father? He sighs with his hands on his hips. 

“Yeah, okay. Starting next week,” he answers.

His father gives him a sickly smile that he doesn't return. If Steve wasn't afraid of him taking the money from Jack he would tell his father he’s glad he’s dying. He’s excited to see a world without him in it. The thoughts bring him guilt immediately, but he also knows them to be true. 

Steve bids his father an awkward goodbye. His mother hugs him at the door. It takes him a second to hug back. The entire drive back to Eddie’s anxiety bores holes into his skin. He did the exact opposite of what he said he would do. It won't be as bad as the quarry. He’ll still be home by 5:30 every day. He just won't have the majority of his weekend to be with Jack anymore. Right when they were getting back into the groove of it. It's only for three months, he tells himself. He can do three months.

Eddie answers the door laughing.

“You don't have to knock, your kid is in here,” he says. 

Steve smiles shyly as he enters. Jack, as always, barrels toward him and he scoops her up. He really needed this, her wrapped around him. Her hold is always the most reassuring. As long as she’s hugging him like this he knows he's doing something right. He lets her drop down and go back to what she was previously doing. She’s playing with a handful of Eddie’s miniatures like they're tiny dolls. 

Eddie catches Steve's eye and nods toward the kitchen. Steve gets the clue and follows him. It’s far enough to talk low and not have Jack overhear, but they're still able to watch her through the doorway and cutout.

“How’d it go?” Eddie asks immediately in a hushed voice, leaning his hip against the counter.

Steve recounts the conversation with his mom. The faces Eddie makes reflect every thought Steve was having during the conversation. He talks about how weird it was being back and how his father is barely there anymore. He pauses before the estate talk, unsure how to admit the next part.

“Overall, it was okay then?” Eddie checks.

“It was… interesting. I’m- uh- I’m going back,” he answers hesitantly.

Eddie gives a few quick blinks.

“Why would you do that?” He crosses his arms, shoving his hands in his armpits.

Steve crosses his own arms as a reflex.

“Look, before I tell you, I need you to understand that this is complicated-”

“Steve,” Eddie interrupts sternly, but not aggressively, “Why are you going back there?”

“If I take care of him on the weekends until he kicks it, he’ll leave Jack $150,000,” he tells him plainly. 

An expression that's unfamiliar to Steve takes over Eddie’s face. It takes Steve a moment to realize it's irritation. Eddie glances down at his mismatched socks. He wets his lips before looking back up at Steve.

“What happened to putting yourself first?” He asks, voice low and a little pained. 

“Eddie, I’m a dad. I need to think about Jack first,” he sighs.

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, “Today you needed to think about yourself. If you had and come to me, I could have thought about Jack. I could have helped you figure it out.”

“What's there to figure out? It’s either I do it and can provide for her or I don't and I can’t,” Steve huffs. 

“I could have helped you think it through, weigh the pros and cons. I mean, have you even thought about what you're doing with Jack while you're there? Have you thought about how this might mess with her like your hours at the quarry did?” Eddie can't hold his tongue the way he knows he should.

He knows this isn't his place. He isn't Jack’s parent and Steve isn’t his partner. The moment Eddie steps too close to the line and trips the “calling Steve a bad parent” alarm, Steve’s defenses go up. 

“Of course, I have! It's for three months, at most. I don't understand why you’re being like this. Don't you get what that money could do for her?” Steve questions.

“I get it, but money isn't everything, Steve. You’re providing for her now and she's happy. There are other ways to pay for college. This isn't your only option! Sometimes putting Jack first means putting yourself first. And this? This was one of those times,” Eddie states, clearly growing in annoyance. 

Something bursts in Steve. It's like a button that goes flying and hits all the wrong places in his body. Hurt leaks out of the wounds it leaves behind from Eddie’s judgment. 

“She’s happy because she doesn't know any better! All she’s ever known is the nothing I can give her, but not me. Not me, Eds, I know better. I know all the things I’ll never be able to give her. Doing this, I finally have the chance to give to her what I couldn't have- a chance to have a choice in what her future looks like,” he half shouts half cries as his tears betray him.

Something close to agony takes over Eddie’s features. He runs a hand over his face and looks away for a moment. He needs a break from looking at what he’s done to Steve. It hurts so fucking bad, but he needs to hear what Eddie is saying. Eddie knows that. Eddie also knows that Steve is too hurt to be reasoned with. He’s convinced his choice was the only choice. He forgot that he has Eddie to help him with Jack every step of the way. 

“Whatever, I’m not watching her while you're there. I refuse to be part of this,” Eddie decides softly.

Steve lets out a wet, sarcastic laugh

“Fine! I’ll bring her with me if I can't find anyone. She doesn't have to go in the room,” he shrugs.

Eddie’s face twists in frustrated shock. He thinks about Jack in that house with those people. She might be a Harrington, but she’s not one of them. Picturing her in an environment so similar to his own growing up makes him nauseous. He sees an image of his younger self hiding under the table with his hands over his ears as his father screamed about something. Then, Jack is replacing him, and his instinct to protect her kicks in.

“I’m not letting you bring her near that house,” he tells Steve.

“It’s not really your choice. You’re not her dad, remember? You're just her music teacher,” Steve snaps and storms away from him.

Eddie stands there frozen in the place where Steve just stabbed him through the heart. He hears Jack ask what they were fighting about and Steve tells her not to worry about it. He tells her everything is okay. If Eddie didn't feel like he was bleeding out he might have challenged that. They leave quicker than Jack can say goodbye. Quicker than Eddie can get himself to turn around. How is it possible for words to shatter every bone in his body? That must be what's happening, there's no other explanation for all this pain. 

Jack cries the entire way home because she didn't get to say goodbye to Eddie. Steve tries to console her, but she’ll have none of it. By the time they're entering the apartment, she’s transitioned from crying to angry. Her little stomps communicate what she can’t verbally yet. 

She asks him why they were fighting and why Steve was being mean to Eddie. He knows he can't tell her the truth, she won't understand. He also knows Jack will side with Eddie no matter what. Steve’s side will look like less Steve and no Eddie to her. She won't have that. So, he tells her sometimes friends argue and that expressing how you feel doesn't equal being mean. He turns this into a lesson for her. He finds a way to make this into something he can provide her with. It lets him feel a little less helpless.

A few days after the argument with Steve, Wayne is understandably confused to see Eddie on his doorstep unplanned and unannounced. Usually, he’ll call ahead to make sure Wayne is home. This time he was ready to let himself in and wait on the couch if he had to. A solemn expression is etched onto his face. Worry instantly takes over Wayne’s. He’s in his normal denim and flannel.

“What’s going on, Ed?” He asks gently.

Eddie clears his throat of the lingering emotion.

“I think I really fucked up,” his voice comes out hoarse.

Wayne immediately ushers him inside. Eddie lets himself be guided to the ratty old couch that used to be Wayne’s bed. When he sits down, Wayne places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Tell me what happened,” he says.

Eddie exhales deeply through his nose. Then he tells Wayne every regretful thing he said to Steve. He hates himself more the second time. It wasn’t entirely his fault, he wasn't entirely in control. The memories took the reins and turned him reactionary. He felt the line he leaped over like a hurdle pass by beneath him, but had no breaks. 

“That ain’t good, Ed,” Wayne sighs when Eddie finishes.

“I know. Jesus, he probably hates me. I would hate me,” Eddie drops his face into his hands. 

“I’m sure he doesn't hate you. He may be mighty upset, but hate is strong,” Wayne tells him thoughtfully. 

“I might as well have called him an awful father and spit in his face,” Eddie agonizes.

“Well, do you think he’s an awful father?”

Eddie’s head shoots up to look at Wayne incredulously. 

“What? No, Steve is literally the best father I've ever seen,” he states.

“Alright, so go apologize.”

“I don't think he wants to hear from me.”

“Ed, you've been coming ‘round here talking about that Harrington kid and the amazing little girl he’s got for months now. Based on what I hear, I can tell you that a call from you wouldn't be turned down. Especially not if it included a genuine apology,” Wayne says.

Eddie sits with his uncle’s words for a moment. Part of what's holding Eddie back is the embarrassment. He’s embarrassed by how he acted and he wants nothing more than for Steve to come over with Jack again. He wants nothing more than for Steve to look at him again. The last time Steve’s eyes met his, they were full of hurt Eddie wished he could snatch back.

“I hope so ‘cause, Wayne, I dunno how to live without them anymore,” he admits pathetically.

“I know, kiddo. For what it's worth, I think they'd have a hard time without you too,” Wayne tells him softly. 

Eddie gives him a small smile. Then his eyes go vulnerable and nervous.

“Do you think I’d be good at it?” He asks.

Wayne furrows his eyebrows at his nephew.

“Good at what?”

“Y’know… being a dad.”

Wayne’s features soften as he studies his nephew. Where does the time go? It feels like just yesterday he was hauling Eddie back to Hawkins with him. Now, here Eddie sits considering fatherhood. 

“I think you already are,” he answers honestly.

“Steve’s made it very clear I’m not,” Eddie counters self-deprecatingly.

“That's only ‘cause in trying to be a dad you forgot to be a partner too. You made Steve feel like you were against him, not with him. You gotta find a balance, Ed. You gotta talk about boundaries when it comes to that kid. You two were riding so high on emotion neither of you took the time to really think. Maybe it got too family-like too fast, or maybe y’all just need to get better at talking, I don't know. All I know is, with the way you talk about those two, that’s your family. If there’s anything I’ve taught you, I hope it’s that the one thing we do for our family is fight for’em. Sometimes with’em, but always for’em,” Wayne lectures with a warm tone that soothes Eddie.

Eddie takes a steadying breath and he absorbs his uncle’s words. He nods, staring down at where he fiddles with his rings.

“Thanks, Wayne, for everything,” he says softly.

“It's what I’m here for,” Wayne shrugs.

“No, I mean… everything. I know how hard it must've been to raise me. Before Steve, I thought I got it, but I didn't. I didn't until I saw him doing it,” he elaborates.

Wayne smiles tenderly.

“Eddie, it’s what I’m here for.”

Eddie smiles and hugs his uncle. It’s a sweet reminder that this little trailer in Forest Hills will always welcome him home.

What does it mean to provide such gentle touches to the man who provided you with violent blows? It has to have some meaning, right? Some poetic or cosmic justice that makes this make sense. Steve’s father put him and Jack out on the street on the day she was born. On Steve’s birthday. So, why does he now find himself giving his bedridden dad his weekends? Why can't he tell him to fuck off like Eddie wanted? The answer is the same for everything else he does. Jack.

Jack is why he’s working himself to death. Jack is why he's subjecting himself to his father every weekend. Jack is why he hasn't spoken to Eddie, aside from passing greetings when dropping her off at the store, in a week. He never once thinks that Jack is the reason he’s miserable, though. She isn't. She’s the only thing that brings him joy through all this. She is his smile. Only right now, he’s frowning at Robin at the Buckley’s. 

Steve, Jack, and Robin have dinner with Grandma and Grandpa Buck once a month. Jack is in the kitchen helping Grandma Buck stir the stew while Grandpa Buck works on his car out in the garage. Robin hasn't said a word. She’s just staring. Steve has grown a frown in response.

“What, Rob?” He finally breaks.

“Max told me there's something going on with you and Eddie,” she blurts.

Steve sighs and closes his eyes for a second.

“What did she say?” He asks, already tired of the conversation.

“Well, Eddie isn't really saying much. So, all she knows is from Jack. Jack told her you two got into a fight and made each other sad,” she tells him softly. 

Steve exhales a laugh through his nose.

“Yeah, that's pretty much the gist of it.”

“Are you going to talk it out?” 

“We… both said some things I’m not sure there's coming back from,” he shakes his head slightly.

“There’s no way either of you said anything that bad,” she attempts to assure him. 

Steve levels Robin with a sad stare.

“He tried to tell me how to parent Jack and I called him just her music teacher,” he sighs.

Robin lets out a low whistle.

“Yeah, okay, that’s… not great. I still think you can talk through it, though.”

Steve rubs his eyes in exhaustion.

“Rob, he crossed a line. I know that it can feel like co-parenting at times, but it's not. I love him, but we’re not together and he's not her parent,” he states frustratedly.

Robin’s eyes nearly fly out of her head. Steve gives her a questioning look. A shit-eating grin appears on her face.

“Steve,” she says.

“What?”

“Steve! ”

“Robin, if you're not gonna tell me-”

“You love Eddie?” Her voice was quieter, likely to avoid Jack accidentally overhearing. 

Steve’s heart picks up at breakneck speed. Heat floods his entire body as a knot tightens in his stomach. That is what he said, isn't it? Is that why this whole situation has felt like someone taking a set of pliers to his teeth?

“Fuck,” he breathes, wiping the corners of his mouth as he stares blankly at the coffee table.

“I think now’s the time you run to him and have a dramatic make-up scene,” Robin teases.

Steve frowns.

“It doesn't change anything. He told me he wouldn't let me bring Jack to my parents’ place. He questioned if I had Jack’s best interest in mind. He’s just another person to add to the list of people who think I’m fucking this whole thing up,” he mumbles the last part bitterly. 

Robin’s features melt into concern. She leans forward, arms on her knees.

“No one thinks that. I can tell you for a fact that Eddie definitely doesn't think that. He… could have handled things better, sure, but he thinks the world of you as a father, Steve. I mean, you have to know that by now,” she says sympathetically. 

“Then he can tell me that after apologizing,” Steve scoffs. 

“Yeah, that’s fair,” she nods.

Jack comes darting into the room and announces dinner has been finished. She takes them both by the hand to lead them to the dining room. Steve spends the rest of the night thinking about how he’s in love with Eddie Munson. 

It might be playing dirty, but Steve found a loophole. He asks Max to watch Jack on Saturday. Which means Jack ends up at Mordor Music. Eddie can't pretend like he's upset. Seeing Jack is always a treat. She bounds in, Max trailing behind, with an excited stream of Eddie! Eddie! Eddie! He loves when she acts like she didn't just see him the other day for her lesson.

Eddie is crouched behind the counter, searching for a new pack of pens. The last one died unceremoniously on him as he was logging inventory. 

“Uh-oh, I hear trouble,” he announces with a smile as he stands up.

Jack doesn't hesitate running around to the back of the counter. Eddie scoops her up so she can cling to him. 

“I miss you,” she whines.

His heart aches.

“I know, I miss you too, princess,” he says softly.

“Daddy misses you too,” she tells him.

A sad smile crawls onto his face.

“Yeah? I miss him too,” he admits.

“When can I see your little guys again?” She asks with big eyes so dark they may just swallow all light that comes close.

Eddie cringes and his eyes shift to Max. She leans her elbows on the other side of the counter. A small smile is on her face as she watches the two of them. She offers him a sympathetic, but comforting look.

“I- uh- I dunno, but I hope soon,” he answers warmly.

“Will you come to Thanksgiving?” Jack asks hopefully.

Eddie gets stuck in an awkward uh… for a moment. His eyes dart between Jack and Max. Max looks happy to not be in Eddie’s shoes right now.

“I- I don't know. I got family to see too, y’know,” he answers with a tight smile.

Jack settles a confused look on him. She always manages to let him know when she thinks he's being stupid with just a look.

“Your family is the same as mine,” she tells him.

Eddie’s own face twists into confusion. 

“What d'you mean?”

She seems to struggle frustratedly with her words. Sometimes Jack has thoughts and feelings bigger than her vocabulary. As a kid who can usually tell you how she feels, it can be annoying for her.

“I’m your family. You have to eat with me,” she informs him.

Eddie could've cried right then and there. Popping sparks of electric joy travel across his skin. Jack thinks of him as family. His joy falters when he thinks of Steve. Eddie isn't sure Steve would feel the same.

“I would love to eat with you, princess, but I got my own dad waiting for me,” he says.

She’s utterly taken aback by that new bit of information. Her two little hands find Eddie’s face as she stares with set brows.

“When did you get a daddy too?” She asks very seriously. 

It takes everything for Eddie not to start laughing. Even Max claps a hand over her mouth to stop herself. Jack’s just so serious it's adorable. He thought calling Wayne his dad would be less complicated. That word better fits their relationship anyways. Boy, was he wrong.

“I've always had one. I just don't live with him anymore so you've never met.”

Jack frowns. It dawns on Eddie that she’s used to people showing up and being added to their mod podge family. Naturally, she assumed that's what happened with Eddie. It did happen with Eddie in a way, but now he's not certain of where he stands. It startles him when sadness takes over her soft round features.

“I thought you were ours,” she says quietly with a slight waver. 

Eddie knows she didn't mean the words to feel as heavy as they do. He swears they rip him in half, right down the center. His lips part slightly as he tries to figure out what to say. Max can only offer a small smile before walking into the back. Eddie sighs and sits Jack on the counter in front of him. He uses his newly free hands to comb through his hair. I thought I was yours too, he thinks, but then I went and fucked it all up. 

“Hey, listen to me, alright,” he says softly, “As long as you want me to be your family, I’m your family. Me having a dad doesn't change that, okay?”

She nods, her big eyes sparkling with a swirl of emotions. 

“I like it better with you,” she tells him.

He doesn't have to ask what she means, he knows. Jack likes her family, and her life, better with Eddie in it. It’s enough to flatten him out. It’s enough to light a flame of determination to talk and apologize to Steve. 

“Yeah, I like it better with you too.”

Steve walks into the store at five-fifteen that evening. At first, he doesn't see anyone. Then he can hear the giggling. Only, it isn't just Jack’s. It’s Eddie’s too. As he continues forward, they come into view. Jack sits in Eddie’s lap on the chair behind the counter, off to the side. Eddie has a magazine open in front of them. Whatever articles Jack pointed out Eddie would read in different funny and dramatic voices. The content of the articles doesn’t matter, just the voices Eddie is doing. They make her giggle, which makes Eddie giggle.

As he gets closer, Steve catches Eddie’s attention. His startled eyes flicker from Steve to the clock on the wall. He quickly closes the magazine, which finally brings Jack’s attention to Steve. She hops off of Eddie’s lap to run and jump into his arms. The tightness and urgency of Steve’s hug don't go unnoticed by Eddie. He hugs her like that after a tough day. Eddie knows that because he’s seen plenty of Steve’s tough days by now.

“Uh- sorry, Max had to run out for a second so I was just trying to entertain her,” he’s quick to explain. 

He didn't expect Steve’s sweet honey eyes to meet his with a warmth that raises his body temperature. The smallest hint of a smile plays on the corners of Steve’s mouth. Eddie can't help wondering if Steve is happy to see him despite everything, just like Eddie is.

“It’s okay. Thanks for watching her,” he says as he lets her down.

“Yeah, ‘course, I’m happy to,” Eddie replies. 

There's a beat of awkward silence as Jack retrieves apple juice. Eddie ran across the street to grab it earlier. Steve’s eyes stay trained on Eddie and vice versa. Finally, Eddie musters up the courage.

“Steve, I’m real-”

“Not now,” Steve shakes his head.

Eddie visibly shrinks in the wake of rejection. 

“I know and I want to talk, but I’m exhausted right now, Eds.”

Eddie nods in understanding. Jack hugs Eddie goodbye. He’s wondering if he should say goodbye to Steve the right way when he’s beaten to it.

“Take care of yourself for me,” Steve tells him softly.

A smile dripping in all the warm gooey emotion Eddie is experiencing grows on his face.

“You first,” he responds.

Then they're gone. Eddie is left sitting there with a racing heart and the deep ache to follow them.

<< Page Two | Series Photo Album | AO3 | Page Four >>

[buttered-baguette-writes]

Europe Feels Like a Kiss

Overwhelmed, Harry left the world he knew behind and fled to a place where he had no responsibilities. A place where nature felt fresher, and the sun felt nicer on his skin. The boy-who-lived stayed behind in England; the man in France was just Harry. Although not looking for it, Harry stumbles upon a job, some new friends, and a lover who likes him and not his legacy. It's about time. He deserves a break and the right to live his life the way he wants to.

He tried for a few years to stick it out, to make things happen. He tried to leave a large portion of the war – of his childhood – behind, where he thought it belonged. But his little spot in the magic world wouldn't let him. He tried to start afresh. He wanted to have the pleasure of doing something for himself, but they didn't let him work for it. They handed it over on a silver platter. He wanted to meet new people and fall in love, but all they wanted was publicity.

He wanted to express himself – change up his appearance, get tattoos, let his hair do whatever it wanted. Everyone judged him for it. All he wanted was a change, tired of prophecies and people expecting too much from him.

So, he left. Left the only home he knew and the only family he had before he combusted.

He didn't want to be the boy-who-lived twice. Didn't want to be known as The Harry Potter.

Just Harry.

Apart from keeping in contact with the Weasley’s (including Hermione), Luna, and Neville, Harry Potter disappeared from the shores of the UK.

--

Harry had only been away for a little over a month, but he was loving it.

He'd roll out of bed in the morning, admire the craftmanship of the ancient building as he pulled back the curtains and waited for his kettle to boil. Then, he'd step out onto his little personal terrace that overlooked the well-kept courtyard. He was able to relish in the fresh air and quietness to his heart’s content as if there wasn't a busy street on the other side of the courtyard’s walls.

After a while he'd go follow random cobblestone streets, taking pictures, stopping in certain places while noting others for another day. He never paid much attention to how far he actually travelled, because he always returned to his little piece of France.

It was beautiful.

And then one fateful morning, he ran into a familiar blonde.

Somehow, they had managed to sit on the same park bench, inevitably making unavoidable eye contact.

“Morning Malfoy,” Harry said, voice light. He was being inviting, in a way.

“Potter,” Draco replied, no bite to the word, but there was a slight tone of uncertainty.

They had both been eighteen the last time they saw each other, when all the wounds were still fresh, and punishments were being handed out.

“I… I never expected to see you in France,” Draco said.

“Me neither. Things just got to be too much. They just – I couldn't bare it any longer.”

Draco hummed. “I suppose this is a good place to run away to.”

Harry’s brain ticked away. Although their past wasn't exactly all rainbows and sunshine, they had both gone there to get away from things and people. Maybe after everything they had been through, and everything they were working to get pass, they could be friends all these years after their first meeting at the train platform.

“This is probably random,” Harry started, feeling his nerves leave with each word he got out. Though Draco raising a brow in assuming amusement didn't help his case. “Would you want to hang out sometime?” He finished with a bright smile, his cheeks pushing his glasses up a little bit.

Draco eyed the other man, twisting the ring on his thumb in thought before coming to his final decision. Snapping his fingers, a card appeared between fingers, extended to the other man. “Join us for drinks,” he said, fully handing the card over. “It’s a weekly thing.”

With that, he walked off before he could change his mind about the invitation. That, and he now desperately needed to tell his friends there might be another person attending, lest the ladies kill him for letting them be under prepared.

Harry stayed on the bench. That was the first real plan he had made and yet he still had nothing else to do during the next two days. He decided that it would be good for him, hanging out with people and all.

From that point on however, he started to see Malfoy practically everywhere he went. Apparently, they were both regulars at Harry’s new favourite bread shop, and the blonde was often spotted cooing at random animals he saw. He wondered if the other had any pets at home considering the amount of affection he gave to random creatures.

He supposed he would just wait and see.

However, he forgot about that when he found himself waiting to be let into the house that’s address was on the card. It seemed like such an expensive area, and there he was in beat up sneakers holding a bag of pastries. He stared at his shoes, feeling a bit out of place.

Harry was brought out of his thoughts when the front door suddenly swung open, light and laughter immediately drifting through the doorway.

“My my, good to know The Harry Potter is punctual.” Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin pureblood, opened the door, smiling in a teasing yet friendly way.

Harry just smiled back, offering the bag out to her.

She seemed pleased to see the emblem of the bakery, politely snatching the goods and motioning him inside.

She led him up the stairs, the first floor just a means of storage and a fancy entrance. On the second level, though, there was a large entertaining area with an open floorplan. It was the perfect combination of modern and classical design, with plants scattered about looking extremely well maintained. There certainly had to be a wixen whose specialty it was.

The couches looked soft as five people laid across them with glasses in their hands as they chatted up a storm, basking in the dim light and slight chill of the night air.

Draco cut himself off mid-sentence, effectively halting all the lively chatter. His face screamed a mixture of pleased and surprised to see the curly haired man standing next to Pansy, who was already shoving a glass into his hands with the claim that it was simply the rules of the night.

With a soft swish of his arm, Draco gathered everyone’s attention and pointed it towards the newcomer. “Loves, this is Harry Potter.”

“As in Potter, Potter?” One of the ladies asked, clearly enthused.

