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buttercupblu · 4 months ago

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God is Fair|The Lore

Devotional Love with Suguru x Reader|Two-Shot

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3

the deets: ever since you were young, you knew you were meant for each other. he came into your life like a storm and grew closer no matter how distant you seemed. he swelled and captured your heart every time he was near. so why did you keep fighting him? w.c: 12.7k (holy f*ck) out of idk yet for part-two the rest (god bless) tags: fem!reader, mostly angsty….pretty much 90% angst for part 1, repressed feelings, jealousy, lingering lips and fingers, a little bit of self-depreciation at the end but pick that crown up love, reader gets a little violent at the end 😳|if i missed anything, pls comment or DM ☺️ angel’s note: this story started as one thing and ended up as another—so goes the way of life. PSA: most of the good, filthy, mack-nasty shyt is in part 2/3, but you’ve gotta wade through the fire first to get it. It’s always worth it|thanks for reading 🖤 earworm 🐛: Chihiro|Billie Eilish

Over time, you became perfectly molded to him.

As did his lips to your tender bud that sank under his sinful tongue.

Slender fingers grip and drown under his raven locks, barely saving you from the shallow breaths you must take to stay alive.

You’re just above water, and he steals your air, spelling poetry with his tongue over your folding petals.

Broken coos spill from your puffy lips—his favorite melody to ever grace his ears.

Whether it was today, tomorrow, yesterday, or forever—you fall—in and in and even deeper into his grasp. Under the waves and trapped in his ocean—he gently pulls you under—your lungs yearning for air, but you never want out.

And the way he dives in, drowning to taste every drop, every sweet, delectable sip of your nectar like he could live the rest of his life without oxygen—tells you that he doesn’t either.

You learned to love each other’s oceans and came to mix seas. Both treaded rough waters but learned to float with calm bodies.

Now you lie hand in hand, limbs weaved like vines through each other’s arms, as you cuddle. Completely spent from another night in each other’s depths. Grateful. Grateful for his love—his patience.

And wondering how on Earth you thought it’d be possible to exist without someone you swore you despised.

Suguru has always been the best—the best at being good, the best at being kind, the best at being quiet—the best at being better than you.

When you were eight years old, he made his quiet introduction into your quaint little neighborhood, arriving in a flashy Mercedes-Benz followed by two moving trucks that pulled right into the driveway directly across the street from your humble home. Heels painted with red bottoms adorning stocking-covered legs were the first things you saw as you watched from your bedroom window.

The sound of movers drew your attention. No one ever came to your city, let alone your cul-de-sac. You felt a shift. A change was coming.

A tall woman, her long, sleek ponytail blowing in the wind, stepped out of the driver’s seat wearing large couture shades that took up most of her face. The overhanging forecast made everything bleak and gray, but the sunglasses stayed. A man exited the passenger seat and came to the woman’s side. He gingerly took her hand and looked around with a small smile, gently rubbing her arm. She slightly grimaced and handed him what looked like one of those small, overpriced designer bags.

They looked so…out of place.

They had to smell like money.

What the heck were they doing here?

In a city like yours, one of those places where everyone knows everyone and everybody's business, you instantly knew that this couple would be the talk of the town. At least with the adults.

You blew air into your bangs. You weren’t expecting new neighbors, but they could have at least come with a kid—someone who might actually want you around.

“Hey, Bug,” your dad called from the garden.

He always left the back door open so he could hear you in case you needed him. He must have heard the rumbling of their heavy trucks now being unloaded with elegant furniture. Would all of that even fit in there? Their house was bigger than yours but not by much. “Sounds like we’ve got new neighbors. Might go by later and say hi if you want to come.”

“No thanks.”

You turned back to the window, resting your head on your arms. Meeting Mr. and Mrs. Richy Rich didn't sound very appealing to you and might only make you feel worse on this already gloomy Spring day.

For once, you wanted to be pleasantly surprised and not just surprised with something you wouldn’t expect, like hitting the jackpot or whatever.

And then you saw him.

Inky black hair drawn into a short ponytail, emerging from the back seat of the fancy car and clutching a book thicker than his torso. His starched white-collar shirt and beige shorts reminded you of school. He kept his chin tucked and looked like the wind just might knock him over if the book wasn’t keeping him upright.

He and the woman were near twins. Definitely mother and son. She smoothed her hands down her skirt and put on a genuine smile for him. The man draped his arm around the boy’s shoulders as he took in the neighborhood. Slow and sheepish. You thought his eyes caught yours when he looked behind him and you ducked under the window sill.

Sh—

“You can’t stay cooped up in here all the time, Bug,” your dad called again. It sounded like he might be wrapping up. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

You inched back up to the window and peered over the edge. The boy looked like he was just as lost as to why he was there.

Anxious. Reserved. Kind of boring.

Not your speed.

You blew a raspberry and turned away. So much for that. You wouldn’t be missing much.

In your neighborhood, all the kids walked freely to each other’s houses to see if anyone was home. This was before everyone had cell phones to save time and figure it out for them.

You watched it happen with the other kids all the time. They’d visit each other and either stay inside (super rare) or gather the rest of the neighborhood to play in the cul-de-sac or park.

But you were never quite given a direct invitation.

The few friends you were close with moved away about a year ago, and the thought of making new ones who would eventually do the same kept you emotionally at arm's length. To make it worse, you swore the group you were left with undoubtedly hated you.

Why?

Because you had a history of sucking.

Everyone else in the neighborhood was naturally good at something. Anything. Everything.

But you?

You had to try.

Mess up. And try again. At almost anything you could name.

Basketball? Trash.

Tag? You were slow.

Football? Pssssh. As if—like you’d let yourself get hurt? You sat out every time.

So, the kids stopped inviting you or always picked you last. Both were grimy slaps in the face. Because you always knew you could be better. Delulu was the solulu if they’d only give you a chance. Or two. Or a few. But damn, you were trying.

At least you weren’t the only one being left out.

It’d been weeks since you saw the new kid on the block—not like you thought about him much after you dismissed him. But slowly, as the sounds of Spring beckoned him outside, he reminded you that the new “rich” neighbors did indeed have a kid.

It started with the curtains in his living room window gently ruffling before he’d peek out, scanning the scene for signs of life. Then eventually upgraded to gracing the neighborhood with his presence to sit outside. For hours, he watched from his front porch as the neighborhood kids dashed past your houses to play in the cul-de-sac.

It kind of made you jealous—the amount of space and freedom on their porch that his parents clearly weren’t taking advantage of. Only two plastic chairs and a small table occupied the space, and they weren’t nearly as lovely as the things you saw go into the home on move-in day. If it were up to you, you’d string up one of those hammocks big enough for two like you’d seen on TV and just float in the breeze under the overhang. It had been a frequent daydream of yours long before they moved in.

Instead, a gawking boy with too much time on his hands made it his home. Watching. Fiddling with his fingers and leaning on the rail. Watching. Always seeming too afraid to approach.

He had what you thought was the best house in the neighborhood (and probably the most money), and still, he looked so lonely.

With the background he seemed to come from, you thought he’d be more ballsy.

One day, you were, and you walked right up there, took the hand of the wide-eyed kid, and led him to the rest of the kids down at the park. His dad watched the whole thing go down from the kitchen window as he did the dishes, silently laughing as the boy stumbled behind you without saying a word.

This was your chance. You were so tired of the other kids being better than you. With him being the new kid, you thought he’d at least be somewhat on your level or maybe even a bit worse. Anything was better than being the odd one out.

You and the boy just a few inches shorter than you crashed the party right before the next game started. You beamed at the group like you had caught a prized fish.

“Guys, this is um…um…” Then you realize you hadn’t asked his name. And he was still holding your hand.

You dropped it and nudged him. “Suguru,” he said softly, seeming to avoid eye contact.

Suguru hadn’t seen that many kids in a group like this outside of school. He didn’t mean to look so anxious, but he wasn’t used to being in a neighborhood full of kids his age. He instantly felt like an outsider seeing how comfortable everyone was with each other, apart from you by his side. While soft smiles offered him a glimmer of acceptance, the stares made him self-conscious. He wondered if he could ever fit in.

You repeated his name in case no one heard him. Suguru. It naturally rolled off your tongue. Soft and sweet. Like the boy. He fidgeted with his fingers, but hearing his name felt reassuring. You looked at him and grinned. It was time to see what he’s got.

Tee-ball was the game. One you hated the most. Running was not your sport, and you certainly didn’t have an arm, so it never hurt your feelings too much when you weren’t picked for teams. But you made sure Suguru was. You wanted to see him in action.

Last summer, you guys found an old traffic cone to use as the tee and placed sticks around the field for bases.

You didn’t expect much from Suguru when it was time to bat because…look at him. He was so small and timid. The bat borrowed from someone’s dad was almost the same size as him, and you swore you saw his feet lift a few times during his practice swings. Too much of that and he’d be airborne. You prepared to give him a “job well done” pat on the back once he hit the ball a few feet.

Suguru squared up at the tee—on his way to join you at the bottom of the barrel.

And wouldn’t you know it?

He knocked the ball clear out of the park and didn’t even skim the cone.

Your mouth fell open before you remembered you were the designated retriever since you weren’t playing the game. You grumbled the whole walk and search for it.

And then he did it again. And again. And again.

And surprise, surprise, he excelled at every game he played after. Everyone wanted Suguru on their team.

You gaped at the feat—so much power, strength, and coordination in such an unassuming body.

And instantly hated him.

Not because he was the best or braggy about it.

It was the complete opposite.

He barely seemed to acknowledge it—not in an arrogant, dismissive way, but more like he was just happy to be involved and doing something. He was sheepish with compliments and even seemed nervous to receive them. He’d rub his head and give a little close-eyed smile before returning to the game.

And peer over to you on the sidelines for approval.

Every swing, every hit, and every game after, his purple eyes would find yours whenever he thought he’d done something worthwhile.

You tried to hide the jealous scowl, returning his shy smile with a nod and told him to keep his head in the game.

But he noticed.

He saw it. He knew you were unhappy, and he wanted nothing more than to help.

So after that, you kind of mirrored each other.

The kids always saw you as a try-hard—constantly on repeat, trying to make yourself valid and stand out. You’d grab failure by the throat and wring its neck, determined to make it forget your name. Not because you were attention-seeking; you only wanted to be counted in.

And so the student became the teacher. Suguru began to slip you little nods as if saying he saw you—just like you saw him all those times on his front porch. It’d annoy you at first, what you thought could’ve been pity, but it felt nice to finally be acknowledged by someone.

And so gradually, you looked to him as a spectator, earning silent yeses and nos until you finally worked up the courage to do what you were afraid of most. Ask him to be a friend.

To help you perfect your skills, of course.

But the friendship blossomed like the Spring, and you and Suguru actually grew really close—instantly drawn to each other. Pop-ups to his house were the norm as you had the most advantage out of everyone in the neighborhood by living right across from him. And you both were always brought up by one another’s parents.

Turns out Suguru’s dad was a lot like yours and they got on really well. They’re both funny, kind. But your dad’s a little bit different. He’s got rebellion in his bones, as he often talked about when he told you stories about his youth and take-no-shit hippie days.

“I’m serious, Bug. So, there we were, strapped to the tree. Shackled, really.”

He mimicked the story with his arms in between laughs.

“So, so we’re all chained up, right? And this bulldozer is coming right at our heads, ya? I look over to Stanley,” your even crazier God-father who showered you with gifts every time he visited, “I say, ‘Stanley, toughen up. You look like you’re about to piss yourself.’ And he goes, ‘I’m not scared. I forgot to go before we locked ourselves in.’”

Your dad roared with laughter, wiping the tears from his eyes like he hadn’t told that story a million times. Like he was going around trying to collect little activists. But Suguru almost fell over, leaning into his every word. He was such a shy laugher, always creasing his eyes and dimpling his cheeks when he did. It made your dad feel like the funniest guy alive when Suguru entertained his jokes.

“You were so brave,” and Suguru called your dad by his nickname just like your dad told him to. “I want to be that brave when I’m older.”

Your dad winked at you—you stuck out your tongue. Suguru was a good kid, he thought and reminded him a bit of himself.

Those days, your dad was mostly the same. He didn’t need much and chose to live a quaint and peaceful life. He’d talk your ear off about activism, travel, and stories about your mom who passed when you were born. You never got to “meet” her, but you always felt like you knew exactly who she was. And she was totally different from Suguru’s mom, who you learned was a hard-working corporate baddie. Red bottom heels. Makes sense.

By the end of that first summer, your families were practically joined at the hip. You and Suguru even more so. Outside of house calls and playing games with the rest of the neighborhood, the two of you also made frequent trips to the makeshift pier. Almost everything in your neighborhood and the surrounding area was walkable, including a small, wobbly, probably dangerous dock that sat over the small lake in town. You’d play a little alphabet game you made up on the walk down and constantly challenge him. Only for him to literally beat you at your own game nine times out of ten.

“Angels shop at—” You skipped down the dirt path.

“Blessed boutiques,” Suguru finished, “Beautiful coats—”

“Can clothe their wings. Dashing dolls—”

“Eat every sweet. Forks will find—”

“Giant…giant,” you thought and thought and thought, “Giant—”

“Geese!”’ Suguru tagged you and ran down the dock, deeming you the loser of that round. You strolled down to meet him near the water reflecting the sunset. A pout took up your face. He patted the deck, motioning for you to sit. “You’re gonna miss the fireflies.”

Watching them pop up one by one and glow on the water as the sun went down became a ritual. And one of your favorite memories of summer.

The following school year, you were even more inseparable. And when the end of fifth grade rolled around the year after, you knew it was fate when you found out you’d be attending the same middle school.

You were overjoyed. So was Suguru, but for different reasons. To you, now it was on.

Academics was an area where you had a fair shot at flourishing. You were studious, attentive, and almost the perfect student. And while you didn’t have bad grades, you always felt like you could be better. And you know why. Because everything came naturally to Suguru, of course.

Thank goodness for extracurriculars, though. The two of you didn’t need to do everything together, and you both benefited from the time and separation to do your own thing and discover your own interests. The Newspaper club caught your eye and was more interesting than you thought it would be—the first hobby to make you fall in love with words.

Suguru took an interest in robotics and, surprisingly, Yearbook. He was pretty crafty with a camera and made sure to snap the best photos of you during your events.

But the two of you rarely spoke of school or after-school activities. You never wanted him to know if you were struggling or needed help with anything and tried not to rely on him so much those days, so everything with you was always good.

It had to be.

He was still the competition, after all.

And you had to appear just as flawless.

Instead, you enjoyed late-night phone calls that went way past both of your bedtimes as you grew into middle schoolers. Pretending to be asleep and slipping the phone under your pillow without moving a muscle when your parents checked in was a sport, but it couldn’t be helped. The books you were reading, shows you were watching, and thoughts on what high school would be like were too good not to talk about into the late-night hours—even when your eyelids got too tired to stay open. Falling asleep with your cellphones in hand or occupying a space on your pillows was the norm.

“What’d ya think about the movie?”

“I mean, the book is always better, right? But like,” you sighed happily into the phone, “they made their lives look so…amazing.”

The two of you watched The Great Gatsby 1979 version on DVD at Suguru’s house right after school that day before you had to scurry off to help your dad in the garden. Suguru finished the book a few days ago, and after catching him with it during lunch and poking him enough to get him to spill some of the details, you were sold.

A glamorous romance about a life of luxury and passion?

Say less.

And because you couldn’t resist, you told him you’d finish it in less time than he did.

Suguru thought the movie was pretty true to the book, but man, what a sad story. You, however, were in love with the lifestyle.

“What about Daisy?” he asked.

You pondered Daisy’s decision for half a second before deciding she was a one-off. All her life she had been spoiled, something you were a total stranger to but didn’t make a point to say—only dismissed her frivolous ways and called her a coward. “Just the money and parties would be enough for me,” you said in a daydream. “It’d be too happy to be that shallow.”

Suguru laughed and said that wasn’t the point of the book. “Money can't always buy happiness. She could’ve had love. It was right there.” He sounded so sophisticated when he said it, much too wise and sappy for a 13-year-old.

You sucked your teeth. “That’s easy for you to say.” And you reminded him that he has a nicer house, clothes, car. “And when are y’all getting the Benz back?”

Lately, you and Suguru had been getting picked up by his dad in a major downgrade of a car. It’d been at least two months, and you were missing the feel of luxury against your skin.

The phone went quiet for a second, and Suguru scratched his head. “Uh, we actually don’t have it anymore.”

Your eyes widened as if he'd just told you someone died. Borderline devastation set in like it was your family losing one of its greatest displays of wealth. But Suguru didn’t sound the least bit sad when he told you that his dad referred to the “new car” as a “cash car” because they needed something quick.

And then it clicked, and you realized why you’d been noticing that furniture and things had also been disappearing in his house when you came over. And why he had to switch to the free lunch program you were also on at school. And why his dad mentioned looking for a second job the other day.

Suguru’s family had been hit by the recession.

And that’s how he became your neighbor.

Most of everything Suguru grew up with in his previous family home was placed in storage when they first moved into your neighborhood. His mom thought their stay would be temporary; she had been demoted at work but didn’t think it was a big deal, and things would quickly be back to normal—maybe even come with a promotion if she worked hard enough.

But it wasn’t her skills that was the problem. The economy was in shambles, and her company was running out of money. After two years of hoping for a miracle, she and over 40% of her company were laid off.

They kept all of this from Suguru until only a few weeks ago. He was much too young to understand what it all meant when it first happened—he was just a kid. But now, he was older, smarter, way less naïve. They couldn’t keep lying to him about why the car was away at the shop or why the family heirloom dining table went missing, among other things.

When they told him that he’d have to slow down on his growing book collection and only get one gift for his birthday that year, that’s when he started asking questions—not that either of those things meant much to him. He was more than happy to frequent the school library, and you noticed that he’d been spending a lot more time there than usual during breaks.

What bothered Suguru the most was the looks his parents gave him when they told him everything. Like they were delivering the worst news in the world. Like they were so worried that they’d be disappointing him. Like they should be ashamed.

It hurt him more to know that they felt like they had failed him.

“My dad just looks so tired all of the time now.”

Mr. Geto, who had been a stay-at-home work-from-home employee since before Suguru was born, had to get a part-time job working overnight to help bridge the widening gap between their old and new lifestyle.

Now, Suguru doesn’t get to see him as much except to make breakfast and kiss Suguru goodbye with a sluggish smile on his face before school.

He really missed his dad. And it made you feel like shit for momentarily being a Daisy.

For the rest of the night, you just listened to Suguru tell stories about back home—what his parents were like, the things they used to do, the trips they would take, and the time they spent together. Little memories from a place you’ve never been but could clearly see as he talked through the night.

Never once did Suguru mention missing the things he used to have or wanted now. The people in his life were what he cared about most.

“My dad got a new antenna for the TV to surprise my mom with so she can still watch her favorite channels from back home,” he laughed. “It’s so big. I hadn’t seen one before, so it was kinda funny to look at, but I’m glad it’ll make her happy.”

You solemnly smiled and propped up on your arm. “Do you ever miss home? Like being back there?”

He mentioned that he thought about it sometimes: the plush green grass in his front and backyard that he’d lay in for hours, the much sunnier skies compared to the frequently gray and cloudy ones, and humid air here in your rainy city, the few friends and family members he had to leave behind.

But he liked it here better and surprised the hell out of you by saying so.

Anywhere was better than being here.

Even though his family was going through a hard time, they still managed to get the nicest house in the neighborhood. You could only imagine what his childhood home looked like compared to the one bedroom and living room your dad made into his own space.

You asked why. What could possibly make this place any better than where he came from?

You could hear him shrug through the phone as he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s just something about this place.”

You still think about that conversation sometimes.

The end of middle school came in a blaze, and so did puberty.

Suddenly, you became aware that it was time to start caring about what you looked like.

Some nights, you would call it early with Suguru in favor of spending hours on YouTube watching videos and learning how to wear makeup. You put more thought into how you dressed and tried your best to style the little clothes you had into mostly decent outfits.

Every morning, you’d beam when you entered the kitchen to grab breakfast and say goodbye to your dad. He’d try his best not to cry, watching his little Bug grow up before his eyes.

Suguru did some growing, too.

