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sincerelyneo · 23 days ago

Note

hiiii will you repost your old haechan frat boy fic 🫣

i'm not sure if this is the one you were talking about, but it's the only google doc i had of haechan in a college au.

all bark no bite | l.hc

❯ summary: Lee Haechan is the most annoying man you’ve ever encountered. But that doesn’t mean you don’t find him hot; and maybe that’s why he has you flat on his mattress one night at a random frat party.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: college!au, rivals, smut.

❯ words: 2.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, angst, hate sex, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up !), pet names, excessive use of the name ‘baby’ and ‘princess’, begging, dirty talk, reader uses she/her pronouns, haechan is very cocky, haechan 1000% has a crush on the reader.

Lee Haechan is an asshole. A condescending, irritating asshole who knows exactly how to get on your fucking nerves and—

“God — fucking — dammit—!”

— is currently the asshole pressing you against his mattress.

Truth be told, you don’t even know how you got here. You remember being shoved in a closet with him for Seven Minutes in Heaven at some random frat party his friends were throwing, but you for sure as hell remember absolutely refusing to kiss him.

“Why not?” He’d sneered, folding his arms. “You scared you’re gonna like it, Princess? Promise I’ll take real good care of you–"

"Oh, please,” you’d scoffed right back. “Let’s not pretend you know your way around a girl’s body, Hyuck. I doubt you could even find my clit–"

"I would obliterate your pussy if you’d let me, and you know it,” there was a glint in his eye as he looked you up and down, “And we both know you’d like it.”

You were so fired up that you hadn’t even noticed how close you’d gotten to each other; you could feel his breath on your lips, his chest against yours. So irritated by his cockiness, you hardly even registered what you said next until it was too late:

“You’re all bark no bite, Lee Haechan.”

For the last three years you’ve been at college, you and Haechan had both been walking on eggshells around each other. There’d always been tangible tension ever since you had shut down one of his rants in class and essentially destroyed him — and from there it’d been a competition to one-up one another. You hated him, he hated you… but doesn’t the line between hate and lust wear oh so thin when it’s someone as hot as him?

The answer is yes, evidently.

After the seven minutes we’re up, Haechan wastes no time dragging you out of the closet and to his bedroom, earning him a matter of gasps and ‘ooohhhs’ from the rest of the players.

Next thing you know, you’re lying on your stomach, hands pinned at the small of your back as he thrusts into you so deeply you swear you can feel him in your stomach. His sheets rub against your clit with every body-wrecking slap of his hips against you, your throat hoarse from screaming. And for a moment you’re really, really, really fucking sorry for even doubting his abilities so much — because God can he fuck.

But you’d never tell him that, you don’t need to. His ego is already massive, he’ll live without validation from you — or so you think.

A hand crowds underneath you, before seizing your neck and pulling you up. The shortness of breath makes you pant, pulsing around him instinctively and you hear him laugh in your ear.

Fucking asshole.

And as if he hears you, his fingers find your mouth — and you gag, because his fingers are fucking thick and he’s shoving them down your throat. And the worst part is you love it, your mouth swallowing them the minute they push past your lips like it was just instinct.

"Oh, baby,” he laughs breathlessly, “Next time you do that, make sure it’s on my dick."

"You fucking wish—” you grunt, because he’s laying into you real deep now, slow, languid thrusts that have you refraining from shuddering all over– “as if there’s going to be a next time, you dick."

"Oh?” his hips still.

Then, almost thoughtfully, they begin again. Slow and teasing and not nearly enough to have you writhing in pleasure. His pace is tortuous, and if he didn’t have your arms pinned behind you, you’d claw at his back to make him speed up.

“Really? You think one night of the best sex you’ll ever have is enough?"

"Please, your dick game isn’t that impressive,” you say flatly. “Just make me cum and get this over with.”

You feel the heat of his breath as he dips his head again, placing kisses on your jaw so gently that for a moment you’re taken aback. “Don’t get impatient now, baby. I told you I’d take care of you didn’t I? Just…” His hips still again– “I think I’d like you to ask for it.”

“Ask?” You scoff, incredulous.

He nibbles down on your ear, before brushing past it with his lips low enough to whisper, “You're right. I meant beg.”

“What, you get off on girls begging for your permission–?"

There’s a rough snap of his hips into you and you have to bite hard down on your lip to stop yourself from whimpering.

"Not just any girls,” he mutters, so quiet that you almost don’t hear. “Only you.”

You’re going to pretend that your heart doesn’t flip when he says that, partially because of how sick it is that that gets you off, and instead focus on what the fuck is going on.

Did Lee Haechan just admit he wants you to beg for him? The same man who’d made it his college mission to torment and tease you at every given opportunity wants you.

If you weren’t lying on your stomach and taking every thick inch of him you’d be running in shock horror. But you find the idea isn’t quite as horrifying as you’d imagined.

“… Maybe we can fit more than one round in tonight, but that’s all I can offer you,” you say after a moment. You can feel him freeze up behind you. “I’m a busy girl with exams, Hyuck, I don’t have time to be running around with strange men–”

“Strange men?” His laugh is really nice. Sweet and dorky — the opposite of the usual mischievous chuckling he did when he knew he had gotten under your skin — and you only manage a huff of your own laughter yourself before you’re caught off guard by his steadily increasing grinds. “And after those exams? Got any time for a strange man like me?"

“…I’d have to check my calendar.”

He hums, and you swear to God if he stops again you’ll take back everything. "But for now… What’s your calendar open to, baby? Three? Four rounds?”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll get me to cum more than once,” you mumble, but you’re beginning to lose your breath as he picks up the pace once again. “I’ll warn you, though – I get loud after two.”

You don’t have to look back to know he’s sporting a smug as fuck grin. “You better muffle yourself with a pillow then, because I’m not stopping.”

“You’re so fucking sexy when you do that.”

Okay, so maybe the whole ‘waiting until after exams’ bit is getting to Haechan. He wouldn’t wait until your calendar cleared up, he couldn’t, his testosterone wouldn’t let him.

It’s been a whole three days since he got to fuck you; and God was it driving him insane.

You glance up at him now, unimpressed. You knew studying with him was a bad idea, but he’d been so insistent; and you had to admit, knowing he had made you cum four times made his presence all the more tolerable to hang out with.

“When I what? Do science homework?"

"No, no – I mean, yes. When you concentrate you get this small… crease between your brows…” He reaches forward – concentrating himself – tugging the plush of his bottom lip between his teeth as he reaches out to poke between your brows. “You look fucking sexy.”

“Alright, Casanova, hands to ourselves” you snort before you return to your reading.

The silence doesn’t last long, and the second he opens his mouth you swear you’re two moments away from taping his lips together.

“Lemme eat you out.”

“Wh– no!” Horrified, you peek around to see if anyone had heard him. But the library is virtually empty – it always is after 11 PM on a Friday.

And also, you’re both tucked away in a table at the back behind the History books that no-one ever takes out.

“You should be studying.”

“Don’t worry about me, I got this exam in the bag.”

You glare. “You’re awfully confident.”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, slumping in his seat again. “You’re my only competition, and, well…”

“Well, what?” You demand, setting your book down.

This was the usual dynamic you were familiar with when it came to Lee Haechan.

“You saying I’m not good enough competition, for you Hyuck? If my memory serves me correctly – and it definitely does – I beat you by 10% on our last exam.”

His own eyes narrow.

Oh, you just hit a nerve.

“Just for that,” he begins slowly, pushing his chair out, “I’m gonna suck your clit ‘til you go dizzy.”

“What part of no don’t you understand?”

But the promise is enticing and you part your legs anyway as he shimmies underneath the table.

“You’re such a fuckboy, I swear–”

“I am not!” He objects incredulously from beneath you. “I just like how you taste, baby.”

A fuckboy, you swear. But he’s got a way with words (and a way with his fingers, and a way with his tongue, and a way with his di—).

You feel your skirt being rucked up and your panties being pulled to the side – seconds later, his face ducks up from the table, grinning wolfishly.

“You’re kinda wet down here, baby. Are you sure you’re okay?” He teases.

“Shut up before I scream,” you grunt, folding your arms.

“Wouldn’t that be a dream?” He sighs. He retreats not two milliseconds after, though, and you hear him whistle lowly to himself. And then, so quiet you almost don’t catch it: “Fucking hell, baby.”

You make a promise that if he calls you baby once more you’re going to kick him because it makes your stomach flutter and your palms sweat — but then he licks a rough line up your pussy and you decide that maybe you’ll allow him to call you whatever he pleases.

Your head falls back as he does it again, and again, and again, as if he’s trying to clean up whatever mess you’d made in your panties. And normally you’d be irritated — wanting him to just move onto your clit already — but he genuinely sounds like he’s enjoying himself.

Quiet groans in his throat and passionate movements of his jaw, and his hands grasp your thighs so tightly you know there’ll be bruises. He smacks his lips wetly and you jolt, peeking out from behind the bookshelf to see if anyone had seen.

“Calm down,” He says, words muffled against you. “Nobody comes behind here on a Friday night. We’re safe.”

And as if to punctuate his point: a finger pulls back the hood of your clit, and true to his word, he sucks. Quickly, you shove your fist into your mouth and begin to gnaw on your knuckles, squeezing your eyes shut so hard that you see stars.

“H-Hyuck,” you whimper, “Unless you want me to get us caught–"

"I know, I know,” he says, sighing. His face comes out from underneath the table again. “I’ll be good if you pull your top down.”

“W-what?” To be fair, you’re still delirious off pleasure because his thumb hasn’t stopped grinding against your clit. “Why?"

"So I can play with your tits,” he says easily, shrugging. “C'mon, Princess. Show me your boobs.”

You stare at him for a moment, disbelief written on your face. “You’re such a man.”

“And you’ve still got the limp to prove it, haven’t you, baby? Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you can’t walk straight.”

“Whatever.” You pull your top down, tug your breasts out of their cups – only to appease him and get him to shut up. Immediately he takes one in his grabby hands, all warm and rough as he tugs and pulls at one nipple.

So, okay, maybe he does know what he’s doing. Sometimes. Who are you kidding? All the time.

“Hm, you like that, don’t you?"

"Shut up,” you hiss, “if you get us banned from this library because of your dirty talk I’m never fucking you again—shit."

“We both know that’s not true.”

A steady stream of suckling on your sensitive bundle of nerves calls your attention elsewhere; at the same time, your nipple is rolled between his index and thumb. You feel like you’re buzzing all over, and it’s not because you’ve had five cups of coffee in the last three hours.

You don’t realise that you’re panting – fucking close – until Haechan releases your clit with a pop. He ducks underneath the table to peek up at you again. "Are you trying to get us caught?"

"I’ll be quiet,” you promise through gritted teeth, shoving your top into your mouth. You restrain the urge to curse him out because you could feel the beginning flutters of your orgasm on the tip of your tongue, and you know he’ll draw it out as much as possible if given the chance. “Just keep going."

He’s wearing a victorious, shit-eating grin when he gets back to it, energy increasing rapidly. He eats pussy like he’s competing for a trophy, and truth be told, you don’t mind being his prize if he makes you cum as hard as you did a few days ago. His tongue moves eagerly, tracing letters and numbers and fucking his name on your sensitive skin before sucking again.

No noise. You try to coach your brain into silence.

You never usually have a problem keeping quiet for the first orgasm. But as much as you hate to admit it, the act of being eaten out in a public library is a different kind of turn on.

And it really doesn't help that Haechan knows exactly what he’s doing.

Maybe that’s why when you cum, you have no problem with clinging to any part of him you can get your hands on — his hand on your chest, his hair between your legs. A weak whimper follows as you contract around nothing, hips bucking gently into his mouth, and he takes it all in.

Fuck.

He slides back from under the table and resurfaces a metre away, grinning widely. You know the image of you looking so ruined because of him is doing wonders for his ego — so as quickly as possible you pull your top down and readjust your skirt, panties irritatingly rough against your skin.

"Good, huh?"

You don’t want to give him anymore satisfaction, but you know with the orgasm he had just given you so publicly, there was no use in lying. In fact, you’re certain lying to him would only make his cocky ego flame even more.

“Whatever, Hyuck. You give good head, I’ll give you that.”

He hums, leaning backwards. “Thanks, baby. Now, bend over."

”Excuse me?“ You say.

“C’mon, you can’t just let me eat your pretty pussy and not expect me to get hard. You’re blue balling me here, Princess.”

You’re so genuinely shaken by his unfaltering confidence that you just stare.

“And don’t pretend you don’t love my cock.”

“Hyuck—”

“Bend over, I’m not kidding.”

You’re in a library. Letting him eat you out was already a reach — but you can’t deny that you do love the feeling of him inside you. And he did take good care of you last time. And —

You sigh in defeat, standing. “Remember what I told you last time?"

"You get loud after two. I’ll keep that in mind, baby.”

#🏷️frompaige #nct smut #haechan smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct x reader #haechan x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct dream x reader #nct scenarios #nct one shot

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multifariousqueer · 1 year ago

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Earth 42 Miles Headcannons

A/n: y’all pls request some more miles 42 fics PLEASE I BEG

Warnings: angst, fluff, kinda toxic behavior( I don’t condone), nicknames

Kinda toxic but in a good way ngl

If you can braid, you braid his hair for him

Uncle Aaron respects you

Spoils you if he gets extra money from his job

You don’t know what he does but Yk he’s always tired and irritable

“Here’s $200. Imma be gone for a while Mami so take care of my mom and take care of yourself, okay?”

“Okay, papi”

Will go nuts if you call him Papi Fr

Loves you and you’re his soft spot but sometimes he can be harsh on you

Matching Jordan’s(this is also true for normal Miles)

Hates physical affection but likes words of affirmation

He loves it when you rely on him, it makes him feel big

Will pay for anything you need. Shoes? He’s got them coming. Clothes? It’s on your doorstep. Stuffed animals? It’s in his hand as he’s getting ready to give it to you

Short small kisses>>>>>

“Te amo, Mami. Cuídate” “SÍ Papi”

You saw him come home with gashes and blood on his clothes once and you were concerned but he brushed past it

You stopped bringing stuff like that up bc you know he will probably get upset:

“What’s going on, Miles?”

“Nothing, Y/n.”

“Ik something’s up so what is it?”

“Worry abt yourself , y/n. Besides, I didn’t see you complaining when I put those $1000 shoes on your feet.”

He had a point

He’s as stoic as a statue. You never know how he’s feeling fr

He makes you look him in the eye when you speak to him

Grabs your chin 😍🤭😵‍💫

Will grab your face and stares in your eyes. He loves looking at your eyes

Kisses you on the temple a lot but not afraid to kiss your lips

Can sometimes be neglectful but doesn’t mean it

overall loves you but is nonchalant asf

#mcu fanfiction #miles morales headcannons #miles x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales #miles morales x reader #earth42!miles #earth 42 #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spiderman #for you #marvel #i want to marry him

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vagabond-umlaut · 27 days ago

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ramé

love.

a word everyone spells as l-o-v-e, except one certain young sorcerer – to whom it appears h-a-p-p-y, to whom it appears h-a-v-o-c – to whom it appears the shape of the letters of your name.

you, on the other hand, forget how to spell when the same word is before you – a fact which, your admirer reckons, would have been a major problem were he not he – that is, were he not the one and only 'gojo satoru'.

and thus begins, the plan.

and thus begins, the six steps to catch one's crush's eye — by the six eyes.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

tags: set during gojo's past arc; childhood friends to lovers; pining-since-forever!gojo; oblivious-since-forever!you; tooth-rotting fluff; adorable banter; height difference; all your friends ship satoru & you; they all are very tired of you both as well; satoru & you-hashtag [not-canon-yet] relationship goals; angry protective gojo; hell lots of teasing; misunderstandings; arguments; angst with a VERY HAPPY ending

wc: 12k+ (i'm genuinely so proud of this, guys(gn) :D)

notes: decided to republish my most popular fic so far to celebrate my blog crossing 1000 followers! tysm for all the love and support u hv shown me, besties!!! <333 btw, jjk isn't mine. dividers by @/inklore. hope u enjoy reading this!

|1/6| overhaul your wardrobe.

a low whistle leaves gojo as he appraises himself in the mirror.

snow white hair neatly trimmed with short bangs, sunglasses from gucci giving a peek of his transfixing blue gaze, a fitting tom ford white shirt paired with black slacks and designer shoes, and, to top it all off, a perfume by bleu de chanel he bought especially for today...

there's no way in hell you won't find him attractive today.

with a smug smirk, the first-year swings the door to his dorm wide open, ready to astound the two waiting outside with his insanely good looks - and pauses, boisterous shout dying within his throat.

"'toru!!" you exclaim as you jump off the balustrade you were seated on and rush to him, a wide grin splitting your face into half. "surprise, i caught an earlier train!"

in spite of the shock, the boy feels his lips lift in a smile.

it's been nearly a year since the last time the two of you were face-to-face; you're still as beautiful as you were then.

"hey shortie," the words leave him in a whisper as you wrap your arms around him - only for a pained 'ouch!' to escape him a second later. massaging his side where you pinched him, the boy watches you step back with a scowl. (faux, of course.)

"call me that one more time and no one can save you from my wrath."

"wrath?" chuckling, gojo bends a bit to be your eye-level. you narrow your eyes at him. "you think that can scare me? the gojo satoru?"

"it sure can," folding your arms across your chest, you throw him a smirk in the next instant. "if it makes me share all the mochi i bought with ieiri senpai and geto senpai, and not give you the tiniest bit of it."

eyes widening behind glasses, a gasp escapes him. "you wouldn't!"

"i would," you answer, the same smirk as before still on your lips.

gojo backs off.

you're nothing if not awfully determined to make your promises see the light of the day. if he continues pestering you, the young sorcerer knows he'll actually not get a single morsel of those delicious sweets.

"you know what," a familiar voice cuts in through his thoughts and the boy twists to find his best friend walking towards him. sending him a discreet wink (which he deems is 100% suspicious), suguru reaches your side and continues, "satoru here was really excited about you coming to meet him."

"oh, is it so?" your smirk gives way to an angelic smile. gojo wishes it was directed at him instead of that long-haired bastard.

"yeah," said bastard meanwhile agrees with an overeager nod. "shoko and i too were really excited to meet the girl our friend is so infa-"

a tense silence befalls the corridor when suguru abruptly stops in the middle of the sentence. gojo swears if you weren't standing there, in front of them, he would have murdered his friend in cold blood today.

"infa-?" you prompt, smile dropping a little as your confused gaze darts from one to the other. gojo forces a chuckle out.

"it's nothing, don't you worry," he tries to draw your attention away, when shoko swoops in, like the savior she is (gojo decides to buy her one month's supply of cigarettes) and inquires, "hey, you haven't seen satoru in months, right? any change you find in him?"

that seems to be the trick. a curious glint shines in your eyes as they travel up and down his figure - appreciatively for sure, the boy says to himself. you too seem to have a liking for expensive things, after all.

after two seconds of close inspection, you turn to shoko with a bright smile. gojo's soul goes soaring at the sight in the clear skies above.

"nope! he's the same old 'toru i've always known."

gojo's soul crashes down upon the earth, splintering at the impact.

his two classmates give him a look before shoko asks again, a mild disbelief to her tone, "you really don't find anything new about him? like, maybe he has grown taller? or maybe, more handsome?"

"anything else which you never even expected, maybe?" suguru pipes in from beside him. gojo shoots him a grateful look, all past offenses already forgiven and forgotten.

a beat passes before you shake your head. "nope. nothing about him is new. though, when you speak about unexpected..." you trail off with a contemplative look.

shoko encourages you, "when we speak about unexpected-"

"i never expected you to be so pretty," you finish the sentence for her with a small smile. gojo's jaw drops to the ground. okay, what the fu-

"oh," shooting him an amused smirk, shoko faces you. "and why is it so? why did you not expect me to be so pretty?"

"it's not my fault," you reply, sending him an accusatory glance as you continue, "when i asked 'toru if his new classmates are good-looking, he said they aren't. he said you all look really plain."

"do you find me plain or handsome?" suguru butts in, ignoring the blue-eyed glare boring holes into the side of his head.

"you're plain," the short reply comes in an instant from you - and even in the midst of his gloom for going unnoticed, gojo finds it within himself to smirk at his best friend's withered face.

in the meantime, you continue speaking to shoko, unperturbed.

"yeah, so imagine my surprise when i met you at the torii gates earlier today. with such a stylish bobcut, cute face and flawless skin... i really thought you were a model, ieiri-senpai."

you pause for a second - undoubtedly to catch your breath from that non-stop chatter; gojo knows your habits like his own by now - then ask the girl who's watching you with a pleased expression, an excited grin threatening to bloom on your face, "are you a model, senpai?"

said senpai lets out a chuckle in response.

and despite feeling dispirited (and very, very jealous of that shoko for hogging all your attention), the white-haired boy cracks a fond smile, watching you be so cheery.

yeah, you certainly are one very dense dumbass.

but, he too is gojo satoru - and he will get his feelings across to you.

|2/6| display your strengths.

being a show-off is what gojo's the best at - besides yearning for you from afar, that is.

a wide grin stays on his face as he watches you approach him, a tad ahead of your classmates - two boys, nanami kento and haibara yu.

being in the first year, neither of you three can take part in the kyoto sister-school goodwill event - that doesn't stop you all from being spectators, though - which is what's enough for the gojo's plans.

a call of his name drags him away from gazing at you - you look good in that tee of his, you accidentally shrunk in the laundry - and twists back to find his teacher frowning at him.

the second-year finds it hard to wear the same grin. "yo yaga sensei, what's up?"

the man lets out a long-drawn sigh.

