#just had to get that off my chest rq lmao

[99snse]

the fact that george santos is still sitting in congress should tell you everything you need to know about the sketch comedy sitcom that is our national government

[mediocreanomaly]

Uncanny Vash HC’s (SFW)

Authors Note: I’m sweating I have so many drafts to get out so I'm going in order, I promise all your ask shall be answered let me feed the creature lovers rq tho- Uncanny Vash is funny and I like to think about weird creature boyfriend, some repeats from the cuddling HC’s because this was already in the works but suck it up buttercup

• I’ll start easy with my “Vash purr’s” propaganda because Vash 100% purrs

•Only thing is he’s not a small animal, he’s a full grown man (plant?) so his purring is a bit different, it’s pretty loud and sounds like a rumbling motor rather than a soft rattle, and often sounds like it comes from every direction. It’s a bit unnerving if you don’t know it’s him making the noise

•It’s still soothing though, especially if your laying on his chest or if he’s laying on you? Let those vibrations sooth you to sleep, Vash happy purring naps are the best

• Staying on the topic of noises, Vash can do that chattering thing cats do. He doesn’t do it unless he’s with people he’s close with but if he’s interested in something you’ll just hear “ack ack ack ack” and turn to see him laser focused on something chittering away

•Vash’s eyes do that animal reflection thing, and it’s honestly terrifying to wake up to at night and although he knows they do this he some how never comprehends how scary it is to see him looking at you in the dark

•I see it like that one south park audio: *Everyone in the dark* Meryl: “Y/N I’m starting to think this is a really bad idea” Milly: “Oh I’m not Y/N, I’m Milly! I thought you were Y/N?” Meryl: “No I’m Meryl” Wolfwood: “You’re Meryl? Where’s Y/N?” Meryl: “Who are you?” Wolfwood: “I’m Wolfwood!” Vash who’s eyes are currently glowing in the dark: “ha ha guess who I am you guys!”

•All of Vash’s proportions are just ever so slightly off, it’s a plant thing, you’ve seen his sisters. This is one that freaks people out because sometimes they notice it but can’t figure out what they are seeing

•Basically: his arms and legs are just a little too long, his fingers stretch a bit too far, his eyes are a little too big, he’s a bit too tall, all stuff that once added up are kind of hard to pick out when your looking at him as a whole, so you know something is off about this man but you just don’t know what...

•Teeth? Teeth. Vash has fangs, in fact most his back teeth starting from his canines are pretty sharp. You don’t really notice unless he yawns and you watch as all his sharp back teeth are flashed in his gaping mouth and- oh he stopped yawning don’t worry about it 

•Vash can drink water with his skin. His sisters have to live in the tanks and take in water through their skin and while Vash prefers to drink like a normal human he can totally dip his hand in anybody of water and it’ll hydrate him. It’s a party trick his does for the group and it freaks Wolfwood out when he drains a cup with his hand

•Vash frog blinks lmao. If he stares at something for too long or is really focused he’ll blink one eye and then the other, he can’t help it

•Speaking of which, Vashes eyes are triple eyelided like a crocodiles, which means he can be asleep and his eyes are wide open. It also means when he frog blinks you can see the other eye lid if you stare hard enough, scares a lot of bar goers who happen to look a bit too closely

•One time Milly had a whole conversation with Vash thinking he was awake but he was not. He was asleep. It’s that damn extra eyelid...if he’s really tired he falls asleep with his eyes open like that. It’s weird.

•He doesn’t keep body heat very well. Maybe it’s due to the fact his sisters live in water but he likes being in the sun to soak up it’s warmth (why else do you think he can wear that coat in the heat?) 

•Vash...if he’s distressed will make this noise. You’ve only heard it once when a city was destroyed and he thought you were dead but...it’s like a howl or animal in pain? It echoed through the entire desert and your body had a visceral reaction to it like it was warning you of a feral animal not to be messed with. When you had stumbled out of the rumble the noise had ended as Vash quickly scooped you up into his arms sobbing telling you never to do that again, it still keeps you up sometimes when you think about it

•Vash...somehow? blends in with his surroundings very well. It’s kind of weird, if he stands still its like...hard to see him? but it shouldn’t be, logically this man in a bright red coat should not be able to be missed but sometimes it’s like your brain forces you not to see him. He knows it freaks people out so he talks with his hands and moves a lot so it doesn't happen

•Feathers! Vash sprouts feathers. Usually it’s when he’s very content or happy although it can happen in extreme distress too. They look like normal bird feathers but they shimmer slightly and they feel weird like they’re made of hair, fern or something softer, Vash is pretty embarrassed about them but it’s super pretty

•Vash sometimes get’s places he shouldn’t be able to get to. Your motel room will be fully locked with no key and you’ll open it to see the blonde on the bed and he’ll just wave like it’s no issue. Trust me don’t ask how he got there

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hi mira i’m going to rq for jjk (gojo specifically) :) kinda inspired by a fic idea of mine so if i see you post it maybe it’ll give me inspo to actually write too LOL — this is also a little long sorry, you can shorten as you wish 😓 maybe it’ll get the brain juices going idk

Y/N was really close to geto (i was thinking siblings but do whatever) and when he turned curse user and left, it made Y/N rethink why she was a sorcerer herself. she believed in geto’s ideals, but seeing his mindset 180 made her question if the same thing would happen to her since she was always weaker-minded than him. so she quit dropped out of the school and gojo never saw her since

skipping to the present, Y/N became a sorcerer again after having a conversation with geto some time before he died. with yuji being sukuna’s vessel, she goes to the school herself and sees gojo (their last convo was actually an argument leaving everything [him] behind). gojo’s just really stubborn, but he’s there when Y/N really needs him. from there they only keep encountering each other until they make up, their feelings are all out on the table, etc. etc.

── CHIAROSCURO

Synopsis: You don’t really know who you are without Suguru Geto. Satoru Gojo doesn’t know who he is without either of you.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo x Reader, Geto & Reader have something less than romantic but more than platonic going on

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warnings: angst, mentions of death, flawed y/n character, major time skips, most plot events happen off screen, characters are probably ooc tbh i haven’t written for jjk in months

A/N: finally finished the first of the requests I’ve received so far!! it ended up being way more geto-centric than i had planned for it to be though i’m so sorry angel 😭 and it was also getting way too long so i decided to end it by just hinting the development of the rest of the story you mentioned LMAO i hope that’s okay 😫

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

Most people grew up with one shadow, but according to your mother, you had lived your entire life with two. The first was the same as the one everyone had, that darkening of the ground in the shape of your figure. The second was the boy who lived next door — or, at least, that was what she told you.

His name was Suguru Geto, and despite his dark features and darker clothing, he had a perpetually sunny demeanor, always quick to offer you a gentle smile whenever you glanced his way. He was polite even when it wasn’t required of him, and though your mother teased you for it, you knew she was secretly grateful for his presence in your life.

The greatest thing Suguru had ever done for you, though, was not teach you manners. It was that he gave you someone to follow. Perhaps it was true that he was your shadow, but it was his in which you cowered when you were frightened, when the brightness of the world was too harsh for your eyes, which, when it came to cruelties and horrors, were as sensitive and new as a child’s.

Suguru was always happy to take on that role. He would stand in front of you, his shoulder blades pinching together as he puffed out his chest and rebuked whichever neighborhood child had dared to tease you. They all ran from him when he was like that, when his brow grew heavy over his eyes and the corners of his mouth twisted into a scowl.

Not you, though. You stayed behind his back, blinking owlishly at the way the others scurried, laughing along when Suguru likened them to mice with a click of his tongue.

Suguru didn’t like those who hurt the ones weaker than them, so you didn’t, either. Suguru thought that the role of the strong was to protect the frail, so you did, too. Whatever Suguru believed, you did as well, because what else was there for you? It was easier for you to hold onto his hand and press against his back, to allow him to tell you where to place your feet, so that there was never even a chance of you falling.

That was why it wasn’t a surprise that, upon Suguru being scouted as a sorcerer, you were extended the same invitation. It was a natural consequence — where he went, you followed, and so when he packed his things and went to Tokyo, it was both of your bags that he was carrying, while you peered around the train station and wondered what kind of place you were going to end up in.