“Ah, Harry is fine.”

The same girl that spoke early bounced out of her seat, long brown hair doing the same. She held out a hand, giving a firm shake as she spoke. “I’m Lottie!” Her voice was coated in an Irish accent, forcing Harry to ask her where she was from. “That’s a secret,” she replied with a wink and a different accent. Next thing he knew, her hair changed into a pixie cut with pastel blue colouring alongside other slight alterations to her features that made her look like a fae of some kind.

Pansy slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders, startling the poor man. As she spoke, he directed (forced) him towards the couch. “We’re convinced she’s a performer on the run,” she said, earning a laugh from everyone in the room.

Harry chuckled too, plopping down in the gap between his two old classmates.

He was introduced to everyone else:

Elle, a lovely Parisian who had known Pansy since they were little. The house was hers, passed down through the family. She was head chef at her own restaurant, having a remarkable pallet and knowledge on both foods and drinks.

Camile and Luca were siblings from Italy, the former being the eldest of the entire group. They had a fascinating relationship with flora and fauna, respectively. Camile owned a plant nursery and was the reason the house was full of them. Luca ran an animal shelter and was the baby of the group.

Him and Lottie shared an apartment above his work.

They were all magnificent company, the night passing by quickly. They had all accepted Harry instantly, leading to a wonderful night full of laughter, drinking, and good pastries.

Harry even exchanged numbers with all six of them.

When the night ended, majority dragged themselves up the next flight of stairs and into one of the three bedrooms on the third level. Pansy cleaned up a little bit, telling Harry that he was welcome to come by her studio the next night and that she'd send him the information for it later. She bid goodnight after that.

She had a feeling that the famous male in her house would be sticking around them for a while – if so, she had a couple things to do then.

Draco was the one to walk Harry to the door, making sure that he was okay to get home safely.

“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Harry,” Draco said before closing the door and booking it all the way to the third story. He was eager to sink into the soft mattress.

Harry, who was in fact sober enough, apparated back to his apartment. He ignored the time that his clock told, heading straight for his own bed.

He'd shower and change before he went out the next day. Assuming he didn't sleep it away.

The next day started without him.

The streets and shops had been bustling for hours by the time Harry hauled himself out of bed. He skipped his usual routine, opting for a late breakfast out.

The café he found was tucked away neatly on the roof of other shops, the stairwell looking like decoration. It wasn't grand, but the view he had from up there was exquisite to him, so, he whipped out his phone to snap a few pictures. The thought of buying a proper camera flittered through his mind, but he opted to focus on sending the pictures to the group chat he, Hermione, and Ron had. They would all find something to like about the place. Harry was sure of it.

He stayed for a while, relishing in the absolute freedom he felt there. He liked the fact that the server gave him a funny look when he asked for tea with his meal – thought it funny even. They weren't rude about it, just shocked. When he asked for a coffee beverage to-go, they enthusiastically went about making it, as if they knew he was going to have one. Harry figured that since it was such a quaint shop that they were used to a very niche selection of customers.

Thrilled about having found the café, Harry assured himself that he would go back one day.

With his coffee in hand, he strolled around nearby streets, forever in love with the surroundings. He had yet to visit other countries but there was just something about France that had him feel at peace. It was more than just the fact of nobody knowing who he was.

He stopped in front of a candle and herb shop, gazing into the shop through the window. It wasn't open just yet, much to his dismay.

His phone continuously vibrating caught his attention. Whipping it out, he saw Hermione’s name and instinctively answered it.

“Hey ‘mione.”

“Harry! That little café looked adorable,” Hermione said. “How are you?”

Harry smiled into his phone, moving to stand out of the way on the path. “I'm good. I think I…” he debated his words. “I think I made some friends actually.” For the moment, he wasn't going to disclose who exactly he had befriended.

“That’s wonderful,” Hermione exclaimed. Honestly, she was just happy he was doing well and enjoying himself. Anything that wasn't him sulking or being absolutely lost was a good thing. She was hesitant at first about his little adventure, but she knew it would do him some good to get a change of scenery and people.

“Oi, trying to replace us now?” Ron shouted from the background. A soft babbling then cooing noise followed him, as well as a scolding Hermione. What for, Harry didn't know.

He laughed though, smile cracking into a full grin with teeth and dimples. “Course not mate. You're family.”

Without fail, Hermione let out a soft little sigh she did every time Harry said that. They started talking about other things after that. Like, how Ron and Hermione’s jobs were going and how big Rose was getting. She was nearly one and seemed close to saying her first words. Everyone was ecstatic. In some way, Harry expected nothing less from the child of his best mates.

Baby Rose let out a cry and so Hermione and Ron had to go.

Harry stuffed his phone away, happy mood kept alive as the candle and herb shop opened its doors. He waved at the shopkeeper who simply smiled in return.

He browsed the shelves, loving the smell of the entire shop. He managed to find a candle that reminded him of eating sweets by a fireplace. So, he bought two. He had no idea what they would smell like while burning, but he hoped for the best.

Happy with himself, he decided to return to his flat.

Somehow, he had managed to spend so much time out and about that he had all but an hour before he was supposed to meet with Pansy. He had no idea what they were going to be doing, let alone at her work.

Then it hit him. He had no idea what Pansy did for a living.

It was a soft ‘wow’ that escaped his lips when he finally made it to Pansy’s work. The outside was gorgeous, with an elegant sign with her company name on it. P. Parks Fashion. The inside was charmed bigger and seemed to go on forever from Harry’s point of view. There weren't a million workers, but each worker moved with such urgency and care that it felt like there were more of them. It wasn't a clothing store, but the studio where everything happened.

In the whirlwind of new things, he managed to spot Draco lounging off to the side, idly watching everyone else.

Harry went over to him. Not like there was much for him to do anyways while he waited for Pansy to appear.

“Hey,” he greeted, his cheeks pushing his glasses up.

Draco gave him a once over, thinking about something that Harry was not privy to. “Hi. Pans’ run through is running over.”

Harry nodded in acknowledgment and thanks, but he had no bloody idea as to what a run through was. He was certain that nearly everything in the studio was a mystery to him. Focusing on the one thing that wasn't was a good start.

“So, Malfoy –”

“Draco,” the blonde responded with confidence. Not only did using only last names seem like an outdated trend to him, but he had also left the UK to escape his past and family. If Potter could become just Harry, then Draco could sure as hell be just Draco.

“Draco,” Harry continued. There was the briefest of pauses, testing out the name. He noted that the blonde actually turned to face him after that. “What do you do?”

Malfoy now regretted his decision of looking directly at Harry. He loved his job and was nothing close to ashamed of it, but it seemed that telling the other man was different. He would love to understand why his brain thought of it like that. “I, uh, work as a model for Pansy,” He said, turning back to look at the other workers, hoping his dear friend would show up.

On skin as fair as Draco’s – even with a sun kissed tan – it was easy to notice the light flush of his cheeks. Fortunately for him, Harry wasn't staring at his cheeks.

"He's an exclusive model and stylist! Not allowed anywhere else,” Pansy exclaimed from beside Harry. She startled the pair and Draco doubted that she didn't have secret walkways literally everywhere. “It’d be a travesty if he did.”

She wore the front half of her shiny black hair down, letting the styled bob frame her face while the back of her hair was pulled into a small bun. There was a pen in there, much to everyone’s surprise. She gave her dear friend a cheeky smile before turning her attention on Harry. Her eyes went from his head to his toes, then again. One of her brows quirked.

“What do you do?”

“Oh, nothing right now.” Harry hadn't been doing anything in a while. He dropped out of Auror training almost instantly and fluttered through a handful of different careers before just giving up. He was thankful he had an obnoxiously large family fortune at his fingertips.

Pansy hummed. “I may just call you in for a job,” she said, softly patting his cheek.

Before she could continue the conversation, a young man called for her attention. He was speed walking in their direction, multiple notebooks in one arm and a phone being waved crazily in the other.

“Madame! Madame! It is our new Paris store!”

With a click of her tongue, Pansy had already started off towards her office.

“Draco, hun, take Harry to the reservation. I’ll catch you later. Désolé et au revoir !” And with that she was gone.

Rolling his eyes, Draco heaved himself away from his seat. He accio-ed a coat in his direction before motioning for Harry to follow him.

The pair walked the streets in comfortable silence apart from Draco’s necessary directions when he noticed Harry zoning out. They did look like an odd couple. Harry with his untamed hair pulled loosely back and an unshaved face, his clothes looking well-loved and simple. Draco on the other hand had his blonde hair cut short and fluffy while his clothes were at the peak of this season’s fashion trends.

Odd but not strange.

The owner of the restaurant they arrived at gave Harry an unimpressed once-over, but Draco said something that had the lady complying with letting him into her establishment.

After being seated in a booth, Draco instantly began to study the menu.

Harry let his eyes wander about, getting stuck on the way that Draco leant his head against his hand and worried his lower lip between his teeth. It wasn't that visible, but he was certain he still saw the faint discolouration of skin that went across both of Draco’s lips.

“I’m sorry,” Harry suddenly blurted out.

With a jolt, Draco sat upright, blinking rapidly a few times. He raised a brow at the other man.

“I just realised I never said sorry for, uh, the bathroom incident. I really am sorry.”

“Ah,” Draco touched his lip for brief second before letting his head fall back onto his hand. “Not the worst scars I’ve gotten.”

Something in Harry’s face must have shown that he felt that his apology wasn't taken seriously because Draco was waving his free hand in the air between them. “Forgiven.”

“Really? That easily?” Harry had talked about this with a mind healer once – his guilt made him doubt that people really did forgive him, or that they didn't blame him.

Draco sighed. “Yes. I've done some things I wish I could apologise for. What you did was nothing.” He perked up after that, waving over one of the waiters. “Now, let’s order wine before Pansy arrives lest she unleashes her wrath.”

Harry nodded. Now he was worried about what else could have happened to Draco in the past and just how bad it was to live under the same roof as Voldemort.

“Where did you get this photo?” Pansy exclaimed, certainly enthused about the gorgeous shot of Paris from high up that was set as Harry’s phone background. Gorgeous considering it was taken on the phone’s camera.

“I took it,” Harry said with a large smile on his face. He was very proud of the photo, and he remembered the day well. He had just arrived in France and took a quick tour of the main city before heading off to his new home that was away from the bustling streets of Paris. The photo was so that Hermione knew he had gotten there safely and so that he knew it was all real. That he really moved to France.

“Have you ever used professional equipment? It would be an excellent hobby that makes money.”

“No…”

“You can borrow a camera from my shop anytime you want, or you can learn from my own photographers! The cameras are all charmed to not break, of course, so no need to worry there.”

Harry just smiled and nodded along agreeing to whatever she was saying. She was very adamant that it was no hassle, and that Harry would surely do great.

Draco watched silently by Pansy’s side. She had a knack for being able to pick up on someone’s talents and knew just the right direction to point them in to get them started on the right way. That was how she acquired most of her most loyal workers, Draco included. The latter knew that the longer Harry hung around Pansy, the more likely he was to do something he enjoyed but was also good at.

“Okay, I’ll try it out,” Harry laughed out, moving his hands in a calming motion.

Part 2

Also on AO3

[loiswolf]

Day 21 June 19 Fort St John - Dawson Creek 75kms

Some of you have probably been thinking I’ve had wifi problems again….nah, I just haven’t really been cycling enough to blog about it.

On Saturday morning I left the Warmshowers family ( I put their photo in the previous blog in case you missed that edit), pedalled into town then back along the Highway to the RV park.

At Toad River I had also made friends with Debbie and Tim who were driving the long stretch (388kms) between Fort Nelson and Fort St John on Saturday .They had agreed to take Shirley and I on board. My other option was to take the bus but it didn’t run until Monday ( today).

We found a place to fit Shirley in the RV and I was in the back seat of the truck with Rhino….the dog. It seemed like such a long way. We went through rain, spotted 3 bears and a moose, saw a helicopter taking water to a fire somewhere and climbed lots of big hills. I didn’t mind being in the truck one little bit and I also had the benefit of being able to talk to Debbie and Tim.

They were really lovely. I’ve met some great people hitching rides! It turns out there actually were places I could possibly have stayed in after around 230kms but they hadn’t shown up on the map. It’s also hard to know which ones are actually open and offering rooms.

About 13kms from Fort St John my lift was turning right to head back west to another town. We took a farewell selfie and unloaded Shirley.

I rolled over to the other side of the road to the servo for a coffee and some chicken wings. Then it was pretty much a downhill run all the way into town.

My motel appeared very quickly. I should have cancelled my booking and headed off to the nice Motel 8 up the road because this place was just awful.

My room stunk of cigarette smoke and the other tenants looked absolutely undesirable. I’m pretty sure there was a prostitute operating out of the room two doors up because every hour , on the hour , a car would drive up and someone would go in. Just before the hour was up they would leave and someone would arrive on the next hour. 😕 A little suspicious. You would have thought with all those customers the occupant would have been able to afford a better car than this rust bucket.

It actually moved a couple of spaces overnight. I can’t believe it was drivable!

My biggest regret was that I had booked two nights at this hideous place!

After a while I became used to the smell and worked out how to reconnect the wifi when it dropped out every hour or so. I woke up at about 4am the first night convinced there were bed bugs ( there wasn’t).

I spent my rest day actually resting. I did walk around the shops on the other side of the road covering quite some distance. The shops are all about 400m apart with huge car parks between. I watched bad movies and a had a snooze in the afternoon.

I woke at 4am this morning to get some water to find that the fridge had frozen everything in it. ( it was on the lowest setting). I pulled everything out so it could thaw by the morning and went back to bed.

So……today it was back on the bike!

I wasn’t in a hurry because today was only 75kms. Ok, I took ages getting ready because I couldn’t figure out the Wordle. Finally I solved it, packed up Shirley and headed off for my last day on the Alaskan Highway.

The first 10kms were unremarkable except for quite a lot of traffic. The next 10kms were a long downhill run all the way into the next town, Taylor. It looked like a much nicer town to stay in but it was too late now. The road continued down the hill and over a bridge. I was going too fast to realise I should have gone on the pedestrian pathway. The bridge was a metal grid ( I hate those) and nothing could get by me. I just hung on and tried to keep Shirley in a straight line, rather hard with the wind, and told myself not to look down.

After the bridge was a very long hill, about 6kms. I took this photo a little way up so you can see the scary bridge if you look hard.( it’s blue)

The hill wasn’t too hard even though it was long. This photo is from near the top.

All day it was a long slow hill followed by another lengthy downhill run. At about 50kms there was a town called Farmington which boasted one service station.

I foolishly bought a flavoured coffee to go with my cinnamon scroll. Sitting back outside in the wind ( the only place to sit) I realised it was milky and sweet so I tossed it over the railing and snuck back inside to fill the cup with real coffee.

Only 25kms to go. There were a lot of trucks and fuel tankers but the shoulder was good so I was able to stay out of their way. One last long hill was followed by a 10km run down into Dawson Creek and the end of the Alaskan Highway.

I’m not sure where it started but I’ve been on it for well over 1000kms.

I’d had some serious doubts about the motel I’d booked here. I was going to sneak in and check it out before paying but the lovely owner knew who I was as soon as I walked in. Rats! Turns out I didn’t need to worry. It’s a nice little place

And smells great!

[sacredsorceress]

Green || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: three times bucky realized you were more than a friend and the one time he finally admitted it (based on events from tfatws)

a/n: finishing this in time for the season finale tomorrow! reblogs and/or replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 3.1k

warnings: mentions of reader wearing a short dress, jealous bucky

masterlist || request || taglist

#1

“Nice of you guys to call me.”

Your hands in your jacket pockets, you announced your presence as you strolled up to the group of four men standing outside of the police station. You could basically feel the tension in the air as each man had a resolute expression written on all over their faces.

“What’s going on here?” You asked, slipping your hands out of your pockets and gesturing towards the group.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked.

You might have been nicer about the situation if you weren’t utterly pissed that the two men hadn’t informed you about the mission that they had gone on.

“Incase you forgot, Sam, you’re not the only one who’s had to pick up where someone else left off. It’s my job to keep track of you guys.” You said. “... Also I’m Bucky’s emergency contact.”

“Well,” The blonde man leaning against the police cruiser said. “You’re a little late. I handled it.”

Looking up at the man in front of you, you gave him no inclination of defeat.

“You must be John Walker.” You said.

“So you’ve heard of me?” He smirked.

You crossed your arms, stepping away from the man who you had seen on television playing the role of Captain America. You had heard about the decision moments before the government had first displayed the impersonator on screen, but it had been too late for you to do anything about it or to inform Sam or Bucky in time for his appearance.

“I’ve heard of everyone.” You deadpanned.

“Yeah?” He asked, standing up straighter. “And who are you?”

Just as you were about to open your mouth, you felt Bucky’s hand land on your shoulder. Turning to glance at him, you watched as he shook his head, giving you a serious look. Despite the fact that you were now tasked with keeping track of the former members of the group of Avengers and were one yourself, you had been able to keep your identity a secret. Although to the world you were “Sorceress”- the Avenger with magical powers similar to those of Wanda Maximoff- to members of the team such as Bucky you were Y/n Y/l/n.

He didn’t trust John Walker and he didn’t want to bring you into their own mess. Although Bucky had been avoiding Sam’s text messages, Bucky had kept in constant touch with you since you first met him after he had come back from the Blip six months ago- even going as far as spending time together multiple times a week in person- not because you had to keep track of him, but because the two of you genuinely enjoyed spending time together. 

You were the closest thing he had to normalcy and he didn’t want the knockoff version of his best friend messing it up not only for himself, but for you too.

However, you didn’t see much of a way out of it. You weren’t going to just leave Bucky and Sam to handle the situation on their own, but you also didn’t see a way that you could work alongside them and not have John and Lemar figure out your identity sooner or later.

Gently taking Bucky’s hand off of your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before dropping it, you reached out your hand to John Walker.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” You told him. “Sorceress... and I guess the current caretaker of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier.”

Later, after the group had dispersed and you followed Sam and Bucky as they walked in the opposite direction, you were surprised when you heard Bucky’s tone of voice when he finally spoke up again.

“You shouldn’t have given him your name, Y/n.” He said.

You shrugged, hands tucked into your pockets once again. “It’s fine, Buck.” You assured him. “There wasn’t much else I could do. He was going to find out eventually-”

“Don’t act so casual about it. This is your identity- your life- and you’re just going to share it with some asshole like John Walker?”

“Woah!” You exclaimed, stopping in your spot. “What’s your problem, Buck? Why do you care so much?”

Noticing how both you and Sam were staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to comprehend why he was making such a “big deal” about it, Bucky grew embarrassed, not understanding himself why he cared so much. Rather than admitting defeat however, Bucky threw up his hands, scoffing.

“Forget it, Y/n. I don’t care. Do what you want.”

And with that he picked up the pace, walking in the opposite direction of where you and Sam stood confused in your spots.

#2

“I couldn’t have worn something- I don’t know- a bit longer?” You called to the three men ahead of you, following them into the club as you tugged on the hem of your short dress.

“This a club in Madripoor, Y/n.” You heard Zemo say. “If you wore anything else you would be giving us away.”

Groaning you steadied yourself in your heels following behind Zemo and Sam. You slowed your pace to walk besides Bucky who had insisted on being at the back of the line behind you- telling everyone that it would be safer for everyone if he kept their backs covered.

“How are you feeling?” You asked as quietly as you could in the loud club.

“What?” He asked.

“How are you feeling? With the while Winter Soldier thing? If you don’t think you can handle it we can find another way-”

“It’s fine, Y/n.” He said. “Don’t worry about me.”

Instead of letting it go, you gently placed your hand on his exposed, vibranium arm, causing him to stop in his spot, looking at you.

“Bucky, I’m serious.” You said. “You matter too. If you can’t handle it, I’ll find a way to get the information without all of this, okay? I care about you, Buck. Just say the word.”

He almost couldn't focus on the words coming out of your mouth as he tried to keep his eyes focused on your face, rather than trailing down your body, finally noticing just how short the dress that was adorning your body was. As good as you looked in green, he swore he would kill Zemo once he got what he needed from him for dressing you in that.

As gorgeous as you were, however, your words meant everything to him and he hung on to every single one- no matter what you were saying. Hearing the sentiment that you had for him and that you would stick your neck out for him of all people made him speechless.

Just as he was about to open his mouth however, the two of you began to feel the eyes of other partygoers staring the two of you down. As soon as you noticed, you quickly snatched your hand away from his arm and continued your pace in front of him, Bucky quickly following behind.

“Distracted?” Zemo asked as Bucky stopped beside him at the bar.

Rather than answering, Bucky remained silent, falling into character with the thought of your shared interaction still playing over and over in his mind.

#3

Coughing on his hands and knees, trying to process what had just happened, all Bucky could hear was the obnoxious sound of the alarm blaring. When he opened his eyes again he saw the shipping container now consumed with flames and illuminated with a daunting red light. Recalling what had just occurred, he scrambled to his feet, calling out for you.

“Y/n?” He called. “Y/n!”

When he didn't immediately hear your voice, he began to feel his heart race in his chest. What if something happened to you? What if you were too close to the explosion? He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if something had happened to you. Just as he was beginning to start hyperventilating, the smoke catching in his chest causing him to double over and heave, he felt your hands wrap around either of his biceps.

“Buck?” You asked. “I’m- I’m so sorry. It happened so fast I couldn’t get a forcefield around everyone. Thank God you’re okay. I was so afraid something happened-”

Cutting you off, Bucky shook your hands off of his arms, instead pulling you into his arms. Although you and the super soldier had spent more quality time than you could count together prior to starting this mission, you had never hugged before, but being in his arms you couldn’t find a single complaint, instead silently wrapping your arms tightly around his torso, running your hands up and down his back.

“Hey it’s okay, Buck. I’m okay.” You said. “Let’s go, okay? Before this thing collapses on us.”

After that the two of you had followed Sam and Sharon into the area of shipping containers, taking out hitman by hitman along the way, when you had finally gotten through all of them, you watched as Zemo pulled up in a car besides the four of you.

“Nice ride.” You said as Bucky slipped into the front seat of the vehicle, yourself sliding into one of the seats in the back row.

“Thank you, Y/n.” Zemo replied, patting Bucky on the chest. “She’s a woman of taste.”

Bucky swore to himself for the second time within the past 12 hours that when given the chance he was going to kill the man beside him- with or without his therapist’s approval.

“You’re not going to move your seat up are you?” Sam asked.

“Nope.” Bucky said.

“That’s fine.” Sam conceded. “I guess I’ll just chill back here with Y/n.”

You laughed as Sam laid his arm against headrest of the backseats of the car.

“I’m fine with that.” You said. “Just me and my favorite person.”

Now Bucky knew that you were kidding, only teasing him to get a rise out of him, but glancing at the backseat and seeing Sam’s arm practically around your shoulders and you calling him your favorite person... just didn’t sit right with Bucky. Just as Zemo’s foot was about to hit the gas, Bucky shifted the car into park, swinging the door open and stepping out of the vehicle.

“What-”

“You can have the front.” Bucky said, swinging Sam’s door open.

“It’s really okay, Buck-”

“You said you wanted more space so you can have the front.” He said. “Go sit in the front.”

You watched as Sam turned to you, quirking his eyebrows before shrugging and stepping out of the car, switching to the passenger seat. You almost wanted to laugh as you watched Bucky squeeze into the backseat behind the passenger seat, his knees practically up against his chest.

“You good?” You asked.

Despite the groan that had involuntarily escaped his mouth from the discomfort of the front seat digging into his knees, Bucky nodded, stretching his arm out across the backseat, behind your shoulders.

“I’m great.” He assured you. “Now drive, Zemo.”

Although you didn’t catch it, the two men sitting in the front seat- despite their differences- couldn’t help but throw each other a knowing look before the car took off for their next destination.

#4

“Hey!” Torres called. “I see you got your sleeve back!”

You chuckled as you turned to glance at the man stood beside you. Despite it being a joke, not a single hint of a smile cracked the man’s hard exterior. The only reason he didn’t walk out of the room on the spot was because you were standing beside him.

“He’s just in a bad mood today.” You said, reaching your hand out to shake Torres’. “I’m Y/n.”

Taking your hand and shaking it in his, he furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you doing hanging around these guys?” He asked. “...Not that you can’t handle yourself! Sam just won’t even invite me on these things.”

Pulling your hand away from his, you smiled. “Think you can keep a secret?”

As soon as you asked the question you watched as the confusion written all over his face grew even more and you could hear Sam chuckling in the background.