"don't overdo it, satoru," he says - the boy opens his mouth, ready to retort with a quip - only to be stopped by an unfamiliar expression overcoming the teacher's features.

it's a horrific insult of a smile, the young sorcerer realizes after a beat.

yaga, meanwhile, continues with that same expression, "i too was young once. i can understand what you're going through now - which is why i won't stop you from showing your talents to her or whatever. just... remember no one should die."

a quiet nod is all the boy manages in reply, too overwhelmed for a bit by the fatherly care yaga insists on giving him despite the annoyance suguru and he equally insist on being to their sensei.

with a pat on the shoulder, yaga leaves in the direction of the other faculty and staff. schooling his expression, gojo shoots suguru a look.

"hey suguru, how did yaga get to know about me and her?"

"who is her, gojo senpai?" a sweet voice chips in, soon followed by your teasing grin floating into his line of vision.

the boy averts his gaze for a beat - flustered by the sheer proximity between both of your faces which could be closed were he not such a coward, stop smirking, suguru - before sending you a wounded look.

"since when did i become gojo senpai to you?"

"since today," you reply with a tight smile. gojo doesn't like it one bit on your face. "i've been asked by the higher-ups to act professional with you."

a moment passes - wherein the boy registers the statement - before red flashes in his vision. placing his hands on your shoulders, he asks, or rather, demands to know, "did they hurt you? or threaten you? give me their names. who were those fucking bastards?"

brows furrowing, you place your much smaller hands atop his. "relax. nothing happened," you whisper, so quiet only he can hear it, "they don't have the guts or power to hurt or threaten me. all they told me is to, i quote, refrain from calling you such terms of endearment again. and i was like, okay."

a small smile settles on your lips as you take his hands in yours and start rubbing circles into them. the boy feels a lot of his tension drain away. smile brightening (you too seem to have realized the effects of this gesture on him), you add, "plus, it's only four years. once we've both graduated, i can get back to calling you whatever i want to call. those old geezers can't direct me then."

"they still can't now..." gojo begins - then stops.

with that bootlicker eldest brother you have, those old rats can now.

you give him a tired smile, words unneeded to confirm that the both of you are indeed cursing the same set of people now.

you open your mouth to say something - funny probably, if the shine in your eyes was anything to go by - before a muted cough pops the bubble you two had unconsciously slipped into.

and with an entertained smirk at the boy, who immediately seperates your linked hands, shoko informs, "sensei's calling for you, gojo. the competition's about to begin."

acknowledging her with a brief nod, gojo returns his focus to you, looking for a sliver of fear or anxiety in your face - one he'll soothe away with a gentle smile and maybe, just maybe, a forehead kiss - only for all his dreams to be dashed in the dirt.

you're peering up at him, beaming excitedly.

"go, beat 'em, senpai," you cheer him with a fist pump. an amused snicker sounds somewhere behind. your zeal doesn't budge one bit. "go, kick those kyoto students' asses. i know you will win."

and win, your white-haired senpai does - nothing new it it.

and you too seem to be very happy at it - again nothing new in it.

'cause when do you not congratulate him with a blinding beam every time the boy is successful - be it at making those pretty origami stars the way you taught him to; or at defeating a weakass sorcerer in a lame match.

however what is new is the fact you've grown rather competitive - not that gojo minds it in the slightest, though. quite the contrary, in fact.

"aren't you being a little too confident?" you inquire, throwing him a peeved glance, "every opponent you face in the future won't be as weak as those two kyoto boys today. you sure you'll stay invincible then too?"

resting his chin on the chair he is straddling, the second-year smirks, "any way you can prove i won't, shortie?"

geto sends him a questioning look while ieiri looks away from them to the scenery outside, giving a long sigh. his other two kouhais, nanami and haibara, pause in their game of cards to look at you, confusedly.

gojo observes you ignore them, eyes trained on him only, lips curving slowly into a sharp grin. gods, can you get any lovelier than this?

"well..." you drawl, keeping your focus on him. a flush creeps up the sides of his neck, which he earnestly hopes goes overlooked by you.

it doesn't go overlooked by your too-serious classmate, though - gojo spots nanami's eyes widen for a mere instant before reverting to their typical indifference.

you continue, grin simmering to a daring smile now, "why don't you find it out on your own tomorrow? twelve noon. practice field. what do you think, senpai?"

the sorcerer pretends to take a moment to regard your proposal, then shrugs. "sure, why not? sounds good enough to me."

with a wordless nod, the boy watches you return to the video game you were playing with his best friend - then look back at him on your name being called. an eyebrow rises in silent question.

seeing that the cue, he asks, "but what will the loser have to do?"

the reply comes with a smirk, your eyes dropping to your game. "you can buy me the latest version of this game. that'll be fine, i guess."

gojo was wrong - said person realizes as he watches the orange-red glow seep in through the window and render you an ethereal glow.

your competitiveness isn't the only thing new to him this evening.

your ability to make him even more head over heels for you than the boy already is (an impossible feat, really, given the chains and locks guarding him within, apart from the layer of infinity without)...

...this is yet another new thing gojo learns about you, this evening.

|3/6| gather info on your crush.

"oh, you wouldn't want to be friends with her."

the comment cuts through the air with a noisy chuckle and a raucous chorus of giggles - gojo's knuckles grow white with the painfully tight grip he has on the glass of mocktail.

suguru shoots him a contrite face from the other side of the crowd, mouthing an apology with a helpless shrug. the boy looks away from his best friend to throw a glance at the two girls a few seats away.

a beat passes wherein shoko and utahime share a brief look, and the former speaks up, an odd edge to her voice as she leans forwards, a smirk directed at the boy. "and why wouldn't geto? she seems like a pretty nice girl to be friends with."

your cousin scoffs. gojo seriously wishes there wasn't a strict rule set by his father for the clan members of not meddling in the other clans' matters, to maintain an image of neutrality and amiability.

(it's not like he prefers not to break rules or is afraid of his father, the boy thinks grimly as he gulps the last sip of his mocktail and returns the glass to the table with a thud. it's far from being either of those.

it's just that with a small response from him in this matter, you will be dragged under the elders' scrutiny; your friendship with him too will be - and that's something he would never wish upon you. so the boy stays quiet, opting to-)

"what the fuck did you just say?"

the chitter-chatter dies down to a deathly silence in an instant.

rising from his seat, gojo stalks towards the boy sitting on the couch. from the background, he can hear few voices urge him to stop, to get back, with repeated 'satoru, no' and 'satoru, relax' - but the boy finds not a cell in his body wanting to heed those voices. marching right up to your cousin, who shoots him a pathetically fake smirk now, the boy repeats himself, "what. did. you. just. say."

the target of the query huffs a chuckle, drunk and stinking - and your friend realizes now just how much of a diluted description of him you gave him the other day. the guy isn't just some petty irritating relative of yours, he is a fucking bastard.

a fucking bastard who's going to get beaten into a pulp, if he doesn't choose his next words wisely.

another chuckle leaves him, before he gets up from his seat, a slight sway to the action as he sneers at gojo. now, were the circumstances different, the white-haired boy is sure such a brazen person would've impressed him, who is the strongest sorcerer there is, but not today.

not when you're the one who is the innocent undeserving recipient of such a remark as the one he utters next.

"i just said, my cousin's a freak who can read someone's mind without them knowing - and she does that all the time for her sick enjoyment. no one can ever trust that bitch."

a fist connects with the side of your cousin's face and before anyone can realize what's happening, the two boys are rolling on the floor in a brawl, gojo obviously with the upper hand as he lands blow after blow and yell after yell on the other.

a quiet voice whispers to his conscience, chiding his response to the situation to be too harsh, too cruel - but no sooner does it appear than it is stomped down and shoved away by images from the past.

images of a little girl crying, yelling, screaming, eyes squeezed shut, how everything's so loud, how everyone's so noisy, how everyone just can't seem to stop talking of her - in the shocked silence of the party hall.

images of being informed over the phone, his friend won't be coming to play today either - for a class or a function or a cold, he cares the least for - before overhearing later at dinner, it's the fifth day the girl's been comatose since her last treatment.

images of brash celebrations revelling in the discovery and return of a technique, long thought lost - the new messiah, they exclaim - while the said person looks at the elders with face steeped in what, the boy doesn't need his six eyes to know, is terror.

images of a girl, saying in a surprisingly void tone, how horrible, how terrible, how despicable a weapon they've made her into - sneaking into people's minds to steal the meaning of their lives away - before giving a suggestion, too smart, too sharp for a girl of ten; although-

"satoru!"

the singular word snaps the sorcerer's thoughts into two, making him move his irate gaze away from the bloodied face of the bitch to the door-

oh.

it's you.

you, standing in the school uniform, a bag slung over your shoulders.

you, eyes round and lips parted as you stare at the scene before.

you, who takes only a second before you rush forwards, moving him away from your cousin, worried gaze raking over his features instead of the bruised wailing mess of a relative left behind.

"'toru," the word escapes you in a whisper as you maneuver him into sitting on the couch.

another voice wafts over to him, a lot like suguru's, but he pays it no mind, wanting to focus on you and you only, while your fingers travel over his face, brush his bangs away, tuck them behind the shell of his ear, then finally come to a rest on the apple of his cheeks, the grazing of the thumb soothing a minor cut.

though the way your eyebrows furrow at it, emotions darting across your face a million a second, from confusion to concern to anger - gojo reckons, were anyone to see you now, they would think it ain't a tiny nick but a gaping wound.

the white-haired boy grasps your wrist in his fingers.

"i'm okay, shortie," the second-year reassures you in a whisper. you peer at him closely in turn for a beat longer, before a long sigh leaves you though the frown on your lips stays the same. he would've called you cute if not for the murderous intent rolling off you in waves...

gojo decides to call you hot now.

a seething gaze with a soft "what happened, 'toru?" reaches him next.

oh yes, gojo swoons inwardly, you're being so fucking hot.

nuzzling into the palm cradling his cheek, the boy smiles. "nothing you need to worry about."

"it's your cousin," a female voice butts in before a known pair of heads walk into his vision, one smoking a cigarette while the other looks at him then you, mildly stunned.

shoko continues, as laidback as ever (as if she too wasn't glowering then), "suguru there asked him something about you to which the pig replied with some nonsense, because of which satoru here jumped in to defend your honour." your eyes travel from her to him. a whoosh of air leaves the girl and she takes a long drag from a cigarette. "nothing very serious, to be honest..."

"but nothing too unserious either," utahime adds, which earns a small nod from her girlfriend, "if the asshole dares to lie about you once-"

"what's to say he won't again," you finish the sentence for her, a dark shadow looming over your face, then throw the culprit a harsh look. "and what shit did you spout, mr. resident douchebag of the clan?"

a corner of gojo's lips quirk up at the nickname you gave, then part in a grin at the reaction your cousin gave to that. embarassed, for sure, yet never going farther than glaring at you from those swollen eyes.

if you weren't standing here, caressing his face, your friend's certain, he would have gone to tear him a new one - the latter still scowling at you whilst intermittently yelping at the pain of his wounds.

a long sigh escapes you, visibly tired and annoyed.

"i know you can hear me just fine by that stink eye you're giving me, so fess up now - what the fuck were you telling about me?"

an absolute silence answers your question, and just when gojo thinks he might have to leave your warm cocoon to go beat your cousin up, again, suguru's voice sounds from beside, "he was talking about your CT."

"oh?" a brow rises. "and what about it?"

"apparently - and i quote," the long-haired boy adds with palms raised and faced forwards, at the scowl he shoots him, "you can read others' minds without their knowledge, and you do that always. for fun, your cousin claims."

you blink, and turn to your relative; a mask, gojo observes with a hint of melancholy, slipping over your features - not that the boy blames you, though. you need a mask - now, most of all times.

"you said that, aniki?" you inquire, the caressing hand over gojo's skin stilling with a slight tremor. he envelopes your hand in his; an action you respond to with a squeeze, continuing, "but why did you? after all that happened, after all that everyone in the family knows, why?"

a stubborn scoff sounds from the other end of the room; one of the six eyes twitches in its socket.

"i don't think you should ask this question, shortie," the second-year hums, pulling a nonplussed face from you. he grins, "you can simply read his mind, no? your aniki won't be forced to give a reply; your ask too will be answered. besides, this isn't gonna be the first time you're breaking into someone's mind, and, your cousin's not even gonna feel his mind being read - a painless procedure - isn't that right, aniki?"

"fuck no!!!!"

and bingo!

gojo watches you cast a long look at him, then back at your cousin, before a slow smile spreads on your features, the glint so dear to him making a comeback in your eyes.

"not a bad idea, senpai," you say, lifting your free hand and directing it at the culprit. a few gasps sound around you, soon followed by a few murmurs - your senpai watches them slide off your skin like water off a duck's back. you announce in a sing-song fashion, "well, here goes nothing~"

then stop at the anguished cry, your smile widening into a grin.

sweet and smug, like the cat who got the canary.

gojo feels three pairs of eyes look at his smirk, all at the same time - the boy lets them look. the two of you share dynamics, the nature of which none, except you two, can ever dream of comprehending.

wailing, your cousin rises and stumbles over to you, hands folded in a pleading gesture.

"please, no, no, no," he sobs, very nearly falling at your feet before you take a step backwards, disgust overtaking your grin, sending the boy reeling back. "i beg you, no. please don't kill me. i was just kidding; it was just a joke. i'm sorry, don't kill me."

"kill you?" you let out a shocked gasp, placing a hand over your chest, "i would never. i was just trying to read your mind, aniki. why on earth would that kill you? you won't even feel anything-"

"it's the binding vow, you bitch!!" the boy spits, interrupting you, "the one you took years back, 'cause you didn't want the higher-ups to use you as a spy again; giving up the element of secrecy of your CT to-"

your cousin pauses, the realization and the ensuing horror and regret dawning over his face; gojo presses him, sharing a smile with you.

"to?"

the answer arrives as a shuddered whisper - a whisper audible to all, however, thanks to the heavy silence in the room.

"to make it lethal on its victim instead; an attack none can stop, not even a special-grade."

the crash of a glass, or five, impacting with the ground sounds; you give a satisfied nod, smirking.

gojo runs a palm over your dishevelled hair, undoubtedly from driving with the windows down to this stupid meet of the teenagers from the jujutsu clans. you give him a smile, mouth opening to say something, but he doesn't let you. "don't thank me, stupid."

"okay," you acquiesce, a slight huff to your tone before it grows softer, "but can i at least say you were being very cool then? i'm impressed."

"who's impressed with whom?" a crass voice interrupts the moment before gojo can even form it entirely between the two of you.

three - nope, five (even your classmates are here, tch!) teasing smiles float into his vision; the second-year opens his mouth to throw back a retort - except you snatch the opportunity away from him.

"i'm impressed with gojo senpai- any problems, anyone?" you say, tilting your head to one side with the cutest little furrow in the midst of your brows. all five shake their heads, smiles widening before one of them falls on your next words.

"but the next time i see you, geto senpai, asking others what sort of a person i am - don't you dare deny it, you asked two of my friends too the same thing, they told me; god knows why you need my character certificate, though, and for whom; you're acting as if you've a sibling i wish to date and you wanna know everything about me before giving the green signal, but whatever it is, senpai-"

you heave a breath, a break from your tirade - while the remainder of the room's breathing stays suspended.

gojo glances away from you to find the attention of all the attendees fixed on you. he wraps an arm around your midsection and rests his chin on your shoulder. you lean the side of your head onto his.

"i promise i'll create problems for you, more if i see gojo senpai being dragged into the aftermath of your curiosity - okay?"

gojo watches his best friend look at you, terrified, for a second before turning to throw him a glare. the white-haired boy bites back a grin.

placing hands on his hips, suguru exclaims, "you know what, i tried to help but no one here is worthy of my assistance."

"no one asked you for this help, suguru," shoko interjects smoothly, "you were the one who insisted, something about this method being the most effective or something if they want to catch her attention-"

"whoa, whoa, whoa. who wants to catch my attention?" you inquire, cutting them two off. gojo's classmates stop and the blood flowing in his veins drops to a subzero as he cranes his neck to look at you.

you twist to look back at him. "is there someone who wants to catch my attention? do you know them?"

"i-uh-um," the boy stutters, mind scrambling for a reply - something, anything - before nanami interrupts, a small smile on his face, "yeah, there is someone, actually, and we all know him. geto senpai was just gathering some data on you as his wingman."

"oh," you mutter, gaze dropping to the ground, then lifting to gojo. the boy simply blinks back, which draws a frown from you in turn.

retrieving a pair of shades from your bag, you hand it to him and turn back to suguru, a barely-there smile on your lips.

"next time he wants some info on me, ask him to ask me directly. i'll appreciate it."

"noted, boss," the words escape gojo before the addressed can even reply, utterly unmoved by the five exasperated glares [honestly, it's four: haibara can never really glare at anyone] - the next step of the plan already whirring to life in the shades-donning boy's brain.

so, so giddy at the fact of being told of the golden key to your heart.

|4/6| gather info from your crush.

"the moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

"so are you."

a long minute passes between gojo and you, gazes fixed on the other person and only them, before you lick your chapped lips - the boy's attention instantly going to that hynotic motion of your tongue...

and you pinch his arm.

"ow shortie!!!! what the fuck was that for!?!?" the boy yells, massaging the sore spot on his arm, before out of nowhere, the red signal glows green and he has to shift his focus to the steering wheel.

you toss him a mad scowl from the passenger's seat, one he catches effortlessly, winking, when an observation crashes upon him and he coos. "aww, did my itty-bitty-shortie-baby just get flustered by me? aww, is she blushing? aww, she's so cute!!!"

"i asked you to help me learn how to confess, gojo," you grumble with a glare at him, "not make fun of me."

your co-passenger makes an affronted face at your words, although, internally, he is beside himself. and to be honest, how can he not?

you're in the same car as him, on a three hour long drive from tokyo to nikko, exchanging declarations of love with one another while the boy's (spare) shades slide down the bridge of your nose and he hums along to the songs you choose on the stereo... if a few facts are being ignored (like the one where this is your mission and the two of you are in your uniforms), the second-year can totally imagine the two of you going on a weekend getaway as a couple now.

a soft smile settles on his lips, as he sneaks a glance of you from the corner of his eyes. "i wasn't trying to make fun of ya, shortie," he says, "i was just responding to your statement."

"but that directly?" you ask, shock and embarrassment flooding your face. your friend stifles a chuckle. "i commented on the moon being beautiful. you should've said something like 'it is, isn't it?' - but no, you went and replied, 'so are you'. my admirer will never be so direct with me; why don't you try to understand that simple fact?"

there are a few days when gojo is really divided between wanting to flick your forehead hard and wanting to kiss you senseless.

today seems to be one such glorious day.

swerving the car onto a stop by the side of the road, he lets his head fall onto the steering wheel and lifts it to lock his eyes with yours.

"and what makes you think your admirer won't be a direct guy?"

"the fact the guy couldn't even show his face to me once, and did not even want to share his contact details with me, despite me pestering him via suguru and nanami, for ages now."

okay, ouch, that one's on him.

yet, never being the one to accept defeat, he throws back, "and what if he wants to build up some mystery before your first meet? you love mysteries, don't you? the guy likes you; he must be trying to use that knowledge to confess to you."

"i like only murder mysteries, 'toru," your deadpan response arrives in a beat, which then evolves into curiosity when you ask, "but how do you know so much about these things? how many relationships have you been in, 'toru?"

it's gojo's turn to grow embarrassed now. hand reaching out to fiddle with the bracelet on your wrist, he answers, "zero."

"hey, don't be embarrassed," he watches you shoot him a grin. a tiny smile is all he manages to return while you continue, "i too have never been in a relationship. anyone you ever confessed to?"

"isn't that evident from my previous answer?"

"nope! you might've gotten rejected; who knows~"

the grin on your lips widens; gojo looks at it for once before dropping his gaze. under the interplay of the light and shadow from the leaves of the tree, there appears to be something different about you - the sorcerer can't really pinpoint what it is but he knows there is, and he doesn't want to dwell on it - lest he loses his self-control.

"i have never confessed to anyone, and whatever confessions i have received, i've either ignored or rejected them all."

"ooh, same!" your excited voice ringing within the confines of the car, you lift his palm to meet yours in a hi-five. gojo lets you do so - before you place it between your two palms and clasp it, a sharp gasp drawn from him at the action. you shoot him a concerned look.

"your hand's freezing cold, 'toru? you okay?"

"yeah, yeah, i'm fine," the boy mumbles, moving his hand away from your comforting warmth - an action he doesn't want to do but has to, for the sake of propriety. something happening out of sheer impulse isn't how he wants to start his story with you - you don't deserve that.

"um, okay," you mutter, then inquire, timid and awkward, "i've one last question on your love life... can i ask that? you can totally ask me to stop though if you're feeling uncomfortable."

"ask away," the boy answers with a smile, he can see, is tense in the mirror as he restarts the car and returns it to the road. a long second passes before you ask, "have you ever liked anyone, 'toru?"

