#sigh. maybe I have to be the change I want to see in the world and invent the A-77 AU of my dreams…

[oneofstarkskids]

girl back home

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1822 (new record?? 🤭)

genre: a lil bit of everything, but mostly fluff. you know.

warnings: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CAPTAIN AMERICA: BRAVE NEW WORLD ‼️

It was already February, and you were long overdue for some sunshine. The snow is always beautiful, especially with twinkling lights reflecting off of it. But those lights are gone now, and all you're left with is this chill to your bones.

You cling tightly to Bucky's arm, watching your steps carefully. "You okay?" He asks with a pink nose.

You can't speak without your jaw shaking violently, so you simply nod.

"I told ya' you should've brought gloves," he says with a know-it-all essence. The low temperatures must've been slowly freezing your brain cells because you didn't even make a snide remark.

The two of you finally reach your apartment building and make your way up to your floor. As soon as you're in the door, he takes your coat for you. "And you wanted ice cream," he snickers before hanging the coats and starting on a pot of coffee.

"I'll admit, I've had better ideas," you say before hurrying over to the messy pile of blankets on the couch, desperate for warmth.

After a few moments behind the counter, he walks over carrying your favorite mug. The one with the little yellow duck on it.

"Here ya' go, doll."

You give him a grateful peck on the cheek and grab the mug, careful not to burn yourself.

He moves to scooch in close to you, but his phone rings right on que. He sighs before pulling it out of his back pocket, "Hello?"

There's a pause and Bucky's face falls. "Not really a good time," he says with annoyance.

After a much longer pause, he nods as if the person on the other end can see him. "Alright, I'll be there."

He takes the phone away from his ear and hangs up. You give him that look.

"They're calling me into Washington. They want to have another meeting about the whole congress thing." Bucky trails off.

You nod, "Well, when do you leave?"

"Tonight."

The word hangs in the air for a moment as both of you contemplate the next move.

"And when are you supposed to be back?" You asked.

Bucky gave you an apologetic smile, "Valentine's Day."

You tried not to overreact. This was his job. It was important to him, and you wanted to be supportive. Besides, it wasn't like Valentine's Day was any more special than the other days when you got to spend your entire life with the man you loved.

"That's okay! We can work with that, we'll just celebrate later that night. Dinner, maybe?" You tried to be optimistic.

Bucky's demeanor changed, "You know, that's what I love about you?" He set his mug down on the coffee table and leaned over you.

"Oh, really?" You asked with the biggest grin.

"Mhm," he placed a soft kiss on your jawline.

You bit your lip to keep from grinning, "What else do you love about me?"

And Bucky did leave that night, with a dazed look and smirk on his lips. If that was how you said goodbye, he couldn't wait to see how you welcomed him back.

He kept in touch with you the entire time he was in Washington. Phone calls, FaceTime, endless texting. It was only for a couple days, but he never wanted to go a minute without hearing your voice.

But the plane ride there. It was hell. Not being able to see your eyes light up. Not being able to kiss those perfect lips. The guilt of leaving you behind began to weigh him down. Another fight he couldn't avoid.

The only moment he got a break from his self loathing was when he visited Sam. "Hey, buddy." The two patted each other on the backs.

"Got a knack for getting yourself in trouble don't you, Sam?" Bucky teased.

Sam raised an eyebrow, "If I recall, a lot of the trouble I've gotten into has been on your behalf."

Bucky laughed and nodded his head as if to say "touché".

"How's the girl," Sam asks, his smile reflecting his fondness for you.

Your beautiful boy just grins from ear to ear, "She's great. She's always great."

"Would you look at that," Sam says. "The man who never smiles just can't seem to stop."

Bucky shakes his head, still the flicker of a smile on his face, "She makes me...a better man."

Sam looks down at the ground. Grappling with his thoughts.

Bucky notices and turns to him.

"None of this," he gestures to Joaquin in the hospital bed, struggling to maintain stability, "is your fault."

"I don't know, Buck. I'm not cut out for this," Sam said. It wasn't something Bucky hadn't heard before. He knew his friend had always dealt with feeling unworthy of Steve's title.

"This shield was made for you, just as much as it was made for Steve. He wouldn't have given it to you if he didn't believe that himself," Bucky reassured him.

Sam let it sink in for a minute before cocking his head towards Bucky, "Damn. We're doing pep talks now?"

Bucky let out a laugh that was partially a scoff. He couldn't catch a break. "I meant it, Samuel. This was my last day here, and I had to make sure you knew that before I left."

Sam nodded, "Thank you, Bucky."

"I love you, Buddy." The blue eyed man said back.

"Now, I've got a plane to catch and a girl back home to surprise," He said with a skip to his step.

Sam watched him leave before muttering under his breath, "Damn soldier's gone soft."

The airport was packed with people. Long lines wrapped through the hallways. Bucky tried to push his way through. Tried to get an answer.

"What's going on?"

A stranger turned around, "They're delaying all the flights. Something about a security issue nearby."

Bucky found a group of people crowded around a television and squeezed in to get a better view. "President Ross reportedly transformed into what people are already calling 'Red Hulk' after massive White House meltdown." Footage flashed across the screen of what was indeed a cherry tomato colored Hulk surrounded by a burning white house.

The growl that erupted from the beast vibrated the speakers. Bucky's shoulders dropped in disappointment as he picked up the phone to call you.

You answered almost instantly, "Buck?" Your voice was weak with worry and it sounded like you were already expecting bad news.

"The flights are delayed, doll. Turn on the news," Bucky said.

"I've seen it," You replied softly.

"I don't know how long-" Bucky started but you cut him off. "Hey, don't worry about that. Just, get home safely. Please."

Bucky swallowed, "I will."

"I love you, James."

"I-" The line went dead. He quickly checked the phone to see what had happened. NO SERVICE.

Bucky was desperate to find a way back to you.

Meanwhile, Sam was getting his ass kicked by a giant blood clot. "Ross, listen to me. You know this place. You used to go here all the time with, Betty."

The creature that was once the president growled in his face.

"Alright, that didn't work."

Sam dove behind a car, narrowly avoiding another blow from the hell hulk. "You don't want to talk it out. Fine by me," Sam rolled away from the car just as the hulk smashed the gas tank.

The explosive vehicle flew towards the now Captain America, and with his improved vibranium wings from the Wakandan's he was able to slice the car in half.

His victory was short lived as the hulk grabbed him by the wing and ripped it off. Sam fell to his knees, feeling like he'd lost the war. At that moment, a spray of bullets bounced off of the angry monster's back. It turned around, focusing it's deep red eyes on the all too familiar Winter Soldier.

Sam was now an afterthought as the Red Hulk raced towards Bucky. The soldiers vibranium fist made a loud clank as it collided with the much larger one.

The high pitched whip of metal rang through the air and Sam's shield dug into the President's back. Bucky smiled like a proud father.

Together, Sam and Bucky were able to keep the hulk away from civilians and wear him out until backup arrived. But it was the memory of his daughter and the drive to be a better man that transformed his outer appearance as well.

Bucky was slouched against a police car as paramedics carried the President away. "What happened to the girl back home thing?" Sam walked over to him.

"Couldn't catch my flight. Besides, I figured you needed me more." Bucky said.

"Stop tryna butter me up," Sam shook his head. "I'll get you on a private jet, but you owe me."

Bucky extended his fist, starting off their handshake. "Take care, pal."

Sam finished it off, "Same time next week?"

You were curled up on the couch, exactly where Bucky had left you. It was Valentine's Day, and your husband was off to God knows where probably risking his life.

And the only thing you could do about it was sit here and wait. With a box of chocolates. And a few Ryan Gosling movies.

Then, you heard the rattling of a key in the door. It was so unexpected that you almost considered it had just been people that came to take you away.

Bucky pushed the door open, dropping his heavy duffel bags and extending his arms to you. You quickly jumped up, chocolates flying, and ran over to him.

The contrast between being out in the cold and now being in your warm embrace was a shock to Bucky's system.

He smelled like ash and sweat, but underneath that he smelled like him.

"I thought-" Your eyes involuntarily began to tear up.

He cupped your face in his hands and looked into your eyes with an intensity that made you blush, "I couldn't leave my best girl alone on Valentine's Day."

Your heart skipped a few beats and your face was permanently carved into a smile.

"Oh, almost forgot." He reaches into his pocket.

When he held out the palm of his hand, a silver chain with the letter B dangling from the end of it replaced the empty space.

"Bucky," you said, wiping away more tears to no avail. It was so much more than jewelry to you. It was proof that time after time, Bucky would find a way. That you were his priority and that would never change.

"It's beautiful."

He unclasped the necklace before gently turning you around to put it on you. "For the most beautiful girl," he said when he was done.

You turned around and kissed him, combing your hands through his hair. He looked into your eyes, feeling overwhelmed with joy.

"I've got something for you too," you smirked.

"You do?" He asked knowingly, kicking the door closed behind him.

"Mhm," you pulled him closer by his shirt. You were going to do more than just tell him how much you missed him.

[alcoholfreenayeon]

perfect date night with mina

Kiss my troubles away

CW: Mina x Reader, fluff, slightly suggestive

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day to yall! This might not be the perfect date night but I feel this is something Mina might do and I haven’t posted in a while so this is something I did a bit quickly and it’s not going to be one of my best works🙂‍↕️

You and Mina look outside the window as it thunders and rain’s relentlessly.

“Well….”, you comment blankly, already accepting that the night is not going to go as you both had planned.

“Maybe in a few minutes?”, Mina says hopefully. Thunder roars and several bolts of lightning flash. “Or maybe not….”, She sighs softly.

You groan and fall back on the bed. “It’s just so unfair. The entire week was sunny and like the hottest days in months. Months. And now the one day we had planned something it’s raining like it’s the end of the world!”

Mina gives you a sympathetic look, she knows how long you had been looking forward to just spending a good night out without any worries for work and now the weather ruined all the potential plans you both had made in the last few days.

You groan and stretch before collapsing back on the mattress dejectedly, a small pout on your face.

