#intensely ignoring my other wips

[coffeeshib]

WOW hey it's been a long time welcome back! by any chance... will you be writing some agathario 👀

bro... actually yeah. bringing a sort of unhinged & chaotic ex lovers with benefits to agathario! i have 7k words rn of pure filth & angst. one hell of a start to a first chapter of a fic, is all i can say for now

[chosok-amo]

FALL APART? NO, JUST MENTAL BREAKDOWN : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

gojo found you training in the middle of the night only for you to have a mental breakdown in front of him. so he brings you to geto's dorm room to calm you down, also for gojo to find behind geto's action on why he is so gentle with you.

warning. highschool! satosugu, fem! reader, mental breakdown, blood mentioned.

wc. 11k | [☆] MASTERLIST

the moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale glow over the training grounds as gojo strolled leisurely toward the dorms. the night air was cool, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves as he walked, his posture relaxed with one hand casually tucked into the pocket of his gray sweatpants. a plastic bag dangled from his wrist, filled with snacks, while the other hand held a bottle of ramune, the fizzing sound of the drink faint in the quiet night.

as he approached the training area, his keen senses picked up on a faint, familiar energy. gojo's sharp eyes, hidden behind his usual dark sunglasses, flickered toward the source. there you were, in the middle of the field, your movements precise but lacking the usual fire. something felt off. he could see it in the way you moved—like you were pushing yourself too hard, not out of determination but as if trying to outrun something.

gojo paused, tilting his head as he observed you. the way your shoulders tensed, the subtle tremor in your stance, it was clear you were wrestling with something heavy. he didn’t need to use his six eyes to know that whatever it was, it was eating at you.

with a sigh, he made his way over, his footsteps quiet against the ground. “hey,” he called out, his voice breaking the silence as he approached. “shouldn’t you be getting some rest? it’s almost midnight.”

you didn’t stop, swinging your fists with a determination that bordered on reckless. sweat glistened on your skin, your breaths coming out in harsh pants. gojo frowned, sensing the storm of emotions swirling inside you. gojo crossed his arms, his eyes fixed on your back as you continued to punch, ignoring his words. he could see the tension in your muscles, the stiffness in each punch you threw. it was clear to him that you were drowning in something, something that went deeper than just physical exhaustion.

“y/n,” he called out again, his voice firm. “stop it. you're gonna exhaust yourself.”

but you didn't listen, continuing with your relentless assault on the air, your breath coming out in ragged gasps. when you didn’t respond, he took a sip of his ramune, the fizzy sound breaking the silence again. gojo knew you well enough to recognize when you were shutting people out, but he wasn’t one to back off easily.

he took a step closer, setting the bottle down and letting the plastic bag drop to the ground with a soft rustle. “you know, you can’t just punch your way through everything,” he said, his tone lighter but laced with a sincerity that was rare for him. “what’s going on?”

you finally stopped, breathing heavily as you glared at him, trying to maintain your composure. “it’s none of your business, gojo,” you snapped, though your voice lacked its usual bite.

gojo just shrugged, unbothered by your attitude. “yeah, maybe. but i’m making it my business,” he replied, his gaze never leaving you. he could see the cracks in your tough exterior, the way your resolve was starting to waver.

gojo took a couple of steps closer, closing the gap between the two of you. he stood there, his hands in his pockets, his casual demeanor starkly contrasting the intensity of the moment. he tilted his head slightly, studying your face, taking in the way your expression flickered with a mix of anger and vulnerability.

“you're not fooling anyone,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “you look like you're about to collapse. why are you pushing yourself so hard?” you shot gojo a sharp look, your eyes narrowing as his words cut through the tense air. “wow, thanks for the observation, the strongest sorcerer,” you snapped, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. “maybe i'm pushing myself because i have to, unlike some people who just stroll around like they own the place.”

you turned away, trying to focus back on your training, but his presence lingered, making it impossible to ignore. “not everyone has the luxury of slacking off, gojo,” you added, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “some of us actually have to work for it.”

the frustration in your voice was clear, but you kept your back turned, refusing to show him the full extent of what was really eating at you. gojo stood there, unfazed by your biting remarks. he had seen this side of you many times before. it was a defense mechanism, a way for you to push people away when you were feeling vulnerable.

he took a slow step closer, closing the gap between you even further. “yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his voice tinged with a hint of sarcasm. “don’t get all pissy with me because i’m just taking it easy. it’s not my fault i’m powerful enough to do that.”

he paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing.

he took a step closer, standing just a few feet away from you. “but you're not fooling me, you know,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the heavy silence that had settled over the field. “i know you, y/n. i know when you're acting all tough, trying to hide how you really feel.”

gojo waited a moment, watching as you continued to punch, your movements tense and aggressive. he knew you were doing this intentionally, trying to block him out.

“what's going on?” he repeated, his voice quieter this time. “talk to me.” you glared at gojo, your vision blurring as your eyes welled up with unshed tears. his words stung, digging into the parts of you that you tried so hard to keep buried. you hated how easily he saw through you, how he always managed to pry into your thoughts no matter how hard you tried to push him away.

“shut up, gojo,” you spat, your voice cracking as you try to hold back your emotions. “you don’t know anything, so just stop pretending like you care.”

your fists clenched tighter, nails digging into your palms as you felt the hot sting of tears threatening to spill over. the frustration of being seen, of having someone like him so close to your vulnerable side, made your heart pound in your chest.

you turned away from him, your breaths coming out in shaky huffs. “you have no idea what it’s like,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “so just leave me alone. go play hero somewhere else.”

you could feel his gaze boring into you, unrelenting, but you refused to let him see you break. not now, not ever. gojo's expression softened as he watched you struggle to keep your composure. he could see the way your hands were shaking, the way your voice wavered with emotion. it was clear that you were on the verge of falling apart, but you were doing everything you could to keep yourself together.

he took another step closer, closing the distance between you, his presence looming over you like a protective shadow.

“you're right,” he said quietly. "i don’t know what it’s like. but i can see that something is tearing you apart.” he reached out, gently gripping your shoulder and turning you to face him. you tried to shake off his touch, but his grip was firm. gojo's eyes met yours, and in that moment, he could see the weight of everything you were struggling with.

“y/n,” he said, his voice gentle yet firm, “you can't keep this up. you're going to break. you don’t have to tell me what's going on, but at least let me help you carry the load.”

anger flared in your chest, burning hotter with every soft word that fell from gojo’s lips. you hated this—being seen so clearly, so intimately by him. it made you feel weak, exposed in a way that made your skin crawl. the vulnerability he brought out in you wasn’t something you were ready to face, let alone share.

your breath hitched, and without thinking, you lunged at him, fists clenched and ready to strike. the thought of wiping that concerned look off his face, even for a moment, felt like the only way to regain some control over the spiraling chaos inside you.

but before your fists could connect, gojo's hands were there, catching your wrists in mid-air. his grip was firm but gentle, not meant to restrain but to steady. your eyes locked onto his, those impossibly blue eyes that held so much softness it made your chest ache.

“let go,” you snarled, your voice thick with frustration, but your resolve was already wavering under the weight of his gaze. his touch was warm, grounding, and it pissed you off even more that it made you feel safer than you wanted to admit.

gojo didn’t flinch, didn’t react to your outburst. instead, he just held your wrists, his thumbs brushing lightly over your skin in soothing circles. “i’m not letting go,” he said softly, his voice steady. “no, y/n..”

you tried to pull back, but his hold remained firm, not allowing you to retreat into the walls you’d built so carefully around yourself. your breath came out in ragged, uneven gasps, and you could feel your resolve crumbling under the sheer kindness of his gaze.

gojo’s thumbs continued to brush against the skin on your wrists in soothing circles, his touch grounding you even as the tension in your body remained taut. he could see the conflict in your eyes, the struggle between vulnerability and resilience. it tugged at his heart, the way you were fighting against your own feelings, trying to push him away even as you leaned into his touch.

he leaned in slightly, his voice still soft but firm. “just let it out, y/n,” he said, his eyes fixed on yours. “you don’t have to be strong all the time.”

your breath hitched the moment gojo’s words reached your ears, and the dam you’d built up so carefully finally cracked. tears spilled down your cheeks, hot and unrelenting, and you hated how exposed you felt under his gaze. but there was something in his eyes—a quiet understanding, a patience that felt like a lifeline in the storm of your emotions.

you tried to keep your lips shut, biting down hard to stop the sobs from escaping, but it was useless. your chest heaved, and your vision blurred with the force of your tears. you looked up at gojo, desperately trying to hold onto the remnants of your pride, but the tenderness in his eyes only made the tears flow harder.

you wanted to yell at him, to tell him to leave you alone, to stop being so kind when you didn’t deserve it—but the words wouldn’t come. instead, all that came out was a broken sound, halfway between a sob and a gasp, as you stared at him, your defenses crumbling under the weight of your own emotions.

gojo didn’t say anything; he just stayed there, holding your wrists gently as if you were something precious, something worth protecting. his thumbs continued their soothing motions, grounding you in the moment even as your walls came tumbling down. and for once, you let yourself lean into it, let yourself feel the comfort of someone who wasn’t going to leave, who wasn’t going to judge.

your shoulders shook as the sobs you’d been holding back finally broke free, and gojo just stayed there, his presence steady and unwavering, letting you fall apart without pulling away.

gojo's heart ached as he watched you fall apart in front of him. seeing you, always strong and determined, reduced to tears, was a sight he had never imagined he'd see. it was heart-breaking and beautiful all at once.

he wanted to hold you, to wrap his arms around you and shield you from everything that had pushed you to this point, but he held back. he knew you wouldn't accept it, not yet. so, he settled for holding your wrists, grounding you with his touch, his thumbs continuing to draw small, soothing circles on your skin.

you stood there, trembling under gojo’s touch, your resolve crumbling with each passing second. your tears streamed down your face, and despite the overwhelming urge to scream or collapse, you stubbornly kept your lips pressed into a tight line, refusing to let a single sob escape.

your breath came in ragged gasps, each one a silent battle to maintain the last shreds of your composure. it infuriated you—how he was seeing you like this, so raw and broken, and yet he didn’t look at you with pity. instead, there was something warm and unyielding in his gaze, something that made the knot in your chest tighten and loosen all at once.

your eyes flicked up to meet his, and the tears continued to fall. gojo's calm, unwavering presence only made it harder to keep the sobs at bay, but you still fought against it, clenching your jaw and blinking rapidly to stop the flood. you hated feeling this vulnerable, hated that he was witnessing you at your lowest.

but despite everything, you couldn’t pull away. you couldn’t turn your back on the silent comfort he was offering. so, you just stood there, staring up at his much taller frame, trying to steady your breaths and failing miserably. the warmth of his hands on your wrists was the only thing keeping you grounded, a gentle reminder that you weren’t alone, even as you continued to silently unravel.

gojo held your gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and understanding. he saw the battle you were fighting within yourself, the struggle to keep your emotions in check. he knew how hard it was for you to show weakness, how much you hated the vulnerability that came with tears.

but he also saw the way you leaned into his touch, how you couldn’t pull away even though you desperately wanted to. his thumbs continued to brush softly across your wrists, a silent reassurance. he didn’t push you to speak, didn’t ask you to explain. he just stayed, offering his presence as a silent comforter.

gojo hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of your pain pressing against him. when your tears didn’t stop, he finally gave in, wrapping his arms around your shoulders with a gentleness that was almost uncharacteristic of him. pulling you closer, he murmured softly, "come on, let's get you to rest and clean those wounds," his gaze lingering on your bruised knuckles. without waiting for you to respond, he guided you carefully, picking up the plastic bag from the ground before leading you to geto's dorm room.

your silent sobs echoed softly in the quiet night as gojo continued to walk beside you, his arm steady around you, providing a comforting presence. when he finally opened the door to geto’s room, the raven-haired sorcerer was sprawled out, halfway through opening a bag of snacks, his expression immediately shifting to irritation.

