#I'm self medicating on coffee today

[music-for-them-asses]

Called my doctor's office again. APPARENTLY they take 2-3 days to send any prescription requests??? I told that clown receptionist that I'm completely out of meds, and she said that it would be completed by this afternoon or tmrw morning. GIRL??? WHAT PART OF "I'M COMPLETELY OUT" DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND???

Also, their stupid office is closed on Fridays, so by the time I realized I needed a new script sent, I couldn't have called them anyway.

I like my psych OK but the incompetence of her office is seriously making me reconsider seeing her. Like, it's a monthly struggle to get my goddamn meds.

[loumauve]

the goddamn toast water post just made me utter "history is fucking real" in the most solemn and serious tone of voice, out loud, to myself, in the goddamn bathtub

[deepspacenova]

Zayne’s insomnia + Sylus being the perfect cure HCs

Zayne x Sylus (x Reader)

Incidentally, reader is third wheeling in like, this whole list (but somehow I feel like many of us won’t mind).

[Inspired by the replies in this post with @leighsartworks216 where we spiraled about Zayne + Sylus… dynamics that made my brain go into full HC mode.]

Sylus taking care of day to day Onychinus business when he starts to notice traces of Zayne around the house at night: a medical tome left open on the coffee table, a glass of ice water (but mostly ice) on the counter, one of Zayne's rings on the end table;

Pretty sure he understands, Sylus ventures out of his office more often. Each time he sees Zayne, he looks more exhausted but the one time Sylus raises a brow at him, he’s brushed off with an, "I'm fine.";

Sylus, of course, takes it as a challenge and makes it his mission to become the biggest tease. I mean, he's king of pushing the limits of your self control, so Zayne’s cinder block wall exterior is the ultimate challenge and he’s set on tearing that shit down brick by fucking brick;

It starts with touches. Brushing Zayne's hand, playfully squeezing the back of Zayne’s neck when he walk past him on a business call, using his evol to pull Zayne's books, phone, snacks out of his hands;

But then there's Sylus' words. And when it comes to those, Zayne's a goner. He's used to you being forward in your affections with him but he can't help but clear his throat at Sylus' double entendres and flirty quips, or feel heat in his abdomen when Sylus uses his drawling rasp;

"You’re always so tense, Z. Want me to loosen you up?";

"Those medical texts aren't doing anything to put you to sleep. Maybe you need something that penetrates deeper... into that overactive mind of yours.";

"I know you're the doctor, but maybe you need someone else to prescribe your... treatment tonight.";

It’s not long before it becomes a subconscious thing for Zayne — seeking out Sylus whenever he jolts awake at night. Zayne's very adamant that it’s because he doesn’t want to disturb you in bed though (sure baby boy);

But there's something about Sylus’ ruthless teasing and the mind games they play that has him tired out within an hour of even the worst of his nightmares;

And he'd never admit it out loud but sometimes, Zayne falls back asleep imagining the satisfaction he'd get from finally silencing the Onychinus leader's teasing by stuffing his cock down his throat;

Of course Sylus can tell when Zayne’s frustration and tension finally snaps. His new favorite thing is seeing Zayne try to resist him before he gives up and crawls back into bed;

Sylus knows exactly how to wear him down. Sometimes, it’s pulling the book from Zayne's hand with his evol, only to say "Careful, doctor. Grabbing it like that might get you into trouble,” when Zayne reaches over to snatch it back;

Sometimes he sneaks up behind Zayne, kissing the back of his neck while his Evol tugs Zayne's hips back against him;

Cut to Zayne, pants pulled down to his ankles, legs over Sylus's shoulder, getting the best fuckin blow job of his life. Sylus holding onto his thighs, refusing to let the doctor hesitate to squeeze around his head. Zayne's hand in Sylus's hair, pulling and tugging and trying to keep some semblance of control;

Zayne throwing his head back against the couch, breath choked in his throat, hand tight in Sylus's hair to keep his nose pressed to his stomach, but then Sylus pulls off of him. It's frustrating, it draws unexpected noises from him. And Sylus just smirks and says he promised to tire him out, kissing all up his hip and legs; (credit to @leighsartworks216 for these pieces of genius).

On particularly bad nights, Zayne goes to the balcony to catch his breath and some cold air to calm himself down. One night Sylus, effortlessly smug with the phone at his ear, at work, uses his evol to force Zayne to his knees. "Handle it today," he says to the person on the phone, "you know how I like to put men in their place.";

Speaking of, Sylus loooves edging Zayne. Leaving him a panting, writhing mess, pulling away just when Zayne’s hand tightens in his hair or his breath hitches in his throat. “I said I’d tire you out, but I never said I’d make it easy.”;

For a guy who doesn't say much, Zayne's vocal and very demanding in the heat of the moment - which wakes you up sometimes.

Knowing all about Sylus' scheme to tire Zayne out, you love sliding into bed hand pressed to his chest, "Doctor Zayne, your heart is racing, maybe we need to do some tests?" Sylus chuckles darkly, watching Zayne’s eyes flutter between both of you. The idea of you both teaming up to tire him out finally makes Zayne’s control slip;

The best time of day is twilight, a few hours before you and Zayne start the day, as Sylus is ending his. The three of you fall into bed, Zayne's body is exhausted and his mind is quiet. Barely keeping his eyes open when his fingers twine with yours. Sylus pulls you close from behind, his hand on top of both of yours. Sylus smirks at both of you, proud of himself. "The only nightmare you two are allowed to have is me."

[volkswagonblues]

a bibliography for us Daniel Malloy freaks

(a loosely pulled-together reading list about print journalism, New York, the 1970s & 80's, and the AIDS Crisis. Most of the credit goes to @islandbetweenrivers who started this)

On Daniel Molloy, California Boy

The show never explicitly states if Daniel went to college, but since college students were exempt from the Vietnam draft, which ended officially in 1973, it could be interesting to imagine Daniel in Berkeley.

Slouching Toward Bethlehem by Joan Didion

The White Album by Joan Didion

Berkeley Barb archives (link) -- weekly underground newspaper that ran in Berkeley between '65 to '80

The Daily Cal First 150 Years (link) -- student newspaper at Berkeley

On Journalism

Iphigenia in Forest Hills by Janet Malcolm

From her reporter's seat, Malcolm observes that a trial is merely "a contest between competing narratives". (Guardian review)

The Journalist and the Murderer by Janet Malcolm

“"Every journalist who is not too stupid or too full of himself to notice what is going on knows that what he does is morally indefensible," wrote Malcolm in an opening sentence that caused a sensation in the tiny, self-referential world of posh American journalism.” (Guardian review)

The Freaks Came Out to Write: The Definitive History of the Village Voice by Trisha Romano

“The Voice’s origins were proudly amateurish. One early contributor was a homeless man recruited from a local street; equipment consisted of two battered typewriters, an ink-splattering mimeograph machine and a waste paper basket for rejected submissions. Morale spiked when a staff member discovered that dried pods used in fancy flower arrangements contained opium, which was boiled up in the office when the time came for a coffee break.” (Guardian review)

Note: The Village Voice was THE alt-weekly newspaper and it was run out of Greenwich Village in NYC. Lots of incredible writers start there and then move onto the Times, Vanity Fair, etc. Very much the sort of crowd a young Daniel would be mixed in circa 70's and 80's.

The Night of the Gun, by David Carr

David Carr redefines memoir with the revelatory story of his years as an addict and chronicles his journey from crack-house regular to regular columnist for The New York Times. Built on sixty videotaped interviews, legal and medical records, and three years of reporting, The Night of the Gun is a ferocious tale that uses the tools of journalism to fact-check the past. (amazing rec from @archive-z)

Note: imagine if Daniel did this and then fact-checked his way into remembering that vampires existed

Rogues: True Stories of Grifters, Killers, Rebels and Crooks by Patrick Radden Keefe

Keefe can paint complicated portraits of victims and vigilantes alike while covering their lonely pursuit of justice. He intuits why a Dutch woman who has exposed the crimes of her gangster brother might lie about her present whereabouts. He understands why a man who lost his brother in an aeroplane bombing might spend the rest of his life trying to find the culprit. Again and again, Keefe surmises that even the most detailed of investigations can only speculate about human motives. (Guardian review)

Note: the sort of deeply human longform profiles that feels like the sort of writing Daniel does, based on his masterclass clip and what he reveals in his interactions with Louis

On New York, New York (in the 70s)

Notes from Underground, by Eric Bogosian + Perforated Heart, by Eric Bogosian

In four billion years the sun will explode. But before that we'll run out of fresh water and before that we'll all die of some mutation of AIDS that's spread by coughing. It's not my fault anyway. I can't think about this any more today. I'm going to masturbate.

Note: The OG. What else is there to say.

Ladies and Gentleman, the Bronx is Burning: 1977, Baseball, Politics, and the Battle for the Soul of a City by Jonathan Mahler

In the long sweep of American history, of course, 1977 is not exactly 1865, 1941, 1968 or 2001. Yet from porn shops to gay bathhouses, from Yankee Stadium to City Hall, from the blackout to Son of Sam, from Rupert Murdoch's New York Post to the rise of SoHo and Studio 54, the city was living through what Mahler convincingly calls "a transformative moment . . . a time of decay but of rehabilitation as well.” (New York Times review)

Remain in Love: Talking Heads, Tom Tom Club, Tina, by Chris Franz (2020)

Frantz’s account of the early days, when the Heads lived in the pre-gentrified Lower East Side of New York, an almost literal war zone. While searching for a loft to live in, they viewed one building that was on fire. One spring afternoon, Frantz walked over to the now-legendary club CBGB to ask for a gig. The place smelt of “beer, roach spray, dog doo [the owner, Hilly Kristal, had a free-roaming saluki] and Chanel No 5”.

Winter’s Journal, by Paul Auster

Note: To me, Auster is one of the closest real-life Daniel Malloy analogues: born around 1950, literary career in NYC, moved to Paris in the 1970s for a few years, troubled middle-class background. Novelist though, not a journalist. There’s an anecdote in this book about a car crash that feels like a deadass Devil’s Minion fever dream. Crazy stuff. One of my personal favourites

On the AIDS Crisis

And the Band Played On, by Randy Shilts

The book chronicles the discovery and spread of the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV) and acquired immune deficiency syndrome (AIDS) with a special emphasis on government indifference and political infighting—specifically in the United States—to what was then perceived as a specifically gay disease

The Journalist of Castro Street: The Life of Randy Shilts, by Andrew E. Stoner

Biography of Randy Shilts that’s very helpful for imagining Daniel in the early 1980s newsrooms covering Karposi’s sarcoma

How to Survive a Plague: The Story of How Activists and Scientists Tamed AIDS by David France (2017)

It’s not easy to balance solid journalism with intimate understanding of a subject, and even harder to write eloquently about a disease that’s killing your friends and loved ones. France pulls it off, in his own words (his description of finding a college roommate’s panel in the AIDS Memorial Quilt is heartbreaking) and in letting his articulate sources speak for themselves. (SF Gate review)

Timeline of AIDS (link)

Overview of HIV (link)

And some films, just for fun

The Panic in Needle Park (1971): Drama film directed by Jerry Schatzberg. Al Pacino is a heroin addict and small-time dealer in Manhattan who falls in love with another addict.

Serpico (1973): biographical crime drama film directed by Sidney Lumet. Al Pacino is a hippie cop (yes, I know, its part of the plot) with one foot in the 1970s bohemian art scene

American Graffiti (1973): teen movie set in 1973 Modesto ("I'm just a shitty kid from Modesto"--Danny Malloy)

The Taking of Pelham 123 (1974): More grimy 1970s NYC stuff

All the President’s Men (1976): THE ABSOLUTE JOURNALISM MOVIE??

Star Wars: A New Hope (1977)

Cruising (1980): 1980 crime thriller written and directed by William Friedkin. Al Pacino is a cop (again) but this time he goes undercover in NYC gay leather clubs

Almost Famous (2000): Set in 1973, it chronicles the funny and often poignant coming of age of 15-year-old William, an unabashed music fan who gets the chance to write for Rolling Stone

Spotlight (2015): More journalism movies! The true story of how the Boston Globe uncovered the massive scandal of child molestation and cover-up within the local Catholic Archdiocese

everyone say thank you to @islandbetweenrivers for starting this, I just polished up our google docs and posted it on tumblr.

Also if anyone has something to add please let me know!

[lottins-only]

THE ALCHEMY

pairing: kylian mbappe x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: swearing, mentions of mental illness

summary: working at real madrid is a dream come true— until kylian mbappe, football's biggest star and the last person you ever want to see, joins the club. as tensions rise between you two and the lines between frustration and fascination blur, you wonder: can you truly resist the man you've sworn to hate?

A/N: based on this request. i know club employee x player is a bit overdone but i had so much fun writing this! let me know if it's worth continuing. pls also share any other thoughts you have in my inbox or in the comments, i love hearing from you guys <3

“it’s almost time!” your boss whisper-yells as he runs into the break room, the sudden interruption jolting you so much you spill coffee from the mug you were holding onto your pristine white shirt. “quick, everyone get ready!”

you set down your mug carefully, looking down at your ruined shirt with a sigh. it was bad enough you had to come in early today for his presentation, but now your daily morning coffee ritual in the break room was ruined – all for real madrid’s newest galactico.

after doing his medical exams, touring the training facilities and meeting his new teammates, kylian mbappe apparently insisted that he see the club offices before his stadium presentation, ‘to meet the employees that he now calls family’. you’d snorted when you read the email announcing his visit, irritated at the fact that you’d have to play nice to the most arrogant, self - absorbed person to ever step foot in madrid.

you figured he’d make a quick stop on the first floor to see the social media team. that was the department the players engaged with the most, anyway.  no way he’d go all the way up to the fourth floor, where the finance department resided. yet, here you are, standing with the rest of the team, facing the door, waiting to be graced by the presence of the best player in the world.

naturally, he’s running late. 

“we have our weekly meeting in 15” you frown, looking at your phone. “what’s taking him so long?”

“forget the weekly meeting. we’ll reschedule” your boss, who loathes postponing anything, waves you off dismissively. he’s unusually smiley today, practically vibrating with excitement. he even has the new mbappe jersey in hand, no doubt to ask for an autograph. you’ve never seen a grown man fanboy this hard; it’s kind of pathetic if you think about it. 

your ears perk up at the sound of commotion outside the double doors, where you can see there’s a small crowd of people forming. the doors swing open a few moments later and in walks the talk of the town, flanked by a couple staff members, what looked like his personal assistant, a small camera crew, and a bodyguard. you can hear the collective intake of breath from the room as soon as he walks in.

“hello, everyone!” he walks to the center of the room, practiced smile plastered on his face. " how's everyone doing? i'm really happy to be here!"

the team immediately erupts into applause at his words. you reluctantly join, rolling your eyes.

he starts shaking hands and exchanging quick hellos as he makes his way further in the room. when he approaches your group, he stops in front of your boss. you can't help but notice how his beige polo shirt and white shorts make him stand out sharply from the dozens of people in the room dressed in bland office attire.

"we-welcome to real madrid!" your boss exclaims, stumbling over his words. you stare at the ground, fighting the urge to laugh.

“thanks, I’m excited to meet all of you,” kylian replies warmly, his gaze shifting to you for a brief moment. “and you are…?”

" y/n l/n, financial analyst" you say, putting on your best fake smile. "pleasure to meet you"

"pleasure is all mine" he murmurs, extending his hand towards you. you shake it, and his grip is surprisingly firm and warm. you maintain eye contact, searching for something in his face.

“sorry, I was wondering if you could sign this?” your boss interrupts, gesturing to his jersey.

"of course" kylian says. you overhear your co-workers gushing over him as he signs the jersey, declarations ranging from "he's more handsome in person" to "i can't believe he's actually here". he has a small smirk playing on his face as he listens, the jerk. of course what he needs is more fodder for his already inflated ego.

after handing your boss his jersey back, he turns back towards you , catching you off guard. “so, how long have you been with the club?”

"two years" you respond. "best workplace in the world, as i'm sure you're going to find out"

"oh, i already know'" he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "i've been obsessed with this club since i was a little kid"

"really?" you tilt your head skeptically. " you didn't give that impression the past 6 years or so"

silence.

his eyes narrow, and was that an irritated look crossing his face? your heart races when you realize you've struck a nerve. he looks at you– really looks at you for the first time. before, you were just one of many he was obliged to make small talk to for the cameras but now you're the annoying woman who dares to question him.

“it's been a long road, i admit” he says carefully. “but i’m here now, and i’m just really happy”

“the biggest signing bonus we’ve ever given – i'd be surprised if you weren't over the moon” you say drily.

he clears his throat, smile completely faltering for a moment. “money isn’t my motivation”

“sure it isn’t!” you chirp sarcastically.

"no, really. i have plently of that already" he smirks, his gaze lazily dropping down to your chest. "you have a stain on your shirt, by the way”

"can we- shall we all gather for a group photo?" your boss, who was watching the entire exchange with a horrified look on his face, waves everyone over. he shoots you a pained look as he ushers kylian into the center of the group, mouthing a 'what the fuck???' over his shoulder. you grimace as you stand off to the side, arms crossed.

kylian lingers for a little bit after the photos, chatting with eager people, which, let's be honest, is everyone else besides you. a few minutes later his assistant announces that he needs to be on his way to get ready for the stadium presentation, so he makes his rounds again, shaking everyone's hand and saying goodbye individually.

when he approaches you, his smile fades a little. it thrills you to know it takes him more effort to fake his niceties with you.

"it was nice meeting you..." he looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to finish the sentence.

you almost roll your eyes, of course he’s pretending not to remember your name.

“it’s y/n” your boss supplies when you stay silent. he’s grinning,  just glad to be of service to the great kylian mbappe.

“y/n, yes!” kylian’s eyebrows rise in feigned realization. He gives you an exaggerated apologetic shrug, then leans in close, whispering just for you, “sorry, y/n, it’s just that some names are…forgettable.”

"just like some nights are forgettable,” you whisper back “or at least you wish they were, just because they’re so fucking bad.”

he gives you a genuinely confused look, a question in his eyes.

“yeah, i’d block out the memory of lasting one minute too” you smirk. “ I still have your watch, by the way”

his eyes widen so much it’s almost comical. there’s an undeniable look of recognition on his face. oh, he remembers now.

he opens his mouth to say something, but he’s whisked away by his entourage. he's actually running late for his presentation now.

you shake your head as you watch him go. he's exactly as you remember him: all charm on the surface and arrogance underneath.

this is the story of how you come to despise kylian mbappe. it starts off six months before that fateful morning in madrid, in packed nightclub in paris. you're on a weeklong girls' trip, your first time in the city of love. you've done all of the activities on a tourist's checklist: gone sightseeing, had some of the amazing pastries, and of course, taken the mandatory instagram pictures.

on your last night, you and your friend decide to go to some of the most exclusive clubs in the city  – your friend, who does pr for the big fashion houses, has connections that get you past doors.

you're just coming out of a period of depression, something you’ve struggled with throughout your life. after several months of feeling like a grey cloud was hanging over you everywhere you went, you crave some excitement and spontaneity— basically something to remind you you're alive. and so you're a woman on a mission that night: to find a hot man and hook up with him. no strings attached.

it turns out, you don't have to look far. you're on the dance floor of the first club you visit, moving amongst the hot sweaty bodies when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

you turn to find a tall, burly man looking down at you.

“my friend wants to buy you a drink” he says without introduction, pointing up to the vip section where you honestly can’t see anything through a wall of bodyguards.

“okay” you say, smiling. “he can buy me a drink”

there’s an unspoken statement from his end. he wants you to come up

“how old is he?” you ask more out of curiosity than anything else. there’s no way you’re going with him. “and how tall?”

the bodyguard is obviously taken aback. “uh, he’s 25, and…6 feet?”

“6’2 and above only, sorry” you say, giggling as you walk away to your friends who are waiting at the bar.

before long, you find yourself on the dance floor again, pressed up against someone with your back to their front, swaying to the rhythm of the music. You don't even know what they look like, but their body feels strong, solid. when their fingers graze your hips, you flip around, curiosity getting the better of you.

to your credit, your face doesn’t give away the fact that you know this person. that you’re probably one of his biggest fans in the world. that you watch even the most boring of psg games just for him. or that you want him at your club so so badly. no, you’re smart enough to arrange your face into a facade of nonchalance.

the first thing you notice is the smell of dior sauvage, and then the pretty dimples he flashes you when he sees you’re facing him.

“your dimples are pretty” you shout over the loud music. oops. looks like you’re in the ‘speaking without a filter’ stage of being drunk.

“thanks” he says into your ear. “why did you say no to vip? i was hoping you’d come up”

realization hits. oh.

“you’re not 6 feet tall!” you shriek gleefully, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “your bodyguard lied”

"yeah, I'm 5'10" he’s got a look of amused confusion on his face. “not sure why that matters though”

“that’s kind of short for a guy” you say. “you chose the right sport”

he raises his eyebrows, perhaps surprised you recognize him. “let me buy you that drink. and maybe we can talk about something other than my height?”

and so it begins. you spend the next thirty minutes at the bar pretending you both don’t know where this is leading and what you both want. you talk about madrid, how your time in paris is going. you don’t mention your employer, and he doesn’t talk about his impending transfer. he’s surprisingly witty and observant, something you don’t expect from a celebrity, and certainly not a footballer. at one point in the conversation, his hand lands on your thigh and it doesn’t leave. you’re drowning in anticipation, in want.

finally, he suggests you take this somewhere else. somewhere quiet, where you can 'talk more'.

you say yes. soon you’ve said your goodbyes to your friends and you’re in his car, and you don’t even know where you’re going, because you've both dropped all pretenses and are making out in the backseat. he's great at kissing, and even better at making you forget your name as soon as he touches you.

you hesitate for a brief second when you see you’ve arrived at a hotel a few minutes later, but his hand is warm on yours, so you let him lead you inside. everything after this is a blur— you remember the short elevator ride, his room key flashing, his lips immediately finding yours again as soon as the door clicks shut.

inside the room, your kisses grow heated, but they’re sloppy and unfocused. his hands are everywhere, sliding all over your body frantically. you both stumble over to the bed hazily, clothes disappearing off your bodies in the process.

it’s fast. so fast that you don’t realize it’s began until it’s over. afterwards, he collapses against you in a breathless heap, and you can only stare at the ceiling, trying to fend off the crushing weight of disappointment.

you roll him off your body slowly, but he doesn’t protest because he’s already dozed off. the alcohol has dulled your thoughts and your senses, but you can’t shake the creeping sense of hurt. somehow, sleep takes over you as well.

you stir awake a few hours later. the other side of the bed is empty, but you can hear movement from the bathroom. you're rubbing your eyes, groggy, when something catches your attention —his phone, which sits on the bed side table, is unlocked and displaying a text conversation.

don't do it, you think, do NOT do it.

but your hand treacherously reaches out and grabs the phone. you find that it’s a group chat of him and his friends. you skim over the texts quickly, aware that he's just in the other room.

tchaga: Kylian where tf are you???

kylian: with that girl from the club

ous: bro we stopped by your place you weren’t there

kylian: you know I don’t take groupies to my place what if she’s like in love with me

ous: 😭😭

tchaga: was it worth ditching your friends

kylian: I don’t remember a lot tbh. sucks, because I had to pretend I wanted to talk to her for like 30 minutes before we got to the hotel🙄

kylian: think I’ll head out before she wakes up and it gets awkward haha

your stomach immediately starts to churn with a mixture of humiliation and hurt. you're not an idiot, you knew what you signing up for when you left that club with him. a fun, meaningless hookup was what you wanted. but you didn't think it would be this. you're nauseous with disgust— not just at him, but at yourself. he brought you to a hotel, took what he wanted, and now he's laughing about it with his boys. you feel cheap, like he used and discarded you.

the worst part is, you used to like the guy. you were a huge fan of him as a footballer, and maybe even harbored a little crush on him. now you don't even want to see his face ever again.

you put the phone down quickly when you hear the bathroom door creak open, closing your eyes and pretending to sleep. you can hear him as he quietly moves around while he gets dressed. seconds later, you hear the click of the door shutting behind him.

just like that, he's gone.

you're not far behind him, eager to leave the room and the night behind. as you're gathering your things, you spot his watch on the bedside table. in a flash of anger, you stuff it in your purse along with your belongings. you also see he’s left a note, but you throw that into the trash without reading it. then you're out the door.

so, that's the story of how you come to hate kylian mbappe: in one careless, thoughtless night, he crushed the fragile self esteem you managed to rebuild over the past couple months, leaving you feeling smaller than ever. like you're worthless.

and now he's living in the same city as you, playing for the same club you work for. he's got everyone wrapped around his finger, worshipping the ground he walks on. and you? you'll never not despise him, that's for sure. come hell or high water.

taglist: @kyliansonlygf @ynkfreeastheocean @scottishthistle @user6373738 @lucysantos6-blog @tuliptopiasstuff @kennasutopia @cinderellawithashoe @akiracim @kymb-10 @germanapples @loonworld @ajsboys

[uranometrias]

my love mine all mine , aaron hotchner

this is incredibly self indulgent. i wrote this for myself, because my cat passed away today && i have no idea how to grieve correctly. but i've always been able to express myself the best through writing, so here i am trying to do so.

basically reader loses her kitten && hotch is there to comfort her while she grieves. reader is a doctor && gets her nails painted. mentions of sleeping in a scarf and braids (but this can apply to any race <3) hotch is pretty flirty. he also had a dog that died when he was younger (idk) ... i'm still getting used to writing him (but he's been rotting my brain) so hotch girlies please be sweet to me, i'm trying.

