#but by the end of it he finally embraces that title because he realizes it’s not something he can exactly run from

[pop-philosophy101]

Sprawling Immediate Thoughts on Agatha All Along Episode 5 (spoilers duh)

Well, so like obviously that wasn’t Agatha’s trial, right? Like, so sorry, but the 80’s sleepover goosbumps aesthetic doesn’t exactly scream Agatha Harkness to me. You know who it does scream? Billy Maximoff, a boy born in his mother’s 80’s sitcom creation. Even the decorations on the walls of the cabin say “Westview” and “Eastview.” Agatha sure as hell doesn’t give a damn about Westview. This isn’t the trial adapting for her, it’s adapting for the newest member of the coven. Teen finally got his bonafides as a coven member once he exchanged brooms with Alice. (Put a pin in what Agatha said about the brooms representing selflessness).

Then when solving the trial there is major structural changes. In the first trial the key to the solution was tied to Jenn’s fall from grace. The trial is essentially calling her out for her terrible morals in business because she feels powerless since being bound. She feels like nothing she does matters anymore, so who gives a damn if there’s petroleum in the Goop. Then in Alice’s trial the entire solution was embracing her mother’s love and sacrifice, something she’s been rejecting out of fear and anger. In this trial, there is no solution for Agatha. She can’t go back and change the past, she can’t reason with her mother, she can’t fight back. Agatha has no recourse with a woman who believes she was born evil. Agatha is powerless; she’s a puppet in this game. You know who does have power in the episode titled “Darkest Hour/Wake Thy Power”? TEEN!

Furthermore, I don’t think this trial is over. We know that when Agatha has siphoned power it becomes purple, she even says to Rio “Let me get my purple back.” But we see when she leaves the treehouse, Alice’s power is still orange. This indicates to me that the power isn’t actually Agatha’s, this is all still part of the trial.

Obviously part of the episode is about Agatha confronting her past, because that’s what the whole show has been about. But even more specifically this episode was about Teen/Billy finding his power. Back to that pin about the brooms symbolizing selflessness now. Teen confronts Agatha outside asking her if this is all witchcraft is. The hunt for power and the selfish pursuit of desire at the cost of everyone else. Sure, that could be about Agatha, but you know who it fits better? Wanda. Even without malicious intentions, Wanda did enslave an entire town in a torturous mind prison so she wouldn’t have to confront the reality that Vision was dead. Even after realizing this, she’s tempted to keep Westview this way so she can keep her perfect life. In MoM she is willing to destroy anyone in the hunt for her children. She let’s her rage guide her to cruelty and destruction. Wanda is meant to be the hero, but she knowingly traps Agatha into a mind prison with no escape for over three years. When Agatha goads Teen into finally revealing his true identity we see he gives in to his mother’s own worst instincts. He controls those around him when he feels like he can’t control his own life. He is calmly cruel to enemies and allies alike. I think the end of his trial will be rising above Wanda’s worst impulses and becoming better and more selfless than his mother.

Keep in mind, the trial was ouija. It is all about communing with the dead. And who’s murder trial did we begin the season trying to solve? Not Evanora, Death, or Nicholas’, but Wanda’s.

TLDR: No way in hell Agatha’s trial involves Lycra and ankle warmers, something is afoot here.

[mortalfaerie]

hi here's a little series on what i think the gravity falls kids grew up to do since they're 25 now

Pacifica "Paz" Northwest

after weirdmagedden, she became increasingly disenchanted with her parent's and their worldview, which led her to start questioning the structures around her

though they sold the mansion, her parents had a lot of money in real estate and they live in a condo building they own in town

she took a job at greasy's diner initially as an act of rebellion but stuck around throughout high school because it gave her a refreshing taste of the real world

she got really into politics, also initially as an act of rebellion, but did eventually become a really staunch take-no-shit feminist and went to protests in portland

she reconnected with the twins one summer during their teen years once she had "been cured of her rich girl mentality" (-mabel) and she and mabel became pretty close. things remained a little awkward with dipper when they were teens, but they relaxed once he realized she did actually care about mabel and wasn't going to hurt her

she's actually very analytical and level headed, which makes her a good foil to dipper - who continues seeking out mysteries to solve in gravity falls

she continued competitive golf and even won some local and regional titles in the women's junior division, which gets her an offer to go play golf at UCLA (conveniently, also where dipper goes)

she got access to her trust fund when she turned eighteen, and relies a lot less on her parents after that. she continues to try to have a relationship with them but it very aware of the toll they take on her, leading her to go low-contact with them in university.

she joins a sorority (i think kkg, she feels like a kappa) and probably ends up as treasurer or some other leadership position

she majors in political science, makes the dean's list, and gets an honors degree. she considers becoming a lawyer, but decides she's more interested in public policy & decides to go into policy analysis & international relations

she and dipper have a prolonged will-they-won't-they throughout college, finally getting together in the summer before their senior year. this borrowed from rockslide on ao3 but hilariously, she doesn't realize he's trans until she sees his too surgery scars for the first time because 1) she only ever knew him as a guy and 2) she only saw him in the summers growing up.

her parents disapprove of their relationship and generally the pines family, which is the straw that breaks the camel's back for her to go fully no contact. after that point, she's embraced by the pines family as one of their own.

she graduates magnum cum laude and dipper is her biggest supporter. he gets an offer to do his doctorate in archeology at king's college london, which ends up working perfectly because she gets a job at the us embassy in london.

they move to england together and rent a flat in a new building because even though the historic ones are beautiful, she can't deal with more ghosts.

i think by this point they've been there for two and a half years and they've gotten a cat (named tyrone, or ty for short) and dipper's just made the transition from phd student to phd candidate and started his dissertation.

[weirdkpopgirl]

Simple Pleasures | Jeno Imagine #13

Title: Simple Pleasures

Genre: Fluff...lots of it lol

Warning: mildly suggestive towards the end

Word Count: 835

Author's Note: Again, I apologize for how long it's taken me to update on here. College has been keeping me pretty busy this month (and I will continue to, I'm afraid). But I managed to write this little scenario over the past few days. I also have a new Haechan fic that I plan on posting in the near future. So please look forward to that! Thank you for reading ^ ^

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Quiet evenings have always been your favorite. As the sun dipped below the horizon and the moon rose to take its place, the day’s dishes were neatly stacked in the dishwasher, ready for their nightly cycle. Freshly folded laundry was tucked away in the dresser and closets, organized for the week ahead. After a soothing shower washed away the weariness of the day, you let your hair air-dry. Now, two hours later, it’s finally dry as you lean back in the swivel chair at your desk. 

You didn’t need to touch the long hair cascading over your shoulders to know how silky smooth it was. Freshly washed hair was one of those simple pleasures you’d grown to appreciate as you matured into a young adult. And as it turned out, your husband Jeno seemed to love it even more.

The soft creak of the door caught your attention, and you turned your head to see him quietly step inside. Even though he’d just come home from work, the sight of his oversized hoodie with a print of a white cat and black sweatpants told you he had already freshened up at the company. According to him, it saved more time for you. Not that you complained otherwise.

With just a foot in the room, his eyes were immediately drawn to your hair. A familiar warmth spreads through your chest, though he’s done every time, without fail. Jeno was always affectionate— he’d find any excuse to hold you, kiss you, or simply be close. But there was something about your freshly washed hair that made him borderline obsessed.

“Hey babe,” His deep voice was soft, laced with that playful tone he often used when he was about to be extra clingy. 

Though the compliment made your cheeks flush with warmth, it didn’t stop you from getting up and walking over with open arms. “Hey Honey,” you said back.

As soon as he was within reach, your arms naturally slipped around his waist. His strong arms wrapped around you in return, pulling you into his chest. Your shoulders relaxed as you melted into his embrace, feeling his nose gently nuzzle against the top of your head. One sniff was all it took to bring a smile to his face.

“You smell amazing,” he mumbled, his voice muffled as he buried his face deeper into your hair.

His voice was muffled as he buried his face deeper into your hair, making you giggle. “Thanks, you always say that.”

It still surprised you sometimes, remembering how Jeno didn’t like the scent of red ginseng before you got married. But after moving in together, it grew on him quickly. He’d often say he liked the fragrance far more than the taste of the Korean root.

“Only because it’s true,” he said with a confident grin.

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you pulled back just enough to meet his gleeful gaze. A shiver ran down your spine as his fingers gently threaded through your hair, brushing against the nape of your neck.

Trying not to let his touch be too distracting, you hummed. “Well if you love the scent so much, maybe you can join me in the shower next time.”

The tone in your voice was innocent, which perhaps made the playful glint in Jeno’s eyes spark even more mischievous. His lips curled into a knowing smile.

“Oh?” his voice dropped, sending your heart racing. “You want me to shower with you, babe?”

Your face turned a deeper shade of red as you realized how your suggestion sounded to him. “T-that’s not what I meant!” you stammered, stepping back in an attempt to escape his arms.

But Jeno held you firmly in place, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction a little too much. 

“Mm-hmm, sure. But now that you’ve mentioned it, I’m not exactly against the idea,” he teased, though you caught a hint of sincerity in his words.

The you from those first few months of marriage would have shied away in this moment. Honestly, you could say the same about Jeno and he’d agree. But two years of marriage had made you two a little more bolder.

Glancing up at him, you leaned in a little closer so that your noses brushed against one another. “Maybe…I don’t hate it either.”

The way your voice lowered in a soft murmur, made Jeno’s heart pound even louder than yours. His eyes darkened slightly and he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your lips. 

“Well then,” he whispered against your mouth, “I’ll hold you to that next time, babe.”

The feeling of his lips left this lingering heat, a silent promise of the many kisses yet to come that night, and forever really. As your lips met again, you couldn’t help but smile while his fingers tangled in your hair even more, making your heart feel light and full.

Among all of your simple pleasures, freshly washed hair held a close second, but Lee Jeno was undeniably your favorite.

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previous masterlist -> current masterlist

[tojisun]

heaven to him

dilf!jake sully x na’vi fem reader

!! fluff and smut - minors dni; kind of accidental voyeur; slight exhibition kink (it’s jake’s teehee); so much pet names (sucker for them); banters <33; jake and his insatiable desire is its own warning // 1.7k words

: so it came to me in a vision; started fluff and ended in smut idk why (im a liar - i do know why and its bc of jake!!!); i dont mention any dilf!jake aspects but the whole fic screams dilf!jake and i need yall to see my vision; hope you guys would like this <33; title from off to the races - lana

your ears twitch, having only managed to catch the tail end of the sound. you frown, your head rising from where it’s pressed on jake’s chest, thinking that by doing so, you could hear better.

jake rouses from his near-sleep, blinking exhausted eyes open to watch as your ears flick up, straining to hear the unusual sound.

“ma’yawntu?” he asks, rubbing your shoulder in comfort at seeing how tense you’ve gotten. 

you fumble with your hand to press it on jake’s lips, non-verbally telling him to quiet down. he blinks, confused, and his brows furrow when he notices your tail begin swishing behind you in agitation.

a squeak resonates again, this time louder and clearer. you jolt, your hand leaving his face to clutch at the straps of his dagger’s sheath, not expecting the drawled out sound it made or how it pitched higher at the end. you turn to jake, wondering if he heard it too.

jake coughs because he did. oh, fuck, he did.

his cheeks tingle, his eyes ducking away to look anywhere but you. you narrow your eyes at him in suspicion, realizing that jake knows what it must be that’s making that sound, but he is refusing to help you out.

you think he is playing with you; that he is making a game out of this to hone your skills in stealth and hunting. so you grin to yourself, slinking out of his hold and ignoring his protests to creep closer to the entrance of the clearing.

“sweetheart, no-” but jake is interrupted by another drawn out squeal. 

this time, you recognize the sound and you gasp, turning to jake, your eyes blown wide in surprise. your cheeks burn, the heat rushing down to your neck, and you rush back to jake’s side, hitting his shoulders with the underside of your fist to tamp down your embarrassment.

jake gathers you in his arms, muffling his laughter on the top of your head as you bury your face on his chest to hide your burning cheeks. 

“aww, yawne,” he murmurs. “you feelin’ shy?”

you peek up from his arms, humming softly. jake smiles, brushing your braids away from your face and tucking the stray strands behind your ears. you huff, feeling yourself settle as you enjoy his warm embrace. 

you part your lips to suggest to your mate that you two should leave soon, if not to save yourself from the immense embarrassment, then to finally crash before the hunt tomorrow, but jake purses his lips before saying, “wanna fuck too?”

you whip your head to look at him, a hiss trickling from your lips as you swat at his stomach in surprise. it only made his endeared chuckles rumble louder so you pinch his skin instead, giggling to yourself when his smile vanished quickly, a wince creasing his face.

“you will shut up,” you say, playfully glaring at him but jake just shakes his head at you softly, patting his stinging skin while you attempt to crawl away from him.

you watch the way he parts his lips to respond to you but another drawn out moan echoes past the clearing, followed by distinct rhythmic slaps, and you choke on the air you breathe, curling to yourself in embarrassment. jake’s hand finds purchase on your waist, gripping, his own breath hitching.

“jesus,” he murmurs, his eyes blown wide. “they’re really going at it, huh?”

“ma’jake, stop commenting!” 

jake opens his lips, a retort ready, but he is cut off once again by a wet sob. this time, his face does end up scrunching as he throws his hands up in resignation. “i swear to god, why’s it every time i’m tryna talk huh?”

you sit up, giggling, unable to hold it in anymore. you slap your hand over your mouth to muffle your sounds but hiccuped gasps of your laughter slips past your fingers, making jake smile so wide.

goddamn, baby, jake thinks as he watches you, his eyes full of reverence. how can i be so lucky to have you, ma’muntxate?

he follows the trail of your tanhi, watching the way they trickle down your supple skin and glitter like stars. he studies the way your eyes crinkle, your full lips quirked up in the most beautiful smile as you turn to him. 

jake reaches out for you, opening his arms again because he wants you in them, and you readily dive into them, nuzzling your face on his chest. 

his rumbling chuckle reverberates in the space between you two, the exhaustion of today’s date night and the ongoing embarrassment settling into both of your bones, pulling you two into a lazy embrace. you cuddle up to him and jake easily slots your body to his – two parts of a whole.

you watch the slow trembles running across his body, his skin sensitive to your breath. you giggle to yourself again, peering up at him and biting your giddy smile when jake tips his head down to meet your eyes. 

