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ducktoo · 1 day ago

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Who…are you?

LE SSERAFIM’s Chaewon x Reader

Note: dw…it gets weird at the end lol. It's a long ride as well so get comfortable.

And this will be my final fic of 2024! Thank you everyone for liking my stuff and happy holidays! Will be back for more in mid January!

(this is too lethal-)

The sound of the door slamming shut reverberates through the apartment, rattling the picture frames on the walls. You stare at it for a long moment, your jaw tight and your hands clenching into fists at your sides. Another fight. Another evening ruined.

The quiet that follows is suffocating, a stark contrast to the venomous words Chaewon had thrown at you just minutes ago. You drag yourself to the kitchen, barely registering the cold plates of food still waiting on the counter. The dinner you had spent hours making feels like a cruel joke now. You don’t have the appetite to eat it, let alone the energy to put it away.

This is how it’s been lately. Chaewon’s words, once playful and teasing, have turned into weapons. The sharp remarks and biting sarcasm that used to make you laugh now cut you to the core. She gets angry over the smallest things, and somehow, you always end up being the target.

It wasn’t always this way—or at least, it didn’t feel like it.

You think back to a week ago, when Chaewon had been in one of her moods. You had been trying to fix the kitchen faucet, fumbling with the wrench and getting water sprayed in your face. Chaewon had walked in, leaning casually against the doorframe with that signature smirk on her face.

“Wow,” she had said, crossing her arms. “Didn’t know I was dating a plumber-in-training. Or are you auditioning for a clown role with that water trick?”

You’d forced a laugh, wiping your face with your sleeve. “Very funny, Chae. Want to help?”

She had scoffed, walking over and peering down at the mess you’d made. “Help? Why would I do that when watching you flounder is so much more entertaining?”

You had shot her a look, and she had just grinned, flicking water at you before sauntering off.

Then there was the time she’d decided to pick on your cooking.

You’d spent hours trying to make her favourite spicy rice cakes from scratch, wanting to surprise her after a long day. She had walked into the kitchen, sniffing the air dramatically.

“What’s that smell?” she had asked, wrinkling her nose. “Did something die in here?”

You’d frowned, gesturing to the pot. “It’s tteokbokki. I thought you’d like it.”

She’d leaned over the pot, taking a cautious sniff before pulling back like it had personally offended her. “Are you sure? Because it looks like a science experiment gone wrong.”

You’d tried to laugh it off, but the sting of her words had lingered long after she’d gone back to scrolling on her phone.

The teasing wasn’t just verbal, either. Chaewon had a knack for finding your weak spots and exploiting them with surgical precision. Like the time you’d tripped over the rug in the living room and spilled coffee all over your work papers.

“Nice one, Y/N,” she had said from the couch, barely looking up. “Maybe next time, try walking like a normal human instead of whatever that was.”

“I could use some help cleaning this up,” you’d said, your voice strained as you crouched to pick up the soggy papers.

She had glanced at you over the rim of her coffee mug, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Or you could just not trip next time. Problem solved.”

Despite all of it, you stayed. You told yourself it was just her personality—that she didn’t mean to hurt you. You convinced yourself that the moments of warmth, rare as they were, made up for the constant jabs. Like when she’d fallen asleep on your shoulder during a movie, her hand unconsciously clutching yours. Or the one time she’d hugged you after you’d had a particularly bad day, whispering, “I’m here,” so softly it almost didn’t feel real.

But those moments were becoming fewer and farther between, buried under the weight of her sharp words and cold demeanour.

The hours tick by as you sit at the dining table, staring at nothing. You don’t even hear the buzz of your phone at first. When it vibrates again, more insistent this time, you snap out of your daze and pick it up. The caller ID shows Kazuha’s name.

“Hello?” Your voice cracks, still hoarse from the argument.

“Y/N,” Kazuha’s voice is urgent, tinged with panic. “You need to come to the hospital. It’s Chaewon.”

Your heart stops. “What happened?”

“She got into an accident. Just… get here as fast as you can.”

The hospital is a blur of sterile white walls and harsh fluorescent lights. The antiseptic smell fills your nostrils as you rush through the corridors, searching for the right room. Your chest feels tight, your breaths shallow. Kazuha meets you outside, her face pale and her hands trembling slightly.

“She’s stable,” Kazuha says quickly, trying to reassure you. “But she hit her head pretty hard. The doctors are saying she might have some memory loss.”

“Memory…loss?” The words barely register as you push past her and into the room.

Chaewon lies on the bed, her face pale and peaceful in a way that feels wrong. A bandage is wrapped around her head, a stark white contrast against her dark hair. You approach her slowly, your steps hesitant.

“Chae?” you whisper, sitting down beside her. Her lashes flutter, and she stirs slightly before her eyes open. Relief floods through you as you lean closer.

“You’re awake,” you say, your voice trembling. “Thank god. You’re okay.”

Her eyes blink slowly, focusing on you. For a moment, it feels like everything will be fine. But then her brow furrows, and she tilts her head slightly.

“Who… are you?” she asks, her voice soft but filled with confusion.

You blink, frozen in place. Her words echo in your mind: Who… are you?

Kazuha places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “Y/N, let’s step outside for a moment. The doctor wants to talk to you.”

Your gaze lingers on Chaewon’s confused expression, and you force a shaky smile. “I’ll be right back,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

She nods faintly, though you can tell she’s unsure why you’re even here. Her eyes flicker to Kazuha for a brief moment before she leans back against the pillows, exhaustion taking over.

Once you’re out in the hallway, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The doctor approaches, a clipboard in hand and a calm but professional demeanour.

“You must be Y/N,” he says. “I’m Dr. Park. I’ve been handling Ms. Kim's case.”

"Ah yea, evening Doc." You nod, gripping the hem of your shirt nervously. “What’s… what’s wrong with her? Is she going to be okay?”

“She’s stable,” he reassures you, glancing at his notes. “But as you might have guessed, the head trauma has caused some memory loss. From our initial tests, it appears she’s unable to recall the past two years.”

“T-two years?” You repeat, your voice trembling. You glance through the small window into her room, watching as Chaewon lies there, her face serene and unaware.

Dr. Park nods. “This type of retrograde amnesia isn’t uncommon in cases like hers. The memories she’s lost may come back over time, or they might not. For now, it’s best not to push her to remember. Stress could make her condition worse.”

“Does she know… does she know anything about me?” you ask hesitantly.

The doctor hesitates. “She remembers people and events prior to the memory gap clearly. But anyone she’s met in the last two years, including you… I’m afraid you’ll be a stranger to her.”

His words hit you harder than you expect, but you nod, trying to keep your expression neutral. “So, what should I do? How do I… help her?”

“Take things slow,” he advises. “Reintroduce yourself as someone here to support her. Let her regain her sense of normalcy first. The rest will come with time, if it’s meant to.”

You thank him quietly, your mind racing. A strange mix of relief and uncertainty bubbles within you. She doesn’t remember the fights, the sharp words, the constant tension—but she also doesn’t remember the good moments, the times when you thought there was still hope.

A part of you feels like this is a reset button, a rare chance to start over. But another part can’t shake the hollow ache of being erased from her life so completely.

You take a steadying breath before walking back into the room. Chaewon’s eyes flit to you as you enter, her expression unreadable.

“Hey,” you say softly, pulling a chair closer to her bedside.

She tilts her head, studying you carefully. “You… You’re Kazuha’s friend, right?”

You glance at Kazuha, who gives you a subtle nod of encouragement from the doorway. Turning back to Chaewon, you force a small smile. “Yeah. I’m just… here to help however I can.”

Chaewon seems to accept this, though the skepticism in her eyes remains. “Thanks, I guess,” she mutters, her voice laced with tiredness.

As she closes her eyes to rest, you lean back in the chair, letting out a slow breath. A small part of you feels lighter than you have in months. No arguments, no cutting remarks—just quiet. Peaceful, even.

But as you watch her, the weight of her blank stare still lingers in your chest. The person you love doesn’t know who you are. And yet, you can’t help but think: maybe this is a chance to show her a version of yourself she could love all over again.

For now, you let the hope settle, hidden behind the mask of quiet sadness you wear for her sake.

The week passes in a blur. Chaewon’s recovery is faster than anyone expected. Physically, she’s almost back to normal, but the gap in her memory remains. You watch her adjust to this new reality, navigating her day-to-day life with a mix of determination and frustration.

True to the doctor’s advice, you’ve been patient, reintroducing yourself as a supportive figure in her life without overwhelming her. She accepts your presence without question—polite, a little guarded, but far removed from the sharp-tongued firecracker you’ve known for so long.

Her management team decided it would be best for Chaewon to ease back into her idol activities gradually. You accompany her, not as her partner, but as someone who can help with her day-to-day needs. Kazuha and Sakura are visibly relieved to have you there, knowing how well you understand Chaewon’s habits.

On set, Chaewon is a model of professionalism. She’s diligent, respectful, and surprisingly soft-spoken. When she doesn’t understand something—a choreography move, a filming cue—she asks politely instead of figuring it out on her own like she used to.

“It’s weird,” she admits to you one evening, fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt. “I don’t remember the last two years, but I still know all the lyrics and choreography. It’s like muscle memory, I guess.”

You smile faintly from where you’re sitting across the room. “That’s a good thing, right? At least it’s one less thing to stress about.”

She nods, her brows furrowing. “I guess. But it feels like I’m walking into someone else’s life. Like, who was I? Was I…” She pauses, searching for the right words. “Was I any good at it?”

You hesitate, a pang of guilt twisting in your chest. She was more than good—she was extraordinary. But her fiery ambition often bled into her personal life, creating the tension that had defined your relationship. Now, all you see is a softer, more vulnerable Chaewon.

“You were great,” you say finally. “Still are.”

Her lips twitch into a small smile, and for once, there’s no sharp remark to follow it.

You’re there in the background, watching as she joined with her members, laughs softly at their jokes, and engages with fans with genuine warmth. It’s such a far cry from the Chaewon who used to tease you mercilessly or snap when she was stressed.

At first, it’s disorienting.

One afternoon, as you help her organize a stack of photo cards at a fan sign event, she flashes you a small, almost shy smile.

“Thanks,” she says quietly, her tone devoid of the usual edge you once expected.

You nearly drop the cards. “No problem,” you manage, your voice awkward.

She doesn’t seem to notice, already turning back to greet the next fan with her signature smile.

Another day at their practice room, you accompany her under the pretence of helping her settle back in. The truth is, you just want to see this new side of her in action.

Chaewon seems… different. Lighter. She laughs with her members more, her usual sharp edge replaced by something softer. You watch from the corner of the practice room as she playfully ruffles Eunchae’s hair, earning a squeal of protest from the younger girl.

“Unnie, stop!” Eunchae whines, swatting Chaewon’s hand away.

Chaewon grins, her eyes crinkling in that familiar way that always made your heart skip a beat. “What? I’m just making sure our maknae looks her best.”

The rest of the group chuckles, and you find yourself smiling too. It’s a scene you’d rarely witnessed before, where Chaewon seems completely at ease with herself and those around her.

During their lunch break, Kazuha sits beside you, nudging your shoulder. “You’ve been staring at her a lot.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Have I…?”

Kazuha smirks. “Yeah. You look like you’re seeing a whole new Chaewon.”

You glance at Chaewon, who’s currently chatting animatedly with Sakura and Yunjin. “Maybe I am,” you admit quietly.

Kazuha’s expression softens. “It’s good, right? This version of her?”

You nod. “Yeah. It’s… it’s really good.”

By the end of the week, you’re starting to notice the cracks in your own resolve.

You don’t miss the fights—not the arguments or the hurtful words or the way she could turn a perfectly fine evening into a battlefield. What you do miss is the spark.

Chaewon’s teasing, for all its rough edges, had always carried a certain energy. There was a wit to her remarks, a confidence that made everything she said hit just the right spot between infuriating and endearing. You used to catch her smirking at you when she thought you weren’t looking, as if she enjoyed seeing how far she could push your buttons.

Now, she’s… gentle. Easy to be around. And yet, you find yourself yearning for the banter, the fire that kept you on your toes.

It’s a strange contradiction. You enjoy this new version of her, free from the biting remarks and the heavy tension that used to hang between you. But in quiet moments, when she’s busy scrolling through her phone or practicing her vocals, you find yourself wondering if she’d ever smirk at you again.

One evening, after a particularly long day of rehearsals, you’re both sitting in her apartment. Chaewon is sprawled out on the couch, her hair still damp from a quick shower. You’re at the kitchen counter, making tea.

“Y/N,” she calls out suddenly, her voice soft but clear.

You glance over. “Yeah?”

“Why do you always help me?” she asks, her tone genuinely curious.

You pause, gripping the handle of the kettle. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs, sitting up. “You don’t owe me anything. But you’re always here, even when I forget things or need help with stupid stuff. It’s… nice, but I don’t get it.”

Her words catch you off guard. For a moment, you don’t know how to respond.

“I just… care,” you say finally, avoiding her gaze. “I’m here because I want to be, not because I have to be.”

She doesn’t say anything right away. When you glance at her, she’s watching you with an expression you can’t quite place—curiosity mixed with something softer, almost vulnerable.

“Thanks,” she says again, quieter this time.

You nod, busying yourself with the tea to hide the lump forming in your throat.

Later that night, as you lie awake on the couch, you can’t help but reflect on how far things have come—and how much has changed.

This new Chaewon is someone you could fall for all over again. She’s kinder, gentler, more open in ways you never expected. But there’s a part of you that aches for the old Chaewon too—the one who used to challenge you, frustrate you, and make you laugh in ways no one else could.

It’s a bittersweet thought, knowing you may never get her back the way she was. But as you close your eyes, you remind yourself that this is a new beginning, a chance to love her for who she is now, not who she used to be.

And as you began to fall asleep, you can’t help but wonder how long this fragile peace will last.

