#central heating radiators

[bathroomforless]

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[huariqueje]

Winter Morning - Claudia Keep , 2022.

American , b. 1993 -

Oil on masonite panel , 25.4 x 20.3 cm. 10 x 8 in.

[spirkkock]

I left the AC in the window this winter bc it’s super big and I’m not a real adult person, so my room is sooooo chilly my nose is actually almost numb where it pokes over the covers buuuuur.

[an-ruraiocht]

the worst bit about owning your own flat is having to figure out how to contact the gas engineers to fix your boiler when your central heating is on the blink instead of just making your landlord do it (and also having to pay for that) and the best bit is everything else

[battleangel]

Hospital Hellhole

Where are the open windows in hospitals?

Hospitals are exactly like corporate cubicle farms, where you see the windows in your office, but theyre never open.

So, no fresh air ever gets in.

Stuffy, recirculated air with zero outside fresh air + constant either central indoor heating or air conditioning + a bunch of sick ass people stuffed into one building isnt exactly a recipe for holistic health.

Nor is it meant to be.

Its actually a veritable hotbed for communicable diseases, viruses, infections, germs and bacteria to develop, spread and grow.

Idgaf about how "well the hospital is ventilated" -- you need fresh air, jackass!

Good luck ever getting it at a hospital.

They'll just parade you around bare ass in a drab ass drag ass light blue gown that doesnt even close all the way in the back yet have the nerve to talk about how "functional" it is.

They'll parade your literal bare ass through the hospital hallways so you can "walk around" -- but nevah outside.

Yeah okay.

There are windows, why cant I open them?

Because you cant.

The air inside a hospital is endlessly recirculated, stuffy as hell and filled to the brim with germs, bacteria, viruses and pathogens given that a hospital is, y'know, a building full of sick ass people.

Who in the hell thinks this is a good idea?

Exactly noone as hospitals are designed to mentally break you, dehumanize you and give you a different illness then the one you checked in with or make whatever your current issue is worse.

Being in a building with no outside fresh air and no open windows full of sick, dying, dead, incapacitated, vomiting, diarrhea, coughing, sneezing, wheezing, bleeding people isnt supposed to make anyone else sicker?

Yeah okay.

You need fresh air even in the best of circumstances forget about when youre sick.

You need to be in nature as it literally heals us, even their studies confirm that.

You need fresh, unrecirculated air from outside.

You need the sky, the sun, the grass and the trees.

But what do you get?

A dark, drab, sterile, lonely room with a large ass loud ass TV in it, a phone, a bed that you will be stuck in for most of your stay, a bathroom and a window you cant open.

Sounds exactly like prison.

Being stationary -- unless you are a literal invalid or completely physically incapacitated -- is awful for you.

They know this.

They know that being stationary in bed can cause DVT (deep vein thrombosis), blood clots, embolisms, poor blood circulation and bloodflow, swelling, edemas, muscle atrophy, weight gain, bed sores.

Not to mention depression, lack of mental sharpness and acuity, lethargy, anxiety, fatigue, listlessness, hopelessness, dread...

Its almost like its by design, isnt it?

Hospitals should be near parks or be built inside of parks.

All patients that are literally physically capable of going outside for fresh air and natural sunlight should do so, or if possible, should be taken outside in wheelchairs.

Blinding white bright ass unnatural fluorescent lighting has repeatedly been proven to deplete our melatonin levels, disrupt our natural circadian rhythyms, disrupt our sleep, cause insomnia and other sleep disorders -- so why is the lighting in hospitals so fucking bright???

Why do you think?

They dont want you well.

If you happen to get better after being hospitalized, its an unintended side effect.

The goal is to find -- or make up -- other things that are wrong with you so they can feed you further into the many tentacled medical industrial complex.

More diagnoses, more pills, more injections, more shots, more IVs, more surgeries, more specialists, more tests, more false positive results.

Just the way they intend it.

If youve ever visited someone in the hospital or ever been hospitalized yourself, youve probably experienced a general feeling of feeling run down, fatigued, sore, tired, like you were coming down with a cold, feeling out of sorts and out of it if you were inside a hospital for a few hours or more (days, weeks or even months).

Thats by design.

Patients should be outside every day, breathing fresh air, getting natural sunlight, touching fresh grass, hugging and sitting by trees, looking up at the clear blue sky, soaking up the sun, picking flowers and soaking up natures natural healing properties.

Nope, you get to walk up and down a ridiculously overilluminated bright ass fluorescent hallway with drab muted colors surrounding you, machines beeping, nurses having bored conversations at lunch, doctors being self-important and your bare ass cheeks on full display in your gown that doesnt "quite fully close all the way in the back."

You should be letting butterflies land on your hand, picking sunflowers, laying against trees, walking barefoot in grass, staring up at the sun and soaking up the individual rays, taking deep breaths of the fresh air all around you, looking at the clear blue sky, observing some of the cloud formations, lying on your back on the grass and staring up at the big blue sky supervised by hospital staff for about an hour a day.

That should be happening every day in every hospital.

It could be done in shifts.

Even a small park or garden even on hospital grounds or property would suffice.

In your everyday life, dont you walk outside once a day?

Even just to check the mail? Run errands? Pick up groceries? Go to work? Get takeout? Go shopping? Go to work? Meet up with friends and family? Go out to eat? See a movie? Take a walk? Go jogging?

Why is this simple freedom denied to you in a hospital?

When you need nature the most, they wont even open a window for you.

Antiseptic sterility, vomiting bleeding dying patients, coughing sneezing wheezing patients, patients with viruses, bacterial infections, open wounds, bodily fluids and emissions, mucus, phlegm, stitches, sutures, transfusions, transplants.

How would you NOT need fresh air even after one day in a hospital?

Why is hospital food so comically bad?

Youre literally back to the slop you were being force fed in elementary school but as an adult.

Since youre sick, shouldnt there be an interest in providing you with nourishing, holistic, healthy, fresh organic foods that will help heal you and aid in your recovery?

If youve ever been hospitalized, it took you back to your school days with rubbery chicken, mystery lunch meat, dry bread, nothing is seasoned, everything is out of a box, warmed over and bland as hell.

Why?

It doesnt have to be expensive!

Fresh spinach for salad is cheap, quinoa is cheap, tofu is inexpensive, steel cut oats are inexpensive, chickpeas are cheap, hummus is inexpensive, lentil beans are cheap, kale is inexpensive, kidney and black beans are cheap - these are all chock full of protein, cheap, healthy, good for you and can be prepared with fresh or cookied veggies, rice, noodles.