“what’s got you so happy, yawntu?” he asks.

you do not reply to him, instead choosing to quietly shuffle closer to him to press your lips onto his collarbone. you hear his sharp intake of air, his hold on you tightening, and you feel elated at seeing what you do to him. 

you pull away and look up at him, cheekily grinning, and jake just tuts before he plants a kiss on your forehead. 

“naughty girl,” he murmurs, his voice muffled by your head, and the awkward sound he made makes you laugh again. 

you bask in the silence, your eyes feeling heavy and your body calling for sleep, before jake ruins it again. “how’re you so giggly after hearin’ people fuck?”

you groan, pinching his side again and rolling your eyes at his answering hiss. 

“just pretend that we don’t hear them,” you reply, trying to find the spot you were just in, accepting the fact that you and jake might have to stay the night out here. 

“really hard to do when all my sensitive ears could hear is them fuckin’, sweetheart,” jake grumbles, one of his hands travelling down to your waist. 

“ma’jake, please. any more comments from you and i’m going to start thinking that you want to mate out here too.”

jake doesn’t reply. 

his silence rings loud and you crane your head up to look at him, gaping, feeling the telltale signs of heat spreading across your cheeks. 

he groans, embarrassed, as he hides his face away from you. “forget about it,” he murmurs, his voice sounding so weak to your ears. 

you stare at him, watching his cheeks darken. his ears are pressed flat to his skull and his tail, you belatedly realized, is loosely looped around your leg, twitching lightly in reflection of his tumultuous emotions. 

you bite your bottom lip, thinking, your own ears flicking in interest. 

jake still refuses to meet your eyes so you take the chance to study your surroundings. it is still ways away from the busy clearing and the hometree, and it is safe, hidden underneath the plush leaves of the trees. 

okay, you think, now feeling the thrums of excitement coursing through you.

“just fingers.” your voice wobbles and it is now your turn to look away when jake whips his head to look at you. 

“yeah,” you hear him say, his voice dipping into a near rumble. “just fingers.”

————

you hiccup, sobbing as jake sinks his cock in your cunt again. jake is quick to push his lips back over yours, engulfing your moans before they could break the tranquil silence. 

“shh, yawntu,” jake murmurs, his hips unrelenting as they pound into you. “not too loud.”

you claw at his back, trembling at the overwhelming pleasure racing through you. your eyes roll back to your head at a particularly angled thrust, your walls spasming as they tighten around jake’s cock. 

“jesus,” jake hisses, pressing his head against yours, ragged breaths slipping past his gritted teeth. “fucked you so many times already but y’r still so fuckin’ tight.”

“ma’jake! too mu-!” you cry, holding onto him, squirming when he grinds his cock against the same spot that had you squealing.

“i know, sweetheart, i know.” jake kisses your neck, parting his lips to lick a stripe along your throat. “y’take me so, so well.”

your hands fall to hold onto his arms, your head tipping back for a silent moan, as your legs tremble at the increasing pleasure. jake follows, covering you with his bigger body, his hands mapping your sides until they fall to your pelvis, his thumb dimpling your skin. 

jake nuzzles his face on the side of your cheeks, his eyes closed in the throes of pleasure. it is too warm now and everything is bathed in the luminous trees, but you are too lost in the euphoric ecstasy that is building within you.

“ma’jake,” you whimper, your voice wobbling at another hard thrust. “‘m close.”

“yeah?” jake begins, blinking his eyes open to gaze at you. he smiles at what he sees, his fangs peeking through. “cum with me?”

you nod, unable to mumble anything any more, feeling like your words are perpetually stuck behind your teeth amidst the pleasure. 

jake’s hips don’t stutter, thrusting wildly as he grips your hips tightly, hissing apologies for the marks that they would certainly leave. you mewl, your raspy moans filling up the space between you and jake, scratching at his arms as your orgasm builds. 

“i can feel y’r cunt spasmin’,” jake murmurs, a chuckle piercing through your hiccuped moans. “you must really love me, huh?”

jake just laughs again when you just glare up at him, your tear-stained lashes clumped together. he coos at you, rubbing his nose with yours. 

“y’r so precious, y’know that, baby?”

“ma’jake, please,” you whine, arching your back with a gasp when jake grinds his cock deep again.

“fuck, yeah, okay baby, i’ve got you,” jake says, pushing your braids away from your damp face. then, he grins, something so beautiful and utterly dangerous. “but we’re just not done yet, yawne.”

[reasaph]

"I don't believe in God, but I believe that your my savior.

Soshiro Hoshina x Suicidal Fem reader!

Summary: (name) a person who has no beliefs, no reason and no will to live gets hospitalized after another attempt. There, she meets Soshiro Hoshina and looked forward to waking another morning ever since.

Authors note: THIS FEELS SO RUSHED AHHH. I don't like how reader likes him at first meeting :((, I'll try to do better next chapter.

TW: Suicide, self-destructive behavior, cussing, reader gets attracted a lil to fast, Injury, mention of drugging, the angst lessens at the end.

The title is from the song "Sailor song" by Gigi Perez!

Part 1

You oh so desperately wanna fuck with death. You wonder if The reaper is gentle when leading you to its chambers. The thought crosses the cocoon of your brain every time you gamble with your life on edge.

Every time a noose is slipped past the crown of your head and on the way to envelope your neck in the most lovingly way its ever been craddled. Every time you swallow those intoxicating pills which you found and deemed adorable because of its miniature size, theyre so small, perfect for the way they kill you off slowly (atleast was supposed to).

In every attempt, you wonder, will death be as beautiful as you imagined?

This time is no different.

The breeze felt nice, it was cool against your skin. The sun was shining brightly, much to your predicament. Its as if it was mocking you, screaming at your presence 'the day will not mourn you, go ahead and jump but not a soul will bat an eye or shed a tear'. Your feet carey you to the very edge, step by step. As odd as it may be, you dont wanna die on such a lovely day. It opposes the idea of your ideal and perfect suicide. You want the skies to feel as you feel. You want the clouds to heave and the horizon to dim. Your plan seems to be soiled by the tilt of earths axis just for today.

"I'll try tomorrow."

All of a sudden, the realization of how close you actually were to the edge hit you like a truck. It made you wobble and lose balance. Again, the world had other plans for you. It always does, never in your years of living has life been cooperative and actually side with you for fucking once. You learned to not care anymore, Embracing the wind as you fall, enjoying the nice breeze before your head cracks. It was warm when you hit the ground and it was oddly comforting. You could feel your eyes already dropping so you let them. You let your consciousness get taken away, you have no reason to fight anymore. You let yourself get lost, not bothering the sirens echoing in the background.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You thought there was no next day for you. You were wrong, utterly wrong. You wake up in a hospital room. It was blindingly white, and the light on the ceiling only added to it. You had a hard time adjusting to the flashing hue's of the room. You could here the rhythmic beating of the machine beside you, lines drewn on the screen. It means your heart is still beating, it means your still alive. You could only sigh at that. A few couple minutes passes before a doctor came in, accompanied by a nurse. They checked your vitals and gave you fresh doses of whatever medicine. You dont care what they put inside your body, you'd just prefer if it was an some kind of sedative that could kill you.

"Every thing seems fine, no bad reactions and readings. Although for a few broken bones. Your lucky your fall was short, another floor high and your Skull wouldve cracked." he informs you. He doesn't even try to cover the grimace soaking his voice. Hes disgusted by you, Of course he is. You wish you could unsee the final glance he gave you as he exited the room, the nurse following in suit.

As soon as the door slides, It was only you again. Your thought's look back to replay he said, Lucky? You dont deem life precious enough to think that surviving is lucky. The next few hours were agonizingly painful. Like any other day, you just sat down on a matress and stared at the pristine marble on the floor or the peeling paint of the walls. It was only a Matter of time before you bang Your head repeatedly as a form of entertainment. You couldn't take it anymore, your mouth felt as dry as a dessert and your legs are aching to move.

You put on your slippers and the next minute you find yourself roaming the Labrynth of these hospital walls. You force yourself to walk even if your legs still hurt, in result you just limp. You were pretty sure you looked like a corpse in others eyes right now, dragging your feet and breathing as if you were just being forced to, not to mention the hospital gown your wearing. If you dont find a vending machine in the next counting Seconds, you were sure your gonna trip. A few more given minutes adventuring through hallways and dragging the weight of your body with your damaged leg and your perseverance was graced with the finding of the cafeteria.

There was tons of food to fill a plate with, but you only came here for a drink. Besides, you dont like the feeling of being full. It was always uncomfortable to you every time your stomach filled to the brim, you always vomit a lil after a full meal. You make your way to the lined up vending machines, entertained by the numerous colorful hues on the labels of the drinks. There are a variety to choose from; coffee probably for stressed out doctors, flavoured juice probably for children and lots more to choose from. You look at the prices and grimace, a bottle of water here costs twice more than a bottle of water outside. You could guess the reason why, yet still find it unbelievable. Companies are shit.

Patting the depths of your pockets to grab your wallet. Your eyes widen when you don't feel its shape bulging through the fabric. You shoved your hand in the pit and grieve the fact that no solid matter was occupying its space. You honestly felt like sobbing. You dragged yourself all the way here and it'll result to nothing. Theres no one to blame but yourself, really. You were always told that you never used your brain for common sense, if someone could see you right now, they'd laugh at your idiocity for sure. And no, you didn't feel the presence approaching you from behind.

"Uh can i use it now—?"

You've never whipped your head so fast that you swear you heard something crack. But you dont care about that, the only thing that you poured all your utmost attention is the man in front of you, staring directly at his face and him reciprocating. The first thing you took notice of is his hair, a mesmerizing blob of purple. You never thought once in life you'd find a bowl cut plesantly aesthetic to look at.

"Mam, ya ok? Yer staring at me like ya'v seen a ghost." He has a dialect, ok, thats added to the list.

"No, uh. I forgot my wallet, my bad. I'll be on my way now." You said you were going yet you havent moved a muscle. You still havent moved away from blocking the vending machine and you curse yourself for it. You could only blame it on your leg, but theres something else holding you back. He'll probably shove you away, wont he? You hope he would, so you'd snap out of your weird episode and get going.

"Ya look like you've been dragged here. Move, I'll treat you."

That was unexpected. You never thought those were the bunch of words that would come out of his mouth. He's smilling to, revealing the fang thats been covered. Does he actually mean it? No, thats not the question you need to ask. Does he have as much interest in you as you have with him? Or is he just this friendly by nature?

"Really? Thank you very much.. Sir?"

"Hoshina, Soshiro Hoshina. And ya dont need to call me sir. "His laugh made you stagger, it was melodic. A tune rivalling the most beautiful songbirds. You drag yourself to a bench and sit down as he drops coins down the slot. You look at him the entire time, drinking every detail about him you can possibly take in. The fact that he has bandages all over his figuer A the hospital gown, the scarlet of his pupils that reveals itself everytime he opens his eyelids, the way his hands were bruised and calloused with seemingly really old scars. All of it, you wanted to learn as much as you can.

" here, hope ya like coffee." He has that huge smile on his face again, maybe thats what intrigued you so much. How he smiles like he's never been unfortunate since his day of birth. It pissed you off but also made you extremely envious.

"Thanks, I'll make it up to you next time." You dont know what you meant by that. What next time were you talking about? No way, you actually want to see him again. No way, because never have you ever looked forward to anything despite your last breath. So why were you making excuses just to spend eVen a second more in his presence?

"Next time, huh? Sounds great, although You dont really hafta."

"I want to. Breakfast tomorrow at 8?"

"Oho, really straightforward aint ya, lil miss?"

"(Name)"

You wonder if you've said anything wrong because of the evident look of confusion on his face. Immediately, you try to redeem yourself.

"I've never mentioned my name. "

That worked, you thought, because Of the way he let out an Exgerrated 'ohh' as if the clogs in his brain started functioning again.

"Then, nice to meet ya, (name)!"

And then one thing lead to another. The conversation between you two kept going on, from one topic to another. The topics ranging from 'dont you think the cafeteria nuggets are fire?' to talks about the theories of shows you two happen to both watch. No personal questions were asked yet between the two of you. But you oh so badly want to ask the reaskn hes hospitalized right now and covered in bandages. Of course you dont utter a word about it, not wanting burst the bubble that created a comfortable atmosphere between the two of you. Here, On the bench with him. Its the most joyous you've been in months. If you could be greedy, you'd just stay here with him. But thats not gonna happen, no way life had given him to you for a good reason. But for now, you'll bask in every moment you spend with him.

You'll have a reason to wake up next morning.

[waldau-archived]

it's just us — boo seungkwan | 1,672 words | fluff, hurt/comfort

uri boo :) title comes from his lovely cover of as it was by harry styles. sometimes you need to realize that there are people who actually want to listen to what you want to say, as i learned the hard way. also, seungkwan 💞

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

seungkwan's hands are almost trembling when he slots the key into the lock of his door. they are trembling, but he doesn't want to let himself believe it. because if he does, he's going to have to acknowledge the fact that he can't get through tonight without seeing you in some way or the other. he doesn't want you worrying over him because he always wants to be taking care of you, not the other way round.

with a deep inhale, he opens the door of his house and prepares to spend another lonely night by himself. maybe you'll be free just long enough to talk to him on video call for a while. that has to suffice till you get back.

seungkwan doesn't expect to see the lights on, or smell something delicious on the stove.

he doesn't even have the time to worry about an intruder in his house because you walk out into the living room from his bedroom, towelling your hair dry. you're supposed to be in paris, for work. you're not supposed to be here, in his place, looking like everything he needs right now.

"hey, kwannie," you say, dropping the towel on the back of a chair and making your way to him. "i know this is sudden, but we wrapped up the conference earlier than expected. i thought i'd come here and stay the night. i hoped you wouldn't mind."

of course it's okay. it's more than okay. but seungkwan can't believe you chose to come to his place after what must have been a tiring week. he doesn't trust himself to speak, but you're still speaking.