The days slip by in a strange rhythm, where you’re never quite sure who you’ll see when you look at Chaewon.

At times, it’s like she’s still the same—sweet, easy-going, even a little shy around you. But other times, the fire you remember from before flares up unexpectedly, like a switch flipping.

You’ve gotten used to the gentle, more compliant Chaewon, the one who asks you for help with every little thing. But when her old personality slips through—when she’s sharp, playful, and downright teasing—it’s like the rug gets pulled out from under you.

One morning, you’re getting ready to leave the apartment. Chaewon is sitting on the couch, fiddling with her phone. You make your way toward the door, your keys in hand.

“Hey,” she says, her voice low and almost playful.

You stop and turn, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Her eyes glint mischievously as she leans back on the couch, crossing her arms. “You know, you’re kinda cute when you’re all flustered.”

Your stomach does a nervous flip. “What are you talking about?” You laugh awkwardly, glancing away.

She smirks, the old Chaewon you’ve missed suddenly making an appearance. “The way you get all nervous around me when I say things like that. It’s cute. I think I might start teasing you more.”

Your heart races, half amused and half unsettled. “Chae…” You try to act annoyed, but your tone betrays you. “You don’t even remember me. What do you mean by that?”

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing with something you can’t quite read. “Maybe I don’t remember all the details, but I remember you. The guy who’s always around, always hovering, always trying to help. How could I forget you?”

Your breath catches, a flutter of hope igniting in your chest. But before you can respond, she bursts out laughing. “Just kidding, Y/N. But seriously, don’t you get it? You’re like an open book. So easy to tease.”

It feels like an old routine—one you know well. You grin despite yourself, but the warmth in your chest quickly fades into the familiar uncertainty. Was this just a moment of her old self slipping through, or was it something more?

She gets up, not waiting for an answer, her usual carefree confidence taking over once again. “You should get going. I don’t want you to be late.”

And just like that, the teasing fades, and she’s back to the softer version of herself. You stand there, still feeling the aftershock of the teasing and the warmth from that brief return to the Chaewon you used to know.

Later that week, you’re both at a recording studio for LE SSERAFIM’s comeback preparations.

Chaewon is focused on the choreography, her movements deliberate but careful. You’re sitting in the corner of the room, watching her with a quiet sense of pride, when she suddenly stumbles over a step, losing her balance for a moment.

You instinctively stand up, ready to rush over, but she waves you off with a dismissive hand. “I’m fine,” she mutters, brushing her hair out of her face. “Don’t act like you’re my manager or something.”

Your jaw tightens, the familiar spark of annoyance bubbling up inside you. “Chae, I’m just trying to help.”

She glances up at you, her expression sharp, almost a little… cruel. “Stop acting like I need you to. I’m perfectly capable of doing things on my own.”

You freeze. This is the Chaewon you remember—the one who never asked for help, the one who got irritated when anyone tried to make things easier for her.

For a moment, you forget that she doesn’t remember everything, and your heart sinks. You had hoped this version of her was gone, that the softer, gentler Chaewon would be the one to stay. But here she is, slipping back into her old self, the one who pushed you away when you tried to get close.

“Okay,” you say quietly, masking the hurt in your voice. “I’ll stay out of your way then.”

You sit back down, your hands resting in your lap as the silence stretches between you. Chaewon doesn’t say anything more, but there’s a tension in the air that wasn’t there before.

Over the next few days, these shifts continue. Sometimes, she’s the easy-going Chaewon you’ve gotten used to—polite, soft-spoken, even a little shy in her interactions with you. Other times, she snaps, teasing you with a bite in her words that leaves you reeling, or she’ll shut down, acting distant and cold.

You can’t predict when the old Chaewon will emerge, and it’s disorienting. It’s like she’s two people, and you’re not sure which one you’re going to face each day.

But then, one evening, she surprises you again.

You’re sitting on the couch together, both too tired to say much after a long day of practice. The quiet isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s heavy.

Chaewon’s smile widens, but it’s different this time—not as teasing or sharp. It’s softer, almost tender, like she’s rediscovering something she once knew. She leans back against the couch, her gaze drifting to the ceiling, her thoughts seemingly miles away.

“I think I’m starting to remember more,” she says, her voice almost inaudible.

You freeze, a flutter of hope stirring in your chest. “Remember more?”

She looks at you, a faint smile still tugging at her lips. “Yeah. The old me. The one who used to—” Her words trail off, as if she’s still piecing things together in her mind. “Maybe I was a little too much sometimes… difficult. But I think I’m figuring out who I really am now.”

The words hit you harder than you expect. There’s something almost melancholic in the way she speaks, a quiet acknowledgment of her past, yet also a sense of self-awareness in the present.

You stay silent, watching her closely. There’s no sharp retort, no teasing grin to follow. For a moment, you just exist in this space, caught between who Chaewon was and who she’s becoming.

For a while, neither of you speaks. But you know—no matter which version of her you get, the part of her that’s still here, right now, is still the Chaewon you care about. Maybe it’s not the same, and maybe it never will be, but that doesn’t make it any less real. And for now, that’s enough.

It starts innocently enough—a rare free day where you and Chaewon decide to hang out in your apartment. She’s lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone, while you’re in the kitchen attempting to make lunch. Everything is blissfully normal until you hear her gasp dramatically.

“YAAAA!” she shouts, the intensity of her voice startling you so much that you nearly drop the spatula.

“What? What happened?” you ask, rushing into the living room, half-expecting to see something catastrophic.

Chaewon’s eyes narrow as she points accusingly at you with her phone. “How could you?”

You blink, utterly confused. “How could I… what?”

Her face twists in mock devastation as she waves her phone like it’s evidence in a court case. “I was looking through old photos, and you were smiling way too much in the pictures we took during my memory loss phase.”

You stare at her, waiting for the punchline, but she looks genuinely offended. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” she says, sitting up and glaring at you, “that you clearly liked her more than me. Admit it!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. “Chae, you are her. It’s literally still you.”

“But it’s not me!” she insists, crossing her arms and pouting. “That version of me was sweet and soft and totally not me. You liked her better because she wasn’t mean to you, didn’t she?”

“I—what?” you stammer, completely thrown off. “No! I mean, she was nice, sure, but I didn’t like her better! It’s the same person, Chae!”

“Liar!” she exclaims, standing up and stomping over to you. “You probably enjoyed having her dote on you, didn’t you? Bet you didn’t even miss the real me at all!”

You take a cautious step back, holding your hands up defensively. “I did miss you! And I didn’t cheat on you with... you! That doesn’t even make sense!”

Chaewon huffs, her jealousy reaching peak absurdity. “Oh, it makes perfect sense. I leave for a few weeks mentally, and you’re out here having the time of your life with some soft, clingy version of me. Unbelievable!”

She pokes your chest, her expression a mix of irritation and… something else. “Admit it! You liked how she was all shy and asked for help, didn’t you? Bet you enjoyed being the big, helpful boyfriend for once instead of dealing with me!”

You can’t help it—you burst out laughing. The whole situation is so ridiculous you can’t take it seriously anymore.

“Chaewon, do you hear yourself right now? You’re jealous of yourself.”

Her cheeks flush, and she smacks your arm. “Don’t laugh! This is serious! I’m trying to have a heartfelt moment here.”

“Heartfelt?” you repeat between laughs. “You’re accusing me of emotionally cheating on you with another version of you. That’s not heartfelt—that’s a sitcom plot!”

Chaewon’s pout deepens, but there’s a hint of a smile threatening to break through her faux anger. “Well… maybe I’m a little jealous, okay? You didn’t seem to miss me as much as I thought you would.”

You sigh, shaking your head in exasperation. “Chaewon, I missed you every single day. The real you.”

Her glare falters, but she doesn’t back down. Instead, she crosses her arms and looks away, pouting. “You’re just saying that to get out of trouble.”

You take a cautious step closer, tilting your head to catch her eye. “Trouble for what? Loving my girlfriend, no matter which version of her I get?”

She glances at you, her pout softening slightly. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she mutters under her breath.

Just as you’re about to breathe a sigh of relief, she surprises you by grabbing your shirt and pulling you down to her level. Her lips crash against yours in a kiss so sudden and intense that your brain short-circuits.

When she finally pulls away, she’s still glaring, but there’s a faint blush on her cheeks. “That’s so you don’t forget who you really belong to.”

Before you can respond, she kisses you again, her hands tangling in your hair as if staking her claim. “Chae—”

“Shut up,” she murmurs against your lips. “I’m still mad.”

You can’t help but laugh, your hands settling on her waist. “You don’t seem that mad to me.”

“Don’t push your luck,” she warns, but there’s no real heat in her voice.

By the time she lets you go, you’re both out of breath, and the tension has melted away entirely. She steps back, her arms still crossed, but there’s a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“So,” you say, trying to catch your breath, “are we good now? Or should I prepare for another interrogation about cheating on you with… you?”

She rolls her eyes but leans into your chest, her head resting against you. “We’re good. But if I ever catch you looking at ‘soft Chaewon’ like that again, we’re going to have words.”

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around her. “Noted. But for the record, I love you—sharp edges and all.”

She looks up at you, her smile softening. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me, no matter which version of me shows up.”

Maybe you’ve been accused of cheating, maybe it’s all completely ridiculous, but in that moment, you can’t help but love her even more—especially when she’s acting like her old, impossible self.

You could probably get used to this Chaewon too.

#le sserafim #kim chaewon #chaewon #chaewon x reader #lesserafim x reader #chaewon fluff #kim chaewon x reader #izone chaewon #kpop #x reader #le sserafim fluff #le sserafim x you

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martybaker · 2 days ago

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There was only one couch

Tfw you cannot find the jayvik fic you crave so you write it yourself 🙃

I also gotta preface this with - Does it even make sense that they would have microwaves in Piltover? Do they have electricity? My quick search didn’t yield any decisive results so if you know pls lmk. Also, I don’t really know if Jayce is making any sense talking about them but in my defense, he is sleep deprived (and I am dumb and didn’t put any real research into this, sorryy)

—————————

They’ve been stuck at this problem for hours, any potential paths they managed to come up with immediately shattering after but a couple pokes of logic aimed to test the solidity of their foundations. Like bubbles popped by a child’s finger. Like heated corn kernels. Like dreams of making a difference-

Viktor’s too tired to think in metaphors.

He drops the pencil and swivels in his chair, facing Jayce who’s already draped across their shabby sofa, long legs sticking out from one end, head inclined on the armrest on the side closer to Viktor.

“What if we…err, try to like, microwave it, but I don’t mean like an actual microwave,” he waves his hands in the air as he talks, as if that would help illustrate his train of thought, “but like a device, a - an oven, that could create vibrations and …uhhh, direct the particles? Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.”

Viktor chuckles. He doesn’t know why he does, it’s not even particularly funny, the exhaustion must have erased any common sense of his that was left. Yet it’s…comforting to see that same exhaustion mirrored in Jayce. The same dark circles, the same bone deep tiredness weighing him down, the same look of frustration after they’ve been hitting dead ends and running in circles. It’s a shared exhaustion, just like the hard work is shared. Probably should have called it a night hours ago. They both direly need the rest.

“Ovens and microwaves? That would be your hunger speaking, I’m afraid,” Viktor says, reaching for his cane, grinding his teeth to gather the energy to push himself up onto his feet.

“Nah, m’not hungry,” Jayce mumbles. “We had those sandwiches for lunch. Or was it dinner? What time is it even?”

“Too late by all accounts,” Viktor says, taking the few steps towards the couch. He looks at Jayce, who seems glued to the couch and likely is planning to spend the night there. Viktor looks towards the door, but hesitates. The idea of the track across campus to his lodgings really doesn’t sound appealing.

It’s not even that far, the university tried to accommodate Viktor’s needs as best as they could and gave him a room on the ground floor, plus the building is the closest housing to the Engineering department’s laboratories. And yet, today it feels miles away. Damn his leg, damn all the stairs, and damn his hubris for yet again pushing his body beyond its limits, knowing fully well it will backfire ten folds and render him even more useless in the morning.

Jayce notices his hesitation, damn his partner’s bright mind too. He can read Viktor too well, he guesses the reason for his histation despite Viktor’s lack of complaining.

“Oh, do you wanna sleep here? I’ll head home, no problem,” he suggests way too readily, already hoisting himself up onto his elbows.

Viktor tsks and pushes against Jayce’s chest, pushing him back down into the couch.

“Stay,” he hisses. Jayce lives off campus, it would take him much longer to get home. Viktor’s not about to kick him out. And he doesn’t care for compassion either.

Jayce knows this, yet the man cannot help but be kind and caring, and though it irritates Viktor when it's aimed at him, it is also a quality of Jayce’s that he admires. He’s kind to everyone. Meets everyone halfway. Though at times they push too far, and Jayce lets them. Too kind for his own good.

Viktor shakes his head, trying to clean it, the stacked up piles of thoughts seem to have all spilled inside his brain and are rattling around. Rest. He needs to rest.

He looks at Jayce, who is still lying down on the couch, hands raised as if in surrender, big doe eyes staring at Viktor. Was Viktor too cross with him just now? He’s unable to determine. He pats Jayce’s knee in an attempt to smooth over his own prickly temperament.

“I just…I need to take a moment. Before I head out,” he tries. He hopes Jayce won’t insist. He is too tired to come up with reasonable arguments. He doesn’t wanna fight.

But Jayce doesn’t fight, he nods, then he bites his lip and opens his arms.

Hmm.

Viktor considers.

The couch is clearly too small for one grown man, let alone two.

Still it would be more comfortable than the chair.

And Viktor’s not averse to touch. Despite perhaps coming off as such. To everyone, except for Jayce.

