#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING ILYSM

[hoshiina]

pairing: akatsuki hyoga x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: hyoga thinks very poorly of being in love, but he's in love with you

warnings: hyoga is a little sweet at the end

Hyoga did not like the idea of love— it was only natural for someone who thought like he did. It was illogical and people acted irrationally because of it. If anything, he looked down on those in love because he genuinely thought they were losing their minds to some silly feelings. To him, love was always something for the weak, not for the strong who had things to be doing. Important things.

Which is why he thought you were so horribly stupid to be confessing to him. If one thing wasn't going to work, it was that. Yet, no matter how many times he told you that you were being silly and he wouldn't return your feelings, you just wouldn't back down. Almost daily, you'd find a way to tell him your feelings again.

He hated it so much, everything about it upset him, but somehow he wasn't able to push you away. Your daily greetings and conversations made him far happier than he would like to admit, and that annoyed him greatly. He was not supposed to be feeling joy from someone else, and definitely not supposed to be looking forward to seeing you. Illogical, irrational, thoughts.

These thoughts alone already annoyed him— he hadn't even dared to think he was in love. Never would he be in love, and definitely not with you. Yet, deep inside he knew. He knew that if you were to stop one day he'd probably give in and blurt out these emotions he's been hiding from even himself. He wasn't ready for that, but more importantly, he wasn't ready to see you give up on him. He knew he was being illogical and annoying, not wanting to admit his feelings to return yours, but also not wanting you to move on to someone else. He knew he was being hopelessly selfish, but he just didn't know what to do. He had never been in love before.

The next day when you confessed your love for him all over again, like it was the first and this hadn't been going on for weeks now, the thought alone that he might harbour feelings for you flustered him to no extent. He didn't mean to act so cold and push you away, but he just didn't know how to act. He had no idea what to do, but he knew he'd rather die than show it on his face.

"Hey, Hyoga?" you asked, voice serious.

He stopped to listen and turned his head your way.

"I know you're not fond of me doing this every day, but is it really a nuisance to you? If it is, I'll stop..." you said carefully.

You were trying not to cry, he could tell. He's heard you every day so he knew you well enough to know that much. But this was exactly what he was dreading and he brought it upon himself. Why couldn't he act like he normally did? Why were you affecting the way he acted? Everything irritated him until it made so much sense.

He was in love with you, and there was no denying it anymore.

"Please be blunt about it, I'll feel better that way," you said, but then smiled immediately after. "I guess I don't have to worry about that with you, though. You don't know how to sugarcoat your words anyway."

He didn't know what to say and how to tell you how he felt, so it came out blunt and honest, just like you had asked for it to be. It wasn't the kind that he liked— it came out far too uncollected and in a fluster, but it was his genuine thoughts.

"I think I'm in love with you, and that scares me to death," he said.

"What?" you ask, not believing your ears.

"I will not be repeating that," Hyoga said and turned away. He genuinely believed you were going to run after him and squeal like you always do, but you didn't.

"You won't take it back, though?" You said quietly and he immediately turned around. He knew you were crying. He didn't mean to make you cry— that was the last thing he wanted to do.

"You just said to be blunt, so I was," he said. "Please don't cry."

"I am so in love with you," you said, looking straight into his eyes.

"Even after I made you cry?"

"These are the happiest tears I will ever cry."

[jayjmaybanks]

𖤓˚𓅆𓇢𓆸 navigation ⋆.˚𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋⋆☾

☼𓋼𓍊 𓆏𖧧 hi I'm caitlyn! ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ -ོ 𓅰

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*if you're on this list and confused why I tagged you it's bc you follow one of my sideblogs lmao

☆ about me:

pronouns: she/her

animal & nature lover, directioner since 2011 (ot5), biologist and photographer by day - fangirl blogger at all other times, scorpio

music: love pop, rock, lofi, really just anything tbh, I'm literally always listening to music ALWAYS

shows: castle, lucifer, obx, ted lasso, young royals, virgin river, sex education, psych, adow, heartstopper, bridgerton, & sooo many more

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I’d love to make more friends on here, please say hi! I'd love to talk & make new friends (although I suck at replying quickly akjdfl but I def still wanna chat w you)

[potechiis]

homesick

one of my dearest friends drew this fanart from my fic 'Homesick' for my birthday, and im STILL geeking out over it!!

it was an unexpected collab where they did the lineart and I did the colouring ;w;

LOOK AT HOW CUTE YOUNG RICK LOOKS HERE!! HOLDING HIS BAG OF CHIPS!! Prime was such a tsundere in this fic and THEY TOTALLY GOT THE VIBES!!!! i am still SHRIEKING over this ;w;

As the fic is not currently available on ao3, if you're interested in reading the fic, check below the cut ;w; <3

“Dammit!” Rick exclaimed looking at the empty shelf, devoid of the super spicy chips he’d been craving. 

“What?” Prime trotted over, shaking his wet hands off, carelessly scattering water droplets everywhere as he went. “What’s up?”

“They’re out.” Rick frowned disappointedly, the corners of his lips turning down as his brow furrowed in. 

“Tough luck buddy,” Prime patted his back, not sounding sympathetic in the slightest, “Welp, shall we get back to the ship? We still got a couple more hours to go sooo….” 

Prime started walking toward the exit of the small corner store, vaguely checking out a section with different coloured plumbuses on one of the shelves as he wound his way through the colourful aisles stuffed full with wacky looking products. When he saw that Rick hadn’t followed him, he sighed with exasperation and doubled back with his hands on his hips. He found his twin still staring at the empty shelf longingly. 

“Come on, Rick. Let’s go.” His patience was starting to run thin.

“Man, I really wanted to get these.” Rick said wistfully, ignoring his impatient twin. 

“There’s snacks at home, let’s go.” Prime pulled on his arm but Rick still didn’t budge. “Rick,” he said warningly. 

“Okay, okay , fine,” Rick let himself be pulled away, “can we stop by the next gas station though?”

“No, we can’t.” Prime refused to let go of his twin’s arm until they cleared the threshold. 

“Why not?” Rick protested as they walked toward the ship in the parking lot. 

“There’s no more gas stations around here.” Prime lied as he unlocked and got into the driver’s seat.

“That’s not true— how would you know? You didn’t even check!” Rick argued as he slid into the passenger side. He pulled up the navigator and began typing in a search for the nearest gas station on the way. “Hah! See, here’s one.” He said triumphantly, pointing to a red dot on the screen. 

“It’s probably closed.” Prime started the ignition, ignoring the red blinking dot his twin was pointing to. 

“How can it be closed? It says it’s open 24 hours.” Rick rolled his eyes, “Every time you’ve said somewhere was closed, you’ve almost always been wrong.” 

“It’s my ship, I’m driving ergo, we’re not going.” Prime snapped as the ship rose into space quickly. 

“Come on,” Rick whined, “can’t we at least go check?”

“I don’t get why you’re so obsessed with these fucking chips. They’re not even that good.” Prime scoffed, “out of a million flavours in this universe to fixate on, of course you’d choose the shittiest one.”

Rick flushed, hands kneading together in his lap. It was difficult to say exactly why he’d been craving them as of late. The flavour wasn’t perfect but somehow, the hot smoky spice reminded him of home. His Earthly home, that is. Prime disliked it when he brought up Earth or any lingering ties to their home planet and with things as tense and rocky as they were in the ship at the moment, Rick found himself chewing on his bottom lip, not knowing how to defend his intense craving to his twin. 

“They’re not that bad,” he said lamely before looking out the window glumly. 

Stars and distant galaxies twinkled and winked at him like tiny gems sewed onto inky black fabric. Rick usually found the sight quite comforting and awe inspiring but today, they only seemed to remind him of just how far home was. 

Distantly, he heard Prime flick the radio on, an alien tune crackling through the speakers of the ship. Disappointment settled in his stomach heavily. He’d been really looking forward to munching on those chips on the ride back. 

Other than the radio playing and the drone of the engine shuttling them home, the ship was silent and Rick found himself lost in his thoughts, staring out the window with unseeing eyes. 

“We’re here.” Prime said roughly, jolting him out of his thoughts. 

Rick looked up and then out of the ship. This— this wasn’t their little dwarf planet! His eyes dropped to the navigator between them, the coordinates for the gas station still blinking on the screen as the ship closed distance rapidly. He sat up straighter, completely alert and awake. He could hear Prime snickering at his eagerness— but Rick couldn’t care less. His heart skipped, mouth watering eagerly as he silently urged the ship to go faster. So close! He squeezed his hands together tightly, anticipation welling in his chest. 

The neon sign for a gas station was spotted below and Prime eased the ship toward it. 

As the store came into view, Rick felt his heart plummet and the smile that had crept onto his face dropped. 

The lights were completely off inside. 

“No!” Rick cried out in disbelief, “you’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I told you so,” Prime said smugly as he parked. “Told you it would be closed. Now can we— Hey! Where are you—“

Rick threw the door open and ran toward the storefront. There was a notice tacked to the entrance and Rick squinted at the Galactic Standard written on it, deciphering it in his head quickly. 

CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE   

“Are you serious?!” He groaned, hands and face plastered against the glass as he squinted into the dark store like he might somehow magick a store clerk into appearing if he stared hard enough. 

Prime walked up behind him slowly, lighting up a cigarette as he went. 

Rick turned around at the sound of a lighter clicking and hissing. 

“Prime—“ 

“No! No way!” Prime exclaimed, catching the hopeful look on his twin’s face, “I’m not wasting any more time or gas on this goddamn wild goose chase for shitty chips!” He took a drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke out into Rick’s face. “We checked it out and it’s closed. End of story. We’re going home.” 

“Then—“ Rick looked around furtively, “then we break in! We still got the lock picking kit in the ship right— we’ll be in and out, super fast—“

“No.” Prime rolled his eyes as he inhaled. “I’m not gonna do that.”

“Come on,” Rick wheedled, “why not? We’ve broken into other places for less— how’s this any different?” 

“I’m not playing accomplice to your stupid chip heist.” Another cloud of smoke to the face. 

“Unbelievable! After everything you make me do!” Rick huffed, dispersing the acrid smoke with a wave of his hand. “You’re being so unfair right now!”

“I don’t care,” Prime flicked his half-smoked cigarette onto the ground, crushing it out under his boot with an air of finality. He began walking back toward the ship. “Come home with me or stay here licking glass, I really couldn’t give a shit.”

Rick stared at his twin’s back but Prime never looked back once. Fuck . His hands hardened into fists at his sides. He knew that tone of voice. His twin wasn’t kidding. Prime really would leave him here on this nondescript planet that only functioned as a pit stop for intergalactic travellers if he didn’t move his ass. He’d done it before. Rick spent the better part of a week hitchhiking through the galaxy just to get back to their base. 

“Fucking asshole.” Rick muttered crossly as he followed his twin back to the ship dejectedly, feeling like a leashed dog following its owner. He truly was at Prime’s mercy out here. Sometimes he felt like his twin was a golden ticket that could take him anywhere— but some days, he couldn’t help but feel shackled and bound to his whims. 

Rick yanked the ship door open and slammed it shut extra hard to vent his feelings. 

“Hey!” Prime barked, “Don’t take your shit out on my ship! You break the door, I’ll break your arm.”

“Fuck you, asshole!” Rick snapped, “I hope that shit shatters!” 

“If that shit shatters, we’re both dead in the water and I’m not gonna die because you wanted to get a bag of shitty chips!” Prime punched Rick’s arm hard enough to leave an ache. 

“Ow!” Rick yelped as he twisted around on his seat to face his twin, “what the hell, dude! That fucking hurts!”

“That’s for slamming the door!” Prime growled, “keep it up and the next one will be on the kisser!” 

“I fucking hate it here!” Rick yelled out, face reddening with hot frustration. It wasn’t true. But the bitterness at being foiled over something that should have been a simple pick up, coupled with his twin’s unreasonable attitude had him lashing out angrily. Rick felt like kicking the footwell of the ship but the ache in his arm restrained him. He let out a disgruntled snarl instead, clenching his jaws together. 

“Oh yeah? If you hate it so bad, you can always leave.” Prime said sweetly, but his eyes flashed dangerously. Honeyed poison. He hovered a finger over the glowing red eject button located on the dashboard threateningly. “You wanna leave?”

Stars had surrounded them once more. Leaving was clearly a death wish at this point. 

“No.” Rick said sourly, arms crossed over his chest again. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Prime didn’t bother turning on the radio to ease the tension. His knee bounced restlessly, knuckles white as they gripped the steering wheel. He piloted the ship hunched over and grouchy, exuding an aura of quiet murderous rage. 

The ship felt uncomfortably cramped— almost claustrophobic with the silent tension crackling between them. A muscle in Rick’s jaw jumped as he turned himself towards his window, physically angling himself away from his twin. He rubbed his arm discreetly, glowering out the window. Fucking hell, Prime could pack a punch. Rick could already tell he was going to find a fist shaped bruise later from the way his skin ached hotly. 

They sat like that for the next couple of hours in stony silence. There were no comments on interesting looking nebulae or space objects. There was not a single joke or word exchanged. The only sound was Prime’s finger tapping out an irritating beat against the handle. Rick would ask him to stop but that would require speaking to his twin and he absolutely refused to do that. 

Both Ricks mirrored an identical expression of sulky anger; brows furrowed deeply, corners of their lips tugging downward as their shoulders tensed into hard lines. 

By the time Prime had landed the ship in the familiar parking lot, Rick’s bottom lip was practically swollen from how much he’d been chewing on it in an effort to hold back his acidic vitriol. He kicked the door open— not even bothering to close it as he stalked towards the building angrily. He could hear Prime yelling something at him but Rick simply flipped him off without looking back. 

Rick jabbed in the 20 digit passcode rapidly, scanned his hand and stormed into the bedroom, locking the door behind him swiftly. Shucking off his labcoat, Rick dropped it on the floor without a second glance, kicking off his shoes as well.

Starlight streamed in through the bedroom window and Rick strode over to it, closing the blinds and plunging the room into semi-darkness to match his mood. He paced around the floor, back and forth as he nibbled on his thumbnail. His chest was hot and tight with pent-up anger. Rage bubbled in him like a bottle of shaken soda; pressure building with no real outlet. The room felt extra small today. Like a jail cell. It may as well have been. Rick was stuck out here, millions of miles away from home, no way to get back. 

He heard Prime enter the apartment— front door slamming shut loudly. Rick’s heart began to thunder in his chest; half expecting his twin to pound the bedroom door down, demanding to be let in. He steeled himself for a blistering confrontation— shaking with equal parts dread and savage anticipation— but no such thing happened. Prime began moving around in one of the rooms noisily, clearly ignoring him. 

They’d woken up in high spirits, laughing about something insignificant and chattering over where they’d go over a bowl of cereal excitedly. What happened? How did their day turn out… like this? All he wanted was a bag of chips! If Prime wanted something he wouldn’t let them rest until it was in his greedy hands. If Prime had no vested interest in it, it wasn’t worth pursuing. Fuck what Rick wanted, right? It wasn’t fair.  

Rick scowled, flinging himself onto their unmade bed face down, yelling wordlessly into his pillow until his throat felt raw.

Soft cotton quickly absorbed the hot pinpricks of wetness that seeped out of his eyes. Rick continued to lie face down until he couldn’t breathe before finally turning over, chest heaving. 

He stared at the ceiling, at the weird stain that sort of looked like a dick. The one they always laughed at while lying in bed together. Rick glared at it like it had caused him personal offence. He wished he could rewind time and forget this afternoon completely. 

Rick got under the covers, cocooning himself as he curled into a tight ball. Safe in the soft darkness, there was no way to tell whether he was in space or on Earth. It didn’t matter anyway. 

The angry knot in his chest gradually loosened and was replaced by bone weary exhaustion instead. 

Rick dreamed of his mama. The old kitchen he grew up in with the sunny terracotta tiles. Warmth. Comfort. Soft arms folding him into her aproned chest, stroking the top of his head softly while she croons to him in their native tongue. Her clever boy. He looks up, the stovetop towering over him as she stirs something rich and fragrant with spices. Bubbling cheerfully. Rick inhales deeply, smiling widely. ¡Mamá! His mama beams down at him. Bright as the afternoon sun spilling across the yellow walls. The wooden spoon that often raps him across the knuckles when he’s being naughty is being held out to him. Today it offers love and nourishment. He opens his mouth eagerly—

Rick woke from deep sleep. For a moment, he was back at home. His childhood home. Any moment now, mamá was going to come in and get him up for dinner. He was still half dreaming, stomach rumbling as the rich aroma from his dream filled his senses. He longed to fall back into the warm embrace of the dream but it was quickly leaving him like cupped water in his palms. Slowly, the room came into focus and he remembered where he was. Millions of miles away from Earth. Middle of bumfuck nowhere. Rick sat up slowly, rumpled and groggy with exhaustion but the knotted tension from early had left him completely. All that remained was a gnawing hunger. 

Swinging his legs out of bed, he sat perched on the edge, not quite ready to leave just yet. The argument from earlier crept back into his mind and Rick chewed his cheek, feeling his arm ache dully from where Prime had punched him earlier. He rubbed at it, scowling a little. He wasn’t ready to face Prime but his stomach was insistent— still worked up from the delicious scent in his dreams that was somehow still lingering. 

Fuck it.

Maybe he could quickly sneak into the kitchen and grab a snack. With any luck, Prime might be passed out high on the sofa, watching TV or something. 

He padded over to the door, unlocking it quietly but as he opened it, Rick found himself stunned, frozen with his nose in the air like a hound catching the scent of a fox. 

That smell. 

Warm. Rich. Aromatic. 

It washed over him fully, making his stomach rumble and his mouth water. It wasn’t his imagination. It was real. But how…?

Rick swallowed. He tracked the homely scent, following it as if in a trance, feeling like he was still dreaming. 

The apartment was unusually dark and there was a warm flickering light at the end of the corridor coming from the kitchen. 