"Have you decided what you want me to grab on the way?" You feel giddy, eyes beaming vibrantly as you unlock your front door. Aaron was on the other line, he'd been looking forward to spending the evening with you for the past two weeks. Your jobs often sent you in separate directions, with him following cases cross country, and you spending nearly twenty hours a day working at Inova Fairfax Medical Campus. The commute was nearly an hour from Quantico, which made it difficult for your schedules to coincide the way you hoped.

Today though was an exception. He'd just gotten back from a case, a successful one, and you'd been lucky enough to finally get two days off. You couldn't contain your excitement when you'd finally managed to get Aaron on the phone, and with Jack staying at Jessica's for another night, it seemed everything was working out in your favor. You still had no idea what you were in the mood to eat, despite having ample time to figure it out. "I dunno." you mutter, and you drop your keys into the basket just to the left of the front door.

"Well honey, you've gotta give me something." Aaron chuckles, and his voices makes you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. "I'm sure you haven't anything at all today." and it doesn't take a rocket science to know he's absolutely correct. Your stomach grumbles audibly, and you cringe, the sound a dead giveaway of your poor eating habits. "Do you need a bit more time to think about it?" he asks, and you're nodding your head, despite the fact that he can't see you. Your focus is split, eyes darting around your place in search of Piper.

Piper was your five year old tabby, the most special companion that you'd cared for since she was a newborn. Usually she'd be making her way to your front door, nudging her head against your shins, meowing her head off as some form of reprimand for being gone too long. Her absence was unusual, but you'd noticed she'd been sleeping a touch longer in the recent months. You'd taken her to the vet and they'd written off any life threatening illnesses. Perhaps she was jus becoming a lazy cat they had said.

"What'd you eat yesterday?" you ask, and you shrug off your coat next, hanging it in the closet as you slip off your cork-leather clogs. You admire your pedicure, French-tips gleaming back at you as your feet hit the cherry laminate flooring. You imagined that he'd hardly been able to eat well while out on a case, Aaron (and his team) had a horrible habit of neglecting their own health and wellness for the sake of cracking the case. You'd call him out on it, but it'd feel to hypocritical with the way you gave most of your life to the hospital.

"Four cups of coffee." and he sounds sheepish as he replies, he'd been running himself ragged with this last particular case. He couldn't leave the precinct until he was convinced he'd made a dent in the investigation. He could imagine your disappointed pout, but he was doing his best, or at least trying his best. "But, Dave made sure that I got something this morning before we got on the jet." and it's not like he has to explain himself to you, you'd never berate him. He believed it was just a side effect of falling for you.

"Four cups?" you gasp, head already shaking. "You're going to turn into a cup of coffee if you keep up with habits like those." you scold. "You'll have to double your water intake, you could seriously dehydrate yourself that way." you say with a quiet huff. You round the corner of the foyer, heading for the kitchen. "Are you feeling alright?" your tone grows a bit softer, "Four cups means you were really absorbed in the case. Everything okay?" you tread lightly. You weren't quite sure how he felt about you asking about his job.

"As far as endings go, I'd say it was better than most." he replies thoughtfully, clearly unfazed by your desire to probe. That makes you smile a bit, the obviousness of his trust for you. "We minimized the amount of deaths, the unsub was taken into custody... the team worked really hard." he proceeds, and you find yourself grinning. "But, I will do a better job of taking care of myself. You'd be a good nurse, but I can imagine a few better scenarios for you to take care of me."

You smile despite the fact it makes your heart stutter step. You were still getting used to him growing more confident in this way, but you weren't complaining in the slightest. "I'd be a great nurse." you correct him delicately, "I'd enjoy taking care of you in any way though." and you bet he can hear your shyness through the phone. Your relationship with Aaron still felt fairly new, you'd been seeing one another for going on seven months, but you knew you loved him.

Even if you hadn't managed to say it just yet.

"Look at that, another thing we have in common." he exhales, and you want him to hurry up and get to you. You hadn't seen him in so long, and despite the fact you were willing to mount him on sight, you just wanted to enjoy being in the same place for once. "How are you? Did you have a good day?" and you like the way he's so attentive, how he seems to genuinely care about what you had to say.

"It was great." you insist, and you've poured yourself a glass of water, ice tinkling as you scanned the dining room for any sign of Piper. Still nothing, weird. "I went to the bookstore a bit earlier, got a few novels for my book shelf." you list. "I got my nails done, and I got a facial. It was so relaxing I wound up falling asleep on the table." and you chuckle a bit at the memory. "Piper and I went on a drive before lunch, she's so spoiled." you add, but you're still scouring the space.

"Drafted up my budget for the month, my new schedule came in," you exhale tiredly at the thought. "Picked up my scrubs from the dry cleaners, I did a grocery run, and went to see the flower exhibit near the Farmer's Market. I got this really incredible soft-pretzel croissant." you sigh dreamily at the memory. "And now I'm home, and waiting for you." you complete, and you lean forward, arms resting against the countertop. "It was a really nice day. I thought I wouldn't know what to do without work, but I'd nearly forgotten what it feels like to be off."

Aaron's silent, but not because he's disinterested in your ramblings. He finds them endearing, and oftentimes had to remind himself that you, much like Jack, needed verbal response in order to feel heard. "I missed you." and it's not quite what he was aiming to say, but it's what comes out. It's true, it had been a while since he'd seen you in person, and with the way your schedules overlapped, he'd hardly been able to get much conversation out of you apart from quick check-ins in between patients and breaks in BAU cases.

You let out a quiet puff of air, it's not quite a sigh nor an exhale. Your lips curve upwards, and you wonder if there's a record out there for most smiles achieved in a single phone call. "You've got no idea how happy that makes me." you reply, and you inhale deep. "I missed you too, hurry up and get over here." you press, and you replay the sound of his responding laugh over in your mind. You don't think you could be more lovesick, but it's a more than welcomed feeling. "As far as dinner, why don't I just cook something?" you offer with a shrug.

"Do you want to?" and Aaron's got this weird thing about him where he's still getting used to the fact that you want to do certain things for him. You go over it a lot, reminding him that you'd love nothing more than to spoil him as much as he spoils you. He's still a bit hesitant, but you don't mind fighting the good fight until he relented. His hands tighten just slightly on the steering wheel, and his leg jumps as he awaits your response. He knows, or better put, he has an idea of what you'll say. He still wants to hear it either way.

"We take care of each other, mon amour." You coo, and he feels that familiar rush of affection towards you. "It'll be fun." you add, and then you're sighing audibly. "I just really can't wait to see you. I don't want to wait any longer than I need to." you express, and Aaron understands. He'd been restless on the jet, Dave and Emily seemed to zero in on his jitters, he was thankful they had enough couth to keep it to themselves. All he received was a knowing smirk from Rossi as he made a beeline for the tarmac the second the jet landed.

"I'll be there soon." he promises, and you grow giddier. "I-" and he wants to cross the line, mutter three worded phrase that would change everything. He'd been learning to be more bold, to focus on the things he could control, and appreciate those things. "I love you." he doesn't have time to think about the repercussions, because it's out, and there's a strong sense of relief that washes over him. You are surprised, but elated. The excitement his words bring you is hard to diminish.

"I love you too." and it comes out as easy as breathing. Probably because you mean it with all of your heart. "I'll see you soon, Mr. Hotchner." you promise, and he's chuckling at your sudden formality, likely a side effect of your newfound nerves at the huge step you'd both taken in your relationship.

"See you soon." you don't bring the phone from your ear until you hear the faint click of the call ending. You exhale shakily, mind running at a mile a minute as your heart seems to double in size. Still, you find this moment is short lived- mind once again on the eerie silence in your apartment. You place your glass down on the counter, coaster be damned as you make your way past the dining room and towards the living room. Sometimes you'd find Piper curled up on the couch, quiet purrs escaping her as she slept contently.

"Piper!" you coo, surprised when you note that she's nowhere to be found. You know that she wasn't outside, you'd made sure before leaving back out that she was comfortable in the house. You follow the layout of your place, the archway that led from the living room back to the foyer is the route you take, heading towards your bedroom as you continuously call for the cat. "Piper, where are you, pretty girl?" you enter your room, hopeful that you'll find her there.

You spot her little paw peeking out of her hideaway and instantly relax. "Oh Piper, you scared me." you let out a shaky sort of giggle as you fully enter your bedroom, feet brushing over the comforting carpet. You kneel just in front of the hideaway, reaching out to pet her. It takes you a few moments to make peace with the fact that she's not rousing. You swallow thickly, a lump growing in your throat as you wiggle her paw. She doesn't move, just as limp as before.

"Piper?" you feel the way your throat constricts, eyes immediately wanting to brim with tears, as you grow frantic. "Oh, please no-" you exclaim, head shaking as you feel a shudder rack through you. You're gentle as you maneuver around the hideaway, hands looping around her small body as you move to pull her out. She's limp, not even the act of you lifting her up enough to make her move. Your glow feels like it's diminished almost instantly, a dark cloud setting in over your head. It seemed a bit silly, panicked over the loss of a cat.

But she was yours, like a daughter to you in the way you cared for her, and made her apart of your routine. She was special, and despite the reputation cats gained for being standoffish and unable to understand human love, you knew that to be wrong. Piper was sweet, a loving cat that curled up beside you every night and followed you like a second shadow. She'd play games of tag with you, chasing you around your apartment as you squealed and screamed for your life.

"Please, please, no-" you're shedding real tears now, they're slipping down your cheeks in a constant succession. "Piper, please wake up!" it's silly, probably. Rocking back and forth with a dead cat in your hand hoping that sheer adoration will be enough to turn back the hands of time. It's certainly not, and the reality crushes you. The first sob is choked, almost like you're holding yourself back, not letting your feelings take full affect. You hadn't prepared yourself at all.

You didn't know what to do.

You think that's when the first swell of sobs begins. They're more ugly wails than anything else, the loud sound echoing through the space in front of you as your arms lower, Piper's body leaning against you as you continued to let your tears flow freely. Your chest tightens, constricting every couple of seconds like you'd suddenly developed chronic heartburn. The pain is a violent assassin, the air around you feeling tight. You think you may be choking on all that you're feeling.

You hate the part of your brain that was constantly in 'Doctor Mode', the side that reminded you that despite your grief, handling a deceased animal like this was a surefire way to get sick. Her body wouldn't start to decompose for at least another day, but you had no real way of knowing just how long she'd actually been dead. You don't move though, until at least your sobs have waned, you know it's not the end of them, but it's a reprieve just for a moment.

You slowly climb to your feet, still clutching Piper as your eyes whip around your bedroom. Your eyes land on her carrier, and the image makes you want to cry all over again. You shut your eyes, allowing yourself to take in a deep breath. It doesn't help. Still, your feet lead you over to the carrier, where you're gently placing Piper. Her vet was only eight minutes up the street, and maybe your ability to dispose of her so quickly was precisely why this was happening to you.

Guilt was loud, too loud. It almost knocked you to your knees as you imagined Piper's fear whilst you were gone. Was she sick? How long had she been? Why hadn't you noticed? Why did you leave her alone? Why weren't you there? You let her down. You had let her down.

You want to curl into a ball, hide under the blankets and cry until you passed out. But, she deserved better. She deserved to not be lugged around like she was some prop, she needed a proper place to rest. Once her carrier is zipped up, you're picking it up by the handles, using your other hand to swipe at the tears still trying to fall. You take the route you'd walked not ten minutes prior, slipping your shoes back on, and grabbing hold of your keys. Aaron still had another forty minutes or so in his drive, you hoped it went by quickly.

You don't think you ever needed him more than now.

────────────────────────

The sobs returned the second you'd walked past the threshold of your house. You sluggishly made your way back to your bedroom. It felt much lonelier now, the house feeling much too big for just you. You think that makes you cry even harder. You're covering your mouth with your hand, hoping that it would be enough to mask the sound of your bawling. You doubt that it does, but you can't do much else. You don't want to go to sleep, you don't want to do anything.

You begin berating your behavior once more in your head, replaying all the ways you'd been a shitty caretaker even though you know it's a bad idea. Your leg shakes under your comforter, the blanket squished underneath your body as you hid your face beneath the blazing heat of your huge blanket. You don't even realize how long you've spent in this space of self-loathing and bitter tears, until you hear the front door's lock shifting out of place. Aaron was here.

"Y/N, sweetheart?" and you want to run to him more than anything. You can't though, because you don't want him to think you're a failure. So you stay put, and you cry a bit more, sniffles growing more audible as you're forced to choke back angry sobs. It doesn't take long for him to make his way towards where you are, and you don't know what he'll say when he finds you looking a mess. You know your mascara has given you racoon eyes, and in your grief, you'd failed to tie a scarf around your head. Your braids would look messy soon.

"Y/N?" and his voice is so soft, soothing, everything you don't deserve now. Your hand clutches a fistful of your shirt, right where your heart rests. "Are you in here, honey?" and you sniffle, an answer all on its own. You barely hear his footsteps, but you feel it when the bed dips just slightly, and you feel it when he gently pulls at your blanket. When he's pulled it back, he's met with the sight of your tear-streaked cheeks. Your nose was runny and raw, and your lip was quivering. It didn't take a profiler to know that you'd been crying, and he frowns.

"Are you alright?" he questions, and his hand reaches out to brush against your cheek and neck, almost like he was checking your temperature. "You've been crying?" and he examines you subtly for any signs of assault or struggle. "Did something happen?" and he knows he keeps asking questions, but he's getting worried.

"P-" and a sob racks through you, your entire body curling in on itself. Your hand is pressing against your mouth again, and your shoulders shake as you began to cry once more. "Piper she-" and your head shakes, hand clenching and unclenching against your shirt. Aaron's eyes dance around your room, and his eyebrows push inwards. He was worried, but determined to be extremely delicate with you, namely by being patient as you got out what you needed to tell him. "Piper's dead." you finally say, shoulders sagging as you weep.

Aaron's examining your face, which gives you a front row seat of the way his face is eclipsed with compassion. "Oh, honey..." his lips pull downwards into a frown, and you know, of course you know it's awkward. What do you realistically say to a person that loses their cat? It's not like any amount of conversation would bring her back. "I'm so sorry...." and usually it sounds empty when anyone offers condolences, but like with most things, Aaron is an exception. "Are you okay? Can you tell me what happened?" he pleads.

And you know that he knows that you're not okay. It's meant to be a stupid question, the obvious one. But you also know that he's giving you the chance to vent, to articulate everything you feel with no judgement. It makes you want to curl into him, and stay wrapped up in his arms until neither of you had any idea where one ended and the other began. "I just-" you have to take a moment to gather yourself, hiccupping blubbers escaping you. "I came home, and I-" your voice cracks harshly. "She was just gone. I don't-" you shake your head.

"I don't know what happened." you express, and Aaron's sympathetic, and he hates seeing you like this. Every time you cry it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright. He supposed that came with loving you, an innate desire to protect you, and keep the bad things out. He'd only ever seen you in this state a handful of times, mostly when things went wrong at the hospital and you lost a patient. He had to get to you before you started blaming yourself for something that completely out of your control.

He didn't know much, but he did know your love for Piper, and how deep it ran. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that you'd never do something to put her in harm's way, you'd never do anything to hurt her. And he wants to pull you into his arms and tell you everything will be alright, he wants to be there to anchor you down. To ground you in the midst of all these swimming and overwhelming emotions trying to fight for the upper hand. He wanted to be there for you.

"Is there anything that you need from me?" he asks gently, grief was harsh, it came in ripples and waves. It was gut-punching, it could be loud and then silent. Sneaky and then outright. It was a process, and whether anyone else thought so, if you needed to grieve the life of your pet, you should. Who was he to ever get in the way? He's gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek, your tears splattering as you kept the duvet pulled up to your chin, as you stared him down. He figured you must have been deep in thought.

It takes a moment for you to reply, and he's fine with the silence. You're tears haven't stopped, but they've grown more quiet. Silent tears that pool and trickle down his wrist and onto the blanket. You soon take in a shaky puff of air as you sit up. Aaron's patient as ever, watching as you pull your legs from underneath the blanket, crawling until you were sitting on his lap. There's no sexual undertone to your movements, you don't want to fool around, you just want to be close.

Your head rests against him, eyes closing as his arms envelop you. "Can you just stay with me?" you ask, and he's already nodding his head. You both knew it was an impossible request. At any moment you could get paged, or he could get a call about a new case. The world didn't stop all because you were grieving, but for one second you both could pretend. He could stay right here with you, and you could love him, and not feel so overwhelmed by all your sadness.

"I'm not going anywhere." he mutters, and he's reaching for your hand. His easily dwarfs your own, but it's still just as comfortable, letting your palms press against his own. "I have never lost a cat before-" and he's treading lightly, wanting more than anything to help you and not harm you. "But I did lose a pet when I was younger." he expresses, and your interest is peaked, just slightly.

"What type of pet?" you ask faintly, and you're squeezing his hand in your own. He knows that it's comforting you so he says nothing about the tight pinch of his fingers pressing together.

"He was a golden retriever actually." Aaron replies, "Nothing was particularly wrong with him. He was fed well, taken care of, treated like one of the family..." he proceeds, and you involuntarily hold your breath as you listen. "But one day he just... he just went." Hotch proceeds, "And when you're a little kid that's not in the best environment, a staple like a pet dog is important. Losing him was like losing the only bit of sanity I could cling to. Does that make sense?"

Your head nods, and you squeeze his hand again to show him you care. "And surprisingly enough, I found myself crying over it. Mourning this dog, an animal that was part of the family, but of course, was not my family member." he continues, and his chin rests on the top of your head. "The point is, him being a dog didn't make it hurt any less when he left. It's okay to be upset about Piper, she was important to you, special even." he whispers. "And you did a great job giving her all the love you possibly could." his eyes close then.

"I need you to know that it wasn't your fault. And keeping yourself up with thoughts of 'what ifs'." it's his turn to squeeze your hand this time. "And those moments where you... didn't want to play, or wanted to be left alone are not what she remembered when she passed on." he insists, and he won't take any arguments on the matter. "You gave her five amazing years, and whether science backs it up or not, she knew how much you loved her." he insists. "You might not believe it today, but I hope that you do in time." and he kisses your forehead.

It's butterfly inducing, and makes you cling all the more to him. "You're not by yourself." he adds, and you're glad to know it. You peel back, eyes locking with his, and they're glassy. You hate seeing such a grief-stricken look on his face, at your sake no less. It makes you lean forward and kiss him, in the hopes you'd manage to kiss it away. He kisses back instantly, and you're still sad, you probably will be for a long while, but you don't feel as lonely as you did an hour ago.

"I love you." you mumble the second you've pulled back, and this time there's no phone. His eyes are swirling with so many thoughts and feelings of his own, but you need him to know you mean it, and likely always will. You couldn't imagine anyone else being here with you like this now, nobody else that would care enough to grieve with you. He gives you a half smile, and kisses you once more, a much deeper kiss that makes you lightheaded and dizzy. Of course he had that effect.

"I love you too." and you're happy that he hasn't left you hanging. Your fingers trace his collarbones and cheeks, moving to cup his face with your right hand. You kiss him again, this time just long enough to get the message across. When you pull back, your head is finding it's place back on his chest, and his arms move up and down, rubbing gentle circles against your back, as he cranes his neck to kiss your head. It makes your stomach flutter, but it makes you want to cry too.

He leaves three gentle pecks on the top of your head, moving to kiss your cheek, before he's looping his arms around your waist with a palpable amount of admiration. He plants a sweet kiss on your shoulder, and mimic this action by offering him a kiss of your own. "Thank you." you exhale, and you mean it so wholeheartedly.

"You don't need to thank me, Y/N. We take care of each other, mon amour, remember?" and he recites your earlier words back to you. It makes you cling to him much tighter, tears returning to your lashline as Aaron pulls you even closer to him. "If you need to cry a little bit more, go right ahead. I'm right here." so you do.

Grief was a lot, it could be paralyzing, debilitating, and outright traumatic, but you knew even if it didn't feel that way now, in time you'd be okay. Part of you felt like you had Aaron to thank for that.

[toyaslove]

HIII!!

I’m glad I can FINALLY request anything😭

Many writers have closed requests and there was no hurt -> comfort content of PJSK chars. Soooo… I’ll ask something

May I request for Toya and Akito (separate) with a depressed!gn!reader? Like the reader tries to commit suicide but Akito/Toya stops them?

