#I hope yall enjoy chapter one

[takeyourpillsbitchh]

𝙰𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎 - 𝙰 𝙶𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢

𝚂𝚘, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 "𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝙴𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚍 𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜". 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙸 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙴 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 (𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸'𝚖 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚋𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚗🤭) 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚝!

Summary: While fleeing an abusive relationship with his son Mickey Milkovich is in a car accident that leads to him losing his memory. Ian Gallagher is the responding medic to the car accident and forms a bond with the young boy and takes it upon himself to care for the boy until his father is well again. Things aren’t always as they seem though. And sometimes in protecting yourself and those you love you bury the truth. But the truth never stays hidden for long.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings/Tags: Domestic violence. Child abuse. Amnesia. Trevor. Ian and Trevor are and have only ever been friends in this story. Ian has a dog. Very protective Ian Gallagher. Dad Mickey. Previously married Mickey. Bipolar!Ian. The bipolar is not a main topic. Manipulation of how real world laws work — it’s fiction guys.

READ HERE!

[clowningaroundmars]

Hobie1610 pt. 3

part 3 has finally arrived!!! at a faster rate than part 2 but a bit of a wait nonetheless lol

not entirely sure how long this lil story will go on for but hope y'all are enjoying this ride regardless, whether it ends on the next part or in 3 more chapters ldfjkdhf

in this installment: thrilling action, a high stakes chase, and we get to learn more abt our beloved hobie jones! yippee!

>pt. 1 here<

>pt. 2 here<

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

By some miracle, Hobie did not mention the suit to Miles once they started texting semi-regularly.

Unfortunately, they also couldn't really make their lunch date (date? God, get it together, Morales. It is not a date…) as soon as Miles would have liked, due to a million different things getting in the way of them setting a solid day aside to chill together.

Just his luck, of course.

But in the hallways, Hobie actually deigned to give Miles a passing smile every now and then. They didn’t ever get to hang out like they did for those precious few moments on the first day of school, but Miles didn’t feel the crushing weight of guilt every time he saw Hobie in his same classroom anymore. What a relief!

So Miles was mostly okay with how things were going anyhow, even if the hangout ended up falling through and they both decided not to go in the end. He was able to patrol and do his homework in blissful peace for the first time in months.

… Kind of.

That look on Hobie’s handsome face as he looked down past Miles’ coat collar though…

That still ate away at an anxious part of Miles’ brain whenever he had the time to sit down and really let his worries manifest.

No time to think about that now, though. Miles was suited up again on a school night, hoping to get at least an hour’s worth of patrolling in before security at Visions noticed he was absent from his dorm room. He hoped Ganke would be able to cover for him like he always did.

It was yet another cold evening out in New York City, and Miles was steadily covering the edges of Brooklyn, heading towards Manhattan to do a quick sweep through Central Park like he did on occasion. There was always something going on in Manhattan, especially during the evening.

Miles decided it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick peek before calling it a night and heading back to Visions.

So away he went-- now fully in his Spiderman element-- vaulting and soaring over buildings, showing off every now and then by doing silly flips and tricks mid-air for the opportunistic New Yorkers looking to snap their Spiderman Sighting of the day. A little social media promo never hurt anyone, after all…

Spiderman finally swung down onto a tree branch on the western side of the park from a street lamp and was just about to lower himself down as inconspicuously as he could, before immediately feeling the tingling electricity of his Spider Senses race up and down his spine, giving him the usual headache along with it.

He crouched down quietly on a branch and watched as a familiar lanky figure streaked across the path underneath him onto the grass and beyond.

Whoever this runner was, he was fast. And hot on his trail was a gang of burly bumbling assholes cursing up a blue streak as they gave chase.

Spiderman’s eyes stayed glued to the fast runner like they were a lifeline. His senses honed in on the person and he erupted out of the leaves of the tree with one mighty leap, sailing through the air to shoot a web out and swing his way on over to the excitement.

Several joggers, people walking dogs after work, and mothers with baby carriages exclaimed and shouted as they were barreled into by the gang of men trying to keep up with their moving target. The runner didn’t seem to be giving up, though, as their long legs sent them flying over bushes and rocks and lounging people as gracefully as a ribbon in the air.

It was indeed getting dark soon again, but the darkness didn’t really affect Spiderman’s senses at all. His mask helped him fine-tune his powerful vision and anticipate the runner’s next moves.

It looked as though they were trying to make their way up towards the Great Lawn from Cedar Hill, but whether the person was planning to make a break for the now-empty Delacorte Theatre or the Metropolitan Museum Of Art… or beyond? That was the million dollar question.

Spiderman didn’t want to lose the person in case they happened to just be a petty thief, since that would be a quick and easy problem to fix. But as he silently chased down the runner alongside (and unbeknownst) to the gang, his suspicions gave way to some other... ideas.

Namely, that the runner seemed young, a bit too young for someone to be pissing off this many fully-grown gang members.

He pushed through his confusion and made a break for the theatre the second he guessed that the runner was pivoting in that direction.

The trees were getting thicker the closer they got to the Belvedere Castle and Spiderman eventually resorted himself to hoofing it, mindful of sticking to the shadows of the foliage that surrounded them on all sides.

He was super grateful now more than ever that his suit happened to be his signature sleek black and red, rather than the tacky and hyper-visible reds and blues of many of his Spider counterparts (sorry Peter!)

Once he confirmed that the suspicious target was indeed planning on hiding in the bleachers of the massive amphitheatre, he shot up a web to hoist himself into the infrastructure from the tall stadium lights. From there, he positioned himself a bit closer to the fray, hearing the loud and heavy boots of the gang following the runner, not far behind.

Then, he squinted into the dusk as he watched one of the entrances from his perch up high... and almost choked on his own saliva!

In comes none other than Hobie Motherfucking Jones, streaking down several steps like a shooting star, clutching onto… something tucked under one of his arms. He was breathless, panting loudly, and heading straight for the Belvedere Lake.

Upon hearing the heavy bootfalls get ever closer with every passing second, it seemed that Hobie got the idea to attempt a last-minute juke by throwing himself underneath the stairs that faced the lake, tucking himself as tightly as he could under the massive stage at the center.

Spiderman watched all of this happening with wide eyes, holding his own breath in. He prayed that the ugly thugs didn’t see Hobie’s sneaky last-second move, but climbed up high onto the stadium lights and prepared to swing down anyhow, just in case.

What was Hobie even doing here, out at this hour? And what the hell did he manage to steal that was so important to these men anyways? It was quite a chase they were caught up in, running nearly two entire miles all the way up to the amphitheatre just to catch him, and that was only from what he could see when he swung into action.

The group split up and pulled out flashlights, determinedly searching the bleachers and corners as best they could while the sky rapidly darkened above them.

From right below the webbed crime-fighter, Hobie poked his head out from the shadows and took a peek.

No, no, duck back down! Spiderman wanted to shout, but he couldn’t.

No one knew he had followed them and he was safe high above the action where he balanced himself on the metal bars that housed the bulbs. His muscles tensed as the bright beam of light from one guy’s flashlight swept a little too close to Hobie’s head. Damnit.

Spiderman couldn’t just sit there all day! He had a friend to save, stolen item be damned!

He rechecked his web shooters furtively and took aim.

He set his sights on another stadium light pole across from the stage, figuring that if he was quick and agile enough, he could time his swing well enough to scoop Hobie up from where he was hidden and avoid any detection. Hopefully.

Seemed like a solid enough plan though, until Hobie just. Shot out from his hiding place all of a sudden, the heels of his boots rapping loudly against the cement and echoing all around the stage as he made a beeline for the lakefront.

Shit!!!

Miles wanted to kill him. Those guys didn’t even suspect he was hiding where we was in the first place!

... Okay, plan B!

Spiderman’s brain whirred at breakneck speeds as he watched the thugs exclaim loudly and give chase yet again, this time much closer to Hobie than they ever were before.

Without thinking, he swung down from his perch and bowled over a couple of men in his haste to simply just… grab Hobie like a damsel in distress and fireman-carry him back around the gang to get a good line of web onto a nearby pole.

The men all cursed and shouted in surprise of course, flashlight beams waving around everywhere.

One of them even yelled, “what the hell was that?!” like a character in one of his dad’s favorite cheesy slasher movies.

Spiderman was too fast for them, a black blur simply whizzing by as he grabbed Hobie and hoisted the both of them up into the air with a mighty leap. Hobie yelped in surprise, grunting from the effort, and seemed to let whatever he stole slip out of his hands which then clattered loudly onto the ground below.

The thugs rejoiced then, shaking fists at Hobie and his rescuer as they flew up to the top of a tree and detached themselves so they could fall onto the stadium light opposite from Spiderman’s initial hiding spot.

Spiderman didn’t stop until he attached another web up to the lights and dangled there for a bit. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins as he shifted Hobie off of his shoulders and let him slide slowly onto his side, his friend’s wiry arms clutching him tightly.

They both watched with rapt attention at the goings-on several feet below them.

The thugs congregated around the fallen item, picking it up and turning it this way and that. It looked like a briefcase, though with the low lighting it really could’ve been anything. It was only when one of them-- the biggest and burliest of them all-- shouted out another colorful swear word that Hobie then seemed to come back to himself again.

He squeezed Spiderman’s shoulders with his arms and kicked at him. They swung a bit from the wiggling.

“Ouch!” Spiderman hissed, as quietly as he could. He was hoping the dark dusk would conceal their position now as long as they made No Noises, but even that wasn’t guaranteed.

“Go, go, go, go, man! Let’s get out of here!!” Hobie hissed right back into his ear, his face mere centimeters away from Spiderman’s mask.

Spiderman stubbornly ignored the heat radiating out from his face at that realization and jerked this way and that, looking for an easy escape from their conundrum.

Flashlight beams danced around the ground before finally swinging up to the trees and catching sight of a pair of shoes dangling in the sky.

The biggest and meanest one of the bunch pulled something out of his pocket and took aim.

Bullet! Spiderman’s senses screamed into his cerebellum.

“Goddamn,” he huffed ruefully as the shots rang out. Hobie panicked. “Bullets for us? That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”

Hobie clung onto his hero for dear life. “Brother, if you do not get a move on from here, we are both gonna get turned into fish filets!” He shouted into Spiderman’s ear.

“Ow. Okay,” Spiderman grumbled, sticking himself to the side of the pole they dangled from and readjusting Hobie so that he clung onto his back instead.

He took a deep breath and narrowly dodged a bullet that whizzed unnervingly close to their heads. Hobie yelled again.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Spiderman began, speaking quickly. “Hold on, okay? Hold on tight. Just hold on and do not let me go for even a second!”

“On it!” Hobie shouted back, legs kicking a bit before wrapping themselves tightly around Spiderman’s torso.

They both took a breath and then Spiderman jumped, gaining some air before twin webs erupted from his web shooters-- aimed directly towards the seating area entrance.

Together, he and Hobie rocketed from their airborne position towards their escape route once the fluids connected to solid architecture. To his credit, Hobie only whimpered a little bit through the ride.

The thugs had no chance! They stumbled on tired, aching legs towards the very door the two teens had left out of, complaining and cursing some more as they searched through the steps and made their way out onto the theatre’s general admission and concessions area.

They searched and searched through the bushes and trees, going so far as to even check the sculptures near the structure.

After several tense moments of gruff shouting back-and-forth, the search eventually died down until only a couple of the men were left sweeping the area once more. The others had already given up their fruitless endeavor and called it a night.

“Fucking kids, man. What the hell,” Spiderman heard one of them grumble before kicking at the Romeo and Juliet statue angrily and following the rest of his cohorts down the path towards the Great Lawn again.

Hobie and Spiderman let out matching sighs of relief then, happy to have given the men the slip by managing to hide behind the giant 3D Delacorte Theatre sign right above the box offices. Lucky for them, most people don’t think to search behind lit-up signs, so they went completely undetected.

“… Wanna let me know what you were doing here this whole time? You could’ve gotten killed!” Spiderman breathed. He wanted his tone to be sharper, more authoritative… but he was just so glad to see his new friend still in one piece instead of riddled with more holes than a chunk of swiss cheese!

Hobie scoffed, tucking a loc behind his ear and sitting back. Thanks to the lighting of the sign and the other park lights in the area, Spiderman could see him digging around in his coat pocket and fishing out-- a USB drive?

Hobie held it up triumphantly, sleepy down-turned eyes glistening with pride.

“I got it! Suckers! Screw them by the way, I’m not the thief, if that’s what you’re wondering,”

Well. He was sneaky, alright. Spiderman had to hand that to him, at the very least.

He sat back on his heels as well and exhaled. “Fine. I believe you. What’s on that drive?”

Hobie squinted at him then, really giving him a good once-over now that the excitement had officially died down. “…Damn. You’re Spiderman,”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, hi, nice to meet you, I’m your friendly neighborhood Sp-- ugh, seriously man, just tell me what all of that was back there or else I’m webbing you up and calling the cops.”

“Hey!” Hobie objected. “Like I said already, I’m the good guy here. I snagged this from those guys because I caught them snoopin’ around the museum over that way. I followed them and found out they were stealing this!”

Spiderman bobbed his head. “Okay? And what’s on it?”

Hobie turned the drive over a bit in his hands, admiring it. “Most likely? Security codes, schedules, maps. I’ve been uh… investigating those dudes for a while after watching them sniff around the museum for a few days now. It looks like they were just art thieves plannin' a heist, so I jumped on the opportunity to deliver justice myself.”

Hobie’s mischievous grin was met by Spiderman’s disapproving stare.

“And why didn’t you just call security and let them know? Like I said, super dangerous thing you did back there! If I wasn’t there to save you, you could’ve died, man.”

Hobie pocketed his USB drive again and rolled his eyes. “Y’know, for a vigilante hero with cool superpowers, you sure are a square.”

Spiderman sat up and placed a hand on his chest, feigning hurt. “Oof, ow. That’s mean,”

“Yeah, it is, but you know I’m right. If a kid like me walked up to some cops and tried to warn them of a possible art heist, you just know those pricks’ll laugh in my face and do literally nothing about it. I had to take matters into my own hands!” Hobie jutted his chin out defiantly.

Well. Couldn't really argue with that, especially considering PDNY’s less-than-stellar track record of taking preventative measures most times. All that they would most likely do is nod along to whatever Hobie was telling them and chuckle, shaking their heads as they walk away. Not their problem.

Spiderman rubbed his chin. “Point taken," he conceded. "So what’s your plan now?”

Hobie glanced around, as if he was checking for any eavesdroppers. “I’m gonna submit some photos to a journalist I met online before turning this in back to the museum. The journalist’ll help get those guys behind bars once a story's published and some actual adults talk to the cops. I am going to go collect my reward,”

Spiderman blinked. He had a bunch of questions swimming in his head, but the first question out of his mouth was, “what reward?”

“The reward for turning in precious security info, genius!” Hobie tapped at his forehead with a finger and grinned. “If I get to negotiate with them, I can get some money to save up and-- uh. Nevermind. Listen, are you gonna rat me out or not?”

Miles’ brow creased behind his mask. “… I don’t think I will. Sounds like you’re doing the right thing… mostly.”

Hobie cheered silently. “Yes! Okay, I take it back, Spidey. You are cool!”

Spiderman sighed. “But first, I need to know you’re gonna be safe. Like, actually, and that you’re not gonna get followed home.”

Hobie shrugged nonchalantly and pushed more locs out of his face again. “Yeah, you can walk me home if you want,”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, that’s not the only thing I mean. I need you to promise me that you’re not gonna get into stupid stunts like this again. That was so dangerous and you really could’ve gotten hurt!”

Hobie exhaled as well. He stared intensely into the mask’s giant white lenses for a beat, making Spiderman shift uncomfortably.

Then, he held up his pinkie. “… Fine. I won’t do stupid shit like this again. I promise.”

Spiderman blinked a few more times and hooked his pinkie onto Hobie’s. “Uh. Okay, cool! Cool, that’s what I wanna hear, considering keeping New Yorkers safe is my job! I just wanna see you safe, that’s all. No more art heists, you gotta leave that to the professionals to handle,”

“What, professionals like you? You might’ve not even gotten to them in time before they snuck off with like millions of dollars worth of art, bro.”

“Anyone ever tell you you are just so mean? Dontcha have a little faith in me? The ‘vigilante hero with cool superpowers’?” Spiderman shot back.

They both laughed.

“Seriously, though. I do appreciate the fact that you saved my ass back there,” Hobie admitted, eyes cast downwards for a second. “I was actually gonna throw this thing into the lake and hope this drive got eaten by like… a fish or something.”

“And what about you?” Spiderman smiled despite himself.

“Well,” Hobie shrugged. “If I died, I died. I guess,”

It was Spiderman’s turn to scoff now. “You have a family, man. Don’t be ridiculous. You have friends and family that would miss you!”

Hobie’s expression turned dark, his entire face shadowing for a second before being replaced by cool detached nonchalance. A slight hint of annoyance stayed put underneath.

“… My family’s barely my family. I don’t have any friends, either. Don't worry about me.” Hobie admitted in a clipped tone. He stood up abruptly and started doing some casual stretches.

Spiderman stood up as well, knowing fully well how this song and dance was going to go.

He would never admit it out loud, but he’d seen his fair share of self-destructive citizens throwing themselves into the middle of danger in the short time he’d been doing this whole vigilante thing. He had talked many a melancholy or manic person from tossing themselves off of multiple different buildings, different bridges, stopped them from “falling” onto train tracks.

And as loath as he is to admit it, this Hobie’s particular brand of cool detachment was entirely too familiar to him as well.

A flash of his uncle Aaron’s face lit up a part of his brain that he hadn’t really allowed himself to acknowledge since that fateful day. He quickly stamped that out.

He cleared his throat and rubbed at his neck. “… Well. That sounds pretty depressing, man.”

He didn’t notice Hobie’s shoulders hitch at that phrase.

“But,” Spiderman continued, “You got people out here who care about you, even if you don’t know it. You’re still so young, you could be ending your life before you even meet, like, your favoritest person in the whole world, right? So just do me a quick favor, take care of yourself. For me. Live long enough to meet your favorite person, alright?”

Spiderman put on his best comforting expression that he could despite the mask most likely getting in the way of Hobie fully seeing it. He hoped his words were enough to convince him not to dive off the deep end, at least not anytime soon.

It seemed to work at least a little bit, because Hobie looked back at him with a much warmer-- albeit hesitant-- expression.

“Can I ask you something?” Hobie finally said after a few moments of silence.

“Uh, sure.” Spiderman replied.

“Do you know about a kid named Miles Morales at all?”

The air was sucked out of Spiderman’s lungs right then as he floundered like a fish for a minute, brain working into overdrive to make his answer sound both intelligent and convincing.

“U-uh, maaaybeee? I dunno, I meet a lot of New Yorkers everyday and I don’t get many names, yanno? S-sounds familiar, but sorr--”

“I knew it,” Hobie exhaled a laugh and surged forward to embrace Spiderman with both arms.

Spiderman stood frozen in his place, arms held in mid-air as he worked to process this.

“Uh. What--”

Spiderman felt Hobie’s chin dig into the side of his cheek a little as he turned his lips to his ear. “Your secret’s safe with me, by the way. I’m not telling anyone,”

Miles felt his whole world turn on its axis before shattering completely.

Oh no, no, no, no, no! Goddamnit!

Miles pushed Hobie off and stepped back, holding his hands up. “Oh hey, whoa, whoa, whoa. I dunno what you’re thinking or who you think I am, but--!”

Hobie sighed loudly. “Miles, I saw your suit.”

The world screeched to a halt.

Hobie picked his gaze back up off of his feet and even seemed apologetic, almost. “I, uhm. Like, back on the roof. At Visions. I wasn’t… a hundred percent sure I saw it, since it could’ve been any logo at all, but. Well, you’re a pretty bad liar too, y’know that, right?”

Miles sucked in a slightly shaky breath, gulping loudly. “Uh. W-well,”

Hobie smiled shyly. “You, uh… you’re like around the same height as Miles Morales, anyways. And you sure sound a lot like him, too.”

Damn. Damn it all.

Miles spun this way and that, placing his hands atop his head as he panicked slightly. “H-Hobie, you cannot tell anyone else about this, whatsoever. Do you understand? No one. At all. Or we’re both dead!”

Hobie held his hands up, lines creasing in his face. “Look bro, you’ve got secrets of mine too. We pinkie promised, remember? I don’t break promises.”