“What the—“

Rick stood rooted by the entrance as he looked over their kitchen that had transformed in the few hours he’d been asleep. The messy kitchen table that was usually laden with half drunk mugs of coffee, stacks of blueprints and various half completed inventions had been cleared. In its place sat two bowls and a few burning candles that cast an orange glow over the kitchen. The sink which was usually overflowing with glassware from the lab was filled with actual dirty dishes and bowls. A pot simmered away on the stove, bubbling lightly on low heat; the source of the delicious aroma that was wafting through the entire apartment alluringly. Rick gawked at all of it, mouth parted slightly. He could count on one hand the amount of times they used the kitchen for its intended purpose. 

A pair of arms circled his waist, lips brushing against the back of his neck causing him to jump out of his train of thought. 

“Are you still mad at me?” 

“Did you…” Rick swallowed hard, “did you do all this?” For me? The last two words were unspoken, but they hung in the air between them all the same. 

Prime made a noncommittal noise, his arms tightening around his twin. 

“Are you hungry?”

Rick nodded slowly, leaning back into his twin’s embrace. A small kiss was pressed into the side of his neck before he was released. 

Prime walked over to the fridge, bottles clinking as he opened it up. Yellow light pooled onto the floor briefly, illuminating his face. He pulled out two glass bottles by their necks, popping the tops off with his teeth before handing one to his twin. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Check the uh— check the cabinet over there. Food’s almost ready, by the way.” 

Rick went over to the aforementioned cabinet, setting his beer on the counter before pulling it open. He reached in, bringing one of the plastic bags closer to his face. It was hard to see with just candlelight but it only took a moment to recognise the brand. To his complete and utter astonishment, the shelf was filled with the chips he’d been looking for all afternoon 

“Y-you— when did you—?!” 

“I told you we had snacks at home.” Prime said gruffly, back turned to him as he stirred the pot. He had taken off his usual jacket, wearing his long sleeved brown shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. 

The bag crinkled loudly as Rick ripped into its contents eagerly, popping one in his mouth. Immediately, addictively hot, smoky spice tingled his tongue and Rick couldn’t resist crunching down a few more. He set the bag down on the table, not wanting to ruin his appetite for what his twin had made for them. Now it was his turn to wrap his arms around his twin’s middle for a quick squeeze before his hands drifted to rest on Prime’s hips lightly. He could feel the flavour heating up his cheeks and neck, the warmth spreading through his body. He pressed in closer, inhaling Prime’s comforting scent and the mouthwatering smell from the soup bubbling  heartily. All the animosity from the day melted away. 

“… Thanks,” Rick mumbled, the gratitude muffled against his twin’s back, barely audible. 

“Mm.” 

Rick peered over Prime’s shoulder to watch him stir the stew, making sure the bottom wasn’t burning. With only candlelight illuminating the kitchen, it was difficult to make out the contents of the pot. It could have been a witch’s cauldron from how dark the contents looked in this lighting. 

“It’s super dark in here,” Rick observed, “how can you see like this?” He reached up to turn on the stove light but Prime caught his hand, turning around.

“Don’t,” he laced their fingers together, “it’s fine.” 

Candlelight flickered in his twin’s eyes; twin flames dancing in an ocean of blue. Tipping Rick’s chin up with a finger, Prime kissed his twin on the lips tasting the cheap flavoured powder from the chips. 

“Yeah, they still taste like shit.” But unlike the chips, his words lacked any real heat. “Taste this, it’s way better than that garbage.” Prime grinned as he picked up the long wooden spoon, blowing on it a little to cool it off before offering it to his twin. 

Rick obediently opened his mouth to accept the spoonful of soup. 

The unmistakable rich, unctuous flavour of menudo spread over his tongue thickly and Rick closed his eyes; instantly transported back to his childhood. It was spicier than a conventional menudo. But it was perfect. Just the way he liked it. Rick swallowed around the lump in his throat. 

“Just like mamá makes, right?” Prime whispered quietly, watching Rick savour his cooking efforts with prideful delight. He leaned in for another kiss, stealing the flavour out of his twin’s mouth until Rick was left breathless. 

“Sit down, I’ll plate up.”

Rick picked up his beer from the counter, sipping as he watched his twin bustle around the kitchen, ladling the dark soup and throwing a couple of finishing garnishes on top of the food. He sat down on his side of the table, lips still buzzing from their spicy kiss, feeling completely bemused. He had no idea Prime was capable of cooking. They usually ordered take out, ransacked the local corner store for high calorie snacks or ate out at fast food chains. He never imagined his twin picking up a knife to cook rather than maim. 

“Eat up,” Prime set down a bowl of menudo down in front of him. Rick inhaled deeply, his stomach growling loudly. He could smell garlic, cilantro and other spices wafting up with the steam. Where did he get these things? He knew Earthly ingredients were notoriously expensive and hard to find, especially out here. Even KOI planets couldn’t quite replicate the taste of Earth’s resources completely. 

Rick picked up his spoon. The flickering candlelight made the dark chunky soup gleam and shine. Menudo never looked great, but it more than made up for its looks in flavour. Ugly delicious. He began to eat, making sure to get a good ratio of chopped onions and other fixings on his spoon. 

Instantly, the flavour of garlic, aromatic spices and tangy citrus hit his tongue and started warming his body from the inside out. Hunger seemed to increase twofold and Rick was ravenous. The crispy fresh ingredients contrasted delightfully with the soft, braised meat— tender from having been cooked for hours. It was hearty and healing. It was everything Rick never knew he needed. His cheeks pinkened slightly— from the heat of the chilis and… his twin’s unexpected thoughtfulness. Had he known? That Rick had been feeling homesick? Or had this all been one gigantic coincidence? Rick mulled on it as he ate, savouring the flavours of home. 

The table was quiet apart from the sound of chewing and spoons scraping against bowls, but it was an amicable, comfortable silence. 

When Rick had gotten halfway through his bowl, he stopped to take a break with a sip of cold beer. The intense spiciness had begun to creep up on him and his neck and ears felt warm— tongue tingling with heat. But Rick wouldn’t have it any other way. He sat back, regarding his twin with a content expression on his face. 

“Okay,” he said, “I have to ask. Where’d you get these ingredients? It can’t have been easy sourcing cilantro and cumin and all the other stuff.”

“Oh well, you know,” Prime shrugged, busy looking at his bowl, “just here and there. I got a— ah— uh— a pretty sweet deal on some meat. Picked up some stuff last time we stopped by Earth. No big deal.”

Prime spooned some more menudo into his mouth before he looked up, almost shyly like he was nervous about Rick’s reaction.  

“D’you—“ he cleared his throat, “do you…uh, like it?”

“It’s good,” Rick nodded, “really good. I—“ he hesitated, “you should— uh, you should make it more often. If you can. Of course.” 

“I mean,” Prime swallowed his mouthful, washing it down with a glug of beer, “it’s extremely time consuming to make. Not to mention getting all the right stuff takes a lot of effort and then there’s planning—“

“Yeah,” Rick said quickly, looking back down at his half eaten bowl, “I get it. It’s a lot—“

“—But if you want it, just tell me. I can make it happen.” Prime shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he ruffled the back of his head with one hand. 

“Really?” Rick looked up.

“Yeah,” Prime spoke to the bottom of Rick’s beer bottle on the table, “‘cause, you know,” he paused, rubbing his neck sheepishly, “… I miss mama’s cooking too, sometimes.”

There was a beat of silence after this admission and the pair chuckled together. Something in Rick’s heart eased and then swelled. 

“I didn’t even know you knew how to cook.” Rick said teasingly before spooning a large mouthful of stew into his mouth, biting into a chilli by accident. Instantly, his eyes watered, cheeks peppery hot as he swallowed the spicy mouthful. He quickly took another sip of his beer as a chaser, blinking back tears. 

“Hey! There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Anyway, I am the smartest man in the universe, after all. Name something I can’t do.” Prime grinned cockily before balling up his napkin and throwing it at his twin lightly. “You missed a spot, by the way.”

“What— where? Did I get it?” Rick licked around his burning mouth before attempting to wipe off whatever it was with the back of his hand only to feel his twin catch his wrist, pulling it away. 

“Here.” Prime caught the dribble with his thumb, slowly pushing it back and over the curve of Rick’s lip and into the soft heat of his mouth. 

Rick’s mouth tingled as his twin pressed his thumb into his tongue gently causing saliva to well up around the intrusion. He swallowed, inadvertently sucking the tip of Prime’s finger, feeling it drag over his teeth as it left him too soon. Heat flooded him as he dazedly watched his twin suck his thumb clean of himself. He wasn’t sure if it was the chillis or something else that was making him pant lightly. 

“Eat your food,” Prime smirked, catching the flushed look on his twin’s face. 

Rick blushed, bending his head to quickly shovel the remains of his dinner into his mouth. 

The candlelight was dwindling, struggling to stay alive in the melting wax as the candles reached their stumpy limits. 

