#everyone else gets a normal happy life & i get nothing

[nonbinarytoast]

Alright well if @theannoyingmosquitoinyourroom insists

Also fair warning this is gonna be like. Super long. So so so so long. Be warned.

It’s basically where after the plot of malevolent is done, Kayne transports Arthur and John to gravity falls to live out the rest of their life in peace as promised. This is of course after the plot of gravity falls is also over.

Dipper and Mabel, now 18 and able to move away, decide to visit gravity falls. Mabel with the intent of being an artist there and Dipper with the intent of having a nice visit before he goes off to college. As a surprise (and because the dynamic between Arthur and Ford is awesome) Soos decides to call Ford and Stan back as a little summer family reunion. Still deciding on whether or not to bring Wendy into this madness.

Now, I know Soos has been dubbed Mr. Mystery, but he’s not that good at social interactions. Not like Stan is. And since Melody is working the cash register, no one is available to give tours. So he’s looking for some extra help, when he hears about this terrifying guy with tons of scars who’s looking for a job (because no one needs a private investigator in gravity falls unless it’s paranormal and Arthur is NOT doing that again unless absolutely necessary (smell the foreshadowing)). So Soos goes to this guy and asks him if he wants a job at the mystery shack and hey? Where else is he gonna be hired? So Arthur starts working there.

When Dipper and Mabel get there, everything is the same as when they left it, except for three things. 1. The new house. 2. The new people. 3. Everything is hiding. On their way into town Dipper makes note that there are no gnomes. No vampire bats. No footprints that don’t belong to any animal ever known. Nothing strange.

Dipper is pretty weirded out by the lack of weirdness and when he goes to asks Soos about it (and Mabel goes to give Soos a hug) he sees someone knew out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh yea! That’s Arthur dude! He gives the tours for me so I can stick to handyman work.”

“Not to be rude but… Where did his scars come from?”

“Oh, no idea. He never talks about it. His roommate never talks about it either.”

“Roommate?”

The same thing happens with Ford when him and Stan get there. And so the saga begins.

Ford and Dipper borderline stalk Arthur, Arthur notices and says something really strange and cryptic in hindsight, Dipper and Ford are stumped for all eternity, you get the point. The fun part is when Kayne comes into play.

You see, Kayne was having a good time, destroying universes like he does, but it gets lonely. He has no one to watch anymore. No one to entertain him. So he stages a jailbreak. Of the Theraprism. Letting everyone out. Including Bill.

Bill and Kayne normally would match each other freak exceptionally well, but despite all odds, Bill is actually different. He doesn’t get the same rush from destruction that he used to. He doesn’t get the same happiness from killing. All he wants to do is go home. But home is gone. He’ll never be at home again. So he does the next best thing.

Gravity Falls isn’t his home, but maybe he could make it his home. If he tried. If he apologized. If he made sure he never did anything wrong ever again. He could be safe there. He could be ok. Plus, he knows from his old rival that’s it’s been done before. He almost laughed at the thought. Imagine only letting one person in the nightmare realm wear yellow. How silly he was back then.

That’s all I have for now, but I’m really excited to write this because I love it so much

Oh yea and the Kayne angst is how he feels like he can never change because it’s not in his biology or psyche even though he’s seen it time and time again and he hates not being able to do what other can. He thought it was a human thing. Then a John thing. But after Bill? Maybe it’s him that out of place.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[topaztimes]

Hi this is a vent post! Continue scrolling if you'd rather not see that

[bunnihearted]

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 🐇 ／ ⋆ ۪

[jonny-b-meowborn]

Okay I've been thinking about the lil cute therian fic I've been writing, and I think I know how I wanna end it and it's like. Very much self indulgent not really accurate to the mechanisms canon and way too cute but the thing is I can do whatever I want forever so I think Im gonna do it (I'm only like idk 1/3 done tho so don't get too excited fjdnfjndn)

[yourheartinyourmouth]

being the only person you know who is struggling is so fucking humiliating.

we’re talking about getting me a job at a gas station. my friends all make $60K plus.

i have to work in a gas station.

[gurorori]

im so so sad i wish i could be an adult

[ddeexxmm]

Its so joever for me bruh im 18 with no friends no job not in school no hobbies no goals no achievements

[theood]

.

[shinobicyrus]

I've seen a lot of posts about Batman using his Bruce Wayne alter ego for the good of Gotham: job programs for felons released from prison, orphanages, charities, high wages for his employees, ethical business practices...the legendary post where Bruce Wayne goes to Wal-Mart.

Thus far I've never personally seen anybody really dig into the persona of Bruce Wayne the Billionaire Playboy. A handsome, rich, powerful man who always is seen at fancy galas, art openings, charity dinners, and wild parties with at least one beautiful woman on his arm.

We know Bruce Wayne is the mask, and its Batman who has a...complex love life, depending on the iteration we're talking about. Talia, Catwoman, sometimes Wonder Woman.

Bruce Wayne's dates, on the other hand, are all "normal" people. Maybe they're an aspiring actress, a supermodel, a prima ballerina, the occasional reporter...and every time there's that bit of nervousness at the start.

Sure everyone knows Bruce Wayne. Everyone knows the story with him. Sometimes his wilder parties make the news, but there's never really been anything nasty reported about him. Never...allegations. But he's a billionaire. He's one of the most powerful people in the whole city, nevermind the country. If he did have some skeletons in his closet. Well. Men with power have a way of making those kinds of stories go away, don't they?

As time goes on the Date's fears dissipate pretty quickly. Bruce Wayne is nothing but polite, kind, and at times charmingly awkward in an 'raised by his butler in a mansion' kind of way with his dates. Some of them can tell he's holding back, of course. Maybe the more perceptive Dates notice he's smarter than he lets on - playing the himbo or hamming up the "know-nothing rich boy" act to the cameras or some of his wealthy peers.

He also listens, is the thing. He's always listening to what they're saying, is interested in hearing about their careers, their hobbies, their lives. Really listens, too. Might refer to something a Date said weeks later off-hand. Buy out the whole museum for a private dinner date with a famous painting from an obscure artist they like, or a private performance with another's favorite band.

He has anecdotes and funny stories for days that somehow says very little about his personal life. The Dates know he has kids (it's practically a running gag in the news that Bruce Wayne has adopted yet another orphan) and maybe she might spot one of them at the mansion, but Bruce seems very keen to shelter them from any intense spotlight and scrutiny, and they all seem happy if a bit weird like him.

Eventually, there's drifting. He's a very busy man, with a very busy schedule. On more than on occasion his nice old butler will call and extend apologies that Mr. Wayne will not be able to make it this evening. Sometimes it's virtually impossible to get a hold of him over the phone. After a while they stop trying. None of them feel quite surprised by that. In the end, it just doesn't work. Sure, he's a little distant and doesn't make himself emotionally available...but he's not a bad person.

Especially when the so-called "exes" of Bruce Wayne start networking. Gotham isn't a small city, but the social circles Bruce Wayne travels in aren't as big. They don't quite gossip or complain about him. More like...who else would get it?

(I touched his side once and he winced...like he'd been hurt real bad there. He laughed and said it was tackle polo. How does that even-?)

(Somehow, after two dates, he saw right through me and listened while I told him what that casting director tried to do. He nodded, gave me the contact details of a law firm, and said not to worry about the legal fees.)

(I don't know for sure it was him, but it can't be a coincidence that my building got bought out from under my shitty landlord and we were all able to buy our apartments under market value.)

(He got my brother in the best rehab program in the city after his relapse. It probably saved his life. We'd stopped dating months ago, I still don't know how he found out.)

(He gave me a card with a phone number and told me that if I was ever in trouble to call it. Said one of his cars would come to pick me up, any time, any place, no questions asked. The one time I did have to use it after a bad party, it was Alfred.)

I think any tabloid reporter digging around for salacious stories or dirt about Bruce Wayne's love life would be completely and politely stonewalled when they try asking his former Dates. Even when money is offered. Every single one of them.

[cherrysnax]

keep havin dreams abt hs, I think my brains looking for closure or sumn

[bbyseok]

at first sight? — GOJO SATORU

pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader

word count: 10k (idek i was possessed)

banner by @/bbyseok , dividers by @/bunnysrph !!

a/n: um hi. its finally here ! thanks to all who liked the teaser, this is my first jjk/gojo fic ever but i really think everyone needs some comfort after jjk chap 261.. and fuck u gege !!

content: soulmate au, gender neutral reader, minimal use of they/them pronouns for reader but gender is not specified, sorcerer reader, nicknames ‘sweetheart’, ‘pretty’, ‘baby’, fluff, mild angst with a happy ending, slowburn??, several pov switches, suggestive/implied nsfw at the end but nothing explicit, brief swearing/explicit language, brief violence/injuries, alcohol consumption, reader gets mildly drunk but nothing else, implied satosugu as past soulmates: can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic, fic takes place after jjk 0 but before the show starts

analysis: this is a world filled not only with curses, but soulmates—in which you know someone is your soulmate when you first make eye contact with them. but for your case, things can get a bit complicated when someone is wearing a blindfold.

here, in this universe, you can tell that someone is your soulmate by simply looking at them. so with that, the saying of “love at first sight” is actually pretty accurate here. you see them for the very first time and barely know the person and yet, somehow, they’re the one you’re destined to be with.

with that, you’d think it’d be pretty common for two random people to run into each other while crossing the street or something and bam! suddenly you’ve found the supposed love of your life!

and you? well, for you, that hasn’t happened yet.

to be fair, it’s not like you’re actively trying to look for your soulmate. handling curses as a jujutsu sorcerer is difficult enough. (maybe you’ll run into them one day after saving them from a curse or something. how romantic!)

it’s better to leave it up to fate. it’s fate who decided your pairing anyway, right?

your transfer to jujutsu tech had been fairly smooth. after being stationed in kyoto for a while, tokyo was a nice change of pace.

coincidentally, you had been out of the country during the incident known as the night parade of a hundred demons. a scary event that proved the threat of curse users to be formidable.

because of that, your decision to transfer to tokyo seemed like the right thing to do. and so far, it’s been decent.

it’s a nice change of scenery. the students are aspiring; while maki and megumi aren’t the friendliest, they’re warming up to you. toge and panda are gradually improving.

nanami’s pessimistic outlook on jujutsu society and shoko’s overall unenthusiastic demeanor are certainly interesting for the most part, but your coworkers are pleasant to be around.

well. except for one.

gojo satoru knows that you are his soulmate. he has indeed known this fact right from the very start, ever since your first meeting.

even with his blindfold on, he could see your own eyes before him. his six eyes can see everything. the thing is.. he didn’t know he could have another soulmate.

his situation with geto suguru is something he doesn’t talk about with anyone. maybe shoko at times, but even then, it’s rare. it’s not that he doesn’t want to, but it’s pretty hard to talk about.

after suguru defected, gojo could still obviously feel their bond. even though they were no longer together as the strongest duo, did it really matter when their souls were still connected to one another? it was a factor that played in avoiding (and perhaps meeting up with) each other as the years went by.

satoru felt their bond die that day after the events with okkotsu and rika. and it had frightened him. that lingering presence of the bond was no longer there.

so imagine his surprise when he sees you.

a new sorcerer in kyoto, now transferred to tokyo. normally, gojo doesn’t seek out the new recruits, but yaga had dragged him over regardless. besides, he might as well get to know his possible assistant teacher that would be helping him out with the new first years.

“i guess i can check out some new faces,” he relented with a sigh, adjusting his blindfold and looking to the side as yaga’s steps slowed as they approached you.

gojo rolled his eyes–not that you’d see it anyway–as yaga introduced you with your name and your sorcerer grade. he stopped to stand next to the principal.

you extended your hand to offer a handshake, and gojo finally turned his head.

that feeling as his gaze fell upon yours beneath the blindfold was familiar—frighteningly so—and unfamiliar at the same time. as if he could breathe for the first time in ages. your eyes are unaware, but they’re so revealing to him.

satoru stuttered in his movements, reluctantly taking your hand. the skin that touched yours felt like it was on fire. he briefly held on to see if you felt it too.

but you simply smiled up at him.

