#not to get like sentimental or anything…

[milawritess]

Wherever you go, that's where I'll follow — Gojo Satoru

pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

synopsis: crushed by the pressure of his work, Satoru and the reader's relationship begins to spiral. You do everything you can to make him happy, but you fear it's not enough. Maybe it never was. After a miscalculation that could have resulted in innocent lives being lost, the situation takes a turn for the worse.

Word count: 17k+ (I'm sorry in advance)

genre: heavy angst with happy ending

warnings: heavy angst, swearing, reader is a motherly figure to Megumi but their relationship is a bit strained, mentions of depression and self-doubt, reader is a sorcerer, fighting, insecurity, arguments, and breakups (?), descriptions of gore, mentions of sexual intercourse (mdni), depictions of a complicated and untraditional relationship, reader gets hurt, hardly edited/proofread (oops), gojo is fed up and mean :(

a/n: this is the first and longest thing I've ever posted on here lol. I felt like there was a lack of sorcerer!reader, so I played around with that concept a little bit. other than potentially shitty writing (sorry for any typos or grammatical errors), I truly hope you enjoy <3

“Get out.”

The hash sentiment lingers, hanging heavily in the air. 

“Well, hello to you too.”

He hears your feet shuffle across the floor as you stumble to take your shoes and coat off. “I just came to check on you.”

“And I’m fine,” he responds without moving, one arm up, draping over his aching eyes. He lies on the living room couch, one lanky leg propped up at an angle.

“You’re clearly not fine,” you respond, seeming unphased. “Have you eaten anything?” You ask, waiting for a response that never comes. “Okay, I’ll make your favorite ramen.” 

He feels the side of the couch dip, your hand settling on his chest. Your fingers were greedy like you couldn’t stop yourself from playing with the fabric or caressing his taut muscles. Your voice is gentler when you speak this time. “Do you want an ice pack? Some tea?”

You two have done this dance before. You come home to find him exhausted, overworked with a migraine that could tranquilize an elephant. And just like always, you carefully slip his shoes off and unbutton the sleek black jacket to his uniform. It’s hard for him to stay mad about anything when you’re this kind, this caring. 

“Satoru, please say something.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

Your voice was so gentle. So sweet, saccharine, and so fucking patient. A voice you only ever reserved for him and for his ears only. A gentle whisper carried in a gentle breeze. It was his favorite sound. 

But not tonight. 

So you try something else. Sweet kisses along the corner of his lips. You’re even bold enough to move his arm, the arm he was using to desperately block out any light or simulation. You kiss his eyelids, his forehead, and cheeks—feather-light. Your hand slides up his chest before reaching his face. You caress your thumb under his closed eyes, and your other hand finds his hair, gently massaging his temple. He has all of you. Every bit. 

“Let me take care of you.” If it were any other night, your breath fanning his neck would have shattered him; goosebumps would have wrecked his body, he’d shiver, and everything in him would ease, and all of his stress would slip away into nothingness. He never had to be the strongest with you. You would render him down to nothing but a simple man with just a few words. “You don’t look too good, honey. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.” For a woman so strong in your own right, a woman of unyielding dignity and poise and unwavering determination to succeed, this is his favorite side of you. 

But not tonight. 

When his hand clasps your wrist, he feels your whole body freeze against his. Maybe you were surprised. Maybe you predicted this and were preparing yourself but-

The tongue-lashing dies in his throat when he opens his eyes. Just a peak to your face makes him falter. You were pouting. Worried. “I’m fine.” it’s harsher than you deserve but kinder than the thoughts swirling through his head a second ago. 

He’s agitated. Stuck in the same old system that continues to fuck him over—his students over. 

And yet, you just looked too beautiful. 

You pull away, finally taking the hint. Then, you stand, fully removing yourself from him and stepping away. Your body heat quickly disappears from where you once sat, and he quivers. The room was quiet once again. 

The room remained quiet even as you placed a hot bowl of ramen on the table beside him, a glass of water, and two pills. 

You slept alone that night. 

-

You remember when you first met Megumi. 

“Who the hell are you?” 

You never would have expected that to be the the words from a child you had just met. You raised a brow. “Well, aren’t you a fucking, brat?” 

You were different back then—colder, angrier. You were similar in that sense.

Oddly enough, maybe that’s what gravitated him to you.  

You’re not sure when it happened, but gradually, the harsh edges of you began to… change. Not entirely softened, as thorns remained, but you bloomed, red petals and all. You grew softer, kinder, more patient—and finally—your heart had made space for others. The fear of loss remained, but you had never cared for someone so fragile. No one had ever cried for you, reached for you with small chubby fingers, or depended on you as he once had. You never had someone in your life that needed to be nurtured, protected, and guided. 

He was just a boy. 

Over time, you realized that if you remained unchanged, perhaps he would never grow into the man he needed to be. You’re not sure why he picked you, why he looked up to you of all people, but he did. He found comfort in you and followed you like a little duckling with a little waddle and permanent scowl. 

There wasn't a rhyme or reason. He chose you, and you chose him. 

Soon enough, you were waking him up for school, running your hands through his messy, dark locks. You were making him bento boxes, running to parent-teacher conferences, and having hard but meaningful conversations with him in his room about his troubling behavior. 

Then you were hugging him as he cried, as he revealed the same dark thoughts you once had about yourself. 

You wished this world wasn’t so cruel, so dark. You hope that in a different life, he would have grown into a normal kid, with hopes and dreams and a list of things he wanted to do and go out and experience. You didn’t want him to be shackled to a world that’s left you so scarred.

You fought for any sense of normality you could give him. If that meant confronting the higher-ups, so be it. At times, you even confronted Satoru. 

He was just a boy. 

Fire never harmed you;  it never dared to scorch your skin. You commanded and held domination over nearly every flicker of heat. He was so small when you met him; you remember the first time you saw his small form shiver in the cold. It made you anxious. Despite buying him the heaviest winter coat you could find, you were beside yourself, always wondering—is he warm enough? 

But, long were the days of you bundling him up in his jacket, tying his shoes, and tugging beanies over his dark hair and red ears. Long were the days of you clasping his little hands in yours to bring them warmth when the air grew too bitter. He grew older, smarter, wiser, and stronger. The boy that used to cling to your skirt after a hard day at school now stood inches taller than you. 

You knew that one day he’d leave you, and you were okay with that. Seeing him so ready for the world made you happy. You worried—of course you still worried—but you were so proud. He was hesitant, unsure at times, and sometimes even looked back to you for assurance. 

You were always there, smiling, ushering him along. 

You can do it. I believe in you. 

You grew up together, you think. Sometimes, you wondered if he ever paid for your shortcomings, or if he remembered your failures as a caregiver, but just like you did him, he’d assure you with a soft nudge and a gentle smile. 

He knows you did the best you could with what you had.  

He was just a boy. 

Your boy. 

He wasn’t yours, but you loved him like he was. Only as he grew did you realize the lines you had crossed. 

He doesn’t remember his mother, but you’re sure he remembered her smile, perhaps her touch, or the sound of her laughter. You never meant to impose on her memory.

When it happened, he had just gotten into Tokyo Jujutsu High, and Satoru took him on his first official mission. You no longer had the means of pushing this off; you couldn’t beg Satoru or the higher-ups for another month, another week, another day. Megumi wasn’t a normal kid. He was a sorcerer and needed to start fulfilling his duties and mastering his technique.

“You can’t avoid the inevitable. You can’t protect him forever,” Satoru had once told you. 

You knew he was right. 

You stayed home that day, anxious and worried, but you knew Megumi would be alright. Satoru was with him. Even if the tall man was a bit harder on Megumi than you, you knew he’d keep him safe. 

However, your worst fears came to fruition. Megumi wasn’t the same after that mission. 

You remember. Satoru’s eyes were stern that night while Megumi's eyes never left the floor as he made his way to his room. 

You remember thinking—what could I do to make my boys happy again? 

After all, they were your everything, the reason you stood here now with a full heart. Things were newer for you and Satoru then, but he kissed you that night, warm, large hands gently holding your cheeks. He missed you a little bit extra that day. You were nervous, hesitant to fall into the sanctuary of his embrace, but it was only a matter of time until you were fully, devotedly his.

 “Are you okay?” You had asked, only for him to nod his head. 

“Yeah. Of course, I am, angel. Megumi is shaken up, but he’ll be alright too.” 

You made Megumi’s favorite dinner that night—the same beefsteak he’s raved about since he was only six. Well, he never raved, but you perfectly remember the first time you made it, which happened to be the first time he tried it. He could barely get his chin over the table to scope his food into his mouth. He wasn’t good with chopsticks yet, so he used a little fork, which he held in his tiny fist. His little eyebrows raised before dipping down, creasing at the inner corners as he concentrated on the flavor. He murmured it’s good, and you remember being so proud of yourself. That was one of the first times you felt that you were doing something right by him. You made the same dish on occasion, and time only helped you perfect the recipe. 

Megumi never came out of his room that night. The lights were off when you knocked. Even after hearing no response, you had cracked open the door, poking your head inside. 

“Gumiii,” you stepped into his room. He was on his bed, groaning as you flicked the light on. He turned his back to you. “I made your favoriteee.”  

You had sat on the edge of his bed, a hot plate of food in your hands. “C’mon, it’s the beefsteak you like. Nice and warm.”

“‘m not hungry,” he had grumbled. 

You sighed. “The mission must have been unpleasant.” He remained still. “I’m sorry, Gumi. Satoru said you did well! I’m proud of you—” he flinched from your touch, snapping his arm away from your reach. You froze, having felt the coldness of his rejection. “If you don’t want to talk about the mission, how was your first day at your new school?” You asked. “Do you have any classmates you like?”

“Just quit it already…” he had murmured. “I’m not in the mood.”

Your shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re okay. My first mission was tough too, and you already know I wasn’t great at making friends either–” you winced, biting your tongue.  This was coming out all wrong. “… are you okay, Megumi?” 

“I’m fine!” He clipped, pushing himself upright in bed. “Just leave me alone and stop acting like you’re my mom already!”  

You remembered—and just the memory of that night shambled your heart. You could never forget the hurt those words caused and how you couldn’t show it. 

You had smiled wearily. Then, you placed his dinner on his desk. “…you’re right,” you echoed. “I’m not her, never could be. I’m sorry if I imposed. I never meant to.”

You never spoke of the incident, but you remembered that things were tense between Satoru and Megumi for a short while after that. You told Satoru to drop it, but you had a feeling the poor boy received a tongue-lashing from Satoru. You were never sure, though, and you could never prove it. 

You just remembered feeling cracks in the foundation of the home you never knew you had so carefully crafted, brick by brick. Some of the warmth was gone—a warmth you never knew was quite there until it wasn’t. 

Little by little, you pulled back. Megumi moved into the student dorms shortly after, and he needed you less and less. You no longer made him bento boxes or his favorite beefsteak. You bit your tongue with the lectures: Megumi, that’s not nice, or Megumi, you need to have more faith in yourself. You can do it.  

Though the bitter bite of cold never entirely touched you, heated by an unquenchable fame, you pulled back your hand when you reached for him. He left you seared—burned. 

You still worried. You never knew if you were giving him too much or not enough. So, you left most of the mentoring to Satoru now.  It’s been a few months since the incident, and now you only ever speak to him if he approached you first. 

That's why you were happy when you spotted him in town. You offered him a small, shy wave. He unexpectedly approached you and asked how you were and what you’d been up to. However, the most unexpected part was when he asked if you were busy. You shook your head, and it was impossible to hide you beam when he offered to get you hot chocolate from the same coffee shop you used to take him to after school in the colder months.

However, it seemed you weren’t the only one confused by Satoru’s recent behavior. 

“Huh?”

“Gojo didn’t want me going on my mission,” Megumi reiterated. 

You blink a few times, tapping your fingers against the styrofoam cup in your hands. “Huh. He’s never done that before.”

“He doesn’t think I’m ready. He took the mission himself.”

“He said that? That he doesn’t think you’re ready?”

“Well… not exactly.” He scowls slightly, looking down at the cup of hot chocolate. “But he damn well implied it.”

“Gumi,” you frown at the boy. He doesn’t make eye contact with you; he looks forward now, gazing out the window and watching the fresh snow coat the ground. 

He was upset. 

“He could’ve at least taken me with him.”

For a moment, you see that same little boy you met over ten years ago and that same dejected look on his face after being let down one too many times. It breaks your heart. 

“If Satoru took the mission and went alone, I’m sure it’s for a good reason.”

He wants to say more but opts for something quick and sweet. “Yeah. Maybe.”

You have to do something. Quick. Anything to make him a bit happier. “I have a mission later in Osaka. I’ll be catching the 2 pm train. Wanna come? I could use the extra help.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking, you presume, but he nods. “Yeah, sure. I don’t have anything else to do.” 

“Great! And just so you know, we’ll probably be dealing with a grade one or two.” 

He pauses momentarily before calmly asking, “And you need help with that?”

“Uh, yeah. Any help is much appreciated. Plus, I haven’t seen you much recently.” You smile brightly, and he turns his head, eyes finding the ground, looking a little bashful. 

“About that…” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you wave him off. “You’ve been busy with school, and I know that.”

“But that’s not–”

“It’s okay, Megumi,” you smile again, resisting the urge to reach across the table and gently squeeze his hand. “I get it.”

He gives you a look, a small disgruntled scowl. He wanted to say more.

“Alrighty then.” You stand, stretching from sitting in the chair. “I’ll buy you another hot chocolate for the road. We should probably start getting ready to leave.”

-

The mission goes well. An abandoned warehouse in Osaka conjured up a nasty looking grade three, but Megumi held his own just fine—like you expected. He’s grown much stronger and more sure of himself. You’re proud. Seeing how far he’s come certainly puts a smile on your face. He’s not a little boy anymore, you realized. He’s growing into a fine young man. 

Urg. Stop getting emotional. 

However, after stopping for a later dinner, you both arrived home late, around nine or so. 

“You did good tonight, Megumi,” you tell him for the nth time. 

He rolls his eyes, tucking his hands deep into his pockets. “You’ve told me that already.”

“I know, I know. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m proud of you. You’re getting so much stronger.”

Instead of brushing you off like all the other times, he sighs before offering a forced “thanks.” 

“Alrighty then. Try and get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you and the others sometime tomorrow, yeah?”

“Sounds good. Get back home safe.”

You nod, smiling. You make sure to watch him as he goes, making sure he gets inside before turning around. He’s capable of taking care of himself, but some habits never grow old. Making sure he gets inside anywhere safely has always been something you’ve prioritized, whether he was going to a friend's house, school, or boarding the train. 

You loved him like your own, but you knew he wasn't. After all, it was only a few months ago now that he reminded you that he wasn't yours.

You’re not my mom. 

It hurt—it still does—but you never held it against him. You still loved him nevertheless. Your relationship might have shifted but it doesn’t negate the fact that you care for him and would gladly give your life if it meant keeping him safe. 

Then, there was Kugisaki and Itadori—two others slowly weaseling their way into your heart. They’ve helped Megumi so much; he might be too proud to admit it, but they’ve helped him come out of his shell; they were his friends, and you knew they had each other backs. 

You sigh, a translucent cloud of white floating up and above your head. Just like always, your thoughts shift to blue eyes. Satoru. You’ve missed him today. No calls or obnoxious spam texts. It’s not unusual per se, especially when he gets busy. Regardless, you missed him.

But, something is bothering you. He wasn't communicating with you and he usually tells you these things. Even if he didn't have the time to tell you something right away, he'd eventually find a moment to talk to you. This time around, he didn’t. He didn't tell you he was leaving or about the whole ordeal with Megumi.

He just got up and left. You woke to a cold bed and an empty house. No text message, no note with a silly doodle. When you called him in the morning, it went right to voicemail. Eventually, when you pull up your shared text messages to check for anything new, you only saw the message you sent him from the day before. At a loss, you type out a quick message. You didn't think it would make things better, but at least it was something.

I hope you have a good day today :) 

It was all you could really muster up after last night. He seemed so agitated, and so fed up. You blamed it on stress; he isn’t usually like that. Usually, his touch was careful, calculated as if you were fixed of glass. You missed his lame jokes and mischievous grins when he was up to no good. You weren't offered any of that last night. Or the night before. Even the night before that. 

You’re starting to worry. 

He always bounces back so quickly. The only thing that typically gets him this mad are the higher-ups. Which, in Megumi's case, makes sense. You can see why Gojo would intervene if they gave him a dangerous mission. 

But why didn’t he take Megumi with him, at least?

Hm.. maybe it was beyond Megumi's skill set. Would the elders be stupid enough to set him up? They did it to you long ago, but they wouldn’t be bold enough to do it to the boy with the ten shadows technique, would they?

Or maybe Satoru… just doesn’t want to be near you?

Urg. You roll your eyes at your own selfish thoughts. Satoru wouldn’t do something like that. He’s already overworked as it is. Maybe you should make him something. A nice dinner? Or maybe he needed a pick-me-up? Kikufuku? You’re sure you could find the recipe online. 

You're torn, so you decide to make both. Maybe you'll even put on a nice dress. 

You decide to call him, and after a few rings, he answers. “Hey, honey,” you say sweetly, happy he even bothered to answer your call. "I was wondering when you’d be home tonight. I want to make you a nice dinner.”

He’s quiet again—too quiet. “Dinner? Tonight?” 

“Yeah, you’ve been so busy lately. I figured you’d like that.” 

He hums into the phone, sounding a bit lighter. “Dinner does sound nice…” 

Your smile widens. You could hear the underlying stress in his tone; it was flatter than usual, but at least he was trying. “... I’ll even put on your favorite dress?” 

He chuckles a bit. “Tempting, but I’ll probably have to leave after dinner.”

“Oh,” you murmur, wincing slightly at the rejection. Maybe you’ve gotten too spoiled—too accustomed to him pushing off his responsibilities all for the sake of spending a few more moments with you. Were you being too greedy?  “Are you okay? They’re not stretching you too thin, are they?”

He sighs in a carefree tone. “I'm doing fine. Same old thing, just a different day,” is all he offers, but you can tell he’s withholding. 

“I can help, y’know,” you offer gently. “If you have too many missions, I can take a few off your plate.”

“Nah,” he tells you a bit arrogantly. “It’s better if I handle it.”

Now you’re really starting to feel the distance. He usually reserves the softer parts of him for you. You suppose he just didn’t have the patience to do so right now. “You, uh, got into it with the higher-ups I heard,” you mention, trying to keep the conversation going but approaching from a different angle. “Megumi was telling me you even took his mission. I think he was a bit upset you didn’t take him with you. How come you never told me?”

“How come you never told me you were going to Osaka? Or the fact that you took him with you?”

Your stomach twists, unease bubbling in your chest. You didn’t like where this was heading. “I– it’s never bothered you before,” you manage, though your voice falters, dying down into nothing but a whisper. “And it’s not like you’ve been… wanting to speak to me recently. I haven't had the time to tell you much of anything," your trail off, your voice slowly fading before you begin again. "Did I do something to make you mad?”

The silence that follows is unbearable—longer than you ever imagined it could be. “Satoru… Please just talk to me.”

“I gotta go,” his tone is cold, clipped, and final. 

There’s a click as he hangs up, and the silence becomes deafening and threateningly absolute.

-

You realize you miss the way he used to look at you. Not the way he'd gaze at you, but in the way he would gaze into you, as though you were ever the only thing that ever really mattered.

After your last conversation with him, you were unsteady. You hated how you stayed in bed for hours, analyzing everything he's said to you recently, dissecting his every action. You hated how needy you suddenly felt, even while laying there, in his bed, in his clothes. He paused just a second too long before answering you now, as if he had to must up the courage and energy to do so. His laugh no longer came out easily. Others might miss it, but you never could. It was still rambunctious, taking up a whole room, but to you, it felt forced, brittle even. You've known Satoru at his best, and you've also known him at his worst.

When he looks at you now, you wonder if he's really seeing you. Painfully, you realize you haven't seen him; not without his eyeband on at least. Last night you did, for the first time in a while, but he seemed agitated.

The worst part was that you didn't know how to bring yourself to confront him. You struggled, unsure which pretty words and cadence would unluck the distance between you two.

Did something happen on one of his missions? Was he stressed? Had the higher-ups pushed him too far, testing his patience?

Or was it you? Was this somehow your fault?

Did you scare him away? Have you said too much, cared too deeply, loved too loudly?

You weren't sure, but you had to try something.

You were grateful you were cooking him dinner tonight on your day off. It was the least you could do, and you adored taking care of him. You choose hot pot, something you and Satoru have tried at home before. It took over a few hours to prepare, but it was worth it. You made two broths, you sliced up shabu-shabu and wagyu beef and even went to the extent of watching a video to make a dipping sauce. Unfortunately, you forgot one of the ingredients for the kikufuku mochi and didn’t want to risk making something he didn’t entirely like. Luckily, you had spare time to run down to the kikufuku store right before it closed. Of course, you grabbed all his favorite, two boxfuls, in fact. He was a big guy, so you hoped you had more than enough food for him to indulge.

You and Satoru were together. Though he never outright asked you to be his, you knew. It was an unspoken thing, and you were content with that. For as goofy and eccentric as that man could be, it was rather surprising how he was never outright with what he was actually feeling. 

He was damn good at showing it, though. In more ways than one. 

You feel it in the way he’d always reach for you after a nightmare. Shaking, needy hands tightly clasping at your waste, fearful of you disappearing and slipping to a place where he could not reach you. Don’t ever go where I can’t follow. Please. His face would nuzzle into your neck, sharply inhaling your scent. You’d hold him, whispering endless promises. I’m here. I’ll always be here. Or it's okay. Breathe, my love. I’m with you. 

You feel it on the nights he’d pin you beneath him, his grunts and moans echoing in your ears as he fills you so completely. He’d beg, no demand you—tell me you’re mine. Only mine. 

And, of course, you’d eagerly nod, overwhelmed with the pleasure only he could strum out of you so perfectly. ‘m yours. All of me—yours. 