"...something for you, i hope you like...kwannie? you okay?"

you're there when he takes shaky steps forward, unsure of what to do with himself. he wants to hug you, kiss your face a million times till you push him away with a laugh, wrap you in his arms and just exist with you, breathing in and out.

instead all he does is kick off his shoes and collapse on the couch. he doesn't want to talk about it. can't, not when you've come back to him after a week away. surely you don't want to listen to why his day was bad. you've even made dinner, for crying out loud.

"kwannie?"

"i'm fine," he says. he thinks you know how untrue it is.

"anything i can do for you?"

"no." he wants to be held by you, but he's scared the facade he's put up is going to come crashing down the moment he's in your arms.

"you sure? are you hungry? do you want me to pick your favourite movie with dinner? run you a bath?"

"i said no."

"but—"

"please, can you not?" he snaps. he doesn't mean to. he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, given that they do little to dispel the burden in his chest. and now he's ended up hurting you, too.

you say nothing, simply walking away to the kitchen. fuck, seungkwan thinks. he shouldn't have said a word. he's wanted you all day long, and he's so lucky you're here, but the first thing he's done is snap at you?

he sinks sideways to hide from you, and before he knows it, there's tears streaming down his face. he's been holding them in for long enough that they don't stop even when you come out of the kitchen, sitting next to him and resting a hand on his thigh.

"kwan," you say softly. "come here?"

seungkwan lets himself be pulled into your embrace, his head resting on your chest while your arms pull him closer. he wants to sink into you forever.

"is this okay?" you ask, pushing his hair from his face. he can finally see you clearly. you don't look upset, or annoyed, or anything he feared you'd be.

"yeah."

one of your hands comes up to wipe the tears from his face. "bad day?"

he nods. "i'm sorry i—"

"shh. i know. want to talk about it?"

"not now."

"that's okay. do you want to hear about my day instead?"

that's what seungkwan loves about you — you always manage to find a solution. whether it's working out what to do when the lights go out, or when you run out of something you should have bought from the supermarket last week, you're level-headed, and he really needs that right now.

he settles himself more comfortably in your embrace, blinking out the rest of his tears while your fingers catch them and wipe them off, your hands still around him.

he listens to you talk about the weather in paris, your weird colleague who wouldn't stop singing during the board meeting, the food you had — it's all mundane stuff, but it helps to ground him. you're here for the night, and you're not going anywhere.

"i missed you every single day there," you sigh, your chin resting on his head. he can feel the slight drip of water from your hair, but he doesn't mind. "every time i took a picture i thought of you."

"really?" he asks, rhetorically.

"yeah. maybe we should go to paris the next time you're free. there's so many things i think you'd like. also, i got you some croissants, but they're probably rock solid by now," you say with a grimace. "maybe the oven can help."

"maybe."

there's silence for a while before you murmur his name in a questioning tone. seungkwan buries himself just a bit more into you, not wanting to have the conversation he knows is inevitable.

"i'm not...asking you to tell me what happened, but i want you to know you can, okay? you're always there to listen to me and it's kind of unfair if i can't be the same person for you."

seungkwan breaks a bit at that. you're not pushy; you just want him to be fine. he's anything but a hypocrite. he thinks of all the times he opens his arms to you, wanting to listen to everything that's bothering you till you feel better. so he shouldn't shy away from being like that with you, right?

"do you really want to hear me talk about...stuff?"

"yes." to emphasize your point, you push your leg under his and curl it towards yourself, effectively trapping him in place on top you. "i'll not let you go."

he feels a giggle come up. "then don't."

and you don't. you reach for the throw near the armrest of the sofa and drape it over the two of you. it's like time stops for seungkwan — all he's aware of is you underneath him, your breath even. he tries to match your breathing.

"have you been sleeping well?"

seungkwan could lie, say that he has, but he thinks you know the answer. "no," he says, refusing to look at you. "missed you."

you sigh, running your hand through his hair. "kwannie, you have to. you know i can't always be with you, right?"

"then move in with me," he says, before he can fully think about it. "i'm sorry, i didn't think—"

"i'd love to," you say, pressing a kiss to his head. "but i want you to say it with a clear mind, okay? i don't want this to feel like you're forced."

"i'm not...i want you to move in. but not right now."

"ask me again later?"

it's not the first time seungkwan marvels at how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. you're his, and while he's gotten used to the permanency of you in his life, topics like moving in and getting married are still there on the far horizon. he hadn't given them much thought until now, but he can see them happening with you.

he finds his words. "i will. it's just...i'm tired. i'm out there all the time, you know? always working. sometimes i feel like i work too hard to get people to really see me."

"you wish you didn't have such an active role sometimes?"

"yeah. i just want to take a break, but i can't. sometimes i feel nothing i ever do will be enough."

you don't say anything, simply rubbing his back. he feels better already, letting it out, because he knows what he's saying isn't really true — it's just that one part of him that keeps popping up from time to time.

"you know it's not true, right?" you ask when he shifts. "you've done so much you should be proud of yourself for. hell, i'm so proud of you every single day. and the fact that you're my boyfriend is possibly one of the best things that's ever happened to me. you've made me realize there's so many things i can improve about myself, and i can't thank you enough for that, kwannie. if your day's been bad you should know i'm always here for you, even if it's through a phone. i love you. always."

seungkwan nods. i love you, he means to say. thank you for everything. he presses a kiss to your neck, and then another, revelling in the warmth of your skin. you understand his silent words, like he hoped, pulling him closer. you rest like that till your stomach grumbles, which is when you push him away embarrassedly and sit up.

"let me plate dinner," seungkwan says, glad to find his voice is steady. he gets up, but you catch his hand before he leaves.

"i know you have work tomorrow, but when you're done, do you want to come to my place so we can spend the weekend together? we don't have to do anything. just...live. for two days. forget everything outside. maybe actually talk about moving in together."

he feels a smile come up. "i'd...really like that."

he knows it doesn't get easy in just a blink of an eye, but the weight on his shoulders is always less when he's with you.

[saerotonins]

tied red strings of fate

ft. gojo satoru x gn!reader

request: omg .. tadhana by udd + satoru please ? 

content warnings: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, jjk manga spoilers [ch 236], canon divergent, implied that reader knows about curses but is not a sorcerer, lowkey a character analysis but yeah, happy ending

wc: 1283

note: when i saw this request i was so happy because tadhana* is literally one of my fave opm classics! also, im sorry nonnie if this was long overdue, figured i'd give him some fluff at his death "anniversary" heh (albeit a little late). i miss our glorious king sm :(( happy holidays 🎀

song: tadhana-up dharma down

*tadhana=destiny

gojo satoru is a force to be reckoned with. his name rings a bell and brings shivers to the spine of any potential enemies he has. 

he's gojo satoru, the strongest of all, the holy grail of jujutsu sorcery. he's gojo satoru, whose power literally repels and divides everyone else and him.

but to you, he's a lover, a man of his own, an independent being who is capable of emotions. he's satoru. the love of your life.

so when he decided to call it quits, to say you were devastated is an understatement. you were left broken, calling out his name at night hoping he would appear in front of you just one, for closure. him closing the chapter of your book got you weeping and yearning for more of him. 

because even though he's your lover, even you have a hard time of catching a glimpse of who he really is. satoru is an open book, but he's hard to understand. you did all your best to ease him and make him open up, show more of himself to you, bare his truth, the good, the bad, and the ugly, all of them you're willing to accept.

alas, the universe has other plans, the challenge ended even before it began, he is most definitely an enigma, someone that you will probably never get to solve. satoru's backed turned against you was a sight you are never going to forget. you spent months moving on and try to live a life where he isn't yours. it's hard but you try to manage anyway.

so when a knock on your door was heard by the 31st of december, you didn't expect gojo satoru in his full glory standing before you. as shocked as you are, you see his eyes had sunken. he's beyond exhausted but when he sees you, his eyes lighten up and you feel the warmth of his arms and your feet off the floor. you miss this, you miss him, it was all so familiar and something you very much miss. every fiber of your being remembered the way he touched you, triggered by the way his hands gripped onto your waist for dear life. as confused as you are, you reciprocated his gesture, opting to rest your hand on his shoulder blades.

"satoru?" you managed to voice our before you feel him put you down but his embrace remain. he then rests his head on the crook of your neck, then you hear him sniffle. suddenly you feel something drop onto your skin. his tears slowly roll from his face to your neck and shoulders.

satoru's lips wobbles as he tries to contain himself but to know avail, he lets his cries out, deciding to bare himself to you and be vulnerable. he was so so so tired of fighting. as great as the title 'the strongest' sounds, it gets too lonely even for him. being on the top is lonely. and he knows it himself.

he'd rather fall from grace than live a life where he isn't yours. he was too late to realize it. he was so stupid, too cocky, too condescending that it took him facing death before realizing that he wants to live, just for you. so when he finally defeats the evils of the jujutsu world, his first thought is you. the only one who provided light in his dark and desolate world.

as charming and bright satoru is, he is often left in the shadows in the cave but when he came to know you, he was absolutely in love and smitten. you were like a fresh breath of air to him. but when he decides that creeping into your mundane and simple life would rather be selfish of him. someone cursed like him shouldn't be able to be with someone who is blessed and down to earth like you. 

but being selfish be damned, he had faced battles, including one that almost left him biting the dust. he wants you, he needs you in his life and letting you go was definitely a mistake, something that he will never do ever again.

when his cries had calmed down, you finally get his voice again after a long time. "i'm so sorry," satoru started. "i was an idiot, i love you so much and i never stopped loving you. i was so stupid to let you go, i have never loved someone as much as i did with you." satoru knows his worth is probably lesser than any other being the moment he let you go, the only pillar who provided stability and balance in his life. he was impulsive, too proud, and too strong. but the way you held him every time you caged him into your arms is like he was fragile, someone to be protected, someone to cherish.

satoru loved that. and he was stupid to think that was worth letting go.

knowing you has made him scared of death, an entity or event that could break the two of you apart and live in separate worlds, and he couldn't bare to face it. he loves you too much to let himself go and so he fought with you in mind and thank any deity that exists, he finally won.

gojo satoru is the strongest.

so seeing him crumble right before your very eyes as his knees meet the concrete is a shock. he had bowed before you first before he had bowed to any higher up. hell, satoru bowing before anyone else would come as a shock. he held onto your ankle for support, his voice begging to take him back as he spews even more apologies that he can manage.

"please, please, i'm so sorry darling, i'll do what it takes for you to take me back. i love you so much, no other human had made me feel this way, please i'm so sorry. i miss you so much, god, i can't even remember a life before you, please." satoru had begged, begged, and begged, his voice getting louder and louder and each increased volume of his voice his hurt is more evident.

with the way his voice cracked broke your heart, and that's when you knew he meant every single letter, every syllable, every drop of tear, and every breath of his apology. 

you had completely broken the strongest. but satoru doesn't mind. even if you break him a thousand times, he'd painstakingly pick up every single piece of himself to present it to you. and that's what he's doing right now.

"i forgive you 'toru," he barely hears you say through his wails and it slowly comes to a halt. he then lost the feel of your ankles as he sees you kneel yourself to his level. your hands reached to touch his face and there you see his eyes, glassed with tears, love, and regret. satoru feels the heat of your hands on his cheeks and his instincts leaned into it. "i was hurt, but i'm never mad, i just wished you'd tell me why," his heart broke when he heard your voice crack.

"but you're hear now, right? we can fix this, we can fix us." you say as you carefully wipe the tears on his face. satoru nodded as he holds your wrists and caress his thumb on it. "yeah, we'll fix us."

"together?"

"together," satoru said in confidence. 

and with a light heart, satoru leans in to catch your lips on his, sealing his silent promise to never hurt you ever again, or he will never get to forgive himself.

he's gojo satoru.

he'll always find a way back into your arms.

another note: i'm quite unsure with the ending but this is all that i got 😔 i hope this was on par with your expectations nonnie hehe 🫶🏻

[dancingaura925]

Ming Fan did not consider himself to be a main character.

Let's be honest here, he was second in his family and overshadowed by both his older and younger siblings. He wouldn't inherit the family business, he wouldn't go and become the next influential scholar in the Capital. People could barely recognize him. It was, in short, a miracle he even got into Cang Qiong, much less Qing Jing Peak.

Which was the second peak.

He's not complaining. Ming Fan loves it much better than home, and for once, he's first in something. As the most senior of them all, he basically was in charge. He can control things now.

Except, as time goes on, he can't.

His Shizun changes completely from a qi deviation that he should've been able to prevent earlier. How, he has no idea, but surely there could've been something.

His youngest shidi outshines everyone and eventually becomes the reason for his Shizun's death before having the audacity to marry him.

All of a sudden, he sees everyone around him less and less as more paperwork is shoved to him on top of all his classes. Eventually, he basically becomes an unofficial peak lord before ascending to become the peak lord.

All because Ning Yingying didn't want to.

Was it out of pity? Was it out of boredom? Was it out of fear of what the title peak lord truly meant?

Ming Fan has officially become the very top of Qing Jing Peak. And it's lonely.

Ming Fan knew himself to be many things, but out of all things, he still considers himself a side character in his own life. He looks around at the house he inherits and spots a congratulatory bouquet before laughing. He's basically the baby's breath of bouquets.

It takes a few years to get used to being called Peak Lord instead of just Da-Shixiong. It takes a few years before he starts accepting disciples, it takes a few years before he fully embraces the role, and it's a few years before he meets Gongyi Xiao again.

The man's beautiful as always, and for some reason, Ming Fan still looks up to him as the person he ought to be. Strange how Gongyi Xiao thinks the exact same thing to Ming Fan.

They end up becoming accidental pen pals after a diplomacy meeting. One after another after another, before an entire shelf is dedicated to just Gongyi Xiao's letters.

Ming Fan, somehow, is in love. And he is torn apart when he is constantly reminded of the Little Palace Mistress always following behind Gongyi Xiao.

In any case, it takes a few years before Ming Fan finally messes up and confesses. He waits for a rejection only for arms to encircle his being and comfort his soul. Gongyi Xiao looks at him and he looks back, seeing themselves in the other's eyes.

It takes a few years before Ming Fan realizes that although he may be the baby's breath of bouquets, he is still beautiful when you look closely. All it takes is the right person and the right time. He may be second in many things, but in Gongyi Xiao's heart?