“it’s nice to meet you, gojo,” you said, blissfully unaware of the revelation currently dawning on the man before you and the turmoil it brought as he abruptly retracted his arm back.

gojo stiffened. he merely offered a curt nod before turning on heel and walking away briskly. he could faintly hear yaga protest about his sudden departure before apologizing to you hastily. satoru shook his head.

how was this be possible? how could the universe give him two soulmates? he didn’t even know that was a thing that could happen. he wondered if there had been a similar occurrence before.

gojo couldn’t help but feel nauseous. was this the world playing some sort of sick, cruel joke on him? or was it perhaps giving him a second chance?

and truthfully, it wasn’t like gojo even wanted another soulmate. not after what he had been through with suguru. he hadn’t given it much thought.

was it really worth it?

what if he couldn’t protect you too?

so satoru had decided on one thing that day: the blindfold stays on. concealing his eyes from the world not only for him, but for your sake too. he was certain in his choice; he would never tell you the truth.

as far as you were concerned, you haven’t met your soulmate yet.

and never will.

your first meeting with gojo wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it wasn’t something you could describe as good either. you’ve been left with the impression that he’s cocky and indifferent.

and that he doesn’t like you.

it’s been around.. two? three weeks? it’s been a while since your encounter with the white-haired sorcerer, and you’ve only seen a few glimpses of him here and there on campus.

okay, he doesn’t display any outright mean or ill intention towards you. on the very rare times the two of you do interact, he is obviously curt and clipped. seems like he’s deemed you worthy of the only either nods or one word responses.

you’ve yet to actually participate in a lesson or mission with gojo, but you prefer it that way. providing individual training and advice for the upcoming second years has been going great. at this point, you’re sure it’d only be awkward.

besides, the strongest sorcerer alive doesn’t necessarily need assistance in dealing with curses after all. that much is understandable.

you’re currently in the teachers’ lounge room with nanami. even though he isn’t actually a teacher, he pays visits sometimes. he’s good company anyway.

“it’s nice to hear that you’re settling in well,” the blonde says with a nod. he loosens his necktie absentmindedly as he adjusts the newspaper in his lap. “especially with that gojo around. he can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”

you frown at the mention of the sorcerer, crossing your arms. you’re seated across from nanami, watching him idly look through the newspaper.

“oh, well, actually, he isn’t too much trouble. for me, at least,” you reply, brows furrowing, “he barely talks to me.” (in fact, he seems to avoid you like you’re carrying the plague or something.)

nanami looks up, raising a brow. “huh. you should be grateful then.” he then hums, “but maybe that’ll change once there’s actually new first year students to teach. you both are assigned to them after all.”

you lean back in your seat, your shoulders committing to a halfhearted shrug. “maybe. it’s not like i never did anything bad to him though..”

nanami sighs gruffly. “don’t think about it too much.” before he can continue, there’s the sound of footsteps. nanami brings his newspaper back up, muttering, “speak of the devil.”

“nanamiiii!” gojo’s voice sounds from around the corner. it almost startles you how lively he sounds. you realize you’ve never actually heard or seen how he acts without you around.

nanami doesn’t respond, rolling his eyes.

gojo strolls in enthusiastically, blindfold on. “heyy, nanami, we should-” he cuts off when he presumably sees you, falling quiet and stopping short.

you blink, a bit hurt. does he dislike you that much? but you don’t let it show, resorting to greeting him politely like you usually do when you occasionally pass each other.

“good afternoon, gojo,” you muse, offering a little wave.

nanami notices his reaction too, but doesn’t comment on it. he continues to ignore the sorcerer’s presence in fact, eyes still roaming over the newspaper.

gojo clears his throat and resumes his pace. “afternoon,” he responds, focusing his attention back on nanami. he reaches the two of you, giving you no further acknowledgment.

you don’t care if he can see you looking at him, you opt to stare at the black blindfold covering his face. you have a hunch that he can see, or at least feel, you staring at him.

“can i borrow you for a sec, nanami?”

nanami emits an exasperated sigh, but stands nonetheless to follow gojo out of the room for some discussion not meant for your ears apparently, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

do you make gojo uncomfortable? you don’t know what you could’ve possibly done so though. from what you’ve heard from the others, he can be rather eccentric and overbearing.

does he just not like you? perhaps he views you as inferior, too below his level and power to actually converse with you. while it seems a bit of a stretch, you’re sure it’s not out of the possibility also based on what you’ve heard about him from others.

your frown returns. before you can dwell on it any longer, nanami comes back into the room. “well, i certainly see what you mean from what you said about gojo earlier,” he announces.

his words do nothing to falter your frown. “right.” you then shrug once more, “it’s okay. it’s just a bit.. strange.” you then shake your head, trying to be a bit optimistic. “but also like you said earlier, that might change! who knows?”

who knows, indeed.

megumi tucks the cursed tools inside their designated box and closes the lid. he moves on to the next one right as gojo enters the shed, beaming a smile.

“hey, megumi. you almost done wrapping up things here?” satoru asks, undoing his blindfold naturally. there’s a pair of glasses in his hand ready for use.

the teen nods. they had used a few cursed tools during training session today, and the storage did need a bit of tidying up. “almost done.”

satoru makes a noise of approval as he places his glasses on. “great! do you need help setting up your dorm room?” he looks excited at the idea, still grinning.

meanwhile, megumi looks disinterested at his offer. “no thanks. i think it’ll be easy enough. it’s not like i’m decorating it anyway.”

“oh, boo.” but gojo doesn’t insist on it any further. he actually falls strangely quiet, which causes megumi to glance at him curiously.

his teacher looks.. distraught. it’s hard to actually tell, but he seems to be looking at the floor, maybe lost in thought. before megumi can say anything, gojo’s expression changes and he starts talking again.

“you’re, uh, with the new teacher for tomorrow,” gojo then informs. he shoves his hands into his pockets and kicks at the floor absentmindedly. (he’s fidgeting. subtly.) “it’ll just be you two, i think, on a small mission. so they can get used to actually working with students on field. it’ll be good for the both of you.”

megumi nods. he tilts his head afterward. “you can say their name, you know. it won’t kill you,” he says a bit pointedly, “and they’re not technically new anymore. it has been a few weeks now since they’ve joined the school.”

“right, right.” megumi’s face scrunches up as gojo’s hand comes down to ruffle his hair gently. (a habit that has not died since his younger days.) “whatever you say, megumi.”

despite your minimal interactions and his rather closed off demeanor, megumi is actually one of your favorite students. (and yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have favorites, but oh well.)

your mission with megumi, or rather, the mission you’ve been assigned to supervise the student on, is rather simple.

there’s been reports of a low grade curse roaming the premises of a supermarket neighboring a nearby cemetery, so megumi is to obviously exorcise it under your watch. the area has been closed off with a small veil. megumi had decided to check the parking lot first for any lingering traces, so here you are.

“i think we’re good here,” the teenager confirms as his demon dogs return to his feet, seemingly in the clear. you nod and let him lead the way towards the inside of the store.

as the two of you begin to walk down each aisle with one of the demon dogs trailing behind, megumi says your name in an inquisitive tone. “what do you think of gojo-sensei?”

the sudden question has you blinking in surprise. your eyes scan megumi as you both continue to trek down the aisle. “what makes you ask?”

“no reason.” he doesn’t meet your gaze.

you bite down on your lip in contemplation. you’re not sure what brings this question to mind for him, but you’re willing to indulge him for now. “well.. i think he’s.. alright.” you pause. “as a sorcerer, i admire his strength. though, i think a lot of people think that obviously.”

“and as a person?” megumi presses, turning to investigate the next aisle. he still doesn’t glance over to you, still preoccupied with searching for the curse.

(hell, for a teenager, he sure is perceptive.)

you choose your words carefully, thinking it over with a brief pause.

“i’ll admit, i don’t think i know him well enough to be sure. as a person, i think he’s.. self-centered and rude. sometimes, i see him act very carefree in a way. he’s.. obscure, i guess.” you clear your throat and reiterate, “but again, i don’t really... know him.”

you can see megumi go over your words silently. the quiet continues. the conversation seems to be dying, but it doesn’t matter when monstrous gurgling sounds up ahead.

a curse appears in front of you, the shelving of the aisles toppling over as it gargles some unintelligible roar. megumi doesn’t hesitate, using his technique to summon his demon dogs once more to swiftly engage in combat.

the fight is easily handled in three minutes top. (they weren’t kidding when they said it’d be easy.)

after the commotion has settled, you allow megumi to do one more check up around the store just in case. just as you are prepared to exit and bring down the veil, you decide it’s your turn to ask him now.

“and what about you, megumi?” you inquire lightly, giving one of the demon dogs a few head pats for their good work. “what exactly do you think of gojo?”

megumi hums.

“i agree with most of what you said actually,” he answers honestly, causing you to chuckle in amusement. the teenager tilts his head and finally looks at you. “but i also think he’s kind when he wants to be.”

his frontward honesty surprises you once more. this kid sure is something. you believe his words; he has no reason to lie to you, especially about gojo of all things. still, you poke at him teasingly, “really now?”

you don’t really expect him to answer, but then megumi says in a mumble so quiet that you nearly miss it.

“well, he did sort of raise me after all.”

“i just don’t think he likes me, shoko,” you puff out a sigh, watching as she puffs out smoke. “i’ve seen the way he is around other people, and he’s not like that with me.”

she’s on break right now, so you thought you could talk to her about a certain blindfolded sorcerer who’s been plaguing your thoughts.

it’s interesting to hear about the different sides of gojo satoru from your peers. from nanami, you’ve learned that he’s pretentious and troublesome. from megumi, that he can be caring in his own way. and shoko?

“he’s crazy.” the doctor waves her cigarette at you with a shrug of her shoulders. “but it beats me on why he doesn’t particularly like you.”

you groan, slouching in one of the chairs set up in the infirmary. “maybe i should’ve stayed in kyoto,” you mumble. it’s more of a joke than anything; your.. weird terms with gojo isn’t enough to actually deter you.

but shoko puts the cigarette back to her lips and tilts her head. “want me to ask him about it?”

you straighten your posture abruptly and look at her. “what? you don’t have to. he might think i asked you to or something.”

she shrugs again. “your call.”

your brows furrow. “maybe we just got off on the wrong foot somehow. even though all i did was shake his hand.” you snort. “maybe i can get him something to break the ice. what does he like?”

shoko doesn’t even hesitate. “sweets. he likes his sweets.”

oh. oh, okay! you blink and nod. who would’ve thought? the strongest sorcerer in the world likes sweets. “i can handle sweets.”

you, in fact, cannot handle sweets.

why are there so many? you’re at a local bakery staring at the rows and rows of pastries they have on display, looking as if you’re trying the decipher the world’s hardest math problem.

shoko never specified what kind of sweets he liked during your conversation with her a couple days ago. cake? ice cream? cookies? you might as well buy the whole damn store at this point with your luck. the last thing you want is to buy him something he won’t actually eat.

“oh, fuck it,” you mutter and finally decide on a small piece of cake. it happens to be your favorite kind of cake, but oh well. if he doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like it! it’s the thought that matters anyway, right?

as you exit the shop with your newly acquired dessert, you try to devise a way to give it to him. do you just.. hand it to him? or maybe it’ll be better to leave it in his office. or have shoko give it to him!

ughh, who knew how hard it’d be to give a man a cake? okay, okay. you’ll simply give it to him in person since he’ll know it’s directly from you. problem solved.

well, actually, problem is not solved. how are you supposed to give the cake to gojo in person when you have absolutely no clue where he is right now? after returning to the school, he’s no where to be found, so you eventually turn to yaga for help.

“he’s on a mission where??”

you stare at yaga with wide eyes as he names some city so far away you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to find an affordable ride to get you there in a reasonable amount of time.

“oh, alright,” you say, feeling a little disappointed. the cake suddenly feels a little too big and heavy in your hands.

the principal’s gaze flickers down to your little intended treat for his former student. “these kinds of missions are no trouble for satoru. i’m sure he’ll be back soon, so you can leave that in his office.”

you brighten up at that and nod. “thank you, yaga.” you then dismiss yourself with a polite bow after he informs you where gojo’s office is exactly, and you start to make your way there.

it’s only a few minutes until you get there. you open the door and catch sight of a desk. it looks rather plain, which is understandable since it doesn’t seem like he uses this space often. (though, there is a chair that looks more expensive than your entire rent.)

either way, you walk inside and set the container down on the desk with a small sigh. hopefully the gesture is appreciated! if he really does have a sweet tooth like shoko says, you’re not sure why he’d turn it down. again, you can only hope.

you sigh again and turn to leave when the sound of the door creaking open sounds again. you freeze in place when it swings out fully, revealing the very man you were thinking about.

(yaga was not kidding when he said that gojo finishes his missions pretty fast.)

gojo perks up at the sight of you in his office, and even with his blindfold on, you can tell he’s got a surprised look on his face. “can i help you.. or do you have a reason on why you’re snooping around in my office?” he inquires, walking in.

while not evidently hostile, his appearance and words suddenly have you anxious. “oh, well, i-’’ you want to mentally smack yourself for fumbling over your words. “i’m sorry for intruding. i, uh, just wanted to leave you a little something.”

it’s only then does gojo look past you and makes a small noise. you can’t really decipher it, but you watch as he walks by you to open the small packaging to see the slice of cake meant for him.

and when he makes a small noise again, you can tell it’s one of delight. “you got me.. cake?” he asks, looking to you again questioningly.