Mina stares at you, a small smile forming as she sees you throw a mini tantrum. She found it so adorable to see you pout. She sits next to you before firmly pinning your arms down by your wrists as she straddles your waist. “Mmm…you are so cute right now”, she murmurs quietly as she stares into your eyes.

Almost immediately you feel yourself blush, your cheeks going red, you gently struggle against her grip on your wrists but she just holds them down even more firmly. You even avert your eyes, looking to the side as try to remain calm.

She laughs quietly and blinks slowly as she keeps gazing at you adoringly. “Just because our plans got interrupted doesn’t mean they have to be canceled, we can just change them. I still want to have a date night with you darling.”, she whispers enticingly as she leans in closer, you can feel her breath on your face now.

“Yeah but….”, you trail off as you feel her hot breath on your face making you squirm which in turn makes her smile mischievously.

Mina leans in, her lips barely a hair’s breadth away from yours, you close your eyes and hold your breath in anticipation. A few moments pass and nothing happens making you slowly open your eyes to see Mina’s mischievous expression as she bites her lip.

“Oh you thought I was going to kiss you? Do you want me to?”, she asks softly as she squeezes your wrists tightly.

You feel lost for words, helpless to do anything except look at her right now.

She breathes hotly on you again, pouting just a little, “I’m not going to kiss you until you ask…beg me to. I want you to desperately want me like how I want you right now.

You squirm again, her words having an effect on you. You can’t help but bite your lip now. “Please…Mina…kiss me.”, you manage to ask quietly.

She smiles excitedly, leaning in and finally kissing you until you both are out of breath. She then pulls away, panting as she looks at you before diving in again. Making out with your several minutes until you are feeling dizzy from being so out of breath. Each kiss making you forget all about your sourness earlier and instead drive you crazier for her touch.

She then gently bites your collarbone before moving up to your neck, whispering how much she loves you and how much she needs you the entire time.

Within a few minutes she began to get more intimate unable to help herself when it came to you, your sharp breaths and gasps only encouraging her. The night passed slowly and passionately leaving both of you entirely exhausted. Both of you feeling hungry, sleepy and tired but too lazy to get up and too comfortable to let go of each other.

[s0lar-ch3ri]

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY TO @justyouraverageleafykinnie AND @dogboyratgirl TAKE THE SILLIES

tw theyre fluffy and sweet in this so yeah (also long. also will maybe post to ao3 someday idrk)

title is "together we can figure it out!" a bears in trees lyric

this fic features lint from wonderlust as well as wonderlust ocs of my friends :3 (I AM NOT CAUGHT UP WITH WONDERLUST DO NOT EXPECT TO GET FUTURE EP REFS I DONT MIND SPOILERS IM JUST SAYING)

description: It's Aluntine's day (or their world's Valentine's day), and for strange, almost 100% homosexual reasons, Lint can't do anything but find his way back to Apple.

Lint had faced many Aluntines days inside the bakery with his mom, just making cookies. Couples came in, grabbed sweet little treats for their sweet little treats (that isn't incredible wording, maybe he hangs out by Troy too much), and left. It wasn't a lonely time, not when it made business. As he looks across the tables before opening, things feel different.

"You alright Bumblebee?"

Lint half-buzzes back a response. It's not even opening time, he needs to keep it together. Come on!

"Repeat that?"

He buzzes a bit more, less responding to the question and more mumbling to himself. Nothing else is different, nothing's too special about today, well maybe minus...

He leaves the bakery, off to find his sweet little treat.

Apple is not expecting much today. Yes, this time around, Apple could have gone with Lint somewhere nice, however he knew Lint was busy today at the bakery, so maybe he would bug him after. In the meantime, Apple was working on writing something. The plan was simple: finish this, check on the orchard, maybe visit the bakery and see that bee, all that good stuff.

Just like how he changed his life, Lint had changed his plans. With a jumpscare that made Apple fall out his chair, a special bee came buzzing in. All of Apple's panic faded into something softer seeing the culprit of the noise. He sighs a bit.

"Hello, sugarfly."

"I...I feel strange." Lint stands a bit awkwardly in the doorway. Apple repositions himself so they sit up better.

"Go on."

"I thought today was gonna be a normal day, but it just...doesn't. And I didn't know where to go so..."

"Of course." Apple starts cleaning up his writing supplies. He can finish it later.

"Do you uh- how do you ask this sort of thing..."

Apple bleats curiously.

"Do you want to be my Alumni? I just...I don't know. We can uh, hang out, like always, but, special? Not really? Help me out here..."

Apple giggles. "Of course darling."

He buzzes excitedly and Apple can't help but grin at him. I mean, when it's a nice day outside, pretty and basically shining, who could help themself?

"What were you thinking of?"

Lint sinks a bit into himself. Oh cog, he didn't think of something big. Or, uh, anything. What did Mars say? Deep breaths? He takes a couple, in for 7, hold for 6, release for 5. Surely Apple wouldn't mind. He hates liars anyways.

"I uh...I don't know. I just knew I had to come to you."

"That's okay! We can figure it out together!"

Cog that goat was pretty. No, Lint, focus! You have to give them the best date he's ever seen! Just how…

“Maybe a nice restaurant?”

“They may be all reserved out babydoll…”

“Oh…Does my place sound nice?”

“Always does.”

Did it feel silly to take Apple from their house to bee’s? Yes, but to be fair, there were specific things Lint needed there to make sure this was perfect. Apple deserved nothing less.

Walking in, she hears some commotion from the kitchen, mostly just grumbling and the sounds of the assembly of a gift. Looking past his neutral green walls into the kitchen with its purple walls, he sees Troy, bright red and looking just pissed. He angrily puts a ribbon around a set of orchids colored with mint and blue orchids. Despite his pissed…everything, Troy handles the flowers with much care.

“Something wrong Champion?”

“JAX.”

 “Is he-”

“THAT STUPID PRETTY BOY BASTARD ASKED ME ON A DATE BEFORE I COULD AND I NEED TO BEAT HIM WITH MY SLED. ALSO MAYBE KISS HIM.”

“You go do that love.”

Troy stomps by him, grabbing his face gently and kisses his cheek. Lint giggles, which sounds a bit like a buzz. He buzzes a lot. That wasn’t a bad thing, he hopes. Maybe he should just set up the movie.

“We uh, we’ve gotten a lot of movies. There’s Ratatoing- that’s not a good one, there’s Cloverfield, Jax may have left around his strange ‘Ratnarok’ documentaries or something- what interests you?”

“Uhhhh, all of them?”

“Love Rattually it is.”

As Apple helps with selecting the movie, he sets up the couch with its assortment of pillows and blankets. One is plain and fuzzy, a muted green, another a felt one with sunflowers on it. Lint grabs some pretzels and popcorn in the kitchen, he also prepares 2 cups of coffee, one for himself, and one for his heaven send.

Apple is still by the couch, sitting, waiting for Lint. He holds the letter he had planned to give Lint later that day, going over each carefully plucked and nurtured word. Lint had brought lights to his days that he would have known from no other being or aspect of living, the least he can do is give him something of perfection. Lint deserves nothing less.

He adds a couple details to it and carefully folds it so as to not crease it. He hopes it’s good enough. They finish the set up as footsteps come on by them behind the couch. Lint holds his arms around Apple from above as bee places in his hands a cup of coffee.

“Got you a cup! Made with love.” Lint is buzzing with joy, putting his head on Apple’s shoulder. Apple takes this as the chance to pepper him slightly with kisses, but like any well made dish, too much seasoning- well here it just made him giggle and light-heartedly protest.

“Let me put my cup down first angel!” He smiles and snickers and Apple feels his heart flutter around and he gains another reason to love him.

Lint climbs over into the blankets and snuggles up next to Apple as they play some movies, drinking coffee. At certain parts, Apple turns his gaze back to Lint and sometimes Lint’s looking at him. As eyes meet, the boys giggle as they give each other compliments and flirts and kisses. As their binging goes on, their energy simmers down with the time, fading into simple cuddling on the couch. Cups sit on the table, basically empty, with the TV’s hum as natural to the environment as Lint’s buzzing was to him. He adored this bee beyond words.

He carefully wriggles his letter out from his pocket, using the blue light to guide his reading ability.

‘’Dearest sweetest bee I’ve known, Lint

There are many things I want to tell you. I want to tell you how you are the light of my days and how no sun nor star could outshine you. I want to tell you how your voice is a gracious melody, with each note and buzz writing a harmonious tune I wish to hold forever. I want to tell you how I could count the stars that trail the sky and name all the shades of its majesty and not once could I think of a world where it’d be a more beautiful sight then the warmth of your smile. I want to tell you how you’ve taken my world and sculpted it to a more magical and wondrous one then I could have arrived too. I want to tell you how the ideas of love and friendship were carefully taught to me by the wondrous bee you are. I want to tell you how you’re the sweetest nectar I’ve tried and I’ve never felt once a need to find another.

There are many things I want to tell you. Maybe I can settle with a few words. I love you Lint, you are a shining star, thank you, I love you, thank you.

All the love I can give,

Apple’’

He’s still unsure if all he’s wanted to say is there, if that’s what bee would understand is true. Thoughts swarm Apple’s head, like a wasp hive, aiming for his heart. Before he gets lost in his mind, Apple hears a small faint buzz from a special someone under his head. He seemed to have fallen asleep a bit ago. The small reminder grounds Apple and his heart calms down with him. He’s got someone too close to there to be so worried. He remembers Lint’s words before, what he didn’t exactly say but was always there.

I didn't know where to go so I came to you.

Apple smiles a bit, closing his eyes and falling for the background TV ambience himself. Together they will figure it out.

[ylangelegy]

take my word for it 🧭 junhui x reader.

when bitterness bites, novelty is nectar.

★ almost-lovers junhui x reader. ★ part of the angst olympics collaboration & my personal buzz (seventeen's version) project. ★ word count: 2.9k ★ genre/warnings: angst, childhood friends, idiots in love, right person/wrong time. obscene use of em-dashes (sorry), mentions of shenzen. based on NIKI's take care. ★ footnotes: this is an overdue update to buzz (svt's version), and my official entry to me & the bestiesss' angst collaboration 🫶 missing junhui hours are always open, i fear.