Your new classmate was the one that picked the two of you up. He was tall — taller than even Suguru, though the majority of his body consisted of his legs — and had an unearthly appearance, with pale hair carefully mussed into a seemingly thoughtless style and black glasses which slid down the bridge of his nose to reveal eyes like diamonds.

He was the most brilliant thing you had ever seen. Lowering your eyes, you stepped back into Suguru’s shadow, earning you a scoff from your classmate and a worried exhale from your friend.

“Blech,” he said. “You’re supposed to be my classmate, really? How’re you going to keep up, huh? I’m the strongest sorcerer in the world, you know.”

“I think we’ll manage just fine,” Suguru said pleasantly, though there was an edge to his voice, his teeth like knives when he smiled and offered his hand. “I’m Suguru Geto.”

“Satoru Gojo,” your classmate said, shaking Suguru’s hand firmly. “Looking forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” Suguru said. “And this is Y/N L/N.”

“Hi,” you said, swallowing even as you said it, pursing your lips and glancing around, wishing for some kind of escape. Gojo hummed and then poked you on the forehead.

“Aw,” he said when you did not visibly react beyond furrowing your brow. “I thought you might fall over or something.”

“I see,” you said. “Um. Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go before our teacher gives us all detention for playing hooky.”

Unlike Suguru, Gojo didn’t allow you to follow him around. He made fun of you when you were scared and poked you on the forehead if you cringed away from his taunts. The latter occurred so frequently that you were surprised there was not a permanent indent in your skin.

“One day I’ll get you, pretty Y/N,” he’d always promise you. “Seriously! I mean, you barely have a backbone in the first place, so it’s really a wonder you’re standing at all.”

At first, Suguru used to demand he stop, but as the months went by, his protests grew weaker and weaker. You supposed that it must’ve been nice for him, to stand beside someone for once instead of constantly throwing himself in front of them. You could not blame him, but you found that you missed him more with every passing day.

But what was there to be done about it? After all, you were nothing compared to the two special grade sorcerers. You did what you could and found it was, for the most part, sufficient, but sufficient would never let you exist beside either of them in any way that mattered. So you fell behind, and this time, it was not a conscious choice but an unavoidable circumstance. This time, when you hung back, Suguru continued forward without you.

Empty-minded and weak-hearted. That was what your teacher called you. He sent you on the simplest missions he could, and still you struggled. Sometimes, this meant you would sit alone in the classroom until it was long past dusk, listening to your teacher ramble and shout.

“You are not weak!” he would say, his hands clenched into fists by his side. “By all rights, your technique is perfectly serviceable. You are not weak, Y/N L/N!”

“Yes, sir,” you would respond meekly.

“At least, you should not be,” he’d say. “Yet somehow, inexplicably, you are. Even a Grade 2 curse nearly got the better of you. Your classmates are exorcising special grades on their own! Aren’t you disgusted with yourself?”

Suguru, and sometimes Gojo, would wait outside of the door for you, lingering until they heard the shuffle of your feet, the soft sniffles which announced your arrival. Then Suguru would wrap a casual arm around your shoulders and tell you that it was fine if you were weak, just as long as he was around to protect you, and Gojo would do that infuriating thing where he’d poke you in the forehead and pretend like it was a miracle you hadn’t toppled over yet.

Otherwise, you did not see your classmates. Shoko Ieri was far too busy learning to do things you could never hope to accomplish in your lifetime, and Suguru and Gojo were called on to complete assignments with such unhealthy regularity that their education actually suffered for it. 

You never knew what they did on their missions. You never cared to ask, either. The details would only make you queasy, and in this new world where you were not permitted to shudder and seek out the safety that Suguru so willingly provided you with, you tried to avoid things like that. Harsh things, brilliant things, cruel things — all of them you ran from at an equal pace. Without Suguru there to defend you, you turned into one of those children he had so-despised in your youth. Always running. Always hiding. Always shying away from anything resembling a challenge.

It was after one such mission that Suguru returned differently. You knew he had changed because he crawled into your bed that night instead of his own, drew the blanket up around his shoulders and pressed his weeping eyes against your collarbones.

“It’s no good,” he said after the third time you had asked him what was the matter, your hands nervously skimming over his shoulders, smoothing over his rough hair. “Everything’s been ruined, Y/N. Or maybe it was always like this. Maybe you’re the only one who’s ever understood the world to begin with.”

The next morning, when his feet touched the ground and he slid out of your bed, you were hit with the strangest feeling that you would never see him again. Not in the way you were used to seeing him, anyways. Sitting up in your bed, leaning against your pillows, you watched as he left, though when he went to close the door behind him, you reached out your hand.

“Wait,” you said. He paused, raising his eyebrows.

“Is everything okay?” he said, his knuckles growing white from gripping the handle.

“I want to look at you,” you said. You knew without knowing that the instant the door shut between the two of you, you would lose him forever. Your best friend. Your shadow. You wished that there was a way you could reach out and save him, but the thought of you saving someone was outlandish. Impossible. Laughable. 

“Yeah?” he said. There were heavy bags under his eyes, and it did not reach his irises, but nevertheless, he somehow managed to muster up a smile. It was not gentle as much as it was exhausted, but still, he smiled as best he could at you. “Okay.”

You hugged one of the pillows to your chest. “I miss you a lot.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” he said.

“Not yet,” you said. “I think you will someday, though. You’ll go somewhere far away, and I won’t be able to follow you there. You won’t even want me to.”

“What kind of place is that?” he said. “I’ll always want you to follow me around, Y/N. As long as I’m there, not a corner on this planet could be a place I don’t want you to follow me to.”

The door creaked shut. You stared at the blank expanse and thought to yourself that he had always been very good at lying.

From that day forward, there were two opposite phenomena which occurred simultaneously. On the one hand, that blinding radiance of Gojo’s was magnified by the minute, and on the other, Suguru withdrew further and further into a grey sort of monotony that, try as you might, you could not pull him from.

“Gojo,” you said one day, tugging on his sleeve and flinching when he turned to look at you. As per usual, he pressed his finger into your forehead.

“Yikes,” he said. “Seems like you’re still lacking in the spinal department, dear Y/N. But just so you know, I’ve cheated off of your math homework enough times that you really shouldn’t be scared of me.”

“Please help Suguru,” you said.

“Eh?” Gojo said. “What do you mean? Help him with what, his math homework? I’ll just give him yours to copy as well, so why don’t you cut the middle man and show it to him yourself?”

“No, not with — just, he’s going away, and I don’t want him to, but he doesn’t — you’re the only one,” you stammered. 

It was even more difficult to speak with Gojo now than it had been when you had first come to school. That was because it was only recently that you were realizing that that way he made you feel, that shyness, that apprehension, was not because of his gleaming, sharp countenance, but rather something else, something soft in your heart that thudded to life whenever he smirked at you.

“You want me to take his mission for him?” Gojo said, his nose wrinkling. “What, so the two of you can go on a date or something? Forget about it.”

“What?” you said. “No, what — a date — that’s not what I meant!”

It was too late. Gojo was gone, and with him, your last chance at helping Suguru vanished, too. In fact, Gojo avoided you until you went home from the summer break, making a face whenever you glanced his way, and by the time you came back to start the next year, it was too late for anyone to do much of anything.

“Y/N L/N,” Masamichi Yaga said, entering the library where you were writing a paper for your literature class. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, his cheeks a dark, flushed color, his teeth gritted together so hard that a muscle in his jaw twitched periodically. “Do you have a moment? It’s urgent.”

“I was just working on the essay that we were assigned, but it can wait,” you said agreeably, all too eager to give yourself a break from the work. Pushing aside your paper and pen, you stood up, massaging your wrist. “What is it, sir?”

“It’s, er…” His shoulders slumped. “I’m really sorry, Miss L/N.”

You tried to run through the list of things that he could be sorry for, but only one thing came to mind. You froze, your eyes widening. He had been on a mission, hadn’t he? 

“Suguru,” you breathed. “Is it — it’s not about Suguru, is it?”

“In a sense, it is,” Yaga said.

“Is he alright?” you said. “He has to be alright.”

“We believe his condition is fine, considering what he’s done,” Yaga said.

“‘What he’s done?’ Why are you being so vague? What’s going on, sir? Please say it plainly,” you said.

“It’s your parents, Miss L/N,” he said, spitting it out all at once like the phrase itself was poisoned. “They’re dead.”