“i did,” you clarify with a small nod, summoning a small smile and rubbing the back of your neck a bit sheepishly, “i didn’t know what kind of sweet you would like, so i just ended up choosing my favorite cake. um, i really hope you don’t mind the flavor, but if you don’t you really don’t have to eat it so-”

“kikufuku.”

you stare at him, confused. “what?”

“kikufuku,” satoru reiterates, and it’s his turn to smile. (it nearly catches you off guard because although very small, it’s pretty.) “s’my favorite. or.. one of my favorite sweets. crepes are good too.”

his newfound friendliness has you smiling a bit more evidently, pleased that this interaction is your most pleasant one with him so far in the weeks you’ve been here. “oh, okay,” you chuckle, “noted.”

gojo opens the container and unwraps the plastic fork that had came with it. he takes a bite of the cake and hums in approval. “can see why it’s your favorite. it’s not bad.”

your face lightens up at that. “oh, i’m glad.”

he hums, popping another slice of cake into his mouth. “any particular reason on why you’ve decided to give me cake, if i may ask?”

you falter once more, now nervous in telling that you’re hoping to.. resolve this one-sided tension with you. ultimately, you decide to be straightforward, inhaling deeply and looking at him. (well, his blindfold.)

“well, i’m not an idiot, gojo. you haven’t exactly been.. friendly to me. i’m not trying to win you over or anything, but if we’re going to work together with the first year students, consider this a gift for a truce. or um, a peace offering so we can act somewhat decent with each other.”

the white-haired sorcerer falls silent at your confrontation. you’re half expecting him to brush you off and walk out of the room entirely. especially since he seems to have stiffen up (similarly to the way when you first met, you had noticed).

he seems to contemplate for a bit. you don’t know where he’s looking at; the floor, the cake in his hands, you? it’s suddenly nerve-wracking.

“you’re right,” he finally speaks up, “i.. i’m sorry for my previous behavior towards you. can we start over?” he places the cake aside and walks back over to you to hold out his hand.

“gojo satoru.”

your eyes flicker to his blindfold to his hand, then back to where his eyes are hidden underneath. the rumored powerful and breaktaking six eyes concealed from your ever so curious sight.

against your better judgment, you repeat your name and take his hand.

“it’s nice to meet you, gojo.”

your new relationship with gojo is steadily becoming better. he’s no longer curt with you, and actually engages in conversations even with no other people around.

though, you can’t help but feel like he’d avoiding looking at you for some reason. which is pretty far off since you can’t technically see where he’s looking, but it’s a hunch you have nonetheless.

but hey, it’s progress, progress that you’re somewhat happy about.

like now, as satoru leans over your shoulder to peer at the clipboard in your hands. you’ve just finished wrapping up a lesson with the soon-to-be second years out on the field.

“ooh, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow, teach?” he pries.

“assistant teach,” you remind him teasingly, going over the contents of the clipboard. “more sparring. oh, and the registration for that new first year.”

“the one from the countryside?” gojo hums.

you nod. “yep. a.. kugasaki nobara. we won’t actually get to meet her, but arrangements for her arrival are getting finalized.”

“oh, boo. s’just more paperwork,” the sorcerer beside you whines, kicking at the grass.

“at least megumi isn’t the only one now,” you point out and finally turn to him.

just as you expected, satoru glances away to look at panda and toge finishing up. you squint at him narrowly but don’t comment on it.

“that’s true. not like that kid cares anyway, but it’ll be good for him,” gojo agrees airily, shoving his hands into his pockets.

you eye him. “hey, gojo?”

“yeah?” his head remains turned to the students. (further proving your point! you feel like you’re collecting evidence here; the gojo satoru cannot look at you in the eye!)

you hesitate. “wanna grab some kikufuku?”

he perks up at that. (like a puppy, really. it almost makes you laugh.) “mm, whatever happened to not trying to win me over with sweets?” he teases.

you laugh at that then, shaking your head in soft denial. “no- that’s not what i-”

“well, you did said kikufuku.." satoru interrupts you with a dramatic sigh and heave of his shoulders, “so how could i ever possibly resist?”

satoru doesn’t dare to look down at you.

“care to join me?”

but you smile up at him cheekily, and he hates the way the sunlight is hitting your features just right. it looks like the color of your eyes is glistening.

you’re just.. lying down on the grass of one of the training fields, admiring the drifting formations of white clouds on the blue canvas that is the sky.

satoru keeps telling himself that shouldn’t be doing this. his first mistake was accepting your cake. allowing himself to get closer to you. but when you look at him like that, he feels like he can do anything. which is odd, becaues really, he can do anything. it goes without saying as his status as the strongest.

but with you, it’s starting to feel a bit different.

when he doesn’t give you an immediate answer, you tilt your head and continue to blink up at him. “you can see the sky even with your blindfold on, right?”

he snorts. “yeah, i can.”

you pat the space on the grass next to you welcomingly, a beckoning that he just can’t resist again. “well, come on and join me,” you persist.

he hesitates, shifting his weight on his legs for a moment. against his better judgement, he joins you. it’s surprisingly comfortable, he finds, as he kicks out his legs and sighs.

it’s a comfortable silence that it’s almost startling. how easy it is just to be around you. (which is the exact reason why he had been avoiding you in the start, in fear of slipping up around you. he still might.)

“you get headaches, right? if you don’t cover your eyes.”

he chuckles at your question. “yeah.” it’s a half truth, half lie. he does get headaches, but for another reason now. you can’t get out of his head. (he’s got a suspicious feeling it’s because the soulmate bond is incomplete. but again, that’s just a theory of his.)

“‘m’sorry. that sucks.” you pout subconscously, still looking up at the sky to admire it.

he scoffs fondly, clapsing his hands over his stomach. “it’s no biggie. you think headaches can take down gojo satoru?”

“hey now, tough guy. they can take down me sometimes.”

(he’d fight off headaches from you if he could.) his heart is thudding against his ribcage, warning him. but he doesn’t heed the warning, and continues to lay down with you on the grass.

it’s a nice feeling. he doesn’t feel like the greatest sorcerer in the world with his colleague. it feels like he’s just satoru, pointing out the different shapes and animals you can spot in the sky with his soulmate.

“hey, that one looks like you!”

“hah?!”

“i’m guessing you and gojo-sensei are getting along now,” megumi bluntly comments.

it catches you off guard slightly, and you can’t help but laugh. (of course he had noticed how the both of you interacted from the beginning.) “oh, uh, yeah.”

and as you watch satoru go down the steps of the stairs to head over to you both whilst waving an arm with much more enthusiam than needed, you can’t help but smile.

“yeah, we are.”

this is a mistake. he shouldn’t be doing this.

but satoru can’t help but be so selfish, selfish in indulging in your looks, in your scarce touches. when you had confronted him with your peace offering as you had so called it, he had given in.

and now he’s spending more time with you. be it after lessons with the students, on random days where you have nothing to do, during weekends when there’s no authorities to bother him—he can’t help it.

was it the bond wanting to be complete? you were still unaware of his true identity, of what he could possibly mean to you, so why does he feel like he needs to be so close? he gets antsy at times when you’re not in his sight. it’s starting to affect him.

the soulmate bond, or lack of it—that has to be the only explanation for it. because he knows that you’re his soulmate, he’s subconsciously drawn to you and your presence. (it’s definitely not because he likes the way you smile, or laugh, or-)

fuck.

after a relatively tough mission, you’re obviously sent to see shoko. you’re not fatally harmed, maybe a scratch here and there. and okay, maybe a gash on your shoulder..

it had been enough to sort of knock you off your feet, but you’re fine. totally. exorcising a semi grade two curse at 1 a.m. in the morning was no biggie at this point.

once she’s finished tending to your wound, she dusts off her hands and places them on her hips. “you’re all set.”

you smile gratefully. “thanks, sho. can always count you to patch me up.”

she snorts. “well, it is my job.”

gojo suddenly appears right next to the table and you yelp, startled by his teleportation. shoko, on the other hand, looks unfazed, as if she’s used to this.

“gojo!” you blink, your voice taking a scolding tone soon after, “geez, you scared me! what’re you still doing awake??”

the blindfolded man falters, looking apologetic. “sorry. heard you got back from your mission.” he sounds worried, but before he can voice his concern, shoko rolls her eyes.

“they’ll be fine,” she says.

gojo’s shoulders finally drop down and he plays off his previous display of concern with a laugh. “ahaha, yeahhh, i knew that,” he scoffs with a wave of his hand, “i can’t bless you two with my presence?”

shoko gives him a displeased look before she turns around to tidy up her tools. you chuckle at her annoyance. “thanks for checking up on me, satoru,” you say sincerely. your eyes go over his appearance; he’s dressed more casually: a pair of dark slacks and shirt that expose his collarbones. not that you’re.. particularly looking.

but his shoulders seem tense again at your words and he hums quietly. (huh, strange. at least he’s not refusing to look at you anymore, you think.)

“well, i say this calls for a little celebration,” satoru suddenly purrs in delight, waving his hands in the air.

“celebration? for me getting kinda beat up?” you blow a raspberry at him, only for him to blow one at you right back. even though you had done it first, you can’t help but giggle at his childish antics.

he grins at that, then shakes his head. “heyy, i heard you beat up a semi grade two curse!” he says, “i think that does call for a celebration, does it not?”

you stare at him, unsure on whether he’s joking or not. wait, how did he even know that? well, maybe he had gone through the mission reports and assignments. still, you’re surprised that he knows. “you can wipe those out in less than a minute, gojo,” you point out with a raised brow, “don’t try and humor me.”

his grin lessens. “well, yeah, s’kinda easy for me, but i think that goes without saying. you’re telling me don’t wanna celebrate an accomplishment of yours?”

you look to shoko who is almost finished with cleaning up. she just shrugs. you look back to satoru and shrug yourself whilst rolling your eyes. “alright, we can celebrate.”

gojo fist bumps the air. and here you are again, giggling at him.

eventually, when he leads you out of the infirmary and to the teachers’ lounge. he digs through one of the fridges and hands you a bottle of what seems to be alcohol.

“i didn’t even know this was allowed here,” you mumble, settling down on what of the high chairs near the counter. you wiggle in your seat to get comfortable as gojo takes the one next to you.

you offer it to him but he shakes his head, nose scrunching up a little. “i don’t drink.”

“wasn’t this your idea?” you blink. “suit yourself, more for me.” you shrug and open the bottle to pour yourself a glass. and another. and another. and then another.

(you don’t know what particularly drives you to keep drinking as you talk with him, but perhaps it’s the way you know that satoru’s eyes are lingering just underneath the blindfold. you can practically feel his stare.)

and gojo watches you gradually drink yourself to being mildly drunk.

“okay, no more for you,” he laughs as he takes the bottle away from you and holding it above your head when you try to reach for it.

“awh, man.” you pout and rest your head on your arms on the table, looking at him the best you can. “you meanie. you got me drunk on purpose. give it back.”

he snickers, amused and endeared by your drunk antics as he pushes the bottle aside. “sorry. you’ll thank me later, pretty.”

pretty. he’s never called you that before. you wanna hear him say it again. (amongst some other things.)

“pretty.. you’re pretty. i bet your eyes are pretty too,” you say into your sleeve, your other hand reaching out to his blindfold, “everyone else says they’re v’ry pretty.”

he leans back to avoid your hand, heart pounding in his chest a little too loud for his liking. he wonders if you can hear it. “sure. i guess they are,” he says softly with a small chuckle.

“i wonder who my soulmate is,” you then mumble out. maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s your incoherent slurring, but you sound.. sad.

before he can dwell on it, you’re slurring out another question that has come to your head.

“d’you have a soulmate?”

satoru’s eyes widen under the blindfold. he knows that you’re drunk. that you’re just saying things. but your hazy eyes stare up at him with a glint that makes his heart lurch.

and you won’t remember a thing in the morning, right?

before he can answer, you’re out like a light.

you wake up in the morning with a splitting headache.

with a groan, you sit up in what seems to be a bed that seems way to be to be your own, legs kicking the sheets that had been draped over you in alarm.

you have no idea where you are, but there’s a glass of water along with some painkillers on the nightstand beside you, which you down gratefully. there’s also the smell of food coming from outside the room.

you can piece two and two together that you’re probably in the home of someone you know.. your brain racks for information of what had happened last night but it’s only causing it to ache even more.

gojo.

you shake your head and make your way to what seems to be the bathroom to tidy yourself up. you notice that your’re still clad in your clothes of last night, so gojo had done the courtesy of tucking you in.

after you’re done, you take a deep breath and head outside.

you navigate your way down the hallway and follow the smell of food. as you turn the corner, you catch the sight of satoru in the kitchen. not that you doubted that the greatest sorcerer could cook, but for some reason, he looks so domestic.

he’s simply wearing sweats and a loose fitting shirt, your back turned to you as he tends to the stove, but the mere sight of it has your heart leaping into your throat. you have a feeling that it’s a sight meant for you, for you to see.

you don’t no how long you stand there, but suddenly a laugh rings through the kitchen from satoru teasingly. “take a picture, sweetheart, it’ll last longer.”

you yelp, embarrassed. (sweetheart? you try not to think about it, but you hate the way it makes your heart leap again. he’s just.. messing with you.) “erm.. sorry. good morning, gojo.” you approach the kitchen and take a seat at the counter.

when he finally turns to you, he’s not wearing his usual black blindfold, but instead what seems to be white bandages. you haven’t seen it on him before, but you don’t comment on it though.

he says good morning back before serving you some food, which you thank him for gratefully. “thank you for the painkillers too. i didn’t do anything embarrassing last night, did i?” you inquire, half jokingly.

you try to remember what had happened last night, but your memories are still a bit hazy. all you can recall is talking with him about things and staring at him. (you’re not going to tell him that though.)