You feel it in his protective gaze, his eagerness to hold you in the life vest of his arms. You felt it late into the night, damp bodies pressed against one another; low lighting, quiet laughter, and secrets revealed. His dreams, his wishes, his what ifs—the parts of him that no one knew or considered. Or when he handed you a silver key with a handsome and cheshire grin. What do you say? He was lovely, every bit of him, especially his gentle and selfless heart that you would never take for granted like the rest of the world seemed to. 

You feel it when he comes home from overseas and how his strong arms hold onto you just a bit longer, a bit tighter. You feel it with how he smiles into your neck or that one time at the airport when he lifted you up and spun you around, uncaring who saw. 

You feel it in the way that it was unspoken. You feel it in his cursed energy and how it perfectly intertwined with yours, reaching for you, comforting you when his hands could not. You especially feel it in the necklace he gifted you—the one your fingers were playing with now: a silver chain with cerulean sapphires, the same breathtaking shade of his eyes. His cursed energy, carefully imbued into the stones, was like carrying a piece of him with you—always, wherever you may go, and it rests directly above your beating heart. 

He might not voice it, but you feel it. He loved you. And you certainly loved him. 

So when had it become so hard to reach him? Why does he seem so intangible all of a sudden? Something deep and unsettling blooms in your stomach. 

And now that you think about it…

When was the last time you two did any of that? When was the last time his careful hands caressed you?

Only Satoru could make you this worried or make you feel this displaced. A sense of panic strikes you, and you pull out your phone to text him when you realize he’s thirty minutes late. Usually, that wouldn’t bother you, but–

After only three rings, you're sent to voicemail. When you check his location, he’s at the high school. Should you check on him? Or would that make him… mad?

He toru! Dinners ready. When do you think you’ll be home? Miss you. 

You bite your lip. He quickly read your message, but those three little bubbles never show up. 

Nothing. Just nothing. 

Maybe he’s staying up late writing the report for his latest mission? 

“eek!” Your phone pings, and after a round of hot potato, you see he’s texted you back. 

Only to be met with more disappointment. 

Dealing with something urgent. Don’t wait up. 

You frown, knowing you should drop it, but you can’t. 

Satoru…

He’s typing faster now. What?

You pause, thumbs hovering over letters you hesitate to type. What’s going on? You’ve been off lately. 

I’m fine. Just busy. 

Do you want me to bring you dinner to the High School?

Those three bubbles appear and disappear more times than you can count. No. I said don’t wait up. 

You know I don't sleep well without you.

He responds in a heartbeat. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

Your patience is wearing thin for the first time since this ordeal started. Are you saying you won’t be coming home tonight? 

You’re offered no response. He doesn’t even open your message. For the second night, you lay in a cold bed. Except, Satoru doesn’t come home. 

Only he could fracture you so completely. 

-

During your next mission, you brought the whole trio along. According to the report you were handed, you were only dealing with a grade three, but there was also an Infestation in the area. You could use the backup.

You had initially asked Megumi, but once Yuji caught wind, he was adamant that he tagged along, and, according to Nobora she had nothing else better to do. 

“Are you guys sure? It’s your day off.”

Yuji shrugs, both arms up, hands up and behind his head. “Yeah, I’m game.”

“Me too,” Nobora voices with a small glint in her eyes. “I got something new I want to try out anyway. We didn’t get to go on a mission last week as it is.”

You paused. "Huh? Gojo didn’t take you on any?”

“Nah,” Yuji shakes his head. “I think he’s been busy or something.” He looks at Kugisaki. “Hasn’t Gojo-Sensei seemed a little… off?”

Nobora nods. “Uh yeah. He hasn’t been himself at all. We figured you’d know something,” Nobora says, curious eyes scanning you. 

“Huh… I’m not sure. We haven’t gotten around to talking lately.”

Megumi hums, though it sounds more suspicious than his usual passive tone. 

Though they weren’t necessarily your students, you figured there was no harm in taking them. You've done it before and having them around was always like a breath of fresh air—reminding you of why Satoru dedicates himself so fully to his cause and being a teacher. They give you a reason to get stronger and keep fighting. You loved these kids and all their bickering. 

Except, this mission doesn’t go anything like you had expected. The report was wrong—a grade two was ambling through the abandoned schoolhouse. That was fine; the four of you were more than enough to kill it. The infestation was a bit overwhelming, but you had their backs, and they were nothing but pesky small curses lower than a grade four. 

Everything went well when the ambush happens. You all saw it: right in front of your eyes, a grade one emerging from the shadows, born into something nasty. It's skin oozed a sickly black slime that clung to its misshapen body. Its face—or lack there of—was dark and amorphous, split by a jagged maw that stretched impossibly wide, revealing rows of sharp serrated teeth, ready to cut and slash through flesh like a meat grinder. Other that is daunting appearance, the only other notable thing about it was its speed.

You told the kids to back down, but it was already too late. They were already involved, stuck in the heat of battle and fighting as a seamless unite. They were more than capable of standing on their own. 

But you needed them out of here. Your obligation was to protect them no matter how eager they were to help. However, before you could think of your next move, the curse made one last self-preserving attack. It opened in wide jaws, releasing several red beamed energy blast aimed directly at stone pillars. 

You had no time to think, only react. In an instant, you surged forward towards the trio, faster than their eyes could react. Grunting, you knocked them back, glass shattering as you kicked them through a window. You felt the impact ripple through your body, fully knowing you knocked the wind out of Megumi and Yuji. However, they recovered quickly, their instincts sharp enough to catch Nobora–

Right in time before the building collapsed. 

The building groaned like a wounded beast, its entire frame buckling from lack of support. Stone walls crumbled into clouds of dust and debris, windows shattered in explosive bursts, steel beams twisted and snaped with sickening shrieks. The ground trembled violently as the structure gave way, collapsing into a chaotic heap of concrete, rubble, and smoke, swallowing everything beneath. Including you.

You survived. Reinforcing your body with cursed energy made you strong enough to withstand the impact, and your heavenly restriction certainly helped. Nevertheless, you still took on quite a bit of damage from the tons of metal and concrete.

You woke up under the rubble with a startling gasp, choking on the dust. Were you out for a few seconds? Minutes? You were unsure, but the only thing pushing you to stand was the panic coated in Megumi’s voice. He was calling for you, and so were the others. You could hear the strain in their voices, the utter distraught. You healed your broken leg and the gash on the corner of your forehead, ceasing your gushing blood. You gathered yourself and your strength before pushing. They found you quickly after that, noticing a heap of rubble moving. They ran, rushing to help you push back concrete that threatened to suffocate you. You never did like tight spaces. 

Thankfully, you were alright. The kids were safe as well.

However, the curse had escaped. Megumi was visibly shaken, his fingernail cracked, bruised, and bleeding from digging urgently through the rubble to find you. 

Everyone was on edge. It wasn't their fault you didn't react quickly enough. You were more than capable; maybe that's why the failure stung so much.

You let yourself down. You let them down.

You were spiraling into a dark place quickly. The guilt threatened to swallow you whole. Gojo was still nowhere to be seen. You didn't have the strength to call him. You’re not sure what you could even say. You’ve fucked up before, but never to this extent. Not to where a whole building collapsed. 

“Good morning. A tragic incident occurred last night when an abandoned school collapsed around 7 pm. Authorities are currently investigating the cause, and preliminary reports suggest that the collapse could have been due to a structural weakness—one of the many reasons why the school was abandoned in the first place. We will continue to monitor the situation as more information becomes available–"

Megumi gently grabs your phone and locks your screen. Wordlessly, he shakes his head before pocketing your device. You’re too exhausted to ask for it back. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, Sensei?” Yuji's voice was soft, the first voice to break the ice. You look up from your hands, unsure how long you’ve been lost in thought. You force a small smile as you gaze at the three kids. You were sitting across from them in the waiting area outside the council room. 

“I’m alright. Are you guys?"

“We’re all fine,” Megumi cuts in quickly. “We’re– we’re more than okay.”

“That's good,” you trail off. “That's really good.”

Uncertainty hung dangerously in the air. What happened now? You were okay, but for how long? 

You knew you were in for a lashing with all the collateral damage you caused. It was supposed to be a simple mission. This wasn't supposed to happen. You four were fine, but did anyone else get hurt? 

You flinch at your own thought. You don't think you could live with yourself if innocent lives were lost.

“Sensei?” Yuji's soft, unsure voice cuts in once more. When your eyes make contact, he smiles brightly. You can tell it’s forced. “After this, wanna go get something to eat? There’s this great sandwich shop down the street!”

“Y–yeah!” Nobora sits up straight after being less than conspicuously nudged by Yuji. “It’s pretty good. We went the other day–”

The council room door creaked open. The higher-ups were waiting, shrouded in shadows and faces hidden. Even if you couldn't see them, the tension was palpable. Even without seeing them directly, you could sense their anger, smell it as it rolled off of them in a quiet, unspoken fury. You glance at the kids once more, this time with a gentle, reassuring smile curling at your lips. 

Everything would be okay.  

-

Everything was, in fact, not okay. 

The air was heavy as you entered your office. Your limbs ached, your head throbbed, and every breath felt like dragging glass through your lungs. You had thought the worst of it was over, and slowly, you felt your body begin to shut down, but only when there were no prying eyes to see how you compensated for your injuries. Even after using RCT, you had a limp—your bones were mended but not quite right. Your head was no longer bleeding—but still, you weren't quite right. 

You dismiss it as exhaustion; after all, you had just learned RCT not too long ago. Maybe you missed something. However, this wasn’t anything you couldn't handle on your own. You could see Shoko, but why bother her? You’ve endured far worse. Dealing with a sore body and a headache for the next few days wasn’t out of your jurisdiction. 

When you open the door, a flickering lamplight reveals a tall frame standing by your desk. Even before your eyes dance upon his sharp and still silhouette, the air shifts—your soul already knows he is there. Satoru.

But, his eyes never meet yours; you weren’t blessed enough to see them, a bright blue illuminating in the absence of light. His eyes were covered with a familiar dark cloth. However, you didn’t need to see them to know that the usual warmth they held as he gazed upon you was gone. In its place was a coldness that turned your stomach.

“Satoru–”

“I know,” he says, voice clipped as he turns to face you. “I read the reports.” Your heart sinks as he haphazardly tosses the report down to your desk. 

You’re exhausted, unsure of where to even begin. So many questions floated in your weary mind. Where were you? When did you get here? Please, don’t be mad at me. 

It’s funny how all your dignity, poise, and strength to endure are gone with him. You already took one berating from the elders, and you’re not sure you could handle another. 

Not from him. 

“But, I want to hear it from you.” He stepped closer, his height making him all the more domineering. “What happened out there? And how the hell are my students caught up in all of this?”

“The report was wrong. It was a grade two, not three, but we handled that just fine. We cleared out the area and completed the mission, but we were ambushed. A grade one appeared, destroyed the pillars, and–” You hesitate, unable to form the words. “Well, you know what happened.” He’s quiet, too quiet for your liking. “I–I did everything I could, Satoru. The students were fine, but the curse got away.”

“Everything you could?" His voice echoes. "I don’t need excuses. Certainly not from you. You endangered them—all of them. They’re not even your students!” He snapped, his voice rising in a way you’ve never heard before.

You bite back the lump forming in your throat. “I thought you, out of anyone, would understand the circumstances.”

“...Understand?” He utters back, a quiet fury rolling off him in waves. 

 “I made sure that–”

“You failed,” he snaps, voice laced with malice. “Enough. Just stop it. You were reckless and went behind my back, and you let a pathetic grade one get the best of you.”

Your chest tightened, crumbling at the weight of his tone. “Went behind your back? I did no such thing.”

“They could have been hurt because of you!” You visibly flinch, his words carrying more weight than the debris that had buried you—broken bones and all. 

“I’m recommending you be demoted to grade two.” 

What?

“You can’t do that. Satoru, you can’t–”

“I can,” he said coldly. “and I will. You failed, and not only did you fail, you went behind my back and involved my students. Your recklessness caused this,” disdain coats his voice, and he sucks his teeth. “I was gone for two fucking seconds, and you damn near ruined everything. People could have died. My students could have been injured. So stop being a nuisance and just do as you're told from here on out.”

No. 

No, no, no, no. 

You fought for years to get to grade one. A woman with a name of no renown—this society was never in favor of you; the system was set up for you only to fail time and time again. For years, you were held at grade three, then grade two, all because of your name’s sake—all because you were a woman. You didn’t have the luxury of being as good as other sorcerers; you had the burden to be better. 

Even now, at grade one, they continue to undermine you and undervalue you. You knew you didn’t have room to make mistakes, for they would tarnish every bit of good you have done. You thought Satoru understood that. You thought he viewed you as an equal, someone strong enough to stand by him. You thought he valued you, respected you. 

You never thought a mistake, a stupid mistake, would lead to this. 

It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. 

“This has nothing to do with my rank. You don’t believe me. You don't trust me. After everything–”

Hearing his scornful laugh, your vision begins to blur. “Don’t make this personal. You fucked up, and now I have to clean up your mess.”

Your ears begin ringing. The pounding in your head becomes too much and threatens to crack your skull open once more.

“But it is, isn’t it?” You whisper. How could it not be personal with how he's been treating you for days? “You haven't been able to look at me in weeks. You speak to me as if I’ve become nothing but a burden to you—a nuisance. What did I do to deserve this?”

He remains silent, the muscles in his jaw ticking as he grits his teeth. Point proven.

Your heart painfully twists with each beat. “Do you even… care about me anymore?” You’re not sure why you say it, why the words slip past your lips, but they do.

He read the report and he hadn't even asked if you were okay. Maybe it was a selfish thought, but it makes your chest ache. You just wanted to go home, crawl in bed and hold him. However, you knew that wasn't in the cards right now.

“Don’t twist this into something it’s not.”

Your voice finally wavers before him, cracking as you press on, desperate for him to understand—desperate to have him by your side as he has been for so many years.

“You’re casting me aside like I’m... worthless."

It was cruelty, a quiet and deafening insult for him to demote you of your status—but more specifically, your place beside him. That hurt runs deep, to the point that feelings of betrayal start seeping into your veins, poisoning you, antagonizing you. Belittling you. It was a sharp dagger you never expected—searing with a hatred that threatened to cripple you. This wasn’t just about your position. He was a man of unchallenged stature, of the highest status and regard, lowering you, demeaning you with his every word, every action. 

When did things go so wrong?

Yet, even now, you question yourself. Were you being dramatic? Were you taking this too personally? Were you being selfish?

Because he was right. Every word he's said so far was right. You failed. You put them in danger.

You stand there, a hollow feeling growing in your chest. The sting of Satoru’s words cut deeper than any blade you’ve faced. His jaw tightened, his gaze hard as steel and cold as ice. “You gave me what I never asked for.”

“Don't you dare!” You snap, finger trembling as you point his way with an accusatory jab. “Don’t you dare pretend this is nothing.  You know me better than anyone. How could I not take this personally? I’ve done nothing but stand by you, love you, trust you–”

“Like I said, I never asked for any of that,” he utters sharply, his carefully composed exterior shattering. “Whatever we were was nothing more than fucking convenience.” 

Suddenly, he stops, freezing at the onslaught of his own lethal words. His next words seemed to die in his throat. The damage was done. 

Exhausted, defeated, numb. His words hit you like a death blow. “... Convenience?” Echoing the very word that came from his lips—a sound you hardly recognize comes from your mouth, a small slip of the anguish tormenting and swelling in your body escapes. 

The necklace around your neck, the very one he had given you, seemed to pulse against your skin, warm and alive. It carried a piece of him, a piece of you, a guiding hand in the absence of light: a thread, an anchor—a way home. 

Suddenly, you hated it. Hated the way it sat so close to your heart, hated the warmth, his energy; you hated that, even now, his words cutting so deep, unraveling the fabric of your being, it comforted you, reaching for you. 

You yanked it off, the chain snapping in two as you held it in your trembling hands. 

He falters, his whole being frozen. “What are you doing?” he asked, quiet and tense, blanketed in uncertainty. 

“I don’t want it,” you say, voice quivering, threatening to fail you at any moment. His energy—the only energy that blended so perfectly with yours—reached for you, and so did his trembling hands. Reflexively, you flinched away, retreating further into the room and further from him. “Don’t,” you shake your head. “Don’t touch me. Not with your hands, not with your energy. Don’t.”

Silent tears stream down your face. You are unable to look at him, and your breathing is shallow and unsteady. You open your hand, letting the necklace drop to the floor. The faint sound of metal hitting wood echoes in the suffocating silence of the room. 

There’s a soft knock on the door. It creaks, slightly opening. “... Y/n sensei?” came an unsure voice.

You stiffen, and suddenly, you can sense them, three nervous students standing outside your door. Too caught up with Satoru, you had entirely missed them. You clear your throat and dry your cheeks with the back of your hand before turning to the door. You walk over, opening the door wide enough to see them. 

“Sorry if we’re interrupting, but we just wanted to know if you still wanted to come out for dinner with us...” 

Fuck. How much did they hear?

You take a breath, and it’s shakier than you anticipated. “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice. Let me grab my jacket, okay.”

Yuji only offers an unsure smile. Norbora has a hard time even looking at you, while Megumis's eyes are solid and unyielding, glaring right past you. His hands were in his pockets, balled into tight fists.

You don’t know what to do other than quickly turning. Within a few ushered strides, you were at your desk, grabbing your coat off your desk chair; you’re careful to avoid Gojo, who manages to plaster on that big fucking grin. 

“Heard you guys were up to no good while I was away.”

“We were fine,” Megumi interjects before Yuji could open his mouth. “More than fine.” 

“Y–yeah, everything ended up being just fine. Y/n-sensei made sure of that,” Nobora awkwardly adds, shifting her weight on her feet. 

“Ah,” Gojo nods. “Well, make sure you get some rest tonight. We’ve got a long day tomorrow! You guys will be training with the second years!” 

You hated how he could act as if everything was alright while you were fighting back tears. It was another jab, a suckerpunch to the gut. 

You just needed to get out of there. 

-

After dinner with the kids, you headed out on your own the following day. You went home, stuffing some clothes in a bag before spending the night at a cheap motel. Before getting with Satoru, you always floated from place to place, never truly settling. Those days, all you carried on you was your backpack. You didn’t have a home or many possessions you could call your own. You just had yourself.  

I guess old habits die hard. 

Megumi was the first to text you: I went to Gojo's house today and didn’t see you. 

All good! I’ve been busy running errands.

Nobora text you sometime after.

Hey Sensei!! Let me know if you’re available today! Let’s go shopping!

You responded rather quickly. Sorry, I’m not around today. Maybe ask Maki? Or maybe Yuji and Megumi would like to tag along.

But guys suck :(

Then, there was Yuji: Hey, Sensei! Let me know if you want ramen! The gang and I got you since you covered for us the other night! I even got coupons! 

You weren’t sure what to say. You always covered for their meals (no exceptions), but you knew they were just trying to be kind. You double-tapped and hearted the message. 

You appreciated them more than anything, but frankly, it was a bit embarrassing. You never meant for them to overhear you and Satrou that night in your office, and you were never one for pity. If it were anyone else, you would have called them out and told them off. However, you wouldn’t dream of doing that to the kids. They were trying to support you in the only way they knew how, but it wasn’t their responsibility to worry about you. 

Surprisingly, Shoko was the next person to contact you. You never stopped by my office. I’m assuming you’re alright?  

Smiling gently, you responded. Yeah, no injuries to report. 

A building collapsed on you.

You scoff, imagining her deadpan expression. Heavenly restriction, remember?

That doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt. 

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. Yeesh. Just meet me at the bar you like downtown. 

That’s where you are now, Shoko’s favorite bar, tossing back your third shot. ”Take it easy. I don’t feel like dragging you home tonight.”

“Ah. I’m alright, Shoko.”

“You don’t look it.” 

“Neither do you with those bags under your eyes.”

She brings her drink to her lips, mumbling “touché” before taking a swig. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Vivid memories pressed to the front of your mind of the building collapsing. “Satoru is demoting me. After the elders ripped into me, I found him waiting for me in my office.”

“He– what? Jeez,” she took another sip of sake. “Out of everything, I didn’t expect that.” 

“I– we haven’t been doing too good. I’m not sure if there even is an us after last night.”

“Huh. He did seem a little out of it today.”

“Somehow, I kinda doubt that.” There’s a beat of silence, and you swirl the liquid in your cup. 

“If it means anything, he asked me about you. Asked if you were alright.” 

You smile a bit sardonically.  If Satoru really wanted to find you, you knew he could, as he had the means to do so. From here, you were only about five miles away from his estate. It’s not like you were too for his eyes to see.  Suddenly, that thought bothers you, and you find yourself almost subconsciously concealing your cursed energy.  

“Is that why you texted me?”

She gives you a weird look. “Partially. I had my own concerns.” 

“Like what?”

“If I’m being honest with you, you’re not great at RCT. I wanted to check and make sure everything was alright. It eventually catches up with you if you don’t do it correctly. I’ve seen it cause irreparable damage before.”  

“Ah. I guess that makes sense.”

“You should come to my office tomorrow so I can check–”

“I think I’m gonna quit.”

“…what?”

“I mean, that’s what they really want, right?”

“If you do that, they’ll find the easiest excuse to label you as a traitor. A cursed user.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Since day one, they’ve been trying to paint me as a villain.” 

“So don’t give them what they want,” Shoko bites back. She pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. “Listen, I can’t stop you. You are going to do what you want to do at the end of the day, but you don’t need to do this. You made a mistake.”

“I’m just tired,” you tell her truthfully. “For months, I’ve been pretending, going through the motions. I've been miserable. Megumi hasn’t wanted me around much. He’s older now, and he doesn’t need me anymore–”

“Of course he does,” Shoko cuts you off. “He’s still a kid.”

