#sometimes knowing only a /few/ spoilers makes this /more complicated/

[aparticularbandit]

so like. i'm at the investigative phase where they are investigating in the virtual reality world (keebo just pointed out toilet paper like apparently that's actually going to be important and let me tell you i'm actually thrilled about this).

and here are my thoughts so far:

1) kaito didn't kill miu. he's obviously a red herring. (like even if i didn't expect him to kill kokichi in case five, he's still a red herring. it's usually not the first person they want you to think it is. (except you know. 11037. -sighs-)) i expect that kaito screwed up his cords somehow, and that's how he got booted out.

2) the poison in kokichi's seat can't be what killed miu because one of the side-effects was super red eyes, and miu didn't have super red eyes. kaito would love for it to have been kokichi, but i don't think he would have done that set up. unfortunately, i know miu was planning to kill kokichi (because spoilers) and she was the last to log in, so she might have set that up beforehand. probably.

3) i'm still surprised monophanie is alive; i expected her to be killed with kiyo instead of monodam; and since monotaro is helping them out when he's not supposed to be doing that, i expect he'll probably be the one who dies this time.

also by process of elimination like.

kaito, maki, and kokichi have to make it to case five for the thing i saw (assuming that's not somehow in this case, and i don't think it is).

shuichi is the player character and they're not going to pull a kaede again.

tsumugi's the mastermind.

keebo and himiko survive.

miu is dead.

this leaves gonta.

i don't think it's gonta. not intentionally.

i think miu might have accidentally killed herself.

(or gonta might have killed her not realizing that attacking someone in the virtual world could actually kill them because miu just didn't tell anybody that because, you know, planning to kill kokichi, and if he was being kokichi's bodyguard, then like. that would explain that.)

...actually

the sign was on the wrong side of the rock; if it was going with the flow, it should have been stuck on the right side of the rock - run into it and then stuck - instead of on the left side of the rock, which is where it was.

everyone has equal strength, so anyone could have moved the sign.

miu's spent who knows how long in the virtual world, so she should have known where the sign would have ended up and been able to get to it even from the chapel side. (or set something else up for that.)

tsumugi saw miu on the house side, which tracks for attempting to kill kokichi. gonta could have accidentally knocked her out and then carried her back across and moved the bridge.

but i really don't think it's gonta. i really don't think he would even accidentally kill miu. not in a world where his strength is the same as everyone else's.

however.

if case four is the feels case.

....

yeah, it could have been gonta.

[euthymiya]

[ YOU SAY I’M STRONG (BUT YOU MAKE ME FEEL WEAK) — FT. KINICH ]

SYNOPSIS: kinich can’t quite put his finger on it, but he doesn’t like your new friend. you seem to put two and two together a little better than he does

WORD COUNT: 2.6k words — short n’ sweet like sabrina

INCLUDES: female reader ; mature 18+ content ; jealous/insecure kinich ; spoilers for his character stories ; references to his father’s abuse, gambling, and alcoholism and his mother’s departure ; unnecessary slander of a poor npc who did nothing wrong in canon lolll ; reader sits on his lap ; making out ; dry humping ; alludes to sex afterwards ; not proof read

Kinich knows he’s strong.

He’s gifted. Athleticism comes easily to him, he’s certainly skilled when it comes to wielding his vision, his claymore takes a good deal of talent to swing, and he’s never quite had trouble excelling in combat.

You say he’s strong, too—but not for the same reasons.

You’ve been through so much, you like to whisper.

You grew up so fast.

You’ve come so far.

For some reason, you like to measure strength differently. Kinich doesn’t always understand it—he doesn’t think he’s strong just for surviving the way you like to say. He thinks he’s resourceful, maybe. Perhaps even clever or quick-witted. Strong has never been something that’s come to mind when he thinks of the things he’s grown up around.

He was never strong enough to protect his mother. He couldn’t have saved his father if he’d tried. He never even stood up to the man when his father was alive—his only skill then was running.

Strength found him as he got older. When his weakness was tiresome and burdened him enough that he needed to find his way in this world, Kinich found strength.

He’s good at running. Picking up something as heavy as a great sword isn’t too hard for him. Learning how to dodge and throw a punch is easy enough. Dendro isn’t too complicated to master with enough practice.

Kinich is strong. He knows that, but today, he feels weak.

“Your eyes cross when you think too hard,” you murmur. He breaks from his thoughts at the sound of your voice, relaxing only slightly when that breathy giggle of yours tickles over the shell of his ear as you kiss his cheek and settle beside him. “Here, they’re fresh.”