Miles didn’t point out that the promise was so that Hobie would stop getting himself into stupidly dangerous situations, but he accepted it anyways, albeit reluctantly.

“D-do… do you actually, like actually promise me you’ll never breathe a word about this to anyone? Ever? At all?”

Hobie held up his right hand into the air, as if taking an oath. “I, MJ, solemnly swear to never breathe a single word to anyone about your super secret identity, so help me god.”

Miles planted his fists on his hip and shook his head. “Oh my god,” he exhales on a shaky laugh.

“Don’t you believe me? What would I have to gain by selling you out? Oh,” Hobie stops suddenly, perking up. “We could even work together! I got me my sweet camera and my extensive connects, man. Think about it!”

“No, no. Hobie. Stop that, man. I’m not putting you into any danger after I just saved your skinny butt. Spiderman doesn’t do sidekicks anyways,”

Hobie looked a bit put out, but shrugged anyways. “Well, I mean… think about it sometime. We could seriously take down criminal activity around here, if you’re down! And, uh. You do have my number,”

Miles looked up and took a deep breath. “Mmnyes, I do. I do have your number. That’s… I mean you’re not wrong about that. Listen, I think it’s getting pretty late and we should both be heading back home now, though.”

The corners of Hobie’s mouth curled up mischievously. “True, true. It is a school night, after all.”

Miles couldn’t stop grinning despite the heavy anvil that threatened to burst out of his chest. “Yep, yes it is! Okay, time to get you home now. C’mon, let’s go.”

Miles moved to step into Hobie’s space and carry him on his back again so he could lower the both of them down from the lip of the theatre roof.

But before that happened, he felt Hobie place a cold but strong hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

Miles looked up inquisitively and felt his breath catch in his throat as he felt those same hands slowly slide up the smooth spandex of his suit, up his shoulders, and then they stopped at his neck, at the seam of where his suit and mask met.

The entire thing probably only took a few seconds to do, but to Miles it felt like eons passed as he felt every single muscle twitch and the pulse beating underneath Hobie’s skin while he ran those fingers up his arms.

He was standing so close to him! Oh god!

The entire ordeal was unbearably intimate, and Miles could barely stop the shudder that wracked his body suddenly.

Hobie’s soft lips were slightly parted, the lighting of the sign next to them caught in the dark brown portals that were his eyes.

“U-uhm. Sorry, this is weird...” he mumbled quietly. But his hands didn't move.

All around them, crickets started their soothing chorus.

Here they were, right behind the giant lettering of the Delacorte Theatre, intertwined in each other’s arms on a cold night-- and Miles’ core body temperature has never felt hotter before. He felt like he could melt steel, the way this night was going. He didn’t know when his hands raised to grasp onto Hobie’s arms, but they must’ve done it of their own accord because Miles then felt himself squeezing softly onto Hobie’s biceps.

Slowly, painstakingly, and carefully… Hobie made his move.

Every centimeter of the mask being pushed up was accompanied by a soft look that asked-- no, it begged-- for permission to continue. His hands seemed to move on their own eventually, as he slid the mask up over the back of Miles' head and then eased it up off of his nose.

Hobie wore a soft look of determination then, that fully came into view again once Miles felt his mask slide right up off of his eyes. Hobie’s soft hands eventually fell away, mask in one hand, no sounds in the air except for the wildlife of the park starting to wake now that the night has officially fallen.

Miles wasn’t sure why he did, but he held his breath.

After a few seconds of appraising gazes from each other, pupils meeting pupils, exchanging a million words a second with just a few looks… Hobie grinned beautifully.

“Damn. There you are,”

Miles felt a plume of heat erupt from his gut and rush up to his face. “Uh. Hm, y-yep. Here I am,” he blinked back at Hobie with his big brown eyes.

Hobie had a look of pure joy on his face before it started to melt away suddenly. “You know… I should backstab you for abandoning me out of nowhere that one time, though… I really should...”

The moment collapsed like an undone web, a delicate thing now completely destroyed as Miles leaped up in indignation.

“Hobie!”

Hobie stepped back and laughed loudly. “Re-lax! I’m not gonna actually do it. But. Y’know.”

“And if you do, I’ll leave you webbed up to that billboard near Visions,” Miles threatened, mostly light-heartedly.

“Psshh, and then get my mom’s two million lawyers on your ass? Good luck,”

“As if they could ever catch me! I’m Spiderman!”

Just as easily as they had stepped out of being just kids for a moment, they stepped right back into it, bickering like they'd been friends since forever.

Miles lowered the both of them from the sign and they headed towards the eastern side of the park, making their way over to Hunter’s Gate. They bickered and bantered back and forth the entire way there, and it was only once they made it to the outer gates of the park that Miles stopped them both.

With his mask back on and other New Yorkers now milling nearby, Miles made it a point to lower his voice as he turned to Hobie and puffed his chest out heroically.

“So, random citizen. Where are we off to today? I told you I’d take you back home safely, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“’Cause you promised, right?” Hobie smirked, tucking his hands into his coat pockets.

“Uhm. Yeah, yeah. I did. So, lead the way!” Spiderman made a grand ushering gesture, and Hobie chuckled good-naturedly as he stepped aside and exited Central Park.

“You gonna walk me home, Spiderman?” Hobie threw him a side-long glance.

“Yyyeah…? Why? You’d rather swing home?”

“I liked swinging, actually. Yeah,” Hobie stopped where he was on the sidewalk and nodded with an air of finality. “Yeah… let’s swing!”

Spiderman felt his heart do a few somersaults in his chest before he gestured towards his shoulders. Hobie quickly assumed the position, long lanky arms wrapping around him and leaning his body weight against Spiderman’s side.

Spiderman shot up a web to a nearby street lamp and gave his friend one more glance.

“You sure?” He asked again, really making sure that Hobie was okay with this. Not many people really liked swinging, which was understandable. Even Miles wasn't the biggest fan of it at times.

Hobie chuckled and ignored the onlookers as they slowly ambled past the two, throwing the teens questioning glances as they made their way past them.

“Yeah, I am! Let’s go,”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Miles: Do you actually actually really like on your LIFE promise that you’re not ginna tell a soul about… well…

Miles: gonna*

MJ: Yes, Miles. I PROMISE [eyeroll emoji]

Miles: I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE

MJ: Do you actually, though? ;)

Miles: No. But I can find out… I got connects

MJ: Uh huh. I’ll tell your “connects” that if you don’t take me out on that promised lunch date, our friendly neighborhood Spiderman just might be the next trending topic on ALL social media apps again very soon……..

Miles: Oh my god. You are Evil. I can’t believe this. My next arch nemesis… damn

Miles: What a killer plot twist. The greatest foe I have yet to face happens to be none other than one of my very own classmates

Miles: It be ya own people

From his family’s Lower Manhattan penthouse, Hobie laughs out loud as he reads the text messages, ignoring all of the curious glances thrown his way by various members of his team.

From Miles’ own humble dorm room at Visions, he laughs aloud as well.

[pluplupluto]

So the votes on my poll were all yes/maybe's about the comic, so here's the first 4 pages!

This is actually the first comic I've ever posted lmao😋😋😋

Please read after the cut for more info!

They're still rough, but if people are interested I'll keep the story going, maybe make a post explaining it in detail and also do coloured versions of some panels!

Id appreciate feedback, things like telling me if you wanna see this continue or tips for writing dialogue in comics, even ideas for where the story could go!

But yeah, this comic is gonna be about the ghosts of the main cast from THH, it'll go through the main story timeline but from Sayaka's POV mostly. I'm gonna try my best to make sure I have a good amount of character moments for everyone, so don't worry about your favourite not being included!! 😸

There's some extra info in the tags cuz I think this post is starting to drag on lol

[spiderin-space]

LETS GOO I said to stay tuned, didn’t I? :3

Prequel fic time!! I’ve been brewing this for a while now and I’m so excited to finally be sharing it!!

Please enjoy!!

[palabraasinnecesarias]

if you stay i would even wait all night or until my heart explodes

ao3 | ff.net | ship: ranma/akane | rating: T+ | words: 4,361

summary:

If there was anything Akane knew better than anyone in this world, it would have to be that Ranma’s insensitivity wasn’t on purpose. And it wasn’t that she wanted to justify the fool, she just felt that she had a better judgment when it came to pinpointing all his flaws, especially the ones that made him a jerk. Crushing on your childhood friend should be fine, as long as you don't act upon it, right? What happens when you do?

“Stupid,” Ryoga groaned, slamming a fist against his kotatsu table, a mild glare towards Ranma. The bandana wearing man was fuming, noticeably upset across his friend, who seemingly appeared as though he was going to be sick. “Now,” he continued, gently rubbing his temple in a sense to try and sooth an upcoming headache, “what did you ask her again? If what...?”   

Ranma rolled his eyes, annoyed, and frustrated, too, looking away as he shrugged his shoulders, “I just asked how many guys she’s stringing along.” Saying it out loud stung his chest, knowing very well he’d fucked up, immensely. Because he knew Akane like the back of his hand, if anything, she was doing anything but. He was just caught up in his own emotions, upset and hot-headed...jealous, if you will.   

After Akane had kicked him out, he had knocked on her bathroom door for a moment, insisting that they talk as he tried to apologize, but she just kept shouting things at him and ultimately, he allowed her some space. He had dragged his feet out of her apartment, away from the homely hold she'd enveloped him in and straight to Ryoga’s.   

He hadn’t told him everything; that they had kissed, yes, twice, in a matter of fact. In his bedroom, and then in her apartment. But he wasn’t so loose with the details of how much she had craved her, and wanted to devour her once he actually took her in his arms. And how worse he felt in actuality, for suggesting such a ludicrous thing.   

Ryoga had been quick to exclaim his congratulations, assuming they were an item, until Ranma shattered his dreams by telling him just how bad he’d shoved his foot down his throat in his idiotic moment of insecurity.   

Within seconds, Ryoga’s gleeful smile diminish into an exasperated sigh, urging to smack the back of his head frenzy in a way to try and rattle any sort of common sense into him.   

“You’ve got to apologize, like now .”  

continue reading in my ao3 or ff.net account

[allylikethecat]

I hope y’all like tomorrow’s chapter update 🩵

[pantpisser9000]

Combined together, Chapter 5: What would come to be known as the first

WARNING: This chapter contains injury/blood. It isn't detailed or too gory at all, but if you're squeamish and still wanna read i'd recommend not reading from around "Peso was getting ready for that next mission" and begin again at around "Flappity flippers" (though aforementioned injury is mentioned quite a few times afterward. Again, nothing too graphic (especially after said points) but just as a warning).

Peso had gotten those reports, now. The majority were easy to read, and generally none of the Crew had many concerns about their health or took many things or anything, which made his job quite a bit easier. Except for one person’s report. 

Kwazii’s. He hadn’t listed his last name, and that only increased Peso’s idea that he had came up with his last name on the spot yesterday. And, it was barely readable, too! Peso supposed that made sense, though. He was a pirate, and those were kinda known for not exactly being the smartest. He felt a tinge of guilt after that thought.

But the fact that he had spelled his own species’s name wrong, (“kat” instead of “cat”)  didn’t exactly give Peso high hopes on his reading ability. Kwazii also said that he had a ear-piercing incident, which Peso figured wasn’t hard to solve. He had a little chunk out of his ear missing, so he supposed the two events were correlated. 

What he didn’t know though was what Kwazii meant by “MEAT ON CHEST GUNE”.. Sure, he assumed “GUNE” meant “Gone”, but seriously what the hell did Kwazii mean by that? He was a tad scared to approach the guy, and with doctor-patient confidentiality, he didn’t want to risk telling the Captain because he might not know what he meant either. He assumed it was some sort of tattoo-related thing/carving or something, or maybe he had some infectious lump or something? 

It was really quite unclear, in all honesty, and mildly concerning. Especially since Peso had a feeling that it wasn’t done by professionals, whatever the procedure actually was. And “blood awaii meds”, which again… misspelled and written horrendously. Peso really had no idea what he meant by that, but he decided that he’d worry about that once he learned if Kwazii was actually a good person or not.

He just hoped that those two things wouldn’t ever be super important. He did notice how Kwazii didn’t mention anything about his eye though, so there was a chance he wore the eyepatch for style, which was interesting.

Suddenly, he heard an announcement over the speakers, the Captain showing up on the screen. “Octonauts, report to the dining room!” he said, and Peso quickly tucked away everything, rushing into the tube and launching himself into the small ‘dining room’, that was honestly more just like one lunch table. 

He stepped away. The professor and Tweak were already there, along with the Captain. Peso noticed how there was honey, (though artificial) on the table, along with fish-shaped biscuits. He assumed they had no meat, given how (at least judging by some of the other members of the crew’s last names) some of the people there seemed to be combined with herbivores.

 And generally, cannibalism was pretty frowned upon, shockingly enough. Peso sat down at the far side of the table, and eventually the rest of the crew came along. Dashi, right after him, then Kwazii, (he shuddered at the thought of the pirate, though) and… Dr. Shellington hadn’t come yet.

They waited a minute. Then another. The Captain  looked concerned, lips pursed together. “Everyone, I’m going to go check on Shellington. You may start breakfast if you would like,” he said, waving briefly and hopping down the chute. Peso was a tad concerned, and debated if he should’ve come with. If Shellington had been hurt, he’d need to be there. 

Even as that consumed his mind, he poured some honey on the biscuit, and ate it relatively silently. Dashi and Tweak were chatting it up, with Kwazii butting in and Tweak teasing him back playfully. While Peso and the Professor were silently eating.  The pirate he feared so greatly though was just casually eating his food–even if he was putting an unholy amount of honey on his biscuits. And then proceeded not to use a fork to pick up his sopping wet biscuit, instead extending a claw from his finger and poking the biscuits, popping them in his mouth. 

Peso was beginning to get a little worried, until the Captain popped back out, with Shellington in tow. “Sorry.. Slept in.” Shellington said, sitting down next to Dashi. 

Currently, the arrangement was;

Kwazii, Tweak           Professor

Shellington, Dashi           Peso

And then the Captain sealed the gap between Peso and Dashi, beginning to eat. Peso figured he’d probably eat a lot, given his height and the whole Polar bear thing. And that guess was right, given how he was eating quite a bit, and was clearly enjoying it. Peso had no idea what magical things were in these damn biscuits, but they were utterly wonderful– he concluded it must be some type of magic. Had to be. 

“These biscuits be so good!” Kwazii yelled, grinning after taking another in his mouth. “Oh, thank you!” the Professor had said, smiling, and Kwazii grinned, continuing to eat like nothing had happened. What the…. Was all Peso could think of. Nobody really seemed to care about Kwazii’s sudden outburst, and even if Peso, begrudgingly, agreed, it was odd to just randomly shout that. 

Either way, breakfast continued relatively normally. The Captain finished first, despite being last to be seated. He had brought his dish into the kitchen, washed it off and put it in the dishwasher. Peso figured he should do the same, so once he finished he did the same, he did just as the Captain had. 

He wasn’t really completely sure what to do after that, and so he was grateful when the Captain had given them instructions. “There’s a few things I’d like to review, so once everyone’s finished head to the hq.” he said, and everyone nodded as he jumped down the chute, Peso right after. Barnacles looked back, slightly confused. “You’re already finished?” he asked, and Peso nodded, now worried that he had expected everyone to take longer and was planning on preparing something, and his anxiousness grew and– “It’s not bad, don’t worry. I just wasn’t expecting it.” he reassured, which decreased all of Peso’s worries of the moment. 

“How are you feeling about all of this, Peso?” Barnacles asked, and Peso looked up. “Uh- a little nerve wracking, I think, but.. Good.” he said, and it was a little of a lie. The nerve-wracking bit wasn’t the lie–that was completely and totally truthful–but the good part kinda was. The food and the fact he had his own infirmary he could set up himself was, yes… though the pirate-cat still scared him, (And Peso honestly didn’t want to admit it.. He was starting to be convinced the guy was actually harmless–he’d never gotten angry yet! ) and he was still petrified of accidentally doing something wrong. Though, at the very least, he knew he was good at his job. That he was a good medic. 

That was just a fact. Everyone had told him so, and he’d always been praised, and he had never quite made a mistake, so, he must be good. Clearly. Either way, he waited there, and Tweak and Kwazii came out next–Kwazii slightly before. “ Knew I be faster!” Kwazii claimed, and Tweak rolled her eyes jokingly, as they both walked away from the chute. Next was Shellington and Dashi, and finally the Professor. 

The Captain, back straight as a ruler and hands tucked behind it, started, then. “Today is our first mission as the Octonauts. So, there is a few things we need to review.” he said, and Kwazii cheered, “Yeow!”, before the Captain cleared his throat and spoke again. “While everyone will need to learn how to drive the GUPS, as of now, it isn’t necessary. Tweak will be telling everyone all six of the GUPS names. They should be pretty easy to remember.” he said, and Tweak nodded. “It’s just the alphabet–A, B, C, D, E, F.” she told them, and Peso was grateful for that bit. 

Certainly not about driving, though. That did not sound like his cup of tea. “Second, the arguably more important thing.. The Octo alert!” he said, stepping to the side to reveal a circular button. “It should’ve been mentioned in training, though I figured we should review.” he said, and Tweak walked up. “This baby is hooked up to all of the GUPS, and of course the Octopod herself,” she told the crew, knocking on the metal next to it. 

Captain Barnacles nodded, and then spoke once more. “Whenever the alarm sounds, there will be an announcement following with instructions–they are expected to be followed immediately. ” he looked serious at that last part. “The alarm sounds like this,” he said, opening his palm and slapping the button. 

Instantaneously, a loud, WOOP, WOOP, WOOP sound played, and Peso almost covered his ears. He didn’t though–he’d have to get used to it eventually, after all. It stopped soon after. “That’s all.” he said, until he pointed to Peso and Kwazii. “Peso, Kwazii. You’ll be the ones needed for the first mission.” he said, and Kwazii pumped his fist in the air, yelling, “Yeow!” once more, and Peso gulped. 

Alone. In the GUP. With the Captain and Kwazii. At the very least, he knew that Kwazii likely wouldn’t try anything with the Captain there. The Captain motioned for them to come with, jumping down the tube. Kwazii went in behind him, Tweak trailing close behind, and Peso was in last. 

Now in the launch bay, a different GUP than the one he was in was the one in the launch bay’s pool. “This is the GUP A!” Tweak said, motioning towards it. Kwazii and the Captain jumped in with ease, and Tweak handed them the collar-like things that she had been wearing. They were mainly blue with little arrows. “These are yer helmets, press the left side to turn on the helmet, and the right to connect to the radio. The helmet radios don’t have very far radius though, so don’t rely on em.” she said, and all three nodded once the Captain helped him into the GUP, and the windshield was brought up. Then the GUP dipped under the surface, and the Captain pressed a button, saying, “Tweak, open the Octohatch!” he said, and Tweak responded by opening up the Octopod’s mouth, letting the GUP through into the open ocean. Peso gulped. “Oxygen tanks are at the back of the GUP, try to secure them on yourself and if you cannot, I’ll help,” the Captain said, and Peso glanced to the back, where Kwazii had somehow already (kinda) figured his out. It looked a little lopsided, though. Peso didn’t comment–not making eye-contact as he secured it onto him. He thought he did it right. 

The GUP then slowed, then stopped. The Captain turned to them, adjusting Kwazii’s oxygen tanks silently and swiftly, and popping on his own. “Let’s do this. Everyone, press the button on the left side.” he said, and the two nodded. All at once, they did so, the helmets encasing their heads. The Captain jumped into the now opened hole at the bottom of the GUP A, then Kwazii, and then Peso, (with a gulp and a hesitation,) finally hopped through as well.

He felt water covering his entire body, and it was a little warm for him, (as he was used to the frigid temperatures of the Antarctic) but it wasn’t bad by any means. He was sure without the cooling suit though, he’d certainly faint. Just as he was getting used to it though, the Captain called out to him; “Peso, over here!” and Peso immediately swam over, and there was a small girl, sniffling.

He sat down (as best he could underwater) on a rock. “What’s wrong? Don’t w-worry, I’m a medic.” he said, and the girl looked up at him, tears in her eyes. They must’ve been different enough from the ocean water to be noticeable and separated from it, and her tail curled around her. She was clearly a fish-hybrid–Peso had no idea what type of fish, though. He wasn’t a biologist, just a medic. 