The first time you see Jun again, it’s been three years. 

You don’t realize how much time has passed until he’s standing in front of you, taller than you remember, sharper in the angles of his face, but with the same lopsided grin that once got him out of trouble with your teachers.

“You’re late,” you tell him, though your annoyance is betrayed by the smile threatening to fill your face. 

Jun snorts, adjusting his cap lower over his eyes, though it does little to hide the way they crinkle at the corners. “Nah,” he says. “I think I’m just on time.” 

He isn’t, you want to insist. He’s thirty minutes late. (Maybe years late, if you really think about it.) But there are only so many hours that you and Jun have with each other, and you don’t want to squander it with a petty argument. 

You’re standing outside a familiar café tucked into a quieter part of Nanshan, the same place you used to visit after school when Jun had big dreams and no schedule to keep him away. He used to drape himself over the chairs, drinking lemon tea and sighing dramatically about one thing or the other. 

Now, he’s here on a two-month film shoot. Slipping into your hometown like a whisper, never staying long enough to settle.

You push open the door, the bell chiming softly as you step inside. The place hasn’t changed much— same dark wooden tables, same warm scent of coffee and osmanthus pastries. It feels almost untouched by time. A sharp contrast to Jun, who moves with the ease of someone who belongs everywhere and nowhere at once.

The two of you take a seat in the corner. The air between you should feel heavy with all the things unsaid, but it doesn’t. Jun always knew how to make things easy.

“So,” he starts, stirring his iced coffee with a straw, “care to tell me just how much you missed me?” 

You scoff. What an opener. He keeps you waiting for half an hour, and the first thing he does is try and wheedle a confession out of you. 

“Not a lot,” you shoot back. I catch you on television plenty of times, you consider saying. You’re on the billboards I see on my morning commute. You’re right there, whenever I open SNS. How could I miss you? It’s like you never left. 

“Ouch.” Jun clutches his chest, feigning hurt. “I come all this way, and this is the welcome I get?” 

You shake your head, fighting down a smile. Like he’s never left, indeed. 

The conversation flows as it always has—effortless, like slipping into an old song. You talk about your job, your family, how your parents still ask about him like he’s their long-lost son. He tells you about the movie, about co-stars you only vaguely recognize, about how his director keeps yelling at him to stop using his “idol face” when he acts.

Time bends and blurs. It’s too easy to pretend nothing has changed, that he isn’t someone the world watches with hungry eyes, that you’re both still sixteen and untouchable.

Then, somewhere between the laughter and the nostalgia, the conversation stills.

Jun looks at you, really looks at you, and something in his expression shifts.

Don’t, you mentally beg him as you avoid his gaze. Don’t say what’s both on our minds. Don’t make it real. Don’t make me want— 

“Have you—” He hesitates, taps his fingers against the table. “Have you ever thought about leaving Shenzen?” 

You blink. “What?” 

You’re suddenly acutely aware of the shared language you speak and how it’s marred by minute differences. You, with your unburdened Mandarin; Jun, whose accent carries hints of all the places he’s been. All the people he has to be. 

He tilts his head and studies you like he’s memorizing something. “You always talked about going somewhere else. Trying something new.” 

The words feel like a physical blow to the chest. 

There’s no delicate way to put it. That ‘you’ who had dreamed of bigger things and faraway places was a distant memory. That was a version of you who hasn’t existed in a long, long time. 

That was a version of you that once existed alongside a starry-eyed Jun, but the stars in your friend’s eyes have long since burned out— snuffed by the weight of his responsibilities. 

You plaster on a smile. “Not everybody gets to chase their dreams, Junnie,” you say, trying to keep your tone light. 

His lips press together in a thin, disappointed line. “I know.” He glances away, around the café that once witnessed all your scheming, before he fixes that searching look back on you. “But you should have.” 

The words sit between you. Neither heavy nor light, just true.

A part of you wants to ask if he ever thought about staying. If he ever looked back. If he ever wondered what would have happened if he had been a little less brilliant, a little less meant for something bigger.

But you don’t.

Instead, you sip at your drink and ask Jun about Jackie Chan. About the twelve boys he calls brothers. About everything that has to do with nothing, just so neither of you have to deal with the suffocating elephant in the room. 

The night ends quietly as it began. Outside, the Shenzhen air is thick with the lingering warmth of spring, the streets humming with soft life. You and Jun walk together for a while, your arms brushing but never quite linking.

There’s a metaphor here somewhere, you think amusedly, and you fight the urge to tease Jun about it. 

For ten points, you almost ask him, can you tell me why we won’t just hold hands, Wen Junhui? 

At the corner where the roads split— his back to his hotel, yours towards home— the two of you hesitate. Jun grins, tilting his head. “Are you gonna say it, or should I?”

You shake your head, exhaling. “Take care, superstar.”

His smile softens. You used to call him that all the time, used to tout his impending stardom like it was as certain as the blueness of the sky. “Yeah,” he says. “See you around, alright?” 

You nod, but you don’t look back.

And Jun— Jun watches you disappear down the street before turning away, hands in his pockets. He whistles a tune neither of you ever got the chance to finish.

It’s been two years since you last saw Jun.

This time, you don’t meet at a café. There are no warm pastries or quiet corners, no scent of lemon tea curling through the air. Instead, there’s the sharp scent of rain-soaked pavement and the dull glow of a street lamp flickering above you.

You weren’t supposed to see him today.

You had known he was back— of course you did. His face was impossible to miss, plastered across the city on every advertisement, playing in every store you walked past. He was here for another movie, another fleeting return, and you had told yourself you wouldn’t reach out this time. Why say ‘hello’ if you would only be risking another ‘goodbye’? 

You spot him first, half-hidden beneath the awning of a convenience store, scrolling idly through his phone. He hasn’t noticed you yet. His cap is pulled low, his shoulders hunched against the drizzle, but it’s him. You’d know him anywhere.

You could walk away.

You should walk away.

But instead, you step forward, letting your umbrella tilt slightly so the rain dampens your sleeve. “Didn’t peg you for the type to loiter outside a convenience store like a delinquent,” you joke.

Jun looks up, startled, and then his face splits into a slow, disbelieving grin. “And I didn’t peg you for the type to stalk me.”

There it is. The first words exchanged in what feels like a lifetime. It’s like a Band-Aid to a bullet wound— a cut put there by Jun’s texts that have gone unanswered. Let’s meet up, he had asked you days ago, and you let the message collect dust in your inbox. 

A part of you dreads the thought of him bringing it up. Here, now. But Jun also knows better. Knows why the two of you can’t keep indulging each other. 

But fate seems to have other plans.

“You’re the one standing outside my usual store,” you shoot back with a half-hearted roll of your eyes. 

He laughs, soft and familiar, and suddenly the past two years don’t feel so far away.

“Guess that means I owe you something,” he says, nudging open the door with his shoulder. “Come in. I’ll buy you a drink.”

You hesitate. You shouldn’t. You should say something polite and leave, pretend you never saw him, pretend this doesn’t mean something. But then Jun lifts an eyebrow, tilting his head in that way he always does when he knows he’s winning, and you find yourself following him inside. 

You always did let him win, didn’t you? 

The store is nearly empty. The hum of the refrigerator and the occasional beeping of the cashier scanning items are the only sounds filling the silence. You make a beeline for the drink aisle, Jun trailing behind you.

“You still drink lemon tea?” he asks, side-stepping you. 

You nod. He plucks a can from the shelf without hesitation before grabbing a coffee for himself. 

You remembered, you think, and the thought must be clear as day on your face because Jun lets out a snort of laughter when he looks at you. “What kind of monster forgets their best friend’s favorite drink?” he quips.

There it is again. That careful, unspoken line. Best friend. Like a safety net stretched between you, always just enough to keep the two of you from falling. 

You don’t respond, just follow him to the counter where he pays, ignoring the way the cashier does a double take when she recognizes him.

Outside, the rain has slowed to a drizzle.

“You have somewhere to be?” Jun asks, handing you the can. 

In the corner of your eye, you can see the cashier fiddling with her phone. Probably trying to look up Jun. 

You shake your head.

“Walk with me for a bit,” he says, and it’s a plea as much as it’s a question. 

So you walk. Past neon-lit storefronts, past the murmuring voices of late-night diners, past streets that still hold echoes of your childhood. One of the few things that you still share.

Jun talks about the film, about how he barely has time to sleep, about how his co-star is absurdly talented and makes him feel like a rookie again. You listen, nodding in the right places, letting his voice fill the spaces between you.

He gives. You take. It’s always been this way. 

You’re in more familiar neighborhoods when Jun asks you, blunt as ever, “Have you been happy?” 

You don’t know how to answer.

You think about your job, steady but unremarkable. You think about your apartment, neat and quiet. You think about the life you’ve built, the one you never dreamed of but somehow ended up with anyway.

You think about how the only time you ever feel sixteen again is when Jun is standing beside you.

“I’m fine,” you say at last. “I have everything I need.”

Almost everything, you add in your mind as your free hand twitches at your side. The empty spaces between your fingers feel glaringly obvious, feel like some place where Jun could rest if he deigned to. 

Jun studies you for a long moment. Then he hums, low and thoughtful, and turns his gaze back to the road. The walk continues, but something has shifted. The silence is heavier, the air thicker. The distance between you is measured in more than just footsteps now.

You stop at the same corner as last time. His hotel. Your apartment. 

Jun shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks on his heels. “I leave in two weeks,” he says. 

“I figured,” you respond. Not unkindly. 

“Maybe we can—” he starts, and that mental litany starts up in your head once again. 

Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to yourself. 

He hears it, he must, because he trails off and shakes his head like he’s ridding himself of wishful thinking. “Nevermind.” 

It’s the smartest thing he’s done tonight. You lift your can of lemon tea in a mock toast. 

Here’s to us, you want to say, the two biggest idiots in the goddamn world. 

Instead, you leave him with the usual. “Take care, Junnie.” 

His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Always,” he shoots back. “Take it easy, you.”