“I’m Sorceress.” You said. “Like the Avenger? I just try to keep my identity pretty secret, you know?”

As soon as you revealed your identity to him, you watched as the man’s face dropped and he turned to look at Sam who was standing behind him.

“Wait- she’s-” Torres stuttered.

Sam nodded, laughing.

“Yep.” Sam said. “She’s the one you’ve been hounding me about setting you up with.”

Although you weren’t paying attention to him, Bucky had already disliked how the conversation was going- finding Torres to be a little too friendly for his liking and not loving that you exposed your identity to him immediately- but when he heard Sam’s confession, he stiffened in his spot, hands balling into fists at his side.

“What? Dude!” Torres exclaimed, glancing back and forth between you and Sam before finally turning back to you, chuckling nervously. “He's just kidding! I would never have a crush on you- wait! That came out wrong! Not that you’re not pretty because you are- I just think you’re cool-”

You continued laughing as the man stumbling over his words in front of you, finding it endearing until you heard the super soldier scoff beside you. You glanced at him only to see him cross his arms while rolling his eyes before making his way out of the room.

Turning back to Torres you gave him a quick smile, pulling a card out of your pocket. “I have to go, but it was nice to meet you Torres. If these boys get in trouble again, make sure to call me first thing, okay?”

He took the card from your hand, nodding. “Uh yeah- yeah! Of course!”

With that you waved to both him and Sam before following the path Bucky had taken out of the room seconds before.

Seeing his figure pacing across the room, you threw your arms up in the air.

“What’s your problem?” You asked.

Stopping in his spot he turned to face you.

“What?” He said. “I don’t have a problem.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, crossing your arms. 

“Uh yeah. You do.” You said. “Did I do something to piss you off or something? Are you mad at me for coming on the mission? Because I’m sorry if I wanted to help save the world and make sure you guys didn’t get killed in the process.”

Bucky just stopped and stared at you standing across from him with your arms crossed. He hated to admit it, but you look pissed at him. It hurt knowing that you were upset with him, but it hurt a little more knowing that you felt as though he was mad at you when in actuality that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Y/n.” He said, stepping closer to you. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why did you just storm out of the room?” You asked.

He couldn’t think of a reason besides the truth. He could lie and say that he was   mad at you, but that wouldn’t solve the situation for anyone and could possibly strain your relationship farther- and that was the last thing he could possibly want.

The two of you stood there in silence, staring at one another as Bucky attempted to find the words in his head to ease your concern without exposing himself in the process.

But you were never one to back down with him.

“Bucky,” You said. “What’s the problem? What did I do? Why are you so angry-”

“Because I don’t like the way that guy was talking to you!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air.

“What?” You asked. “What are you talking about?”

Bucky realized he was in it now. He couldn’t see a way out of it.

For the past week, Bucky couldn’t help but notice that he cared for you a bit more than friends should. Maybe he always did. He thought back to the times he would eagerly await your weekly lunches or the comfort he felt when you took him furniture shopping after seeing his empty apartment for the first time. He thought back to the times you would show up outside of his door when he was upset because you were the only person he trusted there with him in those intimate moments- he knew that you were more than just his colleague, but he realized now that you were more than his friend.

Recently it became more obvious, the burning in his chest he felt when others became a little too comfortable with you- he attempted to mask it with just wanting to protect you, but he knew you could handle yourself. He was protective over you so he wouldn’t lose you.

Just when you opened your mouth to speak again, he cupped your face in his hands. He watched as your eyes widened, but didn’t make any move to stop him. When he caught your eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips, he pulled you towards him, meeting your lips in the middle.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t kissed anyone in eighty years, but he had never felt the way he had in that moment before. He was so utterly consumed in you- the feeling of your hands reaching for his jacket, tugging him closer as you deepened the kiss, your soft lips against his, your warm breath against his face- he was lost in it.

When you finally pulled away, he didn’t want to let go, but leaned back anyway, staring at his world- you- that he now held in his hands.

“Buck...”

“I think I like you more than a friend.” He confessed.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face at his words. You had always cared for Bucky as more than just your former fellow Avenger, but knowing that he felt the same as you was something you could hardly believe.

“I think I do too.” You laughed, then recalled what you had come in there for in the first place. “James, were you... were you jealous?”

Thinking back over the past week the two of you had spent together on the mission, he could almost laugh at the question you had just asked.

“You’re joking, right?” He chuckled. “Yeah. You could say I was a little bit jealous.”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ahhh i love it!! Here some more Cookies for the peaceful human/witchs HCs!!

Rockstar, Vampire, Werewolf, Cotton, Herb, Fire Spirit, and Wind Archer-!

Rockstar

Although a bit wary at first, he totally vibes with you once you insist you're not evil anymore.

Ofc he doesn't hang out with you very long.

He's got fans to give autographs to (lucky for you, he signs one of your spellbooks) and concerts to play!

He couldn't keep his future audiences waiting. You can understand that.

But as a subtle reference to his encounter with you, he dedicates his next song to cookies who "believe anyone can be good if they tried".

Vampire

Oh? You're a friendly witch? Cool.

He's the most chill about it tbh.

All he's really interested in is your stash of grape juice. Nothing more.

He was dying of thirst (no literally, he snuck in through the window as his bat form just to get a taste of grape).

Most of the day he's just lazing around, watching you bake with no desire to leave anytime soon. And he asks you what it's like being human, getting into a deep discussion about it.

You're amused at how other witches' mistakes result in the creation of interesting cookies.

Werewolf

He hid near your hut after accidentally hurting someone, changing back to normal once they were gone.

But as he laments over his actions, he hears the door open. You spotted him.

Out of instinct he transforms again, though your magic aura calms him enough to change back--which exhausts him and makes him pass out.

Once he awakens, he sees you reading a normal book and wonders why you helped him.

When he questions you, you reassure him you're a good witch. And while skeptical he decides to believe you.

Even a witch like you was nicer than his own kind

Cotton

Lately she's been down on her luck with writing, struggling to find inspiration.

But when she overhears about you, a friendly witch, she grows to admire you (platonically of course) a lot! So she tries writing you sweet letters.

"Most witches are ugly inside and out, but you're not Most Witches...oh no this is bad."

After much trial and error she finally makes an...okay enough letter to send you.

It definitely warms your heart when you receive it, and you know the kind of cookies who'd write these.

So Cotton is shocked when a letter of thanks is sent to her this time.

Herb

When he's cornered by you, he's like "do whatever you want with me but PLEASE don't hurt my plants!!!!!!!"

And he's polite about it...even though he's sweating.

Man just wants to water his flowers in peace, but oddly enough you aren't threatening to eat him or anything.

Instead you ask about his plants and he awkwardly tells you about each one.

When he asks why you're so nice, you just calmly explain you'd like to make peace with the cookies, and talking to a gentleman like him seemed to be a good place to start!

Fire Spirit

He was definitely the most remarkable Cookie to come out of the oven (despite his claims of hailing from Dragon's Valley), being able to use the flames to his advantage.

When he confronts you in hopes of taking your kind down, he's caught off guard when you're just like "okay good luck on your quest, Great Fire Spirit!"

"...that means you, too!! I'm all fired up-!"

"I'm not your enemy. My neighbor, on the other hand..."

He's confused as hell when you speak ill of your fellow witches, but realizes you're serious.

He appreciates your compliment, so he decides not to burn your hut down. And instead burns your neighbor's.

Wind Archer

Witches are the main harbingers of darkness, so it makes sense that he seeks to eliminate your kind.

But to his surprise you have a change of heart, being humane and generous to cookies that you bake.

Even the Cookiemals seem to trust you a lot (they were naïve sometimes but would never be stupid enough to blindly trust their enemy), convincing him to visit you so he could see for himself.

He speaks to you with an abundance of caution, warning you to stay away from the Millennial Tree.

Of course, you promise and wish him luck on his mission.

[kashimos-hajime]

the colour yellow | jjk

summary: “You once said love manifests the most twisted curses. I never thought of it that way before, but I’m starting to think you’re right.”

WARNINGS: ANGST!! hanahaki disease but not an au, HOSPITALS, DEATH, DESCRIPTIONS OF DISEASE, UNHEALTHY WEIGHT LOSS, pining, unrequited love, complicated feelings, its just sad. there are some light-hearted moments, and happier/softer aspects in the ending but it is generally sad in the ‘what could have been’ department pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, past geto suguru x fem!reader, mentions of satosugu word count: 29.9k lmao

a/n: i just needed to get the hanahaki out of my system. it did not work. i took liberties w the timeline because idc about actual jjk canon in this fic thanks. 

playlist for this fic

crossposted on ao3 x

Your Innate Technique always gave you a green thumb. Meaning, similarly enough to Yaga, you could plant cursed energy into objects.

Where it deviated, Satoru knows, is the type of object. Plants—trees, leaves, flowers. 

Ironic, he thinks numbly as he walks through the hospital. Shoko had told him that at this point it was palliative care until you died—nothing else would work. Cursed energy only fed your sickness, and even her technique could not heal the damage fast enough. Stupid. Idiotic. Cruel.

Cruel. That was the word.

He hadn’t seen it himself but from how his old friend had described it, it could only be cruel. 

His footsteps tap along the linoleum floors, urgent, but not too fast. A part of him dreads what he will see—his mind swirls with the possibilities, and of guilt.

Why didn’t he just come sooner? Why did he think it was okay to wait, to dismiss Itadori when he said you’d been checked in for your coughing fits?

“She’s strong. She’ll be fine,” he had said. Itadori’s small frown. “A little feather in her throat isn’t going to knock her down.”

Why? Why? Why? Why did he say that?

Because it had to be serious to put you in the hospital. For fuck’s sake, you were still that teenage girl who stood outside his dorm window in the middle of a thunderstorm to bring Fushiguro a birthday present before you left for a curse expedition a thousand years ago, and the woman who welcomed him into your home unprompted on December 24th, your cheeks dry, lips pressed in a brave smile.

You had held him tight enough he could not see the blood, scrubbed him in a bathtub, ran your fingers through his hair until the sweat and grime was gone. You took care of him because he knows the belief that no one should be left behind to suffer alone has been engrained in you since the day he’s met you.

He should’ve known. A girl abandoned for being cursed had turned into woman with a saviour complex who’d barely even think about telling him you were dying. 

Dying, of all things, from a disease no one knows how to cure. And you’re a sorcerer.

He could’ve laughed. The irony is enough to make him smile.

Your room’s in a tiny corner of the hospital, down the hall from a nurse’s station, and as he walks through, he can see the grey sunlight streaming through the window, glaring against his glasses. He lifts them to rub the heel of his hand into his eye.

He doesn’t want you to worry when you see him, and mostly, he needs to stall. His heart is in knots in his chest, and he spots a chair beside the door with your name in the plastic slate, so he sits down. His knees feel gummy and he leans forward, the visitor’s pass clipped to the front of his shirt hanging. 

Satoru tugs the glasses off his face, fits his palm over his brow and squeezes his eyes shut. It’s chilling in this dead end, and he swallows tightly. Everything tastes so dry as he looks up and shoves his hand underneath the sanitizer dispenser, rubbing it all over his hands just so he has something to do.

After a few minutes, he gets up and sets a hand on the knob. 

It can’t be as bad as he’s imagining. At most, you’re a bit sick, but you’ll still be spritely, warm in the lips and with arms outstretched and, “Satoru, finally!”

He opens the door. 

You’re sitting hunched over in bed. Silhouette outlined by the white-grey sunlight from outside your hospital room, you’re trembling as you hold onto a receptacle. An IV is hooked to your arm, a hospital gown is barely hiding anything, and it feels immoral to even look so Satoru doesn’t. Instead, he pauses by the doorframe and closes his eyes for a moment as your gaze flashes to him. 

He feels it, to be honest. The heat of your stare until it is wrenched away by a violent cough you instinctually muffle by your palm, blood splattering over your hand, soft, velveteen purple petals falling from your lips and into the receptacle in your lap. 

You’re supposed to have a green thumb.

Vines bend to your will if you command it, you can summon forth thorns to impale your opponents, send thick creeping ivy to barricade a doorway. It doesn’t matter if there is no greenery in your immediate area. At the sweep of your hand, the ground could rumble with the sound of trees twisting their gnarled roots into feet to march at your command.

Just as long as they’re within range and you’ve touched them in the past few hours, they’re yours.

So, why can’t you stop this?

Plants are supposed to listen to you, right? As he stares at your shaking body on the bed, curved over the plastic tub, thick globs of bloodied spit drip from your lips and soaked purple blossom petals entwine with your life essence. His heart plummets to his chest. You retch, spit, choke, and every sound stabs him in the chest as he takes a weak step forward, hand stretched out limply.

Your name flutters, barely leaves his lips before you’re looking at him again, a bit of a mortifying image but nonetheless.

Even so, you smile, despite the blood painting your face, the exhaustion morphing your body. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks, and your hands shake around the receptacle. You look battered, bruised along the arms where the needles keeping you filled with antibiotics, medicine you need, had punctured you.

And still, you’re beaming at him. He thinks he’s going to be sick.

“Hi, Satoru.”

His hand falls. Eyes wide, he cannot take another step. You wipe at your lips, tossing the tissue into the trash before pushing the plastic receptacle onto the table and swinging your legs off the bed.

“Don’t—“ he croaks but you don’t listen, sliding your feet into slippers and grabbing your IV stand to take a step towards him. Your knees nearly give in but you stick out a hand before he can rush to catch you. Then, you’re pushing yourself up and walking over to him. It’s more of a shuffle, but Gojo finds he can’t care as you land on his chest, hands pressing into his back.

You’re a bit cold in his arms, and he wraps himself around you, trying to rub the heat back into your skin as you shudder, but your heart is still racing as it always does around him, and you…

You’re the type of person who can shift how the air feels and looks to his Six Eyes with your smile or your tears or your frown, and in that moment, the air bleeds yellow with your joy. It’s so bright in his soul that it makes his heart skip as you shift on your feet against him, hands sliding down so your arms can circle his waist and haul him closer. 

“Gojo Satoru turning off his infinity for little ole me,” you murmur, voice raspy, as he closes his eyes, cradling your head. Without another word, he sinks into you. “Talk about the world ending.”

Why didn’t you just call him? Why did you let him stay away for so long? He doesn’t want to ask why it’s happening, or how. He already knows you’ll just lie. But he wants to know if you think so lowly of him that you thought you didn’t matter to him.

After Suguru…

How could you think that? He’s screaming inside his mind as he touches your back, feels the faint protruding ridges along your skin when he pushes down. It makes your spine a bit more pronounced along the knobs, your shoulder blades a bit bumpy, but otherwise, it’s almost normal. One wouldn’t even be able to tell without touching you and actively searching for it. How could you think I don’t care?

This isn’t the work of a cursed spirit, that much he knows. It seems much more seductive, sneaking yet unhurried in its nature. This is agony in effigy. There’s something rotten inside you, but he can’t tell what it is. The energy is everywhere.

You pull back to look up at him with a soft smile, then tap his nose and tell him to join you before turning around and climbing back into bed with energy that betrays your earlier fits. You grab your robe that you’ve left on your bed before getting up again and walking around, shrugging the fabric back onto your shoulders.

He sits down in a visitor’s chair that is still cold.

“It comes and goes,” you explain first with your new, croaky voice, stretching your arms above your head and rubbing your neck. It doesn’t look painful, but you clear your throat a lot to see if it helps. So far, nothing. “So, it’s just like a really bad coughing fit, to be honest.”

“How long has it been going on?” Your hip cracks and you let out a relieved sigh. Satoru arches an eyebrow as you animatedly stretch your face. “What are you doing, silly?”

“It got worse a few weeks ago, enough that Nanami insisted I check myself in around two weeks ago?” you say, after counting on your fingers. Satoru’s heart plummets. “But it’s levelled out since I’ve been moved here and off-campus. And I’m stretching. When I get back out there, I have to remember how to emote.” You flash him a bedazzling grin and a bit of the weight lifts off his shoulders as you swallow down another cough. This time, it’s successful and you only let out a short, raspy breath before shaking it out.

You aren’t even doing that bad. 

The blood, the flowers, that must’ve been just a bad bout, but otherwise, you seem quite normal.

That’s what he tells himself, and he believes it.

With relief, he stretches out his legs, leaning his head back on his hands. Your room’s pretty nice—much nicer than an average hospital room. Plants on the windowsills, some get-well-soon cards and a desk in the corner filled books that you look like you haven’t even begun to read, some paintings hanging off the walls. 

You wave a hand to grab his attention again.

“Don’t look,” you chastise, tying the robe around your waist. “Some of these are works in progress.”

“So Itadori and Shoko were just exaggerating,” he assumes. You look up at him, quirking an eyebrow. “If you’re attempting to paint, I know all that’s happened is that you’ve lost your mind.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, they made it out as if you were dying. If it’s just a lung issue, they could probably just fix it and we can get back to exorcising curses and making fun of Fushiguro’s teen angst,” he says, crossing his legs at the ankles. You step over them to go to the window and examine your plants, and he eyes you in his peripheral, watching you inspect one of the leaves before looking next at some blooming flowers. You don’t answer, and the grey light makes you look melancholy until you shrug.

“The doctors say I need to rest, save my strength and all that,” you finally say vaguely. “And don’t make fun of Fushiguro.”

“I’d never do that.”

You tilt your head and arch an eyebrow skeptically before flicking his forehead with a sharp donk. “I’m not above slapping the shit out of you.” He opens his mouth to argue and you hold up a finger, shutting him up. “And you can’t hit back as revenge. Ill hospital patient rights.”

“You can’t take the moral stand. Vengeance has no gender bias,” he exclaims, sitting up but you merely smirk, leaning over and shoving your face into his space before turning your head to present your cheek. His eyes widen as you poke your own face tauntingly.

“Do it, then.”

Gawking for a moment, Satoru stares but you only wink and he pushes you away lightly. You stumble a bit and he jumps to his feet to catch you but you manage to right yourself up, shooting him a foul glare. He glares back in response.

“Well, obviously, I wasn’t going to actually slap you,” he says, indignant.

“So you pushed me instead? Gojo, in your words, you are the strongest. You never know how to control the strength you push out.”

“Yes, I do!”

“One time, you patted Megumi on the back and you sent him into the pavement.”

“He was nine.”

“It still happened!” you cry, although an impish smile is already curling at your lips and it isn’t long before it spreads to Satoru, warm bright yellow and enough that it absolves any of the remaining pain in his body as you straighten up, holding onto your IV stand for support. The metal rattles a bit as the wheels roll. Your feet brush the ground. You lift your head up wretchedly.

It’s almost like that weakness sobers you.

The expression that overtakes you frightens Satoru to fucking death. 

His face feels like it numbs, staring at the darkness that seeps the light away. You stare at the metal pole your fingers are wrapped so tightly around, and then you look at the bag hanging there, clear and round and soft to your touch as you straighten up.

“Satoru,” you say softly.

“Yeah?” His voice is so quiet he’s not sure he even speaks. He can’t remember the last time you had looked so dispassionate at anything in his life. Even death had left its mark—black frowns, long streaks underneath your eyes.

Your apathy is dark purple, an endless void colour. 

“When I die, make sure Shoko’s the one who cuts me open to find out what’s wrong with me.”

Something prickles at his fingertips. He touches your shoulder and half-thinks his fingers will go right through you.

“You’re not going to die,” he insists firmly. “It’s just a bad cough.” You look up at him and blink. Then you touch your lips and shudder down another cough.

“We all die.”

“It’s not your time, yet.” His fingers dig into your shoulder. You don’t even wince even though you’re clenching his jaw but he can’t find it in himself to loosen his hold. It feels like the Jaws of Death. A crocodile’s bite.

So much for not being able to control his own power.

“It’s just a bad cough.” He ignores everything Shoko had said. Sometimes she’s wrong—sometimes, it’s not even that bad. He’d just seen it, hadn’t he? You were stretching, jumping onto your bed, acting like nothing was wrong.

Palliative care? As if you needed it—

You blink, then, and look at him. Stare at him as if you’d never said those words, and he had never reached out. 

You jerk your shoulder out of his grip. It stings more than it should.

“Right. But I’m just saying. You know how you always say I’ve got a few screws loose. It just makes sense someone will wanna crack me open to see what was going on up there and I want it to be her.” 

You smile, and the yellow cancels out the purple. 

Colour theory. 

But Satoru doesn’t smile back.

“What about the flowers?” he asks after a while. You’ve climbed back onto bed and he’s sat back down. You’re blowing into a spirometer, and every time, without fail, the ball shoots up to the top, clattering against the plastic. He watches, hoping that the next time, it’ll do the same thing again.

You stop and look at him. “What about them?”

“Is it some optical illusion? Why are they in your throat?”

“That’s a harder nut to crack,” you muse. “I don’t really know. It’s like when you’ve got food in your esophagus and you’re trying to cough it up so it doesn’t feel stuck anymore except it keeps building up. That only started a few days ago, though, so maybe, someone drugged me or something.” He doesn’t laugh and you frown. “Not funny?”

He shakes his head. “It’s freaky.”

.

He sits on the bench on campus. 

He’s cancelled classes because he didn’t come up with a standard lesson plan and his students are glad to have a Monday afternoon off, even if they’d never say it to his face. In truth, he’d spent the whole weekend at the hospital until he reeked of antiseptic and pollen. 

You coughed up five petals, and without fail, a nurse would come in hourly intervals to collect them. Shoko came once, to check up on you and to collect the samples. If she was surprised Satoru was sitting in the corner on his phone, she didn’t voice it.

“She’s not even doing that bad,” he says to the air, more accusatory than anything. The woman standing by him doesn’t answer and sits down beside him uninvited. Turning to look at her, his eyes narrow behind his blindfold. “You said she needed palliative care until she died. The doctor said she could leave tonight.”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive concepts,” she informs, not looking at him. Shoko looks a bit out of place in the warm colours of the garden. Half a corpse herself. Waif-like. “The doctor’s letting her relax in the comfort of her own home before she dies. That’s all.”

“She’s not going to die.”

She snorts. “Denial isn’t a good colour on you.” The words could’ve been delivered colder. Satoru is grateful that they weren’t. 

Shoko rests her hands on her knees, tilts her head up, and sighs. Her long hair is like warm chocolate in the sunlight, spilling down her arched back from the knot she tied. “If you have any idea on how to fix this, I’m listening with both ears.”

“I don’t even know what it is,” he says. “Coughing and flowers? I’ve never heard of a sickness like that before.”

“Nanami pointed out that it could be a curse someone placed on her. I don’t know why, but it’d be an explanation.” Satoru spreads his legs, plants an elbow on his knee and leans forward to look at the ants travelling along the cobblestone before his shoe. “It manifested on some negative emotion lingering inside her and it’s growing every day, but she won’t budge.” Shoko sighs. Her purple eye bags look worse in the sunlight, but he would never tell her that. “Maybe you’d have a better chance digging into her. With Geto gone, there’s no one else to ask, is there?”

“What about you? What happened to girls and their little secrets?” he jokes, trying to ignore the ache that begins to bloom in his chest. Shoko eyes him wryly.

“I have suspicions, but there are some things girls don’t ask other girls,” she retorts. “It’s never been my business anyway. My job is to treat her, and I’ve given her options. It’s up to her to take them. Grief is a birthing ground for curses, and if she’s letting them feed on her freely, you know what fate is waiting for her.”

With that, she gets up and leaves as quickly as she arrived. Satoru swallows the smell of flowers and feels sick.

.

Monday night, Satoru pulls up his laptop and looks through, searching up words he can string together in a coherent sense to get the answers he wants. As rare as it probably is, some research wouldn’t hurt, would it? Some curses had a trademark affliction—maybe this one does, too.

So he searches up flower coughing to see if there has ever been a record of strange deaths that have made the news. If not, he’ll go to the jujutsu databases, but for now, maybe some publicity could put some answers to this question.

He is surprised when one of the first results is flower coughing disease. 

When he hits enter, the white screen blasts into blue irises with numerous results all repeating the same two words.

HANAHAKI DISEASE

And Satoru reads, and reads, and reads. He reads two weeks to three months, he reads unrequited love, and removal, and disappearance of romantic feelings and capacity for romantic love.

He reads fictional disease and wonders how much of it really is fictional. 

His phone pings with a text, and he grabs at it, tilts it just enough to get a glimpse of the screen. It’s from you, and he hasn’t read a text from you in so long he almost doesn’t recognize who it’s from except he does because… who else could it be?