Pretty pls~

A/N: HIIII SO OMG I LOVE UR REQ mainly cuz i already tried that 4 times lol... btw, there IS hurt to comfort pjsk fics, u just gotta search ^^ (I read all Toya fics around tumblr and there are some hurt to comfort :P) SOOO tysm for ur req I love it

Tw!!!!: Suicide, self-harm, cursing, ANGST

Pls look at the tw... (double checking)

Toya Aoyagi & Akito Shinonome (separately) x GN!Reader

Tags: Come get your summer pancake ginger:~ @mccnstruck , @maxident-xx , @miya-akane , @sentientsoil , @akitosheart

Come get your winter coffee addicted~ @sentientsoil , @miya-akane , @akitosheart

S-icide attempt

Writing style: story

(Again, check the tw's)

秋–くん🔥

It was late at night. Everything was spinning. You couldn't feel nothing, but despair, angst, sadness. Actually, did you feel anything? Was there anything in your heart right now? You couldn't cry, you couldn't feel anything. You were doped of medications, such as antidepressants, to not have these stupid thoughts, but whatever they were trying to do, they weren't working. Maybe if you went to a psychiatrist they would double your dose, wouldn't they? You thought of this. But... what if you don't need to spend more money on these? What if... you disappeared. Just. Did it. Why feel more pain? Why make your friends suffer while you're alive? It will be quick... Of course, everyone would be sad with your absence, but it would be less than a life-time, such as you bothering all of them daily... it will be less painful for both sides, won't it?

With this thought, your wrists dripping a red tone liquid, you look down your feet. You're on the 12th floor of a building, you look down with fear, cars and vehicles are passing in the road, but it won't stop you. You're shaking...

Then, the only thing you see is darkness. You close your eyes and you're ready to give a step forward, putting one foot on the air. You flinch when you hear a voice coming from behind you, a despaired and panting voice.

"What the actual fuck are you doing?!" – A familiar voice screams, a ginger figure appears in the rooftop, making you fall behind and gasp. The person was holding a messy piece of paper, the sight is familiar, your suicide letter.

"Are you crazy?! You know you could have died there!!!" – Akito speaks in despair and anger. He looks at you with a painful and worried expression, with a bit of rage. He sits in front of you, taking both of your hands in his.

"I... I just didn't want to... bother you anymore. All of you. I'm sorry" You speak in pain, you break down in tears. Akito, as he sees you in that state, frowns more, but his rage disappears. The only thing he does is wrapping his arms around you, as tight as he can, as if you were about to vanish (well somewhat you were (IM SORRY)

He's not really good at words, so he demonstrates his affection that way. But... maybe today he'll open an exception...

"Dang it... never do that anymore... never again. I don't want to lose you, please... I love you way too much for that to happen."

Akito speaks in the most caring tone he could. You have never seen him this affectionate, around anyone. Never ever. You can hear muffled and quiet whines coming from Akito while you hug him.

"If... if it will make you that way, I won't try it again..."

In the end, Akito didn't leave you for the whole night, focing you to accept him at your place... he can't handle you wanting to do this.

冬弥♥︎ (俺の彼氏) ❄️

You couldn't handle it. Everything was so tough. Everything. You couldn't breathe, it was hard. How are you going to do it with so much pressure? So much stress? You feel unlovable, you feel empty. Who would care if you died? I mean... they would cry for a while, but... later they would forget you. They always do, don't they? Your friends, family, people you care for... they all have a first place, and it was not you. You're just alive to bother, you're just letting people down, your presence was a nuisance, everyone only invited you to go out out of pure obligation. They didn't care at all. So, why would you keep being a weight to them? A pain on the ass? You feel so stupid, so helpless, so miserable. Everything is going wrong to you in your life, you see no future... so, why move forward to suffer more when you could just end it all? The pain would go away, your friends and known people would be happy after a while in the end... it would be less weight to you and to everyone else.

You keep thinking and thinking, all of this. Everything. Everything was so awful. You look at the train rail, waiting for it to come. You see a soft light at the end of the tunnel, it was arriving... you position yourself in the rail, close your eyes and wait. It will be quick, you thought to yourself.

It was arriving... it was closer and closer... your heart was beating fast out of fear and anxiety, but you knew it's going to be ok. Everything... Everything...

Seconds before the train passed in the rail where you were sitting, you felt a strong grip on your wrist, pulling you out of the rails. You could feel the drift from the train passing behind you. You open your eyes, to find a sight of a split-haired boy, looking at you with tears in his eyes, panting.

"W-what were you trying to do..." he speaks with his voice shaking and stuttering. The known sight of Toya, but different... you have never seen him this sad, this despaired, this scared... His eyes were watery, and his cheeks were also wet. He grips onto you and hugs you as tight as he can. You can feel his body shaking. Tears start to form in your eyes when you realise what's going on around you... Toya... what you tried to do... everything... he was holding your suicide letter tightly.

"What... what did you mean by... 'I won't be a bother anymore. It will be one less weight to your life'... What... what made you think that? You were never a weight, never. Did I do something for you to think that way?" – Toya speaks pulling away slightly from the hug, tears roll down his cheeks, he holds both of your hands tightly.

You shake your head, you speak quietly and painfully "I couldn't handle life anymore... I'm sorry... you haven't done anything wrong. It's just me... I think the meds weren't making effect, or my depression just got worse-"

Toya puts a finger in your mouth, he looks at you with empathy and pure care

"You don't have to apologise or explain yourself... just, promise you won't try this again... or this..." – Toya speaks, he takes your wrist in his hand, showing your scars, some of them fresh and some of them old.

"I care about you deeply... I don't want to lose you. I don't... I love you way too much to let you go"

He holds both of your hands tightly, as if you were to vanish within seconds. He wraps his arms around your waist and strokes your backs back and forth, a soothing and gentle motion.

"If... if that's the case... I'll try my best to also show you how much I care about you"

Toya, after that, will try his best to take smiles from you. Whatever if it's giving you gifts, hugging you, using words of affirmation, or making silly jokes, he will try his best. He also bakes a lot for you, your favourite things (and they're really, really good. Toya always think so much about you, he does his best to bake the best desserts and cook the best food for you ♥︎)

Later on that night, Toya brought you to your place and you two stayed in, playing games or doing anything that would make you happy and enjoy yourself. He will ask you if you two can cuddle, he would always ask if he could touch you in any situation~

Always remember... Akito and Toya will always be there to love you and care about you <3

They would never let something like this happen to you, you're too precious to them

Always have this in mind <3 stay safe

A/N: HELP ME I'm sorry if this got a bit too... uhhh... personal... cuz like I started adding some reasons to the reader's attempt of suicide, I had to think of smt and i ended up putting some of my feelings 😭 i hope u like it, stay safe guys <3 ty for sending me reqs and for the last 121 notes :P

[simonsomeriley]

please would you write for Ellie x doctor!reader in Jackson who looks after everyone and helps Ellie out after a patrol one day!

your wish is my command <3

1.3k words | gn!reader

You're walking on the slippery ice on the road of Jackson, you hear the sounds of children giggling through the streets, everything here just feels like home.

Even with the worries of whats going on outside, the little community you've all built together makes it at least a little bit better. Being able to help the people of your community, the children. Makes it all better, day by day.

In the morning, the elders go outside for their chit-chats and their coffee, watching the kids run outside. Playing football, drawing with chalk, finally being able to let kids be kids again.

The evenings are spent doing your jobs and your tasks, gathering supplies like wood, water refills, & food, the chefs are in the kitchen cooking up what they can make of what they have.

You, on the other hand, spend your evenings in the medical supply tent. Putting cartoon bandaids on kids' knees after they fall, stitching up some people who have fallen on the ice. And what you do best, take care of your self-proclaimed "hunters" after they've been out on patrol.

And the night time is spent with dim lights, cleaning up, & getting children ready for bed.

Your medical tent is usually up 24/7, just in case an emergency happens past usual work hours. If there has been a lot of cases in one day, usually the nice older lady that runs the bakery will get you a sweet treat as a reward.

You're just cleaning up the tent per usual in the afternoon, mopping the floor and sanitizing what tools you have. There had been Ellie's turn to go on patrol today, Ellie and Jessie together. They'd left a couple of hours ago, nothing seemingly out of order. Usually they'd stay out until it got dark, or in Joel's words "Testing God's patience."

You hear the sound of hooves, galloping, humans running to open the gates & lots of loud talking. It dies down after a while, you decide that it wasn't anything urgent. Assuming that if it was, you'd probably be called over for some look-overs for serious injuries.

You hear someone enter your tent, you look up from where you're sterilizing some needles. It's Jesse. He's alone. You'd just assumed Ellie came hand-in-hand with Jesse, realizing now that it wasn't the case.

"Anything happen, Jesse? Anything I need to get my emergency kit out for?" Jesse looks around, like he's familiarizing his surroundings, "Nah. To me? No. Ellie could use some help, though. Hopefully nothing too serious. She got some infected hangin' off of Shimmer,"

You stand up, gathering some items off of your desk and putting them in an over the shoulder bag, "She's fine though, right? No injuries, just some bruising I'm assuming?"

"If you're talking about the horse, Shimmer's fine. If you're talking about the human, Ellie's not lookin' too hot. Luckily the infected got off by the time we neared the gates. Think she hit her head pretty hard, though."

You walk over to the opening of the tent, where Jesse's standing in the makeshift "doorway", "I'll have a look at 'er. Make sure you get the horses in the stables, okay?"

Jesse backs up, walking out of the tent, "Sure, mom. Good thing there wasn't any major weather. The infected were hiding under the already fallen snow. No way to figure out whether there'd be infected under there or not. I'd say we made it out pretty good for how many of those monsters were out there,"

You're walking towards the gate now, some people are gathered there & discussing patrol curfew, horses & partners. You spot Joel by Ellie's side though, seemingly she looked fine a tad bit, bruised, with some minor cuts, you spotted no extreme injuries or anything major.

Jesse's walked over to the stables now, you approach Ellie with your bag over your shoulder, "How're you holding up, Ells? You aren't looking so hot,"

She whips her head around at the sound of your voice, from where she's standing talking to Joel. "I'm fine," of course. The default, tiring, awkward response. I'm fine.

"Really, I could take you to the tent and just get you checked over. Make sure you don't have any deeper-than-skin injuries that'll affect you later,"

She seems to nod and sigh in defeat, the all stubborn girl she is, and she walks with you by your side back to the medical tent.

"Jesse told me about the infected. Seemed pretty intense out there, huh? Glad Shimmer's alright and you aren't missing any limbs,"

She holds eye contact as you speak, looking away at the end of your sentence and widening her eyes, "Yet. Never know how many of those guys are out there, y'know? It's hard to tell in the winter time. S'like they run on freezing weather or something,"

You lift up the entrance of the tent for her as she leans down to get under it, "You're reckless, you know that? You should be more careful. Like Joel says, you only live once, at least make it worth the while," she winces as she bends down, and she tries to cover it up. You notice.

You sit her down at a chair with a pillow on the seat, "You're not very good at pretending, do you know that?"

The smug grin on her face tells you enough.

You dampen a washcloth in the sink, bringing it over to her and wiping at the dried blood stains on her face. Most of it disappears without trace. That's good, that means it's mostly coming from one place. Not many wounds.

She has an indent in her upper lip. You take note of it.

You ask her to take off her jacket, leaving her in just her band t-shirt and her jeans. You check her arms for any wounds, and once you reckon you've found every injury, you get out your needle and thread.

You figure the cut in her upper lip would heal on its own, recommending her some cleaning solution to keep on her bedside table.

You sew the cut in her arm together, from what looks like could broken glass or a hard slam against the ground.

You put a band-aid over the stitching, and you're now instructing her on how to keep the cut on her upper lip clean. She's completely out of focus with what you're saying.

You keep rustling in your stash, finding the cleaning solution and q-tips at last, demonstrating how to take care of it.

Her eyes are only focused on you. She watches you like you hung the moon and the stars up in the sky.

You come back to your senses after ranting about cleaning wounds & how to do it at home, and you realize that she's closer to your face than what you remembered. You could almost feel her cold-minty breath on your face if you focused hard enough. Her pupils are dilated.

It's been quiet for a while. Neither of you notice or bring it up. It's a comfortable quiet. A shared silence.

You feel her lip graze yours. You want to stop her. You want to tell her off for this so bad, you'd say, "Ellie, you have a fresh cut on your lip. This isn't a good idea," but still. You can't bring yourself to say it. Not when her closeness feels this good. This right.

She asks permission. After sitting in silence for the past couple of minutes, she asks permission, "Can I?" you freeze. You don't know what to say.

Her eyes are on you. You feel her heart rhythm. Her breathing. You nod your head to the best of your abilities when your head feels this clouded from her attention.

She leans in close, and the gap between your lips closes. You feel her lips on yours for long, a sweet, heart-warming kiss. You can practically feel her smirk against your face before you pull away.

"Might have to be reckless more often if this is what I get out of it,"

[lovegalor333]

fresh start

part three (chapter 7-9) previous part • next part

word count: 7.1k

content warnings: panic attack mentions of selfh*rm and depression

Lily

"What time does your shift start?" Madison asked me as we sat together eating breakfast in our apartment.

Kelsey and Hannah both had classes today so had already left but Madison and I had Wednesdays free.

"Not until 11." I glance at my phone, it was currently 9:45AM. "But I'm going to get there a little bit earlier because I don't actually know what I'm doing."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be fun!" My roommate reassures. "Are you nervous?"

"Kinda, I don't want to mess anything up and I just hope everyone likes me." I say honestly.

"Hey, who couldn't like Lily? You're a ball of sunshine!" Madison compliments, "Don't stress it, they know it's your first day, I'm sure they'll be easy on you."

"I hope so." I huff finishing off my cereal before taking my bowl to the kitchen to clean it.

I had almost completed my first full week at UConn and I counted my blessings that it had been going well. I had made friends, enjoyed my first taste of classes and found a job. All things that worried me when it came to transferring. I'd also unintentionally met Paige and I don't know what the future holds with that but it feels nice right now.

We hadn't seen each other since our 'date' a few days ago but we started an almost constant message thread on Instagram. Paige sent the first message yesterday morning and it's basically been nonstop, back and forth from us both.

As if she knew I was thinking about her, my phone pinged with a notification,

[lily.kent] paigebueckers

just spoke to janet, you will be with us today

try not to stare pretty girl, you'll distract me

I smiled at the confirmation that I would be working with Paige and her teammates today, it put my mind at ease considering I'd met most of them already and of course I'd get to see Paige.

I cliked on the dm she had just sent and replied,

i cant make any promises

It was 10AM and my phone pinged again with my daily medication reminder. I went to my bedroom and swallowed down the pills that were singlehandedly keeping me alive. Without them, my brain just doesn't know how to function, it goes into full self destruct mode and getting out of that is the hardest thing of all.

I definitely still have some days that are hard despite being on medication but they're easier to deal with and come around less often.

I had decided a second coffee of the day was a good idea and I had just enough time to pick it up from, what's quickly becoming my usual spot, before my shift started.

The late August air was still warm so I had opted for a low waisted pair of jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt that stopped just before my bellybutton so the perfect amount of skin was showing.

I picked up my favourite order of an iced caramel latte with almond milk and took a slow walk to the athletics building, taking in my surroundings. More and more students had returned to campus over the weekend and beginning of this week so it was busy.

It reminded me of my old college and for a moment I was back there, in Massachusetts with no friends and just having been outed and anxiety hit me like a truck I almost toppled over.

I navigated myself to the nearest bench and sat down in an attempt to regulate my strained breathing. I remembered what my therapist had told me about panic attacks and how to handle them. I focused on my senses.

What was one thing I could taste? Coffee.

What was one thing I could hear? My heart pounding.

What was one thing I could feel? My phone clutched tight in my hand.

What was one thing I could smell? The perfume I had sprayed earlier.

What was one thing I could see? My eyes were closed in an attempt to block out everything around me but I opened them and one thing I could see was someone walking towards me.

My vision was slightly blurred as it always is when I have a panic attack but as they got closer it was clear it was Kayla.

"Lily, are you OK?" She asks dropping her bag down and kneeling in front of me. 

"Yeah." I manage but it comes out unconvincing and shaky.

"Did something happen?" I can't even get myself verbalise anything this time so I just shake my head. Kayla quickly realises that I'm in so state to talk so she sits beside me and gently rubs my back until I eventually calm down.

"I have panic attacks sometimes." I tell the girl next to me, finally able to talk without feeling like my lungs were going to explode.

"How do you feel now?" She asks, a look of concern on her face.

"I'm OK now, a little shaky. They come out of nowhere most of the time." I explain, taking a sip of my coffee - which probably isn't helping.

"I can tell Janet you need to push back your start day, she'd understand."

I shake my head sternly, "No way. I'm not giving up before I have even started." I say standing up, my legs still slightly weak.

"It wouldn't be giving up Lily. Everyone has struggles." Kayla tries to empathise but I've already started walking to the athletics building again.

"I'm seriously fine, I've struggled with a lot worse than a panic attack." I blurt before realising Kayla knows nothing about my past.

"Ok, well maybe lets just take five before going in? You've still got fifteen minutes." She says looking at her watch.

"Ok." I give in and Kayla and I stand side by side as I take a few deep breaths.

"You got this and I got you." Kayla says after a few minutes of silence as she wraps me into a hug.

I hug her back, "Thank you, K. Sorry for the freak out, I can usually keep it under control."

"No need to apologise, I'm glad you weren't alone. Panic attacks can be scary." She says as we walk into the building and begin our way to the offices, a route I'm familiar with now.

"Do you mind not telling anyone?" I ask sheepishly.

I'd rather be the one to tell Paige about things, I didn't want her to hear it secondhand from anyone else.

Kayla mimes zipping her lips and I smile at her in response just before we step into Janets office.

"Hello Lily! Happy first day!" Janet beams standing up to greet me.

"Hi Janet, thank you. I'm super excited." I beam back putting on my best fake smile as I push back the remnants of the panic attack I just had.

Janet explains what my day will look like, "So the basketball girls are already on the court but open practice officially starts at 11:30. That's when you'll go in with the rest of the media outlets. You'll be working alongside Marcus who writes the sports column in the UConn newsletter. He'll explain your job more but write down as much as you can, take photos and videos and just be yourself!" She smiles and hands me a folder with the Huskies logo on the front with my name printed beneath it.

I open the folder and find a notebook, multiple pens and a mini microphone, the kind that plugs into your phone that you see tiktokers using in their videos.

"Oh there you are. Marcus, meet Lily. Lily, meet Marcus." Janet says and I spin around to the door that Marcus had just walked through.

"Hi Lily." Marcus says stretching out his hand for me to shake and I do. "Hi Marcus."

I wasn't expecting Marcus to be a fellow student but he was, he didn't look much older than me and had dark brown hair and eyes to match. He was handsome for sure, I'm lesbian but I could appreciate a mans beauty.

Marcus and I quickly acquainted as he told me exactly what we'd be doing today. It wasn't much different from what Janet had explained and before I knew it, we were walking down to the basketball court.

Paige

The ball had just left my hand and I knew it was cash, from my spot on the three-point line, when the doors to the court opened. My eye's flicked to the large digital clock on the wall, it was 11:30, media were here.

I watched intently as familiar faces filtered into the room and then one familiar face in particular brought a smile to my face, Lily.

Her effortless beauty always seemed to catch me off guard. Still being new to each other, I was seeing Lily in a new way each time. Today was the first time I'd seen her with her hair tied up, her perfect facial features on full display. She had a simple outfit on but the sliver of stomach on show between her jeans and shirt did something to me. I wanted to run across the court and hold her in my arms, feel her skin on mine, tell her how pretty she looked. Her smile shone from meters away and I could just about make out her sweet laugh over all the commotion going on.

I was so focused on Lily, I didn't notice the aggravatingly good looking guy stood beside her, until his hand came into contact with her arm.

Who was he and why was he touching her?

I watched intently as he pointed over to the stands where some of the media people had already began setting up. In all fairness, it looked like he was just explaining something to her but either way, he didn't need to make physical contact.

"You got some competition, P?" Jana joke nudging my side, obviously seeing the same thing as me.

I scoff, "That kids got nothing on me." I say and bounce the ball again few times before shooting another perfect three.

I glance back in Lilys direction to find her already looking in mine a small smile on her face, she raises her eyebrows and nods slightly as if to say "not bad", I give a quick bow in response and go to retrieve the ball.

We shoot around a little more before we all disperse to the different media outlets waiting to ask us questions.

My eyes fall to Lily more than I'd like to admit and I had to ask for a few questions to be repeated due to my lack of concentration. Lily never reciprocated any of my stolen looks because she was so engrossed in her job; jotting down notes, recording interviews and laughing along with the girls.

After what felt like an eternity, I was finally stood with Lily and Mr Shaggy Hair.

"Hi Paige, Marcus with UConn newsletter and this is-" Marcus introduced himself and tried introducing Lily.

"I know Lily." I say making eye contact with the brunette girl to the right of me.

"Hi Paige." She says softly, phone in hand already pointed in my direction.

"Paige, this was your first summer without injury, what did you do that you haven't been able to in previous years?" Marcus asks, pen poised to take an necessary notes.

I answered all of Marcus' questions before I had to move on, "Thank you, Paige. Nice speaking to you." He smiled genuinely. "Thank you, you too." I smiled back trying my best to also be genuine but probably failing.

I intentionally brushed my body against Lilys as I passed her, using my hands to manoeuvre around her small frame.

We wrapped media and hour or so later and the team and I were free to go but I lingered, shooting random shots while Lily and Marcus had a discussion before they packed up their things.

Marcus left but not before hugging Lily goodbye, I rolled my eyes watching the interaction before making my way over to her.

"My favourite journalist." I say draping my arm over her shoulder and pulling her close.

She laughed, "I wouldn't say journalist, I'm just helping out."

"Ok, my favourite helper-outer then." I tease and we both watch as the final few people exit the court, leaving us alone.

Lilys arm swiftly navigates itself around my waist and she steps in front of me, her other arm looping around my torso also so she was hugging me. Both my arms wrapped around her shoulders and we just held each other for a few seconds.

"So...Marcus?" I drag out looking down at the girl in my arms. I feel her body shake with a little giggle, "Handsome guy, right?" She says pulling away and looking up at me. A scowl forms on my face, "Not really." I say matter of factly crossing my arms.

"Oh, is this jealous Paige?" She asks jutting out her hip and placing her hand on the other. I turn away from her, "No..."

"Oh, I think it is." She says walking around and standing in front of me, extremely close, our toes are touching and her body heat is radiating onto me. She brings her hand to my face and directs me to look at her, "I am one hundred percent gay, Paige." Lily reassures her eyes looking directly into mine.

When we first met, Lily would never hold eye contact with me, as much as I tried but now she was and I could see every single fleck in her eyes. The light brown points making them sparkle under the bright lights.

"And I am one hundred percent regretting agreeing to keep this a secret." I say truthfully now bringing my hand to her face, stroking her cheek gently.

"But just us knowing is so..hot." She says soft and breathy. "The secret glances and touches." She continues, her hand smoothing down my chest to my stomach.

Her eyes linger on my lips and I run my tongue along them.

"Don't do that."

"What?" I ask innocently but a smirk creeps onto my face.

"Don't lick your lips while we're this close."

"Why not?"

She doesn't answer and we stand in silence, tension rising between us as the seconds go on. I move my free hand to her waist and pull her closer, if that was even possible and my hand on her face moves to her neck. I lean down and Lily leans up and after what feels like decades of waiting our lips reach each others and we kiss.