Again: You don’t look back. 

And Jun— Jun watches until you’re gone before turning away, taking slow steps back into a city that no longer feels like home.

This time, it’s been four years. 

Four years of Jun slipping in and out of Shenzhen like a ghost, four years of you pretending not to notice. You’ve kept track, of course. Not through texts— those stopped after the last time— but through the city itself. His presence lingers in the posters at subway stations, in the muted sound of his voice filtering through a store’s speakers, in the occasional mention of his name in casual conversation.

You told yourself you wouldn’t see him again. That after the last time, after the rain-soaked streets and the unfinished words, there was no point in waiting for another return.

Your bags are packed, your ticket is in hand, and Shenzhen— the city that once held all your dreams and disappointments— is about to be nothing more than a place you used to belong to.

And yet, somehow, in this vast, transient space of the airport terminal, you find him.

Or maybe he finds you.

Jun stands near his gate, his hoodie pulled over his head. But you would recognize him anywhere. Even if it had been another four years. Even if it had been a lifetime.

He spots you. For a second, he looks almost startled— like he wasn’t expecting this, like he had finally convinced himself you weren’t going to be a part of this place he keeps leaving behind.

Then, slowly, that familiar smile tugs at his lips.

It must take a mammoth effort for him to weave through the fans dying to catch a glimpse of him, through the security detail who are paid thousands to keep him safe. He manages. He forces himself to. 

When he reaches you, his voice is softer than you remember. “You’re kidding.” 

You huff, shaking your head. “I wish,” you say. 

He glances at your suitcase, at the boarding pass clutched in your hand. His smile falters. “Where are you heading?” he asks, like the thought of a Shenzen without you is a travesty in its own right. 

You give him a tight-lipped smile. I can’t answer that, your grin says, and he seems to understand. It’s the only safeguard that will keep him from jet-setting to wherever you are, from walking through street after street in hopes of running into you. 

Fate can only do so much for you and Jun. It’s given you chances, given you hope, and yet the two of you continue to scorn it. 

“Why now?” he asks of your departure. His voice is careful but not unreadable. He wants to know if you’re running toward something or just running away.

It’s a little bit of both, admittedly. 

You shrug. “Figured it was about time,” you say instead. 

Time. You and Jun once had it in spades. He exhales, tilting his head like he’s processing the weight of the moment. With a humorless chuckle, he says, “Guess we really are bad at timing, huh?”

The announcement for his flight crackles overhead. A final boarding call.

Jun lingers, watching you, something flickering behind his gaze. He hesitates, like he wants to say something— something real, something that won’t disappear the moment he steps on that plane.

But you already know what he’ll say.

And you already know how this ends.

So before he can ask, before he can make this any harder than it already is, you step forward and do what you’ve never done before.

You reach for his hand.

For a second, Jun freezes. Then his fingers curl around yours, warm and familiar, like they were always supposed to fit this way.

You hold on. Just for a moment. Just long enough to let yourself wonder what it would have been like if things had been different. If you, if he had been different. 

Fate has given up. This is your fate, now— the meeting, the leaving. The loss.

You pull away first. Jun blinks, startled, and you can see the question forming on his lips. But you don’t give him the chance to ask.

“Take care, Junhui.” 

Not superstar. Not Junnie. He’s neither of those things anymore. 

He’s not yours anymore. (Was he ever?) 

His grip tightens around the handle of his suitcase.

With a small, resigned smile, he nods. “You, too,” he says quietly. “Take care.” 

And, this time— you both walk away.

🎧 BUZZ (SEVENTEEN'S VERSION) TAGLIST — @cherrylita @cookiearmy @cunfnxxx-blog

🏆 THE ANGST OLYMPICS TAGLIST — @lovetaroandtaemin @bokk-minnie @gyuhao365 @supi-wupi @rizzus @callmehoweveruwatblog @pleasetellmenow @giverosespls @seikwans @cookiearmy @mingumis @yuyuloverrr @chanranghaeys @starstrawb @catiekayy @choco-scoups @wonuilu @flickhurstyles @yayayayana @lizza2001 @bibblemiluvr @alyssa19123456 @skzbangchanniee @whoa-jo @brownbunnyb @sennasiempre @idubiluranghae @bvrin

[batboysanonymous]

Withering for You

​​ Eris Vanserra x Reader

Summary: She was always there—loyal, unwavering, hers was a love that never faltered. But Eris never noticed, not until she began to disappear before his very eyes.

TW: ED

Based on the song: SKINNY by Billie Eilish

───────────────────────────────

"People say I look happy

Just because I got skinny But the old me is still me and maybe the real me And I think she's pretty."

The dress slid off her shoulders too easily. Y/N noticed it in the mirror, the way the fabric pooled around her collarbones instead of hugging them, how her wrists looked too small against the golden embroidery.

She should eat more today.

But then she thought of Eris.

Of the way his eyes never lingered, not on her—not the way they did on others. She had spent years by his side, always just close enough to be his most trusted confidant, but never close enough to be anything more. And gods, how she wanted to be more.

So she turned from the mirror, tightened the dress at the waist, and ignored the way her stomach clenched—not in hunger, but in longing.

"I never did you wrong

And my, my patience is gone."

Eris wasn’t sure when he started noticing the change.

Perhaps it was when her usual warmth dimmed, her laughter no longer echoing quite as vibrantly through the halls of the Autumn Court. Perhaps it was when he reached for her arm during a strategy meeting and felt how small she had become beneath his touch.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was when she stopped looking at him like he was the most important thing in the world.

He had grown used to her presence, to the quiet steadiness of her devotion. He never questioned it, never considered that one day it might not be there.

And yet, as he watched her across the great hall that evening, speaking softly to one of the nobles, he realized he hadn’t seen her eat all night.

She had always been radiant, but now… now she looked fragile, like autumn leaves on the verge of crumbling beneath the weight of the season.

For the first time in a long while, Eris felt unease curl in his chest.

"Am I acting my age now?

Am I already on the way out?"

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Y/N froze, her fingers tightening around the goblet of untouched wine. “No, I haven’t.”

Eris tilted his head, his fiery eyes scanning her with an intensity that made her stomach clench. “Lying never suited you.”

She sighed, setting the goblet down before turning to face him fully. “What do you want, Eris?”

A pause. A flicker of something unfamiliar in his gaze.

“When was the last time you ate?” he asked, voice softer than she had ever heard it.

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped her lips. “That’s what you want to ask me? Not why I’ve stopped chasing after you? Not why I’ve finally given up?”

Eris stiffened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.

She shook her head, eyes burning as she forced herself to meet his gaze. “For years, Eris, I’ve loved you. I have stood by you, defended you, given you every part of me. And you never even looked at me.”

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Her laugh was hollow. “It’s funny, really. People say I look happy now. That I’m beautiful. That I’m finally good enough. And you—” her voice cracked, “—you finally look at me. But I don’t think I want you to anymore.”

"I loved you for so long."

Eris didn’t sleep that night.

He couldn’t.

Her words replayed in his head over and over, taunting him with the truth he had been too blind to see.

She had always been there, always. He had taken her for granted, assumed she would always be within reach. And now… now she was slipping through his fingers, and it was his own damn fault.

By the time dawn broke over the Autumn Court, Eris had made his decision.

He found her in the gardens, sitting on the edge of the fountain, fingers trailing absentmindedly through the water. She didn’t look up as he approached, didn’t acknowledge his presence until he sank to his knees before her.

Her breath hitched. “Eris—”

“I was a fool.” His voice was raw, unsteady. “I thought… I thought I had all the time in the world to figure out what you meant to me. But I was wrong. And I see you now, Y/N.”

She swallowed hard, her eyes searching his.

Eris reached for her hand, cradling it between his own. “You don’t have to wither away for me to love you. You don’t have to change, to shrink yourself down, to carve away pieces of who you are. You were always enough.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and Eris caught it with his thumb, his hands trembling.

“I see you,” he whispered again, voice breaking. “And I am so, so sorry that it took me this long.”

Y/N exhaled shakily, her fingers tightening around his. And for the first time in a long while, she let herself believe him.

Maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t too late.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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[ldydeath]

We Were Never Meant To Be | Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon)

Summary: You and Jiyong have grown apart and there's nothing that either of you can do or say to fix it.

Warnings: Angst, but that's it.

Author's Note: I'm not even going to lie, this made me sad to write. I'm sorry in advance.

It had been happening slowly over the last few months. You’d both felt each other slipping away from each other. At first you’d clung to each other desperate for it to go away. You weren’t ready for it to be over but it was happening. There was nobody to blame for it, you’d grown apart naturally over time. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t force yourself to stay in love. Neither could he.

“I’ve just got one more box and then I’ll be gone.” Jiyong wasn’t supposed to be home today, but as was life, his plans had changed and he’d been helping you load up your car all morning. Somehow having him here had made it more real.

Not that it hadn’t been real while you’d moved through the house collecting your years of clutter and clothing earlier that week. You’d tried your best to keep it together as you packed everything neatly away. Jiyong had given you space while you grieved the loss of this relationship, as you said bye to his cats that had become partly yours over the years. Your heart was shattering and you could tell by looking at him that his was too. 

His jaw tensed, swallowing all the words he wanted to say as he watched you head over to the last box. He didn’t want you to go, but he knew he hadn’t done enough to keep you here and if he wasn’t his best self for you there was no point in fighting it anymore. Instead of begging you to stay he just nodded his head, his hands finding their way to his pockets so you wouldn’t see them balling into fists. 

Nothing worth keeping ever stayed with Jiyong. Not his friends, not you. Sure, he had his career but it didn’t mean anything without you. What was he supposed to do now without you? What had he done to convince you his world didn’t revolve around you? Why couldn’t he fix it? Why wouldn’t you stay with him? He knew he wasn’t supposed to be here today but the truth was he couldn’t focus on anything but you and maybe if he saw it through he’d be able to let you go.

He watched as you took the last box out of his house and the realization hit that you were really leaving him. He sat down on the couch, burying his head in his hands. He knew he should pull himself together, it wasn’t fair to you to see him this way. You didn’t want him anymore and he’d respect it, but he was human too.