There is no other competition.

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Moonlight Chicken is For the Queers

Ok I started my rewatch of episode 8 and figured out what I want to talk about for this series' finale: intentions and resolutions. This post will be about intention, and how I truly feel that Moonlight Chicken is a gift for queer people. Why? Well, there are many reasons, but for the purposes of this post, I will simply present the following title card.

Moonlight Chicken, Chapter 8: The Self-made House and Home

(if you are expecting this post to be anything other than a jumbled mess of my personal experiences with no clear through-lines or relevant transitions between sentences, thoughts, etc. then turn back now)

Whatever we want to say boy loves started as, fetish or otherwise, queer people are still able to see themselves or get comfort and representation. But coming from watching literally 25 boy loves in the last four months, this show feels different from most (not all) of them, to me, because of how strongly this show centers around built community, rather than romance, as it's central theme.

And yeah while any standard friend group in BL could be considered community in the abstract, the idea that they are a community is never quite presented. It's Team taking food from Pharm and all three of the gang teasing each other, it's Kuea and Diao spending most of their time talking about their relationships, it's Porsche forgetting Pete exists because he's so caught up in Kinn. More often than not we are building towards and hoping for declarations of love between two characters. And do not get me wrong, that is all well and good, and always what I'm rooting for in those shows. And we get something akin to that in Moonlight Chicken too, which is when you finally have Li Ming and Jim calling Heart and Wen (respectively) their boyfriends.

But the "I love you" we get in Moonlight Chicken? That isn't between the couples, it's between Li Ming and Jim.

Because the thing that makes Moonlight Chicken different from other BLs is the emphasis it puts on queer elders raising queer youth. It's about queer youth learning from queer elders and queer elders learning from queer youth. It's about how home and birth families don't always fit quite right, and how you build families and homes despite. And it's applicable to many people, children in abusive homes, disabled people, etc. too. Which is why P'Aof adds strained parental relationships and deafness in to this piece. But because this is fundamentally a BL show, I'm viewing this more through a queer lens.

So naturally, this also means I am informing my analysis of this show through my feelings as the only (known/out/visible) queer person on either side of my family. When I was little, a decade or more before I realized I was queer, I asked my mother one night if I was adopted. I'm not, and I know that, but why did I ask? Because I never really felt like I fit. Not the way I was supposed to fit, not the way family was supposed to fit together. My house never felt like a home.

And it's why I love this exchange between Wen and Jim at the end of episode 2

"I want home," "Don't you already have one?" "I don't." "A person like me doesn't fit to be anyone's home,"

And technically we know this isn't true. Wen does have a home, he has a condo, he has a place to sleep. But emotionally is where the problem lies. Wen is living with his ex, the apartment is cold, he has work colleagues and a friend that he and his ex both know and that's it. And as he tells Jim in episode 7, all his friends are straight. And then he meets Jim, and there is a spark, and maybe it's possible for home to grow there.

Literally, physically, I have a home. I have a family. But the more I embrace my queerness, the more I understand and am comfortable with myself, the more isolating and cold that house and family feel. I'm such a different person now than I was, and there are homophobes and transphobes on both sides of my family, and that makes it hard for me to feel like I am loved. Even when logically I know I am. But it's hard, when your mother says she accepts you and has yet to use my pronouns properly despite me being out to her for over a year and having three separate conversations about it. When your uncle spends twenty minutes or more complaining about trans people, when your cousins don't think trans people should exist. That's my family...technically. That's my home...technically. But it hasn't felt like that in years. So I understand what Wen means here, Wen's definition of home is not a place it is a feeling.

And Jim? We know Jim is already everyone's home. He is home for Li Ming, he is the closest thing to a parent that Leng has in his life, he makes sure the community not only has food, but has as much as food as they could possibly eat. He is first and foremost a community caretaker. But he is so wrapped up in his grief about Beam, his self-hatred, his stubbornness, his exhaustion that he is not able to believe that about himself. Home is a place and not a feeling for Jim, because he can't allow it to be.

The key to Wen and Jim's relationship is finding and building that home.

Home, Family, Community. These are incredibly important themes to Moonlight Chicken and those themes are incredibly important aspects of being queer.

I don't know how Thailand is re: homophobia and transphobia, if kids risk the same chance of getting kicked out of their homes for being queer, etc. But that is a very real possibility for many queer people in the States. But I'm thinking of homelessness in queer youth, how 28% of queer youth have reported experiencing homelessness in their lives. I'm thinking of ballroom and ball culture and how participants in the Ballroom scene were parts of Houses with mothers and fathers at the head of them who acted as mentors to their queer children. When I think about queerness and what it means, I think about ballroom. I think about connection, I think about community.

But that community is often forged from necessity borne out of isolation. What do I mean by isolation? I mean the isolation that Li Ming feels in school, around his school friends. I mean the faces Li Ming makes when his friends are talking about girls:

I mean the physical barriers the show places between Li Ming and his school friends.

It is the isolation that comes with queerness, with poverty, with everything about Li Ming. Beyond the fact Wen is a little younger than Jim and thus better able to understand and see Li Ming's desires to be seen as an adult. I think it is this state of listlessness in Li Ming is also something Wen recognizes. I think at this point Li Ming is so desperate to get away, to go to America, to be listened to and respected by Jim.

Jim who is too caught up in constant stress to see the home he has built for himself, Li Ming who is too caught up in wanting to be understood to appreciate that he has a home to run from. Wen who is working as a go between for Li Ming and Jim because he wants them to be his home. Heart who has been trapped at home and found his freedom because Li Ming understands the frustration of misunderstanding, and the importance of community.

I'm thinking about how so much of the final episodes are dedicated to showing community, showing family, showing the audience that home lies in the collective.

We see it in how many people rush to help Mrs. Hong:

We see it in the people who help you carry your grief:

We see it in how deeply and broadly the pain is felt when community pillars are lost:

We see it in the end of and era:

We see it in the olive branches:

And in new beginnings:

Very few people in these shots are connected through blood, but they are a family. And when I look at these shots the only thing I can think about is how I felt the night I threw a party for all my trans friends. All I can think about when I see these shots of everyone sitting and eating together is how many times I would look over to my friends and see them beaming. How many times someone came up to me to excitedly say this is the first time they felt like they could fully be themselves. How everyone kept asking to do an event like this again. How everyone kept asking to be added to a group chat at the end of the night so they could keep in contact.

And I remember how it felt for me to realize that I had built a community for myself in a place that I have really been struggling to feel was home. Because I had spent so much time in school and work, barley able to scrape together enough money to cover expenses, exhausted and stressed and unable to see what I had sitting right in front of me.

And I think about other queer people I have met, who light up when they see someone else who is gay, who talk about how lonely they feel because they only have one other queer friend. How immediately the need to invite them out, to introduce them to people, to make sure they have community strikes.

I think about how I worked at a summer camp out of state, and got to try out my pronouns, and figure out who I was, and then a few months later, I had to return home. Where I wasn't out yet, where I was going to get misgendered, and how quickly I came out to all of my close friends about my gender identity to try to mitigate how much my mental health tanked when I had to be someone my parents thought I still was. How at the same camp, the queer kids flocked to all the queer staff, how desperate they were to bond. How much lighter they got to be when they were away from their parents and allowed to be themselves around people who also understood not only them as people with the identities they held, but also their struggles existing in a household that didn't see who they were.

I think about how, in the States at least, "are you family?" is/was used as code for "are you gay?"

It's why it is so important to me that Moonlight Chicken ends with the line: "I just built a home. I don't want to move anywhere."

Because Wen has finally built his home. Because he has found his family, his queer community, his home. And yeah, we get the romance, yeah we get Li Ming and Heart holding hands, and Jim and Wen making out, but the emphasis of the final episode is moving forward, being brave, allowing yourself to love, and allowing yourself to stop, look around, and realize that you've made a home for yourself that is built of the people you love who love you in return.

Community building is a huge part of life for literally everyone, but it vital to the survival of marginalized communities. And when I think about my own relationship to queerness, one of the most sacred and important aspects of being queer is building the family you need.

[rotting-butterscotch]

so uh i just rewatched community for the 3rd, and possibly the last, time, and I'm gonna rant about it, especially because it's being taken off Netflix this month.

Community is literally the #1 best fucking show on this planet (with Brooklyn 99 and The Good Place being a 2 and 3), and no one can tell me otherwise. The writing is so fucking beautiful (except the writing of the romantic entanglements within the group, but im sure the fandom knows that already), and can be so funny yet heartbreaking at the same time.

Let's take "Geothermal Escapism" for an example (which to point out how amazing the writing is, has never failed to make me cry at the end of it). The symbolism of the hot lava game, the fact that Troy had to play into the whole "clone" thing just for Abed to be able to cope with him leaving (which proves yet again how much Troy and Abed do for eachother, and yes that *is* one of the reasons I ship trobed, but let's not get off-track more than we already have lol), the group saying all their good-byes at the end, and the way those good-byes characterize them so perfectly, it's literally a masterpiece of an episode.

And the fact that the viewers as a whole were supposed to just forget all of that the next episode baffles me, like make up your mind Dan Harmon, are you gonna make the best show of all time or ruin it by shoving jeffannie down our throats at the last episode???? (sorry, went off track)

Anyways, back to the writing: it's beautiful, but can be so dumb at the same time. Like, another example: "Emotional Consequences of Broadcast Television", a.k.a. the finale, which not only kind of does a call-back to s1 Jeff and Abed (Abed being ready to let go and embrace the future, and Jeff being so against it), but omggg the symbolism towards the end, where Jeff has driven Abed and Annie to the airport, and he's hugging them good-bye, and Jeff goes in for a second hug, because yet again he's afraid of change, and you can tell Abed is confused, but he goes with it anyways, because he gets it (actually I'm making this point based off of a comment under a compilation of Jeff and Abed, but whatever).

Jeff and Abed in s6 is literally Abed and Jeff in s1, and not only then, but literally everywhere in the series, you can tell how alike they are, how their traumas and troubles are so alike, yet they dealt with it differently, one with acceptance and one with denial.

And another point about how the writing can be so dumb sometimes: how can you literally point to jeffannie being an illogical and impossible ship, and literally have both members of this ship finally realize how unhealthy it in the *same* episode as is that ship's kiss scene?!?! Like, how does that make sense.

Anyways, my conclusion to this rant is: there's no conclusion lol, I just wanted to barf out all of my thoughts on this show onto here (and these aren't even all my thoughts on this show lol), as incoherent as they are. I'll miss this show so bad😭😭.

[dearmantis]

Heart to Heart

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x sick!Reader

Summary: Your weak heart has kept you up all night once more and Aleksander is forced to face the fact that the person he loves is still mortal.

Warnings: sick and insecure (and slightly self-sacrificing) reader, conversations about death, the rest is just fluff, I think

Word Count: 1.5k

Authors note: I'm still alive. I'm sorry for taking such a long break without explaining why. I didn't really go online at all for a month because some things came up at the end of december that didn't really leave me alone until very recently. I'll try my best to not repeat this and start working my way through my missed notifications soon.

I'm not a native English speaker, and this isn't really edited at all. The title is from Heart to Heart by Mac DeMarco

When Aleksander wakes in the morning the first thing he notices, before he even fully realizes that he is awake and has to get up, is that he is alone.

Your side of the bed is cold and he curses quietly, fully aware of what this means. He can feel his heart rate shoot up, adrenaline rushing through his body as his thoughts take the worst turn. Quickly standing up he gets dressed for the day, trying his hardest to calm his mind. You're alright. Someone would've notified him if something bad had happened while he was asleep. One of his guards would've woken him up.

He knows this like the back of his hand, yet he pauses as soon as his hand wraps around the cold metal knob of the door that leads into the living room of your shared quarters. His mind is trying to prepare him for the worst. Prepare him to find your dead body curled in on itself on the sofa in front of a cold fireplace, all alone.

He has always hated this habit of yours. This obsession with keeping his day as peaceful as possible, of never bothering him with anything, has led to you refusing to tell him when something is wrong. You've been sick for almost your whole life, your heart a bit weaker than it should be, and every time you have issues with it during the night you leave your shared bed to hide away in a different room to make sure you won't disturb his sleep.

Many times has he asked you to stop, to wake him up so he can help make you more comfortable or call a heartrender to help you in case something is seriously wrong, but you just won't listen. You're trying to protect him from the pain of seeing you suffer, he understands that, but it makes no sense to him. Why are you, a mortal little otkazat'sya, so obsessed with protecting him, an ancient being who most people would argue has lost his humanity centuries ago if they truly knew him as a person?

Most... except you. You have found out about his true nature, about the darkness sleeping in his chest in the place where his soul should sit, and decided that he was worth loving. You saw and embraced all of him, the beautiful and kind, but also the cruel and ugly.

You. A small, mortal otkazat'sya with a sick heart.

The closest thing to a soulmate he thinks he will ever get.

With a last deep breath he finally opens the door and lets his eyes glide through the room, and he can feel his heart jump when he finds you carefully sipping on a cup of tea while sitting in front of a warm, burning fire, gaze focused on the snow silently falling outside.

Your head turns when you hear the door open, eyes lighting up when you see your husband.

"Oh, I'm glad to see you're awake. I sorted your folder for the meeting with the king and his advisors today. I hope I didn't mess up one of your weird sorting system though. I know you have your own way of doing things, but I thought this could-"

Your voice cuts off as soon as he reaches you on the sofa, quickly kneeling down in front of you before pressing his head against your chest. He knows your heart is beating, but he has to hear it right now. Has to hear the soft, familiar rhythm to calm his own heart and reassure him that this is all real, that he isn't dreaming.

You don't continue speaking after the surprise of his sudden movement dies down, instead mowing your hands up to run softly over his head while he listens to your heart pump blood through your body.

It still speeds up when he's close. You're glad it does.

You sit like this for a while, your fingers carefully moving to comb through his thick, ink black hair and loosening any knots that may have formed while he slept alone.

"I told you to stop disappearing." You finally hear him whisper after a few quiet minutes, arms still wrapped tightly around your middle while his head stays pressed against your chest.