“And I’m not his mother,” you retort bitterly. “Then, there’s Satoru. He’s been so distant.  He used to always be in my corner and make everything better, but I don’t even have that now. Now, all of the jujutsu society thinks I’m a liability. He thinks I’m a liability. Maybe it’s why he’s grown to resent me so much.”

“Please. Just stop talking,” Shoko remarks, overwhelmed with how quickly you were talking. She wasn’t necessarily a fan of conversations like these, but at least she listened. “I’m here if you ever need anyone. And please, don’t let this fester. I would rather not lose another friend.” She takes a large gulp this time, finishing her drink before gesturing for a refill. “Tsk. Satoru is complicated—I get it—but he wouldn’t want you to leave. Neither would Megumi. That kid loves you. Maybe you and Gojo just need a break.”

A break? Ha. That was one way of putting it. However, it already felt much more like a breakup, and its permanence frightened you. Like many other things in your relationship, it was never voiced but certainly felt. 

“Yeah,” you say softly, body buzzing as you down your fourth shot. “Maybe you’re right.”

-

You start walking home after having drinks with Shoko. It was a long walk, and you took your time. You weren’t in a rush to head home to potential chaos. The thought of staying at a hotel crossed your mind, but you had nothing to change into. Frankly, it didn’t matter where you went either. It’s not like you’d be able to sleep any better. 

Though, it’s not like you were going back home to anything good. You were suspended without pay; you couldn’t go near the school grounds or exercise any curses—a stipulation you rolled your eyes at. If they thought just a few measly words would stop you from exercising a curse, they would be more idiotic than you thought. 

Still, maybe it’s good to take some time off. Maybe you should stay at the hotel. If you were lucky, they’d have a washer and dryer. 

Then, your phone starts to ring—a unique ringtone that a white-haired idiot assigned to his contact one day after you let him “borrow” your phone. He even changed his contact photo; years later, you never had the heart to change it. 

Your heart aches when you see the contact photo of him, his goofy smile and gorgeous eyes peeking over his black shades. You answered hesitantly after a few rings. 

“Hello?”

“Heyyy,” you hear, his voice light and cheery yet, lacking its usual spark. “Where are you? I know I missed dinner the other night so I picked up your favorite on my way home!” 

Back to normal? Just like that?

You take a breath, reeling in your emotions. It wasn’t normal, per se, but you could tell he was trying, stepping cautiously over the ice he knew could shatter at any moment. 

“I’m not home, right now.”

“Huuuh?” You can hear the slight whine in his voice, and you can imagine him pouting like a small child. You expect him to carry on with his theatrics, but he hesitates. “When do you think you’ll be home then?”

“Uh, I don’t really know,” you trail off, unable to keep up his faux mirth and bravado. 

 “Well, if you don’t want to sleep next to me tonight, I can just take the guest bedroom!” For a moment, he sounds hopeful.

Honestly, he’s just making your head spin. 

“Honestly, I think it’s best if I stay out of the house for a little while, Gojo.”

There’s a beat of silence before you hear his nervous laughter. “Gojo?” he remarks dejectedly. “Can’t remember the last time you called me that.”

You were unsure what to say; you hadn’t even realized you initially referred to him by his last name until he pointed it out. You want to tell him sorry—for everything, but your tongue tenses in your mouth, and your throat threatens to close up. You hated it when he got like this, and typically, you’d do anything to make him smile again. 

But you’re hurt, and he caused that hurt. 

“I wanted to talk to you about the other day,” he adds quickly, unable to withstand your silence. 

“What’s there to talk about?” You ask softly. “What done is done. I messed up.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “You’re right. It can’t be undone now. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Your stomach drops your heart twists and aches. Was he going to officially end things with you? A bitter, more cruel half of you whispers—you weren’t even officially together to begin with. However, none of that even matters; he has too much of you, too many pieces of your frail heart in the palm of his hands. You were irrevocably his, but was he ever yours? 

Just a few weeks ago, you thought you would have an entirely different answer than the one you have now. You're too afraid to face him or the truth. You were guilt-ridden, your pride and dignity torn to shreds. Hearing that he no longer wishes to be with you would be too much. 

Honestly? 

You’re not sure how you’d react. If you’d sob, if you’d remain stoic, or if you’d flip a table and trash every one of your possessions. You’re at wit's end, and the level of fallout threatening to break free from you was immeasurable. 

So, you finalize what you had been contemplating just five minutes ago. “I think I’m going to stay at a hotel, Gojo. I need space. Time to think.” 

“I don’t want us to go to bed mad at each other,” he says lowly, his voice reverberating through the phone. You shiver. “It doesn’t feel right.”

You hated this. You fucking hated this. 

Your chest tightens, and your knees weaken. You wanted to give in. He always had that power over you. He ruled your heart so effortlessly. You yearned for him, your heart singing a million love songs, beckoning him back to you. 

But you couldn’t. You were too mad. You felt cast aside as if you were nothing but an afterthought—after all these years. Yet again, you feel the foundation of your home cracking, and your knees go weak yet again. You take a shuddering breath right before repeating the exact words he threw at you just a few nights prior—words that so effortlessly dismantled your spirit. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

-   

You’ve always had a habit of running. It was easier for you than most. You figured you’d go back to that cheap motel in Tokyo, but you were too restless. Too angry. Feelings of betrayal ran deep, and the guilt nipped away at you until there was only a void. 

Before you could leave, though, you call a number you knew by heart. Stepping onto the train and holding your phone to your ear, it rings. For a moment, you assume he’s asleep. It was getting late, but after the fifth ring, the line clicked. A groggy voice peaks through. 

“Sensei? What’s going on?”

“Megumi,” you breathe out. “Hi. Sorry to wake you.”

“It’s fine.”

“Nozomi 1, departing from Tokyo and heading to Kyoto, will depart shortly. Please be careful of your footing while boarding. Please refrain from using mobile phone inside the train–“

“You’re leaving?” The tiredness in his voice is replaced by something else you can’t quite place. 

“Only for a short while. It’s not like I’ll be working anytime soon,” you chuckled nervously. “But I just wanted to let you know. It didn’t feel right leaving without speaking to you first.” 

“Oh,” is all he can muster up at first. “I– when will you be back?”

“I’m not sure,” you answer him honestly. “A few days, maybe.” 

“Well… Can we visit you? I’d go alone, but I think Yuji and Nobora would kill me if I did.” 

Oh. You hadn’t expected that. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Um, yeah. When I figure out where I’m staying, I’ll let you know.”

He sounds worried. “You don’t know where you’re staying yet?”

You snicker. “Ha, this is, uh, kinda an impromptu thing.” 

“… and you’re sure alright?”

“Yes, yes, I’m alright. I just wanted to tell you.”

You can tell he’s not exactly satisfied, but he isn’t one to stop you. “Well, text me where you’ll be staying in a few hours. You should probably hang up now, though, and figure it out.”

You smile softly to yourself. He always was a kind boy—kinder than he’d ever reveal. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Goodnight, Megumi.”

“Night.. I’ll call you later. Be safe.”

When you hang up, you feel a bit better. 

- 

The first night was hard—really hard. Sleeping away from Satoru was incredibly difficult, but so were his sharp words that relentlessly bounced around in your mind.  You found no peace by your window, watching the last of that day's sunlight slipping away behind the horizon, casting long shadows over the dead trees covered in snow.

You could almost feel his presence, like the cast of your shadow on a wall—following you, mirroring your every move. Your phone never rang with his ringtone, your phone never buzzed with a new text. Yet you stared at the shadows for a bit longer, a bit more intensely, waiting for two blue eyes to illuminate the space. They never did. 

Kyoto's stillness seemed to reflect your own, waiting for something to change, waiting for something dead and wilted to bloom once more. 

However, even all the way over in Kyoto, bad luck seems to follow you like the plague. You were walking to a small corner market to grab something to eat when you felt the disturbance in the air—tasted it on your tongue. You hoped that surge of cursed energy wasn’t what you thought it was. You would have loved to be proven wrong, but your instincts were keen like a hound trained to hunt. 

A curse womb opened right above a Kyoto High school. 

You were definitely getting fired after this. 

You knew a cursed object was most likely responsible for this. Considering it happened at a school, you were more than willing to bet a strong cursed object was placed there, most likely intended to ward off any other strong curses that might otherwise appear in the area. You assumed the seal broke, probably after hundreds of years of suppressing the power of the object. You’ve dealt with a case like that before.

You couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Three stupid students—ghost hunting of all things—removed the seal. The decorated white cloth tightly wrapped around a black skull was torn, and its viscous cursed energy soared, tinting the sky black. 

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you hissed under your breath when you slammed open the classroom door. “This way, c’mon!” You didn’t have to tell them twice. Book it, and you stay by their side for as long as you can. You had to put up your veil, but only after they were far enough. 

You got impatient, however, especially towards the kid who had been recording everything up until now, where you crushed his phone in your hand. 

“Wha– hey! You're gonna pay for that!”

“What the hell is more important? Recording or your fucking lives? Shut up and run!” 

The air suddenly cracks with a tension that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It’s here. You could feel it—the dark, oppressive presence creeping across the courtyard, lurking. You yourself could see it with your eyes, but you felt it. 

Your senses were better than most. It was partially why you and Yuji got along and trained together so well. You were just like him when you were younger. Granted, he wasn’t born with cursed energy like you were, but your heavenly restrictions were nearly identical. 

You stop running when you reach the edge of the courtyard, but those three kids carry on in a scram. Holding the cursed object in your hands, you raise the skull in the air. It takes a considerable amount of force, but you crush the skull, black dust coating your hand. There’s a hollow screech, and you hope that’s the end of it. 

Of course, your bad luck persists. 

Typically, destroying the cursed object that’s created a cursed womb kills it or at least nullifies it. The exception is when the curse is an S-grade; those wombs are damn near impenetrable. 

Destroying the object seemed only to irritate the curse as it began crawling out of a bloody sac. 

You hold up your fist, index, and pointer finger together, pointing to the sky along with your thumb. A crimson veil pours down, covering the entirety of the school. However, you sense three others within your veil just as you seal off the area. 

“Yo, Y/n sensei!! What the hell are you doing here, loca!” A deep laugh echoes across the courtyard. 

Christ. You knew that voice from anywhere. 

You glance over your shoulder and see a few unexpected faces. Utahime and two other students—Miwa and Todo who looks way happier than he should be, considering the circumstances. 

The newly born curse loomed menacingly overhead, its red eyes gleaming like coals in a dying fire. It was tall, with protruding joints that snapped into place. Its black and sleek hair extended beyond its long, contorted body. Its face was painted white and cracked as if crafted of aged porcelain. Its kimono was white, stained with splashes of red and black goo. You stood firmly in place, fire crackling at your fingertips, your breath steady but sharp in the cold night air. Todo and Miwa joined your side quickly, and Utahime offered you a firm nod from the sidelines. She was entrusting you with her students.  

Quickly, the courtyard became a battlefield, filled with the crackle of burning energy and the hum of raw power. 

The curse lunged, zipping through the air. You were faster, your body twisting and moving with fluid grace. You raised your hand to strike, a jet of flame bursting forward, crackling against the air. The curse shrieked as the fire seared its back, black smoke rising from its melted skin. 

It recovered too quickly for your liking. It rolled through the flames like water through a sieve, reforming and lunging again, its claws gleaming.

Your senses were on fire—every shift in the air, every sound, every movement was magnified. You could hear the heartbeat of the curse, the faintest tremor of its form as it coiled to strike. You could smell the thick, sour scent of decay that clung to it like an ancient smog. And you could feel it—the deep, heavy weight of power pressing down on you, making your muscles tighten and strain against the oncoming attack.

The curse moved to strike again, but you were already there, rolling beneath it, body twisting in a perfect arc, and feet hitting the ground in a spring-loaded motion that sent you leaping upward. Your fist, wreathed in fire, crashed into the creature’s chest.

The explosion of heat sent the curse reeling, but it was only a momentary distraction. It retaliated, slashing the air with a massive, clawed hand. Three energized strikes were headed your way. You reacted with seconds to spare, but Miwa stood directly in the line of fire. You knew her simple domain wouldn’t be summoned fast enough, but she didn’t. It would be a miscalculation that ended her life. 

The claws tore through your side, then whipped down in a sickening arc, ripping clean through your arm. The pain came in an instant—a blinding, searing agony that burned through your body. You didn't even have time to scream.

You staggered back, a cry escaping Miwa’s lips as she looked at the bloody stump where your arm used to be. Blood poured and squirted from the wound, but there was no time for that. 

"Get back!" you shouted to the blue-haired girl, voice raw. She wasn’t nearly ready for this; Utahime gravity overestimated her abilities or underestimated the cursed strength. Regardless, the girl was too distraught to do anything at this moment. 

There’s a rush, and you suddenly realize you are outside the heat of battle. Todo went in, guns blazing, but you could only waste so much time. Todo was strong, way above his current ranking, in your opinion, but it was only a matter of time before that curse cut him down, too. 

Without a second thought, you dropped to your knees. The pain was overwhelming, but you focused, drawing from the reserves settled deep within your core. Your energy surged, and tendrils of fire spiraled around the wound, filling the air with intense heat. 

“Sensei! Are you alri–" Miwa gasped, her feet coming to a haunt as she watched in awe and terror as your arm began to regenerate—pulsing with energy. The flesh knitted itself together, bone and sinew reforming in a frenzy. 

But the process wasn't easy and certainly didn’t come without a price to pay. Your body screamed, the regeneration draining your reserves. You were already weakened, and the battle had just begun. Tsk. 

Todo found his way back over to you two, panting heavily. “How are you doing over there, Sensei?”

"Clap," you say, voice strained. "Now." He looked at you, bug-eyed, but he nodded. He didn't hesitate. 

He brought his hands together in a sharp clap, and everything shifted. “Alright! Let’s dance!”

In an instant, you found yourself on the other side of the curse. You inhaled deeply, heart pounding, immediately launching yourself back into the fight.

The curse roared in confusion, disoriented, but it was too late. You were already in motion. Your feet hit the ground in a fluid motion, and with a vicious snap of your wrist, fire erupted once again. This time, it formed into a massive whip of flame that lashed through the air.

The curse hissed as the whip wrapped around its neck, and you pulled with your whole body. Never losing your grip, muscles straining, you move forward, wrapping the flames over your arm again and again, pulling tighter and tighter until you smelt the pungent odor of the burning flesh around its neck. You wrapped the whip around your arm one last time before turning your body and pulling the whip from over your shoulder, viscously yanking and slamming the curse to the ground and into submission. 

The curse struggled, its body writhing, but it was weakened. Miwa went for the opening, summoning her New Shadow Style: Simple domain. She’s gotten better since the tournament, and you acknowledge with a grave chuckle as she instantly draws her blade, slicing the curse directly across its chest cavity. She cost you an arm, but deep down, you knew she had the conviction to win and succeed. 

Todo doesn’t wait. Another clap. Another shift. You and Todo swapped places with the curse itself this time, and the curse had no time to react. He goes for a punch, cracking the curse with a quick jab, followed by a right hook. He claps again. The moment the curse materialized in front of you, disoriented, you surged forward, throwing everything you had left into one final strike.

It twisted in anguish, its body crumbling to the ground before its remains turned into ash.

Then, there was nothing.

The air grew still. The ground beneath you is scorched but calm. You sucked your teeth, silently berating yourself. 

You hated using your technique. Frankly, you opted not to unless you absolutely needed to, which was the main reason why people hardly knew about it. It wreaked havoc, leaving nothing but indomitable infernos that refused to be quenched like normal flames. They left nothing destruction in their wake—hungry to consume and spread. However, you’ve gotten better at controlling it—you’ll give yourself that. The only thing burned here today was the grass in the courtyard. 

You stood there for a moment, panting, your body trembling with exhaustion as you collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. “Y–you did it!” Miwa cheered. “I had no idea you knew RCT. Thank you for helping me back there.”

“What the– Miwa, we won! Show some conviction!” Todo cut in, flexing his biceps. 

“He’s right,” you managed a weak smile as you worked on catching your breath and easing your fast-beating heart. You collapse to the ground, still gaining your breath. "We did it."

You hear footsteps approaching from behind. Tilting your head, you see Utahime standing directly above you. 

“Oh. Hi ‘hime.” 

She smiles a bit, but her face remains hardened. You straighten up a bit, catching on to her attitude. Something wasn’t right. 

“You guys did a good job. However, another problem has arisen across the city.” 

“Huh? Another one?” Miwa asked, brows tugging inward. She shifts her weight from one hip to the other. “That's like the fifth one today...”

They continue on in their conversation as you drop your veil, sniff the air, and concentrate on your surroundings. A sense of foreboding strikes you under the dark ambiance of the sky. Even after killing that S-grade, things don’t feel right. 

“Thanks for joining us,” Utahime says, drawing back your attention. “I nearly had to call for backup.”

You scoff, glancing up at her from the ground. “Something doesn't feel right, Utahime.” She nods, agreeing with your observation. “When did the reports come flooding in?”

“About an hour ago now.”

“Hm,” you wonder, thinking back to when you first found the cursed womb. “That’s about the same time I first sensed the presence of the cursed womb. They’re most likely connected.”

“That's what I thought. The presence of the cursed womb must have irritated some of the curses in the city, most likely because they were drawn to the energy fluctuations the cursed womb caused. It's good you were here. We're stretched thin right now. If you don’t mind staying, we could use your help. The other students are out on missions across the city, and things just keep getting worse.” 

You smile up at her before pushing yourself back up on your two feet, brushing the dirt from your pants. “Sure, let’s get going–” but as you stand, it feels as if a bolt of lightning strikes you down or as if your chest has been cracked open by a sledgehammer. The agony was too great to even scream as you fell to your knees and crashed back into the ground. 

It was lights out. 

-

It was quiet. Dark—a vast, unending expanse of nothingness that swallowed you whole. An endless drift. It would have almost been peaceful if not for the faint pull at the edges of your awareness, like an anchor trying to tether to something you couldn’t see. 

But then came the first sound. 

You heard voices—muffled cries. Please wake up, said one voice. Please stay with me, came another. 

Pain began to throb somewhere in the background, dull and distant. Disembodied as if it belonged to someone else. 

Don’t you dare leave me. The voice was sharp, demanding, cracking under the weight of fear. You knew that voice and remembered all the sweet things it used to whisper to you. Your heart takes a painful lurch. You can hear its occasional beat in your ears. We need you. I need you. 

Oddly, you were cold.

You were drifting again, further and further. The anchor was slipping. You were sinking, your head hardly above water, when another muffled voice broke through—whimpering, sobbing. Your heart lurches painfully.

Mom, please don’t go.

The words pierce through the nothingness, shattering it all to bits and pieces. The words pull at you, a lifeline you hadn’t known you clung to and needed. Images begin to flash, and suddenly, the voices are no longer just voices. Your heart suddenly burns as though the memory of life itself is fighting its way back into you. 

Your eyelids were heavy, limbs weak, unresponsive—cold. You were so cold, but it wasn’t enough to stop you from crawling out of a black pit that threatened to swallow you whole. There’s a faint sensation of pressure, a hand tightly gripping yours. 

Light begins bleeding into the edges of your awareness. You sucked in a deep breath, lungs empty and greedy. 

Then, your eyes fluttered open.  

You blinked a few times, realizing how hard it was to breathe. Breathing was supposed to be an automatic response, but you had to force it, each breath dragging along the back of your throat like sandpaper. You’re weak and shivering as you use most of your energy to sit up. You were in an empty room, you realized—the sharp smell of sanitizer permeating your nose. 

You push yourself out of bed, knees buckling under your weight. You catch yourself, gathering whatever bits of strength you have left. Your teeth clattered. You were freezing. Shaking, you wrapped the white blanket over your shoulders, gripping it tight before you trudged towards the door.

The hall was mostly empty, all except for a sleeping boy slouched over in a chair beside your door. Your heart squeezes. 

“Megumi,” you whispered his name. You stare at him for a moment, unable to bite back the tears that nip at your dry eyes. 

You wrapped the blanket around him, tucking it gently around him. However, he flinches, jumping straight up in his chair. “S-Sorry,” you tell him quickly with a watery smile. “You looked cold.” 

“You…” the word was a raw and weak whisper. His eyes widened. It took a moment for recognition to settle in, but once it did, he spoke again. “You’re awake.” He stood up from his chair, and you stepped back, offering him space. “You’re awake,” he repeated again. 

Then, you start to wonder just how long you’ve been out of it. Days? Weeks? The thought of months terrifies you, but before you can even go down that loophole, he’s hugging you tightly. “You’re awake,” he says once more, his voice breaking. 

However long it was, he’s right. You’re awake. You’re here, living and breathing. You wrap your arms around his torso, patting and rubbing his back soothingly. “Yup… I’m here. I’m awake.” 

You let him be the one to pull away, letting him take however long he needs. You enjoyed it regardless. You couldn’t remember the last time you hugged him. 

When he pulls away, his eyes are red. He sniffs a bit, backing up and taking the blanket off his shoulders. This time, he’s the one wrapping the fabric around you. He’s frowning a bit as he does. “... you’re the one that’s cold,” he notes quietly. 

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” He asks softly, brows furrowing. 

You shook your head. No. Frankly, you didn’t remember much of anything right now. “I was on my way with Yuji and Nobora. We got on the train after you let me know where you were staying.” That’s right. You texted Megumi when you figured out where you’d be staying. You thought they’d come over sometime in the following days. You had no idea they were rushing to see you on the next available train. 

He places his hands awkwardly on your shoulder before gently guiding you to the chair he was sitting in moments ago. As you go to sit, your body seems to forget how to move for a moment, and you lose your balance. He catches you quickly, carefully helping you down into the chair. “When we got to Kyoto, we realized quickly how bad things were over there.   We started helping out at the Kyoto school, dealing with the curses that had been lingering in the area where the cursed womb opened up. Eventually, we ran into Todo and Miwa. They told us what happened.” He grunts, kneeling down so he’s at eye level with you. 

You’re silent for a moment. “How long was I out for?”

“Pushing four days now.” 