It doesnt have to be like this.

They want you sick and defeated.

Hospitals are literal hellholes.

Its not you.

Youre right to think they are creepy depressing prisons and incubators for all kinds of diseases and infections.

Because they are. By design.

[thrapstonheating]

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[ap-emergency-services-24h]

Heating Problems in East London?

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[mahalachives]

How Not to Survive an Illyrian Winter

Pairing: Azriel x Human Mate (reader)

Genre: Slice of Life, Fluff

Summary: When a blizzard rolls through Windhaven, you learn firsthand just how brutal Illyrian winters can be—and how soft Azriel can be when it comes to you. Cold fingers, warm jackets, grumpy shadows, and one very flustered spymaster.

You'd always heard that Illyrian winters were brutal. What you hadn't realized was that "brutal" was a massive understatement.

Standing outside the war camp's central meeting hall, you hugged yourself tighter as another gust of snow-laden wind cut through your woefully inadequate cloak. When Azriel had mentioned bringing you along to Windhaven, you'd packed what you thought was appropriate winter attire.

Apparently, "winter attire" in Velaris and "winter attire" in the Illyrian Mountains were two entirely different concepts.

"It'll just be a quick meeting," he'd said with that rare, small smile that still made your heart flutter. "Wait for me outside. The camp lords get tetchy when outsiders sit in."

That was two hours ago.

Your teeth chattered so violently you worried they might crack. You'd long since lost feeling in your toes, and your fingers had progressed from painful to alarmingly numb. The snow had begun falling harder, creating white walls of wind that obscured everything beyond ten feet.

"This is f-f-fine," you muttered to yourself, stamping your feet in a futile attempt to generate warmth. "T-totally f-fine."

A passing Illyrian warrior, bundled in thick furs and leathers, shot you an incredulous look that clearly said. No, you idiot, this is not fine.

You glared back, though the effect was probably ruined by how pathetically you were shivering.

Just as you were contemplating whether it would be worse to interrupt Azriel's important meeting or to slowly freeze into a human popsicle, the door to the hall slammed open.

Azriel stood in the doorway, his expression shifting from irritation (presumably at whatever had transpired in the meeting) to absolute horror when he spotted you.

"What in the name of the Mother—" He was across the space between you in three long strides, shadows writhing agitatedly around him.

You attempted a smile. "H-hi."

"Are you—" He reached for you, then hissed when his fingers touched your cheek. "You're freezing!"

"C-curious observation, s-s-shadowsinger," you managed through chattering teeth.

The shadows around his hands seemed to darken and multiply, whispering what sounded like curses in languages you didn't recognize. For a moment, you swore they formed tiny, angry little faces that scolded the wind.

"Why didn't you go inside somewhere? Any building would have been better than standing out in this!" His voice was gentle but firm as he rapidly unfastened his heavy leather jacket.

"Y-you said wait outside the m-meeting hall."

Azriel paused in the middle of removing his jacket, those hazel eyes widening. "I meant wait outside the meeting, not outside in a blizzard!"

You blinked snowflakes from your lashes. "Oh."

With a noise that was half exasperation and half concern, he shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around you. Instantly, delicious warmth enveloped you – the leather practically radiated heat, the blue siphons embedded in the shoulders glowing subtly.

"You enchanted your jacket?" you asked, already feeling the painful tingle of circulation returning to your extremities.

"Of course I did. It's the Illyrian Mountains in winter," he said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. His shadows continued their angry whispers, now seemingly directed at you.

"Are your shadows... lecturing me?"

A hint of color touched his cheeks. "They're concerned."

"They sound cranky."

"They hate seeing you in distress," he muttered, the admission clearly costing him something. Before you could tease him further, he bent and swept you into his arms as if you weighed absolutely nothing.

You squeaked in surprise. "Azriel! Put me down! I can walk!"

"Your lips are blue, your clothes are soaked through, and you've probably lost feeling in your feet," he countered, already striding through the snow. His massive wings unfurled partially to shield you from the worst of the wind. "So no, you cannot walk."

The few Illyrians out braving the storm quickly stepped aside, their expressions ranging from amusement to outright shock at seeing their intimidating spymaster carrying a shivering human through camp.

One brave warrior called out something in their native tongue that made Azriel's ears redden.

"What did he say?" you asked, snuggling deeper into the wonderful warmth of his jacket.

"Nothing important," Azriel replied too quickly.

You poked his chest. "Liar."

His lips twitched. "He said I've gone soft."

"Well, your jacket is very soft," you agreed, deliberately misunderstanding. "The big bad shadowsinger has a comfortable jacket. Shocking."

That earned you a rare chuckle as he pushed open the door to a small cabin with his foot. Inside was blessedly warm, a fire already crackling in the hearth.

He set you down gently on a chair near the fire, kneeling to remove your soaked boots. "You need to get out of these wet clothes."

When you waggled your eyebrows suggestively, he gave you a flat look. "Not like that."

"Spoilsport," you teased, but your attempt at humor was ruined by another violent shiver.

His expression sobered instantly. "You could have gotten seriously ill." His scarred hands cradled your frozen ones with infinite gentleness. "Why didn't you find shelter?"

"You told me to wait," you said simply. "I didn't want to miss you."

Something in his expression softened, and the shadows around him stilled their frantic movement. "Next time, assume that 'don't freeze to death' is implied in all of my instructions."

"I'll make a note of that," you promised, your lips curving into a smile as feeling returned to your face.

He disappeared into another room, returning with a pile of blankets and dry clothes that would clearly swallow you whole. "These will be too big, but they're warm."

As he helped you change – turning his back with endearing propriety when necessary – you couldn't help but observe, "Your shadows are still grumbling."

"They're saying I should have checked on you sooner." His voice was quiet, laced with guilt. "They sensed your discomfort but couldn't reach me through the wards in the meeting hall."

"Well, tell them I'm fine now. Just a bit chilly."

He raised an eyebrow. "'A bit chilly' doesn't turn someone's lips blue."

Once you were bundled in dry clothes and wrapped in multiple blankets, he sat beside you, hesitating only briefly before putting an arm around you.

"Your shadows are still muttering," you pointed out, leaning into his solid warmth.

"They're arguing about whether to tell Cassian."

You straightened in alarm. "Don't you dare. He'll never let me live it down."

The corner of Azriel's mouth lifted. "I think they're more concerned with whether he'll let me live it down for leaving my... for leaving you in a blizzard."

You caught that little slip, that unfinished word that hung between you, and tucked it away to examine later. "Your what, exactly?"