[Greenbean] 11:02 PM

hey!!! guess whos finally fucking free oh my god

ugh out of the hospital and forgot how actual air smelled like lol bitch im so hungry i could eat a zoo

Letting his phone clatter, he sighs and rubs his face roughy, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before snapping his laptop shut and getting up. His phone buzzes again and he reaches for it blindly, the screen lighting up as he goes to bed.

[Greenbean] 11:03 PM

we should get smth to eat!! i wanna go to that new ramen place in ikebukoro

[Satoru] 11:03 PM

fine but you good???? who picked you up from the hospital? still insulted you didnt let me tbh

also what did the doctor say???

[Greenbean] 11:04 PM

bc ur a menace who doesnt know how to drive 

he said itd get worse before itd get better so still gotta go for checkups but yeah dont worry and nanami came bc he didnt trust me not to try and walk home lol but he did buy me dinner

wasnt enough though!!!

…

[Greenbean] 11:06 PM

ok but fr does he think im insane

clearly id flash some skin and hitch a ride duh

…

[Greenbean] 11:10 PM

youre just gonna leave me on read? yikes

[Satoru] 11:12 PM

i was getting ready to sleep silly

and yeah ill come pick you up on saturday for lunch?

[Greenbean] 11:15 PM

sorry making instant noodles rn but yeah that sounds fine

wait youre sleeping so early lmfao

[Satoru] 11:16 PM

im old :/

  [Greenbean] 11:18 PM

u sure are

(image sent)

look!!! my babies are still alive!!! idk how but miracles do exist im tellin ya

[Satoru] 11:24 PM

inumaki, maki, and fushiguro broke into ur home to water them but dont tell them i told u

[Greenbean] 11:24 PM

wtf

[Satoru] 11:25 PM

yeah idk when but i think u teaching inumaki how to pick locks has opened up too many possibilities but also its really funny thanks

now go to sleep u need to rest

[Greenbean] 11:28 PM

whos gonna make me lol youre not my dad

[Satoru] 11:29 PM

lol 

remember how i can teleport 

lol so cool

[Greenbean] 11:30 PM

dude

wtf

fine 

goodnight hoe </3

[Satoru] 11:31 PM

goodnight knock off poison ivy <3

.

“You’ve looked better,” Shoko says. Satoru raises his head wearily as he pushes off the wall. Shoko’s holding a cup of coffee, her lab coat fresh on her shoulders and eye bags looking more printed on rather than natural swelling. Satoru can’t help but feel the same exhaustion. “Definitely looked worse. What do you want? It’s early.”

“Have you ever heard of Hanahaki disease?” he asks. She shakes her head, and he pulls up the page on his phone and hands it to her. She takes it from him and her eyes scan the screen as he continues, “It’s this fictional disease, something that stems from unrequited love, and I think it could be related to whatever she’s experiencing.”

“I thought you were set on willing her to survive,” she replies dryly, shooting him a quick look and adjusting the coffee in her hand. “But this is definitely one of your stranger theories.”

Satoru ignores that last part. “It’d make sense. With her Cursed Technique, maybe it manifested in a way that links to it.”

She pushes into the office, setting the coffee on her desk and sitting down. Satoru sits down on the exam table closest and leans forward eagerly as she continues to read the page, scrolling down occasionally before scrolling back up and sighing. “This is a stretch. The timeline doesn’t match up to what this is saying.”

“This is a curse. It doesn’t have to follow fiction.” His body feels sore, janky even, everywhere. He barely got a wink of sleep last night and he knows he’s paying for it, now. “Hell knows life rarely does, anyway. But the symptoms matches too well, doesn’t it? The flowers—you’ve done scans, haven’t you?”

She deliberates his words carefully as she looks to the file cabinet and pulls out a binder. Satoru catches a flash of your name on the spine before she moves her coffee and his phone out of the way to flip it open.

“The scans we’ve taken have only just begun to show small growths in her trachea,” she allows, “and we don’t fully understand how cursed energy affects our bodies, so I suppose it could be something like Hanahaki, if the negative energy stemming from December 24th was what brought this on or if these symptoms started when we were still students, but she’s been experiencing shortness of breath a few months before Christmas.” Satoru’s lungs squeeze the last of the air out of them at that, and a cold sweat drops down his spine as she hands his phone back to him. “It only started getting worse Suguru’s death, which meant there had to have been a trigger before that.”

In the back of his head, he hears your voice, light and yellow, saying a few weeks. It got worse a few weeks ago. 

“Worse?”

“The first petal fell some time after Christmas. It’s been a slow, but steady progression since then. Sometimes, it’s two or three. When it’s not a good day, there can be as many as seven to ten.” Shoko switches on the lamp on the corner of her desk and adjusting the direction of the white light before flipping the page. “But if we can find the original trigger and alleviate that pressure it’s putting on her, we could buy her more time.”

“So it’s been nearly six months since the first petal,” he says. Shoko nods. Satoru is grateful for the blindfold—she can’t see how blank everything looks on his face. “It said sometimes, the disease can last for eighteen months.”

“As you said, this isn’t a fairytale.” She half-spins on her chair to face him and leans back into it, crossing one leg over the other and jiggling her knee. “I saw that one of the solutions is excise the growths at the cost of the attachment. That was one of the options I gave her when the growths first appeared. She said she wanted more time before she could decide.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Because she’s smart, and likes to push her damned limits. And if this is truly the basis of the curse”—she gestures to Satoru’s phone. Her expression flickers—“those flowers are feeding off cursed energy. Cutting them out would remove those negative emotions, but at a cost of something else. Maybe whatever feelings she has regarding the trigger.”

Satoru looks down at his phone. It feels heavier than a thousand cinderblocks in his clammy hands. His fingers are numb as his screen dims and finally locks itself. Pressing the button, it illuminates again to reveal a picture of a cactus you gave him for his birthday years ago, blooming with delicate purple petals. 

His heart rends. That cactus is long dead now.

“But, Suguru’s dead.” 

“That’s why I asked you to ask her,” Shoko mutters. 

Turning to her binder again, she picks up a pen and clicks it, lowering it to the paper before pausing, and Satoru looks up as she stares at whatever words are printed into the page distantly. A strange affliction is on her face, almost tormented, and Satoru is not-so-kindly reminded that before Suguru and Satoru, Shoko was your best friend first. 

“Tell her how idiotic she’s being,” she enforces quietly. “The longer it lives, the more permanent damage is inflicted. With the unpredictable nature of curses, that won’t take long and by then, it’ll be too late to consider removing it.”

.

Saturday comes too fast, yet not fast enough. By the end of the week, Satoru is all but finished with teaching, and is waiting outside your apartment, leaning against the car as he scrolls through his phone. He’s done a bit more research on this Hanahaki disease, but even the word makes him shiver with the implications. 

“Satoru!” Turning, he catches you loping easily towards him. You’re dressed in billowy, wide-legged dark mint green pants and a pretty white top that makes you look more nymph than human, with a canvas tote bag hanging off your shoulder. You flash him a smile as you fiddle with the fabric tie at the waistband of your pants nervously. “Hi.”

“Hey. Hope you don’t mind I brought Ijichi along for the ride since someone claims I can’t drive.”

“You don’t have your license, sir,” Ijichi says wearily as you bend over to wave through the window. "It would be illegal for you to be on the road in any capacity—oh, hello, ma’am. It’s nice to see you doing so well.”

“Thanks, Ijichi. I think I’m doing better after getting out of there,” you say as Satoru opens the car door for you and he smirks, eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses. You straighten up, looking at him before poking his chest and it’s almost just like the good ole days as you break out into a grin that crinkles your entire face. “What’s with you being a gentleman? It better not be because I was in the hospital.”

“Of course not,” he admonishes. “I wouldn’t dare dream of being polite to you of all people.” Still, he sidesteps and sweeps his arm, gesturing for you to climb in first which you do, exhaling a bit shakily as you settle in and slide over. By the time he’s settled in beside you, you have a fist over your lips and you’re clearing your throat testily.

A worm of unease wriggles into his stomach as he clips in his seatbelt, pulling the lapels of his unbuttoned green shirt free from the strap. Legs spreading, he lets his hands fold in his lap as Ijichi begins to drive them to their destination. You’ve lowered your hand by now, looking out the window, and it’s not bright enough that Satoru can read your expression on the glass.

It’s clear you don’t want to talk about it, but still, that nagging feeling bites at him as he rolls the divider up between the backseat and the front—a mock of privacy.

“The place we’re going to gives me the same vibe as that family-owned restaurant we went to when we were students. The one in Kagurazaka,” you say after a while, turning back to look at him. You’re wearing a bracelet that jangles when you move your hand to adjust the seatbelt across your chest. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Have you been?”

“One time, before I checked in,” you tell him, smiling still. “It was really good. The perfect last meal.” Satoru does well enough to hide his frown at your choice of words as you meet his eyes. “You know, you can ask. I’m not fragile.”

“I don’t have anything to ask,” he lies. “I’m just glad you’re out of the hospital.”

“Me, too. I’ve missed so much and it drove me insane. Yaga-sensei insists that I don’t work until I’m sure I’m feeling better,” you add. “But to be honest, there’s nothing much that can be done to make me feel better.”

“I see. So you’re still coughing up flowers?”

“Petals,” you correct, “and a bit. Don’t worry. It’ll get better soon.” You wave a hand and turn to look out the window and Satoru’s appetite all but vanishes. He doesn’t know why you’re so intent on lying to him about the severity of your condition, but as your knee jiggles relentlessly the whole car ride with unbridled excitement, he wonders if you’re even aware of how sick you could be. 

His Six Eyes scan your body for signs of a curse. Normally, those plagued have their little burdens hanging off their shoulders, prying their head open, biting into an arm or leg, but he finds yours lives inside your chest, just barely hidden by the yellow light brimming from your body as you reach forward to lower the divider and talk to Ijichi.

They reach Ikebukuro before they’re dropped off after Satoru insists on walking the rest of the way.

“Give us some privacy, Ijichi! We both know you’ll just eavesdrop for the juicy details,” he exclaims loudly, leading to the man to blush furiously, stuttering that he’d do no such thing, and earning Satoru a smack on the back of his head, knocking his sunglasses askew.

“Thanks for the ride, Ijichi,” you say warmly as if you hadn’t slapped a concussion into Satoru. The Assistant Director dips his head. “See you later!” With that, he drives off and the two sorcerers are left in the busy street. Satoru looks around curiously, but you tug him along up the main road of the district and immediately turn right into one of the smaller streets. A few cyclists race past, as well as cars, but the traffic seems relatively slow despite it being the weekend. There are people walking along the white lines separating the lanes, chatting merrily as you lead him to the restaurant.

“I forgot how actual sunlight felt,” you sigh, stretching your arms high above your head as if to touch the wind breezing through. Inhaling deeply, you close your eyes. Satoru waits for you to begin to cough, and you hold it in, throat tensing a bit. 

He looks away, and pretends he doesn’t hear your sharp exhale, the soft cough you try to muffle with your hand. Instead, he looks at their surroundings, traces the green roads, watches a man park his bicycle and take the plastic bags out of the basket before rushing into a store. The air smells faintly of smoke, and Satoru waves in front of his face to see if it’ll help dispel the scent, but it’s so engrained with the hint of meat, honey, sweets, and flowers, that he can’t.

“I saw Suguru here once,” you tell him suddenly. He blinks, head snapping to you, and you’re already regarding him with a faint smile, eyes a bit dimmer. The warm yellow energy has faded to a burnt orange as you look ahead. “A year or two after he left. It’s why I moved closer a few years ago. I guess I had this weird hope that I’d see him again, but I never really did.” A faint grin graces your lips again, as if you’re not even aware you’re smiling. Fondness overtakes you. “I think about him a lot these days.”

“Me, too.”

“Of course,” you chuckle a bit, rubbing at the back of your neck. “I’m being insensitive.” 

“No, you’re not. He meant a lot to you, too. I don’t own him, or his memory.”

“I know, but he was still your best friend.” Unbidden, a voice in Satoru’s voice finishes it for you. My one and only. 

“Did you guys talk about anything?”

“Not really anything important,” you say, shrugging, but by the way your eyes shift in the light, glimmer differently, he knows you’re lying. He knows it’s none of his business, but a part of him hungers for new parts of Suguru and it’s powerful enough to take control of his tongue.

“Nothing’s not important. He was a wanted criminal.”

“I think we both know somehow that part never mattered to us.” You look at him, and run a thumb under the strap of your bag. “To any of us. But…” You tilt your head to him and your smile grows tender. “…since you asked, we talked about us. He told me about what he wanted, the kind of world he was determined to create. He paid for my dinner, kissed me goodnight like it was normal, and then he was gone. Never saw him again until last December.”

It shouldn’t sting as much as it does. 

He remembers that day ten years ago in Shinjuku. The coldness in which Suguru had looked at him. He can’t imagine that same poison directed at you. He couldn’t even imagine Suguru looking at him like that in the first place until he did.

“Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest?”

“I used to have nightmares about it,” you continue distantly. “Because I could’ve left with him, but I didn’t. And I could’ve killed him, but I didn’t do that either.”

“If you want to kill me, kill me. There’s meaning in that, too.”

Satoru’s chest tightens. His heart feels rotten to the core. “I didn’t, either, until I did.” You smile a bit more, at the irony. “Would you? Have gone with him, that is.”

“I didn’t, so what’s the point in debating it?” you ask before shrugging thoughtlessly and answering anyway. “I think tackling curses at the source is important. I just didn’t like the way he was doing it. If I thought I could somehow change his mind, just a bit, on his methods, maybe, but by then, he was too far gone.” 

Your eyes, chips of glinting sunstone, mellow as a cyclist trills at them with a bell to get out of the way. You step out of the way, away from Satoru for a moment, before returning to him, and when the back of his hand brushes yours, he’s startled at how cold your skin is. 

Satoru is quiet as he absorbs all of this. He doesn’t really know what to say, and you don’t prod him for a reaction as they turn the corner again. 

“It’s just over there,” you say, pointing to a small restaurant, people milling by the door. There’s a sign hanging over the door, off-white with black kanji painted on and your arm falls. “There’s a line. Huh.”

“We can wait,” Satoru says when they stop at the edge of the crowd. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay. I’ll go put our names in then come back.” You disappear into the crowd for a moment before resurfacing and joining his side again, something in your hand. “It should be, like, fifteen minutes. I said the bar was okay.”

“That’s fine.” Shoving his sunglasses up into his hair, he cracks his knuckles and migrates to the wall. You follow, and he slouches against the concrete pillar. You adjust the tote bag against your body and lean against the other side just around the corner. Their elbows brush, and you tilt your head to look at him, smiling. Your face has caught the sun perfectly, and Satoru can’t help but smile back.

He wonders how to bring up this Hanahaki disease theory. You look so perfect, so happy in this moment where their eyes meet, that he can’t bring it up. Maybe it’s selfish, but it feels like it’s been so long since the two of them even managed to see each other for more than an hour. With how overworked jujutsu sorcerers are, it’s hard to recall the last time they both had downtime at the same time that wasn’t spent catching up on sleep.

You look away, shoulders shaking, as if that’s enough to hide your coughing, and he thinks, Later. There’ll be time for that later.

“Here’s the menu,” you tell him once you’ve calmed down, extending your hand. He takes the paper, unfolding it as you cross your arms and tilt your head back on the concrete. Reading down the list, he keeps an eye on you out of the corner of his vision, and your fingers play at your lips as you swallow. Reaching into your bag, you twist the cap of a water bottle and chug half of it down.

“Do you have any medicine? For your coughing?” he asks casually. You hit your chest with a firm fist, clearing your throat and looking at him in surprise. The water bottle returns to your bag.

“Oh, uh, no. It doesn’t work. Just gotta keep hydrated and avoid any possible triggers,” you inform. You turn up the street as you speak, crossing your legs at the ankles and sinking against the concrete. 

“And what are those triggers?”

“And you say Ijichi is the one digging for gossip,” you snort with short, choked huff. Satoru rolls his eyes, but keeps looking at the menu. “Don’t worry about it. I’m avoiding them.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“If I wanted your dry wit, I would’ve gone to the original.”

“I don’t copy off Shoko. I take bits of everyone’s personality and twist it to make it my own.”

You shake your head. “Whatever you say.”

Your name is called a few minutes later and the pair push off the concrete pillar, heading through the crowd and into the small restaurant. It’s not too dimly lit, a bunch of natural light from the street streaming in through the open windows, and the air is rich with the smells of the kitchen as they sit down at the bar.

It’s not long before they’ve ordered, and Satoru has gone through his first bowl and is well into pouring his second into what remains of his broth before he remembers to even check up on how you’re doing. You’d been right—he loves this place. The atmosphere isn’t overly loud, but the mumbling of nearby patrons is enough to make him feel like he isn’t quite alone. It’s sheltered away from the world, and although he’s used to girls staring, no one has gone up to him which is giving him time to his own thoughts and food. Everyone here seems to mind their business—everyone likes to stay in their own bubble. 

Here, he isn’t the strongest, or quite so special. It honestly feels kind of nice.

You’re sipping on your broth, tilting the spoon towards your mouth and your lips are pulled into the warmest smile he’s seen since they were kids. The light’s hitting you just perfect again, more cool than warm, but it’s got you on the cheekbone, illuminated your lips. Satoru wonders if you know how to manipulate light, or if that’s just your natural blessing as you tilt your head towards him, eyes squinting from your own joy.

For a moment, another image flashes in his head. Him along the end of their group of four—you and Shoko, Suguru and Satoru. It’s almost poetry how much of a glimpse he can see in your smile. You would always be laughing, and Suguru’s cheeks would always be red, and Shoko would charm the guy over the counter to hand over a bottle of shochu. Satoru would tease his stupid best friend, and pay for their meal because “I’m friends with a bunch of goddamn freeloaders.”

But that moment ends as quickly as it came, and it’s so fucking heartbreaking that Satoru never thought their last meal together would be their last meal together. He would’ve cherished it more—done anything to make them stay in that ramen shop in Kagurazaka.

“Do you like it here?” you ask. 

He blinks. You’re studying him behind that smile of yours. Watching. Always watching. “It reminds me of when we were kids,” he replies. When he realizes that didn’t answer the question, he adds, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

You grin, delighted. “If I knew how stupid you’d look sucking up these noodles, I would’ve brought my camera like when we were students. I still have it, you know.”

“Next time, then.”

“Yeah, next time.”

Satoru pays. He insists despite your protests, and snatches the bill from you anyway, swiping his card as quickly as he can. 

After, they walk slowly around the district, looking at the other restaurants and stores for desserts or souvenirs to bring back, and it makes him so nostalgic, his heart wilts a bit in his chest. 

He is saying something about buying some soymilk for Megumi when you stop suddenly, deviating to the side of the road to cough. It grows so intense so quickly that your eyes widen as if you’re surprised, too, and you place a palm flat against your chest as he comes to your side. You wave him back, and he frowns, running a hand down your back as you finally manage to dislodge the petals in your throat and spit them into your palm.

Satoru sighs, staring at the cursed things. The energy emitted from the petals are raw, potent, and his nose wrinkles at the stench that comes from powerful curses as he softly asks, “Do you know what Hanahaki is?”

“Flower vomiting?” you whisper through your raw vocal cords. You shake your head, slamming your sternum with a tight fist and flinging the drenched petals to the ground with a wet slap. “Itadori… said something about it, once. Never really paid attention, I—”

Satoru squeezes the back of your neck gently. “Whatever this curse is, it could be something like that.“

“You don’t want to open that can of worms, Gojo, of what is causing this.” Straightening up, your eyes widen and your cheeks puff up as you choke down another bout. Wobbly, you spit out, “It’s under control. I swear.”

“Are you sure?” His fingers brush your chin to turn your face towards him so he can look at it more clearly, and the instant their eyes meet, you lurch over, slapping his hand away and succumbing to the wracking. Hands shooting out to grab your elbows, Satoru barely eases you to the ground as your legs give in.

You collapse to your knees, hard. A hand is slapped over your mouth but your whole body shakes with the seizing of your lungs. Eyes widening, your cheeks puff up as Satoru grabs your shoulders, falling to his knees beside you.

“Hey! Hey, breathe!” His fingers dig into your shoulders and your nostrils flare, trying to follow his instructions. Bloodshot eyes and blueing lips, your inhales are shaking and incomplete, gasps for air that do not take in any oxygen before you’re kneeling over, hand falling from your lips. Blood splattered over your palm, you let out a low noise of pain. Satoru’s hand glides down your spine, rubbing in soothing circles as red spit falls to the pavement in thick globs. 

People all around stop to stare, eyes masked with concern, but he can’t care less at that moment despite the burning scrutiny. He shoves a hand into his pocket, speed-dialling one of the top numbers of his list.

“Ijichi, I need you to take us to the hospital, now!” Letting his phone drop with a clatter, he scoops you close but you slam your bloody hand against his chest, pushing him away. You throw yourself away, hands twisted tight in the fabric of your white shirt and Satoru looks down at the red handprint on his tee before blinking. “What are you doing? We need to get—“

“I’m—I’m fine!” Your voice, broken, is drenched with ice as you continue to wheeze, grasping at your chest as if you could reach and tear out the growths with your own hand. “Gojo, I’m fine!”

“No, you’re not!” Grabbing his phone, he hears a loud car horn, and looks up to see Ijichi leaning out of the driver’s seat, waving his arm frantically. Without another thought, he scoops you up and runs out into the street, ignoring the tires screeching, the cars horns blaring at him and the angry shouts as he jumps into the car and slam the door shut. 

Ijichi sets off at a drive, no directions needed. Satoru is sure he’s breaking as many laws as he can as he pushes you back against the seat to buckle you in. Blood dribbles down your lips in bubbles as a thick, gurgling sound begins to grow in your throat and he wipes at your chin with his sleeve, clicking the buckle into place just as you pitch forward. He jerks back just in time as you retch, and, slowly, torturously, you gag out three petals, one after another. Your fingers claw at your own throat, panicking and desperate as you struggle to breathe.

The petals fall in wet pools between your feet, landing on the carpet, and he spares them not even a glance before forcing your head between your knees. You’re still hyperventilating and as Satoru sweeps a hand down your back and up to your neck, his fingers come into contact with something sticky. 

Sweat. It drenches through your shirt so suddenly that Satoru reels at the wet marks spreading through your shirt, making the fabric translucent. Your heart is racing, tripping over itself. When you finally stop coughing, you breathe in harsh pants as he keeps your head between your knees.

Your fingers lace at the back of your head and he grabs them firmly, reassuring that he’s still beside you. 

.

“She’s stable,” Shoko announces to the waiting Satoru and six students. The latter came when their teacher had told them of what happened, and Itadori still clings to Fushiguro’s arm by an iron hand, fingers clawlike into his friend’s bicep. Kugisaki chews on her thumbnail, a bit paler than usual and there are crescent indents along her forearm where she had dug her nails in. Maki’s hand rests on her shoulder. Inumaki’s on the phone with Panda, and he turns the screen around so he can see the Strongest Sorcerer who does not feel quite so strong.

Satoru’s assurances that you would be fine had done nothing but send them into a quiet that scared even him. 

“Is she okay? When can she get out?” the kids demand suddenly.

“We’re waiting for the updates on her scans from the doctors, but she’ll need to stay here under observation.”

Satoru runs a hand through his hair, smiling in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Guess that means she gets a few more days off while the rest of us are working our asses off,” he teases. Maki shoots him a glare and his eyes close in a way he hopes arranges his expression in one of joy as he shrugs helplessly. “Well, that means I have another girl I have to spoil.”

“Aren’t you too busy with the four already blowing up your phone?” Kugisaki mutters sourly. Satoru pretends not to hear. His phone has been silent without your texts, and it’s cold and heavy in his pocket.

“Can we see her?” Fushiguro asks. Shoko nods, but holds up a hand and the kids skid to a stop.

“She’s resting. I’m unsure if you know, but certain topics of conversation or trains of thought can lead to more attacks, so stick to talking about your curriculum. Topics you think are safe.” The woman shifts on her feet, a wisp of brown hair swaying in front of her eye. “It’s unavoidable, but use your judgement.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The students walk off down to the dead-end hallway, and Satoru turns to Shoko who has her arms crossed over her chest. She steps up, scanning him like he’s got contraband, and he raises his eyebrows innocently.

“What?”

“It’s getting worse. I hope you managed to get answers,” she says. At once, Satoru’s facade drops, and a sober sensation overtakes his face.

“No, I didn’t. She’s heard of the disease, at least. We talked about Suguru, but it wasn’t like it was under lock and key.” The brunette shakes her head at his words, gesturing for him to sit down beside her. Doing so, he leans back into the uncomfortable chair as she crosses a leg over the other. “She said she thinks about him a lot.”