Kinich likes quenepa berries. They’re easy to grow and rewarding to taste. They were his mother’s best crop, in fact. He lets his lips part as you push a few between his lips and grin.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

Something is nagging in his mind still. Something that whispers one unsatisfactory word over and over and over in his head.

Weak. Weak. Weak. You’re weak. Incredibly weak. Pathetic and weak. You’ve always been weak.

You seem to notice it too— “You’re still thinking,” you point out gently.

Tell me about it, is what you mean. Talk to me.

“I’m not sure if it’s possible for someone to ever stop thinking,” he replies smartly. “Well…I guess unless that someone is you.”

“Hey,” you huff, snatching away your bowl from him as he reaches for a few more berries. He’s smug—the deftness of his fingers makes for an easy grab at a good handful before you can properly create distance between him and your bowl. “Take that back. Now!”

“It’s a bit empty up here sometimes, don’t you think?” He pokes at your forehead, chuckling at the curl of dissatisfaction on your lips.

“Well, it’s better than having someone like you think too hard. That’s a bit dangerous,” you grumble.

He laughs. Momentarily, the voices quiet. “My quick thinking has helped out a good once or twice,” he points out, popping a few more berries into his mouth.

Sweet. Juicy like he remembers. He hasn’t had berries quite like these since his mother’s departure.

“Alright,” you roll your eyes half-heartedly, “I get it. You don’t want to talk about it.” He’s silent at that—you’re right. He doesn’t want to talk about it. But perhaps more importantly, he doesn’t quite know how to. “You know you can tell me anything, though. Right?”

Kinich doesn’t know exactly when this started. He started with a good day. Exceptional, even. Somehow, it got lost along the way.

First, you woke him up with a kiss—(really, he was awake already, but sometimes he likes to pretend to be asleep so your lips do the honors of breaking him from his slumber. A minor inconvenience of laying perfectly still for the hefty reward of your lips). Later, he landed a commission with a decent profit of mora. It went by fast enough that he could swing back home to grab you for lunch.

And that’s when it starts to all go downhill.

“Of course I do,” he answers instantly.

“Then tell me,” you pout.

I don’t know how, he wants to say. Instead, he settles with: “You know him. The guy we ran into.”

It comes out a tad bit grumpy against his will. He doesn’t completely understand what it is that makes him feel so unsettled—Kinich knows that in a fight, that man is practically a house of cards if he is the wind. And he’s strong; he knows that as much as he knows you do, too.

He still can’t shake the feeling of being so weak.

“Oh,” you tilt your head, “yes, he moved from Toyac Springs! He’s very nice, I like to help him find his way around here sometimes.”

“He gave you a hug,” Kinich points out blandly.

“He did,” you nod slowly, “he’s friendly, you know?”

“Friendly.” He tests the word on his tongue. He doesn’t like how it tastes. Like a bitter, unripe quenepa berry that’s been harvested too early.

His father tended to do that. Impatient and unyielding to reason is how he remembers his father to be, snatching berries from the vines against his mother’s insistence before spitting them out with an angry grunt.

Absolutely worthless, he’d remember hearing an angry voice spit. You can’t even grow a few decent berries.

They’re just not ready yet, his mother’s voice would waver.

Weak, he remembers feeling. Unable to stand up to his father. Unable to take care of his mother.

Oddly, it’s how he feels with you right now.

“His name is Hakau,” you say carefully, “and we’re friendly sometimes. It’s nothing like that, though.”

“Like what?”

“Kinich,” you sigh, “is everything okay?”

Something in your voice tells him you know everything is definitely not okay. But you want to hear it from him. You want the words from his mouth directly.

He doesn’t know how to give that to you. He doesn’t even know half of what he’s feeling—just that there’s a heavyweight in his throat that tastes and feels like lead when he swallows.

“Everything is fine,” he mumbles. “I just haven’t ever seen him, that’s all. I was curious.”

“And…that’s it?”

“I suppose so.”

“I don’t…” you pause, biting your lip as you study him for a moment before shifting to crawl on his lap, straddling his hips before your hands cup his cheeks. “I don’t think you’re telling me everything.”

“I don’t know what to tell,” he finally admits.

“You don’t like Hakau?” You ask gently.

“He talks a bit much,” he shrugs. “And he laughs a lot.”

“He’s a bit energetic,” you agree, smiling a little at his confession. “I guess he’s not for everyone.”

“But he is for you?” He raises an eyebrow.

Your face softens as you lean in and press a small kiss to his nose as you whisper, “I think you’re for me. Does that count?”

“You’ve never mentioned him,” he adds, refusing to meet your eyes.

“He’s not really the most important development in my life,” you chuckle, “I only see him here and there.”

Kinich is strong. Physically, he knows that. When it comes to fighting a war and hunting a saurian, he’s adept. Beyond that, all he knows to do is stand on the side and watch people he loves exit his life. Because he’s never enough.