"yeah... there's one girl. i love her."

"oh."

the monosyllabic answer sends a torsion through his chest and gojo twists towards you - only to find a cryptic smile resting on your lips.

discarding your shoes, you fold your knees upto your chest and rest your head atop them, facing him. your senpai is really thankful a soft song comes onto the stereo next, for were it not so, he's certain your soft question would have gone unheard.

"how does your first love feel? beautiful, right? the way it's in books, songs and movies... isn't it?"

gojo takes a moment to mull over your query.

it is... yet it isn't.

the flutters in his heart when you skip past him in the corridors with a beam; the butterflies in his stomach when you plop on the chair next to him in the cafeteria; the dizziness in his head when your face is too close to his; the utterly-unplatonic thoughts of you plaguing him, day and night, dusk and dawn...

the fictional works sure have got this aspect of love right.

but they aren't right in so many other aspects of it.

falling in love with you isn't love-on-first-crash nor is it from a magical transformation in one of you nor is it after ages and ages of ignorance and denial and the final mind-numbing feeling that oh shit! you're the one for him; always have been; the girls with whom he's been till now are mere mirages of you; but it's too late now... you're moving abroad on a flight in two hours, with a boyfriend who's far better than him.

no.

the goggles-wearing sorcerer's catching feelings for you is way more realistic and easier to digest than that.

the two of you are friends, friends, friends - until the morning the two of you are munching on an ice cream tub, and with a casual glance at you, the boy muses what he feels for you is weird, not like his feelings for his other friends - and after a month's worth research, reaches the conclusion of him being in love with you.

quick. direct. smart.

just like the heir of the gojo clan himself.

a small smile lining his lips on this short trip down the memory lane, your senpai hums, "it's complicated. you'll understand when you have your first love."

a soft sigh is the only response you give and gojo reaches over to give a small knock to the side of your head. "don't overthink, shortie," the boy says in a fond tone, a feeling which expands within himself at the smile you offer him, "everything's gonna be okay; i'll personally make sure it is."

"oh, yeah?" a brow rises while your eyes crinkle in a cheeky grin. "and how exactly do you plan on doing that? you gonna have a serious talk with my admirer or something, before our first date?"

if talks in the mirror over the bathroom sink counts, the white-haired boy has had countless discussions so far - but he doesn't tell you that - choosing to return your question with a question of his own.

one which has been pestering him for a while now.

"but, shortie... why the hell are you practising-"

"to confess now?" stealing his words from the tip of his tongue, gojo watches you let out a long tired exhale, then slump back in your seat, a hint of a smile on your lips. flying strands of your hair, from the wind rushing in through the open window, form a halo around your head-

your friend thinks you are an angel descended from above, no matter how you look.

a titter breaks his enraptured gaze on you, and he blinks, finding you with a tiny curve of your lips. you continue, "i wanna stay prepared. if not for this date, then another. if not for this guy, then another. but the thing is, i wanna stay prepared. for love and for everything that comes with it - besides..." your smile grows bashful, an emotion gojo instantly realizes is impossible for him to get tired of seeing on you; you shrug.

"the heart does what it wants, does it not?"

really??

the young sorcerer looks away from you for a beat, letting his gaze travel over the rows of trees dotting the increasingly mountainous terrain, then looks back at you.

the two of you are awfully close to the destination of your trip.

removing a hand from the wheel and reaching it out to intertwine his fingers with yours, the boy asks, "wanna go visit that patisserie i was talking of the other day after this mission? i've heard the sweets there are worth dying for."

"but won't it be late evening by the time our job's done?" you ask back with a frown, "and we also have to return to the school... why don't-"

"it's a full moon tonight, shortie," gojo interjects you with a soft little smile. you stare befuddled at him for a while, before the bulb lights to life in your brain - an event bringing a semblance of relief to the boy - and you laugh.

"oh, oh, oh!" you exclaim, waggling your eyebrows, "i know exactly what you're going to do. you're gonna create a romantic atmosphere to teach me how to confess, aren't you? method teaching - eh, 'toru?"

a chuckle is what gojo decides to offer to your buzzing curiosity, until later this evening.

"i'll let my heart do what it wants to do."

|5/6| splurge on gifts.

"and what can this be?"

the silver of the bracelet glints, the tiny sapphires in its rim adding a sparkling effect as you show it to gojo. the boy drags his gaze from it to you, lips pressing into a line as he takes in the way you're looking at him.

two months back, if someone even merely insinuated at the fact you might be growing distant from him, he wouldn't have thought once before retaliating with a mean word or hit.

and, to be just, why on earth would he not?

yes, the 'date' he had proposed to take you on post mission remained just a proposal - many thanks to the old geezers and their knack for providing severely understated mission details [bitter sarcasm wholly intended] - but that didn't drive a wedge between you both; quite the opposite, in fact.

two months back, he found you sobbing at his bedside in the school infirmary, lips pressing kisses to his bruised knuckles time and again, while you kept mumbling on how you should've been more wary and cognizant of your surroundings, how he shouldn't have switched his infinity off to guard you from the caving roof and how you would buy him a milion sweets if he promised to not be reckless, but wouldn't hesitate to kill him with your CT if he broke the promise even once.

lovingly overprotective in an irresistibly cute way - that's exactly how you grew to be around gojo in the days he was healing, in the latter's eyes. suguru and shoko's comments too grew less teasing and more encouraging with time then - something which made him think, the feelings in his being might not be as one-sided as he tends to believe at times.

something which made him think, there might not be a day he has to imagine without your radiant grin directed at him, for him, because of him.

yet, now... as he regards you with utmost attention...

the sorcerer can't help but deem the unimaginable to have occurred.

face grim, eyes dull, lips puckered into a scowl, every fucking time you've come across him since your return to school from your home...

it doesn't really take a genius to gather you don't really want to be in his vicinity - a realisation which leads to your best friend of a decade and a few years to shower a torrent of gifts on you.

under the impression, that's what will return your keen undivided gaze to him - an impression, he watches, being tainted wrong with every other second that passes under the fading daylight.

you return the bracelet to its box and place it in the bag, one the boy knows contains the other gifts he had left at your doorstep or sent via shoko or haibara to you, the past month - and one you intend to give him back - 'cause for what else could you have asked to meet him at the training grounds this evening, carrying the bag, if not this?

wishing, not for the first time, for his six eyes to be able to glean your current state of mind, he asks, scooting slowly, deliberately to your seated form on the bench, "did you not like it, shor-"

"please don't call me that."

the grin slowly unfurling on gojo's lips stutters, then vanishes in the heat of the fury of your eyes. he watches your gaze roam over his face once before skittering away. your voice grows a mild tremor, "please don't call me that. i don't want to hear that nickname ever again."

the soda can nearly slips from between his fingers onto the grass below before he grasps it again, firmer this time, and tosses it upside down to empty it into his mouth. it's a brand you had introduced him to, gojo reminisces, on a day just like this... grins and squeals as you jumped in front of the vending machine, so, so joyed that it had your favourite drink.

soon after, it became the white-haired boy's favourite drink too - but no longer now. not when the fruity tang of the liquid, which endeared it to you as you claimed, tastes like the metallic clang of blood to him.

now, many might call gojo overdramatic here - you've asked him not to call you that countless times now, for fuck's sake - but many don't know you the way your friend does. in horrifying contrast to before, a note of revulsion exists in your words.

undisguised disgust paired with loathing.

sharp enough to pierce infinity, past skin, muscles, ribs and layers of tissues and chains, into that stupid organ strumming melancholic rhythms now, your name bleeding raw from its walls.

superfluous, some might scoff - but they'll have never known there's a dark side to love, the one gojo's traversing now. though... the young sorcerer muses, finishing the drink and sending it into the trash can with a flick of his cursed energy, they'll never have known you. they'll never have known the degree to which the boy adores you, either.

a strong whoosh of wind hits the two of you, carrying the smell of wet earth with it. a sign of the arrival of your favourite season, your friend absently notes as he looks back at you.

the tip of your nose appears flushed red.

"and may i know why?"

shock brims your gaze at the soft question. gojo watches you cough up a strained chuckle. "i knew you to be more assertive. demanding. never thought you could request for an explanation... what changed, 'to-" you still for a beat, then continue, burning another bridge, same as the boy feared an instant too early, "i mean, gojo-senpai?"

"you're the best person to answer that," the mentioned person replies with lips forming a gentle curve. yes, the limitless user's always been one hell of a self-assured person - it comes free with the package of receiving god-like treatment by most from before you can crawl - but there exist times when all that - the fight, the zeal, the energy - every one of those just ebbs away from his body, rendering him the hapless spectator, and victim, to the car crash.

except a car crash might hurt less than the careless sneer you shoot his way, coupled with an eye roll. you never gave him such a look in the past, before you went back home for the vacation. just what-

"i think you know why i called you here, yeah?" you ask, picking the bag up and pushing it towards him. the things inside it rattle; the boy wonders if you even went through those two books he sent you. they were from the series you had babbled, ranted and gushed to him on for hours on end on numerous occasions, once upon a time.

gojo nods briefly, though doesn't spare it even a glance. it doesn't go past your notice, he notes, given the way your eyes jump from him to his gifts, then to your fiddling fingers. "well, that's one box ticked off," you say, "and as for the other-"

"i know that too; you need not say every fucking thing out loud," your senpai cuts you off with a mirthless inflection to his tone, eyes falling down onto his sneakers. it was a gift from you on his last-

bloody hell, why does everything have to be a sore reminder of you?

"not saying it out loud doesn't make it any less real," your quiet voice tears through his thought, and he looks up. hoping, desperately so, a tender smile is waiting on your features, reserved for him - only to see every hope of his get dashed into the dirt by your frown.

his best friend was right. gojo's pathetically down for you.

a thunder rumbles in the distance.

you continue, "but since you've asked me not to, i guess i won't. that's the least i can do-"

"but what went wrong?" the question hurtles past the confines of his mouth into the stormy air. and, for once, gojo decides not to conceal the moisture in his eyes behind his shades. removing the eyewear, he moves to sit right beside you, approaching to take your hand in his.

you jerk away from him.

as if you were fire and he, water.

as if you were sun and he, non-luminous scarred moon threatening to eclipse your joy.

the white-haired boy retracts his hand away. you glance at him once before averting your gaze away. he watches you clench your hands in a tight fist. "nothing was wrong, senpai," you mumble; gojo bites his lower lip to keep it from wobbling, "but there's always something tiny wrong in everything going right, ya know? i just feel we outgrew our phase of being friends."

the growl of thunder sounds closer this time. a drop of water lands on his thigh - the sorcerer doesn't bother to know if it is his eyes or those clouds above which finally welled over. voice thickening and breaking, a scoff leaves him, "you know, as well as me, that's the lamest excuse ever. and you called us being friends, right?" you take a moment then nod weakly. a pained sigh leaves him, "then what happened to being open with each other, hm? i thought we kept no secrets from each other."

the boy watches you keep your gaze stubbornly trained on the grass beneath. something within him breaks.

"c'mon, don't play dumb," gojo urges, plopping down onto the object of your attention, just so he can have a better view of your face. you face away with a frown. he prompts you again, hints of helplessness sneaking in between his words, "c'mon, shortie. don't look away with the shitty reason of us outgrowing our phase of friendship. we were - no, are the closest. you know, right? that you can tell me any-"

"not everything's meant to remain the same always, senpai!" the loud exclamation leaves your mouth. gojo stills and so do you. his eyes fall on the way you wring your hands once before stuffing them into your hoodie's pockets.

it isn't oversized on you, the realisation clicks into place in his mind.

you let out an exhale through your mouth, then pin him down with eyes teeming with what seems like weary distaste.

"can you please get up? you're creating an unnecessary scene right now."

if your words weren't enough, it's the way you utter them that leaves cracks and fissures in him. one more blow, and the boy's sure he'll be blown away into smithereens - an outcome he's trying to avoid [but knows, can't; every piece of armour he dons turns flimsy before you].

"is it 'cause you tended to my injuries then?" he asks. your lips strain into a line. casting him a sideways glance, you shake your head, "i'm many things but a liar ain't in the list, senpai. when i cared for you, it was from my heart. when i no longer wanna associate with you-"

a dark shadow falls over your features. rising from the bench, you shift your gaze skywards and back on him, "it'll rain pretty soon. you should get back inside."

there's something between summer evenings and you and him, gojo muses as he peers up at you.

it was a summer evening when you first came to visit the boy at this school.

it is a summer evening when you're turning your back on him in this same old school.

with the glaring exception of there being the warmth of your form beside him then versus the gnawing chill you're leaving behind now.

"you never completed your sentence," gojo points out, whispering.

[too loud and the sorcerer fears, the last interaction between the two of you will end as a horrid yelling match. besides, you like things with happy endings, don't you? he'll be sure to give you your happy ending as the last gift.]

you send a restrained twitch of lips his way. "i remember being asked not to say every fucking thing out loud, senpai."

a shaky smile is the only thing he finds he can muster in return, at the moment.

"suguru said you're leaving for your home tonight again," the student says, getting up from the ground and moving closer to, yet too far a distance from you. "don't drive with the windows down, okay? the weather's bad, you might catch a cold."

a muscle in your jaw twitches. the valley between your brows furrows.

gojo lets his smile widen a bit. so shallow. so hollow.

"don't worry," he says, "i'm taking this as seriously as you want me to. it's just that..." trailing off, the boy takes a step away. your feet move an inch towards him before you immediately withdraw them. a small mimicry of a laugh leaving him, gojo fixates his gaze on the iridescent colour of your irises.

"i've always seen you as someone way more than a mere childhood friend, y'know? and no matter what you say or do, i can never and will never stop seeing you the same way. i love you that much, short- oh! sorry, i'm not supposed to call you that, am i?."

a beat passes, then another, and another.

your response comes out as a garbled mess of letters and tears. "you're the worst person ever, 'toru. i hate you."

and with that and not another glance wasted anywhere, you whirl on your feet and dash back to the school.

leaving behind the echo of your words ringing in gojo's ears, louder than the thunder of the lightning crashing on a tree a little away.

|6/6| this isn't really a way. if you're at this step, just fuckin' stop and retreat. your crush won't ever notice you – you sad, pathetic loser.

"is that what you really think?"

gojo wonders if a momentous occasion as the one now deserves one brawl thrown into it or not. it won't be anything much; just dumping a bowl of soup down suguru's shirt and/or landing a pretty solid kick to his stomach and/or-

"careful, senpai or you might've to go home, bloody and beaten," the most monotone voice ever possible crashes into his thoughts in the worst possible way. a snicker, far too familiar, joins in. "yeah, nanami's right. besides, we haven't even clicked a pic yet. you wouldn't want to wear a black eye in it, would you?"

clinking his glass with shoko's, the white-haired watches suguru gulp down a shot of tequila, then give a mighty firm shake of his head. "no, of-fucking-course not. today is our dearest kouhai's important day; i don't wanna get involved in any drama now; though..." trailing off, the black-haired boy shoots gojo an awfully obvious side-glance before a look shared with the others.

the boy lets his eyes wander away from them. an abominably sharp acrylic nail pokes him in the cheek. gojo exhales a sigh, so exhausted.

were it just a day, the boy's certain to the hell and back, that he would have whipped up a snarky insult to the stink-eye aimed his way. the boy would have slapped his drunk classmate's hand away, calling her sense of fashion the worst names possible.

gojo, however, decides to resort to neither today. he decides to settle for a sigh - the second in the last minute, longer and wearier than the one before - and rests his face into the hollow of his palms, screwing eyes shut.

an exasperated grumble - or two, maybe - permeates the air.

"gojo senpai," the words ring out in a tone far too soft and worried. he muses he doesn't need to look to see the sympathetic frown haibara must be wearing, nor the varying degrees of pity and concern etched into the others' features. a warm hand squeezes his shoulder slightly.

haibara continues, "geto senpai is not entirely wrong, y'know? yes, of course, implying you might kick up drama is sorta wrong, i admit so. but otherwise... you could've tried to, i don't know, somehow find out the reason behind her sudden distance from you?"

opening his eyes, gojo twists to face his kouhai, ready to interrupt him, but stops at the earnestness in his gaze. "turning into a recluse or moping around isn't gonna solve anything, senpai. it's been more than a month since then and from what little i've seen, i can say it's eating the both of you alive. you, way more than her. so, go, speak with her," he urges him with a smile, "the others are not very well at showing their emotions but trust me when i say, we all are worried for you both, senpai."

the white-haired boy drags his gaze away from the speaker. suguru gives him a smile, shoko pokes him in the cheek again, nanami offers a fleeting impression of something smiley before looking away with a grimace.

gojo's eyes flit back to the encouraging boy before.

"okay," the upperclassman relents with a sigh, which instantly grows into a frown the moment every piece clicks into place in his mind and the goggles-wearing boy swears his heart skips a beat, "but what did you say about seeing shortie and know-"

stopping in the middle of the question, the boy stiffens.

three glasses shatter on impact with the floor, freed from the waiter's grasp, soon followed by two maids screeching your name in the most terror-struck voice ever manageable. gojo's six eyes provide him with enough details as always; albeit it seems miles from enough now, the way it always is in your case, further deepening the sorcerer's need to physically see you once; to soak in the brilliance of your gaze and the sweetness of the curve of your lips once.

who knows if he'll ever see you again from as close as- okay, no, wait-

"did you just run all the way here-"

"i love you."

"-in your heels?"

everything falls silent the moment the last word leaves gojo's lips and a shuddered breath escapes him into the bittersweet fragrance of the citrus perfume he remembers you using. in a lilac dress with a messy hairstyle and diamond studs, the youngest and newest leader of your clan stands before him, cheeks stretched in a wide grin.

whirling his seat round completely, the boy gives you one long look, only to earn a hauntingly soft look in return.

you smile.

"i know you might see me as the most inconsistent, lying, crazy bitch at best or as the most opportunistic bitch ever, trying to seduce you, for lack of a better term, to satisfy her craving for power, at worst; but no matter how you see me, how others see me, how i see myself - i'm in love with you, that's one thing which won't change no matter what."

you pause.

and as he watches you catch your breath after that long as hell sentence para, the first realisation which crashes on gojo's otherwise numb brain is: you too haven't changed.

not. one. bit.

from the way you stick to your minimal makeup look; to the way you speak sans any break and curse yourself as you confess to something (you think you did) wrong; to the way your gaze remains fixed on him, acutely trained on even the mildest twitch of his facial muscles... one whole month has passed since that stormy evening yet you're still the same you.

a little sweet. a little sour. a whole lot perfect-

who loves him-

you. love. him. too.

for the first time in an apparent eternity, gojo feels his lips lift in a free smile. although the chuckle leaving him sounds laden with moisture and emotions.

"i'll die before calling you a seductress, shortie," the boy says, "you're way too dumb and naive for that." your eyes move to the girl drinking beside him for a second, before settling back on him, a light sheen in them. smile widening yet growing a tender quality, he goes on to say, "and i know you aren't a liar; but regarding the inconsistent claim... i think an explanation's long overdue, isn't it?"

you huff a mild chuckle. stuffing your hands into your dress pockets, your senpai watches you draw in a long breath before letting it out in a whoosh, a tiny smile nestling in the corner of your lips. you begin.

"you know, right, my eldest brother was the clan leader before me? y'know, after my father just decided, one fine day, he's growing old and so he wants to retire somewhere peaceful now, with my mom, leaving me in the care of takeshi nii-chan and his wife?"

four pairs of eyes switch to him in silent query. ignoring them, gojo nods. it isn't everyday you speak so openly of your family, especially this topic concerning them.

considering how painful and sore it is for you.

how big of an escapist your father is.

how big of an asshole your brother is.

how utterly difficult it is for you to navigate in this household daily.

your sigh interrupting his thoughts, he hears you continue, "well, all was going well until it was not; and i decided i'd already spent too much time being a spectator to my life and future keeping getting kicked around like a fucking soccer ball."

few gasps sound in the vicinity, undoubtedly at you cussing. nanami's smooth voice cuts in through their shocked surprise, and through the bubble, gojo was under the impression, he and you had slipped into.

judging from the tiny start you give, the white-haired boy surmises you too must have felt the same.

your classmate's solemn voice sounds in the hush, though traces of a hesitation can still be found in it when he asks, "they... didn't arrange a wedding for you in the month you were here... did they?"

"they did," you're quick to answer, voice growing a steely quality, "the higher-ups and my brother decided to get me engaged to-"

"to whom?"

gojo's lips quirk up at the way you roll your eyes at suguru's impatient question, then look at him, a tired smile creeping onto your features. but, hey! is that a tinge of shyness on your face that the boy can see?

you point your chin at him. "to 'toru, who else?"

the second (or maybe, the third) bout of silence would have followed this statement of yours too - if not for the cackling girl beside gojo. the latter makes no effort to conceal his irritation, shooting the most vicious glare ever; shoko simply raises her glass, as if in a toast, then tosses you a smirk.

"you love him, still you don't wanna get hitched with him? not very clever of you, yeah?"

"yeah," haibara chips in, albeit much less teasing and more a worried timbre than shoko, the shades-wearing boy deems. the other student continues, brows creasing together, "plus, i doubt gojo senpai saying no to the proposal. so, why didn't you go ahead with it?"

your head tilts to one side. your lips twitch in a knowing fashion.