“Ji?” He sat up at the sound of your voice and watched as you made your way over to him. “Are you ok?” 

“No.” You moved to sit down next to him, tilting his head towards you. There was so much pain written all over his face and you looked down, letting go of him. You knew this wasn’t easy for him, it wasn’t easy for you, either. But you couldn’t stay, you weren’t even sure when it had broken or why you couldn’t fix it. You just knew it was too far gone now to keep trying. 

You’d both been hurting for months, refusing to admit that you were putting too much pressure on each other to be better. You had always agreed that you would do right by each other and when the fighting started and never eased you both had agreed that it had run its course. 

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head refusing to let you continue and glanced up at you. 

“I’m the one that’s sorry. Is there really nothing I can do to fix this?” His eyes pleaded with you. You shook your head and stood up. You couldn’t have this conversation, not again. 

“I wish there was something, but there’s not one singular thing and I know you know that. I’m always going to love you, Jiyong, but this isn’t working anymore.”

“I know. I’m always going to love you too.” his voice was small as he spoke and you let out a sigh as he stood up. “I’ll walk you out.” You nodded and followed him to the door.

You paused and turned back around, looking at the place you’d called home for several years now, a singular tear rolled down your cheek and you wiped it away quickly before saying a silent goodbye to your home. You knew leaving Jiyong was going to be hard, you just hadn’t been expecting it to be this hard. For so long he’d been the only person you could’ve ever imagined your life with. Maybe you still did. Maybe in some alternate universe the two of you were sitting down for dinner, laughing at some dumb thing that happened that day and your relationship was thriving.

You desperately wanted to live in that timeline suddenly envious of a fake version of you who was finding a way to make your relationship work. Jiyong cleared his throat behind you and you closed your eyes for a second, composing yourself before you followed him out of the house. You both stood awkwardly at your car for what seemed like hours. In reality, it had only been a few seconds. He blinked before stepping closer to wrap his arms around you.

You allowed yourself to get lost in his arms, sinking into him as his arms tightened around you. If he had it his way he wouldn’t let you go, he’d just guide you back in the house and show you how much he loved you. But that wasn’t what you wanted and as his grip loosened on you, you opened your eyes and offered him a tight smile. 

“Take care of yourself, Jiyong. Don’t get so lost in your work. The fans are important, but you’re more important.” He nodded as you turned towards your car.

“You were the most important.” It came out as a whisper and you pretended you didn’t hear him as you slid into your car. He closed the door behind you and you offered him a small wave as he turned away to walk inside the house.

Maybe you could give him one final thing on your way out. You rolled down your window and stuck your head out. “Ji?” You called and he turned around. “Feel free to write about this.” You teased and he rolled his eyes, a smile appearing on his face as he nodded. It felt good to see him smile one last time before you started up your car and drove away.

You may not have been able to make it work, but maybe now you’d be able to be his muse. Maybe that would just have to be enough for the both of you.

tag list: @wcnderlnds @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @loveesiren

[keisenthusiast]

pov: you are dating oikawa tooru

[oikawa tooru+fluff+dating+headcanon]

words count: 754

dating oikawa tooru is basically like dating someone who is both your biggest headache and your biggest fan. he’s dramatic, he’s affectionate, he’s confident—except when he’s not, and that’s when you see the real him. the one that’s overworked, constantly trying to prove himself, and secretly a little insecure. but if there’s one thing that never changes, it’s how much he adores you. he’s also one of the most devoted boyfriends you could ever have. he loves loudly. he makes sure you know exactly how much he adores you, whether it’s through grand gestures, teasing texts, or random compliments that leave you speechless.

he is so proud to be with you. it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been dating, he still acts like he’s trying to impress you. one time, he played an entire practice match better than usual just because you were watching. iwaizumi literally dragged him by the collar afterward like, “stop showing off, trashykawa.” he’s so in love with you, and he makes sure you and everyone else knows it.

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 things he does:

- sends you soooo many selfies. sometimes he looks good, sometimes he’s making the ugliest face possible. usually with captions like "thinking about u~" or "this is the face of a man in love with u (lucky u!)" either way, he expects compliments.

- keeps a picture of you in his volleyball bag. not just on his phone, but physically. when makki and mattsun found out, they would not shut up about it.

- walks you home after practice, even if his legs are dead tired, because “what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you go alone?”

- insists on braiding your hair if it’s long enough, “trust me, i have an older sister, i know what i’m doing.” if it’s short, he just plays with it absentmindedly when you sit next to him!

- sometimes steals your hoodies, your hair ties, your snacks—anything that belongs to you, he will claim.

- insists on calling you his [y/n], like it’s a title. “sorry, i have plans with my [y/n] today,” he’ll say dramatically, hand over his chest like he’s the most devoted boyfriend in the world.

- very touchy. a hand on your waist, fingers brushing against yours, a kiss on your forehead before a match—absolutely demands a good luck kiss before every game. even if it’s just a forehead tap or a quick peck on the cheek, he won’t step on the court without it.

- loves taking couple pictures. like, a ridiculous amount. “wait, wait, the lighting is good here—one more!!”

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 how he handles arguments:

- oikawa is stubborn. and sometimes, his pride gets the better of him. when you two argue, he tends to react on instinct, maybe gets a little defensive at first, a little whiny “but that’s not what i meant—”. but once he cools down, he really cools down. he’s self-aware enough to know when he’s being immature, and even if it takes him a few hours, he will come back and apologize properly.

- step one: pout dramatically somewhere nearby, making it obvious he’s sulking.

step two: rethink everything he said, realize he was kind of dumb, groan into his hands.

step three: find you, hug you from behind, and sigh deeply “okay, okay, i get it. i was wrong.”

step four: bury his face into your shoulder and dramatically whine about how much he missed you in the last three hours of not talking.

- he’s not afraid to admit when he messes up because he hates being on bad terms with you. he’d rather swallow his pride than stay upset, but he also makes sure to explain how he feels, too. he wants you to understand why he acted a certain way, not just say sorry and move on.

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 how things is with his fans..?:

- you definitely get some side-eyes from his fangirls, but oikawa is surprisingly firm about it. he likes that people admire him, but he loves you. and he makes that clear.

- oikawa, to his credit, is never dismissive about your feelings. if you ever feel uncomfortable or overwhelmed, he takes it seriously. he reassures you constantly, never giving you a reason to doubt his feelings.

- whenever someone crosses the line—like leaving mean comments about you, he doesn’t hesitate to shut it down, “if you respect me, you should respect my relationship, too.”

- he also makes it obvious he’s taken. posting pictures with you, walking you home, literally introducing you as his girlfriend, it’s impossible to mistake it.

also, i kinda want to talk about this:

i saw some people on tt talking about this n someone said "she probably dumped him because he's flirty with his fans" hmmm i don't think so 😊 i feel like it was probably more about his obsession with volleyball. we've literally see how intense he is with vb, his entire life revolves around the sport. i wouldn’t be surprised if he neglected his relationship without realizing it, which would obviously a much bigger issue. so yeah, i doubt it was because of the fangirls. but like, it hasn't been confirmed so..

i apologize if there's any mischaracterization!

[dandylion240]

Automatically he flipped the switch for the light. The room remained dark and gloomy. He didn’t bother to check for another bulb. He knew he didn’t have any. He’d been stealing them from the Kitchen for weeks now. Morosely he flopped onto the ancient couch. A spring poked him in the back a silent reminder of how much had changed.

What happened to all the dreams he’d had? He tossed a hand over his eyes groaning as an image of his dad’s happy faces came to mind. They’d been so happy when he told them about scholarship he’d won to the school of performing arts to study music composition.

Pressing his palms into his eyes as images of their disappointed faces came to mind. Riley especially had been hardest hit when he told them he was pregnant and not going. It was then he found out that when Riley had been his age he’d dreamed of going to the same performing arts school as well. It seemed that life had a way of repeating itself.

“You succeeded anyway” Jonah recalled saying “why can’t I do the same?”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t” Riley had acknowledged “it’s going to be so much harder now.”

“You don’t think I can do it” Jonah stubbornly clung to that stoking his own anger unwilling to understand where his dad was coming from. He could only see his disappointment, his disapproval. His lack of faith in his abilities

“You’re putting words in my mouth” Riley objected. “You don’t know how difficult it was. The sleepless nights. The lack of motivation. Inspiration…”

“I can do it” he stubbornly clung to that belief. “We can do it” he amended “Ethan will help.” He remembered the way his parents looked at each other. He hadn’t understood the exchange at the time. Now he knew. It was pity. They suspected before he did that Ethan wouldn’t be there like he always thought. If only he’d listened sooner, been willing to compromise and accept the help they were offering.

With an irritated groan he rolled to his feet. Going into the kitchen his toe snagging on the old cracked linoleum. The steady plop plop of the dripping faucet the only sound other than the distant thunder from the raging storm outside.

His stomach still churned the same way it had when he’d waited for Ethan to come home. Brendan had offered to let him wait inside but the conversation he needed to have with Ethan was best done in private. He could still see the uncomplicated, unsuspecting grin Ethan had given him as he jogged up the sidewalk towards him. The tender kiss they exchanged confirming the belief that they’d be able to get through anything together.

Something in his manner must have alerted Ethan. He stepped back, “what’s wrong?”

Everything, he wanted to shout but all he could do was shake his head as the words refused to form. The concerned look in Ethan’s eyes as he felt him take his hand, squeezing tight. Taking a deep breath he had to tell him before his parents spoke to Brendan “we need to talk.”

“Are you breaking up with me” Ethan asked looking miserable.

“No of course not. Why would you think that” he blinked confused wondering how Ethan had jumped to that conclusion.

“Do you regret what we did that night? After prom?” he sounded so bleak like he expected the world to end.

Sighing Jonah looked at his feet “maybe a little” he admitted. The sound of shuffling feet had him hastily add “but not for the reasons you think.”

“You haven’t been the same since” Ethan pointed out refusing to look at him. “What else could there be?”