“where the hell have you been?” geto began, his tone laced with annoyance, but the words died in his throat the moment he saw you. his eyes widened in surprise, and his expression softened instantly as he took in the sight of you, tears still streaming down your face, tucked under gojo’s arm. the sight was jarring—seeing you, someone who was always so tough, reduced to a state of raw emotion.

gojo gave geto a small, rueful smile as he gently nudged you further into the room. “look who i found,” he said softly, his voice lacking its usual teasing edge. geto’s gaze flickered from gojo to you, his expression shifting to one of concern and understanding.

“hey,” geto said quietly, his voice warm as he quickly moved over, abandoning his snack without a second thought. “what’s going on?” he asked gently, his eyes searching yours for an answer, but he didn’t push, knowing better than to pry when you were already so vulnerable.

gojo guided you to the bed, helping you sit down before pulling up a chair beside you. he glanced at geto, who nodded silently, the unspoken communication between them clear. they weren’t going to leave you alone to face this on your own.

geto settled down on the other side of the bed, sitting facing you. he didn’t say anything, just waited patiently, his presence steady and calming. gojo leaned back against the nearby wall, keeping his distance but still within reach.

they both knew that pushing you to talk wouldn’t yield any results. this situation was delicate, and they didn’t want to make things worse. so, they waited, their gazes never leaving you, silently offering both comfort and the time you needed to gather your thoughts.

geto’s eyes traced over your form, taking in the disheveled state of your jujutsu high uniform, the fabric stained with dirt and specks of blood. his gaze lingered on your knuckles—bruised, swollen, and dotted with dried blood. the sight of your injuries stirred a mix of concern and quiet anger within him, not at you, but at whatever had driven you to this point.

“what the hell happened?” geto asked softly, his voice low but filled with a hint of restrained frustration, not directed at you but at the situation. he reached out, carefully taking one of your hands in his, inspecting the bruises with a delicate touch. his thumb grazed the torn skin gently, his brows furrowing as he noted the extent of the damage.

“you shouldn’t be out there pushing yourself like this,” he continued, his voice laced with worry. geto’s usual calm demeanor was still there, but there was a distinct edge to his tone—he was deeply concerned. he glanced at gojo, who nodded subtly, the silent communication between them reflecting their shared unease.

“you’re still in your uniform,” geto pointed out softly, his gaze returning to your face. “have you been training all this time?” his eyes searched yours, filled with quiet understanding. despite the softness in his voice, his grip on your hand was firm, grounding you, making sure you knew he was there.

geto’s thumb continued to brush lightly against your bruised knuckles, a silent promise of comfort and protection. he didn’t push for answers, didn’t demand an explanation. instead, he just stayed, his presence calm and steady, offering you a quiet space to breathe and let go. he understood that right now, the best thing he could do was simply be there, ready to support you however you needed.

gojo sat quietly, watching the interaction between you and geto with a mixture of concern and relief. he was glad you were with someone he trusted wholeheartedly. he knew that geto had a way of making people feel safe, and right now, you needed that more than anything.

he observed the way geto touched you, his hands gentle and considerate. he could see the worry etched in the raven-haired sorcerer'a eyes, the protective edge in his voice. it was clear that geto deeply cared, and it made gojo feel somewhat more at ease.

after a while, the tears stopped, not because the weight had lifted or the pain had lessened, but simply because you were too exhausted to keep crying. the emotional toll had drained every bit of energy from your body, leaving you feeling hollow and numb. your breathing steadied, but your eyes remained red and puffy, your face marked with tear stains that you didn’t bother to wipe away.

you glanced down at your bruised knuckles still held gently in geto’s grasp. the ache was a dull reminder of the pain you were trying to drown out through sheer force. you took a shaky breath, trying to gather the shattered pieces of your composure, but even that felt like a monumental task.

“i'm fine,” you mumbled weakly, though it was clear that you were far from it. your voice was hoarse, a faint tremble still lingering in your words. you pulled your hand slightly away from geto’s hold, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration at your own vulnerability. you hated showing this side of yourself, hated feeling so exposed and raw in front of them, even if they were the people you trusted the most.

but despite everything, the presence of both gojo and geto was oddly comforting. their silent support, the way they just stayed with you without demanding answers or forcing you to talk—it was more than you could have asked for. you leaned back against the headboard, closing your eyes as fatigue settled heavily in your bones.

“thanks…” you whispered, barely audible, but it was the closest you could come to acknowledging how much their presence meant to you. you were still too worn out to express it fully, but in this quiet moment, surrounded by the soft hum of their breathing and the warmth of their company, you felt a flicker of solace.

geto's grip on your hand tightened slightly at your mumbled attempt to wave them off. he shared a glance with gojo, his eyes filled with understanding. they both knew that you were far from fine, no matter how much you tried to deny it, but neither of them called you out on it.

he continued to hold your hand gently, his thumb running soothing circles against your skin. geto leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper, “we're not going anywhere, y/n. no matter how much you try to push us away.”

gojo knelt down in front of you, his usual playful demeanor replaced with a rare, genuine softness. his eyes, usually so full of mischief, now held only concern as he met your gaze. he could see the exhaustion etched across your face, the way your body slumped as if the weight of everything had finally become too much. he reached out, his hand hovering just above your knee, not wanting to overwhelm you but offering a touch of reassurance.

"hey," gojo's voice was gentle, almost coaxing, as if trying to soothe a skittish animal. "why don’t you take a shower? it'll help you relax, and then we can clean up those bruises." his tone was tender, lacking the usual teasing lilt; it was clear that his only priority was to make you feel even a little bit better.

geto, who had been silently watching from the side, finally released your hand with a soft squeeze, a silent promise that he wasn’t letting go for good. he stood up, moving quietly to gather a fresh set of clothes, a new towel, and some essentials from his neatly organized closet. he returned, placing the items beside you with care, his movements deliberate and unhurried.

"you can use my stuff," geto offered, his voice as soft as the quiet room around you. "everything's clean, and it’s all yours for as long as you need." his eyes lingered on yours, the quiet intensity in them offering comfort that words alone couldn’t convey.

the room was filled with a comforting silence, a quiet understanding shared between the three of you. gojo’s hand still hovered close, waiting for you to take that first step, while geto stood nearby, ready to help in any way he could. they were giving you space, but at the same time, making it clear that they were there, unwavering and steadfast in their support.

you glanced between gojo and geto, their quiet patience somehow making the knot in your chest loosen just a bit. the gentle concern in their eyes, the way they hovered close but not too close, made you feel a small flicker of comfort amidst the exhaustion weighing you down.

“okay…” you mumbled softly, barely above a whisper, your voice laced with a mix of fatigue and reluctant acceptance. you didn't have the energy to keep fighting them, and a part of you knew they were right—you needed to take care of yourself, even if it was just a shower and some clean clothes.

you gave them a small nod, a silent acknowledgment of their efforts to help. “thanks,” you added, your voice still quiet but sincere. though it wasn’t much, it was the closest you could get to showing them that you appreciated their presence, their gentle persistence, and the way they were there for you without asking for anything in return.

gojo and geto exchanged a quick glance, relief flickering in their eyes at your begrudging agreement. they had both expected you to resist more, but it seemed that you were too exhausted to keep fighting.

“good.” gojo smiled slightly, his hand moving to rest on your knee as he spoke, “we'll be right here when you get out. take as long as you need.” his voice was gentle, lacking the usual playful edge.

geto nodded in agreement, his eyes softening as they met yours. “we're not leaving,” he reaffirmed, his voice firm yet comforting. you quietly stood up, your movements slow and a bit unsteady as the exhaustion continued to weigh heavily on you. you glanced at both of them, taking in their reassuring expressions and the way they seemed to have silently vowed to stay by your side. there was something oddly comforting in knowing that, despite everything, they weren’t going to leave.

without saying a word, you made your way to the bathroom, your footsteps barely making a sound against the floor. you could feel their eyes on you as you closed the door behind you, the quiet click of the latch sealing you in a small, private space where you could finally breathe without holding everything in.

standing in front of the mirror, you caught your reflection—bruised, worn out, and drained. it was hard to look at yourself, but you pushed down the urge to break down again. you let out a shaky breath, turning on the shower and letting the sound of running water fill the room, drowning out the turmoil in your head. as the steam began to rise, you slipped out of your jujutsu high uniform and stepped under the warm stream, hoping that, at least for a moment, the water could wash away some of the heaviness clinging to you.

gojo and geto remained in the bedroom, listening to the sounds coming from the bathroom. the water rushing through the pipes and the soft splash against your skin was all they could hear, and it made both of them feel even more worried than before.

gojo fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt, his foot tapping a steady rhythm against the floor. he wanted to barge into the bathroom and check on you, but he knew that would only cross a boundary.

geto sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on the bathroom door with a look of concern etched across his face. he turned to gojo, his tone sharp but laced with worry. “okay, what the fuck is happening? is she okay?”

gojo sighed, his expression serious as he leaned against the wall. “i found her training alone. she was pushing herself way too hard, like she was trying to burn out all the pain or something. her knuckles were bruised, and she was on the edge of collapsing. she clearly needed a break, but she wouldn’t admit it.”

geto's eyebrows furrowed as he listened to gojo's explanation, his expression becoming even more troubled. he knew you well enough to know that pushing yourself to the brink was your way of coping when things got rough, but this felt like you were going too far even for your standards.

“did she say anything at all? what set her off like this?” geto questioned, his voice betraying the worry that was gnawing at him. gojo rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “not really. she was just... pushing herself too hard. i tried to talk to her, but she was so set on keeping her distance.”

geto's gaze sharpened, his concern turning into frustration. “why didn’t you stop her from doing this?”

gojo’s eyes widened slightly, and he whispered, almost defensively, offended by the accusation from his friend, “she was going to punch me in the face! I was scared shitless. i mean, seriously, i almost peed myself.”

geto looked at him with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “you’re an idiot,” he said with a sigh, though his tone carried a note of exasperation. gojo protested with a pouting tone, his pride clearly stung by geto's words, “hey! i am not an idiot. just because i was trying to avoid getting decked by her doesn’t mean i’m stupid.”

geto rolled his eyes playfully, a slight smirk tugging at his lips, though the concern still weighed heavily on his mind, “well, you could’ve still done something instead of just standing there like a dumbass.” gojo scoffed, clearly offended by geto's remark. he gave geto a light smack on the chest with the back of his hand, his expression challenging and annoyed. he didn't say anything, but his frustration was evident.

geto glanced down at his chest where gojo had hit him, then returned the gesture with a similar smack, his frown deepening and his eyebrows knitting together. the silent exchange was a mix of annoyance and camaraderie, a way of expressing their frustrations while still showing that they were on the same side.

gojo and geto continued their silent exchange of smacks, each one growing slightly harder than the last. their competitive nature flared up, even in moments as serious as this.

gojo's eyes sparkled with a competitive glint, and he let out a soft chuckle. “oh, it's like that, huh?” he said, a hint of challenge in his voice. geto rolled his eyes, but a corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “yeah, it‘s like that,” he retorted, his voice just as teasing as his counterpart’s.

you stepped out of the shower, your hair still wet and dripping onto the floor. as you watched gojo and geto in the midst of their playful exchange, don't even realize your appearance, you couldn’t help but let out a tired sigh.

“you two are stupid,” you said, your voice carrying a mix of annoyance and reluctant amusement. your narrow gaze and damp hair only added to the absurdity of the moment, making it clear you were both exasperated and slightly entertained by their antics.

gojo and geto's eyes darted to you upon hearing your voice. they both immediately stopped their playful smacking and guiltily looked away from each other.

gojo cleared his throat, trying to act nonchalant as if he wasn’t just engaged in a battle of pettiness a few seconds ago.

geto, on the other hand, was a bit more composed, though he wasn’t completely unapologetic. he shot gojo a knowing smirk before turning his attention back to you. “hey, you’re done!” gojo said a little too loudly, hoping to change the subject.

“you look better,” geto said softly, his eyes scrutinizing you from head to toe, taking in your damp hair and the exhaustion etched on your face.

gojo nodded in agreement, his usual playfulness completely gone for once. he took a step towards you, his eyes filled with a concern that he usually reserved for moments of true seriousness. “did it help at all?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

you let out a soft sigh and nodded, murmuring a quiet “thanks” as you looked at them. the warmth in their eyes and their genuine concern made you feel a bit better despite the lingering exhaustion.

geto's eyes fell on you, noticing how his oversized clothes engulfed your figure, making you look even smaller and more vulnerable. the sight of you struggling to keep his pants from slipping down made him chuckle softly. he couldn't help but smile, finding the moment endearing despite the serious circumstances.