“She still loves him,” Shoko says bluntly. “She gets that far-off look when she talks about him. You two should trade secrets some time.” A shake of her head, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I healed what damage I could, but I can tell those growths inside are expanding. The attack only seems to have agitated and prompted them to take root.”

“How…” It’s hard to formulate the question. Luckily, Shoko knows him well enough.

“Without seeing the scans, I won’t know. Based on her last ones, I thought at least four months. Now?” Her lips press into a thin line. “She’ll be lucky if she gets two.” Shoko’s eyes flicker down Satoru’s front, and her lips press into a wry line. “And change you shirt. You look like a murder suspect.”

Glancing down, he looks at your dried bloody hand print, stark against white, and he gets up abruptly. Shoko doesn’t stop him.

He walks down to the dead-end hall. He can hear Itadori through your open door cracking jokes, Kugisaki relaying every detail of her shopping trips, and you’re wheezing your laughter despite Maki scolding you to save your strength. Satoru stops just outside your door, out of sight, and rests his head against the frame, content to just listen.

“Tuna mayo.”

“Is that right?” you ask Inumaki. “Lay it on me.” 

You sound exhausted, beaten to the bone, but still, when Fushiguro says something too quiet for him to make out, you still have the strength to tease him for worrying.

.

The night is warm, and he sets the last plant back into its place on your window sill before cracking the window a bit at your request. He’s busied himself making this place as homely as possible as quickly as possible, and in the process, had walked in on you staring at your own scans on the lightscreen mounted on your wall.

“Thanks, Satoru,” you say over your shoulder. He joins you by your side to stare at the scans. Granted, Satoru didn’t cheat his way through medschool like others have, so he doesn’t understand much, but he can tell what is and what isn’t supposed to be there. The floral-like growths situated right where the main bronchi meet the trachea, for one.

The roots spreading across your chest like cracks in concrete, for another.

“The doctors want to monitor this,” you explain, pointing at the roots, “to see whether or not it’ll grow around my lungs or continue outward, around the ribs and spine. If it’s the former, I’ll slowly suffocate and die. If it’s the latter, I’ll slowly suffocate, become paralyzed, and die.” You smile grimly. “Not quite a win-win.”

“Exactly the opposite.” He inspects the growths and through the blue-white-black imaging, he spots the tiny stems emerging from the main growth, sprouting into your lungs. He guesses, with time, those will grow into flowers of equal size before sprouting more shoots.

He wonders…

As if sensing his hesitance, you scratch your collarbone and look at the scans with a new glint.

“The doctors say if I avoid another attack like today, I’ll probably have two months, three if I’m blessed, but because of how big the growths have gotten already and its volatile nature, it’ll be impossible, so we’re looking at a month. Maybe a month-and-a-half?” You smile at him, throat bobbing. “Guess it’s good to have a number,” you add shakily, a short puff coming at the end of each breath as you struggle to fight the cough. “Being a sorcerer, too much uncertainty, I think.”

“You should tell Nanami that. Maybe this time, it’ll convince him to stay away,” he retorts, turning away from the scans. They’re burning his eyes and he doesn’t want to look at the real thing for much longer. You turn with him, walking back towards bed and climbing in. “Are you sure you don’t want the operation? Shoko could do it so fast you wouldn’t feel a thing.”

“No, not yet. There are some complications that’ll definitely occur and I don’t want that to happen.”

“But it would save your life,” he argues. “What risks are frightening enough that you’d even consider not having it?” Your gaze flickers as you take another wheezing breath. The strength seems sapped from your limbs—you’re a scarecrow hanging off its pole as you swallow tightly. Satoru leans against your window sill and crosses his arms over his chest so you can’t see the frustrated fists he wants to make. “If this is about Suguru…”

Resolutely: “It isn’t.”

“You’re going to die if you keep going down this road. I don’t understand why you’re hesitating.” In the back of his mind, klaxons begin to scream.

“Satoru, some things are just beyond logical reason.” He jerks his gaze away, pushing his glasses up his nose pointedly. You sigh. “I know it’s hard, but this is my choice. I just want you to be here so you know it’s okay.” 

Your hand stretches out. Blue eyes flash to your outstretched fingers and he takes it before he can stop himself. Your fingers curl over his palm, tugging him closer and he lets you, sneakers dragging over the tile until he’s sliding into the chair by your bed. It squeaks against the tile.

“Please don’t be angry with me.” That’s all. That’s all I ask.

A hard, heavy sigh, this time from his end. He tightens his hold on you as you sit there, smiling hopefully. His heart thunders in his chest. “I’m not angry.”

You perk up a bit, and his index finger unfurls to rub your wrist. It feels colder than normal. “Promise?”

He wishes he could lie half as well as you. Either way, he tries his hardest: “Promise.”

By the time it’s quarter past nine, you’re already getting ready to sleep. You have enough pillows to surround your entire body, and he fluffs them up, helps you arrange them until you’re sighing against the white sheets, burrowing in with a sedated smile on your face.

Satoru sits down again on his visitor’s chair and you watch him lazily through the dim orange light stemming from behind your bed.

“You don’t have to stay here and watch me, creep,” you mumble, turning your face away to stare at the ceiling. You cough dryly, but it subsides moments later. Your voice is nothing but a croak as you let out a tired groan, and Satoru smiles to himself, cheek to his fist. 

“I feel robbed of our afternoon together. Making up for it now.”

You look at him again incredulously. “We’re not even doing anything.”

“I don’t know when you were told that every second of us being together had to be us doing something,” he huffs. “I like being in here. Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s too much. You’re annoying me.” Even so, your voice turns fond as you roll onto your side, away from him to settle in to sleep and Satoru’s warm gaze lands on your shoulder gently rising and falling as you slowly drift off. 

He already knows you’re gone by the time he’s standing up and gathering his jacket. Walking around the bed, he glances at the bathroom to check the light’s off and catches a glimpse of his shirt. A coil wraps around his gut at the muddy red handprint pressed into the fabric and he turns away to look at you instead.

Your face is in perfect peace, half-buried into a pillow you’re hugging into your chest, and he only soaks in those features. His hand twitches, and his infinity wavers as he raises his hand as if to touch you. Your eyelids flutter and he freezes, fearing he might’ve woken you up, but you only mumble incoherently and turn into your pillow.

Satoru watches on silently just as a breeze sweeps into the room and he looks up where the window he had cracked open. The breeze takes hold of the plants, uplifts them until they sway like a tender dance. 

His chest begins to hurt. The smell of the antiseptic is starting to sting, so he moves his hand to the light switch instead. Flicking it off, he turns to leave.

.

Every time Satoru walks down to the end of the hallway, a different memory will play in his head until he’s playing a movie over and over every single day. Of the first time he met you, although that one is blurry. Your sixteenth birthday when the four of them had piled into your dorm room to drink themselves stupid.

One-and-a-half weeks go by before he realizes that he only replays the moments where you feature. Like his brain is preparing him, reminding him. For what, he doesn’t know. 

He can’t come every day—considering the low number of sorcerers has been taken down by one more, it means besides teaching, he still has to work for the Higher Ups as well as his own personal agenda—but when he does make it, he always makes sure that he soaks in every second. Even the horrible parts. Maybe, especially the horrible parts.

You have scans taken every other day to monitor your progress, so when he arrives at an empty room, he isn’t surprised. It’s when there’s movement in the bathroom that sends his nerves prickling until he catches a slab of golden hair and reading glasses flashing in the sunlight.

“Nanami,” he greets.

“Good afternoon.” His jacket’s off and his sleeves are rolled up. With a quick sweep of the room, Satoru notes that the windows are cracked open and the aforementioned jacket is folded over a chair sat in a square of sunlight.

“Do we need to be so formal?” he complains, bypassing the bathroom and searching for another chair. The one Nanami’s taken by the plants is still warm and Satoru isn’t keen on the idea of sweating so soon. During his search, he stops by the windowsill and his eyebrows rise curiously at the new plants and trash bin pressed up right underneath. “What’s happening here?”

“We were planting new seeds when she had to be taken for her scans. She insisted I finish potting the plants.” Noting the empty terracotta, Satoru bends over and prods at the moist dirt. “I have to go soon, though. I had hoped it wouldn’t take as long as it did and she would be back by now.”

“They started taking MRI scans when the branches continued to grow outward rather than inward,” Satoru informs. “It takes around forty-five minutes, on top of the CT scans they’re taking, too. That’s if she doesn’t start coughing in the middle of it.” 

“I’m guessing she does.” Nanami adjusts the glasses on his nose, wiping at his hands free of the last of whatever dirt might’ve been clinging to his hands.

“Yup.”

“I see.” Satoru looks at the plants again. The blond man across the room throws the towel into the dirty clothes basket.“Has she… spoken to you of what to do with her effects?”

Gaze hardening, he doesn’t move at the question. Of course, he’s thought about it, but those bouts of weakness have never been longer than a few minutes. There’s no use in wasting time on a reality that won’t come until it does.

Hopefully, it never does.

“I’m so sick of everyone talking like she’s signed a death sentence,” Satoru murmurs, turning around to look at the blond man at the door to the washroom. “She still has time. Not a lot. It’s not convenient, but it should be enough.”

“She’s already considered the benefits of taking the surgery, and yet she actively decides to postpone it. You know she’s stalling,” comes the steady reply.

“And what about you?” Satoru asks. His words are biting, icy, but Nanami seems unfazed as he begins to loop the tie around his neck. “Would you do it?” Blue eyes meet a stoic face, and the coldness seeps into Satoru’s body. Nanami sighs.

A part of Satoru wonders why he even bothered asking. He already knows the answer—

“No.” Eyebrows shoot up. His mouth drops open and a strangled noise escapes his throat. Nanami merely continues on, quiet as death. “Perhaps it’s because I’m willing to accept my death, but, to be honest, I don’t know how to let any part of Haibara go. I’ve accepted it, but he’s still in my heart and my head.” Lips parting, Satoru takes a step forward as Nanami slants his body away, continuing to fold the fabric into a tie. He looks statuesque, unmovable, and something tightens in Satoru’s throat at the stone-like mask taking over his face. “I’m unwilling to do anything to taint that memory.”

Wordlessly, the blond walks over to Satoru to take his jacket from the chair, rolling down his sleeves and slapping his watch back onto his wrist. Standing less than two feet apart, the two men finally meet eyes.

“Gojo,” Nanami murmurs. “I can’t say I understand your burden, but I am by your side. I do not always agree with your choices, but I still respect them. As your kouhai and as your colleague.” His lips pull in a facsimile of a wry smile and there’s an understanding Satoru doesn’t understand haunting his handsome face. “However, she is your friend before mine. I think your opinion matters much more than mine. Don’t abuse that power.”

Satoru’s eyes nearly reflect in the lenses of Nanami’s glasses. He wishes his friend would take the damn pair off. 

In truth, the reason he’s so irritated is because he knows. If he insists enough, begs enough, there will always be a chance that he can convince you. That you will give in, not because you are selfless, but maybe because you’re too selfish to let him stay mad at you.

An unstoppable force meets an immovable object, and sometimes, the force wins.

But he’d promised, hadn’t he? To not be angry with the choices you’ve made?

“Jeez, it’s somber in here. Who died?” you tease as Shoko pushes the wheelchair in after you. Both men look away from each other. You’re still walking steadily, but an IV is hooked into your chest now, and it’s so obvious you’ve lost unhealthy weight that looking at you is hard sometimes. Satoru does, anyway. 

Noting Nanami, you straighten up. Surprised, but pleased: “You’re still here.”

“I was just leaving,” he says. You frown, but don’t protest. A jujutsu sorcerer’s work is never finished until one stops breathing. “I finished planting the seeds you asked me to, and watered them.”

“Thank you.” He dips his head to you, then to Shoko, before departing, and you watch him go for a moment before your eyes land on Satoru and you smile. The air around you shifts immediately to a vibrant yellow. 

“You’re early, Satoru.” You head towards the bed as Shoko parks the wheelchair by the door. “It took way longer than I thought.”

“That’s because you threw up pistils today,” Shoko replies dryly. Satoru straightens up and looks at Shoko more carefully. Placid lookimg—usual for his mortician friend in the jujutsu world—but there’s a blanching in her knuckles that isn’t usual. “The CT wasn’t good. You know that.”

“Well, it’s still more time than I could’ve asked for, you know.” Shoko shakes her head, and meets his eyes before leaving the room, presumably to talk to your doctors. “Party pooper.”

“First day knowing Shoko?”

You laugh sarcastically, adjusting the hospital gown on your body before climbing into bed slowly, as if your joints ache. Satoru’s feet shift on the tile when he realizes his body moves to help and he freezes. You’re breathing audibly by the time you settle in and you meet his eyes, wondering if he’s noticed.

Of course he has, he wants to tell you. He notices everything about you.

Then, you sigh, and the yellow energy around you flickers into something darker, something grey, something that reminds him of summer thunderstorms.

“The roots have reached the edge of my rib cage and are encroaching on my stomach now,” you inform bluntly. “I probably won’t be able to keep food down in the next couple of days so they’re going to up the ante on this thing.” You gesture to the catheter by your clavicle. “So that’s not really fun. And, they want to start taking scans every single day because the growth is increasing exponentially. The doctors think something triggered the flowers to begin blooming in earnest. Like spring has come to my body, and I’m having the worst fucking time of my life.”

Despite your admission, your smile only falters in that it no longer reaches your eyes. Satoru shoves his hands in his pockets because he doesn’t know what else to do.

The word Hanahaki still burns, whispers coyly in his ear. It teases the tip of his tongue as he watches you look to your windowsill where your new plants are and get up, walking over to inspect your friend’s work.

He wonders if he can bring it up again. If he can insist that there’s a way to save you—

But Nanami’s words linger, too, and he bites his tongue until he tastes iron. 

“Oh, look.” He blinks at your voice, turning to look. Your fingers sink into one of the pots and before he can ask, blue energy flares up around your hand and into the soil and a shoot breaks through the dirt, unfurling as it grows higher and higher into the air.

“What is it?” Petals are beginning to form, the shade of a warm, gentle red that fades in shade as it reaches the stem. Satoru comes up next to you as the first flower blooms and his eyebrows rise. “Tulips. Huh.”

“I used to love them,” you tell him, picking it off and extending it to him. Eyebrows furrowing in surprise, he takes it as you sink your fingers deeper into the soil, sending more cursed energy into the seeds. More stems to replace the one you had picked continue to grow and you pull your hand out, wiping at your fingers with a towel.

Satoru tilts the flower towards his nose, taking a whiff.

“Used to?” he repeats, and you nod.

“Trees and flowers have their own language.” Your eyes do not meet his as you watch the plant continue to grow. Your muscles go slack, and your fingers touch the petals, mind not quite aware of how you’re moving. “Red tulips mean eternal love, and fame.”

Blinking, he looks down at his own bloom. 

Suguru. He hears you say his name, even in the silence, and remembers years ago, walking through Tokyo. A neighbourhood he doesn’t remember, his best friend looking at the florist’s shop and immediately perking up to head inside and buy a bouquet after something had caught his eye.

“For a girl,” he had admitted sheepishly. 

“Only one?” Satoru asked, horrified. “You can’t settle down! We’re meant for so many more women than just one!”

A sharp nudge to the ribs. Raucous laughter. “Shut up!”

Quietly, Satoru’s fingers tighten around the stalk as you tilt your head to the sun, inspecting something he won’t understand. He doesn’t have a green thumb, and although you say you aren’t the smartest, he’s seen you grow the college’s gardens in a way that has amplified the beauty already lingering on the grounds. You had dismissed it as a little side project, but seeing you water your plants dutifully, spread feed and root out weeds, makes him wonder if you know how to put half-efforts into anything.

When you garden, you never take the easy route. You labour for the satisfaction, and pour sweat and tears into the soil.

When you love, you love with all of yourself and more. 

It’s what makes whatever he wants impossible.

Because he is the same, and they will never change.

When Satoru goes home, he places the tulip in a vase and the cursed energy prickles at his fingertips.

.

You get worse and worse with every visit. 

Each day brings him another raw wound, salt on blood. You slowly grow more and more ragged, even though you stay in the hospital, confined to your room. 

There are days Satoru walks into your room to you hunched over the toilet, spitting blood and flowers into the bowl and vomiting all you ate the night or day or hour before and he already knows what he has to do. A cold, damp rag to your forehead, a crouching stance beside you as your grip on the toilet seat becomes rigid like steel.

Other days, you’re still asleep because the night before, you’d been hacking up half a lung and half a bouquet. Sometimes, you’re curled around a plastic receptacle already full of your half-attempts to dislodge the pressure building in your chest. 

Or, you’re crying into your hands, breath coming in rapid bursts as you try to force your head between your knees to stop the world from spinning and Satoru holds you when you beg him to, and stands in the corner of the room when you push him away.

Afterwards, you always grab onto his sleeves, his arms, and sink against him, shivering. For hours after, he’ll curl around you on your hospital bed, no matter how much his body cramps, until you insist you’re fine.

“It’s a little like touching death,” you told him once, voice raw and fatigued. “When it’s a pretty bad day, and I think I’m going to die alone, it happens, so all I have to do is not think about it.”

There’s a flawed logic there, but Satoru was too busy pressing his nose into your hair and feeling the warmth of your body to reply any more than, “I’ll be there. I promise.”

Two weeks pass (fourteen sets of scans, a different pair hanging from the lightscreen every day tell him that) and Satoru watches as the branches spread through your body, past the reaches of your ribs, and the flowers have spread to your lungs so quickly he’s sure the time for you to decide is running out. 

You’re near-passed out against him on the bathroom floor one evening, and although it’s not closet-sized, it doens’t make the arrangement any less awkward. He’s up against the bathtub, legs sprawled all around you as he holds you in his arms. On the edge of the tub, there is a bar of bodysoap and a bottle of lotion he recognizes as the same one Shoko used to buy when they still had time. Your sink counter is filled with your toothbrush and cup, handsoap and a microfibre towel hanging off the edge smeared with lipstick, foundation, and black streaks of who knows what.

Shoko must have spent the night while he was out hunting a curse in Sendai. Good. He doesn’t like the nights when you’re alone and he can’t be there.

His fingers brush over your shoulder blade, and he travels over something rigid cloaked by your skin. Your eyes are closed, and you’re nearly asleep as you curl deeper against him. Looking down at you, he presses curious fingers into your shoulder blade only for you to let out a soft groan.

“Did that hurt?”

“No. It just feels like you pressed down on a big sore muscle,” you mumble slowly. He trails his fingers over, feels the bumps of the roots curling around your bones before following it towards your spine. It disappears the closer it reaches the trail of knobs that go down your back, and he moves back to your shoulder again. “Doesn’t hurt, though.”

“Does anything?”

“Mostly my stomach,” you tell him. “I’m so hungry all the time, but I can’t eat.” He glances at the IV stand, the only other witness to the events in this bathroom. It leads down through your gown and past your clavicle. Monitored every day in case the growths dislodge it, it’s one of the only things keeping you alive. “And my throat. It feels like I’ve scratched it out until it’s bleeding.”

He tilts his head. His lips barely brush your sweaty scalp despite how cold you feel in his arms “No surgery?”

You shake your head, what remains of your strength slowly coming back. “They say the flowers and roots have taken up sixty-five percent of my chest cavity. It’s not only inhibiting my lungs, but my heart and stomach, too, so it’d be kind of hard to get rid of it all. Not impossible, but it’s really risky. That, on top of the already-present consequences—”

“So let’s say we start with the lungs,” he cuts off, trying to not sound too desperate but these past few weeks have worn him down to the bone. Although he thinks he’s managed to hide it from his students, Shoko has offered multiple times to prescribe him sleeping pills just so he can shut his mind down.

He said no every time.

Your legs draw up and he squeezes your shoulder carefully, looking down. “Are you ready to get up?”

You nod. “I think so.” He wipes at your lips with the rag he left on the counter and you roll your eyes as he makes sure no blood is left on your face before throwing it back up and carefully adjusting you against him.

“Do you want my help?”

“My answer does not matter to you,” you shoot back teasingly and he lets you pull away from him before reaching up with one hand to push yourself up. Your arm wobbles, your feet kicking back underneath you and slowly finding theirselves on the floor. Satoru withdraws, ducking underneath and back up so he can stand, hands floating around your body as you draw the IV stand towards yourself and grab on. When he’s sure your knees might give in, he grabs your elbow, but you shake your head. “I think I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” you breathe, raising your head to look at him. Your lips curl in a soft smile, and you clasp his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t even do anything this time,” he says.

“Not everyone stays for the pathetic girl on the floor of the bathroom floor,” you quip. Turning around, you begin to head back to bed and he trails behind you carefully.

“If the girl’s you, then I think exceptions can be made.”

“Hospital bonus.”

“It adds that you’re in the hospital, too,” he agrees. “My morals are just.”

“Isn’t that a relief?” 

It is. It is a relief that you still have the strength to joke with him. 

You climb back into bed. Satoru returns to the bathroom to make sure the bathroom is flushed and it’s clean before returning and perching on the edge of your bed. Pulling out his phone, he shuffles his shoes off and tucks his legs to his chest, leaning against the foot of your bed and scrolling through his messages.

Not much to miss, to be honest. 

“There’s supposed to be a lunar eclipse on the morning of the 28th,” you say suddenly. Satoru looks up. You’re leaning back on the mountain of pillows, exhaling and inhaling measuredly in a way he now knows is your way of fighting off another bout. Squinting against the orange glow of the sunset, there’s a longing in your gaze. “I want to see it. Outside and everything.”

“You’re not supposed to leave the hospital.”

You don’t miss a beat. “Oh, we’re abiding by rules, now?”

“If it keeps you around, yes, we are.”

“When did my best friend turn into such a party pooper?” Looking at him, an impish glint lives in your eyes. He balks.

“Don’t you dare insinuate that I’m not fun.”

“Then… take me to see the eclipse.”

“No. There’s nothing to even see.”

“I want to see the moon disappear, Gojo,” you declare. “And if you won’t take me, I will definitely sneak out.” 

It paints a pretty pathetic picture, and he can’t help but arch his eyebrows at your determination. The air purifier drones on. The nurse turned it on after dinner, he guesses, and he has the strange urge to kick it as you fix him with a fierce stare. 

“You probably won’t be able to walk by then,” he says.

“That won’t stop me.” He knows it won’t. The corner of his lips pulls into a slight smile as you continue, “I just want to go outside one last time. Is that really too much to ask?” Your words are tinged with a fine dusting of humour, and he shakes his head.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Big word for you, Satoru.”

“I still mean it.”

“And I learned that from you.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Fine,” he caves. Your face lights up, and he sets down his phone, legs unfolding to brush the floor as he leans over to flick your forehead. Your eyes squeeze shut at the contact and you slap his arm away sluggishly before he soothes the smarting spot over with a smear of his thumb. “I’ll come by, and we’ll sneak out.”

You beam and he slips his feet back into his shoes and pockets his phone so he can focus his attention on you. 

When visiting hours end, the nurses offer to set up the cot for him like they always do. You pretend not to look at him out of the corner of his eye, awaiting his answer behind your laptop screen, and he spares you a quick glance before saying yes.

“She likes you,” you tell him after one particular nurse with dyed purple hair who always wears a fishtail bids them goodnight. Satoru fluffs up his pillow ceremoniously, having shed his jacket and taken off his jeans to hide underneath the blankets. The fabric is cold against his bare chest, and he pulls his glasses off, sets them on the stand right behind him.

The black frame holding up his mattress rattles a bit as he punches his pillow one last time and lies down. He turns on his side and looks at you. You’re turned on your side, too, and your brow is furrowed as you fight the sleepiness.

“Is that so?” he asks carefully. “What do you think about it?”

“I think if you wanted someone with a hectic schedule, you could pick someone else,” you say vaguely.

He raises an eyebrow. “Does she have a bad attitude or something?”

“I dunno.” There’s a subtle fire igniting in your words. You look a bit more awake, and your eyes are shifting the air into a smouldering red. He squints up. Your face is shadowed, but you’re still silhouetted by the orange light behind your bed as your shoulders rise and fall greatly in staggering, weighty breaths. “She wouldn’t understand. I guess.”

He hums. “So I should find someone who understands me but can’t be there for me? Sounds like the set up to every tragic love story ever.”

You laugh, and it’s the saddest sound in the world.

.

Friday, July 27th arrives in clouds.