Your stomach dropped. You had imagined so many things. In your nightmares, you saw your classmates dying, your teachers, even yourself. But never your parents. Your parents, who were so far removed from this awful world. Your parents, who only a month ago had sent you back to school with a pair of new shoes they had saved up to buy. You parents, who had never harmed anyone in their lives. What had they done that was so terrible it warranted such a sudden death? What were they being punished for?

“How — how did it happen?” you said. “Was it a curse?”

“Miss L/N…” Yaga said, his entire self deflating. “I’m really sorry.”

“What? Stop apologizing,” you said, tears gathering in your eyes. “Just tell me. Stop saying sorry and tell me!”

“It was most likely Suguru Geto,” he said, handing you a piece of paper. Your vision swam, and you could barely make out the words. All residents of the village were killed. Jujutsu High investigated. Based on residuals…all 112…the work of Geto’s curse manipulation. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death.

“No,” you said, your voice cracking. “No, why would he do that? My parents loved him, and he loved them, too! We grew up together, so why would he do that?”

“Based on the evidence, he most likely killed his own parents, too,” Yaga said. Your hands wound themselves in your hair as you tugged.

“That’s a lie,” you said. “Suguru isn’t like that. Suguru is good! Suguru looks out for those weaker than himself! He protects people, Yaga. It must be a mistake. It has to be a mistake!”

“Miss L/N—” he began, but you were already running, sprinting as fast as you could. There was no way. There was no way. There was no way. 

Your house and the one beside it — Suguru’s house, a voice in the back of your mind nagged you, that’s Suguru’s house — were blocked off with yellow caution tape. Dozens of police officers were milling about the scene, barking into handheld radios, conversing tensely. One of them noticed you and extended an arm to stop your approach.

“Stay back, ma’am. This is an active crime scene. No outsiders allowed until the investigation has been concluded,” the officer said.

“That’s my house,” you whispered. “Officer, that’s my house. Why are there so many people here? It’s not true, is it?”

The officer didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. The pitying frown on his face told you everything you needed to hear. It was true. It was true. Your parents, your parents were dead, and that meant —

What had it been like for them? Had your mother welcomed him? When she opened the door for him, had her eyes crinkled at the corners in greeting? Had she offered him tea, as she usually did, because she was so fond of him and he was so fond of the drink when made by her hand? And what of your father? Had he reached over to clap Suguru on the back, or had he tried to grab him in an affectionate headlock so that he could mess up his hair with all the zeal of a man half his age?

You threw up. Some of the vomit splattered onto the officer’s shoes, causing him to fold his lips into a thin, disapproving line. Taking a step back, he reached over to pat you on the back as you heaved and hacked, trying to expel the knowledge from your mind and finding that you were entirely unable to.

You walked back to the train station in a trance, your eyes reddened and glazed over, your mouth sour from the taste of the stale crackers the officer had handed you, your hands shoved in your pockets as you tried to remember to breathe through your nose. The officer had offered to escort you to the station, but you had refused. You needed the time to think, and anyways, what did it matter? No ordinary person could hurt you, and no sorcerer would.

“I didn’t think you’d come back alone,” a soft voice said from behind you. You turned around, your insides roiling at the very sound, your ears ringing as you took in Suguru’s casual posture. His hands, too, were in his pockets, and the streetlights cast misshapen, dancing shadows over his face, the effect worsened by the odd tilt of his head.

He was refusing to look at you. That was why he was standing like that. He couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes, and that was the only confirmation you needed. 

“So what?” you said. “I did. Are you going to kill me next?”

“What?” he said. Briefly, he glanced up at you in alarm, and then, like he had remembered he didn’t deserve to feel betrayed by that kind of question, he slouched back down into the same apathy of earlier. “No.”

“Just do it,” you said. “Just do it, you fucking asshole! Why would — you — you killed my parents! You killed my parents, and now you’re just talking to me as if nothing happened? Why? Why would you…?”

His expression did not budge again. “They were filthy monkeys who deserved it.”

“Huh?” you said. The statement was so bizarre that, for a moment, your anger was forgotten. “What the fuck?”

“This world doesn’t need more non-sorcerers running around,” he said. “Every single curse you’ve ever fought, it’s their fault. Those idiots who don’t know how to control the meager amounts of cursed energy they have, they’re the ones who cause curses to manifest. You should be thanking me, Y/N. This’ll make your life that much easier.”

“Do you really think that's the case?” you said.

“Yes,” he said. “With my entire heart, I think that it is.”

You had always, always followed Suguru. When he said to protect the weak, you did so. When he said to take care of others, you did that, too. Whatever he told you to believe, you believed. But how could you do that this time? How could you believe in the person who had murdered your parents?

“You killed my parents because of your stupid theory,” you said numbly. “You killed my parents. Suguru, you killed my parents.”

You didn’t care about the one hundred and twelve villagers. That was the most shameful thing: if it had just been that, then you might still have followed him. He could’ve convinced you — no. You could’ve convinced yourself that it was fine, that he really was looking out for you in that peculiar manner of his. It wouldn’t have been impossible. Even now, your resolve was so weak, and it was only the thought of your parents that allowed you to cling to it at all.

“They asked about you,” he said dully. “I let them. My own parents, I didn’t give them a chance to say anything, but yours…I let them ask. I guess you could consider it my last favor to you.”

The ringing grew louder. You pushed your palms against your ears in an effort to drown it out, but you couldn’t. If anything, it just grew louder and louder, more and more insistent. You couldn’t shake it off. You couldn’t make it go away, just like you couldn’t make Suguru’s words go away.

“It was the only thing they worried about. In their last moments, it wasn’t their own lives they begged for…it was yours,” he said, his gaze far away, his irises unreadable as he recalled that moment. “How strange is that?”

“Shut up,” you said.

“I told them you were okay,” he said.

“Shut up,” you repeated, though it was unsteady and unconvincing. “Shut up, shut up.”

“They were pretty happy about that,” he said, in a tone filled with dreamy recollection. “They didn’t fight much after I promised you’d be okay. What simple creatures they must have been, that even while dying they could only think to rejoice!”

You screamed. It was wordless and brittle, a symptom of your lungs’ collapse as you broke into sobs, fumbling in your purse for your phone. Suguru watched as you unsteadily punched in a number you had never bothered to save, not trying to stop you, maybe not seeing the point.

“Gojo,” you said when he picked up, before he could even say anything. “Gojo, please just — can you come get me? Please come get me.”

“Okay,” he said, to your surprise. He didn’t argue or call it a waste of time or point out that you were still bawling as you spoke. “Where are you? I can be there pretty soon if I steal one of the managers’ cars, I think.”

“By my house,” you said. Suguru did not move, showing you his hands, as if he was giving you permission to do what you wanted. It was your choice. If you just told Gojo that he was with you, then you had no doubt he’d be apprehended within minutes.

“I see,” he said. “I’ll be there as quickly as possible.”

You were the one who hung up, not him. You were the one who made the decision. You were the one who looked at Suguru and then turned your back to him so that, for once, he was the one behind you.

“I can’t reconcile it,” you said, using the ends of your sleeves to blot at your tears as you hiccuped. “I can’t understand it. Even after everything, I still want to follow you. I still want you to be my shadow. I still want to be yours.”

Don’t turn. Don’t turn. Don’t turn. You couldn’t turn around. If you turned around, then that meant your old teacher was right. Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. You could not turn around.

A dry breeze rustled through the leaves on the ground, sounding like footsteps against pavement. Don’t turn.

You turned. You should’ve known better than to expect anything different from yourself. You had never been someone who could stand in the front for very long. You would always turn. You would always run and cower and hide.

Anything you might’ve said died on your tongue as you saw he was already gone. You were alone. You had let him go. You had allowed that mass murderer, that criminal, to walk away from you. What kind of a sorcerer were you? Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. That sort, then. The horrible sort.

When the headlights of the car Gojo had borrowed swung around the corner, you had long since curled up on the grass, your cheek to the mud as you tried to grasp what you had done. 

“Hey,” Gojo said. “Y/N?”

He must’ve gotten out of the car at some point, because suddenly, he was crouching before you, pulling you to your feet, his limbs awkward and gangly as he cocked his head, still wearing those ridiculous sunglasses despite the darkness.