"I know, Sasha... but it just wouldn't stop. I wanted to stay with you, but the pain wouldn't go away. I couldn't breathe right because of my own fear, so I kept coughing and it was so loud. I didn't want to wake you in the night before your meeting. I promise, if I felt like things were going to end last night, I would've woken you up."

You can feel the way his arms clench around you. You know how much he hates thinking about your death, how helpless and weak the simple fact that you will die makes him feel.

"Stop talking about it. It won't happen."

"Sasha, please, I know you don't want to think about losing me, but we have to make plans for-"

"No. I've created the fold, milaya. I will not let you die. I won't let it happen, even if I have to break the laws of nature once more. I will not let you leave this world without me. I refuse to lose another person. I can't be alone again, can't lose you too. I will not watch as the universe takes another person from me and leaves me alone to pick up the pieces of my broken heart. Not again. I can't do it again. You can't ask me to. You can't."

"I don't care about the king and I don't care about my rest." He hisses before finally lifting his ear from your chest, dark eyes looking up at you. "And I'm starting to hate your heart for keeping you up at night, for hurting you like this."

A soft smile finds its way onto your lips as you map out every freckle on his skin, every small wrinkle and every pore on his eternally beautiful face.

He never says it out loud but it's clear that it frustrates him more than anything that he can't fight the thing that is harming you. There is no enemy to slay, to throat to slit, no king to overthrow. He can't rip your heart out of your body and give you a painless, happy life that way. All he can do is hope that the medicine prescribed to you by the best doctors he can pay for will help and that the corporalki order will keep an eye on you.

This is entirely out of his control, and it's probably the worst feeling in the world for him.

"Hey, this heart is filled to the brim with love for you, don't be mean." You chastise playfully, grinning when you see Aleksander roll his eyes before moving to sit next to you on the couch. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you breathe in his familiar smell and let it soothe your soul. He still smells a bit like the soap the servants use to clean your bedsheets, with an underlying sweetness that comforts you like nothing else ever could. He smells like home, like belonging.

"I need you to swear that you will get me no matter what is wrong. Even if it's just a weird feeling in your chest, you need to wake me or come to me, please. That's all I ask of you, my love. All I want. I can't do my job as your husband and make you feel better if I don't know that something is wrong."

You think about it for a few seconds, mind replaying every other time you've had this conversation with him. This time is different though. He's not mad or upset, there are no tears in his eyes, he isn't even shaking. He just sounds calm, with a hint of pain in his voice, as if an old wound is giving him issues again.

Slowly you nod, arms wrapping around him as you snuggle closer to him.

"I promise I'll wake you Aleksander. I swear it. No matter what it is. I will wake you up or go find you."

Looking up at him you see the way his eyes shine at your words before he leans down and presses a soft kiss on your lips, movements careful as if he thinks you might break if he kisses you too forcefully. The only thought you have is how much you don't want to lose this. How much you want to stay with your husband.

You've accepted that you will die early years ago. Born into a simple family, you had no chance to truly survive long. You've already made it further than you should've. But being with Aleksander has made you greedy, his own ambition leading you to play with your own what-if scenarios. He convinced you to start dreaming again.

And the only dream you have is one of a world where you will never have to leave him behind, even if that means breaking the laws of nature.

Taglist: @snowkestrel

[flowerandblood]

A Winter Beauty (Epilogue)

[Aemond Targaryen x fem!Stark reader]

[warnings: smut, so much fluff]

[description: Aemond and his family arrive at Winterfell for Rickon Stark's Name Day. There, Aemond meets his daughter, who arouses his desire. I changed some names and facts for the sake of the plot. Viserys is also slightly younger in this version.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous parts: Masterlist

_____

Vaegon celebrated his name day. He just turned 13, his parents threw him a little feast on Dragon Stone. After Rhaenyra seized power and Aegon fled to Essos, the greens and blacks called a truce. The crown was hers, Aemond retained the title of prince, became the Hand, and was allowed to live on Dragon Stone with his family. His sister with her children and his mother also moved in with them.

The civil war ended virtually bloodless, and he, glad that his loved ones had survived, resigned himself to the fact, that he would never become king. He was fulfilling as a Hand. His half-sister and Daemon respected and trusted him. He performed his duties thoroughly and with dedication.

He taught his son sword fighting, but he was primarily an avid archer like his mother. Aemond accepted it, enjoying how fluently he spoke Valyrian and how perfect a dragonrider he was. He and his dragon had a strong, mutual bond. He felt proud every time he looked at him in the skies, as he flew alongside him on Vhagar.

Vaegon had his mother's sharp tongue, but he also inherited his detachment and calmness. Depending on his mood, he was more like him or Lady Stark. He and his wife both believed, that their son was the most perfect work of their lives, a walking proof of their boundless love.

One day, during one of their training sessions, while they were taking a break, Vaegon asked him a question, that knocked him off his feet.

"Why did you marry my mother, if you were betrothed to Lady Baratheon?" He asked, looking at him expectantly, wiping the sweat from his forehead. His bright purple eyes and curly black hair had young girls blushing and giggling at the sight of him.

Aemond stared at him in surprise, opening and closing his mouth, swallowing hard. He couldn't tell him, that he had kissed her the first night he met her. He didn't want to give him stupid ideas, that he could use later. He cleared his throat loudly.

"I fell in love with her." He spoke low and casually, deciding, it was the perfect evasive answer. He prepared himself for another duel. His son was not satisfied with his answer.

Vaegon saw, how his father looked at his mother, and how she looked at him. He saw them embracing, when they thought no one was watching, his father lovingly kissing her shoulders and neck as he stood behind her.

According to Vaegon, his mother was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen, and the fire between their parents made him feel secure. He knew, that they weren't like other married couples. He also wanted something similar for himself in the future.

“You fell in love with her, just because she is beautiful?” He asked, wondering aloud, if his father had meant only physical intimacy and nothing more. Aemond raised an eyebrow, unsure of what to do.

"Why so many questions all of a sudden?" He asked, trying to get out of the situation somehow.

"I want to know, what it's like. Whom am I supposed to ask, if not my own father?" He asked resentfully that, as usual, everything about his father had to be extracted by force. Aemond sighed loudly, slamming his sword into the ground, leaning against the hilt.

“I can't explain it. The first time I saw her in Winterfell, I couldn't stop thinking about her. I had a chance to watch her and listen to her talking to other people. She impressed me with her intelligence. I realized I had no similar feelings for any of Lord Baratheon's daughters." He said, exhaling softly, hoping that he had finally satisfied his curiosity.

Vaegon looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded. The explanation made sense to him. Indeed, his father had always taken his mother's opinion into account, and moreover, often yielded to her.

Only she wasn't afraid to talk to him directly and matter-of-factly, infuriating him. He knew, however, that his father could not hold his grudge against his mother for long. Even after the quarrels, that shook the palace, they slept in the same bed.

After training, he and his father went back inside, to take a bath and change into clean robes. Lady Stark was sitting at the great stone table, apparently replying to her brother's letter. After the death of their father, he was the new Lord of Winterfell.

She smiled to herself, when she saw them and stood up, walking slowly towards them. She couldn't help, but touch her son's dark curls, and he immediately took her hand away, impatient.

"How did your training go?" She asked lightly, amused.

"Father told me about how he fell in love with you." He said lightly, taking an apple from the table, that was on the platter. Lady Stark looked at her husband with raised eyebrows.

"Indeed?" She asked, trying not to laugh. Aemond rolled his eye impatiently.

"Leave me alone, both of you." He grunted, as he walked up the stairs to change.

Lady Stark joined him, as he lay comfortably in his bath. He watched silently, as she took off her robes, unfazed by her nakedness. Looking at her, he thought, about how much he would like his son to find in his life someone, like his wife was for him.

His son's question gave him food for thought. He realized, that he really didn't love his wife just for her body. He loved her for her devotion, dedication, wisdom, patience, confidence. For being able to deal with him, to calm him down, to calm his fiery anger.

His wife slid into the water, leaning her back against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. He leaned in and kissed her temple lingeringly, his manhood throbbing impatiently behind her. It amused him, how inexhaustible they both were, when it came to physical intimacy.

They stopped fucking in the halls and gardens, not wanting their son to catch them, but in bed they were insatiable. Sometimes, they both escaped from the fortress at night, and flew on Vhagar to a place nearby.

They rented a room in the inn and fucked, as if they were mere traveling servants. They loved doing it. There they could moan and tease at will, driving themselves crazy. His wife's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Have you ever regretted marrying me?" She asked quietly.

Aemond looked at her in surprise, playing with her hair. He sighed softly, looking at her with amusement.

"You know I don't. You give me too many reasons to love you endlessly." He grunted, stroking her cheek with his finger. She smiled at him.

She looked at his lips, then at him. He pulled her to him, his hand tightening on her hair, his lips greedily digging into hers. His cock was completely hard now. With his wife, it didn't take much for him, to be fully ready to possess her. He pulled away from her, smiling at her.

“My mother was right. Verily, you are a true winter beauty."

_____

Thank you all for this adventure! I love Lady Stark in this version, I had so much fun with this whole story. Thank you all for taking it so wonderfully. I invite you to read my other fanfic here: Masterlist.

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @avgdusterfan @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @random-ocity @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @snh96 @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes

Others: @dreamlandcreations @darkenchantress @moira-strangle-me-please @yentroucnagol @cloudroomblog @thehumanistsdiary @a-beaverhausen @avadakadabra93 @aonungs-tsahik @xmaiaa @writingaboutlove1998 @roxannequeen @alwaysholymilkshake

[writermask-0807]

“winter’s eve,” or: “and the cold of your embrace.” gojo satoru x reader

Warnings: wrote this in a weird mood and a banging headache, so that's probably why it sounds so shitty lmao (😭) there’s also some stuff that doesn’t add up so there's that. angst with no happy ending (dont come for me yall), implied cheating, swearing (like one f bomb lol), also the title literally has nothing related to the fic in itself (except maybe one paragraph 😭). uhh that's all, I think, but lmk if I missed anything!!!

he comes home late, your satoru. late enough that it’s early, actually, with the pale rim of the sun trying to push weakly through the bruise-colored clouds purpling the night sky - late enough that you think he’s not coming, like most other nights. 

but when he comes stumbling in, staggering off to the side as he giggles, drunk, with pink in his cheeks either from the cold or the booze, you think it might’ve been better if he didn’t come home at all. and it sounds cruel, doesn’t it? knowing why satoru, your satoru, who can’t really be called yours anymore, (from a god to a worshipper, did you really think that he would love you like he actually, truly meant it?) is like this. why things are like this, really, but it’s getting harder to bear, these days. 

and as tears fills your eyes when your mouth parts open to speak, you wonder when it’s changed to bearing, and not loving satoru. “where were you?” you ask him, and it’s a broken, whispered thing, no longer being shouted with explosive anger, wrapped in vicious hurt and dripping venom. 

it comes out resigned. tired. you’re tired, and maybe he sees it, for once; (and you want to scoff at the irony of it all — because even with his all-seeing six eyes, satoru has always been blind to you. or maybe he chooses to slide a rose-tinted film over them, and honestly, at this point, you don’t know which one is worse-) maybe he sees the harsh shadows in your eyes and the halo of dark circles, the bitten lips and the messy hair. maybe he sees that he’s the root of all this, because he stops. 

there’s a pause - a sobering quiet, and you think he knows what’s coming. there’s something in the air, something cold and stinging, something tight enough that when you finally breathe his name, it feels like a thread snapping, something falling apart at the seams — like blood oozing through the stitches of a wound, scabbed over and over and never quite healing. a beat too late, you realize that that something is really you and satoru. you and me, he said. we. us.

there is no us, satoru. there was never an “us” and that fucking hurts.

and now it’s all gone, snowed over by satoru and his frost-cold eyes and his freezing voice and his icicle-sharp words, cutting so deep that you’re afraid you can’t dig them out, especially with your winter-numbed fingers. in hindsight, you really should have seen this coming. 

and he must see it too, now, because satoru is a man called god - mighty and powerful and all-seeing - and he truly plays the part. and so he smiles, wide and nonchalant like he doesn’t know this is ripping you apart. like he doesn’t know that this is the end. like he doesn’t even care, and you hate him for it. 

“oh, you know. out.” 

he says lazily, throwing his shades off as he stumbles his way towards you, arms wide open, grinning all the while. you flinch as he steps into the moonlight, reaching out for you, those cruel, cruel eyes holding the stormy brilliance of the skies, glimmering in the weak light — and you think that cuts through the fuzz, the haziness in his mind - sobers him up.

satoru stops, only a breath away from you, close enough that you can smell the alcohol on his breath and the scent of another catching in his clothes and his hair and his skin, see that the smile has slipped off of his face, see the shimmer of his cold eyes, the gaping emptiness in them - a void, that, no matter how much you give of yourself to him, that can never be filled. 

“you’re leaving.” he breathes quietly, soft. broken.

you remain silent, tears clouding your eyes, spilling over your cheeks like a dam burst. because you’d expected yelling, screaming and even cursing, or the cold indifference that satoru has always used to freeze you out, and this - this vulnerability hurts so much more. you wish he would just - just - 

a trembling hand comes to cup your cheek, cradles your jaw, lifts your eyes to meet his, full of melted ice, desperate and searching for something, anything to hold onto, but it’s been ten long, painful years of breaking and fixing, hurting and healing until you’re so scarred over that there’s nothing else left to wound, and by god - you’re so, so tired.

you bring a shaky hand to cup his, curled around your face, tears trembling on your lashes, unable to bear that look of heartbreak in those damned crystalline eyes of his. did he see this, too? 

“i love you. i love you so, so much, don’t you know that?” he murmurs, voice catching, forehead knocking against yours, and you stifle a sob behind gritted teeth. because you know. of course you do; it’s why you’re here now. it’s why you’ve always been here for so long. 

“i know, satoru. i know, but this love of yours is only killing me.” you tell him in a broken whisper, and you feel his grip tighten, feel him shake against you. 

“don’t say that. don’t say that. please…” satoru never begs. he never has had the need to, but now - now he wonders if anything would have changed if he had. he would have fallen at your feet, begged you with all that he had and meant it with his entire chest, baring the tender heart inside for the entire world to see. but it’s too late.

he’s always too late.