“W-what’s a medic?” she asked, shrinking into herself and holding her webbed, intertwined hands close to her face. Peso blinked–he should’ve guessed the people underwater wouldn’t know what a medic was. “I help anyone who is hurt or sick,” he said, smiling. If he was good at anything, it was his job. It was probably the one thing he was confident in. 

She pouted, looking to her tail then to Peso. “Okay..” she mumbled, and she showed it to him. “It hurts!” she cried, and Peso’s eyes widened. It wasn’t anything big–it was just a little bruised, if anything. “Don’t worry, I’ll just bandage it up and it’ll feel better soon,” he said, and the girl nodded. She faced her tail towards him, and he opened up his little medical bag, and quickly bandaged it up. She seemed amused by his “hya” noises, giggling a little. She swam in a circle, before smiling back at Peso.

“Thank you, Mister Medic! It feels better already, yes yes!” she said. A careful expression consumed Peso’s face. “Just take it easy, you don’t want it to hurt more.” he explained, and she nodded. “Right, careful. I will. Thank you Mister.” he winced a little at not being called either ‘Peso’ or ‘doctor’, but he didn’t say anything. She didn’t know better, after all. 

She swam away, then, and the Captain placed a hand on his shoulder. “Great work, Peso. I was a little worried, but you are wonderful at your job. You were a good choice.” he said, and Peso beamed, why do i feel so nice about a (almost) stranger complimenting me? Crossed his mind, and he chalked it up to him not being used to it. 

He just nodded, then. And then, another fish-hybrid came up to him. “H-hi-” he said, and looked off to the side in embarrassment. “Do you need something?” the Captain asked, and Peso figured out of habit. “I um.. Well, you helped out my sister, so.. I was wonderful, uh, can– can… you help me? I think something might be wrong..” he said, and Peso tilted his head to the side in slight confusion. 

“Do.. do you have a idea of what might be hurt or sick?” he asked, and the kid shook his head. “N-no, mister.” he said, and Peso smiled softly. “You can call me Peso.” he told him, and the kid looked up at him. “Woah.. my name’s Len!” he said, grinning. “That’s a good name,” Peso said, and then he looked back at Len. 

“Do you want me to preform a checkup?” and, already guessing what the kid was going to ask, he added, “It’s basically just a little procedure to look and see if you’re in tip-top shape,” he clarified. Len nodded. “Yes, yes!” 

Peso pulled out a popsicle stick. “Say ‘ahhh’,” he said, demonstrating by opening his mouth wide. Ren mimicked it perfectly. Peso looked around. “Hmm, well your mouth is perfectly healthy,” he said, and as he finished up the checkup, he could find nothing wrong. “I think you might’ve just been a little paranoid,” Peso said, and Ren pouted his lips. “No! There has to be something wrong with me!” he exclaimed, and Peso quietly tried to calm him down. “Why?” was all he asked, and the kid looked at him. “Um..” and then the little fish child swam away, and Peso didn’t have the chance to say anything, so he let him. The kid wasn’t injured or sick in any way, so there wasn’t a point to that, anyways. The rest of the checkups went smoothly–he bandaged up a few more people, and overall he was happy witht his. It was interesting, working underwater, for one. And two, it was nice knowing he was helping people that likely would’ve just lived on with pain regardless. 

He looked over at the Captain, who was conveniently swimming back towards the GUP as well, and he was holding something in his hands, Kwazii trailing behind him. “What’s that?” Peso asked, pointing towards the containers as they swam up to the GUP. “Well,” the Captain says, “It’s for Dr.Shellington.” Kwazii hopped in the GUP, then the Captain did, then Peso himself. “He said he would love some samples–apparently, there’s something called.. Uh, what was it..” “Fito-plonk-tuh or somethin!” Kwazii said, leaning against the wall of the GUP. “I don’t think that’s quite right, Kwazii..” the Captain said as he settled into one of the seats, Kwazii jumping in next to him. For once, Peso was glad about something Kwazii did for once–he didn’t want to be in any sort of position that he might ever have to drive. Especially one of these GUPS–they were wonderfully designed, obviously, but utterly terrifying for Peso to even think about driving.

So, Peso sat at the back of the GUP contentedly as they drove back to the Octopod. He almost thought “home”, but the Octopod certainly wasn’t his home–his home was his house in the Antarctic, with all of his family, not there. 

The GUP pulled into the bay of the octopod, and Peso hopped out once the windshield of the smaller submarine opened, immediately heading into the infirmary. He figured he should do his medical report–apparently, they should have a track of everything. Which he supposedly made since, but was slightly annoying to do. Certainly not impossible, though. He noticed how Tweak made a bit of a weird face at him running past, but he didn’t really take much note of it. She was just probably slightly surprised at how fast he’d been going.

Tweak wondered silently why Peso was going so fast, but she shrugged it off, already having something else more pressing on her mind. 

Shellington was late to breakfast again. This was the fourth time this week–and it was Wednesday! This had clearly become a recurring problem–given how he quite literally never woke up at the right time. The Captain’s first idea was to impose a curfew, a time that everyone would have to get to sleep, but Tweak opposed that idea. She got up bright and early like everyone else, and she went to bed later than what the Captain was suggesting. But, obviously, they'd still have to solve that problem.  

He couldn’t miss breakfast, and he also couldn’t have the Captain go down and shake him awake every morning. Though Tweak knew he must’ve woken up at least slightly earlier for college and just school in general. 

So, she made her short trek to the lab, big boots padded silently by the carpet of the hall that held the infirmary, the lab, and the library. She thought it was a good idea to group those together. 

Lab and Library: if someone needed to get information from a book quickly

Library and medbay: incase if either Peso was out himself or he couldn’t quite remember what was needed, he could look in the library

Lab and medbay: if something went wrong during an experiment. 

So, she made a swift turn into the laboratory, and Shellington was, expectantly, there, clamoring over some paper or something. “Shellington?” she asked, and his head perked up. “Yes? Is there anything you need?” he asked, and Tweak nodded, pulling up a chair and sitting backwards on it. “Yup. I gotta ask you–how’d y’ wake up early for school?” she asked.  That took Shellington by surprise, at least a tad. Probably just not the type of question he was expecting.  “Oh–well, you see.. I didn’t have to wake up as early for college, so I was able to wake up with a barrage of alarms. But in primary school, when I had to wake up earlier, my sister woke me up. She’s always been good in that front.” he said, and Tweak nodded. “Do you think alarms would work here?” she asked, and he shook his head. “No, since it’s.. Quite a bit earlier.” he said, and Tweak nodded. “Alright. Thanks, Shellington,” she said, waving goodbye, and he waved back, before sinking back into his work. Tweak made her way back down into the launch bay, pulling out some paper and a pencil. 

She sketched a few ideas. Her first idea was something that could simulate shaking, so like mechanical hands, but she shut that down quickly. That could go awry very easily, so that was crossed off easily. Another was making his bed vibrate, but she was worried about.. Unintended side effects that won’t be talked about. 

So, she came up with something. A bed that would LAUNCH him into his seat, and then he’d certainly wake up. She grinned–obviously, there were more things that she’d need to know, though. His weight and height, (so she didn’t launch him TOO far into the wall or something) how far his bed was from his desk, all of that. She wanted to ask Peso, but she wasn’t really sure if he would know that. Probably,

And now that she was thinking about it, she would probably have to get some sorta permission from the Captain. Especially given how it wasn’t a tool or GUP of any sort, and instead just a.. Intense wake-up alarm. They weren’t out on a mission–they had just gotten back from the first one, in fact. So, she figured he was likely in the hq, or maybe in the kitchen? While the Octopod was big, it shouldn’t take long to find one very tall man. 

So, she hopped into the chute, and arrived in the launch bay in a matter of seconds, and, predictably, the Captain was there. “Cap!” she yelled, and his head swiveled around. “Yes, Tweak?” he asked, and she walked over to him, resting her hand on her hip. “Well, I have a idea. To help Shellington, since he sleeps in.” she said, and the Captain’s face perked up. “That’s wonderful Tweak!” he exclaimed. “What is it?” he asked, and Tweak rubbed the back of her neck. “.. That’s what I’m a tad… well, it’d be better to show ya,” she said, pulling the blueprint out of her belt. The Captain looked it over, it looked like he was impressed to some extent, but looked up at her with slight concern. “.. This is wonderful, Tweak, of course, but.. I’m worried about risk of injury.” he said, eying the blueprints. “I figured.” she replied, before continuing, “well, I will say–I do have a plan. I just need the guy’s height and weight, which I’m sure Peso has got.” she told him, and Barnacles nodded. “If you are sure, then, I don’t see a problem with it. If anything happens though, tell me and we’ll.. Figure something else out for him.” he said. 

Tweak nodded, giving him a thumbs up, before flinging herself down the Octo-chute to the hallway. She decided to just ask Shellington himself, especially since Peso may not give it with patient-doctor confidentiality and all that. So, she sauntered into his lab, where his body was craned over a microscope. He didn’t notice her, even with the whishing of the automatic doors opening up. “Shellington?” she asked, and his head perked up, as he swiveled his head around looking for whoever said his name. 

“Oh! Tweak, hello,” he said, and Tweak walked over. “What do you need?” he asked, hands overlaid in his lap. “Height and weight–it’s for something that’ll get cha up in the morning.” she said, explaining herself before Shellington could ask her to do so himself. 

“Well–I’m.. I’m sure Peso has things for that in his infirmary, right? So I can just go and.. Do that. Get those.” he said, like he was coming up with his sentence in the middle of saying it. Tweak nodded. “Sounds good. Let’s hop to it, then,” she said, and she chuckled a little to herself, ( hop to it, get it? Cus she’s a bunny. Hilarious joke.) and Shellington followed after her. She gave herself a pat on the back for being brilliant enough to put the lab and medbay in the same vicinity–just a few yards, or meters if you’re not ‘Merican. 

So, the two of them walked in, Peso filling out some sort of form. “Howdy Peso,” Tweak greeted, hand on her hip and waving. Peso looked up, surprised someone had come in. “Oh- hello, Tweak, Shellington. Do you need something?” he asked, and Tweak took out a carrot, taking a bite before nodding. “I need his height and weight–do ya mind if we use those things real quick?” she asked, and Peso blinked, clearly confused. “Um.. sure?” he responded, before beginning to scribble on his papers again. 

The two walked over, got the whole weighing and height thing over quickly, Tweak gave both a thumbs up, and then she went down and started after measuring the distance between Shellington’s bed and chair. Luckily, he was one for habits, so he had already gotten into one of pushing in his chair in the exact same spot every day. Just the perfect amount away from the desk so he could slip in without having to pull back his chair, but close enough to the desk so he didn’t bump into it when walking past. 

It hadn’t taken long–the math was pretty easy, and so was the design. She got to work soon after. She just had to make a frame that she could put the bed on, (that she’d be able to easily link up with the alarm,) and after calculating how strong it needed to be, she was done in just a couple of hours. Opting to play some video games through the night until she could install it the next day, she fell asleep hunched over the controller. 

Her alarm blared, and she placed the controller down, slowly standing up. She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles, groggily jumping out of her little area. She stretched quickly, pulling on her hairband to make it tighter, (it tended to get loose throughout the day, so she tightened it every morning) and sleepily walked over to the chute. Jumping in, she ended up in the kitchen quickly. Breakfast went as it had previously, food being served, and of course, Shellington being dragged out by the Captain himself. Once she saw that both him and the Captain had exited the chute, she grinned. “I think that won’t be a problem, soon,” she said, and everyone looked to her. “I’ve created somethin’ I think will help,” she told everyone. Shellington cocked his head to the side. “ What kind of machine?” he asked, and Tweak just grinned, stuffing another bit of food in her mouth. 

Eventually, after Breakfast, she told Shellington to stay out of the lab for a little, (which he lamented about,) and just thirty minutes later it had been practically magically installed. When he re-entered, he noticed quickly his bed’s height was.. Different. He was confusedly, which was fair enough in all honesty. “Just lay down on the bed–you’ll see,” Tweak said, and Shellington nodded, still utterly befuddled. 

He did so, and Tweak pressed the button on the small screen on the room, and the bed launched him into his seat perfectly. He had screamed, obviously, but not as loudly as Tweak had been expecting. His eyes were wide, clearly shocked. “..I think that will certainly get me up.” he said, and Tweak grinned. “Yup. Enjoy!” she said, waving the surprised Shellington goodbye and heading to the hq. And, excellently timed as well, they were getting ready for liftoff. “Dashi, prepare for liftoff,” the Captain commanded, to which Dashi responded, “Yes sir,” pressing a button, and the Octopod shook, and propelled itself off the ground, and they were going. Tweak, leaning against a wall and taking a bite out of a carrot that she’d only recently pulled out from the soil, relaxed a little. Soon, they’d be at the next location. Apparently, it was another barren, empty area. Just a few checkups, to get into the swing of things. She was just glad she’d be having a little break from working on the GUPS. She wasn’t entirely sure of the whole plan, but she was relatively sure that after the next mission scheduled for tomorrow, she’d have to train everyone how to drive the GUPs. 

She didn’t know how well Peso and Shellington could drive, as she couldn’t run them through the simulations, but she was sure they could learn at the very least. Deciding to go back down to the launch bay and work on a few smaller ‘gadgets’ as her Pa would call them, ( she missed him, in all honesty. But she was keeping herself distracted, and she adored this job, so it was all alright. ) late until she went to play some games in her room, late into the night. 

She just hoped that everything would go well on that mission. 

Peso was getting ready for that next mission. It was basically just the same thing as the last time, just in a different location. Apparently, they’d handle bigger missions when they got a little more used to this all. But for now, they would just be stopping in fairly big, empty-ish spaces, (which Peso was used to, being from the Antarctic and all. It was pretty damn barren out there,) with a decent-to-small amount of people for now. 

Soon, the Captain called him down to the bay. Of course, Kwazii was there, and so was Tweak, ready to pull the lever. He was still nervous around Kwazii, to his own lament, (he shouldn’t be scared of his own crew member! Though, to be fair, it made sense to be scared of Kwazii. He was a pirate, after all!) so he kept up his minimal-to-no interaction with him.

Either way, the beginning went about the same. The Captain, Peso, and Kwazii jumped in the angler-fish modeled GUP A, the Captain commanded Tweak to open the Octo-hatch, which she did with no issue. They cruised out, and everything was going as intended. Peso, who had set up on a flat rock, (the Captain and Kwazii were telling people to go over–though some of it was Kwazii (albeit accidentally) scaring the people, the Captain calming, and then the people heading over to Peso’s ‘station’) where Peso was helping the people out in a smooth fashion. 

A damaged fin or a nibble on their arm was easily fixed with a bandage, and Peso was extraordinary at it, as always. He’d always been fast at that, after all. It was part of the reason he had even been selected at all, so it made perfect sense. Attempting to wipe the sweat off his brow, (but utterly failing as the helmet got in the way) he focused his attention on the next person. A small one. “Hi, what’s your name?” he asked, and the girl replied, “Susie, destroyer of um—food!” she confidently said, and Peso laughed a little. “That’s a good name. Can you say ‘aa-’” he started and Susie screamed, “AAAAAAAAAA” and quickly swam away, and confusion overtook Peso’s face. “Susie I didn’t mean scream-” and before he could finish his sentence, he was suddenly bombarded by the yelling of, “ SHARK- ” and he turned back, to see a shark hybrid, sleek stripped gray skin, sharp teeth, fins on her arms, fast tail and he froze with terror. “Flappity flippers-” he yelled, and suddenly, a flash of orange in front of him. “RUN, MATEY!” he heard, and Peso snapped out of his iced state and quickly swam, feathers spurted out in place of regular ears, hands flippers instead, as he swam towards the GUP A, and he couldn’t help but glance back, and he saw red in the water, and he squeezed his eyes shut, clamoring into the GUP. The Captain, who was in the GUP, looked back at Peso. “What is it, Peso-” he started, before his eyes widened, clearly seeing the horrific scene now laid in front of him.

He was flung to the side as the GUP made a sudden jerk to the side, now speeding towards Kwazii and the shark. Peso was pressed against one of the small circular windows, unable to tear his eyes away. Kwazii, who was swimming back to the GUP, had blood drenching from a bite on his arm, and the shark’s teeth were reddened. It wouldn’t take a detective to figure out what happened. Peso was just confused on why the shark wasn’t continuing to attack, as he was certain she could easily catch Kwazii again. But, by the looks on her face.. Maybe she just didn’t particularly like the taste of cat. Kwazii swam up under the GUP, climbing in. He crawled onto the floor through the door on the bottom, sprawling out on the ground. “I be here!” Kwazii drawled, eyes lidded. He looked to be blinking in and out of consciousness, and Peso knew he needed to act fast. His patient needed urgent help. 

He slid onto the floor, his previous flippers had now transformed back into hands, and he quickly applied direct pressure, as the GUP raced towards the Octopod. “Tweak, open the Octohatch!” the Captain commanded, and the Octopus’s mouth opened, allowing them inside, and the hatch closed behind them. The Captain, now faced towards them, picked up the patient in a swift motion, jumping out. Peso followed close behind. They were, obviously, heading to the infirmary. 

He didn’t see much of Tweak’s face in the hurry, though she looked.. Surprised, and maybe a little scared? Concerned, probably. But that didn’t matter. The Captain took the patient, who was (trying to) protest, saying stuff like “I can …uh, walk by meself-”. The Captain didn’t listen. He laid the patient down on the bed, and he tried to get up, saying, “I’ll be fine–I’ve been in worse scraps,” though the Captain (lightly, of course) pushed him down. “No.” was all he said, and the Patient complied after that. Peso worked almost effortlessly after that. Cleaning the bite, giving the patient all the antibodies and jazz, (after ordering the Captain to get him a blanket–he didn’t want the patient to go into shock from the water, which he retrieved quickly. He then went up to the hq to tell everyone about what happened) and eventually wrapped up his arm with a barrage of bandages. 

“Flappity flippers..” Peso mumbled. “How do you feel?” he asked, and the patient tilted his head side to side in a so-so motion, like he was shrugging with his head. “I be alright. I’ve be hurt worse.” he said, and while that was… concerning at best, he seemed fine, so he was either exaggerating or they had happened a while ago and healed over. Peso presumed he had some sort of eye-accident, given the eyepatch, so that was likely what he was referring to, anyways. 

“That’s good” Peso said, before frantically clarifying, “That you’re alright, I mean.” Kwazii just laughed. “I get it, matey.” he said, before making a little ‘yeow’ sound. Probably from pain. “Are you okay?” Peso asked, and the patient nodded. “I be good. I’m just about ready t’ go and adventure once more-” he said, trying to get up, but Peso put a hand on his chest. “No. You need to heal. ” he said, and suddenly terror overtook his body, because what if he attacks me? as  again, pirate. Kinda known for lying and stealing and killing and the like.  

But instead of attacking him or even being snarky like Peso expected… he just grumbled. Sure, he was clearly annoyed, but that was a lot of patients' reactions to be fair–Kwazii was no different, in that aspect, at least. “When can I leave, doc?” he asked, still grumbly, and Peso put a hand to his chin. “As long as you don’t get it hurt again… an overnight stay should do the trick. Just, take it easy,” he clarified, and Kwazii nodded, albeit obviously still a tad annoyed.

Peso, fingers intertwined nervously, “I’m going to tell the others you’re alright,” he said, and Kwazii gave a thumbs-up with his non-bitten arm. Peso walked out of the infirmary, beads of sweat trailing down his face. He was honestly, truly, confused on why Kwazii did that. Jumped in front to save Peso from a shark? His first thought was maybe Kwazii was tricking him, trying to get Peso’s trust, but why would he put himself in such jeopardy? He must’ve known he’d get hurt and be unable to do some things if he got injured. Though, at the same time… he didn’t seem like the type of person to think things through, so it was really unclear. 

Was Kwazii putting on an act, in order to trick Peso and everyone else into trusting him, and then he’d call up his pirate gang and attack? That was a possibility. Though, if he was doing that, he’d probably hide the pirate garb a bit more. It was a lot, with the accent, the eyepatch–Peso had even noticed he had brought a spyglass . If that was the plan, they’d want it to be more secretive, right? Less obvious that it’s a pirate. 