It is true that he doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, especially unexpectedly. But he is human and just like for anyone else, there are moments when he would welcome touch. Moments when he finds it comforting. And Jayce is a very tactile person. He didn’t hold back from putting a hand on Viktor’s shoulder the very first day they met, and he hasn’t stopped since. There was a moment near the beginning of their partnership when someone pointed out Viktor’s (alleged) aversion to touch and Jayce panicked, apologizing profusely for making him uncomfortable, and it took days for Viktor to convince him he really didn’t mind. Because that was the truth, Viktor didn’t mind. Not when it was Jayce.

Of course cuddling on the couch was an entirely different matter.

They’ve never done that before, however, Viktor wasn’t a stranger to the comfort of a warm body next to his either.

From cuddling with his parents for warmth as a kid in one too small bed, to seeking the pleasures of a lover to relieve stress, the warmth of a body next to his was undoubtedly beneficial.

And he and Jayce are friends. It wouldn’t be a big deal.

And so Viktor slowly drops his cane to the floor and lowers one of his knees to the couch, trying to figure out how to arrange himself next to Jayce.

Jayce tries to help but it takes some maneuvering, what with Viktor’s leg and their sleep deprived brains, there are a couple of winces and pointy elbows and just way too many limbs, an “Oof” from Jayce when he earns a knee to his stomach, but eventually Viktor finds himself situated with his back against the back of the couch, his head on Jayce’s chest, right leg on top.

It’s…it’s warm.

It’s nice.

It’s not a big deal.

“Okay?” Jayce checks.

Viktor hums. He can hear Jayce’s heartbeat, feel his breath on his forehead. Smell the musk, the odor of an unshowered body, but he has no right to complain, they both haven’t showered for however many hours or days they’ve been locked in here.

Jayce’s heartbeat and breathing slows, but Viktor cannot slow his racing thoughts. He can feel every point of contact where their bodies are touching. He can feel Jayce’s muscular chest moving under his hand. Jayce’s right hand briefly pets Viktor’s hair before it settles on top of his shoulders. Viktor fights against the urge to burrow closer, to inhale Jayce’s smell, to tug his hand back into Viktor’s hair.

Stupid sleep deprived brain. Viktor could have figured such close proximity to a warm body would reduce him to animal instincts. He can only be glad he’s way too sleepy for his nether parts to react as well.

Jayce feels his restlessness. How could he not, pressed so close.

“Viktor,” he whispers, warm breath tickling Viktor’s forehead and despite himself Viktor exhales and melts against that strong chest even more. “You can rest, V, I’ll wake you in a couple of minutes and walk you home.”

My ass you will, Viktor thinks, we’re both gonna fall asleep here, your right side will be completely numb and my back will be killing me tomorrow. He’ll barely be able to stand. But he’s too tired and too comfortable to say any of that now. It’s a Tomorrow Viktor’s problem anyways. This Viktor burrow’s closer against Jayce’s chest, letting all his worries and all the problems fade, falling into the sweet embrace of sleep.

#jayvik #jayce x viktor #arcane #jayvik fic #jayvik fanfic #arcane jayvik #jayce talis #arcane jayce #arcane viktor #my writing #arcane fanfic #arcane fanfiction #one (1) throwaway sentence about microwaves and now i am having a whole ass crisis #about whether they have electricity in piltover #or chemtech or magicky substances or what #sigh i need to do more worldbuilding research

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meeinthesea · 2 days ago

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THE COUNTDOWN TO FERVOUR — gojo satoru

outline — who knew a new year’s party would have you and satoru ending the year in a more than unforgettable manner?

contains — gojo x reader, established relationship, fluff, smut, oral (blowjob), fingering, hints at top!satoru (?), a bit of plot (not that much honestly :/), let me know if i forget anything !

wc — 2.9k

a/n — my first time writing smut, i hope it's not that awkward... also sorry for any typos :>

“we don’t have to do this...” satoru says, his voice low, almost a plea. he leans back against the couch, restless gaze flickering between you and the carpet, “it's fine, really.”

no, it isn't. his pants feel way too tight, rough fabric stretching taut on his lean muscles, and not to mention the painful throbbing pulsing down his thighs makes it hard to breathe, to think but he still holds himself back — for you.

he doesn't want to lose control, doesn't want to pressure you into doing something that might be uncomfortable for you — something you might regret later on.

he swallows and puts his hands on your shoulders, pushing you back when your hands brush against his belt — your touch a bolt of electricity spreading through the nerves in his system.

satoru shakes his head, catching your hands in his, feeling you squeeze him gently, a low apology on the tip of your tongue, “it's okay, baby...”

he can't even breathe properly not when you're this close to him, your voice dripping with the same emotion that has plagued every cell of his brain, sweet floral perfume infiltrating his nostrils, travelling straight to his lower body, leaving it all tingly and almost numb, “not your fault...”

and it really isn't. no one knows how things accelerated to something like this — a situation both you and satoru don't know how to handle.

but the nagging voice in his mind tells him that it was indeed your fault.

the moment you stepped out of the door hand in hand with satoru was the moment the downfall of his self-control began.

a few hours ago, the two of you set off to a new year's party, you were oh so graciously invited to by one of your close friends. and as a respectful friend, you couldn't miss attenting, so you just had to drag satoru with you, knowing he would definitely not mind some time off from his duties.

the party was a blast. the moment you entered, everything and everyone was full of life. energy bubbling in every corner, loud music blaring from the speakers accompanies the continuous chatter of what seemed like a hundred people — all smushed together in a small beach side villa.

just your typical and boring year end get together that satoru was getting tired of fast.

though he certainly wasn't disappointed, dashing straight to the sweets and snacks counter the moment you both exchanged greetings with the host, “this tastes so so good,” he nearly moaned at the sweet and vanilla flavour bursting on his taste buds as he chewed onto the soft bread, gobbling down the entire piece of pastry in one go, “easy there toru, we still need to eat dinner.”

the massive buffet arranged for dinner was truly a sight out of this world. the numerous delicacies from around the globe decorating the long table along with the fresh and delicious aroma of the spices and the condiments heavy in the air had his mouth watering even before he made it to the first serving.

by the time dinner ended, satoru was struggling to walk with how full his belly was. gods, but he really didn’t want to say goodbye to the dishes delivered straight from the kitchens of heaven itself, “can we please ask them to pack some for us?” you only looked at him blankly before hitting him on his head, which immediately has him slapping your rear in front of everyone.

aside from catching up with your long-lost friends and co-workers, you and satoru were waiting for a year-end surprise, and here's the problem. sure, they must have served something (satoru reckons it was definitely alcohol) while both of you were lounging on the balcony outside, you must have drank maybe a couple of glasses or perhaps it was him snatching every cup from the server's tray.

though you reckon it was him, wrapping his arm around you, tracing his hand up and down your back, which lingered dangerously close to your lower body. or maybe it was the way you looked at him — hooded eyes staring at him with your plump cheeks reflecting off the red from the fairy lights, lips puckered slightly as if anticipating something — the one look he had never seen on you before. but he knows that it was your fingers curling in his collar, slotting your lips against his the moment the countdown hit zero. fireworks erupted in the background, and he swore some ignited in his chest, too.

yeah, it was definitely you blowing the fire that had begun to flicker in his body. naughty girl.

no one knows what happened after that. through hazy vision, he stirred you both out of the hordes of now drunk and wasted people, eager to get you away from any prying eyes, not wanting anyone to see you in such state. something so carnal, lecherous jumps in his heart, the heat between you surged, raw and unrelenting, leaving him trembling with the need to hold on — or to give in.

the apartment is silent except for the low humming of the heater and whirlwind of snow hitting the glass of the windows. the silence stretches between you and satoru, thick with tension neither of you knows how to break it. his hands are still on yours, holding them tight, though his grip falters when your eyes meet, “satoru... please?”

your words almost have him choking on air. his chest rises and falls with uneven breaths. he is trying to think — trying to be rational — but it doesn't help when you're thinking with something else rather than your brain. he trembles when he sees the way you're looking at him, like he's the only thing in this world.

“are you sure?” satoru croaks out, hands moving to rest on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. he wants to hear it properly — wants to hear you say it that you want him too as much as he wants you right now.

“yes,” your reply is instantaneous, and the flickering flame flares into something akin to a conflagration, successfully destroying what little was left of his self-control.

it's all satoru needs as he slumps back against the leather. his hand cups your cheek, softly grazing his thumb against your flushed skin before dropping down to your parted lips, pushing the limb into your mouth, “suck.”

it's not a request but an order, one that you're more than willing to abide by. you take no time in dropping to your knees, settling in between his spread legs. satoru watches with droopy eyes as your tongue peeks out, slowly tracing his skin before taking his thumb deeper. you feel so wet and so warm as he pushes on your tongue that has him wondering how good it will feel when he has your mouth wrapped around something else.

satoru pulls back his thumb, grazing against your wet lips, “go on, show me how much you want me.” his hands move up to your head, pulling your hair together and tying them in a not so clean ponytail (you wonder where he got that hair tie from), “it's all yours, baby.”

you shuffle closer towards the edge, running your hands up and down his thighs, “is it?” looking up at him with a small teasing smirk, eyelashes fluttering at his lovesick expression.

oh god, you didn't know that the blood pumping in his heart is all because of you, that all of his eyes exist with the sole purpose of seeing you — observing you, that everything which made up gojo satoru belonged to you.

satoru wants you to know the effect you had on him, wants you to know how much you got him running, “feel that?” one of his hands holds your own over the throbbing mess in his pants. it twitches to life as you rub your palm against the hardness, “it's all you baby.” and it is because no one else could have satoru moaning out loud like a fucking porn star upon the simplest of touches.

“can i...?” you whisper soflty, meeting his lustful gaze.

the meaning behind your question is not lost to him as he nods his head, eager for you to take him. he feels dizzy just by watching you open his belt, clinking sounds ringing in his ears, shooting pleasure down his body. his heart melts a little as you press a soft kiss right on the bulge in his pants.

you motion for him to lift himself, and he does so finally revealing himself, as you effortlessly slide off his pants and his boxers in one go, leaving nothing to hide his ever-growing desire for you.

he's so beautiful, standing tall and proud, tip flushed with deep red. you give it an experimental lick along the slit collecting the remnants of ooze before kissing it softly. satoru gasps above you, your name falling in a soft plea.

your kisses move across his thighs, decorating the pale milky skin with splotches of red and purple, marking him as yours. he looks so divine sitting in front of you — like a god whom you're yearning for, whose praise you want to drown yourself in.

when you fully take him in, tip hitting the end of your throat, satoru swears he sees the pearly gates looming over him, and god does he feel so close to cumming, “e-easy baby fuck, or you're gonna have m-me haa coming in no time,” his hand comes up to rest on your head, giving it a soft squeeze.

he feels you giggle around him before resuming your previous ministrations to get him closer to the sweet, sweet release. your tongue flicks around the tip, which immediately results in him clenching his thighs, a low guttural sound escaping him.

god, he sounds so hot, looks so hot— dishevelled hair with sweat beading to the tips, his ironed shirt is all crumpled with a few missing buttons giving way to his soaked chest — so masculine. a perfect picture rivalling that of a statue of some greek deity.

“just like that baby fuck!” you hum upon his praise, vibrations shooting up his spine, mingling with the tight knot forming in his abdomen, “so perfect for me, aren't y-you sweetheart?”

yes, you are. his sweet baby, his angel who is always ready to pleasure him, to put him first — your lord. nothing exists in the world right now. it's only you and him — a god and his worshipper.

all his senses are overloaded with you. all he sees is you looking so perfect under him. all he hears is the loud, wet sounds as you work your mouth down his length to his balls, sucking each one of them while fondling with the other. golden nectar seeps through the slit, coating your mouth. he feels so heavy, twitching violently with the need to cum — to paint you white with his essence.

“oh god, b-baby i'm—” satoru is so close that he can almosy taste the sweet heavenly release, and god does your mouth do wonders on him. he's panting, one hand clawing at the couch while the other holds your head in place, right where you belong.

it's so hot... you are so hot.

when you lock eyes with him, all the while he's throbbing in your mouth, satoru tips over the edge, falling straight into the ocean of unadulterated bliss. he swears he almost goes blind, his body numb with how hard he's coming down your throat. shocks and shocks of pleasure travel through his body, heart drumming against his ribcage with each wave. he grips on your head, tight not wanting to let you go.

a loud, broken whimper of your name echoes around the space as he comes down from the thrill of the earth-shattering orgasm. you suck him through it, not wanting to waste any drop of the precious liquid.

you place a final kiss right at the base, separating with wet pop, leaving behind a string of saliva connecting your parted lips with his tip that has his stomach churning again.

“how was it?” you whisper, hands still kneeding at the flesh of his thighs. satoru barely has any energy left, heaving above you, trying to form some coherent sentences, “so good baby—so good.” a blissed out expression paints his face with little sighs leaving his mouth as he thumbs again at your now wet mouth, “c'mere...”

he pulls you up by your elbows, placing you on his lap now, “so good f'me...” he presses his mouth on yours, swallowing the sudden gasp upon your surprise. the slow calculated pecks quickly turn into open-mouthed kisses, his tongue curling with yours, moaning into you as he tastes himself on you.

satoru is touchy and so clingy, groping and squeezing your flesh so hard you're sure he must be leaving marks underneath your shirt. his hands hold you tight, close to his body as if you'd disappear right before his very eyes. he separates from you, moving to suck down your neck all the way to your ear, smudging red against your soft skin.

“lay down for me, yeah?” he whispers in your ear before taking your ear lobe between his teeth, biting it softly. you hum, and he swings you around, laying you carefully on the couch, “there we go... such a pretty, baby.”

satoru's mind is reeling, unable to believe his eyes. he finally has you underneath him, flushed, embarrassed because of him — all ready for him. his fingers tug at your pants, nicely trimmed nails catching onto the hidden skin, “let's get this off...”

he helps you shimmy off your pants, along with your embarrassingly drenched underwear which he sneakily pockets somewhere you don't know, “i barely touched you there, baby...” he slides a finger up your drenched folds, spreading them apart, “god so wet, tell me who got you this wet?”

and god, he is falling in love with the way you look right now — mouth gaping trying to respond, drooling trickling from the side of your mouth — his precious angel, so so pretty.