The memories strike you like a fright train. “Are you okay? Is everyone alright?” You hadn’t realized you had reached for his cheek. 

He grabs your wrist, thumb gently caressing the back of your hand before pulling your hand away, guiding it back to your lap. He moves the blanket until it's covering you again.  “We’re all fine. Everything’s been dealt with. Yuji and Nobora went down to the cafe to grab some lunch. They’ll be thrilled when they come back.”

You tilt your head. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

He smiles a bit. “I didn’t want to leave you unattended.”

You don’t know what to think. You’re just happy you’re back. Happy because he was happy. You always hated it when he worried about you. You never believed it was his job to do so. However, he stayed by your side and protected you when you couldn’t protect yourself. 

You wiggle your toes and roll your shoulders before standing again. “You shouldn’t be standing–”

“I’m alright, I promise,” you tell him, dismissing his concern. “I just want to walk around, okay?”

He stares at you intently, unsure, but he seems to have no energy to argue with you. “... alright,” he relents. 

He follows you closely as you drag your feet across the floor. You don’t know where you are walking, but you want to stretch your legs and regain a sense of your body. You are weak, but you need to move. 

You ask the question you were too hesitant to ask: “What about Gojo?”

He huffs. “He left a little while ago. Said he’d be back shortly,” he scoffs. “Bullshit if you ask me.”

“Megumi,” you sigh his name with a soft reprimand. 

“He should be here,” he responds disgruntledly. “He should be by your side, and he’s not."

You stay quiet. You’re not exactly sure what to say to him when you agree. Maybe Gojo was done. Whatever this was, whatever relationship you had—maybe he didn’t want you anymore. You look ahead, fighting your own body that threatened to collapse at any moment. You could feel Megumi’s eyes on you, but you didn’t have the heart to look at him right now.

You were afraid you would sob if you did. 

Though you had never walked these halls before, the hospital's layout was quite easy to catch on to. After taking a fourth right turn, you see your room in the distance. A stubborn part of you says to keep going and keep walking, but the exhaustion is catching up to you quickly. If Megumi hadn’t been by your side, cautious eyes scanning you, you might have kept going until you passed out. You realize that the strength you had was nearly depleted. Only trickles of your cursed energy remained, and it would be a long while before you gained it back. 

You hear footsteps behind you. Quick and ushered. Megumi turns before you, his whole frame tensing.  He sucks his teeth and clicks his tongue. “So he finally shows up.” He speaks in a sardonic tone, loud enough for anyone in the hallways to hear.

Satoru comes running from around the corner then, taking deep breaths. Your brows slightly pinch together in confusion. “S–Satoru,” you stutter, walking closer. “When did you get here?”  He looks disheveled. Alarmed. Was he just running? 

It was hard trying to figure out what he was feeling or experiencing when that black eyeband covered his eyes. However, you noticed the bouquet in his hands, a delicate combination of soft and tender hues: pale pink and roses, white peonies, deep pink lilies, and baby’s breath delicately wrapped along sprigs of greenery. 

You place a hand on Megumi’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go eat with the others?”

“But–”

“I’ll be alright,” you explain to him in a soft tone.

He hesitates, torn between staying and leaving.  He was unsure if he should leave you to handle this alone, but after a moment, he backed down, probably realizing he shouldn’t stand between the two of you and what needed to happen. With an irate glance shot at Gojo, he turns, pocketing his hands as he makes his way to the stairs. 

Only when the door shuts do you look at Satoru again. 

He stays unusually quiet, his face unreadable. Frankly, it was rather unsettling. You had no idea what was going through his mind. “I–I’m sorry!” you blurt out the first words that crash to the surface of your mind the moment you see him in his entirety. There was no hope of holding back. After days spent away from him, lost in his absence, and days dancing on the edge of death, the words tumble out of you before you can stop them—unbidden, unstoppable. “For everything. Y–You must have been stressed with work and other things. My fuck up only added to your plate. I get it, ya know? It's selfish of me, even now, to rely on you so much when there’s a whole world that needs you. They are not my students, and I put them in danger.” Quickly, the tears gather in your waterline again, but you blink them away. “I–I’ll be leaving soon. I’ll… I’ll go. I’ll get out of your way, and you won’t have to deal with me bothering you any longer–”

“Can I touch you?” The question comes suddenly, softly, and almost hesitantly. 

You blink a few times, puzzled, but then, you unravel, folding inward under the weight of his voice. Your breath hitches in your throat. Was he still holding onto what you had said that night? Was he haunted by the barriers broken and the others so carelessly assembled? 

He still wanted you? 

You didn’t want him to let you go. Not yet. Not ever.

Like a dam breaking, you surged forward, closing the space between you two. Seconds later, you feel his resolve crumble. He crushes you to his chest, flowers falling to the floor. His arms enveloped you with a force that robbed you of breath, your feet nearly coming off the ground as you both stumble backward. Trembling, he clung to you as if you were an anchor in a world that threatened to tear him apart. There were no words—the unspoken agony and grief were far too overwhelming to put into words—if there even were words for it. 

I’m sorry. I love you. I’m glad you’re okay.  You felt it all with him. You could feel the pounding of his heart against your chest, hear its frantic rhythm match your own.

His hands were shaking, one tangling in your hair, the other wrapping entirely around your frame and squeezing your hip. He buries his face into your neck, and his hot breath is ragged and uneven as he inhales your scent. “I thought–” he swallows, shaking his head. “I didn’t know where you were—for a second time.”

Your cursed energy was low, more depleted than it had ever been. It explains why you were so weak, so frail. When he saw your empty bed, he must’ve panicked. He ran to you, anxiously following the weak traces of your presence. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, and the familiar silk of his eyeband rubs against your skin. You gently tug at the fabric with the tips of your fingers. His breath hitches, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he stills as you slip the black band from his face. He lifts his head just enough to rest it against yours. They were that same stunning shade of azure—bright and impossibly vivid, glowing softly as if they carried the remnants of a forgotten star. Captivating, otherworldly, yet achingly human—something he’d often forget from time to time. 

“You promised,” he murmurs, voice broken. “You promised.”  

“What are you talking about?” you ask just as brokenly. 

Suddenly, one of his hands grasps your neck, and you choke on your words. He doesn’t squeeze tight, but the look on his face is enough to make you gasp. “I couldn’t feel you. I couldn’t feel you anymore,” he says achingly. 

Your chest tightens, nails slightly digging into his forearm. You open your mouth to speak, failing more times than succeeding. You wanted to speak, but the words lodged in your mouth. 

“I–I don’t understand.”

“You’re not wearing it anymore,” he murmurs, his nose brushing softly against your cheek. The necklace you always wore—his gift to you, the one that held a part of him, a part of the two of you—was gone. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, an absence that gnawed at him like hunger, an emptiness he could never satisfy. 

His voice wasn’t angry, far from it. It wasn’t even harsh, but something in it—a quiet desperation—made the air between the two of you quiver. 

“You promised you’d never go where I couldn’t follow,” he whispers again. “Remember?” 

You nod in his hold, tightly pursing your lips together when a few tears escape, dripping from your eyes.  He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours again, gazing deep and unwavering into your eyes. I remember. His grip on your neck loosens until he removes his hand from your throat completely, gentle fingers pushing down your shirt's fabric. His fingers trace your skin, the empty spot where your necklace once laid. 

Then, it suddenly hits you. “Oh.”  

He could feel you as much as you felt him. If you were ever too far from him—out of the range of his sight, out from where his hands could reach for you, that necklace was a beacon, a beckoning, a lighthouse in the storm that guided you home—guided him home. 

You squeeze him tighter. You missed him. You really missed him. 

“How did you find me?” 

He takes a moment to breathe, trying to settle the rapid beat of his heart. “Utahime.” He wheezes out a pained laugh. “She called me panicking once you collapsed. I got there as quickly as I could.”  

You copy his laugh, albeit coughing a bit from the pain blooming in your ribs. You hated to admit it, but the longer you stood, the more your body began to hurt. “I should just heal myself and get this over with.”

“Don’t,” his grip tightens on you again. “you’re using it wrong. There’s damage, lots of it,” he tells you, wiping at the blood that had stained your skin at the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “Any more and–” his eyebrows furrowed deeply, the weight of grief and guilt tugging his features. The corner of his lips tightened. “Shoko operated on you for hours. You nearly died.”

He sees what others cannot, his gaze piercing the surface to something deeper, something raw. He sees the world through an entirely different lens, and right now, the sight of you seems to pain him dearly. 

For a moment, you wonder just how much damage is hidden within you and how much it must weigh on him to see it. “Shoko might have gotten you out of the woods, but she told me you’d need a few more rounds to get you back to normal.”

“That makes sense,” you murmur, allowing your entire body weight to ease into him. He accepts you with open arms. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Or twenty.”

“I missed it,” he utters, voice thick with regret. “If I had just looked a bit closer, we wouldn’t be in this mess. I fucked up. I could’ve prevented this.” His careful grip on you tightens as if you’d slip away from him once more.  “But,” his tone softens. “You did so well. You took care of that cursed womb before I could even get to the scene.” Even through his pain and wallowing, his heart swells. He was proud of you. 

He bends down, grabbing the flowers he dropped before moving towards you again. “Oh gosh,” you hide your face into his neck as he reaches down, one arm hooking under your legs as he lifts you. You don’t hesitate, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m definitely fired, aren’t I?” 

He carefully guides you back into your room. He manages to toss your flowers on the counter by the window. “Don’t worry about any of that. I’ll handle it. ‘Kay?” He places you down on your bed, but he hesitates, not wanting to fully pull away. 

Your eyes flicker, recalling the night of your augment. You knew this was the reason behind his haunted expression. You recognized the torment because you, too, had felt it. “You’re mad,” he observes relatively quickly.

You didn’t want to bring it up. You weren't necessarily mad, not anymore, but even near death couldn’t make you forget the pain he had caused with words he so carelessly struck you down with. 

“What you said… Hurt me, Gojo,” you look down at your hands, feeling selfish for even bringing this up after nearly dying. However, you knew this conversation was inevitable.  “Even if you were right I felt cast aside. Useless. Why didn't you tell me you felt that way before?”

“No… don’t say that. I was being stupid. I over reacted. I know you'd always protect those kids and that's exactly what you did. You’re not weak or a nuisance, or... convenient.” you flinch at the word. “You’re far from that. I need you to know that.”

“...Then what am I?”

“Everything,” he shudders. “You’re everything.” His lips brush over your forehead, your cheeks, and eyelids, each kiss tender and lingering. But then he pauses, his smooth lips hovering just above yours. He’s always been so confident, so self-assured. You’re unsure how to react.

You were sitting on your bed, feet dangling just above the floor. He is leaning over you, one large and warm hand on your thigh, the other cupping your face gently. He was close, but not close enough. Even bent at the waist, his height keeps him just out of your reach unless he leans back down just a bit more…

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to you, giving him all the assurance you have to offer.

You were hurt, but you still wanted him.

You still loved him. 

His mouth was warm and soft—testing the waters and treading carefully. His grip on your thigh tightens until– 

He lets go. You feel the tension in his body dissipate, and finally, he allows himself to fully enjoy you—taste you. The kiss deepens, and you swear it brought life back into your frail body. He overwhelms you now in the most delicious way possible. Your toes curl, and your tight embrace eases. Your arms go weak, your hands moving to run down his chest, his taut muscles quivering in the wake of your touch.  Every moment was a promise, every brush of skin a new vow. No words were spoken, but you both heard everything that had been held back, everything that had been left unsaid. 

I’m sorry.

I love you. 

I love you.

I love you. 

He smiles against your lips, but you don’t stop or pull away, catching and nipping at his bottom lip. Then, you kiss him again, slotting his top lip between yours. “You really love me, huh? Hehe.”

Oh. You hadn’t realized you said it—whimpered murmurs against his lips. No wonder why he looked all dopey and smiley. 

“You’re not going to make me grovel for forgiveness?” He pecks your lips again. “This seems too easy. I know you’re still mad.”

You chase after his lips. “Of course, I’m still mad,” you mutter against him. “But I thought I would never see you again.” Even as he frowns, you pepper his lips with kisses. “Plus, it's not like you to grovel.”

“I would for. Only for you, of course.”

You giggle, nipping his lip a little harder. “Yeah,” you rolled your eyes. “I’d like to see that.”

Oh no. You’ve made a grave mistake. You knew you messed up again the second the words fell from your lips. There’s a glint in his eyes now. 

“Oh, my beautiful, angelic Queen! I know I have displeased you. Please accept my humble apologies!” You squeak at the suddenness of his actions. He sinks to his knees dramatically, and his palms meet the dirty floor, and so does his forehead. “I am at your mercy! I have failed you greatly, and I wish to make amends.”

You swat him on the back of his head, but it's not nearly enough to hurt him or deter him from whatever this is. “Gojo! Don’t bow like that! Get up!”

“But I can’t!” He whines. “You must forgive me! I will spend eternity on my knees if it means I can regain your favor, my perfect, beautiful, divine Queen. You alone rule this sinners heart!”  He inches forward on his knees, squeezing himself between your legs. His hands find homage on your waist as he nudges his face into your stomach.

Your eyes roll skyward. “Only you could apologize and insult me at the same time, Satoru,” you grumble, looking down at him before running your fingers through white stands. 

Suddenly, he looks up from this position, resting his chin right beneath your ribs, grinning ear to ear. “You called me Satoru~”

You feel your face flush, heat gushing to your cheeks and ears. “Shut up. You’re such an idiot. Can you get up now?”

“Nah,” he says lazily, burying his head into your stomach again. His voice comes out muffled. “I’m trying to make amends with my Queen. Let me, will ya?”

You ease, realizing you won't be able to stop him from doing what he wants. Even if it was a bit theatrical, he was doing his best—you know that because you know him. You let your nails gently graze his scalp as you continued to pat him. He hums, almost purrs, as your other hand finds his shoulder, squeezing him gently before running your fingers under his shirt, caressing his skull and the taut muscles in his back. A beat of silence passes, but you find yourself uncaring.

You had him back in your arms. That’s all that really mattered to you right now.

“Look, I know… I know I messed up,” he begins, voice so low, you nearly miss it. “I’m not great at this—saying the right things. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was stressed. I was fed up with the higher-ups and fed up with my missions, but that’s no excuse. If I could take it all back, I would in a heartbeat. You deserve better than what I was giving you. I’m gonna try to be better… for you. For us.”  His words hang in the air a bit awkwardly, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes and hear it in his voice. It couldn’t be missed. He shifts a bit, moving to kiss your belly. Then, his large hand wrap around yours, guiding your hand closer to his lips. He kisses the back of your knuckles tenderly as if the act of his apology could never be enough.

“You want me to stay?”

He squeezes you tighter. “Of course I do. What would I be without you?”

“Hm. You’d still be Gojo Satoru. Even without me.” 

“I don’t want to imagine a life without you,” he mutters. “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow. I've already told you that…”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper sweetly, patting his head. He nudges his head further into you. “The world will always need you.”

“I will always need you. So please… stop talking like this.” He pinches your side, making you squeak. Finally he looks up, an unimpressed expression gracing his features. “And don’t ever leave the city to get away from me. When you told me you were going to a hotel, I thought you meant in Tokyo.”

You chuckle nervously, looking elsewhere. “Yeah… Sorry about that.” 

“Next time, take a walk or something. I dunno, go touch some grass if you get tired of me.”

A small smile escaped you, followed by a quiet laugh that shook your shoulders. You pat his back three times before kneading him softly. “Okay, humble peasant. You've groveled for long enough. Now lay with me,” you demand him. “I want you to lay with me. I’m so tired.”

“Psh. I’d hardly fit on this bed.”

“Whatever,” you tell him, scooting over. “I’ll make room. Get in, string bean.”

He grins. “Yes, ma’am.”

 It’s a bit awkward at first with his lanky form, but he makes it work. It was a tight fit, and his feet slightly dangled off the bed, but he made no objections. With your back to his chest, he held you against him securely.

“You’re cold,” he observes out loud when you start playing with his fingers. It’s a bitter realization, a deafening one on his part. You know it bothers him, especially as he wraps the blanket around you tighter.

He tries not to let it show. However, he quickly becomes restless and you know he isn’t sated. He begins to move. “Let me go get you another blanket.”

“Nooo. Stay here.”

“Huh? But you’re freezing! And you’re never cold!”

“I’m already warming up!” You intervene with a small giggle, tugging him by his jacket. “Just shut up and lay with me, already.” He hesitates before unbuttoning his black jacket. When he was determined, there wasn’t any stopping a man like him, and right now, he was determined to get you warm.

He lays his jacket over you, spreading the fabric out, smoothing away all the wrinkles, and making sure you're covered. It might as well be a blanket with how long it was over you. Bonus points because it still carried him warmth and smelled like his cologne. A blend of earth and wood with a hint of something darker—smokey and smooth. You always loved the scent. Whenever he walked by, it brushed past you like a gentle breeze over still water, warm and inviting, with subtle notes of leather, musk, and vanilla. 

He grunts a bit before easing into the bed again. “My little icicle- ow,” you shot your elbow back, getting him right in the ribs. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” He chuckles, before wrapping his arms over you one more. He brushes your hair from your neck, his breath fanning against your skin. He kisses you there once, twice, three times before saying something familiar. 

“I could sense when you left Tokyo. I didn’t know what to do. Even with my eyes, I couldn’t find you. You were just gone. Don’t ever go where I can’t follow." He kisses your neck. "Please.”

You turn around, searching for his lips. He melts into you once again, squeezing your side sweetly. “I promise,” you murmur. “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow,” you say, voicing back the same promise he made you. He smiles faintly against your lips.  

When you woke up the next morning, your necklace was there. It was back where it belonged, sapphires resting gently over your steady beating heart—carrying Satoru’s silent promise.

Wherever you go, that’s where I follow. 

-

a/n: I honestly don't know how I feel about this but if you made it to the end I hope the nearly 18k was worth reading. If you couldn't tell its based off the song Die With A Smile. Honestly, I think I might have been happier by making this a bit longer and flushing out some of the scenes more, but I was trying new things and I was excited to post my first jjk post :) however its getting late now but if there's any typos or errors I notice later I'll edit as needed.

anyways, if you'd like to see more gojo x sorcerer!reader let me know! also I really hoped you liked the bits I added with Megumi (he's just a smol bean).

likes and reblogs are always appreciated! :p

[quarterlifekitty]

Birthday presents:

Gaz plans out an entire day. From the moment you wake up to when you go to bed. Doing all of your favorite things, going to your favorite places, punctuated by snacks and meals at your favorite restaurants and cafes. And you get a teddy bear, that’s the rule. Every major gift occasion must come with a teddy bear.

Soap buys you something you had no idea you needed. Something you end up using every day. Something perfect. And on top of that, he makes you in insanely complex card. He’s one of those freaks who feel down the card making rabbit hole, so now he has a die cutter, embossing folders, about a million stamps and colors of ink, embossing powder in every color, etc.

Ghost becomes your personal chef for the day. Literally anything you want. As long as it doesn’t contain anything endangered, he will cook it. And he’ll take you with him to get all the ingredients— have a nice drive, buy you all your special snacks you can’t get at your usual store. He does require that if you want a stew or slow cooked meal, or something with marinade, you do have to notify him 24 hours in advance. He also gets you a children’s birthday card and crosses out the number on it with marker and writes your age. “Congratulations birthday girl, you’re 6 25!”

Price gets you a new charm for your charm bracelet, and a nice classy piece of jewelry. Something simple, beautiful, and personal. Engraved, of course. And a beautiful cake from the nicest bakery you know— even if it’s in another country (Nik owes him).

König gets you, first of all, an enormous assortment of chocolate. I think he takes a lot of pride in the quality of Austrian and German chocolate. Probably also commissions a custom medallion from his favored chocolatier. Besides that, he plans a getaway. Somewhere you can go and just not be bothered for a week or so. He often feels guilty about how much time you spend apart, so he takes every opportunity to try to make it up.

Nikolai just gives you a good old fashioned shopping spree. Anything for his gorgeous darling malýshka. And in any country you want as long as it has non-hostile airspace. You really can go shopping in Milan, Paris, and New York City in the same day if you want. That’s what you get for dating a pilot!

Rudy gets you the nicest version whatever it is that you use. If you like nail polish or lipstick, he’ll get you Charlotte Tillbury. If you like silver (in jewelry or houseware) he’ll get Tiffany. If you like pewter he’ll get Royal Selangor. It’s always something very nicely made and/or something that will last a very long time.

Nikto will get you something impossibly sentimental. Say, for example, that you lamented to him about your favorite childhood stuffed animal that had been lost when you’d had a small house fire, or when you’d cut ties with your family. You will wake up on your birthday to that exact make and model of stuffed animal, no longer how long ago you lost it, doesn’t matter if it’s no longer produced. He will perform minor miracles for you.

[toothfa-1-ry]

YOU STILL LIKE IT THOUGH

GENRE: Fluff, crack fic ish?

PAIRING: Choi su-bong/thanos x preg!fem!reader

FEAT: Nam gyu as the supportive bestie (that he never rlly was)

A/N: this fic i based of a request from anon !! Tbh i changed ALOT of the request (haha- sorry 😞) because I felt like it was a little repetitive and idk i just can't write rlly emotional scenes with Thanos for some reason (??) ALSO I feel like there are parts where Thanos seems ooc? Idk.. i wrote this instead of studying in the span of 30 mins

"Whoo!" You hear Thanos shout on the top of his voice while he high fives nam gyu as they both jump up and down as if they were children in elementary school after winning a play ground game

You manage your groan, suppressing it while you stare at them from afar, of course that crazy fucker managed to pass through the first game.

You hated to admit it, but a part of you was relieved,

You always had a thing for psycho guys, and your ex boyfriend? The one with the brightly dyed hair who was now doing some weird dance seemed to proudly embody every part of that sentiment.