Though Peso has heard before pirates weren’t the brightest. And, that seemed to match up. Kwazii’s medical form was definitely something. So, Peso’s ideas for what Kwazii really was currently were; 

1: Somebody pretending to be friendly and nice/gain trust but really turn on them and summon up his pirate gang to pillage 

2: A pirate that was just trying to figure out everything about the Octopod so he could destroy and salvage later

3: A former pirate who could and would snap at any given moment 

( and, at the back of his mind, a secret, fourth thing. Maybe Kwazii was a former pirate who’d turned good. But that seemed impossible to the medic. ) 

He finally pulled himself together–it wouldn’t be good if the Captain found out he’d been secretly suspecting Kwazii of all his evil deeds. He’d probably think he’s paranoid, (which, while true, this paranoia had some reasoning!) and have to kick him off the Octopod! And Kwazii would be free to do his pillaging, killing, and taking-over-ing. So, he wiped the sweat off his brow, and hopped in the chute. 

When he arrived in hq, he was.. A little surprised? Obviously, he didn’t expect anyone to be jumping for joy or anything, everyone else seemed to like or at least not really mind Kwazii to an extent, but it was a little more glum then he’d been expecting. The Captain, while he was standing, he clearly had some sort of.. Emotion on his face. It was hard to pinpoint with him. Not really sad, not really disappointed, just… like he felt something unfortunate was coming along. Tweak, who was sitting on one of the chairs, seemed to be working on some blueprints. She still had that look on her face–concern, most likely. He couldn’t really see Dashi’s face, so with her he was utterly unsure. Shellington seemed to be scribbling something down in his small notebook, and Peso wasn’t really sure what. Inkling looked concerned as well. 

Suddenly, the Captain noticed him. “Peso! How is Kwazii doing?” he asked, and suddenly all eyes were on Peso, and the sweat started up again. “Um– he’s doing well. He doesn’t seem to be in much pain, fortunately. He’s resting at the moment, but he should be be able to get out of bed in a day or two–he’ll just need to take it easy.” he said, and the Captain nodded. “That’s good. He’s very… persistent, so I’m not surprised he’s already getting better.” he said, and Peso nodded back, shakily, and then Shellington piped up. “I have some questions about the shark–I’d like to narrow down what type it was.” he said, and Peso blinked. He wanted to know about the shark? 

“Oh, um, alright.” he agreed, reluctantly. “What color was it?” he asked, and Peso blinked. He hadn’t really taken in many details about the shark. “W-well, she was a gray color, mainly. I- um, didn’t see her very well. I think it.. I’m pretty sure she had dark gray stripes, but it all happened so fast. And, uh, dunno if it helps, but I don’t think she really liked the taste of him.” he said, and Shellington nodded. “Likely a tiger shark…” Shellington rolled over to a screen, looking through all the animals before landing on it. “Did she have some of the features of this creature?” he asked, and Peso walked over. It was practically a perfect match. “Y-yes! Looked just like that, just.. More human, obviously.” he said, and Shellington was glad he’d gotten it right on the first try. “Good job, Shellington.” the Captain praised, which Shellington was again, happy about. “Thanks Captain,” he said, before pressing his pencil back against the paper of his tiny notebook. 

But Peso’s mind, again, wandered back to Kwazii. He really just couldn’t figure him out! If he wanted to get rid of Peso, like he’d thought briefly before… Why would he move in front of Peso? Why did he save him? Again, to gain trust might be a likely motive but it was really so strange. If it wasn’t for that, then why?

Peso for once, made up his damn mind. He was just going to ask– and if Kwazii turned on him completely, then he’d just say he must be mis-remembering, as he put him on some pain meds that can fog your memory. So, he jumped into the chute once again, (to nobody’s protest–he didn’t need to be there at the moment, plus they’d likely just assume he was going to tend to Kwazii) and arrived in the hallway. He took a deep breath, before entering back into the room with him. 

Kwazii lay there, tail swishing back and forth, ears flicking. He was bored out of his mind, very clearly. He had heard the door opening though, and his pupils moved over to Peso. Peso was a little annoyed that he was sitting upright and not laying down, but it was fine. “Heya Matey,” Kwazii greeted, and Peso pulled up a stool. “Um, K-kwazii,” he started, now already starting to regret this idea of an intervention. Kwazii cocked his head to the side; 

“Yeah, matey?” he asked, now confused. 

“Um..” Peso cleared his throat. “I have some questions.” 

Kwazii looked a little nervous, though he nodded. Peso wondered why– was he right? Probably.

“How’s the injury feel? Do you want any pain medication?” he asked, and Kwazii’s eyes widened. “There’s medication fer pain?! ” he exclaimed, bolting up. “Y..yeah?” Peso said. That was concerning, how the hell did he not know what pain meds were? He had literally mentioned taking pills in his form–but he’d ask about that some other time. Couldn’t get distracted now. 

“Wow..” Kwazii muttered. “Now, um, next question. Why’d you..” Peso cleared his throat again–was that becoming a habit?

“Why did you jump in front of me?” he asked. 

Kwazii put his non-injured arm to his hip.

“Gut reaction. Can’t let me crew get hurt!” 

Peso didn’t entirely believe that. “But.. you barely know me..” 

“Yeah? An’? Ye still be me crew. Plus, no offense…not sure you’d really be able to..”

He coughed into his arm.

“ Handle that.” 

Peso wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that. 

“What.. do you mean?” he asked. “No offense, matey, but.. Yer kinda tiny. Not sure if y’ could really…do as well if y’ lost a lotta blood.” 

Peso blinked–of course. That.. actually made a lick of sense.

Kwazii gave Peso a thumbs up, and Peso didn’t really want to admit it, because he was still suspicious… but he was starting to feel Kwazii is actually a good person. Even if he was a pirate. Actually, Peso wanted to ask about that. “Sorry if this is.. Prying too far, but.. Why are you so into the whole pirate thing?” he asked. Kwazii bolted up, and Peso stumbled backwards in fear, but he didn’t trip, fortunately. 

“Well, I always be one. Me..” he stopped, and it rose Peso’s suspicion again. “Me old crew.. I found out they not be exactly what I thought they be.” he vaguely remarked, and Peso felt like he was leaving out a lot of details. But, it might be traumatizing to think about or something along those lines. 

“Oh- S-sorry,” Peso stuttered out, and Kwazii shrugged.

“Nothin’ t’ be done ‘bout it.” he said. 

“W-well, that’s all I wanted to ask, so I’ll be leaving to go to sleep,” Peso said, glancing towards the clock. It was late enough. Kwazii nodded. “Alright, matey,” he said, waving goodbye as Peso fled the scene.

Obviously, he had more questions, but he was less skeptical about Kwazii’s true intentions. Given how he was acting about his old crew, Peso swept the idea of ‘gaining our trust then thrusting upon a whole pirate gang and pillaging them’ off the table. It.. it seemed genuine, how the cat-pirate was acting. And he felt the soft feathers instead of ears as he was walking to the chute, and he supposed he felt a little more emotional then he had originally thought about the whole ordeal. Jumping in, eventually making his way to his room, he peeled off his “work” cooling clothes, and slipped on his cooling pajamas. He curled up under the covers of his bed, and soon enough, he fell asleep, peacefully, despite everything.

It had been a few days since what had been dubbed; “The tiger attack”. Originally, this whole “GUP driving training” exercise was going to happen earlier, but it didn’t, given what had happened. Kwazii was alright now, fortunately. Apparently he could tough out a shark bite with ease, (or as he had said it, “twas just a nibble!”) and it had only been a few days from the attack. They had moved to a different area, though it practically looked the same. Flat, barren. Perfect for training.

Tweak had called it, “The parking lot of the ocean”, given how perfect it was. The Captain was.. Mildly nervous about this at best. He had a feeling some of his crew wouldn’t exactly be the best at driving, there had to be at least one person who couldn’t drive. He just prayed to Meomi that it was someone who likely wouldn’t have to drive on their own anyways. 

The only one who wasn’t learning in a GUP was the Professor, who was likely not going to leave the Octopod much at all, let alone have to actually drive a GUP, given if he was going with them on a mission the Captain or Kwazii or Tweak or someone else would be going with him, if he ever did, that was. Either way, these thoughts flooded across Barnacle’s mind as they all ate breakfast. They were going out to do the training right after breakfast. 

Kwazii still couldn’t drive on his own with the arm injury, (to his lament) so he’d just be shadowing Barnacles, which he was amazingly disappointed about. Not like Barnacles could really blame him. Kwazii was clearly pretty hyperactive–always needing a distraction of some sort or something to do or just anything. Honestly, Barnacles was a tad worried that it might result in him doing something for his own entertainment and accidentally either hurting someone, or just causing a problem. But, given how quick he was to act to protect Peso, (and let’s all be honest–it was clear that Peso was terrified of the guy, it was unclear if Kwazii knew that fact or not though. He didn’t seem like the observant type, so the Captain wouldn’t put it past him) putting himself in harm's way? It made the Captain trust that at the very least, Kwazii would be good at the actual saving related missions. And soon, breakfast was over. Every single Octonaut (besides the Professor) headed down to the launch bay, and slipped on the oxygen tanks. Barnacles and Tweak took out some of the GUPs one by one, (and Kwazii pouted at the fact he couldn’t drive the GUP B–he clearly already had an attachment to the thing) and soon enough, all of them were in the Open ocean, with the submarines. 

Tweak assigned each person to a GUP, or a few people to the GUPS with multiple seats. Barnacles, Kwazii, and Shellington were in the GUP A, Peso in the GUP E with Tweak helping him, and Dashi alone in the GUP C. Tweak figured she could be alone because, 1; she’d gone through the driving training, and two, she just seemed responsible enough. Shellington, as he’d never driven before nor gone through the simulation, needed to be assisted by the Captain and Kwazii was with them for the obvious. Peso had also not gone through the simulation, so Tweak was with him helping. They had decided on the GUP E since that had been designated as the “medical GUP”, which made Peso unboundedly nervous from what the Captain could tell. 

The GUPs radios were connected, so they could communicate easily. Wasn’t a problem in the slightest. 

Once they all got into their assigned submarines, the training began. Barnacles had Shellington seated next to him, hands on the wheel. Shellington’s hands were quaking, but not as much as Peso had been when Barnacles had seen him earlier. Barnacle was confident, obviously. He wasn’t shaking. He was steady, he was firm with his grip because he was the Captain and he had to be. 

“Are you alright, Shellington?” the Captain asked, and while he was sure Shellington could do it, he believed in him–he, the observant Polar bear-hybrid he was, saw the glimpse of nervousness in the otter’s eyes. “Yes, Captain. Just.. never driven.” The Captain lifted a eyebrow. “Well, I’d assume you’d never have steered a ship before, but–” Shellington interrupted. “No, Captain, I mean I’ve never driven. Anything. Ever.” 

Now, the Captain was a little nervous. He had assumed Shellington had at least driven a car at one point or another. But never? That made Barnacles worry. “...I see.” he finally answered, adjusting his helmet’s collar and clearing his throat. Kwazii spoke up, then. Barnacles had forgotten he was there, sulking in the back of the GUP–he tended to speak his mind, and blurted out whenever, which was executed then; 

“Y’ haven’t even steered one o’ those fake wheels they set up t’ the real one?” Kwazii asked, and Shellington glanced back at him, confused. “No..?” the confusion laced in his voice, and Kwazii squinted his eyes. “Really?” he asked, and before Shellington could respond, Barnacles piped up first. “I don’t think many people do that, Kwazii.” he said, and Kwazii looked over to him. “Huh. Must b’ a pirate thing…” he said, muttering that last bit. Suddenly, the radio chimed, “Tweak t’ Cap’n Barnacles, Tweak to Cap’n,” a southern, slightly distorted voice said. Kwazii whipped his head around. “Tweak?!” 

Barnacles, clarifying, “She’s on the radio. Not actually here.” 

Kwazii, still confused; “Oh. Right.”

Tweak, through the radio; “Cap, we’re ready to start. I already checked in with Dashi,” 

Barnacles, affirmative; “Wonderful Tweak. I’ll let you lead.” 

Tweak, (was that a carrot crunching sound?); “Alright, so t’ begin, on the right is the acceleration pedal. Press it with yer foot.” 

Peso, struggling; “Um-”

Tweak, probably guiding him; “ That one, Peso.” 

Peso, nervousness in his voice; “R-right”

Barnacles, looking over to Shellington, “That means you too, Shellington.”

Shellington, frantically pressing on the pedal, launching them forward–luckily into nothing; “Jumping Jellyfish!” 

Barnacles, slamming his own foot on the breaks, stopping them abruptly, making all three members head’s jerk forward, (and in Kwazii’s face, his head jerked forward into the wall, to which he said, “yoowww”) and claws sprouting out of his hands, before he quickly pressed them into his palms, making them disappear. Even if his hands were a little cut up, now, and a little stained with blood. “Don’t press it that hard, Shellington. Here, let’s go back to the starting point. Lightly pull back on the steering wheel, and we’ll go backwards.” the Captain said, making the motion just not actually pulling on the controls. Shellington nodded, pulling back on the thing, and slowly, (maybe a little too slowly) they inched their way back to the ‘starting line’, and Tweak came in through the radio again; 

“Glad y’all didn’t crash. Now, remember, just hover your foot over the pedal. Shellington. And then, on my mark, lightly press down,” she said, and Shellington laughed, somewhat embarrassed and just a tad nervously. After a few moments, the crackling of Tweak’s distorted voice was heard once more, “Press down. Lightly. ” she said, and slowly, (the GUP E the slowest, with the GUP A just barely trucking along before it, and the GUP C going at a steady pace. “Not that light.” Tweak remarked, and Shellington pressed way too hard, and they rocketed forward for a moment, before he stabilized himself and became just ahead of Dashi. 

The GUP E, which was now lagging behind, was still going on slowly. It wasn’t noticeable it was going much faster, at the very least. Barnacles heard a crackly groan, then a, “Oh me oh my… Peso, pardner, you won’t explode if you just press a lil harder.” Barnacles could hear Peso’s gulp of fear. Part of him regretted not going with Peso, but the GUP E was not big enough for three people, and he’d prefer Kwazii be with him (Given how, with his strength triumphanting over Tweak’s, if Kwazii fainted from pain or just tried to sneak out, Barnacles would be able to pick him up and make sure he’s alright quite a bit easier). After Peso was going ever slightly faster, Tweak eventually just decided to move on to the next part of the lesson. 

“Y’all, now, with the steerin’ wheel gripped,” she started, “not that hard Peso, y’ look like yer holdin’ on fer dear life,” she remarked, sighing and Barnacles heard another crackly crunching sound over the radio. “Turn to the left, and not suddenly, just slowly,” she said, and Shellington, surprisingly, did exactly what she said. “Good, everyone!” Tweak said, and she continued, “Just do exactly what I say, and this’ll be over in no time!” she said, seemingly glad about that. 

It was a few other simple commands along the lines of things like “now straighten out” “turn right” and then, eventually, thankfully, she said, “Now, turn around!” she said, and Shellington seemed confident, and he started turning a little too fast and suddenly a hybrid–looked like a manta ray or something–swam right in front, and Shellington lost track of where he was in the turn, accidentally turning back to the previous position, and so he had to turn back in the direction of the Octopod, and he did it a bit too fast, causing the GUP to spin. 

Spinning, swirling, turning in circles–you get the point. And, he, panicked, accidentally lifting the steering wheel up, causing them to dive down, into the sandy bottom of the sea floor, the stirred up sand clouding the vision out of the GUP. “Jumping jellyfish,” Shellington muttered, and Barnacles sprung into action immediately, like the good leader he was. 

Pressing on the radio button, “Captain Barnacles to Tweak,” he said and she responded soon after, “Y’ crashed, I know, I’ll get in the GUP C and pull ‘er out,” she said, cutting out. The Captain sighed. “Sorry, Captain, I just got so mixed up with that person swimming by, and then I panicked a little,” he said, and Barnacles just put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright, Shellington. That was decent for your first time driving.” he said, and Shellington nodded. “Might’ve been a manta ray.” 

The Captain’s face was adorned with a confused look. “What?” 

“The person that swam across. I think they might’ve been part manta ray, given the way their arms were connected to their torso.” he clarified, and Barnacles nodded. “..I see.” Kwazii, coming up behind Shellington, “Only focused on the things y’ like, ey?” he jokingly remarked, and Shellington shook his head. “No- I really was trying, it just distracted me.” he said, and Kwazii felt a little bad. “No that’s–... nevermind.” he said, and Shellington was just befuddled at that point. 

The radio crackled again, and Tweak came in. “I’m in the GUP C, Cap. We’ll pull you out faster than you can say buncha munchy crunchy carrots!” she said, and Shellington muttered, “Bunch of munchy crunchy carrots..?” and Tweak sighed. “It’s an expression, Shellington.” “Oh.” 

“Shellington, is it wrong to assume you’re a little clumsy?” he asked, and Shellington shook his head. “No, you’re right. I am.” The Captain, face scrunched up a little, “Maybe sit down, then. To avoid injury.” and Shellington followed the order, sitting down. “Brace yerselves! Might get a little wobbly, ” Tweak said, and Kwazii muttered under his breath, “Nothin’ new, after Shellington’s drivin,” and Shellington looked like he wanted to protest, but realized Kwazii wasn’t really wrong so he didn’t. 

The GUP wobbled, just like Tweak said it would, and the GUP was pulled out of the sand with ease, stirring up a small dust cloud where the GUP formerly rested. They were towed into the Octopod, where all three hopped out. Dashi and Peso had already made their way back in the GUP E, (though it was apparent that Dashi had done all the driving–Peso was too much of a scaredy… penguin to do so) and now everyone was out. They didn’t have any missions that day, fortunately, besides that, so the rest of the day was primarily spent chilling, though Dashi had decided to move them closer to a beach so she could do a little surfing. 

Barnacles and Kwazii had a friendly ping-pong match, (which Barnacles won, to Kwazii’s utter lament, as he said, “unfair!” “How so?” “....I haven’t played ina while.” “This is my third time playing,” and finally a sad little “yeow..”) Shellington decided to inform Inkling of how it all went, (even if he more so just talked about that manta ray hybrid, making a small sketch of it even, despite it being the reason they crashed) and Tweak resorted to gardening, with a little assistance from Peso (he just held the basket with the carrots Tweak was gathering, though). 

And, it really seemed like all was well, didn’t it? Sure, it could be a little.. Much, but it was all turning out well. Everyone was generally pretty happy, besides the… minor difficulties they’d came across so far, and Barnacles was certain that, yes, they would all get along soon.

[void-spells]

@sauntering-down is the reason I'm now writing a 13th battalion fic between chapters of House of Eternal Return

[corporatefrog]

╰┈➤ Welcome Back to the Channel part 28; colonel mismatch

✧.* featuring professor chaos' new sidekick, colonel mismatch, making their official debut in public and private : ̗̀➛ notes - the new standard has begun. the next chapter will be the final one to wrap everything together nicely as yn starts their new life :) tags - college au, superhero au, smau

series masterlist previous | next

taglist [reply to be added]: @sula0kin @lacuna-at-dawn @anglettecolours @cocolena@sukisprettyface @feverish-dove @sweetadonisbutbetter @hand-writxen@mishstuff@sophtophie @triphovia  @lacunaanonymoused @inkedintothepaper @toodeepintofandoms@mmmaackerel @sillybilly-123@n0tangeliccc@sophtophie@inkedintothepaper 

[jankwritten]

CHAPTER 7 OF HOCKEY AU IS NOW UP!!!

Take a deep breath, this one's kind of a doozy. Also, PLEASE mind the content warnings for this chapter.

[firstkanaphans]

Chapters: 5/6 Fandom: คาธ | The Eclipse (TV 2022) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Akk/Ayan (The Eclipse) Characters: Ayan (The Eclipse), Akk (The Eclipse), Kan (The Eclipse), Thua (The Eclipse), Wat (The Eclipse) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Friends With Benefits, First Kiss, Making Out, Masturbation Interruptus, Hand Jobs, Coming Untouched, Blow Jobs, Bubble Bath, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Anal Sex, Porn with Feelings, Bottom!Akk Series: Part 2 of Only Friends Summary:

“Have you really never kissed anyone before?” Aye asked.

“Look, if you’re going to make fun of me—” Akk turned only to pull back when he saw how close Aye was standing. Aye was surprised too. He had stepped into Akk’s personal space without even realizing it, but he didn’t back away. He held his ground. Akk’s gaze drifted down to Aye’s lips for the briefest of seconds, but it was long enough to give him hope. “No. I haven’t.”

Aye nodded, his skin itching with the need to touch, to claim. He would try once more and then never again. This had to be the end of it. For his own sanity. “Do you want to?”