“answer me, baby...” he leans closer to your heat, taking a strong whiff of the arousal seeping through. “it's—ahh you, all you fuck.” you whisper as his hot breath fans against your wetness.

yeah he knows it's him — the only one who got you needy like a bitch in heat, “show me how to pleasure you, yeah?” he sits up spreading your thighs wider, situating between them, wrapping your legs around his waist. you nod, holding his hand and guiding it towards the ache between your legs, “right here?”

“need your mhm,” he knows you're struggling, trying to think past the lust ridden haze in your mind, but it's just so fun, seeing you get frustrated. “my what?” his fingers circle around the pulsing nub, feather soft touch testing your limits.

you are quickly surrendering to the faint sparks of pleasure stemming from where his finger rubs you, “y-your hah fingers...please,” satoru hums as he quickly shoves one inside your weeping hole.

both of you moan out as your walls clench around the digit, slowly sucking him in deeper, “m-more please ahh,” he follows, rubbing his ring finger around your opening before it's joining his middle finger.

satoru's mind is running in circles. god, you are barely coherent with just his fingers pumping inside of you. how are you gonna take him? maybe you'll yield, pretty pussy splitting open to accomodate him, always so eager to please him — welcome him. you're gonna make him cum untouched now.

“t-toru just like that baby—oh!” satoru hums encouragingly, keeping up the pace, rubbing against the rough spot deep in your walls, “you’re gonna cum f'me?” he whispers against your lips, before pulling you into a deep and messy kiss.

he knows you're close, tell tale sings of orgasm showing up in your features. your nails graze against his nape, electricity buzzing through his undercut, “please toru—” he shushes you, his free hand holding your head against his chest, “i got you baby.”

satoru watches as you come undone in front of him, spraying all over his abdomen with a loud moan ripping from your throat. he eases you through the orgasm, placing gentle kisses on your watery eyes, a stark contrast to the relentless pace of his fingers working your walls.

he slumps against you, pulling his now absolutely sopping fingers from your gaping hole, “mhm—”

he pushes his fingers in his mouth all the while maintaing eye contact with you, heavenly exilir hydrating his parched mouth, “tastes so good fuck,” he mutters removing them before bending down to capture your lips again, letting you taste yourself.

satoru pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours. his cerulean eyes maps the route of your face, watching you as you struggle to keep your eyes open. he nuzzles his nose against yours, “come now, don't go sleeping on me...”

his weight leans on his knees as he sits up above you, fingers fiddling with his now crumpled shirt, a devious grin adoring his face, “after all, i'm not done with you just yet.”

oh, he can't wait to have you writhing, screaming in pleasure — to have you fully.

what a banger way to kick off the new year, he thinks as he pushes in you, never to leave you ever again.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo fluff #gojo smut #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x yn #jjk fluff #jjk smut #nsft.#—my works.#happy early new year lol #<3

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bloggerspam · 2 days ago

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Two updates in one day? It's a Christmas Miracle!

Here's the Epilogue :) Gentle reminder that this fic is also on AO3!

===

The problem with knowing things, Jason thinks, is now he's gotta do something about it.

"Knowledge is a burden…" Dickie sighs. "How are you holding up, Jaybird?"

Jason groans, slumping further into the giant bean bag chair he's in.

It's summertime, and Jason is on break from school. After the Christmas Carol Debacle in April, Dickie decided that Jason's stay at Titan's Tower should not only be moved up from the original plan of Christmas Break, but also extended to the entirety of Summer Vacation.

He was not happy to learn about parallel timeline Bruce's actions, and like a spurned girlfriend waking up from a dream of her boyfriend cheating on her, he's taking it out on this Bruce.

"Jaybird privileges have been revoked." Dickie had growled at Bruce, once Jason was done explaining what had happened. It made Jason feel all tingly and warm inside as he packed his duffle bag for his stay at the Tower.

Jason and the Titans are lounging in the spacious living room area, Beast Boy and Cyborg playing some kind of racing game whilst Raven reads some suspicious-looking tome.

Starfire is milling about in the kitchen, attempting…something. She might even be worse at cooking than Dickie is, and he’s banned from the Kitchen.

Alfie has been teaching Jason how to make simple breakfasts, and Dickie has been reaping the benefits.

His brother rolls over on top of Jason, practically suffocating him in his affection as he waits for Jason to answer.

Jason’s still not used to this kind of physical affection, but thinking on it, Dickie’s never really stayed at the Manor. He knew his older brother wasn’t getting along with Bruce nowadays, but he never really thought to consider the natural result of it causing a rift between the two brothers.

It should have been obvious: Dickie didn’t want to see Bruce, and Jason lives with him.

…Maybe Danny was right, he really wasn’t looking at all.

“I just don’t know what to do.” Jason finally answers, adjusting so his arm isn’t trapped under the bulk of his brother.

“Do you have to do anything?” Beast Boy says, before crying out at his car flipping over on the screen.

“Batman did say messing with the timeline too much would be, what did he call it?” Cyborg does a little fist pump when he ends up first in the race. “Paradoxical?”

“It’s too late for that,” Raven cuts in, shutting her tome with a loud thump. “Jason being here already dictates heavy changes. That’s not what he’s asking anyway.”

“It is about your siblings, yes?” Starfire hums, coming to float and sit down on the adjacent sofa. “Will you not go find them?”

“He’s worried about their skill sets,” Dickie explains, “And their intentions.”

“And the moral dilemma of it all.” Jason whines.

“I don’t get it.” Beast Boy says, whooping when he wins the second race. “What’s so bad about picking them up now?”

“You mean besides some stranger coming up to you and declaring you’re siblings in the future?” Raven rolls her eyes, disappearing the tome and flicking a small marble-like ball of energy at BB’s head.

“Ow!” Beast Boy flinches, converting himself into a dog to tumble his way into Jason and Dickie’s little cuddle pile.

It’s a little embarrassing, especially when Beast Boy turns into a cat to curl around his neck and head like some kind of mother cat, and the other Titans give them a soft smile. But Jason can’t really say he hates it.

“If he gets little Damian now, he saves him from life at the League.” Dickie explains, “But that would deprive him of his relationship with his mother, and possibly even put his life in more danger if he lacks the assassin background he grew up in.”

“Cassandra would be better off being saved now,” Jason mutters, “But I don’t know if she has a hand in Damian’s training or not, and if we take her but not him…”

“It could affect his training or something,” Cyborg completes the thought, “Which would bring you back to square one, where you might as well bring him in anyway.”

“Which just starts the cycle all over again…” Raven observes.

“And hence,” Dickie gestures with a hand towards Raven, “Knowledge is a burden.”

All of them groan.

“Fuck it.” Jason finally says, grabbing Cat-BB and squeezing him tight like a stuffed animal, pushing his face into his cat belly. Cat-BB graciously lets Jason snuggle him half to death. His brother’s friends are equally cuddly, no surprise.

“Language.” Dickie murmurs from where his face is smooshed against the beanbag chair.

“Fuck it,” Jason says again into Cat-BB’s belly. “Let’s draw up a co-parenting agreement between B and Talia. Kidnap Cassandra because fuck that guy pretending to be her dad, for real.”

Cat-BB purrs up a storm, making biscuits in Jason’s hair and laughing little cat laughs. Starfire and Cyborg cheer as Raven huffs a laugh. Dickie squeezes him a little tighter.

“What about the others?” Raven asks, “Stephanie Brown and Duke Thomas?”

“We looked into Stephanie,” Dickie waves a hand, “Turns out her dad’s Cluemaster. Bruce is looking into her.”

“Duke will go through a nondescript war, at a nondescript time.” Jason follows up, shrugging. “There isn’t much we can do about that until it actually happens. Bruce said we can just keep an eye on him for now.”

“And what of the Tiny Tim?” Starfire tilts her head, “He is your neighbor, is he not? Is he still alone?”

Jason grins.

===

Jason whoops as he grapples through the buildings, running on rooftops and dodging reaching hands.

Blackbat melts out of the shadows, stopping him dead in his tracks when she boops him on the nose.

“Tag.” Cass says, and even through the mask, Jason can tell she’s smiling, “You’re it, Lightning Bug.”

“Stop calling me that!” Jason groans, but Blackbat has already joined the shadows once more. “You’re only 3 months older!”

He huffs.

He looks down at himself, at the black cargo pants and bright white accents, white steel-toe boots to match. His lower face mask, doubling as a gas mask, almost gleams in the moonlight as it reflects off the white sheen of it.

He reaches up to make sure the black hood is still attached properly, adjusting his black leather jacket when it rides up with the action. The white skin-tight armored kevlar underneath peeks through, the black bat symbol on his chest almost absorbing the light.

He has to admit, his white and black outfit does kind of make him look like a streak of lightning when he’s dashing about the roofs, but if anyone’s a lightning bug it’d be Duke.

For obvious reasons.

He takes another running dive, swinging left when he sees some movement. Speak of the Devil….

Signal is up ahead, jostling around with Spoiler.

Jason locks on, grin feral.

“SHIT!” Cass curses when she sees him, “SCATTER!”

To Jason’s surprise, Nightwing nose dives away veering right when Spoiler and Duke separate on the left. Damn, didn’t see him there—Jason’s losing his touch.

Duke hoots and hollers with laughter, especially when Jason decides to chase after Steph.

“Hey! Why me!!!!” Steph whines, twisting and winding and parkouring over vents.

But they’re around Crime Alley now, his turf. Jason ducks under, dipping through an open window and waving hello to Mr. Gonzalez as he jumps out the other side, hooking himself up through the fire escape to cut Steph’s path off.

She didn’t have a chance.

“Ah! Fuck!” Steph screams as Jason trips her. She does a neat little cartwheel, landing on her feet with a huff. “Where did you even come from???”

“You’re in my Alley, Spoiler.” Jason taunts, sticking his tongue out and grappling quickly away.

Some cheers erupt from the windows, Mr. Gonzalez and Miss Ruby, even little Billy from the bakery sticking their heads out their windows to cheer them on.

“I bet my money on you winnin’ this time, Spirit!” Nikki, one of the working girls, waves with a grin as he passes by.

“Ain’t no winners in tag, Miss!” Jason calls out, hoping his replying grin is audible in his voice. “Only one loser!”

Jason swings this way and that, hearing echoes of his siblings’ laughter as he takes a small break at his favorite gargoyle.

He sits down, careful to hide within the arms and wings of the grotesque, and breathes. He should have known wearing his lower-face gas mask would get sweaty. At least his white domino is made to be breathable.

He doesn’t know how Steph and Cass survive the breakouts. He’s 19 and he’s still breaking out with acne every now and then. Do girls just have magic powers?

He feels a presence loom above him, and when he tilts his head up to look, Batman smiles down at him. It looks funny, upside down, but Jason likes it anyway.

He can see Robin giving him a little nod further behind before he grapples away to no doubt join the festivities.

On comms, he can hear Cardinal yelping in indignation at being tagged by Spoiler. Jason chuckles, wondering if Timmy’s going to blow a gasket or not. Oracle is chiding them for language, but she’s also giving hints about Dickie’s whereabouts, so clearly she doesn’t actually care.

“You’re not going to join?” Bruce asks, sitting down beside him.

“I’m the one that tagged Steph.” Jason laughs, “I’m just taking a break, old man.”

“Hn.” Bruce grunts, even though surely he already knew all this.

“If you wanted to chat, all you had to do was say so.” Jason takes off his lower mask, grinning. “Or maybe you wanna join in too? This isn’t a gala y’know, you don’t need an invite.

Bruce chuckles, shaking his head and looking out over Gotham. They sit there in amicable silence, enjoying the stars and sky.

“I’m proud of you.” Bruce breaks the silence, not looking over at Jason but reaching a hand over to pat him on the head. “I’m proud of the man you’ve become.”

Jason smiles, accepting the gruff pat and looking up at his dad as he fastens his mask back on. “Hey, I’m proud of me too.”

Jason jumps up, Bruce no doubt raising an eyebrow in confusion before—

“Tag, you’re it!” Dickie grins, cackling all the way as he hooks an arm around Jason and grapples away.

“Please do start heading home, children.” Alfie’s voice cuts through the comms, “Dinner will be served in 20.”

“Got it, Agent A!” Jason chirps, cheeky, “Game ends when the last person hits the manor!”

Their laughs echo through Gotham as Batman himself starts to barrel towards them, their siblings swing in and out and away and around, heading back.

Heading home.

===

Jason looks up at the sign, head tilted up. It’s a bar, plain looking and unassuming at a first glance. It looks a little run down, but close inspection of the entrance gives Jason the impression that it was on purpose.

Overall, a very interesting place to be sent to.

“This the place?” Roy mutters from beside him.

“Not sure.” Jason hums, pulling out the green post-it note in his pocket and reading it over again. “It’s the right address, at least.”

“Only one way to find out.” Artemis grins from his other side. “Good thing we’re all legal.”

They make their way into the building, a little hole-in-the-wall bar. It’s cleaner, nicer than Jason expected it to be. There are a couple of patrons milling about, low murmurs sprinkled with hearty laughter.

He and his friends each take a stool at the bar when a bartender comes out from the back.

He’s built like a truck, with long black hair tied back into a messy braid hanging over his shoulder. When he spots them, Jason notices that his brown eyes look almost red in the dim light.

The bartender squints at him for a moment, looking to his left and right, contemplating. A moment later the edge of his lip ticks up in an almost smile, and despite the confusion in his face he looks knowing. He looks like he recognizes Jason.

Jason’s too distracted, wondering why he looks so familiar to really get up in arms about it.

“Well,” The bartender says as he comes to a stop before him, “Guess you found your Outlaws in the end.”