It's needy but delicate and everything and more that I'd imagined it to be. Getting a taste of Lily made me realise I'll never get enough. Her hands are all over me. My stomach, my back, my hips. She kisses me harder with an urgency I never knew I needed.

When we finally pull away from each other, both our chests are rising and falling at a quickened pace. Lilys lips are blushed and plump and they break into a soft, swollen smile.

"Let's get out of here," She says grabbing my hand, "and hope no one was watching the cameras." I'm still speechless as I follow her out of the basketball court, our hands linked together.

I drive me and Lily around Storrs for the best part of a few hours. Lily has her phone connected to my car and is playing her favourite songs.

Her playlists were filled with Lana Del Rey and I think it suited her perfectly. Lily was the embodiment of a Lana Del Rey song, the softness and vulnerability of Lanas vocals complemented the girl next to me without fault.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

Lily

I'd barely left the confines of my bedroom in the past two days. I only got up from my bed to pee and grab bottles of water which were now scattered around my room, empty.

Kelsey, Hannah and Madison had periodically been coming in to check on me and bring me whatever food they had ordered in or cooked that day. I'm guessing at some point during all of this, Kelsey had somewhat explained to our other roommates what she had discovered about me, because no one asked questions and that's how I liked it.

I didn't have the mental capacity to explain the way I was feeling or why I was feeling it when I couldn't even understand it myself.

After having the panic attack on Wednesday, everything inside of me felt...off. After throwing myself into my first day at work, I spent the afternoon with Paige and it gave my mind respite from itself. But once I was home and alone with my thoughts, they took over and refused to be tamed.

I went through Thursday in an altered state, so distracted by everything in my head, I felt like I was watching myself from a third persons perspective. The day didn't seem real.

One thing that was clear though was my time spent with Paige. She met me after my final class of the day and we just sat and spoke and enjoyed each others company. Things felt lighter with Paige, easier to handle but I was not Paiges responsibility and I was not about to become a burden to her either.

Kissing Paige on Thursday night was bittersweet because I knew I wouldn't be seeing for a few days at least. I could feel myself slipping into a deep depressive episode and along with that came a whole lot of self isolation.

I isolate myself when I get like this to save the people around me. I'm a ticking time bomb when my thoughts darken and I wanted to minimise the casualties. I was the only casualty allowed.

I cried when Paige dropped me home. I cried for me and this inevitable dark cloud that appears whenever it feels like it. I cried for her because she had no idea what was going on. I cried for us because things were going well and I was about to ruin it.

I skipped classes on Friday and slept most of Saturday. Sleeping when I feel like this is the only time I have that allows the feeling to pause.

It was Sunday now and my roommates had invited me to go to brunch with them, of course I declined. I think they knew deep down what my answer was going to be but they asked anyway.

Kelsey hugged me tight before they left, telling me to call her if I needed to, I just hummed in response and watched the girls with sympathetic smiles on their faces leave.

Getting up from my place in bed, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My hair was bundled in a bun on top of my head, undoubtedly tangled to hell. I had an oversized t-shirt on that I had previously cut to be off-the-shoulder. I looked a mess but I didn't have the energy or care enough to do anything about it.

The healed marks on my arm teased me to feel that of so familiar, temporary relief of physical pain. It was a mental battle that I had won up until today.

Paige

I knocked on Kaylas apartment door after hours, days actually, of deliberation.

"Oh hey, Paige." Kayla says smiling, opening her door for me to step in.

"Hi Kayla." I gave her a small smile in return that makes it obvious that somethings wrong. I've never been good at hidding my feelings.

"What's wrong?" She asks, perching on the edge of her couch.

I sit down too, unsure how to approach the subject without making overly obvious that something was going on between me and Lily.

"Have you spoken to Lily at all?" I ask, not really caring what Kayla thought, worry taking precedent.

She shakes her head, "No, I haven't. Not since Wednesday." She tells me. "Why?"

"I just haven't heard from her in a few days. I've tried messaging but had nothing in response." I explain.

It looks as though something clicks in Kaylas head when I say this but she doesn't speak up.

"What?" I push for her to say what she's thinking.

"Something happened on Wednesday. I promised Lily I wouldn't say anything though."

"What happened Kayla?" I ask, my heart rate increasing at the thought of something bad happening to Lily.

"I really can't say Paige. She asked me not to."

Ouch.

"She asked you not to tell me?"

"Not you specifically, anyone." Kayla says.

"I'm worried." I admit.

"Have you been to her apartment?"

I nod, "I walked past today and yesterday. I rang the buzzer but there was no answer."

"I could try calling her." Kayla suggests pulling out her phone.

"Please." I urge and watch as she presses call on Lilys contact.

The phone rings and rings and eventually goes to voicemail.

"I'm going to her apartment and if I have to break in, I will." Is all I say before leaving Kaylas apartment.

My mind reels with scenarios that could have happened to make Lily go completely MIA as I make the short trip to her building.

As I pull up, someone is leaving the apartment block and I jog from my car to catch the entrance door before it closes and I have no way of getting in.

I take the stairs two at a time to reach Lilys floor and I knock on the door.

Nothing.

I knock again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

Clearly her roommates were not home because they would have answered.

I knock again.

"Lily," I call out her name desperate for a response, "It's Paige."

I wait a while before knocking for the fourth time when I hear the latch of the door click and it slowly creaks open revealing Lily. She looks different, tired, like exhausted and...sad.

"Oh my god, Lily." I exclaim basically forcing myself through the door. "Are you OK?" I ask, my arms instinctively wrapping around her.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice is quiet and shaky and it takes me aback, she usually sounds so upbeat and cheerful.

"Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you for days. I went to Kaylas, she said something happened on Wednesday. What happened on Wednesday?" My words are rushed and messy.

"She had no right to tell you that. I asked her not to." Lily says, now out of my arms, she crosses hers over herself.

"I was worried. What happened Lils? Talk to me."

She just looks at me with heavy eyes and takes staggered steps towards the couch before sitting down.

"Is it me? Have I done something?"

"It's not yo-"

"Just tell me if I have. I'll fix it. I really like you Lily." I cut her off before she can finish her sentence.

"Paige." She says getting my attention, "It's not you. Please will you sit down."

"Was it Marcus? I'll kill him if he's done anything to you." I say now thinking of the worst possible things.

"Paige!" Lily says louder this time, "Just sit down." She flings out her arm that was across her chest motioning for me to sit next to her and as she does I notice array of white lines. Healed scars bestrewn across her wrist and inner arm.

She looks from me to her extended arm and quickly pulls it back to her chest before getting up and walking, fast to her room.

I follow after her in silence, unsure what to say in the moment.

When I reach her bedroom, shes pulling a sweater on over her baggy t-shirt.

"Lily.." I begin but I don't really know what to say next.

"You don't have to say anything Paige." She says, sensing my hesitation.

"I want to say something. I just don't know how." I tell her truthfully.

"Just say what you're thinking."

"What happened?"

"When - on Wednesday or what happened to cause my scars?" She asks sitting on her bed, crossing her legs.

"Both." I breathe out going and sitting next to her.

Lily inhales deeply, "I'll tell you, but I want you to know that's its OK if you want to leave after. I'll understand."

"I have nowhere to be today."

"No. I mean like really leave. Leave this," She motioned between us. "before it becomes something."

"Lily, why would I want to leave?" I ask genuinely. Theres nothing that she could say to me right now that would make me want to walk away.

"Because Paige, I'm a burden and being around me when I'm like this quickly becomes exhausting." She says, her head bowed down looking into her lap.

"Don't say that!" My voice comes out louder than I wanted and Lily looks up at me taken aback. "Sorry," I mummble. "but please don't say that. Being around you is not exhausting, I've never felt more alive than when I'm with you, Lily." I shuffle my body over to her, closing the gap between us on her bed.

We're side by side with our backs against the headboard, my legs extended in front of me and Lily's crossed in front of her. I place my hand delicately on her thigh to let her know I'm here whenever she's ready talk.

It takes her a while and we sit comfortably in silence, my hand on her leg and eventually her head on my shoulder, before she speaks.

Lily tells me everything. From her depression diagnosis at thirteen to her somewhat recent breakup and being outted and how that ultimately resulted in her attempting to take her own life. She explained the scars on her arm were self inflicted and she said it was hard to explain but she would rather feel something physically than mentally so thats why she did it.

As much as it was hard for her to explain, it was equally hard for me to understand. I didn't want to think of Lily hurt and understand it.

She had a panic attack on Wednesday that started this most recent episode. She said they come every so often without warning, she's on medication that helps her get through most days but she still has moments that she can't control.

I stayed mostly silent while Lily bravely shared such a vulnerable part of her. She cried at points and I wiped her tears but I didn't ask any questions, I just wanted to listen.

"Do you think I'm crazy." She sniffles, lifting her head from my shoulder to look at me.

I shake me head, "No baby. I don't think you're crazy. I think you've been through a lot in your life. A lot of shit that you didn't deserve. But what matters is, you're here. You're here trying, despite it all and I'm proud of you." I tell the doe eyed girl infront of me.

I place a hand on each of her cheeks and hold her face, wiping strays tears as they fall. I plant a kiss to her forehead, then one on the tip of her nose and I hover my lips over hers unsure if now is the time but Lily's the one to close the space, pressing her mouth to mine.

I kiss her gently at first as if scared to break her but Lily pushes deeper into the kiss, harder. Without breaking us apart, she manoeuvres herself on top of me, straddling my thighs. My hands find her hips like they were made for them and I hold on to her desperately as we continue to kiss.

"I don't want this to change the way you see me." Lily says breathlessly as we break away from each other.

"I knew you before I knew this and that's the Lily I see. The one who buys coffee for her friends when they're hungover, the one who smiles at everyone, the one who works hard. That's the Lily I know." I say to her as she stays sat in my lap, my hands caressing their way up her back.

"If it gets too much...if I get too much, I'll understand." Lily says playing with the strings of my hoodie.

"Can you stop saying stuff like that?" I take her hands in mine, "I want to be here. With you. Right now. Do you understand that? I'm choosing to be here Lily."

She nods a small nod letting me know she heard what I was saying.

Lily flips her leg off of me so shes back at my side. I shuffle down the bed slightly and pull her into me, my arm around her shoulders and head on my chest.

"One thing Lily," I say and she hums in response. "if you ever, ever get the urge to hurt yourself again, please come to me first. You're not alone anymore, I promise you."

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

Lily

This week was going considerably better than last week, thank god.

Paige had spent most of Sunday laid next to me in my bed, even when my roommates returned from their brunch plans, she didn't move. I was falling in and out of sleep for the majority of the day, my emotions had exhausted me and with my head on Paiges chest and my body encapsulated by her arms, I felt a sense of peace that I hadn't for a long time.

Paige reluctantly left my apartment that night after making me promise to never isolate myself from her again. She made it abundantly clear that I can always be open and honest with her and she'd never judge me. I made the promise, but I knew it would be hard to keep.

Wednesday had rolled around again and I had a completely free day. No classes, no homework and I wasn't due in work at all this week. From speaking to Marcus, it sounded like things got busier once the sports season really starts, which isn't until next week.

"Delivery for Miss Kent." Madison says in faux accent knocking on my bedroom door, coffee in hand.

"Ugh, I love you!" I say standing up from my place in bed and taking the iced drink from my roommate. I took a sip straight away and immediately felt like I could take on the day.

"What are your plans for today?" I ask Madison as we walk together from my room to the living room, each taking a seat on the couch.

"I have to get in the library today, how am I already behind? Actually, more importantly, who sets assignments on the first week?" She dramatically asks, eyes wide.

"Oh that's rough. My professors went easy on us." I say silently thanking the college gods.

"So what are your plans for today then?"

"I'm not really sure, I might take a walk around campus and maybe meet Kelsey when she breaks for lunch." I tell Madison my unofficial plans.

I wasn't sure what I'd spend my day doing but I knew I needed to do something, giving my mind downtime was dangerous. I didn't need to sit and think about everything, ever.

"Not seeing Paige?" Madison asks curiously and my head shoots in her direction but I try and play off my surprise.

"Um, no, why would I see Paige?" I lie.

I would love to see Paige today. I hadn't seen her properly since Sunday. I saw her on Monday when I'd popped into the office to meet with Marcus and we'd sneakily made out in an empty bathroom. And we'd briefly bumped into each other yesterday but she was with KK and I was with Kelsey so we kept it short. Maybe I'll message her and see if she's free.

"Oh I don't know, she only spent the whole day here on Sunday. In your room...with the door closed."

My cheeks flushed at the insinuation Madison was hinting at even though nothing like that happened between us. The most Paige I did was was kiss and OK, maybe I was in her lap and maybe I did get flustered and maybe I hadn't been able to stop thinking about her hands on my bare skin and her mouth on mine...

I'm texting Paige.

"We're just friends." I say matter-of-factly, standing up to go and find my phone.

"Uh huh," Madison pretended to agree, "sure you are."

Paige had finally asked for my number after days of using Instagram DMs as our only form of contact.

She had tried to save her contact as Buckets with a serious of drooling emojis but I overruled and we decided on Paige with a star emoji.

good morning p <3

good morning pretty girl

what are u doing today?

wanna hang?

miss me?

duh

ive got practice now but meet me after?

at like 11

i miss you too

ok see u soon 💋

I decided to take my time getting myself ready before meeting Paige. I took a hot shower and washed my hair using all my favourite products.

My phone was propped up on my vanity as i straightened my hair, Emma, my best friend from home, took up the entire screen as we were on FaceTime.

I caught Emma up on my first week at UConn, my account was explicit, there was nothing I couldn't say to my best friend. She begged for pictures of Paige but I didn't have any to send, "I'll take one today." I tell her as I begin applying my makeup.

I keep it natural with a skin tint, brow gel, mascara and of course lip liner, my one true love.

I bid farewell to Emma before hanging up, telling her I miss her dearly and she agrees that she has to come and visit me soon.

With my phone still in my hand, I decided to snap a picture and send it to Paige letting her know I'm ready.

I didn't expect one of Paiges usual quick responses considering she was at practice so I did the final touches to get myself ready before leaving.

Madison had called out a goodbye while I was on FaceTime so I left the empty apartment, locking the door behind me.

The walk to the training facilities wasn't far and took me less than fifteen minutes to reach. Even though I wasn't working today, I had my Staff ID badge around my neck to make it looked like I belonged there.

Walking into the building, I assumed I had arrived just after training had finished. The usual squeak of basketball shoes and balls was nowhere to be found. I made my way to the court peeking through the glass in the door seeing who was around.

My eyes landed on a lonely Paige, dribbling the ball before taking a shot. I couldn't see the basket but could only assume that UConns star girl had made it effortlessly.

I swung the door open and walked in, immediately grabbing Paiges attention. Her previous, serious expression softened as she looked at me, smiling now. We both took rushed steps across the court towards each other until we were face to face.

"Hello, pretty girl." Paige complemented wrapping me in a rather sweaty hug, I fake grimaced, "You're gross." I say trying to wriggle free but Paige is not only taller than me but stronger than me too, I was trapped. "You love my hugs." She protested still not letting me go, "Admit you love my hugs."

I did love Paiges hugs. They were so warm and comforting and I felt like nothing or no one could hurt me while I was bundled up in Paiges arms.

My lack of reply only makes the blonde girl hold me tighter, lifting me slightly off the ground, I let out a squeal, "Paige! Put me down!"

"Admit you love my sweaty hugs." She brings her mouth close to my ear to say that and the hairs rise on the back of my neck at the heat of her breath.

"I love your sweaty hugs." I admit in defeat as she lowers me down, my feet touching the floor once again.

"Thank you." She chirps pressing a quick kiss to my forehead.

"Where is everyone?" I ask looking around the empty room.

"In the locker room cleaning up." She nods her head over to a set of doors which I'm guessing leads to the locker rooms.

"Didn't feel like showering today?" I joke.

"Wanted to shoot around a little more, practice wasn't the best." She explains picking up the ball from where it had rolled to once she dropped it to hug me.

"I doubt that, Buckets." I smirk at Paige as she proves me right by sinking the cleanest three. She smirks back, "You want a go?"

I shake me head immediately, "No. No way." I say backing away from the basketball player.

She laughs and it echos around the court, "Come here, I'll help you." She insists beckoning me over.

"No Paige, I'll be terrible, I know I will." I remain adamant.

"You haven't even tried, have some faith in yourself. Now come here." The second half of her sentence is sterner than the first and the assertion of dominance catches me off guard.

"Yes ma'am." I mummble and walk back to Paige with slightly red cheeks.

"OK, stand here." Paige positions me on the free throw line, using her foot to push mine apart and using her hands to bend my arms in the way she wants. "Here." She hands the ball to me and I take if from her and she immediately giggles.

"What?" I huff, I knew I'd be terrible at this.

"You're so delicate with it." She smiles repositioning my hands on the ball, "Spread your fingers out more." I do as she says and she takes a step back as if admiring her work.

"OK, now shoot." She instructs and I do and it's terrible.

I throw the ball with all my strength and it flies out of my hands and smacks the backboard, missing the basket completely, before rebounding off and almost taking me out in the process. It acted more like a boomerang than a basketball.

Paige was quick to intercept the ball hurling towards me and caught it with one hand before tucking it under her arm.

She was trying her best to hold in a laugh as I just scowled at her and began to walk off.

"Hey, hey, hey." She called grabbing my arm before I could pass her, "That was a...good first attempt." She says leading me back to the same free throw line I'd just embarrassed myself on.

"Good? That's the exaggeration of the century!"

"One more go, I'll help." She hands me the ball again and I reluctantly take it, remembering to spread my fingers like last time.

Instead of standing back and watching, Paige steps behind me this time, her frame enveloping mine. We're so close I can feel her front pressed against my back, her hands cover mine over the ball and I wonder what we look like from an outside perspective.

Paige draws the ball back, my body moving in accordance with hers, before launching it forward and I watch in awe as the ball spins in the air before falling through the basket in a faultless swish.

"There you go baby!" Paige praises, her arms coming together around me, "That would've got you 1 point!" She says unwrapping herself from me, raising her hand for a high five.

I smack my hand to hers, even though that was entirely Paige, I was taking it as my bucket.

"And how many have you got?" I ask referring to points.

"Maybe like five thousand, career wide." She brags but I like it, Paiges confidence in her abilities is one of the most attractive things about her.

"I'm catching up." I tease picking up the ball once more and taking an unserious shot at the basket and to my surprise, I watch as it circles the rim before slipping through.

I snap my head towards Paige in shock, my mouth hung open, her expression mirroring mine.

"Sinking threes? OK Kent!" A familiar voice called out, it was Aubrey coming out of the locker room, a few of the girls following behind her.

"I try." I boast playfully, knowing it was a total fluke.

"Are y'all coming to grab lunch with us?" Ice called out, also emerging from the locker room.

I looked to Paige for her to answer, the girls were Paiges friends and I didn't want to ever feel like I was impending on their hang outs or make it too obvious that we had something going on.

"We actually have plans." Paige says and I raise my brows, did we?

"Cool! Catch you later." The team waved us goodbye as they all filtered off and out of the basketball court.

"What's these plans that we have then?" I ask Pagie once we're alone again.

"Oh, you know. Our usual."

Paige and I hadn't spent much time together in the few weeks we'd been acquainted and any time we were alone, the majority of it was spent with my mouth on hers and vice versa so I didn't know what our usual was.

I look quizzically at Paige, "Which is?"

"Well it requires a lot less distance between us," Say says returning the ball to its rack and walking over to me, "and hardly any talking." She finishes as she reaches me and dips her head slightly to kiss my lips.

I'm smiling as she pulls away, "Sounds like great plans."

"Give me ten minutes to shower and we can go back mine, seeing as the girls are out we'll have the place to ourselves." She tells me before jogging into the locker room.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part 42: Big News

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Life, however, had other plans for you and it was a Monday afternoon, exactly four days before your trip to Los Angeles, that you received some life changing news.

You had just finished yet another treatment session with your therapist who informed you that you were ready to walk unaided again, albeit slowly. No high heels and no strenuous activities for at least another week, but progress, nonetheless.

Exiting the therapy room with a smile on your face, life seemed to be looking up and, without your crutches, you made your way to the day-clinic adjacent to the therapy canter on campus to see your friend Lucy. 

You had been catching up with her every week for a coffee, following your sessions, but today, you were actually meeting her for something else. You had a medical appointment with her that day to get back on track with your general health.

Since the accident, you had been neglecting your iron levels for which, until then, you had been taking tablets every day. On top of that, you needed and wanted to get back on to some form of birth control, sensing Cillian's growing frustration of having to pull out whenever you were intimate with one another. 

As a medical student yourself, you knew that this wasn't even an appropriate method of preventing pregnancy and whilst Cillian had fantastic self-control, you knew not to push your luck. 

Having children was not on your radar right now. Your life was way too complicated to start a family  , and there were still so many things you wanted to do and achieve. However, the idea of growing old with Cillian was a comforting thought, and the possibility of having a child together one day was not entirely off the table. One day, in about five years or so, this would be a possibility.

 As you walked in the day-clinic, there was a line of people waiting to check-in and the atmosphere buzzed with activity as nurses hurriedly called out names and directed patients to the correct rooms.

Seating arrangements were limited, but there was a spare seat available by the window, not far from Lucy's consultancy room. 

Fellow students and nurses you knew quickly came to greet you, some even lingering a moment longer just to ask about your recovery, expressing their concerns and support. You exchanged pleasantries and politely nodded along as they peppered you with questions you had grown accustomed to answering. 

Finally, catching sight of your best friend Lucy, you greeted her excitedly and she quickly asked one of the nurses for your file before calling you into her consultancy room.

She gave you a warm hug as always before asking you to follow her. 

"How is the treatment going, babe? I can see the crutches are gone!"  exclaimed Lucy, a wide smile spreading across her face as she stepped back from the doorway. 

"It's going good, and I won't be needing the crutches for the Academy Awards it seems," you told her  , returning her smile with a bright one of your own.

"That's fantastic news, Y/N! I'm so fucking proud of you," Lucy said, beaming at you while she opened the medical cabinet and retrieved a few ampules and a syringe. 

"And how is Cillian? Is he getting nervous yet?" Lucy asked as you sat next to her on an exam table in her consultation room.

"Oh, he's a mess. But he won't admit it," you replied, chuckling softly. "He's definitely nervous and hopeful," you continued, your tone sincere and genuine. "But I know he is going to win that Oscar. He has to win,"   you said emphatically, your voice filled with confidence and conviction.

Lucy nodded her head in agreement. "He's a shoo-in for the award this year. It's about damn time!" she exclaimed with a grin, injecting some humor into the situation.

You chuckled, still amazed by how different your life had become in just a few short months. "It still feels surreal to me. Like it hasn't fully sunk in yet," you continued, running your fingers along the barrel of the ampule Lucy had placed next to you before taking a deep breath and rolling up your sleeve. "You know, he asked me to move to the suburbs with him?"  you said, smiling slightly as you looked up at Lucy, your eyes sparkling with hope and excitement.

Lucy's face lit up with surprise and excitement. "Oh my god, Y/N, that's amazing news! Are you going to do it?"