Satoru scouted a spot before where they can watch the eclipse. He settles on one of the highest buildings on campus with a balcony where they can sit against the railing and watch the moon disappear. You can’t eat, but he still buys your favourite food from all over Japan, travelling to different prefectures in hopes that they still have your favourite dessert or drink that you mentioned once—he even gets you a new polaroid camera. He doesn’t know exactly how well the eclipse will show up on it, but, memories, right?

Maki makes a dry remark about how much he’s running around lately, probably to make amends to a girl he’s scorned. Satoru deflects and says he’s actually trying to impress one this time.

It’s been a five days since his promise to bring you. You lost your ability to walk steadily two days ago and to speak effortlessly only yesterday. The roots have extended through your body, pushing the muscle of your back and shoulders, and it’s made even moving painful, so he intends to carry you everywhere he can, holding your IV bags if he needs to. 

The doctors say eighty-five percent of your chest is now occupied with foreign growth. Satoru wishes they’d just tell it how it is—you’ll probably be dead by next week.

He arrives at the hospital and walks the path he’s walked so often over the past few weeks that he is sure he could do it with his eyes closed. The nurse’s station, and there’ll be the purple-haired one and the one with a double helix piercing on call at this time. Then, twenty-five steps to the end of the hall where the window often lets a lot of natural light in. Today, it’s grey and not much, but it’s enough to cast his shadow long and blurry.

He stops in front of your door to sanitize his hands when he hears voices within and hesitates.

Your door is closed, which means you don’t want people to interrupt, and he moves away from the rectangular window, back pressing against the tiny slab of wall between the frame and the corner of the hallway. Glasses slipping down his nose, he tries not to listen but he can’t help of himself.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” you say weakly. You sound awful. Satoru wonders if he’s missed one of your panic attacks and curses himself. “If I don’t sound sure, it’s because I’m dying… and sounding like a fragile piece of shit… comes with the territory.” Your words are coarse, and a harsh anger grates his ears as you cough violently, a terrible retching sound ending with a splat following right after. 

“I wasn’t doubting you,” Nanami replies calmly. “But this could be done in so many other ways.”

“Look, Nanami. I’m not… brave enough to say any of it. Now, sit down. Your standing… it’s making me nervous… Thank you.” Satoru’s legs feel numb as he sinks down to the floor, tilting his head just enough to listen clearer through the sliver underneath the door. Resting his elbows on his knees, he runs a hand through shaggy white hair. It feels dry and lifeless. 

He can’t remember the last time he took a shower that was longer than ten minutes and more than ice-cold bordering on just beginning to warm.

“Take care of him for me,” you croak and his fingers tighten against his scalp. Nanami doesn’t answer, and you let out a sound that can only be described as pure agony as another bout grasps you tightly. You’re wheezing by the end of it, gasping painfully for air, and the monitors start beeping rapidly, a dinging that echoes in his head as Nanami’s low voice soothes you, tells you gently to calm down. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Breathe with me,” Nanami orders, and everything falls silent. Satoru stares at his lap. His head is beginning to pulse with the monitors when the beeping finally starts to fade. “Good. No sense to waste your strength.” 

Wobbly, spitting: “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” A pause. “It’s not your fault.”

You laugh, as if Nanami’s cracked a funny joke, and it’s gut-wrenching. “Remember how… we can curse each other? Ourselves? True curses.”

Faintly amused, immeasurably strained: “I thought it was still a hypothesis regarding those who don’t have the correct bloodline and the ability to curse through their own will.”

“No…Not a hypothesis. Real, Nanami. Real. No one knows how cursed energy affects us. Not really. Since, in my opinion, it’s entirely based on how we process things… it’s so difficult to say but when you know someone…” You break off to clear your throat. “The curse of adulthood… some of us got that too early… but we can survive that and even if it’s not a curse by… definition, we still feel it, right?” 

Satoru clasps his hands together just so he doesn’t rip the door open at the hinges.

“Right.”

“And… knowledge… can be a curse. Even if we can’t see it.” A ragged breath. Then, another laugh too loud for the grey light outside, too bright, a spark before it fizzles into, again, pained choking. “Nanami, remember last year… the job out in Yama… Yamaguchi?”

“Yes.”

“And we came back… Okkotsu was beginning his first year at the college… what I—what I told you?”

“…Yes.” A beat passes. A chair shifts on the linoleum floor and Nanami clears his throat. “I see.”

“I don’t want him to be so alone. I know I was never the strongest or the smartest or the most talented but I liked to think he let me in because I was there. Not because I understood. Maybe… Maybe because I didn’t. Nanami, please… he always try to stay so far away from the people he thinks he can’t love. Tell him… tell him—“

You break off and Nanami assures you with a steadfastness Satoru has counted on so many times before: “I will.” 

“…thank you.”

Eyes shutting tight, Satoru rests his brow against the heel of his hand. His head is aching, and a hard fist grabs his chest, squeezes his heart until it feels like it’ll burst. So this is how you’re really feeling. When you’re not smiling, this is what you are. Angry at the world, and heartbroken.

So terribly heartbroken.

And you couldn’t trust him with it? Because you thought he couldn’t handle it? 

He can take it. It’ll be okay because he’s the strongest. He has to be. 

I’m the strongest. I should be okay. I’m the strongest.

I’m the Strongest.

The headache gets worse so he gets up from that corner in the dead-end hallway, all the while three words replay in his head like a goddamn gramophone.

Nanami doesn’t come out of the room for a while. When he does, Satoru walks down the hall with takeout and a smile plastered on his face as if he had heard nothing at all.

.

At just past one-thirty AM, Satoru sits up from his cot and rubs at his eyes. After dinner, the both of them had forced themselves to go to sleep in order to have enough energy for their little late night excursion. He glances at you, a slumbering shape on the bed, and gets up, slowly sliding on the lights. They burn a dim orange, glowing on your face, and your eyebrows furrow as he touches your cheek.

“What?” you mumble, vexed, and he smiles.

“Are you ready?” he asks. A backpack is situated at the end of his bedframe and he reaches for it, unzipping it carefully as you crack your eyes open. “We’re going to go see the eclipse, remember?” Pulling out clothes he robbed from your room in the staff facility from when you used to work full time, he grabs your shoulder and shakes you gently. The gnarled roots under your skin feel strange against his fingers as you groan weakly. “Do you want five more minutes, Sleeping Beauty?”

You don’t answer, burying your face into your pillow and he shakes his head to himself. It’s going to be all right, he thinks. I planned for this setback.

Slipping into a dark long-sleeve, he parts the black-out curtains to let light come in. He checks his reflection in the bathroom mirror before running a hand through his hair and washing his hands with a cold stream of water. By the time he leaves the bathroom, you’re sitting up already, heel of your hand rubbing against your brow as you groan. In your other hand in your lap, there’s a splash of blood and a lone petal, and he rushes to your side instantly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t even hear—“

“It came out easy,” you assure as he grabs a tissue to pick it off your hand and throw it into the receptacle at the table just beyond the foot of your bed. Wiping at your mouth roughly, he hears your complaints and your hand shoves against his shoulder to tell him to quit it. “Ah, I can do it myself!”

“Shh! Do you want every nurse storming in here while we conduct our super secret getaway?” he whispers, and your eyes fix on his. Dark circles mark your face like bruises, but that light is still the same—glimmering, bright, like twin suns and just as warm. Making sure your hands are clean, he wipes the invisible streaks of blood just to be sure before grabbing your clothes and setting them at the end of the bed.

You glance around the place sluggishly, at the paintings you never got to finish, and the books you haven’t finished reading, before settling on him. “What are we going to do about the… about the machines? And my IV…” 

“Oh, trust me. I may have bribed a nurse or two,” he confesses and you send him a scandalized look. He shrugs. “What? You told me a woman liked me and I couldn’t help but turn on my natural charm.”

“You’re awful,” you say without meaning it and he smiles as he moves your bed into a sitting position. You cough lightly, but sit up straighter as he carefully unhooks the huge bag and pump from your stand and gently slides it into the pocket in the backpack, resisting the urge to squish the pouch a bit. Strapping the pump in, he makes sure it’s secure as you peer around him to catch what he’s doing. “Is this… safe for me, you—you know, medically-speaking?”

“Nope.” He adjusts the tubing to avoid any kinks. “But, Purple gave me this backpack and she will come as soon as we come back to make sure you aren’t dying. And, if anything goes wrong, I promised her I’d come back as soon as possible.”

“Promised her?” you echo “I see. So that’s what Purple… was doing before my afternoon nap. I thought you guys traded suspicious looks.”

“Yeah. I’m pulling big strings. Now, c’mon, silly. Let’s get you dressed.”

You roll your eyes with a whistling breath. “Watch the tube… and c’mere, then, Gojo.”

He grabs the jacket first and does exactly as you order. Wrapping it around you, he helps you thread your arms through before zipping you up carefully as your shoulders begin to shake. Bending over, you reach blindly for the receptacle at the end of the bed and he hands it over to you.

A wad of saliva mixed with blood slips between your lips and you let out a low noise before forcing yourself to cough harshly again and again. Satoru watches. No matter how many times he sees you rip your throat up just to breathe with a bit less pressure in your chest, it doesn’t get any easier.

You manage to get up a whole magenta blossom. It blooms from your mouth like something out of a horror movie and lands in the receptacle before he’s wiping your mouth.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

They continue on.

Coat, next, zipped up, and a scarf, then he’s scooping up your legs to help you twist on the mattress until your feet are dangling off the edge. He weaves your legs through the sweat pants, careful not to let his gaze avert from his task even as the hospital gown trails up your legs. You shiver at the exposed skin and gooseflesh pimples your thighs as you lift up your hips to help with the effort. He pulls the hospital gown free from the waistband and lets it fall over the hem so you’re completely covered before falling back.

In a crouch, he pats your knees and makes the mistake of looking up only to find your eyes already on him, searching, nearly mystified. Satoru’s throat tightens. The faint light streaming from the window catches half of your face, as if half-divine. There’s a curiosity there, lingering, and the way you look at him makes him freeze in his spot.

Is this how Suguru saw you a thousand times before, a thousand lifetimes ago? Is this what he felt? 

Did he see the way your pupils dilate, the flare of your nostrils as you exhaled so quietly that it felt like a feather against his lips despite the distance between them? Did he see galaxies in your irises, home in the softness of your stare? Is that why he kissed you the last time he saw you? To memorialize their love for himself, to remember what it looked like when you loved him?  

Did he feel like he could fight dragons, crush demons, rip their world apart at the seams and rebuild it again with bloodied nails if it meant you would never cry again? Is that part of why he did it? So you would never be lonely again? 

Because if so, Satoru understands. 

Because if so, Satoru would do the same.

Because he always saw you as just pretty, because you had always been just his friend, and then his best friend’s girlfriend, and then his best friend, so there were always lines drawn in salt, scuffed and distorted over the years, but…

But in the light, tired and lost in his gaze, you’re nearly ethereal. The only reason he knows you’re not a goddess is because he’s still touching your knees, and your breath quivers, as if you’re just as disconnected from the world as he is in this moment.

Lips pressing together, he looks away, and the moment’s gone. 

He glances at the clock. 

How long has it been since he moved? It feels like hours.

Twenty-seven seconds.

Twenty-seven seconds of temptation, and then Satoru turned away. 

He slants to grab a pair of thick woolly socks to give himself something to do. You’re still watching him, head tilted down just so, and he carefully takes hold of your ankle.

He focuses on the little things: the iciness of your skin, the way you pick at the fabric of your sweatpants absently as you watch him work, the way you shiver a bit when he touches you.

He rubs heat back into the arch of your foot as you reach into your jacket slowly to carefully remove the nodes monitoring your vitals. You seem stiff to the bone, and your fingers are rigid with anticipated pain as you peel off the stickers. In the back of his mind, he remembers the days that feel like yesterday when you weren’t hooked up to so many machines to assure both you and him that you’re still alive.

Removing the cap for the oximeter from your finger, you shake yourself out a bit, clearing your throat. He slides one sock on, and then the other.

“How’re you feeling?” he finally utters.

It takes you a moment to answer. “Bottom half feels tingly. Usual these days. My body feels like a big giant bruise,” you inform quietly. Your voice is nothing more than a rasp. “Very warm and toasty, though… Thank you.”

“Just gotta get the shoes on and then we’ll teleport there.”

“Okay.” He helps you slip your feet in, something straight out of Cinderella, and then he stands up to take your hands. Your fingers slip into his palms, and he holds you so tightly as you slide off the bed. The instant your feet hit the floor, your grip intensifies and your head snaps down to the floor. You find your footing after a moment, and he lets go to crack open your window. Moving your plants aside, he climbs out to glance around. 

The air is crisp and cold, but not too bad for him. Even so, he’ll probably slip on a hoodie before they leave and he ducks back in to your room to do so, tugging it down his waist before grabbing the backpack.

“Arms through,” he instructs, slipping the backpack onto your shoulders. Guiding you closer, he helps you shuffle as close as possible towards him before turning around and bending over. “Alright, climb on. We’re going.” 

Your arms touch his shoulders, his hands shoot out behind him, and you fall.

Fingers hooking on your thighs, he boosts you up and your arms wrap around him, your own fingers wrapped so tightly around his collar that it nearly chokes him. Haphazardly stepping through the windows, his fingers sink into the fabric of your sweats. Your breath is warm against the shell of his ear, and he can feel your heart pulsing against his back as he turns to look at you. 

He smiles. “How’s it feel?”

“I’m still not sure if you’re going to let me die.” You press your face closer to his head and your arms tighten. “But the wind feels so good. So, so good.”

“That’d be too undignified,” he teases, and then he jumps. Time seems to slow as it always does when he’s about to teleport. He imagines the staff facility on the campus, quiet as a cemetery at this time of night, and his heart lurches forward. For a moment, his senses leave him all at once. He can’t taste or feel or see anything for a fraction of a second, then it comes to him in blinding speed. His hearing, as always, is first, then his eyes, smell and then touch and smell.

His foot lands on stone, as if he’s just finished a small skip, and he grins as he sweeps the courtyard. No one, as planned. The building’s to his immediate right, and he climbs the steps, using your knee to nudge the door open.

“That was fun,” you comment. “Convenient, too. Blink of an eye, and you’re somewhere else.”

“You can’t even begin to imagine how many lines I’ve skipped because of it,” he comments. The lights are all off, and he heads for the kitchen immediately to grab all the food he’s bought. Setting you down on the kitchen counter, he takes out another canvas bag and stuffs all of the food in.

Daifuku with of all kinds of fillings in the fridge, fresh dorayaki, canned coffee and aloe drinks, sweet soymilk and other wagashi they used to feast on when they were younger. Mostly because Satoru would buy enough to feed a kingdom so he always had something on hand for his overactive brain. You watch him with wide eyes as he moves around with such purpose one could think he was preparing to fight an army, but as soon as he finishes, he flashes you a smile.

“I think you’re going to like where we’re going a lot, silly.”

“Didn’t have to buy stuff,” you mutter, fingers playing with the tube leading into your backpack for a moment.

“You haven’t eaten in weeks. I thought maybe we could at least try. Maybe not now, but at the end of the night, before we go back. Just in case.”

“I can’t eat, though.”

“Don’t know until I stuff it down your throat,” he replies cheerily, and you smile at him so brightly it’s almost like you aren’t sick. Then, that smile turns into a cough, a fist in front of your lips, and your expression is frozen into one of exasperation before it flickers into strained. He sets down his bag, already knowing what comes next.

You make a hacking sound, deep in your throat, and he shifts you closer to the sink so you can lean over and throw up. Gagging, it comes in red and clear torrents, the cursed energy spilling out of your body nearly making it incinerating to even touch you as you clutch the edge of the sink basin. 

You fall to your elbows, and Satoru eases you off the counter so he can hold you up instead of the cramping body contortion you sink into. Cupping the juncture of your shoulder and neck, his thumb sweeps soothingly over your root-invested spine, tossing the ends of the scarf over your shoulder and out of the way.

Settling a hand on your hip, he presses you against the countertop so you don’t fall, and hopes your legs can hold you up long enough for him to reach for the hand towel. You spit just as he manages to grab it, snapping back into position and peering over your shoulder to inspect how much you’ve coughed up. You shudder and a tortured moan wrenches out of your throat as you sink, forehead against the cool metal.

You’re scorching to touch, but he tightens his hold on you anyway, setting the towel aside for just a moment. Carefully, he pulls you back up and you let out an drained whine, but he shushes you quietly, turning you around and guiding your head over his shoulder so you don’t stare at the rot any longer.

Satoru knows you would, even if you pretend like you aren’t plagued with morbid, self-destructive curiosity.

Looking into the sink, he counts a few petals and three whole flowers, and you’re quivering against him as he wraps his arm around you. 

“Alright, lean back for me,” he whispers into your ear, and you obey. His arm around you crooks so he supports your head, the other grabbing the towel again. Exhaustion seems to have sluiced through you, and your eyes are nearly unfocused as he dabs at your mouth carefully. His blue eyes focus on the gentle curve of your lips, and your cheeks puff up before you swallow tightly and let out a shaking breath.

“You’re really close,” you mumble in that exhale. He tilts your chin to the light to make sure he hasn’t missed a spot, and your eyelids flutter as the corners of his lips quirk up. His Six Eyes pick up a muted yellow emanating from you, and it’s so warm against his skin that he can’t help but relish in the feeling. “You smell nice.”

“Good. I took a shower before I came today. Well, yesterday,” he amends softly. “Alright, let’s go before you hack up your other lung.”

“Funny.” Nonetheless, he scoops you back up onto his back and he rinses down the sink as you rest your head against his. He feels you breathing steadily, much easier now than before. Red swirls down the drains, and he watches the magenta petals slowly reveal their true colours. There’s a flash of white in the center of each one, and he wonders silently what flower it is and what it means.

Maybe he’ll find out some day.

When the kitchen’s back to the state they entered, he grabs the bag of food and holds onto your legs tightly as your arms around his neck shift and pull him closer. 

This time, when he teleports, it’s not as jarring. Walking around the balcony, he makes sure no one’s in the area before checking that the door to the roof is locked and heading back out into the night air, towards where they can see the moon clearest.

“Hey, open your eyes,” he whispers over his ear, and your head shifts.

“Hm? Oh!” He feels you wriggle, but he doesn’t let you go as he walks closer to the spot he’s set up. Near the railing, a blanket surrounded by pillows is laid out surrounded by a few space heaters. The moon is hanging perfectly in front of them, and the light illuminates the forests in silver as a gentle wind whistles through. Tranquil, the only sound is his footsteps on wood as you manage to pull your legs free with a harsh twist of your torso. Your hand slaps against the railing and he whirls around to hold you up but you grit your teeth. “I can do it.”

Breathing in deeply, you pull yourself past him using mostly your arms. Your feet drag as if they’re not really attached to a living body but you still move steady onward, and he walks ahead to turn on the heaters and set the food down as far away as he can so it doesn’t spoil too quickly.

“Satoru,” you breathe as if for the first time,” it’s so fucking beautiful up here.” Looking up, his heartstrings twinge. Your face is bathed almost entirely in silver, and it drapes down your body like silk, illuminating the cord of your throat he can see above the scarf, the strength of your hands. A smile brighter than even the most blinding sun rays comes across your face and he finds that the moon pales in comparison as your knees begin to give.

Reaching forward, he helps you sink down slowly, and then sit down, legs hanging off the edge and then you’re leaning to rest your elbows on the middle bar of the wooden railing. You can’t stop staring at the moon, and Satoru can’t stop staring at you as he opens the box of daifuku and pops one into his mouth. 

“The eclipse should be starting in a few minutes,” he says, checking his watch. 2:10. Four minutes to go. You finally tear your eyes away from the moon to look at him.

“I forgot…” you muse. “I forgot how bright… the moon was.”  

He settles in beside you and offers a canned coffee, but you shake your head. He cracks it open for himself. 

“We’re about to watch the moon change,” he notes. “But I read that it’ll last six hours.”

“Really?” Excited, you look up at the moon again. The lunar rays outline your already-pronounced eye bags but it also makes you look more beatific. “That’s just proof… our time here on Earth is so inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. It really makes you—makes you think how much we really matter. Which doesn’t seem like a lot, compared to things like a… fucking lunar eclipse.”

The moon’s opinion doesn’t matter more than mine, he thinks. “Well, while we’re waiting for your next epiphany to hit you,” he says instead, “you never answered my question.”

You smile, intrigued. “What’s that?”

“What if we removed the flowers bit by bit, rather than all at once?” he asks. Your gaze snaps to him, but he only regards you honestly. “That gives you a fighting chance.” Your eyes widen imperceptibly, and he grabs another mochi ball and takes a bite.

“The roots and flowers are too entangled in my chest to be removed safely. It’s either they remove my lungs completely, or not at all, and finding a… match for one lung is hard enough, much less two perfect lungs…” You trail off and shrug. “Well, that’d take forever… and I wouldn’t get much… longer, anyway. I’m a sorcerer. I always knew… I was going to die, so why not die on my own t-terms?”

He frowns. “Why not try?”

“Give me your phone.”

He does so, and watches you type in a query you must’ve typed before with how quick your lethargic fingers fly over the screen before you’re shoving it back towards him and leaning forward on the railing, chin to your forearms. You don’t even look at him, as if you don’t want to watch him crumble.

He reads: The first year after the transplant is the most critical period wrought with surgical complications, chances of rejection, and infection… Although there are some reports of some people living for 20 years post-transplant, many people do not make it past 10 years and only half make it past 5…

His stomach curdles. “Five years is better than nothing.”

“Five years worrying when my lungs are going to… kick it,” you correct. “Besides, my ribs are mangled by the roots. And my heart. My stomach. My spine. I’m undernourished, exhausted, and everything in here”—you gesture slowly around your abdomen—“is doing overtime. My body’s too weak to handle any kind of surgery that wouldn’t heal me… immediately.” 

Your eyes find his, and it’s as if lightning strikes through him like a spear—piercing cold and electrifying. You’re beginning to blue in the lips like you’re freezing to death, but he’s sweating under the blast of the heaters. 

Pulling off his hoodie, he drapes it around your shoulders. You don’t react anymore than: “Sucks, but that’s how it is.”

A few more minutes pass by in silence. Their knees knock into one another, and Satoru can’t stop looking at you as you breathe in the home you left months ago, head lifted to the inky universe.

“You know I can tell when you’re—when you’re angry with me,” you utter, not looking at him. “No matter how much you smile at me, you’re still too passive aggressive to cover it up.”

The words spill out of his mouth as you lower your gaze to him. “I’m sorry.” No sense in lying. 

“That’s okay.” You smile for a moment, like he hasn’t said something worth ruining a night over, but when you look up at the stars, it fades. Wistful, you cock your head at the moon that hasn’t gone away just yet and lower your chin to your arms again. “It’s not really something that was… fair of me to ask anyway.” 

.

Just as the moon turns yellow, he remembers something. Bending back to root through your backpack, he excuses himself. You frown. “What are you—“

“I got a camera for this occasion,” he announces, withdrawing the camera and a plastic bag, leaning back to snap a quick picture of you. You squint at the flash, mouth opened in an incredulous smile and face half-turned away, before the photo rolls out. “Like the one you used to carry around.”

“Some memories to hold on to, huh.” You reach for the camera and your fingers wrap around it, aiming it right at him. A flash and two peace signs later, another image joins the one of you Satoru slides into the plastic zip bag. “Hold on. I want to take another one.”

“We should do one of both of us.”

“Ugh, fine… I don’t look good at all, though.“

“Too late.” He snatches the camera from you and sticks out his hand, dragging an arm around your shoulders and you lean into him, temple against his cheek as he snaps another photo, and then another of him making a stupid face. Another of you mid-laugh. You’re wheezing for air as he keeps grabbing the polaroids as fast as he can with the arm that’s around your shoulder, leading to a bunch of jostling that has you in stitches at his frantic panic whenever the new photo chugs out of the slit.

When he’s had his fill of making you laugh, Satoru leaves you alone to look at the moon. He can’t stop grinning stupidly with every photo and while you watch the moon slowly descent into the earth’s shadow, he shuffles through the photos he just took of them together, trying to brand them to memory.

The way he looks at you in these photos makes him believe in something. In something that could’ve been there if they had more time, and he could convince you to open your heart up to a new possibility.

.

Another hour passes. The moon hangs a strange transition between black and blood red and a paler peach orange. A glimmering yellow dot sparkles below it, and he wonders if that’s Mars.