You carefully watch from afar, not wanting to catch his eyes, your hand unknowingly lay over your stomach while you move uncomfortably in the bunk bed

Fuck, your feeling dizzy all over again

You hear a thud against your bed post, you look up slowly, your eyes slightly squinting to see the purple haired boy with a usual frown on his face

"Hey" his eyebrows raise "are you okay"

"I thought I told you to get lost earlier"

Your mood swings weren't really helping either

"Geez woman" thanos tchs but sits beside you in your bed anyways "im just trying to help" grumbling under his breath but the cautious expression in his face saied otherwise

"I came here to brag about how amazing i usually am but seeing you like this is just killing the vibe yknow"

he makes a hand gesture in the air, leaning face closer in an attempt to make you smile which does not go wasted as the smile you tried to supress escaped your face

"Fuck off you loser" your still kneeling, your hands over your knees and your face hiding behind your knees but he hears the smile in your voice anyways.

He wouldn't want to admit it, but he was relieved

He always had a thing for girls with pretty voices and you? The girl right next to him had to have one of the prettiest voices he had ever heard. Ofcourse who would better know than a rapper like himself?

"I thought I told you to stick close to me, instead you leech to that crazy old man" thanos says as he points towards gi hun who sat far away in the opposite side

You immediately slap his hand, causing him to wince while retracing it back, rubbing it softly

"How many times will I tell you! You shouldn't point your hands at strangers especially to people who are older" you scold him rather loudly causing him to wince even more

"Agh" thanos ruffles his neon hair while complaining "why don't you shout louder so that everyone will hear and laugh at me?"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes upon his childish manners, he really didn't change

Thanos suddenly bangs the top of the bunk with a loud sound, taking you by shock

"Oi" his voice loud and almost threatening "nam gyu" calling out the man above the bed

Immediately your taken by shock once more when a man's head pops upside down, with black oily hair falling all over his face from above the bed

"Yes Thanos?" Nam gyu quickly inquired while sparing you a quick glance which didn't go unnoticed by the scowling man next to you

"Did you hear her telling me off?" He points at nam gyu before quickly adding "careful, there's only one correct answer"

Nam gyu pauses and thinks which seems to be the wrong thing to do as it just annoys Thanos

"Whats wrong with you, tell me quickly!"

"N-no! Not at all! Infact nobody heard anything!" Nam gyu quickly says, obviously lying but this seemed to please Thanos who now held a haughty face

Wow, this is was supposedly the father of your unborn child. Shame you and your taste in weird guys

Before Thanos could open his mouth to say something, a group of pink guards enter the room with large containers

Straight away you freeze up, shrinking behind the bed while your heart hammered, fear spread across your face

Noticing your expression on your face, instinctively Thanos covers you with his back, shielding you with his arms which covered your sides while his expression, though you could not see was filled with wariness

The pink guards open the large containers they were carrying as everyone watched quietly, scared as they were unsure of what to expect, you included

The pink guard with the white circle lifts up a piece of bread and milk "lunch time" announcing in the same robotic voice like all the other guards

A sigh of relief escapes your mouth as your shoulders relax, unlike you Thanos still shields you, covering your face with his back

You hit him with a thud on the back of his head

"What the hell man" thanos turns around, his eyes glaring at you

"Stop trying to act like a hero you shameless prick" you frown even though his actions did leave you with a warm feeling in your heart

"Your acting so protective after all the stunt you pulled before we broke up" you continue "seeing you act all so protective is just pissing me off even more"

Thanos throws his head back, groaning "give me a break woman. You know I was going through a hard time"

"Bullshit" your fold your arms, as if it was act to protect yourself, and the unborn baby in your stomach.

The poor thing was only 2 months old

The both of you hear nam gyu cough from above the bed, forgetting that he was there in the first place

Again Thanos bangs the top of the bunk, causing you to give him a look

"Stop doing that" you scold him

"doing what?" Thanos raises his eyebrow before banging the top of the bunk again while sticking his tongue at you

Nam gyu pops back down again, upside down, the sight would have been hilarious only if you weren't experiencing the pain in your stomach and the sight of the man sitting beside you

"Go get lunch for me and my girl" thanos tilts his head towards you while avoiding your eyecontact while you tell yourself not to think about the fact that he still referred to you as 'his girl'

"go fast what are you still doing here" thanks reprimanded nam gyu

Nam gyu awkwardly stood unsure of what to say "but it's just one bread and one milk per person"

"Then give her yours" thanos said simply "and go steal someone's lunch for me"

"Then what about for me?" Nam gyu asked dumbfounded which caused Thanos to pause and think for a while

"That's not my fucking problem man- now go" he pushes him away, leaving you with a heavy sigh

"I don't want to eat"

"Don't talk bullshit" thanos eyes you "you think i'm gonna let you starve? I never did, and i wont be starting now"

Again with the whole protective boyfriend act, fuck, why did it make your heart race a little?

"Your still such an asshole, you didnt change a bit" you huffed as you leaned behind, resting your back against the wall

"Well you changed" thanos says which quirks your curiosity

"How so?'

"I don't know" he shrugs "something is different. Something happened, i can't exactly ppint my fi ger at it though"

Your eyes dart away from his while your breathing started to fasten slightly

"Oh yea? How so?" You ask, your voice slightly higher than it was which Thanos picks up immediately

"Ohoho" he grins "did I get it right? Did you get something done?" He glances you up and down which leads you to hitting him

"Ow- i was just joking, you still take everything so seriously" he grumbled holding your hand from hitting him "I wish that part had changed'

Your other hand comes swinging which he again grabs softly

"jokingg" he says in a sing song voice before letting both your arms go leaving you with a scowl and him with a satisfied smirk in his face

"Asshole" you mutter which stretches his smirk even more

"You still like it though"

You almost swear you heard a hint of vulnerability in his tone, prompting you to glance at him quickly just to catch him already looking at you

"So? Aren't you gonna ask me what has changed?" You ask slowly, in your head trying to process whether your doing the right thing or not,

You first found out you were pregnant with your baby right after you and Thanos broke up.

The following days, whenever you went to pay him a visit, he was always missing, causing you to believe maybe it was better for him not to know. And then you suddenly meet him for the first time after your breakup during the squid games

The timing was almost comical

"Why?" Thanos continued still with an amused face "you still seem the same on the inside"

Your hand immediately goes to your stomach, slowly tracing along it from above the green track jacket which everyone wore

"Don't tell me your sick or something" thanos asks with his voice slightly raised as he notices your action "fuck are you?"

His eyes slightly widens as he frowns "hey" he snaps his finger upon your zoning out "are you sick?"

"Hm?" You ask confused

"What the fuck" he swears under his breath with a anxious expression on his face while his hand runs through his finger "is that why your here? To win some money for your treatment?"

"Su Bong its not like that-" All your attempts of correcting him seemed to be futile as he sweared loudly, getting out of the bed

"Shit shit shit!" He grabs his head while he paced around the floor, a sight you had seen a few times over the span of your relationship

"ofcourse that's why your here, you would only be here for a sensible reason"

"Oh, su bong" you attempt to appeal to him, reaching your hand out, pulling his closer towards you while he hands were still over his head, eyes lowered

"Fuck baby I'm so sorry" he breathed out "shit i never should have left, i thought" he paused "I thought I'd win some money and get you back, give you the life you really deserve but"

You watch his dazed expression while he rambled, you bit you underlip, hesitant of whether to tell him the truth still

"Fuck, i didn't even know that, i didn't even know you were sick-"

Before he could continue again you grab his face , forcing him to look at your face

"I'm not sick, that's not why im here"

Thanos breathed heavily, everything felt so real suddenly, he felt his cross necklace strapped around his neck, his fingers itching to pop a pill in his mouth to sooth his nerves

"I'm not sick" you shake your head as you lean your forehead against his "su-bong"

You can still feel his strained breaths and darting eyes

"I'm pregnant"

And it all stopped,

You held your breath, afraid of what would happen if you let go, your could heart your heartbeat from your ears, feel the realisation setting inside thanos,

You were scared. Scared of how he would react

He breaks away first, slowly and gently. Staring at you with no expression in his face,

"And it's yours" you rapidly feel the need to add, taken back by his silence which didn't not suit him "and i know having a kid was never in your plan, and i know things are over between us but-"

Your body is wrapped by his arms and his face nestles in your neck, pulling your deeper in his embrace

"Holy shit" thanos whispers in your ear, you can hear the giddiness radiating off his voice "im a dad"

"Yea you are" you laugh a little as you say "your a dad"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I never got the chance to"

Thanos furrows his eyebrows but doesn't press any more "will you let me be our baby's dad?" He ask

"You know I grew up without a dad, this kid doesn't deserve that" he pokes your stomach with a soft grin which looked slightly odd against his eccentric features "I wanna be in this kids life"

You nodd softly, hearing his words

"And yours too" thanos looks up to you, grinning while he winked at you "senorita"

"You corny bastard" you laugh shaking your head

"You still like it though"

You nodd your head, with tenderness in your eyes and voice

"I do"

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ extra scene pack !!

"Thanos!" Nam gyu came running with 3 pieces of sweet bread and 3 packets of milk "I got it! Do you know how much trouble i went to get all these-"

"Give it here " thanos grabbed all the bread and milk away "why did you take so long anyways"

Nam gyu held his hands as he pouted "I mean- i had to fight like 2 guys for bread and milk for us-"

Thanos brushed him off as he opened all the packets of bread and poked in the straw of all the milk packets

"Uhm thanos" nam gyu apprehensively called out "What are you doing?"

Thanos hands you all the bread and urges you to eat while he holds the packets of milk in his hand, ready to feed you

Thanos gestures towards you who was sitting in the bed, now wrapped in not only your jacket but his aswell "can't you see the lady is pregnant"

Nam gyu scratched his head "pregnant? With who?"

Thanos shakes his head, exaggerating his actions "dumb ass, she's pregnant with my baby ofcourse" he announced like it was the most obvious thing in the world

"Holy shit!" Nam gyu gaped his hand covering his mouth as he stares at you while you sheepishly smile at him

Thanos let out a small laugh which then slowly grew louder

"What? Why are you surprised? Ofcourse i succeeded in my first try- fuck" he kneels down in pain after being striked by you in the stomach

Nam gyu pulls a face in behalf of Thanos as he pats his back sympathetically while he whispers to you

"Don't worry. I know it probably wasnt his first try or anything- ow" nam gyu kneels on the ground after being hit in the stomach by thanos

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

"What... what are you guys doing?" You question as you approach Thanos and nam gyu who were huddled up in a corner, in a long rather quiet conversation which seemed like an unusual activity for both of them to part take in

Both in the 'discussion' and 'quiet' part

Thanos loops his arm around your with a proud smirk on his face while urging nam gyu to announce what they were discussing

Nam gyu nodds eagerly as gets up in his two feet quickly, standing straight and tall with a loud and confident voice "we have decided the perfect name for the baby !!"

You see thanos's broad smile and nam gyu's confident voice, uneasiness settling in your stomach for whatever name they picked out

"These is the name that Thanos and i have personally given a lot of thought for and chosen after much contemplation !!"

Thanos nodded his head with a content expression while he winked at you, assuring that you'll like it

"Ahem" nam gyu clears his throat "before I announce the name that we have chosen, i would like to give recognition to the name we almost chose aswell !!"

Thanos immediately began clapping his hand loudly "waaah, I never knew you could speak so well "

This comment made nam gyu's chest fill swell with pride as he puffs out his chest a little

"I shall now, announce the first runners up, the name that almost was given to the new born baby"

nam gyu pauses which prompts Thanos to make the sound of drum rolls

"Nebula" nam gyu announces as he and thanos clap loudly.

Seeing your still figure both men urge you to claps aswell

"Nebula?" You mutter under your breath "where have i heard that name before?"

"And now, the name that has been selected over numerous selection test and discussion, the name of the baby is" nam gyu points at your stomach

"Gamora"

Thanos whoops loudly, both nam gyu and him clapping their hands in the air while you stand off handedly as it hits you

"Your naming our child after the daughter of the purple alien monster from a superhero movie?!"

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley/female reader This is the last part before the epilogue

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise honey, remember?” You nod, but your eyes stay glued to the windshield, tracking the raindrops sliding on and off the glass. “Hey,” he reaches for your hand, pulling it into his grasp, “it’s okay. You’re safe.”

“I’m with you.” You repeat the mantra, the one you repeat in the shower, in bed, in the living room. I’m safe. I’m with you. 

He wants to look away from the road so badly long enough to see your eyes, really see them. It’s how he knows where you are, if you’re there, or here, or somewhere else. Just in case, he reminds you. “The kids are with Gaz and Cami. Soap is sleeping in the guest room. They’re all together, and they’re safe.” You nod again, but answer as a robot.

“They’re safe.” He can’t do it. He pulls the car over and you turn in alarm, watching as he steps around to the passenger side door and pulls it wide, dropping to his knee.

“Look at me-“

“You’re getting wet!” You sputter, grabbing at his jacket, but he stills you.

“Look at me, mama.” Your eyes are full of tears, and he cups your cheek. “Where are you?” Your lip wobbles.

“That room.” He pries your fingers open and places your palm over his chest.

“What’s that?”

“Your heart.”

“Your heart, sweet girl. It’s yours. Count them for me.” You shake your head, clenching your eyes shut, and he squeezes your knee. “Deep breath. Count them.”

“O-one, two, thr-we, four…” he does it with you, quietly, supporting, but not coaching. Not leading. You have to do it, you have to bring yourself back. “F-ive… five, six, seven, eight, nine…” each beat steadies your voice until you’re sitting a little straighter, breathing a little deeper.

“There she is. There’s my girl.” He wipes a tear from your cheek, “that’s it.”

“Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…” you reach twenty five, and then give him a nod. He is thoroughly soaked now, but who cares. It’s not even close to what matters.

“Where are you?” He presses a slow kiss to your forehead.

“I’m here, with you.” You meet his gaze, clear and focused, and he nods.

“Okay.”

“You could have told me.”

“Not as fun, mama, I wanted it to be a surprise.” You’re standing in the middle of the room, looking around, smiling. It’s the same room he brought you to years ago. The room where he put the ring on your finger, the room you told him you’d spend the rest of your life, his life, together. The curtains are the same, the decor, even the bedspread.

“Si,” your voice wavers, and he pulls you into his arms, holding you against his chest.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.”

You're surprisingly not nervous at all, though he's not that shocked. You have a few tattoos, medium sized, black and grey like his. No sleeves or anything that extensive, but you picked up a small collection during your travels. 

"Wait... are you serious?" You squeak, eyeing the chair and then the guy sitting beside it, Mark, the same guy that's done almost all of Simon's work. Simon's still not sure how he convinced him to come out here and do this, but he suspects the sentimental piece of this occasion had a lot to do with it. "What... what is it?" Simon glances at him, and then nods, holding his breath as he pulls the stencil out of the binder to lay it flat in front of you. 

It's a ring. Black and grey to match your other tattoos, but the same shape, band, everything, as the one you lost. Except- 

The stone frames three constellations. Orion, Phoenix and... "Lyra." You whisper, tracing the line work. You look up at him with tears in your eyes. "Orpheus and Eurydice." 

"Everyone says it's a tragedy, y'know? That he failed. But those people have never felt the way I feel about you." His throat is unbearably tight, and he swallows to keep it together. "They don't know how I'd go to hell to bring you home, they don't know how desperate I'd be to look back and and make sure you're still there with me," he breathes deep through his nose, chasing away the tidal wave rising in his chest. Mark, thankfully, has decided to pretend to be busy with something else. "They don't know how I'd let myself be ripped apart just to see you again. To spend eternity with you." 

"Simon..." 

"You don't have to do it," he rushes out, squeezing your hand, "just say so, and we'll leave. I won't be mad." You reach for him, tugging him close by his wrist and standing up on your tiptoes, trying to bury your face in his neck, seeking you safe space. 

"I love you. I love... I love you." He brushes your tears away. "I want it. Yes, of course. I want it." 

"You sure?" You cast one last look at the drawing, and nod. 

"Eternity with you." He smiles. 

"Eternity." 

[ellecdc]

I hate it here

...so I will go to secret gardens in [her] mind, people need a key to get to; the only one is mine.

prompt by @unstablereader: Potter!reader x Barty where when Barty is having a tough time mentally he uses Legilimency on reader but reader thinks about her happy memories with him. I was listening to Taylor's ‘i hate it here’ and the thought appeared

Barty Crouch Jr x Potter!reader who helps him escape for a few moments [860 words]

CW: fem!reader, use of legilimency [consensually], brief mention of Bartemus Crouch Senior/Barty's shitty childhood, escapism, hurt/comfort with fluff

“In today’s lesson we will cover a truly thrilling event: The goblin rebellion of 1752, and all of its triumph and tragedy.” Professor Binns droned on, his tone at odds with how exciting he obviously thought the goblin rebellion of 1752 to be. “But more specifically, we will address the devastating effect it had on the wizard milling industry.” 

“Throughout the many goblin battles, countless wizard cloaks were lost.” He continued, pausing before he added “Actually, we do know the number. It was six hundred and thirty two.” 

You looked down at your notes in front of you - sparse considering Professor Binns had hardly said anything of value - wondering if it was worth writing down that during the goblin rebellion of 1752, approximately 630 wizards found themselves to be cold. 

The tip of your quill touched the parchment before you, a blot of ink colouring the page when you felt a gentle, familiar presence pull at your consciousness. A tentative knock on the door to your mind.

“Treasure?” Barty’s voice asked softly. “Can I come in?” 

You looked across the classroom at your boyfriend, long having given up on pretending to pay attention to the ghostly professor's tangents; arms crossed against the table and his head nestled there atop them, green eyes sparkling in the beam of sun that settled on him, bathing him in its warm glow. 

He looked sad, though you knew why. You saw the letter arrive this morning, though you didn’t see its contents. You didn’t need to; it was from his dad, that was all you needed to know. 

You welcome him in, of course. The weight of his consciousness in yours a familiar sensation, feeling as though you could practically feel, smell, taste, and hear him even though he was sitting on the opposite side of the room as you.

You thought back to your Hogsmeade date last weekend, replaying the way he all but dragged you into Tomes & Scrolls by the sleeve of your jacket to show you that they had finally released the next book of your favourite series. Fighting against a giggle as you recalled the way his lips felt peppering kisses to your temple, ear, jaw, neck, and then shoulder. The sound of your squeals of laughter as you tried to take off down the cobblestone paths only for him to catch you by your waist and pull you back into him to continue his ‘assault’. 

You felt him chuckle at that, his melancholy aura shifting into something a little lighter.

You thought, then, of the way the two of you sat on the Astronomy tower a few evenings ago, the cool air bringing tears to your eyes but unable to break through the warming charm Barty had encompassed the two of you in.

“Just once I’d like to sit on the edge of a crescent moon.” You had mused aloud, earning you a bemused yet thoroughly amused look from your boyfriend. 

“You do know that’s not how moons work, right?” He had asked you, earning him a derisive scoff.

“Maybe in your reality, mr moon man, but in mine it makes the perfect little seat.” You responded simply, smiling up at the crescent shaped moon when you noticed Barty shake his head in your periphery. 

“I’ll get you to the moon, then, treasure. Whatever my girl wants, hm?” 

“That’s more like it.” You let out with a chuckle as you let him pull you further into his side. 

Barty seemed to take a moment in your mind to emphasise the sentiment whatever my girl wants. 

You imagined, then, summer vacation at Potter manor. Thick, fleecy blankets laid out on the grass beneath you as you spread out beside the pond, laughing as you watched Barty do a somersault off of the small dock that you and James had helped your dad build years ago. Small white butterflies fluttered around you as though they yearned to participate in the delicate balance of peace and enthusiasm the two of you had managed to breathe into your little summer oasis. 

You couldn’t blame them.

“Merlin, the water is beautiful.” Barty claimed breathlessly as he made his way over to you, shaking his wet hair not unlike a dog and covering you in tiny drops of water.

“Barty! I have my book!” You chided around a laugh, hugging your book protectively against your chest as you tried to shield yourself from his assault. 

“How could you want to be anywhere but here, Tres?” Barty scoffed, kneeling in front of you with a beaming smile; his dark hair darker from the water, his smile beaming, and his canines shining in the sunlight as his eyes flashed with excitement. 

“That never happened.” Barty commented, causing your eyes to flicker back over to your boyfriend who appeared to be sleeping for all intents and purposes, though his lips were quirked in the faintest hint of a smile. 

“Not yet.” You replied simply. 

Perhaps you’d never get to sit on the tip of a crescent moon, but you would make sure to bring Barty to the one place you knew he would be unequivocally safe and free. 

Whatever my boy wants.

[captain-hawks]

“do you have any idea what you do to me?”

oliver’s voice is a hushed whisper caught somewhere between his lips and your hair and the pillowcase. 

it’s not meant for your ears. 

it’s nearly drowned out by the steady, muted sound of rain thrumming against the roof, of car tires peeling across slick asphalt out on the street below. 

it should be lost in this liminal space that hovers between dusk and dawn, not reverberating in your eardrums in tune with the sudden, rapid beating of your heart. 

his mouth hovers against bare skin at the nape of your neck, each exhale a warm lick of heat that rustles and stirs your nerve endings with the unconscious ease of fine stalks of wheat swaying in a late summer breeze. 

oliver thinks that you’re asleep, and you probably should be. 

it’s funny—the way you’re curled up in his bed wearing his shirt, legs tangled beneath the sheets, his large hand nestled against the curve of your hip. 

it’s funny, because you didn’t even have sex tonight. 