Still, the kitchen never felt warmer or brighter. The pair found themselves leaning in closer over the cramped table— two stars orbiting one another, powerless to their combined gravitational pull. 

Even after they’d finished and pushed their bowls to the side, they still lingered at the table— sipping out of mostly empty bottles of beer, talking about nothing and everything in between. Neither of them wanted to burst the fragile bubble of serenity this meal had brought them. 

But finally, when the last candle fizzled out, Rick sat back and stretched, sated and relaxed. 

“I’ll wash up.” 

“Oh— uh,” Prime sat up hastily, “that’s okay. I’ll do it. There’s a lot of stuff to wash and I wouldn’t wanna—“

“Why? You cooked so, it’s only fair, right? I don’t mind.” Rick stood up and carefully began clearing the table, squinting as he stacked their empty bowls. “God, it’s really dark in here, huh.” 

He walked over to the light switch in the corner. 

“Wait—!” Prime nearly tripped out of his chair, bumping the table loudly as he lunged for his twin. “Don’t—“

“What?” Rick turned around as the kitchen lights flooded the area starkly. “What the—“ 

Rick’s eyes widened as he stared down at the empty bowls of menudo in his hand, streaked with blue. In fact, he could see a bunch of the dishes in the sink were also covered in an unfortunately familiar shade of blue. 

“Dude,” he started, “tell me that’s not the—“

“God,” Prime rolled his eyes, huffing out a breath of air with his hands on his hips, “I told you not to turn the lights on! I knew you’d be such a baby about it.” 

“When you said you had a sweet deal on meat, you meant—“ Rick paled as nausea twisted his stomach. 

“I mean,” Prime flung his hands into the air, “what was I supposed to do? Leave the bodies to rot in the lab forever? What a waste. At least this way we can get rid of the bodies and save space and get free protein. This is a three birds one stone sitch! You have to appreciate that! It’s an extremely economical solution to a—”

“Have you learned nothing from putting alien things in our bodies?” Rick demanded, one hand on his hip.

“Relax, it’s totally fine,” Prime shushed him, “everyone knows heat kills germs and this stuff’s been boiling for hours!”

“…” Rick stared at his twin incredulously, not knowing what to say. “I’m going back to bed,” he said finally, feeling a bit ill as he set the bowls on the counter. He turned to walk out the kitchen. 

“Sure you don’t want seconds?” Prime called out to him, “You looked like you were really enjoying it!”

“No!”

“Okay, we can have it for breakfast tomorrow, then!” 

[smoments]

✧ part 16 (final part): memories of a stranger // a satosugu reincarnation au

❝ let's meet again, for the first time. ❞

╰┈➤ in which 19-year old gojo satoru happens upon a stranger at a cafe who speaks his name with a kind of softness and familiarity that satoru’s sure he’s heard before.

chapter 1

ao3 link

➽ chapter 16: my one and only

That morning begins the same way that it has every year prior; Satoru, who apparently has an inner alarm clock that only works on one out of every three hundred sixty-five days, shoots up in bed as if on cue and stretches out his arms, appreciating his surroundings on a deeper level now that he’s viewing them with a new maturity. He stays silent for as long as he can before the anticipation overtakes him, and then he rolls over to the other side of the bed and grabs Suguru by the shoulder, shaking him urgently. 

“Wake up! Guess whose birthday it is?”

Suguru could honestly just set his alarm for earlier on Satoru’s birthday so he wouldn’t have to be awoken so abruptly. Unfortunately, he insists that it’s about the principle of the thing, which Satoru thinks is dumb- especially because it also means that the first expression he usually makes on this day is disgruntled, not reverent.

As usual, he groans, stretching out and gazing up at Satoru through bleary eyes. 

“Satoru, we’ve talked about this… I assure you that I’d be far more enthusiastic about your birthday if you didn’t wake me up at an ungodly hour every year.”

Satoru nods, trying to look sympathetic since he doesn’t particularly feel like switching up what has now become such a sentimental part of their routine. “Maybe you’ll get lucky the fourth time around?”

“Considering it’s you, I highly doubt that.”

He throws himself onto Suguru’s half-awake form in starfish fashion, his limbs stretching easily from the headboard to the foot of the bed, and Suguru catches him with little effort.

“Well. I guess you’ll just have to break up with me, then.” He goads, tracing little stars on Suguru’s upper arm with the tips of his fingers. 

“You know that won’t happen.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause I wouldn’t let you out easy. Ever tried canceling a gym membership?” 

Suguru rolls his eyes, resting a light hand on Satoru’s upper back.

“No, I meant that you were worth keeping around.” 

He groans, suddenly bashful, and rolls to the other side of the bed, smothering his face with a pillow to hide his embarrassment - badly, since he’s also kicking his feet and rolling around in the sheets. 

“You’re cheesy, Suguru.”

Suguru rolls his eyes, extending his arm to the mahogany nightstand next to the bed and spinning the digital alarm clock atop it toward himself.  

“Most of the time, at least.”

He stops fanboying and throws the pillow onto his lap, sitting up again with a new indignance in his voice. 

“How dare you! On my birthday, of all days!” “You’re the one who called me cheesy,” he protests, but turns to press his lips briefly to the crown of Satoru’s mess of hair, a place with which he’s grown rather well-acquainted. “Happy birthday, Satoru.”

Satoru grins, relaxing at his touch, and speaks again with a new thoughtfulness in his voice. “I feel so old. But, like, in a cool way. You think I’ll start going gray soon?”

“It’ll be hard to tell if you do.”

“My hair is white, not gray!”

“Yeah, so it’ll be, like… highlights? Me, on the other hand, with all this stress…” He sighs remorsefully, reaching up to run a hand through his mussed hair and inclining his head towards the apparent cause of his agony. “I’ll be lucky to have anything left by twenty-five.”

“Oh, you wanna see stress? I’ll show you stress!” He flings the pillow at Suguru’s smirking face, groaning when he catches it and sets it gently down at the headboard before swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Come back! Didn’t you wanna go back to sleep?”

Suguru scoffs at him, flicking on the bathroom light and grabbing his toothbrush from the sink.

”After all this commotion? Even if I could, you never let me sleep on your birthday.” 

“It’s one of the most important days of the year, Suguru, so you should enjoy it for as long as you can.”

“You don’t let me sleep in on my own birthday either.” 

“Exactly?”

“It’s my birthday, so shouldn’t the whole point be that I can do whatever I want?” 

“No.”

“Okay.” 

Suguru is rather difficult to argue with. Not that Satoru makes much of an effort. 

“Are the kids awake yet?”

“Have you woken them up yet?”

“Huh. Good point.” 

Deciding to move in together was hardly a question; it became necessary at that point in their relationship when they started spending enough nights together that more of his belongings were at Suguru’s house than his- forgotten articles of clothing tucked away in a drawer that Suguru silently reserved for him, sketchbooks flipped to open pages scrawled with doodles and haphazard, half-formed ideas for paintings strewn across his living room, a fridge stocked with Satoru’s favorite kind of apples and all the sweets that Suguru tolerated but never went out of his way to buy for himself; his presence lingered in the corners of the small apartment even when he wasn’t there, and both of them were acutely aware of it. At some point, he grew fed up with never being able to find his toothbrush and brought the issue up to Suguru.

“Why don’t you just buy another toothbrush?”

“Are you trying to ignore the callings of fate?”

So they moved in together. That would have happened eventually either way, but Satoru deemed sooner better than later. He hoped that he and Suguru would have all the time in the world together, but he hardly intended to rely on that notion. Why wait at all, right? 

The children were a different story. Megumi and Tsumiki were both young- far too young to be faring for themselves, even with their frequent visits and check-ins. They’d grown close enough over the past two years that Satoru felt comfortable bringing up a change in living arrangements - and Megumi wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about most anything, so the glimmer of joy in his eyes upon Satoru’s suggestion was more than enough for Suguru to get on board too. 

Even if they couldn’t yet officially adopt given their age, having them close was comforting. Tsumiki and Megumi had essentially raised themselves until that point, and while Satoru mourned the childhood that had already been taken from them, he wanted them to enjoy the rest of it to the fullest. 

And besides- the place they’d chosen was larger than they could justify for just the two of them, like they’d known they would end up needing the extra space.

Satoru heads to the nearest bedroom first, his socked feet padding softly against the wooden floor. The kids love to tease them about how they can tell who’s at the door from the sound of their footsteps, or how they knock; apparently, Suguru taps lightly at the door and then waits, while he raps his fist against the wood, his other hand already at the knob and ready to turn.

He pokes his head through the second one of the girls calls out in assent, gracing the twins with a playfully charming grin. 

“Hellooo? We’re sleeping in today, are we?”

“He’s been waiting to say that all year.” 

“Yeah, because he usually doesn’t wake up early enough.” 

They dissolve into a fit of giggles, and he rolls his eyes, holding out his arms expectantly. 

“So? Where’s my birthday gift?”

“We’ll give it to you later. At the party.”

Mimiko nods vehemently, and he shakes his head, but relents. He doesn’t quite get why they prefer to share a bedroom when they have the extra space, but Suguru says it’s how they feel most comfortable, so he doesn’t inquire. 