The forests seem almost hauntingly quiet, and no one has spoken in the darkness. You regard the moon, so enraptured, and more photos have joined the zip bag, but they’re mostly of you. He’s managed to sneak them in by turning off the flash and upping the brightness settings so it’d still be visible, and he hopes you never realize that he’s got them. 

Satoru has never been interested in astronomy, but the stars in your eyes are changing his mind.

He’s dug his hand into the bag of dorayaki already. He remembers it’s supposed to be for you, too, but his hands are too empty without the camera, his brain going a mile a minute and the air absolutely quiet with nothing. 

Twenty minutes ago, you asked him to help you take off your coat so you can pull on his hoodie, and haven’t moved since zipping yourself back up. The air smells only of canned coffee and the stinging wind carrying the scent of cedar. Feet swinging, he drapes his arms over the railing and looks up at the red moon.

It is pretty. Magnificent, and ominous, almost. The night is so much darker without the moon. Sheesh, colder, too. I wonder if you’re feeling okay. Maybe I should check, but you don’t seem to be shaking. Worst comes to worst, I could up the level on the space heaters…

“I don’t think I ever got to hear his last words,” you muse quietly, voice cracking, rousing him from his monologue. His head swings to you. Your eyes are barely open as you rest your cheek against your forearm, and you don’t look at Satoru despite your head turned towards him. Instead, he can watch the pieces of you fall apart without your scrutiny. “I used to think… that I didn’t care.”

“Do you want me to tell you?” he asks slowly as you continue to stare blankly over his ear. Your chest stutters in its inhale and the exhale is just as shaky as you smile a bit to yourself. He takes that as answer, and as he speaks, he sees Suguru’s smile—bright against the darkness of the alleyway, and a reminder of a simpler time. Satoru’s heart quickens from the memory “‘At least curse me a little at the very end.’”

You’re quiet for a moment, as if soaking that in. Then, you draw yourself up and sigh. “That sounds like him.”

You say it fighting off a laugh, even though it wracks your body with such intense pain you can barely breathe. You begin to wheeze not even a second in, and still, your face is cracked into an agonizing smile as you blink, tears slipping down your cheeks. Your eyes squeeze shut and your body goes stiff as you cough, hands flying over your lips. Your shoulders shake so uncontrollably it’s like an earthquake in your body, but Satoru cannot find it in him to calm you down as you hunch over yourself.

It comes in its own course, until you’re nothing but a gasping body, crying into bloodied palms cupping purple flowers, and the low sobs that spill and stutter out of your throat makes Satoru wish he never told you.

“‘At least curse me a little at the very end,’” you repeat to yourself, voice raw and iron-like, and your eyes finally rise to meet his. Nothing but hollow purple pierces through him once more. “Yeah… Yeah, that sounds like him.” 

An apology bubbles at his lips, but you continue before he can even begin. Your hands fall to to your laps, and you look at the decaying flowers, thumbs stroking the petals. “I could never make him truly happy… could I? Just like he said… nothing would’ve been good enough for him while we lived in this kind of world. No matter how many times I sat by him while he swallowed… swallowed those curses, held his hand, held him, I would have never been… enough to make him laugh from his heart.” Your tears cast dark shadows. “I held him, Satoru, with all my might… and I still felt him slip away between my fingers.”

That’s how Satoru learns you were there that day, December 24th, not a snowflake in sight. Just a few metres away, you stood for only a moment before you walked away from the man you loved so he could die without any regret, at the cost of your own guilt eating you alive.

No one speaks after that. Satoru cleans your hands slowly, carefully, giving attention to each finger, before swiping your lips, and then he wipes your tears away but you’re not crying anymore.

You just look up at the moon emptily and he scoots closer in hopes to keep your returning trembling at bay.

“Ten years is a very… long time to love someone.” You break the silence. He doesn’t know how long it’s been. Fifteen, thirty minutes? He looks at you, and your lips press into a thin smile. He lifts his arm so you can scoot up close next to him. Your eyes never leave his face, regarding him with new clarity. “I just… realized.”

“Ten years is a very long time for anything,” he replies quietly, their faces very close. Their noses brush, and a warmth spreads through his cheeks as he presses the tip of your nose against his. You don’t pull away. Instead, you almost lean closer. Your nose is cold against his hot face, and he rubs it slowly with his own, trying to send heat back into your skin.

“A very long time to… wait.” Your eyes flutter shut, and your breath is warm over his lips as you slowly tilt your head so their foreheads meet. His hand squeezes your waist. You smell like the hospital, but there’s still the fragrance of the fresh-cut grass and herbs clinging to your skin as he moves his head just to the side so his nose presses into your frozen cheek. Your arm moves as if dragging through honey until it’s wrapped around his neck, palm flat against his shoulder, just as their brows press against one another. 

Something ignites inside his chest, incinerating the rot that seems to grow inside his own chest—it’s his dread, he realizes a moment later. An ugly knot of dread for what’s to come, the guilt, the cold grief that’s just out of reach. 

It’ll unfurl soon, he knows, but for now, he welcomes the relief you bring him.

In this moment, you are his, and he is yours, and that is all that matters.

His eyes close. His cheeks are burning hotter than the heaters surrounding them, and he feels a smile pulling at his lips as your fingers curl against the back of his neck.

“When will people… stop waiting?” you ask him, hushed like a secret.

Eyes opening, he answers you in the same soft voice, “Probably when they die.”

Your eyes crack open once more and he catches a sliver between your heavy lids. You’re so close he sees every detail of your irises, the pores of your eye bags, the way memories flicker through your pupils like fish in a river.

Your exhausted smile grows more genuine—something inside you seems to rear its bright little head, but it’s sad, and he realizes, then, what you must’ve been thinking. Words fumble at his mouth, but he doesn’t let anything slip as you lift your face away to rest your head against his shoulder.

.

You’re dozing against him. Satoru is staring up at the moon in your stead. It’s nearly fully that famous shade of dark blood red, but not quite. He can’t hear anything except the buzz of the space heaters and your breathing. His arm is still wrapped tight around you, holding you flush against him. He’s wished he’d done it so many times before that now, he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

You’re dying. Even as you rest against him, he feels it. The weakness in your body, the way you’ve turned ghost-like. The strength of your Cursed Energy has become more prominent now that you don’t have the energy to channel it properly, and it’s centred so strongly in your chest that he can feel it poking curiously at him, leaving little marks, a souvenir for when you’re gone.

His fingers dig into your side. You let out a noise, head shifting, and he rips his gaze away away from the sky as your hand falls away from where it had rested around his neck into his lap.

“Satoru?” you whisper brokenly, and he nods, smiling. He pulls you closer, but their bodies are so pressed against each other that it only serves to make you huff a bit.

“Hey. You’re still with us, don’t worry,”

“Not worried,” you mumble, lifting your head with difficulty. “Just glad you’re here.” You tilt your face to the moon. “It’s still… red, huh…” You shake, your hand at the hem of his shirt twisting tightly. He reaches to squeeze your arm and hopes it’ll be enough now. “Pretty.” Throat dry, he does not answer. His white hair falls into his eyes as you look up at him, and he decays at the vulnerability in your gaze. “Aren’t you glad… that we saw the eclipse?”

Jaw clenching, he nods and tries his best to smile. Your hand lets go of his shirt and you shuffle up close enough that your other arm sneaks around his waist. Touching his chin with trembling fingers, your eyes glitter in the darkness of his shadow.

“I’m going to miss this. The moon, stars, how… fucking short… ’n’ beautiful life is,” you finally whisper, throat tight. “Makes shit worth living for. Maybe… won’t miss it… the most… but, top three.”

“Top three?” he echoes. “Top three sounds pretty good to me.”

“And, y’know what, Satoru?” you continue in the same low, husky tone, as if you’re about to change his world one more time.

He drops to the lowest, quietest voice he can manage and moves his head closer. Their noses nearly bump into each other again, and you smile as he quirks an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“You’re… going to miss me… more.” 

Your hand on his waist travels up his shoulder and he feels the last of your strength in your muscles as you pull him towards you. Letting you, his arms wrap around your waist as your other arm shoots around his neck, clinging on so hard that he’s sure his spine might break. 

Flattening his palms against your uneven back, he closes his eyes and slides a hand to cradle your head close.

“And promise… me something,” you breathe into his ear. Your lips brush the shell of his ear, and a shiver shoots down his spine.

“Anything.”

“When I kick it,” you whisper, “take my body, and bury me… yourself.”

Throat swelling shut, Satoru’s glad you can’t see the way the blood drains from his face as he nods and holds you tighter. “I will.”

.

“One more photo for the road?” he asks. You lift your head from his chest, and he looks as you reach to sweep his lips with cold, trembling fingers. He smiles, his hand on your thigh squeezing meaningfully even though you can barely feel it now. Your arms are bundled between your chest and his, and he hauls your legs on his thighs more securely up his lap, arm tightening around your torso.

“Satoru,” you murmur, tilting your head to him. His eyes never move from yours as he picks up the camera, and your hand falls from his lips. “I’m glad… that it was you.”

He snaps the shot and the only sound that fills the silence is the camera chugging out the polaroid. Your eyes are dark, murky and unfocused, and he feels your stammering inhale in his very lungs as he presses his forehead against yours.

“I’m happy it was you, too,” he whispers. You search his gaze for only a moment, and then turn your head to the moon once more. 

Lowering the camera to the floor, he sneaks his other arm around you and rests his chin atop of your head, eyes sliding shut.

.

Nanami, Yaga, and Ijichi approach, dress shoes tapping against linoleum floors. Satoru and Shoko say nothing to them as they join in watching through the glass doors.

Satoru doesn’t like the room they’ve moved you to. It’s too full of machines, too open to passersby who could just look in if the curtains aren’t drawn, and even then…

It smells too clinical here. Too full of artificial light. The ICU is a mechanical sort of silence than the quiet peace of the dead-end hallway. There is no warmth, no books, no paintings. Your plants have been removed, and Nanami has taken all of them into his apartment except the red tulips which rest on the dinner table in Satoru’s kitchen.

You stopped being able to breathe on your own only a day after the eclipse. That was two days ago, and the ventilator is doing nothing more than prolonging your agony. Soon, the growths will block your lungs entirely, suffocating you from the inside out. 

The doctors have stopped taking scans.

“It’s only a matter of time, now,” Shoko had said. “Her directive says we let her go as soon as she can’t come back.” Quieter: “Her pulse ox has been dropping. It won’t be long.”

Ijichi’s face is stony. Satoru doesn’t know why he focuses on him out of everyone. Leaning against the nurse’s station, he stares blankly at the Assistant Director’s. Maybe because he thought he’d be a wreck. Out of all of them, Ijichi’s the most emotional, but his lips are set firm from where he stands between Nanami and their principal.

Maybe Satoru’s just looking for permission to fall apart, but that’d be stupid. 

I’m the strongest. I’ll be fine.

“I’m going to go in,” he announces. No one protests. Nanami sits down and crosses one leg over the other, fingers steepled and eyes indecipherable. Shoko sits beside him. There’s the faint scent of smoke clinging to her lab coat. 

Ijichi dips his head, but doesn’t sit and Yaga excuses himself to talk to the nurse about your condition.

Satoru sanitizes his hands, approaches the door, and pulls it open before stepping in and sliding it shut behind him. 

Click. Hiss. 

The sound of the ventilator is the only thing that occupies the room. That and the monitors. It’s very dark, despite it being the middle of the day. Mostly because you can’t open your eyes wide enough to withstand the sun anymore, so Satoru had asked the nurses to bring the same blackout curtains from your room here. The lights are dimmed until it’s only an orange glow right behind your bed. 

Click. Hiss.

Sitting down, he doesn’t take hold of your hand just in case you’re sleeping. The intubation tube rests on a pile of towels on your chest, and it takes a long time before your eyes open and your head tilts just enough to look. Your hand twists on top of the covers until your palm is tilted open.

He slips fingers in, takes hold. The feel of your skin making everything worse. You’re colder than you should be—it’s sweltering in this room, enough that Satoru is already beginning to sweat even through his short-sleeve—and your fingers just barely twitch against the back of his hand, tracing strange shapes.

You blink, tapping his knuckle, and he frowns.

“What’s up?” Withdrawing, he feels your nail scrape against his flesh and he looks down. Curiously, he takes your hand and places it on top of his so your fingers can touch the lines of his palm. “Are you spelling something out?” he asks, amused, glancing up again.

Another blink, slower this time.

He leans forward on his elbow to touch your cheek before resting his cheek against his fist.

“Alright, give it your best shot.” 

Your eyelids flutter, lips trembling in a weak smile. Your index finger begins to trace shapes, kanji, into his palm. Your chest rises and fall slowly, pumped full of air by a machine hooked to your lungs, forcing breath into you as your writing grows sloppy by the passing second but you still persist.

ANGRY?

“Angry?” he repeats, and you blink slowly again, fingers insistent on grabbing his palm. Folding his fingers over yours, he arches his eyebrows. “If I was angry at a terminally ill patient, that’d make me the asshole here.” Your eyes squeeze shut, eyebrows rearranging in what he recognizes as your laugh in silence. More seriously, his hold on you tightens and he lifts his head to brush his fingers over your brow. You tilt your head more to him, gaze murky warm. “How’re you feeling?”

It takes a while, but he feels your hand shuffle back to trace your answer on his hand.

BETTER

“Better. Yeah?”

Another lethargic blink. Yes.

“It’s because of me, right? I knew it. I knew it. We should tell Shoko—I’m the newest medical innovation in town,” he proclaims, and his smile begs to slip off his face but he only forces it back on, shoves it into place. Your eyebrows move again, like you’re struggling to hold back your laugh. Your eyes slip shut and do not open again. 

Your face goes lax a moment later, and your fingers loosen a bit, but he doesn’t let go. He just wants to touch your face and trace the lines into his memory. 

Satoru stretches his thumb along the swell of your bottom lip while carefully avoiding the tube. He runs his knuckles down your cheek. His fingers brush your pulse point along your neck, and he feels the slow, weak beat.

Click. Hiss.

He thinks you’re asleep for a while, until your finger drags over the flesh of his palm and he looks down, hand lifting from your face. 

“Hey, I’m still here,” he whispers, and your face turns towards him slightly, the tube in your mouth shuffling. He reaches forward, cupping your face and holding you still. “Hey. Don’t move. Your lungs are weaker than the rest of you and I’m not about to watch you die.” Something grabs onto the front of his shirt near his stomach and he looks down to see your fingers hooking on the cotton of his tee, twisting it weakly. “Oh, sorry.”

He draws back and slips his palm back into yours. Your index finger taps against the heel of his hand before your nail drags deliberately. One stroke. Then another, and another. Gojo wishes your eyes were open, because then he would be able to determine what the rest of the sentence could spell out before you’re done, but he’s patient. 

HERE

“Here?” You tap on his hand. Yes. “What’s here?”

YOU AND ME

“You and me,” he repeats thoughtfully. “Yeah, I get that. At least… now you can see Suguru again, right?” Your hand goes still and he looks at your face, reaching to touch your cheek again. You’re placid—doll-like, eyes shut, living dead. “I’m a bit jealous of that, but you should rest easy. It’s been a hard few months, hasn’t it?”

Another weak twitch of your finger on his hand.

“No matter what happens, don’t think I’m angry at you, or the choices you’ve made,” he continues. “As long as you let me stay here, I won’t waste a single second of it, okay?” Tap. He squeezes your hand so tightly your eyebrows twitch, even as you slip away from him. “For all your saying that you’re weaker than me, I never thought that. Not really.” Satoru raises your hand to his lips and he closes his eyes. “Being the strongest is pretty lonely. Used to be so fucking cocky about it, huh. Thought no one could touch me or the people I cared about because everyone would be too scared.”

Your fingers curl against his palm and he lowers his head to press your knuckles against his brow.

“I was wrong. I’d give anything to have you both back, but I can’t, and I hate it. You’re supposed to be with me at the top. I don’t want to be alone again.” His eyes are burning from the strain of keeping them open, but he refuses to miss a second of you being alive when the time is trickling like sand in an hourglass. He feels it like a heavy stare on his back, wondering if this next breath will be the last one before your brain finally decides to shut down. Your organs have been shutting down for nearly weeks now. He knows it’s out of pure selfishness that they’re dragging precious moments into agonizing hours. 

He knows you’re exhausted. 

Resting his chin on your fingers, he swallows. “I don’t know how to let you go. I wished I’d come sooner. I was careless. I know that. We could’ve had more time…”

Your fingers squeeze his as tight as you can before letting go. Somehow, he hears your voice in his ear. Something about being grateful for the time they did have.

“You were right, silly.” He chuckles to himself, bitter, anguished, and lowers your hand back to the bed, not letting go yet. “Ten years is a long time to wait. I let you down, but I’ll make sure you go easy. I promise.”

Satoru lays his head down on his forearm and he swears he catches your lips pull into the faintest smile. He stays there for hours, watching your face, stretching up to touch your unmoving face. The only sound is his steady breaths, the beep of your monitors and the click-hiss of your ventilator. 

It’s 1:04 PM when he falls asleep to the sleepy circles you trace into his wrist

It’s 6:22 PM when only one of them wakes up.

.

At 11:00 AM the next morning, during one of the hourly tests, they declare you brain-dead. With the announcement of your directive being honoured by your chosen proxy, Satoru himself, classes are cancelled and they are scheduled to take you off life support at six.

Ijichi brings them lunch and dinner. Satoru doesn’t eat. Only sits by your side, leaned back into the chair and looking at you while he still can until the clock ticks and ticks and ticks towards doomsday. The kids come to say final goodbyes while he watches on. Inumaki, as always, brings Panda through his phone, and Satoru wishes there could’ve been some way to sneak Panda into a high-class hospital just so their last moments together aren’t cheapened by a screen.

Shoko enters five minutes before it’s time, hand finding his shoulder and he looks up just long enough to catch her blank stare resting on your face.

She doesn’t say anything, only moves to the other side of the bed and sits down in the other chair.

The doctor pumps you full of sedation drugs, so you won’t feel any of the pain, unhooks the machines, and extubates you, explaining all the while what he’s doing just to fill the silence. As he pulls the tube from your throat, something in Satoru turns icy when a purple petal is plastered to the side of the plastic, but the doctor does not acknowledge it any more than murmuring that he will give them privacy.

Your rattling breaths echo in his ears as he watches the numbers slowly drop, but even your inhales fade to nothing more than soft, slight wheezes. The tape has left a strange mark around your mouth, and you’re unmoving otherwise. Shoko gently reaches and touches the eye bags that are, for once, worse than hers before shaking her head and pulling back. Everyone else waits outside.

Hours pass by in torturous years. 

Satoru wears the same stony expression the whole while, finally surrendering into his desire to hold your hand. 

His heart hardens. He goes completely still. Shoko talks but he can’t really hear anything except the slow beeps of your monitor once you pass certain thresholds. 

There are nurses waiting outside. They’ve grown used to the company, he thinks. He thinks one or two are crying. Soon enough, they’ll come in to turn off the machines tracking your vitals so the sounds don’t drive them crazy, banging in home that you’re dead, dead, dead.

After a while, Satoru realizes you aren’t quite breathing, although your chest moves. Sometimes, there’s a gasping sound, like someone surprised the breath out of you and you’re inhaling sharply to replace it, and he imagines your fingers twitching against his hand one last time.

It’s very slow. Much slower than he imagined it to be. Maybe you’re still fighting. Maybe you don’t want to go.

Satoru can’t imagine why. Where you’re going, there’s no pain, or exhaustion, or blood. Where you’re going, Suguru waits.

He leans against his hand, elbow on the slight incline of your bed. Letting go of your hand, he touches your face, feels the soft puff of your breath, the curve of your jaw. You’ve lost so much weight from the sickness you barely look like yourself, but you’re still you. The cursed energy is still yours. His Six Eyes sees it. His soul feels it.

It tangles with his own where he touches you, and a wave of exhaustion washes over him. 

He wants to sleep, let time pass, and wake up to you dead.

It seems a much better alternative to watching you slip away, but he’s always been selfish when it came to personal affairs.

.

You die two hours later.

Shoko closes her eyes and leans back into her chair as the nurse comes in to turn off the droning monitor. Her face is dry and she takes long, measured breaths as if trying to temper something swirling inside her. Satoru’s hard heart cracks as he squeezes your hand to see if you’ll wake up. It doesn’t quite sink in, even though he can hear someone crying outside, and when your limp hand doesn’t react at all, he shakes his head and gets up, pulling his sunglasses off the collar of his shirt and sliding them back onto his face.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and rakes his face over your body, your face.

He’s seen a dozen dead bodies before, maybe more. You look just like he did on December 24th. At peace, younger. Like you’re glad the suffering is over, and Satoru turns his face away sharply and leaves the room. He doesn’t know what to say and he’s not sure if his voice is still here. 

Everything feels dry and dull and grey.

“Sensei,” Itadori whispers wetly, reaching out a hand, making him stop. The students are all sitting in a small area, but they stand upon seeing him leave the room, and he gives them a plastic smile that makes all of them flinch. Maki is scowling furiously at the ground as Inumaki takes hold of her bicep but she flings the hand off and stalks away, hiding her red face.

“It’s going to be okay,” he tells them as Kugisaki runs after Maki. He watches the two go before turning his attention back on the students. “The important thing is that she didn’t suffer. Arrangements will be made, but there won’t be any rush, alright?” The words feel lacking, but he still manages to smile. “It’s been a long day. Go home. Rest, shower, eat. Let’s remember that she doesn’t want us to be here, slumping around looking like idiots. She wants you to all to take care of yourselves.” He arches his eyebrows insistently at his students, but they don’t seem to hear him.

They’re only looking through the glass doors at your coolling corpse, at Shoko who stands, and speaks to the doctor when he comes back in.

Fushiguro is the only one really looking at him, and the teenager has a silent question in his stare. 

Satoru shakes his head, and Megumi nods.

“Classes are cancelled for the rest of the week,” Yaga adds. “Ijichi will drive you all back to the college in thirty minutes. Make sure you tell the girls.” He directs this to Inumaki, who nods.

“Salmon.”

Later, Megumi finds him smoking a cigarette leaning against Shoko’s car. Satoru’s never liked the taste of the stuff so he doesn’t really know why he’s smoking other than the fact he doesn’t know what to do. 

Up is down, left is right, and you’re dead. 

Nothing seems right, but Megumi gives him a good excuse to stop. Flinging the cig to the ground, he stomps out the ember and re-arranges his expression into that shielded smile of his, but it feels a bit weaker. Sharp, janky, wrong.

“Why haven’t you gone home yet? Ijichi should’ve taken you all back by now,” Satoru says wearily as Fushiguro stops before him, hands shoved in his pockets.

“I stayed behind to look for you,” informs Megumi. He looks a bit fractured, but the boy’s never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Satoru makes a mental note to dig into his psyche at a later date, and stretches an arm out to wrangle the boy into a hug against his side.

For all of his complaints and mumbles and scowls, Megumi’s body still relaxes a bit against his, and even though he doesn’t hug him back, when he tells him, “You should go home and get some sleep, too. These past few months haven’t been easy on you, either,” Satoru feels a part of his old self raise its bloody head. 

Glancing down at a head of spiky hair, he knocks his knuckles into his student’s skull. “Have you been keeping an eye on me?”

Megumi crosses his arms, glares over Satoru’s elbow, but even his voice is quieter. “You need to take care of yourself.”

Satoru smiles again. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “But you’re not worried about me, are you, Fushiguro?”

Megumi ducks his head and doesn’t answer any more than, “Someone has to pick up the slack, now.”

.

“Thanks, Ijichi,” Satoru says with a huff, digging the shovel into the ground and stepping on the metal edge. “Not every day you help me carry a dead body and dig a grave, huh.”

“No, sir,” Ijichi replies. He sounds a bit hoarse and tired as he wipes at his brow.

It’s been two days since you’ve died. The college grounds feels a lot less lively. He took a walk in the gardens yesterday, and saw Yaga planting new flowers. He had strode past and ignored the tears on his sensei’s face, and absently wonders now why he hasn’t cried yet as he grabs the shovel and yanks it out of the dirt, tossing it to Ijichi.

It feels kind of stupid, but despite how eviscerated everything inside him feels, he just can’t.

Either way, he’ll deal with it when it becomes a problem.

Satoru wipes at his brow, too, with a heavy sigh, and heads to where a cloth-covered shape is resting on the ground. Your corpse is light in his arms as he bridal carries you to the hole he’s just dug into the grass. It looks suspicious as hell, but it’d probably be even worse if he’d been walking around with a dead body over his shoulder, stitched back together after an autopsy by your best friend. 