The summer of 7th grade, he got a little taller, and when your final year started, you guys were finally neck and neck. He was beginning to be able to see the top of your head when he lifted his chin, and he would make little jokes about it in his prepubescent boy voice that was starting to crack. You’d push the too-big glasses that he got at the start of middle school up the bridge of his nose and tell him not to get too cocky. This was the tallest he would get, you’d tease. He may have been good at everything, but he’d always be a pip-squeak.

When you weren’t going back and forth with Suguru, you were hanging out with the new gal pals you made at school. Your little trio started spending more time together, window shopping at the mall, attending football games after school, and talking each other’s ears off about anything in between throughout your last year. You couldn’t tell Suguru everything, of course—there are some things that guys will simply never be able to relate to or understand.

And one day, while the three of you sat at lunch together while Suguru was off with his robotics team, one of your gals leaned over the cafeteria table to poke you with a devious smile and ask the age-old question: who do you like in school?

Your brain had the audacity to picture Suguru first.

Your friends squealed watching your face blush beet red, but you turned away and never answered the question—only said that you were more focused on school and extracurriculars to help you in college more than anything else.

But where the hell did that come from?

Suguru was, debatably, your best friend, but that was it.

Not that you needed to convince anyone else of that. Just…yourself?

Before that day, you never really thought of Suguru in that light. He was this quiet, nerdy, prodigy of a boy who was great at everything and gave you another reason to want to be just as good. You secretly looked up to him, if you wanted to call it that, but you certainly didn’t like him.

He was just the boy next door.

The boy next door who was challenging you once again: to push the little hints of affection that had been blossoming aside and dismiss them.

Bury them down, keep your eyes on the prize, and finally be rewarded for your efforts.

To keep up with him, not fall in love with him.

On a rare sunny Saturday, a month and a half before school let out for the summer, the two of you sat on his beloved front porch with the future on your minds.

Suguru picked at the grass growing between the wooden boards. “Thinking about trying something new next year?”

You popped another sugary blackberry from your backyard into your mouth while stretched out on Suguru’s favorite quilt. He couldn’t help but notice how relaxed you looked, drinking up the warm sunbeams on your skin.

“I don’t know,” your arms folded behind your head as you stared at the ceiling, “I love Newspaper, but…I don’t know. I think I wanna branch out.”

You just weren’t sure how yet. You had done some research on the high school you’d both be attending next year and ran down the list looking for something to jump out at you. Something you could really put yourself into. You still loved writing and expressing yourself, but there was nothing else besides repeating Newspaper or trying Yearbook (Sugu’s territory). The rest of your options weren’t ideal, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“How about volleyball?”

“Nah.”

“Art club?”

“Mmm-mm.”

He leaned against the wooden railing. “Hmmm, choir?”

You laughed and didn’t even bother to respond to what was clearly a joke.

He sighed and pensively licked the sugar from his fingers before asking if maybe you’d want to do something together.

You looked at him and squinted. “What?” he shrugged.

“You know what.” And he shook his head all innocent-like.

Always innocent that Suguru. Effortlessly wrapping everyone around his finger. Your dad, his teachers. Even your trio mentioned him from time to time about how helpful he was. With all the times he went out of his way to make sure you were okay, even you were starting to let your guard down. Watching him now as his ponytail blew softly in the wind, looking so naïve as to what you meant but still wanting to understand, made you blush sick.

Not having much of a reason to actually be so guarded, you made one up. “You tryna go toe to toe with me, Geto?.”

Your brow cocked, and you used his last name because you knew it’d get to him. He was fully aware that you only say it when you’re serious, and it’s mostly blurted when you guys go at it on Mario Kart.

“Just because I said we should do something together?”

“Yeah, so you can one-up me.”

If there was a hobby or favorite pastime that you really enjoyed and might actually be better than good at, you knew it was best to keep it out of Suguru’s reach. Academic and recreational competitions needed to remain separate if you wanted to keep your sanity.

Suguru took a breath. If there was one thing he didn’t bother competing with you at, it was arguing. He knew you wouldn't back down if he just sat here and tried to convince you; you’d poke a hole in every counter until he simply gave up.

So, instead, he pandered to your inflated ego, chewing his lip before telling the truth. “C’mon, Twin. I promise I won’t. Do it for me.”

His soft purple gaze landed on you, and you got a funny feeling in your stomach that you hadn’t felt before.

He was serious.

He really wanted to be at your side trying something new—exploring together—helping each other find yourselves.

The shy teen who was as quiet as a mouse and yet a beast of a kid wanted to be right there with you. And he wasn’t afraid to say it.

You cleared your throat and averted his gaze. “Fine,” you agreed, but on one condition, “It stays a hobby, no competing.” And it sounded like you were talking to yourself more than him. “But valedictorian? That’s mine.” And you tossed another blackberry into the air and caught it perfectly in your mouth, making Suguru raise his eyebrows.

“That’s a bet,” he said, reaching over to wipe a bit of sugar from the corner of your lips. You swat away his hand and punch his shoulder, but damn him if the gesture didn’t make you feel all weird inside. He faked an “Ow” and rubbed his arm before joining you on the quilt to soak in the sun. You closed your eyes and pretended to float in the breeze whistling through the railing. Even without the hammock, it kind of felt like you were.

“Sooo, what do you wanna do this summer?” And the possibilities felt endless.

Who knew this core memory of each other’s youth, the moment you finally let his fingers inch across the blanket and softly brush yours without pulling back, would be one of your last?

Two weeks before break started, after all of your plans for the summer and the following school year had been planned out, it happened.

To this day, you question the timing of your worst nightmare—just when you thought you were living the dream—coming true.

The Geto’s were moving on up.

For years, Suguru watched his mom grind in corporate America. It wasn’t new to him; she had one of the hardest work ethics he’d ever seen, but it was on a different level after his family moved to your city.

Something in her had changed—the thought of instability.

She knew Suguru was used to not seeing her due to long hours at work, but when it started to affect her husband, when it began to shift the family’s dynamic, she knew she had to figure something out, and fast.

She could sacrifice her time for the family. She couldn’t sacrifice Suguru’s time with his dad.

All these years, Suguru’s family pulled themselves up by their bootstraps while Suguru was lost in the bliss of friendship. Mrs. Geto’s hard work paid off, and she got a promotion—on the opposite end of the country.

The day was bright and sunny when he left, the exact opposite of how you felt watching the beat-up car that had grown on you drive out of the neighborhood.

You looked on from your window because you didn’t want him to see you crying, watching, or caring.

You had been right from the first time you saw him.

And were back to square one.

Alone.

You guys tried to stay in touch, you really did, but being in totally different time zones made keeping up with each other a little harder. New apps for your phones, like Snapchat and Instagram, helped a little, but they didn't compare to the late-night phone calls you missed so much.

At first, Suguru would Snap you about how he was getting on in his new city, neighborhood, and places his family would explore over the summer.

The thought of him being someone’s new boy-next-door made your stomach twist.

When school rolled around, he’d send Snaps and joke about his preppy new uniform that came with a vibrant red tie and over-starched navy pants. His mom got him into a fancy private school because, of course she would, but they were really strict with phones, so you weren't able to talk to him until he got home. By the time he did, the sun had already gone down for you, and you’d be too tired from your own after-school activities to keep your eyes open.

You missed Suguru—even your dad missed him and his family terribly.

You missed him so much that you began to resent him—his new life, fancy school, and new “friends”. Jealousy reared its ugly head, forcing you to put your walls up again.

Another friend, gone, moved on to bigger and better things. Leaving you behind once again.

You had finally found a friend, a real friend, who never made you feel bad—someone you could tell almost all of your secrets to.

Who got whisked away.

Who you’d give anything to see again and go back to the way things were.

Though it’d only been five years, you felt like you’d known him your entire life.

But what you thought was fate, turned out to be folly.

It wasn’t fair.

Sometimes I fall But still, I rise To the skies high above In the clouds my ego Will go where no one knows

Why I am here

And why I try

To defy what I believe What it means to succeed To be won

To be one

To be “the one”

A smoking gun.

“Thank you.”

The cafe filled with snapping fingers as you walked off the stage, heart pounding and a smile plastered on your ducking head.

Look at you now. Performing in cafes, libraries, open-mics, wherever you could be that called for an audience. Still a little shy, but letting it motivate you and pour out on the floor to be soaked up by the listeners. It was an adrenaline rush, finally finding something you knew belonged to you and being damned good at it.

No one was better than you at telling the world how you felt while simultaneously mesmerizing an audience with your soliloquy and speech. Words still had a hold on you; you just figured it was better to say them out loud than keep them written down.

“Good job, Bug.” Your dad handed you a hot cup of tea fresh from the counter with your nickname scribbled in big cursive letters across the cup.

“Dad, please stop calling me that.”

He frowned. “But you’re my little bug.” He threw an arm around you, almost making you spill the hot liquid.

You groaned and protested. “I’m not a kid anymore.” And took a sip too soon, burning the tip of your tongue. You held it in and swallowed, looking around to see if anyone else saw the scorned look on your face.

You thought of 15 as one of your prime years and kept yourself busy to prove it. Just a sophomore in high school, Baby had a new hobby: dominating slam poetry. You had taken over the scene in your city with expansion heavy on your mind.

Though it was hard for your dad to hear, you were right; you weren’t a kid anymore. But you knew he was just proud of you. More than you could ever know. It made him happy to see you had something no one could take from you.

With a tsk, you leaned into his hug. You should be thanking him more. When the idea of doing slam poetry first crossed your mind, you were a hot mess (surprise, surprise) at being confident (BIG surprise)—your stage presence was lacking, to be specific.

On the page, your poems were like water in a desert, but opening your mouth and performing it with your whole chest was…different.

Fixating on your lines and rhythm made you want to pull your hair out. It was hard making sure your words sounded like you and would be understood. You needed to be understood.

You’d practice your performances in front of your dad until you were blue in the face. A show was put on for anyone who would listen. And secretly, you missed Suguru’s presence because he’d be perfect for it.

But you didn’t need him. You were on your way to competing in your first official local competition. All your practice around the city and long hours at home agonizing over your talent for slam poetry built up to that moment—the time to show the world what you had to offer.

Nothing felt better than holding the gold 1st place medallion between your fingers afterward. Regionals came next, and nothing could have validated your talent more than the medals you took home on top of the prize money your dad stashed away for college.

It was time to travel, and Nationals was your next target.

You couldn’t describe the feeling of finally being outside your city. The thought of being beyond the walls of home once felt like a hopeless dream. New cities, new friends, new organizations, and new styles of poetry were within your reach. The exhilarating travel that worried your dad put a thrill in your heart. You wanted to see everything—be heard everywhere. Life was full of opportunity and everything it had to offer.

“So you’re gonna do the group piece and then an individual one, maybe?”

You leaned against the cool bus window as you and your teammates winded down the road to your next hotel. Over the summer, you traveled with your state’s top slam poetry organization to compete in regional cities around the coast. All of this was practice for the Nationals coming up that August before school started. The day was coming faster than you could imagine.

“I don’t know about a solo,” you wondered.

You looked out the window and chewed your bottom lip. Your team lead had been pushing you to do a stand-alone piece for the Nationals for weeks, but you felt far from ready. You were strong in a group, but on your own, looking out into a crowd of people while demanding their attention on an empty stage, the thought made you queasy.

This wasn’t your local library or a small regional contest. Nationals is where you tell the country who you are and why you matter.

“Hey,” a hand rested on your shoulder, calling you back. “You’ve got this. You deserve this.”

And you did deserve it. You’d worked too hard and advanced so far in such a short amount of time. You didn’t think you’d get here so fast, but here you were, on a double-decker bus full of others who were just as talented as you, in a place where you belonged. In a place where you didn’t have to try so hard or look for that slight nod of approval to let you know you were seen.

August was in a hurry to put you on the stage because, before you knew it, it was time to head to California for the Nationals. What better place to begin to live your dreams than in the place where they all come true? Sunny skies, sandy beaches, and the aura of art and performance lingered in the air. It was the complete opposite of where you came from. It felt like home. You could see how Suguru could get easily lost in all.

You always wanted to visit the West Coast and see how he was living.

It’d be so funny to randomly Snap him after all this time and tell him you were so close, but you decided against it.

Cali was HUGE; there’s no way the competition would just happen to be in his city for you to casually bump into him.

Plus, imagine that awkward reunion after a few years of radio silence.

You two could be completely different people now.

He probably wouldn’t even want to see you.

Maybe you didn’t want to see him.

So many great things happened since his family packed up and left. In fact, without Suguru around, you found yourself excelling more naturally at anything and everything than ever before. Comparisons were a thing of the past, and you knew you had something no one else could take away from you.

Except maybe the competitor going on before you at the Nationals.

The audience was loud and clearly approving of his killer performance as they ate him up with whistles and snapping fingers.

Who needed a mic when you had a voice like that?

Easily projecting across the entire venue with every rhythmic pop, beat, and enunciation of his words.

You might have met your match or worse.

For the first time in your poetic career, you thought you just might lose your winning streak.

Anxiety convinced you to head back to the holding area. You just needed to run through the lines of your solo only a few more times.

You’ve got this.

He was nothing.

This was nothing.

You were taking home first place—absolutely positive that success was literally on the tip of your tongue. Until you saw him.

The boy with the raven hair.

Unmistakable and stopping you dead in your tracks as you saw him in the flesh for the first time in 2 years, standing long and tall in the venue.

Not in the audience.

Not as a stagehand.

But in another team’s holding room.

As a competitor.

Your heart plummeted into your ass.

What in the fuck was he doing here???

You swiftly ducked behind the wall leading to your team’s holding area, hand flying to your chest to still the thunderous beating.

Deep breaths, deep breaths. DEEP B R E A T H S.

Suddenly, your mouth was desert dry.

The entire summer, you prepared yourself to keep from slipping up—how you would suppress the urge to call him, think about him, or wonder where he would be when you were here.

You covered all of the bases.

But here he was in a place you least expected.

In a place you now knew you’d dread seeing him the most.

The boy you had become a ghost to was haunting you, but somehow, you knew this would happen.

You only got a quick glance at him before you vanished, but it was enough of a glimpse to notice the chances.

And God, were there changes.

As teenagers do, you both had grown out of your prepubescent bodies and into your young adult ones. And while you thought you looked relatively the same with a few upgrades here and there, Suguru had gone through a full-blown glow-up that set yours on fire.

“Almost ready?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Your teammate followed your line of sight and smirked. “Know him?”

You shrugged a bit too nonchalantly and said you thought he looked familiar but didn’t. “Shame,” she rested her shoulder on the wall with a dreamy gaze. “He looks like a dream.”

You turned away before you threw up and realized that you were about to be called up next. The frazzled look on your team lead’s face let you know she’d been looking for you, and you took a synced deep breath when she spotted you. Her hands fell on your shoulders before you went up the stairs to the stage. “You’ve got this.”

I’ve got this. . . . You don’t got this.

Your legs felt like Jell-O walking up the short set of stairs to the black platform in the middle of the stage. You hadn’t been on one this big, in a venue so large, with an audience so vast and eyes in the hundreds. The row of judges sat below you, yet looked so intimidating. Heat engulfed you from the lights above—a literal deer playing the lion in the headlights.

Sight zeroed in on the judges, you avoided the audience. Hoping that he wasn't still there because you knew seeing him WOULD freak you out.

In the silence Between the shattered and oppressed dreams I found, I tore The roar Of my own voice Reclaiming the night

Your lines flowed out of you more naturally than water, eyes closed, unfocused, or hazy as you transformed your surroundings into the scene of your story—the journey from struggle to empowerment—the story of why you deserved to be here. In that moment, there was no one else—not even the judges—just you, the stage, and the song that belonged to you, even if it mattered to no one else.

But it mattered to him.

And you didn’t see him until near the end of your set.

The familiarity of your voice called him to confirm it for himself. To make sure it was you. He couldn’t believe it. You looked so…powerful. Fully fledged in your adulthood, kicking ass and taking names. Fierce and poetic. The same attitude as the girl he grew up with but in its full realization.

Your voice cracked a little when you spotted him, completely awe-struck by you, but you played it off like it was part of your set. Damn the boy who had the same gawking eyes that used to watch the neighborhood kids—quiet and longing. You hoped it wasn’t obvious, but Suguru noticed. He knew. He still had some kind of effect on you. He could tell by how quickly you looked away. You still felt a way about him. He wasn’t just a nobody to you. But given the circumstances, he didn’t know whether to love or hate it by the time he took the stage.

The mic fit snuggly between his fingers. It was rare that someone fully approached it without starting their piece first. You wondered where he was going with this, why he looked a bit tense, why he kept his gaze low—if it could be because of you.

You held your breath and crossed your fingers. Once again, it was time to see him in action under the sweltering stage lights. And in seconds, you saw your gold medal fleeting.

You expected nothing less.

His voice was lined with melody—a sweet, ethereal flow and a melodious string of vocabulary that wrapped you in an envelope and swaddled you like a baby. He sounded so mature. He sounded so much better…than you.

The nerdy boy with too-big glasses and cracking voice had been replaced by a young man who towarded over the audience with a long side-bang and gauges in his ears. The red tie around his neck did look absolutely ridiculous like he said, but the rest of his navy blue uniform was tailored to perfection and fit like a glove.

He looked and sounded like where he came from. Money. But he was more than that. You found yourself hanging onto his every word as you watched from out of sight. He couldn’t see that he made your heart thump, but it was begging to fall out of your chest by the second.

This wasn’t about slam poetry anymore.

Suguru had entered your arena.

Shy, reserved, and knocking the ball out of the park.

Out of over 200 solo acts, you came in 6th. Suguru came in 5th.

And you couldn’t even feel good about it. Because you knew what this meant.

Regionals took over the remainder of your sophomore academic year, but when summer rolled back around, it was time to look Suguru in the face again at almost every out-of-state competition. The West Coast was once a dream—now you dreaded touring the area because you knew he would be there.

Performing.

Waiting to chew you up and spit you out.

Over the final two years of high school, you both spent most of your free time hopping around the nation and directly squaring off with each other.

Growing more apart as you did.

Silent hatred brewed and led the way every time you saw him—unmistakably written on your face.

He chalked it up to the fact that the two of you had changed over the years, and maybe you’d simply outgrown him. But he never thought someone he used to call his best friend could give him a look so cold. With no other choice but to follow your lead, he kept his distance and pretended you weren’t there.

But the way he racked up medal after medal, winning over judges and audiences alike, was loud and clear.

With him, you could only hope for second best. Though out-of-state competitions were just practice, losing to him in any capacity was a constant reminder that what was yours, wasn’t anymore.

If it ever was.

This time, anxiety burned through you instead of helping you.

During junior year, one of the most pivotal moments of your poetic careers, you met face-to-face again at the Nationals. Both of your organizations fought their way to the semifinals, but as you held your breath waiting for the judges to call his team’s name, silence swept both of you when you realized that neither of you made it to the finals.

Again.

By that summer, you were tired, good and tired of inching closer and closer to third place, then second, but never first in out-of-state competitions where Suguru was in the mix.

He was sucking the life out of you, but you couldn’t show it, especially when on stage where you knew he’d have his eyes glued to you.

Then, in August of your senior year, it finally happened; you returned to the Nationals, your final opportunity to win and go international. This time, it was close to your territory, in Georgia.

All bets were off.

The winner was a toss-up.

And what a slap in the face to finally win….and tie with Suguru.

You sulked on the inside the whole ride home while your teammates cheered and celebrated around you. To them, you’d just made history with your organization being the first in your state to go to the continental competition and have a shot at the World Poetry Slam Championship.

To you, your freedom of expression kept escaping you.

You felt yourself starting to mold into something outside of yourself.

Some nights, you lied in bed, unable to sleep hearing Suguru’s rhythmic beats rack through your brain.

Analyzing them.

Judging them.

Mimicking them.

Wanting to be like the best.

Your foundation was shaking.

At least you didn’t have to worry about the continental competition. Winning wasn’t the point; only earning one of the top 10 high scores to be automatically qualified for the WPSC.

It was a dream come true.

But how come it tasted so sour when you stood on that stage, your teammates going absolutely insane in the crowd at the news of you advancing to the international championship, but once again with a score just shy of Suguru’s?

The two of you were declared the best in your country…and you were sulking.

It shouldn’t matter!

You're one of the top 40 poets in the WORLD, babe!