His wings shifted behind him – a nervous tell you'd begun to recognize. "My responsibility," he said finally.

"Hmm." You settled more comfortably against him. "Well, tell your shadows that if they snitch to Cassian, I'll find a way to make them regret it."

To your delight, the shadows actually seemed to recoil slightly, curling back toward Azriel's hands.

"They're suddenly reconsidering," he said, and you swore you could hear amusement in his voice.

"Good." You yawned, the warmth and safety making your eyelids heavy. "I'm very intimidating, you know."

"Terrifying," he agreed, his arm tightening around you. "Especially when you're blue with cold and buried under every blanket I own."

"Exactly," you mumbled, sleep beginning to claim you. "The most fearsome creature in all of Prythian."

As you drifted off, you felt the gentle press of lips against your temple and heard him whisper, "To me, you certainly are."

Author's Note: Just a little snowy slice of fluff starring everyone's favorite brooding shadowsinger and a very cold (but very stubborn) you. May the shadows always bring you blankets. 💙❄️

Outside, the wind howled, but you were warm, safe, and held by an Illyrian warrior whose shadows had finally stopped scolding the weather and started singing you to sleep instead.

End.

[powerflushgeek]

Radiator Power Flush Liverpool: Revitalizing Heating Systems

A power flush does not remove radiators from the wall. When they are flushed, the sludge in them will become looser by being hammered or vibrated. A Radiator Power Flush Liverpool uses more pressure than a standard pump, causing loose sludge to be forced back to the magnets and attached to the pump Powerflush Liverpool is a comprehensive, deep cleaning of your heating system and boiler to remove grime, rust, dirt, and other contaminants.

[huariqueje]

Breakfast at the radiator - Pierre Bonard , 1930.

French, 1867 - 1947

Oil on canvas

[dailyoverview]

Cerro Dominador Solar Thermal Plant in María Elena, Chile, was constructed between 2014 and 2021. The plant uses 10,600 heliostat mirrors — arranged in a circle roughly 2 miles (3.2 km) across — to concentrate solar radiation on a central tower receiver, where heat is transferred to molten salts. Heat is then passed on to water, generating superheated steam that feeds a turbine and generates electric energy.

-22.775590°, -69.479844°

Source imagery: Planet

[s-lorelei]

Things women created and discovered!

All men

Francium (elemental)

Torpedoe radio guidance/navigation systems

Dishwasher

GPS

Wi-fi

Structure of the Milky Way

Kevlar

The Earth's inner core

Aciclovir - an antiviral drug used for the treatment of herpes simplex virus infections, chickenpox, and shingles

Azathioprine - an Immunosuppressive drug used in rheumatoid arthritis, Crohn's disease, ulcerative colitis, and in kidney transplants to prevent rejection

Flossie Wong-Staal was the first scientist to clone HIV and map its genes.

Pyrimethamine was initially developed by Nobel Prize winning scientist Gertrude Elion as a treatment for malaria.

Disposable diapers

Child carriers

Vaccine for whooping cough

The galaxy rotation problem - important to the discovery of dark matter

Radio astronomy - Type I and Type III solar radio bursts

That stars are primarily composed of hydrogen and helium

The new outer arm of the Milky Way - In 2004, astrophysicist and radio astronomer Naomi McClure-Griffiths identified a new spiral arm of the Milky Way galaxy

Radiation

Radon (elemental)

Kinetic energy

Heavy elements in cosmic radiation

Beta particles are electrons

Nuclear shell

Astatine (elemental)

Nuclear fission - helped in the creation of nuclear weapons

Rhenium (elemental)

Seaborgium (elemental)

Polonium and radium (elemental)

Scotchgard

Structure of vitamin B12

Carbon Dioxide

Bioorthogonal chemistry - the concept of the bioorthogonal reaction has enabled the study of biomolecules such as glycans, proteins, and lipids.

Central heating

Square-bottomed paper bag

Correction fluid (white-out)

House solar heating

Wrinkle-free fiber

Windshield wipers

Car heater

Airplane mufflers

Underwater telescopes for warships

Written computer program

Written (programming) language

Chocolate chip cookies

Pizza saver

Mint chocolate chip ice cream

DNA structure

Sex chromosomes

Lactic acid cycle

Transporsable elements

Gap genes

Myers - Briggs Type Indicator

[tradeplumbingsblog]

The Benefits of Installing a Electrical Central Heating Boiler: A Comprehensive Guide

In today's modern world, central heating boilers have become an integral part of every household. These efficient heating systems offer a wide range of benefits, providing warmth and comfort throughout the year. Whether you're considering upgrading your existing heating system or installing a new one, this comprehensive guide will highlight the numerous advantages of having a central heating boiler.

[catiuskaa]

HEURES D’ABSENCE.

come to bed (study me instead).

sum. felix knows you have to study, but… he smells so nice too… ok, hear me out… what if, instead, he helps you... review your research material?

wc: 4.3k

cw: sun & moon metaphors, felix is so down bad, minsung is mentioned, they’re so silly, sir kink? (not explored), kisses, kisses, kisses, oral (m.rec), soft yet unprotected piv sex (don’t!), and that’s all, folks!

scent. (♡) the perfume saga.

[🔹★💤 ★🔹]

The Sun is the star at the center of the Solar System. It is a massive, nearly perfect sphere of hot plasma, heated to incandescence by nuclear fusion reactions in its core, radiating the energy from its surface mainly as visible light and infrared radiation with 10% at ultraviolet energies. It is by far the most important source of energy for life on Earth. The Sun has been an object of veneration in many cultures. It has been a central subject for astronomical research since antiquity.

It's kind of an obvious statement, I know, but Felix resembles it quite well, with a couple of exceptions. You know for a fact that he too is by far your most important source of energy for life on Earth. Still, even if Felix can’t help but giggle every time you compare him to the massive star —reason why now his friends call him Sunny, too— he doesn’t feel like he can compare.

He hopes he never gets heated to incandescence. He isn’t sure if any culture venerates him, but he’s quite sure to say that the chances are quite low. He also hopes no one calls him a ‘yellow dwarf.’ But ultimately, he knows he isn’t that massive star that the Earth orbits around because, if he were, he’d probably have a bright, nuclear solution to his silly recent troubles.

But Felix groans. He isn’t as observant as he’d like to be. Moreover, when he does eventually see it, somehow it is always a bit too late.

Hogging the blankets and hugging a pillow, he sinks his head into it again. He’s been turning in bed for what feels like hours because he can’t help but notice it now. He can’t help but wonder how it could escalate to such an extent right under his nose.