“you look like you’re drowning in my clothes,” he said with a gentle grin, his tone light and affectionate. when he noticed your still wet hair, he continued, “and you also look like a drowned rat,” he teased softly, the warmth in his voice contrasting with the playful comment. “let me help you with your hair. you can’t stay like this forever.”

gojo, who had been studying your tired frame, chuckled along with geto at the sight of you practically drowning in the oversized clothes. he knew you were always small, but the extra material hanging off of you only emphasized that fact. he smirked and jokingly chimed in, “yeah, you look like you’re being swallowed by that shirt and those pants.”

geto shot gojo a look that was simultaneously affectionate and annoyed before turning back to you. “seriously, you look ridiculous.” he teased gently, his voice still laced with concern. “come here.”

you groaned softly, shuffling over to them despite the heavy fabric. “do you have anything smaller?” you asked geto, your voice tinged with frustration as your feet dancing towards them who's still sitting at the edge of the bed. “i can’t wear this without having to hold it like i’m about to defend my life or something.”

geto chuckled at your exasperated tone and your exaggerated movements as you made your way over to him. he knew that his clothes would be too big on you, but he didn’t expect them to be THAT large.

he pushed himself off the bed, moving to stand closer to you. he reached out to adjust the collar of the shirt, a teasing smile on his face. “sorry, didn’t quite expect you to swim in it like that.” he quipped, enjoying the way you looked swamped in his clothes.

then, with a gentle yet authoritative tone, he said, “why don’t you sit on the floor for a moment? i’ll grab a towel to dry your hair.” you let out a dramatic sigh as you sat down on the floor in front of the bed, gojo moved from the bed to join you, his gaze shifting from playful to more attentive. he took in how you looked much better than before, despite still showing signs of exhaustion and vulnerability.

gojo’s eyes softened as he noted how much more relaxed you seemed, even if only slightly. he couldn’t help but tease, “you look like you’re a kid playing dress-up with her daddy’s clothes.” his voice was gentle, the playful edge softer than usual as he settled down in front of you on the floor.

geto returned with a towel, carefully sitting at the edge of the bed behind you. he began to gently towel-dry your damp hair, his movements steady and soothing. the room was filled with a comfortable quiet, the kind that spoke of trust and unspoken understanding.

gojo's soft jab at your appearance made you huff in mock indignance, but you didn't have the energy to engage much in retorts. besides, they were right; you did look like a kid playing dress-up.

as geto began to dry your hair with the towel, gojo reached out with his hand and gently tugged some of your still-damp locks. he chuckled lightly, “you’re a mess, you know that?” he teased, his tone affectionate despite the playful jab, “it's a wonder you can look this adorable while looking like such a disaster.”

you let out a soft sigh, your exhaustion still evident despite the gentle teasing. “yeah, yeah,” you murmured, your voice tired but carrying a hint of reluctant amusement. “i guess i’m just a walking disaster today.” you managed a small, weary smile, appreciating their attempts to lighten the mood even though you didn’t have much energy to respond.

geto, who was still behind you, silently focused on drying your hair, a soft smile on his face as he heard your response. he could sense the exhaustion in your voice and body, but he was glad to see that you still had a bit of humor left in you. gojo, sitting in front of you, chuckled and shook his head. “well, at least you're a cute disaster. not many people can pull that off.”

geto continued to silently dry your hair, his fingers gently working through the damp strands. he could feel how exhausted you were, the way your body slumped a bit beneath his touch showing just how drained you were. gojo, noticing your tired state, shifted closer to you. he reached out to gently poke your cheek, his tone softer now, “you look like you're about to fall asleep.“

you mumbled a tired, “sorry,” your eyes flickering as you struggled to stay awake. the warmth of geto’s touch and the gentle teasing from gojo made you feel a bit more at ease, even as you fought the heaviness of your exhaustion.

geto, sensing that you were on the verge of collapsing, moved more forcefully and quickly with the towel, trying to finish up drying your hair as soon as possible. he could see how your eyelids were starting to droop.

gojo also scooted closer, his smirk softening into a gentle expression of concern. he leaned forward slightly, his voice low and tender. “hey, you can't pass out on us. we're not done worrying about you yet.”

gojo's expression softened even more as he observed the red and swollen puffiness around your eyes. his thumb gently caressed the skin below your eyes, his touch tender and reassuring.

“you’re so stupid,” he murmured warmly, his voice filled with an affectionate frustration. “look how swollen your eyes are.” his smile was a mix of concern and fondness, showing just how deeply he cared. geto, who had finished drying your hair, looked down at your face. his gaze immediately took in the visible signs of strain; the exhaustion, the swollen eyes, the tension etched on your features. his heart weighed heavier as he saw how worn out you were.

“you really did a number on yourself,” he said, his voice low and filled with worry. he crouched down beside you, his eyes raking over your face as if trying to memorize every detail. you sat there in silence, taking in the comforting presence of gojo and geto as they attended to you. their concern and physical closeness, once a source of annoyance, now felt oddly soothing. you reflected on the year you had known them, remembering how their constant attempts to touch and tease you had become a familiar part of your daily life.

the small, seemingly insignificant gestures—poking, intertwining pinkies—had taken on a new meaning. their touch was now a comfort, a reassurance of their unwavering presence. you couldn't help but wonder if it was okay to feel this way, to find solace and a strange kind of warmth from the two strongest sorcerers, who had, despite their playful torment, always been there for you in their own way.

gojo, who was still in front of you, observed the subtle changes in your expression—the softening of your features, the flicker of emotions in your eyes. he could tell there was a lot going on in your head at the moment.

he leaned in a bit closer, his voice gentle yet playful, as he inquired, "penny for your thoughts?" his eyes searched your face, a mixture of curiosity and concern in his gaze. you blinked slowly, your tired mind finally focusing on the question. a small, sheepish smile tugged at your lips as you admitted, "actually, i'm just really hungry."

gojo's face lit up with a grin, clearly pleased to hear something as straightforward as hunger. "well, that’s an easy fix!" he said, his tone light and upbeat. "we’ve got snacks, and I’m pretty sure geto has something better in his fridge. what do you feel like eating?"

geto, still by your side, nodded in agreement. "yeah, let’s get you something to eat. you need to refuel after all that."

both of them started to move, eager to get you something to eat and help you feel better. gojo immediately jumped to his feet, his hands on his hips in his usual animated fashion. he rubbed his chin, contemplating the best possible snack for you.

"let's see, we've got chips," he began listing out the options, counting on his fingers, "chocolate bars, cookies, oh, and a bunch of junk food. but I think geto's fridge might have something healthier."

geto chuckled and got up as well, walking over to his mini fridge in the room. "yeah, we've got fruits, veggies, some leftovers, etc. anything you prefer?" you let out a soft, tired laugh at their enthusiasm. "anything's fine," you said quietly, appreciating their efforts. "just... whatever you think is best."

you leaned back against the bed, feeling a bit more at ease with their comforting presence and the thought of getting something to eat. gojo, still standing near you, smiled, his eyes sparkling with amusement at your reply. he looked over at geto, who was rummaging through his fridge, and then back at you.

"that’s a dangerous thing to say with geto around," he teased. "he’ll probably shove a bunch of vegetables in a bowl and call it a snack."

geto shot him a playful glare from over the fridge door. “hey, fruits and veggies are good for you!” gojo and geto continued their lighthearted banter, completely engrossed in the contents of the mini fridge. they were focused on finding the perfect snack for you, occasionally exchanging jokes and comments about each other's food choices. the room was filled with their voices, punctuated by the occasional clink of containers.

unbeknownst to them, you had quietly curled up on the floor, your back resting against the bed frame. the exhaustion from earlier had taken its toll, and despite your earlier protests, you had succumbed to fatigue. your head was tipped back against the soft mattress, your body tucked in a fetal position, wrapped in the oversized clothes. the warmth of the room and the comforting presence of gojo and geto had lulled you into a deep sleep.

gojo and geto both turned around at the same time, their attention shifting from the fridge to the sight of you curled up on the floor. for a moment, they stood still, surprised by the sight of you asleep so soundly.

gojo’s eyes softened as he saw how peaceful you looked, his playful expression fading into something more tender. he walked over quietly, kneeling beside you, his usual teasing demeanor replaced with a gentle warmth. "well, look at that," he murmured softly, not wanting to disturb you. "you must’ve been more exhausted than we thought."

geto, still in front of the open fridge, took a moment to observe your sleeping form as well. his eyebrows furrowed slightly, a mix of concern and relief washing over him at the sight of your peaceful expression. he knew you were exhausted, but seeing you sleep so deeply on the floor wasn't what he was anticipating.

he closed the fridge and walked over to where gojo was, his steps soft. he kneeled down next to you as well, mirroring gojo's position and his concerned expression. "she really conked out," gojo mused quietly, his gaze still fixed on your sleeping face.

geto nodded in agreement, a small smile tugging at his lips. "she must’ve been wiped out."

gojo reached over and gently brushed a strand of hair off your forehead, his touch so light it was barely discernible. he looked up at geto, a hint of mischief returning to his eyes, "should we wake her?"

geto shook his head with a soft, reassuring smile. “no, let her sleep. she’s had a rough day.”

he moved carefully, avoiding any sudden movements that might wake you. gently, he scooped you up in his arms, cradling you with practiced ease. he felt the slight weight of you against him, and his expression softened further.

with a careful touch, he laid you down on his bed, arranging the blankets around you to keep you warm and comfortable. as he did, he glanced back at gojo, who had watched the entire process with a mix of curiosity and amusement. gojo stood and watched in silence as geto picked you up effortlessly, a small pang of something he couldn’t quite put into words going through his chest. he pushed it away, replaced it with a warm smile as he watched geto take care of you.

once you were settled comfortably on the bed, he looked over at geto, his tone playful again. "well, looks like you won the knight-in-shining-armor award this time," he quipped, folding his arms across his chest.

gojo leaned against the bed frame, his arms crossed and a small smirk on his face as he watched geto carefully place you on the bed.

he let out a small, suppressed chuckle, "being all soft and gentle there, suguru, i almost forgot you have a soft side."

geto shot him a playful glare, his voice filled with mock defensiveness, "i’m always gentle." gojo’s smirk widened into a full-fledged grin, clearly enjoying teasing geto about this.

"sure, you’re always gentle," he agreed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "i remember you being particularly gentle during training the other day when you nearly strangled me for being two minutes late."

he chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

geto let out a huff of annoyance, his eyes narrowing at the memory of that training session. he knew he could be intense when it came to training, but gojo always had a way of getting under his skin.

"that’s different," he argued, his tone still playful. "that’s training, not… this. you know." he gestured towards you, asleep on his bed, emphasizing the difference between the two scenarios. gojo's grin grew wider, enjoying the familiar banter between them. he leaned back against the bed frame, getting more comfortable.

he chuckled, "yeah, you’re right, it’s different. with training, you’re the one usually giving the beat downs. but this," he gestured at you, "is something else. can’t really go around strangling someone who’s asleep now, can you?" geto rolled his eyes at gojo's comment, a smirk of his own forming on his face. "yeah, yeah, save the smartass comments for later," he retorted. "besides, it's not like you’re the epitome of gentle either. remember that time you slammed me into a wall during a sparring match to prove a point?"

gojo let out a bark of laughter, remembering that sparring session vividly. "oh, i remember," he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief. "you were just being stubborn and not listening. i had to get your attention somehow."

he looked at geto, a challenge in his eyes, "besides, you got me back by tripping me later and pinning me down. that wasn’t exactly gentle, was it?" geto rolled his eyes as gojo’s laughter filled the room. he gave gojo a sharp kick on the shin, the movement quick and precise. "always so fucking loud," he grumbled under his breath.

he turned his attention back to you, checking to make sure that gojo’s boisterous laughter hadn't disturbed your sleep. seeing that you were still peacefully resting, he let out a quiet sigh of relief and returned his focus to making sure you were comfortable.

gojo let out an exaggerated yelp at the kick to his shin, wincing dramatically. "ow, ow, ow," he pouted, rubbing the spot where geto had kicked him. "you always gotta make the point with violence, don’t you?"

he watched geto as he went back to checking on you, a mix of amusement and admiration in his eyes. he had been about to retort, but seeing how geto was being so gentle and careful with you caused him to pause.

he observed geto in silence for a moment, watching how he arranged the blankets around you, his movements gentle as he made sure you were comfortable. there was a subtle shift in the way gojo looked at geto now, his usual playful demeanor replaced with a more quiet contemplation.

after a moment, he spoke up, his tone softer than usual, "you’re really good with her, you know." geto, caught slightly off-guard by gojo’s change in tone, paused his movements to look at him. he looked at gojo for a moment, a flash of surprise in his eyes, before responding.