And, for Godsake, a free plane ticket and trip to leave the country was waiting for you with your name on it! Belgian waffles and fountains of chocolate are more than enough reasons to get over yourself and this one-sided beef.

But your dad still got an earful about it.

Weekly chats with him almost always centered around poetry and Suguru ever since you first saw him sophomore year.

The closer the world championship came, the sadder you sounded.

“What if I-”

Your dad stopped you. “Don’t even finish that sentence. What have I always said?”

You hugged the phone to your ear, rolling your suitcase back and forth between your legs in the airport terminal. “Bug,” your dad said after a moment’s silence.

You groaned. “We don’t say ‘what-ifs’. We say ‘what is’.”

“And what’s going to happen.”

You looked over to your team lead, soundly napping in the corner. It was the butt crack of dawn, and both of you had gotten to the airport way too early for your liking to make sure you didn’t miss your flight. Your first international flight. You actually had a passport, like???

So much had gone into getting you here.

Energy. Time. Effort. Trust. Encouragement.

People were rooting for you. They wanted to see you win. You wanted to see you win.

“I’m gonna do my best.”

“Then you’re already a winner, Bug.”

God, your dad was gushy. And God, you loved him for it.

You didn’t feel so bad by the time you watched the sunrise in full bloom through your airplane window.

Pink, orange, and yellow washed over your face, making you feel so small. It wasn’t your first time in the sky, but definitely the most nervous you’d been.

Local papers, blogs, and newsletters featured your name—people knew you now; they had expectations.

A reputation had been made, and now you were in the fight of your life to keep it.

You sighed into your palm with your dad’s words in mind.

David was determined to take Goliath down.

Belgium.was.cold.

Like you hadn’t packed nearly thick enough coats type of cold.

You felt like an idiot.

You were a lyrical genius but couldn’t even put ‘Belgium in December’ and ‘it might be freezing’ together. But the lobby of your quaint little hotel with hot chocolate on tap was warm and inviting.

Your team lead handed you a cup, and you found yourself missing your teammates. They would have loved this and cheering you on at the top of their lungs.

The feeling was lonely—nerve-wracking.

You were in the beautiful country of Germany for a competition, not leisure, so you couldn’t even relish in the fact that you were overseas.

At least the food was good. Nervous eating made you binge until you felt sick the night before the competition, but a quick stroll in the brisk morning air made you feel better.

The bus ride to the venue felt like you were about to hop into a boxing ring. And the gloves were off.

Crossing the threshold into a space full of chosen people was like marveling at the diamonds of top-society. And you were one of them. Your team lead walked by and closed your gaping mouth with a smile. “Chin up, dear.” And disappeared into the crowd.

You'd never met a foreigner before and were thrust into a venue full of different skin tones, accents, languages, and ages. It would’ve been even more overwhelming had it not been for the smell of coffee wafting through the air, reminding you of your last safe space for poetry before you went pro. With half an hour left until the competition, you thought exploring a little wouldn’t be a bad idea.

The venue was dark and moody, perfect for setting the atmosphere and circulating the rising tension in your body. The main stage basked against the background of darkness under a single warm light that cast a circular glow.

Your final destination.

His burial sight.

Suguru was nowhere to be found, but by the looks of the thick crowd shuffling in to fill their seats, it was easy to get lost. You met back with your team lead to run your rhythms a few more times.

“Please don’t say it.” And she laughs, giving you a small nod and shoulder squeeze.

You still hear it in your head. You’ve got this.

But man, were these poets giving you a run for your money.

It was exhilarating and terrifying—a glaring reminder of why you were here among the best.

Translations were available on the screens behind the performers as you ping-ponged between their words and their expressions. Both demanded your attention and the crowd’s.

But so did you and Suguru when you both breezed through the semifinals.

For a second, you thought he hadn’t made it to the venue at all when you looked for him during your performance. But he let you and everyone else know he was in the building when he graced that stage. A hush fell over the space, and even you felt your face go soft while watching him.

He more than deserved that advance, but you weren’t done just yet.

After a brief intermission—the DJ wasn’t playing any games—you turned the corner to line up for the final round when you collided at 100mph with Suguru.

“Fu— oh.” You held your arm as you looked at him—really taking him in.

When he was on stage, you noticed he wasn’t in his usual uniform, but up close, the alternative was definitely a choice. The loose black tee ruffled as he smoothed his bang.

“Sorry.”

He rubbed his shoulder and kept his eyes low. His hands stuffed into his black cargos as he looked away, not wanting to upset you. Or see the look of resentment on your face.

You could tell he knew he made you uncomfortable, but you didn’t know how different he wished things could have been.

Hurt was written all over the face of your childhood best friend, and you never knew Suguru to be upset about anything.

You cleared your throat. “Good luck.”

His head drew back like he’d seen a ghost.

His lips parted.

Then he kind of smiled, leaning against the wall—looking at you for a moment.

You were so grown up and had accomplished so much.

Suguru was fully aware that you hated his guts and was so proud of you—even if you didn’t need him anymore.

He reached out to shake your hand. “Good luck, Twin.”

Your heart thumped—no one had called you that in 4 years—sweet and low from honeyed lips.

Suguru’s hand lingered in your air for a second before you gingerly took it.

Soft and warm.

Just like you remembered but stronger—firmer.

The gloves were off for him, too.

Things were done a bit differently for the final rounds. Instead of holding deliberations for the end of the rounds after everyone had gone, everyone got their votes front and center from five random audience members.

Paddles would fly in the air, displaying the scores to be tallied up and held until the end.

Thank God you could do quick math. Numbers were racking up—bone-chilling talent was on full display.

You were amazed, laughing, shocked. Every set was different from the last.

The crowd fell into a hush when one guy came on stage and laid straight down. Bareback to ground. Then fired off rhythmic jokes that made you laugh at some and ponder the seriousness of others.

Dark humor often has truth in it.

Most sets were in a completely different language yet spoken so beautifully that you dug your nails into your palms to keep from crying. Emotion was universal. And you were feeling a lot of them.

Suguru walking onto the stage snapped you out of it as you watched from the other side of it.

Though you’d just seen him a few minutes ago, this was a completely different light. Something had shifted.

Nice to meet you My name is Suguru Oh really? So is mine! It’s nice to meet you too.

Tell me what you’re like, what do you like to do? Lately, I’m not sure Was hoping for a breakthrough

In a world where masks are sticky and glue I’m lost in a maze with no clear view Doubt will cling like morning dew Caught in the storm of shifting hues

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought Suguru was having a mental breakdown.

Your jaw tightened, clothes fidgeting between your fingers.

It was the most unexpected thing you could’ve imagined. And this was just the beginning of the journey through his paradoxical mind.

His ship was sinking. And he was taking you all down with him.

…I wear many faces each one feels new, But none will fit like I want it to Left with a voice that's small and untrue Burying deep I don't know what to do

In this mirror, I’m searching for clues, But this reflection is oddly askew. You scream through the glass, “Stay real and stay true!” But if you’re me, then…who are you?

You could hear a pin drop.

Suguru stopped breathing.

He couldn’t believe that he actually did it. He had never been so vulnerable.

If you thought you knew him and what he was going through before, you were left stunned and corrected.

A few of his scores floated into the air, and though you couldn’t see them all, the few you did were perfect 10s.

It would’ve been hell to go directly after that—thankfully, you had a few more people before you.

Time crept closer and closer to your set—nervous sweats and fidgeting fingers kept you company.

So much for keeping a hobby a hobby, you thought, pacing backstage.

This wasn’t fun for you anymore; it was always supposed to be fun, easy, natural.

But this was no longer just about you.

It never was.

It was about proving anyone who ever doubted wrong.

When the host called your name, you made those 3 minutes on stage feel like your last.

Rain, rain don’t go away, You’re the only one who stays, Cross my heart and hope to die I promise that I will not cry

Build and build and There it goes! All for naught and just for show Hypnotize your guards to grave Leave the trust to fade away

This was your final plea to be heard by the world if you had ever made one.

A letter to those who ever dismissed, ignored, or left you.

Fire and brimstone poured from the pit of your soul—served up on a plate with the audience in mind but Suguru as the guest of honor.

You thought he’d be away in the dressing room or at least within earshot, but no. He stood tall and bright, leaning against the door frame that led out to the hall, backlit by the warm lights that framed his figure, watching.

Listening.

Knowing the poem was partially about him.

You hoped it hurt him as much to hear it as it did for you to write it.

Deep breaths kept your voice steady—he wouldn’t hear it crack this time as you powered through your trembles. Bold and brash. Unleashing your truth.

He saw it in your eyes and unconsciously did the only thing he knew to support you, the beginning of your connection—trust that blossomed into turmoil. The small nod of approval.

Years had passed.

Envy had pushed you to avoid him.

He accepted that you no longer saw him as a friend.

Yet he still wanted to show his support.

And it pissed you off.

…Lo and behold the savior's light Here to take another flight Take me by my desperate hand Lead me how you only can Fragile like a gentle rose I will follow where you go.

Shadows whisper of the known What I am. I am alone...

You walked off stage before you could see your final scores.

Whatever would be was now out of your hands—the relief felt agonizingly sweet.

Your team lead wrapped you in her arms as you silently cried. You didn’t know how long the tears had been building up, but the release was like a dam burst.

Crying on your first international trip to Belgium.

Nice.

A final intermission was left, and the scores were tallied. You guzzled down some water and took a few breaths before meeting the rest of the contestants. Finally, finally, you and Suguru stood side by side again on stage. Your entire history had built up to this moment—ready to declare a winner. Ready to determine whether you finally caught up.

His pinky brushed yours, sending sparks to your belly like that day on his porch.

Head down, you waited for a name to be called.

Any name, every name, would be better than—

“Suguru Geto.”

Naturally rolling off their tongue.

Suguru stiffened beside you like he couldn’t believe it himself as they motioned for him to come forward. In your mind, everything went quiet. You couldn’t feel anything but emptiness in the pit of your stomach. Not even anger.

Before he moved a muscle to claim the spotlight, he turned to you, daring to offer his hand again. But it felt less like a “Job well done!” and more like a pitiful “I’m sorry.” And you had had enough of condolences.

You turned away and left the stage in the midst of the raging applause for Suguru. No one else may have caught the cold shoulder, but to Suguru, it felt like he was trapped in ice. He could leave your life forever now for all you cared.

This was your one, final chance to make things even between you two.

But reality was a bitch.

You couldn’t get away from him quick enough.

Yes, you’ve gotten to travel the country. Yes, you got the opportunity of a lifetime to go overseas just off your hard work alone, but all of that meant nothing if you were only second best.

It was redundant.

What was even the point in trying? You would never be good enough to stand on your own. Always under his shadow, drowning in his wake.

It wasn’t.fucking.fair.

You brushed past your team lead, contestants—anyone trying to tell you how amazing you did. You couldn’t stand being bathed in lies and beelined out the back of the venue.

“Fuck this.” You choked back tears, breath escaping you as you pushed the door open.

The contrast of sharp, cold air whipped your face, making you realize you didn’t grab your jacket, but it was just what you needed to set the gravity of your situation in.

You were nothing.

You bawled your fists.

And foolish for trying.

Hyperventilating.

Look at what you came from. Look at what you get for trying to change that.

Hot, fat tears spilled down your face as you huddled in a corner of the building. You wrapped your arms around your knees, trying to shield the icy winds, but you already felt dead inside. Pathetic and worthless. It was out of your hands to change that.

A voice called after you, belonging to the last person you wanted to see right now. That soft, angelic voice that swooned the world and made your insides boil. Why couldn’t he just get it?? Why couldn’t he stay the fuck away??

You thought you had hidden yourself well by putting a bit of distance between the exit and the corner you tucked into, but he found you in seconds, tears dried on your face, crouching into your knees.

He stood there gaping, completely overwhelmed by the state of you.

For once, he was out of words.

“Well??” It was hoarse and cracking.

“I-I’m—”

“Oh my God, pLEASE fucking save it!” You shook, burying your head into your arms.

It was enough that he got to bask in your pathetic breakdown with front-row seats. He didn’t need to pretend he didn’t enjoy it.

But Suguru was fed up with your bullshit and came looking to tell you about it. The final straw was leaving his extension of sympathy high and dry as you walked off stage. Giving him the ultimate “fuck you” in his moment of congratulations.

He never understood why you hated him—the resentment, what happened, what he’d done. But he was about to make you explain yourself.

“Get up.” Gentleness left his voice.

He came closer and towered over your petite frame, cornering you so you couldn’t run away. “You think I don’t know how much this meant to you?”

When you didn’t answer, he crouched down to your level.

“Hey.”

You buried yourself deeper.

“Hey.”

“Don’t touch me.” You brushed him away, pressing your back into the wall as you stood up, shivering in the wind.

But it felt like you had punched him in the gut.

He had never seen you so bothered before, and the revelation that you were pointing the finger and naming him the culprit made his chest feel tight. It felt worse attempting to bury your heart on your sleeve. But the extent of your scorn was on full display.

After a moment of looking your bitterness in the face, it finally clicked for Suguru.

Why you hated him. Couldn't stand to look at him. Avoided him.

Why you started all of this competitive bullshit in the first place.

The root of it was more painfully obvious to see than the daggers in your eyes. What else could it be?

“You’re jealous.”

And that set you off.

“HA!” It almost hurt to laugh. “Jealous?!”

People could probably hear you inside the venue. But Suguru knew just what to say to get you to talk.

“This whole time, I thought you were upset because I left, but…you’re just jealous.”

You snorted. “You’ve never worked hard a day in your life.”

“What? You don’t think I earned this?”

“Who knows? Mommy buys you everything.”

“Woah,” he held up a hand and laughed, “Is that what this is about?”

Your cheeks burned hot, but you had egg on your face and had just spilled the beans. But fire still raged in your chest.

“You could have had anything else. Anything! Anything in the world, but you just had to take this from me!”

“How was I supposed to know??” he cut you off, “You stopped talking to me.”

You felt a pang and fell silent—flurries of unread texts, unopened Snaps, and missed calls played in both of your minds.

“How was I supposed to know anything? How was I supposed to have anything without making you feel bad?”

“Me?” You scoffed. “Without me, you’d probably still be sitting on that dusty ass porch (you loved that porch), watching everyone go and fucking live life.”

“I was like 7.”

“9.” You rubbed the blooming goosebumps on your arms.

“Whatever, you think I owe you or something? You want a ‘thank you’?”

His tone made you shift, but you puffed up your chest.

“No, I don’t need a thank you." Your eyes narrowed. “I’m just not that impressed.”

Oh?

He scoffed, backing away with a smirk, arms swinging as he looked away then back at you. “You’re full of it.”

“You’re not that talented.”

He cocked his head, raising a brow. You were questioning his talent—clearly emotional and spewing lies—but it was a shot at his reputation nonetheless.

His smirk faltered as he clasped his hands. “You wanna go?” And then he got closer. Your breath caught as he studied your face, his left arm shooting out to frame you, pinning you into the corner.

The heat radiating off his body should have been a comfort in the frosty air, but fuck, you also felt other things that raced your heart and made you hate yourself.

He leaned over you. “How would you like to eat your words? Fried? Or sautéed?”

His eyes bore into yours, daring you to buck up or back down. But just because he finally had the balls to challenge you and take up space didn't mean you were intimidated.

He was the same little boy he'd always been.

And you were quick to remind him.

“Bite me, Get—”

Instead, he kissed, capturing your lips in a way that shot electricity down your spine and stole the breath and shriek right out of your body.

In an instant, you swore your pupils morphed into hearts. For so long, he's wanted to do that—kiss your sweet, supple lips that ramble nonsense and shut you up—bridge the gap between your broken friendship to ask for more, to make all your fire, resistance, and anger melt away...so you could come back to him.

Knees weak, you nearly staggered, scrambling for the walls to keep you up, but was saved by his hand cradling your hip to hold you. Keep you. Protect you. Your heart burst.

You pulled away, eyes heavy. Leaving a sliver of space between your lips to see your heated breaths mingling in the chilly air as he rested his forehead against yours. Softly, you cradled his face in your hand, feeling waves of longing swell through your body—his had already burst. Then you slapped him.

“How’s that for poetry?” And left.

extended angel's note: this story took a TOTALLY different turn from what i originally planned (thanks Mac Miller) but omg it's sO much better and kinda fits into all of the sugu angst i have planned (oh how i love to hurt myself so). this story in particular was supposed to be like all smut and no exposition but um…things happen 😅 sO, all of the low-angst, ‘enemies’ to lovers lives in part 1, with a focus on the resolution in part 2: lovers who give in and chose each other arc while remaining focused on my original goal of making a smut that spotlights and actualizes realistic sex. learning each other, listening, patiently growing, and choosing.

#bluuharem #God is Fair #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk poc reader #jjk x y/n #jjk imagines #suguru x you #suguru x y/n #suguru smut #jjk smut #suguru geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #anime fanfic

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mad-raptorzzz · 9 months ago

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[ID: Two Wings of Fire dragons, Peril the SkyWing and Turtle the SeaWing. They are both sitting together on a blue background. Peril is bright orange with a yellow belly and softly glows yellow. She is looking over her shoulder to look quizzically at Turtle who is sitting to her right holding a marshmallow roasting stick near her back with a look of concentration on his face. His tongue is sticking out as he says 'Ok, this time it will work for sure!' On the ground below his feet are several burnt marshmallows smoking. Turtle is short, seaweed green with yellow accents, and plump. He wears a gold armband with sky fire on his right shoulder and a blue jade turtle earring on his left ear. /End]

Guess who finished a test and then finished this? Yep this guy did. A bit later than I wanted. But my favorite friendship is Turtle and Peril. Tall, awkward, lanky, terrifying trans lady befriends small, chubby, anxious, fish-smelling wizard child to go on a quest. I just love their interactions. And the fact that Turtle canonically has scales that are strong as diamonds/indestructible, that means they can give each other hugs. They definitely stay friends after the ends of the books. Maybe Turtle even helps her write scrolls about firescales so other firescale dragons have stories and experiences to draw from (Ruby totally makes it illegal to murder children based on a disability/gene mutation so there are going to be more mini Peril's running around and they deserve to have stories they can relate to).

I am trying to push my shapes a bit more. So lanky Peril and chubby Turtle. He's nice and round and she's a bit more pointy. I also switched up my Peril design a bit. Turtle is the same because I low key really like my design for him. But I saw a really cool theory about how Turtle should be Anemone's colors because he's the animus. So I might have to do a drawing of that. And maybe Anemone was 'standard' colors until she was cursed by Turtle. And then the magic starts forcibly changing her colors and pushing the other colors out.

#wings of fire #seawing wof #skywing wof #turtle wof #peril wof #firescales #but for real I love them both so much #It's no coincidence that two of my favorite characters are also my favorite friendship

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mononijikayu · 11 days ago

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red wine supernova — ieiri shoko.

“Hey, Shoko.” you began, your voice low, deliberately smooth. “Can I say something?” She glanced over, one eyebrow quivering in mild curiosity. “Hmm? About what?” “I like you. Wanna make out?” “Huh?”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence!;

WARNING/S: afab reader, fluff, romance, nsfw, r-18, making out, kissing, love, humor, domestic, light-hearted, slice of life, love at first sight, falling in love, cuddling and snuggling, sensual acts, slight jealousy, lesbian romance, pining, lgbtqia themes, underage smoking, depiction of making out, misogyny, harrassment, depiction of under age smoking, depiction of sensual acts, depiction of canon related violence, mention of making out, mention of implied sensual acts, usage of they/them pronouns for reader, sorcerer! shoko, geto's sister! reader ;

WORD COUNT: 10k words

NOTE: i know i said there would be geto's younger sister, but i realized i think its more interesting if they are one year older. shoko was born november 1989, geto's older sister was born february 14, 1989 and suguru was born february 3rd, 1990. he's formal about his elder sister too, despite one year distance. but he's also very playful with them. they were recruited a year earlier than suguru and went to kyoto because they wanted to explore the culture. there's stuff i thought about them, so this might end up being a series. but we shall see!!!

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

IEIRI SHOKO DOESN’T THINK SHE’S KNOWN LOVE BEFORE. But she likes to think that it all changed when she met you for the first time. It was almost like fate, it was almost like there was no avoiding it. But she was happy about that. No, she was grateful that it was the case. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have had the pleasure of knowing life for the first time.