His mouth flopped open , “I’m I’m pregnant” he stammered flinching beneath the half disbelieving half angry look Ethan was giving him. The silence between them lengthened until he couldn’t bear it any more. Lifting his eyes “please say something.”

“What do you want me to say” he snapped, “I’m not ready to be a father.”

A rock seemed to have formed in Jonah's stomach that was trying to crawl it’s way back up his throat. Blinking back the instant tears “I um thought you’d have my back. That we’d um…”

“I do” Ethan asserted “but we’re not ready to have a baby yet. What about college? Our careers? There’ll be plenty of time later for us to have kids.”

Jerking from Ethan’s touch he cried “just not now. Is that it? We just get rid of the baby?” He couldn’t believe this was happening. He’d never imagined this conversation. It hadn’t been an option.

Ethan stood there silently watching him. “I’ll go with you. You won’t be alone.”

Nausea made him swallow compulsively to keep the bile down. There was a buzzing in his ears as he digested Ethan’s words. Pushing past him “I have to go.”

“You know I’m right” Ethan attempted to walk with him. “Now isn’t the time for us to have a baby. We have too much going for us right now to mess it up with a kid.”

“You’re not even willing to discuss it. To try” Jonah cried wanting nothing more than to get away.

“What if it doesn’t work out,” he asked, putting on a pretense to consider keeping the baby. “Then what? It’s not like we could get rid of it then. We’d be stuck.”

“No” Jonah blanched at his words “I’ll be stuck. I’ll do it on my own if I have to.” Turning he ran from the yard certain Ethan would follow. They’d talk. Figure everything out. It hadn’t happened that way. He ran until he couldn’t run anymore. Falling to his knees he sank to the ground screaming out to the uncaring hills around him.

Previous / Next

[witchingwithscissors]

The Art of Persuasion

The apartment was still, save for the soft hum of the city beyond the windows and the occasional creak of the old wood floors. Upstairs, Nicky lay curled beneath his blankets, his nightlight casting gentle shadows on the walls, lost in dreams of baseball and the secret candy stash he thought his mother didn’t know about. Rio had not only helped him perfect his t-ball swing but had also helped him find the best hiding spot for his sugar rush.

Downstairs, at the dining table, an unopened email loomed between Agatha and Rio like an unspoken argument.

Rio sat back in her chair, arms crossed, a quiet storm brewing in her dark eyes. The lamp overhead illuminated the angles of her face, her steady, contemplative expression—one Agatha had come to know intimately. She was bracing herself, preparing to dig in her heels, to deflect. Agatha, seated across from her, watched her with a quiet patience, one hand curled around the stem of her wine glass, waiting.

“So, let me get this straight,” Agatha finally said, her voice calm but edged with something knowing. “Entrepreneur magazine wants to put you on the cover—not just a feature, but the cover. A full spread. The kind of exposure that startups dream of.” She tilted her head. “And your immediate answer is no?”

Rio exhaled heavily, her fingers drumming against the table. “It’s not that simple.”

Agatha arched a brow. “No?”

Rio sighed, running a hand through her curls. “I don’t want to waste time on some glossy PR stunt when I should be working. The app launches in three months—I need to be focused, not paraded around in a suit, giving soundbites about ‘innovation’ to a bunch of people who care more about buzzwords than actual impact.”

Agatha studied her carefully. “And you don’t think doing this would help with that?”

Rio groaned, tilting her head back. “I knew you were going to do this.”

Agatha smirked. “Do what?”

“Work your lawyer logic on me.”

“Well,” Agatha murmured, setting her glass down and rising from her chair, “I was a litigator. Persuasion is kind of my thing.”

Rio huffed a quiet laugh, but Agatha could see it—her resolve wasn’t as solid as she wanted it to be.

Instead of pressing further from across the table, Agatha walked toward her, rounding the chair until she was in front of her. She placed her hands on the armrests, her body leaning in, not as a challenge but as something warmer—closer. Rio’s gaze flicked up to meet hers, dark and searching.

“This isn’t just about you,” Agatha said, her voice softer now, more certain. “It’s about the little girls who don’t know they can be you yet. The queer Latina kids who have never seen someone like themselves running a tech company, standing at the helm of something groundbreaking.”

Rio’s expression faltered, just slightly.

“I know you don’t want the attention,” Agatha continued, her tone gentle but unwavering. “But this? This isn’t just about attention. It’s about representation. About showing the next generation that the tech world isn’t only for the same men in the same gray suits with the same privilege and connections.”

Agatha leaned in just a little more, letting her fingers graze over Rio’s forearm. “It’s for you.”

Rio swallowed, her jaw tightening like she wanted to argue—but she didn’t.

“And maybe I do want people to notice you,” Agatha admitted, voice dipping lower, a whisper against the space between them. “To see what I see.”

Rio exhaled, eyes flickering between Agatha’s lips and her gaze. “And what do you see?”

Agatha smiled faintly, brushing her fingers along Rio’s jaw. “A woman who built something from nothing. A woman whose mind is the sharpest in the room, who never backs down from a fight—unless it’s a fight not worth having.” Her lips curled slightly. “A woman who’s changing the world, even if she refuses to admit it.”

Rio’s breathing slowed, the weight of Agatha’s words settling between them.

“And,” Agatha added, her voice teasing but undeniably affectionate, “a woman who, let’s be honest, is criminally attractive and should absolutely be on a magazine cover so I can have my own copy to keep at home and admire at my leisure.”

Rio let out a laugh—short, quiet, but real. “Oh my god.”

Agatha hummed, tracing the edge of Rio’s sweater. “What? You think I don’t want a framed photo of my incredibly sexy, insanely successful girlfriend in my office?”

Rio groaned, covering her face with one hand. “You are so impossible.”

“And yet,” Agatha murmured, pressing a kiss just below Rio’s ear, feeling the way she shivered, “you love me for it.”

Rio exhaled, shaking her head, but her fingers curled around Agatha’s waist, anchoring her there. “You really think this matters?”

“I do.” Agatha’s voice was quiet but firm. “Not just for your company, but for every kid who needs to see someone like you succeed.”

Rio was silent for a moment, then she sighed, the tension in her shoulders finally giving way. “Fine. I’ll do the damn cover.”

Agatha grinned. “Smart choice.”

Rio narrowed her eyes, pulling Agatha in just slightly, their lips barely an inch apart. “You owe me for this.”

Agatha smirked, tilting her head. “Oh, I plan to make it worth your while.”

A quiet shuffle from upstairs made them both pause. Agatha turned toward the staircase, listening for any signs of movement.

Rio smirked. “Think he’s dreaming about baseball or about ways to sneak extra dessert?”

Agatha sighed, but it was fond. “Both, probably.”

Rio pressed a final, lingering kiss to Agatha’s temple before pulling back. “Alright, boss lady. You win.”

Agatha brushed her fingers over Rio’s jaw before stepping back. “I always do.”

And as she turned off the dining room light, her fingers lingered against Rio’s, unwilling to break the moment just yet.

She looked at her—the woman who had fought for her, stood by her, loved her in ways she hadn’t known she needed. The woman who had become part of Nicky’s life, her life.

Maybe one day, she’d put a ring on Rio’s finger.

But for now, she’d just savor this—savor her. The way she stayed, the way she believed in her, the way she made the world feel lighter.

Agatha had spent years never needing anyone.

Now, she couldn’t imagine a world without Rio in it.

[not-another-robin]

WHERE are the people who self ship with alfred. NOT the live action versions I mean MY BELOVED OLD MAN !! especially the caped crusader version.

[arolesbianism]

Yet another beautiful day to have the Maxwel tag blocked (can't see half of the posts in the Wendy tags)

[annihilatius]

I'm unironically getting interested in a 10 year old Minecraft roleplay series that hasn't been updated in 7 years and will never actually be finished because the two people that made it together got divorced and don't even record stuff at all anymore so there's barely any fandom anywhere and any fan content that exists is (the vast majority of the time) stuff from 8 years ago when it was still being made uploaded by inactive accounts I'm so fucking ashamed of myself

[im-smart-i-swear]

being a kur*n fan in the year of our lord 2024 sucks ass bc every few months i get a deep urge to read a kur*n centric fic. so i go to ao3 and scour all the kur*n related tags. most of it is pwp or ship and i KNOW that going in every time and thats FINE but thats NOT WHAT I PERSONALLY WANT and also all of the fics are like 4 years old and the ones i DO like i have read at least three times each. existance is pain i hate it here

[eyepatchdate]

gonna do the true neutral (or whatever tf you want to call it) smtv ending next. really annoyed that you only unlock special miracles if your alignment matches the ending you get. PLUS also very annoyed that if you do newborn ng+ you lose all the best miracles. its so maddening.

[libingan]

—no questions asked.

you’ve always been his, even before the words were ever said—no labels needed when everything else speaks for itself.

i remember candace and jeremy's relationship in phineas and ferb. i liked how jeremy assumed they were already dating and thought to myself "simon riley" so here it is.

it’s always been this way with simon.

the little things you’ve shared, those moments that nobody else gets to see, have slowly built up over time. long drives where the silence is comfortable, quiet moments when you’re wrapped up in a blanket together, his arm draped around your shoulders. you’ve shared soft kisses in the early morning light, whispered words when you think no one’s listening, and occasional touches that linger just a second too long to be deemed innocent. his gruff voice calling you his—just “his,” as if you’re already a part of something bigger, something unspoken.

but the question always lingers in the back of your mind: what are we?

because in your head, you’re not his girlfriend. you never really were. sure, you’ve done couple things—spent hours together, laughed over inside jokes, shared moments that feel like they belong to only the two of you. but whenever you think about it, you can’t quite place a label on what you are. you never had that conversation, the one where he asks you out, where you define what this thing between you is.

and deep down, you’ve always known. maybe it’s not meant to last. maybe simon’s just passing through your life like a storm, wild and unpredictable, leaving you wondering if you’ll ever feel whole again once the dust settles. you’ve never asked for a commitment. it was enough for you to just be close, to keep things easy and fluid, without any promises that might eventually break.

but then, everything changes the moment you decide to confront him.

it’s a quiet night, the kind where the world outside seems to stop, and you’re sitting in the living room, the only sound being the soft hum of the kitchen light. simon’s sprawled across the couch, eyes half-lidded as he scrolls through his phone. you’re sitting on the floor in front of him, leaning your back against the coffee table, and you can’t stop your thoughts from swirling.

the truth has been eating at you for weeks now, months maybe. you have to ask. you need to know if this is really what you want, and more importantly, if it’s what simon wants. so, you let the question slip, unsure of how it’ll come out, but it tumbles from your lips all the same.