"you just said the reasons yourself, yu-kun."

years later, if someone asks gojo when's the time he realised he's in love with you, too deep and too far gone to ever consider anyone but you by his side, as his other and undoubtedly better half, the sorcerer will grin the goofiest grin ever and sigh the dreamiest sigh ever, and say, "every day."

which is the truth, really-

yet, from those 'every day'-s, there exist few such days, whom the six-eyes user's brain subconsciously frames in a golden frame and places on a dust-free pedestal.

for instance, today.

a day your senpai dreaded to begin by leaving the comfort of his bed, knowing the person whose ascension to the metaphorical throne he has been invited to witness today, blood chilling and condensing into tears on his lashes as memories from long ago and not-so-long-ago hurtle into his brain.

only to morph, by evening, into the day the boy realises: love isn't just what made him switch his infinity off and pull you under him, a shield to protect you from the crumbling roof, forgetting everything except your safety and life; but love is also what made you push him and the emotions within yourself away.

forgetting everything - the boy knows from knowing you these many years - except your very evident aim of shielding him from the vicious schemes of those responsible for this damned jujutsu hierarchy.

no matter how easy and rewarding the other path would've been for you.

no matter how difficult and painful this current path must've been for you.

just 'cause you love him.

just 'cause you know, at the end of it all, he's going to be safe, away from the manipulating hands of the higher-ups - away from even the slimmest chance of experiencing a shred of the ordeals you suffered as a child, losing your free will and living as a mere puppet, subject to those old geezers' whims and fancies.

the two of you are not-too-near to the threshold of adulthood; still, through those unsure lenses of transition between immaturity and maturity, gojo feels sure this very moment that his eyes are viewing now - of watching his feelings being reciprocated not only in words (which, he knows, are true; your body language is as familiar to him as the back of his hand) but also in actions - so pure, so selfless, so utterly... loving-

the boy reckons his six eyes have never landed on a sight so ethereal and just so good, that it makes his heart want to burst right out of his chest.

drinking in the way you're regarding him, fingers fidgeting and teeth gnawing on your lower lip, gojo cracks a smile.

your restlessness abates a little.

"you became the clan leader just to make sure this story remains ours and only ours, didn't you?"

you take a moment before answering with a big nod.

"yeah," you say, "but that doesn't mean you need to be grateful to me or anything of the sort. you can give me any answer you want to give. you can also give me no answer, now or ever, if that's what you really want to do. just know that i love you, and that your answer can never really put a dent in it, no matter what it is."

"no matter what it is?" your senpai echoes your words back to you. a small nod is what you send in reply; yet it seems to be more than the quantity of oil required to set the cogs of gojo's brain whirring to life and mischief. eyes narrowing, he asks, "not even if my response is an 'i love you too, shortie', hm?"

the clock in the room ticks thrice.

two known voices mutter curses behind him.

five maids of yours scurry out the door, whispering excitedly.

you narrow your eyes back at him.

"i asked you to not feel pressured, didn't i? tell me what you want to say, 'toru," you say; his name in your mouth sounds sweeter than the sweetest mochi the boy's ever tasted, "and not those stuff you think i want to hear you say."

your statement draws an amused chortle from gojo. "did you really forget what i told you last that day, shortie? or did you not again not understand what i was telling you then?"

"what's there to not understand in that!?" your indignant reply arrives without missing a beat, "you said you've always seen me as way more than a childhood friend: true 'cause we're best friends. then- oh yeah," with a click of your fingers, you add, face steeped in contemplation, "you also said- oh."

"yep, oh," gojo nods his head in an exaggerated fashion, revelling in the way you're looking at him right now, eyes round as saucers and cheeks ruddy as the expensive wine being served now.

you still seem so beautiful to him.

it takes a pinch more than a while before you breathe out a breathless giggle. straightening in his seat, gojo feels his cheeks hurt a bit from the wide smile digging indents into them.

"you really lo-"

"ma'am, the guests for the evening party will be here very soon. you should get ready now," one of your maids interrupts you. the sorcerer feels his smile shrivel a little. you're barely back with him; yet you'll be stolen away from him-

"aw, is it so?" your entertained query cuts in through his thoughts. the boy looks up from his shoes his gaze had moved to before, to you, an awfully fake apologetic smile lighting up your face.

gods, why do you look so fucking kissable when you're like this?

"you know what, the people invited aren't really the kind i want to talk to and ruin my mood. besides, i've already met 'my' guests, so..." the boy watches you inch closer to him slowly as you trail off; your maid's eyes narrow before widening. you grin. "toodles, mrs. matsui!"

that and the salute you throw at everyone in the room are the last two memories clear in gojo's mind, before everything turns into a mush of everything yet nothing in the end.

well, barring a few exceptions, of course.

your contagious chortles, for instance, while you both dash down the hallways of your mansion; or your delighted gasp when he wraps his arms round you and warps to that patisserie in nikko; or your million-watt-bright beam to him, as you slap the latter's sneaky hands away from stealing a bite from your plate, whilst the latter declares this to be where you two will celebrate the future milestones; or the-

"ieiri senpai was right, y'know?" your tired voice cuts in through your senpai's rather-muddled recollections. the latter tears his gaze away from the inky-black night sky dotted by the twinkling lights of tokyo, to your drowsy form resting her head on his chest, his one arm tight around your shoulders, while the other rests behind his head on the cold hood of the car.

moving to brush the strands of hair away from your forehead, the boy presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, earning a sweet kiss to his chin in return, and hums, "not really the person i wanna chat about right now with my girlfriend..." you suddenly twist your body towards him, throwing an arm over his stomach and nuzzling into his neck; making a mental note to address you as that more often, he sighs. "but carry on, i guess. you won't be you if you can't gush about that damn shoko every third sentence or something."

planting your lips to his jaw for a mere second, gojo watches you pull away an inch from him, grinning. "senpai said you'll be the first one to confess but i'll be the one who makes things official and public and all that shit," you explain, then gasp, grin turning wider.

"oh my god," you mutter, "geto senpai and iori senpai are gonna lose so much money to her. them two never thought you could ever say 'i love you' to me, did you know that? oh my god... i kind of feel bad for those two."

the gleeful expression you're wearing tells your boyfriend otherwise - choosing to ignore it, he throws you a smirk. "well, i don't. those two people shouldn't have doubted me. i'm the one and only gojo satoru," he proclaims, puffing his chest out a bit, "of course, I'll be successful in my mission of getting you to notice my love for you."

"nah, i don't think so," you shake your head the very next instant. lips into the most adoring curve he's ever seen on you - something which steals his retort away from him and makes him want to pinch his arm hard, to see if he's dreaming or not - you hum.

"you could confess your love to me, not 'cause you're gojo satoru. but because you're my 'toru and i'm your shortie... isn't it so?"

gojo thinks back to the time utilised in carefully drafting and finalizing the steps via which he can catch your eye, only to watch them not go the way planned.

gojo looks back to you, only to find your eyes trained on him, glitters of love in them unbelievably similar to those loud crackers bursting in his chest right now.

the young sorcerer runs a reverent finger down the side of your face.

"yeah, it is because you're my shortie and i'm your 'toru, sweetness," he whispers, "and we'll always stay this way, yeah?"

you reply by engraving the shape of your smile into his.

AND MY MAGNUM OPUS IS OVER, BESTIES!!! 🥳🥳😊

tysm once again for always showing me sm love and support, y'all 🥹🥹🥹 i cherish each and every one of u so so SO MUCH - plesae keep supporting me and my works the same way in the future too, my loves 🥹🥹❤️

masterlist

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #kit posts 📝

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demigodpolls · 2 months ago

Text

calling all PJO fanfic readers!

In the interest of acknowledging great works by fandom writers, DemigodPolls is going to share a big year-end collection of 2024 Percy Jackson fanfic recommendations! In the comment section below or on this AO3 post, leave recommendations for the best PJO fanfics you've read - but there is one major rule: they MUST have been published or last updated in 2024! No exceptions! Reblogs are turned on, but please do NOT leave your recommendations in the reblogs/tags! They will not be considered! Before commenting, make sure that you read the additional specifications below the cut first. If you have nothing to recommend, please do reblog to help support fandom writers and spread the word! Thank you!!!

What we want:

strong grammar

strong writing skills

accurate/interesting depictions of PJO characters

angst/romance/drama/adventure/friendship/character studies/etc

accurately tagged stories (i.e. stories that don't surprise you with untagged triggering content)

stories written with love for the percy jackson universe and its characters

What we DON'T want:

stories that were published/last updated before 2024

stories about ships that would be age-inappropriate in canon, unless the characters are CLEARLY aged up in the story (e.g. no olympians x teenage characters, unless the younger character is explicitly an ADULT when they first meet in the fanfic)

stories that contain non-c*n, inc*st, p*dophilia

stories under 1000 words

stories that fall under "character x everyone"

stories about original characters (stories that contain some OCs in non-protagonist roles are fine, character x reader/self-inserts are fine)

stories that bash other ships/characters (i.e., don't recommend percabeth fics that bash rachel/perachel)

stories that contain non-PJO crossovers (except for RRverse crossovers, i.e. pjo + tkc is fine, toa alone is fine, tkc alone is not, pjo + harry potter is not)

stories that contain gore/extreme violence/extreme bodily harm

stories that contain cheating/infidelity (I just don't want to read those, sorry)

dialogue-only fanfics/texting-only fanfics

stories that contain W*TTG sp0ilers

can I recommend multiple things?

yes! just make sure to categorize them correctly under the relevant prompts.

can I recommend my own story?

yes, but you are highly, highly encouraged to simultaneously recommend at least one other fanfic that you yourself did not write - let's spread the love! (not required)

is smut okay?

yes! but you must specify clearly that the story contains smut in your comment, and please don't use explicit/overly sexual language in your recommendation. I also reserve the right to refuse to consider stories that contain k*nks I don't want to engage with. (ab0, hardcore bd$m, parental name k*nk to name a few)

are non-english fanfics okay?

you are absolutely welcome to recommend non-english fanfics to others in the comments! but I will not be able to put them on the final recommendation list, because I only speak english and I cannot personally vet their contents, cannot observe their grammar, and could be terribly misled by a translator. I'm very sorry! however, if you would like to put together a similar recommendation collection of non-english stories, I'd be happy to promote it on this blog.

is percico okay?

someone asked about this specifically, so here's my stance: percico is a controversial pairing due to the debated inappropriateness of the canon age gap (approx. 3 years). I personally consider 3 years between minors to be juuust beyond my comfort zone (2 years), so please respect my decision to abide by my own comfortability and refuse to consider stories that feature age gaps of this size or larger involving minors. however, you can recommend percico fics where the age gap is explicitly made smaller, or fics where nico and percy are both explicitly adults! this same rule applies to any other ship in a similar circumstance - check the wiki for canon ages if you're unsure! (and to be clear, this is solely about ages, not about the individual merit of the pairing itself. respectfully - this is me drawing a boundary about what I am comfortable with, so do not argue with me on this topic).

is caleo okay?

this pair is even more controversial nowadays, so here's my stance when it comes to weird magical circumstances: within the logic of the pjo universe, some things that seem strange from a mortal perspective are standard within the books. i.e., it's not weird to date fellow demigods, even if the person you're dating is technically your aunt/uncle/cousin/etc. likewise, it's not "weird" for a teenager to date an immortalized or de-immortalized teenager, because... I genuinely don't know, that's just how the book logic works. for that reason, caleo works are accepted. we're going to apply this same logic to pairs like theyna, which could also potentially have murky circumstances (although I do consider thaluke to be especially iffy, because it heavily depends on the situation that people write them in - so if you're unsure, go ahead and submit it, and I'll use my best judgement from there). however, I cannot begin to express my extreme disinterest in discourse about immortal dating ethics - like, I would rather do anything else. not trying to be sassy here, but I'm going to ask you guys to not pick a fight about these topics, for the simple reason that I have zero interest in debating over situations that could never occur in real-life.

are incomplete/discontinued stories okay?

yes! I'd prefer stories that have at least three chapters, but this is not required. completed one-shots are also fine!

If someone already recommended a story that I like, should I vouch for it?

if you would like to, then absolutely!! you can respond to the appropriate prompt from this account in the comments, or you can reply to the person making the recommendation. just make sure to explicitly state which story you're advocating for.

Comments that do not follow these guidelines may be deleted!

How to make recommendations:

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Thank you so, so much for participating! The collection won't be published on this blog until late December, so until then, take your time, check those bookmarks, and read new PJO fanfics! Much love to all of you ♡

- demigodpolls

(art by @viria)

(dividers by @cafekitsune)

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polonium-snap · 9 days ago

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Fic rec for your bkdkbk post-canon woes

Now that MHA is over I've been satisfying my bkdkbk needs with fics like one does, so I made this fic rec of the best fanfics I've read over the past few months. Unintentionally most of them are rated E, idk why, if you want more fics, feel free to check my ao3 bookmarks, I have over 1000 bkdk fics bookmarked

DISCLAIMER: Please check the tags and warnings thoroughly before reading any of the fics here

Multichapter:

You Gave Me Purpose, Kacchan by wowschreave | Rated T | Post-canon

The first in what I call the "Post-canon holy trinity" I've already talked about this one so much but I'll do it again because this is THE post-canon fic, plus it has amazing, beautiful, wonder-who-made-this-masterpiece ART lol

promises kept by gabstar | Rated E | Post-canon | BKDK

The second instalment of the Post-canon trinity, starring co-depended BKDK which is one of my favorite flavors

Count to Infinity by socksasgloves | Rated T | Post-canon | BKDK

The completion of the holy trinity with more Post-canon goodness because it's what I crave on a cold night

The night we decided to be brave by Albipepo | Rated E | BKDKBK | Accidental parents

I love this one so much, I hated both of them for being stupid half of the time but it's so so worth it

i'm not myself when i'm without you by YunaTuna | Rated M (but I would rate it E) | Possesive BKDK

This one is so interesting and dark, I'm obsessed with possessive Deku and this hits all the right marks and more

And the world went still by Saiyasha | Rated E | BKDK | (temporary) Mayor Character Death | Established relationship

GUT-WRENCHING, this one hits so hard, I nearly died, but it thankfully has a happy ending

Kacchan vs the Internet by palavering | Rated T | Soc Med

This one is not complete but read it read it please it's so good, and the social media aspect is so peak, like I can rave for hours on how well the author uses CSS

Baby Bottles and Blushing Faces by derDschungelderRosen | Rated T

Baby Project is a classic but I adore this take on the idea so much, plus it's hilarious

keep the rain by gheemin | Rated T | Post-canon

I adore how introspective this one is, it also overwhelmed me with feels

Fake it, 'till you make it. by Princess_ofPizza | Rated M| Charades

Drinking games are always bad ideas, unless you're bkdk in which case carry on

Inhibitionless by Sonday | Rated E | Quirk shenanigans

Horny quirks are the best

You Had Me From the Start by bellbloom | Rated E| BKDK| Artist x Bartender AU

As an artist myself Artist!Izuku scratches an itch I didn't know I had

A Starving Artist's Success by StevieBanks | Rated M | BKDK | Artist x Fashion designer AU

Which is why I have two fics with artist Deku, also kind of a meet-cute

Unraveled by omicroncet | Rated M | BKDK |

Three words; sleep deprived Izuku

One-shots:

love in the making by Kacchdeku | Rated G | Post-Canon | BKDK

Third-wheel Kota is the best

Sturdy Heart by lurethegalaxy | Rated T | Post-canon| Established Relationship

Angsty but so so so good

pacemaker by passengerside | Rated T | Post-war | Canon-compliant

The pacemaker scene has me dead, ascending, AND there's art?!!

The Eight Years Between by Loriqod | Rated T | Post-canon | Established relationship

I love when fics fill in the gaps of the canon content

Embers by UglyGreenJacket | Rated T | Post-canon | angst with a happy ending | Established relationship

My poor baby Izuku needs a hug, thankfully Katsuki is there to give it to him

king of hearts by nikkiRA | Rated E | Quirk shenanigans

This quirk is so creative and cute and I love that it also includes their other classmates reactions

crepe date by isidium | Rated T | Fluff

'Cause we all think about that one crepe comment Izuku made one (1) time and so does Katsuki

chasing the rabbit by mimiwrites | Rated T | Amnesia

Even more Quirk shenanigans because those are always so fun

love is a labour (i'll slave til the end) by nikkiRA| Rated E| Omegaverse| DKBK

I love LOVE Omega! Katsuki and you can take him from my cold dead hands

Talk After Talk by beanbeanrose | Rated T | Post-war

This is just them talking but i love it so much

GG by MajestyTime | Rated T | Crack treated seriously

This one is all over the place but in a good way, it played off as a laugh but it has a very interesting what-if scenario

If I'm Being Honest by Queen_of_the_Otakus | Rated M | Truth serum (kinda)

Forced truth situations are so funny because it's never that deep but everyone still freaks out

Thanks for reading!!! Hope you guys like the fics I chose

#katsudeku #bakudeku #izuku x bakugo #decchan #katsuki x izuku #dekubaku #bakudeku art #bakugo x deku #bkdk #bakudeku au #bkdk fic #bnha bkdk #bkdkbk #bkdk fic rec #dkbk #dkbkdk

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fordtato · 5 months ago

Text

Emergency commissions/donations to help me move!

Hey all! I'm in a tough financial spot with a very unexpected $1000 move-out fee, and I need some help!

So I am offering fic commissions AND background/landscape art - That's right, writing AND art, for the prices below! I also will accept donations, but I feel more comfortable offering art, etc.

Donations:

I will accept donations if you just wanna help out! If you'd like to pay for a commission, keep scrolling.

If you would just like to donate without a commission, here is my Ko-Fi!

Fanfiction commissions:

Won't write:

fandoms I know nothing about (DM me if you'd like something outside of Gravity Falls work, though I'm sure that's where most of my following is)

gore

any type of thing that would get me cancelled on twitter dot com (come on guys, im a YouTuber now)

Will write:

Just about anything else tbh. OCs, melodrama, angst, hurt-comfort, you name it.

NSFW (for adult customers only. im not writing this for teenagers. do your homework)

Rates: $25 per 1k words, with a 150 word buffer. (Meaning, if I write 1150 words, I'm not charging you extra, it'll still be $25)

Send an ask or a DM if you are interested!

Note: I will not be posting these on Ao3, due to Ao3's "no money for fics" rules.

Examples of my fics, if you want to check out my work:

Note: Jersey Boy is my oldest fic (literally 8 years old and still going). The first couple chapters are pretty rough imo. The latter chapters are more in line with my capabilities. Also, yes, this fic is still being written, it's just being written between jobs and between work on YouTube vids, and I have less available time for it than I used to. Pay me to finish more of Jersey Boy (/s)

Background art commissions:

So, 90% of the artists I know tell me that background/environment art is one of the parts of the process they dislike the most. But it's actually my favorite thing to draw!

I actually don't feel comfortable enough in my drawing of characters to feel good about charging people for those, but I think I can consistently do some background art!

Examples of my art/pricing below!

Simpler color palette/lighting, and fewer details: $20-30

More detailed digital paintings: $40-50

For anymore detail then what you see above, we'll have to work that pricing out!

Example of heavy detail that might cost more:

Send me details on what you'd like in a digital painting and we will work out a timetable!

Send an ask or a DM if you are interested!

Donate/pay here: My Ko-Fi

I appreciate you reading, and if you can't help out, please share!

#gravity falls #art commissions #open commissions #writing commissions #signal boost #help me out if you are willing and able #or just share!

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mononijikayu · 3 months ago

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cantarella — gojo satoru.

“Satoru.” you called softly, holding up the flower crown you had made. It was a simple creation, woven from a mix of daisies, buttercups, and clover. The flowers were arranged in a delicate, colorful circle, their petals still fresh and dewy from the morning sun. He looked up from his sketchpad, his expression as indifferent as ever, but a hint of curiosity sparkled in his eyes. “What’s that?” he asked, his tone more inquisitive than dismissive. You knelt beside him, holding the flower crown out. “It’s a gift for you.” you said cheerfully. “I made it just for you. I thought you might like to wear it.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Nobility;

WARNING/s: Angst, Not Safe For Work (NSFW), Dark Fic, Yandere! Gojo, Toxic One-Sided Romance, One-Sided Incest, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Incest, Hurt/ No Comfort, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Please Save Reader;

WORDS: 11k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was inspired by this version of cantarella by kaito and miku i watched a long long time ago. i remembered about this notes i had about it while sitting and studying for uni. and i wrote it sitting down instead of reading more because inspiration came to me. i hope you enjoy it, even though its a dark fic!!! i love you all <3

main masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 1000;

if you want to, tip! <3

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

YOU WERE FREE, YOU THINK. As the heavy iron gates of the convent swung open, the world outside flooded your senses, a stark contrast to the cloistered life you’d led for years.

The scent of damp earth and blooming flowers replaced the cold, sterile air of the convent, while the distant hum of life—a world you had been shielded from—pressed in on you. Your eyes blinked against the sudden brightness, the light almost painful after so many years of darkness.

The distant memories of your parents’ tragic deaths haunted you, lingering like a dark cloud over your soul. Their faces were blurred now, softened by time but not forgotten.

The whispers of their absence were loudest in your heart, a constant reminder of the life that had been ripped away from you. Grief had been your only companion, even more than the nuns who had raised you, and now it threatened to drown you as you took your first steps into the world beyond those gates.