Suguru has always been more intuitive between the two of them when it comes to stuff like that, and, of course, it was he who took them in just a few years ago. Satoru was happy for him when he began the non-profit, but he only truly understood why Suguru felt so strongly about his choice of career when he showed up at their front door one day with two little girls at his side, his expression just as resolved as it was apologetic. His line of work meant that he occasionally came into contact with victims of abuse or abandonment, but most of the time he was just an intermediary. From the look on his face, this time was different. 

Satoru didn’t miss a beat; if Suguru loved them, then he was sure it would come just as easily to him. And that it did. 

He never understood when people said you had to be related by blood to truly know a parental connection- he loved all of the children like they were his own. Besides, if that was the case, then wouldn’t you have to be related to your spouse to truly love them, too? He shudders at the thought, deciding that maybe that isn’t such a great analogy, and Nanako asks him, word for word, ‘why he looks like that’. 

“How rude! This is literally just my face.”

”Well, it’s weird.”

And because he loves her like his own, instead of being mature and letting it go like he probably should, he narrows his eyes, stepping into the room with a menacing air about him, and tickles her relentlessly until she, gasping for breath between bursts of laughter, finally takes it back. 

-

Ironically, they end up being a few minutes late to Satoru’s birthday dinner; Tsumiki had asked Megumi to do her hair, which was not unusual in and of itself, but tonight he went for a french braid as opposed to the simple three-section one he was inclined to - despite having only just mastered the latter during their most recent outing a week ago. Suguru gently suggested that it might be a lot to take on in just half an hour, especially given Nanako’s claim that she tried doing it on herself once and ended up having to ask Suguru to brush it out for her because of how tangled it became, but he was adamant. He did get it in the end, at least, in large part thanks to Suguru’s own knowledge surrounding hair. 

“What can I say? I’m a girl dad.” He’d winked at Megumi, and Satoru laughed, running his fingers across Suguru’s effortless half-bun. 

“No, you’ve gotta exclusively have girls to be a girl dad. You’re just gay.”

Suguru’s expression turned serious, and he looked over at Megumi, who looked like he found Satoru’s jab amusing but didn’t want to admit it.

”Megumi, remember what I told you the other day about microaggressions?”

“Suguruu! I’m allowed to say that!”

He snorts at the memory as they pull into the parking lot of their destination, looking out at the warm, soft-yellow bulbs that dangle below the overhang of the building and illuminate the entrance.

It’s one of his favorite restaurants, perhaps because of the way it toes the line between casual and classy, and therefore works for most any occasion. It’s where he and Suguru went to celebrate just the two of them after moving in together, but ended up just sitting across from each other with untouched plates of food in front of them, unable to keep down the giddiness that arose from the prospect of finally being together for as long as they wanted on a daily basis. Suguru eventually broke from his haze, murmuring something about how they should eat since they were here anyways, and Satoru nodded in agreement. Neither made any move to unwrap the cloth napkin folded neatly around their utensils, and they ended up taking their dinner to go and having it a day later in their new home , going out of their way to say the words over and over just to hear them, just to feel them linger in the open air - as if anybody was listening. Suguru, can you get the placemats from that drawer? Wow, doesn’t this place have so many more cabinets? Satoru, look at the view out this window. I’m glad we chose a house in such a nice spot. I wonder if the kids would like it here, Suguru. In our new home. And they’d look at each other like some secret had just passed between them, like they’d just spoken in a language unbeknownst to anybody else, and they’d grin like idiots.

“Did you guys order without us?” Satoru inquires in place of a greeting when they arrive at their booth, swinging around the table and flopping down into the seat across from Shoko, who shakes her head, smiling.  

”We wanted to, but Nanami wouldn’t let us.” Utahime elaborates matter-of-factly. Yuuji, who is seated right between Nanami and his older brother and seems to be the true cause of the delay, nods emphatically.

”You’re not supposed to eat until everyone’s at the table!”

“You always have your plate wiped clean by the time I sit down.” Sukuna points out, and he shrugs noncommittally. “That’s because you always take too long. And plus, Nanamin has been teaching me about efficiency.” He pats his stomach to emphasize his point.  

“He helps me out at the bakery.” Nanami looks over at Yuuji, a faint smile playing at his lips, and he nods enthusiastically.

”Yeah! He says I’m his most valuable employee.” 

“All you do is smile pretty for the customers.” His brother replies, slightly bemused.

“Um, yes, which helps get people in the store! Look, would you rather get a snack from somewhere with that face staring at you through the window? Or this one?” 

He gestures between Sukuna’s scowling countenance and his own comparatively angelic face, and the former rewards him with an offended glower.

“Look here now, you little brat-“

“Woah, let’s lighten the mood a little, guys!”

“That’s not how that works, Satoru.” Shoko remarks. “You can’t just talk about lightening the mood. You have to, like, actually lighten it.” 

“Maybe that’s how it is for most people, but I’m different.” 

“Tell him that.” She gestures to Sukuna, whose mood does not appear to have lightened in the slightest, and puts a mild amount of effort toward stifling a laugh.

Satoru sighs deeply, and then claps, an idea occurring to him. “Maybe if you get some food in you, you’ll be less grumpy?” 

The rest of them murmur their agreement, but Sukuna only redirects his glare to Satoru, who levels him with a thoughtful stare. 

”Down, boy.” He tries, and hears Suguru choke on his water. Fortunately for him, even Yuuji’s strong-tempered brother doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, and Haibara, clueless, nudges Nanami to ask whether he prefers the shrimp or vegetable tempura, effectively setting off new surges of conversation from each corner of the comfortably crowded booth. 

-

Their food comes out quickly, that familiarly irresistible deep-fried aroma drifting from the kitchen in the minutes before the server herself makes it out to set their vast assortment of dishes on the table. 

Suguru responds to inquiries about the quality of his meal, which he’s hardly tasted despite being a third of the way through, with quick nods and a vague smile, clearing his throat too often and stealing occasional glances at Satoru like a lovestruck teenager. He wipes his palms against the thin fabric of his pants, giving another nod when Satoru asks him a question and only registering that it may not have called for a yes-or-no answer when he receives a furrowed brow in response. 

“What?”

“I was asking what time you wanted to go back to the house.” 

“Oh. Sorry. Uh, maybe half an hour?” 

“Okay, cool.” He turns to their friends, cupping his hands over his mouth to call out to them. “You guys have fifteen minutes to finish eating, and then we’re ordering dessert!”

Yuuji joins him in cheering, throwing his arms into the air and nearly knocking over a glass of water that Nanami rights just in time. Megumi rolls his eyes, unfolding the menu resting in front of him and burying his face in it. 

Apparently curious as to what he’s so absorbed in all of a sudden, Satoru peeks over his head and catches a flash of pale pink on the page Megumi is carefully examining. He grins knowingly. 

“So you’re scoping out the cakes, I see.” 

“I’m looking at the mochi. That’s what you like, isn’t it?” He responds flatly, injecting a hint of annoyance into his voice so as not to sound too gentle. 

“Aww! Suguru, did you hear that?”

Suguru looks over at them, a mild grin on his face. “Very sweet,” he agrees, wondering if Satoru can hear his heart pounding in his chest. They know each other so well at this point that he wouldn’t be particularly surprised. 

As expected, Satoru’s eyes linger on his face, a flicker of surprise passing over his face.

“You look nervous. Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to give a speech about me or anything.”

It’s meant as a comfort, but instead it sends his pulse skyrocketing. He forces a nervous laugh. 

“Right. Of course. No speeches.” 

Satoru gives him a strange look and reaches over to rest his hand on Suguru’s and give it a gentle pat, not noticing- or perhaps ignoring - the clamminess of his palm. “What’s up?” 

God, Satoru’s gotten so much better at communication. He’d be proud on any other day, but at the moment, having to express himself verbally sounds absolutely dreadful. It’s like he’s worried that if he uses up all his mental energy now, he’ll be lost for words when he truly needs them. Still, the feeling of Satoru’s skin on his - warm, comforting, and so familiar - calms him down, if imperceptibly. He takes a deep breath, forcing his muddled thoughts into order, and meets Satoru’s eyes with a confidence that he absolutely does not feel.

“Satoru, did you know? You can get free dessert here.”

“What? When did they tell you that?” Satoru gasps, scandalized. “Did you come here without me?!” He turns away, waving their server over frantically - presumably to haggle her about said deal -  and the tension drains from Suguru’s body as he watches, his lips curving into a half smile.

The waitress stops halfway to their table, the bemusement on her face slipping into shock, and brings a hand up to her open mouth. Satoru, who’s wrapped up in gesturing to the menu that he’s just borrowed from Megumi, doesn’t notice anything amiss until the rest of their table goes quiet. 

“And I was wondering about - hey, why does it always go silent when I’m talking? Guys-“

He spins around to address them, but the words catch in his throat when he registers Suguru’s absence and shifts his gaze downward. His lips part, and he releases a shaky breath.

”Oh. Oh my god.” 