Felix blinks, sleepy, but not quite enough to fall asleep.

But hogging the blankets isn’t his thing. He feels hot, so he pushes the bedsheets off of him, just for his arms to feel cold, to which he mumbles a curse and grabs the blanket again. This is bugging him. A lot. Like, sure, it was happening under his nose, but his nose wasn’t even that big. It keeps going for a while: hot, cold, hot, cold.

It’s unfair, or so he feels. It’s gotta be, he grimaces, as he covers himself top to bottom with the stupid blanket, and sticks his foot out. Weirdly, that scares him, so he groans and finally surrenders.

Ladies and gents, it only took Felix a week to figure out and acknowledge: it’s getting harder to sleep without you by his side. The excuse his body gives him is another, however, so he rises from his bed and heads out.

If you hear the faint sounds the wood makes with each of his steps as he goes from his room to the kitchen, he does not know. Felix just stares at your room’s door in your shared apartment, and there’s not even a shy move. Nothing what-so-ever. Not even the slightest gust of wind that moves it.

Felix sighs, the hair in his arms spiky as he opens the fridge and a shiver rushes while he grabs a bottle of water, chugging it as if the answer to his troubles is at the end. Somehow, he never reaches it. He swallows, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling the cold remnants of it quickly fade away down his throat.

That refreshes him, but the light from the fridge killed every ounce of sleepiness in his eyes. He leans his elbows on the kitchen counter, passing his hands through his hair.

It’s a struggle for him, and maybe he comes to terms with it just because it’s late at night for him. Because this is as pathetic as it sounds: you have been locked up in your room on a day-to-day basis because of your exams, and even if Felix understands, cooks you breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and checks on you when it’s late just to move your sleepy body from your desk to your bed, not seeing you aside from that is getting harder and harder.

Mhhm. Damn right. Pathetic, he knows. His roommate Minho—a poor guy stuck living in a flat with a lovey-dovey couple— had laughed one day so hard that they kicked them both out of the university’s library.

“I mean, sure I might miss Jisung like that whenever he has exams, but if I lived with him?” Minho scoffs as they both get out of the library. He feels bad for the blond boy though, so he sighs, patting his back. “Maybe you guys should talk this out, Sunny. C’mon, let’s get some hot coffee.”

Minho was in Jisung's apartment tonight, so Felix couldn’t go and bother him as he usually did. The only light in the flat was the one that escapes from the underside of your door. Like a moth, he gets closer, surrendering again. He sighs as he steps towards your room. Only then, he stops.

He doesn’t want to bother you. It may sound like a stupid excuse that he makes for himself, but ultimately it’s the only truth he knows. However, he grins, thinking that chances are you’ve probably fallen asleep on the desk again, your room smelling like paper, ink, and noodles. He can lie to himself and say that he was only going to tuck you into bed like usual. And so, taking the doorknob in his hand, and breathes out before opening it.

…until, well. You’re not asleep.

The Moon is Earth's only natural satellite. It orbits at an average distance of 384,400 km (238,900 mi), about 30 times the diameter of Earth. Tidal forces between Earth and the Moon have synchronized the Moon's orbital period (lunar month) with its rotation period (lunar day) at 29.5 Earth days, causing the same side of the Moon to always face Earth. The Moon's gravitational pull is the main driver of Earth's tides.

Maybe that is why as soon as the door is open, his heart dances in his chest. Maybe your gravitational pull is insignificant compared to that of the actual grey satellite, but Felix doesn’t have it in him to care when all he wants is to melt by your side. ‘You’re awake,�� he wants to say, but he shrugs it off. That’s a stupid sentence, even for him to say at three am. It is a fact that you barely sleep and that only worsens during exams week.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t let himself dwell on how not creative his mind turns out to be in the worst moments, not while your eyes hold his. It’s then when he sees through the midst of tired, sleepy confusion in the colour of your eyes that the hours of absence, of longing, of craving, crash against you almost as strongly as they crash against him. The sun and the moon on a collision course—fiery and untouchable, yet destined to shatter the sky when they finally meet.

There are no words —no other worlds: a star, and a satellite— as he stares at you, as you sit on the floor, against the edge of your bed, your room a mess and your desk a battleground that, by the looks of it, Felix can’t help but think you’re not having the upper hand in this war you’re fighting against piles of printed put PDFs. You want to stand up and hug him as if you haven’t seen him in months, but you don’t know your right foot from your left, your mind baffled and your heart swooning as soon as the dim light of your desk lets you see some of his darkest freckles, even as far away as he stands.

And somehow, he understands, meeting you halfway. Maybe he doesn’t, but you don’t have it in you to give a damn. Not when he’s back at your side.

It’d be foolish if he tried it right away, and maybe it’s because he knows you so well, but you appreciate that he doesn’t immediately urge you to go back to bed. Felix wouldn’t know if you had been in bed to begin with, but nevertheless, he sits with you against it, the only sound in the room being the ruffle the bedsheets make as he pulls at them to settle them back on the bed, and the sound of your computer’s fan, setting the mood just right.

You would’ve made that joke out loud, but you don’t have the energy. Not when all of your remaining energy goes to pay attention to the very much welcomed presence next to you, when he cradles your face with the palm of his hand, and every bit of hopelessness of your coloured eyes hits him, unrestrained.

“My misty moon.”

It’s a whisper, one that makes your heart sink. You missed that silly nickname so much, and it’s almost ridiculous –you have seen him during the week, but still, it doesn’t feel the same.

His arm slithers its way to your waist, scooching himself closer to you. You blink, noticing your eyes are teary.

Misty, ha. So funny.

Maybe you missed him that much, because it cracks a smile out of you. You don’t dare to doubt that you did. Maybe it’s because you’re stressed because of all the sheer amount of work you still have left to do —just the thought of it makes the room spin.

He hugs you tighter. Felix doesn’t know what to do. He pulls you closer. No, closer. His soft hands move to your thigh and pick you up, sitting you on his lap. He’s never seen you look so fragile.

It was silly. It was you who had asked him to let you be while exams lasted, because you concentrated better alone. The environment chaotic, sure, because you hadn’t had a dinner before two am that wasn’t noodles in like, a week,  but still, even when you were roommates, he knew better than to approach you during exams. You had always made it clear: you just worked like that. He didn’t get it, but he also knows he’d do whatever you need. It hurt his soft little heart to see you push yourself so hard, but in the end, it always paid off.