“nah,” he waves off, “just told me your darkest secrets, s'all.”

you straighten up. “what?”

“kidding, kidding!” he snickers.

you groan and drag your plate to you. “i didn’t know you could cook.”

satoru looks mildly offended, emitting a dramatic gasp as he waves the spatula at you in a petulant manner. “hey now, i’m no expert. but i can at least make some sort of breakfast.”

(he totally did not look up a tutorial on how to cook for you. definitely not. but he’s a natural at everything, so at least his naturally gifted skill is in his favor this time.)

“thank you, gojo.” a smile tugs at the edges of your mouth.

“satoru.”

“what?”

“c’mon, you’re literally eating breakfast in my kitchen,” he laughs, sliding a mug of coffee (probably with extra cream and sugar because it’s gojo) towards you across the counter. “satoru’s fine.”

you test the name on your tongue, paying little attention to the way it makes the man before you stiffen up as you grab the coffee. “satoru.. thanks, satoru.” you think you can get used to saying that.

(he does too.)

satoru turns away back to the stove. “you’re welcome.”

“hey satoru, what did you say what you wanted again? i’m thinking bubble tea but i dunno..”

he likes the way his name sounds from you.

“uh, satoru? satoru? helloo, earth to gojo satoru? satoru!”

oh.

fuck, he hadn’t realized he had spaced out. gojo lifts his head in a sudden motion, making a surprised noise. he smiles sheepishly. “what’s up?”

“you feeling alright, satoru?” you tilt your head.

keep saying his name.

“awhh, i’m feeling more than alright, sweetheart.” he shoots you a grin, liking the way your eyes reflect the café lights, giving it a warm hue. “i’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“you seem to be in a good mood lately,” megumi points out. ijichi, in the front see, looks at the two of them through the rear view in silent agreement.

(a lot of people have noticed actually.)

gojo pauses, halfway through unwrapping the plastic of a popsicle. it’s the same one he used to consume during his youth, but his taste really hasn’t changed after all this time. “oh?”

the teenager eyes him narrowly. “yeah.”

gojo merely hums and pops the icy treat into his mouth.

“heh, i guess i am.”

you can hear gojo and shoko’s voices coming from the infirmary, causing you to smile absentmindedly. you didn’t think you’d be enjoying their company this much in the recent months—especially satoru’s.

(strangely, it feels so natural to be around him, you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same. you try to write it off as spending so much time together for a while now, but you can’t lie when you say he doesn’t make the stomach churn with butterflies.)

you turn the corner and announce your presence to the two with a smile and wave. you catch sight of them when they glance over to you, noticing something different.

shoko is wearing her usual white coat with a cigarette in hand, but she’s got her hair tied up in a rare bun to keep any strands from her face.

but that’s not what’s different as your gaze strays to the man next to her, the familiar frame of gojo catching you a bit off guard.

he’s wearing his glasses.

you’ve never seen him wear anything but his blindfold.

how does he look even more breathtaking than without it? you can’t see his eyes still, no—it’s a deep, deep shade of blue that still blocks his gaze from anyone else. but it’s a more casual look, seeing as his hair isn’t being help up and a few strands fall down and you can see his sharp facial features a bit more and-

and then he’s gone.

you audibly make a sound of confusion and hurt, because one moment he’s there and the next he’s no where to be seen. he had vanished without a single world.

he’s fucking avoiding you again; the realization of it makes your throat close up. after all you had been through with satoru.

“what the fuck was that?”

shoko stares at the space gojo had just been standing, just as lost as you.

there’s a distance between the two of you again. it’s painstakingly familiar to when you had first met gojo and he had kept himself strictly professional with you.

and you don’t know why.

it’s back to the cold shoulder from him; you’re seeing him less and less around campus, and those times where you did hang out off duty are practically a thing of the past now.

satoru is going to be the death of you one day, you’re sure of it.

and you and satoru aren’t even.. a thing.

then again, you’re not even sure what you are. you’re friends, yes, that’s much more than clear, but why does it feel so much more intimate than that despite the fact that the two of you have never even done anything?

however.. a part of you knows that you want more. more of those days lying in the grass with him, more of those mornings eating breakfast with him in his home, more of those afternoon café runs, more of everything with satoru.

is that why does it hurts so much now that he’s pushed you away again?

satoru is praying that you’re not in there with shoko as he approaches the infirmary a week later. she had called him over, and though he could’ve easily refused, he found himself obliging anyway.

“hey, what was that the other day?”

shoko is blunt and straight to the point once he arrived, striking him with a petulant and expectant gaze with her tired eyes.

gojo blinks innocently, tilting his head at shoko. “what was what?”

shoko then rolls her eyes. “you know what i’m talking about. what was that. you just- walked out like they we’re going to kill you or something.”

that’s the thing. you just might.

the white-haired man frowns and continues to feign innocence. he’s starting to wonder why he bothered coming here. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

his avoidance causes shoko to frown as well and she crosses her arms. “you’re doing the same thing that you did with them when they first joined here.”

when he doesn’t say anything, she continues, “avoiding them, pushing them away. i thought you didn’t have any problems with them. at this point, make up your mind because you’re just toying with their feelings and it’s not going to-”

“we’re soulmates,” satoru blurts out.

shoko is cut off, staring at him all wide-eyed for once. “you’re kidding.”

satoru falters. “i’m not. s’why i always wear the blindfold. and that’s why i.. i ran that night. just my glasses was too risky.”

what if he had angled his head the wrong way, what if you saw his eyes, what if you finally realized that you were fated to be together at the whims of the universe? he couldn’t do that to you.

“how long have you-”

“since we first met. i.. i could see it because of six eyes,” he explains, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t know why. i didn’t think i could have another one after-”

the two fall quiet at the mention of suguru, a heavy feeling hanging in the air between them.

“what are you going to do?” shoko asks quietly.

satoru sounds wrecked. “..i don’t know.”

“well.” shoko smushes her cigarette against the surface of the metal table. “you better do something before it’s too late.”

unfortunately, the higher ups have also noticed.

(the push and pull that has been going on between the pride of the gojo clan and a random transferred sorcerer from kyoto. nothing goes unseen by their tight hold on jujutsu society.)

and you are none the wiser when you’re an assigned a mission late so at night, at a secluded edge of tokyo. you would’ve questioned it, but after looking over the details, it seems easy enough since it was a low level curse.

ijichi drops you off near the location and bids you luck. the night is dark, with the shape of the moon only peaking out every now and then due to the clouds to offer minimum light, and then the veil is coming up.

it’s fine though, as you start walking to get this over with. the faster, the better.

what the fuck? the cursed energy here is much stronger than you had anticipated, almost as if it’s suffocating. now uneasy, you continue your search with more caution.

a low growl sounds from somewhere behind you, and you turn on heel to brace yourself in case the curse decides to catch you off guard with an unexpected attack.

your heart drops.

it’s a grade one curse.

something’s not right.

satoru can feel it. he can sense it in the air. something is lingering, a presence that makes even him feel uneasy, and he doesn’t know why. nothing makes him feel uneasy. but it’s a gut feeling, it’s the bond tugging and tugging and-

you.

something’s not right.

and then gojo is teleporting and finding ijichi in record time, giving the poor man a scare. gojo’s voice is on edge and leaves no room for argument as he demands the assistant director where he had driven you minutes prior. the veil still stands, undisturbed.

fuck, fuck, fuck- shoko was right. he should’ve done something before it was too late, because now it might actually be too late as he steps through the veil.

it’s too quiet for his liking, but the lingering silence only lasts for a few heartbeats before he hears you scream.

you’re going to die.

you don’t want to think that, but you’re definitely not going to make it out of this unscathed as you dodge the curse’s scarily accurate attacks, as if it knows where you’re going to move and land.

the curse screeches out something ugly, and you’re too stunned to react in time as one of its malformed limbs swings down with a speed that you can’t comprehend.

your throat cries for help even as the air out of your lungs, but then there’s the sudden brilliant flash of red that blinds your vision.

satoru?

you can’t see and your body aches everywhere while the sounds of the curse fade out. it’s replaced by the sound of someone speaking frantically. it is satoru as he crouches down at you, hands coming to lift you up gently. his infinity is off. “hey, hey it’s me,” he voices, “it’s me, sweetheart.”

satoru, it’s satoru. satoru is here.

you emit a sigh of relief, cloudy vision gradually focusing. you try and focus it on satoru, tracing over his features repeatedly, trying to engrave it into your memory.

“shit. those damn higher ups,” gojo grits his teeth into an angered scowl. the higher ups? were they behind this? you don’t know, but you know that you’ve ever seen him this furious before. “i am going to rip those old geezers apart limb from li-”

“satoru, we need to head back.”

he looks dazed, tufts of snowy hair now hanging a bit loosely over his blindfold compared to when it’s normally pushed upright. he even sounds dazed, the great gojo satoru, when he says, “yeah. yeah, okay.”

he’s holding on to you tight and suddenly everything seems to get blurry for less than a second before you blink. you realize he’s teleported you both not to the school, not to shoko’s infirmary, but to his penthouse.

the interior is at least familiar: white walls, a little messy, a couple of decorations, and—

“my place,” he clarifies, as if he had read your thoughts. he sets you down on his couch, uncaring if you’re staining the color of the cushions. but he doesn’t let go, hands still cradling your form so tight that you don’t know if you’re still shaking or that he is.

“are you okay?” you utter out weakly and scan him for any injuries while clutching at his arms, which is ridiculous because he’s untouchable. but you’re not in the right mind right now, and you have a feeling he isn’t either.

“i should be the one asking you that,” he retorts, and you also have the feeling he’s doing the same thing with you with the help of his six eyes.

“i’m alright,” you try to reassure him with a small shake of your head. it only aids you in wincing, but the pain is the last thing on your mind. especially with him here. “it’s fine.”

“it’s not fine,” he argues, his hold tightening even more on you, if that was even possible. is that a slight tremor in his voice? “you almost died.”

“and why do you care?” it’s not a malicious question from you. it’s more of confusion, of genuine. after all you’ve been through with satoru, you’re not sure where he stands. what he feels.

he seems startled by your question, like he can’t believe you could ask such a thing. “of course i care! why-”

you clench your fists in your lap, eyes tracing over his face repeatedly. “i don’t know what you want anymore from me, satoru! you’re not- you’re not telling me the truth.”

“i didn’t want to hurt you,” he tells you hoarsely. god, you wish you could see what he’s thinking. what’s going on in that head of his.

“you did hurt me.”

gojo trembles. “i know.”

“you seem to know a lot of things.” your voice sounds tired. your hand goes to rest on his chest, where you can faintly feel his heartbeat underneath. (oh, to be the only one who can touch gojo satoru like this.) “what are you hiding from me?”

“i can’t hide anything from you.” he draws a slow intake of breath. he then whispers,

“but how am i supposed to tell you that we’re soulmates?”

your heart skips a beat.

gojo satoru is your soulmate?

astonished, you now stare at him with wide eyes. “why- why didn’t you tell me??” you ask, voice cracking. to think, all this time, your soulmate had been right there, right beside you, right in front of you.

then it all clicks. his off-standish behavior, his reluctant interactions, his avoidance. his blindfold. he didn’t want you to see his eyes.

he’s known all this time somehow—and oh, oh. his six eyes. your lips part in realization as you stare hard, as if you could see his damned eyes beneath the cloth that hides you from the truth.

“i thought that if you knew that we were soulmates, you’d-” satoru shakes his head. “something always happens to the people i love.” he hesitates, “you still have a chance. you can find someone else.”

“what if i don’t want someone else??” you say out softly in protest, gripping the lapels of his uniform.

gojo shakes his head again. despite this, he doesn’t let you go. like he can’t, like he doesn’t want to. “we’re not bonded yet,” he says your name shakily, “please.”

still gripping the collar of his uniform, you tug him closer to you desperately. it’s so clear, so obvious that he wanted this.