“I’m a piece of shit,” you said, and then you were clutching the collar of his uniform jacket. “Why am I like this?”

“What do you mean?” he said.

“He killed my parents,” you said. “He killed my parents, and I let him walk away.”

“Who?” Gojo said, but it was a rhetorical question. He knew who. You looked up at him miserably, and he shook his head slightly, like he couldn’t quite comprehend what you were saying. “You let who walk away?”

“I don’t think he was planning on seeing me,” you said, letting go of his shirt and pleading with him to understand. “We weren’t supposed to meet.”

“You saw Suguru,” Gojo accused, and now it was his turn to take you by the shoulders, his fingers digging into the muscle of your biceps, his eyes wild. “You saw him, and you didn’t tell me.”

Your lower lip trembled. “He killed my parents, Gojo.”

“That’s not true,” he said.

“It is,” you said. “It is, he told me it is, and I couldn’t even do anything when he said so.”

“Why?” Gojo hissed. “You only had to tell me! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just didn’t!” you said, and then you were crying again. “I couldn’t. Oh, they’re dead, and he killed them, he killed them, and they only asked about me when he did. Why am I the one who gets to live?”

His hands traveled from your arms to the nape of your neck, the heels of his palms pressing into your jaw as he tried to force you to look at him. But you couldn’t, of course you couldn’t, you hadn’t been able to before and you definitely couldn’t now.

“You know Suguru better than anyone. Don’t you think there’s something else at play?” Gojo said. He wasn’t asking for you. He was asking for himself. He wanted you to reassure him, tell him that it was alright, that his best friend wasn’t the monster you both knew he was. How was it fair? How could you be expected to reassure him?

You shoved him off of you. “No.”

“Then why’d you let him go?” Gojo said. “You must’ve thought that there was a reason, or else you would’ve told me. It’s the only explanation!”

“No, it’s not! The only explanation is that I’m shitty and weak and stupid, and I can’t help but rely on him. No matter what I do, I’ll rely on him! People like you don’t understand what it feels like. You can stand on your own, but I’m not like that!” you said, and then you were grabbing his hand — he always did that, you noticed, always turned his Infinity off for you even now that it was an automatic, constant process — unfurling his fingers and jabbing his index finger at your forehead. “Do you get it? You were right. I don’t have a spine. I don’t have one at all!”

“Pull yourself together, Y/N,” Gojo said. “He’s still out there. We just have to reach him before the others do, and then we can talk to him. If it’s the both of us, then he’ll listen. He’ll explain everything!”

“He already did,” you said. “You just don’t accept it, but that’s different than him not explaining at all.”

“So what, then? You’re just going to go back to the school and live your life as normal?” he said, scowling at you. “How could you even think of doing that? In what world does that make sense? You can’t go back and pretend like nothing happened!”

“It’s true. I can’t,” you said, because it was the fact you had been avoiding since the day you first set foot in the school, which you had always known in the back of your mind despite how you denied it. “I can’t go back at all. I can’t be a sorcerer.”

It was a rare thing to see Satoru Gojo speechless. If it were a lesser occasion, you might have laughed at the way his lips parted and his eyebrows knitted together in such a foreign way.

“Why not?” he said. 

“I’m afraid I’ll follow him,” you said. “No, I know I will. If I stay, then I will definitely follow him.”

“You won’t,” Gojo said. “Follow me instead. Follow me if you have to, but you can’t leave. Not you, too.”

Another rarity: Satoru Gojo was afraid. Not of your absence, but of the changes it would bring. With Haibara gone, Suguru vanished, and then you…what would even become of the school? When so many pieces were taken away from it, could it even be considered the same place?

“I can’t end up like that,” you said. “I can’t even risk it. I became a sorcerer because of him; I’ll leave because of him, too. Anyways, you hate when I follow you. You prefer people who can stand on their own two feet. I know that about you now.”

“If you run away, I won’t forgive you for a long time,” he warned me. 

“Then don’t,” you said, stepping away, though still facing him. “What good is your forgiveness, anyways? It won’t bring my parents back. It won’t bring Suguru back. I don’t even want you to forgive me, Gojo. I want you to hate me until you die.”

It was the last time you saw him for so long that his memory blurred away at the edges. The way he said your name, the way his hair shone in the sun, the slope of his nose and curve of his neck…once, these were things you might’ve been able to list with a great degree of accuracy. Not anymore, though. Now, if you thought of him at all, it was only that final image of him, framed by the headlights of that still-running car. It was not your name he had called out as you walked away from him, but something bitterer, a promise said with such sincerity it was all but a Binding Vow.

“Ten years,” he had said. “That’s how long I’ll hate you for. Not my entire life. Not until I die. Just for the next ten years.”

Life as an ordinary person was easy. Life without Suguru was harder. But you learned. You learned, through the years, how to stand on your own two feet. You learned how to live with only one shadow instead of two. You learned how to let your eyes adjust to light, gradually instead of all at once, so that it was an easy progression and free of pain. 

There were times when you thought you had seen one or the other of the two who you had run from. There, across the street, was it Suguru reading the newspaper? Or in the bakery you walked past on your way to work, was it Gojo who was admiring the displays? They always vanished before you could grow close enough to ascertain their identities, though, remaining ever out of your grasp, existing as nothing more than phantoms in your periphery, refusing to let you forget the past entirely.

The first time you called Gojo was a year after you left the school. You weren’t expecting him to pick up, and when the automated message prompted you to leave a voicemail, you almost hung up in resignation. Something stopped you, though, and despite feeling entirely ridiculous, you cleared your throat.

“Ah, it’s Y/N. But I guess you probably knew that, considering you didn’t pick up. Well, I don’t have anything much to say, but I just wanted to call and make sure you were doing alright. I’m okay. The anniversary of my parents’ deaths is coming up, so I was planning on visiting their graves. I got a new job. Somewhere that I never would’ve expected to work when I was younger. It’s nice. I like my coworkers. They’re nothing compared to you, of course, but they’re fine enough. Anyways. Um. I guess that’s it. I don’t think you’ll call me back, but I just wanted to let you know I’m doing okay.”

It was a routine. Every year, on that day, you’d call him and leave him a voice message. He never once answered — you doubted he listened to the voicemails at all, either — but it soothed you to leave them, to leave one last connection to the world that had taken up so much of your life, and for so long.

More often than not, that time felt like a dream. If it weren’t for the thorned mourner’s bouquets which left pricks in your fingers or the ten calls you had made to Satoru Gojo, you wouldn’t have believed any of it had happened at all. Sorcery, curses, shadows and killers, best friends who betrayed you and boys you ran from, these were all things better suited to storybooks than real life. 

Your mother’s favorite flowers had been roses, and you always made sure to bring some with you when you visited your parents’ graves. Roses for her and white chrysanthemums for your father, who had never had a preference for any particular flowers but was so sentimental that he would weep at any blooms being set by his headstone.

The roses were the ones that made the pads of your fingertips bleed, leaving bright red drops the same shade as their petals on the tissues you brought with you. You’d set the bouquet down and wrap your fingers with the tissues, watching as blood seeped through the thin paper, and then, without fail, you’d cry.

“It’s been so long without you,” you said, when enough time had passed that you could not be considered anything but an adult despite feeling like little more than a child. “It’s been so long, and I still don’t know what to do. Mother, father, I am grown now, yet constantly I wish I could ask you for advice. What was that song you’d always hum when I was tired, father? How did you make that tea of yours, mother? When did you know you loved one another? And a million other, sillier things. If I could think of nothing more pressing, I’d ask you about the weather, the time, and your plans for the weekend. I’d bid you a good morning and a good night. I’d complain about the rain and my job. Just as long as it meant I could talk to you again.”

You could not help it. You wept, bloody tissues fluttering to the ground as you ground your fists into your eyes, trying to stem the flow of your tears. Your breath came in quick, short gasps, and you rocked back and forth from your heels to your toes in an attempt to lull yourself into a state of calm. Back and forth. Back and forth. It was the only thing you could do, but it was not enough.

Someone’s hand settled upon your shoulder, and it had been so long since you had felt even a semblance of physical affection that you did not immediately bat them away. Instead, your own hands fell to your sides, your head hanging as you watched the newcomer set a bouquet beside the one you had brought. Orchids and lilies. Lovely, pale things that contrasted sharply with the red of the roses next to them.