But you had been missing him so much. So, so, so much you almost were convinced it couldn’t be normal. That you shouldn’t be. You had barely been together for a year, even if you had lived as roommates for longer. Was that even allowed? To miss someone so vividly when they are in the room next to you?

His chest feels warm against you. Oh, you missed him. Your chest gnaws at the feeling, your own heart hating you —despising you, even— from keeping it away from the warmth of this sun for so long —a little over a week— because, how could you be so cruel, your heart whines, teary and all smiley now.

You nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck, and he chuckles softly.

“You’re tickling me, moonmuffin.”

His- his voice? His laugh? Surely he’s got to be trying to murder you in cold blood and cuddles. What else could he be attempting when he feels so soft and so warm and so kissable and so… Felix.

“You smell nice,” you mumble instead, excusing yourself as you attempt to break each and every law of physics you may or may not remember as you move and fail to get even closer to him.

“What?” he giggles again, his hands traveling to thread your hair.

His fingers through your scalp feel so nice you sigh and melt against him. You agree with your heart: how dare you take this away for a week? You should be imprisoned and sentenced to mandatory cuddles for the rest of your life. Yeah. Life-sentence cuddles. You brush your nose slightly over his collarbone. You’re lucky you even remember what you had been saying.

“Not my fault. You smell nice.”

You should peach the idea. Life sentence cuddles for not having cuddles before. For attempting to even succeed in not having cuddles for a week. That? That’s fucking crazy.

“Mooncakes. How about we get you to bed, mmh?”

Maybe two life sentences. ‘Damn. You’re really sleep deprived’, a voice in your head tells you, but you ignore it, loving the thought of cuddles and Felix for life. Wait, no, even better: Felix’s cuddles for life. That way you didn’t need to worry about not having two lives. You could just cuddle. With Felix.

Meanwhile, Felix doesn’t even struggle when his hand passes behind your knees and holds your back, carefully standing up and getting you in bed, and quickly reaching for the blanket to tuck you in.

“What are you mumbling about,” he smiles, stroking your cheek.

His touch feels softer than all the blankets in your apartment combined. Like cotton and clouds, soft, mushy, effervescent. A-blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of deal. Which is a very big deal, because there is no way in hell Felix even tries to leave. You have been sentenced to cuddles for life, and the law is the law.

“Oh no, mister,” you blink, smiling softly. “You don’t get to leave now.”

His eyes are like crescent moons while you look at him as if he was crazy. As if the mere thought of him trying to leave was mindboggling, along with downright impossible. Fat chance you were going to let him go past that door tonight. Or ever, your heart snickers, rubbing hands like birdman, almost menacingly.

“The bed is cold,” he teases.

“Warm it up, Sunny.”

Your reply comes faster than he anticipated despite how sleepy you look, and Felix can’t help but smile. He missed how that nickname sounded in your voice, even if it was layered below sleepiness. “Smartass,” he grins, but he tries to keep his promise. Just in case. He wouldn’t want you to be pissed off at him in the morning. “You should sleep.”

“Haha. As if.”

Your hands travel and link behind his head, keeping him an inch from your face. You’re making this too hard for poor, weak, little Felix, but he bites his lip. His voice turns even softer, a whisper against your lips.

“But I’ll just keep you awake.”

Your eyes trail down to his lips, and he’s so close to losing it. “Somehow I still don’t see the issue,” you mumble.

His nose strokes yours as he can’t help but giggle. “You’re so gonna get all moony about it tomorrow.”

“What does that even mean,” you scrunch your nose, much to his amusement.

Felix just laughs, shaking his head sheepishly.

“We should sleep.”

“Right.”

“You’ll be mad at me if you feel tired tomorrow.”

Now that makes you giggle, letting out a sound much like a lie detector would. A strange meeh that, had he not been as tired as he was, Felix would’ve rolled his eyes at.

“Wrong.”

He sighs, the smile on his face not faltering for a millisecond. “You’re making this too hard.”

You blink at him innocently, and Felix indulges again. Maybe because it’s late, but honestly, his mind is too tired to make up an excuse as to why he lowers his head and kisses your temple.

He hears how your breath hitches, and that makes him as giddy as the first time.

“You know, I read something off the pages on the floor last night,” Felix chuckles, stroking your nose with his as you blink and blush.

“Oh?” You smile, cheekily interested.

“Oh,” he teases you. “So, philosophy major, what’s all that with kisses and their meanings?”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, the thought of taking the spare pillow on your bed and hitting him with it getting tempting.

Felix’s hands play with the ends of your hair as it rests against the pillow below your head, a mindless action that he only stops to cradle your face and press against your cheeks teasingly.

“My cute fluffy moon. A philosophy romantic.”

“Enough,” you whine, laughing. His heart does a little dance every time he gets a chuckle out of you, and this time, a win is a win. “Fine, I’ll tell you about it.”

“You know, I’m actually a visual learner?”

Felix bites his tongue when your eyebrows raise. Even he knew that was fairly smooth, which is only acknowledged when you roll your eyes.

“So, technicalities aside, because I refuse to tell the intro again or even read it within the next ten hours,” you state, making him laugh as you continue talking, “the human species has many types of kissing. And all of them have different underlining meanings.”

The look in his brown eyes remains expecting, however, so it seems that short explanation won’t do to make the suddenly-turned Professor Felix happy. Or so he makes it seem, by how he fakes pushing non-existent glasses further the bridge of his nose.

“That seems like an interesting research,” he starts, pushing the non-existent glasses again. “I see,” he snorts, because it’s late, it’s a lame joke, and he’s trying to get you to give him the kisses he’s been missing all week —and he may be close to getting some, which he celebrates silently.

“Any examples, perchance?”

And just why the hell would you refuse?

“Of course, sir,” it’s just because of his formal tone, but something in the air shifts. Maybe just the dust that gets bored and changes direction in the air, but Felix’s eyes also do something you can’t quite place. But your mind goes up to the files, seeing if you understand the topic you are researching.

“How about we do it this way— you say a body part, and I tell you its meaning?”

Oh, fuck yeah. Felix can’t believe he’s getting it this easily. He could die right now, filled with the cheeky malice of getting a plan executed successfully, but he ain’t dying without those kisses.

He ponders carefully but decides to start easy. “A kiss on the cheek?”

As your hands softly move to cradle his face, the feeling of your soft lips against his skin, soft soft soft, so soft he can’t think of a better adjective to describe it nor another by any chance, the gentle and tender press of your kiss triggers the butterflies that linger around in his system ever since he’d started liking you.