“satoru, have you thought about what i wanted?” you breathe out, feeling tears well up in your eyes, “that maybe, there’s a chance that i want to take the risk? that i want to be bonded to you?”

your eyes flicker down to his lips momentarily. “that i want you too?”

satoru’s breath stutters.

“you haven’t seen my eyes.”

you cup satoru’s face in your hands, swiping your thumb under the space where his eye is hidden with a fierce tenderness that makes him listen.

“satoru, i didn’t need to see your eyes to fall in love with you.”

your confession has him stilling.

(all the times he had stiffened up in your presence, he had been falling for you, bit by bit. you know that now.)

his hand comes to cover yours, the one that’s still resting on his cheek, fingers smoothing over your knuckles. and then his hand continues to go up, up, up, and-

he tugs the blindfold up and over his head, revealing his eyes to you at last.

his eyes are gorgeous, a blue that seems to spill into your vision and take over your senses. a blue that you can get lost in, a blue that reminds you of the summer sky, a blue that tethers your soul to his, and you both can feel it.

the bond between you is so electrifying that you nearly forget how to breathe.

and then satoru is surging forward, closer, even closer, until your breath is his and you forget how to breathe for a whole different reason entirely.

he’s kissing you.

he kisses you like you might disappear right before him, his head angling into yours to capture your lips with a force that makes your world spin.

and you return it tenfold, one hand still cradling his face while the other sneaks to dig its fingers into his undercut, and he’s making a noise into your mouth with fervor.

you’re all too aware of his heat against you, the frantic touches he’s now giving into as he draws you closer. the surface of the sofa dissipates into nothingness and then-

suddenly he’s teleporting you both again—or maybe he’s kissing you dizzy. but you realize you’re now in space that’s not overly familiar with you, but you can tell it’s most likely his bedroom based off of the feel of the lush satin sheets underneath you.

less than an hour ago you were fighting for your life, and now you’re fighting for your life on gojo satoru’s bed.

“satoru, s’toru, wait-” you’re gasping for air, for something as he engulfs you with his presence. he’s everywhere all at once, and it feels as if the bond is intensifying everything he’s doing to you.

“nuh uh. think we’ve both waited long enough for this, baby,” he gasps against your lips, like it’s impossible to be separated from you again, “don’t know how much i wanted this, wanted you. drove me crazy.”

his words makes your head all fuzzy. you don’t even know if it’s the bond anymore, or just the way he makes you feel. maybe even both. your lungs feeling like they’re burning, but even then, you manage to get out,

“you have me, ‘toru, you have me.”

“yeah?” when he pulls back, it’s not even a few inches, his nose brushing against yours. his alluring eyes glimmer in the darkness of the room, and you’re almost so mad that you feel like kissing him again because he’s kept them from you for so long.

your hands hook over his neck again. when your fingers run over his undercut again, you can actually feel him shiver, causing you to giggle in delight. “yeah, ‘toru.”

“yeah, pretty,” he sighs out and he’s losing himself in everything that is you once more so willingly. your eyes, your very being, compels him to give you everything, so he does. “y’have me too. all of me.”

his confession rings through your ears before he’s kissing you again, kissing you breathless. it’s a blur on what happens next; feverish touches and passionate symphonies, but one thing’s for sure,

the magnetic glow of his eyes in the dark of that night is something that you’ll never forget.

as your stir amongst the tousled bedsheets, you can feel the warmth of a certain someone creeping over you, like a cozy cat searching for cuddles.

your eyes peer open to meet the blurry sight of the ceiling, along with the sight of messy white hair tickling your chin.

“good morning to you, sweetheart,” a voice says cheekily, followed by cascading kisses down your jawline, prompting you to giggle softly.

you watch sunlight spill over into the bedroom, engulfing the man above you in an angelic glow as he finally pulls back to look down at you.

so maybe you didn’t fall in love at first sight with gojo satoru.

that’s okay.

cause as you stare up into your soulmate’s pretty ceruleans in the morning light, you think you can fall in love with him like this a little more.

BONUS!

“you owe me.”

nanami drags a hand over his face as he digs into his pocket for his wallet. “this is the first and last time i make a bet with you,” he grumbles.

shoko merely smirks. “you have such little faith in gojo.”

“bet or not, can we go back to before they were together?” nanami looks like he’s close to investing in a pair of one of gojo’s glasses that can block any normal person’s vision.

satoru is clinging onto you like a sloth.

“babyyyyy,” your boyfriend whines, resting his chin on your shoulder with his arms wrapped around your torso. you can’t help but giggle, endeared by his clinginess. (he had claimed it was to make up for the way he had acted in the past and for lost time.)

he’s like another part of you now. not that you mind. being his soulmate is everything and more—from the tender touches to the passionate ones, to the talks of everything: to the mundane to the serious. after all, your soul is his, and his soul is yours.

(and then his hands are sneaking off to places they shouldn’t be.)

“‘toru, not here!”

nanami heaves out another sigh as his hand comes to pinch the bridge of his nose. “is it too late to quit being a sorcerer again?”

TAGLIST : @spn-obession , @deepestartisanhumanoidshark , @scarasw1f3 , @kalopsia-flaneur , @90s-belladonna , @peachipeachy , @chrystinaamanda , @kalulakunundrum , @hunnyheavenn , @dekusdante , @dontmindmelove , @cherries-lostgirls , @rv19 , @etherealstarlightqueen

+ a/n: this fic ended up being way no longer than i expected omg.. but thanks to all who asked to be on the taglist !! some didnt work so im sorry about that </3

like this fic? feel free to go ahead and check out my other works here! -> masterlist

[gay-dorito-dust]

You may request A batboys reacting to the death of the reader

First time writing for Tim, so he’s probs ooc in this one.

Dick feels as though he’s failed you.

He tries to act like he was fine but he was far from it and everyone knew it as they stepped on eggshells with him during this time.

Dick would often find himself sat on the very rooftops where he’d take you on countless dates or just to star gaze and talk as though you were still with him.

It was his own way of comforting himself with your loss but that was never enough to stop the tears that fell from his eyes when he spotted a bright star he’s never seen before until now, and laughs humourlessly.

‘I see you’ve finally made your way amongst the stars huh sweetheart?’ He’d say as your star would twinkle in response, making him chuckle. ‘You’re so beautiful, the brightest of your kind.’ He adds sombrely as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand as he felt his heart sing out for you, only to receive nothing in return.

Reality was often disappointing but with you it was a fairy tale.

Waking up to you was a dream within itself and getting to do mundane things with you before heading off to work was something that could only exist in a daydream.

He knew Hayley misses you as badly as he does with how he’d hear the poor dog whine and whimper at the door, as if waiting for you to walk through it and tackle her with kisses and love like you always did, only to get nothing for hours.

‘I know, I miss them too.’ He says against Hayley’s fur as she whimpers and whines at the door. ‘I miss them so fucking much it hurts.’ He adds as he allows himself to mourn for you alongside his dog long into the night.

Jason blames himself for not being fast enough or strong enough to keep you protected and safe.

The apartment you once shared with him that only recently had started to feel like home to him now felt cold and haunted with the ghost of you, so much so to the point he avoids it at all cost.

Nothing felt right without you, everything felt wrong and unjustified that he became more ruthless then before on patrols just to let off some steam and would come back from them more beaten and bruised then normal.

He didn’t care, he couldn’t feel anything anymore with how numb he became after loosing you.

Dick and Roy would stop by to see how he was doing but each visit was the same with Jason refusing his older brother and best friend entry as he held one of your plushies tightly against his chest. He knows they mean well but he just couldn’t find it within himself to hear the same thing he’s heard from everyone else; It just felt disingenuous after a while and didn’t feel as though people truly understood the impact that you had on him throughout your time together.

Jason would become more destructive with himself and going headfirst into danger without a second thought and damns his teammates for dragging him out by the scruff of his neck as he fights and kicks out of their hold. He doesn’t want to be saved! He just wanted to be with you again, why couldn’t they see that?!

After loosing you Jason becomes more prone to angry outbursts and often lets them out on the wrong person but he couldn’t care less at this point, his favourite person was gone and he was left back where he was before you.

Lost and deeply afraid.

Tim would retreat from everyone and everything by cooping himself into his room, rarely to come out.

He’d rather rot in his bed and on his phone, looking through all the photos you’ve taken together and seeing just how happy you both were, all the while a pit in his stomach grew at the thought of all the plans you’ve made but would never get to do.

He hated how easily he gave you his heart and hated it even more at just how easy it was to loose you that he wishes that he could stop himself from meeting you for the first time, just so he could selfishly save himself from the best moments of his life and the inevitable heartbreak he’d soon suffer.

Tim would do anything in his power to get you back but knew that it just wasn’t possible.

He knew Jason was given life by the Lazarus pit but he wasn’t willing to subject you to that even if he was held at gunpoint. He’d rather you rest in peace than force you to live with the knowledge that you should technically be dead.

Tim would remain in his room, wondering about the what ifs and the what could’ve beens if you hadn’t died. Would someone have taken your place? Was your death an unchangeable fixed point in time that was meant to happen?

He would only be reunited with you in his dreams where he has saved you and you had gotten to live out the rest of your life happily, rather then left for dead in an alleyway not too far from the place where you were originally going to meet up for date night.

Damian dedicated his life to getting revenge.

He had lost the light in his life, so why should he think his adversaries should live when you weren’t even given the option?

There will be more bodies pilling up on the streets of Gotham at a faster rate than normal whenever Damian is on patrol, much to Bruce’s dismay.

His anger and grief was all consuming and that left little to no room for logic to make him stop and see what he was doing was no better than the thing that took you away.

Life was black and white for a long time for Damian and you were the colour.

You were the air he breathed and without you he was gasping.

He knew about the Lazarus pit in his grandfather’s possession and its mythical properties and how it gave Jason a second chance at life. However he was at a cross roads on using it for his own selfish gain, on one hand he could have you back and everything would be fine again, but on the other hand you wouldn’t be the version of you he fell in love with…

Damian didn’t know what to do. The grief, the anger, the sadness…it was all too much for him. He felt as though he apart of him was missing and he would never get it back, it just wasn’t possible.

Bruce feels as though nothing has changed since his parents death.

He may be older, faster, stronger and wiser but that didn’t mean nothing in the face of death, and your death only proved that to be true as he held you in his arms, holding you close to his chest as he quietly sobs into your cold neck.

Much like Tim, Bruce doesn’t take care of himself anymore and it was up to Alfred to make sure that he doesn’t keep over and die unexpectedly.

‘They wouldn’t want this for you sir.’ Alfred would say as Bruce slams his hands down on the surface of his desk. ‘And what would you know that they want for me Alfred, y/n’s dead and it’s my fault.’ He would bark and bare his teeth at the only father figure he had in his life, a father figure whom has seen this expression bore on the young master’s face more times then he could count, but it still hurt him to see Bruce in pain and heartbreak.

‘They would want you to take care of yourself, sleep proper hours, eat full meals, shower, reach out to anyone,’ Alfred began to walk towards Bruce and place a hand on his shoulder, where he could practically feel the unbridled anger and pain radiation through him that he kept under control. ‘They wouldn’t want you to wallow in pain alone, Gotham needs you.’

‘And I needed them.’ Bruce replied sharply, aggressively wiping his eyes with his hand as he looks over at a framed picture of you that he always kept nearby. ‘All I wanted was them.’ He adds softly this time as he looks at Alfred, lost and confused at what to do now that his anchor was gone. ‘I miss them so much Alfred.’

Alfred brings Bruce into his arms, much like he did when he lost his parents, when he lost Jason and now you, allowing him to burrow his face into the Butler’s shoulder and softly sob into the fabric. Alfred felt his heart break even more as he rubbed Bruce’s back in an attempt of bringing him comfort. ‘I know master Bruce, I know, but you’d be doing their memory a great disservice by destroying yourself.’ The older man started as he looked over at the framed picture of you and smiled soberly, you were a beacon to Bruce and Alfred wasn’t afraid to say that he viewed you as his in law with how happy you made Bruce and that was all Alfred could ever want for him.

Now that you were gone, Alfred couldn’t help but feel that the manor got just that little bit lonelier without you.

[tsuutarr]

Yandere!Hero (Chosen One) x Saint!Reader

Being the Hero – the Chosen One – means that the world’s fate is on Elias’ shoulders. He’s long since forgotten how to live for himself, his life belonging to everyone but him. He’s merely a puppet that’s being strung along by the world for the sole purpose of saving it.

At first, he was honored to be chosen as the Hero – it’s a privilege most don’t get. But everyone expects too much – everything – from him. His life is carefully shaped into what others want of him, people only looking at his role and not him as a person.

Now, he fights and saves people due to duty, not desire. There is no sparkle of pride when he helps villagers. Instead, all that is left is another thing checked off of his mental checklist. Now, he just wants to rest. He just wants things to be over.