Weak. It’s what he feels when someone like Hakau is able to smile brightly and pull you into a hug right before his eyes. When was the last time he hugged you under witnessing eyes?

Never, he thinks. He touches you in the privacy of your home where no one is there to witness the fact that he loves you.

Weak. It’s what he realizes he is when your eyes are bright and excited to see a man whose expression mirrors the same show of joy. When was the last time his face expressed that much affection for you?

He can only assume there hasn’t been a moment—not when his cold expression and distant eyes have been something he’s heard about time and time again.

Kinich is too weak at building love. He doesn’t know how to be a son who’s enough to be better for, to give up gambling and a few sips of alcohol. He doesn’t know how to be a son who’s worth staying for, who’s the reason every obstacle is worth fighting through—even when it comes in the form of a drunken slap or a slurred yell.

He doesn’t know how to be a man worthy of your love, either. Not one who can come and greet you with something as simple as a hug. Not one who can display his affection on his face from nothing but a bright grin alone.

He’s too weak for that. His heart is a muscle he’s never strengthened. His limbs are too frail to support carrying your heart in his hands, too—he’s never been worthy of your affections.

At least, that’s what his mind has always told him. He knows you’d disagree, but that’s only because your eye is trained to see only the good. You don’t look at him to search for the reasons you shouldn’t stay.

Maybe Hakau could easily be a reason you should leave, though.

“He hugged you pretty tightly,” he grumbles one last time. It’s a bit petty—you’re sweet enough that you giggle and let it slide.

“I think I see the problem,” your grin widens, “I think you’re just a bit jealous, is that it?”

“Jealous of what? His awful haircut?” He rolls his eyes.

Yes, he thinks deep down. Yes, he’s jealous. He’s jealous of the way joy comes easy to Hakau and the way it seems to roll off of him in waves at the sight of you. How easy it must be for him to love you and love you strongly. Not some weak, sorry excuse of affection that Kinich offers you loosely gripped in his inadequate fist.

You’re kind, though. Patient and gentle as your hands cradle his cheeks and force him to meet your gaze.

“There are reasons for everything, you know,” you murmur.

“You’re saying there’s a reason his hair is so ridiculous?” He asks incredulously.

You laugh, airy and bright as you roll your eyes. “No, silly. There’s a reason why I love you and don’t love him.”

“Like what?” He asks, feigning a casual tone. Please tell me, he thinks desperately.

“Like when you pretend to sleep so I kiss you awake,” you tease, kissing his jaw.

He pauses. “How did you—”

“Or when you spend your earnings after a long commission to take me out to lunch.”

“Anyone could do that—”

“Or when you force Ajaw to fly me up a mountain because I’m too scared to climb.”

“Technically Ajaw does the work there—”

“Or when you share your pillow with me when I come hog it.”

He cracks a small smile at that, letting out a short laugh as he mumbles, “You do hog my pillow a lot.”

“I can’t list all the reasons I love you,” you whisper, kissing the corner of his mouth, “but I can’t come up with a single reason not to love you. I think that’s plenty.”

Kinich is strong. He’s able to support your weight when you lean into him more, settling most of your body onto his lap as you kiss him deeply. His fingers dig into your hips, guiding you closer as he groans into your mouth.

He loves you when you kiss him, and he loves you when he can feel your body nestled against his. It’s a strong, palpable feeling he can’t deny—and he’s starting to think you feel it from him when you smile into his lips as his hand cradles the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer.

“I could tell you a couple of great reasons you wouldn’t love that weird guy.”

“His name is—”

“He talks too much. He laughs annoying. And his hair is weird.”

You giggle, burying your head into neck as you huff, “Those are all shallow reasons.”

“Okay,” he hums thoughtfully, “He doesn’t know you like I do.”

His hips roll up, and your breath catches in your throat. There’s a noticeable, sizable bulge in his pants that you can feel press against your core. He grins when you falter over him, strong arms wrapping around you and keeping you in place as he presses his own kisses to your jaw while you shiver.

“If you know me so well,” you say petulantly, “You know I hate when you tease.”

“But I actually know you better than that,” he chuckles lowly, “I know you fall apart nicer when you’re pushed around a bit, don’t you?”

His lips are back on yours, mouth warm and hungry as his tongue invades your space. It’s a brief battle—he wins and explores the parts of you he already has memorized by heart. You whine against him, damp and aching between your legs as a familiar tension builds up.

Your hips roll over his clothed cock, your cunt dragging along the erection with enough pressure that both of you pause for a moment and shiver. It feels good—it’s not enough to qualify as what you need from him, but it’s never not good with Kinich. You feel the pressure of his hard-on rubbing against your clit, and your hips roll in sync to build the light tingles of pleasure as your mouths kiss each other in a sloppy, messy exchange.