Suguru lifts his head from the ground, trying without success to steady his trembling hands, and offers him a crooked smile, laying an elbow on the knee that rests on the tile floor of the restaurant. 

“Satoru,” he murmurs, and all the agonizing over this moment, all his attempts to memorize the perfect speech, all the hours he spent scouring his brain for the exact words he wanted to say to Satoru - it seems silly, all of a sudden. Because the feel of that name on his lips brings everything, in a dizzying rush, to the forefront of his mind. He swallows, and then he begins to speak, slowly, deliberately, his voice trembling.

”I…I’ve known since I first laid my eyes on you. I never thought… that love at first sight existed. Until I saw you in that cafe. But that wasn’t love at first sight, was it, Satoru? Even at the first glance, it was like I’d seen you a thousand times before. And…” the corner of his mouth tugs upward. “I hope to see you at least that many times more. I hope that you’ll grant me the honor of waking up next to you every morning for the rest of this life, and for the entirety of any lives that follow. I’ll treasure every second, every little happiness, Satoru. If you’ll… if you’ll marry me?”

He holds his breath, the complete silence closing in around him, the pressure suffocating. The thumping of his heart has died down to a quiet, barely discernible vibration in his chest. 

And then Satoru speaks, and the restaurant explodes into the most beautiful wave of sound he’s ever heard. 

“Yes. Yes, of course. God, I didn’t know I had to respond… I thought it was, like, rhetorical. H-how could I say no? Suguru! Suguru, finally!” 

He gets to his feet, smiling so wide his cheeks ache, and staggers when Satoru throws his arms around his neck without warning, but quickly steadies himself and returns the warm embrace. 

“I wanted to give you a speech, too!” Satoru chokes out through the tears that have begun to roll down his cheeks and onto Suguru’s shoulder, soaking through his dress shirt. Suguru nudges his nose against his neck, inhaling the slightly sweet scent of his skin, and finds himself smiling again, even as he blinks back tears of his own. 

“There’s always the vows, right?”

As soon as he says the words, he almost regrets it, because Satoru immediately begins crying what seems like ten times harder. He eventually composes himself just enough to separate himself from Suguru and settle back down in his chair, beaming at each and every ‘congratulations’ and begrudging wish directed towards them. 

“Shoko! Shoko, can you believe it?” He cries, raising his voice to be heard over the commotion. 

Shoko nods, a mildly concerned expression on her face, and he blinks, his tone turning panicky within the space of a second. 

“What? What happened?”

“Guys, you know that was…” She murmurs, her eyes flicking hesitantly from their faces to the table. After a second of reluctant deliberation, she lowers her voice to a whisper, leaning forward discreetly. “That was kind of gay.” 

She and Satoru burst out laughing in perfect unison, and he reaches across the table to wrap her in a tight hug as Suguru looks on, slightly bewildered, but smiling nevertheless. They only pull apart at the soft clatter of ceramic against wood, Satoru’s wide-eyed gaze almost immediately fixing itself to the platter of cream-filled mochi now in front of him. The waitress smiles down at them graciously, dipping her head in a short bow. 

”Congratulations! It’s on us.” 

Suguru had made up the free dessert line on the spot, but the astonished look that Satoru rests upon him as the woman returns to the kitchen after being assaulted by words of appreciation from both he and Yuuji is so lovely, so adoring, that he doesn’t have the heart to say so. 

So instead, he shakes his head, watching as Satoru asks Megumi whether he wants matcha or strawberry, then stuffs the answer (matcha) into his own mouth as Megumi looks on resignedly. “Megs! You’re supposed to get mad!” Satoru then complains, taking a replacement piece of mochi off the plate and handing it to their son, who still looks like he wouldn’t have particularly cared either way. 

-

“So?” 

Suguru tears his gaze away from the slowly darkening sky, glancing back at the children seated behind them in the minivan. Mimiko, her chin resting atop the soft head of her favorite stuffed animal, seems to understand what he’s asking before he elaborates, and turns to grin knowingly at her sisters. 

“How’d I do?” He inquires, squeezing Satoru’s hand where their fingers lay intertwined on the smooth center console of the car. 

“You did pretty good!” Nanako announces proudly; and he replies with all the seriousness necessary in accepting a compliment from an ever-honest child, giving her a sincerely grateful nod. His former anxiety seems so far away now- in fact, everything does. 

He thinks back to his worst days, when even getting out of bed felt like a monumental task and he could barely find it in himself to go through the motions of his everyday life. When he couldn’t understand what could possibly be wanted of him, how he was supposed to search for glimmers of meaning in what seemed like an endless expanse of defeat.

It wasn’t necessarily that Satoru pulled him out of the darkness; it was more like he’d stepped just an inch closer, prodded him in the shoulder, and gestured in the distance to a speck of light that Suguru had been previously blind to. And as soon as he laid his eyes upon it, his surroundings lit up entirely, set aglow by a thousand flickers of warm, bright luminescence that dimmed and intensified in time with the rising and falling of his chest. All the little beauties of life, suddenly laid out before him. Everything was the same; everything was different. 

Now, an easy smile graces his lips, and as Megumi flashes him a thumbs up and Tsumiki claps quietly, beaming in her characteristically affectionate fashion, he wonders to himself what he’s done to deserve such a life. 

-

“Suguru?!”

They’re curled up on their couch of choice, tucked away into a far corner of the living room close enough to the fireplace that the heat emanating from the gentle flames rises straight from its enclosure and into his skin. A shiver passes through him despite the warmth, and he sits up urgently, his pulse soaring. 

“I think I lost the ring!” He cries, his eyes locked on the notably empty skin of his ring finger as he searches frantically through his memory, trying to piece together everything he’s done in the short time since the proposal. But right now, he can’t even remember the color of the jewel, whether the band was silver or gold - and he certainly can’t think clearly back to those hazy, dream-like minutes immediately following the event. It all passed by so quickly, in a lustrously airbrushed sort of blur- much like those paintings turned out in the landscape lessons he led last week, which Nobara, Yuuji and Megumi recently joined in on. 

“You did?” Suguru’s voice takes on an unusually panicked note as he runs his hands over the plush cushions beneath them, hoping his fingers will close around the small, polished metal of the ring, which (he prays) has only just now slipped off Satoru’s hand. He makes a mental note to exchange it for a smaller size as soon as possible.

“Shoko! The ring is gone!” Satoru cries as she and Nobara set two cups of coffee on the round oak table next to a plate of biscuits Suguru put out for their guests. She straightens up, her brow slightly furrowed.

”What?!” She exclaims, bewildered. “How-“ Her face relaxes, and a laugh that’s equally dazed and relieved escapes her lips. “Are you guys dumb? You never gave him the ring.” 

“…What?” Suguru reaches into his pocket, digging out the small, navy-blue box and clicking it open with his thumb. “Ah.” 

He feels Satoru’s body sag in relief at his side. “Haha. I knew it.” 

“We would have made it to the wedding before you noticed.” Suguru replies, still in the process of bringing his heart rate back down to a reasonable level. 

“Men.” Utahime, who has just appeared at Shoko’s side, shakes her head exasperatedly, tilting it against the other’s shoulder and relaxing into her side. Shoko grins, shooting a meaningful look at Nobara, who nods sagely, having already arrived at the same one-word conclusion all on her own in spite of her age. Men.

“Thanks for your help the other day, guys.” Suguru adds. 

His original plan had been to keep his intentions to himself; Satoru could be unnervingly perceptive, and so he wanted to steer clear of anything that might ruin the surprise, but he’d been such a mess in the days leading up to Satoru’s birthday that he ended up spilling everything to Shoko and Utahime in hopes that they might be able to offer him some advice. Their answers were sound: Keep it simple. Don’t plan it out too much; all that stuff will go to hell when it’s finally time, anyway. Tell him exactly what you’re feeling. And make it quick, okay? We don’t want to sit through too much sappiness. (The last one was Utahime).

“No problem. You know I’ve been on board since day one.” 

A faint flush comes over Suguru’s face as he recalls that day at the gallery and the words Shoko whispered in his ear that left him frozen to his spot in the center of the nearly-empty building, shock and disbelief coursing through him. 

“Why don’t you try for that kiss now?”

As it turned out, he would take her advice just a couple days later. 

“How’d you know it was because of… that?” He asks carefully, clearing his throat and hoping Satoru won’t inquire as to the cause of his sudden embarrassment. 

“Oh, please. Wasn’t it, like, a week later that you guys got together?”

“Well, I suppose…” 

“Guys! It’s snowing!” 

Yuuji waves exaggeratedly at them from the window, his small hands pressed up against the frosted glass, and nudges Megumi at his side in case he didn’t hear his initial cry of delight. Nobara hurries over to see, her eyes bright with delight, and tells Yuuji to move back a little because he’s apparently ruining the aesthetic by smushing his face against the glass. Nanami sips from his mug of coffee, leaning his elbows on the kitchen island and watching contently as Yuuji and Nobara shove each other back and forth until Megumi gets sick of being jostled in the crossfire and plants himself firmly between them. Suguru shakes his head. 