“We are not outlaws…” Artemis defends them, confused and a touch offended, “We haven’t done anything.”

“Right, right,” The man flaps a hand, “You’d be something else this time around.”

“You’re…” Jason feels like he’s on the edge of remembering something, like a lost memory from childhood.

“What can I do you for?” Despite asking, the bartender starts to make three drinks—a whiskey on the rocks, a mug of honey mead, and a glass of ginger ale.

“How—” Roy dazedly takes the ginger ale, looking towards Artemis with her honey mead. “I didn’t even know they had honey mead at bars?”

“They don’t.” Artemis stares at her mug, “Not…not usually.”

“Who are you?” Jason furrows his brow, clutching his whiskey in one hand and crumpling the note in his pocket in the other.

The bartender smirks, leaning his left shoulder just a little forward, tapping a nametag with his right index finger with an almost crystalline tinktink!

“Long time no see, kid.” Dan smirks, leaning forward on his elbows. “It’s like it was yesterday—you grew up nice. Come to the UK for the holidays?”

“You could say that.” Jason, overcome with an onslaught of forgotten memories, starts to slowly beam. “Are the other Dannies in town for Christmas?”

“Hanukkah.” Dan corrects, tilting his head towards a menorah banner hanging off the cash register, “Got a Jewish friend in town, plus we hate Christmas.”

“How can someone hate Christmas?” Roy cuts in, “And who even are you?”

“An old friend.” Jason smiles, “Though I like his siblings more.”

“Everyone does.” Dan rolls his eyes, but Jason can see a ghost of a smile.

“Could I see them?” Jason wants to ask so many things, tell them so many things, about what’s different now, about his siblings, just talk.

“Sure,” Dan shrugs, “I’m guessing CW sent you? Green post-it?”

“Yeah,” Jason pulls out the crumpled note and puts it on the bar.

“They’ve always been nosy.” Dan grumbles. “My shift’s over in an hour. Kids’ll be happy to see you.”

Dan gets called over by one of the other patrons, and Jason kills time by answering his friends’ abundant questions, catching them up.

Kori and Bizarro join them just as they’re bundling up to leave, Dan bidding his coworkers goodbye.

“You really hate Christmas?” Jason needles as his friends head towards the direction Dan gave them ahead of time, “Even though…”

“Yeah, even though. Danny’s idea. The one with the Y.” Dan smirks, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Bah Humbug, and all that.”

Jason laughs.

===

Jason sits back at the dinner table, satisfied and joyful.

It’s a raucous affair, Christmas dinner with the Waynes.

Especially so with guests.

Cass and Sam are talking about witchcraft, and how ethical the practices might be.

Duke is chatting amicably with Tucker about the latest game-turned-film feature playing in this universe, Steph putting in her two cents about it with pointed gestures about how little she’s impressed by it.

Babs and Jazz are discussing Jazz’s job as a therapist, Babs wondering if she can pick Jazz’s brain for improvements for Arkham.

Bruce and Dan eat in friendly silence, though Jason suspects that maybe they’re silently communicating at a grunting frequency only brooding men can hear, like cats.

Dani, now called Ellie, is goading Damian into a spar with very little success.

Danny and Dickie are trying to subtly direct them into pranks, with very high success.

Alfie is coming in and out, tending to the food and his charges with a smooth smile and happy demeanor.

All in all, it was worth convincing the Phantoms to celebrate Christmas with the Waynes, just this once.

Tim is telling him about college options, Jason about to put in his own tips about class scheduling when he realizes a great opportunity.

“Hey Tim, can you do me a favor?” Jason lowers his voice conspiratorially.

“That depends on the favor.” Tim squints up at him, skeptical and no doubt confused at the sudden change in subject. “And what I get out of it.”

“It’s nothing big.” Jason reassures him, “It would just be funny for the Dannies.”

Tim tilts his head, listening to Jason whispering his plan in his ear before acquiescing with a shrug. “Sure, I guess.”

Jason beams, clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention.

“Thank you for coming,” Jason starts, addressing the Phantoms who raise a glass in agreement, “And well, for everything else. I don’t have some grand speech, but I just wanted to end this night right, you know?”

Dan raises an eyebrow almost exactly in time with Bruce, causing Danny and Ellie to dissolve into laughter.

“And so,” Jason grins, gesturing grandly to the boy beside him. “As Tiny Tim observed…”

Tim rolls his eyes, but smiles indulgently. “God bless us, every one!”

A Christmas Carol AU

Inspired by a prompt found in the @haunting-heroes-creative-games :) (i.e. back on my shit again)

When a 15 year old Jason, pissed at Bruce for taking Robin away from him, finds his birth certificate he realizes Catherine Todd is not his real mother.

Just as he resolves to go out and search for his birth mother, Jason finds himself accosted by three ghosts in his room, talking about A Christmas Carol of all things.

===

"So, what? We're gonna Christmas Carol him?"

Dan scoffs, crossing his bulky arms with an unimpressed look. "We hated that movie."

"I didn't." Dani chirps, disturbingly cheery, "I didn't see it!"

"We hate Christmas," Danny corrects, "But the movie was alright, and the logic is sound."

"I don't hate Christmas," Dani once again interjects cheerily, "I've never participated!"

"Sound my ass," Dan growls over her, throwing his hands up. "We don't even know this guy!"

"Minor detail." Danny insists, "Tuck can look him up."

"He's a fucking Bat, Danny." Dan scrunches up his face, pinching the bridge of his nose just like Vlad does when he's disgruntled with any of Dad's shenanigans.

"He's a Robin, actually." Dani pipes in, "And he's just a kid. How hard is it gonna be to pretend to be this kid's Ghosts?"

"You're a kid," Dan reminds her, crossing his arms, "And you didn't believe me when I told you sticking a fork in the outlet would shock you."

"I believed you," Dani sniffs haughtily, crossing her arms and pointing her nose up with a snooty voice, "The warning simply did not deter me from doing it anyway."

"We don't have to convince him we're his Ghosts, or even that we knew him before," Danny reasons, needling, "We just have to convince him that we're…"

He hums, pointing at Dani. "Past."

He points at himself, "Present."

He points at Dan, "Future."

Dani does a little cheer, arms up and twirling into the air before landing with her legs over Dan's shoulders, hands and head settling atop Dan's fiery, but harmless, hair. It flickers, before going limp into long white strands that Dani messes up by gently scrunching up the strands and running her fingers through them.

Dan lets her, huffing and looking weirdly like a downtrodden, wet cat. "Why am I future?"

"Because." Danny doesn't continue, because he knows it makes Dan annoyed. True to form, his scowl gets worse, like sucking on a lemon. They all know why anyway.

Dani grins, triumphant and knowing, letting her voice go real deep, "The future," she intones into Dan's hair, "is here."

"The future is now," Danny corrects her, but doesn't lose his smile, floating up to tuck a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

"The future is already here," Dan mumbles his correction, or is it a follow-up? "It's just not evenly distributed."

"How about you distribute some of those muscles, Gibson," Danny sighs, shaking his head "Waiting for puberty is such a drag, and we both know you didn't get the mass from Vlad's side of the family."

Dan makes a moue of disgust, but it serves him right. The consequences of his own actions, and whatnot. He looks up at Dani, who simply shrugs. "I think you'll do great." She leans down to give him two pats on the arm.

"So how's acting out A Christmas Carol gonna help us stop this Jason guy from blowing up?" Dani fiddles with Dan's hair, tongue poking out as she attempts a braid, "Will he even see us? Ghosts in this dimension taste funny."

"He'll be able to see us, it's magically rich enough for some ghosts to maintain a semblance of themselves," Danny explains for the third time. Dani and Dan hum at different pitches, and even though Danny is the common denominator he kind of hates that Vlad has more of a lasting impression on them. "The ectoplasm here is scarce and mostly corrupted, though, so it's rare."

"So there's lotsa bad ghosts here?" Dani eyes the messy braid she's made, proud, even as Dan's silky hair immediately causes it to fall apart, "Or 'mentally unsound' or whatever Frostbite called it."

"No," Dan grumbles, annoyed and indulging all at once, "Corruption begets ecto-rot, but the scarcity means they're not strong enough to actually retain their sense of self enough to rot."

"Shades," Danny explains when Dani looks even more confused, "There's lots of shades."

"Is this one of the Olympian dimensions?" Dani groans, flopping over Dan's shoulder as he sits down on the sofa, "I love Pandora and all, but if I see Zeus again I'm gonna lose it."

"It's one of the hero dimensions," Danny hums, taking over braiding Dan's hair the way Jazz made him when they were little, "There's a couple of Amazons walking about, but on the whole no Olympians."

"I don't know why he didn't just dump me in a Norse dimension." Dan leans back and closes his eyes to their ministrations. "Especially with my current occupation."

The three of them are sitting in Dan's apartment, a large loft studio located somewhere in the UK of the aforementioned hero-dimension. Alber-something, Danny can't remember. Doesn't need to, it being a different dimension from his anyway.

Dan doesn't have a lot of things: a sofa and TV, a bed in the corner, a decent but small kitchen. They're still trying to figure out decorations, but Dan on the whole is a minimalist so it's been slow going.

He's working as a bartender these nights, whiling away his odd existence now that his form has stabilized.

And wasn't that a trip? Learning that hey, adult lightning halfas shouldn't really be mixed with teenage ice halfas, actually!

Apparently, ectoplasm can become corrupted if you try to combine incompatible sources.

Apparently, side effects include (but are not limited to) unmitigated violence and a devastating need for vengeance.

Sound familiar?

"This dimension has a lot of time continuity errors," Danny reminds him, "Dropping you here gave the least amount of pushback."

"Yeah, yeah," Dan flaps a lazy hand, "Praise be the speedforce and flashpoints and whatnot."

"Plus," Dani adds softly, absent-minded as she watches Danny finish up the braid, "Lotsa heroes to help out if you relapse."

Dan heaves a slow, controlled sigh. Danny and Dani both pretend they don't notice.

"Is it bad?" Dan doesn't open his eyes, his voice is so low Danny can only hear him by virtue of his ghost powers, "Like me levels bad?"

"No." Danny shakes his head, leaning into his older self, his older brother of sorts, "He decapitated eight crime lords, killed a couple of assassins, maybe an innocent or two depending on your definition of things."

"Past tense?" Dan scrunches his nose. They all hate how confusing Time Shenanigans are.

"He's living as Red Hood, right this very moment."

"Red Hood?" Dani questions, "That his hero name?"

"Crime lord alias." Danny corrects her, "But he's more of a vigilante these days. Has a bat on his chest and everything."

"But it's bad enough to warrant a trip to the past." Dan points out, "Bad enough for us to try and persuade him. Does he relapse?"

"Not…exactly." Danny scrunches his face, not wanting to explain Clockwork's ambiguity.

Dani floats to spread over Danny and Dan's laps, sprawling out and purring like a cat. Self-soothing, though it's more for their benefit than hers.

"Like Dani said, there’re lots of heroes here, and he doesn't have powers." Danny continues, petting at Dani's soft hair, "The world doesn't end. He doesn't have the means to, even with the ecto-rot."

Danny pauses, and chooses his words deliberately and carefully. "And deep down, Jason Todd is a hero through and through. Relapse would be…difficult. His Obsession is similar to yours."

Dan lets that sit for a moment, but nods, Danny moving a little with the motion. The tension slowly bleeds out as they wait like that, enjoying each other's company.

"If the world doesn't end," Dani whispers, "Why is Clockwork sending all of us?"

Danny thinks on that, on his meeting with Clockwork. The Ancient's voice when he explained what would happen.

He thinks about Jason Todd, about Bruce Wayne, and Catherine, and Sheila. He thinks about Batman, and Robin.

He thinks about Dick Grayson and Tim Drake, about Damian Al Ghul, about Cassandra Cain, and all of Jason's Outlaws.

He thinks about a tattered uniform that stays up in a glass case for a long, long time.

Most of all, he thinks about Dan.

He thinks about regrets and one bad day away.

And then he stops thinking about it, because sometimes the past is the past, and other times, it's the future that never happens that haunts you instead.

"You know, Dani." He settles on, "I'm not sure. He probably has his reasons."

Dan leans heavier onto him, and they lean together like that, with Dani in their laps.

Ghosts of decisions made, unmade, and never to be.

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sherewrytes · 2 days ago

Text

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 6

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki @helightknight21 @dylsw @ria-s-writes @sleepymothafterhours

if you wanna be added to the tag list comment

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Here is another chapter cause I'm still writing out the other fics right now :)

Chapter 6: The Weight of Loss

Y/N’s POV

It’s almost comical how different my life feels when I’m at school compared to when I’m at home. At Pratt, I’m a student, focused, and driven, with an entire future ahead of me. The campus is buzzing with the usual energy—students chatting, the sound of sketch pads flipping, the hum of distant studio lights. But the weight of everything outside these walls presses down on me more with each passing day.

It’s been weeks or days since the breakup with Sukuna.The loss of our relationship feels longer than the time we actually broke up but it feels like the echo of it still reverberates in everything I do. I’m trying to push forward, trying to act like I’m okay, but the reality is… I’m not. I haven’t been okay for a while.

The work in front of me should be enough to distract me. Finals are coming up, and my portfolio still feels like it needs a hundred more hours of attention before it’s anywhere near perfect. But I can’t stop my mind from drifting back to that night—his touch, his voice, the way he looked at me when he left, the pain in his eyes I couldn’t fix.

I sit in one of the studio rooms, surrounded by scraps of fabric and sketches, trying to focus on the design I need to complete for my final project. My hand trembles as I draw out another silhouette. It’s difficult to concentrate, especially when my phone buzzes on the table.

I don’t even need to look to know if it's from Utahime. She’s been checking in on me regularly. She doesn’t understand everything, but she knows enough to ask if I’m okay.