Now, as the newly orphaned Duchess, the title weighed heavily on your shoulders, burdened with expectations you weren’t sure you could fulfill. The responsibilities that came with it loomed over you, a shadow of the future that awaited. You had been a child when the world had last known you, but now, the world demanded more—a woman, a Duchess, a leader.

You stepped out into the open, the gravel crunching beneath your feet as the cold wind whispered through the barren trees. The carriage waited in silence, an imposing reminder of the life you were about to inherit—a life you had never asked for. The estate loomed in the distance, its shadowy silhouette framed against a darkening sky.

It was supposed to be home, a sanctuary, yet it felt nothing like it. The sprawling lands, the echoing halls, and the faceless people who would serve you—they were yours now, or so everyone insisted. But as you stood there, shivering in the twilight, you couldn't help but wonder what "yours" truly meant.

Was it the title bestowed upon you, heavy and hollow, that now defined your existence? Or was it the legacy that clung to your name, a legacy built on the sacrifices and sorrows of those who came before?

Perhaps it was the past, a mosaic of memories and losses that had shaped you, leaving cracks in your heart that would never fully heal. And now, as you faced the uncertain road ahead, you realized that your future, too, was bound by these invisible chains. A future where each step would be weighed down by duty, expectation, and the inescapable fear of the unknown.

But despite the fear gnawing at your resolve, despite the weight of the unknown pressing down on your shoulders, you knew there was no turning back. The world outside the convent walls, a world you had once seen only in fleeting dreams, had now become your reality.

A reality where your choices—or lack thereof—would define not just your life, but the lives of those who depended on you. And so, with a heart heavy with dread and determination, you took a deep breath and stepped forward. Ready or not, you had to face it.

The carriage stood before you like a silent sentinel, its dark velvet interior offering little in the way of comfort. The family crest, meticulously embossed on its side, glinted ominously in the fading light, a stark reminder of the bloodline that bound you to this life.

As you approached, the driver, a man of few words and fewer expressions, gave a brief nod, his face as unreadable as the future that awaited you. There was no comfort to be found in his gaze, only the cold efficiency of someone accustomed to serving the powerful.

Climbing into the carriage, you felt the chill of the autumn air seep into your bones, mingling with the dread that clung to your skin. The unfamiliar path ahead stretched out before you, winding through forests and fields that you barely remembered.

Every jolt of the carriage wheels against the rough terrain seemed to echo the uncertainty within you, the sense of being unmoored from everything you once knew. Yet, despite the fear that tightened your chest, a quiet resolve began to build within you. The path was dark, and the journey would be long, but it was yours to take.

As the carriage began to move, you allowed yourself one last glance at the world you were leaving behind. The convent, with its high walls and serene silence, had been a place of refuge, but it was also a cage—one that you had outgrown. The life ahead, with all its unknowns, was daunting, but it was also a chance to carve out a new destiny, one that was truly your own.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

YOU WERE FINALLY HERE. Days had passed before the carriage finally came to a halt. The endless journey had given you time to think, to imagine what awaited you, but nothing could have prepared you for the reality.

The estate loomed large and imposing before you, a testament to the power and wealth that now rested on your shoulders. But it was not the grandeur of the estate that caught your attention as you stepped down from the carriage—it was the man who stood waiting.

Gojo Satoru. Your cousin. The only family you had left.

You had heard of him in whispers and letters, the distant cousin who had managed your affairs while you grew up behind convent walls. The cousin who had wanted to raise you himself but had been overruled by those who deemed it more proper for a young duchess to be sheltered and shaped by the church. A cousin who had become a stranger over the years.

But now, standing before him, you saw just how much he had changed. He had grown handsome, undeniably so. Tall and broad-shouldered, his presence was commanding, his silver hair catching the last rays of the setting sun, giving him an almost ethereal glow.

The dark glasses he wore only added to the air of mystery, concealing his eyes and leaving you to wonder what lay behind them. His lips curled into a smile that was anything but comforting. It was a smile that promised more than a simple welcome; it promised possession.

You were drawn to him, as you had been as a child. The way he moved, the way he spoke—it was as if the world bent to his will. But now, as a woman, you saw the darkness in his gaze, the twisted hunger that had taken root in his heart over the years.

"Cousin." he murmured, his voice smooth and sickly sweet, as if every word was coated in honey, "it’s been too long."

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself in his overwhelming presence. "It has, Satoru. I... hardly recognized you."

His smile widened, a flash of white teeth that made your heart skip a beat. "And I, you. But then, how could I recognize someone I’ve only known through letters and rumors? Yet here you are, in the flesh, finally free from those cold walls."

There was something in his tone that made you uneasy, a sharp edge beneath the politeness. "Yes, finally," you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. "Thank you for... taking care of everything while I was away. It must have been a burden."

"Burden?" He chuckled softly, the sound rich and unsettling. "Not at all, my dear. It was a pleasure, truly. I did what any family would do—protect what is ours, and ensure it would be ready for your return.”

“Then…Then, I thank you, cousin.”

Though…." he paused, his gaze lingering on you, "I must admit, I didn’t expect you to have grown into such a… lovely woman."

The way he said it made your skin prickle. There was no mistaking the intent in his words, the way his eyes, hidden though they were, seemed to strip you bare. You took a small step back, trying to reclaim some sense of control.

"I suppose we’ve both changed," you said, keeping your voice as steady as possible. "But we’re still family, Satoru. I hope we can... get to know each other again."

"Indeed," he replied, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone. "Family is everything, after all. And now that you’re here, we can finally be together, as we were always meant to be."

The way he said it sent a chill down your spine. There was something more in his words, something that hinted at a deeper, more dangerous desire. You forced a smile, hoping to mask your unease. "Yes, together. It’s been so long, after all."

He stepped closer, closing the small distance you had created. "Too long, cousin. But now that you’re back, I intend to make up for all the lost time. You and I… we have so much to catch up on."

The finality in his tone left little room for argument, and as he offered his arm to lead you inside, you had no choice but to take it, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his sleeve. His grip was firm, almost possessive, as he guided you through the grand doors of the estate that would now be your home.

But as you crossed the threshold, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into something far more dangerous than you had ever imagined. And that the cousin who walked beside you was not just your protector, but something far darker, something you were not sure you could escape.

The estate he led you to was vast, cold, and eerily silent. Each step echoed through the corridors, the sound bouncing off the stone walls that seemed to close in on you with every passing moment. It was a place meant to impress, to awe with its sheer size and grandeur, but all it inspired in you was a deep sense of unease. The shadows seemed longer here, the light dimmer, as if the house itself had secrets it was unwilling to reveal.

Gojo’s hand hovered just above your lower back, never quite touching, but close enough to make you acutely aware of his presence. It was a silent assertion of control, a reminder that he was guiding you, that you were under his protection—or perhaps his possession. The gesture felt more like a threat than a comfort, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine.

As you walked, you noticed the servants—silent, spectral figures who moved quickly to avoid your gaze. Their eyes darted away whenever they saw the two of you, averted as if they knew something you did not, as if they feared something you were only beginning to sense. They kept their distance, and when they spoke, it was in hushed tones, their whispers carried away by the drafty corridors, lost in the vastness of the estate.

The grand halls, adorned with portraits of ancestors long gone, felt more like a mausoleum than a home. The faces in the paintings seemed to watch you with disapproval, their cold eyes following your every move, judging you, questioning your right to be here.

The air was thick with history, but it was a history that felt oppressive, as though the very stones of the house were weighed down by the sins and secrets of those who had lived here before.

Gojo’s voice broke the silence, low and almost conspiratorial. “It’s been a long time since these halls have seen life,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of something unspoken. “I’m afraid the estate has grown as cold as its master in your absence.”

You forced a smile, trying to shake off the unease that clung to you like a second skin. “It’s... it’s very grand,” you replied, struggling to find the right words. “I suppose it will take some getting used to.”

He chuckled softly, the sound devoid of real warmth. “Grand, yes. But it is a lonely place, cousin. One grows accustomed to the silence, to the emptiness, but I’ve always thought it would be different with you here.”

The way he said it made your skin crawl. There was something too intimate in his words, something that suggested his desire for you went far beyond familial affection. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, but his expression was unreadable behind those dark glasses, his lips curled into that same unsettling smile.

“You’ve taken such good care of everything,” you said, trying to steer the conversation to safer ground. “I’m grateful, truly. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

His smile widened, but there was no joy in it, only something dark and possessive. “There’s no need for repayment,” he murmured, his voice dipping into a more dangerous register. “You’re here now, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. We’re family, after all.”

Family. The word echoed in your mind, but it felt hollow, like a cage closing in around you. The estate, the title, the wealth—it was all yours, but at what cost? And as Gojo led you deeper into the heart of the mansion, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being led into something far darker, something that would be much harder to escape.

At last, you reached what appeared to be a sitting room, the heavy doors creaking as Gojo pushed them open. The room was dimly lit, a fire crackling weakly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The furniture was old but well-kept, the upholstery dark and rich, but it did little to warm the cold atmosphere of the room.

“This will be your sanctuary,” Gojo said, guiding you inside. “A place to rest, to think, to remember that this is your home now.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. As you looked around, the reality of your situation began to sink in. This was your home, your life now. But the estate that should have been a sanctuary felt more like a prison, and the man who should have been your protector felt more like a captor.

“I’ll leave you to get settled, cousin.” Gojo said, finally stepping back, though his presence lingered in the room long after he had left. “But don’t be a stranger, cousin. We have much to discuss, and I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

As the door closed behind him, the silence of the room enveloped you, cold and suffocating. You were alone now, but the shadow of Gojo’s presence lingered, and you knew that this was only the beginning.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

YOU WERE THE CENTER OF THE WORLD. Or at least that’s what Satoru had said when he told you that society celebrated your return with much joy. A ball was to take place in your honor, a grand affair meant to celebrate your return to the echelons of noble society.

The thought of it filled you with a mix of excitement and dread. After years of isolation, the idea of stepping into a room filled with the most powerful and influential members of the ton was daunting. You could already hear the whispers, feel the weight of their expectations.

Your reflection in the mirror stared back at you, a stranger dressed in silks and jewels. The gown you wore was exquisite, a deep sapphire that brought out the color of your eyes, the neckline adorned with pearls that once belonged to your mother. But despite the finery, you couldn’t help but feel exposed, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t since leaving the convent.

A soft knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts, and before you could respond, Satoru entered the room. He moved with an easy grace, his presence commanding and almost overwhelming. Dressed in a tailored black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and tall frame, he was every bit the image of a duke, a man who could have anything and anyone he desired.

His eyes, hidden behind those dark glasses, seemed to pierce through you as he approached. “Nervous, cousin?” he asked, his voice smooth and laced with amusement.

You tried to smile, but it felt forced. But you could not help it, to be this nervous. To feel like you were going to vomit and find yourself in fright. This was your social debut, after being far away from your kind for so long.

“A little.” you admitted, your hands twisting together in your lap. “I haven’t been to a ball since I was a child. I don’t even know how to behave anymore.”

Satoru’s smile was gentle, but there was that ever-present edge to it, a darkness that lingered just beneath the surface. He stepped closer, taking one of your hands in his. His touch was warm, firm, and it steadied you, even as your heart raced beneath your chest.

“Don’t be.” he murmured, lifting your hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the back of it, the gesture both tender and possessive. “None can rival your beauty, or your existence. You will be the brightest star in the room tonight, and they will all fall at your feet.”

The way he spoke sent a shiver down your spine. His words were meant to reassure you, but there was something almost predatory in them, as if he was not merely presenting you to society, but staking his claim on you before them all.

“I just… I want to make a good impression.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I am a duchess of the realm. I must do well. For our family."

“You will, cousin. Do not worry much.” Satoru replied, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “But remember, you have nothing to prove to them. You are the Duchess, the true heir to this estate. They should be the ones worrying about impressing you.”

You looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was confidence, a certainty that made you feel both comforted and trapped. There was no escaping the life you had returned to, and Satoru was a constant reminder of that.

“I’m here, by your side,” he continued, his voice a low, soothing murmur. “No one will dare speak ill of you. Not with me watching over you.”

His words wrapped around you like a protective veil, and despite the unease that still lingered, you felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps this night wouldn’t be as terrifying as you feared. Perhaps, with Satoru by your side, you could navigate the treacherous waters of noble society.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your fingers curling slightly around his as you let yourself lean into his presence, if only for a moment.

“Think nothing of it,” he replied, his smile growing wider, more possessive. “Tonight is just the beginning. And I’ll make sure they all know that you belong to me.”

With that, he offered you his arm, guiding you out of the room and toward the grand hall where the ball was to take place. The music had already started, the sound of violins and piano filling the air with an elegant melody.

As you stepped into the room, all eyes turned to you, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. You could feel the weight of their gazes, the scrutiny, the admiration. But Satoru’s hand on yours was a constant anchor, a reminder that no matter what, you were not alone.

And as the night unfolded, with dance after dance, with whispered conversations and stolen glances, you realized that Satoru’s words had not been an empty promise. You were indeed the brightest star in the room, and every person who approached you did so with a mix of awe and reverence. But beneath it all, you could feel the shadow of Satoru’s presence, always there, always watching.

And though you smiled and played your part, there was a part of you that wondered just how deep that shadow, and how much of yourself you would lose to the man who claimed to protect you.

As the evening progressed and the ballroom filled with the sounds of laughter and music, the time for dancing arrived. You had been introduced to countless faces, each more eager than the last to make a connection with the newly returned Duchess. But all the introductions and small talk had left you feeling exhausted, your nerves frayed by the constant attention.

Then, as if sensing your unease, a man approached you. He was tall, with a calm demeanor that immediately set him apart from the others. His hair was blond, neatly combed, and his sharp features were softened by the warm, sincere expression on his face. He bowed gracefully before you, his eyes meeting yours with a quiet intensity that made your breath catch.

"Your Grace," he said, his voice steady and kind, "may I have the honor of this dance?"

You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand in his, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. There was something about him—something genuine, something safe—that made you feel at ease in a way you hadn’t all night.

"Of course," you replied, allowing him to lead you to the center of the dance floor.

The music swelled as the two of you began to dance, moving in perfect harmony with the waltz. Unlike the others who had tried to impress you with their skills or status, this man—Count Nanami Kento, as you had been told—was different.

He was careful with you, his touch gentle as he guided you through the steps. His eyes never left yours, and in them, you saw not the hunger or ambition you had grown accustomed to, but something else entirely—kindness, understanding, and a quiet admiration that made your heart flutter.

With each turn, each graceful movement across the polished floor, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders. The laughter and chatter of the ballroom, once so overwhelming, now faded into a distant hum, a backdrop to the moment unfolding between you and Nanami.

The lights softened, the grand chandeliers casting a warm glow over the sea of dancers, yet all you could focus on was the man guiding you effortlessly through the crowd. His touch was gentle yet firm, his presence steady, grounding you in the here and now.

As you glided together, Nanami spoke in a voice so soft it felt like a secret shared between the two of you. He asked about your life, your thoughts, your dreams—questions that were simple, yet carried a depth that surprised you.

His gaze never wavered, and the way he listened made you feel as if every word you spoke was of utmost importance. There was no rush, no need to impress; just a quiet, sincere interest that drew you in.

Nanami was a world apart from the overwhelming force of Satoru, who often swept into your life like a whirlwind, leaving you breathless and off-kilter. Satoru’s presence was impossible to ignore, a vibrant, chaotic energy that demanded attention.

But here, with Nanami, everything was different. His calmness soothed the edges of your anxiety, his steady demeanor a balm to the storm that often raged within you. There was a reliability to him, a sense of safety that you hadn’t realized you craved until this very moment.

You found yourself drawn to him in ways you hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t just the contrast to Satoru’s intensity, though that was part of it. There was something about Nanami’s quiet strength, his thoughtful nature, that spoke to a deeper part of you.

As you danced, the rest of the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of shared understanding and unspoken connection. It was unexpected, this pull you felt toward him, yet it was undeniable.

Your graceful dance continued and little by little, you allowed yourself to get lost in the rhythm, in the soft cadence of his voice, in the comforting warmth of his presence. The worries that had plagued you moments before melted away, replaced by a sense of peace that was rare and precious.

In that fleeting moment, it felt as though time had slowed, and all that mattered was the steady beat of your hearts moving in sync, the unspoken promise of something more that lingered in the air between you.

As the dance came to an end, he held you a moment longer than necessary, his hand lingering on yours. His eyes, warm and sincere, held yours, and you felt a rush of something you hadn’t felt in years—something like hope, like the promise of something good. When he finally released you, he bowed again, his voice low and sincere.

"Thank you, Your Grace," he said softly. "It was truly a pleasure."

The words were simple, but the sincerity in them made your heart swell. You offered him a genuine smile, the first you had felt all night. "The pleasure was mine, Count Nanami."

As he stepped back into the crowd, you found yourself watching him go, your heart still racing from the unexpected connection. There was a warmth in your chest, a sense of peace that you hadn’t felt since you’d arrived at the estate. By the end of the night, you couldn’t deny it—you had fallen for him, the quiet, steady count who had treated you with such care.

But then, as you turned your gaze away from where Nanami had disappeared into the crowd, your eyes were drawn to a figure standing in the shadows at the edge of the ballroom. Satoru. His dark glasses glinted in the low light, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze, piercing through the distance between you. His expression was unreadable, his lips curved into a faint smile that sent a chill down your spine.

You knew that he had seen everything—the way you had smiled at Nanami, the way your guard had dropped in his presence. Satoru’s eyes bore into you, and the warmth that had filled you moments before was replaced by a cold dread.

No matter how much comfort you found in Nanami’s gaze, you couldn’t escape the shadow that Satoru cast over your life. And as the night drew to a close, you realized with a sinking heart that the feelings you had developed tonight would not go unnoticed or unchallenged.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

IT WAS OBVIOUS, THAT YOU WERE SMITTEN. In the weeks following the ball, the once overwhelming silence of the estate became bearable, softened by the anticipation of receiving each new letter from Count Nanami Kento.

The grand halls, with their cold marble floors and towering ceilings, no longer felt as lonely when you held his carefully penned words in your hands. His letters arrived with a sense of regularity, as if he knew precisely when you needed them most, each one a lifeline connecting you to something warmer, more genuine.

As you unfolded the delicate parchment, the world outside your window seemed to fade away. His handwriting, neat and precise, reflected the man himself—thoughtful, deliberate, with each word chosen with care.

His letters were not just a form of polite correspondence; they were conversations, deep and meaningful, where his interest in your life and well-being shone through. He asked about the small details, the little things that most overlooked, making you feel seen in a way you had not experienced before.

Nanami’s words were a balm to your troubled heart, each sentence carrying a sense of calm and reassurance that eased the tension that often gripped you in the estate’s oppressive atmosphere.

His kindness wasn’t ostentatious or overwhelming, but quiet and steady, like a gentle stream that slowly erodes the hardest stone. Through his letters, he offered you a refuge, a place where you could express your thoughts and feelings without fear of judgment or dismissal.

As the weeks passed, you found yourself eagerly awaiting each new letter, cherishing the moments when you could escape into the world he created with his words. His thoughts and feelings were laid bare, revealing a depth of emotion and understanding that resonated with you on a level you hadn’t expected. In a place where everything felt rigid and predetermined, his letters brought warmth and a sense of possibility, reminding you that there was more to life than the cold formality that surrounded you.

In his words, you felt understood and valued in a way that was rare and precious. The letters became a bridge between your two worlds, drawing you closer to him with each exchange. What had started as a simple correspondence had grown into something more, something that brought light into the darkest corners of your life.

And as you carefully folded each letter and tucked it away, you couldn’t help but feel that this connection with Nanami was something special, something that had the power to change everything.

However, not everyone was pleased with this growing connection. One evening, as you sat in the dimly lit parlor, absorbed in the latest letter from Nanami, the quiet solitude was suddenly disrupted by the sound of footsteps.

You looked up to see Satoru standing in the doorway, his presence filling the room with a tension that hadn’t been there moments before. His usual carefree demeanor was nowhere to be found; instead, his expression was stern, his blue eyes darkened with something you couldn’t quite place.

Satoru had been quieter than usual lately, his playful banter and easy smiles replaced by an uncharacteristic stillness. The change in his demeanor was subtle at first, but now, as he stood before you, the weight of it was undeniable.

His normally relaxed posture was rigid, his shoulders squared as if he were bracing himself for a confrontation. The way his eyes narrowed as they flicked to the letter in your hands sent a chill down your spine, making your stomach tighten with unease.

He didn’t say anything at first, but the silence between you was heavy, charged with unspoken words. You could feel his gaze, intense and searching, as if he were trying to unravel the connection you had been so carefully building with Nanami through your letters. The air in the room seemed to thicken, the warmth of Nanami’s words in your mind now clashing with the coldness radiating from Satoru.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and controlled, but there was an edge to it that made your heart skip a beat. “You’ve been spending a lot of time writing letters.” he remarked, his tone betraying the undercurrent of disapproval he was trying to mask. The implication was clear, though he didn’t directly mention Nanami’s name.

You felt a surge of defensiveness rise within you, but it was tempered by the confusion and hurt that came with seeing Satoru like this. The man who had always been a whirlwind of energy and confidence now stood before you, guarded and almost vulnerable in his own way. The tension between the two of you crackled in the air, a silent battle of wills as you both struggled with what was left unsaid.