“I hate your friend,” he declares breathlessly.

“Don’t be jealous,” you tease, giving your hips a languid thrust to press harder against his cock. He groans, head falling to your shoulder as his hands grab your hips and guide your to rub against him the way he wants.

His way. He’s strong enough that you can’t fight against the pace he sets for you—not that you want to, anyway.

“I’m not jealous,” he grumbles in between moans, “I just don’t like the way he looks at you. He looks stupid.”

“I didn’t notice,” you say breathlessly, “I was too busy looking at you.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” He snorts.

You grind down against his cock once. Twice. The third time, he meets your movements, and both of you still, tense for a moment as the coil snaps and your walls flutter around nothing while his tip leaks with ropes of thick, warm cum that spoil his pants.

“F-fuck,” you whine, “Kinich.”

“So…so perfect,” he grunts, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss.

It’s needy—the way the both of you move desperately to feel the friction just a tiny bit longer to ride out the waves of your orgasms. You can feel the twitch of his cock through his pants as it dampens from the mess of cum, and he can feel the quiver of your cunt as he spams around nothing.

It’s not enough, but somehow it’s more than perfect, too. Because he’s him. Because it’s you.

“You’re supposed to fuck me properly when you’re feeling possessive,” you mumble against his chest.

He lets out an amused breath as he answers, “Yeah? Was that your plan all along?”

Kinich is strong. He flips you over easily, hovering over you as he nips at your pulse point. He can feel the erratic pace of it through the skin, earning a smug grin that his lips press into your neck.

You love him pretty strongly, he concludes—poor Hakau always stood the weakest chance.

Hakau is a random npc in the scions of the canopy im sorry for all this drama brother. You seem like a good guy I just needed someone to be the loser here for the sake of plot

[heartzfromel]

Rio x fem!reader (fluff and/or hurt comfort plz)

not good enough || rio vidal x fem!reader

summary; you meet your love again after one hundred years

warnings; agatha all along ep 7 spoilers, canon character death, reader has a small injury, kissing, pining, reader and rio are both kinda idiots, rio and reader are both touchy w each other, main story set after first witches road trial, rio and agatha are not romantically involved

rio vidal had been the only constant friend you’d had in your whole life, but your situation was quite complicated. you were a centuries old witch and, whist technically she was too, she was also death personified, meaning she had a lot of work to do. your friend wasn’t around much, leaving you alone a lot. sometimes you wouldn’t see her for sixty or seventy years at a time. this time, it had been a lot longer than that. that fact tended to leave a pit in your stomach, especially considering your last interaction.

1924

you were sitting in your cabin, your best friend lying next to you, the pair of you giggling into the night, until you were both facing each other. it was very clear that the energy had shifted from lighthearted fun, to something else entirely. in all honesty, it sort of made you feel uneasy, but then again everything rio ever did brought up that feeling. it made most people withdraw from her company, but it only intrigued you more.

currently, her eyes were fixed on yours. you held her gaze. it was clear she was fighting with herself internally to keep her eyes off of your lips, but after a few moments of tension-filled silence, she gave in, her eyes darting to your cherry red lips for only a split second, before you licked them and her eyes darted back up to meet yours once again. it was now that you had realised the position that you had been laying in, your hand lazily on her waist whilst hers rested on top wearily. you moved your hand up, with an uncertain energy, as if one wrong move would ruin what was happening. you moved your hand up to her neck, rubbing it gently, and then up to her face as you caressed it gently. her hand has moved more confidently on to your waist, as she squeezed it lightly. you had hoped she hadn’t caught your breath hitch, but the ghost of a smirk on her face told you that she absolutely had. you could feel her breath, hot and shaky on your face. your hand moved to play with her hair, and with a final burst of confidence, you leaned in to kiss her. just as your lips met hers, you were apart again. she moved her hands from you quickly and jolted to sit up in bed. you looked at her again, but the expression on her face was not one you were familiar with.

“rio, i’m sorry-“ you began. what had you just done?

“i have to go.” she whispered, and just like that it was almost as if she were never there.