“well, i’m just making sure she’s comfortable,” he said, his voice also softer. he reached down to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear before returning his gaze to gojo, a hint of a smile on his face.

gojo, noticing the small, tender gesture, felt that strange pang in his chest again. geto and gojo quietly observed you, their eyes taking in the peaceful expression on your face as you slept. the room was filled with a different kind of energy now, the playful banter between them replaced by a quieter, more contemplative atmosphere.

the silence was interrupted by gojo, his voice a touch lower than usual. "how’d you learn to be so gentle, anyway?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his tone. he looked over at geto, his eyes studying his profile. geto glanced over at gojo, his eyebrows raising slightly at the unexpected question. he thought for a moment before answering.

"well, it’s not like i’ve been a brute all my life," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. he leaned back slightly, leaning against the wall beside the bed.

"i just... pick up on things, i guess," he continued, his gaze returning to you, his features softening a bit. "people are different. some need a rougher approach, some need a gentler touch." gojo, leaning against the bed frame, considered geto's words. there was a lot he could tease geto about - his rough demeanor, his directness, the fact that he looked like he could intimidate just about anyone - but gojo found himself wanting to hear more.

"yeah, you've always been pretty observant," he mused, his eyes flickering between geto and you.

a moment of silence passed before he spoke up again, his tone a bit quieter. "but with her, you seem more... i don’t know, tender. more careful." geto paused, reflecting on gojo's observation. there was a truth to his words. while he could be rough and strict with others, with you, it was different. he found himself being more patient, more understanding, more... tender.

he looked back at you, his eyes tracing over your features, before returning his gaze to gojo.

"i guess," he said slowly, "it’s different with her. i don’t know. i just... feel the need to be gentler, more careful. it’s automatic, i suppose." gojo, listening intently, watched as geto's gaze returned to you, his words hanging in the air.

the usual playful banter about geto's demeanor he had in mind faded to the background as he focused on the current conversation. he felt a tug at his chest, a strange mixture of curiosity and something else he couldn't quite identify.

he looked at geto, his eyes holding his gaze for a few seconds before he responded, his voice almost a whisper. "automatic, huh?" gojo paused for a moment, letting the silence settle between them again before continuing.

"why, though?" he asked, his voice soft. "why do you feel the need to be gentler with her? what makes her different from anyone else?" there was a hint of genuine interest in his tone, mixed with something else he didn’t quite understand. geto, feeling the weight of gojo's question, took a moment to respond. he was so used to teasing and bantering with gojo that serious conversations like this were almost foreign. but he knew that beneath gojo's usual bluster, there was a depth to him that many overlooked.

he looked back at you, considering how to put his thoughts into words. finally, he turned back to gojo, his voice measured and quiet.

"i don't know. she just... makes me want to be gentler, i guess. she's different." gojo, hearing geto's response, felt another pang in his chest, stronger than before. he had expected a snarky remark or a sarcastic reply from geto, but getting a genuine response from him threw him off.

he shifted his position on the bed, leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees, his eyes never leaving geto's face. he studied his expression, trying to decipher what lay beneath it.

"what do you mean 'she's different'?" he pressed, his eyes not leaving him. gojo's gaze was fixed on geto, his usual demeanor replaced with a rare moment of seriousness. he knew there had to be more to how geto saw you than just wanting to be gentler with you. there was something deeper, something geto wasn’t saying outright.

he leaned forward even further, making sure geto couldn’t look away. his voice, still soft but firm, broke the silence. "come on, suguru. be honest. what makes you want to be gentler with her?" a moment passed before he added another question, his voice even lower, "why does she make you want to be gentler with her?"

gojo was acutely aware of your presence in the room, and he couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of curiosity and something more as he interrogated geto. he knew he shouldn't be pushing the subject, but the need to understand geto's sudden shift in demeanor towards you gnawed at him.

geto paused, his gaze momentarily shifting away from gojo as he recalled that night. his expression softened, a distant look in his eyes as he thought back to that quiet moment in the park.

"remember that night when we forced her to sneak out of the dorm?" he began, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. "you asked her what she really wanted, and she said she wants a gentle love." he let out a soft sigh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "i guess that's why."

the memory washed over them—sneaking out late at night, the thrill of breaking the rules, and then the calm that settled when they lay together on the grass. you were sandwiched between them, the cool night air pressing against your skin as you stared up at the stars. geto and gojo had been teasing each other, like always, but then gojo asked that question, and everything stilled.

you had spoken softly, your voice tinged with a quiet yearning that left them both silent for once. you told them about wanting a gentle love, something tender to counter the harshness you’d known all your life. it was a rare moment of vulnerability, one that etched itself into both their minds.

gojo and geto were transported back to that night at the park, the memory vividly replaying in their minds. he could still remember the way the night air felt on his skin, the way you were nestled between them, the quiet yearning in your voice as you described wanting a gentle love.

gojo's usual smirk faded, replaced by a solemn expression as the weight of your words settled over him. he looked over at you, fast asleep on the bed, a different kind of emotion stirring within him.

he turned back to geto, his voice quiet. "you've been gentle with her ever since, because you’re trying to give her the gentle love she said she wanted," gojo finished gojo’s sentence, his tone carrying a hint of realization.

gojo continued to watch you on the bed, his eyes studying your sleeping form. the usual air of arrogance and confidence he always put on was replaced by a more contemplative expression.

"so you’ve been gentle with her all this time... because you’re trying to give her what she’s never had before," he repeated, the words slowly sinking in. geto could sense a subtle change in gojo's demeanor. his eyes narrowed slightly, trying to read the expression on gojo's face. he couldn't quite place it, but he knew that look.

"what is it?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest. "you've got that look."

gojo shook his head slightly, dismissing the question, "it’s nothing."

geto raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying gojo's answer. he stepped closer to him, his gaze unwavering. "come on, you know you can’t fool me." gojo's lips curled into a slight frown as geto stepped closer to him, scrutinizing his face. he tried to maintain his usual air of indifference, but he knew geto could see right through it.

he let out an exaggerated sigh, "ugh, fine. you really know how to nag, don't you?"

he leaned back on the bed frame, folding his arms across his chest.

"i was just thinking about what you said," he admitted reluctantly. he continued to watch you on the bed, his thoughts conflicted. gojo knew he was being uncharacteristically quiet, but there was something about this whole revelation that had thrown him off. he glanced over at geto, who was watching him intently, waiting for him to continue.

"it’s just... i never expected you of all people to be the one to try and give her what she wants," he mumbled, his voice low. geto's eyes narrowed slightly at gojo’s comment, a hint of defensiveness flaring up. his tone was sharp but not angry, more curious and challenging as he shot back, "why? you want to be the one to give her that?"

his gaze bore into gojo’s, searching for something in his expression. there was a tension in the air, one that was charged with unspoken words and lingering feelings. geto wasn’t sure what he expected gojo to say, but he needed to know if they were on the same page, if they both wanted the same thing for you—or if it was something more.

geto’s fingers twitched at his sides, and his jaw tightened as he waited for gojo's answer, the silence between them thick and heavy. despite their banter and their occasional rivalry, this was different. this was about you, and he needed to understand where gojo stood, even if it meant confronting something neither of them was entirely prepared to face.

gojo met geto’s gaze with an equal intensity, the tension crackling between them. there was something different about this moment, something deeper and far more complex than their usual banter.

he held geto’s gaze, the words stuck in his throat for a moment before he forced them out, his voice almost a growl.

“maybe,” he finally admitted, the confession barely above a whisper. “maybe i do.” the silence that followed was deafening as the words hung in the air. gojo's heart pounded in his chest, the sudden vulnerability leaving him feeling raw. he rarely allowed himself to be this open, this exposed, but there was something about this moment that demanded honesty.

he looked back at geto, his expression more guarded now, trying to read his reaction as he waited for his response. geto’s eyes widened a fraction at gojo's confession, the words settling in the air like a heavy weight between them. he hadn’t expected that answer, yet deep inside, he knew there was a hint of truth behind it.

he studied gojo, his body language betraying his own conflicting emotions. his jaw was clenched, his shoulders tense, and his hands were balled into fists at his sides.

"why?" he finally asked, his voice low and strained. "why do you want to be the one to give her that?" gojo’s sigh was heavy with resignation as he looked at geto. “come on, suguru,” he said, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “you know better than anyone that I’ve liked her since the start, and I also know better than anyone that you like her too.”

his eyes were locked onto geto’s, a serious expression softening the usual playful glint. “it’s not just about who gets to give her what she wants. it’s about what’s best for her. and if you think I’m willing to back down just because you’ve got this idea that you’re the only one who can be gentle with her, you’re mistaken.”

gojo’s tone was firm but edged with a subtle pleading, as if he were trying to convey that their feelings were intertwined and that there was a shared responsibility in making you happy. his confession was raw, stripped of the usual bravado and pretense.

geto’s usually composed demeanor crumbled somewhat in the face of gojo’s frankness. he hadn’t expected him to lay everything out so plainly.

he clenched his jaw, the conflicting emotions swirling in his eyes. a part of him felt defensive, threatened even, by the idea of gojo wanting to be the one to give you what you wanted. but another part of him recognized the truth in gojo’s words.

“i’m not saying I’m the only one who can be gentle with her,” he muttered, his voice tight. he turned away, looking over at you on the bed, his expression a mix of frustration and contemplation.

“but that doesn’t mean I’m going to back down either,” he added, his tone resolute. “if i can be the one to give her what she wants—what’s best for her—i’m going to do it, even if that means competing against you.”

the tension between them was still heavy, their feelings and desires all mixed up into an emotional maelstrom. gojo met his eyes again, his expression serious. “so we’re at an impasse,” he said, his voice betraying a hint of resignation. “both of us like her, both of us want to be the best for her.”

he paused, his eyes flickering between you and geto. “what now?” geto remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on your peaceful side profile. he took in the sight of you sleeping so soundly, the exhaustion from earlier seeming to have melted away. his thoughts were clearly racing, processing the weight of gojo's words and the implications they carried.

gojo, noticing geto's contemplative silence, broke the quiet with a soft, hesitant question. "do you think maybe we could ask her to be with us?" his voice was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of vulnerability in his tone. he looked at geto with a mixture of hope and uncertainty, clearly aware of how complicated the situation was.

geto’s eyes widened slightly at gojo’s suggestion, seemingly taken aback. he hadn’t expected the conversation to take this turn, but he found himself thinking it through, weighing the possibilities in his mind.

“you…you want to both be with her at the same time?” he repeated, his voice quiet.

he looked back at you on the bed, the thought of sharing you with gojo causing a strange mixture of emotions to stir in his chest. gojo watched geto’s reaction closely, his own expression revealing a mix of apprehension and seriousness. he took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on geto.

“can you bear the thought of her being with me, suguru?” gojo asked quietly, his voice carrying an edge of vulnerability. “because i know i wouldn’t be able to handle it if she was with you and not me.”

geto felt a pang in his chest at gojo’s question. the thought of you being with either of them and not the other was enough to send a strange mix of jealousy and fear coursing through his veins.

he clenched his jaw, his emotions at war with each other.

“i...i don’t know,” he answered honestly, his voice strained. “but do you think she’d even go for it?” gojo shrugged slightly, his eyes drifting towards your sleeping form. he hadn’t thought too much about how you might react to their proposition.