OR Only Friends from Aye's POV

[captain--poseidon]

DREAMSECT REBEL SAGA EPISODE 1: DAYS OF INNOCENCE DEMO OUT NOW!!!! check it out!

[cuz-reasons]

Summary: Ingo says his last goodbyes to the Pearl Clan

I can not believe this is the penultimate chapter how have we gotten this far

[beatbawksradio]

slán

[mononijikayu]

amnesia — ryomen sukuna.

“Are you… are you playing a joke on me?” Sukuna’s voice wavered slightly as he tried to comprehend the situation. “It’s me. Sukuna. We… we know each other.” You shook your head slowly, an apologetic smile tugging at your lips. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember you. I had a really bad accident a few years ago, and… well, I lost my memories. Amnesia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: sfw, fluff, angst, romance, hurt/ comfort, post - break up, amnesia, hurt, physical touch, memory loss, sadness, pain, pining, slowly getting back together, light-hearted, happy ending, getting back together, depictions of amnesia, depiction of pining, mention of grief, mention of accident, mention of pining, ex-boyfriend! sukuna, amnesiac! ex-girlfriend! reader, domestic uncle sukuna!, nephew!yuji;

WORD COUNT: 9.9k words

NOTE: the entire chapter is a sequel to drunk tonight and is set five years later. sukuna won second place at the poll again and i feel like this is my apology for sukuna for always making him an angst main lead. this was inspired by a filipino film called amnesia girl and its a funny drama-romcom. its available on youtube, but i dont know if there's subtitles!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy this and i hope you know how much i love yall 🫶🫶🫶

ADDENDUM: so......so long sukuna??? (manga readers iykyk)

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 1000;

if you want to, tip!

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HE LIKED TO THINK HE COUNTED THE HOW LONG IT HAS BEEN WELL. Five long and painful years ago, you and Sukuna parted ways in what felt like an explosion of unresolved emotions and unmet expectations. Your relationship had been a tempestuous blend of fiery passion and constant turbulence, a rollercoaster of intense highs and devastating lows. From the beginning, it was clear that both of you had strong personalities, often clashing in ways that seemed impossible to reconcile.

The reasons for the breakup were numerous and complex. There was the perpetual danger that came with Sukuna's world, a constant reminder that you were living on the edge, with no guarantee of safety or stability. His life was fraught with peril, and the reality of that danger had taken its toll on both of you. You both knew that living under such stress was unsustainable, and it began to fray the bonds that had once held you together.

Your expectations, too, weighed heavily on the relationship. You had dreams and aspirations that seemed at odds with the life you were leading alongside Sukuna. The demands of his world often overshadowed your own needs, leading to a sense of neglect and disillusionment. It felt as though you were always putting yourself second, trying to accommodate the chaos that was Sukuna's life while struggling to maintain your own sense of self.

Despite the chaos and the inevitable breakdown, there was an undeniable connection between you—a bond that neither of you could completely sever. It was a connection that defied logic, a thread that seemed to pull you back together despite all efforts to move on. Both of you had tried to let go, to walk away and start anew, but the lingering feelings and shared history made it nearly impossible to fully break free.

Sukuna, in his own way, struggled with this as well. Even though the relationship had reached its breaking point, he found himself unable to completely let go of what you had shared. He was deeply aware of the toll that the relationship had taken on you, and he knew that you needed to prioritize yourself, your own well-being, and your own path forward. It was a painful realization, one that left him feeling hollow and lost, but he was determined not to be the reason you couldn't move forward.

In his mind, letting you go was the only way to truly show his love for you—to give you the space you needed to heal and grow. Even if it meant enduring his own misery, he accepted that it was a sacrifice he had to make. He knew that holding on would only serve to drag you both down further, and he wasn't willing to be the obstacle in your pursuit of happiness.

So, as time passed and the separation became a part of your history, Sukuna endured his own internal struggle. He remained in the shadows of your life, silently wishing for your happiness while grappling with his own feelings of loss and regret. He respected your decision and tried to move forward, even as he kept a part of himself tied to the memories of what once was.

But even then, you were truly something that made his life more than it was. You were the blossoms of his youth, the hope and vibrancy that had once colored his world. Your presence had breathed life into the mundane, transforming his days from mere existence into something filled with possibility and wonder. 

His elder brother Jin had seen it all those years ago, recognizing the profound impact you had on Sukuna. Jin had often remarked on how you were a beacon of hope, a light that guided Sukuna through the darkest corners of his life. Your influence was undeniable, a force that had shaped him in ways he could hardly articulate.

Yet despite the depth of his feelings and the significance of what you had shared, Sukuna couldn’t escape the gnawing belief that he had ultimately failed you. He carried with him the heavy burden of the notion that he wasn’t good enough—never had been, never would be. The weight of this conviction was a constant companion, a shadow that loomed over every thought and action.

He remembered the countless moments of doubt, the times when he felt that his flaws, his imperfections, and the dangers of his world were too great a burden for you to bear. It was a painful realization, one that left him grappling with feelings of inadequacy. He wanted to be the person who could give you everything you deserved—love, stability, safety. But he feared that he fell short, that he could never truly be the partner you needed.

Even as he watched you move forward, find your own path, and build a life without him, he was haunted by the belief that he had let you down. He was acutely aware of all the ways he had failed to meet your expectations, to protect you from the chaos that had once defined your life together. He thought that perhaps he had been too caught up in his own struggles, too consumed by the demands of his world to fully appreciate what he had with you.

In his quieter moments, Sukuna wrestled with the idea that he would never be good enough for you, that he would never be able to offer you the kind of love and life you truly deserved. This belief became a part of him, shaping how he viewed himself and how he measured his worth. He felt that he had lost you not because of any one mistake or shortcoming, but because he was fundamentally flawed, incapable of providing the kind of relationship you needed.

And so, even as he grappled with his own pain and regrets, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were better off without him. The memory of what you had shared lingered like a bittersweet echo, a reminder of what could have been and what was lost. He had to come to terms with the fact that he might never be able to offer you the life you deserved, and that acceptance was a hard, painful lesson he had to learn.

Sukuna's struggle with these feelings was a testament to the depth of his love for you, a love that, despite its imperfections and its failures, had once been a source of profound meaning and transformation in his life. Even as he moved forward, he carried the weight of this truth with him—a reminder of what you had meant to him and the painful realization that, perhaps, he would never truly be good enough to have you back.

Sukuna sat in the corner of the room, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand, as he listened to his friend's banter. The atmosphere was lighter than it had been in years. Gojo, with his usual grin, was recounting some ridiculous tale of his latest escapade, while Uraume, ever the quiet observer, occasionally chimed in with dry comments that had the others laughing.

But Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t really paying attention. His mind kept drifting back to you—to the way your eyes had softened when you told him you wanted to give “us” a real chance, to the way you’d leaned into him, trusting and vulnerable in a way that made his chest tighten.

“Oi, Sukuna. You’re….” Gojo’s voice cut through his thoughts. “You’re awfully quiet tonight, bud. What's got you all broody, huh?”

Sukuna blinked, realizing he’d been staring into his glass for who knows how long. He knows he spaces out when he’s thinking, but when he’s thinking of you — he suppose the time can go on and he wouldn’t even notice. He looked up to find Gojo’s bright blue eyes fixed on him, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Uraume was watching him too, their expression unreadable but attentive.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Sukuna muttered, taking a sip of his drink. “Just thinking.”

“That’s a first from you, hm.”  Uraume teased, earning a snort from Gojo.

“Come on, spill it!” Gojo pressed, leaning forward with that infuriatingly playful grin. “Is it a girl? I don’t mind if it’s a guy, I know you swing that way too! Oh, wait… don’t tell me it’s the girl.”

Sukuna’s dark scarlet eyes narrowed at him. “What are you talking about?”

Gojo’s grin widened. “The one you’ve been moping about for the last five years. Don’t think I didn’t notice, Sukuna. You’ve been different at work lately—quieter, more… I don’t know, introspective.”

“Gojo–san’s right, Sukuna–san.” Uraume added, their tone softer. “You’ve changed. It’s like you’re finally letting go of whatever it was that had you so wound up.”

Sukuna leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight of their words settle over him. He wasn’t used to being the one on the receiving end of their scrutiny, and he didn’t like it. But he also knew they weren’t wrong.

“Yeah, well……” Sukuna began, his voice rough, “I haven't seen her in a long while.. Five years, I think. But I heard…I heard she’s been around. She’s moved around town.”

Uraume raised their eyebrows. “Five years? That’s a long time, Sukuna–san.”

“Yeah. We were together throughout our senior high school and college. Then we broke up after we graduated.” Sukuna sighed, taking a long sip of his drink. The alcohol burned as it slid down his throat, but it did little to ease the ache that had settled in his chest. “It’s been a long time, but… hearing that she’s moved here just brings back a lot.”

Gojo’s eyes widened in surprise. “Was that breakup really that bad?” His usual grin faded, replaced by a look of concern as he sensed the gravity of Sukuna’s words. “What happened?”

Sukuna nodded, his gaze drifting away from Gojo’s intense stare. The room seemed to grow quieter as he delved into the past, the weight of his memories heavy in his voice. “We had multiple breakups. It wasn’t just one—there were several. But the last one was particularly rough. We both cried a lot, said things we didn’t mean. It was messy.”

Gojo leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “Why was it so difficult?”

Sukuna’s face tightened as he struggled to find the right words. “If I’m being honest, it’s my fault. I wasn’t secure in myself. I was jealous, possessive. I couldn’t handle the idea of her moving forward or being happy without me. And that jealousy, that insecurity—it hurt her more than I realized.”

There was a long pause as Sukuna’s confession hung in the air. Gojo’s usual bravado was replaced by a rare, contemplative silence. He took a moment to process Sukuna’s admission, trying to reconcile the man he knew with the vulnerability being revealed.

“That’s a lot to carry,” Gojo said finally, his voice softer than usual. “But it sounds like you’re taking responsibility, which is more than a lot of people do.”

Sukuna’s expression was a mix of regret and acceptance. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t change the past. I know I hurt her, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make up for that fully. But seeing her again… it’s brought everything back. The pain, the regret, and the memories of what we had.”

Uraume, who had been quietly listening, spoke up, their tone gentle. “It’s clear you’re still affected by this. Maybe it’s a chance for you to make things right, or at least find some closure. People change, and sometimes, revisiting the past can help us understand ourselves better.”

Sukuna nodded, though his expression remained somber. “Maybe. I’m not sure what will come of this. I just know that seeing her again made me realize how much I still care, how much I’ve changed, and how much I wish things could have been different.”

Gojo leaned back, his eyes thoughtful. “It sounds like you’ve been through a lot, and maybe this is a chance for you to show her the person you’ve become. It might not fix everything, but it could be a step toward healing—for both of you.”

Sukuna’s gaze softened, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Yeah, maybe. It’s worth a shot.”

The room fell silent, the playful atmosphere dissolving as the weight of Sukuna's words sank in. Even Gojo, who was usually quick with a joke or a teasing remark, seemed at a loss for what to say. His usual bravado was replaced with something more thoughtful, almost solemn, as he processed what Sukuna had just revealed.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft clink of ice in Sukuna's glass as he set it down on the table. He could feel the eyes of his friends on him, but he kept his gaze fixed on the drink, not ready to meet their concerned looks just yet. The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken emotions.

“I hope the best for you, man.” Gojo finally muttered, leaning back in his chair as he exhaled slowly. His tone was softer than usual, lacking its typical teasing edge. “You deserve to be happy too.”

Sukuna snickered. “You must be drunk being this nice to me.”

“Hey! I am nice at all times.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Uraume, who had been listening quietly, leaned forward slightly, their expression gentle and understanding. They had always been more in tune with Sukuna's moods, more aware of the nuances in his behavior than Gojo, who often masked his own sensitivity with humor.

“If you bump into her again, though….” Uraume asked, their tone devoid of judgment, only curiosity and concern. “Would you try and talk to her, then?”

Sukuna finally looked up, meeting Uraume’s gaze. There was a hesitance in his eyes, as if he was still grappling with the reality of it all. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low, almost as if admitting it aloud made it more real. “I would. In a drop of a hat.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy with the weight of all the unspoken feelings that had built up over the years. It wasn’t just the fact that you had come back into his life; it was the realization that despite everything, despite the time and distance, Ryomen Sukuna had never really let go of you. He had buried those feelings deep, tried to move on, but now that you were here again, they had all come rushing back to the surface.

Gojo watched Sukuna carefully, his usual smirk gone, replaced with a rare expression of empathy. He knew Sukuna better than most, knew how much pride had always driven him, how hard it had been for him to admit his feelings even when things were good between the two of you. For Sukuna to open up like this now, it meant that whatever he was feeling ran deep.

“I get it.” Gojo said, his voice unusually quiet. “I mean, you guys were… well, you were everything to each other. It makes sense that she’s still on your mind.”

Uraume nodded in agreement. “It’s not surprising that you still think about her, Sukuna–san. What you had wasn’t just something you can forget, even if you wanted to.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, staring off into the distance as if trying to collect his thoughts. “It’s just… weird.” he finally said, his voice thick with the frustration he’d been holding back. “I’ve been trying to move on, to put all of that behind me. But I just….I want to see her again. Even just one more time.”

Gojo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he regarded Sukuna with a serious expression. “Maybe you’re not supposed to forget, man. Maybe this is your chance to figure out what you really want, to make things right.”

Uraume added quietly, “It’s not too late to change the narrative, Sukuna. If you still care about her, if she’s still on your mind after all this time, maybe there’s something there worth exploring.”

Sukuna closed his eyes for a moment, taking in their words. There was truth in what they were saying, and he knew it. He had spent so long trying to bury his feelings, convincing himself that it was over and done with. But the truth was, he had never truly moved on. And now, with you back in his life, even in this new, unfamiliar way, he couldn’t ignore the pull he felt toward you.

When he opened his eyes, there was a resolve in them that hadn’t been there before. “You’re probably right.” he admitted, his voice steady. “I’ve been running from this for too long. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I need to see this through. I owe it to myself, and… to her.”

Gojo’s grin returned, but it was softer, more genuine. “That’s the spirit, man. You’ve got this. Just… don’t screw it up this time, okay?”

Sukuna let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ll try not to.”

Uraume smiled softly, a rare display of emotion from them. “We’re here for you, Sukuna–san. Whatever you need, just say the word.”

Sukuna nodded, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he wasn’t alone in this. With Gojo and Uraume by his side, he knew he could face whatever came next, even if it meant confronting the feelings he had buried for so long.

One more drink and  the conversation shifted back to lighter topics, the tension that had hung in the air slowly dissipated. But the resolve in Sukuna’s heart remained, stronger than ever. He knew what he had to do, and for the first time in years, he felt ready to face it head-on,

As the night wore on, Sukuna couldn’t help but think about the future—about what it would be like to build something real with you this time, something lasting. The thought scared him, but it also excited him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

Maybe, just maybe, this time he could get it right. And with Gojo and Uraume by his side, he knew he wouldn’t have to do it alone. But the hour is late. And they’ve got things going on in their lives too. So they pay their bills and wave him goodbye.

As he watches his comrades pair off, he is forced to confront a painful truth. Despite years of searching, no one has been able to replace you. The women he's met, the flings he's had—they were all distractions, mere shadows compared to what he had with you. Each time he tries to move forward, your memory pulls him back, the echo of your laughter, the way you challenged him like no one else ever did, and the warmth you once brought into his life, all refuse to fade.

In quiet moments, when he's alone, Ryomen Sukuna wrestles with the possibility that his true love, the one person who could truly understand and match his intensity, might have been you all along. The very thought frustrates and angers him, but deep down, he knows it's true. The idea that you could be happy with someone else, that you could have moved on, is a bitter pill to swallow.

But what can he do? Could he really go back to you after all this time, after all the hurt and pride that kept you apart? The thought of reaching out, of admitting that he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you, is terrifying in its vulnerability. Yet, the more he tries to resist, the more he finds himself wanting you back in his life.

Sukuna has always been a man of action, but this...this is different. It's not about power or control; it's about something far more fragile—his heart, his pride, and the chance of losing you all over again. The question that haunts him now is whether he can swallow that pride and take the risk, whether he can open himself up to the possibility that, just maybe, what he’s been searching for all these years was right in front of him all along.

And that possibility, terrifying as it may be, is the only thing that has ever truly scared him.

Sukuna's inner turmoil grows as the days pass. The world around him, once filled with the thrill of battles and the allure of endless conquests, now feels hollow and cold. He notices how his friends look at him, their eyes reflecting pity and concern. They know him too well, aware that behind his sharp words and defiant attitude, something is eating away at him.

He tries to brush it off, burying himself in work, in fights, in anything that will distract him. But no matter how hard he tries, his thoughts keep circling back to you. The memories come unbidden—your smile, the way you used to tease him, the way you understood him in a way no one else ever did. It's maddening, the way you haunt him, and yet he can't bring himself to let you go.

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IT WAS UNEXPECTED. It was that sort of day once again. Sukuna found himself in charge of his energetic nephew, Yuji, who had just been picked up from school. With his brother Jin and sister-in-law Kaori and Choso tied up with commitments for the weekend, Sukuna was left to manage Yuji. Given that he didn’t have to hit the gym or deal with work obligations that day, it seemed like a manageable task.

Ryomen Sukuna’s house was usually a quiet refuge from his chaotic world, but today it felt oddly empty. He doesn’t really like decorating that much, mostly because he has no time and mostly because he really doesn’t feel like it. But his nephew doesn’t seem to mind it every time he’s here. If there was something to distract the brat, then he doesn’t pay attention to everything else. Well, that and food. As he settled Yuji into the living room, Yuji’s curiosity quickly turned to hunger.

“Uncle Sukuna, I’m starving.” Yuji announced, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Do you have any natto? I could really go for some.”

Sukuna blinked, momentarily confused. “Natto? I don’t think I have any. Let me check.”

He shuffled into the kitchen, opening the fridge and peering inside. His search yielded nothing but a few cans of expired beans and a half-eaten pizza box. Sukuna eats out most of the time, because of work. If he does buy anything, it would be from the last time Yuji was here. And that was….a while ago. And just as much, there was no natto in sight.

“Uh, brat, I think we’re out of natto.” Sukuna said, returning to the living room with a sheepish grin. “And it looks like the rest of the fridge is pretty bare.”

Yuji’s eyes widened in disappointment. “But I was really looking forward to it!”

Sukuna rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Looks like we’ll need to go out for groceries. How about we make it an adventure?”

Yuji’s face lit up at the prospect of an outing. “Okay! Can we get some ice cream too?”

Sukuna chuckled, relieved that Yuji’s mood had brightened. “Sure, ice cream it is. Let’s get going before your hunger turns into a full-blown meltdown, brat.”

As they left the house, Sukuna and Yuji made their way to the nearby supermarket. Yuji’s excitement was palpable, his small hands gripping the shopping cart handle as he eagerly pointed out various items he wanted to add to the list. Sukuna, trying to keep up, found himself both amused and exasperated by Yuji’s relentless energy and enthusiasm.

In the aisles of the supermarket, Sukuna pushed the cart while Yuji darted from one section to another, collecting snacks, fruits, and—of course—several packs of natto. Sukuna grabbed a few essentials and, true to his word, added some ice cream to the cart.

As they approached the checkout line, Sukuna glanced at Yuji, who was happily munching on a sample cookie from the store. The small bit of chocolate on Yuji’s cheek made him look even more cherubic and endearing. Sukuna’s lips twitched into a small smile, a rare moment of warmth slipping through his usually stoic facade.

“You know, I think I might need to keep a better stock of food for next time,” Sukuna said, his tone light.

Yuji, still with cookie crumbs on his face, grinned up at him. “And more natto!”

Sukuna couldn’t help but chuckle. The idea of having to stockpile natto just to keep his nephew happy was a new one, but it seemed like a worthwhile endeavor. He ruffled Yuji’s hair affectionately, feeling a soft, genuine affection for the boy.

“You’ve got it, brat. More natto it is.” Sukuna agreed, a rare, relaxed smile on his face.

As they loaded their groceries onto the conveyor belt, Sukuna glanced around, realizing how normal and mundane the experience was compared to the high-stakes, dangerous life he usually led. The simplicity of shopping for food and sharing a lighthearted moment with Yuji was both refreshing and oddly comforting.

Yuji, ever the energetic child, started pointing out items in the store with increasing enthusiasm. “Uncle Sukuna, look! They have those gummy candies you like!” 