2026

it was today that your lovely acquaintance, agatha harkness, had decided to make herself your problem as she practically forced you down the witches road. you didn’t really know why you’d shown up, considering the last time you walked the road together she almost you you slashed into a million pieces, but you went along anyway. when you arrived at her extremely un-agatha like house, you were met with a ragtag group of witches and one random lady that you were sure that the rest of the coven had also noticed. unfortunately the woman had passed away during your first trial, and you were left angrier at agatha than you were before, because she could’ve got you all killed by not drinking that wine. you were ready to force it down her throat at one point.

one of the witches, a tall woman dressed head to toe in pink, had suggested summoning a green witch to the road, since they didn’t actually have one. none of you seemed against the idea, and so that’s exactly what you did. had you known what was going to happen mere moments later, you’d have an entirely different opinion.

agatha’s coven all stood still anticipating the arrival of the new green witch, you were a bit less interested, just wanting to leave, and so were not fully paying attention until a single hand shot up from under the ground. a hand that, embarrassingly, you still recognised. the pit that formed in your stomach was one you’d never felt, and it got so much worse when her full figure came into view. she hadn’t aged a day, well she had, she’s aged over a hundred years, but she still looked exactly the same as she did that night in the cabin. as she introduced herself, you hid yourself from view behind the lady dressed in pink, jen, who you’d decided was the only tolerable one here, but it was no use. she had seen you.

“y/n…” she smirked. this earned looks from the whole coven, considering her dramatic entrance.

“i have to go.”

you felt ill as you turned your heel and walked swiftly in the other direction. “maybe this is my trial?” you thought hopefully, praying that you’d turn around and the coven would all be dressed in hideous outfits that the road had picked out for them, but no, when you turned around, you were met by the hypnotic gaze of rio.

“y/n…” she began, “been a while.”

“don’t.” you snapped, “don’t even try.”

“what’s the problem?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“what’s the problem? rio its been over a hundred years.” you spat, malice dripping from your tone. she seemed to enjoy it.

“i’ve been… busy.” she replied playfully.

you didn’t respond.

carefully, she waded over to you, placing a hand on your lower back and using the other to grab your face to look at her.

not breaking eye contact, she brought her hand down to your collarbone, dragging her fingertips along a gash that you’d received from broken glass in the trial. you shuddered at the coldness of her touch. it brought you back to that night, because the only time you’d ever felt her heat up, was when your hand was on her face in the cabin.

her eyes met yours once again and she smiled gently, the same smile she’d smiled all those years ago, before leaning into you.

“rio.” you mumbled, stopping her. you looked up at her with conflicted eyes.

“come on,” she whispered, “look me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing for me.”

“well clearly that’s not the case, rio, is it?” you spat, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill.

“so what’s the problem?” she asked, both hands now on your face.

“you shut me down the last time, remember?” you spoke, trying your best to drill into her head what she had done to you. “and then you think if you show up here a hundred years later and give me a kiss it’s all gonna be okay?”

“do you know why i left that night?” she whispered, dragging a cold hand into your hair, your eyes threatening to close at her action.

“oh, please, lady death, enlighten me! why did you leave me for a hundred years?” you asked, sarcasm lacing your tone. you caught her slight demeanor change at the use of her title, but it faded quickly.

“i was scared.”

and you couldn’t help but let yourself laugh humourlessly in her face.

“of what, rio, tell me what you were so scared of.”

“that i was’t good enough for you.” she replied, talking to the floor.

“don’t, you’ll set me off again.” wiping tears of laughter from your flushed cheeks.

she didn’t say anything.

“oh.” was all you could muster, “you’re serious?”

she could only nod.

subconsciously your hands wrapped around her waist, before they traveled up to her face.

“well you’re wrong.” you whispered, as she leaned into your touch.

“am i?” she asked, being more serious than you’d ever saw her.

“please, trust me, you’re the only one good enough for me, rio.” you replied, eyes never leaving hers.

“is that right?” she smirked, her confident demeanour reappearing.

“would i have said it if it wasn’t?” you smiled.

“so are you gonna let me kiss you now, or…” rio smirked, one hand grabbing at your waist, the other fidgeting with a strand of your hair.

“come here, you idiot.” you giggled, as you pulled her closer to you, and she grabbed your face to close the gap between you. kissing rio was a difficult feeling to describe, the best way you could would be to say that it’d be the same feeling you’d experience if you set foot in antarctica with no jacket, but it didn’t bother you, as long as you could do this again.

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ tell me about love (show me how) | gojo satoru

wc: 7.4k

summary: you teach gojo how to love. 

contains: f!reader in mind but no pronouns mentioned, descriptions of blood (typical jjk canon type stuff), shibuya onwards manga spoilers, implied minor character death, there are swears, suggestive bit at the end (but it’s funny!), lots of internal thoughts/dialogues, kind of canon divergent

a/n: relates to my short blurb, do you believe in love?, explores a lot on how i think gojo would be when it comes to love; ambiguous but linear timeline (jumps through scenes)

collection masterlist: conversations on love 01. do you believe in love? <- you are here -> 2.5. and my body keeps saying (it's yours)

When Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it. 