“The first snow. It’s late this year.” He murmurs, the coolness of metal against his palm reminding him of the ring in his hand. He wraps his fingers around Satoru’s wrist, taking a moment to admire their delicate beauty like he doesn’t already know every crevice of his palm, couldn’t map out each individual joint of his fingers. Then, he slides the silver band down his ring finger, marveling at how smoothly it goes on. Satoru slowly turns his hand over, admiring the jewel. 

”Pretty. You chose perfectly, Suguru.” 

He thinks so, too; it’s a slim-bodied ring, subtly lovely, with a small circular indent carved out at the top that houses two interconnected jewels- opal and onyx, the display said. He had the inside engraved, too, but he decides to wait for Satoru to discover that detail for himself. His eyes travel to the tree next to the fireplace, still faintly smelling of pine and glittering with yellow-white lights. The gifts piled at its base vary in shape and neatness of packaging; the messiest are the ones wrapped by the children and Satoru, with a sizable amount from today alone- he was adamant about receiving separate gifts for his birthday and the holidays. 

“I love you.” He says quietly in lieu of a reply, the words almost unconscious with how little effort it takes them to leave his lips.

”S-Suguru! I.. would sure hope so, after you did all this.”

“I just wanted to tell you. Again.” 

A moment of silence, and then Satoru leans over and presses his lips to Suguru’s, soft and warm and tasting of sweet cream and matcha. 

“I love you too,” he says within the second he pulls away, like he couldn’t get the words out quickly enough. Like he’d overflow with the intensity of his emotions if he kept them in for a moment longer. It’s an eagerness that brings yet another gentle smile to Suguru’s lips, and they gaze at each other for a second longer, giddy on the beauty of the evening. 

“Wait ‘til after the honeymoon to start acting like newlyweds, will you?” 

Shoko suggests as she pulls a board game out of some closet Satoru didn’t know they had and the twins crowd her in their excitement. 

“That’s too predictable. We should’ve started before we were even dating.” Satoru replies regretfully, and Suguru casts him an odd look. 

”How would that even work?”

Satoru leans forward to pick his drink up off the table, its warmth impossibly permeating in a way that would soothe him from the inside out if he weren’t already so content in his spot next to Suguru on the couch.

“I’d… have to think about that.” He replies, tilting the mug upward and allowing some of the smooth liquid to flow into his mouth- and then nearly spitting it out the second it hits his tongue. He coughs into his elbow, the dark bitterness of the drink taking him by surprise.

“This isn’t hot chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate isn’t as good with cake.” Nanami explains, and then Satoru remembers the blue-and-white birthday cake sitting patiently on the counter and nods suspiciously- though he’d personally beg to differ. The word ‘cake’ steals the attention of every previously occupied child in that room except Megumi (who follows Yuuji and Nobara anyway), and Satoru barely suppresses the urge to get caught up in the excitement and rush to the counter himself. He turns to look at Suguru, who meets his gaze immediately, and a rush of affection flows through him.

He hasn’t had any more of those nightmares since that day at the lake. The existing memories of what he likes to think of as their past life have slipped to the very back of his consciousness, causing him not the slightest bit of trouble on most days unless he opts to rifle through them himself. And… they were nice, those little inklings of knowledge that he possessed about Suguru without having personally discovered them, but he much prefers how it feels to collect them himself amid the days they spend together. 

What Satoru knows about him now is not something that can be given to someone in bits and scattered pieces; it’s a complete view, he thinks, an accumulation of hours spent by his side, of nights during which the sound of Suguru’s slow, even breathing lulls him to sleep. 

His hand tightens around the mug of coffee as Suguru smiles at him, his eyes flashing with amusement. He gestures to the drink with a gentle incline of his head.

“Just like you remember?” He inquires, and Satoru’s heart stutters in his chest. He tries to convince himself that the question is about the coffee, regarding which he doesn’t think he’ll be changing his mind anytime soon, but something about the knowing look in Suguru’s eyes makes him think it’s far more than that. The snow continues falling steadily outside the window, painting their yard white; the fireplace flickers with warmth, a fiery blend of oranges and yellows; having collected around the cake, their friends call out to them, waving Satoru over so that he can blow out the candles and then they can tease him about how he must be the only person in the world who genuinely enjoys standing there while people sing ‘happy birthday’ to him.

He pauses, holding on to the moment and secretly hoping it stretches out beyond him forever, an infinitely wondrous thread of existence. 

“No. Better, actually,” he whispers, a smile tracing his lips. “So much better.” 

the end :)

[archituck]

literally had the most amazing time of my life seeing KGLW live w/ @arrowmntic in Portland tonight. i love them so much they are so funny and cool it was a true dream :,) :,)

[seaweedstarshine]

*Poll inspired by typical ambiguity in the new audio story Victory of the Doctor, which on an unrelated note is amazing!

Evidence for each argument beneath the cut!

Open marriage

The Doctor's wedding to Marilyn Monroe occurs in A Christmas Carol, when he storms off to a chapel with lipstick marks on his face. “I’ll just go and get married then, shall I? See how you like that. Marilyn? Get your coat!”

While he wasn't yet with River then, he maintains this relationship afterwards, apparently with River involved. In the mini-episode Good Night, the Doctor enters the TARDIS with a euphonium, calling over his shoulder, “River! I’ll see you later! Tell Marilyn she’s too late, she’ll have to use the biplane. Take care!”

Another piece of evidence comes from The Wedding of River Song, when they're passive-aggressively flirting.

“Hallucinogenic lipstick. Works wonders on President Kennedy. And Cleopatra was a real pushover.” “I always thought so.” “She mentioned you.” “What did she say?” “Put down that gun.” “Did you?” “Eventually.” “Oh, they're flirting. Do I have to watch this?” (from Kovarian)

I've never understood the innuendo (please tell me what I'm missing), but Kovarian does, and as we know from The Husbands of River Song, the Doctor and River are both married to Cleopatra, so… it's definitely something.

There's also that diary page in The Eternity Clock game that suggests the Doctor, River, and Jim the Fish got blackout drunk at karaoke night and started “some sort of religion of love” which went on to last for centuries.

Serial cheaters

“How can you be engaged, in a manner of speaking?” The Doctor is jealous in Flesh and Stone before he's even kissed her, which doesn't set him up as a person who'd be interested in an open marriage.

“No, wait. That's your husband? That's who you're married to? Not anybody else?” In The Husbands of River Song, the Doctor is clearly not expecting the other husbands. Culminating in the same episode…

“So, King Hydroflax?” “Oh, how many times? I married the diamond!” “So you say.” “Elizabeth the First!” “Ramone!” “Marilyn Monroe!” “Stephen Fry!” “Cleopatra!” “Same thing!”

It appears he is well aware of her other spouses (and that she's aware of his); so perhaps his surprise was more that didn't expect her to be so flagrant about them. It makes him insecure (“I posed as his nurse. Took me a week.” “To fall in love?” “It's the easiest lie you can tell a man. They'll automatically believe any story they're the hero of.”) enough to start an argument about it.

River also expresses her jealousy as an obvious fact, as seen in The Day of the Doctor Novelization (written by Moffat who (along with Alex!!) knows the character best):

“Ow!” “Madame de Pompadour?” “Jealous?” “Of course I’m jealous. Keep your hands off her.”

In The Name of the Doctor, we learn that the Doctor, who has had a number of... sexually-charged moments with Clara (including, but not limited to, Victorian Clara), has avoided telling her that River is his wife. Vastra is uncomfortable with having to introduce them, having “gone a darker shade of green.”

“The Doctor might have mentioned me?” “Oh, yeah. Oh yeah, of course he has. Professor Song! Sorry, it's just I never realized you were a woman.” (from Clara)

Actually both

This could mean many things (i.e. open marriage with boundaries which are violated), but potentially, all the same evidence from prior arguments! With a shade of “Our lives are back to front.”

In the mini-episodes First Night/Last Night, when River, having burst into the TARDIS and pretended to faint, mistakes her past self for another woman the Doctor's hiding from her, she openly expresses jealousy.

“Doctor. Have you brought someone else here? Does anyone agree to wear that dress? Where is she!” “River, think it through!” “This happened the last time we were here. You brought someone else!” “No I didn’t!” “Yes you did, I heard you talking to her!”

However, when a third and significantly older version of River makes the same mistake, she no longer expresses jealousy, but rather curiosity, which could at least signal a shift in how she sees their marriage.

Maybe there was a conversation that happened. Maybe it slipped the Doctor's mind when he forgot Clara.

Actually neither

This could also mean multiple things, but one of those things is this. The Doctor is a widower from the start. Likewise, River is well aware of Doctor's death on Trenzalore, “of course River would know, she's always known,” having been raised to prevent those events, and having refused to be bound by that destiny.

How can fidelity be defined the same way for time travelers? Everyone's spouses are dead somewhen. River understands the paradox of her husband's existence better than anyone. To quote The Day of the Doctor Novelization yet again…

‘Because you live in a time machine. All of history is still happening outside those doors. On a good night that means everyone you ever met is still alive and you can’t wait to see them again. On a bad night, it means everyone’s dead, and you want to charge around the universe, pretending you can do something about that.’ She looked up at me. ‘I know which version of you I prefer.’ 