“please…” he murmurs against your mouth, lips brushing against yours in one last desperate attempt - and it’s helpless and bitter and wet from the salt of your tears — yours or his, maybe. you don’t know anymore. 

he kisses you and you kiss him back just as hard and wanting, fingers curling into the moon-bright mess of his hair as you tug him down, nails digging into his back and his mouth crushed against yours and it’s desperate and rough and messy, and it feels like the last time and the first time in a long time but this is it. 

this is the end. 

and when he finally pulls back, panting and breathless, you think he knows it too. 

“i’m sorry, satoru.” 

you tell him, and even without the tears in your eyes, and the waver in your voice and the ache in your chest, he knows you’d mean it all the same. you’ve never been as selfish as him, even now, even when it’s your right to be. you could never be as cruel as him. and maybe that’s why this is goodbye. 

and so gojo satoru is selfless for once. he doesn’t chase after the warmth of your mouth when you press your lips to his one last time, a parting gift - a lingering curse. he doesn’t have it in him to look up even when he feels you glance at him one last time, your eyes tired and mournful and full of tears. 

and worst of all, he doesn’t hear the faint “i love you,” that lingers long after you leave, silent to his ears, the door to his house left open, but his home long gone.

FIN-

[xxlady-lunaxx]

I couldn't, I thought I would lose you too... | {MasaNemi/SaneKana/SaneGiyuu}

Theme:Fluff, Angst, Fluff, repeat ✨ (No because there was more angst than I thought there would be)

Note: Yk, I don't have any pictures with all three of these ships ofc so It's just Nemi up there❤ Also goddamn the title is long as fuck 🥲 Btw, sorry if I don't get Masachika's personality right, I don't know much about him and haven't read a single fanfic with him in it so.. yeah, sorry in advance 😭

This oneshot has lots of spoilers for no real reason except it give it more action tbh 💀

[Slightly gone through and edited] 

When Sanemi met Masachika, he knew there was something different about him. Though Masachika was just an ordinary demon slayer who Sanemi had shouted at, the two ended up bonding rather quickly, despite their contrasting personalities.

Masachika was one of the few—or rather, the only—who was able to calm Sanemi. They grew closer the more time they spent together, doing nearly everything aside the other. After passing final selection together, the two's feelings for each other pushed past friendship, crossing the line between friendly to romantic. Sanemi ended up being the first to express himself, though more on accident, when Masachika had gotten hurt on one of his solo missions. He'd been frantic when he heard this and rushed to Masachika's side. Luckily, his injury hadn't been deep enough to be fatal, though the spot where the wound was had been was dangerously close to his heart.

Then was when Sanemi had told Masachika how he'd felt. He'd not even realized it until Masachika took his hands and said he felt the same. Sanemi had been so worried, his own heart pounding in his ears as he'd shouted, "You fucking bastard! You have to be more careful!! The other people were far behind you, you had abolutely no fucking right to put yourself in such a fatal position and nearly get yourself killed! I can't fucking lose you, I love you and if you do go I won't be able to live!!"

Masachika, though weak from the wound, had heard this and smiled. It was clear that Sanemi hadn't even realized he'd said the words himself, but that they were very much true. He held Sanemi's hands in his and said, sweetly, soft, "Sanemi. I live for you, and you alone. I wouldn't leave you if I had a choice, I love you as well."

Those words brought Sanemi's head to clear. He shook, still, from the fear that had coursed through him when he'd heard that Masachika had been badly injured, but also from.. from a sort of contentment. Or relief. As the words sunk in, he realized what they really meant and his eyes opened wide, staring at the pale face of the one person he wanted to call his lover. He wrapped Masachika in his arms and bit back tears, cradling the one he loved in his embrace.

Since then, before each mission they had, the two swore they would never forget the other, knowing that this mission might as well be their last. Before this, before when their love was only friendship, they only expressed the hope of the other's safety. Now they would hug the other tightly as they said their goodbye's, hoping that it wouldn't be the last. 

So again, when the crow came down and shouted their orders of a new mission, they were quick to get ready. Even on their joint missions, they said goodbye, because who knew if one might die, or if both, or none. They couldn't know. 

Masachika prepared himself by making sure his katana was in place and Sanemi got the two some water before they headed off. Both stared at each other for a second, then Sanemi mumbled, "Masachika? I have a bad feeling about this mission."

Masachika laughed, though nothing about this was humorous. "You always say that, who's to say this one will be different? Don't make yourself worry, Nemi, we'll get through it as we always do. And even if we don't, you know I'll love you through anything, okay?" He hugged his lover tightly, and Sanemi wrapped his arms around Masachika. 

That may be true, it may be just paranoia, but Sanemi felt a sickening feeling that this might be the last time he and Masachika could talk safely—or as safe as they could ever be—ever. He breathed in deeply Masachika's scent, a comforting smell, something he always associated with love. He let go of Masachika and said, "Nevertheless.. Please be careful, I don't want to lose you. Okay?" Then, though a little begrudgingly because he always felt these words were a little cringy sometimes, he added, "I love you too." He turned away abruptly, marching on his way towards the mission. Masachika followed with a teasing grin playing on his face.

~~~

He should've been more careful. He should've pushed Masachika away when he'd seen the demon lunge. But Masachika had said to prioritize the bystander's life over Masachika's and he had to. Because that's what being a demon slayer meant. Choose one or the other. He'd.. he'd mistakenly chosen the bystander's. The stranger hadn't even been in danger so pressing that he wouldn't get there on time if he had protected Masachika first. But it was done in a flash. Sanemi watched right before his eyes his lover, falling, blood, shouting. Sanemi was quick, then, shooting forward and cutting the demon's head off. Masachika did the best he could to help, his katana gripped tightly in his hand. The demon had been a Lowermoon. Too strong for Masachika alone, who had already been injured from one of the other demons who had paired up with the Lowermoon. 

Sanemi fell to the ground, his arms around Masachika. He shouted, his voice emitting noises he couldn't comprehend. Then he heard Masachika, his voice thin, weak. "Sa..nemi.. Don't w..worry about m..me.. Pleas..e.. Just move.. move on.. You can't.. save me.. now.." he was whispering.

"No, no! I'll help! I.. I learned a little about healing once! I can save you! Just don't die! Don't close your eyes! Please! Please don't.. don't leave me," Sanemi choked out. "I love you," he whispered, the words more urgent now. "Please, please, I love you, Masachika.."

Masachika's mouth twisted into a smile. And, though it was forced through the pain, it looked so sweet it broke Sanemi's heart. "I love you too, Sanemi," he said, sighing gently against Sanemi's arms. Blood was spilling out of whatever wounds he'd acquired from the demon as his eyes fluttered close. Sanemi shook his head desperately, but he knew it was useless. He really couldn't do anything for Masachika. Nothing.

He pressed his lips gently onto Masachika who, with his last strength, kissed back. His muscles, previously tensed, instinctively trying to stop the blood, loosened, and Masachika was gone. Dead. 

Sanemi whimpered, tears pouring down his face. He couldn't bear this. He didn't want this. Why.. why Masachika. Why..! 

~~~

He became a Hashira. Masachika would've as well if he'd survived, but he didn't. So now it was just Sanemi. Sanemi, alone, broken, and a fucking Hashira. He was greeted by this 'Ubuyashiki' whom they called Oyakata-Sama. Why must he bow? To this fragile, delicate, useless man?! After his lover, his best friend, the one person who understood him, had died.. How. Why. 

But Kagaya knew Masachika. Somehow. He.. he gave Sanemi Masachika's will. It was somewhat heartbreaking to read, and he didn't object to anything else Kagaya said. 

He met the other Hashira. Gyomei Himejima, Kanae Kocho, Tengen Uzui, and Giyuu Tomioka. There weren't many but of course it wasn't easy to aquire many people who met the expectations of being a Hashira. Apparently there was another, Shinjuro Rengoku, who was, from what he knew, mourning his wife and didn't want to attend the meeting. 

He kept his distnce from all Hashira and jut went by his missions numbly, as if he was on autopilot. This didn't go on for long, though, because Kanae Kocho had caught an interest on him. She would follow him around a lot more than he was comfortable with, and she would comment on every little detail on him, around them, or just anything.

He might one day escape her but she would always find him again. By the end of the week, he already knew how she'd become a demon slayer, her family, including an adopted sister, where she lived, what her sister expertised in, what she was best at, her hobbies, about 50 different types of flowers, several more types of plants, how to best grow them, the pace the clouds were moving on Wednesday, her own weather predictions, where she tended to have her missions at, her crow's name, and the exact curve of the scars on his face.

He was, as you might expect, rather overwhelmed by all of this, something Kanae hadn't noticed yet. One day, however, he began to see Kanae in a different light. She'd found him one afternoon and had sat next to him. As usual, she went off with her usual chatter and he tuned her out, focusing on a tree off in the distance. But then her face popped up in front of him and he jolted back, surprised. She had laughed then said, "Shinazugawa, look! I found this flower that reminds me of you. It's white and purple, purple as in your eyes and white as in your hair! It's really pretty, too. But it has a fierce sort of look, so it really suits you." She'd smiled then and showed Sanemi the flower. He only studied it for a second before she promptly tucked it behind Sanemi's ear and her smile widened in amusement. "It looks lovely on you."

This little action had surprised Sanemi, somehow. As if he'd been blind all this time but when she did this, smiling and showing him the flower, reciting what kind it was, he'd gained the sense of sight. Like he'd opened his eyes for the first time and saw, actually saw this girl in front of him. 

He didn't understand. Had Kanae done something different with her hair? Was she in a better mood today? No, she was the same. Maybe it was Sanemi. Maybe Sanemi had.. had acquired something new and he had to figure it out.

It didn't take long for him to find out what it was, though, because he'd felt this way before. Except this time, the feeling came a bit more suddenly. Not quite as gradually as before. Love. He was beginning to love Kanae. 

But why? He still loved Masachika, though he knew that he should move on. But what was so different about her? Her... her energy. It was so wonderfully active and sweet, like Masachika. Except Kanae had always been like this, so it couldn't be his lingering feelings for his fallen lover making him think of Kanae as him. It had to be something else. Or maybe it wasn't anything in particular, it was just.. just her. Kanae.

He didn't want to move on, though. He wanted to be loyal to his promise of loving Masachika forever. But.. but he liked Kanae. More than he wanted to supress. He.. could protect her better than he had with Masachika. Yes, yes he would do that. Who said you couldn't love two people at once? He would never get Masachika back until the day he died, and he was still being true to his word, so.. so loving Kanae would be almost freeing. It would soothe his broken heart in a way he would be truly loving someone else and moving on. Moving on in a way that he could do what Masachika wished for him and still be loyal to Masachika. 

Sanemi never told Kanae, straight up, that he loved her. Kanae had said she loved Sanemi equally, only knowing though not because he'd said that he'd loved her and she loved him. She had for a while, but Sanemi had never caught on. They dated, but their affection came mostly through actions because it was easier for Sanemi to handle. Kanae was great with words though. She could bring the most ordinary, boring words to the most wonderful sounds to Sanemi's ears. She held Sanemi together and in her arms and was Sanemi's comfort.

A month or so into their relationship, Sanemi realized he should tell Kanae that he loved her. He'd held back for so long, still holding onto the small part of him who wouldn't let go of Masachika enough to say so. But he felt he was brave enough to do so now, so he would try. The way he'd confessed to Kanae had been by kissing her. He never told her that he loved her, though she knew that he did, so he never felt he had to say it. But now he thought it wasn't fair to her because she would constantly tell him her love for him so he wanted to say it back.

Kanae was on a mission, currently, so he would tell her when she got back. Sanemi slept that night rather peacefully, for he had finished his own mission early, but he woke up in distress. Though he had no idea why. He got up and noticed that the sun was just now rising, so he went to the butterfly mansion to wait for Kanae to return. Shinobu, Kanae's younger sister, he recognized, came back. She was in tears and he thought none of it until he noticed the Kakushi behind her, supporting a body. A familiar one. Kanae's.

Dread pushed him up and to his feet, running to Shinobu, panicked. "Ka.. Kanae.. I.. What happened," Sanemi breathed, quickly scrambling down the steps and to Shinobu and the Kakushi. 

Shinobu looked away and the Kakushi did nothing but give Sanemi a grim look. Sanemi shook his head, again, his panic filling his body and overwhelming him, trying to force his way out. He put his hand to his stomach, his shock and pain, though none of it physical, had him trying not to vomit. He clenched his fists and bit back tears as he stared at Kanae's body, draped over the Kakushi's back, lifeless, dead. 

The word rang through his mind, over and over. Dead. Kanae. She was dead. She.. dead.. All over again. Just like Masachika. He couldn't bear this. Not another.. not another death. His.. he loved her. So.. So much. And yet she was taken away from him. Just like Masachika had been. Everyone he loved was falling before his eyes. He didn't want this. He couldn't fucking take it anymore.

Sanemi fell to his knees and ripped at his hair in anger. He shouted out in desperation and it hot tears poured down his cheeks. He was angry. He was shocked. He was so desperately in need of someone, anyone, who might love him, who might care for him, who wouldn't die. He was crying, shouting, ripping at his own skin. Why. What the fuck did he ever do? His family, dead. Masachika, dead. Kanae, dead. Who was next? WHO THE FUCK WAS NEXT?

He felt a gentle hand on his back, and for a hopeful second he thought it was Kanae, about to scoop him up in her arms and cradle him lovingly. But then he looked up and saw Shinobu, her pitiful gaze upon him. He backed away. He didn't want her pity. He didn't want Shinobu, the girl who was the one he just lost's sister. The one who had also lost someone. He was being selfish. Shinobu had lost someone as well. But had Sanemi ever given a fuck about Shinobu? No. He would go, leave, somewhere where Kanae's lifeless form didn't lay hovering near him. Somewhere where he could grieve over her without the pitying eyes of someone who had also lost her. Somewhere where he could be as selfish as he wanted to be, somewhere where he could tear himself inside out until he was nothing. 

Sanemi got up and ran. He ran, his hands closed so tightly blood pricked from under his fingers. Pain. Pain would distract him from this. All of this. 