You nodded your head, your smile widening. "Yes. I mean, I love him and I think that I want to build a life with him. And I'm excited to see where that takes us," you answered Lucy enthusiastically, feeling your heart race at the thought of building a life with Cillian.

"That's fantastic, Y/N! I'm so happy for you," Lucy beamed, before moving on to discuss your medical issues. You went over your iron levels and Lucy took a few blood tests for you to be sent to the lab.

"We should have them back in a few days but you already know that, don't you?" she chuckled as she labelled the blood vials and placed them in the appropriate container.

"Yeah, I do," you replied, still grinning from ear to ear. "I actually can't wait to come back to work either, which will happen a week or so after we come back from LA," you exclaimed while Lucy  examined your files.

"So, birth control was another thing you wanted to get sorted, right?" Lucy then asked with a smile and you nodded.

"Yeah, I was thinking the depo shot,"  you said, knowing that it was a reliable and convenient method.

"That's a practical choice, but what have you been using until now? There aren't any prescriptions on your file since the accident," Lucy inquired, her brows furrowed in concern as she flipped through your medical file.

You looked away, feeling a little embarrassed at the truth you were about to reveal. 

"We have been using anything, just self-control measures really," you stammered out, cheeks heating as you avoided Lucy's gaze.

"Really Y/N?" Lucy laughed out loud. "Because, as a med student yourself, you should know better than that," she chided, but there was a playful tone in her voice. 

"I know, I know and that's why I am here,"  you admitted, blushing at your previous response. "I just... things have been hectic and whilst we didn't have any accidents yet, I don't really want to push my luck," you confessed, feeling a surge of embarrassment at being so open about your sex life with Lucy, but knowing that she was your best friend and would always have your back.

Lucy let out a chuckle, understanding your predicament. "Go and pee in the cup then while I get the depo shot ready," she chuckled, handing you a sample cup and gesturing towards the bathroom.

"Why do you need a urine sample?" you asked  , confusion flooding your visage as you walked towards the bathroom door.

"Well, before I give you the shot, I just want to rule out that you are not, -" Lucy began to say but you interrupted her.

"I am not pregnant, Lu!" you interrupted her, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. "We have been careful, I promise," you explained, feeling slightly annoyed at the implication that you wouldn't know if you were pregnant or not.

Lucy held her hands up in a defensive gesture. "I know that, Y/N. But this is the protocol now, and it's better to rule out any possibilities," she told you, her voice gentle as she smiled reassuringly.

"Now hurry up and give me the sample," she said, her tone light and playful.

You rolled your eyes again, chuckling to yourself, but you did as she asked and grabbed a clean urine container from the rack.

You knew that she was just doing her job and were aware of some rare cases where women fell pregnant from intercourse even where their partner did not finish inside. It was uncommon, but not impossible.

Upon returning to the examination room and handing the sample to Lucy, she nodded and took the container from you. "Thanks, babe," she said, her voice warm and understanding.

She then put on some gloves and opened the container to check the sample, dipping a dip-stick into it, before turning to you again.

"Now tell me, have you found a house yet?"  she asked as she began to prepare the injection.

"We have been looking at a few houses actually, yes," you replied, your voice filled with excitement. "It's a bit overwhelming, to be honest, but also really exciting," you continued, relishing in the thought of starting this new chapter in your life with Cillian.

"I bet it is!" Lucy exclaimed before turning back to the sample while you kept on talking about  the house-hunting experience.

"There is one place, though, that I think we both really like, but god I think it is way too expensive," you said with a chuckle while Lucy turned silent and pale. 

"Uh-huh," she simply murmured before putting another dip -stick into the sample.

"What, Lu?" you asked, seeing how your friend had become rather quiet and when she did not immediately respond and put yet another stick into  your sample, you became concerned.

"Lucy?" you probed further.

"Y/N, I, uhm," she began to say, her voice barely audible as she moved the chair next to the exam bed and sat down. There was a serious expression on her face that unnerved you, and she took a deep breath before speaking again.

"I am so sorry, I don't know how to say this but, babe, you are pregnant," Lucy blurted out, her voice trembling as she revealed the results from your urine sample.

At first, you didn't understand what Lucy had just said and then, almost instinctually, your chin dropped.

"That can't be right, Lu. We had no accidents and the chances of falling pregnant are -," you stammered, unable to finish your sentence, your mind reeling from the news.

Lucy gave you a sympathetic look. "I am sorry, babe, but I just checked three times. You are definitely pregnant," she confirmed, her voice still trembling slightly.

You felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. The news was too much to process, and you sat there, frozen in shock.

"No, no, no,"  you muttered, shaking your head as you tried to wrap your mind around the unexpected turn of events.

Lucy reached out and placed a comforting hand on your arm. "I know this isn't what you were expecting, but it's not the end of the world," she reassured you, her voice gentle. "There are options and you know that already," she  said, not needing to remind you of your medical studies.

You nodded numbly, still not able to completely process the news. Your mind was racing with thoughts and questions, but none of them felt clear or rational. You simply felt overwhelmed.

"Can you give me a script for mifeprestone?"  you asked Lucy, your voice almost robotic as you tried to process the news. Your mind was still reeling, and you found it hard to believe that you were actually pregnant.

Lucy nodded. "Of course, I will write it up for you, but we need to get an ultrasound first before the gynecologist on call will sign off on it," she explained, her voice soft and soothing.

"Can we do it now? I can walk over to the maternity ward," you told Lucy, trying to stay calm as the reality of the situation sank in.

"Sure, I will come with you. I am due for my break anyway," Lucy agreed, her voice still gentle as she stood up and walked over to her computer to write the prescription and necessary referrals.

As you waited for Lucy to print out the script and referrals, you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. You were surprised, scared, and a little disappointed, but you also knew that you had options. And you were grateful for that.

After Lucy handed you the script, you both walked over to the maternity ward in silence. It was a short walk, but it felt like an eternity.

You kept up a brisk pace, your hand clenched tight around the prescription slip. Lucy walked alongside you, her arm linked in yours, offering comfort and support.

Inside the maternity ward, you found yourself waiting in a crowded reception area. A nursing assistant called out names, directing patients to the various stations and clinics. You glanced around, your eyes scanning the crowd, feeling both overwhelmed and self-conscious.

Minutes ticked by, and you wondered if they would need to wait much longer before someone could assist you. But then, a woman with a warm smile approached you.

"Y/N, right?" she asked, her voice friendly and welcoming and you nodded, relieved that your turn had finally come. 

The nurse led you both to a private consulting room where she quickly scanned your documents and checked your vitals. After a brief discussion about your issue, she nodded sagely, understandably nodding her head at your request. 

"Alright Love, jump up on the table for me. I'm just going to take a quick scan, just to confirm the dates and then we can get one of the doctors to sign off on your prescription," the woman said and it took every ounce of energy and self-restraint you could muster not to cry. 

You laid down as indicated and lifted up your jumper slightly to reveal your belly as the nurse carefully applied gel to the transducer and began swirling it around, taking measurements of the embryo growing inside you.

The images she projected onto the screen hung above the bed were black and white, but to you, they seemed more vivid and impactful than any colorful picture could ever be. You could clearly see the tiny developing limbs and torso, akin to a tiny alien who had somehow managed to taken root in your womb. The movements were minute and almost imperceptible, the size scarcely larger than you had expected.

"Holy shit," you said almost as at the same time as Lucy as you realized from seeing the pictures along that you were much further along than you had anticipated. 

"I am sorry to ask, but when was your last  period?" the nurse inquired gently, her voice not judgmental, but full of concern, as she cleaned the transducer.

"About four months ago, before the accident," you admitted, still staring intently at the images on the screen, your mind struggling to comprehend the reality of the situation. "But when I asked the surgeon about it during one of my follow up appointments, he said that not having a period for a while was normal, especially after an accident like mine,"  you continued, feeling an eerie sense of confusion settle over you.

The nurse nodded understandingly. "It's true that sometimes women experience temporary amenorrhoea after a traumatic incident or surgery, but it's unusual for it to last for this long," she explained gently. "You are about 19 weeks pregnant , honey," the nurse said softly, patting your hand gently.

You felt a sudden wave of emotions overtake you, a mixture of confusion, fear and disbelief. How had this happened? You had always been so careful, taking every precaution to avoid an unplanned pregnancy, especially before the accident. And yet, here you were, sitting on a cold exam table, staring at the ultrasound images of a baby that you had never expected to have.

"Are you sure there are no mistakes?" Lucy asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she squeezed your other hand, trying to offer you comfort. "I mean, she would have been pregnant before the accident, so why wasn't it picked up then?" Lucy asked, her voice a mix of confusion and concern while the nurse called in one of the head gynecologists who, later, explained that you could have fallen pregnant just before the accident, which is why it wasn't picked up in the tests. It was simply too early to tell. 

But as the doctor went over the results in detail, explaining the situation to you both, one thing became abundantly clear: there could be no mistaking it. You were definitely pregnant.

The room seemed to spin around you. You couldn't believe it. You hadn't thought it was possible. You blinked hard, trying to push back the tears that were threatening to spill over. " I... I can't have a baby. Not now," you whispered, your voice shaking as you tried to hold it together. "I don't know if I can do this."

Lucy leaned in closer to you, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "Hey, it's going to be okay," she said soothingly. "And maybe it's a sign, babe. Maybe this was meant to be because, for a fetus to survive what your body went through in those last three or four months, is pretty remarkable," Lucy said, her voice gentle and soothing, her eyes filled with encouragement and hope.

You nodded, understanding where Lucy was coming from. And she was right, it was a miracle that the baby had survived the accident and the subsequent surgeries and treatments. But still, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events.

"With the medication and treatments I had those last few months, what are the chances of damage to the baby?" you asked, your voice now shaking as fear gripped your chest.

"The risk is minimal, with all the medications you have received being either A Class or B Class medicines, and the fetus looks well developed, so I wouldn't worry,  but let's have a closer look at the organs for any abnormalities, " the doctor reassured you, smiling warmly before conducting a more detailed ultrasound, carefully examining every organ of the growing fetus.

Minutes passed, and Lucy kept squeezing your hand, maintaining eye contact to reassure you as you watched, in utter amazement and disbelief, as the doctor pointed out the different organs and limbs on the screen.

The little being inside you was kicking and moving, a testimony to its vibrant health and development.

Finally, the doctor nodded and turned off the machine. "All is well in there, and the baby is healthy and growing perfectly," he then finally said, and you  couldn't help but feel a wave of relief wash over you, even though you were by no means ready for this.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" you asked almost as if you were in a trance  , still not quite able to comprehend the enormity of the news.

The doctor nodded and gestured to the ultrasound screen. "Well, this area here would indicate that your baby is a boy," he said softly, pointing to a slightly wider section in the grainy, black and white picture.

You kept staring at the ultrasound screen, unable to tear your gaze away from the small, wriggling figure. "A boy," you murmured softly, almost to yourself before breaking out in tears. 

You couldn't help but feel a pang of fear and uncertainty in that moment.

You had never dreamt of becoming a mother, at least not this soon, not under these circumstances. And although you knew that you could rely on Cillian to support you, you were still hesitant to bring a child into the world so abruptly. 

With everything that was going on in your lives, the timing was absolutely terrible and you were unsure whether or not motherhood would break you. You weren't ready for this and not to mention the fact that your relationship was still very new and complicated.

You had no idea how you would  explain this to Cillian and the thought of telling him made you sick to your stomach.

NOTE: Yes I know I am predictable. I cannot help myself! I love writing pregnancies into my fics, so no judgment please.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[endless-summer-soldier]

dr. feelgood - chapter one

pairing: Surgeon!Bucky x SurgicalIntern!Reader

summary: Y/N has a one night stand with a handsome stranger the night before starting her new job as a surgical intern. Little does she know, the handsome stranger also happens to be her new boss

warnings: must be 18+, drinking, some surgery descriptions, smut, self-pleasure, praise kink, very minor character death

word count: 1.2k

series playlist: here (I'm still finalizing this so it might change)

taglist: @sebsgirl71479 @ozwriterchick @notmeddy (message me to be added!)

series masterlist

There was a stranger in my bed. A very handsome, naked stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. I rolled onto my back and tried to piece together the events from last night, but all I could remember was tequila. Too much tequila.

I crawled out of bed and headed for the shower, hoping the stranger would sneak out while I was in the bathroom. Today was a big day and being hungover was not part of my plan. I chugged some water and took a few Advil before I rinsed all of last night off my body.

When I walked back into my bedroom, Handsome Stranger was still in bed, but he was awake, which was progress.

“You forgot to invite me into the shower with you,” he said, sitting up in my bed. I gave him a small smile and said, “Let’s not do this. Last night was really fun, but I need you to leave.”

“Kicking me out already? No breakfast? No morning sex?” 

“I’m starting a new job this morning and I really need to get ready,” I said. I grabbed the stranger’s clothes from the floor and tossed them at him.

“Wow, you really are kicking me out. This is going to impact your rating in my little black book.”

“Do you even remember my name?” I asked.

“Is it Lindsey? You look like a Lindsey.”

I chuckled, “It’s not Lindsey.”

“Okay, well I may not remember your name but I do remember the mind-blowing sex we had last night.”

“Can’t argue with you there.” I walked over towards him wrapped only in my towel and held my hand out, “Y/N”

“Bucky,” he took my hand and gave it a solid squeeze before letting go.

“Look Bucky, I’m sure you’re really great but I can’t do this right now. I have to focus on my career. Yes, I had a great time last night, but this can’t happen again. So I really do need you to go.”

He held both hands up in surrender, “Fair enough, I appreciate the honesty. I will get out of your hair.” He took his clothes from the heap on the bed and started putting them back on. I retreated back to the bathroom to dry my hair and brush my teeth. I let Bucky collect his things and leave without another word, avoiding any further awkward conversation.

I finished getting ready and could swear I smelled coffee, likely just my brain tricking me. When I departed down the stairs I heard the coffee maker brewing and froze, knowing I didn’t start the machine. There was a note scribbled on the white board attached to my fridge that read:

Good luck on your first day. Coffee’s on me :) - B

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered to myself. At least he didn’t leave his phone number because I might’ve been tempted to text him. A new guy was the last thing I needed right now. So I poured myself a travel mug full of coffee and departed for the hospital.

It was strange to be dressed in periwinkle scrubs and a lab coat. All through medical school, I dreamed of this moment, when I would finally be a surgeon. And yet, putting on the scrubs felt wildly underwhelming.

I stood in a group with my fellow interns as our resident, Dr. Palmer gave us a tour of the hospital and a run down of our basic expectations. I exchanged glances with a few of the interns in my group, but we didn’t have an opportunity to talk much.

The first day was fairly routine. We each had a chance to present on a patient and answer questions that Palmer asked us. The cases were all fairly routine which was a relief. Then we were sent off to the ER to complete basic examinations, take blood, and sew sutures. They were easing us in, which was a relief since I was still a little hungover, but I knew in the coming weeks we would be exposed to more and more.

Dr. Palmer introduced us to Dr. Stephen Strange, who was a world renowned neurosurgeon and apparently Palmer’s fiance. It wasn’t uncommon for doctors to be involved with fellow doctors because our work schedules were so demanding. Strange was curt and arrogant, but clearly highly intelligent and it would be a great experience to work underneath him. But I was most eager to meet the Head of Trauma, Dr. James Barnes. I’d read a lot of his articles and respected his resourcefulness as a former doctor for the Army. He had the kind of experience that couldn’t be taught in a hospital and I wanted to soak up as much of his knowledge as he was willing to give.

About halfway through the 12-hour shift, I found my way to the break room for a cup of coffee. The coffee pot was steaming which was fortunate because it meant a fresh pot had just been brewed. I poured myself a generous cup and added just a splash of cream. 

As I took my first sip, a voice called from behind me, “Not as good as tequila, but it works wonders.” 

I spun around and found handsome stranger smirking at me, clad in navy scrubs and a white lab coat. 

I’m sure my jaw was on the floor, but I did my best to cover up my shock, “What are you doing here?”

He walked over toward me and poured himself a cup of coffee, “I could ask you the same thing. Was my coffee this morning so good that you had to come here for more?”

I was too stunned to respond to his sarcasm, “I’m sorry, do you work here?”

He looked at me patronizingly. “What does it look like?” He held his arms out, drawing my attention to his scrubs.

This couldn’t be real. I was about to pinch myself to test out my pain receptors when I caught a whiff of him. Ginger, bergamot, and citrus. The same heavenly scent that I had inhaled when I made my bed this morning.

 “So this is the new job, huh?” he asked me. I couldn’t even formulate a response but he didn’t miss a beat, “Very impressive, truly. This is one of the best programs in the country.” I simply nodded, trying to calculate the quickest way out of this conversation.

Luckily I was saved by my resident. Dr. Palmer entered the break room and interrupted the conversation.

“Dr. Barnes, I see you’ve met one of my interns.”

My heart dropped into my stomach. Handsome stranger was Dr. Barnes. The Dr. James Barnes who I’ve admired for years and was incredibly excited to work with. And I drunkenly slept with him last night without even knowing who he was. I could feel my career slipping through my fingers.

“Yes, I was just about to introduce myself,” he stated. He extended a hand to me, “Dr. James Barnes, Head of Trauma.”

“Dr. Barnes, pleasure to meet you,” I faked enthusiasm. “I’m Dr. Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

“Dr. Y/L/N actually has a special interest in trauma, if I remember correctly,” Palmer added. 

“Is that so?” Barnes said, looking at me with amusement. I merely nodded with a smile and he said, “Well, it sounds like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. If you’ll excuse me, I have to scrub into the OR in about 30 minutes.”  

He walked out of the break room but then popped his head back in, “Looking forward to working with you Dr. Y/L/N.” I could see Dr. Palmer trying to piece together the interaction so I scurried out of the room before she could question me.

next chapter

[ros3ybabe]

Daily Check-in: Sept 6th, 2024 ☕️

My breakfast from yesterday, the amount of time I spent studying Japanese today, and the book I finished reading today! Still need to complete homework, journal, and so my self care night routine, but today's been pretty good <3

☀️ What I Accomplished:

moved the remainder of my stuff out of the house I left

put away clean laundry

cleaned and organized around my room and bathroom

picked up my ulta package from the apartment front desk

applied for a front desk position at a nearby medical wellness center 🤞

studied Japanese for 27 minutes

read for ~55min, completed the book I was reading, 7/10, it was a good read but way too much happened at the end, felt rushed

💐 Random Stuff From Today

tried vanilla fairlife protein shake in my iced coffee, 7/10 for flavor, ended up hurting my stomach

forgot to take creatine today haha

didn't work out, but I did take a nap so I think I made the right decision

making mac and cheese for dinner

wasn't as excited about my ulta package as I thought I'd be

joined the Step Up app (lemme know if anyone wants to be friends on it to "compete" and get our steps in!)

looked for a small vanity to replace where my 2nd dresser is + looked at walking treadmill pads on Amazon

my boyfriend works late tonight so idk if we're gonna video call ☹️

got to spend a little bit of time with my dad today

👑 Stuff For Tomorrow (Saturday, Sept 7th)

work an ~8 hour shift

morning youtube pilates workout for sure, but maybe do some carduo after work? we shall see

finish up any remaining homework

study japanese 15+ minutes 📕

morning + night journal

do my skincareeeee

perhaps do laundry again because I forgot to wash some items

today has been a really good day, I'm very happy with how it's gone! tomorrow is gonna be a good day too, I can't wait.

til next time, lovelies 🩷

[keouil]

all the shapes my bones answer to

"what do you mean you all went to okinawa without me?" shoko seethes. nanami already regrets coming down for breakfast. 12k. sashisu + tokyo five. okinawa!au. also on ao3.

You will fall in love with your friends.  You will create a second family with them,  a kind of tribe that makes you feel less vulnerable.  Sometimes our families can’t love us all the time.  Sometimes we’re born into families,  who don’t know how to love us properly. They do as much as they can but the rest is up to our friends.  They can love you all the time, without judgement.

RYAN O'CONNELL

We'll dream of a longer summer but this is the one we have: I lay my sunburnt hand on your table: this is the time we have.

ADRIENNE RICH

沖

"What do you mean you all went to Okinawa without me?" Shoko seethes.

Nanami pauses near the landing of the stairs, half a leg midway from taking that final step and debating whether it was already too late to turn back. Picture this: it's a sunny Saturday morning, the pale-eye uguisu are early in serenading each other beneath the rustle of the forest, and the smell of fresh bread and coffee is tempting from the hallway. Tempting enough to reconsider the comfort of his bed over the comfort of caffeine in his system because God knows he’s going to need it. All of them miraculously have the day off from killing or making sure they don't kill each other with their schedules so rarely aligning like this. 

Nanami already regrets coming down for breakfast.

He makes the step anyway, bracing himself as he rounds the corner to assess which wrath he was going to be subjected to again today. Gojo was dramatic, Getou had a penchant for self-flagellation, and Shoko was somehow a deadly combination of both: he’d learned all these the hard way.

But instead it's Haibara he sees sitting across from said melodramatic seniors, eyes darting up nervously between all three of them as a half-eaten bagel hung loose from the corner of his mouth. Nanami fixes himself a plate—generous with the bacon, because again, he needs it—before sitting down next to him. He nudges at him to close his mouth all the while trying not to roll his eyes at Gojo’s pathetic attempts at self-preservation at 8 o'clock in the morning.

“We were there for like three days,” insists Gojo, hand on his hips and sweat down his brow despite the AC on full blast. “Max. Promise.”

Lies, Nanami thinks but doesn’t say, enjoying their flailing as he munches on a tomato. They had to rebook their flights twice. Then another one because Gojo didn't like the in-flight meals they offered.

"And it was a last-minute thing," adds Getou, placating. "You can even ask Haibara."

Well shit—

Shoko immediately whirls in on him. Haibara, in turn unprepared, still had his mouth full of natto rice and could only stare dumbly at her before directing a betrayed expression at Getou for ratting him out. "I w’snt—" Haibara starts, half-chewing, half-mumbling. "Idn’dnt—”

"Oh, leave the kid alone," interrupts Gojo, turning to face Shoko on his own. "I did it. I called them. For back-up. For the Star Vessel thing."

Shoko looks up towards the ceiling, breathing slowly through her nose. "And you didn't think to call the medic."

“Yaga said you were busy," defends Gojo, dumb.

"I'm always busy!" Shoko snaps at him. "Never too busy for Okinawa, however!"

"You hate out of town missions," Getou points out, dumber.

Good lord, Nanami thought. They were going to be here all day.

"I don't hate the beach," Shoko crosses her arms, glaring daggers at them both. “I don’t hate Okinawa.”

Did Nanami imagine it, or did they somehow shrink an inch? This was a common enough sight for them, he thinks: Shoko standing her ground, arms crossed, glowering at them for one thing or another. Their staring contests never lasted for an extended period of time to actually mean anything, could never stabilize itself any longer than a few seconds because aside from being pathetic, Gojo and Getou were also incapable of enduring eye contact with a seething Shoko. It's a toss-up between who breaks first.

Evidently, it's Gojo today.

"Alright, fine, okay," he relents, sighing into his shoulders. "...Sorry for excluding you."