“it’s worth asking, isn’t it?” he said quietly, his tone laced with both curiosity and trepidation. “if we’re both on board…we should at least bring it up with her, right?” geto nodded slowly, a mixture of hesitation and intrigue on his face. he had to admit, the idea was tempting, despite the potential complications.

“i suppose you’re right,” he agreed, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness. “but we have to approach this carefully. we can’t just spring it on her out of the blue.” gojo rolled his eyes, a slight smirk playing at his lips. “yeah, i know that,” he said, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. “i just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page. let’s figure out how to bring this up with her without making it weird.”

geto chuckled despite himself, amused at gojo’s sarcastic response. he let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he thought.

“well, the first step is figuring out if she’s even open to the idea,” he pointed out, his brow furrowing slightly. “how do we even go about asking her that without sounding like a pair of idiots?”

gojo chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “oh, come on, you know she already thinks we’re a pair of idiots,” he said with a teasing grin. “at least we can be idiots with a plan. let’s just be honest with her and see how she feels. it’s better than trying to play it cool and making things more complicated.” geto couldn’t help but smile at gojo’s comment. he had a point—you did often regard them as idiots, albeit endearingly.

he nodded, a hint of determination in his eyes. “you’re right,” he agreed. “we should be straightforward with her. no beating around the bush. we ask her how she feels about the idea of being with us…both of us…at the same time.” he paused, still a little wary about how you might react.

as you slept soundly, geto and gojo continued their quiet planning. they huddled together, whispering to avoid disturbing you. their plan was to approach the topic with care, ensuring that your well-being and comfort remained their top priority. their conversation was hushed, the both of them aware of not wanting to disturb your well-earned rest.

they made it a point to emphasize the importance of considering your comfort and well-being in their approach. they didn’t want to spring this complex matter on you unexpectedly, after all. they needed to find the right time and the right way to discuss it with you.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Plot Bunny; project sidekick. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“. . . ‘brothers’?” Black Canary repeats again, and this time she sounds much more wary about it. Superboy tries to ignore the curl of nausea that blooms in his gut at hearing that tone in her voice, especially over something like–over this. Especially after the careful, careful way that she’d said the same thing when he was in the room with them. 

“They need something of their own to claim, surely,” Wonder Woman murmurs back quietly. “And certainly it could be something worse than recognition of their individual values and an offer of brotherhood from a peer who knows far more of them than he does of their . . . origin points, shall we say. There have been times, without my sisters . . .” 

“I know, just–I know I said he should ask them, but I’m just not sure how well any of them are going to take that idea,” Black Canary admits. “Or–any of this. Just . . . they’re kids, Diana. Kids with names and lives and extremely close and extremely intense bonds that just aren’t theirs. Parents and families and mentors and whole lives that just–and it’s not even that they’re not real lives, just that they’re not real for them. This is like . . . it’s like . . .” 

“Being orphaned,” Batman says quietly, and Superboy startles mid-step. He’s gotten pretty far from them–far for his hearing, anyway–but he didn’t even hear Batman come into the room. 

“Yes,” Black Canary agrees, sounding pained. “At least Superboy . . . the kids encouraging him to become his own person has let him have relationships. Let him make his own choices out from under Cadmus’s thumb and experience the world as a real thing and for himself. With these three, though . . .” 

“It’s going to feel like rejection to them,” Batman says. Superboy would call his tone neutral, except . . . 

Batman’s voice sounds like it usually sounds, when it’s “neutral”. It sounds like it should be neutral. Like it’s supposed to be. 

But it’s just . . . not. 

Batman’s upset, Superboy realizes, and stops in his tracks. Looks down at the floor; his pants, his boots; the blood-red symbol on his chest that he’s never quite had the right to wear but has never quite been able to make himself let go of either, not in all these months since waking up for the first time. He remembers July 5th; remembers crawling up out of the rubble of Cadmus with the others–not knowing they weren’t the same “others” that they’d all thought they were at the time–and being so overwhelmed by how much everything outside his pod had been. He remembers their voices, and what they’d told him–before they were them, and after. 

And he remembers . . . he remembers his brothers fulfilling a promise to him that they hadn’t known they hadn’t even made. Hadn’t known wasn’t their responsibility to fulfill. 

But they’d done it, even though it wasn’t even their promise. 

He knows they hadn’t known that then, obviously, but . . . 

But it’s something he can’t help thinking matters, anyway. 

At least, it matters to him.

[chaotic-orphan]

Hey! I've just read your defiant leader x confident villain story and HOLY SHIT is it good. I love the personalities that you've given the characters, and how the villain doesn't really want to hurt the leader and is trying to ignore all of their feeling. Ugh!

I would love it if you could write more of the story. I have a feeling there's a lot more twists and turns on the horizon 👀✨

Defiant Leader x Confident Villain (5)

Read part one here

Continued from here

Guys… i am so sorry to everyone who has requested more parts for this series… it has taken literally months, I am only finished now because I queued it when I discovered it again! I am very sorry, it is an active WIP again!! I hope you enjoy!

TW: NEEDLES

~*~*~*~*~*~

Leader woke to the door of his room opening. He was still sitting in the chair in the room where Supervillain left him. The last thing he remembered was staring at the wall to pass the time, limbs still tied down tightly. Sometimes, when he was feeling adventurous, he’d glare down at the hammer that mangled his hand, but even that got boring. He didn’t realise he fell to sleep until he was waking up with the click of the lock in the door.

He didn’t have time to wake up, so his mind shot alert, clearing the fog that usually came with waking suddenly. He felt his body come alive at the thoughts of Supervillain coming to destroy his other hand. His limbs were asleep but still Leader made a fist with his free hand trying to get feeling back into it just in case.

What he could do to fight against Supervillain he didn’t know, but… but who was he kidding?! Supervillain seemed to smash every bone in his good hand, his strong hand, his punching hand.

Leader wanted to cry out as he tried to make a fist with his hand on instinct, but swallowed the cry to a sharp hiss as loud, quick footsteps thundered behind Leader’s chair and they froze.

Those footsteps were unmistakable, and there was only one set. A swift slap to the back of the head and Leader let out a startled: “ow!”

“You deserve more than that, you fucking idiot!” Villain hissed, coming to stand in front of Leader, setting a doctor’s bag down on the floor in front of Leader and dropping to one knee, unzipping it. “What were you thinking, pissing Supervillain off, Leader? Do you know how difficult you are making everything for me?”

“How about you just let me go and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Villain jerked their head up, piercing gaze furious and accusing. “Would you? Be out of my hair?” Villain challenged. Leader was the first to look away, and Villain scoffed, before dipping their head again and searching through the bag beside him. “Yeah. Thought so.”

“Villain… I…” Leader began, searching for the words to express themselves, but none came, and Villain didn’t seem to be in the mood to hear them even if they did somehow miraculously find the words to defend themselves. “Look, you don’t have to keep coming to my rescue.”

“Clearly I do,” Villain ground out, accusing eyes finding Leader’s again. “If you keep riling Supervillain up, Leader, he will kill you. I’m not fucking around. He will murder you, but you won’t die quickly. It will be long, drawn out, torturous.”

Leader’s brows lowered over their eyes, hooding the sockets in shadow. “I know that, Vil.”

“I don’t think you do!”

Leader’s eyes widened at the intensity colouring Villain’s voice, the slight fear in their eyes as they spoke. It was almost… desperate, almost helpless. Villain scoffed and looked away, running a hand through their hair, pulling slightly at the end of the strands.

Leader frowned. “Villain… what’s that look?”

Villain didn’t answer right away but a million different thoughts seemed to flash across his expression— doubt, fear, disgust anxiety. Every time Villain opened their mouth to speak they seemed to pause, chew their words, search for a better way to say what they wanted to tell Leader.

Eventually a grim resolution moulded their features and they looked at Leader again instead of through them.

“Supervillain,” Villain began hesitantly not quite meeting Leader’s gaze, and instead running a nervous hand through their hair. “He didn’t exactly trust me when I wanted to join his side so he devised a sort of… test, or trial run and he gave me the job he thought I would run away scared from.”

Villain risked a glance at Leader’s expression, then let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of their nose, rocking back on their heels.

“It’s not something I’m proud of but I had to prove myself and if I didn’t do it someone else would have—”

“It’s okay, Vil,” Leader told them. Startled eyes found Leader’s and Villain’s expression softened slightly, shoulders losing tension. “Go on.”

“He made me the interrogator… or that’s what he called it, he made me his torturer,” Villain said quietly and it was as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. Leader stared at Villain, studying their face. Villain let out a shaky breath. “Every Hero we captured, or enemy someone brought in I would take care of them. Get information, work the confessions out of them, or just make them suffer— whatever Supervillain told me to do.”

Villain licked their lips, their eyes looking down to their hands before continuing.

“That’s not even the worst part, Leader,” Villain continued, tightening their hands into fists. They raised their head, gaze steeled and said: “The worst part was that I was good at it.”

Leader would rather Villain pick up the hammer and smash their other hand, or every single bone in their body rather than tell them this. Rather than this be true, because Villain wasn’t… Villain couldn’t— Villain… it felt like all air was robbed from their chest as they stared at Villain and for the first time since they came, Leader finally saw Villain.

They saw how much Villain changed. The little moments that were shining through of the old Villain were only that. Fleeting moments. Villain looked the same, although they had a new haircut and a crueller smirk. They carried themselves a little taller, but they looked like Leader’s Villain, but there was something now that seemed to finally let Leader see the real Villain.

The new Villain.

As if a blindfold had just been taken off Leader’s eyes.

Villain looked older, not by much but they had a less innocence in their eyes. Instead they were hard, certain kernels of experience. They didn’t just carry themselves taller, Villain had a new confidence about them as if they had finally found their calling. As if they were born to be a Villain, to be an… interrogator.

Villain’s expression softened and they turned away, letting out a shaky laugh. “You hate me now, don’t you?”

“Not even a little bit,” Leader said without hesitation. Villain let the shock show across their face as they met Leader’s eyes again.

Leader forced their resolve to show on their face, as sure as anything. “You did what you felt you had to do, Vil,” Leader continued softly. “You did what I always knew you could: you survived everything that life threw at you. How could I hate you for that?”

Villain looked so vulnerable in that moment, and Leader wished that they had seen it sooner. They wished they noticed how lost Villain was within the team, how sad they were. Always lashing out, always a little more distant and reserved.

“I should have done more, Vil,” Leader said and Villain rocked back on their heels, shaking their head side to side. They opened their mouth to reply but Leader beat them to it. “No, I should’ve, I’m sorry you felt like you had to leave the team. I’m sorry about the way things ended… I— I miss you, if I’m honest. But sometimes…”

The words were rushing out of Leader’s mouth now, all emotion. “Sometimes when we start out life presents us with opportunities and we just go along with them because, well, what other option do we have? But you… I’ve never seen you more alive, more at peace. You really seem to have found your place in the world Villain and I couldn’t be more happy for you.”

“You can’t say that, Leader,” Villain whispered.

Leader laughed. “Says who?”

Villain frowned. “We are enemies, we’re on the opposing sides. We can’t— there is no world where we’re friends.”

“Just because I don’t agree with you, Villain, doesn’t mean I don’t know you. I don’t still care for you, that the years we shared mean nothing.”

“It does,” Villain protested. “It has too.”

Leader leaned forward in their chair. “If it does, then what the hell are you here for, Villain?”

The question was like a slap of reality that stunned Villain for a moment before they sighed. They glanced down to the bag they brought in and rummaged through it, pulling out a small black case and flicking it open.

Inside was a needle and a small bottle of something. Villain reached in and grabbed the needle. Villain reached into the bag and drew out two medical gloves and slide them onto their hands, snapping the band at the end of one and grinning up at Leader.

It unnerved Leader a little as they stared down at the bottle, trying to read whatever it was Villain was so happy about showing them. Now with the knowledge that Villain was the resident torturer.

Not that it was particularly news to Leader. When rumours started circulating about Supervillain’s new vicious agony agent it was Rogue who brought the idea of Villain to Leader’s attention. Rogue ran with other people before Leader; heroes, vigilantes, villains… probably the one with the most contacts across the city.