I pick up my phone, hesitating for a moment before responding. Yeah, I’m good. Just a lot of work to get through.

It’s a lie, but I don’t want to burden her with the truth. Everyone has their own problems, and I don’t want to be the one who drags them down.

I scroll through the texts, my heart dropping when I see a message from Toji. It’s just a short note, nothing particularly alarming. Sukuna's in the hospital. He’s okay, but he had a breakdown. You might want to check on him.

I read it three times before I let it sink in.

Sukuna’s in the hospital.

I bite my lip, the sting of old wounds coming back. What’s going on with him? Why does everything feel like it’s falling apart? I don’t even know how I feel anymore. I spent so much time loving him, fighting with him, then pushing him away, only for him to spiral deeper into whatever this is. And now, he’s in the hospital… alone?

I don’t even have the right to care, do I?

I put my phone down, my hands running through my hair as I try to make sense of it all. What should I do?

There’s a knock at the door, and I look up, startled. Utahime enters with a cup of coffee in her hand. She smiles when she sees me but then stops when she notices the look on my face. She doesn’t even need to ask.

“Something’s wrong,” she says gently, placing the coffee down in front of me.

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “Sukuna’s in the hospital,” I say quietly. The words feel so surreal coming out of my mouth.

Utahime doesn’t speak for a moment, just nods, as if she knew this might happen. “You’re thinking about going, aren’t you?” she asks, her voice soft.

I shake my head, my chest tightening. “I don’t even know what I’d say to him, Utahime. I—” I stop, the emotions threatening to spill over. “He played with my feelings, and I let him. I gave him everything, and now... now look at us.”

She sits next to me, her presence comforting. “You don’t have to go to him if you’re not ready,” she says, her hand gently brushing mine. “But don’t ignore what your heart is telling you. Sometimes it’s easy to get lost in anger or pride, but if you care about him, and you think he needs you—maybe you should go. Just to know he’s okay.”

I stare at the coffee in front of me, the steam rising gently. I feel so torn. Part of me wants to throw it all away and run to him, to make things right, but the other part is terrified of what that would mean.

“I’m just… so tired, Utahime. Tired of trying to fix everything,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t think I can keep doing this. I don’t want to keep getting hurt.”

She leans back in her chair, giving me space. “You don’t have to fix him. You just have to decide what’s best for you. It’s okay to care about him, but it’s also okay to take a step back. You don’t owe him anything.”

I nod slowly, but the weight in my chest doesn’t lift. If anything, it feels heavier.

As much as I want to ignore the message, as much as I want to pretend everything’s fine and keep moving forward, I know deep down that the story isn’t finished yet. But the question is, how do I make peace with it? How do I let go of the part of me that still wants him in my life?

I guess I’m going to have to figure it out, even if it hurts.

I stare at the message from Toji, my thumb hovering over the reply button. I could feel the tension building in my chest, the pull to cave in and see him, to check on Sukuna, to offer whatever comfort I could. But I can’t. I won’t.

I text back quickly, trying to keep my answer as firm as possible, even though doubt gnaws at me. Yes. I’m sure.

I put my phone down and take another sip of the coffee Utahime bought for me. The warmth soothes me, but it’s not enough to quell the rising discomfort I feel. Maybe I’m running away from something I should confront, but every time I think about him—about everything that happened—my chest tightens. I know I’m not ready to face him.

Mei Mei sits beside me, her usual confident and laid-back demeanor a welcome distraction. She smiles at me, her eyes bright despite the obvious tension in the air. “I heard you’ve been dealing with some drama,” she teases, nudging my shoulder playfully. “You always seem to attract it, huh?”

I laugh, but it’s hollow. “Yeah, it seems like it. Just trying to get through finals without any more drama.”

She leans back in her chair, clearly not convinced. “If you say so, but I’ve known you long enough to know when something’s bothering you.” She raises an eyebrow. “You’re not fooling anyone. What’s going on?”

I set the coffee down, rubbing my forehead. Mei Mei’s known me for years. She doesn’t give up easily, especially when it comes to stuff I’d rather keep to myself.

“It’s… complicated,” I say, sighing deeply. “Sukuna’s in the hospital.”

Mei Mei’s expression softens. “Hospital? What happened?”

I explain the basics—the fallout from our breakup, his breakdown, and the fact that it seems he’s been spiraling for months. As I talk, it feels like I’m peeling back a layer of myself I’ve been trying to keep hidden.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” I continued, my voice shaking slightly. “But now… I just feel like I made it worse.”

Mei Mei listens, her face serious. When I finish, she doesn’t say anything at first. She just looks at me for a long time, her eyes calculating, like she’s trying to figure something out.

“You can’t keep carrying his weight, Y/N,” she says gently, her tone softer than I expected. “He’s not your responsibility anymore. I get that you care, but sometimes stepping back is the healthiest thing you can do—for both of you.”

I nod, trying to hold it together, but her words sink deep into my chest. I know she’s right. If I keep going back to him, trying to fix things that aren’t mine to fix, I’ll just keep breaking myself in the process. But knowing that doesn’t make the choice any easier.

I reach for my phone again, checking for another message. There’s one from Toji.

Y/N, I know you’re upset. I get it. But you need to understand he’s really struggling. He’s not the same guy anymore. Please, just think about it. He’s not okay.

I feel the weight of the message, the silent plea in his words. It almost makes me want to go. But no. I made my decision.

I turn my phone face down, looking back at Mei Mei. “I’m done with it. I need to focus on my future. On me.”

She smiles, a little proud of me. “Good. It’s about time. You’re a strong woman, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”

I lean back in my chair, feeling the exhaustion from the last few months hit me all at once. Finals are coming, and I don’t have the luxury of letting my emotions run the show anymore. I have to finish this. For me.

But even as I sit there, I can’t ignore the small ache in my heart, the part of me that still cares, that wonders what could have been. For a fleeting moment, I let myself imagine a different reality, one where everything with Sukuna was easier, where we were happy and I didn’t have to make these impossible decisions.

But that’s not my reality. Not anymore.

Toji's POV

I stare at the screen of my phone, Y/N’s last text still lingering in front of me. Yes. I’m sure.

The words hit harder than I expected. I knew she wasn’t going to just drop everything and run to Sukuna, but hearing it from her directly… it stings. She’s shutting him out, and there’s nothing I can do to change it. Nothing any of us can do.

I glance over at Sukuna, still out cold in the hospital bed, his breathing steady for now. He’s been through hell these past few days, and I hate to admit it, but I’m worried. Despite all his bullshit, the bravado he puts up like a fucking wall, he’s broken. And it’s not just the aftermath of Jin’s death or the guilt he carries around like a fucking anchor. It’s more than that.

I thought, maybe if Y/N came, it would snap him back. But she’s not coming.

I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair. The room feels too quiet now, even with the constant beep of the heart monitor in the background. The silence between me and Sukuna is almost deafening, and I can’t shake the sense of impending disaster that hangs in the air.

I think about what Y/N said—how she couldn’t keep carrying his weight. And part of me gets it. She’s right. I told her before that Sukuna wasn’t the only one who needed to get his shit together, but I guess… I didn’t expect her to walk away. Not like this. Not after everything.

I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if we’d all handled this differently. If we had talked more, not let everything fester. Maybe she wouldn’t have had to make that decision. Maybe Sukuna wouldn’t be lying here, broken and lost. And I wouldn’t be standing here, feeling fucking useless.

Sukuna murmurs in his sleep, his hand twitching slightly, and I look back at him. He looks so different when he’s not putting on that mask. I can see the fear, the guilt, everything he hides away in his waking hours. It’s all on display when he’s vulnerable, like this.

He whispers something under his breath, and I lean in closer, straining to hear him.

“Y/N… I’m sorry…”

His voice cracks, soft and fragile. He doesn’t even know I’m here. Doesn’t know I’m watching him break down piece by piece. But I heard it. He said her name.

It’s fucking killing me to watch him like this.

I stand up, running my hand over my face, trying to shake off the weight of everything. I can’t do this. I can’t fix this. No matter how many times I try to tell myself that this is his fight, not mine, I can’t stop feeling like I’m responsible. We all are.

I check my phone again. Y/N hasn’t replied. I don’t expect her to. She’s made up her mind, and honestly, I don’t know what I would say if she did respond.

All I can do is sit here and wait, hoping that Sukuna pulls himself out of this hole he’s dug. He’s going to need all the help he can get, but I’m not sure I can even be that for him anymore.

I glance back at him one last time before walking out of the room. Whatever happens next is out of our hands. I just hope for his sake, he’s not too far gone to fix it.

I step out of the room, needing some space to breathe, even though the weight of everything is still pressing down on me. My phone buzzes again. Another message from Y/N. I don’t look at it. I can’t. Not right now.

The hallway feels emptier than usual, and I’m just about to sit down when I hear footsteps approaching. I glance up, already knowing who it is before I see their faces. Gojo’s impossible to miss, his presence like a fucking storm in the calm. And right behind him, Geto, walking with that same quiet intensity he always carries. They're holding bags in each hand, the smell of fast food wafting into the air.

Gojo gives me a lazy grin like he's just come back from a fun afternoon instead of dealing with a pile of shit that’s only getting worse.

“Got you something.” He waves the KFC sandwich in the air, the crispy fried chicken peeking out from the wrapper. “Figured you could use something real to eat. You’ve been looking like you’ve been living off hospital snacks.”

I glance at him, but I’m not in the mood for a joke. I just stare at the sandwich for a second before nodding. “Thanks.”

Geto just raises an eyebrow and slides a bottle of cold Coca-Cola into my hand. "It’s cold. Thought you could use a little sweetness with all this shit."

I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I take the sandwich, unwrap it, and take a small bite. The taste is oddly comforting, and for a moment, it feels a little bit of normal. But only for a second. My mind is still a million miles away, locked on Sukuna, on Y/N, on everything that’s been happening. I can’t seem to get a grip.

Gojo leans against the wall casually, clearly unaffected by anything going on, while Geto remains quiet, eyes focused like he’s waiting for me to crack. The silence stretches, uncomfortable in its own way.

"Is he awake?" Gojo asks, breaking the tension, his voice light but his eyes searching mine for an answer.

I take another bite of the sandwich and sigh, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Yeah, but he’s not really there. Talking in his sleep… saying her name. Y/N."

The mention of her name hangs in the air for a moment, and I watch as Gojo’s expression shifts slightly. He doesn’t show it often, but I know he can’t be completely oblivious to what’s happening. Not with how tightly he and Sukuna have been bound, even when things were rough.

“I’m sure he’s just… in his head,” Gojo says after a pause, trying to sound nonchalant but clearly struggling with his own thoughts. “He’s got a lot of shit on his plate.”

Geto’s expression hardens slightly. “He’s not the only one, Gojo. Y/N’s been through her own hell. She’s not just some side character in his story. It’s never been that simple.”

“Yeah, I know,” Gojo mutters, though he doesn’t seem entirely convinced by Geto’s words. He glances back at the door where Sukuna lies, still deep in his own turmoil. “We all know what happened between them. It’s fucked up, but that doesn’t change what he’s going through.”

The words cut through the tension like a blade. I swallow the rest of the sandwich, my stomach growing heavier with the implications of their statements. The more I think about it, the more it feels like we’ve all fucked up in our own ways. We’ve all allowed this to spiral out of control, and now, we’re left picking up the pieces.

“I get that he’s hurting,” I say, voice tight, “but what do we do now? What can we even do? She’s not coming, Gojo. She’s done.”

The words feel bitter in my mouth, even though I know they’re true. Sukuna has lost her, and there’s no going back.

Gojo and Geto exchange a look, the silence dragging on as the weight of the situation settles in. Gojo pops the cap off his own bottle of Coke, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You just keep pushing forward,” Gojo says after a moment. “You don’t get to wallow in this shit. That’s not how it works, Toji. You just keep moving forward. That's all you can do.”

I’m about to respond when I hear a low murmur coming from Sukuna’s room. The door creaks open slightly, and I glance toward it, the worry clawing at my insides again. Gojo stands up and gives me a pointed look.

“Let’s go see how he’s doing,” he says, voice more serious now, and I can hear the weight of his words.

We all walk to the room, our steps heavy with the unspoken truths we’ve been avoiding. Inside, Sukuna stirs in the bed, his eyes barely open but wide enough to see the panic in his gaze.

“Y/N,” he whispers, almost like a prayer, his hand gripping the bed sheets tightly.

The room feels cold as we stand there, watching him struggle with the demons only he knows. His words hang in the air like a knife, cutting through the silence.

“Maybe we can fix this,” Gojo mutters softly, more to himself than anyone else. "But not like this."

I watch Sukuna’s face, the same man who used to be full of fire and rage, now broken. Maybe Gojo’s right—maybe we keep pushing forward. But even I know, with everything that’s happened, there’s no easy fix to the mess we’ve created.

Sukuna's POV

I’m trapped in the in-between, stuck in the land of the awake but not living. I can hear them talking, but my mind refuses to connect. Every word that escapes their lips feels like a blur, and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear about Y/N or Jin or my own damn self.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor is the only thing grounding me in reality, reminding me that I'm still here, still breathing, even if it feels like everything else is slipping through my fingers. The voices swirl around me, but none of them cut through the fog in my mind. Not even Gojo’s voice, not even Geto’s.

Y/N.

Her name lingers in the air like an echo I can’t escape. It’s all I can think about. How I fucked things up. How I hurt her. How I lost her. I can’t get away from the image of her, standing there in her apartment, looking at me with those eyes—those brown eyes I used to drown in. Eyes that no longer saw me the same. Eyes that were filled with pain.

My stomach churns. I want to scream, but the words catch in my throat.

My younger brothers.

Yuuji. Choso.

I’m supposed to be their older brother. I’m supposed to be strong for them. They’ve lost so much already, and I can’t afford to lose them, too. But if I keep spiraling like this—if I let this guilt eat me alive, if I let my demons drag me under—then what happens to them? What happened to me?