It’s unusual for him to be so restrained, being born into greed and predetermined purpose—a one-man clan fated to hold power close to God. There exists a hunger within him, insatiable and stubborn, unstoppable until he gets what he wants. It’s all he’s ever known: to take and devour, simply because he can. 

Yet with this, he doesn’t. He can’t seem to. 

“I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.” 

When you offer your heart to Gojo, he looks at you softly. 

You catch his eyes and see the sky, bright, with flecks of light floating on his irises like cotton clouds in its periphery. It’s different from the piercing blue you’re used to—a terrifying riptide that washes you away. 

It wasn’t intended as a confession, but Gojo always takes whatever you have to say. He commits it to memory each time; how could he not? Words that come from you flow so naturally, so earnestly that the air around you shifts all on its own.

His lips part slightly, red spatterings lining pink inner corners before they close again. He doesn’t say anything, but you know Gojo and the fingerprints of his soul—the way he bites his lips to withhold himself from speaking. 

It’s dangerous, he thinks, how you make wanting something so complicated seem so simple.

He takes a small breath, then you feel it, pressed against you—the faint signature of his cursed energy overlaying his entirety. It tickles your skin a little, the effects of it brushing. You don’t remember the last time he put it up around you.

A million things run through Gojo’s mind for every split second he breathes, but at this point in time, he counts a million and one—one thought that if he touches you by infinity instead of his hands, he can have this good thing for now, that this is the only way how. 

You’d think this a rejection, if any, but he doesn’t move away from you, and the blush blooming at the tips of his ears says more than he ever could. 

.

.

.

The subtle intimacy you share with Gojo grows sporadically, from knuckles brushing to pinkies touching. He stands next to you more often, a few inches closer than he used to and sometimes, still, with an infinity connecting you.

.

.

.

When you hold Gojo’s hand for the first time, he jolts very slightly, as if you’ve shocked him. He’s started to put his infinity down around you again, and you continue the limbo of whatever it is you both are—except this time, he’s made it clearer, just a little bit. 

During the last few leaves of fall, Gojo skips to an ice cream stand like a pre-schooler on early dismissal. You trail behind him slowly, shaking your head affectionately; he’s the only adult you know that still acts like he’s 5. 

“You’re like a horse.” you jest, stopping next to him in line.

“You’re a snail.” he huffs, side-eyeing you, like a child.

You gasp exaggeratingly, hitting his arm. He fake-winces, but that’s all it is; Gojo’s the strongest and you don’t know of any human touch that has managed to hurt him, except—

Yeah. Your eyes trail to the side of his neck, hidden in the shadows of his jawline; there’s really nothing, but sometimes you blink and see crimson, oozing, gushing, leaking—you shake away the thought.  

When he receives his ice cream cone stacked with vanilla-strawberry-vanilla and rainbow sprinkles on top, the smile on his face parallels the sun. He looks cozy, almost boyish, beaming against the autumn breeze blowing on his thick gray hoodie. 

You wonder if he feels just as warm.

(Maybe that’s why you do it, then).

Once Gojo turns to give you the cone, you reach for his other hand tentatively, shyly—your fingertips grazing his palm lightly. You want to give him an out if he can’t take this, but he doesn’t move. He twitches a little, as if he’s been caught off guard, but that’s it. 

His eyes widen briefly, just a bit, before turning into the same soft skies frequenting them lately. 

“Sorry, is this okay?” you whisper, peering up at him. 

He stares at you for a while, his hand in yours unmoving. You leave a sliver of space between your palms–your own version of his infinity–just in case. And he takes it all in: how tiny your hand is wrapped around his, how gently you speak—how warm he feels now amidst this autumn breeze. 

“The strawberry’s really good,” he finally replies, pressing the dessert closer to you, “try it.” 

You give him one last look before you indulge in his request. Gojo’s always been good at that: pushing and pulling—pushing you away with non-answers only to pull you back in with something else. 

But he doesn’t let go of your hand, so you keep yours there, palms nearly touching. (You make a point not to mention how the parts that do touch become clammy for the rest of the afternoon). 

.

.

.

You start to think that your relationship with Gojo is going somewhere, then he disappears (‘gets sealed’ might be the more proper term). 

His absence is deafening. You’ve all lost so much, and it hurts, but you carry on knowing full well that this is what being a jujutsu sorcerer means. There aren’t many left to fight his fight, so you do what you can to. You stay with Shoko, mostly, if not going back and forth with Utahime. You can’t afford to be crying when the students, the kids—you can’t even bear to think about what they’re going through.

Nights are the hardest, when the world is quiet but your mind is loud, throwing far too many questions you can’t find the answers to.