He enclosed himself in his house, slamming the door and breathing heavily. He gripped onto the handle for a minute, unable to move. Then he slid down the door, his body on the floor, limp. He cried. He cried because he'd lost Kanae. He cried because he'd never truly told her he loved her. He cried because he'd lost Masachika. He cried because he could. Because he could let out his pain now, here, by himself, alone, in the form of tears. Water. He cried because he was so fucking useless. He cried because he hadn't protected anyone. Because he had failed. Again, again, and again. No matter how many times he'd sworn to protect, he failed once again. He poured his heart out and his hands gripped his arms, scratching lines into his skin. He stayed there for a very long time, unwilling to move until it all ended. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, he would cry himself dead. Because he deserved hell right now. For failing to protect the people he'd sworn to never let die.

~~~

Sanemi was a mess the next few months. He was either very loud and violent or quiet and ignorant. He avoided most people and spoke only in shouts. One day, he ventured to a training area and found Giyuu, who was training in hand-to-hand combat, his katana kept on his belt. Sanemi watched for a beat then walked over, moving to put down his waterbottle to the side. Giyuu decided right then to kick and only just noticed Sanemi walking. Giyuu managed to rectract his leg so it wouldn't hit Sanemi but it sliced the waterbottle in half instead and water went splashing over the two of them.

Giyuu spluttered and stumbled back, wiping at his face. He mumbled a quick sorry, preparing for the shouting that... never came. Sanemi was staring at him and Giyuu was confused.

Sanemi felt his head clear for a moment. For the first time in months. He blinked. Giyuu looked.. kind of, maybe, a little, well, yes, but no, he.. he looked somewhat pretty. His wet hair framing his face, his eyes blue and clear and wonderful, and.. and just him. 

Sanemi shook his head, water spraying around him. Giyuu stepped back, confused. Then Sanemi was back to normal. He said, "Get the fuck away from me, I'm going to train. And unless you want me to slice your head off you better stay out of my way."

Giyuu nodded and walked away, going to dry himself in the sun. Sanemi watched him until Giyuu was completely out of the training site and then started his own training. He often trained to vent out his feelings, kicking and punching the air, imagining it to be whoever—whatever—kept taking those he loved from him. It often made him cry anyways but at least he could pretend he accidentally grazed his own eye or something. This time, though, he thought about Giyuu. Thought about how Sanemi had felt, seeing Giyuu like this. He rarely paid attention to the Water Hashira who was always only there but never putting himself up front, always hovering somewhere in the back quietly. They had another Hashira meeting soon, he could study Giyuu's behaviour this time. 

~~~

Sanemi watched Giyuu, though he tried to be subtle about it, as he kept his eye on the Water Hashira during the meeting. This time, their meeting began with the arrival of some random demon slayer who appeared to be traveling with a demon. Sanemi had walked in and, figuring the best way to watch Giyuu was continuously calling him out, so he stabbed the demon in the middle of the field and shouted at Giyuu about why he kept staying to the side when it was his fault. 

Sanemi noted how Giyuu kept his back away from everyone, though he seemed as perceptive as ever, and he said little to nothing, no matter how many times people called out to him. He saw overall Giyuu's way of ignoring, but he also noticed the little things. The way Giyuu's eyes flicked towards everyone as they shouted to him, and the way he reacted ever so slightly, his body moving for less than a second as if it had a mind of it's own before Giyuu caught it. Sanemi never realized how much there was to learn about this particular Hashira. 

That's when it struck him how little anybody seemed to know about Giyuu. Nobody knew about his family, or his past, or anything. Everyone at least had a slight idea of the other Hashira's pasts, except Muichiro who had forgotten it—which was very odd but he seemed extremely forgetful anyways—Gyomei who never spoke of it unless asked, but it wasn't something that usually came up, and Obanai who prefered to keep it to himself, though they had a vague idea that Kyojuro's father was involved with his. But those three, except Muichiro of course, all spoke more and were more open. In fact, they didn't even know much about Giyuu's present life, besides the fact that he was a Hashira. It was strange. Could his past be that bad or was he just very distrustful? 

Sanemi continued pondering this as time went by. He would watch Giyuu and eventually the two got used to each other company—though that didn't mean they actually talked. Sanemi found Giyuu was good company when he wanted to be near someone with no questions asked. Everyone else would worry more, talk about nonsense, or just bother Sanemi. For a reason he didn't know, Giyuu didn't bother him anymore. He turned out to be somewhat comforting, though he never said or did anything.

Sanemi and Giyuu started having some conversations eventually, except they were all just one or two sentence conversations, short replies, and then silence. Not an awkward silence, however, but a silence as if to say, We don't have anything to talk about, we're just here because we want to be. Not exactly familiar, more so as neither minded it and felt like the silence would be more fitting than talk.

And then came the feelings. Again. Sanemi couldn't stop them before he realized they were there. He didn't want to fall in love. Not again. Not when everyone else he loved had died. He couldn't bring himself to admit it and shoved them deep down, though he knew he could never make them go away like that.

Months passed in a blur and so suddenly he found himself in the midst of a battle that would be sure to wear him to the bone. Kagaya was dead. A lot of Hashira were sure to die, too. And Muzan. Muzan was there. Muzan was there and Sanemi would fucking grind him to dust for taking away all he'd ever known to love.

He fought almost carelessly, as if he couldn't bear letting himself live but had to fight forward to save people. Everyone. Those who were still alive. Genya.

Genya was gone. Where? Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Where was Genya? He had his crow lead him to the nearest Uppermoon. Upper one. And there. Right next to the demon. Genya. Genya, sliced in half, useless, injured. Badly. Sanemi rushed forward, fast. He got there right before the Uppermoon killed Genya. He had to protect Genya. Now.

As he fought, he realized he didn't know where Giyuu was. He was glad, though, because if he hadn't heard anything from the crows about Giyuu that meant he was still okay. Last he heard, Upper three had been killed. Giyuu must've moved on with the Kamado boy to the next demon. 

~~~

Sanemi felt like he would collapse. He was badly injured. And he would let himself collapse if it wasn't for Muichiro and Genya. Gyomei shouted. Shouted words that took him a second to register in his mind. "Don't let Tokito and Genya's lives go to waste!" he had shouted. Genya's? Genya was dead. He.. what.. 

Yet again, Sanemi had failed. He couldn't fucking believe it. He let the tears flow because stopping them would make it harder to fight, more effort he'd have to put in. He sliced at Kokushibo, his anger growing furiously. Why had he let down so many? He had sworn to himself to protect Genya. Not to get close to him, to make him leave the demon slayer corps and fucking take care of himself. So why? Why couldn't he do that? Why, of all people, did Genya have to die? When all he had done was good? When Sanemi should be the one to die. Why the fuck must it be like this?

And then it was over. Kokushibo was gone. Finally. Sanemi was unconscious though. Fighting, swinging his katana in the air, hitting nothing. He slumped against Gyomei's steady arm. 

It wasn't long before he awoke. He awoke and saw his brother crumbling to dust before him. No. No, no, no, no. He couldn't take this. Please. Stop. Help. He needed help. He had to protect Genya. Please. Why him too. Genya wouldn't stop though. He was saying something. Apologizing to Sanemi. Why did he apologize? He did nothing wrong. Nothing. This was all Sanemi's fault. Maybe if he'd let Genya talk to him, maybe then he would've left. 

And then..

And then Genya was gone. He.. gone.. Sanemi clenched his fist around Genya's clothes. All that was left. All that was fucking left.

He rose at Gyomei's command. He would fucking kill Muzan. He would protect the last person he loved. He would protect Giyuu if it was the last thing he would do. 

~~~

Giyuu was already there when Sanemi and Gyomei arrived. Muzan.. Muzan looked different. His aura was horrible. It cut through Sanemi like a knife. Danger. Every one of Sanemi's senses told him to run. Far away and never look back. Which was why he dove right in, slicing Muzan in half—though the demon instantly regenerated. He threw multiple bottles that Muzan instantly crushed. The liquid in them splashed all over Muzan and Sanemi was quick to incinerate him. Fire. Anything to stop Muzan. To save at least one.

Sanemi shoot forward and cut Muzan again and again. He managed to get onto the side Giyuu was and he decided to stay one pace ahead of Giyuu, so he could always protect him. Every Hashira left, fought with all their might. Press him down. Until dawn. Don't allow him to escape. Not now. Not when they were so close. Not when they'd already lost so many.

He barely registered what was happening. Blood, screaming, shouting, pain, ...fight. Fight until your arms fall off then fight with your legs. Fight until you can't move but keep going forward. Fight until all you can do is stand in front of those who can still move. Fight until all you can do is die. Fight to death and don't you dare let your guard down. Don't let everyone down. Don't let it be your fault we lose. Don't let us lose. Fight. Fucking fight.

Sanemi felt his arms would fall, but he gripped tightly onto his katana. Muichiro had managed to hold onto his blade even after his body had been cut in half. Muichiro had been 14. Too young. So young. If Muichiro could do that, Sanemi would push on. Forward. Don't stop.

He saw Gyomei, clashing his weapons together. They turned red, red like the blood Muzan spread so carelessly. Sanemi dashed to Giyuu. He would make their blades turn red by doing what Gyomei had done but with their katanas. And as their blades turned red, Sanemi whispered, "Please.. stay alive." He wasn't even sure if Giyuu had heard, or if he'd imagined this, but he vaguely made out two words that made him stand straighter, stronger, "You too."

They fought. An hour till dawn. Half an hour. Twenty minutes. Sanemi was badly injured. Blood continuously spilled out of his wounds. But he wouldn't lay down and let himself heal. No, not yet. He got up once more. He heard shouting. He saw Tanjiro and Obanai. Then Giyuu. Then Muzan. And the sun. The sun was rising. 

Sanemi shot up, ignoring the pain that dashed through his body with him. He ran towards Muzan and everyone pressed him in. They had to keep him in the sun. 

Then it was over. Muzan was dead. And so were so many other people.

Sanemi blinked, noting he was about to pass out. He turned his head, looking for Giyuu. Right before he blacked out, his eyes met those wonderful blue ones and he smiled ever so slightly. Giyuu was alive.

~~~

It was quiet when Sanemi came back into consciousness, though he could hear someone walking around him. Then a thought occured to him and he sat up straight, forgetting how bad his injuries had been before. He looked around blearily, stifiling a groan as pain shot through his body. Giyuu's arm had been cut off during the fight, was he okay? He blinked several times, trying to make sense of where he was. 

His gaze focused and he saw Aoi, someone who worked at the butterfly mansion, he remembered vaguely. He stayed still, waiting until the pain faded slightly then said, "How long have I been out?"

Aoi sighed, looking a little worried. "Only a few days, I'm surprised you already woke up. You nearly died. Especially right after Muzan did, we thought you wouldn't make it. How do you feel? Your wounds are still bad, but the lesser ones have already started healing. You're sure to have more scars now but you already had so many, I doubt it'll be noticable."

Sanemi cleared his throat but it still felt dry like sandpaper. Aoi quickly helped him drink some water and Sanemi tried again, his head still a little dizzy. "Pain all over. Headache. It's not that bad though, I guess. How is everyone else?" He hesitated. "Giyuu?"

"Well, Tomioka is as good as he can be with one arm missing, but overall he's.. healing. Out of all the Hashira, only you and Tomioka survived." Aoi looked away. "Shinobu, Himejima, Iguro, Kanroji and Tokito all died. So did many of the other demon slayers. There were still many lower-ranked demon slayers surviving though, luckily. And Tanjiro, Agatsuma, Inosuke, Kanao, Nezuko, and so on are also alive. Though Kanao and Nezuko came close to dying."

"Oh," Sanemi said. His mind was focused on the first part of what Aoi said so it took him a second to register all of the rest Aoi had explained. "Nezuko? The demon Kamado girl? How is she alive?"

"The serum they made to turn demons back to humans," Aoi said, bustling over. "You should lay down, it's not good you're up already right now. You don't want to open your wounds."

"Right, right. Did it almost kill her, then?" Sanemi asked, wondering how that made sense. Aoi put her hand on his chest and on his back, guiding his body back down to the bed. 

"No, Tanjiro turned into a demon and he bit Nezuko," Aoi said almost dismissively.

"What?!" Sanemi shouted, jolting back up. He winced at the pain and slowly lay back down. "What do you mean? And how is he alive then? What about the sun?"

"Sorry, I forgot you were unconscious at that time. Muzan turned Tanjiro into a demon right before he died. Nezuko would've... Actually, all of us would be dead, most likely, if Kanao hadn't had one more of the concoctions they'd made to turn demons into humans again. Sh..Shinobu had given it to her before," Aoi explained. "Tanjiro, much like Nezuko, was able to resist the sun, so.."

"Oh. But they're all okay, no?" Sanemi asked.

"Yes, everyone who I said was alive is alive. This happened right after Muzan died and they were able to get Tanjiro back eventually," Aoi said with a sigh. "I'll get you some food, please let yourself rest. And don't get up."

Sanemi nodded absently. Aoi walked out of the room and he stared up at the cealing. So everyone had nearly died again and he'd been asleep? Goddamnnit he was useless. At least Giyuu was okay. Alive. 

There was a knock on the door and he turned his head slightly to face it. Aoi sure had gotten the food fast. "Come in," Sanemi mumbled, his voice raspy from the lack of water.

The door opened and, instead of the girl he'd been expecting, there stood Giyuu. Giyuu in all his wonderful, sleepy mess. He stood by the door, one arm held up in a sling, his hair a mess, and in the clothes Aoi provided patients who stayed here with. Giyuu looked adorable in them, for he looked so tired and the clothes looked loose and messy and fit him right.

"G..Giyuu..!" Sanemi said in surprise. He struggled to get up and then he stood, regretting his actions immediately.

Giyuu walked over and helped Sanemi to stand and lean against him. "Hi. Shouldn't you be resting? I thought you would be asleep," Giyuu said quietly. He sounded tired too. And god had Sanemi missed this voice. Rough with sleep, quiet, gentle, and so, so lovely.

"Yes, but, what are you doing here? Are you okay?" Sanemi asked. 

Giyuu nodded. "I heard from the hallway you had woken up." 

"When did you wake up?" Sanemi said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yesterday."

"Ah." 

Then it was silent. Though Sanemi's head pounded and his heart as well, though for completely different reasons. The two Hashira—or, perhaps, former Hashira—gazed into each others eyes, finding comfort in the other. 

But the quiet didn't last long when the door opened and Aoi marched in with a tray of food. She took one look at the two and sighed, irritated. "I thought this might happen," she grumbled. She put down the tray on a table nearby and shooed Giyuu away. "You're supposed to be in your room resting!! Just because your injuries aren't as bad as some others doesn't mean you can just go on, prancing about. Go sleep! If you want something, then ask for it."

Giyuu left, waving to Sanemi as the door closed. Then Aoi rounded on Sanemi and he quickly sat down on his bed. Aoi stalked up to him and poked his chest lightly, as if wanting to make a point but not wanting to injure him further. "And you. I told you not to get up! Just because you Hashira are stronger doesn't give you the right to go walking around as if you didn't just participate in the most dangerous thing you ever have and will be in!! You are going to rest until you're fully healed, at least as much as you can in this state, and you will listen to me. Understood?"

Sanemi nodded. He quickly lay back down and tried to ignore the way Aoi reminded him of Kanae and Masachika when they worried. He waited as Aoi prepared his food and thought silently, pushing away all the pain he felt right now. Giyuu had come to see him. And Giyuu was okay. He was okay.