“You said in your voicemail that you’d be here at this time. I hope it’s okay that I came.”

It was Satoru Gojo. He no longer wore the sunglasses you remembered him to; instead, a black blindfold was wrapped around his eyes and forehead, causing his pale hair to stick up like he had been shocked. He did not quite smile when he noticed that you were looking at him, but something resembling that expression crossed his face.

“Gojo,” you said. “Why are you—?”

“It’s been long enough,” he said. “You’re a really hard person to hate, Y/N L/N. I did my best, but it was difficult. I hope that you know that.”

“So you’ve come to, what, tell me you forgive me?” you said. “Thanks, but I don’t need it. It’s as I said: your forgiveness means nothing.”

“Nah,” he said, and then he was grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly. “I’ve come to bring you back to sorcery with me.”

“What?” you said. “No. I quit.”

“You didn’t quit, you ran,” he reminded you.

“That’s the same thing,” you said. He grinned. It was the kind of grin that would’ve blinded you when you were younger, but you found that it was not so brilliant anymore. You found you liked it even more than you once had.

“Not in my books,” he said.

“Gojo, I’m not strong enough. I can lead a normal life without you and Suguru and the others, but if you throw me back into sorcery, I know I’ll cave,” you said. “I’ll turn back into that cowardly little girl I once was. I’ll seek out that shadow which I’ve spent so long learning to exist without.”

He sighed, and then he poked you in the forehead. “Not the case. See, you didn’t even waver this time! I think you finally did it, Y/N. You grew a spine.”

“Why do you want me to come back?” you said. “I’m not strong like you. I won’t give you anything you don’t already have.”

“It’s selfish,” he said. “I don’t want to tell you because it’s selfish, and you’ll laugh at me.”

“If you don’t tell me, then I won’t even consider it,” you said. Though his eyes were covered by the blindfold, you could sense him rolling them based solely on the way he pouted.

“I’ve spent the last ten years hating you for leaving us — for leaving me behind,” he said. “Everyone else was gone. I needed someone, but you left too, and then I really was alone. I want to drag you back into hell because I can’t face it by myself anymore.”

There were things left unsaid in that. Why you, for one? He could have anyone in the world, so why, after ten years, had he come to find you specifically? Why was it now that he could no longer bear the hell that was sorcery alone? But Gojo was not the sort who ever revealed his true self if he could help it, so you supposed those things would have to go unsaid for a little longer.

“Okay,” you said.

“Okay?” he said.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll come back, but I have a condition.”

“What is it?” he said.

“The next time I leave, or run away, or quit, don’t hate me for quite as long,” you said. “Don’t hate me at all. I know I told you that I want you to hate me until you die, but I don’t anymore.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” you said, in a direct mirror of your previous exchange.

“Okay,” he said. “Come on, then. Follow me.”

“Oh, that, too,” you said. “I won’t follow you. If that’s what you’re expecting, then you can forget about it. I cannot allow myself to follow anyone ever again. I cannot be that weak, or I’ll become someone I despise. Someone I don’t want to be, ever again.”

His expression morphed into one of shock, and then he did something so odd as to be beyond all rationality and logic. He beamed at you before patting you on the head. It wasn’t condescending; it was the kind of gesture that was like a promise, or a warning, depending on who you asked. Maybe in this case, it was both.

“It’s alright. Actually, it’s better if you don’t,” he said. “I like you more when you don’t follow anyone at all.”

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

Note: sooo I had this scenario in my mind for a while, aaand I decided to share it with y'all lol. Also, I’ve been posting tons of gifs lately, and I’d figure I’d have to write something too eventually lmao. I hope you’ll like it!

Plot: the reader gets out of the shower only to find her bf waiting patiently for her in the bed. It gets steamy rq.

You got out of the shower, and you saw him waiting patiently on the bed, wearing just some jeans. His chest was exposed, and you couldn't wait to brush your nose against his skin as he hugged you tight.

"Look who finally came out of the shower." He said it in a soft tone as he tapped on the mattress.

"I told you I'd take long." You giggled and laid next to him. His arm quickly pulled you closer by your waist as you glued your face to his chest. He laid down completely and started to kiss your forehead. "I'm surprised you didn't join."

You knew he was needy because he'd been following you all day around the house, hugging you, kissing you, and telling you how beautiful you were. He was like a lost puppy, but you had work to do around the house that couldn't wait.

"You said you wanted a nice, long, warm shower, so I let you alone. Besides, I wanted to take my time with you." His hand moved from your waist to your hips, and his mouth kept kissing your forehead.

"So considerate of you." You brushed your nose along his skin, enjoying the smell of his natural scent combined with his cologne.

His hand that was on your hips moved to your neck, pulling down the robe and exposing more of your shoulder. Then he began to kiss the exposed skin, going slowly to your neck. When his lips touched your neck, you moved your hands to his back, pulling him close as you let out a few moans.

"Tell me, dear," he said between kisses. "Do you want me to be gentle, or do you want me to rip this robe off you with my teeth?"

"I think this is just fine." you giggled.

"Alright." His hand pulled down more of your robe until he revealed your breast. The cold air made your nipple hard, but it felt so good when he ran your palm across it. He gave your breast a little massage and rolled your nipple between his fingers before placing his mouth over it.

"Straight to action..." you ran your fingers between his blond locks and massaged his scalp as his tongue was twirling around your nipple.

"Hmmm." His mouth was full, so he couldn't give you an answer. Instead, he began to suck it and bit you gently.

You had to roll over on your back as he climbed on top of you, his other hand pulling the robe aside to expose the other breast. From there, he started to massage it, and then he ran his finger across it very rapidly, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. You could feel yourself getting wet down there.

"Don't stop..." you said between moans. Your hand remained on his hair, while the other rested on his bicep. Your fingers kept clenching, causing small marks to appear on his skin.

Eventually, his mouth left your breast and he lowered his head, his lips never stopping from kissing your skin. His mouth felt so good on your freshly washed body.

"You smell so good, love." His fingers gently pushed the robe sideways until your body was fully exposed to him.

His mouth reached your belly button, then your lower belly. You arched your back and kept pushing his head lower as the heat from between your legs kept increasing. He placed one last kiss on your lower belly before lowering himself so he could continue kissing your inner thighs.

"My God..." you whispered as you felt his lips coming closer and closer to your pussy.

"Hmm, I can't get enough of you..."

"And I don't want you to stop..." You gasped when you finally felt his lips on your cunt. They kissed you so gently, licking and sucking on your sensitive bud.

"You are doing such an amazing job..." The more you praised him, the faster he'd go. At some point, he spoiled your throbbing hole with his thick fingers, which slid in with ease. They picked up the tongue's pace, sending multiple waves of pleasure through your body.

You felt so full, and yet you demanded more. You wanted more, you wanted to be stretched to the limit, you wanted to feel his cock inside you as he called you pretty names.

"Please..." You begged, arching your hips and moving your hips in circles. His tongue and your hips synchronized, bringing you to a high level of pleasure where your walls won't stop throbbing and your throat would get dry from all the moaning.

He stopped moving his face, and his. fingers stopped thrusting, causing you to move your hips and basically fucking yourself using his fingers and face.

"God..."

Your hard bud kept brushing against his tongue.

When he felt like you were close, he stood up and quickly unzipped his pants, releasing his red, throbbing cock in the air.

"I've been waiting for you all day..." he said as he positioned himself at your entrance.

He pushed inside gently as he dropped his head at the crook of your neck. His hot breath tickled you in the area, and you leaned your head to give him a hint. He understood and began to gently bite you as he lowered himself over you. Your bodies were glued together, and he began to thrust slowly.

"Don't stop" you said as your hands were running down his back, squeezing his flesh every time he would hit that spot inside you.

"My God, you're so tight," he said between heavy breaths.

You were intoxicating to him. Every inch of your body fascinated him, and every time you'd get intimate, it felt like the first time he was exploring you. There are moments when he finds new erogenous zones, which he plays with so much enthusiasm.

He was so close to your ear that you could hear every sweet sound that escaped that man's lips. Every whimper, every moan, and every word of praise blessed your ear and brought your orgasm closer and closer.

"Honey, I'm..." you said, feeling an intense sensation in your lower belly.