(and you’ve never found yourself stumbling past the threshold of his bedroom for anything but.)

yet here you are now, quietly wide awake hours after accidentally falling asleep on his couch. he’d excused himself to shower shortly after you arrived, tossing a promising grin over his shoulder before peeling off a sweat-soaked jersey and striding down the hallway. 

that’s usually how it goes—you meet up with oliver at his place when he’s done practice and once you get off of work. then you kiss a little and fuck a lot and it’s easy and it’s simple. for him, at least. 

oliver doesn’t need to know what goes on between your restlessly wavering mind and traitorously sentimental heart, the way warmth and fondness and other heavy things that you’re too scared to name have slipped in between the gaps in your ribcage. 

he doesn’t need to know the complicated knots he’s unknowingly tied your heart strings into, that you couldn’t untangle them even if you tried. 

you didn’t mean to fall asleep on his couch tonight, but you’ve been pulling too many doubles at work on not nearly enough sleep. and oliver purposely chose not to wake you up—not until a loud bang of thunder did the job for him instead. 

and when you sat up with a jolt, eyes widening at the late hour as embarrassed apologies immediately tumbled from your lips—oliver simply glanced up from where he was looking at his phone beside you on the couch, a soft, amused look on his face. 

you were going to leave, because why would he waste any more of his night watching you sleep when he could be fucking someone else? that’s what this arrangement is for, after all. 

but he’d smoothly grabbed your car keys from your hand, silencing the clinking of metal on metal with a closed fist. “it’s raining too hard.”

“i can drive in the rain,” you’d rolled your eyes, exasperated.

“well i’d feel better if you just slept here,” he’d replied, his expression far too serious for your susceptible heart. 

so now you’re in his bed for something that decidedly isn’t sex, blatantly toeing the line of demarcation between what this is and what it’s not. 

it’s dangerous to want him like this. 

to let yourself hope. 

shadows dance on the walls as lightning flashes outside, the shapes indiscernible. 

when you finally work up the courage to turn your head to look back at him, oliver’s fast asleep. 

[saltyowlets]

I am the type to analyze and comb details in games, read on the dialogue, and make inferences on what characters are like as i play a game. I did that constantly playing Inquisition and that helped playing such a huge game seem so fun. There are multitude of themes in that game that are so fun to gnaw at and your game play can differ depending on your race, if you let yourself immerse in it.

Then there's Veilguard. See, I initially did the same thing. Comb every area, read into the dialogue and quests, hoping that I would get something substantial to bite like I did with DAI. By the end of Act 1, I realized that there was nothing to chew on.

Everything became predictable, the characters acted as I imagined. There was no nuance to any of the factions. It made me so tired to play through the game and not be rewarded for my diligence. I even nearly 100% the game because there wasn't anything rewarding so I had to find some other way to do so. I didn't even enjoy it, it felt so slow and inefficient. I enjoyed DAI's quests as it doesn't force you to complete them but let's you explore and discover at your pace. I didn't 100% it, not because I didn't want to but because I wanted to discover more when I replay it.

I do not feel like replaying DAV. I can try to convince myself to play a different Rook for the romances and maybe explore different factions, but I know my gameplay will be the same, the outcome won't be any different. None of my choices make a big impact in the game, besides the Minrathus vs Treviso one.

It's crazy cause a common critique of DAI is that choices don't matter but that's not entirely true. Your choices in DAI affect the world state. Who would choose in the War Table missions impact other missions and rewards. Your trials can change public sentiment. The order of the missions you can complete make minor differences in how NPCs interact with you.

DAV just doesn't not have that. I do not feel like what I do matters in the short or long run. I felt like I was pushing myself to finish the game. Im also big on character and game narrative, it was the biggest motivator to finish the game. But in the end, I did not feel satisfactory.

Battle mechanics were fun and the fights were straightforward but that's not enough for me in a game. I can deal with bad gameplay as long as I am given a story I can invest in, a world I can explore.

And sadly, that is far from what DAV is.

it’s interesting how many people, including myself, share the similar sentiment that veilguard is actually incredibly fun while playing, and its the process of thinking back on it after finishing where it begins to fall apart and the holes begin to show… i think it’s especially interesting because at least for me, the other dragon age games are the opposite. i hate playing inquisition, but when i sit and look back on it i cannot help but admire how brilliant the writing and characters are. dragon age 2 can be a slog by act 3 but when i finish and think back on how the story unfolded i know in my heart that it was a masterpiece. i got bored or frustrated while playing them but these games stuck around in my head after finishing them for the first time not just for days or weeks but for years.

veilguard lacks this. i had A LOT of fun playing the game. i love the gameplay loop. i like the puzzles. i love the environments. it was probably the easiest dragon age game to blast through 60 hours of. but then the credits roll and instead of analyzing character arcs and deconstructing banter, im stuck on all the plot holes and missed opportunities.

veilguard gets worse the longer i let it marinate in my brain, rather than better. each rotisserie turn of the story over in my head reveals more and more nothingness - or just clumsy attempts at misdirection so i don’t think too hard about what’s missing. the dragon age games have always been an olympic sized swimming pool that you can dive headfirst into if you want, and you will be rewarded with a corresponding amount of depth. veilguard is one of those kiddie pools at a water park with slides and fountains and a water-based jungle gym on top - it’s fun on the surface and packed with things to do. but if you attempt to dive? you’ll crack your head open.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Commission info!

I'm just going to give you a few pointers, I love your work. I entirely believe whatever you write I will love but can we please include these loosely. Go mad, change it about but something along these lines...

They have always looked out for each other from day one, she always checked in on him and made sure that he was okay and he did the same for her, they always had each other's back ever since the quarry. I don’t want it to be Daryl not being able to tell her that she loves him and the same for her for him if that makes sense. They both know that they love each other dearly and are fully aware of this but neither one of them likes the intimate stuff, the sex, the making out etc. They’ve shared sleeping arrangements before, cuddled, held hands a couple of times but they have never approached the subject as they were both scared about the thought of it or didn't feel the need to. But since arriving at Alexandria there’s been people flirting with one or the other, or making comments, or odd looks etc and it has been getting under their grill and realised that it really bothered them that they never actually made anything official either marriage or whatever but they can’t communicate about it because they’re both as awkward and as broken as each other and have this self belief that everything they touch just ends up in destruction. They end up on angsty terms and shut off from each other then something happens to either the OC or Daryl to the point of either almost losing them, something sparks between them and they decide that actually they do need to make it ‘official’ and shout it to the world. 

I hope that helps but either way let your creativeness flow my dear, do whatever you would like with it.

I know I’m going to love it <3

Fluffy-Dixon Commission

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Typical TWD violence & gore; allusions to smut

You loved Daryl. Daryl loved you. A sentiment that was never spoken but communicated nonetheless. You didn’t need words with him. It was almost as if you never did. The ability to read one another without speaking came naturally from even as far back as the quarry. Those days didn’t really seem like that long ago anymore, time bending and bleeding together as you struggled to just survive. 

The quarry, the Greene farm, the prison—a natural progression of something unnamed. It didn’t need a title. The two of you just fit. Stolen glances, smiles, and even holding hands while on watch. It just felt right. Given that the touches and gestures were reciprocated every single time without the slightest protest told you that it felt the same to Daryl. 

Eventually, you started sleeping in the same cell. There was nothing beyond holding one another, coaxing the stress from your bodies with simple touches that no amount of sex could ever achieve. No one questioned it, though no one really questioned any form of happiness anymore. It was too fleeting. 

“Today sucked.” You would whisper, nuzzling your cheek against the hollow of his throat. 

“S’over now.” He’d reply, fingertips dancing down your spine. 

It was an unplanned, nameless perfection. 

Carol had jokingly referred to you as an old married couple once, and while you didn’t get angry, it did raise several questions. You began to ponder things that had, until that moment, felt ordinary. You had never compared your relationship with Daryl to that of Glenn and Maggie or Rick and Lori. 

Such an innocent statement had been the birthplace of so many doubts. Should it be something that was made official? Should you talk to him about it? And then the prison fell, your combined grief straining whatever it was the two of you had. Though once you had been reunited with your family, things seemed to return to normal. 

Except the lingering thought that you should be doing more. 

“Don’t know how I feel ‘bout this place.” Daryl was perched on the chair just adjacent to the door of the house you, he, and Carol had been assigned, his legs outstretched for his crossed ankles to rest atop the railing. Whittling away at bolts, he didn’t bother to look up when a long time resident called out a hello. 

“It’s not so bad.” You smiled at your notebook and the run list you were creating. The archer grunted. He didn’t trust it. “It’s hard to get used to, I know, but Rick says—”

“Hey, Y/N.” 

Your gaze slid over to the steps, the one you had come to know as Spencer smiling at you from the walkway. “Oh, uh—hey.” The man had been watching you from the moment your group had arrived, his hungry gaze following you with a piercing intensity that made you a little more than uncomfortable. 

“So, the party is tonight.” He lifted a foot to the first step and you saw Daryl’s knife hand still from the corner of your eye. “I was hoping you would accompany me.” Your eyes blinked wide, dancing between the two men. 

“I—well I wasn’t planning on going.” You laid the pen and paper aside, placing your hands on your thighs. 

“Oh, come on, pretty lady. It’ll be fun.” 

Your eyes flitted over to watch Daryl’s hand tighten around the hilt of his knife. Was he just being protective? Was it something more? The questions you tried so valiantly to ignore rose again to the forefront of your mind. 

“M’a go talk to Rick.” The archer spouted suddenly, dropping his legs and standing. He was down the steps and on the walkway before you could manage to say a word. 

Spencer watched him leave, a visible tension draining from his form. Once Daryl was out of sight, Deanna’s son turned back to you with a smile that made your stomach turn. “So, about that party?”

You glanced over his shoulder to Rick’s front door. What would it hurt? Daryl wasn’t attending and making friends couldn’t be such a bad thing. If Spencer wanted more, you would simply set him straight. 

“Yeah, I guess so, but as friends, okay?”

The look he gave you filled you with instant regret. 

“Friends. Sure.” 

Oh boy. 

The gathering itself was a success, introducing you to some of the community’s residents while you gained a bit more knowledge about the history of Alexandria. It was Spencer’s relentless advances that had ultimately driven you to abandon the party early. You had acquiesced to one dance, yet that had been enough to send the wrong signals. 

“Daryl? Are you home?” You called, awkwardly removing the high heels from your aching feet. Of course they would give you the most uncomfortable shoes known to man. You’d definitely be sticking with your boots from that point forward, fancy dress or not. “Daryl?” Tired and more than socially drained, you wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with your archer and let your stress melt away into the mattress while secure in the safety of his arms. 

It wasn’t meant to be. 

Daryl wasn’t there. It was unlikely he had left the walls. Unlikely but not impossible. So, you shuffled off to change out of the outfit you’d be given and into your familiar attire. By the time he strolled into the house, you had fallen asleep on the couch. 

“Hey.” You croaked, wiping the sleep from your eyes. Daryl glanced your way and offered a jerk of his chin in greeting. “Where’d you go?”

“S’it matter?” He huffed. It almost sounded bitter. 

“I guess not.” You warily watched him move around, the air growing thick with tension. “Just worried, that’s all.” He laughed ruefully, a sure sign that he was ill at ease. “Daryl, are you okay?”

“Dropped by the party earlier.” He cleared his throat. “Didn’t see no reason to stick around.”

Uh oh. 

“Oh.” Why did you feel guilty? Nothing had happened. “You hungry?” You asked, realizing the ridiculousness of the question when there were other obvious pressing matters that needed to be discussed. 

Daryl stopped stripping off his gear to spare you a sidelong glance. “Nah.” That wasn’t what he wanted to say, that much was clear, but he refrained. You felt your heart shift and twist uncomfortably. 

“Daryl, I think we should—”

“M’goin’ to bed.” And then he was gone, loud steps echoing from the basement stairs until they were muted thuds that were followed up by the loud slam of his door. You weren’t welcome in the room that night. 

Wiping angrily at the sudden tears on your cheeks, you cast your gaze to the stairs leading up to the bedrooms, suddenly exhausted. In fact, the thought of trudging up to the extra bed was a feat you weren’t sure you could accomplish. Lowering onto the couch, you sniffled and closed your damp eyes. 

Sleep wouldn’t find you that night. 

“We should—” The words were cut off by a mighty yawn, drawing Daryl’s unwelcome attention. His expression alone spoke volumes. 

“S’the matter with you?”

As if he had to ask. He knew you better than anyone, like the back of his hand. You hadn’t rested, fitfully tossing and turning on the couch the previous night, missing the warmth of his arms and the sounds of his breathing. 

Knowing you couldn’t start a discussion that might lead to foolish mistakes, you heaved a sigh. “I’m fine.” Keeping your eyes downcast, you pushed open the passenger door and climbed out, heading toward the main entrance of the mall. A succession of slamming car doors followed. 

“Y’ain’t fine.” Daryl fell into step with you, pulling his crossbow from his back. His eyes, squinting against the sun, remained glued forward. 

Neither are you, you wanted to say. Still, you pressed onward. “Let’s just get this done and go home.” You chose instead, picking up the pace to leave him behind. Arguing with him wasn’t new by any means, but this—tension, it was new. It was different. It felt much like the stress that passed between the two of you after the prison. The questions, the doubts. 

“Y/N!”

You shook your head when you heard him call. You couldn’t deal with that confrontation at that moment. There were supplies to find, there were walkers to avoid and—

You didn’t even realize how close the teeth had come to your shoulder until you felt the sting of Daryl’s bolt slide across the back of your neck to pierce the young woman’s skull. Hand slapping over the cut the projectile had left behind, you spun to watch the body topple sideways, your eyes wide. 

“The hell were you doin’?!” 

Your brain had yet to catch up, your lips moving with mere silence the only result. When Daryl reached you, his weapon clattered to the ground, leaving the others to watch your backs.

“I—”

“Ya just stood there! Why didn’t—goddamnit, Y/N!” 

Your hand jerked away from your neck as you were yanked against his chest, face squished until you managed to maneuver your head just enough to breathe. 

“I’m sorry—I—”

Daryl sniffed above you, roughly letting you go and stepping away. He had turned away from everyone, arm moving to appear as if he might have been wiping at his eyes. “S’get this done.” He snapped, jerking his arm in a vague motion to beckon you. “You’re stayin’ with me, y’hear?” 

You nodded, though he couldn’t see, and picked up his bow for him. After he had taken it, he stomped toward the entrance, barking at you to keep up. 

How could you have been so careless? You’d allowed your thoughts and worries to cloud your judgment, blind you to danger. If Daryl hadn’t been there, you’d have been dead. Now things were worse between the two of you. He stalked ahead, his shoulders tense and frame trembling. Did you dare try and smooth things over?

“Got somethin’ here.” He suddenly spouted, rocking back and forth with the toe of his boot pressing into a creaking floorboard. He glanced at you, eyes narrowed in a silent request to watch his back. You jerked your chin in a nod. Crossbow placed next to him on the floor, he crouched and used his knife to pry up the board and reveal a bag beneath it. “Bingo.”

“What’s in it?” You inquired, looking to him for a reply and then back to the door. 

“Meds. Some granola bars and Spam.” He shoved the sack into his satchel. 

“Trip was worth it then.” You were smiling when you turned to him, your mouth turning down when you were assaulted by the expression he donned. He was stricken. 

“Worth it.” He looked down as he stood, licking his bottom lip before chewing it in earnest. “Nah, Y/N. It weren’t worth it.” Squinting, he shook his head and brushed by you. “We’re done here.”

Sighing heavily, you rubbed the towel over your damp hair. The day’s grime had been washed away, swirling down the drain to keep your tears company. Daryl hadn’t spoken a word to you the rest of the run, not on the drive back, and he had disappeared the moment the car had been parked. 

Pulling your sleep shorts up to rest on your hips, you reached for your camisole when there was a soft knock on your door. You were once again in the upstairs room, giving Daryl his space while suffocating in your own. 

“Yeah?” You pulled the garment over your head and stepped out of the bathroom, narrowing your eyes at the entryway. 

“S’uh—” Daryl cleared his throat, the sound muted by the wooden barrier between you. “S’me.”

Your heart fluttered before it sank. Another argument wasn’t something you were confident you could handle, but you couldn’t just turn him away. Padding across the cold floor on your bare feet, you turned the knob and opened the door enough to lean against it. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He was already rubbing the back of his neck and shifting from foot to booted foot. He was anxious. “Can we, uh—can we talk?” He requested without so much as a glance at you.

Not tonight. I’m too tired. “Of course.” You ignored every possible excuse to avoid the conversation. He merely grunted and squeezed by you with care not to touch. 

And that hurt. 

“What’s up?” You asked with feigned nonchalance, sitting down on your bed. Daryl paid extra attention to the furniture and the things you had taken with you from the basement room. 

“‘Bout today—”

And there it was. “I said I was sorry, Daryl. I was distracted.” You felt your eyes burn, wishing you could say so much more. Tell him you missed him, that you loved him. “It won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, I know.” His tone was solemn and it dawned on you that he didn’t seem angry at all. He turned toward you, taking a moment to chew on the side of his thumb. You hated when he did that. You hated anything that caused him discomfort, especially the things he did to himself. “S’my fault, ain’t it?”

You blinked, saucer-sized eyes following his hand as he lowered it. “Your fault?” 

“Just—” You tracked him as he began to pace. “Just saw ya with that prick at the party an’ I—” He stopped, fists clenching before he shook them out and continued wearing a trench into the floor. “I thought—weren’t we—nah. I shouldn’a come up here.” 

The confusion muddling your brain had yet to wear off before you were on your feet and stepping into his path to effectively block the door. “Slow down, Daryl.” His mouth opened but snapped shut with a click of his teeth. “Say what you mean.” You pleaded in the calmest tone you could manage while numerous sentiments twisted in the pit of your stomach, tendriling out to wrap around your heart like a vice. 

“Dunno what I mean.” The defeat on his face, the utter bemusement in his eyes tore you to pieces. It also refueled every burning question that had befuddled your mind into nearly getting yourself killed. 

“Daryl.” For some reason beyond your comprehension, you hesitated with your open palms just in front of his chest. C’mon, idiot. This is Daryl and he— Your train of thought nearly derailed, maintaining just enough contact with the foundation to urge you onward. “Daryl, if I said that I loved you, what would you say?” Your hands finally made contact.

He reeled back a fraction of an inch, his wide eyes mimicking yours from only moments ago. “I, uh—”

“I’ve always thought that you loved me.” You dared, your hands sliding over to settle on his ribs. “I know we’ve never really—decided that we were—”

“Sure, we did.” He cleared his throat, hand traveling toward his mouth as he inhaled. You caught his wrist before he could begin to gnaw on already abused skin. “Mean, I thought we—”

You smiled and released your grasp, content to allow his hand to rest on your waist instead. “I love you.” And you held your breath. Blue orbs danced and sparkled, scrutinizing you and your declaration. 

“Y’sure?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Very.” 

Your first kiss was everything you had expected and all you could have hoped for: sloppy, inexperienced, yet so passionate and honest. Daryl’s teeth clicked into yours, uncomfortable but still inspiring a giggle that had him smiling against your mouth. A real smile. A unicorn in a world that had lost its magic. 

And it stole your breath, precious oxygen that you weren’t sure you found again until you settled on the bed beside him, sweat-soaked, sated, and more in love than you ever thought was possible. 

He never said the words but you had all the answer you needed. 

You were his. 

He was yours. 

And even if he turned beet red each and every time, you’d shout it from the rooftops. 

[occasional-yan-stuff]

Pairing: Yandere!dog boy X reader X yandere!cat boy

Details: Gn!reader, love triangle, animal like behavior, Kemonomimi

warnings: obsessive behavior, violence, threats, possessive

Yandere dog and cat boys who are fighting over you constantly. When you're in the room they just grit their teeth and bare it to keep you happy but the second you step out they're at each other's throats. They both wish they didn't have to deal with the other but they both just love you so much. Neither can stand to be apart from you.

The cat boy nuzzles up against you and purrs as he smirks at the dog boy who is staring at you from behind. The dog boy leaps on you as soon as he gets home as the cat boy scoffs at him, although secretly, deep down, he wishes he was shameless enough to do it too. You're always getting little gifts from your cat boy, from roses, to jewelry, to... pictures of you? Those tend to get stolen by the dog boy who puts them in his secret place, so naturally the cat boy needs to give you more.

The dog boy loves it when you feed him. It shows him that you care about him and he thinks its cute. Being cute for you is his favorite thing. On the other hand, the cat boy prefers to be the one feeding you. He usually cooks dinner as well and always pays for dates. Providing for you gives him a sense of purpose and he loves to see you dependent on him.

God forbid either of them sees anyone take an interest in you. The dog boy will have an eye on them 24/7 threatening them on the internet and even in the real world until they get out of your life. Similar sentiments are held by the cat boy but he doesn't stop at just threats. To start with, he'll begin to leave dead animals on their door step, but if that's not enough he'll take it to the next level. He has a knife collection and he's not afraid to use it to make people wish they were never born (or worse). If he's in a really bad mood he'll even break out his brass knuckles and use them to beat the person to a pulp. When the job is done he'll usually bring you one of his trophies as a gift. Some of their blood, one of their teeth, even a picture of what he's done to them. "They won't bother you anymore" hell whisper tenderly into your ear. The only reason he hasn't done anything about the dog boy yet is because he knows that if he did, you would cry.

Luxurious dates and fancy restaurants are the name of the game when it comes to the cat boy. He thinks you look stunning in formal ware and loves to hold you close while you dance. For the dog boy that sort of stuff is boring as sin and he would much rather take you on an adventure! He loves to go tho the park with you, or explorer parts of town you've never been to, or drag you out to the arcade, or just stay home and play games. His dates are hardly ever planned, but no matter what you're doing expect mountains of kisses and constant reminders of how much he loves you. Whenever you win a game he'll playfully say it's because he let you but usually it's just because the only thing he ever does is button mashes.

While the cat boy can sometimes seem distant and aloof, the dog boy is in need of constant affirmation. He's always asking if you still love him and if you still think he's cute. Begging for pats on the head and snuggles seems to be his favorite hobby. Sometimes he says he can't live without your warmth.

[cowbrain]

"You're wrong to think of it as work" sure is the take ever, huh

A huge part of the artistic process is doing something you absolutely hate. That's a pretty common sentiment! I personally hate doing lineart so I largely do not and that makes my process a lot more enjoyable from start to finish.