Satoru’s gaze bore into yours, and for a moment, it felt as if the world had shrunk to just the two of you in that room, locked in a standoff where neither wanted to be the first to back down. The letter in your hands, once a source of comfort, now felt like a weight, a reminder of the widening chasm between you and the man who had always been a constant in your life.

“And I have heard from whispers, dearest cousin. You’ve been spending a lot of time with count Nanami.” Satoru remarked, his voice edged with an irritation that was difficult to ignore. “I see he’s become quite the confidant.”

You looked up from the letter, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. “He’s been kind to me, Satoru. He’s welcomed me back into the ton with kindness.” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “We’ve exchanged letters, but it’s just a way to stay connected, to find some comfort in this unfamiliar world.”

Satoru’s smile was thin and cold. “You’re aware, I’m sure, that count Nanami’s intentions aren’t as noble as they seem. He’s a man of ambition, just as any man is and you’re merely a means for him to elevate his own status. He’s using you, and yet you seem to take his words to heart.”

The accusation stung, and you felt a surge of defensiveness rise within you. “That’s not fair, Satoru. Count Nanami has always been genuine with me. He’s been nothing but respectful and kind. I don’t believe he’s using me for his own gain.”

Satoru’s expression hardened, his gaze growing colder. “You’re naïve if you think he has no ulterior motives. He may seem kind now, but he’s a count—an ambitious one at that. He sees an opportunity in you, and it’s only a matter of time before he tries to exploit it.”

“I don’t think you understand him at all.” you said, your voice rising with frustration. “Nanami is not like that. He cares about me, and I care about him. Why can’t you accept that?”

Satoru’s eyes flashed with anger, the dark glasses doing little to mask his irritation. “Careful, cousin. It’s one thing to indulge in a fleeting fancy, but it’s another to be so blinded by it that you risk your own position and safety. I’m only trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” you demanded, rising from your seat. “From finding someone who treats me with respect and kindness? Nanami is not a threat—he’s a friend, someone who has shown me a different side of life.”

Satoru stepped closer, his demeanor imposing. “A friend who will inevitably use you to further his own ambitions. I’ve seen this game before, and it’s not one you want to be a part of. If you can’t see that, then I’ll have to make you understand.”

The tension in the room was palpable, and you could feel the walls closing in as Satoru’s anger boiled over. His words were like daggers, each one aimed at driving a wedge between you and Nanami. But despite the fear and the rising sense of dread, you stood firm.

“I won’t let you dictate who I can and cannot befriend,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “Nanami is more than his title, and if you can’t see that, then perhaps it’s you who doesn’t understand what’s truly important.”

Satoru’s face darkened, and for a moment, the room was filled with a tense silence. The air was heavy with unspoken words, with the weight of conflicting loyalties and emotions. Finally, he turned on his heel, his frustration evident in his stride.

“Do as you wish, cousin.” he said coldly. “But remember, I warned you. And if you find yourself disappointed, don’t come seeking my sympathy.”

With that, he left the room, the door slamming shut behind him. You stood there, heart racing, the echoes of his harsh words still ringing in your ears. The letter from Nanami lay on the table, a reminder of the solace and understanding you had found in him. Despite Satoru’s anger and warnings, you knew that you couldn’t turn away from the connection you had begun to cherish.

The world outside the estate might be filled with ambition and deceit, but in Nanami’s letters, you had found a glimpse of something real—something worth holding onto, no matter the cost.

A few weeks later, as the seasons shifted and the public gardens came alive with the colors of spring, you found yourself meeting Nanami Kento in a secluded corner of the park. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the gentle hum of bees. The vibrant landscape provided a stark contrast to the somber confines of the estate, and as you walked along the winding paths, your heart felt lighter, freed from the constraints of your daily life.

Nanami awaited you beneath a canopy of flowering trees, their petals drifting down like confetti around him. His eyes lit up with warmth as he saw you approach, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. He offered you a soft smile, his gaze filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

“Your grace,” he said, taking your hand in his as you reached him. His touch was gentle, and he guided you to a nearby bench, where you both sat, the blooming flowers forming a natural backdrop to your intimate conversation.

“It’s so beautiful here,” you remarked, looking around at the garden’s vibrant colors.

“It is, my lady.” Nanami agreed, but his attention was solely on you. He reached for your other hand, holding both of them on his own. “But not as beautiful as you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your cheeks flush, and you glanced down, unable to hide the smile that curved your lips. “You always know how to make me feel special.”

Nanami took a deep breath, his gaze locking onto yours with a seriousness that made your heart race. “There’s something I need to tell you, my lady. I hope I may be so prude as to ask you for your kindness.”

You smiled at him tenderly. “I give you leave, my lord. You need not ask my permission.”

“I….I must be honest with you, my lady.” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “From the moment we first danced together, I knew that you were someone extraordinary. Over the weeks, as we’ve exchanged letters and shared our thoughts, my feelings have only deepened.”

He paused, his fingers tightening around yours. “I am in love with you, more than I’ve ever thought possible. And I intend to marry you, if you’ll have me.”

The words hung in the air, their weight both exhilarating and overwhelming. You stared at him, the truth of his confession sinking in. The garden, the flowers, the world seemed to fall away as you looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his affection reflected back at you.

“Yes, my lord.” you said breathlessly, your voice filled with emotion. “Yes, I will marry you. I’ve been waiting for someone who sees me for who I am, and who makes me feel truly alive. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Nanami’s eyes softened, and a relieved, joyful smile spread across his face. He pulled you gently into his arms, holding you close as he whispered, “You’ve made me the happiest man in the world.”

You nestled against him, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the promise of a future together. The garden around you seemed to celebrate with you, the flowers blooming even more brightly, the air filled with a sweet, intoxicating scent. For the first time since your return to the estate, you felt a sense of genuine happiness and hope.

As you looked up at Nanami, the man who had shown you a different side of the world, you knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter—one filled with love, joy, and the promise of a future where you could finally be yourself.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

YOU HAD NEVER BEEN HAPPIER. The news of your engagement to Nanami Kento spread like wildfire, and by the time of the next grand ball, it was the talk of every guest in the room. The ballroom, usually filled with the hum of polite conversation and the clinking of glasses, was now charged with an air of curiosity and excitement.

Everywhere you looked, people were whispering behind gloved hands, their eyes alight with speculation about the upcoming union between the Duchess and the influential Count. The event, ostensibly a celebration of the merging of two prominent families, felt more like a stage for the spectacle of your new life—a life that had changed so swiftly, it sometimes felt as if you were watching it unfold from a distance.

As you moved through the room, graciously accepting congratulations and well-wishes, you couldn’t help but notice the eyes that followed your every move. Some gazes were filled with admiration, others with envy or curiosity, but all of them were fixated on you, the woman at the center of this momentous occasion.

The weight of their expectations settled on your shoulders, making the air feel heavier, the music louder, the lights brighter. Despite the celebratory atmosphere, a part of you felt detached, as if this wasn’t your life at all, but a role you were playing in a story written by someone else.

Amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces and forced smiles, your eyes were drawn to one figure that stood out from the rest. Satoru. He was present at the ball, his imposing figure a stark contrast to the lively crowd around him.

He cut an imposing figure in his formal attire, his white hair catching the light as he moved with the grace of someone who had long been accustomed to being the center of attention.

Yet, tonight, there was a distance about him, a coldness that had not been there before. He was surrounded by admirers and well-wishers, as always, but even in the midst of the crowd, he remained aloof, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for something—or someone—he could not find.

Your heart ached as you watched him, the memory of your last confrontation still fresh in your mind. The distance between you had grown wider in the weeks since then, an unspoken tension hanging between you like a storm cloud that refused to break.

You longed to mend things, to reach out and bridge the chasm that had formed between you and your cousin, but every time you caught his eye, he looked away, his expression unreadable.

The ball continued around you, the music swelling, the dancers twirling, but your thoughts were with Satoru. The joy that should have accompanied your engagement was tainted by the unresolved tension between you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something precious was slipping through your fingers. Nanami’s presence beside you was steady, his hand warm on yours, but it was Satoru’s absence—his emotional distance—that gnawed at your heart.

As the night wore on, you found yourself searching for moments when you could catch Satoru’s gaze, hoping to see some sign that he was still the cousin you had grown up with, the one who had always been by your side.

But each time, he remained distant, his walls firmly in place. The chasm between you seemed insurmountable, and as the ball continued, the realization that you might never bridge that gap settled heavily within you.

Yet, despite the ache in your chest, you knew that this night was a turning point, a moment that would define the course of your future. The ball was not just a celebration of your engagement; it was the beginning of a new chapter in your life.

But as you danced with Nanami, his presence comforting and reassuring, your thoughts kept drifting back to Satoru, the one person who should have been standing by your side, sharing in your happiness. Instead, he stood apart, a distant figure on the fringes of your new life, and the pain of that realization was almost more than you could bear.

With a deep breath and a determination to confront the situation, you made your way across the ballroom toward Satoru. The crowd parted slightly, and his gaze met yours as you approached, his dark glasses hiding his true emotions but his posture unmistakably stiff.

“Satoru, dearest cousin.” you began, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you. I’m sorry for how things went the last time we spoke. I didn’t mean to defy you or hurt you.”

He regarded you for a moment, and then his expression softened slightly, though he remained guarded. “I’m sorry too, my lovely cousin.” he said, his voice low and sincere. “I let my frustrations get the better of me. It wasn’t fair to you. I only wanted what I thought was best.”

Before you could respond, Nanami approached, his presence a calming contrast to the tension between you and Satoru. He offered a warm smile to both of you and extended a hand in greeting. Nanami then shifts his face, looking towards your own cousin.

“Is everything alright?” Nanami asked, his tone gentle and concerned.

Satoru glanced at Nanami, then back at you, and after a brief pause, he nodded. “Yes, everything is fine, my lord. I was just about to make a toast in honor of the engagement.”

He signaled to the servants, who quickly moved to bring in bottles of wine and glasses. The murmur of the crowd grew as they sensed something significant was about to happen.

With a gracious nod, Satoru raised his glass, and the room fell into expectant silence. His gaze shifted between you and Nanami, and though he spoke with his usual composure, there was a sincerity in his tone that was hard to ignore.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my gracious lords and ladies.” Satoru began, his voice carrying through the ballroom. “Tonight, we celebrate not only the union of two distinguished families but also the beginning of a new chapter in the lives of these two wonderful people. To my cousin, the duchess, and to my lord count Nanami Kento, I offer my heartfelt congratulations.”

He turned to you and Nanami, his smile warm but tinged with an underlying complexity. “May your life together be filled with happiness and prosperity. May you find joy and support in one another through all the challenges and triumphs that lie ahead.”

The room erupted in applause, a cascade of sound that seemed to envelop you from all sides. The clinking of glasses followed, a symphony of celebration that filled the grand hall, yet in the midst of it all, your heart was racing with a blend of emotions you could barely contain.

Relief washed over you like a cool breeze, cutting through the tension that had been knotted in your chest for what felt like an eternity. The applause wasn’t just for the announcement of your engagement—it was for the moment of reconciliation that had just played out before everyone’s eyes.

Satoru’s gesture, though unexpected, had sent a ripple through the gathered guests. His choice to stand and raise his glass in a toast, his expression carefully composed but unmistakably sincere, was more than just a public acknowledgment of your engagement.

It was a sign—a signal that he was willing to accept your choice, even if it pained him to do so. For so long, the distance between you had been a source of quiet anguish, an unspoken rift that neither of you had known how to bridge. But in that moment, with everyone watching, Satoru had taken the first step toward closing that gap, and the weight of that gesture settled over you with a mix of gratitude and sadness.

You felt Nanami’s hand tighten around yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you amidst the swirl of emotions. When you looked up at him, his expression was calm, yet there was a depth in his eyes that spoke of an unspoken understanding.

He didn’t need to ask what you were feeling; he knew. He had always known. Nanami’s quiet strength, the steadiness that had drawn you to him in the first place, was your anchor in this moment. His support was unwavering, his presence a silent promise that he would stand by you through whatever came next.

The applause continued, but the world around you seemed to blur, the faces and voices fading into the background as you focused on the two men who meant the most to you—one by your side, offering you a future, and the other across the room, finally offering you his acceptance. There was a bittersweet quality to the moment, a recognition that while you were stepping into a new life with Nanami, something else was being left behind.

As you smiled and nodded in response to the well-wishes of the guests, the gratitude you felt wasn’t just for the applause or the approval of those around you. It was for the unexpected turn of events that had allowed a measure of peace to be restored between you and Satoru, even if things would never be quite the same as they once were.

The mix of relief and gratitude in your heart was tinged with a quiet resolve—to honor the connections that had brought you to this point and to move forward with grace, knowing that you were not alone in this journey.

In that moment, with Nanami’s hand in yours and Satoru’s gaze finally softened by acceptance, you allowed yourself to breathe, to feel the weight of the past lift just enough to let you take the next step forward. The path ahead was still uncertain, but with Nanami by your side and the lingering warmth of Satoru’s gesture in your heart, you felt ready to face whatever lay ahead.

“Thank you, Satoru." you said softly, raising your own glass in acknowledgment. “Your words mean a great deal to us.”

Satoru inclined his head slightly, acknowledging your gratitude, and then turned to mingle with other guests, leaving you and Nanami to share a moment of quiet reflection.

The evening continued with renewed energy, and as you danced with Nanami, you felt a sense of peace, knowing that despite the challenges, you were surrounded by people who cared for you and were willing to bridge the gaps that had formed.

As the night continued, the ball's festivities seemed to intensify, with guests dancing and chatting in high spirits. But amidst the celebration, you noticed that Nanami appeared increasingly pale and uncomfortable. His hand, which had been warm and reassuring in yours, grew cold, and he occasionally grimaced, as if battling an unseen pain.

Concerned, you guided him to a quieter corner of the ballroom, away from the crowd. “Kento, my love.....are you alright?” you asked, your voice filled with worry.

He tried to smile, but the effort was clearly painful. “It’s nothing, my darling.” he said, though his voice was strained. “I’ve just been feeling a bit unwell lately. It’s probably nothing.”

You helped him to a nearby chair, your hands trembling as you guided him down. But as soon as he sat, you noticed something terribly wrong. His face contorted with discomfort, his brows knitting together as a pained gasp escaped his lips.

His breathing grew shallow and labored, each breath a struggle that sent a jolt of fear through you. His hand moved to clutch his stomach, his fingers digging into the fabric of his coat as if trying to ward off an invisible agony. His skin glistened with sweat, and his once calm and steady demeanor was replaced by something raw and unsettling.

Before you could even react, his body suddenly slumped, going limp in the chair. The color drained from his face, his eyes fluttering shut as if the strength had been completely sapped from him. Panic surged through you like a bolt of lightning, your heart racing as you dropped to your knees beside him. “Kento!” you cried, your voice thick with fear, hands shaking as you desperately tried to rouse him. But he didn’t respond—his eyes remained closed, his body frighteningly still.

Frantically, you called out for help, your voice breaking as terror gripped you. The noise of the ballroom, once lively with chatter and laughter, fell into a stunned silence. The sudden shift in the atmosphere was palpable, as if the entire room had collectively held its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

Satoru was among the first to arrive, his tall figure cutting through the crowd with an urgency that matched your own. His usual easygoing demeanor was nowhere to be seen; instead, his expression shifted from confusion to alarm as he took in the scene before him. His gaze darted between you and Nanami, the gravity of the situation sinking in as he knelt beside you, his own hands hovering over Nanami’s still form, unsure of what to do.

A doctor, who had been attending the event, quickly rushed over, pushing through the gathering crowd with a determined expression. You watched in desperate anticipation as the doctor knelt on Nanami’s other side, his fingers moving quickly to check for a pulse, to feel for any sign of life. His face grew increasingly grave as the seconds ticked by, his lips pressing into a thin line.

The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity as the doctor worked, his movements precise yet tinged with a growing sense of urgency. The room’s tension mirrored the heartache building within you, a crushing weight that threatened to overwhelm you. Every second that passed without a sign of improvement, every quiet murmur from the doctor that you couldn’t quite hear, only deepened the pit of dread in your stomach.

The once festive atmosphere of the ball had been completely shattered, replaced by a chilling silence that seemed to echo your worst fears. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the cold, terrifying reality that the man you loved was slipping away, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Finally, the doctor straightened, his expression sorrowful. “I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can do, your grace.” he said quietly. “Count Nanami is dead.”

The words struck you like a physical blow, leaving you momentarily paralyzed as their meaning sank in. It was as if the ground beneath your feet had been pulled out from under you, and you were left to freefall into a void of disbelief and despair.

You stared at Nanami’s lifeless form, his face pale and still, the strong and steady man you had known reduced to this fragile, unresponsive shell. It didn’t seem real—couldn’t be real. The vibrant world around you blurred, the colors bleeding into one another as your vision wavered. The music that had once filled the ballroom, the laughter that had echoed off the walls, now seemed like a distant, haunting memory from another life.

The sounds around you dulled, as if you were underwater, the cacophony of voices and gasps of disbelief fading into a muffled, indistinct hum. The air felt thick, suffocating, as if it were pressing down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

The reality of the situation was too much to comprehend, too overwhelming to process. Nanami, who had been so full of life just moments ago, was now gone. The finality of it was like a weight crushing your heart, and you felt as if you were being dragged into a darkness from which there was no escape.

Satoru placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, a gesture meant to offer solace, but it only deepened the emptiness that had settled in your chest. His touch, usually so warm and reassuring, felt hollow and distant, as if even he couldn’t bridge the chasm that had opened up between the life you had known and the unbearable reality you now faced.

You didn’t look up at him, couldn’t bear to see the reflection of your own grief in his eyes. Instead, you remained fixated on Nanami, your mind desperately trying to reject the truth, to find some way to undo what had just happened.

The guests, who had been caught up in the joy and excitement of the evening, were now stunned into silence. Their expressions of shock and somber concern mirrored the confusion and heartache you felt. The whispers began to spread through the room, a low murmur that grew in intensity as people tried to make sense of the tragedy that had unfolded before them.

The once celebratory atmosphere had been shattered, replaced by a palpable sense of unease and sorrow. The collective joy that had filled the ballroom had evaporated, leaving behind only the cold, stark reality of loss.

As you stood there, your mind spinning and your heart breaking, the world around you continued to move forward, indifferent to the pain you were experiencing. The echoes of the music and laughter that had once filled the room now seemed like cruel reminders of a happiness that had been irrevocably taken from you.

The life you had imagined with Nanami Kento, the future you had so carefully envisioned, was gone in an instant, leaving you adrift in a sea of grief and uncertainty. Nothing was left behind.

You clutched Nanami’s hand, tears streaming down your face. “No, cousin....I....I cannot....” you whispered to him. “This can’t be happening. He was just here. We were about to start our life together.”

Satoru’s voice was gentle but firm. “We need to get you out of here, you cannot stay here.” he said, guiding you away from the scene with a sense of urgency. “Come with me.”

As you were led out of the ballroom, your mind was a whirlwind of grief and disbelief. The promise of a future with Nanami had been abruptly stolen from you, leaving you with nothing but the crushing weight of loss. The vibrant night that had once held so much promise now felt like a cruel mockery, its joy eclipsed by the shadow of tragedy.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

YOU COULD NOT COPE WELL. Months had passed since Nanami’s tragic death, and despite the time that had elapsed, the ache in your heart remained as fresh as ever. The estate, once filled with the excitement of the engagement and the promise of a future, now seemed like a silent, mournful shell. Each day felt like an endless repetition of grief, with memories of Nanami lingering painfully in every corner.

Satoru, your cousin and now your closest family, had tried to coax you back to some semblance of normalcy. He encouraged you to attend social events, to engage with the world beyond the estate’s walls. But each time, you found yourself unable to muster the strength or the will. The world outside felt alien and unforgiving, a stark contrast to the warmth and hope you had once known with Nanami.

One evening, after yet another failed attempt to persuade you to join him for a dinner gathering, Satoru’s patience finally wore thin. His frustration, masked for so long, burst forth in an outburst that left you reeling.

“Why can’t you just move on?” he demanded, his voice sharp. “It’s been months. You can’t spend the rest of your life hiding away in this grief-stricken state.”

The words stung, and you felt a surge of anger and sadness collide within you. “You don’t understand,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “You didn’t lose him. You don’t know what it’s like to have everything ripped away like that.”

Satoru’s expression softened, a flicker of regret in his eyes as he saw the depth of your pain. The harshness in his voice faded as he approached you, his demeanor shifting to one of concern and gentleness.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice now filled with an earnestness that cut through the earlier anger. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I’ve been trying to help, but I know I can’t truly understand your pain.”

He reached out, gently taking your hand and guiding you to a nearby armchair. His touch was soothing, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil you were feeling. “Let me help you,” he said softly, kneeling beside you. “I know this is hard, but you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Satoru’s presence was a grounding force, his usual aloofness replaced by a sincere attempt to offer comfort. He poured a drink from a decanter on a nearby table, holding it out to you with a reassuring smile. “Here,” he said, “a little something to help calm your nerves.”

You accepted the drink, your hands trembling slightly. As you took a sip, the warmth of the liquor began to ease the tight knot of grief in your chest. Satoru settled beside you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions.