I’m supposed to protect them, but I’m barely holding myself together. I can’t keep breaking like this. I can’t keep letting everything fall apart just because I don’t know how to deal with the shit that’s happened.

I’m supposed to be better. Better for them.

But how? How do I fix this? How do I fix myself when everything feels broken beyond repair?

I hear Gojo again, his voice louder this time. "He's just... lost in his head right now. We can't help him until he helps himself." It’s all I need to hear to understand that I’m not getting any sympathy here. Not from any of them. They know me too well.

And maybe that's what I need.

I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to block out the pain. Maybe if I don’t open them, I won’t have to face the reality of what I’ve become. A broken man. A fuck-up.

But the truth is, I can’t run forever. I can’t stay in this fog of regret and self-loathing. I don’t want to be this version of myself. Not for my brothers, not for anyone. I’ve been here too many times before. Spiraling, falling, too afraid to face what’s staring me in the face. I’ve always been this way. But I can’t afford to be anymore.

I can’t let myself be the reason they lose me. Not when I still have a chance to fix it.

I hear Geto’s voice again, softer this time. "Sukuna... we’re here. But you need to come back. Come back to us." His words hit me harder than I expected, and I feel the weight of them pressing down on my chest. Come back to us.

I’m not sure how, but for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself feel something other than numbness. A crack in the wall I’ve built around myself. A tiny opening to a possibility that maybe—just maybe—I can still get out of this.

But first, I have to face the one thing I’ve been running from.

I have to face myself.

“Y/N,” I whisper to no one in particular, my voice hoarse, rough. "I'm sorry."

I don’t expect anyone to hear it. Hell, I’m not even sure I believe it yet. But it’s the first step. And for now, that’s all I can give.

I open my eyes slowly, squinting at the harsh fluorescent lights above. The hospital room is sterile and unfamiliar, and for a second, I forget where I am. But then it all comes flooding back—the weight of my actions, the destruction I’ve left in my wake, and the realization that I can’t keep hiding from it.

I don't even remember when I said it, but those two words still echo in my mind: I'm sorry. They were the first words I’ve said aloud in what feels like forever, but they carry so much weight. So much guilt.

I sit up slowly, feeling the ache in my chest. I’m not sure if it’s from the panic attack, the guilt, or just the overwhelming sense of being broken. But whatever it is, it makes it hard to breathe, to think. To feel.

Gojo is still here, his presence just as obnoxious as ever. But there's something about him being here that gives me a sense of stability like maybe he doesn’t expect me to be perfect, but he’s still here, regardless. And Geto... Geto is just sitting there, staring at me like he’s waiting for me to get my shit together. Maybe he’s right. Maybe they both are.

“Fuck,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "How did I get here?"

Geto looks up from his phone, catching my eye for the first time in what feels like forever. “You’ve been here, Sukuna. You know the drill. You need to pull yourself together, for them.” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it. He’s tired, I can tell. We all are.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice cracking. "For them."

It’s a mantra I’ve been repeating to myself for weeks now—for them. For Yuuji and Choso. They’ve lost so much already, and I can’t be the one to break.

But I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know how to fix this. How do I rebuild what I’ve destroyed? How do I fix myself when I’m not even sure who I am anymore?

Gojo leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You’re not alone in this, you know.” His words are blunt, but there’s something softer in his eyes. He doesn’t say it often, but I can see it. The understanding.

"I know." I don’t meet his gaze, my eyes locked on the floor. It’s easier that way. “But I still fucked up, Gojo. I messed it all up.”

Geto sighs heavily, shaking his head. "You didn't just mess it up. But that doesn't mean it’s over. You’ve got to take responsibility for it, man. For her... and yourself."

For a moment, I don’t know what to say. The words feel like they’re stuck in my throat. But then I think of Y/N. Her face, her eyes... the way she looked at me when I ruined everything. I see her pain in every single interaction we had before it all came crashing down. I can still feel it. The way she’d retreat from me, the way she’d pull away. And the way I never truly let her in.

"I didn’t mean for it to go like this," I finally whispered. "I never meant to hurt her."

“You need to talk to her, if she’ll allow it” Geto says, standing up and moving closer. “And if she’s willing, maybe... maybe you can fix it. But you have to start with yourself first.”

I feel the weight of his words, like he’s trying to lift me out of the quicksand I’ve been sinking into. But I’m stuck. I’m stuck in the guilt, in the shame, in the regret.

“What if she doesn’t want me back?” I ask, barely above a whisper. "What if I’ve already ruined it too much?"

"You won’t know unless you try," Gojo says, stepping forward. “You can’t undo the past, but you can at least try to make the future better. For her. For you.”

I feel something shift inside me, something small but significant. Maybe it’s hope. Maybe it’s just the desperation that’s been eating away at me. I don’t know. But it’s there, and for the first time, I let myself feel it.

Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe, just maybe, I can start rebuilding—starting with myself. I have to try. For Y/N. For Yuuji. For Choso. For me.

I stand up, feeling the weight of my body shift. My legs feel weak, but I force myself to stay upright. Geto watches me carefully as if waiting for me to collapse, but I don’t. Not this time.

I might not have all the answers, but I know one thing for sure.

I’m done running from it.

“I’ll fix it,” I murmur, barely believing the words myself. But I have to say it. I have to believe it.

For the first time in a long while, I don’t feel so alone. Maybe I’m not as far gone as I thought. Maybe I can still fight my way back from this.

Maybe I can still be the man I used to be.

the nurse filled in, "We tried to contact your emergency contact yn ln but they didnt respond. Do you have anyone who can keep an eye on you?

The nurse’s words hang in the air, thick with unspoken tension. I feel the room grow heavier as they linger, and I find myself grasping for a response. Y/N’s name still feels like a foreign sound on my lips.

I open my mouth to speak, but the words don’t come. What would I even say? She won’t answer me anymore. Not after what I did. The silence stretches between us, suffocating.

"I have—" I start, but the weight of it stops me.

Before I can finish the sentence, Toji speaks up, his voice cutting through the thick air like a knife.

"You can take my information. What do I need to know?"

I look up at him, and for the first time in what feels like days, I feel a bit of relief. Toji, as blunt as he is, never lets me down. He’s been here since the start, and I know, deep down, he’s always had my back, even when I didn’t deserve it.

The nurse nods, taking out her tablet and entering Toji’s information with practiced ease. It’s almost like they’ve done this a thousand times before, and maybe they have. Maybe they’re used to people like me. People who screw up their lives and end up here, needing a reminder that they’re not completely gone yet. That there's still a chance.

But I don’t know if I believe that.

I watch the nurse leave, and the silence settles back into the room like a heavy blanket. Toji stands there, looking at me with something between concern and resignation. He doesn’t need to say anything. I know exactly what he’s thinking.

"Stop blaming yourself," Toji finally says, his voice low, but firm. “You're not in this mess alone, and you’re not gonna fix it overnight. But you’ve gotta stop running from it, or you'll end up buried.”

I can feel his eyes on me, watching for any sign of weakness, but I can’t give him that. I can’t give anyone that. Not after everything.

"I know," I mutter, my voice barely audible.

Toji shrugs and moves to the side, making space in the small hospital room. "We all fucked up, Sukuna. But it’s not the end of the world. You’re still here."

The words settle somewhere deep inside me, somewhere I didn’t even know was still capable of feeling something. I look away, pretending the words don’t hit me the way they do.

But I can’t stop thinking about Y/N.

Her face. Her eyes. How she would look at me when I failed her. The way she pulled away.

I failed her.

But I still want to fix it. God, I want to fix it so badly that it hurts.

I’m not sure how I’m supposed to do that. I’m not sure if it’s even possible. But for the first time in months, I feel like I can try. I have to try.

For me. For her. For everyone I’ve hurt.

“Thanks,” I say to Toji, my voice gruff and unsteady. "For doing this... for me."

He doesn’t respond right away, just gives me a sharp look like he’s waiting for me to crumble again.

But I don’t.

Not this time.

Instead, I stand up slowly, feeling the weight of my legs beneath me. There’s no escape now. No more running from my mistakes. No more hiding. I have to face this.

And maybe... just maybe, I can start with making things right.

For once, I don’t feel like I’m completely drowning. But the battle is far from over.

"I’ll make it right," I say softly to myself, more than to Toji.

The words feel fragile like I’m trying to piece together a shattered mirror. But I have to try.

I won’t be the man I used to be. I can’t go back to that.

But maybe, just maybe, I can be someone worth loving again.

For Y/N. For everyone I’ve hurt.

And for myself.

I’m finally being released from the hospital. The sterile white walls feel like they’re closing in as the nurses hand me a prescription for the medications I’m supposed to take. But I don't care about that right now. I just want to go home. I just want to breathe again.

The ride back to the apartment feels like it takes hours. The air in the car is heavy with the weight of everything I've done, everything I’ve messed up. I haven’t spoken a word the whole way. Toji’s driving, the only sound between us was the soft hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of the road beneath the tires.

When we get to the apartment, I’m not sure what to expect. The door’s wide open when I walk in, and there’s Choso, pacing back and forth. His voice rises, sharp and full of frustration as he glances over at me. His eyes are bloodshot like he hasn’t slept in days, and I know it’s because of me.

"Sukuna!" Choso shouts, throwing his hands up in the air, his face a mix of anger, pain, and worry. “What the hell were you thinking?! You scared the shit out of us, man!”

I flinch at his words, the sting of them going deeper than I want to admit. But I don’t say anything. I don’t have a defense, not for this. I can’t make it better with a few words. So, I stand there, silent, my head hanging low.

Yuuji’s sitting in the corner of the room, his eyes glued to the floor, his friends Megumi and Nobara beside him, looking as stressed as he is. The weight of it all crashes into me. I did this to them. I’ve been selfish, and it’s clear they’re carrying this burden with me.

Yuuji finally looks up, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm glad you're home, bro."

His words don’t hit me like I expect them to. Instead of feeling the relief I thought I’d get from hearing him, I just feel hollow. I’ve caused too much damage to fix it with just a few words. He shouldn't have to say that. I shouldn’t be the one causing him so much pain.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” I mutter, the bitterness slipping out before I can stop it. "It’s not like I’ve been some fucking good example for you, right?"

Toji steps up beside me, his presence grounding. “That’s enough,” he says, his tone low but firm. “He’s home, and that’s what matters. Stop making this harder than it needs to be.”

Choso doesn’t let up though, his hands on his hips as he glares at me. "You’ve been running from everything, running from us, from yourself. We were worried you were gonna fucking end up dead, and now you’re back, but are you even gonna stay back?"

I want to answer him, to tell him that I’m trying, that I’m going to get better. But I know he won’t believe me. None of them will. Not after everything.

"Look," I say, my voice thick. "I’m sorry. I’ve fucked up, and I can’t fix everything in a day. But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere right now."

It’s all I can offer, and I know it’s not enough, but it’s all I’ve got. I can’t be the man I was before. I can’t just wipe away all the mistakes I made with a simple apology. But maybe I can try to be better.

Yuuji stands up slowly and walks over to me. I brace myself, waiting for him to yell, for him to say something harsh. But when he reaches me, he simply pats me on the back, like he’s trying to offer something I don’t deserve.

“It’s good to have you back, Sukuna,” Yuuji says quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat growing. I don’t know if I’m crying or not. But it sure feels like it. Maybe this is the first step in making things right. Maybe not for everyone, but for me, for Yuuji, for Choso... and Y/N.

The tears come without warning, falling like a flood. I feel them before I even know they’re coming, a warm rush down my face, blurring my vision. I can’t stop them. Not anymore. I’ve been holding everything in for so long, trying to keep the pieces of myself together, trying to be the strong one for my brothers. But I can’t do it anymore.

My knees give way, and I drop to the floor, the weight of everything—of all the things I’ve lost, of all the things I’ve fucked up—crushing me. My chest aches, tight, like it’s too small to hold all the guilt, all the pain.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter through gritted teeth, though I don’t know if I’m saying it to Choso or Yuuji or even myself. My voice cracks, the rawness of it is unfamiliar and painful. “Jin’s gone because of me... and Grandpa... he’s gone. They’re both gone.”

The tears come faster, like a storm I can’t outrun. I can’t hold it together anymore. Not for anyone. Not for them. Not for myself.

I hear Choso’s footsteps, feel his arms around me as he pulls me up, but I don’t want to be touched. Not right now. I want to crawl into a hole and disappear, to not have to face any of this, to not have to be the one who let them all down.

“Grandpa's funeral,” I whisper, my voice ragged. “Our parents didn’t even show up. They didn’t care. They never did.”

The words sting, but it’s the truth. The truth that I’ve been running from for years. Our parents left us. They abandoned us, and the only one who was there, who gave a shit, was Granpa. And now he’s gone, too.

“I’m tired of holding this in,” I choke out. “I can’t keep pretending to be the fucking strong one. I’m... not strong. I’m broken.”

I look up at Choso, and his face is pale, but his expression is gentle. I can see the hurt in his eyes, but there’s something else there too: understanding. He knows. He knows what it��s like to lose, to feel like you’re drowning in your own shit. And maybe he’s the only one who can truly get it.

I look over at Yuuji, and his face is full of concern. He’s standing in the corner of the room, silent, but I know the words are there, sitting heavy on his tongue. He doesn’t need to say anything, though. The fact that he’s here—just here—means more than words ever could.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” I say, my voice low and broken. “I don’t want to be like this anymore. I don’t want to let everyone down. I don’t want to keep losing people.”

But I’m scared. Scared of what it will take to fix all this. Scared of how much of myself I’ll have to break in the process.

“I’m so fucking tired,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper.

Choso pulls me close, his hands gripping my shoulders as if he can somehow hold me together. “You don’t have to have it all figured out, Sukuna. We’re here. You’re not alone in this. You never were.”