Good thing they’re only in the forests outside the college campus. There won’t be any civilians for miles.

“You can go,” he says over his shoulder, setting you down by the hole they’ve dug. He takes in a deep breath to calm himself and Ijichi’s footsteps hesitate before beginning and fading away moments later. Falling to his knees, Satoru begins to carefully unfold the cloth just enough that he can see your face and chest. 

He squints behind his blindfold at the ripples of energy still seeping from the stitches along your chest. Sinking his hands into the lush, cold grass, he twists the blades with rigid fingers at the stench of rot coming from the curse before he draws back.

Hands on his lap, he stares at your face. You look frozen in time, eyes closed, skin clean, and there’s that unnatural stillness about you that only comes with the dead. It’s strange. He probably couldn’t have imagined someone so vivacious could be so motionless if he hadn’t seen it first with Suguru.

He had asked not to hear the results of your autopsy. Not now, maybe not ever. It’d be fresh lemon juice in a weeping wound. All he knows is that the curse clings to your corpse, and Shoko could only remove the growths that were no longer being fed for examination.

“Weird that this is where we’ve found ourselves,” he begins humourlessly. “With how we were living, Suguru always said I’d die first. Doing something stupid, being too cocky.” He slides a hand into his pocket and withdraws something he’d snipped this morning from the last plant you had grown with your Technique. A red tulip with a short stem that’s a bit crushed, and beginning to decay, but… everything can’t be perfect.

“I never thought I’d outlive you.”

Reaching forward, he places the tulip gently on your chest, takes your cold arms that are just beginning to loosen up again from rigor mortis, and folds your hands over the stem.

“Eternal love, and fame,” he repeats to himself. The energy nearly swallows up the tulip, but as it radiates from your chest, flickers in the slight breeze, Satoru sees flashes of red and green, much brighter than everything else around him, and knows that it won’t be consumed. Sitting down, he hugs his legs to his chest and stares at your dead body blankly, chin on his knees.

He had had a plan. He was going to just… put the flower there, exorcise the curse inside you, and bury you so you could finally rest. He wouldn’t hesitate because this is something you entrusted him to do.

But this is the first time in months he hasn’t had a cloud hanging over his head, and his body feels so much ligher without the burden of your disease hanging off his shoulders, that he can’t help but relish in it. Speak to you without worrying about saying the wrong thing, of people overhearing. He’s finally… free. 

It feels fucking awful.

“You were right, by the way.” His voice is dull, resonating deep in his chest. There is no August sun breaking through the trees above, only from behind him, and the golden beams touch your chin, down your throat and chest. It sets the red of the tulip on fire. “I miss you. And I wish I could’ve said so many things, but we ran out of time.” A faint smile. “No matter what you think, Suguru loved you. It’s why he came to see you one last time. I knew him better than I knew myself, and I know he was happiest knowing you were at his side.” Closing his eyes, the ache in his heart swells as he utters out, “So was I.”

Burying his his face in his forearms, a cup inside him seems to tip over and everything feels too hot for him to breathe in. Ripping his blindfold off and tossing it away from him blindly, his eyes snap open wide as he tries to breathe. His ribs constrict his lungs, and he presses his eyes into his arms, hands shaking as he sinks his nails into his biceps. 

Harsh pants puff against his face as he tries to reign in his shuddering, but he can’t. The knot in his heart twists until he thinks he might die, and distantly, he hears soft footsteps so faint he’s not sure if he imagines it. Gritting his teeth, he stifles the bruising feeling welling up in his throat.

Gentle hands brush down his shoulders soothingly, sending a wave of nausea through his body, and he jerks away.

“Damn it, Ijichi, leave me alone!” Wrenching his head up, his eyes widen at the figure crouched in front of him.

Arms falling lax to the grass and his knees widening, his jaw drops as a thumb teases his parted lips. You step between his legs and crouch down, limber and strong. You look healthy again, bright eyes and full cheeks, young like spring, and when you smile, it fills him utterly with light. In your hands is his blindfold, and you ruffle his hair, tilting your head curiously.

“I’m not Ijichi, but… do you really want me to go so soon?” you ask as he rakes his gaze up and down your body. There is still a purple shell encasing your legs, but as you shift your weight on your feet, it falls like fragile eggshells to the ground and sinks into the dirt, disappearing for good. Peering around you, his eyes widen when he sees shards of a purple shell in shatters all over your corpse.

He’d only seen this once before, eight months ago, with a certain student of his and the cursed spirit of the girl he loved and who loved him.

Face burning, his gaze snaps back to you as you poke his cheek and continue to grin. Leaning back on his hands, he tries to stop the intense shattering of his walls by clenching his jaw, but the shudders overtake his body, his chest, his throat until he’s letting out an ugly sound and blinking hard as if that’ll hide it away from you. Something devastatingly warm immediately shoots down his cheeks. Covering his mouth with the crook of his elbow, he turns his face away but your warm hands cradle him carefully, thumbs brushing underneath his eyes.

“Yuuta, you’re right. Rika isn’t cursing you.”

“No,” he whispers, arm falling. His fingers sink into his shoulder as if that would be enough to wake him from this nightmare. “No. I can’t—Did I—Did I kill you?” You squint studiously, not letting go of his face as he lifts the hand from his shoulder and reaches to touch you. It shakes, and he snaps it into a fist to stop it, looking at his fingers that have done so much harm—shed so much blood. “Did I do this to you?”

“You cursed Rika.”

You chuckle fondly, like he’s said something silly, and set a hand on his fist, pushing it down firmly. “You can’t control how other people react to your words, Satoru.” Your voice changes, and your eyebrows draw together in something bittersweet. “And you can’t change something you didn’t know. The chances of you cursing me and me cursing myself are irrelevant. It doesn’t change anything about where we are, now.”

Satoru watches you, lips parted, as you tie the blindfold around his neck. You feel so real, so close, and as you slide your hands down his shoulders, to his chest, he jerks his head down to stare at your shoes in the grass. 

So he did. 

“I see,” he murmurs.

That’s it, then.

“Satoru, please look at me,” you whisper, fingers stretching to his chin. With the gentlest of pressures, you prompt him up and he finds your face, your smile, where all colours begin and end. For a moment, the world seems to inhale all of its life back into its core—the leaves whistle, the sun is warm and golden, and he lifts his hand to touch you again, but you pull back before he can. 

“I can only thank you for being my friend. For staying with me until the very end.” You laugh quietly to yourself and lift your hand from his face. “I would make a joke about a curse, but I know it still hurts, so I’ll save it for when I see you on the other side, okay? When it heals a bit more.”

“It’s never going to hurt less,” he croaks. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know how much you mean to me.”

Your smile softens. Satoru tries to eternalize that expression forever. “I’m honoured, but, I hope it does heal. I don’t want you to learn how to carry so much pain around. I don’t want you to be numb.” You touch his cheek again, as if you’re trying to soak in as much of him as you can, too. 

“Do you have any last words?” he manages to ask raspily, and you chuckle, tilting your head and running your hand through his hair again. His eyes flutter shut at the scratch, the sensation of your nails against his scalp, and then there’s your hand at his jaw, holding him all together. He wants to hold you so badly he thinks his muscles might cramp into stone at the desire.

“What does it matter?” you ask curiously. “You already know how I feel. That will never change. And if you ever want to know what I think, or what I’d do, you can just ask Shoko and think about it yourself. You know me well enough to not need me nagging about it.”

“But, it won’t be enough.”

“It never will be,” you agree. “But isn’t it wonderful that we even got to know each other at all?” You lean forward, and his eyes flutter shut as you hold him to your chest. He can’t hear your heartbeat anymore, but your warmth is almost the same. The echo of your voice rumbles in his head as you speak, and maybe that is enough. “If you want my last words, you already have them.”

You draw him back, and give him one last smile. The air shifts golden yellow to his Six Eyes, for the last time. 

“Until we meet again, my Satoru.” 

You fade without giving him a chance to answer, taking all the colour with you. 

Staring at the empty air where you had been just a moment before with wide, burning blues, he whispers your name brokenly before burying his hands in the dirt, squeezing his eyes shut, and letting boiling tears scald his face red.

.

“If you want my last words, you already have them.”

Spinning the key ring on his finger, Satoru looks dully at the door knob he had just unlocked. There’s no one in the hall, and he debates whether or not he should turn around, but Shoko had insisted. There’d been something left for him in your old apartment, and according to her, it would be spoiled soon if he didn’t go.

“Oh, what the hell,” he mutters, catching the key in his palm and shoving it into his long coat. Tugging it tighter around himself, he twists the knob and pushes it open. He can’t remember the last time he was in here. Maybe five or six months ago, when they both had a day off that didn’t need to be spent at the college.

There aren’t any plants anymore. He supposes Nanami, Ijichi, maybe even Yaga have taken them. He swears he’s seen a few in the gardens lately, but who is he to say? Toeing off his shoes, he makes his way down the hall. 

 Everything is just as you left it, with clean counters and empty tables. The curtains are spread, letting in so much September sunlight. It hits random display pedestals of different sizes, all the surfaces big enough to fit a pot on. Your watering can sits by the sink. There are photos hanging on the walls, propped up on the desk, on your shelves, polaroids taped to the walls. 

Reminders that someone did live here. That there is a whole life unknown to strangers but evidence enough that whoever used to be here, they had people who would miss them.

Walking up to the counter, he drags his fingers along the surface, feeling the dust collect up to a square of pale light. A clean circle is all that’s left as a clue that there used to be something there, and his heart twists.

Who knew he could miss fucking plants of all things?

Sweeping his gaze around, he brushes off the dust on his jacket and hooks a thumb on his blindfold, sweeping the area with an eccentric eye. The TV is off, your bookshelves are in their usual untidy state, but even the reaching vines of the bean plant is gone from the highest shelf.

 “They really scooped this place dry,” he muses dryly to no one. He can still hear the music you’d play for late nights, the smell of dumpling soup. He walks down the hall and still remembers how many steps it takes to reach the bathroom that guests would use. 

He had hunched over that bath on December 25th, and let water soak through his hair as strong fingers worked the sweat from his scalp and skin.

Four more steps to the guest best room on the right, and another three to the end of the hall where a door leads to your room. It’s already open, and he steps in easily, tugging his blindfold all the way down off his face. Hair falling over his eyes, he sweeps it aside and surveys the room. The walls are still that pretty shade of cream, and your bed is made carefully, dark olive blankets resting atop your white sheets. He smiles to himself, despite the twang in his chest.

Walking deeper, he approaches the cabinet by your bathroom, and picks up the photo you have by your jewelry stand.

A smile curls his mouth. He remembers this one. First year, their first September. All four of them had gone together to Sapporo for the autumn festival. 

He sets the photo back down and looks into the bathroom. Your toiletries are all lined up, waiting for their next use, and he swallows as he raises his gaze up to the mirror. His blue eyes look a big too big on his face from the past month alone, and there are red-purple half moons printed onto his face that have only just started to fade. He swears it only looks worse because of how much pale light is streaming in from the windows, and he tugs at his collar uncomfortably, clearing his throat.

Turning around, he looks at the offenders for making him look so awful, and finds a medium-sized pot sitting on the window seat. It’s the only thing sitting on the flat, wooden surface, in partial shade and almost unfurling before his very eyes.

Satoru frowns, walking around your bed to inspect the plant. 

The flowers are a warm magenta colour, and his eyes widen at the flash of white he can see leading to the center of each bloom. Brushing a thumb over the petals, his jaw sets as he tilts his head to get a better look at the plant. So this is what was growing inside of you. Huh.

There’s another slip of white near the dirt, and his eyebrows furrow, fingers seeking the thing. It crinkles when he touches it, and his frown deepens as he manages to grasp it, pulling it free underneath the leaves and stems of the plants. Sitting down beside the pot, he dusts off the dirt clinging to the paper, and reads his name along the front in your print before flipping the envelope around. There’s something sticking out of it, a sloping shape that’s hard but not too big.

Curiosity peaked, he tears the envelope open carefully and peers inside. A binder clip is inside, holding something together, and he flips it upside down, letting everything fall. The letter slides out first, followed by whatever the binder clip is holding together and he squeezes his thighs together so it doesn’t fall to the floor.

Setting the letter aside, he picks the bundle up. 

Polaroids.

They’re polaroids of different sizes that have him smiling despite the heavy sorrow twisting his entire chest.

Various pictures of Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you together, and he finds most of them are of him and you. Pictures of him hiding behind plants of various sizes, a picture of him drinking soju, because Suguru liked it the most and insisted he try, while leaning against Shoko who was knocking back a shot of tequila. There is a shot of Suguru, wet with mud and smiling like sunshine, while a drenched Satoru was in the background, flipping the camera off in the middle of a storm. 

More and more pictures, enough to spill out of his lap, and he picks up each one, desperate to remember when or where you took them.

And, sometimes, he can’t. Sometimes, they are just moments that he’s lost because he never thought they’d be important, and now moments he’d give anything to remember.

There are pictures of a fern he had named their first year, little annotations on the bottom of some others. Dates, but with no context otherwise. Names scribbled in black ink. 

You’re in a lot of them, your smile timeless, your joy infectious even through film.

Arms slung around Suguru, face smushed against his, artfully blurry perhaps on accident, and annotated with scrawl that read: I call this masterpiece “Dumb Sweethearts” by Gojo Satoru :)

A picture of him and Shoko and Suguru, of them in one of Tokyo’s night markets, you behind the camera, the lights flashing and warm and pink, making them all look like they’ve transported to some other kind of cyberpunk world. 

You and Shoko lounging in the gardens, having a tiny picnic at your insistence, and in Suguru’s handwriting in black: JUST GIRLS BEING PALS

Satoru stares at Suguru’s writing the longest, not even at his words, just the strokes of his pen. This is a new part of him Satoru thought had been destroyed, and he starves for it. It’s like his one and only lives and breathes in the ink, in those snapshots of him caught in eternal youth. When they’d been happy and unaware and not innocent, but cocky enough to think they could rule the world. 

It’s hungry, the way he goes through each photo, searching for another glimpse of you, of him, of them together, until Satoru is all out of moments to feed on, and still, he feels empty, flicking through the last few photos.

You in a pool, arms wrapped around Shoko and beaming like the sun.

A shot of Satoru and Suguru climbing trees shot from below, your eyes and skeptically raised eyebrows in frame, captioned big dumb monkeys

And the last one…

He holds it to the sunlight and his gaze softens.

A selfie of you kissing Suguru on the cheek. It’s mostly dark, but they were definitely in the bathroom, and the flash made Suguru’s outstretched arm look pale as a ghost, but even so, there’s no mistaking the happiness captured there. He was sticking out his tongue, winking, and red as a beet so he was either drunk or you had said something or both. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, nose squished against his cheek, eyes squeezed tight as he took the shot.

Turning it over, Satoru’s heart plummets into his chest. In Suguru’s clean, blocky writing:

THE GIRL IM GOING TO MARRY ONE DAY <3

And crossed out is your reply followed by a little note:

dummy doesnt have the nerve to propose SHHH!!!! ONE DAY C:

One day.

It sounds so much emptier now.

He lowers the photo back to his lap, and glances around him, at all these scattered moments captured forever. Gathering them up again, he relives them all over again, looking at each photo for longer to see if he’s missed anything, but mostly his stare lingers on your face, and on Suguru’s, and his own, too, because he can’t remember what it felt like back then, but he is sure it feels so much better than now.

The polaroids come together a neat stack and he is careful not to scratch any of them when he clips them together. The top photo is of you with your arms wrangled around Suguru and Satoru, your face split in a maniacal laugh, their mouths open in shock, eyes bulging in how you must’ve scared them witless. 

Shoko’s messy writing at the bottom, for it must’ve been her who had taken the photo: BREAKING NEWS: Japan’s Strongest Conquered by a Woman.

A smile cracks his weary face and he runs a thumb over their faces before sliding the photos back into the envelope for safe-keeping. 

Then, he grabs the letter. His name is written again on the first flap, and he reads it three times over before unfolding the paper, not quite ready but also not sure if he ever will be.

Immediately, a faint, herbal-like scent slashed with antiseptic flows from the page and his stomach curdles as your script pours down the page. 

Swallowing, Satoru shifts and leans against the wall, hiking a foot up onto the seat and holding your inked characters to the light. There’s a date inscribed at the top.

Thursday. 

The first Thursday after you had been released from the hospital. Your last Thursday before you were back in for good.

“Shit.”

He folds the letter again and tilts his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

Does he want to read this? Does he really want to fucking read this? 

Taking a deep breath, he clears his throat and lowers his gaze to stare determinedly ahead of him. The purple flowers greet him warmly and he shakes the shiver out of his body before tightening his grip on your letter and unfolding it again, forcing his eyes on the page.

My Satoru,

I sent all the pictures I had of Shoko to her, and she has some of Suguru, too. Now that I’m gone, there’s no use if I keep them. Maybe you two could share some time, laugh it up over these old memories. I know she says she can’t stand you, but to be honest, who else is there that will remember us now? Who else is there to remember Suguru for more than his bloody hands and me as more than that girl too sick to do anything but die? 

Some legacy we said we’d leave, huh.

I don’t think I told you this, but with this disease catching up to me, it’s hard not to form hypotheses on why it’s happening or how. I have quite a few theories, and, unfortunately, none of them are pleasant or unriddled with angst. By now, you’ve probably figured out it’s a curse, and if you’re smart enough to ignore how much I’ll probably deny it, that it’s some love bullshit. If you didn’t know, now you do.

I know it’s weird. Suguru is dead. It shouldn’t be happening, right?

That’s what I thought, too

You once said love manifests the most twisted curses. I never thought of it that way before, but I’m starting to think you’re right. I don’t want to curse you by dying, but I can’t help but wonder if we can control who we curse. If I hadn’t heard you say that, would I still be here? Healthy? Okay? 

I don’t know. I can’t predict alternate timelines, because I got to live one life, and that’s more than most people get. But, because I know you, you want me to entertain you. I’m sighing as I write this.

Look, I know the pain would still be there. I know I still wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for what I did, even if it was what had to be done. I know I would still miss him. I know that I would still long for the day I didn’t feel guilty for loving someone else.

If you didn’t curse me, I cursed myself. It drives me crazy that this is how the die was cast, even now, even after months where I could’ve accepted this, but at least this physical manifestation almost makes me… calm. Like seeing what this life has done to me makes me brave enough to fight it. If anything at all, the curse brought me a greater understanding of how powerful our world is in comparison to people who… are normal. The people we have to protect.

I’m sorry. Reading this back, it sounds like I’m the one cursing you now; telling you all this knowledge that can only bring you more anguish. I promise, this isn’t what it is. I just want you to understand. You couldn’t have saved me, Satoru. I couldn’t have given you the absolution you wanted, and if that’s how it is, then I just hope that one day you can look back on this and it won’t hurt anymore.

It’s always been so complicated between us, after what happened to Suguru, and after what he did, even ten years ago. What we couldn’t stop and what we had to do that day. There was always a line that I thought I couldn’t cross, or a line you didn’t want to cross, and it was shaped a lot like him. I don’t know if it was just in my head, but there was something holding us back, and I was fine dancing around it because I saw how you felt about him and I understood. Your eyes always changed when you looked at him. When you spoke of him. Even after.

Always after.

Don’t think I’m angry. I’m not blind. I know how much you two meant to each other, and I could never be angry that Suguru is so cherished. Missed. It makes everything so much harder, so much more painful.

Look, in the end, I loved him, and you did, too. And if we both still do, that’s okay. He deserved love. 

I guess it just feels like a stab in the back that it wasn’t enough. 

But life isn’t a fairytale. None of it really matters. To be honest, I wouldn’t trade any of it for a second, and I hope you wouldn’t either. 

Maybe life isn’t supposed to be lived happily, but lived contently. And I did. I am satisfied with what I’ve done, even if I wanted to do so much more. 

I’m so grateful to have known you, to have had you by my side. I hope you can say the same. 

Don’t regret my death. Remember how much fun we had when we were stupid kids, and smile. Because I don’t want you to think your best years are behind you. I want you to be happy, even if I can’t be there to see it. I want you to be excited for your future, even if I can’t be in it.

I’ll always be watching over you, so smile for me every once in a while. Even if it seems like you’ll never feel anything again. One day, I promise you will, and it won’t feel so bad.

Yours forever and ever and ever,

(Name)

.

Throat crushed, he reads one line over and over the most. He’s memorized your letter heart, but he still carries it around with him, anyway.

“I know that I would still long for the day I didn’t feel guilty for loving someone else.”

Sometimes, he just wants to imagine your hand whispering over the page, the pen tapping against your chin, your face as you wrote, the sigh that you said you heaved. Because he’ll never hear you laugh again, see your smile. Your voice will never tease his ear, your fingers will never touch his face. There is no more laugh-wrinkles set in a face always perfectly hit by sunlight, and this is all he has left. His memory, and what you’ve left behind.

It makes him laugh how almost lovestruck stupid he’s being, but… he doubts anyone blames him. As long as he’s still doing his job, as long as he’s still the Strongest, what does it matter if he carries a dead woman’s letter in his pocket everywhere?

“Warm weather, even in the evenings. That’s a bit unusual,” Nanami observes, startling Satoru and he looks up at the blond who stops by him in the gardens. The man is wearing his grey suit, as always, and his watch glimmers in the fading gold light. “How are you?”

Satoru’s fingers tighten around the letter in his hands. As usual, the urge to crumple it up, throw it into the garbage to never see it again, has reared its head after his latest re-read, but he’ll stave it off. He always manages to.

“Fine,” he replies, glancing at the startling blood red and burnt orange leaves casually. Colours seem a bit brighter, and Satoru still squints a bit against them, despite the soft light of the sunset. He doesn’t know when his Six Eyes got so sensitive to that kind of stuff, but it almost feels good to be distracted by something so trivial as sensitive eyesight. “It is a bit warm for October.” 

Nanami hums. “How are your plants doing?”

“Mine are doing good,” he says, smiling. “The tulips have gone dormant, so nothing to worry about there. The one with purple flowers, though. It’s a tough one. It took me a while to figure out what it liked, but it didn’t go dormant or anything as long as I gave it enough water and paid attention to it.”

“That’s good.” Nanami adjusts his green lenses and sighs like he’s bracing himself for something difficult. “Gojo,” he begins, but Satoru merely folds your letter up and slides it into his breast pocket, holding up a hand.

“Whatever you’re going to say, Nanami, I don’t need to hear it.”

“Are you sure?” he asks skeptically, gaze following as Satoru stands, patting his jacket. Adjusting the lapel, he turns to his friend and when he grins, it feels like it reaches his eyes behind his sunglasses for the first time in two months.

“I’ve done this before, Nanami. I’ll be fine.” He waves it away. Nanami frowns. “I’m gonna get some dinner, though. Care to join? There’s a real good ramen place in Ikebukuro that you have to try.” The blond man observes him for a moment, before shaking his head, saying he had dinner already. “Suit yourself. Next time, I’m treating you, though.” 

Lips puckered in a whistle, Satoru turns around and begins to walk away. 

A breeze sweeps through the gardens, rustling the leaves in a discordant harmony, and sneaking into his jacket, sending a slight shiver up his spine as Nanami’s voice follows after him.

“The flower she left you is the sakurasou.” Satoru stops, hands in his pockets, but he doesn’t turn around as Nanami continues, “I wasn’t certain if if you knew.”

“Nope, I didn’t. Thanks for the info.” Lifting a hand, he barely looks over his shoulder before saluting with two fingers and smiling cheekily. It’s not as forced as it used to be. In fact, it comes quite easy as he reaches into his pocket for his phone. He knows what he has to find out now. “See ya later, Nanami.”

“Good evening,” he replies, and in a blink of an eye, Satoru is gone.

On the windowsill of his empty apartment, the sakurasou soaks in the last remnants of the day before wilting against two photos.

One of four students, arms entangled, and faces framed in eternal youth.

And another immortalizing what could’ve been longer than a few shaky months if someone had been just a bit braver.

a/n: satoru’s google search result: the meaning of sakurasou - desire and long-lasting love. 

and yes, there was an actual lunar eclipse on july 27th, 2018 (28th in japan time). it was very pretty. i researched a bit about both the lunar eclipse and the medical stuff, but excuse any inaccuracies! tis but a work of fiction <3 also, fun fact: the polaroid camera is supposed to be the instax mini 90 but ive never used it so excuse those inaccuracies as well SKNDALSDKN

ngl i did wanna write an alternative ending, but i can’t see this ending any other way. this is it. this is the canon, and we got a bit of happy feelies at the end as a treat. thank you for reading!