Sukuna gave a half-hearted, amused shrug. “Sure, toss them in. I guess I can indulge a bit today.”

As they made their way through the aisles, Yuji chatted away, filling the silence with stories about school and his friends. Sukuna wasn’t really paying attention, his mind elsewhere, when something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

There, at the end of the aisle, stood a familiar figure. The sight stopped Sukuna in his tracks, his eyes widening in disbelief. It was you.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. He watched as you browsed through the shelves, seemingly lost in thought. Your presence, once a distant memory, felt so strikingly real that Sukuna’s heart skipped a beat. The years seemed to melt away as he took in the sight of you.

At first, he didn’t recognize you. It was just a fleeting glimpse, the way your hair caught the light, the familiar way you moved. But then, as you reached for something on a high shelf, he saw your face, and his heart stopped.

It was you.

He couldn’t believe it at first. He thought maybe it was someone who just looked like you, or perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him, dredging up memories he’d tried so hard to bury. But the more he stared, the more certain he became. It was you.

Yuji, noticing Sukuna’s sudden pause, looked up. “Uncle Sukuna, what’s wrong?”

Sukuna swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure. “Uh, nothing, brat. Let’s just finish up here.”

But his gaze was fixed on you, unable to look away. You hadn’t noticed him yet, and Sukuna fought with the urge to approach you, unsure of what to say or do. The familiar mix of excitement and anxiety churned within him, a reminder of the past he had tried so hard to reconcile.

Yuji, still unaware of the significance of the moment, tugged on Sukuna’s sleeve. “Uncle Sukuna, can we go over there? I want to check if they have those chocolates I like!”

Sukuna nodded absently, allowing Yuji to lead him towards the end of the aisle where you stood. As they drew closer, Sukuna braced himself, trying to steady his racing heart. He needed to act normal, to approach you calmly despite the flood of emotions.

Without thinking, he handed the shopping basket to Yuji and began walking toward you. The world around him seemed to blur, the noise of the supermarket fading into the background. It was just you and him, the years that had passed suddenly meaningless.

When he reached you, he hesitated, unsure of what to say. His mind raced, a thousand questions and emotions fighting for dominance. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t prepared for the possibility of seeing you again. But now that you were right in front of him, he couldn’t just walk away.

“Is that you?” He finally said it. He finally said your name. He could feel his entire body shake from nervousness. He didn’t notice until he said it that his voice was rougher than he intended.

You turned to him, blinking in confusion. Your eyes met his, and for a brief, electrifying moment, Sukuna saw the spark of recognition. It was fleeting, but it was there—an almost imperceptible flicker that hinted at a shared past. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a polite, detached expression.

“I’m sorry, but…” you began, your voice soft and apologetic. “Do I know you?”

The words hit Sukuna like a punch to the gut. The confusion on your face made no sense to him; how could you not remember him? The realization was like a cold wave crashing over him. He scanned your face more closely, noting the faint scar near your temple and the way your eyes seemed to search his face for something familiar but found nothing.

“Are you… are you playing a joke on me?” Sukuna’s voice wavered slightly as he tried to comprehend the situation. “It’s me. Sukuna. We… we know each other.”

You shook your head slowly, an apologetic smile tugging at your lips. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember you. I had a really bad accident a few years ago, and… well, I lost my memories. Amnesia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Amnesia. The word hit him like a ton of bricks. All the anger, hurt, and regret that had simmered in him for years suddenly evaporated, replaced by something he couldn’t quite name. You didn’t remember him. You didn’t remember anything about your life together, the love you shared, or the pain that had driven you apart. He stared at you, struggling to process what you’d just told him. The person he’d spent years trying to forget had forgotten him completely. And it hurts. It burns. It…it kills him.

Sukuna’s heart sank as he struggled to process your words. The memories of the past, the shared moments, the intense connection—everything seemed to blur together in a confusing haze. He tried to hold onto the hope that maybe, somehow, there was a chance you might remember him later, but the reality of your situation was clear. You had no recollection of your time together.

“Right…” Sukuna muttered, his voice thick with emotions he didn’t quite know how to handle. “No, it’s… it’s fine.”

“I just… I feel like I’ve upset you,” you mumbled back, your eyes filled with sincere regret. “It’s been like this for a while. I’m really sorry.”

“No, no… it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. It was my fault,” Sukuna said, shaking his head, though the words felt hollow against the weight of his feelings.

You nodded, your gaze sympathetic. “No, please. It’s not. I understand. It must be hard to run into someone who doesn’t remember you. I’m truly sorry.”

There was a quiet moment between you, the weight of lost memories hanging heavily in the air. Sukuna, feeling the sting of both your absence and the reality of your condition, struggled to find the right words. He wanted to bridge the gap between what had been and what was now, but he found himself at a loss.

Before you could turn away, Sukuna took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak. “Um… could I… could I have your number? Maybe… maybe we could talk sometime. If you’re okay with that.”

You looked at him, a flicker of surprise crossing your face. For a moment, you seemed to weigh his request, and then you nodded slowly. “Sure. I can give you my number. I’d like that.”

As you exchanged contact information, Sukuna felt a mixture of hope and apprehension. The act of sharing numbers was a small step, but it felt significant. It was a bridge to the possibility of rebuilding a connection, even if the past was shadowed by the uncertainty of your memory.

“Thank you,” Sukuna said quietly, his voice carrying a note of genuine gratitude. “I appreciate it.”

You gave him a warm, understanding smile. “Of course. I’ll be happy to talk whenever you’re ready. It’s… nice to have some help with my memories, even if it’s just a little.”

Before he could speak, Yuji tugged at Sukuna’s sleeve. “Uncle Sukuna, can we go home now? I’m tired.”

Sukuna glanced down at Yuji and then back at you, his heart heavy. “Yeah, Yuji. Let’s head out.”

As Sukuna began to walk away, he felt your gaze on him. The pain of seeing you again, only to find that you had no memory of their shared past, was almost too much to bear. The bittersweet encounter left him with a mix of longing and resignation. You smiled at Yuji and then to him. Yuji grinned back at you and waved back. 

“Take care.” you called softly as he left the store with Yuji. Sukuna gave a small, subdued wave in response, his mind reeling from the encounter.

Once outside, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Yuji, noticing his uncle’s somber mood, looked up with concern. “Uncle Sukuna, are you okay?”

Sukuna forced a reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, Yuji. I’m fine. Just… a little surprised. Let’s get home.”

As they drove back, Sukuna’s thoughts were filled with the echoes of the past and the present reality. The encounter had stirred up old feelings, and the realization that you had lost your memories of him was both heartbreaking and profoundly unsettling. Yet, despite the pain, there was a strange sense of closure, as if seeing you again, even under these circumstances, had helped him come to terms with the unresolved aspects of their past.

As you walked away, Sukuna stood there, frozen in place, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Yuji came up beside him, his eyes wide with concern.

“Uncle Sukuna, are you okay? Who was that?”

Sukuna glanced at Yuji, then back at the aisle where you’d disappeared. He didn’t know how to answer that. He didn’t know how to explain that the person he’d never been able to forget had forgotten him entirely.

“That,” Sukuna finally said, his voice hollow, “was someone I used to know.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

HE DOESN’T REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED AFTER. The days that followed were a blur for Sukuna. But he couldn’t help it.  Your encounter in the supermarket had shaken him in a way he hadn’t expected. He tried to push it aside, tell himself that it didn’t matter, that you were just a part of his past. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face, the way you looked at him with no recognition, no anger, no pain—just blank politeness. It haunted him.

Yet, fate seemed determined to keep throwing the two of you together. A few days later, he saw you again, this time at a coffee shop. You were sitting by the window, a book in hand, oblivious to the world around you. Sukuna hesitated, debating whether to approach you, but before he could decide, you looked up and caught his eye. There was that same polite smile, and he found himself walking over to you before he could think better of it.

“Hi again.” you said, looking up at him with that same soft, apologetic expression. “We keep running into each other, don’t we?”

“Yeah…..” he replied, his voice rough. He wasn’t sure what to say. The awkwardness between you was palpable, the weight of the past pressing down on him in a way you couldn’t feel. But you didn’t know that, couldn’t know that, so you just smiled and gestured to the seat across from you.

“Would you like to join me?” you asked, your voice gentle, offering a small, tentative smile as you gestured to a nearby café table.

Sukuna hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he was doing or why he was putting himself through this, but there was something about being near you, even if you didn’t remember him, that soothed the ache in his chest. 

“If you wouldn’t mind.” he finally said, his voice betraying the mix of emotions swirling inside him. He sat down across from you, the familiarity of the scene almost too much to bear. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. 

You giggled. “I don’t mind. Not at all.”

As you both settled in, the air between you was filled with an odd mix of tension and familiarity. You began to talk—small, inconsequential things at first. You mentioned how you liked the café’s atmosphere, how it had become one of your favorite spots since you moved here. Sukuna nodded along, trying to focus on the present moment rather than the flood of memories threatening to overwhelm him.

“You know….. “ you said after a moment, stirring your coffee absentmindedly, “it’s strange. I feel… comfortable with you. Like I’ve known you for a long time, even if I can’t remember it.”

Sukuna’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to tell you everything—to pour out the years of pain, regret, and longing he had carried since you’d been apart. But he knew it wouldn’t be fair to burden you with memories you didn’t share anymore. So instead, he offered a small, wistful smile. 

“Maybe it’s just one of those thing.” he said softly, his eyes searching for yours. “Some people just click, I guess.”

You nodded, your gaze lingering on his face as if you were trying to piece together a puzzle. “Maybe. But still, it feels nice. Like I can trust you.”

Sukuna swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his emotions in check. “I’m glad,” he said quietly, his voice betraying the depth of his feelings despite his best efforts. “I’d like to be someone you can trust.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics after that, and the tension slowly eased. You talked about your life, your work, and the things you enjoyed. Sukuna listened intently, hanging on to every word, savoring the sound of your voice even if the stories were new to him. 

As the minutes turned into an hour, Sukuna found himself relaxing. The ache in his chest dulled, replaced by a warmth that he hadn’t felt in years. It was as if, for the first time since you had parted ways, he could breathe a little easier. There was no rush, no pressure to define what this was or what it could become. Just the simple pleasure of being in your company again, however different it might be from the past.

When you finally stood up to leave, Ryomen Sukuna felt a pang of reluctance, but he knew this wasn’t the end. You had exchanged numbers, after all, and there was a possibility that this could lead to something more. 

“I’m really glad we ran into each other.” you said, giving him a sincere smile. “I hope we can do this again sometime.”

“Me too.” Sukuna replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I’d like that.”

As you walked away, Sukuna remained seated for a moment, staring at the now-empty chair across from him. Despite the uncertainty of the future, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was his chance to make things right—to show you the kind of love and care he should have given you all those years ago. And as he left the café, he found himself smiling, a feeling of lightness in his chest that he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Like the wind, the days brushed by into weeks, these accidental meetings became more frequent. He’d see you at the park, at the grocery store, at the small bookstore you frequented. Each time, you greeted him with the same warmth, and each time, he felt the walls he’d built around his heart start to crumble a little more.

It was during one of these encounters, when you were sitting together on a bench at the park, that Sukuna realized something had changed. He wasn’t just dwelling on the past anymore. He wasn’t just seeing you as the woman he used to love, the one who’d left him behind. You were still that person, but you were also someone new, someone who’d been through their own struggles, their own pain.

And he’d changed too. He wasn’t the same man you’d walked away from five years ago. The anger, the recklessness, the pride that had once driven you apart had mellowed. He’d grown, learned from his mistakes, and now, sitting beside you, he realized that he wanted to make things right.

There was one afternoon where after you’d both finished your coffees at that familiar café, Sukuna finally found himself gathered the courage to speak again. He’d been thinking about this for days, the words tumbling over and over in his mind until they felt like second nature.

“Hey….” he began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You looked at him, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “What is it?”

“I know you don’t remember me, or anything about… us, but I want you to know that I’m not the same person I was back then. I’ve changed. And I want to try again.” He paused, searching for the right words. “I want to make things right for you.”

There was a long silence as you absorbed his words. He could see the confusion in your eyes, the way you were trying to piece together something that felt like a missing puzzle in your mind. You wanted to know what it was. How to be complete, and yet you didn’t know how. Not even if your past thought he was what complete was. Finally, you spoke.

“Sukuna, I… I don’t know what to say. I don’t remember anything about us, about our past. But I can see that this means a lot to you, and that you’ve been carrying it with you for a long time.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, and then back at him. “I don’t know if I can ever get those memories back. But I do know that I enjoy spending time with you, that I feel comfortable around you. And maybe… maybe that’s a good place to start.”

His heart leapt at your words, hope flickering to life in a way it hadn’t in years. This was a second chance, an opportunity to rewrite the story that had once ended in heartbreak. He didn’t know what the future held, or if you would ever remember what you once had, but for the first time in a long time, he felt something close to peace.

Sukuna reached out, his hand brushing against yours, and you didn’t pull away. “Then let’s start there, hm?” he said quietly. “No pressure, no expectations. Just… us.”

You smiled, a genuine, warm smile that sent a wave of relief through him. “Just us,” you agreed.

And for the first time in five years, Sukuna felt like he was finally on the path to something real, something lasting. It wouldn’t be easy, but he was determined to prove that he could love you the way you deserved—this time, the right way.

As the weeks turned into months, Sukuna and you continued to meet, slowly rebuilding a connection that had once been lost. Each encounter felt like a tentative step forward, a cautious yet hopeful attempt to bridge the gap that had formed between you over the years. Yet, instead of the intense and sometimes overwhelming passion that had defined your past relationship, there was a newfound sense of calm and understanding between you both.

There was an ease between you now, a natural rhythm that felt different from the intense, almost chaotic bond you’d shared in the past. In the beginning, it was subtle—a shared smile over a mundane joke, the comfortable silence that fell between you as you walked side by side, the way your conversations flowed without the need to fill every gap with words. The pressure that once loomed over your relationship, demanding definitions and clarity, had dissipated, leaving space for something more genuine and unforced.

You found yourselves slipping into each other’s lives in small, almost imperceptible ways. Sukuna would pick up your favorite coffee without being asked, remembering the way you liked it just by heart. You’d invite him to a quiet dinner at your place, cooking together in the kitchen as you talked about everything and nothing. There were no grand gestures or declarations, just a quiet, steady presence that felt reassuring and right.

This time, there was no rush, no urgency to define what you were to each other. It was as if both of you understood that whatever this was, it needed to grow at its own pace. You’d learned from the past, from the way things had unraveled before, and there was an unspoken agreement that you wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. You allowed the relationship to unfold naturally, letting each moment build upon the last, like carefully stacking stones into a tower that could withstand the test of time.

Sukuna, too, had changed. The man who once wore his emotions like armor, who had always been so guarded and intense, was different now. There was a softness to him that hadn’t been there before—a willingness to listen, to be patient, to let things unfold without forcing them into place. He no longer felt the need to control every aspect of his life, and that included his relationship with you. He had learned to let go, to trust that if this was meant to be, it would be.

And in that trust, something beautiful began to grow. Your conversations deepened, moving beyond the surface-level topics that had once dominated your interactions. You talked about your dreams, your fears, the things that kept you awake at night. Sukuna shared pieces of himself that he had kept hidden for so long, opening up in ways he never had before. And you, in turn, felt safe enough to do the same.

There were moments when the past would resurface, like shadows lingering at the edges of your newfound connection. Memories of heated arguments, of painful goodbyes, would flicker in your minds, reminding you of how things had once gone wrong. But instead of letting those memories drag you down, you faced them together, acknowledging the hurt while choosing to move forward.

It wasn’t always easy. There were still days when doubts crept in, when the fear of repeating past mistakes threatened to pull you apart. But each time, you chose to stay, to work through it rather than run away. And with each challenge you faced, the bond between you grew stronger, more resilient.

Sukuna, who had once been so afraid of vulnerability, found himself looking forward to the moments he spent with you. The walls he had built around himself slowly crumbled, replaced by a quiet confidence in what you were building together. He no longer needed to prove himself, to assert control over his emotions or over you. Instead, he allowed himself to simply be—with you, in the present, without the burden of past regrets or future expectations.

You, too, noticed the change in yourself. The tension that had once gnawed at your heart, the constant questioning of whether you were enough or if this was right, had eased. You felt more secure, more at peace with where you were and where you were going. You trusted Sukuna in a way you hadn’t before, not just because he had changed, but because you had changed too.

As the months passed, the connection between you deepened, solidified by the quiet moments of understanding and the shared experiences that had brought you closer together. There was a sense of contentment that neither of you had anticipated—a feeling that, for the first time in a long time, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And so, you continued to meet, to grow together, allowing whatever this was to take shape in its own time. There was no rush, no urgency, only the quiet certainty that what you were building was worth the patience and the effort. You both knew that the past would always be a part of you, but it no longer defined you. Instead, it had become a foundation upon which you could build something new, something lasting.

In each other’s presence, you found a kind of peace that had once seemed elusive, and in that peace, you discovered the possibility of a future that was not just better than the past, but truly, deeply right.

Sukuna found himself looking forward to your meetings, the mundane moments that had once seemed trivial now holding a new significance. Whether it was a simple walk in the park, browsing through books together, or sharing a meal, these moments began to stitch together a new story between you, one that was quieter, more deliberate, and infinitely more meaningful.

But beneath the surface, Sukuna wrestled with his own emotions. The more time he spent with you, the more he realized just how much he had missed you—how much he had missed being close to someone who truly understood him. Yet, there was also the constant reminder that you didn’t remember him, that the memories of your past were locked away, possibly forever.

One afternoon, after you’d both finished a long walk along the river, you sat together on a bench, watching the water ripple in the sunlight. The conversation had lulled into a comfortable silence, and for a moment, Sukuna just watched you, taking in the way the light caught your hair, the serene expression on your face.

“Can I ask you something?” Sukuna finally said, breaking the silence.

You turned to him, nodding. “Of course.”

“Do you ever… feel like something’s missing? Like there’s a part of you that’s still out there, waiting to be found?”

You considered his question carefully before responding. “Sometimes.” you admitted. “There are moments when I feel like I’m on the edge of remembering something important, something that’s just out of reach. But I’ve learned to let go of the frustration. I’ve had to accept that those memories might never come back.”

Sukuna’s heart clenched at your words, the weight of your shared history pressing down on him. He wanted to tell you everything—to pour out the story of your love, the highs and lows, the way you had been everything to each other and how it had all fallen apart. But he held back, knowing that it wasn’t his place to force those memories on you.

Instead, he reached out and took your hand in his. “I don’t want to push you more than I already did.” he said quietly. “I just want you to know that I’m here, whatever happens. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

You squeezed his hand, offering him a gentle smile. “I know, Sukuna. And I appreciate that. I’ve come to trust you, even if I don’t remember our past. What matters to me now is the person you are today, the one I’m getting to know all over again.”

Those words gave Sukuna a sense of hope he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. He was no longer the man who had let his pride and anger destroy something precious. He had grown, learned from his mistakes, and now, he had a chance to show you that.

As the days passed, he became more intentional in his efforts to be there for you, to support you in ways he hadn’t before. He listened when you spoke, offered comfort when you needed it, and gave you space when you needed to process your thoughts. There was a quiet strength in the bond you were forming, a steady foundation that was being built brick by brick.

One evening, after you’d invited him over for dinner, you sat together on your couch, a comfortable silence settling between you after a long day. Sukuna glanced at you, his heart full of things he wanted to say but didn’t know how to put into words.

“I’ve been thinking….a lot.” you said suddenly, turning to face him. “About us.”

His breath caught in his throat, but he stayed quiet, waiting for you to continue. He could feel his heart pounding, the silence between you filled with unspoken tension. You looked at him tenderly, and those eyes—those eyes he had once loved so fiercely—held a warmth that stirred something deep within him. But this time, there was something different in your gaze, something he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t the same love he remembered, the love that had once consumed both of you. It was softer, more distant, as if it had been tempered by time and the loss of memories.

Sukuna wasn’t sure what that look meant, but he longed for the days when your eyes had been filled with nothing but love for him. He yearned for the intensity, the passion that had once been theirs. But deep down, he knew those days were gone, that you had changed, just as he had. And even though he wished for the impossible, he understood that the love you had once shared might never return in the way it had before.

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from hoping, from wanting you to look at him like that again, to feel that love again. But he knew, with a sinking certainty, that it was unlikely. Maybe this was his punishment, the price he had to pay for the mistakes he had made, for the years he had spent without you. Maybe fate was just that cruel, giving him a second chance only to remind him of what he had lost.