“How certain are you?” Leader asked them.

Rogue shrugged one shoulder. “I trust contact with my life. They’re not the gossiping type.”

Leader didn’t show it then, but the thought, the very possibility that it could have been Villain terrified them. How wrong did they go with Villain to make them want to hurt people? But looking at them now, Leader couldn’t help but see the same Villain they had always known. Maybe just more grown up and sure of themselves. The way they were working so deftly with the needle and vial. Drawing some liquid into the needle and spurting it back out again to re-draw.

They smiled up at Leader once they were satisfied and started rubbing Leader’s hand with cotton balls covered in rubbing alcohol. Leader hissed jerking their arm back, but Villain continued as if Leader was sitting quiet as a mouse.

“I know, but you gotta hurt to get better. No pain no gain, right?” Villain asked with a grin. Leader smothered their anxiety at that grin. Villain’s old reassuring grin, the same one they wore before they ran recklessly from the group to defend them. When they directly disobeyed Leader’s orders to intercept their enemies before it was time.

Now, it wasn’t any of that. It was reassuring and light, so Leader nodded and set their jaw into a tight line as Villain smoothed the skin on Leader’s hand. Leader clenched their teeth as their bone rubbed off bone.

“Okay, this will hurt.”

That was all the warning Leader got before Villain plunged the needle into their hand. Leader jolted forwards, swallowing a scream to a mewling whine in the back of their throat instead.

They felt the liquid being injected into their hand, it was a strange sensation but not one that was unfamiliar. Once Villain had thumbed down the plunger and injected all of the liquid they pulled it out gently. They replaced it with a cotton pad the dab the blood away.

Leader stared at Villain. “Okay. That actually wasn’t that bad,” Leader told them.

Villain grimaced. “Leader, that was the easy part.”

Leader frowned and then the pain came. It was a simmering kind of burning at first and Leader’s wide eyes shot to Villain’s.

“Vil… what is this? What is this?” They rushed out, gasping between the questions.

“It’s okay, Leader. It just resets the bones in your hand.”

“It what?” Leader shrieked, closing their eyes as they felt their bones start to move in their hand.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Leader cried as their hand ignited in agony. They gasped and shot forward as far as the ropes would allow them, their neck muscles straining as they tried to not scream but their hand was on fire.

“Hey, Leader. It’s okay, I know. I know.” Leader only very distantly heard Villain whispering assurances and comforting words to them as they writhed beneath the ropes.

“Villain!” Leader gasped, throwing their head back as a guttural scream was torn from their throat. Leader kicked out and tried to buck themselves out of the chair but the ropes just remained firm as Leader screamed louder than they ever have before. The pain ricocheted from their hand — where their bones were moving and mending under their skin — all the way to their shoulders and then deeper into their chest.

It was too much.

Stars burst behind their eyes as they felt their bones crack into place.

Villain was speaking to them. Lips moving but Leader couldn’t hear a word they said. Villain’s eyes widened as Leader let the blackness swallow them, the last thing they saw was Villain lurching from their crouch.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (tag-list, lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @nameless-beanie @aarika-merrill @criohfreeze @bandnbookbag @gala1981 @theonewithallthefixations @libellule888 @cardboardarsonist @shywhumpauthor r @written-by-jayy @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @whump-is-love-whump-is-life @icarusignite @shirtzip @honeyed-euphrates @shameless-dumbass @dutifullykrispyland @starlight-hope @thatlittlefirestarter

[sentientcave]

Wildflowers and Honey

IT'S WIP WEDNESDAY BAYBEEE and you know what that means! It means I've ignored the projects I planned on working on and started working on a semi-historical omegaverse fic instead. Because I haven't written one before I obviously had to make it extra difficult on myself by making it a low-key Western. No blockers for scents or heats we are just out here rawdogging life.

We can blame this on @dragonnarrative-writes tbh, making me want to write omegaverse. But we're HERE now and we're having FUN with it. As per usual the "reader" is an OC.

You hum noncommittally, tugging your sleeves to make sure you’re as covered as possible. “Are you, um, enjoying living here so far?” you ask, hunting for conversation.

“We sure are,” John says. “It gets better all the time. You ladies want to come in for tea? Ain’t got nothing fancy, no one’s made a habit of callin’ on us yet. We’ll be better prepared next time.”

“We’d love to,” Sarah says cheerfully. “Let me just take Nosy to the pond for a drink.” She unhooks the horse quickly, and leads her away, leaving you standing beside the cart, the four alphas all studying you openly.

“Come on in, then.” John steps in beside you, and gently steers you toward the house, his hand pressed against your lower back. Up close, there’s a warm touch of whiskey in his scent. You clamp down on the instinct to lean in closer. You just have to be polite until Sarah’s satisfied that you’ve met your neighbours. They seem nice enough, but you can’t help but feel like a plump little rabbit surrounded by dogs.

The feeling only intensifies when you step inside. You would expect a building that houses four alphas would be overwhelming, maybe even unpleasant, but you’re hit but a combination of heady scents that make your knees weak. Sourdough bread and sweet fruit and spices, honeysuckle, citrus, that warm tobacco and whiskey that clings to John’s skin, faint traces of leather and wood smoke and spruce and sun-dried cotton. It smells homey.

It’s also surprisingly tidy inside, the floors swept clean, the counters and table scrubbed clean. Kyle pulls a chair out for you, and lifts it right off the ground when he slides it back in. “Sorry,” he says when you squeak, but there’s a laugh in his voice, and you suspect he’s not all that sorry. He’s the one that smells like spices, cloves and cardamom, and sweet peach. Something subtle and slightly bitter underneath, like toasted walnut. He makes a low rumbling sound of approval, like he’s just tasted your scent and thinks it’s just as nice.

Soap tosses the package onto the table and moves a chair closer, spinning it around so he can lean on the back of it, propping his chin on his folded arms. His blue eyes are sharper than John’s, a brighter, more intense blue. “So, Kitty—”

“I’d prefer Miss Haydon,” you say weakly.

“Not very neighbourly of you.” Simon sits across from you, his foot tapping yours. You slide your feet under your chair and out of the way. “Figure we ought to be friendly, eh?”

“Oh stoppit, ye wee big bastart, yer scarin’ the poor lass. Put yer eyes away.” Soap reaches over and tilts the brim of Simon’s hat down over his eyes, then looks at you with all the bearing of a large, silly dog that wants praise for doing a good job. “So, Kitty,” he continues, like he hadn’t been corrected before. “D’ye need any help around yer farm? We’re almos’ done our big work for the season, except the big drive down to Helena for market. Happy to help oot where we can.”

“Oh, I don’t think my daddy’s gonna want your help,” you say quickly. “It’s a very kind offer, but he won’t abide other alphas in his territory.”

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Can I please request some Mer Roadtrip? Thank you thank you thank you for all the fics!!! I love them all so much!

WIP Wednesday (7/24) | Mer Roadtrip AU (Part 47)

Annoyingly, Abram wasn’t lying about the lack of hot water. When he turns the shower on, he’s blasted with a burst of freezing water fresh off an arctic glacier and curses as he backs away from it. He even tries fiddling with the faucet for a moment, but nothing changes. But while the water is frigid, it’s not salty. And that’s a plus. 

So risking hypothermia, Andrew starts scrubbing himself clean with a bottle of 4-in-1 something or other. Andrew isn’t quite sure what the fourth aspect of it is and he doesn’t want to find out. Whatever it is lathers decently and seems to function as soap. And he’s grateful. After a month of living in the literal sea and however long he was imprisoned in that godforsaken tank… He’s grimy. In fact, he might just have algae growing on his back. And his hair is a tangled-up disgrace.

Unknotting it takes him quite a while, but finally he can run his clawless fingers through it. And that is when he finally decides he’s done. As soon as the water is off, Andrew feels like he’s stepped into a sauna which makes no sense. But the humidity outside is intense and his polar plunge is quickly forgotten.

When he steps out of the shower, Andrew grabs the hopefully clean towel from the counter and starts to dry off. Once he’s done, he wraps the towel around himself and starts to look through Abram's very limited clothing options. Before he can yank out the first item, he hears something and when he looks down, Andrew witnesses Sally the roach skitter out from behind the toilet and his mouth drops open in horror.

“Oh my God.” Andrew says aloud, staring at the creature of nightmares. Suddenly he wishes Abram had a flamethrower in his bag of tricks. Alas, there’s nothing but cheap denim and ugly polyester inside. So Andrew ignores the roach and she ignores him, for the most part. Though she does wiggle her antennae at him when he lets the towel drop to the floor.

“Not interested, Sally. Go away.” Andrew says, pulling on a pair of navy green cargo shorts. They’re a bit tighter than Andrew would like, but you know what they say about choosing beggars.

Once his bottom half is covered, Andrew roots through the bag for a shirt and eventually comes back with a light gray long-sleeved t-shirt. After a bit of consideration, he pulls that on as well and zips up the duffle bag before swiftly exiting the bathroom and making sure to leave Sally trapped inside.

[markerofthemidnight]

Abstracted Heart, Mind and Soul

Art I kinda pushed out of an AU/concept that I need someone to write for me because I have too many WIPs.

I call this the “Abstraction AU” (unrelated to the Amazing Digital Circus, but does share some similarities), and here’s how it works:

The Basics

Inspired by Core Suppressions from Lobotomy Corporation

Basically, whenever one of the three undergoes extreme stress, they “Abstract” into one of these forms

The Headspace basically stops working the way it’s supposed to until the transformation is reversed: the way it’s affected depends on who’s Abstracting

The transformation only wears off once the side passes out: which sounds like it would result in a big boss fight or something

BUT, luckily for them, since Abstracting is basically letting out all your emotions and strength and fighting with all you’ve got, it is EXHAUSTING

so once it’s happened they’re typically not conscious for any more than an hour

Contrary to what you might guess at first, the side is still “themselves” while Abstracting: it’s just difficult to tell since the stress that causes the transformation also makes them act irrational and overly violent

Despite this, post-transformation, the side typically doesn’t have memories of what happened during the fight… until a few hours after waking up

It can happen to the same person more than once, but to Abstract for the first time you have to be pushed PARTICULARLY far

After that it gets a bit easier for it to happen again, like you’ve given into your inner monster

To further emphasise that, they all get “battle scars” from their first time Abstracting that stay with them for the rest of their lives

And to go into what the first time abstracting was like for each individual:

Heart

Abstraction is usually caused by intense stress.

While this is still true in Heart’s case, since being emotional is his job description, he needs to be pushed further than the others in order to Abstract

(because if that wasn’t the case, he would Abstract all the time)

Anyways, his first time probably came after days on end of extreme trauma

Specifically, trauma that neither Mind nor Soul did anything to try and stop

He likely Abstracted out of view from the others, and they didn’t even notice until Soul was like ��wait why isn’t my trident working”

As Heart is… the heart of the Headspace, when he Abstracts, magic stops working there

His design was obviously based off of biblically accurate angels, as well as a Beholder from DND but without eyes so it would look like a heart

You’d think he’d be biased towards Mind while like that, but no- he goes after Soul.

He expected Mind to ignore him, but Soul? It’s his job to make sure things are alright with him, so why’d he just abandon him?