And there she was, so alive again. I remembered her, twisted, burnt and dead, in the depths of The Library. ‘What if there are people who died because of me?’ I asked. ‘What if there are people I should have saved?’

‘People die. All people, everywhere. We grieve and we move on. That is how we respect the dead. That is how we forgive ourselves in their presence and their absence.’

Please feel free to add anything I missed!

[seumyo]

eeuuummyy just wanna tell you that i heart heart hearttt you sm. you tried your best and that's all it matters. love you lots, don't forget to drink water n get lots of rest!! bakugo loves u

Senniee 🥹

[boxwinebaddie]

an uncle nina check in <3

hi team! thanks for sticking around! i know my blog isn't always the most exciting and enriching place in the world in terms of content, but i am very /content/ to have you all here. <3333

i promise, oddly enough, i have A TON of inspiration and ideas for all my weird styles ( if you're curious about anything please lmk! i've been trying to flesh out my aus out lately ), i've just been in a major bummer depression era lately, so it's hard for me to get my asks done and i'm having a hard time committing to finishing my writing. :<

i think it's because of stress and my bipolar, but i am trying to get back on the horse! ( are we all laughing at the idea of me trying to get on a horse? i'd start crying help city girl fail moment for me ) yeehaw!

and while, unfortunately due to the instability ( fabulous legendary iconery ) of my pretty girl popstar personality, i do not know whether i will be answering almost no questions or one million, regardless of that, i just wanted to let you know, i'm still here, still kicking my feet, twirling my hair, cooking...i'm just really trying not to force myself to put out anything i don't like...and only do what makes me truly happy.

however, nothing, my dear sweet e-darlings...

makes me happier than coming home to all of you. <333

so thank you for flooding even the darkest corners of my life with bright light, supporting my phantom fics and being wonderful,

uncle nina xx

[causenessus]

🫧, 🧦, and 🌙!!

also, use this as an opportunity to gush abt a headcanon you have bc i want to know more abt you guys !!

MOLLY I LOVE YOU YOU'RE A LITERAL ANGEL THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME THIS FREEDOM <333 I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR ANY HCS ABOUT U AND AKAASHI AS WELL!!!

ask games (1 + 2 <3)

🫧- you're making a beaded bracelet for your f/o! what kind of beads do you use?

OKAY FUNNY STORY BUT I ACTUALLY DID MAKE EYE COLOR BRACELETS FOR SUNA AND ME <33 i'll probably rb this with a picture teehee <3 SO!!! i would totally use probably lots of wooden and metal beads that are definitely that are in a monochrome type color pallete. like probably lots of white beads (you'll see in the pic lmao), spacers are silver bc i'm a silver jewelry person <3 and wooden bc i love wood! and my eyes are brown so ig i'm just making him an eye color bracelet as well <33

🧦- which item from your wardrobe would you give to your f/o?

I'D GIVE HIM ANYTHING luckily all my clothes are like oversized so he probably lowkey borrows from it anyway. he sometimes steals my necklaces or most of the time will steal one of my rings and then wear it on a chain around his neck <3 if i'm not wearing it though i'd give him my old hs theatre hoodie or he can have my old senior pants LMAO they're like black dickies cargo pants that are WAY too big for me i looked like i had a boner (imaginary dick. sorry for the tmi but this is so funny to me) bc i'd have to wear a belt but yk like all the extra pant space just kind of sticks out awkwardly??? IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT SORRY but yeah he's walking around in black dickies pants that literally have handprints all over them on his ass :)

🌙- what is your f/o doing late at night when they can’t sleep?

answered here <3

extra headcanons

he washes my face for me sometimes. this is something i thought about last night which is what started this ALL but basically like i'll get home from work and i'm SO tired i just want to take off my makeup and fall into bed but he'll always follow me into the bathroom while i'm trying to clean up to keep me company and will say things like "but you'll feel sooo much better if you wash ur face rn instead of tomorrow morning" and he's right but i don't want to admit it </3 he'll end up resting his head on my shoulder and hugging me from behind whispering "i'll give u a kiss if u wash ur face rn :)" like he's not going to kiss me anyway but whatever ig. he'll help me put on a headband to keep my hair out of my face and either wash it for me or lets me if i'm up for it <3 then has to do my skincare bc that's one thing I'll refuse to do if he makes me wash my face (but then it ends up with me being like "no no. toner first. please use a cotton pad don't just slap it on my face. THEN moisturizer...") and then afterwards drags me to bed and he was right </3 i do feel better and usually pass out immediately, the last thing i feel being a kiss to the top of my head, wrapped in his arms <3

[moonstruckme]

Just read all your marauders fics in a row and I could kiss you on the mouth you are so good at writing them both with the reader and with eachother ♥️♥️

c'mere babe :3

[poison-pomegranates]

BAE PLEASE TELL ME ABOUT FROM DEATH TO DUST im soooo interested (also music taste???? its spectacular??)

OMG THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU (and also thank you for complimenting my music taste, that’s quite literally the most efficient path to my heart)

from death to dust is very much a work in progress that’s still in the early stages of planning because i keep having to restart.

on top of this, i suck at summaries of any kinds, but what i can do is infodump about my characters:

Desdemona Reaper is to some extent my main character, largely because she is, in a sense, the metaphorical string connecting all of the other characters as well as most of the story lines.

she used to live with her parents in Grim’s castle, in the centre of the Twin Kingdoms, but about a year before the main story starts she was exiled and now she lives on the Isle of The Lost with the rest of the misfits and criminals who were banished from the Twin Kingdoms.

the Isle of The Lost is where she met Eden, an immortal, deity-like being who was cursed by the monarchs to spend her days bound to a ‘magical’ tree, that shelters and protects the isle of the lost.

when Desdemona was banished, she made it her mission to protect Eden, but when Eden goes missing and Desdemona realises that without Eden’s magic she, and possibly the rest of the inhabitants of the isle of the lost, will die, she realises she has to return to her father's kingdom to find out what happened to her.

what should be a quick and simple mission to retrieve her best friend is complicated when a flirtatious witch, an aspiring scientist, an ambitious princess, an indebted elf, and a mysterious lycanthrope all interrupt her plans by asking for her help with various, less quick and simple missions.

acknowledging both her need for their help and her aversion to socialising, Desdemona is forced to decide which is more important to her, retrieving Eden, or keeping her peace of mind.

[teddybeartoji]

your smut isn't bland babes dont worry, I only recently found your blog but I'm glad I did because I enjoy reading all your work and I value the effort you put in🫶🫶

don't shoot yourself in the leg because then you'll be in pain😔 and you don't deserve to be in pain

AAAAAAAAAAAAA THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUUU!!!!!!!!!! YOU'RE SOSO SWEET WAHHHHH🥺🥺🥺🥺 also.. well abt that pain.............. lip bite emoji... i'm kinda into that idk why i said that in the first place that sound very exciting actually damn..

[sithcom]

34 more boops until max received....................................

[ja3yun]

If my future husband does not spoil me like you do with your fictions (giving us drabbles, a epilogue AND a alternative ending) then I don‘t want him

does this mean that I'M the standard? 🫠

[crescentfool]

Hi 👉👈 I don’t have a lot to say, I just wanted to hi give you from across the room because I followed you for P3 but it turns out you and I share a ton of fandoms and I just think that’s really super neat.

You get a good grade in fandom taste 💖

WAVES HI!! thank you for the follow and message, it makes me happy to hear that you've enjoyed seeing the other media i've reblogged stuff of! P3 is definitely something i hold close to my heart, but i have lots of media i'm full of love for too! so thank you for appreciating it, i hope you enjoy your stay! 🥺💙

[strawberrisoulmate]

ah... hey, darlin'.

i know i ain't the best with words, but i still wanted to send you somethin' since it's valentine's day an' all.

first off... i guess i should say that ya make me happy — real happy. i actually used to think that i would never... well— it's just... been a long time since i felt like that. bein' with you makes it easy to forget all the bad times i've been through and to just be myself again, and i really appreciate that. nobody else has ever done that for me — nobody else has ever wanted to, either. most people only see the stuff i've been through when they look at me, but you're... the only one that just sees me. and that's... it means a lot to me.

you mean a lot to me, actually. i might not say it all the time, an' i might not be the best at showin' it, but you mean the whole world to me. i don't know what i'd do or what i'd be like if it weren't for you. and... hopefully i never have to find out. i'd like to never know.

so, ah... i guess what i'm tryin' to say is that... i love ya, hannah. more than you probably know.

happy valentine's day. i love you.

flynn ❤️

ahhh flynn, oh my gosh… this is so unbelievably sweet. i love you so much, too ♡

i know i can get really moody and i cry a lot and there are times when i’m probably a major pain in the ass to deal with. but i can’t tell you how much it means to me that i have you here with me. really, it makes me so happy. you make me so happy.

happy valentine’s day, sweetie. i love you so so much.