Shoko was still eyeing him. "And?"

Gojo blinks, turns to Getou, who also looks just as unsure. Dumb and dumber. "...And?"

Shoko clicks her tongue impatiently. "And."

Getou hits the light bulb moment next. "And sorry for not bringing you back a souvenir?” 

Shoko huffs, finally settling back down the table and rifling through some of Haibara's edamame. “Took you long enough.”

"...We didn't?" Gojo whispers lowly from the corner of his mouth when he sits down next to her, craning his neck backward to get Getou’s attention. “Are you sure?”

Getou settles himself on her other side, also leaning back to cup a hand around his mouth, only to say in an intentionally loud voice that did piss poor of hiding his words, "You ate it all."

Haibara chokes on his food. Nanami stifles a laugh by offering him water.

Shoko stomps Gojo's foot from underneath them. His knee drives up to the table in turn and he curses out loud—shit fuck shit—and is just about to yell at her when she silences him with another glare. 

"That's two," she warns. "I wouldn't get a third."

Nanami decides he doesn't wanna get a third either. He edges his plate of nori closer to her. Shoko shoots him a thankful glance, only to have it sharpen sideways again when Gojo nuzzles closer to her like a pathetic wet puppy.

"So mean," Gojo pouts, rubbing his cheek over her shoulder.

Shoko decides she doesn’t hear or see the leech clamped up all over her arm. “So anyway,” she nods at them. "Did you guys have fun at least?"

Nanami breathes out a collective sigh of relief along with everyone on the table, voices immediately talking over each other.

"Okinawa was amazing—" Getou starts.

"The beach is really something else—" Haibara gushes.

"We even got to choose the crab we—" Nanami piles on.

…Only for all their gushing to be effectively silenced by Shoko shriveling up her juice box in one hand. Gojo winces at the sight. Then she starts to laugh, a tiny one at first, really more of a dry chuckle. "The beach, huh?" She surveys them one by one, a glint in her eye and the devil in her smile. "And crabs, too? Wow. That’s — good. Really good. Just amazing." Then she starts clapping, Gojo becomes very still, and Getou thinks maybe staring down the barrel of a gun would feel less anxiety-inducing than predicting Shoko's erratic mood swings. "That's just so nice. I’m so happy for you guys. I really am. Nice tan, Nanami."

Nanami gulps, unused to being the center of attention much less her temper. From his peripheral, he sees Getou shake his head imperceptibly, the infinite turn of a head both ways that tells him not to do or say anything in return for his own good.

"And Haibara-kun, too," Shoko adds gleefully, gesturing at his chest. "Nice seashell necklace."

Nanami wants to groan into his hands. If Haibara just listened to him and threw out that absolutely atrocious piece of child's craft he called jewelry—

"Cool cool cool," Shoko finishes, looking at them sweetly, the same saccharine smile plastered all over her face. "And what was I doing, you ask, while you were all getting tanned by the beach and swimming with the dolphins?"

Gojo lifts his head a little. "We didn't swi—"

Getou smacks his head from behind. "Shut up."

"...right here, in miserable raining Tokyo," Shoko continues, ignoring them, breaking off a piece of croissant Nanami traveled all the way to downtown Harajuku to get yesterday. She finishes it one bite and he has to bite back a mewl. "Cleaning up all the curses you brought my way the week before. Embalming. Filing autopsy reports. Excavating organs."

Haibara swallows. "A-And we thank you for it, I-Ieiri-san."

Shoko quirks a brow. Nanami sees Getou's hand flex in preparation for something, Gojo still just pathetically weeping into her shoulder for forgiveness. "You're thanking me for doing my job?"

Oh god, Nanami thinks. Haibara is going to die early.

Nanami knocks Haibara’s knee from under the table, a warning not to answer what was obviously a trick question. He sees Getou glaring daggers at him to do the same. But Haibara sometimes was just as clueless with social clues as Gojo was, and so says to his and everyone's absolute demise: "Well someone has to, right?"

Oh god, Nanami thinks. I’m gonna kill him myself.

But Shoko just blinks, then blinks again, her eyes clearing into something surprisingly somber and less the jilted outsider she assumed herself into a few moments ago. She clears her throat once, twice, before leveling both Gojo and Getou a look. "Hear that, boys?" she chides. "A thank you would be nice every once in a while."

Gojo sputters. "We thank you—"

"Sending me a gift basket of transfigured body parts because you think I enjoy mutilating them is not a thank you," she glares down at him, before getting to Getou. "And neither is getting me tickets to see a live organ transplant on a guinea pig.”

Getou is so close to pulling his hair out. “Well,” he starts. "What kind of thank you do you want then?" 

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, thinks Nanami, watching both his seniors so easily fall hook, line, sinker where she was concerned. Because Shoko doesn’t even hesitate when she meets their challenge head on, looking straight into his eyes when she says: 

"Okinawa."

That finally gets Gojo straightening up. “That’s it?” he says. “Easy fix then. Want me to plan everything?”

“We need permission from Yaga-sensei,” reminds Getou. “We can’t just go on another week-long trip so soon after that last tone.”

“We can and we will,” arches Gojo right back, not so subtly jabbing his head at Shoko who grew suspiciously quiet, hand on her chin as she contemplated something. “Listen, I’ll even pay for eve—”

Shoko shoots out a hand to stop him. Gojo shuts up right away. “You know what?” her eyes go over each of them, a lightbulb going off in her head as she smirks, wicked. “I have a better idea.”

𓇼

“Haibara-kun, your ass is in my face.”

“Sorry!”

“Whose knee is in my shoulder?”

“...Mine.”

“Move.”

“I will if Getou would just stop hogging the space.”

“I am not— ”

They hear a crash on the other side of the door.

Gojo blinks. “Did something just—”

Getou hushes him. “Be quiet!”

They all had their ears pressed against the door outside of Yaga's office, listening in on muffled sobs and well-timed wails for the past half hour. Nanami was perched uncomfortably low on the ground, trying to angle his ear to hear better with Gojo’s hands braced against his shoulders for balance. Haibara was crouched down with him, Getou knocking on their backs every so often to get better purchase with the wall.

On the other side, Shoko was putting on a goddamn show and they were hanging on to her every word. They hear the panic in Yaga's voice trying to still her growing rampage and have to bite down their laughs. It's pitiful, really, how fast Yaga caved. Barely five minutes into her hysterical crying his chair was already creaking backward, he was already stammering an apology he didn’t know what for, was already profusely offering the tissue box on his desk no one ever uses because no one ever cries to Yaga of all people. 

Evidently Shoko knew that. 

Evidently she was going to take full advantage of the novelty.

"So mean, sensei!" she wails some more, adding a few strategic sniffles and hiccups here and there. "You’ve always liked the boys better than me!"

"That's—" they hear Yaga start nervously. "That's not true!"

Shoko pulls out the big guns. "I knew it!" she sniffles, wails, hiccups all in rapid succession. "You're just like him! You’re just like my dad! He said he always wanted a boy, too!"

"Oh god," Getou swears under his breath. "Not the daddy issue card."

Gojo clicks his tongue. "Low blow, Shoko. Just downright cruel."

Shoko keeps going. "...And then he—" Hiccup. "He stopped—" Another sniffle. "He stopped hanging out with me because—" She kept going, breaking and stopping, before finally crying out, "Because he said I developed early!"

Now it was Nanami's time to groan. "Jesus Christ," he actually says. "She's not actually going there is she?"

Getou looks down at him. "This is your Ieiri-senpai," he points out. "What do you think?"

Haibara shakes his head. "Bad day to be Yaga-sensei."

"Bad day to be around Shoko's time of the month, period," agrees Gojo, squishing himself closer to the door.

Shoko was still hysterical albeit a little muffled now, with Yaga's patient but so painfully awkward attempts at consolation the only thing they hear aside from her abating sniffles.

"T-There, there," Yaga tries. "I-I'm sure your dad is proud of you, nice guy, him..."

Getou winces. "Oh no, sensei," he says. "You don't side with the man. Ever."

Gojo nods along. "Right, right?" he says. "Even I know that!"

Nanami brings his ear closer just in time to hear Shoko steady herself, presumably after crying some more into the tissue, when she tells Yaga in a suddenly much clearer voice: "Then what will you give me for an apology?"

"Damn," Gojo whistles. "That's our girl." 

They start talking in much lower tones that’s harder to hear from across from the door, and Nanami can only hold his squat for so long before his knee finally gives out, and Gojo leaning his entire weight on him certainly wasn’t helping either—

Then Getou senses the movement first. "Shit," he warns, tugging on the necks of Nanami's and Haibara's uniforms. "She's coming!"

The door opens to Shoko still visibly fake whimpering, slowly nodding along to whatever lingering words of support Yaga was rushing out to say to get her to just stop doing her emotions thing, before she closes it with a soft click but not before promising Yaga she’ll do her best to feel better. When the lock finally clicks in place, her face immediately sharpens into something less sad and more sinister. A grin slowly weaves its way into her face, teeth slipping at the corners and diamonds lighting up her eyes.

Shoko holds up a single plastic rectangle that looks suspiciously like Yaga's black card. "And that boys,” she declares, “is how it's done." 

Nanami can only look dumbly on as Getou heaves her up on his shoulder, with Gojo’s cries of triumph and Shoko’s maniacal laughter following them down the hallway as they make a beeline for the dorms to start packing.

“Damn,” Haibara says next to him, equally starstruck. “That’s our seniors.”

𓇼

The first real problem starts with Gojo and Getou fighting over the window seat.

"But you got it last time," argues Getou, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I ended up standing up the entire time," reminds Gojo, not budging.

"No one asked you to," Getou points out.

“Uh, Amanai, Misato..” Gojo lists off. “The entire Star Vessel Group who literally commissioned us to take care of her?”

Nanami could only look in embarrassment as the two of them, mid-marital spat, effectively blocked the entire aisle and prevented any of the other passengers through. Shoko, in between them, must’ve been done counting to three in her head because in the next second she pushes them both back into the row all the while bowing her head low in apology as she lets the rest of the travelers pass. On the row across from them where Nanami was likewise dragged into, Haibara was doing the same. 

When the rest of them finally filter through, Shoko swivels on her heel to glare at them both.

"Boys," she starts, bringing out her carry-on. "It is just a seat. There’s a hundred of them on this plane. Stop being so immature and just take turns."

"But he got to hoard the window one last time!" repeats Getou, uncharacteristically insistent for something so elementary. Nanami thinks he just likes going against everything Gojo believes in out of sheer principle. 

“Like I said, you conveniently amnesiac person,” Gojo starts, charging at him again. “Last time I..”

Haibara was helping Shoko load her bag on the overhead bin, the rest of them making a valiant effort to drown out the rest of their ill-timed domestic dispute the moment they veered off topic. Gojo was bringing up old wounds of the past—Getou forgetting to buy him toothpaste on his last grocery run, Getou taking the last Pilkul from the communal fridge, Getou and how he never returns any of the clothes he borrows, Getou and—

Nanami decided that was the time to butt in if they actually wanted to get to Okinawa alive.

"Ieiri-san," Nanami suggests. "Maybe you should take it instead?"

Gojo and Getou snap their heads towards him, betrayed and wronged. He can feel Haibara's shaky hands tugging at the back of his shirt to drag him back to their safe demarcation line. 

"Say what?" asks Gojo.

Shoko smothers a knowing grin, turning to them both with just a hint of thinly veiled amusement in her eyes as she blinks innocently up at them, "You guys don't mind, do you?"

It’s hilarious the way both their faces start crunching in distaste with the vibration of such thinly-contained restraint wanting to bleed through but knowing Shoko would have their heads if they even so much as refused her.

Getou was still malfunctioning, but Gojo finds his words first. "N...n..o.." he forces out. "I..I-It's f…fine."

A pause.

“...Now that was just painful,” mumbles Haibara, looking away from the sight of a fallen hero. 

“Agreed,” whispers Nanami back, relishing in the sight of Gojo being taken down a peg.

“Glad that’s settled then,” Shoko pats his shoulder on the way. “Now shall we?”

Nanami wakes up three hours later to the sun streaming in from the small window. Getou, who rallied for at least the middle seat, had a panda eye mask folded over his eye with his hands crossed neatly on his lap. His head hung back against the headrest, light snores coming out of his mouth. Shoko was asleep on his shoulder with Gojo’s jacket splayed out over her legs. He was the only one of them awake, staring idly at the clouds shifting beneath them; and belatedly, Nanami noticed a shift in the small space they occupied, the air in it somehow charged but familiar. It’s only when he sees Gojo discreetly flick his wrist just so, aiming it somewhere particular that had something in the light rays change, that he realizes Gojo put up an infinity barrier over them and positioned it exactly so that the beams don't assault Shoko's eyes or Haibara's on the other side of the aisle. 

Damn, thinks Nanami. Maybe that is our seniors.

𓇼

Okinawa is freshly cut grass across the airport and watermelon stalls on every corner of the arrival hall as they land some time after lunch.

The Naha Airport is huge glass windows that begin from the floor all the way up to the skylights on the roof, dousing everything just a touch open and golden on a bright summer day. There’s surprisingly a lot of green than what they’re used to in sterile Narita or functional Haneda, and surprisingly so much more commercial space with bamboo kiosks selling visors or multiple boutiques displaying a variety of swimwear or floaties. Makeshift coconut trees sprout from just about every corner, it’s crown of leaves haloing over the staggering amount of tourists going to and from exits or entrances. 

Gojo whistles, eyes going over the place. “Been a minute.”

“It has,” hums Getou.

As they stood in the center of it all, they hear automated doors opening and closing, names being called over the intercom, luggage wheels sliding across the floor. They've barely made it ten steps when Gojo starts unceremoniously dragging someone to one of the overpriced tourist gift shops.

"Look!" Gojo gushes. "It’s a plushie of Jinta-san!"

Shoko protests as she's being led away. "You already have like a million of those."

"Have I seriously taught you nothing? You can never have enough," Gojo loops an arm around her when she tries scurrying away. "Haibara-kun, come. You must meet Jinta-san. He’s only the most famous whale shark in Japan!"

Haibara sends Getou and Nanami an apologetic look before he, too, starts being pulled across the already cramped airport. 

"Figures," Getou scoffs, yanking out a guide map from one of the nearby kiosks. "Of course Satoru would leave us to do the adulting."

Nanami agrees, spotting the line for the airport train. "What's new?"

𓇼

The Okinawa Yui Monorail isn't the smoothest and uncharacteristically bumpy for all of Japan is known for their trains, but it's what's going to get them to their rental with the copious amounts of luggage they brought that no taxi was prepared for. Shoko, ushered into the last remaining seat by Getou before Gojo stole it from her, is bobbing her head up and down as the sprawling trees of Okinawa pass by them. Haibara, who Getou also had shoved into the next seat that opened up right next to her before Gojo could even so much as protest, offers her his shoulder in turn. Shoko looks only too happy to take it.

Their luggages were spread out within the tiny bubble they sequestered themselves in on the spacious but tight train. Getou and Nanami each had at least two, Gojo had both his and Shoko's duffel bags heaved up on his shoulder, with Haibara’s carry-on sandwiched between his legs. Shoko, most notably, had not a single piece of luggage or bag or anything apart from the Jinta plushie held against her chest. 

"Right then," Gojo says through a mouthful of sata andagi, the Okinawan equivalent of doughnuts. "Game plan for tonight, anyone?"

"Can we crash for a bit?" whines Shoko, still resting her head on Haibara's shoulder. "Ya girl is tired."

"Ya girl spent the entire flight asleep on my shoulder," Getou remarks, reaching down to shift her head upright. "And you're not doing the same to Haibara-kun. We need his farm hands."

"Farm hands?" Haibara perks up. "What for?"

"He didn't tell you?" Getou asks. “Yaga is treating us to barbecue night."

𓇼

"Shoko!" Gojo calls out from below the stairs. "Any time this century would be nice!”

"In a minute!" Shoko yells right back.

"Are you like sewing the clothes on yourself or something?" Getou adds on, craning his neck up the landing. "What is taking so long?"

The sound of a door banging open. "Come here!"

Gojo and Getou lock eyes for a second. They shoot their hands out in the next: Gojo with scissors and Getou with paper.

Getou sighs before begrudgingly making up the stairs, one displeased step at a time as Gojo plops himself down on the nearest loveseat, chucking to himself. 

Nanami and Haibara were busy practicing their concealment charms all over the living room, with Gojo and Getou monitoring their progress and offering up the occasional feedback here and there. Apparently, they were at that point in their syllabus and were doing a piss poor job at it, if Yaga’s passive aggressive comments before they left were anything to go by. He required a full paper on his desk and a demonstration to follow as soon as they got back, and Gojo was only too happy to lord his seniorship status over them.

“Where are you guys even going?” asks Nanami, arms laid out over the window.

"Yaga threatened to debar our special grade status if we don't feed you brats," offers Gojo, snapping at Haibara to get his elbows straight. "So now we have to do some grocery. "

“Oh! Oh!” Haibara pipes up from the veranda. “I want chocolate ice cream!”

“Anything for my lovely kouhai,” says Gojo, looking magnanimous and benevolent from his perch on the chair. “How ‘bout you, Nanami-kun?”

When they finalize a grocery list that’s somehow healthy and equal parts atrocious—who puts enoki mushrooms and brown sugar boba in the same inventory?—they hear loud footsteps and voices slowly bound down from the second floor. 

"Shoko," Getou starts. "I know we're close and all, but can you please stop undressing in front of me?"

Gojo raises a brow. Haibara perks up. Nanami shoves his shoulders back down before any of them caught wind of it. Tilting his head at them, muses Gojo, "What's this now?"

Getou gestures vaguely to Shoko, busying herself with securing the last buttons of her sheer cover-up that barely covered anything by the mirror. "You know how she gets."

"What was it this time?" tries Gojo. "Bra strap? Dress zipper?"

Getou closes his eyes and breathes through his nose slow. "Bikini."

Gojo whistles. "Nice."

Shoko smiles at herself in the mirror. "Thank you."

"But what if we were perverts?" Gojo fluffs the hem of her pale pink cover up that showed bare arms and an even barer stomach. "What if we secretly mentally catalog what you look like and—"

"Satoru," Getou interrupts. "I'd stop there. We're here for almost a week."

Shoko takes her time applying the last swipe of her cherry-colored lipbalm before looking up at them from the mirror. "Well, do you?"

Gojo blinks. Nanami swallows. Hell, Haibara even starts drooling.

“Christ,” Getou curses under his breath, collecting Shoko but not before hissing at her to stop playing with the emotions of vulnerable and hormonal teenage boys. Snapping at the rest of them, chides, “Now are we going or what?” he barks. “Everything in the city closes in like an hour.”

Gojo snaps out of it, smacks Haibara on the shoulder. “Yeah, Haibara-kun,” he admonishes. “Everything closes in half an hour, what’s wrong with you?”

“I—” Haibara stammers. “I-I don’t—”

Before Gojo can tease him further, Getou reaches out to yank him by his shirt and begins dragging him away.

"Guard the house," Gojo levels Haibara and Nanami with a look that trails menacing up until he finally disappears into the door, or more accurately, Getou shoves him out of it.

𓇼

"Wait. Stop." 

Shoko curves a hand around Gojo's shoulder, balancing herself on one foot as she frowns at her shoes. "My laces—"

"Got it," offers Getou, already crouching down. 

Gojo pawns off Shoko’s tote bag on his arm to shrug it on his shoulder before nodding in the general area. "What are we here for again?"

The Nanjo Weekend Market is a beachside tapestry of fairy lights hanging off coconut trees that combines elements of live music, vendor stalls, and a surprising amount of tourists for off-season August. Umbrella huts are scattered all over the place, with children scurrying off into the sand and locals trying to offer their own versions of The Authentic Okinawa Experience to every straggling foreigner they find. It’s lively and loud but not the oppressive kind Tokyo has: the air here is lighter, the sounds are whistles not sirens, and the laughs tug up at the corners of the mouths more easier.

"We need to get stuff for the barbecue," reminds Shoko. "Google says the best meat market is somewhere around here."

"Too tight?" Getou asks from below, fiddling around with the lace.

"A little," says Shoko, glancing down. "Loosen it up a bit?"

"Do any of you even know how to pick good meat?" Gojo frowns when he spots a butcher across the shore slice through the whole belly of a pig. "We’re all city kids. Should've brought Haibara."

Shoko holds out her phone. "Utahime said, and I quote, beef should be a deep red, pork a strong pink, and lamb a light red," she finishes, before tapping Getou on the shoulder. "All good.”

Shoko's hand on Gojo's shoulder falls to the crook of his elbow, looping around it and reaching over Getou to do the same when he rejoins them. "The more important question is,” she starts, nudging them forward again. “Do any of us know how to haggle?"

"Haggle?" asks Gojo.

"Bargain," translates Getou.

"Ah," Gojo eyes widen in realization. "That commoner thing."

Shoko squeezes his arm. "Not so loud, prince," she says. "You have peasants with you."

"I’m not confident with the money or the meat," admits Getou. "Shoko?"

Shoko shakes her head. "Mom did all the groceries. Insomnia prevented me from getting up early enough to go with her."

"Satoru?" tries Getou.

Gojo scoffs. "Please," he says. "Have you guys seen me?"

"Yes," they both say in dry unison.

"Like seen me, seen me?"

"Yes," they both say in dry unison.

Gojo huffs. “You don’t get it.”

They both turn to look at him, placid faces and all. "Explain then," indulges Shoko.

Gojo gestures to himself incredulously. "My face!" he declares. "My face is all the negotiation we need!"

Getou waits a beat. "Nah," he shakes his head. "I still don't get it."

"Tch," Gojo clicks his tongue, directing them to a nearby tanghulu stall. "Watch and learn, peasants."

So they do.

They watch Gojo unceremoniously try to trial charm his way into a free tanghulu stick by laying the blue eyes on thick. It usually works, really it does, they think: on an audience of anyone less than 20 years old. It turns out the grumpy obaasans of Okinawa who've been awake since the early hours of dawn, working hard to earn their keep for the day in preparation, want absolutely nothing to do with Gojo's Prada sunglasses and Gucci slippers and YSL button-down. The lazy drawl of his Tokyo accent was doing nothing to skew the tides in his favor either. They watch him stammer his way through at least securing a mortifying discount and have to look away when he practically starts shoving money in their faces when they still don’t let up in the end.

Getou tilts his head, observant. "What do you think?"

"Hard to know for sure," Shoko notes, also angling her head this way and that. "Would it kill him to lose the glasses once in a while?"

"Think he's crying?" wonders Getou.

"If he is,” warns Shoko. “Do not give in. You know it's only crocodile tears."

Getou makes a face. "Not always—"

"Yes always," Shoko insists. "When was the last time he actually cried because he wanted to?"

"His parents forgot his birthday last year," Getou reminds her. 

"Only to fly us all off to Bali for the whole week once they realized," Shoko dismisses. "Next."

"That time he broke his shoulder," Getou tries.

"Big woop. He just needed to ram his shoulder into a wall."

"Japan losing the World Cup."

"You cried too."

"Because Japan lost the World Cup!" 

Shoko starts to wave him off only to grab his sleeve in alarm in the next second. “Shit,” she whispers lowly. "He's coming."