What will Gojo come back to? Then the scarier thought: Will he even come back? 

You don’t want to doubt him, ever, but your mind continues to play back that day, like a final memory. The unintentional confession; his eyes like the sky. 

You don’t want it to be the last important thing you tell him. 

“I should start looking into retirement plans, like Nanamin.” you raise an eyebrow, questioning. Gojo’s never spoken this far into the future before, most especially his. 

“Work is shit now for you too?” you scoff, leaning back on the wooden ledge. 

Gojo rolls his eyes, skipping the coverage of his blindfold today. 

“Well, after I remove the old geezers and change everything, there won’t be much left to do.” 

You hum in response. He does make a point. 

“Also, Megumi won’t need me anymore,” he pouts, whining, “who else will want me around?” 

You try to hold back your laugh, wanting so badly to tell him that Megumi doesn’t even really like him around to begin with—but you figure breaking Gojo’s heart isn’t really something you want to do if you value your peace. 

“I don’t know,” you reply, shifting your weight, “I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.” 

Even now, especially now. You wish you were with him, too. 

.

.

.

The day you hear of Gojo’s potential return, you drop your breakfast outside the 7-Eleven near Jujutsu Tech. You’re supposed to meet up with Utahime for a weekly check-in but your feet take you to Shoko, and the footsteps in your heart have never echoed louder. 

This is the first good news in a while—especially after finding out about the state of Megumi and what happened to Tsumiki, your sweet girl Tsumiki. 

When Gojo comes back, it’s like he never left. He pops out of the box joking the same way, talking the same way. He proves himself to be the strongest all the same, and when he wins—there are scars, but he wins and that fact stays the same. 

So, when you reach for his hand now and he moves away, you’re stuck wondering what’s changed. 

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.

.

You let it stay that way for a while, your understanding extending to Gojo the way it always has—you don’t push, and he gives you what he can. It honestly isn’t all that bad, because at least he’s still talking to you like he used to. 

Jujutsu society is still shaken from its core. You and all who have survived bear the task of building everything from the ground up; it’s exhausting, especially since most of you are still mourning. 

Megumi’s been put in an induced coma; you understand why but it still tugs at your heart when Shoko tells you it might take a while. Everyone else has been assigned to sweep through the rest of Japan to ensure that any remaining curses are taken care of. 

You see Yuuji and Yuuta visit Megumi sometimes, along with Maki and Toge when they’re free. Gojo’s there pretty often too, using healing sessions with Shoko as an excuse to see the boy he’s practically raised at 17, with you. 

But while Gojo’s smiles to everyone else remain as charming as ever, you can always tell when they’re untrue. 

.

“Are you okay?” 

You find Gojo a little after midnight on the rooftop of the faculty building. The city always looks pretty from up here—a sea of lights reflected up on the sky. It’s a running joke that rooftops are Gojo’s ‘thing’, but you know he really only comes to places like this to think. You wonder what’s on his mind now, coming here every single night since being unsealed. 

Despite how quiet you try to be, sneaking up on Gojo is almost impossible; he senses you before he hears you, sees the familiar traces of your cursed energy through his Six Eyes. 

“Can’t sleep thinking about me?” he teases, looking straight ahead.

The steps you take towards him are careful, afraid of running him off like you seem to be lately. You sit beside him, leaving a space larger than you usually do, then shrug, “These days, yeah.”

It’s times like this when Gojo forgets how honest you can be, how he takes your word for everything, completely. 

It’s threatening, he thinks, how you can say so much with so little. 

“Well, maybe I can suggest—” 

“Seriously, Satoru,” you grip the ledge tightly, knuckles turning white, “please.” 

You tend to let Gojo dodge your questions a lot of the time, his elusiveness a hallmark of who he is. So you never sound like you do now, serious, pleading. 

Gojo fiddles with his fingers, pondering. He hums lowly before speaking, “Does it matter?” 

It hurts you a little, how that’s even a question. He should know better than to ask that to you. 

“It matters to me, Satoru,” you sigh, “you know it does.”

You barely catch the way his brows furrow at your response, but there are creases on his blindfold that can’t be created by anything else. And Gojo knows—is so painfully aware of the way you care. 

Since coming back, he’s never felt like he’s fully returned. It’s an odd existence of in-between, like he breathes everything and nothing all at the same time. The emotions are even worse, overloading his senses with feelings he can never pinpoint. 

How does he tell you that he must be fucked in the head? That every second in his mind is another step closer to insanity? That he’s lost your tether on Satoru in pursuit of Gojo—of being a god? 

“I’ll tell you,” he starts, “but you have to look away.”

You’ve always treated Gojo tenderly, patiently, and he knows, without a doubt, that no matter what he says you will continue to do the same. But he can’t allow that, not anymore. Not after the way you looked at him that day.