The first time Ieiri Shoko met you, it was entirely by accident. Nothing about it was designed to her liking. Or her wishes. But she was glad it happened. Because she met you. That's why it was worth it to her.

She had been wandering through Tokyo’s vibrant streets, relishing her rare day off from the usual chaos. She found herself near a cozy outdoor café, its quaint tables scattered under the shade of trees. From the corner of her eye, she spotted you: sitting alone, sipping iced coffee and nibbling on a croissant.

The scene was peaceful, the kind she usually ignored, but for some reason, she lingered, her gaze flitting back to you now and then. Then she noticed the disturbance.

A man had approached you—a smug, overbearing presence that seemed out of place in the otherwise tranquil atmosphere. His voice carried over the quiet hum of the café, his tone laced with a sickening blend of arrogance and entitlement.

“Come on, sweetheart. Just give me a chance. You don’t have to sit here all alone.” he drawled, leaning closer to you than was polite.

Your response was calm at first, measured. You weren’t even looking at him. “I’m not interested. Please leave me alone.”

But he didn’t listen. He leaned in further, his grin widening as if he thrived on the discomfort he was causing. Shoko hated men like that. Well, she hated men in general. That was just how it was.

But perhaps a slight difference when it came to Gojo and Geto. But that’s besides the point. She didn’t like men. And she didn’t like this man in front of her most, at least in that moment.

But she promised herself that she was going to take a break, dealing with men. She earned it after dealing with those two. But she kept staring. And staring. The man would not stop talking.

Shoko sighed, annoyance bubbling under her skin. It wasn’t her business, she told herself. She had no reason to get involved. She kept repeating that to herself, almost like a mantra.

But the way you stiffened under his presence, the look of frustration mixed with unease on your beautiful face. No one was moving about to tell of the creep. Not a single one. And that sparked something in her. A bit of annoyance, a dash of anger and a hefty amount of disgust.

She told herself she wouldn’t do much today. But she didn’t know how to do that. Not with men like these around. Not when you looked like you were ready to cry out against this creep. Without even realizing it, she readily stood up, abandoning her little cafe treats and her matcha before she started walking toward you, her fingers curling into fists.

“Hey, jackass—” she began, her voice sharp and dripping with venom. But before she could finish her sentence, your fist connected with the man’s jaw in a blur of movement.

The crack of impact echoed through the café as the man stumbled backward, careening into a nearby tree with a satisfying thud. Shoko froze mid-step, her eyes wide as she processed what just happened.

Everyone in the cafe now paid attention, when they didn’t earlier. They looked at you, face stone cold with disgust and anger. And your fist, brutishly brushed with redness with how hard you had hit him.

You shook your hand out casually, muttering under your breath. “Persistent types like you are the worst, you know that? Ugh, this is why I can’t stand men.”

Shoko blinked, her annoyance at the man replaced by a mix of admiration and surprise. But then, she felt it. It was quite easy to feel, even if it was just a faint pulse of cursed energy rippling from you, subtle but unmistakable. Her brow furrowed briefly, but it wasn’t the cursed energy that captivated her. It was you. And you were good at controlling your cursed energy. Too good.

“You better leave me alone, got it? Actually, for the matter of fact, leave every woman alone!” You retorted back to the man, getting nearer to him. He cowers, like the actual coward he is. “Now scram! Don’t ever come back here, you creep!”

The man started to cry wolf as he scrambled to his feet and started to leave. You snicker, looking at your red fists. You pout for a moment. You had fresh nails put on, Shoko saw. You must have chipped them. Shaking your head, you move to leave for your table once more. She walked the rest of the way over, stopping beside you as you calmly picked up your croissant like nothing had happened.

“That was quite impressive.” Shoko drawled, her tone laced with amusement. “Didn’t even need me to step in.”

You looked up at her, slightly startled but composed. “Step in? Were you planning to? Also….who are you? I’ve never met you in my life…..but I suppose, thank you.”

You seemed to be quite adorable to her, with the way you seemed to look at her with this clueless gaze. Your purple eyes were beautiful, brighter than anything she’d ever seen. Shoko thinks she could get lost in them quite often, if she continued to stare at you. But she quickly cleared her throat, slightly flustered.

“Maybe. I was just there.” she said, shrugging. “But I think you handled it just fine. That punch was... something.”

You smirked faintly, tilting your head. “I appreciate the thought, stranger. But I’ve dealt with worse.”

Shoko chuckled softly, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets. “Stranger? That’s a first. But clearly. Still, you might’ve gone a bit overboard. He might’ve cracked a rib or two on that tree.”

“Good.” you said simply, taking a sip of your iced coffee. “The more, the better. That way, he won’t have to cause more trouble for women.”

Shoko’s lips curled upward despite herself. There was something about your nonchalance, your quiet strength, that made her chest tighten in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. You were a breath of fresh air in her rather nonchalant, dull everyday. And she had just met you.

She shook her head, more at herself than anything else. “Name’s Shoko, by the way. Ieiri Shoko.”

You raised an eyebrow but offered a polite nod. “Nice to meet you, Shoko. And thanks... I guess.”

“For what?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“For caring enough to try.”

And just like that, Ieiri Shoko knew she was in trouble. Because in the space of a few, genuinely, tender sentences and one well-placed cursed energy punch, she was done for.

Ieiri Shoko thnks that she had fallen for you—completely and irrevocably, right then and there. And there was no going back. That moment, fate had decided that you both were made for each other.

══════════════════

SHE KNEW SHE MISSED SOMETHING. God, that was frustrating. God, Shoko hated it. Absolutely hated it. Not the idiot who got himself punched into a tree—that part was satisfying. That part was great. And hearing you talk and seeing you smile as you both conversed after that, everything about that was just phenomenal.

But, everything after that, she hated. She hated how she’d been so utterly struck by Cupid’s arrow that she forgot to ask for your name. Or where you were from. Or what your phone number is.

Or anything that could’ve prevented her from obsessing over you like some lovesick teenager. She had all the chances and she blew it. She absolutely made it a mess even before she met you.

Now, here she was, groaning into her coffee at Jujutsu High’s cafeteria, replaying the scene for the hundredth time in her head. Everything was so vivid and bright and yet she was distracted by the entire time.

Nothing was entering her head when she listened to you speak. But in her defense, you were just….you were just everything. And she breathed and lived you for a moment. She couldn’t help it.

It was like the sun had come out for the first time. The clouds had parted. The birds were singing a melody to life once more. And it was because of you. You, sipping iced coffee like a goddess, croissant crumbs on your lips, while she just stood there gawking. She might’ve drooled. She wasn’t proud. But she couldn’t help it. Not when it was you.

Across the table, Shoko hadn’t noticed the tall white haired man before her. Gojo Satoru was staring at her with a growing grin, like a cat that had just found a mouse to toy with. This is the first time, he was certain, that Ieiri Shoko had been fazed in the entire time he’s ever known her. And it was all too interesting, all too fun. But also all too curious.

“You good there, Shoko?” he asked, poking her cheek with his finger. “You’ve been sighing like a drama queen all morning. Let me guess. Hungover?”

“Yo, Satoru.” Geto interjected behind him, his voice calm but firm. “Leave her alone. She must be exhausted from her healing courses with Ami–sensei.”

“Ha? She also drank a lot of the contraband we brought in—” Suguru rolls his deep purple eyes at him. Gojo Satoru frowned. “Yah, don’t ignore me like that, Suguru!”

Geto Suguru, did in fact, ignore him like that despite his protests. Suguru turned to Shoko, his dark purple eyes full of genuine concern. “Seriously, though. What’s wrong? You’ve been acting weird.”

Shoko groaned louder and slumped further into her seat, refusing to meet their eyes. “It’s nothing. I just… I messed up, okay?”

Satoru’s eyebrows shot up, his smirk widening. “Oh-ho, Ieiri Shoko messed up? This I gotta hear. Did you botch a surgery? Or maybe—”

“Shut up, you stupid Gojo.” she muttered, glaring at him. “It’s not like that.”

Suguru shushed Satoru, who rolled his eyes back at him. Suguru looked back at Shoko once again and raised a brow. “Then what’s it about, Shoko? Any trouble? You know you can tell us anything. We’ll help you out.”

Shoko hesitated, her face flushing red slightly—a rare sight that immediately caught both of their attention. Suguru looked at Satoru, who looked back at him, just as curious. She sighed, realizing there was no escape, and finally confessed.

“I met someone the other day, during my day off.” she mumbled, barely audible.

“What? Who?” Satoru leaned closer with a sly grin on his lips, his sunglasses sliding down his nose. “What was that? Didn’t catch it.”

“I met someone!” Shoko snapped, sitting up straight and glaring at him. “Happy now?”

“Ohhh, Shoko’s got a crush!” Gojo Satoru crowed, clapping his hands. “This is gold! Who’s the lucky person? Wait, don’t tell me….it’s the nurse intern in the infirmary, isn’t it? She’s cute, I’ll admit. But she’s no Waka Inoue—”

“It’s not the nurse, you idiot.” Shoko groaned, burying her face in her hands. “It’s… someone I ran into in Tokyo. Literally perfect in all the ways I can think of. Strong, gorgeous, punched a guy into a tree—”

“Wait, wait, what?” Suguru cut in, his eyebrows furrowing. “They punched someone into a tree?”

“Yeah, and it was beautiful, Geto. You have no idea.” Shoko sighed, her bright hazel brown eyes glazing over as she got lost in the memory. “I think I blacked out for a while, but she was drop dead gorgeous!”

“So what’s the problem?” Suguru hummed as he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“The problem is I was too stunned to function.” Shoko admitted, groaning again. “I didn’t ask for their name, their number—nothing! I just stood there like an idiot, making heart eyes at them.”

Geto Suguru looked away. Gojo Satoru stared at her for a moment. Shoko sighed, leaning back against her chair. Suguru bit his lower lip. But almost too happy to not keep it in, Gojo Satoru bursted out laughing, clutching his stomach.

“Oh my god, this is amazing! The mighty Ieiri Shoko, reduced to a lovesick fool! This might be the best day of my life.” He nearly fell off a chair, trying to balance himself.

“Shut up, Gojo. It’s not funny.” Shoko grumbled, throwing a napkin at his face. But he kept laughing.

Geto Suguru cleared his throat and looked back at her. The threat of laughter disappeared, at least for now. “Okay, let’s think this through. Did they say anything that could help us figure out who they are? Maybe they frequent that café?”

“Maybe……” Shoko admitted, her face lighting up with a sliver of hope.

Satoru grinned wickedly. “I’ll help you track your future wife down. But only if I get to witness round two of you turning into a blushing mess. Like, a little met cute and I get to watch you both fall in love.”

Shoko groaned again, louder this time. “Why do I even talk to you two?”

“Because you love us, Shoko.” Satoru said, flashing a cheeky smile. “We’re your best friends, aren’t we? You loooooveeeee us!”

Shoko feels like she regrets even being alive. She groans lowly. “You’re making yourself not be my best friend right now.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t you think this is great? We’re your support group!”

“I’d rather not have that right now, thank you.”

Suguru grinned. Sometimes, Shoko forgets that he’s Satoru in a different font. “As if you aren’t glad we’re here for you right now. Your dear best friends are helping you get a girlfriend!”

“I’d rather not get that from you both, thanks. You’d ruin it.” Shoko retorts back, with a pointed glare.

“But isn’t that only because we’re the only ones who’ll put up with your nonsense, don’t you think?” Suguru quipped, adding a smirk for good measure. “Actually, that should be for Satoru more than Shoko.”

“Excuse me? My nonsense is what makes life fun!” Satoru shot back, feigning offense. “Besides, Shoko’s nonsense is way worse than mine. She just hides it better.”

Shoko crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. “And yet, I’m still the sane one here.”

“Which is why you need us, don’t you think?” Suguru teased, leaning back with a knowing grin. “To balance things out. Otherwise, you’d be too sane. Boring even.”

Satoru clapped his hands together dramatically. “Exactly! We’re the chaos to your calm, the sprinkles to your plain vanilla. Without us, you’d just... exist!”

Shoko sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And here I was, thinking I’d have a peaceful day. Big mistake.”

“But that would be sooooo boring.” Gojo Satoru scowled, almost like a five year old not being given candy. “The peace and quiet should be fun and booming!”

Suguru grinned, crossing his arms. “Just like Shoko’s love life soon enough!”

Satoru and Suguru shared a small high five and laughed. Ieiri Shoko scowled at both of them but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips.

Maybe they were annoying, but she knew they’d have her back—even if it meant enduring Gojo’s relentless teasing along the way.

══════════════════

SHOKO THINKS SHE’S DREAMING. But no matter how she pinched herself, she knew this was reality. You were real. This was real. Everything about this was real. This next time Ieiri Shoko saw you, it felt like fate had finally decided to stop playing with her heart. It happened rather fast, faster than any prepared for.

Only two months later, the yearly Sister School Exchange Event between Tokyo Jujutsu High and Kyoto Jujutsu High happened. And if Shoko was being honest, she wasn’t expecting much.

She wasn’t even going to participate in the way that Satoru or Suguru were going to. Everything about the two day event was just the usual chaos of students beating each other up under the guise of “training.”

But Shoko was still required to attend. Thus far, she was the only student with the appropriate knowledge to heal wounds and treat damages. With her cursed technique, she was the only one who could help out the school’s physician and nurse with the amount of damages that may come between the students. No matter how bored she’ll get, she’ll still have to be here.

That’s what Ieiri Shoko expected for her experience this year. That she’ll be stuck watching kids like her with freakishly strong abilities fight each other to win. And she didn’t like that.

Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru would give her much trouble with how they could end up defeating all of the representatives from Kyoto if they wanted to. All those unnecessary patients she didn’t need or want to heal at this moment.

And then, you were there.

Just among the people in the front.

You were there, right in front of her.

Her mouth went agape with shock.

You stood among the Kyoto students, your uniform pristine, your posture confident. The moment Shoko’s eyes landed on you, it was like falling in love all over again—only this time, it hit harder. She froze, her heart doing that ridiculous thing where it skipped a beat, and she thought, Oh no. It’s her. It’s actually her.

As if sensing her gaze, you looked up, and your face lit up with recognition. A bright, radiant smile spread across your lips, and for a moment, Shoko could have sworn that the world stopped spinning, with all of that. But then, your gaze shifted.

“Suguru!” you called out, waving enthusiastically as you jogged over to him. “Suguuuuu!”

Ieiri Shoko’s smile faltered. Her brain screeched to a halt.

Oh, no. Oh, god. Are you straight?

Her stomach twisted. Were you... interested in Suguru?

Oh my god, you were already calling him Sugu?

Before she could spiral any further, Gojo Satoru —ever the opportunist—sidled up next to her, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Hey, Shoko. What’s with the face? You look like someone just kicked your puppy.”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Kill me now, Gojo.”

“Oh, this is rich coming from you.” he said, cackling. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for that Kyoto girl? The same Kyoto girl who’s now ogling Suguru? Shoko, you know we can’t trust them, let alone fall for them! What if they cry if we win?”

“I hate you. So much.” Shoko muttered, her voice muffled.

“Aw, come on, Shoko. You gotta admit, it’s funny—”

“Shut up, Gojo. Please!” she snapped, glaring at him. “I’m having a crisis here!”

Satoru snickered lowly, clearly enjoying her misery. “So, what’s the plan? Are you gonna confess your undying love before they elopes with Suguru? Or—wait—” He gasped dramatically. “Are you gonna challenge Suguru to a duel for their hand? I have to see this.”

Shoko was about to tell him off when she heard you laugh, your voice light and familiar. She glanced over and saw you standing next to Suguru, chatting animatedly. Then she caught Suguru’s expression: a rare, soft smile that he reserved for a select few.

Something clicked.

Wait. That smile wasn’t flirty. It was fond. Familiar.

…..One could say even familial in nature.

Then Suguru said, “You’ve grown, nee–chan! When was the last time we saw each other? Two years?”

And just like that, it hit her.

“Oh my god.” Shoko muttered, staring at you in horror. “They’re Suguru’s sister. Suguru’s older sister!”

Gojo doubled over, laughing so hard he nearly fell over. “This just keeps getting better! Shoko, you absolute idiot! All this time, and you didn’t realize they're Suguru’s sister?!”

“Shut up!” she hissed, her face burning as the pieces fell into place.

Satoru blinked, “They even have the same eyes with different color palettes! One look and it’s obvious—”

“Gojo, not the time!”

Satoru started to lose it once again. “Oh shit, you fell for his sister!”

“Gojo—”

Meanwhile, you had turned toward Shoko, your smile as bright as ever. You waved, your joy uncontainable as you called out, “Hey, Shoko! Long time no see!”

Her brain short-circuited again. But this time, it wasn’t because of panic—it was because she realized she had an in. And Gojo? He just kept laughing. Oh, this was something new to him. He’d never seen Ieiri Shoko be this down bad, or at all be defeated in such a way someone smiled or greeted her. This was incredible.

Shoko froze like a deer caught in headlights. You were walking toward her now, that same radiant smile plastered across your face. Her heart raced as a thousand thoughts flew through her mind, but one screamed the loudest: Play it cool, Shoko. For the love of cursed energy, play it cool.

But then, right behind her, Gojo Satoru wasn’t helping. “Oh no, Shoko.” he snickered innocently. “Please don’t faint now. You’ll ruin the moment. Should I start humming the wedding march?”

She shot him a glare that could’ve dropped a special grade curse. “Gojo, I swear, if you don’t shut up—”

Before she could finish, you were standing in front of her, looking just as beautiful…no, even more beautiful than the last time she saw you. Your bright purple eyes sparkled with recognition as you clasped your hands together, grinning.

“I can’t believe it’s you!” you said, your tone light and genuinely excited. “I’ve been wanting to get a hold of you. But I didn’t know your contact info! I also forgot about asking Suguru here. That one was my fault!”

“Nee–san took too many missions this time around again.” Suguru retorted with a slight frown as you rolled your eyes, playfully. “You know you get forgetful when you get too exhausted! Take less work load! Mom already tells me to tell you! I can’t keep telling you, nee–san!”

Your younger brother was cute like this, you thought. He was always concerned about you, and even though you were the one older by one year—your little brother was the one between the two of you who was always more protective and caring. Perhaps that’s why you love your little brother a lot. You smiled at him, waving him off.

“Don’t worry too much, Sugu! I get to rest too!”

He frowned. “How many coffees did you drink today?”

“.....Just a little bit!”

“Nee–san!”

“Anyway, Shoko. Thank you again!” You ignore your younger brother’s lectures once more, giggling. “I was grateful for having you there.”

“Oh, uh...it’s fine, by the way. What happened.” Shoko cleared her throat as she once more stammered, her usual cool demeanor crumbling under your gaze. “It was nothing. You handled it yourself, readily. Brilliantly. Properly—”

“You’re talkative!” You say to Shoko, causing her to blink.

She stops herself. “I’m sorry.”

You giggle. Oh, that was music to her ears. “No, no. It was just an observation. You have such a way of speaking, it’s rather nice to hear.”

Shoko could feel her cheeks turn red, brighter than before. She lowers her head. “A–ah…that’s fine. You…you still did much of the work, as I said.”

“Well, yeah….” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. “But I saw you coming over, and it meant a lot. It’s not everyday someone is willing to back you up like that.”

Shoko’s brain screamed: THEY REMEMBERED ME. THEY WERE THINKING ABOUT ME.

But before she could say anything remotely coherent, Geto Suguru once more joined the conversation, completely oblivious to the tension with a smile. You know that smile too well. You think you’ll get another lecture about this later. You sighed, you really should be more careful with yourself. You didn’t want to worry your little brother too much.”

“Since you know nee–san, we might as well make it more formal.” he said with a fond smile, resting a hand on your shoulder. “Shoko, this is my elder sister. They’re in their second year at Kyoto Jujutsu High. Nee-san, this is Ieiri Shoko. She’s one of the only healers who can do RCT properly.”

You beamed at her again, extending your hand. “Nice to formally meet you, Ieiri Shoko. My little brother talks about you all the time. You’re his…more sane friend, he tells me.”

Oh no, Shoko thought, panic setting in. She’s polite. She’s sweet. And she likes Suguru enough to listen to his rambling. I’m doomed.