“simon,” you begin, your voice quiet but firm, “what are we?”

he doesn’t immediately look up from his phone. it’s as if the question barely registers, but you know he’s heard it. you can feel his attention slowly turning your way, as if his brain needs a second to process the weight of your words.

he puts the phone down, tilting his head slightly to get a better look at you, his gaze soft but intense. he doesn’t say anything at first. instead, his lips curl into a small, knowing smirk.

“what do you mean?” his voice is low, almost like he’s testing the waters.

you swallow, feeling a tightness in your chest, and you try to make your words come out right. “i mean… we do all this stuff, simon. you call me yours, and i… i don’t even know where i stand. we’ve never really talked about what this is. are we… are we dating, or what?”

he blinks at you for a moment, clearly taken aback by your words. it’s almost funny, how much you’ve thought about it, how much you’ve analyzed your every interaction, while simon has likely never questioned it. it’s simple to him. and that’s when it hits you—he’s never even considered that this could be anything other than what it is.

he sighs, a deep, exasperated sound, and leans back into the couch, his arms crossed over his chest. his eyes lock onto yours, unwavering. “what are you on about, woman? you’re my girlfriend.”

the words hang in the air, and for a moment, you can’t quite process them. you blink, unsure if you’ve heard him right. it almost sounds like he’s stating a fact, like it’s something as simple as breathing. his voice is firm, unwavering, as if this was always meant to be the case.

you feel your breath catch, the weight of his words sinking in, and then—just like that—all your worries melt away. you don’t even know why you were so worried in the first place. the uncertainty, the anxiety, it all seems so silly now. you’re not sure whether to laugh or roll your eyes at the absurdity of it all. simon is, as always, so simon about it. there’s no drama, no overthinking, no need for big conversations or declarations.

you’re his. you’re his girlfriend. and there’s no debate.

the relief hits first, followed closely by a mix of amusement and a small flash of annoyance. you try to hold back the grin tugging at your lips. “wait... just like that? no question, no ‘will you be my girlfriend?’ just… you’re my girlfriend?”

he meets your gaze, nonchalant, and shrugs. “that’s right. you’re mine. no need for any of that nonsense. i’ve already decided.”

you stare at him, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. it’s the way he speaks, like he’s already certain, already claimed you. and it feels… good. reassuring, even. but also, just a little bit frustrating. because, honestly, how do you even argue with that?

“god, you’re impossible,” you mutter, a grin breaking through as you roll your eyes. “seriously. you’re so damn sure about everything.”

he just smirks back, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “you should be glad i am, sweetheart. now, come here.”

he pats his lap, and before you can protest, you’re already moving toward him, the tension from moments before completely gone. his arms pull you close, and you settle against him, feeling his familiar warmth. you don’t even need the words anymore. somehow, just being with him like this is enough.

and that, you realize, is exactly what simon’s always known.

[sttoru]

‘and if i only could, i’d make a deal with god, and i’d get him to swap our places. .’ — kate bush

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. gojo satoru x wife!reader. fluff to angst (no comfort). spoilers chapter 261. reader’s pregnant. major character death. mentions of blood, death. nicknames ‘pretty, sweets’. not proofread bcs i couldn't through the tears. i cried nine times writing this so.. good luck! wc: 3.6k

“he’s kicking again,” satoru chuckles excitedly. he’s been clinging onto you ever since you got back from your doctor’s appointment. your baby boy is growing up healthy and there don’t seem to be any complications.

you smile and rest back against the velvety pillows. you’re enjoying the affection you’re receiving, the kisses and nuzzles against your swollen tummy makes every bit of suffering worth it. your husband is going to be an amazing dad, that you can tell.

“hey, little guy—don’t give ya mommy a tough time,” satoru huffs and gently taps the side of your stomach that was last kicked by the unborn baby, “that’s my wife, y’know?” you giggle at the scene in front of you and close your eyes, relaxing your body.

a comfortable silence hangs in the room. satoru’s warm hands cupping and rubbing your round stomach add to the tranquil atmosphere. the weight of your husband’s head presses onto the front of your plump belly—ear pressed against the stretched skin as if expecting to hear your baby boy talk.

after a while, you open your eyes. you hear a sniff and then the usual silence follows. you look down at satoru settled between your legs, hugging your waist and resting his cheek on your tummy. he’s awfully quiet and you’re unable to see his eyes because of his bangs.

“toru, everything okay?” you carefully ask. your voice comforts him for the next couple seconds, before his muscles tense up once more. satoru tries his best to seem unaffected by the many thoughts scurrying through his head.

“mhm,” your husband nods and forces a small smile. though, he can’t keep the facade up any longer. the longer you’re pregnant, the more worried he gets about a certain something; something that’s been bothering him ever since.

it’s the reason why he doubted even having kids in the first place.

“i—well. i don’t know, sweets,” satoru sighs. a deep sigh that shatters the mask he’s had on for so long. his brows furrow and his eyes dart from one place to the other. his fingers stop their movements on your stomach. they curl around the material of your shirt instead; showing a clear sense of vulnerability.

satoru seems. . . afraid, yet also angry. perhaps at himself, perhaps at the world. you don’t utter a single word. if there’s anything you want, it’s for your husband to speak about his inner turmoil freely. you’re the only person who he can have such emotional conversations with—the only person he can be himself with.

the real gojo satoru.

not the strongest.

that’s why you’re not surprised when satoru opens his mouth to confess the inevitable to you. “i’m scared,” his voice cracks. it’s a faint change in tone, but it is noticeable to you. you’ve been his lover for long enough to notice every minuscule thing.

the white-haired man lets out another sigh. you brush his soft bangs out of his eyes and instantly notice the sudden weariness in them. normally, those beautiful blue eyes shine brightly, yet that light has now dimmed.

you pat his head and satoru immediately leans into your touch. you allow him to process his own emotions and words before speaking up.

“scared?” you ask quietly and carefully, giving your husband space to explain.

satoru nods. there are a thousand thoughts running through his mind. all those thoughts he’s tried to suppress since the day you’ve announced your pregnancy. maybe even before that—at the day of your wedding.

he’s sat down with you a few months into the marriage, to have the talk about kids. he seemed to be delighted to have children with you, however there have always been some dark and hidden thoughts lingering in the back of his mind.

the sorcerer has chosen to ignore them for the longest time. he’s been trying to convince himself that he has nothing to worry about. you’re going to be fantastic parents and your children are going to be extremely loved.

the day you surprised him with your pregnancy, was like a dream. satoru cried - which he rarely does - so it was an emotional night for both of you. neither of you could wait to meet your child—happy with whatever gender.

despite all of the optimism and enthusiasm, satoru’s struggles with his inner thoughts have not yet ended. he doesn’t want to bother you with it. you seem so content and he does not want to ruin that at all.

but even the strongest without limits has to reach a breaking point.

“yeah,” satoru speaks up, his voice hoarse. he kisses your belly button, hoping his child doesn’t pick up on his distress somehow. your husband closes his eyes as he places his forehead against your tummy, praying that the heavens above hear his pleas, “i don’t want our kid to inherit my cursed techniques. at all.”

your hand doesn’t stop stroking satoru’s hair. you don’t flinch at his words, nor do you immediately discard his worries. in all honestly, you’ve shared the same feelings before getting pregnant.

you know how satoru’s treated by the jujutsu society. it’s dehumanising how he’s seen as a weapon of some sorts. a weapon that could solve all problems—one that cannot rest until its duty is done.

you despise it. you’ve told satoru about your hatred for the toxic society, even going as far as asking him to move to a different country without telling anyone. you’re sick and tired. you can’t recall the amount of times that you’ve cried alone, in the bathroom, after you’ve seen the state your lover comes back home in.

the white-haired man always seems so tired. his eyes and head hurt because of them overusing his cursed techniques. there are even days where satoru doesn’t put his blindfold or sunglasses off at home.

and when you try to talk to him about it, satoru simply assures you that ‘he’ll be fine’. you believe him in the moment, but you don’t know for how long you’ll be able to keep that trust.

you’re letting him break, slowly yet surely, right in front of you. he’s working himself to his demise. it’s nothing out of the ordinary to not want the same for your child.

though, you’re sure that it’ll be fine even if your baby boy inherits satoru’s techniques. that’s because you two are going to protect him with all you have. no one is going to treat your child like a weapon—not while the both of you are still alive.

“i don’t want our child to take over the burden i carry,” satoru continues. his brows are furrowed and his lips are pressed into a thin line. he’s already thinking about all the possibilities that can follow with the birth of your son.

he can hide his child from the world, but wouldn’t that be too restrictive? he can keep an eye on him every second of the day, but wouldn’t that be overprotective?

you notice satoru’s internal state of panic increasing, so you quickly cup his face. you lean down and press a firm kiss against his lips, to which he instantly responds. his breath hitches and he sits up on the mattress, deepening the kiss as his hands hold you by the back of your head.

he needs this—you—more than anything else in the world. if it wasn’t for you, he’d have lost his sanity long ago.

you pull back after a good minute and pant. you chuckle as you notice the slight pout on satoru’s lips. he never seems satisfied with just one kiss, which is adorable. you coo and pepper his face with small pecks, “aww.”

it’s comforting to the sorcerer. he closes his eyes and his mouth forms a small smile. you’re doing an amazing job at calming him down. satoru’s muscles relax and he finds himself nestled between your legs soon enough.

you realise that he’s still somewhat afraid for the future of his child by the way he’s playing with your shirt. his head lays on your chest and his long fingers trace shapes on your exposed skin.