Getou looks on in warning. "Oh no. He's pouting."

"He's always pouting," Shoko says, before adding, more menacingly: "Do not give in."

"How do you wanna do this?" Getou straightens. 

"Coddle?” Shoko also squares her shoulders. “He's sensitive but we need his money if we're short."

"Right," Getou nods. "Princess treatment it is."

Gojo makes his way back to them with empty hands, a pout on his face, and the world's greatest ego shattered.

"Aw," Getou pitches his voice higher, shrill to anyone else but leveled just right for a docile hypersensitive manchild. "Couldn’t find anyone to give in?”

"It's okay," Shoko loops her arm around his again, practically hanging off his side. "You're still pretty. He's still pretty, isn't he, Getou?"

"The prettiest," affirms Getou, tugging him close by the shoulder they were all practically skin to skin. "What do those old women know, anyway?"

Gojo huffs, pouting down at his empty hands. "They said either buy it wholesale or get out of their faces before they call the police."

A pause.

Then:

"Still sooo pretty though," Getou gushes, trying to catch his eye. "Even prettier than Shoko!"

Gojo looks at Shoko for confirmation, who just nods somberly along all the while patting his chest. "Yeah okay, I’ll give you this one.”

Gojo slides both his arms on their shoulders and starts mushing their faces together. "No, you guys are the prettiest!"

Getou and Shoko exchange a look of triumph under all the smothering. The success rate of the princess treatment has never failed them, and it wouldn't now.

𓇼

"Stop threatening them."

"Threatening who?" asks Gojo.

"The kids," says Shoko.

"I don't threaten the kids," Gojo turns to face Getou. "Suguru. Do I threaten the kids?"

Getou lets the question hang in the air two seconds before saying, "Yes."

They were finally neck deep in the busier part of the night market, where the dialect was so strong they're not even sure half of it was Japanese and the ojisans are louder with their drunken yelling. Gojo and Getou have been propositioned at least thrice, and Shoko was the constant victim of judgemental stares for her flimsy attire she just refused to cover up despite their many attempts to hand over their jackets. They make their way through the local grocery mart, Getou pushing past a cart as Shoko unceremoniously added whichever onto the pile. Gojo's black card was paying anyway.

“I do not bully children,” says Gojo. “I love children.”

“Megumi says otherwise,” rebutts Shoko.

"Megumi is ten and in a phase," explains Gojo, also adding whatever he liked. Getou looks down at the glaring differences of what they were putting in—Shoko with her off-brand cigarettes and Gojo with his sugars and sweets—and sighs. “I’m allowed to bully him. Nanami-kun and Haibara-kun, however, I do not. I love my kouhai."

"Loving them isn't the same thing as respecting them," Shoko singsongs.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean, Ieiri-san?" Gojo turns to face her.

"She means we know you were raised by wolves and all," translates Getou, shoving a pack of greens into the mix because Lord knows someone has to. "But that doesn't mean the rest of us are. Some of us function perfectly fine without someone breathing down on our shoulder to get our kata form right."

Gojo looks appalled. "That was one time."

"For us, yes," Shoko agrees. "Otherwise we'll beat your ass for taking that tone with us again. But don't you have a standing Saturday session with Haibara in the dojo?"

Gojo still looks appalled. "Because he's too trusting!"

"Yes," Getou also agrees. "Kid has a heart of gold. Will be the death of him one day. Still no reason to threaten to slice him in half if he doesn't get Heian Yondan in one go."

"I do not threaten," says Gojo. "I simply strongly encourage."

"Encourage softer," appeases Getou. "Part of the whole senpai buddy system is so that they're never alone in any missions A-level or higher."

"There'll come a day they'll be alone though," insists Gojo, uncharacteristically somber and insistent about this. Lone wolf, he was, sometimes. "They need to be ready."

"They're still first years," Shoko points out gently, uncharacteristically so. "And we're not leaving for another year. We have time."

Getou gets the final word in. "So we'll cross that bridge when we get there."

Shoko nods, coming back to herself. "First — Okinawa!"

Gojo could only stare dumbly at their retreating forms, so languid and so at ease, so unlike they weren't the last lines of defense that separated the fabric of reality from anarchy and chaos. But they're right, thinks Gojo, listening in on the chatter of the busy grocery and the sudden mundane all around him that had nothing to do with all of it: 

There's time for all that later.

𓇼

Dinner is the skillful hands of Getou and Haibara at the grill, Nanami and Shoko for ingredient prep, and Gojo for moral support. 

They got back just in time to see the late afternoon sun shy of setting, hues of baby blue and pale pink basking their back garden a fresh tint of calm. The in-house grill, cleaned diligently by Nanami during their wake, was surprisingly functional and already had a few slabs of pork currently sizzling on its grates. Haibara moved around some of the backyard furniture to set up a small but fully functional barbecue station, complete with a butcher block and different sauces for garnish. They opened all the sliding doors in the house to let the air ventilate around the adjoining kitchen, the flames from the grill losing itself into the light summer wind as the day was finally starting to settle down.

Their home away from home for the next few days was in a quaint neighborhood just north of Minatogawa, the sound of humming bees darting through the air and the sight of well-kept ginkgo trees a welcome break from the neon lights and industrial buildings that served as backdrop to most of Tokyo. The stillness here feels a little more intentional, the bicycle tolls of children outside a little louder, the air in their lungs a little less heavy to breathe in. It's slow and lazy and exactly what they need.

"Nanami-kun," Shoko calls out from her stool in the kitchen, a Santoku knife in one hand and a ball of onion in the other. "How do I...?"

Nanami patters back to look over her work. "A Julienne."

Shoko blinks down at the cutting board. "A what." 

"You square off the edges and cut it into planks and then strips" explains Nanami to a still just blinking Shoko. "Here. Let me show you."

As Nanami takes charge of Shoko's knife and demonstrates surprisingly professional knife-cutting skills, Gojo finds himself frowning down at the decidedly less sharper tool he was given and the decidedly shorter instructions he was barked at after much peddling to be given something to do: to cut open the can of corn and mix them in a bowl. Haibara was busy looking over the boiling sauce. Getou was wreaking havoc on a poor lamb. Shoko was being entrusted with culinary grade cutting directions, and he got the kid friendly scissors.

Gojo coughs. “I wanna do a julie too.”

“You can’t be trusted with it,” Nanami replies distractedly, carefully setting aside the bits of onion he’s chopped. “Now hurry up with the corn.”

Gojo looks at Shoko, pleading. She just shrugs, uncaring. “You heard him.”  

"Now hold it like this so you have a firmer grip on the handle," Nanami positions the knife on her hand, moving around her grip this way and that. "Yes. Just like that. Show me."

Shoko is just about to try a careful slashing of her own, before stopping, seeming to remember something, turning her head slowly just so to look up at Nanami—

…who understands his mistake immediately.

"...Ieiri-san." Nanami flushes, immediately deferential, immediately bowing his head low. "I meant show me — Ieiri-san."

Behind him, they can hear Haibara suppressing a chuckle and Getou stifling a snicker, blaming it on the fumes of the grill. Even Gojo laughs into the can of corn he somehow manages to slice open every which way wrong.

𓇼

By the time they’re done, a brisk evening air settles over the compound like dusk unfurling from the earth. The fireflies have come out of their hiding, occasionally flittering past the already well-lit garden as yellow bursts of starlight hop to and from the trees.

Shoko is in someone’s sweater—Getou, they guess, black and oversized—as she ambles her way back to the table with five plastic cups and a bottle of Pepsi. Haibara helps her hold the glasses steady as she pours a drink for each of them. Gojo is busy taking a thousand pictures at every possible angle to post on Snapchat. Nanami and Getou were dividing up portions into plates.

Everything is good.

"You're sleeping by the way," Shoko says some minutes after they dig in, looking at Gojo who was ravishing a sparerib you’d think he was raised by wolves except he was. “No exceptions.”

Gojo sputters, meaty bits flying off him. "I was always—"

Getou stops him by shoving a paper tissue on his mouth. "Satoru," he levels. "You're sleeping. The concealment charms will hold. And please, manners, we have a lady and your kouhai on the table."

Nanami and Haibara must’ve looked as confused as they felt, because Shoko was quick to turn to them. “He stayed up all night guarding Amanai and you guys the last time,” she elaborates. “Practically slept like a log on my clinic for a week afterwards. Yaga was convinced he was comatose.”

"Besides,” Shoko turns back to Gojo. “There's five of us here at practically nowhere. We’ll be fine.”

"If not we can always just bargain Gojo," suggests Getou, drowning out his whimper through his mouthful of mashed potato. "Where are we at with the bounty now, Haibara-kun?"

Haibara checks something on his phone. "A billion yen."

“A billion yen,” parrots Shoko back, putting a hand up to her chin, contemplative. “If this jujutsu thing doesn’t pan out for us, we can split the money four ways and retire here. Hell, we can even buy this exact house.”

𓇼

Soon enough night time rolls around and the debate about the sleeping arrangements goes exactly as apocalyptic as expected.

"Why should you have the solo room?" Getou challenges. "Just because you're a girl?"

"No," Shoko starts carefully. "I should get the solo room because you kick in your sleep and Gojo snores like a goddamn pig."

Gojo gasps, accosted. "I do not!"

"You don't wanna hear the recording," Shoko snaps at him. "You moan a lot, too. Christ."

"You recorded my snoring?" Gojo asks at the same time Getou points out, "We've all slept in the bed before.”

"We all start sleeping in the same bed," Shoko explains, ignoring Gojo’s mortified wails. "But in the morning,  Gojo and I always find ourselves kissing the damn floor and shivering in the cold. You're not doing this to me. Not in Okinawa."

Getou turns to Gojo. “Wanna help me out here?”

Gojo puts his hands up. "Man, I just wanna sleep,” he resigns. “And apparently I’m a moaner, too, so one crisis to process at a time.”

Getou has no choice but to direct his glare at her. "This is not the end of this conversation." 

“Oh shucks,” Shoko rolls her eyes before shutting the door on them. "I'm shaking in my fucking boots."

When they’ve been banished to the hallway, Gojo shoves him. "Why do you always try with her?" he asks. "We always give in anyway. Or else she makes us."

"Worth a shot," Getou rubs the back of his neck. "The bed looked nice and bouncy when I was there earlier. And plus, we can't have her think she can get away with anything."

"Except she can and she does," deadpans Gojo.

"Not so loud!" Getou brings a finger to his lips, manhandling him out of the eavesdropping zone. "Or else she'll start getting even more ideas."

𓇼

But the real apocalypse starts when, not even an hour into their self-mandated lights out time, Gojo screams.

It results in the rest of them spending the rest of the night following around a damn house rat that apparently got into his shirt that they now had to use every means possible—human and sorcerer—to put an end of it’s life to. It's another matter altogether once they do find it, scurrying away at the backyard, near the garbage can that was temporary lodging to their discarded meat bones and leftover sauces.

They all hid behind Shoko, Gojo and Getou clutching at each of her shoulder, all the good those special grade status and height gave them. In the end it's Shoko who finally makes that final pounce on the rat with an old, chipped wooden broom that sends it scampering across the garden and scurrying out into the streets.

They all end up sleeping in the her bedroom that night, all tangled limbs and elbows knocking uncomfortably into each other's ribs. All the while, Shoko slept soundly in the only bed in the room.

𓇼

The rest of the trip goes on just fine until:

𓇼

"Ieiri-san is kind of pretty isn't she?"

Until one day Haibara decided he had so little value for his life left.

Nanami isn't able to clamp a hand over his mouth in time. Oh god, he thought. To think they were doing so well.

Gojo was immediately on his heel, whirling around on him with his supernatural hearing, raising his glasses to rest on top of his head which in Gojo-language meant business. "What did you just say?"

A few feet ahead of them, Getou and Shoko were busy looking over a fruit display at the farmer’s market they spontaneously decided to check out on their way to the beach. Shoko was holding up a watermelon for Getou to inspect, checking over its belly and weight like what Utahime told them to. She was wearing a yellow, bare-shouldered sundress that weaved in with the wind. And Haibara, poor soul, unfortunately couldn't process much of anything else after that. All of that was fine for a growing boy, of course; the mistake really was in announcing his observation in a group with her overprotective best friends.

Really, Nanami wants to bang his head on the wall. They were just walking to the beach. 

At least, that's what he was doing. Haibara, he thinks, was looking for the fastest way to end his life at the hands of the strongest sorcerer in modern history. It's a fifteen-minute walk at most, he couldn’t have just shut his mouth up, couldn’t have saved his thoughts for later. It’s fifteen minutes for crying out loud. But maybe that's what scares Nanami the most, he thinks: a lot can happen in fifteen minutes. You could so easily kill a man in less than that time. And he knows for a fact Gojo was known for his quick kills.

Haibara blinks, his hold on his beach bag tightening. "Ieiri-san is—" he starts. "I just said she's—"

"Pretty?" Gojo finishes for him, stepping closer to them and did Nanami imagine it, or was he seriously lording over his height over a sixteen-year-old boy. "Yes, you've said."

Haibara gulps. "She is," he reaffirms. "Gojo-senpai."

Gojo narrows his eyes at him. "Just kind of pretty, though?" 

Nanami blinks, unsure where he's going with his, but wanting to end whatever it was now, right this instant, immediately. "What."

"You said she was "kind of" pretty," recalls Gojo, using air quotes. "You don't think she's beautiful?"

"What the fuck," Nanami swears under his breath, unable to stop himself. Before Haibara can get another word in and secure their early graves, they hear Getou calling out to them.

"Oi!" Getou yells from way ahead of them now, in the fish section where Shoko was making a valiant effort not to cover her mouth with a handkerchief he must’ve thrown her way out of respect for the sellers. "You guys want fish for dinner later?" Then Shoko tugs on his sleeve, bringing him back down to whisper something in his ear as he starts nodding along. He lifts his head to yell at them again, "Haibara-kun! We need you!"

Gojo didn’t like the sound of that and it shows. "Need him?" he shouts back. "For what?"

Shoko looks annoyed at the constant back and forth over the market place and decides to take matters in her own hands. "None of you city boys know the first thing about picking live fish produce," she declares. "Haibara," she points to him. "Come. Now."

Haibara was looking back and forth between her and Gojo, unsure how to proceed. Nanami was already picking out joint funeral plots for both of them in his head because surely, surely, dying a minor stipulates some form of discount?

When Haibara stays rooted in his spot just a second too long, Gojo's eyes immediately snap to him.

"Well?" he gestures ahead. "What are you waiting for? You heard her."

Nanami debates killing himself just to get it over with.

You just can't win with these two.

𓇼

They reach Furuzamami beach when the sun starts temporarily dipping low for it's midday nap, the lazy tug of the sea peaceful this time of the year as seagulls fly above them. The rest of the place is sprawling open shores and a glittering emerald green ocean that has pieces of sunlight glinting off the water, bouncing back on Gojo's glasses Shoko commandeered to shield her eyes from it. There were makeshift cabanas and bamboo huts set up around for tourists to lounge in, a variety of gift shops and rental places greeting them as they make their way closer to the coast. Gojo immediately zeroed in on a popsicle stand and dragged Haibara along with him as the rest of them set about to dropping their things on a nearby available hut.

Just as they're about to run for the beach, Shoko stops them all with a hand on her hip and all five foot nothing of her.

"Forgetting something boys?"

Gojo groans up at the straw roof. "She means sunscreen," he answers. "I hate medics."

"You'll hate yourself more when we're 30 and your fine lines start showing," Shoko rummages around the beach bag they brought. “I’m saving you a lifetime of botched botox.”

"I'll RCT it away," says Gojo, smug.

"Doesn't work that way but I love the optimism," says Shoko, gesturing at them by the hut opening. "Right then gentlemen. Single file please."

Gojo fusses every step of the way before settling himself in front of her, bending his knees. "How long do we have to wait this time?"

Shoko squirts a generous amount of Biore Aquarich into her palm before she starts lathering it onto his face. "Just ten minutes," she says. "You'll live."

"But I want to swim now."

"And you will."

"Now."

"Getou," Shoko ignores his whining, calling out to Getou who she’s glad didn’t need to be looked over like a child, as she works the sunscreen deeper into Gojo’s cheeks and forehead. "Make sure the kids are doing it properly. Nanami got sunburnt last time."

Getou looks over at Haibara who squeezed out way too much and had a thick film of white cream over his face he was practically a ghost, two big and brown blinking eyes the only thing visible on his face. Nanami doesn’t even try hiding his laugh. Haibara catches on his wrong application and all but smothers the excess sunscreen on his face as he yelps away and trips on the sand, all the while Getou was trailing after them like a mother hen rounding her chicks up.

Shoko sighs, uncaring that Gojo’s knees were wobbling from under her. “Boys.” 

𓇼

Gojo tries to surf and almost drowns in the process.

Getou cackles—actually cackles—as he cruises along the waves gracefully on his longboard. Nanami and Haibara had both their feet planted firmly on their respective soft tops, also effortlessly gliding along with the shifting waters as the August heat beat down on their grins that lit up the sun of the earth. Shoko cheered on them from the shore, Gojo's glasses and Getou's bucket hat a black and brown smudge in the distance.

"Not getting in?" Getou yells out for her.

"No!" Shoko cups her mouth to reply, an echo on the water. "Or else who else is going to take a video of Gojo being a loser?"

Gojo, who had so far been paddling pathetically in the water with his arms flailing out and about, cries out in frustration even more as water ran its way up his nose. "A little help here would be nice," he gurgles through a mouthful of saltwater.

Getou turns to the first years. "Should we?"

Nanami looks contemplative. "Let him suffer for five more seconds?"

Getou makes an OK sign in the air. "Great thinking, Nanami-kun."

Haibara didn't look like he wanted that, but Getou's word was bible to him so there they were, staring down at Gojo who kept trying and failing to get back up his paddle board. He couldn't grab purchase for any longer than three seconds, his long legs putting him at a disadvantage as he kept trying to heave them up first only to have it slip and slide over its glossy finish.

"You're doing amazing sweetie!" yells Shoko, the sound of a camera flashing accompanying her jest.

"Yes, please do keep going for our amusement," Getou piles on.

Nanami chuckles. Haibara forces himself not to sprint to Gojo's aid right away. In the end it's Getou, because it's always Getou, who finally puts him out of his misery and hauls him back up in one strong, fluid motion that had Shoko whistling and Haibara to start drooling—literally drooling—right into the ocean floor.

"Now," Getou says once he settles Gojo back on his board, who just looked flushed more than a fish out of water. "How's that for a swimming lesson?"

𓇼

By the time they get back to shore, Getou’s phone pings with a new message. "Yaga wants proof of life."

“A what?” Gojo looks up from shaking his hair dry with the towel Haibara passed him, Shoko helping Nanami get the sand out from his ears. “He wants a what?”

“Proof of life,” repeats Getou, frowning down at the text. “For the first years probably. He wants to make sure we haven’t set them on fire.”

“Set us on what now?” Haibara makes a face.

"Let’s take a picture!" Shoko perks up, dragging Nanami with her as she got her phone out. "Haibara-kun, do the thing with the settings on the camera thing.”

Haibara took her phone from her and together fiddled with it, finding angles and filters and what not. “Alright boys,” she waves a finger around. “Gather ‘round.”

Gojo was already making grabby hands at her. "Wait, no—"

But Shoko was quick to position herself in front of them, with Haibara crouched under her shoulder as Getou settled over the group, directing a glare at Gojo. "Real smooth, idiot," he whispers lowly under his breath. "There goes half of our day."

"You couldn't have stopped her," adds Nanami as he comes up next to them. "How long did we stand the last time?"

Getou's glare sharpens into menacing as he aims it all on Gojo. "You mean how long we spent kneeling and shaking?" he corrects. "For like, half an hour.”

"You guys say something?" Shoko turns around, Haibara turning with her, a pained smile on his face they knew exactly what for but valued self-preservation too much to bail him out on it.

"Nothing," they all said in unison. 

Gojo eggs her on with a smile, hands carefully reaching out to subtly take her phone from her. "Shoko," he says carefully. "Maybe let me—"

But Shoko whirls back around and Gojo lets his hand drop immediately.

"Idiot," hisses Getou again, reaching behind them to pinch the flesh on his elbow. "Just fucking pathetic."

"Agreed," Nanami arches back, shoulders slumped in between them. Thank god Haibara was keeping Shoko occupied.

Gojo gestures wildly at them, whispering under his breath. "I don't see any of you doing anything!"

"And risk getting our balls chopped off at the next medical?" demands Getou back. "No, thank you. You have RCT and you're pathetic with women. You'll be fine. Just regenerate your shit right back."

Before Gojo can get a word in response, Haibara makes vague motions of urgency at the hand he had on his back. 

"Alright! We got it!" Shoko announces suddenly, standing up straighter as they all bend low. "Big smiles now!”

It takes them the entire afternoon to get a single decent picture. Shoko kept getting their bodies cut off or angled the wrong way. Gojo kept trying to help her get her arm up to no avail. Getou was always just shy of yanking the phone from her and ending their misery. Nanami grumbled all the way through. Even Haibara's smile started to strain at the edges.

When they get the message back to Yaga, he replies back with:

"Where the hell is the rest of your heads?”

𓇼

“Oh my god.”

Getou looks on in the distance, at a distinct shape of bodies, two decidedly masculine ones helping along someone so much shorter, so much leaner, so much limper. “Oh my god,” he also says, standing up, squinting as the sun was going down. “Is that—”

Gojo beats him to it.

"We leave her alone with you for five minutes!" Gojo bristles, bridging the gap first to grab hold of Shoko and whisk her away. “And you come back with a fucking jellyfish sting?!”

Getou helps him settle her carefully down in their hut. “Are you okay?” he says to her pained face, at her breathing through her nose, at the sweat on her forehead. “Where does it hurt?”

Gojo rounds on them meanwhile. “Well?” 

Nanami felt—more than saw—Haibara swallow. "Uh—” he stammers. "We— I—"

Behind him, they can hear Shoko telling Getou to stop fussing and just elevate her leg to get the swelling down. Gojo sidesteps to block them from view, crossing his arms over his chest.

“W-We were on the e-edge of the beach,” starts Haibara nervously. “And w-we wanted to show Ieiri-senpai t-this baby crab we saw. I-It was white and h-had the cutest eyes, r-right Nanami?”

Nanami doesn’t want to say anything in that moment, much less be complicit. But something about team camaraderie and not allowing themselves to be bullied by exploitative seniors who couldn’t see reason sometimes. “It was really pretty.”

“T-then one of the l-locals came and said t-there was a better spot to s-see them by t-the shallow end, where s-some fishermen were f-fishing,” Haibara, bless his soul, keeps going. “H-He even s-said w-we can c-catch one of the b-bigger ones for keep and cook them. N-Nanami said he knew a recipe but we needed Ieiri-senpai’s help for it.”

Nanami always knew they were kind of territorial. He just didn't expect they'd be territorial even with them.

"What do you mean you wanted Shoko's help?" Getou looks up from the first aid bag he was rooting around in. Shoko just rolled her eyes and yanked it from him.

Nanami levels with them. "We needed someone who knows how to cook crabs.”