“Depending on the culture, a kiss on the cheek indicates affection or tries to portray a sense of welcoming,” you state in a calming voice filled with sleepiness that’s slowly starting to wear off.

“Forehead.” Felix grins, feeling his cheeks heat up when your hands move his head so you can reach from where you are lying down underneath him and shortly peck him.

“A deep wish for protection, with underlying affection. A way to express one’s desire for the other’s well-being.”

“I uh… may be running out of ideas,” Felix chuckles sheepishly. But please don’t stop. I don’t want you to stop. Ever.

He shuts up his heart as you start speaking. “I’ll take the microphone from here, then,” you laugh.

And Felix smiles widely as he starts being pampered to death in the form of kisses. A kiss on his earlobe, “to provoke arousal.” A kiss on his hands, “to greet with respect.” A tiny peck on his nose,  “to express care.” A slightly longer kiss on his lips, “love,” you continue as you smile at him.

Had he been standing, Felix would’ve swooned by now. He doesn’t know how his arms haven’t surrendered and finally refused to hold his weight over you, but there he remains, over you, legs tangled underneath the bedsheets, with the only light in the room —your desk light— lighting not only his face, but also his eyes as they shine brighter after every kiss.

“Now, as you so obviously know, as a thorough expert in the matter,” you joke, happy to make him laugh, “other, different kisses may share meaning with these.”

“I see. Go on, then.”

It only takes another “Of course, sir,” and there it goes again. The tension in the room spikes up, like the hair in your arms whenever you look at the mess your room is in during exams.

But you’re having fun. And you smile. “A kiss on the lips indicates love, as I stated prior,” you snicker, kissing him on the lips again, maybe to make a point, maybe because after all these kisses he’s starting to taste like the most delicious thing you could take to your mouth.

Blame the tension for that, your heart grins at you, pushing you from behind to keep going. And there you go.

“There’s also what is called French kissing.” You swear you can see the exact moment where your desk light rats him out, allowing you to see how his pupils darken when instead of lifting your head to reach him, you finally link your arms behind his head and pull him down towards you, kissing him on the lips again, deeply this time, nibbling on his lips and taking advantage of the moment he smiles to slide your tongue in.

Felix isn’t just on cloud nine. He’s on cloud nine hundred ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine. He’s never been so high in the sky, and even if it is currently past midnight, had he been the actual, real Sun, not only would he be shining as much as he is now, but also make tomorrow the day with the clearest blue skies.

None of you can tell who is it that starts deepening the kiss. None of you can tell who’s the first that starts panting and gasping while both his and your hands start to map the other’s body, as if they’ve lost something and were sure the other one had it hidden somewhere.

You, however, are sure that there’s no such thing as a good night kiss anymore, because, with Felix’s knee between your thighs and his tongue in your mouth, you’re so not going to allow this alluring man who you’ve been dreaming about since the exams week started to leave you just like that.

To hell with tomorrow’s exam.

Felix, the poor boy, can’t read your mind. Maybe that’s why he gasps so heavily he lets out a moan when you roll him to his back and kiss him again before he can catch his breath. Maybe it's why he keeps letting out moans when he notices you smiling as you kiss him, your hands trailing up below his shirt.

“T-that tickles,” he smiles, panting, as your fingers trail faintly over his skin, making him feel goosebumps.

It doesn’t tickle anymore when it’s your lips that follow his happy trail, down, down, down. He takes off his shirt as if it’s burning, and if he’s honest with himself, he can’t think of a time when he has wanted this as desperately as he does now.

There’s no doubt in his mind that in your darkened eyes the same thought lingers on your head, while they stare deeply into his own, almost in a way capturing his soul, the sensation as effervescent yet not as pleasurable as the one that travels from his dick to his whole body as your hand closes around it. God, if Felix loves that sensation. He was so drunk once that he remembers thinking that if he could marry it, he probably would’ve. Somewhere in Las Vegas, too.

His head falls limp against the pillows with a thud, his hand threading into your hair as pretty little moans leave past his lips, following the sticky sweet sounds your mouth starts to make as you attempt to take him in, hollowing your cheeks and leaving your hand at the base to make up for what you can’t fit.

“F-fuck, baby, that’s so good…” he lets out over and over,” so good, baby, so good,” he almost mewls, “missed you s’much, fuck…”

He lets out a groan as he moves your head away, because he could bet money that he was a beat way from bursting, and he wouldn’t lose. Even then, losing the opportunity to fuck you for all the times he sighed pathetically this week, missing you when you were just next door, is much, much worse.

Felix’s soft hands travel, stroking every square inch of surface he can at a time, passing your thighs, your stretch marks and your hip dips —ones he has been a devout worshiper for God knows how long, dedicating entire nights (and days, if it had been only for him) to the both of them— bending to press soft kisses from your tummy up to your cleavage, his hands playing with your nipples just to hear your whines as he helps you lean your back down softly on the bed.

Felix whispers soft and tender nothings in your ear, mixed with silly sentences just because he’s missed having you below him so stupidly, stupidly because you’ve missed him just as much. He too kisses you everywhere after he slides in, only because he’s pretty sure that if he starts moving right away, he might not last as long as he wants.

Your cheek, your forehead, your temple, on the palm of your hand before linking his fingers with it, on your nose just so he can smile at you when you scrunch it.

“Sunny, don’t tease,” you pout cutely, moving your hips.

Finally, Felix giggles as he dives for your lips deeply. And when he kisses you, you smile, reeling in the feeling of his lips against your lips.

A solar eclipse.

[🔹★💤 ★🔹]

~kats, who’s genuinely tweaking bc why do i feel like this wouldn’t work if i hadn’t sneaked astronomical stuff in it?

catiuskaa, february 2025 ©

I AM??? SO SORRY?? I HAVEN'T POSTED IN?? SO LONG?? MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR??? LIKE ??'?'?'?' I MISSED SO MUCH??

[milawritess]

just read your gojo fic and it was amazing!! can i ask does megumi end up calling the reader mom to her face or something along those lines in the end? i’m a sucker for the reader being a parent to megumi so was wanting to know how that plays out 💜

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader, mom!Reader & Fushiguro Megumi 

Warnings: angst, Megumi missing his mum :( 

Word count: 2k+

a/n: this takes place after the events of my fic Wherever you go, that's where I'll follow

-

Would Megumi ever call you mom to your face?

Yes and no. He’s a bit shy when it comes down to it. 

After nearly dying, you were sick. Your technique became unstable, a flicker of the shadow of what your flames once were. 