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, the gesture tender and supportive. “I know it’s not the same as having Nanami here,” he said quietly, “but I’m here for you. We can get through this together, even if it takes time.”

You leaned into him, finding solace in his steady presence. The tears continued to flow, but amidst the sorrow, there was a small flicker of hope—hope that perhaps, with time and the support of those who cared for you, the heavy burden of grief might one day become a little lighter.

Satoru stayed with you, his hand resting gently on your back as you cried. In that moment, his support and understanding offered a sliver of comfort, a reminder that even in the depths of loss, there could be moments of compassion and connection.

The truth began to unravel slowly, almost imperceptibly. You had been grieving, struggling to find any semblance of normalcy, and trying to rebuild a life that seemed forever altered by Nanami’s death. Satoru, in his way, had been both a source of comfort and a persistent presence, urging you toward recovery. His support, once reassuring, began to feel increasingly intrusive, as though his concern masked something darker.

One evening, as you were going through some old letters and personal effects, a hidden compartment in one of Nanami’s personal belongings caught your attention. Inside, you found a stack of letters and documents that seemed out of place. As you sifted through them, a particular letter stood out—a letter from Nanami to you, written shortly before his death. Its contents were cryptic and filled with a sense of unease that made your heart race.

The letter spoke of suspicions of being watched, of a growing sense of danger, and a mention of a mysterious figure who had been lingering in the shadows. That evil forces were coming, investigated by the Crown. That he was a blue shadow, a dark shadow. You put the letter down, your chest tightening.

The pieces of the puzzle began to click together in your mind, and a chilling realization dawned on you. Satoru, he...he was called the Queen's Blue Ghost. That was what he does for the Crown. You bit the lower edges of your lip. You could feel your legs losing strength as you grabbed the table to balance yourself.

You shake your head, almost as though you were in denial. It can't be. Your cousin....He would not. He promised, that he would always be good to you. To everyone. He, he can't be.

Desperate for answers, you confronted Satoru, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and anger. You cornered him in his private study, your voice trembling as you demanded the truth. He raised his head and smiled at you. But quickly, that retreated the moment he saw that look on your face.

"Cousin, is something wrong? Dearest one, you are agitated. You must—"

“Satoru, please.” you said, trying to keep your composure. “I require your honesty. Please. I need to know the truth."

"Whatever about? I have always been honest with you."

"Not on everything. And you know this. I know this."

"Dearest cousin, calm down—"

"What really happened to Nanami Kento? About the others. How many? How many others did you hurt?"

Satoru’s face, usually so controlled, betrayed a flicker of something dark and unsettling. He stepped closer to you, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. The moment you said his name, the moment it all snapped. You could feel your heart pound as he corners you, traps you, in his vicinity. You swallow the bile down your throat.

“The truth, you say?” he replied, his voice smooth but laced with a dangerous edge. “I’m afraid you might not like it, cousin. I fear I might upset you. And....that is out of the question."

You took a step back, the fear overwhelming you. “What did you do? I know you had something to do with it. Did you poison him?”

A cold smile spread across Satoru’s lips. “You’ve been more perceptive than I gave you credit for,” he said softly. “Yes, I was responsible. But it was all for you, my dear cousin.”

The words struck you like a blow. “For me? What are you talking about?”

Satoru’s gaze softened, but the malice beneath it was unmistakable. “I’ve always been in love with you. Even when we were children, I was captivated by you. Everything I did, every action I took, was driven by my desire to have you for myself. And I do not care, how many suffers for it. That lowly count, those pesky tattletales. I do not care, cousin. As long as I have you. ”

The enormity of his confession hit you with a force that left you reeling. “You killed my Kento… just to have me? Do you....do you know how derange that is? How could you? How could you do this to me?”

He stepped closer, his voice a whisper that was both chilling and intimate. “No one else could ever be right for you but me. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else taking you away from me. Nanami was an obstacle, and I removed him to clear the path for us.”

Horrified and desperate, you tried to flee, but Satoru’s reflexes were swift. He grabbed your arm with a strength that was both frightening and unyielding. You struggled against him, but his grip only tightened as he pulled you close. Your heart pounded, and tears streamed down your face as you realized the extent of his obsession.

“Let me go!” you cried, your voice breaking with desperation. “I can’t be with you. Not after this.”

Satoru held you tightly, his arms encircling you in a possessive embrace. “No,” he said firmly, his voice unyielding. “You belong with me. I’ve waited too long for this moment, and I won’t let anyone—least of all you—deny what’s meant to be.”

His words, though tender in their own twisted way, were laced with a darkness that left you feeling trapped and helpless. You could see the unshakable resolve in his eyes, the certainty that he was the only one who could provide the life he believed you deserved.

“I did it all for you, dearest one.” Satoru continued, his tone a mix of reverence and obsession. “Everything I did, every sacrifice, was to ensure that we could be together. You’ll see, in time, that no one else can care for you the way I do.”

It was as though for a moment, your memories echoed. That boy Satoru was, the distant and aloof boy you had looked up to, chased after — he was not there anymore. All that’s left is a monster. A monster who believed that loving you meant hurting you. Tears fell as you remember the boy he was.

The large, sunlit gardens were a backdrop to a series of memories, each one highlighting the contrast between your vibrant, spirited nature and Satoru’s reserved, emotionless disposition.

You were only six years old when you first encountered Satoru’s indifference. He was sitting alone in a secluded corner of the garden, surrounded by books and sketches, seemingly lost in a world of his own. His silver hair gleamed in the sunlight, but his eyes, hidden behind dark glasses even then, were as cold and distant as the surrounding shadows.

Despite his aloofness, you were determined to reach out to him. You approached him with a bright smile, holding a daisy you had picked from the garden. “Satoru,” you called out, “would you like to play with me?”

He glanced up briefly, his expression unreadable. “I’m busy,” he replied curtly, his voice lacking warmth.

Undeterred, you sat down next to him, placing the daisy on his sketchpad. “But it’s such a nice day! Don’t you want to come outside and enjoy it?”

He stared at the daisy, then at you, a flicker of something—perhaps curiosity or irritation—crossing his face. “I don’t see the point in playing,” he said, turning his attention back to his sketches.

You persisted, your enthusiasm unwavering. “It’s not just about playing. It’s about having fun and being together. We can make up a story about the garden and pretend we’re explorers!”

“I don’t want to.” He whispered.

You pout. “But that’s no fun!”

As a young girl, you were determined to break through Satoru’s emotional barriers. One sunny afternoon in the grand estate’s garden, you devised a simple, yet heartfelt plan. You had spent the morning picking a variety of wildflowers, their vibrant colors brightening your small wicker basket. You were excited to surprise Satoru, who was once again immersed in his books and sketches in his usual secluded spot.

The garden was alive with the hum of bees and the soft rustling of leaves, and the sunlight filtered through the trees, casting playful shadows on the ground. You spotted Satoru sitting against a large oak tree, his focus intensely fixed on his work. With a smile, you approached him quietly, careful not to disturb his concentration.

“Satoru,” you called softly, holding up the flower crown you had made. It was a simple creation, woven from a mix of daisies, buttercups, and clover. The flowers were arranged in a delicate, colorful circle, their petals still fresh and dewy from the morning sun.

He looked up from his sketchpad, his expression as indifferent as ever, but a hint of curiosity sparkled in his eyes. “What’s that?” he asked, his tone more inquisitive than dismissive.

You knelt beside him, holding the flower crown out. “It’s a gift for you.” you said cheerfully. “I made it just for you. I thought you might like to wear it.”

Satoru’s usual aloofness seemed to falter as he took in the sight of the flower crown. There was a brief flicker of surprise in his eyes, a momentary break in his emotional armor. He looked at the crown, then back at you, clearly unsure of how to react.

Without waiting for his response, you gently placed the flower crown on his head, adjusting it carefully so that it sat comfortably. Your fingers brushed against his hair, and you beamed at him with an innocent, genuine smile.

“There!” you said, stepping back to admire your handiwork. “Now you have a crown fit for a king.”

Satoru’s initial reaction was one of shock, his mouth slightly agape as he touched the delicate flowers with hesitant fingers. The corners of his mouth twitched, and for a brief moment, you saw a rare, genuine smile break through his usually stoic expression. It was a fleeting, but unmistakable, expression of delight.

He looked up at you, his eyes softer than they had ever been. “You made this for me?” he asked, his voice betraying a hint of warmth that was seldom present.

“Yes, cousin!” you replied, your eyes sparkling with happiness. “I wanted to do something nice for you. I thought it might brighten your day.”

Satoru’s gaze lingered on you, and you could see the conflicted emotions playing across his face. The flower crown, so simple and yet so heartfelt, seemed to have touched him in a way you hadn’t anticipated. He looked away, his expression growing contemplative.

“It’s… nice.” he said quietly, a hint of genuine appreciation in his tone. “Thank you.”

You smiled, pleased with his reaction. “I’m glad you like it, cousin!” you said, reaching out to gently touch the crown. “I hope it makes you smile.”

As you walked away, you felt a sense of accomplishment. You had managed to break through Satoru’s emotional wall, if only for a moment, and the sight of him wearing the flower crown was a memory you would cherish. Little did you know that this simple act of kindness would become a significant, albeit bittersweet, part of your lives.

The contrast between the boy who had once been so distant and the man who now held you captive was stark and painful. The memories of your childhood—the times you had tried so hard to reach out to him, to bridge the gap that had always seemed to exist between you—now echoed in your mind like a cruel mockery.

Those moments, once filled with innocent hope and longing, now served as a haunting reminder of how drastically things had deteriorated. The boy who had seemed unreachable, who you had thought might one day come around, had instead grown into someone who was both terrifyingly close and dangerously unrecognizable.

As you struggled in his arms, the harsh reality of your situation became all too clear. Satoru’s love, which had once been a source of warmth and comfort, had twisted into something dark and all-consuming. The affection that had once made you feel safe was now a prison, its walls closing in around you with every passing second.

The realization that his love had warped into an obsession sent chills down your spine, and the fear that gripped your heart was unlike anything you had ever known. You had always known Satoru was different, that there was something in him that set him apart, but never had you imagined that his feelings for you could turn into something so possessive, so terrifying.

His grip on you was unrelenting, his arms a cage that you knew you could not break free from. No matter how hard you struggled, how desperately you tried to push him away, his hold only tightened. There was no trace of the gentle boy you had known in his eyes now—only the cold, determined gaze of a man who would not be denied.

As he held you close, you could feel the weight of his obsession pressing down on you, suffocating you with its intensity. The warmth that had once drawn you to him had been replaced by a chilling darkness, and the love that had once been your sanctuary had become the source of your greatest fear.

A profound sense of betrayal and loss settled over you, heavy and unyielding. The man who had once been your closest confidant, your protector, had now become the architect of your greatest sorrow.

The trust you had placed in him, the bond you had thought unbreakable, had been shattered beyond repair. The future you had dreamed of, filled with hope and happiness, was now overshadowed by the bleak reality of his possessive love.

In that moment, as you were held captive in his arms, you understood with a heartbreaking clarity that the Satoru you had known was gone, replaced by someone you could no longer recognize.

The boy who had once been distant, yet filled with potential, had become a man whose love had turned into a dark obsession, and the life you had once envisioned was now lost to the shadows of his twisted affection.

“I waited so long for this day, to have you free from the nuns, from the watchful eyes of the church, from anyone who would keep you from me." He whispered. “And I had to deal with that pest, that lowly pathetic count. All of those who wanted to steal you from me!”

The air in the room thickened as he stepped closer, his breath brushing against your skin. You knew what he wanted, what he had always wanted. It was written in the way he looked at you, the way his fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to reach out and claim you right then and there.

But you were no longer a child, no longer the naive girl who would blindly follow where he led. You were a Duchess now, with power of your own, and you would not be so easily consumed by the flames of his obsession.

Yet, as his hand finally found its way to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze, you couldn’t help but feel the pull. The twisted, sick desire that mirrored his own, the yearning to give in to the darkness that had always lurked beneath the surface of your soul.

"You will be mine, cousin." Gojo whispered, his lips hovering above yours. "Whether you like it or not."

You were drawn to him, as you had been as a child. The way he moved, the way he spoke—it He reached for you, his hands rough yet strangely tender as they cupped your face, his grip firm and unyielding.

Before you could react, his lips crashed against yours with a force that stole your breath. You struggled, tried to push him away, but he was stronger—much stronger. Your fists pounded weakly against his chest, a futile attempt to break free from the iron hold he had on you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as you felt the helplessness of the situation, the weight of his obsession bearing down on you. But even as your mind screamed in protest, there was a part of you that responded to his touch, a dark, twisted part that had long been buried beneath years of repression.

His hands roamed over your body with a fervor that mirrored the storm brewing inside you, fingers tracing the curves of your form as if memorizing every inch. He pulled you closer, his embrace tightening until there was no space left between your bodies, the heat of his desire searing through your clothes, igniting a fire deep within you.

You hated yourself for the way your body betrayed you, for the way your heart raced not only with fear but with a sick anticipation. You could feel the hunger in his touch, the same hunger that had lurked within you, hidden and denied for so long.

Gojo’s lips trailed down your neck, leaving a burning path in their wake, his breath hot against your skin. His words were a whispered promise, laced with a dark possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

"You can’t escape me, cousin." he murmured against your throat, his voice thick with desire. "I’ve waited too long, dreamed of this moment for too many nights. You’re mine now, and I’ll never let you go."

His hands slipped beneath the fabric of your dress, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin beneath as he explored with an urgency that left no room for doubt. You gasped, the sound caught between a sob and something else, something far more dangerous.

As his touch grew bolder, you realized with a sickening clarity that no matter how hard you fought, no matter how many tears you shed, you were losing yourself to him. The line between love and hate, between desire and fear, blurred until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

Gojo pulled back just enough to look into your tear-streaked face, his eyes darkened with a twisted satisfaction. His thumb brushed away the tears that still fell, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Don’t cry, my dearest." he whispered, his voice laced with mockery and something softer, something almost tender. "You’ll learn to love this, to love me, just as I’ve always loved you."

And as his lips claimed yours once more, the last vestiges of your resistance crumbled, swallowed whole by the darkness that he had nurtured within you, until all that was left was the Duchess who belonged to the Duke—no matter the cost.

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dreamwatch · 4 months ago

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Turn The Page

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Again, another iPad entry so hopefully no typos but… who knows!

The moment Eddie gets off the stage Steve knows something is wrong.

The twenty-first had been hard, a day of press, of meet and greets, of things Steve asked Eddie to cancel. ‘It’s easier to just do it’; it’s not though. It never fucking is. The press and the fans get a Diet Eddie, and Steve ends up with an angry drunk in his bedroom. But they power through it. They always do.

Steve goes to special shows now, wouldn’t have come to this one but it’s the twenty-seventh, and what’s more special than knowing your boyfriend is still alive?

Eddie practically throws his guitar at his tech as he rushes off stage, rushing past everyone, Steve included.

“Eddie?” he calls out.

The rest of the band get off the stage. “Eddie!” Jeff shouts from behind him. “The encore!”

But he’s gone, down the labyrinth of hallways, the crowd still cheering for more.

He doesn’t shower, doesn’t grab his shit from the dressing room, just walks out of the back of the venue to their car, Steve running behind him. The car isn’t ready, they’re not expecting him for another thirty minutes at least, and it’s a confused mess of security and crew, frantic radio messages.

“Eddie, what the fuck is going on?” Steve asks, taking him by the elbow. He gets a tight head shake as a reply.

The car ride is silent, the smell of cooling sweat blending with the air con blowing full blast at them, and when they get to their hotel room, Eddie heads straight to the phone.

“Hi, can I get room service to the Junior Suite?”

Steve just gawps, he feels like he’s losing his fucking mind.

“Uh… can I get… do you have pineapple? I’d really like some pineapple actually. And a bottle of champagne… whatever you think is best, oh and hold on,” he says covering the mouthpiece with his hand. “Do you want anything?”

He sounds manic, so off, so not his usual self. Wild in a crazed way, and it’s scaring Steve. He stands in the entranceway, mouth hanging open.

“Yeah, I want to know what the fuck is going on?”

Eddie blinks.

“And a cheese burger and fries.”

He hangs up and finally peels his t-shirt off, letting it drop to the floor as he walks to the bathroom to shower. The phone keeps ringing, Jeff asking what the hell is going on, their manager, Phil, screaming at him. Eddie wanders in, towel around his waist, another wrapped around his hair. He doesn’t even stop to ask who Steve’s talking to, just gently takes the handset from his hands, places it back on the phone.

The room service arrives and Eddie leads Steve to the dining table, tells him to sit and eat, and then he takes a huge piece of pineapple with him to the bed.

The phone rings again, and this time Eddie rips the cord from the wall.

“Ed, you have got to talk to me.”

“I will. Just let me eat this first. Eat your burger.”

As if he could.

Eddie sits on the edge of the bed half naked, eating pineapple. Steve’s watched them trash rooms before, true idiot behaviour, but this is probably the weirdest fucking thing he’s ever seen.

There’s banging on the door, Steve can hear Gareth’s voice, then Phil’s again, it’s after midnight now. Eventually they go away.

“You know,” Eddie says breaking the silence. “I don’t think I’ve enjoyed anything in the last few years as much as I enjoyed that fucking pineapple.” He frowns at the half eaten fruit platter, like he’s trying to solve a math problem.

Steve crouches in down in front of him, his hands gripping Eddie’s knees.

“Bambi, please, what the fuck is going on? I mean, do I need to call a doctor here…? You’re scaring me.”

Eddie looks at him like he’s water on a hot day.

“What if I said let’s run away? I’ll quit the band, we’ll buy a ranch or a farm. Get out of LA.” His eyes meet Steve’s properly for the first time since he got off stage. “What would you say?”

“I’d say give me ten minutes to pack.”

“Really?”

“Really. Where’s this coming from?”

“I died twenty years ago. And I got a second chance and I took it, you know. We’ve done amazing things. But it’s not fun anymore. It hasn’t been fun for a long time. And life’s too short for that, it’s too short for me to waste it being miserable. And I am. I’m a thing, I’m a commodity. I go where I’m told, I turn up, do my thing. I don’t remember the names of the towns I’m in, I always thought that was a joke you know? It’s not. It’s real.” He laughs, but it’s shallow, his eyes flat. “Who fucking knew?”

Steve gets off the floor and sits beside Eddie on the bed. “Are you serious?”

Eddie doesn’t answer straight away, but when he eventually looks at Steve he nods, and for the first time that day, Steve realises, he smiles. “Yeah. Yeah I’m serious.”

“I hate that you felt this way and didn’t tell me.”

Eddie takes his hand, threads his fingers through, locking them together.

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

This stupid, beautiful man. His everything. His life.

“And the band?”

Eddie shrugs. “They’ll be fine. They’ll get another guitarist no problem. People would kill to join them.”

Steve reaches for Eddie, lays his palm against his cheek, trails his thumb along the silvery thread that runs all the way to his throat, a memory woven on his face. It scares him how close they were to not having this, hits him sometimes out of nowhere. He leans in, his lips meeting Eddie’s, tastes pineapple, tastes home. He wouldn’t deny this man a single thing.

“Alright then,” says Steve says, breaking the kiss with a smile. “I guess we’re going shopping for a ranch.”

#corrodedcoffinfest #corroded coffin #corroded coffin fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #cw implied alcoholism #Steddie

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spoiler-alert-andabunchofnumbers · 4 months ago

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One of my favorite additions that the MDZS adaptations gave us was the little detail that, in addition to storing Emperor’s Smile in his room, Lan Wangji also stored bamboo flutes and was implied to have learned how to carve them and did so on a regular basis.

I just really like the idea that even though he didn’t know if Wei Wuxian would come back, he was preparing for it anyway. He raised Lan Sizhui and tried to train the juniors to be open-minded and unbiased, he held the weight of his whip scars and the sun brand on his chest, he filled his room with Emperor’s Smile that he might never be able to give Wei Wuxian.

I like to think Lan Wangji was learning to carve bamboo flutes even before Wei Wuxian died, since his methods of expressing himself often manifest in secret actions rather than words. Before he knew it, he found himself taking an interest in making dizi flutes and had a collection of them building up - and Lan Xichen is watching with a knowing gaze and offers to tune the flutes to help him improve (does Lan Wangji know how to play any flutes? I assume Lan Xichen knows somewhat how to play a dizi even though his Liebing is a xiao but I'm not a floutist so idk). Bonus angst if Lan Wangji ended up burning a pile of flutes every time he had a breakdown about Wei Wuxian being dead. Then he just goes around carving more.

The original novel has Wei Wuxian using the same out-of-tune bamboo flute nearly till the end, but like - Lan Wangji seeing Wei Wuxian playing badly just to (poorly) hide his identity and then Lan Wangji being so madly eager to show off his skills that he prepared just to serve Wei Wuxian at any and all times. He just whips out a bamboo shaft and a carving tool, and masterfully makes a flute in moments, and Wei Wuxian is oblivious like "Wow, nice job, thx!" and doesn't fully grasp that Lan Wangji is saying "I will make you a thousand bamboo flutes because I love you and will give you whatever you desire, that little surprise and pleasure on your face is worth all the time I waited -"

You know?