So that’s why he despised the idea that some Saint from the Church would be his “helper.” Traveling with someone else is only going to slow him down. Not to mention the fact that he doubts the Saint has ever seen bloodshed and disease like he has.

But when he actually meets and travels with you, the Saint, he realizes that you’re actually not that bad. You’re actually kind of nice. He’d expected you to turn your nose at the commoner population, refusing to heal them, but you actively seek them out to help. You’re kind and gentle, but headstrong. Even when you’re visibly exhausted, you do your best to keep going. 

It’s… kind of impressive, actually. He had misjudged you, perhaps.

Even now, you’re helping the knights that were attacked by bandits (which Elias had vanquished), healing not only their bodies but their souls, too. He can’t help but look at you, a raw beacon of kindness that he hasn’t seen before in his travels. 

Once you’re done healing the knights, you look up at him, before a gasp escapes your lips. “Elias!”

He blinks at you, curiously.

“You’re bleeding!”

“Ah.” Elias looks down at his hand, blood dripping down his fingers. He had instinctively grabbed a knife by the blade earlier because he wouldn’t have been able to dodge it in time. “This is nothing.”

“Oh, shush!” you say, approaching him. You push him towards a tree stump, forcing him to sit, which he allows. Carefully, you take his hand in yours, frown deep set on your mouth. Your hand is so warm that it makes his heart burn.

“You’re tired,” he states, bluntly. He doesn’t tug his hand out of yours. “You’ve healed too many people.”

“I can–”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Rest for now, Saint. I am fine.” And he’s right – he’s the Hero, after all. His wounds heal much faster and better than a normal human being. He doesn’t necessarily need your healing.

“Still,” you murmur, looking up at him. “Can I at least clean and bandage it?”

It’s pointless, really, but Elias says, “Do what you want.”

So you do. You disinfect and clean his wound, before carefully wrapping his hand with bandages. For some reason, his heart squeezes painfully as he watches you tend to him so gently. He doesn’t remember if anyone’s ever treated him this kindly.

“There.” You look proud of yourself. It’s kind of cute.

“You didn’t have to,” he mutters without really thinking about it.

You give him a smile that makes his brain stop. “I wanted to. I want to support you.”

For some reason, your words almost make him want to cry. He’s not sure why – he’s seen so much death and destruction to the point that his emotions have become numb. Yet, you bring flickers of his feelings back to him – happiness, sadness, anger, love. 

You make him feel like he has an existence beyond just being the Hero. You make him feel human.

So, how can he let you go? He can’t – and he’ll do everything he can to make you his. Even if it means he has to destroy the world.

[niningtori]

mad about you | oneshot

pairing: choi beomgyu x you, delusions of kang taehyun x you

summary: beomgyu is not only a spoiled, rich asshole whose whole life has been served to him on a silver platter, but he's also your student council vice president. things finally come to a head on your final trip as college students, but not in the way you would expect. or, beomgyu catches you, the student council president, smoking weed and tries to blackmail you for it

genre: romance, angst (only a tiny bit...? shocking i know), fluff (kinda...? shocking i know), SMUT (MDNI!!!), sub!idol, beomgyu enemies to lovers

warnings: bad writing, not proofread at all, smut (MDNI!!!), sub!gyu LMAOOOO, marijuana, dirty talk, praise, handjobs, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, lmk if i missed anything!

word count: 7.1k

notes: please... this took MONTHS for me to write i fear i am the worst request taker on moablr. this was really difficult for me to complete but alas... it is done. if you hate it, my fault! just please don't bully me i've got enough shit going on in my life rn 💀 i hate it too but that's okay!

being a straight-a student is hard. being the student government president? even harder. being both? hell on earth. but now, in your senior year of college, you’ve finally managed to get it down to a science. things run relatively smoothly, which is due in no small part to the blood, sweat, and tears you’ve put in to make the student body happy, never mind the lengths you've gone to for the faculty. you can confidently say you can cope with nearly every trial and tribulation that comes your way with a smile on your face. well, except for one recurring disaster: beomgyu.

at first, he was nothing more to you than a pest buzzing around for no real purpose other than to mildly annoy you. it was strange because he seemed normal at first, but then he would pick on your looks, every time you made a mistake in class, and even how you happened to wear your hair that day. this was annoying and, well, hurtful. still, it was of no real consequence, so you were able to ignore him when that was the case, but now you know better than to underestimate just how disastrous beomgyu’s presence can be. as the student government vice president, he should be your first and most trusted ally, but he’s nothing short of, for lack of a better term, a major asshole deadset on making your life even more difficult than it already is for reasons unknown to you.

you think it may be because you would have probably beaten him for the actual president’s chair, which led him to run for vice president, instead. you don’t know why he minds this, though, because he couldn’t seem to care less about the council, not to mention school in general. it’s not that he gets bad grades, because he doesn’t. in fact, when he gets called on in class, he always gets the answer right even when he clearly wasn’t paying any attention. still, you work twice as hard as anyone else and yet your grades are only rivaled by his own. even taehyun, your (probably unrequited) crush, can’t help but be beaten by beomgyu as if the hand of god itself smacks down on everyone else every time you all take a test. 

getting good grades should be an admirable thing, right? it helps with potential internships and jobs and all that, but the thing is: beomgyu doesn't need any of it. even if he fails all of his classes, he's set for life as the son of a formidable CEO of a company whose profits are more than you could ever dream of attaining. there is absolutely no doubt that beomgyu will succeed him, and there is even less doubt that he'll undeniably be very, very good at it. what’s worse is that even if he failed to meet expectations, he’d still get the position, anyway. 

that, in comparison with your family’s laughable financial circumstances, would be enough to make you secretly hate the boy just on principle; but jealousy is ugly, no doubt, so you’ve kept your feelings to yourself. you would have fallen into a pit of self-loathing and guilt had beomgyu actually been kind, and you may have even grown to like him if that were the case, but no. beomgyu is not kind. he’s a total prick. you see it in his smug little smile when the test papers get handed back and he annihilates everyone — other than you — in class, especially taehyun. you see it in the smirks he sends you when you catch him making out with whoever his new girlfriend of the week happens to be, and in the way he openly mocks you by calling you a prude in front of the entire student population. and most importantly, you see it in the way he watches you struggle to stay afloat while he cruises on by without a care in the world.

-

honestly? beomgyu knows better than to bully the girl he has a crush on just because he wants her attention, but who told you to make it so damn hard on him? it’s not like he didn’t consider being nice at first, but your aloofness to his charms only caused him to believe that he was nearly invisible to you, and he simply wouldn't stand for that. naturally, the best course of action was to get you to hate him — at least that means you’re actually paying attention to him. that’s what he tells himself as he’s sticking one of his spindly legs out as you walk past him, effectively tripping you in the process and making the entire class erupt into laughter. your nostrils flare as your head whips up to meet his condescending gaze. once again, your eyes are completely on him. check and mate.

that's what it feels like, at least, until you’re hurriedly pulled up by a concerned taehyun and he’s frantically asking if you’re alright while fixing up your (now) fucked up hair. your eyes, which were just brimming with anger and contempt for him, are now overflowing with lovesickness and infatuation for the other boy. well, never mind about the whole “checkmate” thing, it’s like beomgyu doesn’t even exist in the same world as you anymore.

-

“you need to relax,” taehyun says, gently closing the notebook in front of you and sliding over a few of your favorite snacks. 

“th-thank you, tyun,” you reply, shyly. he grins when he sees he’s succeeded in distracting you.

“no problem, we wouldn’t want that pretty little head of yours to break from thinking too much, now would we?” he teases. you feel heat rushing to your cheeks at his words. he doesn’t really mean them, he never does, but that doesn’t stop your heart from racing when he says things like this to you. 

having a crush on taehyun is only natural. that’s what you tell yourself, but the way you have a shrine dedicated to notes he’s passed you and polaroids you’ve taken together sitting prettily in your room is most definitely unnatural. he doesn’t need to know about that, though.

“my head’s not going to break,” you huff with a playful roll of your eyes. “i just need to finish outlining the major stops on the trip and i’ll be done, i promise.” 

it’s true that all you have to do is outline where you’re going to stop on the council’s senior trip, which doesn’t sound like a big deal in theory, but in actuality, you have to clear each stop with the faculty and make sure you stay within the budget in spite of beomgyu’s insufferable attempts to exceed it. he’s made light of the finances and talked up special events to the rest of the council members, even taehyun. you tried to snuff out these suggestions with realistic arguments about how expensive it will be, but his response was to call you a killjoy. simple and straightforward, but effective, nonetheless. everyone, even taehyun, was so excited to try everything he hyped up, so how could you say no when taehyun turned to you, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and practically begged you to relent? you, unfortunately, didn’t and don’t have the heart to deny him, so you caved, and now you’re stuck trying to figure it all out. 

“you promise?” taehyun asks, snapping you out of your spiral, with his cute cat-like fangs showing ever so slightly.

“i promise,” you nod and he cheers triumphantly. again, you can’t help but feel your cheeks warm, and you’d bask in the moment if your gaze didn’t happen to catch beomgyu’s scrutinizing one at this very moment. he looks at you like he’s watching a monkey putting on a show, and your happiness is instantly replaced with a sense of embarrassment. you’ve never told a single soul about your feelings for taehyun, but eerily enough, beomgyu seems to know something the rest of the world does not. he seems well aware of your deepest secret. why he doesn’t just expose you in order to humiliate you, you have no idea, but you do know you don't like how much he knows.

-

you really, really shouldn’t be doing this. and certainly not here, of all places, but you just can’t help it. smoking weed is terrible for you, and you of all people should know, seeing as how you led a presentation on its ill effects in front of the entire student body in your freshman year. but it’s hard to truly care when you’re wound so tightly you feel like you’re about to burst. 

beomgyu is getting his way again, as always, and you’re worried about having to make yet another last minute change to your trip’s itinerary for tomorrow because he called today’s stop boring, which led to the rest of the council silently agreeing. so here you sit on the top of the hotel building as the rest of the group are out sightseeing, taking a long, lung-scorching drag from the blunt in between your fingers. 

“didn’t take you for the smoking type, madame president,” a voice cuts in from out of nowhere. beomgyu. fuck. 

you try to keep your cool, but you end up choking on the smoke as you hurriedly go to flick the blunt away, but beomgyu’s hand grabs your wrist before you can quite make it there. his touch feels like a brand searing itself into your skin, but you’re too overstimulated to notice. 

“i didn’t tell you you had to stop,” he muses condescendingly as you rip your wrist away from his grasp. he winces. you don't catch it. instead, you can’t help but roll your eyes at the presumption that he has the power to tell you to do anything.

“i’m not one of your little minions,” you snap in spite of yourself. “quit acting like you can boss me around.” 

“is that so?” he questions, not without an air of smugness. alarm bells blare in your ears as you try to sniff out where his confidence is coming from. sure, he caught you smoking, but it’s your word against his. that’s right, there’s no need to be scared. if he says anything at all, you can just feign innocence and say you were the one who caught him sneaking out to smoke.

“yep,” you answer with a grin at your new plan, popping the “p” with the same obnoxiousness he usually terrorizes you with. you’re no match for him in terms of popularity, but you will never lose to him when it comes to credibility.

“you’re not afraid that i’ll snitch on you? you’re not scared of me telling everyone how little-miss-perfect spends her alone time?” 

“you can try,” you reply with a shrug. he’s silent for a few moments, as if he’s in deep thought. 

“you know what? you’re right,” he concedes with a sigh, and shockingly so. the beomgyu you know and loathe would never give up that easily. “you don’t have to listen to what i say. nobody would believe me over you, right?” 

you eye him suspiciously before giving a slight nod.

“and most times, you would be absolutely right. like, just imagine if i told them you faked being sick and flaking on everyone else just so you could get high. nobody would believe me. i wouldn’t even believe me,” he continues. you have no idea why he’s going on and on about this, but you don’t like it. 

“what the hell are you playing at?” you ask through clenched teeth. 

“i mean, i’m just saying that nobody would believe me. not unless i showed them something like, i don’t know, this?” he says with a grin, holding up his phone and showing you an alarmingly high resolution photo of you taking a hit of your blunt. your eyes widen in sheer horror and you immediately jump to try to retrieve his phone from his hands, but beomgyu is quicker. he tauntingly holds it up in the air with one arm and stops you from coming any closer with the other. you try to jump to reach it, but you’re no match for his stature and long limbs. damn him for being so fucking tall.

“delete it!” you shriek, but all he does is click his tongue and shake his head like the insufferable asshole he is. 

“oh, sure,” he says nonchalantly. your eyes widen even further as he lowers his phone and fiddles with the screen, still keeping you at arm’s length so you’re helpless to grab it for yourself.

“r-really?” you ask incredulously, sincerely taken aback by his compliance. stupid, stupid you. he tuts in response.

“you don’t really think i’ll make it that easy, do you?”

“fine,” you relent, jaw tense and eyebrows furrowed in an almost comically exaggerated way. “what the hell do you want from me?”

“nothing much, just lemme smoke with you,” he answers with a lopsided grin, showcasing a dimple in his cheek you had never noticed until now.

“w-what?” you ask dazedly. 

“god, you’re slow,” he tells you with a roll of his eyes. “smoke with me and i’ll delete the picture. i won’t even mention it again.” 

“are you being serious?” you whisper. 

“dead serious,” he smirks. 

“... fine,” you find yourself relenting, yet again. you don’t know if you necessarily trust him to actually follow through with his words, but what choice do you have? why he wants to smoke with you, you have no idea, but if it gets him to keep his mouth shut, then you really can’t ask for much more than that.

you sigh and take a seat, walking over near the entrance of the rooftop and propping yourself up against the concrete wall behind you. surprisingly, he stays planted in the same spot as if he didn’t hear you. you pat the ground next to you impatiently in light of his hesitation. he snaps out of his daze as he sits next to you so tentatively it’s like you’re a stray cat he’s afraid to scare off. well, good. it’s best for him not to get too comfortable around you. you hate the guy, after all.

you take another deep inhale and he watches you with a gaze that can only be described as lovesick, but you’re too preoccupied to pick up on it. when you exhale, you find yourself starting to pass the blunt over to beomgyu before thinking better of it. 

“wait,” you say, pulling your hand back before he can grip the blunt. 

“what?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“am i gonna catch something from you if we share this?” 

“oh, fuck you,” he grunts, effectively snatching the blunt back and putting it to his lips.

“it’s a real question! i’ve seen the girls you mess around with, and i’m not trying to catch anything from you!” 

“i’m careful,” he argues with a roll of his eyes. “a lot more careful than you think.” you pout at his reaction, but for some reason, you believe his words. 

“if i catch anything, it's on you,” you reply, hackles still raised. shockingly, he doesn't press the matter any more than that. 

“... so,” he says after exhaling a deep drag. 

“so what?” you ask. 

“so why are you out here smoking instead of going out with everyone else?”

“do you seriously think you have the right to ask me that?” you scoff. there’s no way in hell beomgyu is trying to get you to be vulnerable right now.

on beomgyu’s end, he can’t help but feel slighted, even though your reaction is definitely his fault on account of how he essentially antagonizes you at every given opportunity. 

“i’m just saying that it’s weird how you’re here instead of, you know, actually enjoying the trip.” 

“oh, please. as if there was gonna be any possible way for me to have fun on this fucking thing,” you bitterly reply. 

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks without any malice, but with genuine curiosity.

truly, honestly, sincerely, you do not know why you say your next words. maybe it’s because you’re high, or maybe it’s because you need to tell someone — anyone — how you really feel, for once. all you really know is: you can’t stop yourself.

“i mean, how could i possibly enjoy myself when i’m left to figure everything out on my own? everyone only cares about having fun with no actual idea how we’ll do it while realistically staying within the budget and our timeline, and my vice president is deadweight, so it’s not like he’ll help,” you complain, taking a jab at beomgyu in light of your waning self control. you’re prepared to verbally spar with him after that last comment, but he surprises you.

“is that how you really feel?” he asks.

“yeah, it is,” you tell him. “that’s how i always feel,” you can’t help but add, more to yourself and less to him, but he hears you, anyway. 

“i’m sorry.” you whip your head around to make sure you’re not having some sort of auditory hallucination. did beomgyu just apologize to you? it can’t be. there’s no earthly way.

“i’m sorry. i really am,” he repeats. your whole world feels like it’s thrown off of its axis when you see how somber and genuinely apologetic he looks. 

“it’s… it’s fine,” is all you can really muster up the words to say. 

“no, it’s not. i’ll help you as much as i can, i swear,” he earnestly insists. you nod in bewilderment at his earnestness — feeling too awkward to do much else.

things are quiet for the next few minutes while you two are passing the blunt back and forth. beomgyu can feel the high finally hitting him in full force, and it takes every brain cell within his clouded mind (as well as every ounce of his courage) to finally get out his next sentence. 

“why him?” he mumbles so lowly, you don’t quite catch his words. 

“what?” you lazily ask. 

“why taehyun?” once again, you find yourself choking on the smoke. god, you’ve really got to get a grip and stop letting beomgyu surprise you — your lungs would thank you for it.

“w-what do you mean?” well, you always knew that beomgyu knows about your feelings for taehyun, but hearing him directly ask about them is enough to throw you off.

“i mean, why do you like him?” he asks, devoid of all the confidence he usually oozes. 

“what’s not to like?” you say offhandedly. if you cared enough to pay attention to his reaction, you’d see how he withers at your words. even more so when you continue.

“he’s really, really funny. plus, he’s handsome. not to mention smart and —” 

“so what? i’m all of those things,” beomgyu interrupts, irritation bitterly lacing every edge of his words. “and if you call him smart, anybody can be.” oh hell no. you’re so indignant at him calling taehyun stupid, you don’t even catch beomgyu’s childlike envy towards him, let alone why he feels it.

“just because his grades don’t compare to yours, doesn’t mean he’s stupid,” you argue.

“then what does it mean?” he asks with a roll of his eyes at your obvious bias for the other boy.

“it… it just means that he’s —” 

“a real genius. yeah, i’m sure you think so,” he snarks.

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?!” you snap, despite your better judgment to just let it roll off of your back. if he were talking about you, you may very well have done so, but this is taehyun he’s talking about. your taehyun. 

“it means he can’t compare to me,” he says, more as means to convince himself rather than convince you, but you’re so angry, you don’t even notice.

“and what makes you think you’re so goddamn special?” you ask, sarcasm absolutely dripping out of your voice. 

“i’m funnier, hotter, smarter, richer. how can he compare to me?” he snorts. if someone were to ask you why you feel so defensive at this moment, you would be unable to say why, but if you had to guess, you’d say it’s because taehyun is so good it’s impossible to see him any other way. your frustration builds up, hotter and hotter in your chest until you’re on the brink of exploding.

“you say that, but he will always be something you’re not,” you spit.

“and what, pray tell, might that be?” he cockily challenges.

“nice,” you say with conviction, and it may be cheesy, but you mean it. “he is really, really fucking nice and considerate. that’s why i like him.” well, that one went straight to his gut.

“i can be nice!” he exclaims. “i tried to be nice, but you just didn’t care! it was like i was invisible to you!” all you can do is stare, but he’s not finished. “you act like you’re some fucking angel, but i saw the way you looked at me like i’m some stupid, rich asshole who isn’t worth a damn.” 

finally, you realize that something is wrong. 

“beomgyu, why do you even care about what i think about you?” he doesn’t give a fuck about what you have to say in any other context, today’s example being only the latest in the litany of times where he’s shown you that exact sentiment. 

at this, he’s silent, which you truly did not anticipate in lieu of his tirade mere moments ago. you take a good look at the boy, and you finally register that the tips of his ears are a bright red under the fluorescence of the lone light shining next to the doorway. 

“i just… i always care about what you think,” he mumbles, face growing redder and redder under your scrutinizing stare as he breaks eye contact with you.

“you could’ve fooled me,” you snort. “you’re always undermining everything i say and do. it’s almost like you’re doing it on… purpose…” you trail off, puzzle pieces finally fitting together in a way you would never suspect. 

“beomgyu?” you ask.

“mm?” he murmurs, still refusing to make eye contact. 

“do you… do you like me?” and the question sounds so silly you can’t believe you even asked it. this guy fucking hates you, you’re sure of it, but you grow less and less sure of this sentiment with every moment he hesitates to answer.

“... yeah. yeah, i do. but so what? you don’t even care,” he mopes, and just like that, everything makes sense. his teasing, his contrarian nature, and his obnoxiousness are just part of his ruse. he’s just like a child begging for attention by acting out, but to what end? just so you’ll pay attention to him? well, he was on the money when he said you didn’t like him even when he tried to be kind, so maybe, in his own sick little way, he was right. 

but that doesn’t mean you don't feel completely blindsided by this revelation. 

“what the hell?” is all you can manage to say.

“shut up!” he demands with no real heat to it, just embarrassment. 

“i… i can’t believe your solution was to be an asshole,” you say incredulously. “if you had just been nice, or even just normal, i would have warmed up to you. i know i was being childish, but goddamn, you’re worse.” 

if he was blushing before, and he was, he’s absolutely blood red now. 

“i-it’s your fault for being so judgmental!” he sputters, but even you know he’s just grasping at straws. it all makes the worst kind of sense to you now, and you’re very much shocked at how oblivious you were mere moments ago.

“i can't believe this,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to your temples in an effort to straighten everything out in your muddled head. “you hate me.” 

“you’re so dramatic,” he huffs with a roll of his eyes, which would convincingly come across as disdainful, if only his words weren’t so shaky and unsure.

you take a good look at him now, and he can feel it. he’s a very handsome guy, and he knows it, but he can’t help but feel vulnerable. he clears his throat and straightens up his posture when he thinks that you may be comparing him to taehyun... you are not.

none of his actions escape you, which is a far cry from what usually happens, but now that you've discovered his true feelings, it’s almost impossible not to catch his tells; you even wonder how you missed them. his awkward handling of the situation is endearing, in a way. you like watching him squirm, which you realize must be the way he felt about you all those times he teased you. it just makes you wanna push him more.

you’re not exactly known for your impulsivity. in fact, you’re known for the exact opposite. you take things slowly, steadily. you plan every minute detail in consideration of every possible outcome, but as for right now? right now, as you sit and watch beomgyu pout, you just want to let go and do what you really want, and what you really want is to watch him break.

you grab his face with your hands and turn it towards you, and he scowls for just a moment before blinking his big, reddened eyes in curiosity at your unreadable gaze.

“w-what are you doing?” he asks, too exhilarated by your touch to think about batting you away.

this is a bad idea — a horrible one, even — but that does nothing to deter you. how can it when his skin on your palms makes it feel like there's pure electricity thrumming through your bones? fuck it, might as well.

you don’t realize it yourself, but you look incredibly focused as you pull him in, his lips meeting yours. you’d think with the shock he must feel that he’d be taken aback for a second, but beomgyu, as always,   does not abide by your rules. he immediately grabs your face and presses his lips even harder against yours. you’re surprised at how much heat is behind it — how much frustration.

it’s incredibly interesting to watch his reactions as you kiss him, which would be weird, but he’s far too engrossed in this newfound pleasure to notice your stare. his eyes are shut, but they tremble with every passing second, making his long eyelashes quiver. you never noticed how long they are before now. you chalk up the swiping of your tongue against his chapped lips to sheerly wanting to study his reaction, and oh man, it does not disappoint. he whines against your mouth, eyebrows furrowed like he’s pleading for something. you want to find out what that something is. cruelly, you take his bottom lip between your teeth and lightly bite. he whines even louder, his eyes fluttering open, and he pulls away and says his next words in a tinny voice.

“c-can i touch you?” he pants, forehead pressed against yours, lips cherry red.

“no,” you say with a smile against his mouth. he would whine again if he could, but he can’t quite do it at the moment, not when your hands have moved from his cheeks in order to explore the rest of him. you curiously run your fingers through his long, silky hair, and he can’t help but moan when you experimentally tug at it. it’s breathy and light, and you’re intrigued, to say the very least. 

you don’t have the most experience in the world when it comes to the, uh, matters between men and women, but you are a fast learner by nature, so it takes no time at all to figure out where he likes to be touched. his lips, obviously, and his hair. his ears, so flushed and pink and cute, must be particularly sensitive, and you test this hypothesis by dragging your teeth along his earlobe. he lets out a loud, broken moan when you do, and anyone else in the world would have been embarrassed by making such a noise, but not beomgyu. he’s so pretty and pliable underneath your touch, which feels so tantalizing that all shame escapes him.

“do you like that, beomie?” you whisper teasingly, employing a nickname you’ve heard from a few of his ex-flings, and another strangled cry leaves his pouty lips when he feels your breath touch his ear. 

“mhmm, i like it! like it so much, princess,” he babbles, eyes screwed shut as you trail your lips from his ear to his unblemished neck. 

“princess?” you can’t help but question. “where’d that come from?” 

“think about calling you that all the time,” he moans as you suck on a previously unmarred patch of skin on his neck. “think about you all the time.” 

“and what do you think, beomie?” you whisper encouragingly, as if he’s a stupid boy squirming under your thumb.

“th-think about how much i wanna fuck you,” he admits. “h-how much i want to fill you up, make you m-mine.” honest to god, your panties were already feeling a little sticky just from teasing him alone, but his words make your core heat up tenfold. you shift your legs while trying to make yourself more comfortable, but you fail miserably.

“you’re delusional,” you snort, as you pull away from him, but his lips try to chase yours before you lightly push him away.

“i’m not! i-i jus’ wanna make you feel good,” he slurs, and oh god, you simply can’t be saved.

“well, wanna make your delusions reality?” you can’t help but ask before you can think better of it, but when you see how his eyes light up in hope and pure, primal lust, you realize you don’t regret it.

-

the walk to his hotel room is silent, so unbearably silent that you can’t help but second-guess yourself. are you really gonna do this with beomgyu of all people? but it’s been so long since you’ve let go, who will it hurt just to have fun for once? maybe you, probably you, but who cares? it can't be any worse than it is now. besides, you're graduating soon. if things go as badly as you’re pretty sure they will, you’ll never have to see beomgyu again after the fact. plus, things really can’t seem to get any more embarrassing than the humiliation ritual you put yourself through every day that you spend pining after taehyun.

and so, you enter his hotel room, which is easily double the size of yours (sans a roommate, no less) with a look of determination. beomgyu completely misses it, though, as he shuts the door behind you and immediately tugs you towards his bed, quick to rekindle the atmosphere you two had on the rooftop. surprisingly, it’s not hard to do so when he’s back to kissing you so desperately it’s like you’re his lifeline.

he impatiently swipes his tongue across your lips, mirroring what you did earlier, silently asking for entry. you oblige. he groans at the feeling of your warm tongue brushing against his own, savoring the way you taste, which yes, does have notes of weed, but there’s something sweet in there, too. something he’s only ever fantasized about with his hand down his pants.

one of your hands is currently tangled in his hair, just the way he likes it, while the other one exploratorily finds its way down his lithe body. you’ve never done what you do next before, but he seems so incredibly sensitive, it feels like a matter of course to put your hand up his shirt and tweak one of his hardened nipples. he lets out a strangled cry, which only makes you certain that you’ve done the right thing. 

“is it good, beomie? is it everything you wanted it to be?” you tease. he nods like an idiot.

“y-yes, even better,” he moans. “feels s-so good.” 

in the dim lighting of his hotel room, you can see that he means it as the tent in his pants gets harder and harder to ignore. the poor thing is so wound up by your caresses that he may just cum untouched, anyway, but what fun would that be? so, before you can think too much about it, you palm him through his jeans. 

“ah!” he cries, eyebrows furrowed. you palm him again, rougher this time, and just like clockwork, he cries even louder.

“want me to keep going?” you ask, studying and soaking up every reaction of his. all he can do is nod.

he unzips his pants and he’s all too willing to help you slide them off of him, tossing them on the floor before hurriedly grabbing one of your hands to meet his barely clothed bulge. it’s big, because it’s beomgyu and of fucking course it is. as if he needed another reason to be conceited. 

it doesn’t seem like he’s very conceited, though, as he moans like a whore at you hooking your fingers under his waistband and tugging his boxers off of him. his cock is very obviously leaking, and it’s as bright red as his ears were earlier, completely flushed with beads of precum drooling off of it. there are angry veins running up the sides of it, which sounds gross, in theory, but you can’t help but feel like they make it even prettier. you gulp when you imagine how they’ll feel when they’re dragging in and out of your pussy.

“don’t stare!” he says, breaking you out of your reverie. honestly? he knows it’s pretty, just like every other part of him, but he feels incredibly scrutinized under your gaze. you don’t listen, still very much staring as you take your thumb and experimentally swipe it over his thick, reddened tip. then again. then again.

“s-stop teasing me, please,” he whimpers, but you’re so enamored with his reactions you can’t help yourself. you spit on your hand and grab the base of his cock, which is no small feat considering how thick it is, and you give it a harsh tug. he bites his bottom lip to try to stifle his moans as you start to jerk him off, applying pressure exactly where he needs it most, but he quickly gives up on being quiet when you bend over and lick his tip. he tastes salty, but not unbearably so, and in a way, he’s almost sweet. that could just be your imagination, though.

beomgyu is no longer trying to bite back his moans, but he's stuck in another dilemma: he can't seem to unscrew his eyes for long enough to fully appreciate the sight before him. one of your hands is gripping the muscle of his thigh as leverage while the other aids in squeezing and pulling the parts of him you can’t quite fit in your mouth. you’re not looking at him, which would normally be disappointing, but it’s impossible to be anything less than satisfied when you’re hollowing out your cheeks to suck on him even harder. you take your hand from his dick and ghost your fingers over his balls, and he has to push you off of him so he doesn’t blow his load right then and there.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, wiping some spit and precum off of your lips. he’s enchanted by the way your lips are swollen from sucking on him, so much so that he almost forgets to answer.

“‘m gonna c-cum,” he says shyly.

“and?” 

“i don’t want to yet. i wanna make you feel good, too,” he argues petulantly.

“oh? is that what you do in your dreams? you make me feel good? i’m surprised, i figured you’d like me to do all the work and —” 

“shut up!” he hisses, and you can’t help but laugh. 

“let me eat you out,” he offers, trying to distract you from his evident embarrassment. it’s tempting, very tempting, indeed, but you’re so hot and bothered that you kind of just want to get to the main event. especially since you just know it’ll feel good to finally have him inside of you. it’s been so long since you’ve been with somebody, after all. 

“no, thanks. do you have a condom?” you ask, ignoring his suggestion, and he’d be humiliated if only your question weren't so damn exciting.

“n-no…” he stammers. your face falls for a second before he rushes to get out his next words. “b-but i can pull out!” 

“sorry, this was fun and all, but i’m not letting you fuck me without protection.”

“please?” he begs. “i’m clean, i swear! i told you i’m more careful than you think. i really don’t sleep around that much, honestly,” he admits. 

“what?” you ask, genuinely bewildered before calling his bluff. “bullshit. i see you with a new girl all the fucking time. quit lying.” 

“i’m not! i promise — i promise — i don’t sleep around a lot. i only act like i do ‘cause of you!” 

“because of me?” and it actually makes sense when you think about it. he acts out, bullies you, and pretends he’s involved with a lot more girls than he actually is just to try to get you to look his way. oh man, what are you gonna do with him? 

“you’re so pathetic,” you sneer before hiking up your skirt and mounting him. 

“w-what are you —” 

“shut up before i change my mind,” you spit. and just like magic, his mouth is snapped shut.

you start by rubbing your clothed pussy against his bare cock. your slick has already ruined the fabric beyond salvation, so you don’t really mind ruining it some more. beomgyu is absolutely in awe at your actions, rutting against you feverishly. he’s greedy, if nothing else, so he impatiently moves your soaked panties to the side and tries to seek relief in your warm hole. you let him grab your hips as he tries to ease himself into you, but he’s stunned at the resistance he’s met with as he tries to push himself in. 

“s-so tight,” he groans as his fat cock breaches the tight rim of your pussy. the muscles contract as they stretch to accommodate his widened tip. 

you were right about how good you anticipated the feeling of his veins scraping against your insides would be, and you revel in the feeling as you sink down inch by scorching inch. beomgyu, on his end, looks absolutely devastated as you slowly take him in. his mouth is twisted open in a silent scream, and his eyes are watery, tears threatening to spill over at any moment. when your ass finally meets his hips, you can feel his length pulsating all the way up to your cervix. it’s a snug fit, too, and it takes everything in him not to hump you like a fucking dog. 

slowly, you raise yourself up again, almost completely off of him, before slamming yourself back down. then again. then again. he whimpers when you do it, grabbing your hips to help steady you as you ride him for everything that he’s worth. he’s enraptured as your breasts bounce with each movement, and he can’t help himself now — he begins to thrust into you wildly, matching your rhythm and making you cry out. if you were in your right state of mind, you’d feel sorry for the poor souls who are on the same floor as him. 

“pussy so f-fucking good,” he grunts as he feels you squeezing around him, and you’re about to smirk before he pushes you onto the bed then turns you on your side so you’re facing away from him. he tries to slide back into your needy cunt, but the new position makes you feel even tighter. still, with the combination of his slick and yours, he’s able to push himself in again before rutting into you. he presses one of his big hands against your stomach while the other one hastily grabs one of your tits, and suddenly he's back to fucking you like a wild animal. 

you've never in your life felt so wanted, so needed, but beomgyu needs you in a way so carnal it makes you feel even more turned on. he nips your ear, mimicking your actions from earlier, and begs for your praise. 

“a-are you feeling good? you’re feeling good, right?” he chokes out as he hits a particularly deep part of your pussy. 

“so good, beomie,” you moan. “you’re fucking me so good.” those words would normally never leave your lips, but he seems desperate for your validation, and you know he’s too far gone to mock you.

“oh god, this is w-what i dreamed about,” he babbles as he takes the hand that was pressing on your stomach and uses it to massage your clit, earning a strangled scream from you. “th-this is what i’ve always wanted.” and if you could see his face, you’d notice how his eyes roll backwards in sheer ecstasy. 

“i’m gonna cum!” you cry, all self-restraint gone.

“m-me too, princess,” he moans. “c-can i cum inside?” it’s a pipe dream if he’s ever had one, and you can believe that he’s had one, but your response floors him.

“yes, yes, yes! do it inside, i want it!” and that’s enough. he spits out a curse as he hammers himself into you, making you almost sob as you come undone with him inside of you. the feeling of your pussy sucking him in even more as it wildly contracts around him pulls him over the edge, so he paints your walls with his seed and fucks you through both of your highs. 

he stays there until he goes soft, slowly pulling out and watching in awe as the cum spills out of your hole. he pulls you flush against his body and sighs as he tenderly fixes up your hair. 

“i really, really like you,” he earnestly whispers into your hair. 

“i —” 

“it’s okay if you don’t like me yet,” he interrupts. “i can wait.” you’re glad you’re not facing him, because you actually feel a little awkward at his sincere words, but you can’t deny that it makes your heart flutter to hear them.

“okay,” you say.

“okay?” he asks, just to be sure he heard you correctly.

“yes, i-it’s okay. you can wait.” he’s so excited that he throws himself on top of you and turns you to face him, lips greedily meeting yours, putting every ounce of yearning into the kiss. 

honestly? with the way things are going right now, he probably won’t have to wait very long at all. 

notes pt. 2: yeah... i'm so sorry that this is bad i'm just used to writing angst angst angst and this def veered more into cute territory but whatever just don't bully me

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[slashercult]

pick an image to find out how your future spouse is with you

reminder that not all of the messages in this reading may apply to everyone. so with that i urge you to take what resonates and leave the rest. don't force anything if it does not fit. this reading is mainly just for fun. don't forget to follow or reblog if you want to see me do more readings like this.

pile one

this person is obsessed w you, like they are in LOVE love. & i dont mean in like a creepy "they are never going to leave you alone" type of obsessed, more like you are their favorite person ever and they love hanging out w you all the time. some drake lyrics were coming thru while doing this reading: "everybody has an addiction, mine happens to be you." i feel like very rarely will this person ever not get excited to just be in your presence during your whole marriage. like i can still picture them looking at you the same way they did on your wedding day even when you're both old n grey. they also happen to be a huge romantic so it makes a lot of sense. whenever they have good news they rush to tell you bc they want you to be the first person to share their happiness with. they're overall very sweet, i don't see them being the jealous type - i think they trust you enough to be scared of you going off with some other person. and you'll never even think about anyone else when you're with them because they treat you so well.

pile two

this person's love language is deff physical touch and it'll show when you're around them. they love hugging you and being intimate and doing all that sort of stuff. they honestly do not care where you both are because nothing is going to stop them from giving you forehead kisses or hugs. they love the way that you smell, it reminds them of walks in nature and pieces from their childhood. they love teasing you as well, they're very affectionate w you. they're incredibly supportive and also humble. i see you both being on a ton of trips, particularly road trips, but normal traveling is also coming through. i feel this person may not be as outspoken ab how much they love you, like they won't outright say "i think you're the most beautiful person i know" to you but don't worry bc they definitely think that you are. they have a very unique way of showing their love and i feel that you are someone who tends to pay more attention to details than others which makes you perfect for this person because while others may overlook or misinterpret them, you see them for who they are.

pile three

this person is super fun to be around, like they have the best energy ever. & i dont mean in a "they're always the life of the party" way, more like they make even the smallest moments feel special. i feel like whenever you're having a bad day, this person knows exactly how to cheer you up without even trying. they're the kind of person who surprises you with little thingamabobs and trinkets all the time just to see you smile. like they'll randomly bring you food that you like without you even asking them. they also happen to have a great sense of humor (that's kind of subtle but you like it) so you'll always be laughing a lot together. they’re overall very supportive of you, i don’t see them being the type to criticize your dreams. you'll always feel appreciated bc they will never take you for granted. though his laid-back and relaxed personality are behaviors you see often, you know your future spouse better than anyone. they're very inspiring and honestly i feel like you both will work on a project together bc you share similar dreams (i'm seeing some sort of art form, probably like writing or smth along those lines)

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed or resonated please heart and reblog so i can do more of these readings.