“i know, honey, i know,” you murmur against the top of his head. you massage satoru’s scalp gently, nearly making him purr because of how incredible that feels. you stare at the ceiling and continue your little talk.

“i’ve thought about all of it too,” your fingers find his undercut, playing with the little hairs. all you can hope for is that your partner stresses less about the outcome of your pregnancy.

if you can do one thing for him, it’d be that. reassuring him that you’ll both do your best for your child will surely put him at ease. your husband has enough to worry about anyway.

you want to share that burden. you don’t want him to carry the world on his shoulders alone—he’s got you for that now.

“but i think that our son will be fine. why? because he’s got you,” you smile and kiss satoru’s forehead. it’s his favorite type of kiss and it works wonders when you comfort him. his ocean eyes regain their sparkle, both because of your unconditional love and trust in his parenting skills, “our boy will grow up fine and protected because he’s got you as his amazing dad, yeah?”

satoru takes some time to let your words sink in. your trust in him is a beautiful thing. of course, he’ll protect his kid no matter what. both you and his kid will be safe for as long as he’s alive. you’re going to be a happy family—one that he’s always dreamed of having.

he isn’t going to raise his child to be the strongest. he isn’t going to raise his child as an heir to the throne. he isn’t going to raise his child as his legacy. he isn’t going to raise his child as a tool.

his son will have a normal childhood and he will guarantee that. satoru will give his kid what he didn’t have as a child himself;

unconditional love and support for whatever his son wishes to become.

satoru raises his head and leans in to kiss you, hugging you to himself. he adores you so much, you’re all he needs to feel like he can do anything and everything all at once.

carrying the world on his shoulders so you can live peacefully in it is all satoru does it for.

“heh, damn right. i’ll be the best husband and dad ever.”

. . .

but in the end, your dreams are just dreams, right?

an escape from reality, that’s all dreams really are. all those times you’ve sat together to pick the furniture you want to place in the nursery, to paint the room a baby blue, to buy clothes and toys, diapers and carriers, to giggle about the places you would love to visit as a family, to think about possible baby names, to joke about whether your son will say ‘dada’ or ‘mama’ first — all of it were naive, hopeful dreams.

perhaps you were too caught up in them to realise that reality will hit when least expected.

satoru and you have lived in your own bubble—your own little fantasy world where tragic fates does not exist. no one in this planet would suffer if life worked that way.

no one on this planet would have to pick up the phone and have their world shatter, their dream bubble pop. to have all hope lost in the span of a second.

grief is a scary thing. it’s devastating and it will consume you whole. you don’t realise that until you experience it firsthand. losing someone close to you will break you in half. it’s a punch to the gut.

especially if it’s your husband. someone you considered your partner—who’s promised you to be together forever. maybe those promises were also a part of your fantasy.

maybe they were also but a beautiful lie.

your footsteps feel heavy. you don’t have any energy left in you. every drop has been drained from you the moment you heard the news over the phone. your eyes and head hurt, both feeling like they’re going to burst. you don’t want to accept any of this.

the faces of the people around you are a blur. they’re all holding their head low, their hands gathered in front of them to show respect. no one speaks—all the room is filled with are your sobs. the loud cries you let out in hopes that they wake you up from this absolute nightmare.

you drag your feet to the examination table in the middle of the room. tears continue to blur your vision, though surely, you can confirm the outline of the body laying underneath the blanket.

how could you not recognise the person you thought you’d spend eternity with?

it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. . .

“satoru.” your voice is barely audible. your hands are shaking and your face is stained with endless streams of tears. you stand at the side of the table and you instantly curl your fingers around the edge.

seeing that face from up close hits different. usually, it’d have your stomach fill with a feeling of delight, yet now all you feel when looking at it is unimaginable dread.

the blood on the corners of his mouth. the blanket that’s hiding whatever is left of him from below the waist. the dull eyes that once stared at you with hope and love. those dried lips that normally shone with a layer of gloss.

god, it’s awful. you don’t want this to be true. you’re still waiting to be woken up by your husband. so he can hold you close and hug you, whisper sweet nothings and reassure you that he’d never leave you alone in a savage world like this.

your shaky fingers reach out to his right hand. his skin feels cold and his hand doesn’t hold yours back. your breath hitches and you let out a long, devastating cry. it sounds like a scream for help as your body crumbles—falling to your knees whilst you tightly grip your lover’s limp hand.

“no, god no, please!” you cover your mouth with your free hand, nearly hyperventilating from pure pain. you feel like your heart is going to give up on you. it’s breaking into a million pieces, as does your future. you can’t live without him—you can't do it.

satoru is the sole reason you’ve held out for so long. you were each other’s support system. you can’t do any of this on your own. you can’t breathe properly—your body doesn’t let you.

not until you feel a hand on your back, rubbing it gently. you can guess that it’s shoko, but you’re too distraught to even pay attention to her. you lift yourself up by holding onto the edge of the table, your legs shaking. you sniffle and sob uncontrollably.

you reach out to touch satoru’s lifeless face, as gentle as you always do. you flinch when you feel just how cold his body is—the usual warmth that would comfort you gone, nowhere to be found. you don’t get a reaction from him when you touch his cheeks.

it only serves to remind you of the tragic events that unveiled. you’re still in denial, but the moment feels real. your brain is slowly yet surely processing the information. though, you don’t want it to. you want to live in a world where you grow old with your husband.

where your child is going to grow up with a father figure at home.

“satoru, come back to me.. to us, please,” you beg and beg, hoping he smiles and sits up, telling you that it’s just one of his silly pranks again. when none of that happens, you feel yourself become more hopeless. you hunch over him and cup his face. the same face that would light up whenever you’d touch it.

you hiccup and wail, unable to breathe. you rub his cheekbones with your thumbs, settling your forehead against his. your tears fall underneath his eyes and slide down his temples, making it seem like he’s crying with you.

you wait for satoru to respond, but he doesn’t. there’s an eerie silence on his part and you’re panicking. you need him to comfort you, but he isn’t there to do that anymore. you’re left alone, all alone.

“i can’t do this without you—we can’t do this without you,” you stammer between sobs. you can’t go through life, knowing satoru isn’t going to be there for you. he isn’t going to come home anymore. he isn’t going to cuddle you to sleep anymore. he isn’t going to experience what it’s like to have a family of his own. he isn't going to be able to hold his child and to play with him.

you blame life for being unfair—always taking away the people who don’t deserve it. satoru hasn’t done anything to deserve this. he just.. existed. his fate of becoming the strongest, decided at his birth, is what has lead to his death.

you continue to sob to yourself. you refuse to acknowledge anything or anyone else in the room. you’re solely focused on your husband. or rather, what’s left of him.

remembering how excited satoru was to spend the rest of his life with you and your future children pains you all the more. he’s been stripped from a normal life. you’ve tried your hardest to give him that said normal life, yet your hopeful dreams have gotten you nowhere.

you wipe your tears away for the first time in a while. your grief is making you delusional—disoriented to the point you try to make yourself feel better. you force a smile and hold tightly onto satoru’s limp hand, trying to speak through your quiet sniffles.

“o-our boy is gonna be born soon,” you chuckle bitterly and place satoru’s hand on your belly. it’s gotten bigger over the months and you’re already eight months along. he was so close to meeting your child—so close. yet his tragic destiny did not allow him to.

you hope he’s been happy with you for as long as he lived. you hope you’ve somewhat relieved him from his misery for as long as he lived. that burden he carried, the world he carried on his shoulders. . . it doesn’t seem to want to detach from him. even after death.

you press a deep kiss against his forehead. satoru’s favorite spot to be kissed at, you remember. you wish he feels it in the afterlife; wherever he may he. as long as he’s in a better place now, one that treats him well. this current world has been too cruel on him. it doesn’t deserve to home someone like your husband.

“i wish you were here to see your son. to see our baby grow up, you'd be so proud, honey,” you kiss satoru’s forehead again. it’s all you can do stop yourself from losing it completely. you know satoru would tell you to be strong, for his sake. for your unborn son.

“i’m going to tell him all about you, ‘kay? i'm going to tell him about how awesome his dad was,” your voice breaks for the nth time. you’re still in the first stage of grief, though you try to seem strong in case satoru is watching from somewhere.

that’s what he did when he was the one going through a tough time. he’d act brave and fine, putting on a mask to make you worry less, telling you all kinds of reassuring words while he was suffering internally.

now it’s your turn to safely send his soul off to the afterlife. to let satoru pass away in peace, with him knowing that you’re going to live on for him and for your child. it’s the least you can do at the moment.

you put on a brave face, staring into his lifeless eyes, smiling through the unbearable pain. you’re sure he’s still listening to you from somewhere. satoru’s always told you that your voice is soothing, so you do your best to calm his soul and reassure him that it’s fine for him to rest.

“i’ll do my best to raise him, yeah? so you.. you just rest.”

rest was a foreign word to the sorcerer. this world didn’t give him an ounce of peace. he’d either be overworked by his family or the jujutsu society, and if it isn’t work, his inherited techniques were slowly killing his brain and body.

you’re praying that satoru has none of that in the afterlife. you’re praying that he can live a normal life, eternally. so that when you join him one day, you both won’t have to suffer nor share the burden. you can live out your dreams without anyone interrupting.

not even fate.

“you deserve to rest. you really do,” you sigh.

soon enough, you feel yourself crumble again. you burst out in tears once you realise that he’s actually never coming back to you in this life. you bury your face in the crook of his neck and sob loudly, not holding back your emotions anymore. you just can’t—you can’t act brave when your second half has been taken away from you so suddenly.

you hope that you succeeded into sending him off without any worries. you can’t help but continue rambling to yourself, “i’m going to miss you s’much. oh, my baby.”

you lift your head back and stare into satoru’s eyes once more. did he think about you when he was on his deathbed? did he see his life flash before his eyes, including his many memories with you? did he see what could have been?

it’s unfair.

you give him one last bright smile and gently close his eyelids for him, hoping his lost soul saw your face before you did so. with one last kiss on his lips, you whisper your final words;

“please wait for me on the other side, my love.”