Still working way too hard on an MDZS fic BTW, like it's way over 1000 pages in Google Docs and half of it is me just transcribing the novel and the other is me repeating my feelings on everything with an OC or three. What am I doing with my life?

#mdzs meta #mxtx mdzs #mdzs #mxtx #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #cql #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wangxian #thinking way too hard about bamboo flutes

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t-lostinworlds · 3 months ago

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Warm Winter & Fiery Frost | B.Barnes [Completed]

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x ex-HYDRA assassin!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: grumpy x grumpy, enemies to lovers-ish, slow burn-ish, angst, fluff-ish

》 SUMMARY: They say opposites attract. You and Bucky were so alike—He was called The Winter Soldier and you were called Frost, for fucks sake—that it's probably the reason why you hated each other. Or was it the denying of powerful feelings in fear of getting hurt? You know, like how the cliché goes. Because you know what they also say: There's a fine line between love and hate.

》 WARNINGS: canon typical violence (blood, guns, combat, etc.), canon divergence, meanness against each other (at the start & that one scene™), emotional constipation! (on both sides. they both need therapy lbr), poorly translated russian prolly, soulmate vibes (not really?), r has bucky at knifepoint quite often (& threatens to kill him), bucky's kink unlocked? (not explored lol), down bad!bucky, r has a backstory, mentions of: past traumas, grooming (no specific ages but it's implied that r was very young), manipulation, experimentation, child trafficking, torture, murder (u know hydra tings), a sweet, happy and open ending (+ if i missed anything pls let me know!)

》 TOTAL WORD COUNT: 29k+ (my longest fic yet)

A/N: i actually started this a year ago??? (according to my doc) which is crazy to me?? bc it feels like i only had this idea for months? where has the time gone. ANYWAYS. first behemoth bucky fic & first fic in a few months so pls be kind ksksks

++ also would like to say that r in this isn't the usual happy-go-lucky, sweet, emotionally capable, sunshine-y person compared to what i typically write but she has her reasons. cold & hardened but mushy on the inside. u know. like our fave supersoldier. they're honestly the same person just different fonts lmao. ANYWAYS,

++ additional note: tumblr has a limit of only 1000 paragraphs (or text block so to speak). the fic itself is 1300 paragraphs so it's waay over the limit. so i decided to cut it into two parts BUT i also posted it on AO3 if you want to read it as a whole already. hope you guys still read and enjoy it! <3

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

PART ONE | PART TWO

or READ ON AO3

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated! ++ consider supporting me on ko-fi if you can!

✉ NO TAGLIST: go follow @t-lostinlibrary and turn on notifications to get updated on my works!

© t-lostinworlds, 2024 ✘ I do NOT give any permission to repost, translate, & use any of my works (writings, gifs, dividers, etc.) on any platform, with credit or otherwise. Please respect that. Thank you.

#ww&ff #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes reader insert #sebastian stan #my writing

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ffsg0jo · 6 months ago

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🍉 fics + matchups for gaza 🍉

i really want to try and help as much as i can to raise money and donations for gaza, and @ficsforgaza is running an amazing scheme where you can request a fic/ sponsor a wip through donations. my rate is $5 per 500 words to any of the verified fundraisers listed here !! if you can't request/donate anything, then that's totally okay, but please do share and reblog !!

donation link 1 :: link 2 :: link 3 :: link 4

just to reiterate, the money does NOT go to me. you donate directly one of the fundraisers linked above.

feel free to pop into my ask box or my dms to request a matchup/fic.

if i write more than the requested words, then that's totally on me, and ill cover the rest of the donations $1 per extra 100 words (with proof).

RULES for requesting ::

first and foremost, a screenshot of your donation (please do NOT forget to censor your personal details, and please don't use the same screenshot to request multiple fics), these will NOT be posted publicly.

please also include the link to the page you donated to.

description of what you'd like me to write (can be as detailed as you want)

e.g: headcanons, one-shot, drabble + fem/gn reader

the fandom / character(s) if you want multiple

whether you'd like sfw / suggestive / crack / angst (please note i don't write hard-core nsfw)

i am also accepting requests for matchups, and the max words for that will be 1000 words [500 words for drabble and 500 words for headcanons]. what you need to include for a matchup has been listed in the example below.

request example :: hi :) hope you're well. id like to request a sfw drabble of gojo meeting his newborn daughter with a female reader. i've included proof of my $5 donation to help Deyaa and his family escape Gaza. my personal details are all censored as well. thank you very much. [then include the screenshot in your ask/dm]

suggestive request example :: hi :) hope you're well. id like to request a suggestive drabble of choso making out with a female reader. i've included proof of my $5 donation to help Deyaa and his family escape Gaza. my personal details are all censored as well. thank you very much. [then include the screenshot in your ask/dm]

matchup example :: hi :) i hope you're well. i'd like to request a (romantic/platonic) matchup for (jjk/aot/bnha/haikyuu). i have included a screenshot of my $5 donation to help Deyaa and his family escape Gaza. my personal details have been censored. my pronouns are (insert pronouns), my gender preference is (male/female), and my personality type is (mbti personality type). my love language is (love language) my hobbies are (insert hobbies in as much detail as you want). my top 3 pet peeves/icks are (include pet peeves and icks). here are 3+ fun facts about me (include three or more fun facts in as much detail as you want). i am (include your appearance in as much detail as possible if you've donated $10 for a drabble e.g hair types, hijabi, skin colour etc). could you please avoid the following matchups (insert characters to avoid). [please also include any other details that you want and feel free to make it as long as you want !! and include the screenshot of your donation too]

GUIDLINES for requesting ::

i do NOT write nsfw works, but i am open to suggestive requests

the max words i'll write is 2000 words, but please feel free to donate as much as you can

i write gender-neutral and female reader so please include which one you'd like me to write.

i am open to writing specific readers (e.g. hijabi , tall , short , south asian , curvy)

i'll try my best to finish your requests as soon as possible but please bear with me (i'll probaby create a spreadsheet where you can track the progress of all my requests/wips)

if i write more than the requested words, then that's totally on me, and ill cover the rest of the donations $1 per extra 100 words (with proof)

i do NOT accept requests from blank blogs/blogs with no indication of age (must have age in bio or somewhere on your blog).

i will accept asks and dms but asks must NOT be anonymous !!

CONTENT/CHARACTER GUILDLINES for requesting ::

CHARACTERS:

jujutsu kaisen: sfw + suggestive : toji , choso , gojo , geto , nanami , higuruma , sukuna , mahito , shoko , ijichi

jujutsu kaisen: sfw ONLY : nobara , maki , inumaki , yuuta , itadori , megumi

haikyuu: sfw + suggestive : daichi , hinata , kageyama , tsukishima , sugawara , oikawa , iwaizumi , ushijima , kuroo , kenma , bokuto , akaashi , osamu , atsumu , kita , suna , sakusa , aran

my hero academia: sfw + suggestive : most pro-heroes , class 1-A , dabi , shigaraki

misc: sfw + suggestive : eren , levi , zeke , jean , reiner , mikasa , armin , erwin , saitama (opm)

depending on the characters, i am open to writing for percy jackson/heroes of olympus

CONTENT:

sfw: domestic bliss, general fluff, sick fics, nonsexual intimacy (cuddling, kissing etc), random headcanons about characters, pregnancy/family fics, platonic situations, pretty much anything sfw i'm open to

suggestive: making out, light sexual intimacy (nothing hard-core)

angst: major character death, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort

crack: any silly little scenarios/ideas you might have.

HARD NO'S:

anything nsfw - oral / penetration / sexual nudity

male reader (i'm sorry but i dont think i'll be able to accurately portray a male reader)

anything military/war related

minor x adult

domestic/physical abuse against reader (by requested character)

alcohol / drug abuse

incest

yandere / noncon

any explicit kinks

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jeankluv · 5 months ago

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The forgotten boy - Geto Suguru | Chapter 01

Words: 3k

Summary: He made a deal with the devil, over 1,000 years ago. Just for the sake of his loved ones but the deal came with a condition. Everyone he met from now on, would forget about his existence within minutes, and will be like that for the rest of the eternity

Like that Geto Suguru has lived for the last 1000 years being forgotten but everyone he met, not being remembered by anyone and being alone.

"You remember me?"

You nodded. “Of course I do.” You smiled. “You have been coming here for a few days now. Always at the same hour and always asking for the same coffee.”

ac: _3aem

Tags: fantasy au, modern settings and historical settings, angst, fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, magical themes, use of y/n, no physical appearance except for some freckles reader has.

Notes: first chapter of this new Suguru fic. A few things I have to say about this fic is that it has more text, more inner dialogues and information. Flashbacks. It’s also dual pov or more like external pov, we will be able to see what both main characters think. Also sorry if there are any mistakes or typos, English is not my first language. I hope everyone enjoys this story.

materialist | next chapter

"In any lifetime, I swear I will find you. I swear."

˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆

Suguru got out of the bus and walked across the street. He always took the same route. And for some time now he had always come across the same faces, whose names he did not know but he did remember his faces. Unlike him, those people could meet him a million times and never remember his name or his face.

But it was the price he had to pay for the sins he had committed 1,000 years ago and would continue to pay until the end of the world.

His feet stood in front of the coffee shop that had recently opened its doors. The coffee they served was the best he had tasted in the city, and today he had decided to go there again to drink that same coffee again and feel like he belonged to that reality.

He waited in line, like a mere mortal, and when a boy of only about twenty years old arrived at the counter, he was greeted with a smile. Suguru without saying another word asked him for a coffee and retired to wait for it to be served. He sat at one of the many tables that the cafeteria had until his name came over the speakers.

"Kento"

It wasn't his real name, but with the curse besides from not aging and being forgotten by everyone. It also happened that Suguru could not say his name, nor say it, nor even write it, if he tried it would disappear as if nothing had ever been written on the paper. That is why he changed his name constantly.

"Enjoyed it"

You with big eyes and freckles crossing your face smiled at him, Suguru smiled back and took the coffee from you.

He sat back down at the table he was before and looked out the window. It was April, a month that brought back distant, very distant memories of his childhood. Where the snow had already disappeared from the roads of the village where he lived and the flowers were beginning to bloom, ushering in spring and the beginning of his countless afternoons of fun with his best friend. But those were just memories now, nothing more than that. Memories that only he remembered and that those who appeared in them had long since left.

The world continued to rotate, change and evolve, while he continued to hope that one day he would once again be the boy who went to the banks of the river to hunt tadpoles.

He finished the coffee and left the tip on the table and then left that cafeteria. And he began to walk, aimlessly and without any rush, since what mattered least to him was time, because he had plenty of that.

He had returned to what had once been his home village and had now become an urban metropolis, just a few years ago. After being cursed, Suguru decided to leave his beloved home behind, nothing and no one needed him there anymore and the only thing he could bring was bad omens. And that's why he traveled the world, using different names always being forgotten on the same day. He had spent the last hundred years in the UK, but he had decided to return to Japan after so long and see how it was.

His blood ran cold when he got off that plane and began to walk the streets that once seemed familiar to him. Everything was different, everything except a hill where he used to go with...

Suguru shook his head and turned to look in the direction of the hill, which remained the same. As if nothing had changed. People who were going for a walk or run, walked by there, and with his hands in his pockets, he went up and up. He remembered the hill being much bigger, but that was probably because everything seemed so much bigger to him as a child. He sat on the bench there and simply watched the horizon as the hours began to pass.

Something that the curse brought is that he did not feel tired, hungry, or sleepy. The first time he noticed it, he stopped eating for too long, a time where no human being could continue living. It was then that he understood that at that very moment he made the deal, he had stopped being like the rest of humans.

The sun had set hours ago and those who were walking or running on the hill had long since left. He got up from the bench and began to walk with a specific direction, this time. He entered the luxurious building and clicked on the floor where he was going. When he reached it he walked down the hallway, dragging his feet until he reached the door. He entered the code he borrowed months ago (as he liked to say) from that “friend” of his and entered on that apartment.

He knew the apartment would be empty, he knew the owner's schedule well. He considered him a friend, if that was even possible. But Suguru didn't care, or at least that's what he told himself.

Shortly after arriving in Japan he had met a man named Nanami Kento, he was a businessman and they had met in a cafeteria, the conversations flowed normally and safely. The next day when Suguru found him there again he showed up again and had another different conversation. Perhaps under different circumstances Nanami would have also considered him his friend.

Suguru sat on the couch and closed his eyes. He knew that Nanami wouldn't be coming home for the next two weeks, so he might have a place to rest for at least two weeks. You might think that what he did was low, but he had lived for more than 1,000 years and during all that time he had had to find ways to live, like a normal person. Even if that meant lying and manipulating others, but it didn't matter because they would forget about him.

He looked up at the ceiling and felt the comfort of that apartment. It was warm there but he couldn't call it a home. When was the last time he had a place to call a home?

Probably around 450 years ago. He was living in Italy, in a remote house that was long abandoned, it was just him and the dog that welcomed him the first time. He always wondered if animals could remember him or just like anyone else they would forget about him. He didn't know but that dog would always show up in front of that abandoned house and move it's tail whenever he welcomed him.

But soon enough, the dog died and he was left alone once again. He lived in that house for another 100 years, a lot of time for many, short for him. It was then when he decided to move to America and lived there, in different places, different countries and then he moved back to Europe, to England to be exact where he witnessed the changes of the world and cruelty of the humanity.

Suguru had lived too long, he had learned different languages, known different cultures, and heard thousands and thousands of stories. But he was tired, living so much and not having anyone to share his experiences, or moments, was exhausting. And frankly, it crossed Suguru's mind more than once to end everything, he even tried it, but when that demon appeared before him the first time he tried, he warned him.

"If you end the contract we sealed, you will become a curse and for the rest of the centuries, I will make you torment the reincarnations of those you once loved."

He never tried it again.

˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆

"I will give you anything, but please grant me that wish, let me save them."

"Anything eh?"

˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆

Suguru opened his eyes to the sunlight that slipped through the window, announcing a new day in the world. He stretched his stiff muscles and headed to the kitchen of the apartment. He took one of the fruits that Nanami had and ate it and then went to the bathroom and took a leisurely shower. They were those small moments that made him feel completely human again.

He left the bathroom and went to the closet. He was lucky to be wearing a size similar to Nanami's. He grabbed a white shirt and a black knit vest for the top and black pants for the bottom. Walking to the couch she grabbed the long jacket and some coins from the counter. Was he an asshole for doing that? Probably, but after so much time it was easy for him.

Just like the day before and the day before, he took the same bus, greeted the driver with a smile and sat in the same seat as always. Where he contemplated the city that dawned. He got off at the same stop and took the same route to the cafeteria.He waited in line for his turn to arrive. And he began to think about his current life, monotonous, gray and rotating.

He ordered the usual thing again and sat down at the same table again, until he heard that new name that he had chosen, because his could never leave his lips.

"Kento!"

The same girl, the same smile, the same freckles. All the same.

"Here you have." You said, hanging him the coffee.

"Thank you." Suguru took his coffee and smiled back at you.

He sat back down at the same table and watched out the window for who knows how long. But what difference did it make, right? If when they became aware of his presence again they would think that he had just arrived. The cafeteria went from being crowded in the early hours of the morning to being calmer.

"Do you want more coffee?" Suguru could feel his heart beating out of his chest when he felt the voice next to him. "I have noticed your cup is empty." You with your freckles crossing your face and a smile on you shiny face, pointed at his cup. "You want more?"

Suguru looked at his, now empty cup and then back at you. "No, it's okay."

You hesitated for a moment. "But are you sure? It's in the house, so please accept it." You smiled.

Suguru handed you the cup. "Alright." He knew that once you disappeared from his sight, you would forget him and a new cup of coffee would never return.

You smiled at him and ran to the bar counter. Suguru looked outside again and mentally told himself that he would wait 5 minutes and then he would leave.

Five minutes passed and Suguru turned to look at you, who were talking to your coworker. Suguru sighed and stood up from his seat. He didn't understand why after so much time he still had a modicum of hope.

He walked to the exit and left the small cafeteria. And again the same routine as every day, walking aimlessly until his feet got tired, even a little, sitting down to observe the landscape and returning to his "friend's" "borrowed" apartment.

And like that another day went by and another one began. Same routine. Wake up, shower, eat something, take the same bus, walk, wait in the queue for his morning coffee, wait at the table.

"Here." A voice he already heard before spoke. Suguru looked up meeting the smiley face of the same girl he met yesterday, you. "I'm sorry for yesterday. I got busy with my coworker Yuji and when I was going to give you your order, you were already gone." Something inside Suguru reeled. "That's why, this one is on me."

Suguru still didn't say a word. Was his mind playing with him? It was not possible that you remembered him? It was not.

"Is everything okay?" You tilted your head looking at him with curiosity.

"You..." He swallowed, trying to moisten his dry throat. "You remember me?"

You nodded. "Of course I do." And smiled. "You have been coming here for a few days now. Always at the same hour and always asking for the same coffee."

It wasn't possible, it wasn't, you couldn't remember. No one in 1,000 years had been able to do it. How come you were capable now? No no no. Suguru's head didn't stop spinning. Too many questions had accumulated.

"You are okay?" You moved closer to him with clear concern on your face.

"I..." Suguru tried to catch his breath, he felt like he was out of breath and in any moment he was going to pass out.

"Hey!" You touched his shoulder and kneeled in front of him. "Tried to follow my breathing okay?" Suguru nodded. He followed your instructions until he could feel the air entering his lungs normally again.

"Thank you." He whispered.

"It's nothing, but you scared me." You stood back up. "Kento..."

Suguru looked at you in confusion and then remembered that was his new fake name. "Yeah, that's me... You haven't told me your name."

"Y/n." You said with a smile to him and Suguru smiled.

Your name was called by the boy that Suguru had seen behind the counter, the days he had been coming, he had pink hair and was always smiling, just like you.

"I'm coming Yuji!" You shouted and turned around to look at him once again. "My coworker is calling me. But stay here as much as you want."

"I will." He said your name once again to say goodbye.

"Bye Kento!"

Suguru waved at you and stayed in silence, was he dreaming? For the first time in 1,000 years he was feeling alive. But he was also terrified. What if this was just a coincidence and everything would vanish as soon as he left that coffee shop? No, you said you knew him from the previous days, which means the curse didn't happen when he left the other days.

His knee moved up and down, nervously, he didn't want to leave, but knowing that you remembered him it would seem strange if he stayed there for many hours. You'd think he was crazy or something.

An hour passed by and then he stood but before leaving he went searching for you. He wanted to see you, wanted to know you, he wanted to feel alive like he felt when talking to you.

He swallowed and turned to the pink-haired boy behind the bar. "Excuse me."

The boy turned and gave him a smile. "Good morning, would you like something to drink?"

Suguru for a moment felt like a bucket of cold water was being dumped on him.

"Oh Kento!" There you were, once again smiling at him and remembering him.

"Hi." He whispered only you being able to hear him.

"Y/n, you know him?" The boy wondered.

"Yeah! He comes here every single day, at the same hour and orders the same thing." You kept on looking at him. "You literally attended to him all these days!"

"Did I?" He titled his head. "I'm sorry I can't remember."

"Don't worry." Suguru smiled. "A lot of people come here, it's normal that you don't remember me."

"With that face it is hard to forget about you..." Suguru heard you whispered for yourself.

When you noticed the gaze of him looking at you, your cheeks started to grew red.

"Oh." You covered your mouth. "Did I say that out loud?" Suguru nodded, trying to hid the smile that was forming on his lips. "Sorry! That was very inappropriate! But I think it's true...You are really handsome and a face like yours is not easy to forget."

"Thank you. I think you are the first person that has ever told me that." Suguru noticed you nervously looking around, like trying to hide somewhere after what you said. "I wanted to talk with you." You looked back at him. "If you have time."

You looked around and nodded. "Yeah, there isn't a lot of people around, so it's fine." They walked to the side, so they wouldn't disturb the people. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I was wondering when do you finish your shift."

You opened her mouth, forming an O in surprise. "In..." You thought for a moment. "An hour and a half."

"Great." Suguru nodded. "Then I would like to invite you to a coffee, if that's okay with you of course."

Suguru felt nervous for the first time in ages, but he liked it. He liked it because that made him feel more human, more real.

"I..." You hesitated.

Suguru wanted to slap himself, of course you would say no and think he was a freak. "Sorry, I probably made you uncomfortable."

"No, no it's not that." You shook your head. "We can go and grab a coffee without a problem." That made Suguru smile. "But I will have to leave early, I have other things to take care of." Suguru nodded, it was okay for him.

"It's fine by me."

"Then... I will see you once my shift is over."

"Alright."

Suguru said goodbye to you and left the cafeteria, it would be too strange to stay there so he decided to walk to that hill and wait. For the first time in a long time he felt truly alive. And happy.

Notes: end of first chapter, I hope everyone enjoyed it. Sorry if there are any mistakes, also if you see a “she” or “her” please let me know, bc the fic at the beginning was written in the third person so there might be a mistake there.

Also I will try to be as historic accurate as possible when talking about Geto’s life during those 1,000 years. My notes on my phone are completely mess with names and dates, not to mess anything 😅

- comment if you want to be tagged.

🏷️: @drownedpoetess @aducksmokingquack @walkingtravesty97 @pdacex @zhenyuuu @n1vi @blendingcaramal @mimiixen @bbyxxm @paprikaquinn @my1fx

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