Meanwhile, Gojo Satoru because of course, Satoru leaned into Shoko’s ear and whispered just loud enough for you to hear, “Shoko, do you realize?”

“Realize what, Gojo?”

He grins at her, his glasses falling slightly from his eyes. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not!” she snapped, swatting at him.

You tilted your head, curious but amused. “Blushing?”

“She’s totally blushing, nee–san!” Satoru teased, now openly grinning. “Rare sighting, don’t you think?”

Shoko groaned and ran a hand through her hair. “Please go on and ignore him. He’s an idiot.”

Satoru started to frown. “Shoko, not fair!”

“Then stop being so annoying!”

“I’m not being annoying, take it back!”

“No!”

You laughed again, the sound warm and genuine. You started to realize how animated they were the more you saw them argue. Suguru was right about them. They were fun. Perhaps especially to you – Shoko. Well, at least to you.

The doe eyed young woman pursed her lip onto a tight line as she felt the warmth of her cheeks deepen. She started to feel it in her ears and her neck. This was so bad. Right in front of you too. Ieiri Shoko felt like she could die right there and it would be fine. But then you said something that nearly killed her on the spot.

“So, Shoko......” you began, your voice tinged with curiosity. “How do you feel about dinner after the event? Maybe you can tell me more about how you and my brother became friends.”

Shoko blinked. “Dinner?”

“Dinner.” you repeated with a smile that made her knees weak. “Unless you’re busy, of course.”

Satoru gasped dramatically, butting in once more. “Is this a date? Oh my god, Shoko, you’re getting asked out—”

Suguru frowned, hitting Satoru’s arm. “Satoru, shut up.”

“But, Suguboo, our kid’s all grown up already! Flying out of the nest and spreading her wings out there in the wild, to find a mate—”

“Shut up, Gojo!” she barked, her voice cracking slightly She turned back to you, her cheeks burning. “I—I’m not busy. Not tonight…..Dinner sounds great, if you’d like it.”

“That sounds lovely!” You clapped your hands. “I don’t know many restaurants here in Tokyo, well the great ones. I’ll leave myself in your care!”

“Y–yeah….”

Geto Suguru arched an eyebrow at the interaction, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “Looks like you two are getting along already. Nee–san, I’m sure you’ll get along really well.”

You smiled at him. “That makes me happy, very much happy!”

Satoru couldn’t help but cackle. “Oh, they’re getting along great! Better than I ever imagined.”

As you laughed at their antics, Ieiri Shoko continued to think that all she could ever want in this moment was to go on and sink into the ground. And yet, all at once, she felt the enjoyment of these warm feelings inside of her.

At the same time, she couldn’t help the tiny, shy smile tugging at her lips. Because you were here. And you were with her. Shoko couldn’t help but think that maybe fate wasn’t so cruel after all.

══════════════════

EVERYTHING FROM THAT DAY WAS ONE OF THE BEST OF SHOKO’S LIFE. That dinner turned out to be a game-changer. Well, at least that’s what she thinks. Ieiri Shoko, despite her usual aloofness, found herself opening up to you in a way that surprised even her. Perhaps in more deeper ways than he’s ever found himself honest with Geto and Gojo.

But perhaps it was because you were easy to talk to. You just knew what to say to people. You just knew how to make them laugh. You were everything in one. You were funny, sharp, and undeniably kind. And Shoko was quite sure that all her feelings quickly realized themselves as more than what she thought it was.

Initially, she knew it was a crush and that had only been scratching the surface. That she knew all too well. But by the end of the night, she was right. There was more than what she felt on the surface.

She was utterly, quite honestly down to the depths of the earth smitten with you. But with the way you were looking at her, smiling ever so widely, even more than her — the stage was set for Ieiri Shoko. It was clear you felt the same way for her too.

Geto Suguru, sitting across from you two, watched with quiet amusement. He was pleased, almost proud, even. Seeing his best friend and his sister getting along so well warmed his heart. Seeing both of them happy and falling in love? He likes to think that could make his entire year. He liked seeing his nee–san happy, after all.

“It’s nice to see you laughing like that, Shoko.” he teased lightly as the three of you wrapped up the meal. “I’ll have to thank nee–san for pulling it out of you.”

Shoko rolled her eyes, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. “Shut up, Geto.”

The Sister School Exchange Event ended with Tokyo’s team taking the win. Kyoto’s students were graceful in defeat—well, only mostly—but the sting of competition was softened by the relationships that were fostered during the event. Still, when the time came for you to return to Kyoto, Ieiri Shoko found herself uncharacteristically reluctant to say goodbye.

“Take care, Shoko.” you said with a soft smile as you stood by the school gates. “And don’t be a stranger, okay? Call me!”

Shoko gave a lazy wave, trying to mask the twinge of sadness in her chest. “Yeah, yeah. You too. You have my number, no?”

“I do, I do.” You grinned, showing her your contacts. Shoko leaned forward and saw her name saved rather nicely on your contacts. “Is it the right number?”

Shoko smiled. “It’s correct. Don’t worry.”

“Okay.” You smiled back at her too, putting your phone away. “I’ll call you. I’ll text you too.”

Shoko smiles at you. “You better, okay?”

You grinned back at her. “I promise you, I’ll set it all up!”

As you boarded the car, you gave her one last fond look and grinned at her waving. Shoko waves back at you. Soon enough, Shoko watched the cars move and drive off towards the train station. Shoko was about to return to her dorms when she heard her flip phone ring. Shoko took it out and smiled.

You: Hey, just checking in. Did Suguru manage to keep Satoru out of trouble after we left?

Shoko couldn’t help but laugh as she began to reply. That first text turned into a conversation that lasted hours. Then another the next day. And the next. Soon, it became a daily thing.

Shoko tried to keep it casual at first, but she was uncharacteristically shy about texting you. She’d stare at your messages, overthinking every word before typing a response.

Still, despite her hesitations, she found herself looking forward to your texts. And when you started sending little snapshots of your day—a picture of a training session, a particularly stubborn curse you had to exercise, or just the Kyoto campus in full bloom. She couldn’t help but smile. She was learning so much about you. And vice versa too. But most of all, it was making Shoko’s heart flutter like a little butterfly in flight.

But it didn’t take long for Satoru and Suguru to notice. It was easy to do that. Shoko hadn’t realized how distracted she had truly been until those two came by her dorm. Shoko lounged in her bed for a moment, her phone buzzed with another message from you. She picked it up immediately, a small smile creeping onto her lips as she read your latest story about Kyoto’s high’s antics.

Satoru, who had been watching her from across the room practically pounced. “Ohhh, there it is again! That look on your face, Shoko!"

Shoko glared at him. “What look? Also why are you both here? Isn’t this the girl’s dorm? You can’t just go here without telling me!”

Suguru laughed, leaning against the wall. “Oh now you suddenly care for the rules, Shoko? We came by to check on you.”

She glared back at him, sighing. “I don’t need you to check on me.”

“That look really goes with the one from earlier. You know, the ‘I’m hopelessly in love and can’t stop texting them.'" Satoru teased, grinning like a maniac.

“Leave her alone, Satoru.” Suguru said, but even he was smirking. “Although, you’re not wrong. She’s been on her phone more than usual lately. Nee–san must have kept you up with their stories, no?”

Shoko groaned, slamming her phone face-down on the table. “I hate both of you.”

“No, you don’t.” Satoru said, leaning over to peek at her phone. “So, what did they say? Are they confessing their undying love yet?”

Shoko shoved him away, her cheeks flushing. “None of your business.”

Suguru chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “You know, I’m happy for you, Shoko. Nee–san deserves someone good, and so do you. So, if my sister ends up with someone, I’d be happy if it was you. You’re good when you want to be, after.”

Shoko blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. Shoko really hadn’t expected that from her friend. He was overprotective over his elder sister. So, she had expected to. But Suguru only smiled and wished her the best.

“Thanks, Suguru.” she muttered, her voice softer than usual. “That means a lot.”

Gojo Satoru clapped his hands together dramatically. “Oh, this is too sweet! I’m gonna cry. Someone hand me a tissue.”

Shoko threw a pen at him. “Shut up before I exorcize you.”

But despite her protests, she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips as her phone buzzed again. She’d never admit it out loud, but Gojo and Suguru were right—she was falling for you more every day.

══════════════════

SHE HADN’T EXPECTED THIS. The news hit Ieiri Shoko like a thunderbolt. It wasn’t just shocking; it was disorienting, cutting through the quiet rhythm of her evening like an unexpected slap. She stood frozen, her fingers slack, causing the glowing ember of her cigarette to slip through her grasp and sizzle faintly against the wet, dark pavement.

Her usually composed face betrayed her emotions for once—eyes wide with disbelief, her brows knitting together in a rare show of genuine confusion. The faint glow of a nearby streetlamp caught the slight tremor in her lips as she spoke, her voice low and disbelieving.

"What do you mean they’ve been expelled from Kyoto Jujutsu High?" she repeated, as though saying it aloud would make the statement less surreal.

The words hung heavily in the air between you both. Shoko's thoughts were already racing. There were too many questions blooming as quickly as they were silenced by her instinctive understanding that there was more to this story than she knew. Kyoto Jujutsu High wasn’t known for rash decisions, especially not ones involving someone like you.

“What?” she exclaimed, with such a concern on her face. “Geto, this can’t be real!”

Suguru sighed, rubbing his temples as he delivered the news. He looked just as concerned. “Apparently, nee–san got into a fight with a higher-up.”

Gojo Satoru didn’t look too bothered. He was lounging casually in a chair grinning like a mischievous cat. “Not just any fight—they decked the guy. Apparently, he was being rude to one of their upperclassmen. Because their senpai's refusing to send out one of the injured underclassmen to the field again. And they didn’t take it well.”

Shoko’s heart dropped. “They... what? They’re going to be a civilian now?”

Suguru nodded, his expression weary. “That’s the official line from the higher ups. Nee–san’s being expelled and cut off from jujutsu society entirely. Honestly, I get it, but—”

“Get it?!” Shoko snapped, standing up. “That’s insane. They didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Technically, nee–san broke the rules.” Suguru said, his tone placating. “But I’ll admit, it’s harsh. Nee-san’s not the first student to lose their temper over something like this. The kid’s going to die if nee–san didn’t step in.”

“Harsh? It’s ridiculous!” Shoko ran a hand through her hair, trying to process what this meant. If you were expelled, you’d go back to civilian life. No more cursed energy training, no more missions. And worst of all—no more being together.

“I can’t believe this. This is so stupid.” she muttered, sitting down heavily. “They’re going to disappear.”

“Disappear?” Satoru interrupted, his grin widening. “Who said anything about disappearing?”

Shoko blinked. “What are you talking about, Gojo?”

Satoru leaned back in his chair, his signature smirk firmly in place. “Let’s just say I pulled a few strings. Do you really think I’d let Suguru’s nee-san—and your big fat crush, soon to be lover—get kicked to the curb? Please. You should never underestimate who I am.”

“What did you do, Satoru?” Suguru asked, narrowing his dark purple eyes. “Please tell me it’s nothing stupid.”

Satoru waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, nothing major. Just convinced a few people that expelling your nee–san was a waste of talent. They’ll be transferring here instead.”

“Satoru, you did what?”

“What? I did nothing wrong!” Satoru argues, a pout on his lips. “It’s not my fault they cower and listen to my words really fast!”

Shoko’s jaw dropped. “Wait…..This means then…..they’re coming here?”

Gojo winked. “That’s right. Tokyo Jujutsu High just got itself a new student. Although, they’ll demote them to the first year. So, the newbies will be working with them. But the best news is that Suguru’s nee–san stays with us!”

Hearing the news was like a weight lifting off Shoko’s chest. Relief flooded her, followed by an uncharacteristic wave of excitement. You’d be coming to Tokyo. You’d be closer. And you wouldn’t have to give up your life as a jujutsu sorcerer.

Suguru, on the other hand, looked less impressed. If anything, he looked more stressed out than ever before. “So, what’s the catch? You don’t do favors without an ulterior motive, Satoru.”

“Catch?” Satoru said, feigning innocence. “No catch. Just being my usual amazing self. Though...” He leaned in with a grin. “Maybe now Shoko won’t be moping around all day texting her new Kyoto girlfriend.”

“Shut up, Gojo. Oh my god.” Shoko muttered, though her blush betrayed her.

“Hey, Suguru gave you his approval! Take the step, they like you too!”

The next morning came with a mixture of dread and resignation. As you trudged towards Tokyo Jujutsu High, your mind oscillated between embarrassment and a faint flicker of relief. At least this mess had one upside: you’d get to see your brother Suguru more often—and Shoko too.

When you finally arrived at the gates, the sight awaiting you almost made you turn around and head home. There they were, your welcoming committee: Ieiri Shoko, casually leaning against the gatepost with a cigarette dangling from her lips.

Your brother Suguru, arms crossed, looking amused and intrigued all at once; and, of course, Gojo Satoru, sunglasses perched on his nose, holding a handmade sign that read: “Welcome Back, Loser!” in bright glittery letters.

"Finally!" Gojo called out dramatically, waving the sign like a flag. "I was starting to think you got expelled again just walking here."

Shoko rolled her eyes and exhaled a cloud of smoke, but you caught the hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. “Took you long enough. Thought we’d have to send out a search party.”

Suguru’s expression was softer—teasing, but warm. "So, how does it feel being demoted? Does it sting less knowing you’ll be stuck with us now?"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Please, can we not call it 'demoted'?”

“Oh, but it’s perfect, isn't it?” Gojo interjected, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “A whole extra year of us tormenting you! And by ‘us,’ I mean mostly me.”

"Speak for yourself, Gojo." Shoko quipped, flicking her cigarette into a nearby ashtray. “I’m just here to enjoy the show. And maybe your suffering... a little.”

Her eyes twinkled mischievously, but the corners of her mouth softened, betraying a hint of fondness. Despite their teasing, there was an undeniable warmth in their presence. This wasn’t just punishment—it was a chance to start fresh, closer to the people who mattered most. You straightened up, brushing off the weight of your earlier shame.

"Okay, okay. I get it. Laugh it up. But let’s see who’s laughing when I outscore all of you this year.”

Gojo threw his head back in mock laughter. “Oh, they’ve already got jokes! This is gonna be fun.”

As you all started walking toward the school, Suguru nudged your shoulder. “Welcome to Tokyo, nee–san. Try not to enjoy being around Satoru too much, okay? You’ll end up with a bad lifestyle!”

“Hey! I am not a bad influence!” Satoru glared at Suguru, who couldn’t stop smirking anyway. “I’m the best one!”

Shoko, walking beside you, added with a sly grin. “But if you do, at least make it entertaining. I’ve got high expectations.”

“Well…I do know one or two.” You grinned back at Shoko.

“Nee–san, please don’t! I’m a good boy!” Satoru retorted, pouting like a child.

“Suguru, is he always like this?” You pointed at Satoru.

Suguru sighed. “Unfortunately, nee–san.”

“HAH!? What do you mean unfortunately? Suguru!”

“Now, now.” He continues to smile at her, ignoring Satoru’s tirade before he turns to Shoko. “Okay, let nee–san go and settle everything. Shoko, show my nee–san around!”

“Alright, come with me.” She smiled back at her.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

“That’s nothing. Welcome to Tokyo!” she said, her tone casual, though the corners of her lips twitched into a small smile.

You grinned back at her, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Good to see you again, Shoko.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she played it cool. “You’re stuck here now, so don’t make me regret letting Gojo pull those strings for you.”

“Letting him?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure he didn’t need your permission.”

“Don’t push it now.” she replied, but her smile softened.

You smile back at her. “Oh, what a challenge.”

The female dorms were on the other side of the main gate. So, Shoko took her time introducing you to the whole building. It’s a bit more modern than Kyoto Jujutsu High, and perhaps even more breathable than most.

You should have joined Tokyo from the beginning, you like to think. At least there, no one would have been breathing down your neck about everything and anything.

The rest of the school was cloaked in quiet, save for the rhythmic hum of grasshoppers and the occasional distant laughter of upperclassmen still lingering outside. They must be going on a mission, watching them gather supplies at one of the weapon stores.

You both walked a bit more before you both reached the dorms. Shoko guided you to the female dorms, her steps unhurried, her cigarette faintly glowing in the dim light. She handed you your key and you thanked her. For once, she wasn’t rushing. She wasn’t deflecting. She was just… here. Enjoying your company.

"You’ll be in this room. Just next to mine." she said, pushing open the door with a faint creak. The space was modest but clean, the faint scent of freshly polished wood lingering in the air. “It’s not exactly luxury, but it beats Kyoto’s dorms, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, setting down your bag with a relieved sigh. “Honestly, I don’t care where I sleep right now. I just want to survive tomorrow’s lectures and the scrutiny of it all.”

Shoko chuckled softly, leaning against the doorframe. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Gojo doesn’t derail everything. Well, I’ll try—no promises.”

But as she watched you unpack a few essentials, she felt something shift inside her. It was subtle, like the way dawn crept into the night—quiet, yet unmistakable. She hadn’t realized how heavy the silence around her had been until now.

With you here, it felt lighter, less suffocating. Shoko had always been fine being alone, or so she thought. But this? This felt better. Her thoughts were interrupted later when she returned to the common area, only to find Satoru and Suguru waiting for her like mischievous foxes who’d just sniffed out a secret.

She glares. “Why the hell are you guys here again? It’s the female dorm building!”

“Just wanted to go and help nee–san clean up.” Suguru says in his defense. “My nee–san’s a germaphobe.”

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. You become flustered. “Sugu, I would have called you about it.”

“I know, I know. But it would get done quicker. And I know how you like it.” He smiles at his elder sister and then at Shoko, who seems to be annoyed that her time with you was broken. “Sorry if we came by this quickly.”

“It’s fine.” You smiled at your brother and then at Satoru. “Come in.”

“Hey, Shoko.” Satoru started, leaning casually against the arm of the couch. His grin was far too smug to mean anything good. “You’ve been awfully chipper today. Something you wanna share with the class?”

Suguru smirked, arms crossed as he added, “It’s almost like you’re… happy or something. Suspiciously happy.”

Shoko didn’t even flinch. She calmly lit another cigarette and exhaled a plume of smoke with an almost zen-like air. “Wow, groundbreaking observation. Maybe I’m just relieved the dorms didn’t burn down while you two were around.”

“Uh-huh.” Satoru pressed, leaning in closer, his sunglasses slipping down his nose. “Or maybe you’re just glad someone else is here to put up with us.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quivering upward. “You’ve been downright pleasant, Shoko. What’s the occasion?”

Normally, she’d roll her eyes, deliver a sarcastic retort, and walk away, but this time, she surprised herself. She looked at you, but you had your back turned to check on your bathroom. She grinned at the two of them.

“Maybe I am.” she said simply, her voice soft but firm.

The boys blinked, clearly expecting more resistance.

Satoru recovered first, his grin widening. “Oh, this is gonna be fun. She does have feelings!”

Suguru chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t push your luck, Satoru.”

Shoko just took another drag from her cigarette, smirking faintly. Their teasing didn’t bother her tonight, not when it came from a place of familiarity and care. Because for the first time in a long while, Ieiri Shoko didn’t feel so alone. And even if she’d never admit it aloud, she knew it was because of you.

You came out of the bathroom. “You know, I think we should get some dinner. So on the way, we can go and get cleaning supplies.”

“Alright, alright. I know the best place!” Satoru says, taking out his phone. “Let me get a driver here.”

You looked at Suguru, confused. “Do we need a car?”

Suguru smiled at you. “Let him be, nee-san. He likes small pleasures of us commoners.”

Ieiri Shoko sighed.

It’s going to be a long night.

But at least, she'll be with you.

══════════════════

DAYS WERE PASSING BY WAY TOO QUICKLY. Adjusting to life at Tokyo Jujutsu High wasn’t without its challenges—for both you and Shoko. You were repeating your first year, waiting for the other incoming students to arrive, which left you with a lot of free time around the dorms. And as much as Shoko tried to focus on her responsibilities, your presence made it nearly impossible.

You were, in Shoko’s mind, too beautiful for her own sanity. Every morning, you’d greet her in the dorm hallway, always looking effortlessly stunning. A white oversized shirt seemed to be your go-to, and Shoko could never help but notice the lack of a bra beneath it. Your long hair, still slightly messy from sleep, flowed freely, catching the soft morning light.