Even without the benefit of the Trident, though, I imagine Abstracted Heart wouldn’t be all too difficult for them to take down if they really tried their best, so he goes down rather quickly

After he wakes up, his head’s basically just in one big blur for a while until the memories start to come back

Then he just starts shaking and hugging them while constantly muttering apologies (even though he still has EVERY RIGHT to be mad)

”Battle scars” take the form of purple(-er) wings, fangs and a halo

Mind

Mind’s is a pretty different case

While his was also caused by days of repeated trauma, as Abstractions tend to be, his problem is that he kept trying to bottle it up and only started to show even the tiniest cracks just before the transformation

(after all, I don’t think they’d take a chance like that again after what happened with Heart)

He likely Abstracted right in front of Heart and Soul

His design was based off of UFOs, obviously, as well as a brain and spine. The eyelashes are meant to look like the sun’s rays

When he Abstracts, all laws of physics in the Headspace basically stop working and the place gets even weirder than normal

Despite having the advantage of Soul’s trident this time, taking him down is a lot harder since he’s metal: the key is to tire him out

When he wakes up after the fact, he’s even more of an asshole than usual, but mainly because he’s still tired and stressed

He gets all quiet once the memories start to come back to him though, like he feels bad about attacking them so violently but doesn’t really know how to express it

”Battle scars” take the form of rhombus-shaped pupils and back spikes

Soul

If you’re a time loop fan, then Soul Abstracting is typically what restarts the loop

He was designed to be the most humanoid to show that he was the closest to Whole, with three heads because… you know why

When he Abstracts, he fuses with his trident, the Headspace becomes black and white, and starts slowly to fall apart

Heart and Mind do not stand a CHANCE in this fight, hence why his Abstraction is inevitably what restarts the loop

However, if by some chance they lasted long enough for things to go back to normal, I imagine Soul would be… surprisingly nice after going back to normal

It’s like finally letting it all out made him calm down a bit. He’s still pretty awkward around them, but better than you might think

Even when the memories come back, sure he kinda shuts himself in for a bit and avoids talking about it, but he’s not as closed off as Mind is

Battle scars take the form of his right eye becoming normal (as in not identical to his left eye as seen in the art), and the left side of his face being covered in black (to match his face in his Abstracted form)

[ariadynamics]

Once upon a time, I had this Maxiel WIP where Daniel wrote a tell-all book, but then I kind of forgot about it. Then I was thinking about what to write for @danifesting's tiny fic/holiday card, and suddenly I couldn't get that WIP out of my head.

I ended up writing a little more from that universe for Ali, and honestly, I think I actually want to flesh this out and write the full fic??? Anyway, for Ali, who is one of the best, kindest, most wonderful friends I know 💜.

You probably don't need to read the first little bit before reading this, but it's short, anyway!

// Maxiel

There’s a clear distinction between couldn’t and wouldn’t. Still, from how Max clutches the stack of papers in his hands, his knuckles red, burgeoning on purple, Daniel knows it’s not the time to pick apart his words. 

He allows the thought to sit in his chest momentarily before pursing his lips and letting out a soft sigh.

It had never been about his willingness--or unwillingness, from Max’s point of view--to love Max. That Daniel would grow to love Max, would fall in love with Max in a way that shuts the door on other people fully and with deafening finality? That had never been a question.

Max, for Daniel, had been inevitable.

Daniel couldn’t love Max, though. Certainly not then, not when Daniel was still driving and had been so determined to prove to the world that he was someone at the expense of it all--even himself. The Daniel then couldn’t be queer; he couldn’t be interested in men. And he certainly couldn’t be interested in his fucking teammate. 

He feels two sharp tugs at his sweater.

“Uncle Danny?” Issac asks with a slight hesitation in his voice. 

Daniel blows out a breath, dragging the biggest smile he could muster to the surface. “It’s all right, Issac. Why don’t you head on out, yeah? Tell your Mum I probably won’t be coming for supper tonight.”

Issac looks at him, worried. “Are you sure, Uncle Danny?” 

“I’m all good here, I promise,” Daniel says, ruffling the top of Issac’s hair. He gives Max a tired grin. Daniel doesn’t know whether it’s good or bad that Max hasn’t taken his eyes off him at all. “It’s not like Max here will kill me, yeah? We’re just going to catch up.”

His nephew doesn’t look convinced, but after giving Max another once over, Issac nods, grim. “If you get chopped up into pieces, I’m getting your dirt bike collection,” he says before nudging past Max, straight out the door and making a beeline towards the front gates.

“He’s a little intense,” Daniel says, shrugging. He won’t apologize for Issac, not when he still doesn’t know why Max is even here. “Come in; you must be exhausted.” Daniel turns around, walking towards the kitchen, not looking back to see if Max had followed him.

He tries to ignore the relief that pools at the pit of his stomach when he hears the light scuffling of Max’s shoes behind him.

Rummaging through his fridge, Daniel pulls out a carton of orange juice and a water bottle. “You must be thirsty,” he starts, pouring Max a glass. “I’m afraid I’m not fully stocked up yet. Just got here from--”

“I didn’t come here for a fucking drink,” Max interrupts, jaw set. 

Daniel can’t help but mirror Max’s tone. “Why the hell did you come here, then?”

“Did you love me?” Max asks instead of answering, his voice cracking at the edges. “Before.”

His first instincts tell him to run, but Daniel plants his feet harder on the ground. He’s done with running. This time, Daniel wants roots. “Which time?”

Max slams his papers on the kitchen island, the first few loose pages on the top of the heap scattering to the floor. “What the fuck does that even mean? What do you mean ‘which time’?” he asks, shaking. “After you won in Monaco, after I told you how I felt about you. When the fuck else? Are you saying you loved me at any other point in time?” Max spits out the last bit with venom, almost making Daniel recoil.

“Yes,” he says, quiet, but firm. Daniel carefully gathers the papers, squaring them up neatly. He pushes them to the side, making sure there’s nothing on the counter between them. “And yes. Every time, Max.”

[sibylsleaves]

wip wednesday

tagged by @devirnis & @exhuastedpigeon

more from the second chapter of some things fall, brought to you by my sudden and intense headcanon that The Departed is one of Tommy's favorite movies (and uh...spoilers for the movie I guess?):

And then there’s the other thing Eddie can’t ignore. The thing that digs its claws into Eddie’s chest when Buck is complaining to Eddie about the movie Tommy made him watch the night before.  “Tommy says it’s one of his all-time favorite movies but honestly, I can not understand why. Everyone gets killed by the end, it was so depressing! Except that one guy, who I think was in that terrible horror movie about plants Chim made us watch during quarantine?” Buck says. “I mean, I guess the acting was pretty good.” Even as he’s complaining, though, Buck has this sparkling, smitten look on his face. Like Tommy’s questionable taste in movies is just another thing to love about him. Not that Buck loves Tommy. Eddie doesn’t think. But he could get there—and soon. Eddie had said as much when he’d told Tommy that Buck loves easily.

tagging @transboybuckley @homerforsure @housewifebuck (consider this your daily reminder to finish OnlyFans Buck!) @spaceprincessem @colonoscopys

@djdangerlove @littlespoonevan @elvensorceress @bucktommys @iinryer

@smallandalmosthonest @messyhairdiaz @eddiebabygirldiaz @burnthatbridge @clusterbuck

[imogenkol]

— WIP WEDNESDAY

getting the jump on this week’s wip wednesday hoping it motivates me 🤞

during Bix’s recovery post-ferrix, her and Imogen share a bit of an old ritual

“May I?” Imogen asked as she motioned towards her. 

It took a moment for Bix to understand what she was asking permission for, but once she realized Imogen offered assistance with her frustratingly unkempt hair, the mechanic gave a quiet nod. 

Bix always approached her thick, unruly hair with a wide-toothed comb rather than a brush. It prevented the curls from poofing out like a cloud of smoke. Just a few passes through the strands after she woke up tamed her hair enough to braid. Imogen – with her straight silky hair – seemed to know this. Without a comb worthy of the job on hand, she carefully ran her fingers over Bix’s scalp to loosen the tangles. To receive such warm, gentle touches caused Bix to shut her eyes and drink it in as her shoulders involuntarily slumped with a quiet exhale. 

A moment of peace. A moment of genuine comfort.

Then Imogen parted her hair down the middle, sectioning it off over both of her shoulders. She started with the left side first. Bix slowly opened her weary eyes to observe the bounty hunter’s hands begin to methodically part her hair into three more sections before she weaved the strands. 

The pattern was simple, nowhere near the intricate weave that Bix used to practice nearly every single morning before she opened the yard, but the fact Imogen knew how to braid at all kind of surprised her. Bix had never seen her hair in any style even resembling that of a braid, even when it had been pinned back. 

With a small leather cord, Imogen tied off the first braid and went to work on the other. Bix took a few moments to study her like she never has before. The crease between her eyebrows had relaxed despite the utter focus in the woman’s intense, steel gray eyes. Bix followed the angle of her nose down to her slightly parted lips. She missed their softness. She missed the way her breath would come rushing out between them. 

A part of her wondered if she would ever get to feel them the way she has always longed to feel them – tenderly, lovingly, without reservation. Bix wanted a kiss that felt the way Imogen’s hands did running through her hair.

“I hope that is… sufficient,” Imogen announced in an almost bashful tone once she leaned back.

Bix blinked out of her stupor and glanced down at the finished braids. While they were not done by her own hand, they would have served her well enough on a work day. Imogen’s efforts made her feel a little bit more… herself, however fleeting that feeling may be. “Thank you.”

“I admit it has been quite some time since I have braided.” 

“Where’d you learn how?” 

Imogen went still. Bix caught the subtle twitch of her upper lip that would happen whenever she struck a nerve, only now it hadn’t been intentional. She expected the bounty hunter to ignore the question at best and retaliate with a bitter retort at worst, but Imogen instead met her gaze and the twitch turned into a small smile. 

“I once wore one. A small braid over my right shoulder.” She pulled forward a strand of hair from behind her ear as if to show the mechanic the nonexistent braid she spoke of. Bix could still picture what it might have looked like. Now that Imogen described it, she thought perhaps she recalled tales told in her early childhood of young Jedi wearing such braids. “Of course, the rest of my hair was much shorter then. All the way above my shoulders. I hated it.”

Bix let out a short, amused breath. However, unlike Imogen, she found herself rather fond of the mental image she had painted in her mind — that of a young girl with short hair and a braid over her right shoulder, scowl present, those cold eyes as striking as a bolt of lightning.

tag list (ask to be added or removed!):

@adelaidedrubman @florbelles @tommyarashikage @simonxriley @voidika

@kyberinfinitygems @voidbuggg @inafieldofdaisies @statichvm @socially-awkward-skeleton

@aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree

@cassietrn @jackiesarch @a-treides @shellibisshe @loriane-elmuerto

@katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @g0dspeeed

@strangefable @jacobseed

[tracle0]

happy storyteller saturday! colour wip and prophet story obviously deal with intense and tumultuous sibling relationships... are there any other significant sets of siblings in your stories? what about sibling relationships appeals to you from a writerly perspective? :3

Happy STS and happy vacation to you specifically :)

,,,, yknow,,, what's crazy,,, is I didn't even realise how heavy sibling relationships feature in my stories until you sent this. Hm. Hmmm!!!

I will say Theo/Cain, Red/Elan and Brighton/Bernadette are the most significant sibling sets - TSS also has Andy/Abelia (dead) and Dolly/Olly, but they're not as heavy a theme? Just around. Hanging out, yknow?

I have no idea what draws me to sibling relationships. I suppose there's something about the 'I hate you more than anyone else in the world. I would die for you' outlook is fascinating to me. See how far it can be pushed until someone snaps. See how it can be corrupted. See if it can be corrupted. See how you can ignore the love until it's too late, and then mourn so furiously.

Cough, cough.

I guess? Maybe? I do it a lot because uh. I've got a fair few siblings! Four of them, in fact! Whole range of siblings to contest with and manage and reflect on.

[xxnashiraxx]

WIP Whenever!

Thank you for tagging me @khywren !!! 🖤🩷🖤🩷

I have some more crumbs for Chapter 8 of With Stars to Fill My Dream, coming out Sunday!

This is the more fun, less anger fueled section of the chapter. Heavy emphasis on the word fun! (Fun fact, long ago I posted a snippet of this exact passage, but much has changed since then!)

Rather than being able to hear and see his thoughts manifest, his vampiric connection threads their emotions together like a silken tapestry of color. A pretty blend of red, orange, and green blooms like fireworks against a dark sky, dazzling behind her eyelids. She isn’t sure if it’s him, or her, or the both of them, but god it’s beautiful. It courses through her until the tingling starts, cruising up and down her nervous system to burn her core and singe her fingertips. She’s never felt a desire this intense, not even on her own. It’s all-consuming, raging like a fire where before she’d been submerged in ice.