Your recovery was hard, harder than anyone could have expected. Your eyes were hollow and sunken; you had lost even more weight, and you were always so tired. Megumi saw you dozing off at the dinner table, in the middle of conversations, and one time while you were even standing. It seemed like a never-ending exhaustion—like your own soul couldn’t withstand being… alive. 

It scared Megumi. More than words could describe. 

When word got around that you couldn't even conjure up more than a spark, Megumi noticed you started to change. You’d disappear for days at a time, you were eating less and less, and you hardly spoke, evident by the strain in your vocal cords when you addressed him or anyone for that matter. He knew you were depressed; he picked up on the signs quickly and felt the weight of your absence. Eventually, it seemed Yuji and Nobara did as well. 

It was starting to get to you, he thinks. But Megumi doesn’t entirely blame you. If he woke up one day unable to conjure his shadows, he thinks he’d lose himself, too. 

Megumi could tell Gojo was starting to worry. He found him taking you out on strolls around the block a few times, trying to get you out of the house you’d much rather wallow away in. Gojo kept a bright smile on his face the entire time, and he was more open and apparent with his affection for you. His hands were always on your hip, around your shoulders, or your hand was tightly wrapped in his. Megumi wondered if it was to be closer to you or to help you keep your balance. Probably both; Gojo walked slower than usual, half strides that still never seemed quite slow enough to match yours. 

It felt like you were just… disintegrating right before everyone’s eyes. To Megumi, it was like watching an angel fall from grace. 

One day, he finds you and Gojo on the couch. After finishing his classes, he went to the store to buy your favorite soup, crackers, and some energy drinks he hoped might perk you up, even just a bit. He let himself into the Gojo estate after knocking and receiving no answer. It wasn't a big deal. Not too long ago, it was his home, too, and it's not like nobody was home. He could sense Gojo's presence. It was oddly overwhelming and dense. 

He sees why when he finds you. 

The room was warm—warm enough to make him break a sweat in his uniform upon entering. The fireplace was crackling, and the central heat was on blast. You were sprawled out on the couch in the main room, and Gojo was behind you, holding you to his chest while you slept. Megumi was ready to leave the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and leave. It didn’t feel right intruding, but-

You were shivering. 

He doesn’t get it—why nothing could keep you warm. His whole life, you’ve always brought a warmth that extended beyond your kindness and soft smiles. It was the kind of warmth you shared with him— from those oversized winter coats you bought him, those knitted gloves you make him every year, and you. 

He remembers being small and how you’d heat your hands before holding his tightly. Back then, he never had numb knuckles or fingertips whenever you were around. Not only that, you could just radiate warmth, effortlessly warming the air around you. He’s seen you do it a few times when the people around you got too cold. It was like walking past a sauna, a warm breeze that always caught others off guard. 

He remembers you doing it just a few weeks ago. Yuji’s eyes widened, and he jumped up and down, annoyingly asking a million questions about your technique. You looked a bit prideful when he compared you to a fire-breathing dragon, which, ironically, might have been the best comparison for you. 

He hated that you shivered now. With several blankets, the room cranked to eighty degrees, and Gojo beside you still wasn't enough. He hated that there wasn’t much anyone could do—anything he could do. 

Quietly, he ambles upstairs, yanking the blanket off the bed in his old room. When he returns to the living room, he throws it over you and Gojo. 

Gojo doesn’t move much but opens one eye, eyeing Megumi for a moment. He acknowledged Gojo with a nod, knowing that he wasn’t asleep. His six eyes have followed him since he knocked on the front door.  

However, he notices that Gojo has sweat beading down his temple, his white hair damp and sticking to his forehead. Megumi hadn’t associated himself with Gojo much since the incident, but… he’s happy he’s with you, doing everything he can to keep you safe, protected, and warm, even at his own expense. 

The corner of Gojos' lip twitches before his eye closes again. 

Megumi leaves a note on the counter before leaving. 

Mom, 

I bought you some food from the market. It’s in the fridge. Get well soon. 

— Megumi 

-

It’s when Gojo takes a leave of absence from teaching that Megumi can feel it sinking in—a dark foreboding, an anxiousness that tied knots around his heart, keeping him up late into the night. 

“I’m worried,” Yuji admitted sullenly. “What if… what if the damage was so bad she won’t fully heal? I know regenerating cursed energy takes a while, but it’s been weeks.” 

“I really hope that’s not the case,” Nobara sighs, resting her elbows on the table and looking out into the distance.  “It must be serious for Gojo-Sensei to leave.”

“I can’t imagine how painful it must have been,” Yuji winces a bit, merely playing with the fries on his plate. “… Urggg!” Yuji wines, hiding his face in his hands. “I don’t even wanna be at this stupid sandwich shop without Sensei. It’s not right!”

“Relax, I’ll order her something before leaving. I’ll drop it off at their place,” Megumi grouses, pulling himself away from his thoughts. 

Yuji peeks at Megumi between his fingers. “…Can I come?”

Hell no, is what Megumi wants to say, but he bites his tongue. Tsk. You’d probably like to see Yuji—Nobara too. 

“Fine,” Megumi laments between gritted teeth. “Just- don’t bother her too much. We drop the food off, and then we leave.”

Of course, Yuji doesn’t listen. 

“Sensei, it was crazy! First, it went—boom! Then skeeert, and wham! And then, and then- I went flying! Right into the wall! But it was a short wall! I flipped right over it!”

You held a cup of warm tea in your hands and smiled softly, eagerly nodding along and giggling at Yuji. He animated the story with excitement, bouncing on his toes, and his voice echoed through the halls as he made quirky sounds. Megumi rolled his eyes, finding his friend rather obnoxious, but you looked happy. He supposed that was all that really mattered. 

However, Megumi wonders if you have a single clue as to what Yuji is talking about. He surely didn’t. 

Yuji threw himself down on the couch adjacent to where you sat, right beside Nobara. “Man… they banned me. Can you believe that?”

“They banned you? That’s egregious.”

“I know, right!”

You wiggle your eyebrows before taking a sip of your tea. “Want me to beat up the director?”

Yuji lets out a heartfelt laugh. “No, but that would be kinda funny,” he sighs dramatically. “I guess I’ll just have to start going to other skating rinks.”

“Sensei-” Nobara freezes, your name slipping from her lips. 

Megumi couldn’t see what those two saw. He opted for staying in the corner of the room, watching you interact with his two friends. It was hard for him, he realized bitterly, to even look at you. So he stayed in the corner, content with just watching over you from a distance. But suddenly, the air is knocked from his lungs. 