~~~

It didn't take too long for Sanemi to heal and Aoi let him off saying, "I swear, you Hashira are some miracles to be healing practically inhumanly fast.."

Sanemi walked down the hallway of the mansion, looking for Giyuu. He bumped into Nezuko who unfortunately—or maybe not—brang back some memories he had of Genya. He decided that she was a good kid. 

He turned and continued walking, finding himself in front of Giyuu after a minute. He blinked, surprised, for he didn't remember seeing Giyuu. Then he realized he'd zoned out and he quickly stepped back. Giyuu hadn't moved, and was just staring at Sanemi quietly.

"You cut your hair?" Sanemi asked, after a moment of silence.

"Yes. I didn't do it by myself, though. It's hard to put my hair up with one hand," Giyuu said simply.

Sanemi nodded. That made sense. Giyuu looked beautiful with his hair short as well. "Eh, when were you let out?" Sanemi said, when Giyuu didn't say anything else.

"Around a week ago. We have a meeting with Master Kiriya in two hours, I was going to tell you." Giyuu moved then, as if to do something, then decided against it. He leaned against the wall, his hair moving over of his eyes slightly.

Sanemi nodded. Of course. "Right. How are they? Kiriya and the other Ubuyashiki's? It must be hard for them after all of this," Sanemi said.

"I don't know, I haven't been to see them yet. A crow informed me," Giyuu explained. "They must be handling it, though. All three of them are strong. Even at such young ages."

"Yes."

And then they were quiet again. Their conversations tended to die out eventually. It was alright though, it gave Sanemi the chance to inspect Giyuu for any sign he wasn't actually okay. 

But then Giyuu spoke. "Shina.. Sanemi?" he said quietly. "Could we.. go out for a little? On a walk before we head to the Ubuyashiki mansion?" 

Sanemi nodded, surprised. "Yeah, sure, of course."

Giyuu gave Sanemi the faintest hint of a smile then started towards the entrance of the butterfly mansion. Sanemi followed after a second, his mind replaying Giyuu's smile over and over in his head.

The two walked for a little in silence, and Sanemi wondered why Giyuu had asked him to go on a walk with him. Giyuu finally spoke up and said, "How.. how are your injuries?" 

"Healed, only lost two fingers," Sanemi said. "I was quite lucky."

"I heard you were nearer to death than I was, no?" Giyuu pointed out.

"Well, it was mostly blood loss, I guess. No lost limbs, just a lot of wounds," Sanemi corrected.

"Ah, okay."

Sanemi nodded and then Giyuu stopped. He stopped as well and turned to look at the other Hashira. "Hm?"

"Sa..nemi, can I ask you something?" Giyuu said quietly.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Do you.. Ah, how to say this.. Kanroji-San, before, when she was alive, said that.. that maybe you, uh," Giyuu paused, his voice faltering. He continued after a beat, but his voice was quieter. "You might like me? She said it wasn't in 'the way of friendship,' but rather, well, ah. Sorry if it isn't true, but, she said that you might love me. In the.. In the way she and Iguro loved each other?" he suggested, trying to make himself clear.

Sanemi froze, his gaze drifting away from Giyuu for the first time since they left the estate. He was so uncharacteristically quiet that Giyuu felt the urge to apologize again. Before he could, though, Sanemi looked up and met Giyuu's eyes. His gaze didn't falter and Giyuu saw, in the way Sanemi stared at him, that what Mitsuri had said was true. 

"Oh," was all Giyuu could say. 

Then Sanemi broke their eye contact and looked away. His voice was soft and quiet, something Giyuu wasn't used to hearing from Sanemi, as he said, "I suppose you don't feel the same. Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

Sanemi didn't get a response and he thought Giyuu might've left. But when he looked up to see, his eyes landed on Giyuu, who stood in the same place as before, but with a sort of determined and defiant look twisted onto his features.

"No, I came for confirm and, if.. if they were true, to.. accept," Giyuu said, his voice strong and certain.

"Are you trying to make jokes because you decided to stop being sulky and to and come out of your shell?" Sanemi asked, raising an eyebrow.

Giyuu was confused and shook his head. Then he smiled, a ghost of a smile more like, and said, "No. I have no promises I'll 'stop being sulky,' but I am coming out, I guess you could say. Not out of my 'shell,' rather I'm coming out, as I think it's said, out of the closet." 

Sanemi laughed at that. "Oh, really?"

"Yes."

Then the smile dropped from both of their faces and Sanemi stepped forward slightly. "Are you.. are you just saying this because you pity me, or..?" he prompted.

"I have no reason to pity you," Giyuu said, moving forward as well.

"So you truly do.. do like me as well?" Sanemi asked.

"Truly, certainly, yes," Giyuu said, now only an inch away from Sanemi.

"Then.. would you let me kiss you?"

Giyuu responded by pressing his lips onto Sanemi's and his arms wrapped around the Hashira. Sanemi copied the motion, his hands running through Giyuu's soft hair and the two stayed in the embrace for a little, until Giyuu pulled apart, breathing heavily.

Sanemi smiled slightly, resting his forehead against Giyuu's. "I promise I'll always stay with you."

"Mm, then I promise to always love you," Giyuu whispered back.

Sanemi smiled in response. Yes, he would stay with Giyuu for the rest of their four years together. Sanemi could finally love in peace.

{Word count: 6867}

Love it when motivation randomly strikes me

Btw sorry if some of the events that canonically happen that I included in here aren't accurate, I'm writing those from memory- Ngl I like writing action through emotions it's so fun and just.. just yes ✨

OKAY BYE ML'S<33 HAVE A GOOD DAYYY (or night or whatever idk..)

Edit (me only some minutes later forgetting to put this in-):

Watch your goofy author struggle with not typing too fast 💀

Sanmi and Sanmeir.. 

Poor Sanemi

Not me renaming him several times

[imtotallyokandnormal]

If we are looking for comfort, we could fast forward to when John and You are officially together. John broaching the topic of how they have accidentally hurt you in previous loops, and wanting guidance on how to not hurt you, as they don’t experience pain.

Oh this one will hurt but in a DIFFERENT way this'll be fun!! Don't worry there will be comfort in the end, I can't make it too miserable. Also apologies for the title being kinda clunky I didn't know what to put there tbh.

First part!

Second part!

Reader: gn reader

Warnings: very sad and angsty, mentions of hurting and killing you accidentally

Image link: where did ya come from

》☆John Doe Trying to be Better For You☆《

- It's been a while since the two of you have finally gotten together. Thousands of loops, thousands of tries, thousands of times where he couldn't get close to you, couldn't love you properly. And now, John can finally give you the love building inside of them over the course of infinite loops. And to them? It was more than worth it.

- But one thing hasn't been able to leave their mind; memories of your death, and how they've hurt you in past loops, haunt them as they cuddle you close. As every moment goes by, the regret eats at them in the back of their mind while doing daily tasks with you. A constant reminder of how destructive his love can be.

- He knew in his heart(?) that he needed to tell you, or at least ask you how to avoid it. Of course, he was afraid of how you'd react to him bringing it up, but he wouldn't be able to bear seeing you hurt again. Especially not because of him.

- They decided to talk to you about it after weeks of contemplation. It was a day like any other. You went to work, Doe kept an eye on you from a distance and visited you at lunch, everything was its normal routine. But the nervousness in him was apparent, as he was somehow more fidgety and jumpy than usual. Any questions about it were met with him saying he was alright and not to worry, that he couldn't be anything other than alright if you were with him.

- But once you were home, he couldn't help but be nervous. The fidgeting would get worse, he couldn't even meet your gaze as he went to ask the question.

- "M- my dearest- do you...how much- pain do humans feel?"

- If you were confused about why he'd ask that (which is incredibly understandable) then they'd try to say it's just out of curiosity, since they don't feel pain in the same way humans do. They'd be internally kicking themselves for not telling you the full truth about why, but they realize this might help them better understand what to avoid.

- When you'd answer with common things that Doe hadn't even considered (touching a stove top, falling too hard, biting your own tongue by accident), it came as a fascination to them. But, at the same time, it was completely worrying. So many little things could hurt you, and John could have done them all without even realizing. They wouldn't have been able to hide this worry, their gaze fixed on your face with an uncharacteristically worried look.

- If you asked them what was wrong, they'd decide it's not worth lying about. They'd reach out to hug you, but pull their arms back quickly, brow furrowing as if telling their body to keep itself under control.

- "...my love- I worry. I worry- very much- about you being hurt- a- and I've been worrying and worrying about it this entire time- what if- I hurt you?- I- I can't hurt you-! N- not-"

- Not again.

- His face would fall as the guilt floods back into him. He can't bear to look you in the eye, fearing that you'd only look at him with that terrified expression, just like last time.

- But you stayed.

- All it would take was a subtle form of acceptance, maybe it was a hug, maybe an understanding smile. Whatever it was, they found themselves in your arms, melting into your embrace. Though no tears fell, he took shuddering breaths as he laid against you, finally letting go of that guilt, that fear of losing you.

- They let their arms wrap around you, just gently enough.

- You were here now. They couldn't be anything other than alright, now that you were here.

[turquoizxe]

4 𝐏𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

Fontaine x Black!Fem!Introvert!Reader

Installation (1.5/2) : The Shit We Do

Rating ― Adult (18+)

➝ The official second installation takes place months after you reunited with Fontaine, so I'll fill in the holes (while Fontaine fills yours) about what you two have done in between those months together.

Author's Note: Uhh packing for my dorm is an ass and has been taking up most of my time these past couple of weeks besides family things, but I didn't wanna leave you guys hanging while I get to work on college. Enjoy!

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ― Fontaine being a softie for you, fluff, adult themes, drabble bcs I miss ya'll :,)

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ― use of vulgar language, sexuality, mentions of drugs, and other adult themes.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 — 0.7k

Fontaine finding his way back to you was easily one of the best things that has happened to him.

Actually, it is the best thing that's happened to him.

You were sure that your family would have a heart attack if they knew the relationship the two of you now shared.

You had no plans of giving your heart to anyone else, and the same went for your pussy. It was his, and it always has been.

The memories that you had shared in high school were beyond the title of best friends, and you both knew that.

However, being able to fully flesh out these feelings in adulthood was something you thought wouldn't happen; those fantasies were only held by hope.

So the day you reunited with Fontaine ― the night Fontaine blew your back out and popped your cherry for the first time, you were sure it was a dream.

...That was until you realized that he was in your kitchen making you breakfast the morning after.

You had spent so much of your life worried about how people viewed you and judged you based on who you hung out with.

You had finally embraced what you two could be, hoping that Fontaine felt the same.

I'm pretty sure both of you had lost count of all the bullshit you got into following that day.

Fontaine never stopped having weed on him, and you never stopped smoking it― after a long day of work, your lover is always willing to share a joint with you or make you your own.

He still had his mint green Pontiac, the letter you wrote for him sitting in his glovebox, clearly tampered with more than once.

Speaking of it, you also lost count of all the places you fucked ever since you two been together. You couldn't help how much shit you two talked together, got you in trouble more than once.

"Taine', the movie's getting good." "mmtch, ain't nobody worried about that shit but you."

The back of his car in the middle of a drive-in after Fontaine decided that the skirt you were wearing was far more entertaining than the romantic comedy you wanted to see ―

"Fuck, I'm gonna come again-" "Gimme that shit baby."

back on the couch after you both got high together after a rant about your workplace, bent over once again after you innocently asked for him to shotgun because you were too lazy to roll a blunt yourself that day ―

"Shit, Fontaine." "Yeah, say that shit."

the kitchen counter, your pretty pussy on display as Fontaine seemed to be hungry for something else that day.

You were like 90% of the predicaments you ended up in because of your gestures, but he knew what you wanted, and he definitely gave it to you. And sometimes, you bit off more than you could chew.

And unfortunately, your mouth got you into trouble in more ways than one.

You two argue playfully more than anything, but when things got serious..

"The fuck you mean clones? Fontaine, I know you smoke weed, but don't be on that other shit!"

Fontaine didn't see you get mad often, and he didn't like it when you were, especially if the resolution was so easy. But him explaining clones to you was far from it. You were damn near convinced that he was smoking crack until you saw it on the news the next morning, and that's when you let him back in your apartment to fuck the attitude out of you.

In some ways, Fontaine felt as though you still acted like a damn kid. Yo mama jokes, reciting lines from the movies that you two used to watch growing up.

"All my life I had to fight!" When you were only fighting for the last bag of doritos. "Since you got your degree, and you know every fuckin' thing, when you would grammatically correct Fontaine to piss him off. "He's a good man, Savvanah, a very good man!" When you confessed to your friends that you and Fontaine were official.

The shit you two did together was beyond the comprehension of the outside.

And luckily for both of you, it was only your business. Fontaine appreciated your bold spirit when you were together.

But, he was searching for the bold side of you to make her appearance.

Unfortunately for your introverted ass, he was determined to make that happen.

𝙏𝙖𝙜(𝙨)

@blowmymbackout | @wakandas-vibranium