"I know, me too..." His throbbing cock was repeatedly hitting your spot. Your pulsating walls constantly stimulated him, turning him into a big mess.

The orgasm hit you both hard. He released his load inside you, and your throbbing cunt milked him until the very last drop.

"This...this felt amazing," he said as he slowly pulled out, a few drops of semen falling between your legs.

"Yeah...I'll have to hop in the shower again."

"This time I think I'll join."

Krauser, Leon and Wesker. Taglist: @shadow-wolf510, @skylar-todd

[chris-continues]

uhhh hi! so gonna indulge you with livio rq, but dates with livio? (any au of your choice, go nuts)

Dates w/ Livio

He’s the lead singer <3

NOTES: so because I’m biased I’m doing band au Livio (he has been on my brain a lot lately) thank you for the ask! Also I made the header on my own lmao, I couldn’t find any exactly how I wanted. If you note the pictures there are HC’s for each one hehe <3

TAGS: @linkdedruid @macncherries @captaintweet @h4venpha @millionsvash @beanibon @vashfantasy

-a date w/ Livio most of the time means a chill hangout, preferably inside. He’s a pretty introverted guy and wants to have you to himself for a bit! The band is nice but he does like alone time with you and your shared other partners.

-I think he had the idea of a band and shyly spoke up with lyric ideas- of which he jots down in a cute mini notebook (he uses his notes app when he’s in a rush)

-in said notebook, he may or may not have done the little heart with both of your guys’ initials. Seeing your names so close makes his chest tighten and his mouth dry. Razlo teases him about this, and when Wolfwood discovers it he just simply cackles at how enamored Livio is with you.

-shyly pressing closer to you, until you’re side to side. You share headphones while he tries to compose lyrics with the sample music sent to him, tapping his thigh in thought. Ever since the band started, he’s been studying what works with what- he’s got a sense for it, practiced and cultivated.

-If you have a creative outlet yourself, dates with him where you’re body doubling and doing your own thing is absolutely amazing <3

-although if you ever want to go out, he isn’t opposed. Although he will prefer somewhere quiet- cafe dates are something you both enjoy. Shyly sharing pastries- despite his edgy appearance he’s so very soft.

-I think one thing he’d like is doing those cute couple pottery classes <3 he’s got large hands but they’re oh so gentle- making tableware for you. Later, if you’d like, he’d love to have you over at his place or go over to yours and cook with you, putting your new creations to use.

-The tableware is cute, the rim of the bowl is a bit wobbly but there are small cute designs with a lot of care put into it, or a mug, or a plate… (this becomes a new favorite date idea)

-that evolves into a cooking date^^, sometimes you just skip the pottery and cook though. Livio does order takeout from time to time, however to ensure Nico didn’t end up living off of pizza pockets and frozen garlic bread (call it an Italian special, if you will) he had to learn to cook. Which he does pretty well >:)

-a usual: pasta is something simple. He likes pesto with his pasta, but it’s fine if you don’t! Whatever you like, he will do anything to please you. He loves cooking with you, however on days where he’s noticed you look a little tired or your week has been rough (or if he just plain wants to treat you) he will suggest you sit down while he takes care of dinner.

-some dates, you end with dessert! Sometimes, he’ll make something. A personal favorite you both like is mini chocolate chip pie cookies in a ramekin with ice cream <3

-he often wears jewelry he gets from Nico, which if you’d like to wear some of his pieces he most definitely isn’t opposed to it. On some dates, you’ll thrift and he’ll shyly see something he likes for you, double check with Nico, etc. he has your sizes for clothes somewhere in his notes app <3

-overall, a date with Livio is a comforting, healing experience and never fails to disappoint. He’s so soft and gentle that he’s never unpleasant or tiring, and always cares for you and your needs- whether it be supporting your creative efforts, gifting you something small, or cooking with him/him cooking for you, it’s absolutely wonderful.

[hotxcheeto]

I would lovvvvveeee a sparring fic with Sevika x Fem!Reader. Those fics get me fr

━ 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Sevika x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, brief mention of vomit ( very brief), sparring, Sevika being flirty

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - this is ass but I am so tired I'm gonna go over it again so if you're seeing this I got sick of looking at it lmao

thank you for the rq babe!!!

"Get up." "Give me a second." You laid on the ground, rubbing the part of your stomach that she'd hit a bit harder then you were expecting. "Tapping out already?" You stared up at her sweating, chest rising and falling with a smirk on her face.

"No, just don't wanna ruin the floor if I puke everywhere." You held your stomach as you stood up, Sevika's hand coming out to help you get steady. "Ready?" "Yeah just.." You held up a one on your finger, holding your knee as you tried to catch your breath.

Sevika stood much taller over you, looking down at your smaller form, standing up straight again while nodding.

"All good." "You sure?" She teased, chuckling when she seen your slight glare. "Yeah, just... go easier. This isn't an actual fight I just wanted some tips not to get my shit rocked." You stepped back from her, both of you beginning to circle each other again.

"What will you do in an actual fight?" "Run to you, duh." Sevika laughed just as you swung at her, catching her slightly off guard but at the same time, you couldn't even tell.

You only continued to half block what she was throwing at you, catching one of her swings. Your eyes went wide at this, almost excited as you spun around though it didn't last, catching your foot on the back of her leg, still holding onto her arm as you fell.

You fell, back hitting the floor while Sevika caught herself with her robotic arm. Your eyes squeezed shut as you hissed in pain,

"You alright?" Her voice asked from above you, opening your eyes to see Sevika's unimpressed yet amused face right above yours. "Yeah.." You said nervously, shaking your head before putting on a tight smile. "All good besides the broken tailbone-" "You really should be more careful."

Sevika's face was barely a few inches from yours, staring you down like you were her prey. Feeling her breath fanning your lips, and finally your eyes made your way to her not-so-subtle smirk.

"H..Help me up?" You then smiled, trying to push down the butterflies in your stomach when she stood up tall over you. Eyes burning into your soul when her hand came out to help you from the ground.

She pulled you up with ease, watching you move around, working your back out.

"Maybe you should watch where you're stepping." "Easy for you to say. I suck at this." Sevika's smirk grew as you took a large breath, your chest coming out, flushed face as your eyes finally met hers again. "What?" "Ready?"

You shifted, standing ready before she let out a small chuckle, walking over to you.

"Your form." She whispered almost right beside your ear, taking your hands in her much large ones and moving them. And then placing her hands on your waist. Turning you just slightly, her body meeting your back.

Her hand then began creeping down to your inner thigh, turning your leg out, head just beside your own.

"There." She muttered, breath hitting your ear. "T-Thank you.." She then grunted, moving to then stand across from you again, taking almost the exact same position as you.

You went back and forth, her teaching you little things here and there. Correcting your form. You swung again, the woman catching your arm and pulling you towards her.

"You're leaving yourself wide open." "Sorry I... hard to focus." She looked down at you, dropping her grasp from your body. She hummed, giving you a look at you took a step away from her after she'd let you go. Her eyes dark as she asked, "why is that?"

"I... don't know." "Are you sure?" You nodded, looking up at her nervously. But her eyes had moved to the clock on the wall, the one you had to fix just yesterday after she complained it wasn't working properly.

"I have to go, I have a job. We can finish later." "Later?" "Unless you have better things to do?" She teased, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms.

"No! No, I don't.. have anything.. to do.. later." You stuttered over your words, opting to turn around and beat yourself up in your mind. Shutting your eyes, thinking about how much of an idiot you'd have to be seen as.

"Good." She moved across the room before you got a chance to say anything else. "See you then." She leaned down to say, walking off after leaving you watching her leave. Hot in the face and unable to speak.

"Nice job fixing the clock." "Th-thanks."

[fandomlit]

dare (fundy x reader)

requested by anon “Hi I love your works, may I request 54 and 69 for the prompt requests? With cc!Fundy where maybe they’re in a long distance relationship and they meet up finally (planned or one surprises the other) and just, fluff lmao i’m very soft rn”

summary fundy is very confused when you call him for a game of truth or dare. with the help of his friends, he finally gets the point: you’re at his door.

warning swearing, tooth rotting fluff

im ending my writing prompts,, feel free to rq before they’re gone

gif cred belongs to @khuantru

“things are going well with y/n then, fundy?” wilbur questioned with a grin. a group of them had been goofing off on the origin smp, most of them streaming, when the topic of you came up.