Art is different for everybody and everyone likes different things at different points in their lives. I right now am really liking the whole ' make this sketch look not like shit' phase. But for every half decent sketch there's 700 looser, messier sketches trying to nail what I'm going for and honestly? That can be pretty exhausting.

For example v

This kind of mechanical cycle exists in some form in every stage of art, it's just the process. And it can take a long time!

Personally, a big part of art is getting my ideas down physically, but once I feel like it's 'good enough' I lose interest in 'finishing' it, whatever that would look like for each piece. Sometimes as you go, you realize that something isn't having the effect you want and you gotta go in and fix that. That's the work part. That sucks.

I doodled this out recently and was happy with the sketch, but I realized that adding some form of shading would convey my ideas better and the process of trying to figure out shading was such a slog.

I went from a very organic, fun sketch process to suddenly a very mechanical, thought-intensive one to bust out something that added 2 hours to something I felt was 'done'. That was killer.

This got kind of long but tl;dr people enjoy different parts of the artistic process but sometimes you gotta do stuff you don't like and anything you don't like is going to feel like work, whatever that is. There's also the feedback loop of creating, posting, and having people react that hits parts of the brain good that probably plays a factor somewhere, and also there's a creative vs. technical aspect to art and a lot of people struggle with one or the other or even the switch in the same drawing.

Lots of artists lately talking about burnout and how they no longer find the process fun and enjoyable.

And I'm over here like........you guys EVER found that enjoyable?? Was I supposed to???

It is not fun to do the work itself. It's never crossed my mind that it could be. Having something finished is great and I can't stop making things but the process required to have made something is just arduous tedious labor. you do it for the result alone, not the hours of sitting still staring at the same surface.

It must be awesome to ever be capable of enjoying a form of "work" 😕

[dood-itsradical]

Have I ever tell y'all that jake kim is my fav? Yes? Well you'll be hearing it from me again ehehehehe + f!reader is sinu's sister.

Don't you just love it? Saturday, no work. Weather is nice. Not too hot, not too cold. Waking up on a soft bed, soft pillows. With Jake naked with you.

...

With Jake naked with you?!

Sitting up abruptly, gripping on your blanket once you realise how bare you. You face Jake. Jake only started to get fully conscious. Taking his precious time to lick his dry lips, rubbing his eyes and blinking at you. It took him like a good ten seconds to realise.

He was first to scream. You then scream with him. He points at you. You point back. You pull the blanket close to you. He cover his tattooed body with his bare hands. The screaming continues.

Jerry burst in the room immediately. The door broke in half, JAKE! WHAT'S GOING ON?! ARE YOU OKAY?! WHAT HAPPENED?!" The big guy turned speechless at the sight.

To Jerry, it was an honest mistake. To you, it is too. But to Jake, it's like he have commited a big ass sin.

"SINU, PUNISH ME AS MUCH AS YOU WANT! I DONT DESERVE TO LIVE!" Jake hit his head on the solid ground multiple times. He forced his knees to hurt. You also kneeled beside him, somewhat guilty and embarrassed of what happened. You're on a same page, thinking it felt wrong to sleep with the current Big Deal's boss. Who is also your brother's best friend.

Sinu Han stand there with a sheepish look, "Jake, you're exaggerating. I already respect both of your relationship." But Jake wouldn't budge, believing that he deserve anything that comes his way to make up from his mistake.

"But I never ask for her consent! I didn't even remember what I did. There are bruises everywhere on her body! What kind of monster am I? I should be punished immediately!" His firm voice muffled from below, he could've sworn he swallowed a rock.

Your felt your face heating up. Curse Jake for having no filter when speaking to Sinu. But he's right about something. You don't even remember what happened. You felt slightly sore and noticed few marks during shower.

Sinu sighed with slight amusement. He doesn't even opposed to the idea of Jake and you dating. He encouraged it even. You two always have been close so it's only fair to tied that knot. Literally.

Then he snort before burst into laughter. It catches everyone else off guard and confused. Especially you. What is it that he found it funny?

The laughter slowly died down as Sinu wipe his tears. "Oh, I'm not angry. You guys are like two peas in a pot. About time anyway." He crouched down and rest a hand on Jake's shoulder. "If you felt that way towards her, it's me who should be lucky. You're already a brother. I wouldn't have anyone else to look after her."

Your heart fluttered at your brother's words. Sure he's a sentiment by heart, but you didn't get to hear that all day. You could only give a grateful smile.

However his words seem to be left hanging by Jake. Confuse, Sinu shakes him slightly. "Jake?"

Slowly, Jake raised his head comically to reveal his sobbing mess self, shocking both you and Sinu. Tears and snot running down on Jake's face as he sniffles violently. "Th-ank you..." He hiccups. "I'll take good care- of her, Sinu. I swear on it."

Sinu's lips curled with satisfaction alongside you. You chuckled warmly at the sight.

Masterlist

[volturissideslut]

can you do nsfw alphabets for volturi kings? sorry if this too much😭

𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖚𝖘 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎

The NSFW alphabet is longggg, so im going to do it for one character at a time. I span a wheel and got Marcus, will do the other two in another post if someone requests

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Marcus is a love bug at heart we all know this, he almost appreciates giving aftercare just as much as sex in the first place. He definitely need to hold you close while you both come down from your highs. He'll stroke your hair and melt if you stroke his, and you'll whisper giggly little things to each other. He's also the type to trace his finger around your skin and just stare at you in love.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his own hands, that would be his favourite on himself. Just the way his hands look when his grabbing at you. When he gently hold at your jaw to look you in the eyes. When his hands grasp your own, or play with your pretty pussy. As for his favourite on you it's a tough choice but i'm going to say thighs. Marcus likes someone who has a bit of chub on them. Plush cheeks, a soft tummy, and thighs he can grip into a kneed. If you're turned expect to have many bite marks on your inner thighs. He loves them and just can't resist. And if you're still human he loves the warmth on his mouth when he trails kisses up your inner thighs before eating you out.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Speaking of thighs, he'd love to watch his cum dripping down them. He lives for it, anywhere soft he can smear it just leaves him in awe. Some of his personal favourites include your thighs, tummy, or breasts. Something about the way it drips down you, the way you get covered, practically marked as his drives him crazy. It's relatively thin but theres a lot. Go ahead and scoop some onto your fingers and smear it on your lips or in your mouth, he'll go crazy if you don't let him fuck you again.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's obsessed with you, that's no secret, but something that i personally think is that this feral man loves to sniff you. More so, your panties. That right ladies and gentlemen you heard it here first. Marcus Volturi is a secret panty sniffer.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

The only real experience he has is Didyme, but we all know what happened to her. Marcus is a sentimental man so I can imagine that between her and you he didn't sleep with anybody. He seems like the type to be incapable of casual and wants sex within a relationship rather than affairs or hookups.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary (i know i know, boring) but the way he could push down on your abdomen and feel the pressure on his cock, or the sight of his own bulge through your skin drives him crazy. He's grabbing and grasping and pinching at whatever he can on you. Even if he was eating you out he's love his head squeezed between your. thighs and his forehead resting on your tummy. Also face sitting. He loves you sat on his face and being smothered by you. He never wants it to end and its not like vampires need air.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

To him theres in nothing better than giggly romantic sex. No, he isn't going to be pulling out jokes but if something happens he's content to give a little chuckle and keep on going.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has hair there, thats for sure, he just keeps it trimmed short and nice. And yes, the carpet matches the drapes.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's the most romantic person possible i think. Whispering little compliments, telling you how much he loves you, peppering your face with kisses, the whole lot. He loves setting the mood too with some candle lights and fresh flowers for you. He'll pull out all the stops, he loves how special these moments between you are.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcannon)

Not really. It's not that he's opposed to it or anything he just prefers being with you. It's never the same and when it's comparing his hand to you?? No contest there. Also i dont see him having that high of a libido, it's you that spurs him on whether that be on purpose or him just being turned on by your existence.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Marking. Marking. Marking. He lives for it. To watch his cum dripping off your body, to see bite marks on you that he knows came from him, or any mark in general really. His gripped your thigh too hard while fucking and now theres a big purple bruise? He's sorry baby :( he didn't mean to hurt you, how about he kiss it better? Then a little higher, and a little higher again? How about you sit on his face and he makes it up to you :( He also likes using restraints, like tying you to the bedpost with some cloth. You don't need your hands darling he's going yo make you feel good. You can give him one more right? Oh, yeah, right, overstimulation too. He wants to make you orgasm so may times you forget your own name, your mind goes hazy and tears bead at your eyes. All that exists in your mind is you, him, and the next orgasm he's going to rip from you. In Marcus' personal opinion: fuck edging, overstim is the way to go.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

It may seem a little unoriginal but he likes the safety of your own shared room, the walls feel like a bubble of security, the doors shut out the cold world from this warmth - but this doesn't mean he's not open to other places. One of his favourite memories is the two of you gently fucking in a lagoon. You had gone for a little wonder in nature and found a reserve, somehow ended up skinny dipping and making out in the water. One thing led to another and now he gets turned on anytime you mention going for a swim somewhere.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. Just you. You bend over and he gets a great view of your ass and he's turned on. You look up at him with a little smile and he's going to die if you don't fuck right now. Your wearing a tank top because its hot but your breasts look good and he's revving to go. You give him a kiss in passing and it's not enough anymore. You're laid on top of him cuddling and theres a boner poking into your front. He's just a guy who is obsessed with his love.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He hates the idea of hurting you. While you're human he is ever so careful to not be too rough but still give you the ride of your life. He's not going to pull an Edward and run with his tail tucked between his legs but you're his reason for existence and he wants to keep you around. Even when you are turned and he knows you can keep up a part of his shrivels up inside and dies when he hears your marble skin cracking. Doesn't care if its the other way around, and will literally beg you to ride him so hard he breaks but it's a no go for him the other way around.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves oral. Especially giving, but he's never ever going to refuse receiving. If he does, have him beheaded because that's not him, he's crazy, or is no longer fit to exist - let alone be king. And as for skill? He's masters it. This man can find the clit and knows how to use it well. Not only that but he enjoys it too. Would genuinely rather spend the rest of his existence with his head between your legs than any other way.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on his mood really. If he's feeling happy and in love then its going o be a sensual pace. Not necessarily slow but not fast either. But if he' s feeling a little frustrated or angry he changes it up completely. Its fast and rough. Its sloppy and messy. It's dirty and kinky. He's biting your lip and bruising your thigh. He's getting his frustrations happy, and who's going to complain about that?

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not often, only sometimes. He much prefers longer sessions in your own privacy but he does get excited by the occasional quickie. Risky fucks getting ridden by you on his throne when anybody could walk in at any moment and catch you. His sense of professionalism flew straight out the window when you walked into his life

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Any risk to you? Absolutely not. If someone walks in during a semi public quickie he'll gauge there eyes out if they saw you. Any risk you you physically is demolished too - not that much can harm you once you're turned anyway. Any risk to him? Go ahead. Ride him so hard his legs dislocate. With your newborn strength take out you emotions on him, choke him so hard you nearly behead him. It just drives him on more. Give him a blow job while he sits in the library. He has little to no shame, doesn't even really want to be in the volturi anymore anyway but he stays out of his own choice because it benefits you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Hello? He's a vampire with inhuman capabilities so he could gor for days. Throw into the mix that you're you and he's so in love and so obsessed?? You're lucky its weeks not years. Realistically the rounds don't last that long because just looking at you sets his off as it is

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't necessarily use toys but he's open to trying them if you ask. What he does have is handcuffs and belts and that type of thing to tie you up. He's also not opposed to being the one tied up. Had the shock of his life when you blindfolded him once, he almost came untouched. That was definitely tries again after

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

While he would like to tease you he is physically incapable of doing it. It feels like he's torturing himself almost because he can't have you how he wants right then and there. He likes the idea of teasing though, so it will last a couple seconds before he gives in. No need to beg - he'd love to hear you of course but its amusing how quickly he gives into your every whim and spoils you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not a grunter, yiu make him feel good and he isn't ashamed to let you hear that. But he also isn't naturally overly loud either. Ladies and gentlemen i present to you Marcus Volturi, whiner and whimperer.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

There has been multiple occasions we are not supposed to speak of when Marcus has cum untouched by you because you've teased him or overexcited him. He's got the stamina of a racehorse anyway and would rather be buried alive than leave you unsatisfied so you still get a good fuck. He's not even ashamed of it, it's just what you do to him

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He isn't small my any means, round 6 inches i'd say. His base is thick with a mushroom tip. Every inch feels good.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

When he's going about his business it's the last thing that crosses his mind, but he catches eye of you and suddenly he's an insatiable dog. He's in your shared room and sees your underwear on the floor and suddenly if your not here in the next five seconds he's going to combust. Does it really count as jerking off if he used your panties and not his hand?

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

vampires don't really sleep, but he's so content to just lay there in bliss with you for hours afterwards.

Caius vers.

[finniestoncrane]

Farrell!Penguin x Reader where Oz brings Reader to meet his mom or proposes.

Farrell!Penguin x GN!Reader, word count: 573 first post of 2025 hehe and i'm ruining myself with some domestic fluff and a little bit of threat/angst!! ozzie is more than happy to introduce you to his ma, but it's a risky step in your relationship💜🐧 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: fluff, tension, angst, threats

The first hour of the visit was difficult. Oz's mother seemed to be having a difficult day and that in turn only served to send him into a nervous fit. It would have been undetectable to those who didn't know him well enough. He might have seemed slightly more flustered than usual, his cool, controlled demeeanour suddenly shaken for only a brief moment before his strategic brain kicked into gear. But to you, it was obvious how deeply worried he was by his mother's condition.

So, in a bid to try and help, you sat down beside Francis and took her hand. While Oz looked for her meds, you asked her about her brooch, inquired about her extensive record collection. It soothed her, brought her back down while Oz fumbled through the bags fo prescription medication to find what he was looking for.

And then it was as though you had always known them, always been there, part of the furniture. Francis warmed to you almost immediately, a little too much actually. It made you slightly uncomfortable to accept her praise, especially when it came at the cost of Oswald's pride.

"You're too good for him, sweetheart. You should run out of here and never look back. All the things he's promised me, I bet he promised them to you too. You'll never get them. He's useless. A waste. I should have... Yeah, I should have, while I had the chance."

Oswald shook his head nervously, trying to force a smile onto his lips as he whispered into your ear.

"Don't take it to heart, doll. She doesn't always know what she's saying."

You squeezed his hand and smiled, reassuring him that you were well aware of the situation, and very knowledgeable about what kind of man he was, or so you thought.

"I'm glad you came round, sweetheart..."

Francis took your hand in hers, gripping it tight, a look of worry in her eyes despite the warm smile she offered you. Her perfectly manicured nails pressed into your skin, stinging slightly as she spoke. In an attempt to comfort you, Oswald stepped up behind you and placed his hand around you, resting on your waist.

"... You're like family now. I'm sure Oswald will take care of you. I'm sure of it."

Oz's hand dug into the skin of your side, fingers deeper into your flesh than might call for in this moment of intimacy. He was tense, as though the sentiment his mother had extended to you was less the welcome warmth it had been for you and was more a threat, to both of you.

You just couldn't work out how, despite his mother's words echoing through your mind. Oswald was good. Not overall, but to you. And to his mother. But perhaps there was some truth to what he had somewhat callously waved of as her mindless ramblings.

Before you could let any of that settle, however, you were ushered out of the house, a quick goodbye to Francis before Oswald shut the door behind him.

And then, before you could say anything to him, he lifted your chin with his thumb, pulling you into a comforting kiss that took your breath away. His lips against yours, his free hand reaching to stroke your cheek. As he pulled away you let out a giggle and a sigh.

"Come on, doll. We're gonna take aa drive. Just you and me. Family."

[sunny374940]

Let me show you how beautiful you are

Hello again, long time no smut. Emmrich is a bit insecure about his body and Rook shows him just how beautiful he finds him. Get loved, old man.

Cw: anal sex

Here on ao3

And here is the rest of my stories.

Rook woke up, blinking muzzily in the darkness of their bedroom. The greyish light of pre-dawn was barely penetrating the curtains, suggesting that it was too damn early to be awake.

He stretched an arm to Emmrich's side of the bed but he was, like most mornings, already up and about, probably getting breakfast ready. As Rook was rolling over to get more comfortable, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head towards it, curious.

Emmrich wasn't getting breakfast. In fact, he was standing on the rug next to their bed, his back to Rook, and he was wearing nothing at all.

Well, not a bad sight to wake up to.

And then Emmrich was stretching himself up, raising his arms to the ceiling and the view of the muscles of his back moving under the skin had Rook transfixed. He looked on as Emmrich bent all the way down, touching the floor with his palms and presenting Rook with a rather nice view of his ass.

So he really did exercise in the mornings. Rook still didn't understand why anyone would choose to do that willingly, but decided not to complain, since he was enjoying himself quite a lot.

But he wanted more than just to look at Emmrich, so he sat up and started making his way to the edge of the bed.

“Morning, handsome,” he said as he reached Emmrich, who was now absorbed in stretching his wrists. Emmrich startled at the sound of his voice, turning around.

“Darling, did I wake you?” He sounded so apologetic that Rook almost felt sorry for him.

“Nope, I didn't even notice you at first when I woke up. But I'm glad I got to enjoy the show.”

Emmrich sputtered a bit at that and a blush began creeping upon his cheeks. Ha. He could be the one blushing for a change. Rook got out of bed, standing on his toes to kiss him.

“You're beautiful, you know?” he whispered between kisses. And Emmrich was blushing even more, he noted with a certain degree of satisfaction.

“This body has passed its prime some time ago, my dear, but thank you for the sentiment,” Emmrich said quietly, and he was looking down now, wouldn't meet Rook's eyes and was he… ashamed of himself?

What the fuck?

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Emmrich should have accepted the compliment, then said something terribly suave to make him blush in turn and then he should have kissed him again, maybe even done more than just kiss him. He wasn't supposed to go all quiet and sad, and Rook had to do something about that. He grasped Emmrich's chin gently with his fingers, making him face him again.

“Hey, I like the way you look. I think I've told you many times already, no?”

“Compared to you, I leave much to be desired, where matters of physicality are concerned,” came the cheerless reply and his were still downcast and Rook wouldn't stand for it. If Emmrich wouldn't believe his words, he would have to believe his actions. Rook caught Emmrich by the hand and dragged him down onto the bed.

“Lie back for me?” he asked and Emmrich obliged with the barest raise of an eyebrow. Rook sat himself on Emmrich's thighs and ran his hands over the skin of his stomach, relishing at the softness he found there. There wasn't a thing he didn't love about him and Emmrich would know that by the time he was done with him.

“You, Emmrich Volkarin, are a beautiful man, and I am going to show you.”

And Emmrich didn't seem to have anything to say for once. The blush was spreading down to his chest and Rook couldn't stop himself from leaning down to kiss him on the flushed skin. He licked at a nipple as he went, earning himself a breathy moan. Rook raised his head to look him in the face and found Emmrich staring at him, enraptured, the lovely hazel of his eyes a thin ring around dilated pupils. He could start there, then.

“I love the color of your eyes, you know? They remind me of summers in the forest where I grew up, the trees glowing in the sunlight. And your crows feet are so adorable, I want to kiss you right there every time you smile.”

And Emmrich did give him a small smile at that and allowed himself to be kissed. They were getting somewhere at last, but still there was a shade of doubt on his face.

Emmrich reached out to link their hands, as if he needed the reassurance, and Rook took the opportunity to raise Emmrich's hand up to his lips, kissing his knuckles. He didn't let go after he was done, instead using his free hand to stroke at Emmrich's fingers, examining them as if he hadn't already committed every line of them to memory.

“Your hands are so strong but you have such delicate fingers it always surprises me. I love how elegant they are when you weave magic… and how they can take me apart.”

He could hear Emmrich’s breath hitch a little and there was a hunger in his eyes, making Rook want to do all manner of delicious things to him.

His cheeks hadn't lost any of the adorable blush and his lips were parted, just begging Rook to kiss him some more. But that would have to wait for a bit longer, as Rook was on a mission now. Emmrich’s free hand came to hold onto Rook's thigh, fingers digging into his skin, not enough to hurt, but enough to tell him just how much he desired him.

Rook's felt his cock grow hard at the sight and Emmrich seemed to be very interested in this development, eyeing him hungrily.

“See what you do to me? Just seeing you like this makes me want to take you,” Rook said, letting his voice lower into a rumble. “Can I?”

“Yes, please,” Emmrich replied, breathless, cock hardening at Rook’s words.

Rook got off of Emmrich's legs, and reached for the vial of oil that stood on the bedside table and set about getting Emmrich ready for him.

He nudged Emmrich's legs apart and stroked oiled fingers against his asshole, applying just the slightest pressure. The way Emmrich moaned at the touch had Rook grinning and he wasted no time, pushing a finger inside, then a second, opening him up, and the sounds Emmrich made were amazing, little breathy moans and sighs of pleasure.

“Are you ready for me, love?” Rook asked, though there was very little doubt about Emmrich's readiness, as he had taken to fucking himself on Rook's fingers, moaning constantly.

“Y-yes darling, very much so.”Rook entered him then, slow and careful, relishing in the groan that Emmrich made when he started fucking him. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed and Rook would be repeating himsef, but he just had to say it.

“You're so beautiful, love.”

And Emmrich whimpered at the praise, a delightful sound that made Rook want more. He hooked Emmrich's legs over his shoulders, grabbing his ass with his hands, giving it a squeeze for good measure.

“You've got an amazing ass. It's just right for me to hold onto when I kiss you. Or fuck you just. Like. This.”

He punctuated every word with a snap of his hips and Emmrich was lost in his arousal, holding onto Rook's forearms as he was thrusting into him.

Rook took pity on him then, taking his cock in hand, stroking it in the way he knew he liked and he could see that Emmrich was getting close to the edge. Although Rook wasn't far behind, as it was taking all his willpower to not cum right away at the way Emmrich was falling apart under him. But he wanted to see him cum first, see the blissful expression on his face, and he wanted it now.