As her tears start to dry on her cheeks, she slips a hand from covering her mouth to instead tentatively thread through his curls. His hair is soft, cool like lace as it tickles her knuckles. He doesn’t seem to mind, and she gently scrapes her nails over his scalp, earning a thrust of his hips. She gasps and her vision sparks, his hands moving to her waist to clench tightly as she bites back a crude moan. The usual voice of reason in her head is being uncharacteristically silent, and she can’t help but yield to instinct in its place.

The fingers of her other hand move up to his neck, softly pressing her palm over his Adam's apple, and she’s lulled into a trance by the rhythmic bobbing of every swallow. She can’t see his face, but she can feel a smile in the shape of his lips on her skin and it burns her cheeks, making her shiver and sigh into the night air

My people! I am tagging you again, and I'm sorry if it's twice. Please ignore if so!

@preciouslittlebhaalbae @ladyduellist @verbenaa @inkymoonbunny @justabiteofspite @sashitf

[katkat030]

you 🤝 me

not being normal abt the dbhc au

YEAH. LITERALLY. Define normal because I sure as heck am NOT it. My gosh is the DBHC Ethubs brainrot strong.

sooooo as promised, quotes from my DBHC Ethubs wip :D (Edit: yeah so uh. that got a bit out of hand)

I’m the most happy with these and they probably won’t change too much when it comes time to put together the “donefinalfinal2.0take3” draft as I’m prone to naming things lol

#1

There’s a fond tilt to his lips as he cards his fingers through Bdubs’ hair, the sensation of the strands slipping through his fingers and the weight of the head pillowed on his chest grounding. It feels right, just so, a surety that seeps into his bones and nestles there. With Bdubs curled up on the grass beside him, face turned outwards and the sleepy smile tugging at his expression just barely peeking out from beneath the arm thrown over his eyes, the irony isn’t lost on him.

Dbhc Etho isn’t human, as much as he’s feeling and acting like one ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ so there’s a little nugget of angst there.

for context, they’re lying in the sun - it’s set around early season 10, maybe around when Bdubs plants the forest around his area. Seeing as Etho was made for terraforming and gardening, it would only make sense for him to be helping Bdubs out with it.

Anyway. Spending a long day in the heat to dig holes, place saplings in them and cover them over again is pretty physically intensive. So Bdubs, being Bdubs, is tired and just wants to lie in the sunshine for a bit. Who’s to say Etho doesn’t join him (he does) (Bdubs ends up lying his head on Etho’s chest)

(there’s some serious angst potential here. Bdubs missed his uh, friend, when he wasn’t around before redeviating. Maybe he cries about it. Maybe Etho has some feelings about that)

#2

“Hey, you,” Bdubs murmurs, nose crinkling as his face stretches into a yawn, shifting the arm thrown over his eyes to open them for a few seconds and squint up at where Etho stands, blocking the rays of late-afternoon sunlight.

“Hey yourself, ‘Dubs,” he replies, unable to help the amusement creeping into his tone. Unregistered emotion detected, the notification flashes, which he ignores in favour of stuffing his hands into his pockets, raising an eyebrow at where Bdubs lies spread-eagled on the ground by his feet, well-worn soil stained gloves discarded and cast off to the side. “What ‘cha up to?” 

An incoherent “Mm” is all he gets in response, and it’s a conscious effort not to huff with laughter. The half-hearted glare from Bdubs proves the challenge impossible.

He could absolutely make a game of annoying Bdubs, Etho decides, mentally noting the thought and storing it to contemplate later. “I finished fixing your saplings,” is what he opts for instead, this time receiving a longer and slightly more coherent mumble he takes to mean as a thank you, and not a get your shadow away from me as it was likely intended.

“What was that?” He teases, putting a hand to his ear and leaning down slightly, blocking the sun further. “Is it past your bedtime?” 

Bdubs scowls as a breeze sweeps past, and had Etho been human he’d be completely caught off guard as the other reaches up to yank his arm. As it is he makes a show of stumbling, catching himself before using the connection to pivot and flop down besides Bdubs on the grass, greeted by Bdubs blinking blearily up at him, one eye open and the other shut against the brightness once again unobscured by Etho’s figure. 

“If you’re going to sit here, at least lie down, for goodness’ sakes,” he grumbles, but there’s no real heat behind the words. He resolutely ignores the way Bdubs’ touch lingers on his arm before falling back to his side. Unregistered emotion, the warning flashes. He ignores that, too.

formatting on mobile is incredibly time consuming but we got there in the end :’D

(This takes place earlier in the story than the first quote but shh)

anyway! I It’s far from finished and none of this is fully edited, so there’ll probably be changes in the future!

I hope you like it <333

for anyone not familiar with the au: it’s not mine, I’m simply writing a fanfic on it - go check out Shepscapades’ master post :) the art is absolutely incredible and I cannot recommend the entire thing enough

please do not repost my writing. Everyone is always welcome to reblog though ;)

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

WIP Wthursday

meant to post yesterday and then forgot bc of who i am as a person so, whoops. anyway, current state of affairs

embroidery:

absolutely 0 progress on the Hermit since i last posted it in like mid september. whoops. i WILL finish this thing by veilguard i swear but for some reason it's just grueling every step of the way. meanwhile, i'm banging out this mini version of The Tower in like 4 days. I want to post the pattern/thread colors I made for my big design, but i feel guilty selling a pattern for a piece where i hand-dyed at least 5 of the colors involved. So I'm making a second version with only commercially available colors as an alternative (and a slightly less saturated background), and I'll include both color guides as options.

haven't made any new digital designs/patterns since the last one of the qunari dialogue symbol. considering making a new one for another piece of art to copy out, but currently unclear on how to get the proportions for the frame accurately copied into photoshop because I want to try an oval frame instead of circular so... yeah. we'll see.

writing:

went digging through my old WIPs folder and found a k!meme prompt fic for Lavellan getting hit by a truth spell that I'd basically almost finished and then just... completely forgot about I guess? it's a silly premise and under 15k so it must have just poofed from my brain when I moved and lost track of all my then-projects.

           Just the memory sends a flush down the back of her neck, her heartbeat skipping inside her chest like a stone over water. She can almost feel it, even here, her legs aching after a days of travel. The warmth of his body against hers in the cold air of the mountains. The unexpected passion of their kiss, the pressure of his lips crushing against her own, driving all other thoughts from her mind.             The way just beforehand he’d still hesitated, almost tearing himself away.             That’s the real problem, she thinks to herself, as she tries to ignore the wet slapping noise the drenched fabric of her robes makes with every step. She just can’t reconcile the intensity of his words with the way he keeps drawing himself back again. Every time she considers making another move, she can’t help but think that maybe it will be what convinces him she’s not worth the trouble after all.             Ar lath ma, he’d told her, despite it all.             She has no idea how to respond to something like that.

the first two and final chapters are entirely finished, while 3/4 are more disjointed segments that need some fleshing out. but i'll probably just go ahead and post the first bit soon because why not. maybe that'll push me to clean it up faster. i'll also be honest. half of this fic is like... the prompt premise, and the other half is just. me wishing i was out backpacking. i wrote it the summer of lockdowns when i went from working outside 5 days a week to bedroom WFH prison, and its funny rereading now like. oh yeah so i was going fully insane about not being the one camping myself, huh.

Anyway. otherwise I also started another new short thing for my still currently nameless No-Longer-Lavellan from reunion, but it's only a couple hundred words and some vague notes so far. Not sure if I'll turn it into something more polished or leave it as general musings. I wish I could draw better because I have way more concrete visions for visual art for that whole scenario but, alas.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

HIIII not sure if you're still taking wip weekend asks (no if not feel free to ignore this, no feelings hurt i promise)

BUT if your are, your kast snippet has got me absolutely HOOKED on Tiger Club (Cub? i can't remember exactly atdjydhnxgn)!!!

I didn't get any asks this weekend so I'm super excited you did even though it's Monday 💜💜💜 And tbh I keep mixing the titles up too so it's anyone's guess really lol

This snippet is a direct follow up to my previous post and can be read together. I'm also formatting this on mobile so it might be a hot mess.

They both start towards the car when a tall woman with a dark blonde bob and a pale freckled face steps out of the driver’s seat. She’s wearing a cropped Hozier t-shirt and oversized cotton overalls covered in pins. Eddie notices a small white, pink, and orange flag next to a pin of a cartoon ghost with boobs that says “boooooobies”. He likes her already. Eddie turns to ask Chrissy who this mystery woman is, but it seems he’s not the only one who’s clocked the pins. “You’re not Steve,” Chrissy shouts. She winces as not-Steve arches her brow at the abrupt outburst. “I just mean that Steve has been here every day, and that’s his car, but you’re not Steve. I mean, obviously you’re not Steve, you’re you. Well, you know you’re not Steve, you don’t need me to tell you that.” The silence is incredible. Eddie’s never seen Chrissy this flustered before. Her bambi eyes shine wide and bright, paired with a hot pink flush climbing up to her ears. She’s fiddling with the buttons on her pink pullover cardigan and it seems like she can’t decide if she should stare directly at the woman in front of her or very intensely in absolutely any other direction.

Part 3

[junkieboyfriend]

Stay With Me (WIP) | Excerpt

It was 15:00, Mark was doing the dishes that Simon forgot about, grumbling angrily to himself in the empty flat. 

- If he wasnae gonnae come home the least he could dae is the fookin’ dishes ‘e left. ‘S bad enough Ah’m standin’ ‘ere ‘ay fookin’ 15:00 daein’ the dishes while ‘es oot gettin’ ‘is dick wet. Like Ah dun have needs. Fookin’ prick. 

He heard the fumbling of someone trying to unlock the door but didn’t turn around, instead he focused on the dishes. The door opens and he can hear someone walking in, but continues to ignore it. The footsteps come closer, still Renton doesn't turn his head or acknowledge the man at all. The footsteps stopped a bit closer than Mark expected but he still kept his eyes on the sink. He could feel breath on the back of his neck, he could tell Simon was standing to the right because of how his breath was hitting the back of Mark’s neck. Mark scrubs harder.

Renton stops when he can feel Simon’s hands on his shoulders, but he doesn’t look. He closed his eyes. Simon’s hands snake their way down to his waist and rest there. Mark grips the sink firmly, his eyes still closed as he takes a deep breath. 

“Don’t.”

Simon ignores him, his hands slipping beneath his waistband and resting on his hips. 

“Simon.” Mark says tightly, “Not tonight.”

Mark takes Simon’s hands in his own to stop the touch

“Not-... Not when you smell like her.” Mark couldn’t look at his so-called ‘best mate’

The words felt like a slap across the face, but Simon knew he deserved it.

“Rents-”

Mark covered his face and turned away

“I cannae right now.”

Simon could tell by the way he spoke that he was beginning to cry.

“Mark.” the blond attempted to rest his hand on Mark’s shoulder, but the redhead walked away into his room, 

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, before shutting the door.

Simon slept on the couch that night, he got shtifaced and passed out, because he felt like shit for making Mark cry. He was an asshole, but he didn’t like making Mark cry, at least not when they were having this agreement. He woke up dazed and confused, it was still dark, it didn’t seem to be morning at all. Simon felt weight on him, when his eyes adjusted he saw Mark. The redhead was straddling him, his face was flushed and his eyes looked a bit off. 

“Ye awright, kin?”

Renton looked away coyly, grinning a bit but looking nervous

“Ah didnae mean tae-” he hiccups, “tae wake yewww.”

Simon can smell the vodka on his breath, but more importantly, he could feel Mark pressing against his cock. 

The blond doesn’t challenge Mark, he doesn’t question him, instead he allows the pleasure to consume him. The redhead was grinding on him, both of them in a state of drunken ecstasy; their hearts were racing, almost in time with the other and their breathing going ragged. Simon grabs onto Renton’s hips, his head thrown back as he groans - if Si had to keep his cock contained any longer his erection would surely burst the button on his pants. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Mark, gis us a ride, ye tease.” Simon groaned

“Yis want me tae sit on it?” Renton raised a brow, “Say Ah’m yer favorite.”

Simon grabbed Mark’s chin with one hand, his thumb lightly tracing Mark’s bottom lip, his eyes met Mark’s and they hold a dark intensity to them that made Mark feverish. 

“You’re my favorite.”