“oh, yeah,” fundy grinned, thinking of the conversation he had with you just hours before. “long distance is hard for anyone, but..” he shrugged. “she makes it easier, i think.”

“aww!” niki cooed. 

“yeah,” fundy blushed with another chuckle. “i never thought i’d ever know what it felt like to look at someone and smile for no reason.”

“aw, fundy!”

“that’s so sweet!”

fundy grinned before finally looking over at his stream. “chat- im not a simp!”

they all continued to stream as per usual, moving about the smp and joking around. they had just held an impromptu meeting in the pub when fundy’s phone began to ring.

“hold on, guys,” fundy spoke. “im getting a call.”

“you’re actually gonna take it?”

fundy raised his phone to his ear. “hi, baby.” his friends laughed. “no, im not busy.”

“what-!”

then fundy’s eyebrow furrowed, giving his camera a skeptical look. “y/n.. what?” they couldn’t hear your voice on the other line as fundy began to laugh. “im not playing truth or dare!”

as his friends began to laugh and question him, fundy put his phone on speaker, exposing your giggly voice speaking, “no, please! please, just a quick game!”

“you can’t even see me!” fundy argued with a laugh. “what-what’s the point?”

“you’d know if you’d play!”

“i want to see how this goes, i don’t know about anyone else,” ranboo spoke, and the others on the call immediately chimed in with their agreements. fundy wasn’t sure if you could hear them over his sigh.

“okay, fine,” he ceded. “i pick truth.”

“no, that’s lame!”

fundy threw his hands up while everyone continued laughing, including you. “okay dare!”

“i dare you to go to your front door right now.” fundy gave the phone another weird look.

“why would i do that?” he scoffed. “it’s nearly midnight! i could catch a cold!”

“it’s a dare, babe, you gotta do it!” you laughed.

“i don’t wanna!”

“fundy, go to your door!” wilbur nudged.

“don’t encourage this behavior!” fundy snickered over your begging.

“fundy!” niki called, surprising most with the change from her usually soft voice. “go see your partner!” fundy furrowed his brow for a moment before the pieces clicked into space. he looked to his phone in surprise.

“are you outside my house right now?”

“im so cold, please let me in,” you finally cracked with a laugh. his friends cheered and laughed as fundy finally threw off his headphones and ran out of the room.

he had never unlocked his front door and swung it open faster. his heart stopped at just the sight of you with snow speckling your h/c locks. you brushed some out of your face with a grin as fundy just stared at you in shock, his jaw dropped as he took in your winter attire.

“hi,” you giggled at him, and the lack of static accompanying your voice was what finally convinced him that this wasn’t a dream. he finally engulfed you in a tight hug.

“holy shit, you’re real,” he mumbled into your hair as your face buried into his chest. you laughed, your grip around him just as deadly.

“i am,” you assured with a hum. “i can’t believe you are, too.”

fundy finally pulled away from you, enough so that he could gaze into your excited eyes. his heart was pounding his chest just as the sight of your smile so close to him. he kept his arms securely around your waist. “this is a dream.” you laughed, and the way you threw your head back was so beautiful to him that he couldn’t help but grin, “you’re a dream.”

“im real,” you assured, shaking him as best as you could with your arms hanging around his neck. 

he just shook his head. then he licked his lips with a more mischievous thought. “.. can i test?”

fundy reveled in the way your cheeks heated, though you gave him a happy nod of confirmation. “yes, you can.” fundy’s hands slipped up to cup your face as his lips came to press against yours. the feeling was heaven; your gentle lips moving against his, so warm and soft in contrast to the cold, netherlands air around your passionate pair.

you were both grinning when you finally pulled away, foreheads resting against each other. “how long have you been planning this?” fundy asked you quietly.

“three months,” you breathed with a giggle. “it was difficult to keep a secret.”

“yeah, you suck at keeping secrets,” fundy teased and you laughed again, leaning up ever so slightly to brush your nose endearingly against his. “my stream’s probably dying to see you.”

“oh my god, you’re streaming?!”

[myelocin]

hello im BACK with a VENGEANCE (also bc ur rqs are open) can i please have sakusa kiyoomi (you hurt me with that angst fic), comfort song: Home by Miki Ratsula (you wont regret listening to it, its heartwarming) genre: fluffy take care!!

Hello!! Sorry this came out late, my brain was mad empty lmao + I’d like to note to thank you for all your kind words and responses!! ily alot ;A; thank u so much for reading my works <33

In The Process of Our Becoming

Sakusa Kiyoomi, You

Fluff! WC: 1k+

-

It starts in a grocery store. You would like to imagine for the circumstances of you and Sakusa’s first meeting to be a lot more romantic than just reaching for the last bottle of bleach simultaneously but that was how it happened. Kiyoomi, on the other hand liked to reminisce. Apparently you had a “good judgment of cleaning products and didn’t just get the cheapest thing on the shelf” and that was, according to his words, his “deal breaker” in a relationship.

From the start, the two of you bonded over the mundane parts of the adult life, but it was from another trip to the grocery store where you bumped into him in the cleaning aisle, again, and spent an adequate amount of time debating to yourself about which wipes to get—that Kiyoomi blurted out if you wanted to get dinner with him sometime.

“That’s weird.”, your friends told you, and you shrugged it off with a laugh. After all, it wasn’t every day that you’d meet a really cute, professional athlete at a random grocery store who asks you out while you’re just deciding which cleaning wipes to get.

And later on you decide that it was a good idea because under the mask he wore, he smiled pretty. Sakusa Kiyoomi could hold a conversation pretty well for someone who posed pretty blankly for his media appearances, you mused.  

You roll your eyes every time he reminisces the story from the grocery store, but he knows you love listening to him tell the same exact story the very next day.

-

Sakusa Kiyoomi hates crowds. Oh god, he loathed crowds.

Though, over the years he had managed to somehow tolerate them; considering how inevitable it was to be in crowds because of his career, after all.

Before you started to become a little more involved with his career, Sakusa would usually be the first to retreat to the locker rooms first to avoid the swarm of media after games. His team was understanding enough to let him be, so he supposed they never minded much of it.

Knowing that by the time you attended his third game, it came as a surprise when from the stands you saw Sakusa’s eyes wander around the bleachers until it eventually landed on you. Your relationship with the athlete at that time had still been fairly new and kept away from the media, so when he pulled down his mask and shot a smile that you knew was meant for you, it caught you more off guard.

“I thought you didn’t like crowds.” You told him after, and he shrugged and slipped his mask back on replying, “You were there so it’s not as bad now.”

-

There were many things about Sakusa you know you’re still not aware of, and vice versa. Even two years into the relationship, there are still mornings where you’d ask him how he prefers his coffee, while there are afternoons where he’d call you from the grocery store because he didn’t know which cereal you preferred.

“You should have known more about him by now.” Your friends mused when you couldn’t settle on picking a gift for his birthday (the fact that he wasn’t very vocal about the material things he wanted didn’t help much either).

And at first, that thought bothered you, so during one morning when you wake up to Sakusa’s fingers threading into your own, you turn to face him and try to think of every fact you know about him. Inwardly, you grimace because you realize you don’t know much, so when he turns to face you, you say, “I don’t know a lot about you. I’m sorry.”

“I overheard you talking to your friends about the present the other day, by the way. Is that what this is about?” He turns to you to ask, his fingers still threaded with yours.

You settle your head against his chest and listen to him speak, “I don’t know a lot about you either, but we’re still getting there, (y/n).”

He moves to turn to his side, supporting his weight with one arm while he faces you, “I know you hate spicy food and listen to Home by Miki Ratsula as a comfort song. I know your birthday, blood type, and biscuit preference now—“ he pauses to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear before continuing, “—but I still don’t know every childhood story you have. I don’t know what makes you still cry when you watch Ghibli movies even if you watched it twenty times already, but I’m going to know those reasons one day.”

You blame the fact that you just woke up that you’re feeling a little choked up, but Sakusa says, “But I do know you’re about to say that you want to cry right now because I know the fact that you’re a sentimental person. I know you like forehead kisses and like it when I hold your hand if we’re in Tokyo station—“

“Because I know you hate how crowded it gets during rush hour, Yoomi.” You cut him off, smiling.