“Morning, Shoko!” you’d say brightly, your voice warm and cheerful as you padded barefoot past her toward the kitchen.

Shoko, leaning against the wall with a cup of coffee, would nod, trying desperately to maintain her composure. “Morning, morning.” she’d reply, her voice as nonchalant as she could make it. But inside, her thoughts were anything but calm.

Are you doing this on purpose?

Then there were the days you decided to dress up a little more, usually when you ventured outside or had meetings with Yaga to discuss your uniform adjustments. You’d toss on a cute mini-skirt paired with some casual top, and Shoko had to fight the urge to openly gawk. The skirts suited you far too well, and she found herself glancing a little too long when you weren’t looking.

“You’re staring at them too much, Shoko.” Satoru teased one day, catching her mid-gaze as you walked across the courtyard in your mini-skirt and go-go boots.

“Shut up.” Shoko muttered, sipping her coffee with a forced air of indifference.

“Can’t blame you, though.” Satoru said with a smirk. “They do look good.”

Shoko shot him a death glare, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t argue with him.

“Hey, hey….can you not talk about my nee–san like that in front of me?” Suguru frowns as he downs his coffee. “Too early for this.”

And that, Ieiri Shoko can agree with him too.

But she can’t help it either way too, her eyes rising back up.

You looked too good, ever so good that she wants to eat you whole.

That wasn’t the only time. If anything, it was only the beginning. One lazy afternoon, you strolled into the common area wearing yet another oversized shirt—this time paired with short shorts that barely peeked out beneath the hem. You flopped onto the couch next to Shoko, your long legs stretching out as you scrolled absentmindedly on your phone.

Shoko glanced at you briefly, trying not to focus on how close you were. “Waiting for Yaga–sensei to get back to you about the uniform again?” she asked, keeping her tone casual.

You sighed dramatically. “Yeah. I just want something comfortable, you know? But also cute. I’m tired of the basic uniforms.”

Shoko smirked slightly. “Cute, huh? Isn’t the point of a uniform that it’s... uniform?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Oh, come on, Shoko. Life’s too short to not look good while fighting curses.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Fair enough.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, and Shoko allowed herself to relax. But then you turned to her, resting your chin on your hand. “You’ve been really kind to me, you know.” you said softly, your eyes meeting hers. “I’m glad I ended up here.”

Shoko’s breath caught for just a second. “It’s nothing,” she replied, a little too quickly. “You’re family to Suguru. That makes you family to me.”

You smiled at her, warm and sincere. “Still, thanks.”

As you returned to your phone, Shoko leaned back, trying to suppress the fluttering in her chest. Every day with you felt like a dream—one she never wanted to wake up from.

Ah, she thinks to herself. I really am in love with you.

══════════════════

SHE CAN’T HELP BUT FEEL THIS WAY. Lately, Shoko had been feeling... off. She’d always been good at brushing things aside, compartmentalizing, and moving on.

But this was different. You weren’t around as much anymore, and it wasn’t even your fault. It was just the life of a Jujutsu sorcerer.

Between missions with Nanami and Haibara—your new classmates who Shoko grudgingly admitted seemed like good people and the way Suguru and Satoru always managed to monopolize your time, there wasn’t much left for the quiet moments she had come to treasure.

At first, she told herself it didn’t matter. You were busy. That was life at Jujutsu High. Everyone had their own path, their own responsibilities. But that logical voice in her head was steadily drowned out by the gnawing feeling in her chest.

Jealousy wasn’t something Shoko indulged in often, but here it was, creeping in and making her unreasonably annoyed at things that shouldn’t matter.

She missed the late-night chats, the way you’d flop onto the dorm couch after a long day and fill the silence with stories, complaints, or even just your presence. And now? Now it felt like you were slipping through her fingers.

That’s why, when she caught sight of you one evening by the dorm entrance, her heart skipped a beat. Who would have thought that fate would surmise that both of you were going to smoke here today. She could feel her heart pounding against her chest faster as she approached you.

You looked exhausted, your uniform slightly wrinkled, a faint smudge of dirt on your cheek. Yet somehow, you still looked radiant, your hair catching the faint light from the hallway. Shoko froze for a moment, torn between her usual nonchalance and the strange surge of emotion threatening to bubble over.

“Didn’t know you smoked.” she said casually as she stepped outside, lighting her own.

You turned to her with a small smile, blowing out a plume of smoke. “Don’t tell Suguru. He worries too much about me.”

Shoko chuckled. “My lips are sealed.” She reached into her pocket but frowned. “Forgot my lighter.”

You held up your empty hands. “Didn’t bring mine either. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, you both stood there, the soft sounds of the night filling the silence. The silence somehow felt awkward. And that was the first time this ever happened. But well, there was a first time for everything. But Shoko didn’t like it. And neither did you.

You take a moment to look at her, as though to study her face. There was disappointment in the corner of Shoko’s eyes. She must have been just as stressed out too. And a smoke was her release.

You purse your lips into a flat line, tightening your lips against the smoke. You closed your eyes, as though to gather courage. Then, without a word, you stepped closer to her. Shoko froze as you closed the distance, your movements slow and deliberate.

“Come here.” you murmured, your cigarette still against your lips.

Before she could react, you leaned in, pressing your body gently against hers to steady yourself. The faint warmth of your skin seeped through your shirt, and Shoko’s breath hitched.

Your eyes, calm and unreadable, locked onto hers as you tilted your head slightly to angle the glowing tip of your cigarette towards her own, locked against her lips.

The moment seemed to stretch into eternity. Shoko’s bright brown eyes widened slightly, her usual composure slipping as she focused on the heat between you.

The warmth of your cigarette lighting hers, the closeness of your body, and the intensity of your gaze. Everything about it was something Shoko wasn’t prepared for.

“There, it’s lit.” you said softly, pulling back just enough to blow out a trail of smoke.

Shoko exhaled slowly, both to test her lit cigarette and to steady her suddenly racing heart. Her face is redder than before. Shoko did not expect it at all. How could she? You acted rather meek and different.

Even if you meet her cheekiness, she never expected that you would be so straigh forward and cool about it. You smiled at her, continuing to smoke soon after, the smoke blowing through the cold winter air. She clears her throat, trying to stay calm.

“Thank you.” she manages, her voice steady but quieter than usual.

“No problem.” you said with a small smile, stepping back to your spot. You leaned against the railing, the cool night breeze rustling your hair.

Shoko took a long drag from her cigarette, her eyes lingering on you as you stared out into the night. For someone so effortlessly chaotic during the day, you had a calmness about you in moments like this, a stillness that drew her in like a magnet.

“Didn’t take you for the jealous type, Shoko.” you said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Shoko nearly choked. “What?”

You smirked, glancing over at her. “You’ve been avoiding me lately. I figured you were mad about something.”

She raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool. “I’m not mad. Just busy.”

“Busy, huh?” you teased, your tone light but knowing.

Shoko rolled her eyes, taking another drag to mask her growing flustered state. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But the truth was, she was jealous. Jealous of the time you spent with everyone else, jealous of how effortlessly you seemed to fit in everywhere. And after that moment, so close she could feel your breath—Ieiri Shoko realized something else.

She wasn’t just jealous about it all.

She was falling even faster, even harder.

And you noticed every bit of it from her.

The night was quiet, the cicadas the only witnesses to the two of you standing outside the dorms. Shoko leaned against the wall, exhaling a slow, practiced plume of smoke, her usual unbothered air firmly in place.

You, on the other hand, had been gearing up for this moment all day. The cigarette between your fingers was barely lit now, more for show than anything else. Taking one last drag, because it felt dramatic, you plucked it from your lips and turned to her with an almost too-casual smirk.

“Hey, Shoko.” you began, your voice low, deliberately smooth. “Can I say something?”

She glanced over, one eyebrow quivering in mild curiosity. “Hmm? About what?”

“I like you. Wanna make out?”

“Huh?”

For a second, Ieiri Shoko froze. And then it happened: she sucked in sharply at the wrong moment, and her cigarette turned traitor. She coughed—no, she hacked—doubling over as smoke puffed out like she was a malfunctioning chimney.

“WHAT?” she rasped, her voice half an octave higher than usual, her face rapidly turning the color of a ripe tomato.

You, far too pleased with yourself, stepped closer, arms crossed and smirking like you’d just won the lottery. “You heard me. I said, I like you. Wanna make out? Need me to repeat it slower?”

“Don’t,” she wheezed, holding up a hand as she fought to regain her composure. “I heard you the first time, you idiot!”

But her reaction was gold. For all her usual coolness, Shoko looked genuinely flustered, her cigarette forgotten as she glared at you with wide eyes. The sight alone was enough to make you laugh—not mockingly, but with genuine affection.

“C’mon, you’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” you teased, leaning just a little closer.

She recovered quickly, though, because of course she did. Shoko straightened up, tossing her cigarette to the ground with a flick of her wrist and stepping into your space.

“You’re lucky I don’t deck you for that.” she said, her voice a little rough but her lips twitching like she was trying not to smile.

“Uh-huh.” you replied, meeting her gaze without backing down. “But you don’t want to, do you?”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a second, you thought she might actually slap you. But instead, Shoko surprised you. She grabbed you by the collar, pulling you down to her level in one quick motion. You slyly smiled at her, almost like a fox. Your purple eyes meeting her own.

“You’re insufferable.” she muttered—and then she kissed you.

The kiss was warm, soft, and a little fierce, like she was trying to prove a point. You blinked, momentarily stunned, but quickly melted into it, your hands finding her waist as you kissed her back with equal enthusiasm.

You pushed even harder, your palms pulling her face closer as your tongue pierced through. She moans against your lips, meeting your challenge as you both end up resting against the wall of the dorms.

Both of you didn’t care about what happened next or if people caught you both. It felt good to make out like this. It’s good to have desires about each other like this. When you finally broke apart, her cheeks were still flushed, but her signature smirk was back in full force.

“There. Happy now?”

You grinned, your confidence bolstered by the way she was still holding onto your collar. “Very. Wanna do it again?”

Shoko rolled her eyes, the very picture of exasperation, but the slight tug on your collar betrayed her. Her fingers lingered there, warm and steady, as though letting go wasn’t even a consideration. She wants to taste more of you too. She wasn’t done with you, not just yet.

“You’re so annoying, you know that?” she muttered, but there was no bite to her words—just the faintest waver that gave her away. “Just like your brother.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway.” you teased, your grin growing wider than before. "More than my brother."

“Don’t push it.” she shot back, but her smirk was impossible to hide.

And before you could come up with another witty retort, she silenced you with another kiss, this one slower, deeper, and entirely deliberate. The world around you seemed to fade, the distant hum of cicadas blending into the background like a symphony meant just for the two of you.

Her hands slid from your collar to your shoulders, her touch grounding yet electrifying. You didn’t know how long you stood there, tangled up in each other, but time didn’t seem to matter. Nothing else matters when it comes to loving you well with everything she can.

The world around you seemed to blur, the cicadas fading into the background, the soft hum of the night becoming a distant melody. Her hair smelled faintly of smoke and something floral.

And her hands, usually so clinical and precise, were surprisingly tender as they brushed against your neck. It wasn’t rushed or frantic, just... real. Like the two of you had been waiting for this moment far longer than you’d realized.

When you finally pulled back for air, your foreheads pressed together, both of you breathing a little heavier than before. You smiled at her. Shoko’s face was still flushed, her usual cool composure thoroughly unraveled.

“Well…..” you said, your voice barely above a whisper but laced with satisfaction. “I’d say this went better than expected.”

She huffed a laugh, swatting your shoulder lightly. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“No promises, Shoko.” you quipped, leaning in again, only for her to place a hand on your chest, stopping you with a mock-serious glare.

“Okay, but if we’re doing this….” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “You better not tell Gojo or your brother.”

You snorted. “Oh, sure. Like they won’t figure it out the second they see us together. We’ve been obvious with the will they won’t they, don’t you think?”

Shoko groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Ugh, they’re going to be unbearable.”

“Probably. They’ll always be annoying.” you agreed with a grin. “But worth it, don’t you think?”

Her eyes softened, the smallest smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah.” she said quietly, almost like she didn’t mean for you to hear it. “Yeah, it’s worth it.”

“Hey, I’ve got to ask.” you began, your tone deliberately playful. “You know, back in my dorm…. I got a new bed. California king. Wanna try how soft it is while making out?”

Ieiri Shoko blinked, and for a split second, she looked genuinely caught off guard. Then, she threw her head back in laughter, the sound light and unrestrained, echoing through the quiet courtyard.

“You are unbelievable, you know that?” she said finally, shaking her head, though the smile tugging at her lips softened the words. “I can’t believe I love such a sly fox.”

That made you pause, your grin morphing into something softer, more genuine. You raised a brow, leaning in just a little closer. “Oh, you love me now? That’s quite the upgrade.”

She rolled her eyes, but the way her fingers lingered on your arm betrayed her. “Of course I do.”

For a moment, you just looked at her, your heart doing a little flip at the way her usual cool exterior had melted away tonight. Then, with a sly smile of your own, you reached for her hand.

“Well then, Shoko....” you said, your voice warm and teasing. “Let’s go see if that California king lives up to the hype.”

This time, she didn’t roll her eyes. Instead, her fingers slipped easily into yours, warm and steady, as if this was where they were always meant to be. The sound of her laughter, rich and unrestrained, danced through the night air as you led her back to your dorm.

The walk wasn’t long, but the teasing was relentless. “I can’t believe you’re this smug,” she said, though her cheeks were still flushed, her eyes bright with amusement.

“Oh, I’ve earned it,” you shot back, glancing over your shoulder with a grin. “And wait until you see the bed. You’ll be impressed. Trust me.”

By the time you reached the door, Shoko was already laughing again, her free hand pressing against her mouth to stifle the sound. But the moment you unlocked the door and stepped inside, all pretense of restraint was gone.

The second the door clicked shut, you pulled her in, her laughter bubbling up again as you stumbled backward together. You both giggle against each other warmly.

“You’re really not wasting any time, huh?” she teased, but her arms looped easily around your neck, her body leaning into yours.

“Not when it’s you, baby.” you murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face before capturing her lips in a kiss.

Her laugh melted into a soft sigh as her hands slid down your back, and from there, the rest of the night became a blur of warmth and closeness. You kissed her until your lips ached, your hands tracing lazy, teasing patterns along her arms, her back, anywhere you could reach.

And Shoko? She was louder than you’d ever imagined—not just her voice but her reactions, the way she laughed against your mouth when you tickled her side, the way she gasped when your fingers grazed the sensitive spots she hadn’t realized were there.

“Quiet, huh?” you teased at one point, grinning as she smacked your shoulder lightly.

“Shut up. You’re too sly with this.” she muttered, her voice breathless but full of humor. “You’re the one making me like this.”

“All me, huh?”

“Don’t get used to it.” she shot back, but the smirk tugging at her lips betrayed her.

The California king bed, as promised, lived up to the hype—spacious and comfortable, it became a playground for stolen kisses and tangled limbs. The two of you didn’t bother pretending this was anything but indulgence, letting the hours slip by as you explored the newfound closeness between you.

For once, there was no need for pretense or restraint. There was just her, and you, and the quiet freedom of the empty dorm building. By the time the early hours of morning began to creep in, it was still pretty dark. Ieiri Shoko was sprawled across the bed, her hair a mess, her lips swollen from too many kisses. Of course, a lot of love bites.

You were no better, shirt slightly open as you lay on the side of the bed. Sweat was still permeating throughout your body, your dark hair in a tangled mess. It was as long as Suguru’s own hair, but perhaps darker than his own hair. You wanted to tie it up, but you were a bit more exhausted.

You run your hands through her hair as you lean forward to kiss her once again. She moaned as she kissed you back again. She surrendered rather quickly about that too. And that had made your grin more smug than before. Both of you part away from one another, but still remain close, skin to skin.

“Remind me to thank everyone for being out all throughout, okay?” you said, your voice low and playful, breaking the comfortable quiet of the room. Shoko, sprawled lazily against your chest, let out a soft, tired laugh, her breath warm against your skin.

“I’ll buy gift packs for them.” you added with a grin, the thought clearly ridiculous but fully committed to your usual dramatic flair.

“You’re ridiculous about this.” she replied, shaking her head, though the warmth in her tone made it clear she didn’t mean it. Her fingers idly traced circles on your arm, and her lips curved into a soft smile as she glanced up at you.

“You don’t have to do it.” she said, her voice quieter now, like the intimacy of the moment had softened the sharp edges of her usual sarcasm.

“Hmm?” You tilted your head, raising a brow. “Why not?”

She rolled her eyes, that familiar exasperation laced with fondness, but before she could reply, you leaned in closer, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

“I liked being able to make you feel good without people complaining.” you said, your tone surprisingly earnest beneath the teasing grin.

Her face flushed again, a faint pink dusting her cheeks as she looked away, her lips twitching as though trying not to laugh. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Maybe, maybe.” you said, letting your grin soften into something more genuine. “But you didn’t seem to mind.”

Shoko let out a breathy laugh, burying her face against your chest for a moment. “I hate that you’re right about that.” she muttered, though the way her arms tightened around you betrayed just how much she didn’t mean it.

“I’m always right.” you teased, earning a playful shove from her.

“Don’t push your luck.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, her hand still lazily tracing patterns on your arm, your own fingers gently brushing through her hair. The warmth between you was palpable, the kind of connection that didn’t need words to fill the spaces.

Eventually, she spoke again, her voice softer this time. “You’re ridiculous. But... thanks.”

“For what?”

“For this, all of it.” she murmured, gesturing vaguely at the two of you tangled together. “For making me feel... cared for and loved.”

Your grin widened, your chest swelling just a little at her words. “Anytime, Shoko. Anytime. You’re my girl now, aren’t you? I’ll always make you feel good and cared for, okay?”

Shoko smiled back at you, her cheeks turning warm scarlet. “Okay. Look forward to the same from me, okay? Since you’re mine now.”

“Then I’ll leave myself in your care.” You giggled, happily. Shoko adored that.

And for the first time that night, you both fell into a quiet, peaceful stillness, her smile lingering long after her eyes closed, content in a way neither of you had felt in a long time. Ieiri Shoko will let this live in her mind for a long, long time.

She rolled over, resting her head on your shoulder, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your chest. No complaints. No awkwardness.

Just the two of you, lucky in the quiet glow of the darkness, enjoying each other in every way you could. Both of you were just happy.

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sizzleissues · 7 months ago

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Its May.

Okay so this is in the same AU I had last year its just changed and evolved while also being the exact same. Except now I have 15,000 words of it written, like 7,000 words of planning and lore and hours upon hours of research that I will be pointedly ignoring. Will be posting more stuff this month about the AU and my hopes and dreams for it

Also slight art improvement check? I’ll put their original mermaid designs below the cut.

It’s Marinette as a mermaid and … its not Adrien or Chat Noir but a third worse thing (Catwalker but in the purest manifestation of it being a curse and not who he wants to be) I will be making designs for mer!Ladybug, and mer!Adrien as its own thing later on.

Okay if you want to indulge me look below the cut

Old mermaid designs first. I am going to be talking about my design thoughts, thoughts and ramblings about this AU and what I’ve been up to. You have been warned

As you can see, some things have changed but neither design I hated, I just wanted to go further with it.

My brain is quite specific about mermaids and how I want them to generally look. I wanted to distinguish biological merfolk from transformed humans by having them being anatomically different. So Adrien has a vertical tail instead which is also way faster underwater. His transformation is quite distressing for him and very chaotic. Of course when he accepts it he’s not so raggedy.

Marinette similarly avoids her life as a mermaid by becoming human and I wanted her mermaid design to hint toward her fascination with humans. She wears a top she fashioned from human fabric she found in a sunken merchant vessel. In general all other merfolk either forgo clothes or wear things fashioned from materials available to them. There’s deep fear of humans and human things so even though human clothes are available to them (off dead bodies but…. Whatever) they choose to difference themselves as much as possible. The same taboos don’t exist for them and their bodies are already adapted from the temperature of their environment. Adrien has stray bits of netting and seaweed on him because he’s not exactly the best at controlling his speed and often crash’s through fishing nets and patches of seaweed resulting in stuff being caught on him.

A lot of their designs are still being worked but I’ve definitely pushed them the right direction!