“I don’t remember our past, Sukuna.” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice was gentle, but there was a sincerity in it that made Sukuna’s chest tighten. “But I do know that I feel something when I’m with you. It’s not just comfort or friendship… it’s more. I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels right, being with you.”

Sukuna’s heart swelled with emotion, a mix of relief and longing coursing through him. He had waited so long to hear those words, to know that there was still something between you, even if it wasn’t exactly what he had expected. It wasn’t the grand declaration of love he had secretly hoped for, but it was something—a spark, a glimmer of the connection that had once bound you together.

He searched your face, looking for any sign of the emotions he had once known so well. But all he found was that same tender expression, tinged with a hint of uncertainty. It wasn’t love, not yet. But it was something. And for now, that was enough.

“I’m glad you feel that way.” he said, his voice thick with the emotions he was struggling to keep in check. “I don’t want to rush things, or push you to remember something that might never come back. I just… I want to be here with you, whatever that means.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I want that too, Sukuna. I don’t know what the future holds, but I’d like to find out—together.”

He felt a weight lift off his shoulders, the heavy burden of his regrets and fears easing, if only a little. This was far from the ending he had imagined, but it was a beginning, a chance to rebuild what had been lost. And maybe, just maybe, if he was patient and if he allowed things to unfold naturally, there could be something new between you, something that was just as meaningful as what you had once shared.

As you both stood there, the world around you fading into the background, Sukuna couldn’t help but think that perhaps fate wasn’t as cruel as he had feared. Maybe this was his second chance—not to reclaim the past, but to create something new, something even better than what had been before. And for the first time in years, he allowed himself to hope that this time, he wouldn’t let it slip through his fingers.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

epilogue 

A few weeks after your heartfelt conversation with Sukuna, you find yourself at a park on a sunny afternoon. Sukuna had asked you to meet him there, mentioning that his nephew, Yuji, would be joining. You had heard a lot about Yuji from Sukuna—how the kid was full of energy, always getting into something, and how Sukuna had taken on a sort of protective role in his life. You were curious to see this side of Sukuna, the man who had once been all sharp edges and intensity.

As you approach the park, you spot Sukuna first, sitting on a bench with a somewhat exasperated look on his face. Beside him is a young boy, who is clearly trying to balance on the back of the bench with one foot, arms outstretched like he’s performing some kind of circus act.

“Careful, you brat.” Sukuna warns, his tone stern but not unkind. “You’re going to break your neck.”

Yuji, grinning from ear to ear, just laughs and hops down with a flourish. “I’m invincible, Uncle Sukuna!”

“Yeah, well, let’s not test that theory.” Sukuna mutters, but there’s a fondness in his voice that catches you off guard. “Your mom and dad will kill me.”

You approach them, smiling as Yuji notices you and waves enthusiastically. “Hi! You must be the one Uncle Sukuna’s always talking about!”

“Yuji!” Sukuna snaps, looking mortified. “I do not—”

Yuji doesn’t miss a beat, cutting him off. “He totally does! He’s always like, ‘I wonder if she’s gonna remember me today,’ or ‘Maybe she’ll cook something nice again.’”

Sukuna groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Kid, do you ever stop talking?”

You can’t help but laugh at the exchange, and Sukuna’s embarrassment only makes it funnier. “Nice to meet you, Yuji!” you say, crouching down to his level. “Your uncle’s right, though. You should be careful on that bench.”

Yuji shrugs, his smile never fading. “Uncle Sukuna’s always careful too, even though he acts all tough. But he’s really soft, especially when I get hurt. You should see him panic when I stub my toe.”

“Yuji!” Sukuna’s voice is a mix of frustration and resignation, clearly regretting bringing his nephew along.

You stand up, grinning at Sukuna. “I see you’ve got a little soft spot, huh?”

“Don’t listen to him.” Sukuna mutters, glaring at Yuji, who just laughs and runs off toward the playground. “He’s a menace.”

“Sure, sure.” you tease, nudging Sukuna lightly. “But you love it.”

Sukuna sighs, watching Yuji with an expression that’s a mix of exasperation and affection. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep him out of trouble.”

You slip your hand into Sukuna’s, squeezing it gently. “You’re doing a great job, Uncle Sukuna.”

He gives you a sidelong glance, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Don’t start calling me that too.”

“No promises.” you reply, laughing as you both watch Yuji play, his laughter filling the air. It’s a side of Sukuna you never expected to see, and you find yourself growing more and more fond of the man who, despite his rough edges, is soft in all the right places.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch1. he said yes!! congrats!!

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, n have been taking care of your sick mom ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 1/x (probably 10)

ᰔ words. 7.8k

a/n. hellooo omg welcome to this debut chapter!! tysm to everyone who wanted to be on taglist for this!! i was gagged at the amount of people!! yall are amazing omg n thanks for supporting my works :''') hope you enjoy this chapter and i will see all you lovelies at the bottom <33

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 (pending)

Love thy neighbor.

Cherish thy neighbor.

Tolerate thy neighbor.

Peacefully coexist with thy neighbor. 

Fuck thy neighbor? No, wait, not that one.

It’s murder thy neighbor. That was the phrase you were looking for.

Murder thy neighbor so gruesomely that you’d leave no trace behind. Murder him and bury him somewhere no one could ever find him, so that even in millions of years from now when some other highly advanced mammalian species overtakes the planet and embarks on journeys to acquire fossils, thy neighbor will still never grace the atmospheric oxygen of the earth ever again. It’s the punishment he’d deserve for thoroughly pissing you off at the worst times possible and in the worst ways possible. The smallest of prices to pay.

“SATORU!!!” you yell, storming up the sudsy driveway of your next-door neighbor’s house at eight in the morning, clad in your dirty scrubs from the hell of a night shift you just endured working at the hospital, glass containers inside the lunchbox you were holding hitting painfully against the poor joint in your knee but you just don’t care. Anger is all you can see right now.

Your neighbor (derogatory) stands there in his pajamas with a spray nozzle in his hands, passively spraying water across the top surface of his car, and when he sees you, he pulls his left airpod out of his ear and looks you up and down once. You’re pretty sure there’s steam coming out of your ears. “Uh, do you mind? I’m trying to wash my car.”

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to park your stupid boat in front of my driveway?!” you yell at him, voice hoarse and nails digging into the skin of your palms by the clench of your fists.

“Hm?” he leans back a little to glance past you to his boat. “Oh, you mean my 2023 Boston Whaler 220 Dauntless with low profile bow rail welded stainless steel, Mercury FourStroke hydraulic power steering and, not to mention, a platinum gelcoat hull? That silly old thing? It’s not even parked in front of your driveway.”

“Yes. It is. Are you blind? I can’t move my car into my garage, hence why it’s running idle on the fucking street right now. Your boat’s on my property.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes. It is.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh. Yuh-huh.”

“Honey. I’m a real estate agent. You don’t think I’d know where my own property line starts and ends?”

“Park. It. On. Your. Drive. Way.”

“I spent a lot of money on that boat,” he sighs, “I intend to show it off on the street. Stop acting like there isn’t more than enough room for your tiny prius. It’s not my fault you have the motor skills of a toddler and don’t know how to pull into a driveway,” he pauses for a second and tilts his head upwards in thought, “Oh. Motor skills, haha, get it? Fuck, that’s funny. Hold on, I gotta jot that down,” he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his cotton plaid pajama pants, “my niece would love that. She gets all giggly about puns these days. It’s her birthday next weekend, by the way, turning five.”

“Oh, right,” you scratch the top of your head (been too busy to wash your hair), and realize the ponytail you threw your hair up into at the beginning of your shift last night is now barely hanging on for dear life, “I forgot to tell you, but my cousin said he can’t rent that pony out for her birthday party anymore. Apparently it died.”

He stares at you. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Damn.”

“Mm.”

He shrugs. “That’s fine, thanks anyway,” he swipes up on his phone, “they had crazy hair day at my niece’s elementary school yesterday, wanna see a picture?”

“Sure.”

He turns his phone to show you. “My sister let her cut her hair a little shorter this time since she wouldn’t stop asking. I guess all her friends at school were cutting theirs short too so they wanted to be matching.”

“Aww,” you pout with a small smile when you see the picture, “I think it suits her. That’s a lot of glitter though, y’know that stuff’s really bad for the environment.��

“Yeah,” he agrees, turning his phone screen back to face him, “anyway. I was halfway convinced you just came from some crazy hair day when I saw you stomp up my driveway just now.”

“I’m gonna guillotine your head off with the trunk door of my car. Now move your boat.”

“Hold on one sec,” he says, holding a finger right up to your face, and you flinch backwards slightly before going cross-eyed to stare at it, and then you’re glaring at him again. His phone is ringing in his hand. “I gotta take this.”

“Wha–” you try to interrupt him, but he just says shhh and shakes his finger in front of you, which makes you want to bite it off.

“Hi, Donna!” he exclaims into his phone, “so good to hear from you. Oh, no, not at all, you caught me at the perfect time. I’m just washing my car. Nah, you’re not interrupting anything.”

The urge to smack him consumes you.

“Oh okay, cool, I’m glad you took some time to think about it. Let me know when you want to meet again, if you’re still interested in the house, we can make an offer. Uh huh. Yeah. Sorry, what’s that? Oh,” he pulls his phone from his ear to look at the time, “yeah, that’s fine. Is that the one on 6th street? Sure, I’ll see you then. By the way, how was little Tommy’s soccer game yesterday?...Aw, that’s okay, he’ll get the next one. Hm? Yeah, what’s up? Oh, you know that I’d love to, and there’s no one that enjoys your green bean casserole more than I do, but I’m actually busy tonight! I know! Bummer! Maybe some other time? Alright. Yeah, thanks, you too. Take care. Bye.” He presses the end call on his phone, and there’s an awkward silence as he narrows his eyes at the screen in concentration for a moment while typing something onto it, and then the corner of his eye catches sight of something in his periphery, that something being you, and he jumps a little.

“Oh fuck,” he places a hand on his chest and exhales, “I didn’t know you were still standing there.”

“I’m seriously going to whack you across the face with my lunch box right now.” 

“That gigantic industrial lunch box you carry around for your 12-hour shifts?” he points at your hand, “you’d have blood on your hands. I’d be dead.”

“Yeah, that’s the goal, idiot.”

“You’re so fucking violent, jeez, I bet the inside of your head looks like the inside of Jeffrey Dahmer’s. How do you sleep at night?”

“With fifteen milligrams of melatonin, blackout curtains, a satin sleeping mask, and in the mornings.”

“...that didn’t make you sound like any less of a serial killer.”

“Whatever, at least I don’t have a complex for elderly divorced women. You know that what you do for work isn’t any better than prostitution, right?” 

“Okay. Now I have to hear where you’re going with this.”

You cross your arms across your chest, and your gigantic industrial sized lunch box with the millions of glass containers inside of it hits your hip painfully, enough to warrant a wince, but you keep a straight face as to not show any weakness. “You flirt with vulnerable women who have just gotten out of probably extremely heartbreaking marriages from their cheating country golf club husbands, and pretend to care about all their drama, just so that they’d buy a house from you. I literally heard you say to a lady the other day,” and you do your absolute best to mock him in the most insulting way possible, “‘it’s okay Lorraine. If you’re still struggling to fill your new house with someone new too, then you know where to find me.’”

“Yeah. She wanted to rent out her guest bedroom. I was gonna help her look for tenants.” 

“O-Oh,” you stutter, but stand up straighter, “doesn’t matter. You still pimp yourself out for a sale.”

“So what if I do? I’m hot, why wouldn’t I take advantage of that? You could’ve done the same thing too, but you didn’t, and now you’re stuck working miserable nursing shifts that are probably taking years off of your lifespan.”

“You’re the one taking years off of my lifespan. Now move your fucking boat.”

He sighs and slips his phone back into his pocket before walking past you to your car, that still had the driver’s side door open and was idle in the middle of the street.

“W-Where are you going?” you ask.

“I’m gonna park your car in your garage for you,” he says, waving his hand up in the air dismissively because he knows you’re about to protest, and then he ducks his head into your car, reaching his arm in for the lever that moves the seat backwards, and adjusts it all the way back before he’s able to take a seat at the wheel. And your yelling is a pestering he pays no mind to as he shuts the door.

“Wait– I didn’t give you permission to–” you shout as you step into your driveway, holding your arms out because you’re scared he’s gonna chip off your side mirror on the stern of his boat, but he deftly pulls your car into the driveway. He also almost runs you over in the process.

When he gets out of your car inside your garage, you storm right up to him and yank your car keys out of his hand. “You almost flattened me over my own driveway.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have been standing there,” he easily retorts and leans against your car before crossing his arms over his chest. “Also, case proven, there’s more than enough space to pull your car in. You’re just piss poor at parking.”

“I swear to fucking god. If you’re ever in a life-threatening emergency and wind up at my hospital, your emergency isn’t going to be the thing that kills you, it’s gonna be the cocktail of deadly meds I inject straight into your veins. And I’ll have it charted like it was a death of natural causes.”

His brow furrows and he frowns, but it’s in that sarcastic way that tells you he’s not threatened by you, and the idea of using the taser in your purse on him is briefly entertained in your mind, “I’ve got Kaiser, hun,” he says, “I wouldn’t go to just any regional hospital for healthcare. Put some damn decorum on my name, Jesus.”

“How is it you’re stupid, an asshole, have a sick fetish for elderly women, and also somehow classist at the same time? Can you pick a struggle please?”

“Stop saying I have a fetish for elderly women,” he hisses at you, “especially with that loud obnoxious voice of yours. Our neighbors are gonna think I’m a creep.” He pretends to shiver.

“But it’s true. I bet you lost your virginity to a fifty-year-old cougar the day you turned eighteen. And to one that was probably grooming you even before then, too.”

His eyes widen. “Damn. How’d you know.”

“That you’re a victim?” you ask, tone derisive, “your entire personality is living proof. Please seek help.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was never groomed, and I didn’t lose my virginity to an elderly woman,” he corrects you, “...although said woman was a little older than me.”

“I’ve literally got no fucking interest in this conversation anymore. Get the fuck out of my garage,” you practically spat at him, “the last thing I need to deal with after getting off of a 12-hour night shift is coming home to your stupid face out on the street.” You push past him, making sure to nudge him with your shoulder but he hardly budges, and you lose balance from your own attack, and now you’re doubly pissed off before you make it to the door with your keys jingling in your hand to find the right one to unlock it.

“Good night,” he calls out to you, and you click the button on the garage door so that it starts closing, and watch him as he panics before ducking his head underneath it to make it outside before you can essentially lock him to rot inside of your garage, and then you shut the door behind you, finally inside the comfort of your home.

Ah. Silence.

But it was never a comfortable one. 

“Mom?” you call out as you open the door out of the laundry room to make it into the living room, and your eyes scan the floor. You don’t see her in the kitchen, or on the couch in front of the TV, sometimes she spends time in the pantry room but she’s not in there today. You round the corner over to where the front entrance of the house is, and you see her standing there, peering out of the window to the other houses on the streets. She holds her hands loosely behind her back, and she’s so still she could be a statue.

“Hey,” you say to her, softly, so as not to startle her. “I’m home.”

She looks over her shoulder at you, and you realize her line of sight was set to next door, where you see Gojo has resumed the wash of his car. “Why are you yelling at that sweet boy across the lawn?” she asks you, “he helped me fix the air conditioning last week.”

Your eyes widen slightly, but then you sigh. Typical Gojo getting involved where he should really just mind his own business. “I’m pretty sure by fix you mean he just pressed a bunch of buttons on the thermostat until it started working again.” 

She doesn’t respond as she continues to stare out onto the street, tilting her head slightly while deep in thought, like she’s trying to make sense of what she sees. 

“Mom,” you gently tug her sleeve, “I think you should get away from the window and get some rest. You look tired, and I need to take you for chemo in the afternoon.”

She gently pulls her elbow away from your grip of her sleeve and turns to look at you. “Mom?” she repeats after you, “why are you calling me ‘mom’? Who are you?”

Your blood runs cold from her words, but you don’t have the time or the luxury to react in the way that you want to, and so you suck in a deep breath. It was one of those days. But it’s cruel that she’ll remember your neighbor and not her own daughter. “I’m your daughter,” you gently reintroduce yourself, to the woman who gave you life, “I know that might be a little weird to hear right now.”

“No…” she says, “I think that makes sense. I’m sorry, dear, I think I have a bad memory these days.” She looks at you with concentration, studying the features of your face. “My daughter, yes. You look…oh, dear, you look like you should sleep.”

You nod slowly, releasing the breath you were holding. “Yes. You too, mom.”

You place your gigantic industrial lunch box on the kitchen counter, and come back to hold your mom’s hands as you lead her to her bedroom downstairs. By the time you fix her a small meal in the kitchen, bring it to her and make her eat so she can take her pills, she’s ready to take a small nap and you know that you’ve earned some sleep now too.

The upstairs master bathroom beckons you the second you get upstairs, and even though you’ve been using the master bedroom & bathroom in this house ever since moving your mom downstairs four years ago since she had trouble getting up the stairs, it still feels odd to stand in front of the sink without a stool underneath your feet, like what you had to when you were a kid and your mother would braid your hair. You’re a grown woman now, and as you stare at your reflection, you’re not sure if you can recognize yourself anymore. But rather than dwell on if it was because of any profound reason, you figured you just needed a shower and to get some sleep before you have to wake up again in five hours. Exhaustion is evident on your face, and you swipe under your eyes to get the smudge of mascara off before it tattoos your skin forever. 

Hot water on your skin does little to help your drowsiness, but at least now you feel clean of your shift, and then you remember there are blood stains on your shoes from the stab wound patient that rolled in at 2AM last night, and you should really let them soak for a few hours while you sleep, but you just can’t bother right now. Instead, you slip into something comfortable, draw your curtains back to mimic the dead of night in your room as best as you can, grab the bottle of melatonin sitting at your nightstand and pop a few tablets, feeling feverish as you slip into your sheets. You pull the comforter up over your eyes, a decision that is less ideal than using a sleeping mask since you’ll be breathing your own carbon dioxide until you fall asleep now, but it’s okay. It’s cozy under your blanket. Just this once. And you count sheep to make you sleepy. At least until the melatonin beats you to it.

—

“You’re looking better,” Dr. Johnson says to your mother as he accesses the port on her chest, “were you able to get a good rest?”

Your mother nods and points to you. “My daughter made me take a nap.”

“That’s good,” he coos, “it’s good to get rest before chemo. Your daughter really cares about you.”

“I know,” your mother smiles up at you, “I’m so lucky.” You return her smile with one of your own.

Dr. Johnson starts to push the line of chemo into your mother’s port as she sits on the chair in the treatment lounge, and then stands up from his rolling chair before the nurse quickly moves to twiddle with the drip of the IV bag. 

“Ready for consult?” he asks you.

You grip your binder to your chest. “Yeah.”

You walk into the doctor’s office, one you’ve more than familiarized yourself with over the past couple of years, then take a seat across from Dr. Johnson’s desk as he clicks through his computer before handing you a copy of your mother’s recent lab work.

“Her tumor markers are rising,” you say as you sift through the papers.

“They are, we’ll likely switch to monitoring them every four weeks going forward. But it’s okay, not to worry,” he says, “tumor markers can raise for all sorts of reasons unrelated to cancer.”

“She had a cold last week,” you say, “maybe it’s the inflammation?”

Dr. Johnson lets out a small laugh. “I’m sorry, y/n, sometimes I forget you’re a nurse.” He hums to himself as he pens down something on the notepad in front of him. “When was your mother’s last PET/CT scan?”

“It was in February,” you say, “she’s due soon. I was going to ask if you could order one for her.”

“Yes, I will, I’ll do it right now,” he says as he types something into the computer. “You still have the standing orders for her routine lab work, correct? Do my MAs need to send you the scripts?”

“No, that’s okay, I got them already. Good for six months,” you reassure him.

“Alright, perfect.”

There’s an awkward silence that settles in the room as you shift in your seat with the binder in your lap, full of all of your mother’s medical information and emergency department discharge packets and recent lab work and imaging. You mess with the plastic cover on top of it nervously.

“It’s good she remembers you today,” Dr. Johnson comments, “I remember last week you were upset she didn’t.”

“Oh,” you say, “yeah, I’m sorry. Sometimes it’s hard.”