“I love the way you look when you cum. Can you do that for me?”

And Emmrich was nodding, words seemingly lost to him.

“Let me see you, love.”

Those words were all it took and Emmrich's hips seized as he came all over Rook's hand. His mouth opened in a silent cry, his eyes went wide at the force of it and he looked so beautiful that Rook couldn't hold on anymore and followed with his own orgasm, hips stuttering against Emmrich's ass. He slumped over Emmrich, breathing heavily.

“Do you believe me now?” Rook asked, searching Emmrich's face, hoping that there would be none of the self-doubt from earlier.

“I… am beginning to see the truth of your words. Thank you, darling.”

There was only quiet contentment in his eyes, but it wouldn't hurt to ram the point home some more.

“You are the kindest, smartest, most amazing person I have ever met. And you are also very beautiful,” Rook said, leaning down to kiss him.

“You, my dear, are a wonder and I am honored that you think so highly of me,” Emmrich said after their lips parted. “When we met I had no idea that I would gain such a caring lover, yet here you are, giving me such love I never even thought possible.”

“Wow. Um. Thanks.” And now Rook was blushing. All was right in the world again.

[darksturnz]

ECHOES OF LIGHT

CONTENTS:・fluff-heavy plot ・ star!reader ・fruity behavior again・bambi!madison・mentions of church (kinda not really!) ・substance use + more WC: 3K

no like you have to listen to this one AFTER the italics😿

The trailer door slammed open, the echo of the impact rattling the thin walls of the small space. Danny stumbled inside, the weight of the late hour and too much cheap whiskey heavy on his every movement. His boots dragged across the floor, leaving scuff marks in their wake as he muttered curses under his breath. The stale smell of alcohol and cigarettes clung to him, mixing with the oppressive silence of the trailer—a silence that seemed to amplify the weight of his bubbling anger.

He scanned the dimly lit kitchen, his bloodshot eyes catching on the empty countertop and the unlit stove. No dinner, no Star. His jaw clenched, the frustration blooming into full-blown rage as he kicked the side of a chair, the clatter breaking the quiet. “Ungrateful little shit,” he hissed, slurring the words together. “Can’t even do the basics, can she? Out runnin’ around like she’s got no damn responsibilities.”

He staggered toward the hallway, the flickering bulb above casting uneven light on the worn floorboards. His movements were uneven, his balance precarious as his shoulder bumped against the wall. “Don’t give a damn about no one but herself,” he muttered, a sneer twisting his face. Each step closer to Star’s room fed the fire of his anger, his mind already crafting a list of her supposed failures.

When he reached her door, he shoved it open without knocking, the old hinges creaking in protest. The sight inside gave him pause—not for long, but long enough to let a flicker of something other than anger cross his features. The room was a stark contrast to the rest of the trailer, a small sanctuary filled with the scent of plums and mango. It was uniquely hers, a blend of moody, dark tones with tiny sentimental touches. Posters covered the walls, and string lights looped around the ceiling. The little glowing stars they had stuck up there years ago still clung stubbornly to the surface, a faint reminder of a time long past.

Danny’s gaze lingered on the stars for a moment, his mind flicking to Grace and the hours they had spent arguing over how to get them to stick just right. The memory was a brief, unwelcome intrusion, and he shook it off, his anger swallowing the nostalgia whole.

“Think you’re better than me, huh? Better than this place?” he spat under his breath, as if Star were standing there to hear him. The bitterness in his voice reverberated off the walls as he began rifling through her belongings. His hands were rough, careless, pulling at her clothes, shoving items aside without purpose. He wasn’t looking for anything—he just wanted to disrupt, to vent his frustration in the only way he knew how.

His attention shifted to the window, cracked open slightly to let in the crisp night air. He stumbled toward it, muttering under his breath. “Fucking idiot,” he grumbled, slamming it shut with a loud thud that shook the frame. “Heating bill’s gonna be through the roof. S’not like she gives a damn.”

In his drunken clumsiness, his knee collided with the edge of the dresser. A loud thud echoed in the room as a small pile of items tumbled to the floor—a jewelry dish, a couple of notebooks, and a folded piece of paper. The drawing Chris had left the night before fluttered down, light as a feather, sliding behind the dresser and disappearing into the shadows.

Danny barely noticed, too preoccupied with his own muttered complaints. Satisfied with the misplaced tirade, he turned and stumbled out, slamming the door behind him. The once-cozy sanctuary was left in disarray—Star’s belongings scattered, the scent of mango and plum now mixed with the stale air of his intrusion.

The trailer fell silent again, the chaos he’d left behind a stark contrast to the stillness. And the drawing, a quiet plea folded into a forgotten piece of paper, lay hidden in the dark, waiting to be found.

Madison sat cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom, a clutter of makeup brushes and compacts scattered around her. The warm golden glow from the lamp on her dresser cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the soft ivory of her sweater and the plaid skirt she’d carefully chosen earlier. Her Bible sat forgotten on the bed next to a notebook filled with scribbled notes for church meetings. Tonight wasn’t about scripture or planning; it was about showing up, looking presentable, and being the dutiful daughter of Pine View’s sheriff and mayor.

Star, on the other hand, was sprawled on Madison’s window seat, her back against the wall, one leg pulled up while the other dangled lazily. She held a well-worn copy of The Bell Jar by Sylvia Path in one hand, the pages dog-eared and smudged with fingerprints. In her other hand, a joint rested loosely between her fingers, the smoke curling upward and drifting out the cracked window. The faint hum of cicadas filtered in, blending with the low music playing from Madison’s Bluetooth speaker.

“I hate everything I brought,” Star muttered, not looking up from her book as she exhaled a lazy plume of smoke. The words were heavy with frustration, and Madison glanced at her through the mirror, biting back a smile.

“You’ve said that about six times now, check my closet” Madison replied, carefully brushing blush onto her cheeks. She tried to keep her tone light, but the corners of her lips twitched. Watching Star pout and grumble was always strangely endearing.

Star finally lowered the book, tossing it onto the seat beside her before swinging her legs over and standing. She stretched, her hoodie riding up slightly to reveal a sliver of skin, and Madison’s brush faltered for a moment. She swallowed hard and forced herself to refocus on her reflection, even as her gaze darted back to Star through the mirror.

“You don’t get it,” Star said, pulling her hoodie over her head in one fluid motion. She stood there in her sports bra and jeans, her hair a wild mess from the sweater. “Everything I own is either too dark, too tight, or too depressing for whatever this church thing is supposed to be.”

Madison tried to respond, but the words caught in her throat. Her hands stilled on her makeup brush as her eyes lingered on Star’s reflection. The soft curve of her shoulders, the faint shadows of her collarbones, the way her hair tumbled down in uneven waves—it was all so… distracting. Madison’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked down, pretending to fidget with her lipstick.

“Not sure why I care,” Star continued, oblivious to Madison’s sudden discomfort. She rifled through Madison’s closet, her movements sharp and frustrated. “S’not like anyone’s gonna say anything.”

“I’ll notice,” Madison said before she could stop herself. Her voice was quiet, almost too soft to be heard, and she felt a flicker of panic as soon as the words left her mouth. She quickly added, “And for the record, you look good in anything.”

Star glanced over her shoulder, a grin tugging at her lips. “That’s cute, Mads, but not very helpful.” She pulled out a black cardigan dress and held it up to her body. “What about this? Or is it too funeral-y?”

Madison turned her attention back to the mirror, pretending to focus on her eyeliner. But when she saw Star holding the dress in the reflection, her breath hitched. The soft black fabric hugged Star’s figure perfectly, and Madison’s stomach flipped in a way that felt both thrilling and terrifying.

“S’perfect,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She hoped Star wouldn’t notice the faint tremor in her words.

Star grinned, tossing the dress onto the bed before turning back to the closet to grab her boots. Madison let out a quiet sigh of relief, her hands trembling slightly as she capped her eyeliner. She told herself it was nothing—just a passing thought, a moment of admiration for her best friend. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple.

The church courtyard was strung with soft yellow lights, the glow illuminating the clusters of townsfolk mingling beneath them. Tables were set up with trays of cookies and cupcakes, and a small speaker played country music in the background. It was a modest event, but the kind of thing Pine View thrived on—simple, familiar, and filled with faces that all knew each other.

Madison’s parents were already in the thick of it, her father shaking hands with other men in uniform while her mother chatted with the local pastor. Madison and Star slipped in quietly, doing their best to avoid drawing too much attention.

“This is… a lot,” Star muttered, sticking close to Madison’s side. Her black cardigan dress and platform boots made her stand out among the sea of pastel dresses and khaki slacks, but Madison thought she looked perfect.

“It’s not so bad,” Madison said, though she could feel the tension in Star’s posture. “We’ll just grab some cupcakes, pretend to care about small talk, and then bail.”

Star’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

They wandered to the dessert table, where Star immediately grabbed one of the cupcakes and made a face. “This tastes like disappointment.”

Madison laughed, the sound light and genuine. “It’s made by the church ladies. What did you expect?”

After an hour of obligatory small talk and polite smiles, Star tugged on Madison’s sleeve. “Y’wanna ditch?”

Madison hesitated, glancing around the courtyard. But when she saw the hopeful glint in Star’s eyes, she relented. “Fine. But only for a little while.”

Star grinned and led the way to the small garden behind the church. The space was quiet and dimly lit, the string lights from the courtyard casting faint shadows across the benches and flowerbeds. Star flopped onto one of the benches, pulling a fresh joint from her bag and lighting it with practiced ease.

“You’re crazy,” Madison said, sitting beside her. “We’re at a church, Star.”

Star exhaled a soft plume of smoke, her grin playful. “S’not like I’m lighting it in the sanctuary.” She held the joint out to Madison, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “C’mon. Live a little bambi.”

Madison hesitated, her cheeks flushing at the stupid nickname. “You’re terrible.”

“And you love me,” Star teased, her voice warm and teasing.

Madison’s heart skipped a beat, but she forced a laugh and took the joint, coughing on her first drag as Star laughed beside her.

Star eventually lays back, resting her head in Madison’s lap as she stared up at the sky. “Did you know the light from those stars is already dead?” she murmured. “It’s just… echoes.”

Madison nods softly, “mhm, you’ve mentioned it only a few times” she says playfully as her fingers brushed through Star’s hair, her gaze lingering on the curve of her lips as Star continued to ramble about constellations. The warmth of the moment settled over them like a blanket, and Madison felt her chest tighten.

She leaned down slightly, her breath catching as her lips hovered before pressing a soft kiss to Star’s cheek.

Star blinked, her gaze shifting to Madison with a soft, confused smile. “What was that for?”

Madison shrugged, trying to hide her blush. “I dunno. You just looked like you needed one.”

Star’s smile lingered, but she didn’t press. Instead, she settled back into Madison’s lap, her voice soft as she pointed out another constellation.

Madison’s heart raced, but for now, she let herself enjoy the moment, the quiet realization settling over her like the stars above.

The quiet of the church garden wrapped around them, the distant hum of voices from the courtyard blending into the symphony of crickets and rustling leaves. Madison’s fingers twitched slightly as they brushed against Star’s hair, her heartbeat loud and uneven in her chest.

Star lay still in Madison’s lap, her body relaxed, but her gaze flickered with life as she stared at the stars above. Her lips parted slightly, and she let out a breathy laugh that seemed to echo in the stillness.

“What’s so funny?” Madison asked, her voice soft and curious, her hand pausing mid-stroke through Star’s hair.

“I dunno,” Star admitted, turning her head slightly to meet Madison’s eyes. The motion caused her cheek to rest against Madison’s leg, the warmth of her skin seeping through the fabric of Madison’s skirt. “I just… it feels nice, y’know? Being out here, quiet. With you.”

Madison nodded slowly, her eyes lingering on Star’s face as her own cheeks started to heat up. “Yeah,” she murmured. “It does.”

Star shifted slightly, her expression softening as she turned back to the sky. “Sometimes, I think about what it’d be like to just… float up there,” she said, her voice dreamy and distant. “Like, if you could just let go of everything and let the stars pull you in. It’d probably be cold as hell, but at least you wouldn’t have to think so much.”

Madison’s chest tightened, a faint ache blooming there. She didn’t say anything at first, just let her fingers trail absently along the ends of Star’s hair, her thoughts swirling. She hated how much Star carried, how heavy her life seemed to weigh on her, and yet… she admired her for still being here, for still smiling and laughing even when it hurt.

“You don’t have to do it alone, you know,” Madison said quietly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Star blinked, her brows furrowing slightly as she glanced back up at Madison. “Do what alone?”

“Everything,” Madison replied, her voice trembling just enough to betray her nerves. She cleared her throat, her fingers stilling in Star’s hair. “I just mean… I don’t know. You’re always dealing with so much—your dad, Chris, your mom—and you act like you’ve got it all under control, but you don’t have to. I’m here, Star. I’m always here.”

Star’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but no words came. Instead, she sat up slowly, her gaze searching Madison’s face. For a moment, they just looked at each other, the air between them heavy with unspoken things.

“Madison…” Star began, her voice hesitant, but then she stopped, biting her lip. She looked down, her fingers picking at the hem of her cardigan. “I don’t even know how to let people help. Every time I try, it feels like I just mess it up.”

“You don’t mess anything up,” Madison said firmly, her voice steadier now. “You’re just… you. And that’s enough. That’s always enough.”

Star looked up at her again, her eyes wide and glistening in the dim light. For a second, Madison thought she might cry, but then Star let out a shaky laugh, her shoulders relaxing.

“You’re so cheesy,” Star said, but her tone was soft, almost affectionate. “If this is your way of getting me to come to all of these stupid things, it’s working.”

Madison laughed, the sound light and genuine, and the tension between them seemed to ease. Star leaned back, her head finding its way to Madison’s lap once more, and Madison let out a small breath of relief. Her fingers resumed their gentle path through Star’s hair, and Star closed her eyes, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

The courtyard was emptier now, most of the families having left while a few stragglers lingered near the dessert table. Madison and Star walked side by side, their arms brushing occasionally as they made their way back toward the main event. Madison’s cheeks still burned faintly from the kiss on Star’s cheek, but Star didn’t seem to notice—or if she did, she wasn’t saying anything.

“You’re lucky this thing wasn’t a total drag,” Star said, her voice light. “I mean, sure, the cupcakes tasted like sadness, but I guess the company was alright.”

Madison rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. “Glad I could make your night bearable.”

“Barely,” Star teased, nudging Madison’s arm with her elbow. But her smile softened, and for a moment, she looked at Madison with an expression that made Madison’s heart stutter.

“Thanks,” Star said quietly. “For, y’know… everything.”

Madison’s throat tightened, and she nodded, unable to trust her voice. She wanted to say something—something meaningful, something that would let Star know just how much she meant to her—but the words stayed stuck, tangled in the mess of her feelings.

By the time they got back to Madison’s house, Star was yawning, her eyelids heavy as she kicked off her boots and flopped onto Madison’s bed without a second thought. Madison smiled softly, watching as Star burrowed into the blankets, her messy hair fanning out around her. Comet hopped up onto the bed and curled up near Star’s neck, purring contentedly.

Madison changed into her pajamas quietly, her thoughts a whirl of emotions she didn’t know how to process. When she finally slid into bed beside Star, careful not to disturb her, she lay there staring at the ceiling, her heart racing.

Star’s breathing was soft and even, her presence warm and steady beside Madison. It was both comforting and overwhelming, and Madison couldn’t help but glance over at her, her gaze lingering on the curve of Star’s lips.

The thought came unbidden, sharp and undeniable, and Madison’s chest ached with the weight of it. She didn’t know what to do with the feeling, didn’t know if she even could do anything with it. It was terrifying and wonderful all at once. But as she turned her gaze back to the ceiling and closed her eyes, she let herself hold onto it, just for tonight.

I love her.

AUTHORS NOTE: sorry for ignoring all your ask…as you can see there was a reason why😅😅😅 ANYWAYS WOO GAY MADISON WOO

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[thevoidstaredback]

Phantom didn’t like going to Gotham. He made that very obvious on his way out right before he asked the House to take him to the top of the WE building in Old Gotham. There had been a brief moment of surprise about him knowing the layout of Gotham, but it was quickly shoved back behind the shock of Captain Marvel actually being a whole ass child! Not an adult like everyone thought or a child in only appearance, but an actual I’ve-only-existed-for-barely-fourteen-years child!

Billy would be fine. If he wanted out of the situation, the House would get him out. Though, he trusted his Fraid his team to not push Billy too far or hard. They all knew what he was capable of  when he’s Captain Marvel, so they’ll keep their petulance to themselves. Probably.

Honestly, Phantom wanted to get this meeting done and over with as soon as possible. Neither he nor Batman had set a time, so he was going to show up on top of the building and hope for the best. It was night in New Jersey, so he knew the Bat Clan would be out and about. It was now only a matter of getting Batsy’s attention. However, Phantom knew that Lady Gotham would get her knight to him sooner rather than later.

He was right, obviously, when Batman and Nightwing showed up no more than ten minutes after he did. He’d drawn another door on the wall, leaving the handle off, so he was ready to flee if he needed to.

He really hoped he wouldn’t need to.

“I’m not accepting Red Robin’s apology,” Phantom said as soon as the two had stepped closer to him, “Nor am I accepting one on his behalf. The sentiment is nice, though.”

Batman and Nightwing seemed to somehow both relax and tense up at the same time. Probably because he’s not accepting apologies at this time, as well as the fact that he used RR’s hero name instead of his real name.

Batman nodded. “Understood.”

“Fantastic,” Phantom clapped his hands together, “What’d you call me here for, Mr. Batman, sir?”

Nightwing smiled at the way of address. “We wanted to know if there was anything we could do to clear the air?” He offered, “We don’t want any bad blood between either the teams or the members of each team, so we’d like to do what we can to get back into good graces.”

Phantom sized the two up, crossing his legs as he floated in front of them. “Is this because Constantine hinted at a potential war between my home and yours?” Neither needed to answer. He sighed. “I assume you looked over the entire PowerPoint John made up?”

“Yes,” Batman grunted.

“Then you should know that asking anyone who is Dead, Undead, or Undying about anything pertaining to their death is taboo, yes?”

“Yes,”

“I’m gonna let you two in on a not-so-secret secret, m’kay?” Phantom rolled his neck, his body fuzzing at the edges. “The Infinite Realms does not take kindly to Her King being hurt, but She does not act against or without him. Red Robin asked about things that do not concern him, acting upon the impulses of his mentors, friends, and coworkers. This does not excuse him, but I will not be acting against him.” The two seemed to both sigh in relief, but he knew they didn’t. “Reparations will be up to you to enact accordingly. However, if there is a second slight from any of you, the Realms and Her people will act accordingly. That may be a war, or it may be isolation. I have no way of telling.”

Nightwing bowed his head slightly. “Thank you for the warning,” his voice was shaking minutely, “It will be passed on and held to word.”

“Good.” The heavy air that had taken over the rooftop suddenly lifted, allowing the two humans to breathe easier and regain their voices. “Anything else you need me for?”

“Yes,” Batman said again, obviously going off script if Nightwing’s expression was anything to go by. “Have you been to Gotham before?”

Phantom grinned from ear to ear. “I have, actually! When Nightwing here was just a tiny baby Robin.”

Nightwing blinked. “Oh?”

“Yep! You were so cute! Though, blue looks much better on you. Better for stealth, too.”

“Oh, um, thank you?” He seemed slightly confused, but was flattered.

“Gotham is healthier than then, too.” Phantom looked past them and into the shadows of the building behind them. “She holds you and your cauldron in high regard.”

“‘Cauldron’?” Nightwing asked.

“Gotham?” Batman demanded.

Phantom nodded, not looking away from the City Spirit behind them and across the street. “You won’t see her unless she wants you to, but she works to protect you as you protect her.” He bowed his head to her and she did the same. Batman and Nightwing turned to see what he was looking at, only seeing shadows. “She protects her own.”

Batman turned back to face Phantom. “What can you tell me about her?”

“Nothing that you don’t already know.

Silence overtook the rooftop, none of the three moving to leave or advance. Phantom was observing his two hosts, while Batman and Nightwing were stuck in their own heads.

Phantom had said that he’d been to Gotham when Dick was Robin- freshly Robin, if ‘tiny baby’ was interpreted correctly. But, Batman was sure he’d remember anyone lookin like Phantom coming into Gotham, even if it had been so long ago. But, had it been Phantom that had come, or had it been his civilian identity? Probaby him as a civilian, seeing as Phantom wasn’t a hero until recently. Unless Tim’s file was to be believed, which he had no doubts about, then Phantom had been a hero for far longer than any of them knew.  “The question now was where had the missing time gone? Phantom claimed to be thirty-eight years old, but Tim’s file had said that Phantom had acted as a hero nearly one-hundred-twenty-four years ago, with the first sightings of Phantom going as far back as the earliest recorded history. It required further research.

“I know that look, B,” Nightwing whispered beside him, “Looking into him is what got us into this mess in the first place. If you want answers, you’re gonna have to suck it up and ask him.”

Batman grunted softly. He knew that! He wasn’t going to betray Phantom like that after his own child had. Especially since the consequences of doing so were such a coin toss- ha. No, he wouldn’t risk his family, Gotham, or the world like that.

“I hate to cut this short,” Phantom landed both his feet back onto the rooftop, pulling a piece of chalk from his front left pocket, “but Captain Marvel is visiting the House of Mysteries and I’d like to talk to him some more before he heads back to Fawcett.”

“Captain Marvel’s with JLD?” Nightwing asked, the question coming out before he could stop himself.

“Yep! The only way into the House is by invitation from one of the residents.” He drew a circle inside of the chalk rectangle that was on the wall behind him. “Thanks for having me!” The door closed behind him, the chalk dust falling off the wall and clumping on the ground.

“What the..?” Nightwing wondered.

“Magic,” Batman growled.

Part 13 Part 15