On to the AU. You might have seem me cryptically talk about something I’m writing the past few weeks. This is because it’s been in my brain since last May and been on and off writing it since then. I decided I’d talk about it once May came back around but and then when I finished writing it, start posting sneak peaks and more spoilery art until it was fully edited and I felt confident in it to post with an aim for it to finish posting once May rolled around again. Oh god.

It’s set in the late 1700s in a fictional version of France that’s actually fragmented over a bunch of islands. I have done more fashion research than I ever thought I’d do and in the end we will still be taking creative license but know I do know what they actually wore! I ALSO did a butt tonne of research about sailing ships and turns out they are super complicated and now I know too much and yet too little still about them. It should be super fun and action packed if I can manage. Have some really good scenes already in my head I know you’ll love. We’re already three ships battle deep and I’ve only written four chapters. (It chills out for a bit after that)

This is entirely self-indulgent by the way. I’m writing this for me, you guys are just a bonus. I literally don’t care as long as it satiates my rabid need for the fic that only lives in my brain at the moment. Saying that, I do want to put my best foot forward.

The next thing I will be posting for this is their human forms and more blabblerings about that. For I am insane and all.

#miraculous ladybug #sizzle sketches #miraculous #miraculous fanart #ml fanart #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #mermay #mermaid au #Ml art

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keikakudom · 8 months ago

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I decided to make a HH AU cause...y'know....anyway.... now introducing

Reset Resort! A Hotelier Vox AU

- you already know, it's a hotel Vox AU.....but not quite what you're thinking. Kind of a swap between Alastor and Vox, it focuses on the butterfly effects of this single change, rather than a full reversal.

- Most things are kinda(?) the same. Except the hotel is not as run-down and quite more successful. As if S1’s hotel started with S2's reputation and building. It's also more modern/sleek and closer to your typical strip hotel. Much more busy with additional residents coming in and out. Think Vegas-style. It has way too many amenities than necessary, and it's actually an enjoyable place to hang out , but the message for "redemption" might be a bit....lost.

- It’s supposed to be a place where Sinners can (lightly) indulge in their vices without risk of falling into a soul-binding deal on their road to recovery.

- In this AU, movement between Sinners/Winners has been proven. NOT redemption yet. With this “concrete” evidence, Vox considers it "purely a business investment" to sponsor the hotel.

- Because of this "proof", Heaven has granted Hell/Charlie a grace period of an extra year with no exterminations, so long as they continue to monitor the process and Hell provides further progress and evidence of redemption.

Vox is there for the start up of the hotel with Charlie. He sponsors her project with his reach and expertise. His personality is much more subdued, his TV persona taking center stage, except for rare occasions. His temper is not as bad as in-canon. AKA, he’s much more fake and corny in this AU.

Charlie is slightly more mature and realistic in this AU. She studies redemption seriously and notes behavioral patterns/is much more patient and careful with the process. With Vox being extremely efficient and taking over the managerial/facility side of the resort, she is able to dedicate her time fully towards the redemption of sinners and being a therapist. She is still overzealous sometimes because she knows that if nobody else will show enthusiasm/push sinners to do better, then nobody will.

- Vox tried to manipulate Charlie very early on when they first met, and Charlie ended up realizing his kindness was just for his own benefit and has been wary of that fact ever since.

- Their relationship is like: she knows he’s reliable and will do everything she asks, but is doubtful/sad that he’s ingenuine. Vox thinks Charlie looks at him with pity and absolutely HATES it, but he still plays carefully so he can do a repeat and build up her trust again. Doesn't like Vaggie for a similar reason. They just think he's another misguided sinner in need. Neither have fully grasped the idea that most Sinners chose to do-evil(which he certainly has).

- Vox holds a contract with Lucifer. What for? Well... let's say that they're on good terms and are friends. They meet with each other once a week (where Lucifer gets social interaction and updates on Charlie).

I already have sketches for Alastor and Vaggie planned out in this AU~

It's less of a full "reversal" and more so one swap and the butterfly effect that follows. This AU has been my brainchild for a few weeks, so PLEASEEE I'd love to answer any questions or asks....

My AU tag is #au: reset resort

All information can be found under there! Until I make a masterpost or something.

Old design under the cut:

#hazbin hotel #my art #au: reset resort #vox #charlie

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jellitchi · 9 months ago

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vat7k designs in my head...

i thought their canon designs were a eensy weensy bit Unpolished so i made these mostly for myself. erm if u rly want it i think varian is 19 here, hugo 19, nuru 18, yong 12.

i also made rhem all playlists and had to draw them a cover so thats what the last img is I linked each of em under my notes for all of em... Under the cut is Like a Huge Infodump of notes i have for each chara,,,,,,

i kept varians design basically the same, i dislike the design w the orange neck thing so i just Nuked it😭... Here's Varians playlist

Hugos design i just wanted to put him in something more Loose. hes a thief, a professional escape artist. i dont think wearing clunky metal is ideal for him. i also gave him a prosthetic arm (blond w no arm design trope!) but u cant see it in the ref so i added another drawing of him in his under layering👍 i vaguely referenced russian(?) clothes for him as well... Yeah not too much changed w him i just tried to make him slippery-er. Here's Hugo's playlist

yong came relatively easy to me, if it wasn't obvious i did rip gaming from g*nshin's hoodie. i thought the lion hood was Adorable and freaking perfect for what i had in mind for hos character. since the og notes said the fire kingdom is loosely Chinese inspired i basically just kept that. i mashed tgt a buncha diff dynasties though sorry for how inconsistent i was... i think he looks Okay. anyways i changed yongs role a bit, ill explain why im adjusting some of their roles later but i kept yong as the Jinx Type character. hes the eldest in his family and has a buncha younger siblings, hes a lion dancer and does performances w his family/siblings. he rly like special effects n keeps tryna incorporate his fireworks into their performances (it flops and he has to sew up the dmg) ill explain more of yongs role in another post maybe shrugs... Here's Yong's Playlist

miss nuru was a bit of a struggle for me i might share my full design process with her coz i did a Bunch of mockups for her😭😭😭... i didnt have a specific country of reference for her but i chose to make her vaguely south asian inspired. i also really wanted to keep the sheer fabric w the star / constellation map. i love that idea its so cute so shes still technically the navigator. but she also wields a sword too, fencing or whatever. (her and varian r Huge Cass fangirls which is probably why she started tryna use a sword (snuck out to watch cass compete) Okay ill talk abt this later) in my head, okay ill Probably make a whole nother post talking abt how im interpreting/writing each chara, but in my head i think nuru is the youngest and her kingdom's archivist. shes mostly in charge of like Her kingdoms history / artifacts / etc. ok im getting too side tracked ill save the lore dump for later but thats Nurus role in the party. Here's Nuru's Playlist

uhm below i made their character stats mostly to help me with planning / role developing. the yellow is their base stats the color behind is their end stats i guess. i was gonna explain my reasoning for their stats but ermm this post is kinda Really long so sorry😭... varian max int for obvious reasons, also max charisma just coz i feel like u kinda learn a thing or two being around a couple manipulators and spending time in jail idk shrugs... (also lets not forget the "ud b surprised what ppl would do for a cookie!") Hugo slippery guy, if a brick is thrown at him as hes running hes gonna try n run faster to shatter it, his mindset is Run Run Run! i think hes relatively agile too but yeah mostly a Speedster. i think he n varian got no Physical strength varian maybe just like A little coz Farm boy but I rly doubt quirin is making him do a Lotta heavy lifting. yong has incredible stamina and agility because hed a performer. nuru is the strongest coz this team would literally Flop without a proper Offense😭... i think varian n hugo r able to outwit plenty of their opponents but i think nuru is pretty good in a fight, same w yong. Yeah Okay Sorry for a Long Long Post thanks hope u guys enjoy

#vat7k #varian and the seven kingdoms #varian vat7k #hugo vat7k #nuru vat7k #yong vat7k #varian tangled #fanart #lizzysart

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darealsaltysam · 9 months ago

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I JUST GOT BACK FROM SEEING DUNE PART 2 AND HOLY FUCK OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT HOLY FUUUUCK I NEED TO. I NEED TO. I NEED TO TALK SO BAD HOLY SHIT

below the cut because oh boy do i have a lot to say and i dont want my poor followers to suffer when i post this

oh my god okay okay where do i even start

opening with irulan's narration to mirror her notes in the openings of the chapters of the book. oh yeah baby. i ate that right up

watching paul get close with the fremen,,,,, fucking hell that hurts. dune really is a tragedy at the end of the day huh. they go from reluctant allies to friends but the whole time you know the switch will happen any moment now and they will be devotees and he will be messiah and that gap between them will never be as small as it is out in the sand. huddled in those tents. sharing drinks and laughs. im not doing ok

this especially hurts with chani. their love is so genuine and pure and she wears blue for him (which by the way sticks out so much more with how muted the colors of the rest of the movie are... i could talk about this all day) but she can see what he is becoming and he's trying to avoid it for her so hard but there's no avoiding fate. LORD ABOVE!!!!

i loveeee jessica being the manipulator thats pulling all the strings, urging paul towards becoming messiah. rebecca ferguson is such a talented actress she really understands the character so well. also as a hashtag certified alia atreides enjoyer her scheming with her unborn fetus might be the most unhinged thing ever but thats also so fucking funny aka its as dune as it gets. dune is WEIRD and im glad theyre not shying away from that. thank u denis

arrakis looks so much more beautiful in this movie like theres defo been some changes with how its framed and presented it feels so much grander and idk just ??? what it makes me think is that we're not seeing arrakis, we're finally seeing dune. we're seeing the land as the fremen see it as paul becomes one of them. i might be looking too much into it but who cares. god i love this movie

but yes more on the fremen in the first section of the movie. i like how there's this cluster of non-believers almost?? its a nice breath of fresh air. its hard to believe every single person would be just devoted to the prophecy and it adds some depth.

i will say the one thing i didnt like is the way stilgar is characterized?? i dont think he was so blindly devoted to paul in the books, and definitely not alia and leto ii after him as the atreides line went on. he's always been a source of small doubt towards paul but i think they're moving that element of him onto chani, so i think i can let it slide. i'd like to see him question alia more in the future though.

the scene where paul was named muad'dib and usul??? god it was so cute which made it so heart wrenching. all the fremen coming together and welcoming him into their lives. as a brother. as a friend. only for him to turn around and make them all bow before him. ohhhhh i cant do this

OH BOY THE WORMS THE WORMS AND THE WORM RIDING AND THE AHHHHHHHHH OH LORD

jesus christ. what the fuck. how is this allowed on cinema screens how is something so amazing allowed

the tension. the effects. the sound design. the sand rushing past the wind the worm moving forward paul struggling to hold on the fremen all watching and then cheering him on HOLY FUCKKKK HOLY FUCK I WAS HOLDING MY BREATH

all the worm riding scenes were so intense and so well done like. when i first read that stuff in the books i didnt think anything could ever capture how i imagined it exactly and yet. AND YET. DENIS!!!!!!!!

once more dune hits the idea of scale SO well everything is HUGE and they MAKE YOU FEEL IT. that shows especially with geidi prime but ill talk about that in a bit. but yes this applies to the worms too lord above them WORMSSSS ARE HUGEEEE AND I LOVE THEMMMM

rebecca ferguson put her heart and soul into that water of life scene and we all need to thank her for it

the way jessica is so quick to switch up and go all in on the prophecy. it makes me think of leto's "im not asking his mother, im asking the bene gesserit" like. the bene gesserit really come first for jessica and she takes her opportunity to fulfill her duties. to be the reverend mother. to rub it all in the faces of the other bene gesserit. she is the mother of the messiah and by god will she make everyone well aware of that

okay. okay okay. i think i said my peace on the early fremen stuff. i think. okay fuck okay SHIT fuck SHIT

FEYD FUCKING RAUTHA LADIES AND GENTLEMEN

oh my god okay. okay ill admit it. i doubted austin butler. i saw the cast list and i was unsure(tm). i saw him in the trailers and my faith was restored. and holy fucking shit did he DELIVER

stellan skarsgård's baron harkonnen is already such a threatening figure it feels like it would be impossible to make someone even more terrifying and yet. AND YET

just the way he's introduced. killing servants with zero remorse. LICKING THAT KNIFE THE WAY HE DID??? OKAY WHORE. I SEE YOU. GO RIGHT AHEAD. MAKE IT SLUTTY IN HOUSE HARKONNEN. I RESPECT IT

when the arena doors open and that loud ass fucking music BOOMS. makes the room fucking SHAKE. thats a PRESENCE right there. THATS how you introduce your antagonist.

the music playing as he fights being as fucking deranged as he is. chaotic and weird and unsettling. just. oh my god feyd had such a presence from the moment he showed up and he did not lose it for a single second. you could feel him LOOMING over the movie the whole time just as he looms over the whole book from his very first scene. oh my goddddd oh my godd

GEIDI PRIME. THE ARENA. THAT MASSIVE HARKONNEN PALACE. oh my god. once more. that sense of scale. the harkonnens love to flaunt their wealth so ofc they have huge fuck off arenas and castles where everything and everyone feels so SMALL in comparison.

dont even get me started on the black and white. the way it accents those coal black teeth and mouths. the way it makes everything look so much more inhuman and clinical and PERFECT because harkonnen power is so absolute and ruthless.

and the way the baron sits so so high above watching the fighting. literally impossible to picture his elevation above his people above the rest of the universe. the way feyd looks to him for approval after every movement. even as his uncle is trying to kill him they exchange those little looks and feyd knows hes getting his chance to show off while the baron gives him his "gift" what a fucked up family what the hell

speaking of fucked up family! wow! they are SO fucked up! there is something seriously strange being hinted at with feyd and the baron! feyd making his own brother bow and kiss his boot! those constant threats of death against rabban as if theyre nothing! this family is capital f FUCKED up. they hurt each other as much as they hurt everyone around them. theyre made of violence and blood and they could never show each other kindness because they dont know such a thing

what can i say about the feyd/margot scenes that hasnt been said already. like wow just unpack the boy's trauma like that. use him and then throw him to the wolves. once again the bene gesserit make it so clear this is THEIR empire and THEIR bloodlines and THEIR messiah. too bad jessica doesnt see that collective "ours" and instead settles for "mine" when it comes to the messiah

special shout out to dave bautista before i move on. just cause. his rabban doesnt get enough love. he really sells that balance of ruthless power but also incompetency compared to his brother so well. can you guys tell i REALLY like this cast

WE ACTUALLY GOT TO SEE GURNEY PLAYING THE BALISET WE FUCKING WIN Y'ALL

the paul/gurney reunion being the last shred of the old paul. how he gets so happy "i recognized your footsteps, old man" shoot me in the fucking brain stem it would HURT LESS

a bit off topic and it happened earlier (sorry my thoughts are so all over the place) but i like how they actually showed the process of how the water of life is made. it was actually exactly like how i imagined it when i read the books so thats neat !!

anyway. back to the horrors.

i already talked so much about feyd's presence so just another small note. that scene in sietch tabr. he is a MONSTER and i am EATING IT UP

i cant even begin to explain. how much it fucked me up. when paul took the water of life. i knew thats where we were going. i knew it was unavoidable. and yet still. when chani bent over him and screamed at everyone for making him follow this prophecy. when she was forced to shed tears to save his life. when she got him back only to realize she lost him and he wasnt the person she loved anymore. it broke me

chani's utter hatred for the prophecy and what paul is becoming added to it so much. i know some people are unhappy with how much shes been changed from the books but i think its elevated her character and all these scenes so much. and oh my god does zendaya DELIVER when the spotlight is on her. i never doubted her for a moment but all those changes to chani really allowed to let her shine. thats that euphoria acting coming out baby !!!!

SPEAKING OF GOOD ACTING

TIMOTHEE

FUCKING

CHALAMET

listen i hate the fact that he gets cast in everything these days as much as everyone but hes such a talented actor and i cant deny this anymore. the water of life scene really sold it for me.

he was such a perfect paul already in the first movie but this was the moment it really came out. the way he wakes up so calm and collected. lifeless. monotone. theres nothing theres literally nothing

paul atreides the boy who became duke far too young is dead usul who was the lover of chani is dead muad'dib the fedaykin fighter is dead only the kwisatz haderach remains and thats what the prophecy was always leading us to and yet the moment it happens its so haunting

like i cannot say this enough. that complete switch is so sudden but so subtle at the same time. its still paul technically but hes so different

what makes dune's weird concepts so easy to take in once you get into the book is all that internal monologue that really leads you through these complex concepts slowly. and yet in a few shots and a few lines of dialogue timothee chalamet somehow manages to express the idea of "i just learned the secrets of the fucking universe and im about to start a holy war" ???? HOW DO YOU EVEN DO THIS???? HOW ARE YOU THIS TALENTED???? OH MY GOD!!!!!!!! IT WAS A FEW LOOKS A FEW MOVENTS JUST THE RIGHT TONE OF VOICE AND THATS HIM!!! THATS HIM BABY!!!! THATS THE KWISATZ HADERACH AND THE UNIVERSE IS FUCKED !!!!!!!!!

also. anya taylor joy alia. we only had you for a split second but i cannot wait for you. im sure youre going to completely slay the third movie. give us our beloved tragic meow meow. alia is my fave character so i will be JUDGING HEAVILY. she better bring her a-game istg

when paul storms the war council and just completely takes control of the room so easily. thats the bene gesserit conditioning giving him his pedestal and he is making the most of it. he knows exactly what the fuck hes doing. and once more oh my goddddd all that shouting all that emotion and yet a complete lack of it. timothee spare a crumb of talent for the rest of us

also the way in that scene gurney is hesitant about it all until paul proclaims himself the duke of arrakis. and suddenly gurney has house atreides again and he doesnt care what chani does anymore. hes a follower to paul just as everyone else in that room. nothing changes. fuck me man i cant do this anymore

have i mentioned yet im so excited for chani in the next movie. her arc is so interesting. children of dune is defo not happening with the way chani has been set up so i doubt we'll see leto ii and ghanima but. lets hope we still get all the cool stuff wit alia at least. and maybe chani can be the one who leads the charge against her

okay i need to really fucking. get along with it im dragging this post on im so sorry this movie is eating my brain alive

chani still wearing blue during the final fight. im not saying more than that i might cry if i think about it too much

THAT. FINAL. FIGHT. OH MY GODDD OH MY GOD

IT ALL CAME TOGETHER SO SO WELL

THE WORMS

THE SENSE OF SCALE

THE FIGHT CHOREOGRAPHY

THE MUSIC HOLY FUCK THE MUSIC HANS ZIMMER YOU OUTDO YOURSELF EVERY TIME

THE SOUND

EVERYTHING FLOWING TOGETHER SO WELL

the way the fremen fight for their messiah but still fly the atreides banner. the way paul leads them as their messiah and as a "fremen" but always proclaims himself duke of house atreides first. oh lorddd im unwell

every time paul menacingly emerged from fog/sand/smoke my life was extended by like 10 years thank u denis

gurney killing rabban with as much ease as he did cleared my skin and watered my crops <3

the way the baron was literally dying and still crawling towards the throne.......... the way at the same time feyd ignored him completely and looked towards the doors reveling in the fight ahead..... if that doesnt tell u everything you need to know about house harkonnen idk what will yall

i also love how no one intervenes as paul walks in and kills the baron. not even feyd. feyd looks like he was a little TOO into it as paul killed him tbh. feyd u little freak. austin butler you talented talented man. im unwell

i AM sad we didnt get to see baby alia stab him but ah well. we got a bunch of other weird dune shit so ill let this one slide. the psychic toddler may be too much even for denis and everything he did give us. we'll always have our 1984 alia <3

OHOHOHOHOHOHOH. OH. HERE WE GO

HERE WE GO YALL

THE SCENE IVE BEEN WAITING FOR SINCE READING THE BOOK

THE SCENE THEY SHOWED BITS OF IN THE TRAILER AND THE SCENE IVE BEEN NON STOP YEARNING FOR SINCE!!!