His eyes leave his computer screen for a second to look at you. “Are you doing alright?”

You nod slowly. You had to be alright, you had no other choice. “I’m fine, thanks,” you say, “um, actually, doc, I just wanted to share with you that I’ve been keeping track of my mom’s Alzheimer’s progression.” You open your binder in your lap, pulling out a packet of papers and placing them on his desk, turning some of them towards him but he doesn’t really spare a proper enough look. “I’ve just been noticing she’s progressively worsening a bit faster than her neurologist had projected.”

“Okay,” he says, sounding curt, and that nervousness comes back. But goddammit, you’re a nurse, you know how to deal with stubborn doctors. And it’s for your mother. There was no one else left to advocate for her except you.

“I was just wondering if we could also order a brain MRI for her?” you ask, “just to rule out anything…her brain fog has been bad, worse than usual, and I’m just really worried about metastasis, especially if it’s a glioma, I’d just want to catch it as soon as possible.”

You have sympathy for oncologists, really, you do. They must deal with paranoid family members all the time, but how could someone blame another for wanting what’s best for their loved one? You don’t think that’s an empathy that anyone should ever lose, regardless of how long you’ve been practicing medicine. 

He sighs. “There’s no indication for that right now, not with her response to treatment as well as her lab work. I’d suggest we just wait on her next PET/CT results, and we can go from there. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

“I know,” you say, “but her next scan isn’t for another couple weeks, plus the week it’ll take to have it read, it’ll be far out, so…if we could just order it now?”

He interlocks his fingers and places his hands in front of him on the desk, looking at you with a stern face, but he glances down at the paperwork you’ve sprawled in front of him with scribblings of all the detailed notes you’ve been taking of your mom’s responses to her Alzheimer’s treatments, with time stamps and descriptions of her mental state, and his furrowed brow relaxes slightly. He breathes in deep. “Alright. Fine, I’ll order one. I highly doubt we’ll find anything, though. But since there’s no clear clinical impression warranting a brain MRI right now,” he mentions as he directs his attention back to his computer, “I don’t think insurance will cover it for you with the diagnoses I put in.”

“That’s okay,” you quickly respond, “I’ll pay for it.” 

You collect your imaging orders from the medical assistants at the center of the oncology floor. The chemo nurse, Mai, informs you that your mother still has about two hours left before her treatment is done, and she gently suggests you go eat something while you wait. You tell her it’s okay, that you want to wait with her, but she tells you the hospital cafeteria is serving tater tots today for tater tot tuesday, and those tater tots are to die for. But before you go downstairs to the cafeteria, you find a few minutes to cry in a one stall bathroom.

—

“God damn,” you hear your coworker, Hana, dreamily sigh as she leans on the handle on your standing mobile nursing work desk, and you trail her line of sight to the tight asses of the EMT men that walk by while rolling a stretcher. “It’s like being hot is a part of their job requirement.”

“Uh-huh,” you agree mindlessly as you try to catch up on charting for the rounds you just ran on your patients around the emergency department beds.

4/20/2024 0200: patient notified of the importance of taking ibuprofen. Attempted to give pt the medication. Pt responded “suck on this, bitch”, gestured to his general groin area, then threw ibuprofen tablets at RN. pt upset and requests narcotics instead. Informed MD of pt’s behavior and request. MD will not order narcotic pain medication at this time. Will continue to monitor

“How’s your mom doing?” Hana says, interrupting your typing as she turns to face you now.

“She’s okay,” you say, continuing to punch keys as you stare at your monitor, “she has a PET/CT soon. It’s always nerve wracking when the next scan is coming up.”

“Have you given hospice any more thought?” she asks.

You stop typing and stare blankly ahead at your screen as your heart sinks a little. You have given hospice more thought, and you came to the decision about a week ago that you would go through with it. It’s becoming so increasingly difficult taking care of your mom at home, more than you can manage with all of her doctor’s appointments, radiation appointments, chemotherapy appointments, all of which happen during the late mornings or early afternoons so you can’t even properly rest on most days that you come home from night shifts. Even though you only work three shifts a week, you can’t remember the last time you got a full, uninterrupted eight hours of sleep because of how messed up your circardian rhythm has become. You were practically a walking zombie, and you hardly felt like a person anymore. You’re not going to switch to the day shift, because that would make it difficult to take your mom to her appointments, and also because you get paid extra with the night shift differential, and above all other necessities, what you really needed right now the most was money. Forget the fact you’re still in debt from nursing school, but you co-signed on the medical loans your mother had taken out for treatments, and five years of high acuity medical bills was a living nightmare. And you were living that nightmare. 

“I did,” you say, “I’ve been looking into hospices, but a lot of them are further away than I’d like.” You glance down at your keyboard. “I…I’m going to miss having my mom home. Even though it’s hard to deal with her mood swings and stuff sometimes, I just think the house would feel really empty without her.”

“Aw, my dear,” Hana sighs and rubs her hand up and down your arm soothingly, “I’m sure you’d love to have her home, but I think it’s becoming too much for you. I say this with love and care, but I can’t remember the last time I saw you genuinely smile.”

Your eyes widen slightly from her words, and you release some of the tension in your shoulders, tension you didn’t even realize you were holding onto during this conversation.

“It’s too much for just one person,” she continues, “while I understand you want to spend more time with your mom, the quality of time you’re spending with her could be so much better if you had some weight lifted off your shoulders, where you’re not worrying about her medication schedule or doctor’s appointments or blood draws and all that.”

You nod slowly and manage to give her a small smile, then place your hand over hers that was still soothing over your arm. “Thanks, Hana. I know, I appreciate you looking out for me. I…I think I’ll look more seriously into hospices. It’s just they’re really expensive, too, so I have that to consider as well.”

“Hmm,” she withdraws her hand from you and juts her bottom lip out as she looks up at fluorescent emergency department lighting. You hear a patient cough in the distance as your senses take in the ambient environment once again. “Y’know, there’s this really great new hospice in town that functions as a general facility and also helps manage a lot of chronic diseases too. They have nurses there that do blood draws and everything, and they also transport patients to their affiliated hospital for treatments, like dialysis and chemo and stuff. My friend’s mom has breast cancer and was recently accepted into that hospice,” she tells you, pulling her phone out and looking through some of her messages, “I think it’s only a fifteen minute drive from your house.”

You tilt your head at her with interest, wondering why it didn’t come up on your provider search through insurance, but regardless, it sounded too good to be true. “It’s probably really expensive. My mom’s under the state insurance right now, but I’ve explored government insurance plans too and they’re still really pricey. I just can’t afford it, not with all of her cancer treatments, and adding her under my insurance isn’t really going to be any better either.”

She groans. “I know. What’s with our healthcare plan? You’d think as a hospital, they’d choose better plans for their employees,” she sighs, and then stops to read some of the messages on her phone, “but my friend said that her husband was able to add her mom as a dependant, and his insurance covers 90% of it. I’m sure it depends on the illness, but they only pay a few thousand per month out of pocket.”

You blink at her. “Really? T-That’s insane…do you know what insurance her husband has?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a Kaiser facility.”

“Oh,” you sigh, “well, they wouldn’t accept state insurance. That’s a private HMO.”

“Shoot,” Hana looks at you apologetically, “I’m so sorry, love, I forgot about that. Sorry to get your hopes up.”

“That’s okay,” you smile at her, “thanks for trying. I’m glad it worked out for your friend, at least.”

Hana glances at her watch and realizes her break is over, so she heads back to her side of the emergency department, and you’re left standing at the nursing station with thoughts running through your head now, and still catastrophically behind on charting.

Hmm.

Kaiser.

You swear someone mentioned that to you recently.

Or maybe you were just remembering another one of those ads you see on television at night. No, no, you’re pretty sure it came up in conversation with someone, but you can’t remember when or why or what or where or who. Hmmmmm. Kaiser, Kaiser, Kaiser. 

Nope. Nothing.

Oh well, maybe it’ll hit you later.

—

It hits you in the form of an intrusive memory when you wake up on a Thursday afternoon in a cold sweat after having a hallucinogenic melatonin dream where you were getting chased by a giant rabbit (don’t ask). 

Kaiser.

Gojo said he has Kaiser insurance. 

And the idea that comes into your head after that is so ridiculous, so absurd, so positively bonkers that you have to slap the sleepiness off your face for a second to make sure you’re still not in some dream state of living, and the harsh sting on your cheek proves that you’re not. And the idea still persists. And now you’re swinging your legs over the edge of your bed, and grabbing your laptop, and opening it, and inputting your pin, and then spending a good three hours researching if this little idea of yours actually has any good level of merit to it, if it could even succeed, if it was even legal? You even find yourself on the phone with insurance representatives, and you stare at the tens of thousands of dollars of debt on your Excel spreadsheet where you keep track of your finances, and you feel the exhaustion in your bones, and you also remember how fucking annoying Gojo is. And yet still, the idea persists. 

And when the pieces of the plan start to unfortunately fall into place, you say, fuck it. What was worse than potentially getting into six figures of debt? It’ll be fine.

But you can only hope he says yes.

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[reading commercial break]

hello!! this is ellie, the author. so sorry to interrupt, there is still a bit left for this chapter, but i just wanted to jump in here real quick to explain for some of my readers that may not be american so they may understand reader’s desperation to financially cover the costs of her mother’s healthcare bills. this story is set in suburban america lol, where the healthcare system is so messed up honestly, and this excerpt from the book the body by bill bryson kinda explains:

“Where America really differs from other countries is in the colossal costs of its health care. An angiogram, a survey by The New York Times found, costs an average of $914 in the United States, but only $35 in Canada. Insulin costs about six times as much in America as it does in Europe. The average hip replacement costs $40,364 in America, almost six times the cost in Spain, while an MRI scan in the United States is, at $1,121, four times more than in the Netherlands. The entire system is notoriously unwieldy and cost-heavy.” p360; “...America spends more on health care than any other nation–two and a half times more per person than the average for all other developed nations of the world. One-fifth of all the money Americans earn–$10,209 a year for every citizen, $3.2 trillion altogether–is spent on health care.” p359

unfortunately, a lot of how much you end up spending at the end of the day, depends significantly on the health insurance that you have. it could make the difference of spending a few hundreds to a few thousands to a few tens of thousands and beyond, just based on the insurance plan, even if the illnesses/treatments are exactly the same.

but yeah, just wanted to provide that context lol!! so you must understand reader’s desperation to save a buck!!! 

ok back to regularly scheduled broadcasting!! 🧚‍♀️💕✨

[end of reading commercial break]

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—

You’re sitting at a table outside your favorite cafe in town, leg bouncing up and down underneath the surface impatiently and nervously, and you glance at the time on your phone for the fifth time within the past five minutes because you’re unable to alleviate any of the anxiety you’re experiencing right now. You hear the jingling of the cafe door behind you and then you’re a little startled when someone emerges in your periphery by your side.

You look up and see Gojo standing next to you, and you see he already went inside and grabbed a coffee to-go for himself.

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you say with a small wave.

He takes a seat across from you. “What did you want to talk about?” he asks while he settles in and smooths down the fabric of his suit jacket. He’s not wearing a tie, and has a couple of the top buttons of his shirt undone to reveal some of the skin at his collarbone. Probably to seduce the divorced single moms, you think. “And if you called me here to try and convince me for the millionth time to pitch in for that fence you built six months ago, I’m just gonna say no again. I didn’t even want that fence built in the first place. It fucked up the roots on my avocado tree.”

“It’s a joint fence. Neighbors usually pitch in for that kind of stuff, asshole. At least normal neighbors do. You know I talked shit about you to everyone in the neighborhood when you refused to pay and all of them agree that you’re being a stuck-up prick about it?”

“You know that I also talked shit about you to everyone in the neighborhood and they said the same exact thing about you?”

“Wha–” you gasp, blinking a few times from the betrayal, then mutter “...those two-faced bitches” under your breath.

“So,” he pulls his sleeve back to glance at his watch, “what did you want? I’ve only got thirty minutes to talk before I need to head to an open house.” He brings his cup of coffee to his lips.

“Oh. Right. Just a favor,” you say, “I was wondering if you could marry me.”

He almost spits out his coffee.

“E-Excuse me?” he croaks out, exasperated, and he’s coughing a little bit as he hits his chest with a fist to alleviate the irritation in his throat from some hot coffee that went down the wrong pipe.

“I mean, if it’s not an issue, I’d really appreciate it if you could marry me,” you attempt to clarify, but you realize you probably should’ve thought a little more about how you were going to ask him this, and now you’re too deep to backtrack, so you just hope you’ll find the conversation along the way.

He’s looking at your like you’ve got six heads, brow furrowed and mouth hanging open slightly with that what the fuck? face you see him wear sometimes. But then he sits up a bit straighter, expression morphing into a curious one as he studies your face, head tilting a little in his scrutinization. Then, his face relaxes entirely. He has this knowing look as he nods up and down slowly, like he just figured something out, and then he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose in some type of faux frustration. And you don’t understand why you’re already seethingly angry about what he’s going to say next.

“Oh god,” he sighs, “I knew this day would come.”

“Huh?” you squeak out.

“Listen,” he says as he crosses his arms, but one of his hands comes out from where it was tucked in his elbow to waive around in the air as he articulates his words, “I know that I’m very charming, and handsome, and chivalrous, one might say the modern knight in shining armor–”

“Satoru.”

“–and yes, I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he dramatically sighs, “when I’m taking the groceries up the driveway…when I’m out mowing the lawn…when I stretch on the sidewalk before I go for a run. I feel your eyes on me like a hawk. Quite frankly, you look at me like I’m a piece of meat, and I feel very violated by it sometimes–”

“What the fuck are you talking about???”

“But I get it. Really, I do. There’s no need to be embarrassed about it–”

“I’m not embar–”

“It was really only a matter of time before you would do this. So overcome by your feelings for me that you just had to go against the grain of centuries of matrimonial standards and swallow your gigantic pride to propose to me.” 

“Oh my god, what the fuck are you saying–”

“But,” he says, collecting himself now, and taking in a deep breath, “my answer is no. I mean, I shouldn’t have to explain why. But I will. First of all, where the hell is my ring? Secondly, why aren’t you on one knee in front of me right now? Also, in a cafe? Really? I thought you would’ve known I’d have liked something a little bit more romantic than this. Y’know, private, but also where my family’s somewhere around the corner. Maybe by the beach–”

“Can you stop talkin–”

“–while the sun is setting, and I’m wearing a nice dress, and there’s bubbles in the air and rose petals on the sand, and you tell me how enamored you’ve always been of me, and how you can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with me,” he indulgently sighs, “I mean, it’s every guy’s dream. But nooooo, of course you’ve got no taste or sense for romance in any capac–”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, FORGET THIS,” you stand up out of your chair, fast enough to where it almost falls backwards, and you grab your purse to sling over your shoulder, “I cannot believe I actually thought this plan would ever fucking work.” You’re about to walk away from the table, because you’re realigned with the wisdom of exactly why you can’t stand this man, when his hand reaches out quickly to grasp onto your wrist, to keep you still, and you jump a little from the contact. You look down, his hand unrelenting in its grip as his knuckles flex slightly, and you’re not sure if he’s ever touched you from how foreign the sensation feels.

“Wait,” he says, and when you look at him, his eyes are a little wide like a puppy, “you’re being serious?”

You yank your wrist out of his grip, but the warmth of his touch still lingers, and you wrap your own hand around it to distract yourself from it. “Why would I just ask you to marry me out of nowhere if I wasn’t being serious?”

He gives you a look like the answer to your question is obvious. “Uh, to fuck with me?”

You’re still holding onto your wrist, protectively pressing it against your chest with your back turned away from him slightly, and you look up at the sky for a brief second. Hm, perhaps you could have brought the favor up a bit better, and you realize it might’ve sounded insane on his end, and you’re also still thinking about the tens of thousands of dollars you could save if he said yes, and so you hesitantly open your body language up to him again.

“Just sit,” he sighs.

You take a seat across from him again, hands finding the warm coffee cup in front of you and you purse your lips together before tucking your bottom lip under your front teeth. You take a deep breath before speaking again. “I…I’m being serious. I was wondering if you could marry me as a favor, and not because I think you’re some type of irresistible man candy, god, where do you get your gigantic ego from?”

“I–”

“Rhetorical question, shut it.”

He blinks at you. “What favor are you asking for that’ll be satisfied by me marrying you?”

You twiddle with your thumbs. “I want to put my mom in hospice,” you say, eyes flickering down slightly because you’re worried you’re about to tear up from the words, but when you realize you’ve got enough conviction not to, you look back up at him, and his eyes on you are a little too observant, “most of the hospices in town are further away than I’d like, and really expensive, but I heard there was a Kaiser one nearby…and that a lot of the costs are covered by insurance. So, if you married me, I could send my mom there. And also, under your insurance, the care network would be better, so I could get her a new oncologist and neurologist, and I’d know she’s being taken care of. And…” you clear your throat, “well, it’ll be a lot less expensive, so I can start to catch up on…well, whatever, you get the picture.”

His eyes narrow at you in thought, and he glances at your hands on the table that are nervously fidgeting, and then his eyes meet yours again. “I’m not sure if you can add a…spouse’s parent to a healthcare plan?”

“You can,” you say, “I already called to ask.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

Gojo hums to himself, laying his palms flat on his thighs and rubbing them back and forth on the taut fabric a few times as he thinks with his gaze set off somewhere in the distance. It seems like he’s running through some algorithm of thoughts in his head, and then he slowly nods to himself when he’s made a decision.

“Sure, I’ll do it,” he says.

“Y-You will?” you ask him. You’re uneasy at how easy it was to convince.

“Yeah. I like your mom. She’s a sweet lady, and I want to see her get better.”

His words touch you. And not from the distance of a ten foot pole like you’d usually allow, but more intimate somehow. And you get the feeling you should thank him, but you’re still pissed off from when he almost ran you over on your own driveway earlier this week. 

“Really?” you make sure, almost like you’re hoping he’ll change his mind because now you’re suspicious as to why he agreed so quickly. And you realize he’s already making you paranoid.

“Yeah. I’m saying yes to your proposal, y/n,” he says, “I mean, a marriage is just a legal agreement. Not a big deal. I’d want a prenup though, for obvious reasons. In case you’re a gold digger.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re too cheap to even pitch in for a fucking fence. You think I’d believe you’ve got any gold to dig?”

He sighs. “I said in case.”

“Well, anyways, we can work out logistics and paperwork or whatever later,” you say, and you extend your hand out for him to shake it.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Um. You’re going to make me shake your hand over this?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “it’s the diplomatic thing to do.”

“Yes,” he says, “for a diplomatic agreement.”

“Precisely,” you say. “That’s exactly what this is.”

He hesitantly brings his hand up to shake yours, but you quickly withdraw yours at the last second. “Nevermind. I don’t want to touch you.”

“Okay,” he easily accepts, “not how I expected to celebrate getting engaged, but whatever. By the way, when’s the wedding? Are we doing, like, a shotgun destination type vibe? Or something a bit more grand?”

“Just be at the courthouse at noon on Sunday.”

“What?! This weekend? That’s too soon,” he panics, “I need time to pick out a dress, and I need to figure out who my bridesmaids are going to be, and–”

“Satoru. Seriously. Just–...just shut the fuck up. Before the headache that you’ve already given me gets worse.”

You two sit in silence for a moment, him just mindlessly staring at a butterfly that landed on the plant at the center of the table, and you just staring off into the void past him while contemplating every life decision you’ve ever made. But that’s how it always was between you two. As much as you hated to admit it, you were jealous of him in a lot of ways. In every way that you were fucked up, he was nonchalant without a care in the world. You wish you knew what that sort of peace felt like, and you wondered if he could show you. Maybe someday when he doesn’t piss you off.

“So,” he interrupts your thoughts, “are you gonna take my last name?”

“Fuck no, I’d rather die.”

“Alright, jeez, I was just asking.”

.

.

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[end of chapter 1]

a/n. yayy!!! he said yes!! omg congrats on ur engagement!! haha this was a lot of fun to writeee :'') i've got sm fun ideas for this fic. yea this chap was supposed to be longer lol there's still some groundwork to lay w the side quests, but will def cover more of that in the next chapter!!! tysm to everyone that wanted to be on taglist omg i hope that you enjoyed <33 love uuu guysss smmmm also my bad if some stuff doesnt make sense i'm tryna be less perfectionist when i'm editing so that i don't go insane 😍

➸ take me to chapter two!

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hope yalls fries never get soggy ever 💕