“Yeah, you do.” He says, dark eyes looking soft in six am light.

Sakusa reaches forward and encages you in his arms with a kiss to the forehead and a quiet mumble of a good morning.

So for that morning you let yourself lay flush against his warmth with his words still echoing in your ears. And you suppose Sakusa is right. Two years was only a number against the lifetimes you know would be witness to the story you are writing with him.

And as much as you cringe at how your story began in the cleaning supplies aisle of the local grocery store, you know that there is no end. For every day that you wake up with his fingers threaded with yours, hear his morning voice break through the morning silence, and feel his lips press flush against yours, is another page written where you learn, explore, and fall in love with Sakusa Kiyoomi.

[cmtae]

First Look

a/n: i know this is shitty lmao but enjoy babies :)

rq: xxx

word count: 1.5k+

warnings: fluff, tattooartist!hoseok, a mess

“Is it this place?” I asked, putting my hand on the handle of the entrance. I looked back at my sister, and she smiled and nodded, gesturing me to go in.

The shop looked cozy, darkened walls with different tattoo designs attached to the interior. It wasn’t full today, only one or two people getting something done.

When we entered, we were immediately welcomed by a young woman, exotic tattoos etched all over her skin. She had darker skin, her hair up in two cute, slick pigtails hanging all the way down to her waist. The woman grinned, two dimples dipping into her cheeks.

“Well what can I do for you two pretty ladies today?” she piped, her voice deep and inviting.

“Um, my sister and I came to get matching tattoos,” my sister answered, adjusting the bag on her shoulder.  

“Alright, and how old are the both of you?” The woman, whose name was Ann from what I read on her nametag, grabbed a clipboard from behind her to fill out.

“Twenty,” we said in unison.

“Oh, you’re twins I see. Very cute.” Ann handed us the clipboard and had us take out our IDs and sign at the bottom of the paper.  "Okay, thank you.“ She slipped the pieces of paper from the clipboard and set them behind the desk.

"If you two can just sit here in these two chairs and wait. I’ll get my boys to come and get your design down and ready to go!” Ann disappeared into the room at the end of the hall.

“She was pretty cute don’t you think?” My sister asked with a sly smile on her face. She was still looking at the door.

“Mhm.” I agreed, laying my head back in the chair.

“By the way,” she twisted in her chair to look at me, “did you see that one guy?”

“Huh? What guy?” I followed her movements, facing her as well.

“I think he works here.  He popped his head through the back door, looked at you, then slid back in.” She gave me a knowing look. “He looked pretty young to me. Plus he’s really cute.”

“Well…I didn’t see him. I’m 99.9% you’re making this u—”

The back door opened again, two men coming out. Both were tall with well-fitting black tank tops on. One had dark brown hair and a lip piercing, while the other had black hair, his muscular arms decorated with tattoos.

“Hello, my name is Taehyung, but you can call me anything you’d like.” Taehyung followed his comment with a devious smirk that my sister only scoffed at.

I focused my attention on the timid man next to me, his teeth hooking onto his bottom lip anxiously.

“Nice to meet me-I mean y-you I’m Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi,” he stammered, his cheeks flushing at his mistake.

“I’m ___,” I giggled, reaching out my hand to shake his. Hoseok quickly wiped his hand on his ripped up black jeans before shaking my hand. I could feel him trembling.

“You seem more nervous than I am,” I tease, taking an interest in his agitated state.

“I’m new here, and you are my first p-project I mean…” he trailed off, gnawing on his raw red lip.

“I get you. Do you think you’re ready to draw my design?”

Hoseok’s head snapped up. “Yeah and I can do that.”  He reached over to the counter and pulled out a pencil and sketching paper, sitting down on the stool next to him and propping it onto his lap.

“It’s a simple tattoo actually,” I say, “just two hearts and a smaller one between them. All intertwined.” Hoseok nodded along with your request scribbling it down onto the paper. He excused himself and walked behind the desk, clicking onto the computer in front of him. The printer beside him turned on, he peered at the page and grabbed it from the tray, making his way back to you.

“Alright,” he let out an exhale standing next to you, “this what was on your mind?” Flipping the image in his hand, showing you the design.

You scanned the picture and gave a small smile, “exactly what I wanted.”

“Okay!” he chuckled shyly. “I’ll just get started now.” He grabbed the two black gloves from the countertop and carefully put them on, filling the tube of the machine with black ink. “Wait, shit. I forgot to ask where you wanted it.” He awaited your answer, staring at you with his wide brown eyes, sweeping his silky hair to the side, licking his moistened lips.

“Oh. Right here—” you lifted your shirt just until the underside of your breasts showed, “—please.” You looked up at Hoseok and blinked, squinting your eyes.

“O-okay.” Hoseok cursed silently to himself, his cheeks reddening the longer he looked at your exposed brown skin, begging to be marked.

With the ink, of course.

Hoseok took an alcohol wipe and timidly, pressing it against your skin, working his way in between the middle of your breasts, a small restricted breath tumbling from your mouth. He had traced the design on your chest directly after.

“I-I’ll get started,” Hoseok warned, maneuvering your chair back until you were laying flat on your back. His fingers traced up your sides incidentally, pushing your shirt further up.He turned on the machine, a loud buzzing emitting from the small tool. He scooted the stool closer, his thigh touching your arm.

The machine was brought down to the middle of your breasts, a slightly sharp pain emanating as soon as he began. You held your bottom lip between your teeth, closing your eyes as he began etching into your skin.

About 25 minutes later, Hoseok placed the tattoo gun down onto the countertop and dampened a cloth gently rubbing your fresh tattoo. He grabbed a small gauze and put it on top of the throbbing area, making sure it was secure.

“You done?” you questioned breathless, stretching your arms above your head, your shirt lifting up inch by inch. You pouted, feeling the gauze on your chest. “I wanted to see.”

“I forgot, sorry. I was too focused on trying to make it perfect.” Hoseok smiled nonchalantly and took off his gloves, running his hands through his hair.

“Oh well then—” You sat up, letting your shirt fall back to its original fitting. “—I trust you.”

Hoseok opened his mouth, and you stopped mid-grab, your hand around the strap of your bag. He gazed at you shamelessly, as if trying to comprehend your very existence.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurted, eye widening once he realized what he had confessed, “I-I mean…shit.” He sentence fell off, his head bowing down in regret.

Your cheeks warmed as the words registered in your brain. You cleared your throat and set your hands on your lap, subconsciously rubbing them up and down, a bashful look on your face.

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “I think you’re beautiful too.” You mentally shut down, chastising yourself for saying something so dumb, but at the same time, you weren’t wrong at all.

You glanced to the side, seeing your sister hop off the chair, laughing along with Taehyung as he blatantly flirted with her. You sighed, wishing you could be as open as her, but it seemed the two of you were born with opposing…everything.

“S-so ___, I was wondering if you would like to go out sometime. I know this is a weird way for us to meet but I’m extremely attracted to you, and I want to get to know you better—”

“Yes,” you beamed, your heart throbbing with happiness.

Hoseok smiled along with you, proud he was able to have the confidence to ask you out. He walked over to the counter and scribbled something down before coming back to you.

“Here’s my number if you want it.”

You rolled your eyes and took it from him. “Of course I want it Hoseok. I’ll text you right now.” You slid open your phone, entering the number as a new contact, sending an emoji to his number.

A small ding came from his phone, the smile never leaving his face as he saved your number. You stepped down from the chair, accidentally tumbling to the side. Hoseok immediately wrapped his arm around your waist, steadying you while the other hand gripped the part of the table where your head would have fallen into.

“Shit,” you huffed, clutching Hoseok’s arm and straightening yourself out. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Hoseok slowly retracted his arm, his gaze on you, then your lips, then back onto you.

“___!”

You jumped away from Hoseok, tipping over, still dazed from his touch. You snatched your bag from the chair and cleared your throat and faced her.

“If you’re finished rubbing all over the boy, let’s go. I’m tryna eat.” She turned back to Taehyung, desperately trying to get rid of him.

“I guess you have to go then.” There was the apparent dislike of his realization in Hoseok’s voice.

“Mhm…” You began walking to the door, Hoseok following close behind. You spun around and said goodbye, “text me later yeah?”

Hoseok’s face lit up. “Most definitely.”