THE DUEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh my god oh my god oh my goddddd where do i even start

okay so. the way theres no music. no fancy cuts no slow mo no over the top effects. its just the slashing of the blades and those BEAUTIFUL shadowed shots with the setting sun in the background. this really is the sun setting on the peaceful universe. just pain and suffering ahead marked with the blood spilled from the two who were meant to produce the messiah but who both got thrown off this path by the greed and selfishness of their forefathers. guys im normal about paul and feyd. definitely. i definitely have very normal thoughts about how they are foils and yet two sides of the same coin. yes guys

paul making the emperor kiss his ring is already such an insane fucking scene and it translated to the screen so well. amazing performances all around

i didnt talk much about florence pugh's irulan but she really didnt have much time to shine. im excited to see where she goes next and i definitely think shes a great fit but i need to see more of her to really be able to say more

i will say this. the way chani, irulan and jessica are the only ones who dont kneel for paul. the three most important women in his life who give him his power, everything he has. jessica made him and she made him the messiah. chani opened her life up to him, helped him become and in turn control the fremen, and she shed her tears for him and fulfilled her role in the prophecy against her wishes. irulan is his path to the throne, his key to being emperor. and none of them bow before him because why would they bow before a power they are responsible for, a power they own, a power they gave?

but for chani its different ofc. she also refuses to bow because she despises everything paul stands for.

oh my god i could say so much about the last scene being chani. not paul reveling in his victory. paul leaves for his next bloodshed and chani is left behind crying for the person she loves who she knows is gone. crying for her people, again enslaved. crying those same tears that brought the messiah back into this world.

theres a lot to be said about the role of gender in dune and how it hangs over every facet of this world but thats a whole separate analysis post to be had so ill just throw it down here in this little point

another thing chani does very well in the movies is she really makes paul's villainy explicitly clear. SO many people read dune and completely misunderstand it and walk away from it concluding its a "white savior narrative" and nothing more which. yes!! yes it is!!!! but thats not a good thing!!!! its never stated to be a good thing!!!!

this movie is not gonna let you misunderstand the message of the story no matter how blind you try to be to it. paul is not a good guy. hes never been the good guy. hes the protagonist, but hes not the hero. and chani allows that to translate from book to movie very well. have i mentioned yet i love movie chani

chani fills in the holes left behind by the narration and internal monologues of the book and, bonus points, she holds the people who dont understand what dune is about by the hand and tells them explicitly "PAUL IS A BAD GUY!!! DONT IDOLIZE PAUL!!!! DONT WALK AWAY FROM DUNE THINKING ITS PRAISING PAUL'S ACTIONS!!!"

i think thats pretty much all i had to say. i might reblog with additions as they hit me but yeah i. i enjoyed the movie. so so much. i think i might watch it again sometime soon while its still in cinemas.

sorry for being unhinged hope u enjoyed my rants. kiss kiss night night <3

#dune #dune part two #dune part 2 #paul atreides #chani kynes #jessica atreides #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #rabban harkonnen #vladimir harkonnen #stilgar #alia atreides #irulan corrino #im so crazy im so feral holy shit #okay im going to bed now #its 1 am lmao #ive been writing these down for like 2 hours since i got back

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schemmentigfs · 15 days ago

Text

Sweetening The Deal. (part 4.)

Summary: you learn more about the mysterious fiery redhead and things start to change..

Tags: @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota @greencurlyhair @schmentisgf @dopenightmaretyphoon @pitstopsapphic

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Next Chapter.

Settling into the passenger seat of Melissa’s sleek car, you tried to calm the flutter in your chest. The entire morning felt surreal—first being invited to stay in her luxurious penthouse, then getting a full tour of her space, and now… a personal shopping trip with Melissa Schemmenti herself deciding everything for your upcoming change of pace on life. You cast a shy glance her way as she adjusted her orange sunglasses, already focused on the road with that steady, unruffled confidence that always seemed to surround her.

Seconds later, the engine hummed to life as she pulled out onto the streets of Center City Philadelphia. The redhead woman had one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the center console, close enough that you could almost—almost—reach out and take it.

But you didn’t. The fear was too strong.

The drive was smooth, and for a moment, the silence between you felt almost too comfortable. You stole another glance at her as she focused on the traffic, her olive eyes hidden behind those pairs of designer sunglasses. She looked so effortless, so polished. Every detail about her—her crisp, tailored blazer, the way her auburn hair caught the sunlight—seemed intimidatingly perfect. You fidgeted with your hands, unsure of how to break the silence.

You hadn’t expected to feel so nervous. After all, you were just on your way to the mall to pick up a few things. It wasn’t a big deal. But the truth was, ever since that dream—that pornographic dream—you hadn’t been able to look at her the same way. You wouldn’t. You’d never told her about it. It was too embarrassing, too raw. She didn’t need to know, not when things between you two had been just fine as it should be. Right?

The images were still too vivid in your mind. The way her grunts sounded in your ear, the soft pressure of her lips against your skin while her hands had gripped you, steady and strong, the feel of her clit sliding against yours. And then, somehow, that moment had shifted—becoming more intense, more dangerous. The vivid image of Melissa in her bedroom, her pale body stretched out in front of you, her ass glowing under the dim lighting of the room. You tried to suppress the memory, but it lingered like an unwanted guest, haunting you every time you tried to look at her.

The silence stretched on, and finally, you cleared your throat, gathering the nerve to ask her something, anything at all, that might distract you from the thoughts that haunted and terrorized you.

“So… what do you do for living?” you asked, your voice soft but hopeful. “When you were on your way to my apartment complex, you said something about meetings?”

Her fingers curled slightly around the wheel as she gave you a quick glance, just a flicker behind those sunglasses, before returning her attention to the road. “You’re looking at it,” she said, her voice clipped and cold, as if the answer should have been obvious. “When I’m not being some bratty kid’s sugar mama, I work in real estate. I manage a few properties. Very high-end stuff.”

“Oh, that’s—” you trailed off, unsure if you’d be bothering her by asking more and honestly, you felt a bit annoyed by the way she referred to you as a brat. Her responses were so curt, almost as if she was reluctant to share even the basics, and still here she was, driving you around, letting you stay in her penthouse, arranging this shopping trip. “Cool..”

“If you say so... I guess that’s one way to put it,” she sighed quietly.

You took another deep breath, hoping to calm your nerves, and tried again. “What about… hobbies? Do you have any of ‘em?”

Melissa snorted, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I got hobbies.” She paused, glancing your way briefly before continuing in a tone that seemed half-reluctant. “I like to smoke. Cigars, mostly. Relaxing as hell after dealing with some motherfuckers at business meetings. And, uh, I watch Real Housewives sometimes. It’s a guilty pleasure, alright?” She smirked, but you could tell there was no real embarrassment there. She wore her quirks with confidence, her own unique brand of unapologetic pride.

“We all have guilty pleasures, Schemmenti,” you pointed out, feeling more comfortable. “What else?”

“I go to church sometimes,” the redhead added, softening a bit, turning distant. “Not every week, but, y’know… enough.” Her words seemed to falter, like there was something there she wasn’t quite saying. She swallowed, adjusting her sunglasses as she spoke, her tone strangely vulnerable. “Goin’ there, it helps me… forgive. Or try to, anyway.” She let out a small, humorless laugh, as if forgiveness wasn’t exactly something she found easy to come by.

The shift in her tone made your chest tighten. You wanted to ask what Melissa Schemmenti needed to forgive—or whom—but something in the features stopped you. Instead, you just nodded, letting her know you were listening, taking in each layer of herself she offered, even if she didn’t realize it.

And then, just as quickly as it had started, she fell silent. Her words ceased, and the hum of the road filled the gap. It was as if the conversation had taken a sudden detour, one that left you both in the moment of reflection. You could see her green eyes flicker to the rearview mirror, not really looking at anything but maybe thinking about everything.

She shifted in her seat, straightening her posture a little, but there was something new in her body language—a subtle withdrawal, almost like she was pulling back from herself. It was an instinct you knew too well, the way people guarded themselves after they’d shared something too raw. Melissa was never one to open up lightly. But now she seemed to be processing something else, something she hadn’t said yet. You wanted to reach out, to break the silence, but you hesitated. Something in the stillness of the moment felt important.

You couldn’t help but notice the way her hands tightened around the wheel, the tension in her shoulders, and the soft furrow between her brows. Her reflection in the mirror showed someone more guarded than she’d been a moment ago, as if the vulnerability she’d offered just a moment ago had been too much to bear. It wasn’t just her words she’d closed off—it was her entire presence.

Melissa didn’t speak again, but you felt it—the shift. And you couldn’t help but wonder what had caused it, what hidden part of her she was wrestling with now.

You glanced out the window, trying to steady your thoughts as the car moved through the city streets. As you sat there, trying to distract yourself from the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind, another thought crept in—one you hadn’t dared to voice. You hadn't really thought about it until now, but the more you focused on the silence between you, the more you realized that you'd never seen much of the Schemmentis around.

Her penthouse was immaculate—every surface polished, every corner filled with the sharp edges of modern luxury—but there were hardly any family pictures, no casual snapshots of her childhood or moments with relatives. Sure, there were photos of friends, some from vacations or casual nights out, but when it came to her family, it was almost like a void. That lack of familial presence was... strange, especially considering how many photos of her with some of the Schemmentis were across the internet.

You found yourself wanting to ask, but hesitation gnawed at you. Was it inappropriate to ask about her family? Did it make her uncomfortable? You tried to imagine how she’d respond—whether she’d offer an easy, casual answer or if it would send her retreating into that unapproachable shell she sometimes slipped into. Maybe she didn't want to talk about them, and maybe you shouldn't pry.

But you couldn’t help it. Curiosity gnawed at you like an itch you couldn’t scratch. You wanted to know more about the redhead—the parts of her life she hadn’t yet shared, the side of her that wasn’t just the successful, confident woman you’d come to know.

The absence of family mementos seemed deliberate, almost as if she were keeping her history behind some invisible line you weren’t allowed to cross. You’d heard her mention her family here and there during one of your meetings to arrange your sugar mommy deal—her Italian heritage—but nothing in detail. And the one time she had let something slip, she’d quickly clammed up, her face shifting to that same, unreadable mask she wore now.

But why?

Did she have siblings? Were her parents close? Had she grown up in a family like the one she’d created for herself—one that seemed full of strength, but also a quiet kind of distance?

You turned your gaze out the window again, pretending to focus on the passing scenery, but your mind raced through all the questions you couldn’t ask. The truth was, there was something deeply personal about the idea of her family—or lack of it—that had piqued your interest more than you were comfortable admitting.

What kind of upbringing had made her the way she was? And why had she chosen to leave so little of that behind in her penthouse? Your thoughts spiraled, pulling you deeper into that place of uncertainty and wonder, your chest tightening as you realized just how much you wanted to know.

You felt guilty for even thinking about asking. It wasn't like you had any right to her history, and maybe it wasn’t fair to put her on the spot like that. So you kept quiet, watching her as she drove, her face set and unreadable.

Still, the curiosity lingered.

“Melissa,” you started again, your voice softer than you intended. “You mentioned Pearl earlier. I didn’t realize she’d been around that long.”

“Yeah, she’s been a part of the family for years. Practically helped raise us—me and my siblings. Eight siblings, yeah. Big Italian family—South Philly’s finest.”

You nodded, glancing down to your lap to avoid her gaze. “Eight siblings… that’s a lot. Must’ve been a full house.”

Melissa let out a soft scoff. “You could say that. It was chaos, pure and simple. We weren’t exactly living in luxury back then. Half of us had to share a room.”

The idea surprised you, though you supposed it shouldn’t have. The woman beside you was successful now, living in a penthouse and offering you a fresh start, but she hadn’t always been here. You couldn’t imagine her any other way, though—fierce, determined, always in control. It was… comforting. Attractive, even.

You bit your lip, realizing you were staring, and quickly turned your gaze back to the road ahead. “I guess it taught you to be tough?”

She chuckled, though there wasn’t much warmth in it. “You don’t survive in a house like that without learning a thing or two.” She paused, then cast you a quick look, her expression softening just a fraction. “I don’t talk about my family much, you know. Or my fuckin’ past.”

Her honesty caught you off guard, and you felt a strange sense of privilege knowing she was sharing even this much with you. “Thank you for sharing,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Melissa waved it off as if it were nothing, but the way she looked at you made your heart skip. “Enough about me,” she scoffed, her tone firm but not unkind. “Today’s about you. We’re going to get you set up properly—starting with a wardrobe overhaul.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, though your cheeks felt warm. “I don’t think I need that much—”

Green eyes shot you a look, one brow raised. “I’m not taking no for an answer, brat. You’re with me now, so we’re doing this my way.” She glanced at you again, her lips quirking into a smirk. “Besides, I like spoiling you, you little shit.”

Ignoring the last words, your heart fluttered at the way she said it, so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And then, before you could think too much about it, she leaned over at a red light and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

You froze, heat flooding your face as her lips lingered for just a second longer than necessary. When she pulled back, her gaze was steady, almost challenging, as if daring you to react. But words seemed to stick in your throat, and all you could do was stare at her, wide-eyed and flustered.

“Cat got your tongue?” Melissa teased pressing a hand on your thighs, the corners of her mouth twitching in amusement.

“N-No, I just… wasn’t expecting that,” you stammered, cursing yourself for sounding so awkward.

“Get used to it, honey. Mama’s got a habit of getting what she wants.”

The rest of the drive passed in a haze, each kiss she placed on your cheek or forehead leaving you breathless and aching to feel her plump lips on yours. You wondered if she could tell, if she noticed the way your hands fidgeted in your lap or the way your gaze kept flickering to her lips when you thought she wasn’t looking. But if she did, she didn’t say a word.

When you finally arrived at the mall, Melissa led you inside with a hand on the small of your back, her presence steady and grounding. You were still a little dazed, still reeling from every soft touch and lingering look she’d given you in the car.

The mall was bustling, but with Melissa by your side, you felt a strange sense of calm. Or maybe it was just that her confidence had a way of rubbing off on you, making you feel like you belonged, like you deserved to be here with her. She guided you through the maze of stores, her hand warm and reassuring on your back, and you tried not to think about how natural it felt, how right.

As you walked, she glanced at you, a thoughtful look in her green eyes. “We’re going to find something that suits you. Something… fitting.” She stopped in front of a high-end boutique, her tongue clicking as she turned to you. “Because from now on, you’re mine. And I want you to look like it.”

Your mouth went dry, and you felt your heart skip a beat at her words. Hers. The idea made your stomach flutter in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

“Y-Yours?” you stammered.

Melissa smirked, looking at you with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. “That’s right. My property, my rules.” There was an unmistakable edge of possessiveness in her voice, one that left you feeling both nervous and exhilarated.

You swallowed, your cheeks burning as you nodded, unable to find the words to respond. But She didn’t seem to mind. She simply took your hand and led you inside, guiding you through racks of designer clothes with an expert eye.

“What about this?” the redhead prompted, holding up a sleek black dress, her gaze assessing as she looked you over.

You fidgeted, feeling self-conscious under her scrutiny. “It’s… nice.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your lack of enthusiasm. “Nice isn’t good enough. You’re going to try it on. And a few other things, too.”

Before you could protest, she had already gathered a small pile of clothes and was steering you toward the fitting rooms. Her hand was warm on your back, her presence reassuring even as she pushed you a little out of your comfort zone.

Inside the fitting room, you tried on each piece she’d picked out, feeling more and more like a different person with each outfit. The clothes were sleek, sophisticated, a far cry from the simple, practical pieces you usually wore. But when you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but feel… good. Confident, even.

Melissa seemed to sense it, too. Each time you stepped out to show her an outfit, she looked you up and down with a smile that was equal parts approval and pride. “Now this,” she said, adjusting the collar of a suit you were wearing, her fingers brushing against your collarbone. “This is what I’m talking about.”

Her hand lingered for a moment, her touch sending a thrill through you that left you breathless. And then, without warning, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to your nose, soft and warm against your skin. The act was quick but enough to make you widen your eyes.

“Perfect,” she murmured. “You look perfect.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you ducked your head, trying to hide the smile that tugged at your lips. But the Schemmenti woman wasn’t having it. She tipped your chin up with a gentle finger, her gaze intense as she looked at you.

“Don’t hide,” she spoke softly. “I want to see that smile.”

You couldn’t help it; you smiled, a soft, shy smile that felt a little too vulnerable, a little too real. But Melissa just smiled back, her gaze warm and unwavering.

“Good girl,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now, let’s go pick out some accessories. Can’t have you looking half-done, can we?”

“No, ma'am,”

You followed her out of the fitting room, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. Each touch, each lingering look left you feeling more and more like you were on the edge of something—something you couldn’t quite name, but something you wanted more than anything. And as you walked by her side, her hand resting on your lower back, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you were already hers in more ways than you could admit.

As you followed Melissa through the boutique, your mind was still buzzing with the strange excitement and nervousness from her words. You had tried on a few outfits by now, each one more elegant and polished than the last. But something about the idea of being hers lingered in the back of your mind, making your pulse race and your hands tremble ever so slightly.

“Let’s check out the lingerie section,” the green eyed woman suggest, smooth and confident as she steered you toward a secluded corner of the store. The racks here were lined with delicate lace, silk, and satin, all in a rainbow of colors. But it was the deep purple set that caught your eye first.

It was beautiful—luxurious and eye-catching, a perfect shade of rich purple with intricate lace detailing, the kind of lingerie that made you feel like you were stepping into a world of indulgence. You reached out for it, running your fingers over the smooth fabric. The soft, luxurious material felt like a secret, something that belonged to you alone.

The older woman noticed your interest right away. Her gaze flickered to the set, then to you, and the corner of her mouth curled into a knowing smirk.

“Like what you see?”

You felt your heart race as you nodded, a small, awkward laugh escaping your lips. “It’s... it’s gorgeous.”

“Good,” she murmured, taking the set from your hands with ease. “I think you’d look perfect in it. And, if I’m being honest, I’m not just buying you clothes... I’m making sure you're well taken care of in every way.”

You swallowed, the intensity in her voice making your stomach flip. You tried to compose yourself, but it wasn’t easy. The idea of her buying you something so intimate felt overwhelming in the best possible way.

Without waiting for you to respond, Melissa walked to the register, the purple lingerie in her hands like it was already meant for you. She turned over her shoulder as she moved, her expression softening. “Don’t worry,” she added, “you’ll wear it for me soon enough.”

“What?”

You couldn’t help but shiver at her words, a heat flooding your body at the thought of her seeing you in it, touching you in it.

At the register, Melissa didn’t hesitate. She handed over the lingerie set along with a few other items, her face unreadable but her eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite place.

When she came back to you, the shopping bag in hand, she gave you a little wink. “You’re gonna love it. And so will I.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak. Your mind was still reeling from the intensity of the moment, from the way she made you feel like you were hers in ways you hadn’t even fully understood. The thought of wearing it for her, of being the person she chose to spoil and take care of, sent a jolt through you, and you weren’t sure if it was nervousness, excitement, or something else entirely.

But as Melissa led you back toward the exit of the boutique, her hand once again gently resting on your lower back, you couldn’t help but feel grateful, in awe of her confidence, her ability to make you feel seen and wanted in ways you’d never experienced before.

As you both made your way to the door, the weight of the shopping bags in your hands seemed to make the moment feel heavier, more real. Your nerves, still buzzing, didn't help the heat in your cheeks from all the attention Melissa had been showering on you. You could feel the weight of the purple lingerie in your bag like a secret, a promise, and it made your heart thud in your chest.

But then, as you approached the car, you hesitated. Your fingers clenched around the strap of the bag, and for a moment, you couldn’t tell if you were excited or terrified. You glanced up at her, who was busy unlocking the car, her back to you.

The way she’d spoken earlier, the way she took control, was almost too much to process. And then, as if sensing the shift in your mood, she turned to face you, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in your lost expression.

Her face softened as she noticed the hesitation in your steps, but her voice dropped into something more serious. “What’s wrong? You’ve been quiet since we left the store, sweetheart.”

“I-”

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. You felt as though something was building inside you, a storm of emotions that you couldn’t quite name. The purple lingerie, her touch, the overwhelming sense of being wanted in ways you didn’t know you could be—it was all too much to process.

But before you could speak, Melissa raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a teasing but commanding smirk. Suddenly, she stopped walking. Her hand shot out, gripping your wrist with an unexpected firmness, pulling you gently but decisively toward her.

“Tell me. What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, you stood there, caught between the pull of her touch and the weight of her gaze, knowing that this moment was more than you could handle and yet somehow not wanting it to end.

And just like that, you were left hanging—unsure of what would happen next.

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