Things weren’t supposed to be like this. 

Nobara reaches forward quickly, nearly dropping her tea as she does. She rips out three tissues from the tissue box before shoving them in your hands. 

However, Yuji freezes. His face goes white as a sheet. 

You lean forward, holding the tissue to your nose. Nobara jumps up, putting her hands on your shoulders as she encourages you to stand. “We’ll be right back! Going to the ladies room!”

It’s only when you two walk past him that he sees the bloody tissue, crimson dripping from your nose. Yuji remains silent on the couch, fiddling with his hands and looking at nothing in particular. He looks like he just saw a ghost, and Megumi doesn’t blame him. He felt the same way; however, he had the will to move. In a haze, his feet carry him to the kitchen. He finds Gojo there, plating the food Megumi brought you and putting it in the microwave. 

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Well, hello to you too, brat.”

“Just tell me already.”

Gojo sighs. “Yeesh. Everything’s fine, you little gremlin. Nothing you gotta worry about.”

“H-Her nose just started bleeding! Out of nowhere.”

Gojo seems to pause for a moment before going back to what he was doing. “Seems Nobara has it handled. They’re on their way back to the living room now.”

“Just tell me what’s going on,” Megumi nearly pleads. He wants to accuse Gojo of not caring, of not doing whatever he can for you during your difficult recovery, but the bitter words never make it past his lips. Megumi knows he is. Even when anger threatens to blind Megumi, he remembers that you and Gojo have weird dynamics that often leave people’s heads spinning; however, the love is always there, alive and apparent. He just had to know where to look. 

Gojo loves you, and more importantly, he makes you happy. Megumi knew that even if he didn’t always understand it. 

Gojo sighed before reaching for the sink and turning on the faucet. Megumi gives an odd look, but Gojo grins before tapping his ear. Oh. Right. If you wanted to, you could easily pick up on what they were discussing. Megumi imagines you wouldn’t feel great knowing they were speaking about you—even if it came from a place of worry and concern. You didn’t need anything else being added to your plate. 

“Is she sick?”  

Gojo crosses his arms before leaning his back against the counter. “She is,” he answers honestly. Megumi wanted the truth, yet he flinched when it was handed to him. “She is sick.”

How can he do that? Sound so indifferent? But, as he looks at Gojo, Megumi notices that he's uncharacteristically stoic, almost stern, as he hands him the cold truth.  Gojo didn’t like what was happening as much as Megumi, but there was no avoiding the truth and no sense in lying about it. 

“What can we do?”

“Not much,” Gojo answers easily. “We just… wait.“

Megumi can’t quite understand that. He hates this, hates waiting, day after day. You were weak; Megumi could sense it, Yuji and Nobara, too. 

“She’s outputting more energy than she is retaining… how do you even begin to fix something like that?” Megumi murmurs, his eyes finding the floor. He was afraid. You were his mother, the woman who loved and raised him and always kept him warm. He feels like he’s losing you, like a candle wick running dry of wax. 

Suddenly, Gojo reaches up, ruffling Megumi's dark hair. “She’ll be alright, brat.” Gojo playfully pushes his head back as he pulls away, a small smile now gracing his lips. “Leave all the worrying to me, yeah? I’ll take good care of her. I promise.”

-

“Sensei! I’m praying for you!”

Nobara rolls her eyes. “You’re not supposed to tell her, dimwit.”

“I know, but I want her to know I’m praying for her recovery!”

Megumi groans, stepping away from the shrine. “Just shut up, Yuji.”

You smiled from your spot beside Gojo. You were leaning on him, your head resting on his shoulder. One of your arms wrapped around Gojo’s, your fingers grasping his bicep. Your other hand reached down, intertwining your delicate fingers with his. Clinging to his arm, which you held close to your chest, you smiled sweetly as you observed the scene around you. 

You still looked exhausted, and there were still bags under your eyes, but you had enough energy to get out of the house today, at least. 

“Thank you, Yuji,” you smiled. “I appreciate it more than anything.”

He beams, giving two big thumbs up. 

“Whatever,” Nobara brushed Yuji off, stepping forward. “I, on the other hand, got you an omamori!” She presents the small charm to you with a broad and cheesy grin. It was a Kenko charm—an amulet for good health and protection from illness and disease. 

You hesitantly reach for it, clasping it with one of your hands. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to. You have exams coming up that you should be focused on.”

Nobara waves you off harmlessly before looking at Gojo. Her eyes squinted. “You didn’t get her anything. Tsk. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Wha- I got her something! Look! Show them sweets!”

You laugh, putting Nobara’s charm in your pocket and rummaging around. You pull out two other charms—en-musubi charms. Your cheeks flush a bit as you happily present them, and Gojo perks up, looking the proudest he’s ever looked. 

“Two en-musubi? Hm,” Nobara hums passively. “And yet I don’t see a ring on her finger.”

“Hey, that’s not fair!”

Nobara defiantly turns her head from her Sensei. “Whatever, just tell us how you really feel...”

“Y’know, Satoru,” you play along with a slight grin. “She might be onto something…”

“Wait! Hold on, let me buy you a charm!” Yuji dashed away, ignoring how you protested, yelling to him that it was alright and that you didn’t need another charm. 

Megumi sighs. He hates to admit it, but that idiot's right. He should get you a charm, too. ”I’ll be right back.”

“Megumi, it's okay! I don’t need another one! My pockets are already full!” 

He waves, brushing you off. It was the least he could do. He prayed for you, of course he did, but he wouldn’t say anything about it—unwilling to risk his prayers potentially being unanswered.  So, he walks, eventually catching up with Yuji. However, even with the charm in his hands, it doesn’t feel enough. 

So, after buying your charm, he walks over to another booth. He takes out his wallet to purchase an ema, a wooden plank on which he can write the wish he has been praying for over the past few weeks. 

What Megumi doesn’t see, though, is Gojo nudging you and pointing over to where Megumi stood. Just in time, you see him hanging his ema, placing it alongside hundreds of other wishes. It’s only when Megumi turns around that he notices you and Gojo have been watching him the entire time. 

He coughs, cheeks flushing as he walks away. He puts his head down before walking to where Yuji and Nobara are waiting for him, too embarrassed to look your way. Yuji and Nobara’s smiles were sincere. Yuji even offered him a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. 

There were tears in your eyes as you read the ema. 

I wish for my mother to get well soon. 

-

a/n: just a little blurb following the events of wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow :p

Let me know your thoughts or if I should write a longer fic detailing the reader's recovery. I have a few ideas in mind… 

As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated <3