#fluff sad hours

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

got sad about something, so sharing some of my fave pokemas Eusine screenshots to cheer up. :'} 💖 /smol vent in tags ueue

[obsessedwhyyes]

The Fool

Summary: As you lie, nestled into Astarion’s chest, he considers his feelings - his damned, complicated feelings.

Alternatively, Astarion experiences all 5 stages of grief in 10 minutes.

Rating: T Word Count: 816 Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Content: First person Astarion POV, fluff and angst, rather a lot of angst actually, feelings denial, Astarion needs a hug, cuddling, Astarion's simple plan beginning to fall apart.

Want to hear this fic read aloud with absolutely pristine acting by the incredibly talented CurlyChops on AO3? Have a listen here!

A/N: You know when you’re lying in bed, unable to sleep until you write down that idea that’s managed to worm its way into your brain at unspeakable hours of the night? Here we have a slightly angsty drabble that decided to do just that! After the reception to the Gale first person POV, I wanted to try my hand at an Astarion POV. Hopefully you enjoy!

A fool lies in this tent.

Look at you, nestled into my side, sleeping peacefully against my chest as if a vampire’s embrace is the safest place in all the realms. Utterly ridiculous. So trusting, so… pliant. All according to plan, really. I set the trap - a few choice words here, a few lingering touches there - and you walked right into it. Just like I knew you would.

Just like all the others do.

Well, not quite like all the others. You actually believe there's something redeemable in me, don't you? How deliciously naïve.

Do you even realise what you've fallen for? What I am? A monster, a liar, a parasite. Oh, my dear, the fool you are.

Though I suppose your particular brand of foolishness has its… uses. Your blind faith in my redemption is almost charming.

No. Not charming. It’s pathetic. Pathetically predictable. It can’t be charming. Because, if it is, I’m no better than the fool I mock.

You shift slightly in your sleep, and I resist the urge to recoil. This charade - this playing at romance, at desire - it shouldn’t affect me so. I’m above this. I’ve spent centuries perfecting the art of manipulation, of taking what I need. It was supposed to be easy: charm you, bed you, and secure my safety. A means to an end. But as I lay here, with your warmth pressed against me, my chest begins to tighten. Not in fear or hunger, but in something… complicated.

Anger begins to burn at the back of my throat. Good. Anger is familiar. It’s safer, easier to control.

This is your fault, you know. No, worse - it’s mine. My fault that I have been reduced to this - a creature desperate enough to sell the only scraps of autonomy I have left. You think this closeness is love, don’t you? But it’s not. It’s survival. It has always been survival.

But then again… 

You’re not like the others at all, are you? Those who took without asking, without care. Your touch is… gentle. Always so damnably gentle. You’ve never grabbed, never demanded, never treated me like a thing to be used. With you, it hasn’t all been… bad. No, that’s not right - it’s been tolerable. Almost pleasant at times, really. Your touch doesn’t make my skin crawl; your voice doesn’t grate on my nerves. I tell myself it’s because you’re useful. That’s all this is. 

That’s all it can ever be.

If I were to tell you the truth, what would you do? If I were to push you away, would you stay? If I were to let you in, would you hurt me? These questions gnaw at me, demanding answers I don't have. 

Answers I don't want.

Even now, as you sleep, your fingers rest light as feathers on my chest. It’s maddening. Infuriating. How dare you? How dare you make this difficult? This was supposed to be simple. You were supposed to be simple. 

I could kill you right now, you know. One quick movement, and all these feelings would disappear with you. Never again would you look at me like I'm something precious, something worth saving, like I’m–

“... Astarion,” you mumble drearily in your sleep.

Hells.

I should leave. I should push you away, remind you that I am not something to hold on to.

But I don’t move. 

Instead, I stay. Because the truth, the awful, unbearable truth, is that I don’t want to lose this. The selfish man I am.

A sigh escapes me. 

It’s exhausting. I’m exhausted. 

Gods, what an absolute mess you’ve made of my carefully laid plans. I find myself watching you sleep, counting your breaths, fighting the urge to brush that strand of hair from your face.

When did this happen? When did I start to care whether you lived or died beyond your usefulness to me?

I hate this. I hate that you’ve made me feel anything at all, but more than that, I hate myself for not hating it more. The way you defend me, the way you’ve never once looked at me with disgust or fear… it’s terrifying.

You’re terrifying.

Yet I can't bear to give it away.

Your fingers curl into my shirt in your sleep, and I find myself pulling you closer despite every screaming instinct to push you away. Protecting you, as if I have any right to do so. As if I deserve the way you lean into my touch, trust in my words, believe in my capacity for - dare I say it - goodness. As if I deserve any of this.

The moonlight filtering through the tent catches on your sleeping face, and something inside me breaks. Or perhaps it's finally mending. I'm not sure I know the difference anymore.

A bitter laugh escapes my lips, so soft I’m certain it won’t wake you. How poetic. How utterly absurd.

You, the fool, who dared to fall for me. 

And I, the greater fool for letting you.

Masterlist can be found here!

No Pressure Tags: @roguishcat, @davenswitcher, @silverfangmarks, @sparrowbard, @chonkercatto, @stokzr , @trafalgarussy , @asterordinary , @bite-me-tonight , @transparentkittenheart , @bg3-fanfic-reblogs

[i2sunric]

𝗬𝗢𝗨’𝗥𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗠𝗘 (s.jy)

unrequited love (but is it really?)

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: bestfriend!jake x reader (f)

SUMMARY: you’d loved him quietly for so long, it felt like a part of who you were. but love, when unspoken, had a way of festering. it filled the silences, lingered in the spaces between you, and left you questioning everything.

WARNINGS: heartbreak, too little communication (barely one at all), reader watches from afar, jake is kinda a f boy (but make it romantically, lol), if only they confessed they’d be happy, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 1st December 2024

WC: 2k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy (project) @whateverhoon @theothernads

NOW PLAYING: You’re losing me (From The Vault) by Taylor Swift

a/n: very low effort, i’m sorry

Middle school had been a maze of awkward hellos and the formation of friendships, but finding Jake had felt like finding your person.

He'd been the boy who shared his snacks with you when you forgot your lunch, sat beside you in class, whispering jokes that got you both in trouble, and the first person you called when something — anything — happened.

“You're stuck with me now," Jake had said that first day, his grin as bright as the summer sun.

His cheeks were round and he was wearing glasses while his brown hair fell onto his forehead, a beautiful mess.

"Lucky me," you teased, rolling your eyes. But deep inside, you had never felt luckier.

You weren't one to make friendships fast, all your attempts at small talks always ended up being awkward and uneasy, usually with you making a fool out of yourself.

You were glad Jake had been extroverted enough to adopt you.

You still remember the middle school science fair, which was supposed to be a showcase of brilliance and innovation—or so your teacher had declared with far too much enthusiasm. To you and Jake, it was more like a recipe for chaos.

The two of you had decided on making a volcano that would erupt using baking soda and vinegar. It seemed simple enough, but it was proving to be anything but.

"Alright, now we try," he gawked excitedly, holding high the plastic bottle that served for your volcano.

The construction-paper casing you had made in arts and crafts sat beside it, drying after unfortunate an incident involving too much paint.

"Wait," I said, looking at his hands where the measuring cup full was held. "How much vinegar did you put?"

"Uh…" He paused, looking suspiciously guilty. "I don't know. A lot?"

"Jake!" you groaned, trying not to laugh. "It's supposed to be precise! What if it explodes everywhere?"

"That's the point, isn't it?" he shot back, grinning mischievously.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide your smile as Jake dramatically tipped the baking soda into the bottle.

For a moment, nothing happened, and the two of you leaned in closer, peering into the bottle like a pair of amateur scientists.

Then it happened.

With a loud whoosh, the vinegar and baking soda reacted with more enthusiasm than either of you had anticipated. The foam burst out of the bottle, spilling onto the desk and splattering onto your hands and clothes.

"Jake!" you shrieked, jumping back as the foam continued to pour out, dripping onto the floor.

Jake was laughing so hard he could barely stand. "It works!" he managed to choke out gasps for air.

“You're impossible," you said, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as laughter bubbled out of you.

"Admit it," Jake said, wiping his hands on his already-ruined shirt. "This is way cooler than whatever the other kids are doing."

You shook your head, still smiling. "We're definitely getting detention for this."

"Totally worth it," he said, grinning at you.

Through the years, Jake had been your constant— your rock, your safe haven.

Along the way, your feelings changed. It wasn't his laugh that warmed your heart; it was how his hair fell in his eyes when he was focused on something, the way he would hold the door for you without a second thought, and the way he knew how you were feeling without your ever having to say anything.

But you kept those feelings locked away, terrified of what might happen if you said them out loud.

You thought that maybe, with all the high school matters and puberty hitting, Jake would grow distant from you.

You weren't as popular as him; you liked being on your own or with your small circle of friends, especially due to your awkward nature.

But, much to your surprise, your connection only got stronger.

The hallways were never empty, always alive with laughter, chatter, and the occasional sound of lockers slamming shut. You could usually maneuver them with ease, but today was different.

You could feel it— the weight of whispers, eyes darting toward you, and the kind of sharp-edged giggles that made your stomach churn.

You knew they were talking about you. They usually did.

“She's got Jake wrapped around her finger, and I saw her laughing and sweet talking to Sunghoon too. She wants everybody, uh?”

"I know, right? She's so clingy. It's so embarrassing."

The voices were muffled but not small enough, and their words pierced into you like small, jagged pebbles. You continued walking, trying to keep your head high, but it was hard to avoid the way their laughter trailed after you.

As you turned the corner, almost colliding with him, Jake leaned casually against your locker, waiting for you, just like he always did before class.

His smile vanished the instant he saw your face. "Hey," he said quietly, straightening up. "What's wrong?"

“Nothing," you mumbled, fumbling with your combination lock.

Jake's eyebrows furrowed, and he looked down the hall, where the girls were still whispering, their eyes darting between you and Jake. It didn't take him long to put the pieces together.

"Are they bothering you?" he asked, this time sharper.

"No," you said, lying, avoiding his eyes. "It's fine, let's just go to class.

Jake wasn't convinced. He stood there a moment, his jaw clenched, before turning on his heel and walking straight toward the group of girls.

"Jake!" you hissed, grabbing at his arm, but he was already out of reach.

"Hey," he said, his voice even but with a firmness to it as he came to a stop in front of them.

The girls froze; smug expressions faltered under his gaze. "Got something to say about my best friend?"

The hallway grew eerily quiet.

One of the girls, the ringleader of the group, stammered, "W-We weren't talking about her—"

"Right," Jake interrupted her, his tone heavy with sarcasm. "Because I definitely didn't just hear you." he sneered bitterly "Listen, if you've got a problem with her, you've got a problem with me. And trust me, you don't want that."

The girls looked at each other uneasily and then murmured something about needing to get to class, scurrying away.

Jake turned back to you, his expression softening when he saw the mix of embarrassment and gratitude on your face.

"You didn't have to do that," you said quietly as he walked back to you.

"Of course I did," he replied, slinging an arm over your shoulder as if to shield you from the rest of the world. "No one messes with you. Not on my watch."

It was the protectiveness in his voice that warmed your heart, and as the two of you walked to class together, you couldn't help but think that Jake had always been more than just your best friend— he was your safe place, your unwavering ally.

Starting university together had been exciting, a new beginning for the both of you.

New faces, new experiences, and yet the comfort of Jake remained the same. You still would study late into the night together, eat cheap takeout, and walk across campus under the streetlights.

Then Jake started dating.

It wasn't sudden. It began with a girl from his biology class, someone perky and charming.

Then there was a girl in his intramural soccer team, followed by a string of casual dates that never seemed to last long but still stung like tiny pinpricks against your heart.

You told yourself it was fine, that you had no right to feel this way. Jake was your best friend, and he was happy. That was what mattered.

But it's another thing watching him laugh with someone else, watching him give away the pieces of himself you selfishly wanted for yourself— it just hurt in a way no words could describe.

It's one Friday night; Jake convinces you to join him at a party. That wasn't your scene, really, but he had begged, promising it just would not be the same without you.

The music was loud, the laughter even louder, but none of it could drown out the sound of your own thoughts.

You stood by the corner of the room, nursing your drink and pretending not to notice the way Jake's smile lit up the space.

He was in his element: talking, laughing, charming people around him with ease. His dyed blond hair caught the light as he leaned in to hear someone over the noise. And though you tried not to stare, you couldn't help it. He had that effect on you; always had.

You’d loved him quietly for so long, it felt like a part of who you were. But love, when unspoken, had a way of festering.

It filled the silences, lingered in the spaces between you, and left you questioning everything.

“Hey,” Jake’s voice cut through your thoughts, startling you.

You looked up to find him standing in front of you, his signature grin in place. "You've been awfully quiet tonight," he said, tilting his head. "Everything okay?"

You forced a smile, hoping it was convincing. "Yeah, just tired."

Jake studied you for a moment, his gaze softening. "You sure? You've been kind of… distant lately.”

The concern in his voice made your chest tighten. He cared. Of course, he cared. But not in the way you wanted him to.

"I'm fine," you lied, taking a sip of your drink to avoid his piercing gaze.

Jake frowned slightly but didn't push. He never did. It was one of the things you loved about him, his ability to read the room, to know when to give you space.

“Well," he said finally, his voice lightening. "If you need anyone to talk to, you know where to find me."

You nodded, gave him a small smile. "Thanks, Jake."

Yet even as he walked away, your heart was aching, knowing that he'd be there for you but just never in the way you actually needed him to be.

Later that night, after most of the party had cleared out, you found yourself sitting on the back porch, staring up at the stars.

Almost everyone was gone, just a small afterparty happening inside, though you didn't want to be part of any. The chill in the air was a welcome distraction from the turmoil in your chest.

"You okay?" Jake's voice came again, softer this time.

You turned to find him standing in the doorway, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

He stepped outside and sat down beside you, the warmth of his presence seeping into your skin.

"Done cleaning?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head, leaning back against the railing. "I was worried about you," he admitted.

Your heart clenched. "I told you, I'm fine."

Jake let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "You're an awful liar, you know that?" he eyed you up and down "Seriously, you're quiet. more than usual."

The corner of your mouth twitched, but the smile didn't quite reach your eyes. "Maybe I just don't have anything worth saying.

Jake turned to him, his face soft but serious. "You always have something worth saying," he said. "You just don't let people hear it."

It was a comment that hit closer to home than he probably realized, and for a moment, you considered telling him the truth-about how you felt, about how much it hurt to love him from a distance. But fear kept the words locked in your throat.

Instead, you laughed quietly, shaking your head. "You're too good at this, you know?"

"At what?"

"At making people feel seen," you said, glancing over at him. "It's kind of unfair."

Jake chuckled, his gaze softening. "I just care about the people I love," he said simply.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, even though you knew they weren't meant the way you wanted them to be.

"Jake," you started, voice shaking very slightly. "What if—"

But before you could finish, the door behind you creaked open, and someone called his name.

One of his last situationships, asking for him to come inside. To join her.

"Hold that thought," he said, standing up.

You nodded and saw him disappear into the house; his figure grew tiny before tucking into it. It sounded in the air-the speech you wanted to say after he was already out the back door.

And with all that, beneath the vast expanse of star, something struck you - maybe love towards Jake would mostly be experienced in silence: the remembering of moments and convincing you enough even when those weren't.

Because you wanted him, his presence, half of his heart. You knew you would be content, even with a quarter of that.

But nothing would occur if one kept silent, afraid of spoiling all those years of friendship for some fleeting thing.

[shiggybrainr0t]

dabi who insists that what you have is casual, and that’s all it ever will be. but here he is, cuddled up to you with his head laying against your soft chest, his heart slowly syncing to yours. a movie is playing on your laptop at the end of the bed, but he isn’t paying attention. instead he basks in the feeling of you softly running your hand through his hair, of listening to the soothing music vibrating out of your chest and into his ear.

sometimes he wishes he could become a part of you. that he could curl up small, and be tucked safe beside your heart. that way he could constantly be soothed by the gentle beating of your love for him, and he won’t have to think about anything else.

just as he’s drifting off, he feels the gentleness of you tugging at a staple on his cheek, barely there. he still lazily nips at you fingers in retaliation.

“you’re missing the best part.”

he hums in response to your murmur, the vibrations of your words a tickle against his face. dabi rubs his head against your chest, and settles in more securely in your arms. he grips your waist, feels the softest parts of you with burned hands. you huff softly, but tighten the hold you have on him all the same.

here he isn’t dabi. he hasn’t died and come back to life a monster. he hasn’t forsaken everything he thought he once loved. he doesn’t want to burn the world down, because that would mean you burning with it.

here, he’s just touya.

[veilstqr]

l'appel du vide ☆⋅⋆ ─ p.sh

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ sunghoon x reader ♡ angst and romance & w.c 2.9k; amidst the harrowing depths of her mind, sunghoon materialises into y/n's life. but will it be enough to save her from the depths of despair?

warnings: mentions of self-destructive thoughts/habits. nothing intense.

─── ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

The neon pink bled through the paper, a wound against the yellowing pages. A single sentence pulsed beneath her gaze, set apart, demanding to be known.

Je sens peser sur moi la fatigue d'un Ange.

I feel the weight of an Angel’s weariness.

How many days had it been now? Time had softened at the edges, colors dissolving into a smudged grayscale. She traced the fluorescent ink with a fingertip, as if the pressure might press meaning into her bones. As if the weight of the words might settle differently if she could just hold them.

But the weight remained.

And so did the void.

If only she could exhaust herself further. If only she could press her palm against the burning pan just a moment longer—would the feeling return? Would the numbness crack, even just a little, and let something, anything, slip through?

The walk to campus was a haze. Conversations hummed, vehicles groaned past, horns blared—but it all dissolved into the periphery, a static buzz at the edge of her mind. The sky threatened to break, heavy gray clouds rolling in, swallowing what was once blue in a dense, suffocating gloom.

A droplet landed on her nose. Then another. Tilting her head back, she let the rain kiss her skin, cool and indifferent.

Well, shit. No umbrella.

Throwing her bag over her head, she broke into a jog toward the main library, hoping to outrun the downpour.

She didn’t make it far.

Her breath hitched, lungs tightening like a vice. The stitch in her side flared, sharp and unforgiving, and she stumbled to a stop, clutching her knees. The world spun—too fast, too slow, her body caught in some limbo between collapse and motion.

God, when had she gotten this weak?

She squeezed her eyes shut, jaw clenching. Pathetic. The word lodged itself in her skull, repeating, growing louder.

What was the point of it all?

It was always like this. A body too fragile, a mind too tired. She could just stop—right now, right here. Let the rain swallow her whole. Let herself disappear into the cracks of the pavement, washed away like she had never existed at all.

The thoughts slithered in, wrapping around her like a vice. Just end it. Just—

The rain stopped.

She hadn’t noticed at first, too lost in the noise of her own head. But the cold bite of water had vanished, leaving only the damp chill clinging to her skin.

Slowly, she lifted her head.

A stranger stood before her. Young. Unreadable. His dark eyes locked onto hers, steady, indifferent—not with cruelty, but with a gentle quiet.

Before she could process it, he moved. Taking her hand, he wrapped her fingers around the smooth curve of an umbrella handle, pressing it firmly into her grasp. Then, without a word, he turned and jogged toward the nearest building, disappearing into the dry sanctuary beyond.

She just stood there. Hand curled around the borrowed umbrella. Rainwater pooling at her feet.

And for the first time in a long while—she didn’t know what to think.

She saw him again at the university fair.

Y/N hadn’t meant to go, much rather preferring to be wrapped up in the warmth of her blanket, hibernating in her little cave of a home until classes resumed. But a meak voice called out to her, pushing her to slip on a decent outfit and tame the matted mess of her hair. A little socialising would do her good.

The campus was alive in a way that felt foreign to her. Laughter spilled into the crisp afternoon air, voices overlapping, the hum of conversation thick and buzzing. Booths stretched across the courtyard, students weaving through the crowd, their faces alight with excitement.

Y/N kept to the edges.

She wasn’t sure why she had bothered coming. Maybe it was the guilt of wasting away in bed, or the brief delusion that convinced hers he could at least try. But even now, with people all around her, she felt detached—like a spectator, watching a life that wasn’t quite her own.

Then she saw him.

The boy from the rain.

He stood near one of the booths, eyes fixed on another boy who spoke animatedly, words spilling out in excited waves. Hands buried in his jacket pockets, his posture was loose, effortless—composed in a way that made it clear he wasn’t fully present. He wasn’t really engaged, just listening, expression unreadable, gaze sharp yet distant, like nothing here truly held his interest.

Her breath stilled.

For a moment, she considered walking away. Pretending she hadn’t noticed him, slipping back into the crowd before—

Too late.

His head turned slightly, gaze locking onto hers like he had known she was there all along.

A jolt ran through her spine.

She should look away. She should. But she didn’t.

His stare didn’t waver. There was no surprise in his face, no curiosity—just quiet recognition. A flicker of something she couldn’t quite place. Then, before she could process it, the corner of his mouth twitched. Not a full smile, not even close. But there was something there. Acknowledgment. Amusement, maybe.

Her fingers curled into her sleeves.

And then—he moved.

Not away. Not toward the booth.

Toward her.

"Umbrella girl. I was wondering when I’d see you again."

Y/N said nothing. Her mind went blank, blinking up at him, words slipping through the shallow confines of her mind before she could catch them.

He was striking. Raven-black hair swept back, though a few stray strands had fallen onto his forehead. Black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, where small moles dotted his skin like ink on paper. His eyes held that same cold amusement, unreadable, like he was in on some joke she wasn’t privy to. She didn’t know what to make of him.

He tilted his head slightly, waiting, and the motion jolted her back to reality.

"O-oh. Your umbrella..." The words tumbled out awkwardly, as if she had only just remembered. "I have to return it to you. I’m sorry—I didn’t think I’d run into you here, or I would’ve brought it with me."

His lips twitched, as if holding back a laugh, before he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.

"Hm." He tilted his head slightly, gaze flicking upward like he was deep in thought. "Well, that won't do..."

A pause. Then, with the slightest smirk, he met her eyes again.

"Guess I'll have to take your number so you can return it to me."

Y/N blinked.

Did she hear him right?

Her brain stalled, trying to process his words, but Sunghoon only looked at her, waiting—expectant, like he knew exactly the effect he had.

"I—uh." She cleared her throat, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "You don’t have to do that. I can just find you on campus and—"

"Mm," he hummed, unconvinced. "And what if you forget?"

"I won’t."

"But you did forget my umbrella." His lips quirked, barely there, but enough to send heat creeping up her neck.

She exhaled sharply, narrowing her eyes. "That’s not the same thing."

Sunghoon only shrugged, unbothered. Then, effortlessly, he pulled out his phone and held it out to her, screen lit, waiting.

Y/N stared at it. Then at him.

There was no way out of this, was there?

With a reluctant sigh, she took the device, fingers hesitating for a second before typing in her number. When she handed it back, he glanced at the screen, then pocketed the phone without another word.

"Good," he said simply. Then, with that same unreadable half-smile, he stepped past her, disappearing into the crowd as effortlessly as he had appeared.

Y/N stood there, heart rattling against her ribs.

What the hell just happened?

The man who had never once crossed paths with her in the last three years of university was now suddenly everywhere she looked.

It started off subtle. She’d catch glimpses of him across the quad, his figure blending in with the crowd, yet standing out all the same. A flash of dark hair, a pair of black-rimmed glasses, a calm, detached air that made him seem like he belonged in a different world altogether.

At first, she chalked it up to coincidence. He was probably just as much a part of the campus as she was, after all. But then, the encounters grew harder to ignore.

In the library, just as she reached for a book, his hand brushed against hers. A moment of shared space, unspoken, before he turned and walked away without so much as a glance.

In the coffee shop, their eyes met across the counter when she went to grab her drink. She hadn’t ordered it; someone else had. He didn’t say a word, just gave her a brief nod before leaving.

And then—he was in her class.

Not sitting beside her, no. But he was there, in the front row, like a fixture she couldn’t avoid, a constant reminder of something she didn’t fully understand.

Each time, her pulse would quicken, her breath just a bit too sharp, too quick.

Why was he always around?

And why did it feel like he was looking for her?

“You’re staring at her again,” Jake noted with a sip of his drink. They were at the garden, where several students had spread out sheets on the grass, enjoying the rare moment of sun the sky seemed to bless them with after weeks of rain and dull clouds

And she was there

Sunghoon didn’t realise when she became the center of gravity he seemed to revolve around. He couldn’t understand it either. This girl that was different but the same. With her unkempt hair and clothes that seemed as if she picked whatever was at the top of the laundry pile. With bags of sleep weighing under her eyes and the loss of emotion within her irises. She intrigued him. The quiet suffering wasn’t lost on him either. He didn’t know why or when he wanted to be her solace.

“She looks tired,” he said quietly, brows furrowing slightly. Jake scoffed from beside him. “Seems like she always tired, Sunghoon. It’s midterms soon, pretty sure we’re all going through it.” Sunghoon simply rolled his eyes at his best friend and focused back on the girl that was tucked against a tree, focused on the textbook splayed before her.

After a blink of hesitation, he moved towards her.

Sunghoon never chased. He never allowed himself within the proximity of anyone other than a selected few—especially not when it came to girls.

Love was lost on him for the most part. He had learned to live life as if he were a robot, moving through the motions with calculated precision. Detached. Untouched. It was easier that way. Emotions were fickle, fleeting things, and he had never seen the point in entertaining something so unreliable.

But then there was her.

Something about the way she existed—adrift yet weighed down, as if she were always teetering on the edge of disappearing—unnerved him. The raw, unwavering desire to be wanted by her, to relieve the ache inside his bones that screamed for her love no matter what it feels like.

It was almost maniacal how the essence of a girl he has only exchanged a few sentences with could have the death grip on the damned organ in his chest. It was beating furiously now as he approached her – almost stopping when she looks up confused, eyes widening in recognition at the sight of his face.

“Sungh–”

“Be mine.”

The words came out breathless, unlocking a level of desperation Sunghoon had never experience before. The word itself felt foreign to him. To want so obsessively after being the wanted for so long. But right now, with the black of her eyes sucking him in like the void, he wished to live in desperation forever if it meant being close to her.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

Her lips parted, but no words came out. He could see the way her breath hitched, the way her fingers twitched at her sides like she didn’t know whether to reach for him or run.

“Don’t,” she finally said, voice barely above a whisper.

Don’t what? Don’t say things like that? Don’t stand so close? Don’t want her?

Sunghoon didn’t move. He couldn’t.

“I don’t—” Her voice wavered, and she swallowed thickly, her eyes darting away. “You don’t even know me.”

But that wasn’t true.

He knew the way she always cracked her knuckles when she thought no one was looking, pressing her thumb against each joint like she was trying to remind herself she was still here. The way she rubbed at the dark circles under her eyes, as if sleep was something she could will back into her skin.

He knew she walked like she was never in a rush, yet always seemed one step behind—like time was something she struggled to keep up with. How she flinched ever so slightly at sudden loud noises, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag before forcing herself to relax.

He noticed how she never quite finished her coffee, letting it go cold before pushing it aside, forgotten. How she picked at the fraying threads of her sleeves absentmindedly, unraveling them bit by bit.

And then there was the way she smiled—small, barely there, as if she wasn’t sure she was supposed to. And when she laughed, on the rare occasion that she did, it was short, cut off like she regretted letting it slip.

And maybe he didn’t know her favorite color or what thoughts resonated within her mind, or what kind of music she listened to when no one was around. But he knew this.

“I don’t care,” he said.

She let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. “You should.”

Maybe. But as he stood there, staring at her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth, he knew he wouldn’t.

Wouldn't, couldn’t.

Because for the first time in his life, he was the one chasing.

And he didn’t want to stop.

She exhaled sharply, fingers curling into fists at her sides. He could see the conflict flicker across her face—hesitation, fear, longing. Like she wanted to believe him but couldn’t afford to. Like she had spent too long building walls that weren’t meant to be broken.

“Sunghoon,” she started, voice tight, as if forcing the words out hurt. “I don’t think you understand.”

Maybe he didn’t.

Maybe he never would.

But what he did understand was the hollow look in her eyes, the kind that mirrored something deep within him. The kind that spoke of exhaustion not just of the body, but of being.

He had spent years avoiding attachment, keeping people at arm’s length because it was easier that way. Cleaner. Safer.

But with her? He wasn’t sure if it was safety he wanted.

“I don’t need to understand,” he said, softer this time. “Just let me stay.”

She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing. The air between them felt unbearably fragile, stretched so thin he thought it might snap at the slightest touch.

And then—she broke it.

With a sigh, she looked away, arms wrapping around herself like she was bracing for impact. “I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”

A beat of silence.

He should walk away. He should tell her it was fine, that he didn’t need anything from her. That this pull between them—this quiet, aching thing—wasn’t worth it.

“I don’t need anything,” he murmured. “Just you.”

The words hung in the space between them, unanswered.

But she didn’t move away.

And for now, that was enough.

"And if I push you away? If I become a burden—something you have to carry when I can barely hold myself together? What then, Sunghoon?" Her voice wavered, raw and exposed. "If I become a hassle, something you put up with, will you leave me? After granting me false hope? After making me believe, even for a moment, in the elusion of being wanted?"

Sunghoon’s breath hitched. For a moment, he said nothing, only staring at her—at the way her shoulders curled inward, at the way her hands clenched at her sides like she was bracing for the inevitable.

She expected him to walk away.

Expected this to be the part where he realized she was too much and left her standing alone in the wreckage of her own words.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he inched closer until their noses nearly touched and she could feel the gentle fanning of his breath on hers.

“If you push me away, I’ll stay where you left me,” he murmured. “And if you need space, I’ll give it to you. But I won’t disappear, and I won’t leave just because it gets hard.”

She let out a sharp, disbelieving breath, shaking her head. “That’s easy to say now.”

“Maybe.” His gaze softened, but there was something unyielding in it, something firm. “But I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Silence.

She searched his face like she was waiting for him to falter, waiting for the cracks to show. But he only stood there, steady, unwavering, real.

And it terrified her.

Because if he was real—if this was real—then so was the risk of losing it.

Her throat bobbed. She wanted to say something, to argue, to tell him he was making a mistake. But she was tired. Tired of running, tired of second-guessing, tired of denying the quiet pull that had tethered her to him from the moment he first placed that umbrella in her hand.

So instead, she exhaled. Slow. Shaky.

“…I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted.

Sunghoon’s lips quirked, just barely. “Then we’ll figure it out.”

“You and I, together.”

020425

© veilstqr 2025. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission

tag list: @s1rawb3rry @hollyoongs @w2hoonki @httpenhoon comment or dm me if you want to be tagged in every update <3

[lycheedr3ams]

Uhm.

(I feel like an addict crawling to you to get her fix)

I was just wondering 👉👈 if you could, uh, sometime when you want, IF you want, tell us how would emotionally unavailable König react to our poor sniper babe asking if they could do it without a condom? Or if she asks if they could kiss...? (I'm melting)

Perhaps she's at a breaking point or something, just wants to feel him even if just this once? What would happen...?

I love those drabbles you did so, so much. They have a special place in my heart and I cherish them so, whoo I can't even explain. Much love to you 🩷🩷🩷 and please feel free to just ignore this ask if it's not your cup of tea!

i love this ask! it challenges me and i love it. i also love this plotline i've made and i want to expand on it

this is going to be a mini-series, so i'm gonna make a proper title and masterlist soon

TW: NSFW, smut, mentions of self-hate, just sad overall, angst, maybe some comfort at the end?

part 3 of Relapse

you'd lost count of how many times you and könig gave yourselves to each other. it didn't matter that he always guarded the sweetest parts of himself from you, hiding his lips behind that hood and his cock within the condom. he gave you as much of himself as he was able, and you thought you'd never find the courage to ask for more. how could you ask more from the man who already gave you so much?

despite könig's best attempts at a detached façade when everything he was laid bare before you, you knew that he willingly gave you the parts of himself that he had never given to anyone else before, parts of himself that he didn't know he even had. he was a balm that protected you from yourself. but just like every topical substance, it wore away. and könig's balm was exactly that: topical. it never reached very deep - it wasn't in its nature to. and neither was its nature to last very long, or ever be enough. it was meant to heal only a little at a time, sadistically leaving some wounds unhealed so that you had no choice but to need more.

you tried your best to not look disappointed every time könig clumsily opened the shiny condom wrapper and slid it down his aching length. but you never missed the way his large, calloused fingers shook each time he tore the package open, or the way he'd fling the wrapper somewhere in the room with a frustrated grunt. you were grateful for könig and what he gave you, but the plastic shape of his cock was not enough: you needed more, and you hated yourself for it. you wanted what könig already gave you to be enough.

some nights, on the nights when you just needed his comfort more than anything, you couldn't help the quiet sigh that escaped your lungs as you watched him reach for the condom box. you'd watch könig slide the thin plastic down his smooth cock with contempt masked as sadness, not able to look him in the eye as he created a barrier between you and the part of himself that you needed the most. but still, you welcomed him into you each and every time. how could you ever refuse him, anyway? how could you refuse the only man who looked at you as more than a pretty face, a man who saw more of you than you had ever showed to anyone, even yourself?

there were some nights when könig almost seemed... reluctant to put on the condom. some nights when he just stared at the crinkling wrapper under his fingers, listening to the sound of it without actually tearing it. you always watched in wonder as he listened to the sound of the barrier that separated you two, but you could never tell if he was just lost in his own thoughts for a moment or contemplating not using the thing at all. you didn't think it could be the latter, since he always wore the damn condom every time.

but one night happened when you just couldn't take it anymore; you were just too needy to feel guilty about it. you were tired of the surface-level balm he gave to you abundantly. you wanted the medicine that would penetrate your skin and seep into your bloodstream, the medicine that would reach deeply and be felt within every nerve of your body. as he reached over your head for the box like he always did, you somehow managed to get the words out.

"please. no condom. not tonight." you wished your words had come out more eloquently, more convincingly, but your tongue felt dry in your throat and your voice like it had been sealed away. könig's arm froze in midair above you as you spoke, until he lowered it by his side and stared at you for much longer than you were comfortable with. you were already naked with your legs spread, and his gaze was intense enough as it was. you looked away shamefully as he seemed to dissociate, your skin tingling everywhere his eyes wandered. but his eyes weren't wandering with a purpose; he seemed to be searching your body, trying to find something. but his head stayed still, and you wondered if he could even see you at all. perhaps he was searching instead within himself. maybe könig didn't have the medicine you needed after all.

"just this once," he finally muttered. your eyes opened wide and your lips parted. had you heard him right?

"did...did i just hear you right?" you asked softly. konig then wordlessly slid the underside of his cock on your soaked entrance, coating himself with you. your face burned hot when you finally, finally felt the skin of his manhood against you. you were already shaking and panting, and he wasn't even inside of you yet. he watched you with wonder and lust as he felt the sensation of your wet, slick folds. then, without any warning, könig eased himself into you in one easy, gentle thrust.

every time könig entered you for the first time each night you had sex, it always felt like heaven had been brought down just for you. but this time, when there was no plastic barrier between the most intimate parts of yourselves, it was so much deeper than unbridled ecstasy; it felt like coming back home after being away for so long that you forgot what it felt like to feel safe. you and könig each had your eyes screwed shut and were trembling, your arms and legs wrapped around him tightly. you finally felt his warmth, his smooth hard skin, the ghost of a pulse that fluttered against your walls. and könig finally allowed himself to indulge in the wet, protective warmth of your womb. was it some Freudian concept that made him feel so welcome within your womanhood, his unconscious mind being reminded of where he had come from? or was it that you were just so warm and wet and perfectly wrapped around his cock like you were made for him?

könig shuddered and finally opened his eyes to look down at you. you were panting with your brows furrowed and eyes shut. suddenly, könig set a pace, but it wasn't punishing and animalistic like it usually was. tonight, he slowly - almost too slowly - dragged each and every inch of his cock through your walls, watching as they dragged along his cock as he pulled out and constricted once he went in. you moaned deeply, as if you were breathing for the first time. you had never been so wet for him before, you were literally dripping down his balls and onto the sheets. he gently applied pressure to your lower stomach as he leaned back and watched as he fluidly rolled his hips and sunk his cock in and out, in and out of your heat. his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and you were now silent (except for the occasional gasp) as you traveled somewhere far away that only könig could take you.

könig's pace eventually increased, wanting to near his own end, but he lasted longer than he ever had before. sometimes, he nearly completely stopped and just watched, transfixed, as you begged for him to move. he seemed to be curious about the way you begged, almost like the way an astronomer looks wistfully up at the night sky to understand the stars. but his gaze wasn't cold and analytical like he was collecting data, it was more the gaze of one who sought to completely and wholly understand something far beyond their grasp, far beyond the reaches of their mind and body.

as könig slowly worked up the pace, his large thumb rubbed circles onto your swollen clit painfully slowly. but he was only working you up, edging you until you were both ready to come at the same time. and when you both did, it was unlike anything you had ever felt before. lost in the heat of this mutual explosive orgasm, neither of you realized that könig had come inside you while he was fully sheathed.

you both panted and slowly came back to reality, and you looked at könig, a little confused, as he stared down at where you two were connected. you sat up on your elbows and saw a thin white ring around his cock, and your eyes widened. you couldn't find any words to say, and you looked up at him, a little panicked. you were fine with it, but you knew - at least, you thought you knew - that he wasn't. but könig didn't say a word as he pulled out of your wet heat with a hiss, and gently cleaned you up like he always did.

neither of you mentioned what happened as you both clumsily got dressed, and you pretended not to notice some of the semen he missed dripping down your leg that was absorbed by your pants. you almost wondered if that had even happened with the way that not a single word was said afterwards, but the white stain on your pants was proof that you weren't dreaming.

you smiled softly at könig like you always did after he gave himself to you, and quietly shut his door as you left, filled with his medicine that finally treated some of your wounds that he always left open.

[mapofthemazeinthemirror]

When he thought he'd moved on (ex-boyfriend!txt)

Warnings: not really gender neutral

note: when I started this I wondered if it was appropriate, please let me know if there is any problem. sad hours open, I guess.

Soobin

The cafe was quiet, just the way he liked it. This was your meeting place; even if the place was closed, the two of you would meet here. He got here early, the table in the corner waiting for him as always. The owner had smiled at him and said hello, recognising him as a long-time customer.

As he pulls his earphones from his pocket and begins to detangle them, he unconsciously bounces his leg, an old habit. Soobin's thoughts are distracted, the new song he wants to show you by his favourite band occupying his mind. He's sure you'll like it - he's slowly converted you to a fan over the years.

Once the wires of the earphones are all straightened out, and he plugs them into his phone. The ear with a green sharpie heart is his side, the one with the blue is yours, a little faded from so many bus rides and time spent in bed sharing music together.

The bell on the door grabs his attention, and he looks up - and remembers. It wasn't you who he was meeting. This isn't your meeting place anymore. He feels guilty about being excited, more guilty about forgetting that he's supposedly moved on. Still, he grins painfully convincingly as she takes the seat across from him, as if this was what he had been expecting all along. He tries to figure out how he could have forgotten that this is how things are now, nodding as she is talking, although he doesn’t hear a word.

Yeonjun

Yeonjun doesn't know what day it is, what time it is. All he knows is his phone is ringing, dragging him from his much needed sleep. With a long groan he rolls toward the edge of the bed, not even daring to open his eyes and expose them to the bright light of the sun he can now see from behind his eyelids. Which means he hasn't looked at the caller ID. Which means he answers the way he normally would, half asleep and his brain not quite engaged. He answers with your name.

But it's not you. The voice that replies is so different from yours that it snaps him awake entirely. He is so disappointed he doesn't even panic, his voice so groggy he can play it off that she heard him wrong. After a short conversation, most of which he wasn't paying attention for, he throws the phone into the covers and wonders if he's made a big mistake by starting something new.

Beomgyu

He can't remember much about the dream, only your smile, your eyes, and your hand in his. Now he's awake, and the bed is familiarly warm, the sound of soft breathing behind him. He rolls over with a contened sigh, reaching arms out to pull you against his chest, pressing his nose into your hair. He feels a cheek nuzzle against his neck and all feels right with the world.

"Did you get a new shampoo?" he asks, voice rough with its first use of the day. He lazily pulls his head back and opens his eyes, and reality cracks down over his head like an egg when he sees her.

"No," comes her reply.

It's the first time she's stayed over, the first time anyone has stayed over but you. He was totally fine with it last night. Now it feels so gut wrenchingly wrong. Maybe he should wait a while longer before letting her stay again.

Taehyun

It's been a long, long day. Every muscle aches, and even his brain feels like a muscle with how tired he is. He drops his bag at the door and kicks off his shoes, the sofa calling to him longingly from across the room. The minute his back is on the soft cushion, he knows he'll fall asleep here, but he's not sure that he cares - he's fallen asleep worse places than this. Flicking on the TV, the first thing he sees is an ad about an upcoming movie, a remake of an old classic. He smiles.

"Hey babe," he calls out, "we should take your mom to see this, it's her favourite."

Hearing the familiar creak of the floorboards leading into the kitchen he glances up, and his smile falters. How could he have forgotten? She's looking at the screen with a confused expression, shaking her head. "No, it's not. I've never heard of it." She swings around to look at him now. "Have you even met my mom yet?"

He blinks, somehow feeling more drained than he was before. "Oh... I meant my mom."

Maybe he will go to bed after all.

Huening Kai

He's looking at the photos again, the ones in his phone that he keeps telling himself he'll delete. But every time he pulls them up to get rid of them, he finds he can't. He should, he knows he should, but it seems his head and his heart are at war.

He spends so long flicking through them, there are so many, accumulated over the years you spent together. He lands on his favourite; the two of you at the carnival. The memories the photo brings are so vivid, so precious, he swears he can remember every detail; the temperature of the air, the foods you ate, even the songs you listened to on the way home, car windows down and an impressive amount of sugar in your systems as you sang and bopped along. His mind replays the scene of the two of you on a ride, your laughter amidst the screams of other riders, clutching onto each other's arms for dear life, and how you almost dropped your phone as you reached out to capture the moment.

Kai forgets himself, forgets where he is right now, that this isn't your room he's lounging in, and a loud laugh bursts from him. When his joy filled eyes turn to meet hers, she is giving him an incredulous look over the top of her computer screen. He snaps out of it in an instant and tucks his phone away, apologising with a duck of his head. What is he going to do about those photos?

written by mapofthemazeinthemirror - do not repost my work in any form

[fangirlism-for-life]

Daily canon iwaoi for the sad bitches

Since so many ppl love this post im pinning it srry kyo 🖐🏽😋

[kooberryfields4ever]

Hey I hope ur doing great! Can I have a jungkook fluff or anything where they have done the deed for the last time before he enlists for military n they have some sweet yet an emotional convo n him suggesting he will marry her after he comes back n asks her to wait etc. Basically them getting teary eyed n also joking abt stuff like the adorable munchkins they are! N also its cold out there I hope u take care of urself hun n keep urself warm <3

AHHhhsfhhdsghs i went so ham on this ask bc i think i speak for all JUNGKOOKNATORS when i say my heart HURTSSSSSSSSS😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔 i've had a countdown set for his return home so ...... 537 days left ... :(( GOD i can just imagine this scenario so well like he's so emotionally aware and intelligent and so so romantic....... like defos the type for a random proposal bc he is just so in love with u in the moment nothing else matters...... TYSM FOR REQUESTING !!! i hope u enjoy <33

pairing: jungkook x reader

wc: 685

content warnings: ouchie heart pain, enlistment, jungkook AND yn cry, it's sad, fluff <3

“You’re sweaty…” you murmur into Jungkook’s chest, unwilling to let go despite how gross it feels. Jungkook pulls you closer, nuzzling his face into your hair with a chuckle. There’s a moment of silence as you trace a finger along his pec, breathing quietly into his chest while he presses gentle kisses into your hair.

“I don’t want you to leave,” it comes out quietly, and you feel Jungkook exhale deeply before acknowledging you with an equally quiet “I know.” You sigh, lifting your head up to meet his eyes as he readjusts his arm under his head to look down at you. His gaze is soft, the subtle lines of heartache taint his wrinkles and it’s impossible to look away.

“If I could stay, I would. You know that, baby,” he continues, eyes never leaving yours. You listen intently. He brings his free hand up to stroke your head gently, coaxing you to lay back on his chest while he speaks. “You’ll be good, though, I know you will.” He leans his head back; you feel him shift beneath you as his fingers stroke up and down your back. You remain silent, chewing your lip as your fingers lay still against his chest. “Baby?” He questions, hand gripping your waist.

You hadn’t even realised you were crying until a hitched breath leaves you and you bury yourself further into him. Jungkook holds you tighter, sitting up and pulling you with him until you’re halfway in his lap. Your head falls into his shoulder, sniffling. He kisses your head again.

“Baby, come on, talk to me…”

“You’re l-leaving me, f-for so long,” you choke out, sobbing into his shoulder and all Jungkook can do is hold you closer, stroke your hair and kiss your skin. Guilt clouds his thoughts, all he wants to do is stay with you and protect you, knowing that his leaving is causing you so much pain makes his heart hurt. You cry in his arms for so long, saying nothing, just holding him while he touches you sweetly.

When you finally lift your head up to look into his eyes, you see his are red with tears too. In your sadness, you had neglected his feelings and he had let you. You cup his face, leaning your forehead against his tenderly as your thumb wipes at the tears dribbling down his cheeks. There are no words that could tend to the Jungkook sized hole in your heart, nor the you sized hole in his. You connect your lips, and the worry seems to drift away when Jungkook kisses you back sweetly. There’s no tongue, just the movement of your lips and the salty combination of both your tears; it doesn’t bother you, though, you want Jungkook wholly, in every way you can, and if kissing away his tears is how you’ll get there then so be it.

“Marry me,” Jungkook groans softly against your lips, breaking the silence as he tries to pull you impossibly closer. It should catch you off guard, but instead you kiss him deeper, nodding gently.

“I’m serious, y/n, marry me,” he pleads, pulling back finally with bated breaths. “Wait for me, be patient and wait and I’ll come back with a ring and marry you, I swear it.”

“Jungkook,” your eyes soften, tears threatening to spill once again as you heed his plea, “I’d wait forever.”

The smile on his face sends you reeling, all toothy and sweet and delicate and all for you. He takes your hand, interlacing your fingers as his thumb strokes softly over your knuckles, diving back into your lips with all the fervour of a man starved.

“I love you so much, you know that?” He assures you, gripping your hand tighter in an unspoken promise, “I’ll be back so soon, my precious girl… And you’ll be right here, yeah? Waiting for me, being patient?”

“Always, I’ll always be here, never gonna leave…”

His free hand slides up your face, touching you so delicately. His thumb traces your cheek gently. Eighteen months to go.

a/n 🗒️ . . . this was so fun to write !!!! i defos want to work on more asks in the future cos making ur ideas come to life (hopefully) makes me feel so good ...... i hope u guys enjoyed this !!!! don't hesitate to send more requests :3 i love writing fluff as well !!!!!!

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

not my photo but… man™️

/vent in tags

[xxawangxianxx]

fight or flight i rather lie than tell you i'm in love with you.

[i2sunric]

𝗙𝗔𝗗𝗘 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗢 𝗬𝗢𝗨 (l.hs)

right person, wrong time.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: idol!heeseung x reader (f)

SUMMARY: when you were a child, you had always believed your life was a fairytale, but as you grew up you realised it was just a childish thought. because your story didn’t end with happily ever after.

WARNINGS: heartbreak, break up, heeseung barely has time for reader, he’s a little in denial, reader tries to be strong for the both of them, angst, established relationship, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 20th November 2024

WC: 3.1k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @destinyhoon @jakeflvrz @emislove @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @senascoooop @mitmit01 (project) @whateverhoon

NOW PLAYING: Fade Into You by Mazzy Star

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as you entered the quaint café tucked into the corner of the bustling city street.

It was your sanctuary on most days—a place where time slowed down, where you could read in peace.

When your college life got a little too stressful, you liked to give yourself an afternoon of rest, where you could read and just look at all the people around you, while also enjoying a cup of coffee.

The soft hum of conversation and the occasional clink of porcelain cups created a soothing symphony that you had come to associate with comfort.

But today, your usual spot by the window was taken.

Your eyes landed on the stranger sitting there, his face buried in a notebook.

His sharp features were softened by the sunlight streaming through the window, illuminating his messy, dark hair. He looked completely engrossed in whatever he was working on, his pen flying across the page with an intensity that piqued your curiosity. Like he was creating a masterpiece.

But whatever he was doing didn’t matter, since he was sitting in your usual spot. Even the owner knew you always sat there and sometimes left you encouraging notes.

Reluctantly, you found another seat, tucked in the corner, and tried to focus on your book. Nonetheless your gaze kept drifting back to him.

There was something magnetic about the way he existed in his own little world, his brow furrowing as he worked, his lips occasionally quirking up in a small smile as if he were amusing himself with his thoughts.

He was truly enchanting in his whole being.

When he finally looked up, your eyes met. You froze, caught in the act of staring, but instead of looking annoyed, he smiled—wide and genuine, as if he’d just caught an old friend sneaking glances at him.

You unconsciously frowned and averted your gaze, feeling awkward.

Though, you glanced at him again with the former of your eye, “You can sit here if you want,” he called out, gesturing to the empty chair across from him.

Caught off guard, you hesitated a little before grabbing your coffee and book, making your way over. “Thanks,” you murmured, settling into the seat.

You melted into the seat right away, loving the feeling of familiarity. You didn’t particularly enjoy your routine being messed up.

“No problem,” he said, closing his notebook but leaving his pen resting on top. “I always feel bad taking up spots when it’s this busy.”

You glanced down at the notebook, curious but polite enough not to ask. “You looked pretty focused,” you said. “Are you a writer?”

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Kind of, I write music.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Really? That’s impressive.”

He laughed softly, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Most of the time, I’m just scribbling nonsense and hoping something good comes out of it.”

“Still,” you said, “It takes a lot of creativity to do that. I can barely write an email without second-guessing myself.”

He grinned. “It’s not about perfection, it’s about letting yourself be…” he pointed at himself “messy.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly from there. You learned his name— Lee Heeseung —and that he was a dreamer through and through. He talked about his music with a passion that lit up his eyes, about the things he wanted to create and the places he wanted to see.

You found out that he was preparing a song to audition at a famous local music label, hoping to become a trainee and debut later on.

It was impressive, how he was young yet so engrossed in his dream. It made you a little jealous, too.

“I think life is about chasing what makes you feel alive,” he said at one point, his gaze distant as if he were imagining it all. Picturing his future together.

You couldn’t help but smile, though your own perspective was far more grounded. “I think life is about appreciating the small things,” you countered. “Like this coffee, or a really good book.”

You tapped your nails on the mug, “Chasing big dreams is great, but if you’re always looking ahead, you miss what’s right in front of you.”

Heeseung tilted his head, considering your words. “I guess I never thought about it that way,” he admitted. “But doesn’t staying still scare you? Like you’re missing out on something bigger?”

“And doesn’t constantly moving forward scare you?” you shot back. “Like you’re missing what’s already here?”

He laughed, the sound warm and light. “Touché. I think we might be complete opposites.”

“Maybe,” you said with a small smile. “But opposites can complement each other, right?”

He smiled back, and in that moment, something shifted between you. It was as if the universe had nudged you toward each other, two different pieces of the same puzzle finally fitting together.

It didn’t take much for the two of you to levitate closer, to the point of going from casual reading-writing hangouts to dates.

Fitting both of your schedules was difficult, but those little hours you spent together were worth it all.

It was one of the rare days where Heeseung was free from any training sessions, and instead of getting his much needed rest, he decided to spend his afternoon with you

Despite nagging at him for his lack of self-care, you were secretly glad he was making time for you, even if it was just for a couple of hours.

The sun was high in the sky, its golden rays filtering through the trees as you and Heeseung lay on the grass in the park.

A blanket was spread out beneath you, scattered with remnants of your picnic, empty containers, a couple of soda cans, and a half-eaten bagel. All the strawberries had been eaten, though.

Heeseung was strumming his guitar lazily, the soft melody weaving through the air. You were lying on your back, staring up at the clouds, feeling the kind of peace that only came from moments like this—unhurried, unplanned, perfect in their simplicity.

“Look,” you said, pointing to a fluffy cloud drifting overhead. “Doesn’t that one look like a cat?”

Heeseung stopped playing and tilted his head, squinting at the sky. “A cat? No way. That’s totally a dragon.”

You laughed, nudging him with your foot. “You’re just saying that because you like dragons.”

“And you’re just saying cat because you’re obsessed with them,” he teased, leaning back on his elbows to look at you. “Admit it, I’m right.”

“Never,” you said with a grin, sticking out your tongue.

Heeseung set his guitar aside and rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he looked at you. “You’re so stubborn,” he said, but there was no annoyance in his voice—only affection.

“Someone has to keep you on your toes,” you quipped, your smile softening under his gaze.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You know,” he said quietly, “I think this might be my favourite day ever.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, but you couldn’t help but smile. “It’s just a picnic,” you said, trying to downplay the fluttering in your chest.

“It’s not just a picnic,” he said, his voice serious now. “It’s this. Being here with you, doing nothing, and feeling like it’s everything.”

It was true that song writers had their way with words.

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away. It was just you and Heeseung, the grass beneath you, the sky above, and the quiet certainty that this was where you were meant to be.

You climbed onto his lap, sneaking in between his chest and his guitar.

“Teach me how to play it,” You said, which sounded so silly. You didn’t even know how to read notes, so you were a lost cause.

But you wanted to spend time with him, doing something he liked— so, you placed your fingers on the cords.

Heeseung smiled and placed his slender ones over yours, guiding your hand to create a melody.

“Middle finger here.” He whispered, his hand moving your fingers “Index here, and with the other hand you…” He stroked your fingers on the cords.

You giggled happily “It sounded good.” You tried to do it again and again, until he showed you all the notes and melodies. Until the sun lowered, leaving a magenta and pinkish sky behind.

“I’ll be busy for a while.” He announced as he put his guitar back in its folder “I- uh, I have just one more month until I know if I’m in the debut group.”

You widened your eyes at the information, a warm feeling in your belly “Hee… that’s amazing.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

Like the habit of a lifetime, his arms held your waist, his face burying in the crook of your neck.

“We might have less time together,” He murmured, his nose brushing your jaw, the sensation causing goosebumps to prickle your skin.

“We’ll figure it out, yeah?” You said, holding his face in your hands “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

Your words caused a childlike smile to spread on his lips, and just a couple of seconds later, they crashed on yours.

You drowned in the feeling of him, so sweet and intoxicating.

“I love you.” Heeseung repeated those three words like a mantra “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” You replied, being so close to him even if it didn’t feel close enough “I always will.”

The café had always been your place. The corner table by the window where sunlight streamed in during the mornings and rain traced delicate patterns on the glass during stormy afternoons. It was where you and Heeseung had spent countless hours together—talking, laughing, and dreaming of a future that now felt so far away.

It hadn’t changed. The same rustic charm, the same scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries, the same corner table by the window. You almost smiled as you stepped inside, but the weight in your chest reminded you why you were here.

The café hadn’t changed, but today, the warmth of those memories was overshadowed by the tension that hung between you like a storm cloud, ready to burst. Just like the one outside.

Heeseung was already waiting, his tall frame hunched slightly over his coffee. His fingers fidgeted with the rim of the cup, a nervous habit you recognized instantly. He didn’t look up when the bell over the door chimed. You wondered if he was gathering his thoughts just as you were.

For a moment, you stood frozen, debating whether to walk back out and pretend you hadn’t come. Pretend nothing was wrong and it was all just a bad dream.

That you’d wake up in his arms again, with his messy hair and soothing voice, reminding you how fortunate he was to have someone like you.

But then his head lifted, and his eyes found yours. A small, uncertain smile tugged at his lips, and despite everything, it made your heart ache.

“Hey,” he greeted as you approached, his voice soft but strained.

“Hi,” you replied, sliding into the seat across from him.

Up close, you noticed how tired he looked. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usually bright demeanor seemed dimmed, weighed down by the invisible tension between you. You wondered if you looked the same.

Heeseung shifted in his seat, his fingers still fidgeting. “Thanks for coming,” he said after a moment.

You nodded, unsure of what to say. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen this coming. The late-night texts that dwindled into silence. The calls that went unanswered. The months of trying to hold on, even as the cracks in your relationship grew deeper.

“How’s… everything?” you asked, though you weren’t sure you wanted the answer.

Heeseung hesitated, his gaze dropping. “Busy,” he admitted. “Rehearsals, schedules… you know how it is.”

Yes, because Heeseung had managed to debut, and his group had a large audience, growing famous even overseas. It was a surprise he came in a public place, without something to cover himself with.

You nodded again, the lump in your throat growing. Of course, you knew. His career had always been demanding, and you’d tried so hard to understand, to support him even when it meant putting your own needs aside.

But you were tired. Tired of being a second choice, tired of all the dates where he stood you up, all the excuses.

You needed stability in your life, and Heeseung couldn’t give you that. Not anymore.

“I missed you.” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

Your breath hitched. “I missed you too.”

You tried to focus on the rain outside, but the sound of his quiet sigh brought your attention back to him. His usually bright eyes were clouded, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on both of you.

“This isn’t how I thought it would go,” his voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if speaking the words aloud might make them more real.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around your cup. “Neither did I,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

The truth was, you had both tried—tried to hold on, to make it work despite the endless obstacles. His chaotic schedule, your demanding responsibilities, the miles that always seemed to stretch too far between you. But no matter how much love there was between you, reality had a way of tearing at the seams.

“I feel like I’m failing you,” Heeseung said, his voice trembling slightly. He looked up at you, his expression a mixture of guilt and heartbreak. “Like I can’t give you what you need, no matter how much I want to.”

Your chest tightened at his words. “You’re not failing me,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Heeseung, you’ve always given me everything you could. But maybe… maybe it’s just not enough anymore.”

The admission hung heavy in the air, and you hated yourself for saying it. But it was the truth. Love wasn’t supposed to feel this hard, was it?

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He looked tired—tired in a way that went beyond the late nights and endless rehearsals. “I thought love was supposed to be enough,” he murmured, echoing your thoughts.

You wanted to reach out, to take his hand and tell him that it was enough. That he was enough. But deep down, you both knew that wasn’t true.

“It’s not about love,” you said quietly. “It’s about timing. And right now… it feels like the world is against us.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes dropping to the table. “So what are you saying?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

You hesitated, your heart breaking as you forced yourself to say the words. “I’m saying that maybe we need to let each other go.”

His head shot up, his eyes wide and filled with a pain that mirrored your own. “No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “We can figure this out. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we? We can keep trying.”

But the desperation in his voice only made it harder. You had been trying for so long, and the effort had left you both exhausted. “Heeseung,” you said softly, tears welling up in your eyes. “What if trying is what’s hurting us?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Heeseung’s hands tightened into fists, his knuckles turning white. “This isn’t fair,” he said, his voice cracking. “I love you. I love you more than anything, and it’s not fair that we have to end like this.”

You reached out then, your hand covering his. His skin was warm, but the touch felt fleeting, like trying to hold onto sand slipping through your fingers. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “But sometimes, love isn’t enough to fix everything. It’s better if we let go.”

Heeseung’s head shook, his eyes wide and filled with a mix of disbelief and hurt. “You don’t mean that,” he said, shaking his head.

“I don’t want to mean it,” you said, your voice breaking. “But we’re tearing ourselves apart trying to hold on, Heeseung. And I don’t want us to end up resenting each other because of it.”

His hand tightened around yours, his grip almost desperate. “I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice trembling. “You’re the one thing that keeps me grounded. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

The rain outside grew heavier, the sound filling the empty space between you.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Heeseung said suddenly, his voice thick with emotion. “And the thought of not having you in my life… I don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with that.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks, and you quickly wiped them away. “You’ll be okay and so will I,” you said, trying to convince yourself as much as him. “And maybe someday… when the timing is right, we’ll find our way back to each other.”

Heeseung let out a shaky breath, his hand tightening around yours. “Someday,” he repeated, though the word felt more like a wish than a promise.

You stayed like that for a moment, holding onto each other as if the world might stop if you let go. But eventually, you pulled away, your heart breaking as you stood.

“I’ll always love you,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the rain.

Heeseung looked up at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’ll always love you too.”

And with that, you turned and walked out into the storm, the sound of the rain mixing with the quiet sobs you could no longer hold back.

You didn’t look back, afraid that if you did, you might never be able to leave. But even as you walked away, you carried him with you—his voice, his laughter, his love.

It wasn’t the ending you wanted. But not all the stories ended happily ever after.

[goingsunnythousandmerry]

Satoru Gojo X Suguru Geto - Fluff/Yearning/Angst/Pain

Authors Note: Hey friends! I know I am still behind on requests. It is next on my list. I apologize, school has taken more time than I planned. Anyways, I've gotten really into Jujutsu Kaisen lately so I wrote this for my best friend yesterday when Mr. Loverman was stuck in my head. She thought I should share it.

Hope you all enjoy and I'm sorry it HURTS.

Warnings: Umm if you don't want to be sad don't read.

Lots of YEARNING.

These characters are not mine they belong to the great Gege Akutami.

The above image isn't mine, credit to who it belongs to will give it if I am told.

Summary: Memory reflection of the friendship of Gojo and Geto and the words left unsaid.

Song listened to while writing:

Mr. Loverman by Ricky Montgomery featuring Chloe Moriondo

Hope you all Enjoy! Thanks for Reading!

***

How can two people know what love is if they’ve never seen it themselves?

The small classroom was empty except for two occupied wooden desks. Two men sat across from each other, separated by a few desks. The smell of freshly erased chalk lingered throughout the room.

Gojo looked at Geto and the clouds seemed to stop moving in the sky behind him. Geto spoke about his passions like the world at his feet could never crumble. The faint echo of the wind outside was erased by the warmth of Geto’s smile. Whenever Geto spoke, Gojo’s eyes shone like sunbeams piercing through deep water—soft, scattered, and alive with that lingering glimmer just before you break the surface. Geto’s morals and ideals were always  grounded in the possibility of others around them, but never their possibilities. 

The room suddenly felt too wide, like there was too much space between them, too much distance. Gojo stood, stretching, the movement drawing a faint breath from him as his eyes flicked back to Geto, who hadn’t stopped speaking.

Geto’s bangs hung loosely over his forehead, brushing the lids of his purple eyes. Gojo always hated his speeches, but he still listened. They were the strongest, that was all that ever mattered to Gojo, but Geto saw more. He saw more in Gojo than just what he was capable of, he saw who he was. Geto laughed as Gojo began slowly strolling across the room toward him, making some remarks about his moral compass. Geto’s eyes followed him, every step from Gojo drawing his focus tighter. Geto wasn’t sure what he was saying, he was too distracted by Gojo’s confident stride. His breath quickened, the muscles in his leg trembled, and his mind raced as Gojo approached.

Gojo’s gaze was steady as he crossed the room, his feet sure but slow. Gojo stopped in front of Geto with a sigh and the offering of a sarcastic comment. He watched Geto chuckle softly, shrugging his muscular shoulders in response. His laugh like the steady drum of a heartbeat, warm, constant, and grounding. With a quiet exhale, Gojo placed a hand on Geto’s shoulder, his gaze drifting toward the window behind them. 

“Satoru.” Geto whispered.

Geto’s voice lingered on his name, like a breath shared only between them, warm and familiar in the quiet space. His voice always made Gojo's mind reel. Those two syllables explained why Gojo constantly acted out. He wanted Geto to say his name and never stop. But within the silence between the lingering of his name and the moments when Gojo spoke Geto's, there were words left unspoken—feelings too uncertain to be named.

***

Gojo stood and stared at the puddle at his feet. In the water’s reflection were the colors of his memories with Geto– the bike rides, the curse hunting, the pranks– the echo of it all blending into a beautiful canvas. But at the heart of it all, always, was that day in the classroom—frozen in his mind, looping endlessly in the silence of his solitude.

A drop of water broke from the overhang above and splashed into the puddle, sending ripples across the reflection. His smile faltered as the moment cracked, the ache in his chest deepening with the memory of being too late to save him. He was always too late. 

“I wish I had told you.” His voice raw and quiet, a whisper to no one blending with the sound of the rain that began falling again. “I miss you now that you’re gone, Suguru.”

“Gojo-Sensei!” Yuji called his name and Gojo shook the thoughts from his mind.

[mytardisisparked]

The Longest Saturday

Scully goes to visit her mom for the weekend and Mulder tries to be normal about it.

Read on AO3

Logically, Mulder knew Scully had a right to visit her mother for a weekend. She was her own person with her own things to do and he didn’t need to be in her presence all the time, regardless of the fact that they were now dating. Going away for a weekend to visit family was perfectly reasonable.

Despite the fact that he had repeated this to himself for several hours that morning, he was still missing her immensely. He used to live in this apartment all by himself for years; why did it seem so empty now?

He sighed and shuffled away from the stove with a skillet full of eggs. He spooned them onto his plate. He had almost gotten out two plates earlier out of habit. When had that become a habit? They had only been dating for a couple of months. 

When it comes to Dana Scully, Mulder mused as he shoveled some eggs in his mouth, I suppose habits are easy to form.

He felt his chest tighten and he looked over at his cell phone. No texts or calls. That was reasonable. She was with her mother. She was focusing on family time. 

His fingers itched to reach over and pick up the phone and hit speed-dial. Instead, he chucked his phone into the living room, where it hit the couch and bounced under a throw pillow. Perfect, now he couldn’t see it.

The phone’s presence lingered at the back of his mind like a specter as he cleaned his dishes and put them away.

As soon as he was done, he stood blankly in the entryway from the dining room to the living room and sighed.

Usually, he and Scully would head out on a walk to the farmer’s market, or to the park. Sometimes they would open his windows to let in fresh air and read. Sometimes Scully would read interesting new medical discoveries out loud to him from journals and he would bask in the easy way she said those big, Latin words. Sometimes he would read to her from some Michael Crichton book or another. Sometimes they would take turns reading articles from The Lone Gunmen aloud in the voices of their friends, making each other guess who had written which articles.

Sometimes, Scully would sit next to him, hip-to-hip, and he would trace little swirls on the inside of her knee until she would kiss him and drag him back to his room.

Their room.

Mulder never told Scully – this officially-dating thing was still quite new, after all – but he had stopped considering this to be his apartment the very night she had first slept over as his girlfriend. It had been a couple weeks after their New Year’s kiss. They hadn’t taken things any further, but she had folded herself up in his arms so neatly and comfortably that Mulder had decided right then and there that he never wanted to go to sleep any other way again.

He groaned. He would have to sleep alone tonight. She was staying with Maggie until Sunday.

Which is perfectly fine. He took a bracing breath and stood, moving to his house phone and dialing a number.

“Mulder?” The gruff voice on the other end made him smile. “It’s Saturday.”

“Good morning to you too, Frohike.” Mulder grinned even more. “I know it’s the weekend; I promise this isn’t a professional call.”

“Oh.” In the background, Mulder heard two more clicks – Langley and Byers had picked up and were listening in (which was, in Mulder’s opinion, rather endearing). “What’s this about, then?”

“I was, uh, wondering if you guys wanted to do something tonight. Scully’s visiting her mom for the weekend and I was thinking we could go bowling or maybe do a quick DnD campaign.” “Oh, shoot, Mulder,” Byers chimed in. “We would love to, but we’re taking Langley to go see his favorite Van Halen cover band.”“More like ‘Langley’s dragging us to see his favorite Van Halen cover band.’” Frohike grumbled.

“Hey!” Langley said, loud enough that Mulder pulled the phone away from his ear with a wince. “You bought the tickets!”

“A decision I regret.”

Byers spoke up over the squabbling. “I’m sorry, Mulder. Maybe we could find you a ticket? We would have asked when we were getting them earlier, but you’ve been hanging out with Scully more lately and so we figured–”

“No– no, it’s alright.” Mulder kept his voice light. “You guys have fun, I’m just gonna stay in with pizza and some movies.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Byers, I’m sure, but thanks.” He smiled, appreciating the care.

Byers wished him a good day and the call ended, Langley and Frohike’s bickering voices dropping off suddenly into silence.

Mulder sighed. His apartment was too quiet.

He flipped on the TV but, after 5 channels of nonsense, he turned it back off and stood. He needed to get out of here.

He dressed as quickly as he could and started walking. 

There was a park down the street where he usually ran. He didn’t feel like running today; he just walked, looking at the pigeons and the trees and the other walkers with dogs and strollers. 

He wished he had a dog.

Or a stroller. The thought popped into his head, unbidden. He shoved it away. Today was not the day to think about that.

He thought, instead, of the time Scully had gone to Maine for the weekend. They had called and talked frequently. He had jokingly proposed marriage.

Actually, he had only been half kidding, but Scully didn’t need to know that.

The air was cool enough that he was grateful for his thick sweater. He couldn’t quite see his breath, but he knew that he might be able to in the next two weeks. He breathed hot, invisible breath into his hands to warm his fingertips, wishing he had gloves.

Or a hand to hold.

His hands moved from his mouth to his entire face as he stopped walking and let out a quiet growl of frustration. Jeeze, Mulder. Get it together, man.

Though he had left his wallet (and cursed cell phone) in his apartment, he headed towards the farmer’s market. Some of the stalls had free samples. He had purchased regularly enough from most of them that he wouldn’t feel bad accepting a few offered tastes of fresh fruit and honey. 

He arrived at the alley the market usually resided in. It was empty. 

His brow furrowed as his gaze landed on a placard sitting in the alley. It read: Farmers Market closed due to conflicting flea market on–

Mulder didn’t bother to read the rest of the sign. He went home.

He wished, again, that he had a dog. Maybe he could talk Scully into getting another pomeranian. He hadn’t been a huge fan of Queequeg, but maybe if they got a pomeranian as a puppy they could raise it to be a little less yappy and a little more friendly. 

His hand drifted instinctively toward the pocket in which he usually kept his cell phone. It was empty, which was good because Scully didn’t need him budging in on family time.

The elevator at his apartment had, apparently, broken since he left home. He took the stairs.

Despite the climb, he felt sort of invigorated when he arrived back at apartment 42. He still didn’t feel like running, but maybe another form of exercise would be good?

He grabbed his basketball and started toward the door, but stopped. Slowly, he turned back towards the couch and grabbed his cell. He had no missed calls or messages, but he tucked his phone in his pocket anyway. Going out earlier without his phone had been dumb; what if there had been an emergency?

The basketball court was back at the park. Despite the fact that it was Saturday, the court was empty. Mulder threw his coat in a pile and started taking shots, feeling a bit of satisfaction with every swish of the net. 

He liked basketball, but his favorite sport was baseball. It always had been. He liked the pace of the game better, which was sort of ironic, considering how quickly he liked to move through life. Maybe baseball was just a safe place to slow down, where life didn’t feel as urgent, even as he swung a bat and ran the bases. 

Maybe that’s why he had taken Scully batting instead of to a basketball court or to a football field. Aside from the fact that he had already had baseball on the brain, he liked the idea of slowing down with Scully; of living in a safe, slow moment.

He missed a basket and decided it was time to go home.

The clock on his stove read 2:00 PM. This was a long day. Unbearably long. Usually he liked long Saturdays but this was just tor-

His phone rang.

He scrambled to pull it out of his pocket and felt his heart lift as he saw Scully’s name drifting across the caller ID. 

“Hey, Scully.” He tried to say casually, even though he was pretty sure his voice squeaked. 

“Hey, Mulder.” She replied. Gosh, her voice was so nice. “I was just, um, calling to check in.”

“Oh.” Mulder smiled. “What, you leave for half a day and assume I’ve gotten myself in a mess or something?”

She chuckled. “That’s a running theme for us, yes.” He chuckled back, knowing he couldn’t deny it, and she went on. “So I take it you’re okay?”

He bit his lip. “Yeah, no messes so far.”

They were both quiet for a moment.

“I miss you,” he blurted out before he could stop the words from tumbling out.

Idiot. Lovesick idiot.

“I miss you too.” Her voice was more sincere than he expected. “Hey, um, my mom is making some kind of pasta for dinner and wondered if you wanted to come join us.”

Mulder felt his heart lift, as though he was suddenly pumping helium through his veins instead of blood. “I, uh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“No imposition at all. She’s practically begging you to come.” Scully was quiet for a moment. “And, uh, I would really like it if you came, too.”

His smile couldn’t have been wider. “I’ll be there. What time?”

“Well, if you come now, Mom says you can help make the sauce and-”

He was out the door, coat in hand, before she finished the sentence.

[shunshunrika]

We will meet again - ft. Satoru Gojo

warnings: angst angst angst, mentions of s*x, mentions of mass death, bittersweet

Love is the most twisted curse of all, and Time stops for no one.

After five long years of dating and enduring the torment of two years of separation, you found yourself trapped in a desolate limbo.

When you first met Satoru, you thought he was a ghost. Snowy haired, enchanting face, unreal azure eyes that wouldn't break eye contact. Real humans don't look like that.

When you first started dating, you were inseparable. His arm was always around your shoulder, or your fingers were always intertwined with his.

When you had your first night, it was nothing short of magical. You remember thinking that no number of wishes granted by shooting stars would amount to such fortune. Of Gojo Satoru being yours and yours only.

Now, time had worn away the vibrant colors of your relationship, leaving behind a grayscale emptiness. You couldn't pinpoint exactly when the words exchanged between you grew scarce, when he stopped spooning you in bed, or when he began to absent himself from shared meals. The intimacy you once shared was replaced by an icy silence, a void that seemed impossible to bridge.

You noticed the nights when he would retreat into himself, his tears falling silently at 3 AM, thinking you wouldn't notice. The weight of his sorrow seeped into your bones, a constant reminder of your failure to bring him happiness. You had become a lingering curse to the man who was renowned for banishing curses with ease—a cruel twist of fate that twisted the knife deeper into your heart.

Even as you finally began to grasp the crumbling state of your relationship, the realization dawned upon you with a crushing weight: it was too late to salvage what was once so precious.

Satoru gave you your first love, your first relationship, your first night of love and also your first heartbreak.

It was when you reached out to him without thinking, one fine night when he came home from a tiring day. You noticed your fingers wouldn't connect to his body.

You didn't understand at first but then it hit you when Gojo refused to make eye contact with you.

"A-are you using your infinity?" The question escaped your lips, laced with a sense of disbelief. How could he resort to such a drastic measure? How long had he been pushing you away, using his immense power to keep you at arm's length? And worst of all, how much longer would this torment persist if you hadn't taken the initiative to confront him?

"If I must." Was the only thing he had to say. "To keep you away, that is."

That was also the first time you had decided to let go. For his good and your own.

With trembling hands, you took a step back, relinquishing your grip on a love that had become an unbearable burden. Tears streamed down your face as you whispered your final goodbye, knowing that this act of self-sacrifice was necessary, no matter how much it tore you apart. And as you turned away, the weight of lost dreams and shattered promises settled upon your shoulders, leaving you to navigate a world devoid of the love that once illuminated your existence.

Love is the most twisted curse of all, and Time stops for no one. And so, months passed by as you dreamed of an unreachable Satoru night after night, crying in your bed while his whereabouts remained unknown.

As the seasons shifted and the calendar pages turned from the blooming month of May to the melancholic embrace of October, a change came over you—a change that revealed a glimmer of hope amidst the desolation.

A smile graced your lips more often now, and the light in your eyes returned, though tinged with a bittersweet hue. Each morning, you awakened with a renewed sense of purpose, determined to seize every moment and live life to its fullest, even in the absence of the love you once held so dear.

You discovered solace in new hobbies that ignited your passion and allowed your creativity to flourish. Whether it was painting, writing, or exploring the wonders of the natural world, you poured your heart and soul into these endeavors, finding solace in the depths of self-expression.

And even after all that, you couldn't find love again.

NEWS FLASH: Thousands of civilians Killed in mysterious accident in Shibuya on Thursday! Investigations underway!

On a seemingly ordinary morning, as the temperature remained mild and the world appeared tranquil, you stumbled upon a piece of news that sent shockwaves through your entire being. The contrast between the serene surroundings and the gravity of the situation left you paralyzed, unsure of how to process the information that unfolded before your eyes. You could only clasp at your open mouth and make unintelligible noises. What was this? A nuclear attack? War? Did someone of the caliber of Geto Suguru show up again? Was it Sukuna? A thousand ideas flowed into your head but none of them made perfect sense. You were a mere human after all, no sorcerer. And there was no Gojo around anymore to protect you or give you information.

You had nothing to do with Gojo anymore. Nothing absolutely. Then why,

Why did you get an ominous feeling in the pit of your stomach?

It took a lot to muster the courage and pick up your phone. Daily calls, endless messages, visits to Gojo's house pushed you out of October and into January before realizing. You had a lot of weight and looked sickly, spending each day wondering how Gojo had gone missing. It was as if he never existed.

And then, amidst the overwhelming uncertainty, a phone call shattered the silence—a call from Shoko Ieiri, a person who was intimately connected to Gojo and his mysterious world. But even as her voice reached your ears, unease settled within your being like an unwelcome visitor, intensifying the already heavy atmosphere that enveloped you.

"Y/N," Shoko's voice resonated with a hint of discomfort, the weight of unspoken truths and hidden pain carried within her words. "Gojo wants to meet up with you. At the hill-side park near Shinjuku. 8 PM."

The abruptness of her statement left you grasping for understanding, yearning for further explanation. Panic threaded through your voice as you tried to piece together the fragments of this enigmatic puzzle. "Wait, Shoko. What—"

But before you could finish your sentence, the call abruptly disconnected, leaving you suspended in a void of uncertainty. The lingering dial tone echoed in your ears, a haunting reminder of the unanswered questions and the ominous meeting that awaited you.

Without much context, you decided to go. One last time. One final time.

You were feeling a mix of emotions. Anger. Confusion. Anxiety. Hope. The feeling of unease never died down.

Your footsteps echoed in the night as you neared the fountain in the middle of the park, the soft sound magnified by the stillness that enveloped the surroundings. And there, amidst the ethereal glow of the moonlight, sat Satoru, his silhouette casting an otherworldly aura against the backdrop of the fountain.

"Hey, Y/N" he said, looking up as you approached him. Your heart beating out of your chest. You took a look at his face. It was as beautiful as ever yet looked extremely tired and worn. His body looked buffer than previously yet was hunched over in defeat. What had happened to this man?

"Care to explain where the hell you've been?" You say with a shaky voice. Trying to fight back tears. It was a good half year after you had first left your shared apartment. This was your first time seeing him and all he could say was 'Hey'.

"You look good." he stated.

"Never been better." you tell him bitterly.

"Isn't the moon pretty today?" he said, gazing up at the sky. "Remember when I told you about Binding Vows?" He said in a soft voice.

"How is that relevant Satoru?" You say, irritated that he won't answer your questions. "You are always beating around the bush, I-"

"I made one. To defeat all evil that resides in this world. In the Jujutsu society."

You paused and waited for him to explain.

"In exchange for the invincibility required to defeat this evil, I took a vow that the love of my life would forget me when we touch, and I would disappear from existence."

You soaked in those words in utter disbelief. You were unable to process the gravity of his statement and were unable to move as he stood up and walked towards you.

"I have been watching." He confessed. "All this while. I saw you blossom without my presence and that gave me strength."

"Now that my purpose has been served, it's time for me to fulfill that vow. You won't remember me after this, but I want you to know that I have never once stopped loving you." He said, cupping your cheek as you panic when noticing that his body was withering away bit by bit at the point of contact. It looked like a dandelion shedding its seeds.

'Wait- Satoru, I didn't- What about me? What about us?"

"It's alright. We won. The world you live in will now be a safe and happy place. Even if I'm not with you to watch you flourish."

You tried to hold his arm, but your hand passed straight through his body as if he was immaterial. You stared wide-eyed at him.

"This is my Goodbye, Y/N." He said, as he turned near transparent.

"We will meet again in another life. Till then, remember not my name, but the love I had for you." he smiled as the existence of the strongest Jujutsu sorcerer in the world turned to air.

The breeze whistled loudly in your ear as you stood there, immobile from shock.

"Thank you for letting me love you."

*****************************

You stared at the ground silently, balling your hands into fists. After a minute, you looked up at the moon that shone eerily, casting a glow.

Why were you in this park at this hour? And why do you have a ghostly memory of enchanting azure eyes?

You pondered cluelessly as you walked away. Maybe you'll buy mochi on your way back. Was it always your favorite? Maybe it was.

Hello guys! After Gojo's overwhelming victory in the angst drabble poll, this is what we have. This was a heavy one. Hope you enjoyed it. Partially inspired by fruits basket and hotarubi no mori e. Let me know how you like it in the comments? cheers!

© shunshunrika 2023, please do not translate, modify or republish my works

[cheeseceli]

Chan who would never let you walk alone at night. He doesn't matter if you need to cross the street or walk for kilometers, he doesn't mind if you're heading home or just to your car. He is there making you company and will leave only when you are safe