Gojo gets in his line of vision. "Why Shoko specifically?" he gestures behind him at Getou, who straightens, Shoko fending for herself with the cortisone cream. "We can cook too. Can probably handle a few crabs."

Nanami wants to say that no, you actually can't because the burnt taste in his tongue from Getou's piss-poor attempt at making onigiri still lingers at the back of his mouth. But the look Gojo was pressing on him was starting to grow apprehensive. "Uh," Nanami scrambles for an answer. "We, uh, wanted to try a homemade recipe from Kamakura?"

"Kamakura," parrots Getou back, drily.

Nanami horribly finds a sweat trickle down his neck. "Kamakura," he repeats. "Where Ieiri-san’s mother is fro—"

"We know where her mother is from," Gojo interrupts. "What, think you know her better than us?"

Nanami did not think that at all. He didn't think that one bit and it's so like these two alpha-presenting territorial idiots to start jumping to conclusions where she was concerned. Really, he doesn't know how she's put up with them for so long.

Evidently Shoko was already at her breaking point too.

“Gojo, just shut up and heal me will you?” Shoko snaps her fingers at him, apparently done and frustrated fighting with the gauze by herself. “And leave them alone. You guys have literally made me work on a shattered knee that one time you forced me into one of your trampoline parks. This is nothing.”

𓇼

If Nanami thought Gojo was an intense hoverer, there was no beating Getou's brand of mother henning.

"Got your water?"

"Yes."

"Bug spray?"

"Right here."

"Allergy medicine?"

"I have RCT."

"You never know—"

"Getou," Shoko stops him. "I'm the medic, remember?"

They were getting ready for a hike at the ass crack of dawn the next day, the only people who enjoy waking up this early province boy Haibara and insomniac Gojo. The rest of them were grumpy and annoyed and operating on less than eight hours of sleep because someone—meaning both of them—got it inside each other’s heads to punish their already exhausted bodies by looking up mountain trails all the locals favored. It's day whichever of their trip and it's a miracle they haven't started killing each other. But maybe all that was going to change today.

"Be careful, Shoko," Getou says as he offers her a hand to anchor herself with, stepping over the murky terrain of the river rocks. "That one is slippery."

Gojo already had a hand poised at her back to steady her if she fell. “Remind me why we choose this route again?"

"You said you wanted a challenge," reminds Haibara a few steps behind them, looking far too preppy and eyebag-less for an early morning hike. “And this is apparently the hardest trail in Okinawa!”

A series of collective groans follow.

Nanami watches ahead of him as Gojo and Getou fumble over themselves to get Shoko safely across the river, being anything short of being a makeshift bridge for her to step into. She wasn't even saying anything, has never even so much as demanded such waiting on foot behavior. It was something they just readily offered. 

Gojo turns back to extend a hand to Haibara, who blinks down at it. "If you guys crack your head on the rocks," he explains. "Yaga is kicking us out of the school. We're kind of responsible for your lives this week."

"You don't say," Nanami mumbles hotly next to him, carefully skipping over a boulder.

"I heard that!" Getou bellows ahead, fixing the pack on his shoulder. He really did wake up on the wrong side of the bed today. "Such ungratefulness! When we've been nothing but kind senpais to you!"

"Ieiri-san is," says Haibara.

“Agreed,” says Nanami.

Shoko gives them a thumbs up in the air. Gojo contemplates drowning them.

𓇼

"So," Gojo says once they hit the hour mark and reach the edge of a brook. "Anyone up for some good old-fashioned rock climbing?"

Nanami answers for everyone. "You can't be serious."

The rock wall in question towered over them some fifteen meters high, the distant sound of a hot spring nearby amping his excitement up higher. While the foundation of the rock landscape looked sturdy enough, some of them were jutting out of the wall in weird formations with interlocking rows of large rocks that looked weathered and slippery over time. Long vines were trailing down the slope, from the arch of the hill all the way down to dirt of the forest. The thought of climbing up it’s steep rim could make anyone’s stomach weak. 

Evidently this doesn't faze Gojo. Not in the slightest.

"Cursed energy allowed," announces Gojo, unclipping his backpack to set it down on the ground. A fire was brewing in his eyes, a challenge. "You can even summon your cursed spirits, if you like, Suguru.”

“We don’t even have ropes,” tries Nanami.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Gojo arches a brow at him, amused. “We don’t need ropes if we have cursed energy.”

“...A dangerous train of thought but alright,” comments Getou, taking a chug from his bottle before passing it on to Haibara. “Are you sure you don’t need to take a nap?”

“I don’t need a nap I need movement,” defends Gojo, fighting with the zipper of his jacket.

“OK, ADHD brain,” Shoko finds a nearby tree to perch in. “Go on then. We’ll watch your things.”

Gojo pauses in his fussing. “You’re not going with me?”

Nanami snorts. “Unprotected? In that suicide mountain hill of rocks?” he says. “No thank you. I wanna live past graduation unlike some people.”

“I’ll do your missions for a week.”

“I don’t mind missions.”

“I’ll cook for you.”

“I’d rather starve.”

“Then,” Gojo’s eyes light up. “If you win—whichever of you—I’ll leave you alone. For a week.”

𓇼

Nanami is the first to fall.

It's amazing, really, how long he lasted granted his aversion to inconveniencing himself any more if he can help it. Getou and Haibara were way up into the steeper parts of the cliff, their steady hands on the rocks and center of gravity nearly flawless. All of them had a healthy dose of innate athleticism made sharper by combat training, but: learning to fight curses is entirely different from knowing which goddamn rock was going to be your literal downfall. Nanami thought he got the hang of it, ten minutes in, when he was striding confidently across the stones and heaving his leg up in equal parts confidence and annoyance at actually being convinced to do it. 

It took one suspicious-looking rock that looked sturdy but was anything but for him to cave in. Literally.

On his way down, he swears he saw Getou slip a 1,000 yen bill into Gojo's hand.

Nanami blinks his eyes open to Shoko peering down at him, a disapproving frown etched on her face. 

"Thought you'd last longer."

Nanami slowly rights himself up with her help. "I thought I did, too."

“Valiant effort still,” Shoko says, dusting the grime off his shirt. He feels the familiar sensation of cursed energy gently probing against his muscles and knows she was checking for any lingering fractures.

"Thought you weren't healing anyone," Nanami comments.

"Thought you weren't joining," Shoko parrots back.

They lock eyes for a second, then break into a shared laugh.

"Oi! Shoko! Nanami!" Getou calls down from higher up than they anticipated he'd actually reach, the furthest any of them got. The clouds were a bright blue background against the portrait of his concerned eyes squinting down on them. "Everything okay down there?"

Shoko beats Nanami out of replying, cupping her hands around her mouth as she stands up to yell back, "Nanami broke an arm!"

Nanami did, in fact, break no such thing.

Gojo almost slips on a boulder. "What?!" he squeaks. "Like broken, broken?"

Haibara pauses midway to the top, not willing to compromise his gravity by looking down but it was evident in the line of his shoulders. He was listening. They all were. Nanami fights a grin.

"Only one way for bones to break last I read," Shoko wonders out loud. 

"Well," Gojo glares at the rock he was face to face with. "Heal him then! Or something!"

Shoko hums. “What will you give me for it?”

“Oh my god, Shoko,” Getou groans into the air and glares daggers down at her. “His arm is broken. Can you please leave the haggling alone for one second.”

Gojo was already making his way down. “Don’t worry, Nanami-kun!” he yells, breathless. “Senpai is coming! I’ll heal you!”

𓇼

When he finally does, Gojo looks over Nanami suspiciously. "I don’t understand. He looks fine."

"Please," Shoko scoffs, gesturing to herself. "You think I'm actually letting my favorite kouhai go on with a fractured arm?"

Haibara arrives just in time to hear that. "Wait, what—" he blinks. "Favourite— Favourite what— But I thought—"

Getou steers him along, a hand on his shoulder and a gentle coddling voice. "I know, I know," he coos. "She's mean."

𓇼

By the time they got back down from the trail, the sun has set and the airborne chill of the evening was starting to slide its way in the breath of the forest.

"Should we set up camp?" suggests Getou, Shoko using one of his arms for support as she toed her shoes in where it got loose. "It'll be another two hours to get back to the entrance."

Gojo looks over the span of the trees. "Everyone brought sleeping bags right?"

"Oh shit," blurts Haibara, looking sheepish when they all turn to him. "I left mine in my other pack."

"I think mine is in XL," Getou offers. "We can share."

 Gojo frowns. "I thought we were sharing."

"Share with Shoko," he suggests, nodding to her.

Gojo's hesitant eyes lock with Shoko's glare that left no room for negotiation as she just stared him down.

"Right," Gojo nods, more to himself, stalking away from her. "Nanami-kun it is then."

Nanami groans, tilting his head up to the dark sky, very oh woe is me.

"I'm a beloved roomie!" Gojo says.

"Said no one ever," mumbles Getou under his breath.

𓇼

They assign tasks. Shoko and Nanami get campfire duty, Haibara supplying the logs and Getou chopping them up. Gojo was busy casting safety charms all over the small clearing they've set up in, the purple glow of his cursed energy descending down on them in pulses until it withered away into the ether. A transparent film of contained energy permeated the space, but up close, it basically looked like nothing.

"Think that'll hold?" asks Nanami when Gojo settles back down with them, taking the stick Shoko was poking the fire with to start his own jabbing, for no other reason than he thought it looked cool and wanted to do it himself. "It's a big forest."

"Suguru," Gojo calls out. "Do you hear the nerve on this kid? Think that'll hold?" he scoffs. “Who do you think I am?”

Nanami's eyebrow twitches. "I was only making sure—"

"Nanami-kun," Gojo clicks his tongue at him. "You're with two special grades and the only active RCT user in Japan as we speak. You’re safer than the Prime Minister right now."

Getou and Shoko give him a thumbs up in turn.

Then Nanami remembers, exactly, who his seniors are. 

Damn.

𓇼

Getou wakes up earlier than the rest.

The lazy drags of sunlight starting to pour in from the gaps in the pine trees is the first sight that greets him. He always preferred to be a slow riser to the day, meeting the sun just as the clouds shift to make way for her. This early in the morning the forest was crisp with mildew, the sound of hiyodoris in the distance trailing their songs all over the glade. He looks around the area and sees Gojo has somehow migrated to Nanami's side of the sleeping bag, all but using him as a glorified pillow. Shoko was curled in on herself with Haibara snoring peacefully not a few feet away from her, his side of their bed clean and the blanket they shared cocooning him all over.

It's a calm morning. A peaceful one he hasn’t had in awhile. 

He almost doesn't wanna disrupt it by waking them up.

So he lets them sleep in.

After awhile it’s Nanami who stirs awake next, doing his best to shove the leech plastered to his side. Gojo just stumbles back on the other side of the bed like a log. His voice is groggy with sleep and rough when he mumbles a soft, "Good morning, Getou-senpai.”

"Fresh coffee is in the thermos,” Getou offers, palming the travel mug around his hands to warm himself. "Take your time. It's a long way back."

𓇼

When everyone finally rallies themselves awake, they make their slow descent back to the river.

Up ahead, Haibara was animatedly retelling a childhood story where he had to fish for keep in the waters of Lake Kawaguchiko, Shoko listening intently and Nanami nodding along to offer indulging questions. The sun has warmed the heart of the forest, now, with the rays gently shifting through the barks of the trees and the petals of the water lilies and touching their skin just a graze warmer. Nanami warns them of a rocky landform ahead, offering to hold Shoko's pack for her when she crosses the slope with Haibara waiting on the other side to act as a buffer.

"Think we did okay?" Gojo asks at his side.

Getou looks on in amusement at Haibara squealing when he spots a jungle snake hanging on a tree and Shoko dragging him along, telling him to cover his eyes, all the while Nanami was discreetly clutching at the strap of her bag too.

"All things considered," Getou says softly. "I think we did more than okay."

When he turns to look at him, Gojo has the ghost of a smile on his face.

𓇼

The flight back to Tokyo is decidedly less chaotic.

They don't kill each other over packing nor start being weirdly possessive about whose shirt that was or whose similar blue towel that belongs to. They don't insist on whose extra luggage space to dump their extra stuff in into because Gojo has the biggest Rimowa so it was only natural he got the excess, unplanned purchases that inevitably follow tourists on vacation. They don't argue in the morning of their flight, when the adrenaline from vacation inevitably wanes, and the crankiness sets in. 

By now they know each other too well to get into any petty fights born out fo travel fatigue. Instead, they just let the other do their own thing as they take to each other's pre-flight processes:

Getou flosses his teeth. Gojo makes sure all his glasses are accounted for. Nanami budgets all the money he has left. Haibara counts the number of socks he packs lines up with the amount he brought. Shoko finishes the rest of her sci-fi novel in silence. 

On the monorail back, they also don't fight over who gets to sit because Shoko always won anyway. The travel agency somehow mixes up their seats and gives them the choice to re-pick them if they wanted. Shoko decides to hunker down with the first years for a change, much to Gojo's dismay. What do they have that we don't? he pouted. The ability to shut up, supplied Shoko. 

Not even ten minutes into the flight, a ball of white hair pops up from a few aisles over. Shoko was already fast asleep in the middle. Haibara was leaning against the window, dozing off. So when inevitably Gojo points to his eyes and then back to them, glaring, warning, heaving, the universal code for I’m watching you: only Nanami was awake to receive the warning. Nanami rolls his eyes just in time to see Getou yank him down and force a seatbelt and mouth guard on him.

𓇼

It’s late when they land in Haneda. 

Gojo was struggling to get his eyes open, all his weight leaning on Shoko who also looked like she was ready to collapse onto the bed. The fact she wasn't even fighting him off was a clear indication of how tired she was. Haibara was trying in vain to stay awake, head bobbing as he stood guarding their luggages by the terminal gate. Only Getou was lucid enough to talk, talking in low tones with Yaga, asking how far the assistant was and could they send a six-seater? 

The minivan finally arrives and they all but collapse into the seats. Gojo immediately snuggles up to the next closest person for warmth, which just happened to be Getou, who Shoko was also already taking up the other half of his shoulder. Haibara lands on the seat behind them with Nanami in tow, all but melting into it as he does. 

It's a long ride back to the outskirts of Mount Takao and they sleep all the way through it.

𓇼

"So?" Yaga prompts. "How was the trip?"

It's their shared briefing period the next morning and Tokyo is unchanged. Yaga is currently sporting a decadent display of gifts he was only too proud to show off: the I♡OKINAWA t-shirt from Haibara, the knock-off Raybans from Gojo, the BEST TEACHER EVER! mug on his desk from Shoko, a handful of local delicacies from Nanami; and finally, an enamel pin showing a miniature Nirai Beach from Getou on the collar of his uniform. It glittered in the light of the classroom. He looked like an up-and-coming Youtube rapper who raided the dollar store for a fit, but his smile is genuine, as is his interest in their enjoyment.

"Wanna make this an annual thing?" Yaga asks through a mouthful of goya champuru.

Their eyes find each other somehow, in the warmth of sunlight in summer and an experience shared, in the knowing it was going to live inside them forever.

“Hell yes,” Gojo answers for everyone with a grin as wide as the sky.

[donnerpartyofone]

The little pink brain surrounded by stars and flowers at the end of my computer search bar tells me that it is World Brain Health Day, which is insane but maybe that's appropriate. This was a great year to get my ADHD diagnosis and prescription considering the Very Complicated Things that are happening (mostly fine, just A LOT). I have also become aware that the dose of medical meth that I'm on is helping to manage my severe chronic depression, which is pretty awesome since I have tried what feels like "everything" and nothing really works without some gruesome side effect. The main side effect in this case turns up because I'm working a (roughly) 4 days on, 3 days off schedule as recommended by my doctor to avoid building up a tolerance, and I have begun to notice that on the 2nd-or-so day off I have a bit of a snap-back effect that plunges me into a pit of infinite darkness. It helps to remember that when unmedicated I am OFTEN plunging into a pit of infinite darkness, so this is essentially normal. The most positive version of being unmedicated is that I'm at least "pretty depressed" most of the time, and probably not getting as much done, just schlorping around in a general malaise. Just the getting things done is good for my self-esteem anyway. Work helps too, oddly; when I am completely consumed by a big urgent project, it is hard to find the time and energy to fantasize about being dead. Of course obsessive work causes other kinds of wear and tear, but their negativity is less immediately obvious.

Today I am doing the Extremely Complicated training process to write for this pop culture website you have probably heard of. When I was picked to do this I thought, "This is probably too much work for not enough money," and now I'm realizing that it is actually WAY too much work for not NEARLY enough money. But it's good for someone like me while I still don't have a real job, so I'm coping with this ordeal of doing the online training, thinking I'm done, doing my first assignment, realizing there was way more of the online training but I just didn't click the right button or something, revising my assignment, submitting it, realizing there's still MORE stuff I should have fixed and racing through the assignment making little changes and clicking Save after every single one of them never knowing when somebody's is going to start evaluating it, and just praying for death the best. Then at the same time I heard back from an event organizer who totally refused to communicate with me for the last two months so I just cancelled on them like two weeks ago, and now they're telling me they're so sorry and can we please do the event, and I have to have an annoying back-and-forth with the tricky third party this is dependent on, and do all this other stuff I'm suddenly too tired to describe. And THEN AT THE SAME TIME AS THAT I got invited to write more writing for the super awesome company that sometimes publishes me, also for not enough money on the hour but they're apologetic about that and the writing matters to me (and so does the company). And this is all great but my stomach has turned into a rock and my back muscles are fossilizing and I'm in breathe-on-purpose mode and I'm regretting how much coffee I drank and I wish I could calm down with a beer or even a joint or something, but the beer will actually increase my meth uptake and the joint will add to my anxiety in this state, and so I just have to grind my teeth through this until the day is done. I wish I could play for you guys the earsplitting power tool sound from right next door that has been echoing through the neighborhood since 8 o'clock this morning, just as like the OST to this whole experience, but you'll just have to imagine it! I also meant to apply for Real Jobs today, but now it seems clear that that's not going to happen until tomorrow. The End...FOR NOW.

[the-trans-folk-witch]

Post Herbalist, Pre Pre-Medical traditional Witchcraft: a Joke but a reality.

Before I hand feed you my BITTER solar-infused coffee-induced rant, let me give a few ( comically self made) definitions: *see notes

Post Herbalist witchcraft: "energy work**" and magics that are performed by peoples with no means, funds, or ability to obtain herbs and knowledge of herbal medicine for magic and health. This loss of knowledge is due to colonization, fear of herbalisms ties to witchcraft, and the push for modern"white medicine. Note*- I fucking hate the term energy work, yet the magic itself is very very real and used by me.

Pre Pre-Medical witchcraft: -Not to be confused with Pre-med schooling in preparation for grad school.- Pre Pre-medical is what I call the average knowledge of modern medicine that the average person can obtain by ways of public K-12 schooling and the internet. Its place in witchcraft is the knowledge of medicine and the dangers of herbs and or anti-vaxx/med dangers within magical communities. In essence, Pre Pre-medical witchcraft is the belief in modern medicine as well as magical healing methods. Not to be confused with holistic healing which is utter bullshit when taught as completely factual in organized religious spaces.

With these definitions explained less blurred in the mind of the greater trad witch community, and ignorant tumblr onlookers, I move on to my spiel.

As a professional witch, conjurer, seer, and drama queen, I struggle to find a home amongst communities that have watered down witchcraft for a younger, whiter, and less informed audience. Gone are the days of nuance and professionalism. Today is now ruled by forever-beginners, eternal-newbs, and influencers turned teachers. With this post I hope to separate the wheat from the chaff and find the cream of the crop.

To practice witchcraft in a time where herbs are expensive yet taught as the only means to perform spells; and at a time when cities and suburbs have ruined free access to native plants; I find myself performing more prayer and power based magics. No longer do i spend money on herbs, candles and the like. Nor do I plan to purchase the land required to grow my own. I invest in verbal charms, prayer, writing, movement, and my own bodily secretions. I jokingly call this "Post herbalist Pre Pre-Medical witchcraft."It is more informed and rooted in history than generic "energy work". And is less concerned with the consumerism that is forced upon modern witches via herbs and more. The joke is the name is so humorously long and ignorant that it kind of works. I expect the internet will love it considering you folks love putting every adjective before "witch" such as "solar witches" and "crystal witches". Although I suspect people looking for such titles do not have the attention span to read this wordy blog post.

In 2020 I challenged myself to go a year without spending a dollar on my magic. Here we are in 2024 and I'm still going. Yes I use plant materials. Yes I buy things for spirit offerings. But no. I don't have a huge cabinet of herbs and candles. I fully rely on my spirits, my witchflame, the land, and my body to produce magic. No money required. I could spend another fifteen paragraphs explaining how to do so. But alas, i don't care to share. As I said, I am done engaging with forever-newbs who are at the same place they started in witchcraft ten years ago.

I hope my short yet long* rant leads you to... something useful

*note: this is actually a very short read. But in the modern internet sphere we are all unable to process information that's not in video format consisting of no more than 2 minutes. so this is a long post nowadays. hehe im really on a soap box today. sorry im so bitter.

[conkreetmonkey]

So as it turns out, my ADHD meds DO work, I just need to take them after actually getting up for the day instead of waking up to take them at 7:00 AM when my phone alarm sounds and then immediately going back to bed, upon which I don't actually sleep but instead lay under the covers with my eyes closed and write a novel in my head over the span of 2-5 hours, then wake up as my usual dysfunctional and perpetually groggy self.

Now, however, after only two days of experiencing the ACTUAL, INTENDED power of my Normal Pills, a question has been dawning on me... how much fucking mental energy have I been expending in bed??

Like, so far today, as of about 2:00 PM, I have:

Shoveled the driveway and front steps, during which I overheated and stripped down to a t-shirt

Tweaked some loose pieces of floor moulding

Removed the hinged extension from a small table, since we literally never use it and it just gets in the way

Done sooooo much wiping and tidying

Swept, vacuumed and Swiffer mopped roughly ⅔rds of this house's hard surfaces, steaming out any stubborn dried gunk or dragged furniture scuff marks

Vacuumed a bunch of little crevices, such as between the floors and walls, cracks in the steps, vent openings (whoever installed the tongue-and-groove floorboards in this house seemingly eyeballed the whole thing, so everything is loose and shit gets in the cracks and prevents the boards from slatting back together)

Been back and forth between the garage and house multiple times to fetch tools, which usually kills my motivation since I need to put on shoes and walk through the snow to do it

I'VE BEEN PRODUCTIVE AS FUCK SINCE 9:00 AM AND AM ONLY NOW TAKING A BREAK. That's 5 unbroken hours of productivity. AND I'M NOT EVEN TIRED. I WANT TO DO MORE.

And all of this on NOTHING but a single cup of black coffee and one dose of the second-lowest strength of this medication that's avaliable.

(dw, I'll eat, lol)

So if this is how much energy and drive I'm supposed to get from these meds, yet I felt almost no effect after taking the pill and immediately going to imagination land... how much fucking energy was my brain putting into those 5 hour OC AMVs??? You're telling me that and that alone absorbed ALL OF THIS ENERGY like a sponge??? What the FUCK