His words hit me like a lifeline, but the truth is, I don’t know if I deserve it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the person they want me to be.

But I know one thing: I can’t keep drowning in my own shit. I have to try to be better. Even if it’s just for a little while.

I’m home. But the journey to redemption? That’s just the beginning.

#jjk x black reader #sukuna x black reader #sukuna angst #sukuna x female reader #sukuna smut #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #black tumblr #black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sherewrytes

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wolfpackenthusiast · 3 days ago

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A Real Christmas

Pairing: Paul Lahote x imprint!f!reader

Summary : Your first REAL xmas with Paul!!

Genre : pure fluff!

A/N : Merry Christmas everyone!! My christmas ended up pretty shitty but i hope your guys christmas is great!! + guys i have no ideas for fics so I’d appreciate some requests very much

It’s christmas morning, soft snow gracefully falling outside as the sky begins to get brighter and brighter, the big, grey clouds blocking the sun from coming out. You’re currently at Emily and Sam’s house, everyone seemed to knocked out there, since there was a Christmas Eve party a day prior, with both Jacob and Sam’s pack together for a “little” celebration, under the tree came loads of gifts, while the dining table was full with food, though, the next day, the presents were still there, but all the food was devoured, as usual, since there was not one but two wolf packs, and that comes with boys / girls with bottomless pits for stomachs, you helped Emily with the food along with the other imprints, you’re glad they liked the food.

You got out of bed, you and Paul were sleeping in the guest bedroom, you stretched your arms and legs, Paul was still fast asleep, hugging a nearby pillow, mistaking it for you. While you walked out of the room and went to the living room, where Embry and Quil were sleeping on the couch, while Jacob and Jared were on the pullout couch, Brady and Collin were on the floor.. lets just say, most pack members where knocked out all over the place.

You stepped over Brady and made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a cup and filling it with water, for once, it’s not so noisy so early in the morning, they must’ve used all their energy yesterday, if they didn’t, they’d be very noisy about opening presents already.

You finished your water and put the cup in the sink, heading back to bed to wake up Paul, you knew if he didn’t get early he’d sleep till around 3 pm.

Once back in the room, you shook his shoulder, “Paul,” you said softly, receiving a grumble from him. You shook him again. “Hey, wake up, it’s christmas morning..” you said.

“Mmh, morning already?” He muttered groggily, stretching his arms as you nodded, “mhm.”

Then, you heard some loud noises from the living room, “looks like the other boys are up, c’mon, don’t want them getting dibs on the good stuff, do you?” You provoked. “..no.” He murmured as he sat up in bed.

You both got into the living room, everyone was wide awake now, sitting at the table as Emily and Kim made breakfast, you sat at your seat, next to Paul.

Around 30 minutes pass, and they served breakfast, it was Christmas tree shaped pancakes!

“Yum, thanks Emily and Kim for the delicious breakfast!” You said as you dug in, along with everyone else. “Of course.” Emily said.

After breakfast, it was time to open gifts, everyone got their gifts and separated them into piles, surprisingly you got some too, it was unusual, since you were always the one giving and not really receiving, always claiming you didn’t need gifts.

Opening gifts, there was so much noise, bickering, thanking, envious comments, but not one word of complaining.

As you opened your gifts, you got a new sweater, it was a navy blue with white stars on the sleeves, and some initials imprinted on the right sleeve.

“P + [first letter of your name]”

You knew it was from Paul, glancing over at him, you both made eye contact. You mouthed a “thank you,” and he smiled, scooting over to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. “I knew you’d like it, princess” he said, he seems to know you better then you knew yourself.

“Course i love it, how much was this?” You asked, hoping he didn’t spend too much money on it. “Price doesn’t matter, what matters most is if you like it,” he said, ruffling your hair with his hand. “It’s about time you got some gifts, it’s not a real christmas if you don’t.” Paul said

“C’mon, y’know that’s not true, it’s about-“

“It’s about the people you spend Christmas with and not the gifts, i know.” Paul interrupted you, “but it still doesn’t hurt to get gifts, it’s apart of christmas, and i want you to have the full experience.” He reasoned

“Yeah i guess you’re right.. i love you.”

“I love you too princess.”

—————————————-

Word count : 700+

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 3 days ago

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A New World: part 8

Bayverse!Leonardo x reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

A/N: I know absolutely nothing about multi dimensions, other than what is being said in fictional works, so I thought, eh, let me have my own crack at making up something about it, heh.

Leo is 25, reader is 22 - 23.

Warnings: None for now💙

Leo wasn’t happy when (Y/N) came back empty handed, nor was he happy to be caught watching more of himself on her TV screen. If felt like being caught by your own parents, with your hand down the cookie jar. Embarrassing. Only that it felt even more embarrassing for Leo, especially when it was the exact same version of him, having a hero moment, being given the key to the city alongside his brothers. very embarrassing. But his embarrassment was far overshadowed by the sadness of (Y/N)’s news, slumping back into the couch with his face in his hands. She had nothing. He was stuck here…

“There must be something we can do”, (Y/N) said, walking in circles in the living room, tapping her chin in thought. At this pace, it was just a matter of time before she would start creating indents in her wooden floor.

“Like what?”, Leo said, looking up from his hands with an exhausted expression. “That was our last option”.

“Well, at least the last option that we know of”, she said, trying to give him an optimistic smile. Trying was the keyword.

Leo sighed, rubbing his face again. Just as he had hoped this woman was becoming less unbearable, she turned out to be just as annoying as before. This world was about to drive him mad.

“I don’t know how you expect to learn of a different way to do it. Or at least one that actually works”, Leo said, feeling himself getting drained from all energy. “We might as well give up. There’s no way this is going to work”.

(Y/N) stopped dead in her tracks, staring directly at Leo, as if his words had just personally insulted her. “Give up?! We can’t give up! It’s not like you to give up! You always figure something out! You always do! That’s what the ninja turtle Leonardo do! The leader in blue! Does whatever it takes to get his ninjas through!”

“Will you quit rimming and quoting cartoon intros?”

“No I’ll not!”, she said, stepping just in front of Leo, forcing him to look up at her. It honestly took Leo slightly aback. “You can’t just give up! We can’t just give up! You have only been here for two days! Shell, who knows, maybe the others are trying to find a way to get you back! Maybe all you have to do is wait before Donnie and April figure something out! Maybe they are working in a machine or something as we’re speaking, and in a moment Vern will trip over some wires, which somehow turns out to be exactly what is needed for the machine to work!”

“I’m afraid you’re putting too much faith in Vern’s abilities”, Leo said.

“That doesn’t matter”, (Y/N) said, taking a seat next to Leo on the couch, once again taking a moment to take in his huge size next to her. Though he was slumping over, he was still so much larger than her. Her head only ever so slightly reaching up over his shoulder. Yet he looked so… sad, maybe even broken. He was truly stumped on this. He had no idea what to do. For the first time ever, was Leonardo from the Bayverse universe ready to give up. And it scared (Y/N). The Leo she had known all her childhood would never give up. So she couldn’t let him do it now.

“Leo, I mean it. You can’t give up. In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never given up. You’ve always kept going till you found a way, even if it took some time and seemed a little off. You always find a way”.

“You met me two days ago”, Leo said dismissively, his gaze seemingly locked on his fingertips as they pressed against each other.

“No, Leo. It’s you that met me two days ago. I’ve known you pretty much all of my life, remember?”, (Y/N) said, nodding towards all the DVDs still laying out in front of them. “You have been there everyday as I grew up. There was a time where you really helped me, Leo”. Leo looked at her in slight confusion, his brow muscles frowning, as if he in some way asked her to explain what she meant, and so she did, playing nervously with her thumbs as she did so. “There was a time, back in kindergarten, where I was really scared. The other kids were starting to say… some not so nice things to me. They poked fun at the way I was dressed, and the fact that I in some ways was a little bit different than them. But then, one day, I remember I saw you and your brothers on television”, she said, nodding towards the 2003 DVDs. “It was not the first time I saw you, and it was certainly not the last time. You were fighting Shredder, and you were brave. Nothing held you back, just like I wished nothing would hold me back”. (Y/N) smiled at her thumb, when the small flashes of disjointed memories came through her mind. “So I brought an action figure of you with me to kindergarten, so that I could feel braver. And it worked. I felt brave”.

(Y/N) did not expect Leo to smile at this, but to her surprise, he genuinely did. He even chuckled at the thought of her, watling around kindergarten, clutching an action figure of him to her chest. It was almost absurd to think of. But with everything around him taken into account, then maybe it wasn’t…

Leo sat for a moment, thinking through what she had just told him. He knew she was trying to comfort him, letting him know that it would all be okay in the end. And though he still felt conflicted, and at that moment couldn’t see how anything was going to work out, his best option was to believe her, and hope she was right. There was simply no other thing to do.

“Well”, Leo said, finally turning back towards (Y/N). “Since we can only wait and see now, do you have anything else planned for today?”

(Y/N) sat for a moment, before a sudden smile flashed onto her face. “No, but I have an idea”.

“What?”

“Wanna go to the zoo?”

“What”.

—

“This better be important”, Agent Bishop said as he marched into the lab, having rushed back at the sound of Dr. Lilja’s message, his son standing in the doorway into the lab, clutching his Ninja Turtles pillow tight, playing with its blue bandana nervously. He had never liked the way his father walked towards his scientists, and today didn’t make him feel any better…

“I promise you, sir, I think you will find this information very important”, Dr. Lilja said, directing Agent Bishop towards his monitor, pointing out the numbers for him. “I looked through the data just before I called for you”.

“And what did you find?”, Bishop asked, his patients already growing thin. He didn’t look at numbers for a reason. That was why he hired people to do it for him.

“I found a momentarily thinning in the air and atmosphere, indicating a dimensional breakthrough”, Lilja said, showing Bishop exactly where.

“What?!”, Bishop exclaimed, almost pushing Lilja away from the screen, making his son hide behind his pillow for a moment. It was a reflex at this point. Whenever his father raised his voice around one of the scientists, the boy now knew better than to look. He learned very quickly after the last time he saw Stockman…

“How is that possible?”, Bishop asked, something brewing within his voice. “I thought you said thinning the air and atmosphere naturally was next to impossible”.

“It’s because it didn’t happen naturally”, Dr. Lilja said. “It was most likely man made”.

“What?!”, Agent Bishop exclaimed, his face getting red, his mind already running to several different scenarios in which Lilja had backstabbed him, sabotaged his machine and sent the blue paper to one of his enemies. “How? How?! You little scum! Have gone behind my back!”

“No! No!”, Dr. Lilja yelled, holding up his hands as a form of protection from Bishop, as he came for him. “It was the machine! The explosion! It worked! Not as intended, but it worked! Whatever your son did, it worked!”

Agent Bishop halted his attack on Dr. Lilja, staring blankly at him for a moment. “What did you say?”

“The explosion. I thought it broke the machine, but as it turns out, it might actually have been a sign that it worked. And it is very likely that your son accidentally turned it on”, Dr. Lilja said, still hiding behind his hands.

Bishop looked from the cowering scientist to his son, who stood nervously and fiddled with the blue straps on the pillows bandana. Maybe he should buy him another one soon. They seemed to calm him down and keep him out of trouble. At least it seemed so.

“The machine worked?”, Bishop asked, his voice hiding something that Lilja couldn’t put his finger on. “The machine created a portal to another dimension?”

“It seems so, yes”, Dr. Lilja said. “That’s why there was a momentary thinning of the air and atmosphere. Lessen the density of the universe, and it will be easier to force a short connection with another”.

“How long was the portal open?”, Bishop asked, a sudden stern urgency in his voice. One that neither Dr. Lilja or the boy was used to.

“Not long”, Lilja said, taking a quick look at the numbers on his screen. “Nothing more than four seconds”.

Bishop’s expression tightened. ”Has anything been able to get through it?”

Dr. Jilja’s face paled at Agent Bishop’s words, at the realization. He had no idea. He had no idea of if anything had gotten through, nor did he know where the portal had led to, let alone he had no idea where in this world the portal may had opened. And with that realization, Lilja turned back towards his computer, tapping away on the keys in a haze, trying to find answers. Numbers rolled onto his screen, one after another, his eyes zigzagging across them, gaining as much information as possible. Agent Bishop leaned in, reading along as Dr. Lilja’s findings came up. And then it came up, leaving Lilja in a semi frozen state, with Agent Bishop waiting for him to explain what he was reading.

“There’s readings of unfamiliar matter, ever since the portal opening”, Dr. Lilja mumbled, staring in shock at the screen. How had he not noticed?

Agent Bishop looked at Dr. Lilja for a moment, taking in the words he had just muttered. It was by the look in Agent Bishop’s eyes, he realized what this all meant.

“My son turned on the machine”, Agent Bishop said, as if he thought out loud. “A portal was created, and something came through that portal”. Lilja felt himself sweat at the sound of Bishop’s words, fearing what would come next. “Yet it didn’t happen at our base. Where did it happen?”

Once again, Dr. Lilja found himself in shock and disbelief at Agent Bishop’s words. How could he not have thought of these things before now?

“I- I have no idea”, Dr. Lilja stammered, shaking slightly, knowing Agent Bishop wouldn’t like those words.

“Then figure it out”, Agent Bishop said sternly, a slight sneer in his voice. “Or else you wouldn’t be the only one in trouble soon”.

Bishop stood up straight from Lilja’s screen, before making his way back towards his stunned son, who was still processing the conversation that had just taken place. He had opened a portal into another world, unleashing something unknown into this world. The revelation made the boy's stomach turn in an uncomfortable way. And as his father put a soft hand on his head, before guiding him away from the lab. The boy hugged his Leonardo pillow tighter against him, not daring to look up at his father as he spoke. He hoped that Dr. Lilja would figure something out. Never would he want something bad to happen to his best friend, just because he did something stupid.

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