“Okay,” you mutter, turning your head the other way. 

He breathes out and you can almost picture it: half-bitten lips and eyes like low tide. 

“I’m fine,” he says to the back of your head, “you have nothing to worry about.” 

A breeze picks up and brushes past your neck. It’s a lie. He knows it, knows you know it too, but—

it’s easier this way, he thinks, to give you answers when you’re not looking.

Gojo’s never found a weakness he can’t work around, but he might have just found one with you—in your eyes, that read through his every lie. If you turn around now, he’ll want to tell you everything.

“Satoru,” you whisper, letting his name fill the air. You get it—him, and even when you don’t, you try damn hard to because you refuse to let Gojo carry all of it on his own. 

There are crescent indents on your palm from squeezing your knuckles too hard. You think, is this how you form shallow cuts on your heart?

“It’s just me,” you continue, facing him when you say it. 

He takes you all in—your eyes that hold the city lights, your lips, the only vessel that handles his name so delicately. It’s that look on your face again and Gojo’s hit with an ache in his chest—the overwhelming truth that whatever it is, he feels the same. 

.

.

.

There’s a secret Gojo keeps, one he’s certain he’ll never tell you: that when he looks at you upon his return and finds an emotion he refuses to name, he’s never felt so afraid.  

He takes in the shadows under your eyes and the sunkenness of your cheeks—the number of blinks it takes you to reign in tears on the brink of leaking. The way your voice shakes when you say his name.

Shoko tells him about it because she knows you never will—about how you’ve been running yourself dry, speeding through colonies to gather intel for any possible way to break the seal. She tells him about the sleepless nights, how she catches you standing outside his office at 3 a.m. before travelling to Utahime the next morning. 

And he cannot comprehend it at first, cannot understand how he’s caused you to crumble this way. 

If this is all because of him, how you’ve broken yourself all for his sake, he can’t allow it. To see you ruin yourself over him, over anyone ever—you deserve better.

So, when Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it; he cannot possibly take any more from you if this is what is left of you when he does. 

.

.

.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you catch him by the door of the conference room. 

Rebuilding an entire society requires work and apparently a lot of meetings. Gojo doesn’t usually go to most of them, leaving you and Utahime to carry the chunk of his attendance when he’s not there. In the rare times that he does show up, he makes it a point to be the last one in and the first one out. Utahime hates him for it but you don’t blame him—he isn’t exactly amicable with other figures of authority.

He pauses when he steps out of the door, hands in pockets as he turns to face you. 

You’re not mad or anything, just stating the fact. He’s always known you to speak this way. You lean against the wall next to you, keeping your arms crossed. More people continue to file out of the conference room, some eyeing the two of you curiously as they pass by.

Gojo glances at them, suddenly self-conscious as he clears his throat, “Right, I’ve been avoiding the paperwork you left in my office,” he emphasizes, practically announcing it to everyone in the vicinity, “let’s finish it now.” 

You don’t know whether it’s irritating that Gojo’s so terribly bad at acting, or comforting that he still can’t, for the life of him, successfully lie in front of you. 

He motions for you to follow him as he strolls down the hallway, but you intentionally lag a few steps behind, careful not to encroach on his space lest it make him avoid you any more than he already is.

Stepping into Gojo’s office after so long feels weird, like you belong here but only to a memory of it—as if closing the door behind you feels like activating a muscle you haven’t for a while. It’s been months after all. 

Your eyes skim over the entire room, zeroing in on the stacks of paper lined up on his desk; paperwork has always been Gojo’s least favorite part of the job, often leaving you to do them with him (or alone, when you’re feeling generous). Not much has changed in his space; the mini living area still exists to the left of the room, with little bits of you in its interiors—the pillows, the coffee table books. 

Gojo plops down on the sofa chair and props his feet up on the ottoman, giving four scrolls to his phone before pocketing it. He has the audacity to casually offer you the seat across from him, as if nothing’s wrong—as if he hasn’t been avoiding you for god’s sake. 

Ever since the rooftop, he’s canceled lunch with you six times for reasons that you’re now realizing are less likely to be true. He’s kept a distance of at least one person in between you at all times, and to this day, you still don’t understand why. 

You sigh, taking a seat and leaning back to cross your legs. 

“You’re so bad at acting.” you start.

Being with Gojo for so long, you’ve come to realize that there’s no point being angry with him when your heart can never take it. 

“I technically wasn’t lying.” he replies, sticking his index finger up. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” you snicker, nodding to his desk. 

It’s always like this with Gojo: he pulls you in and you follow. No matter the distance between you, when you sit down together like this, it still always flows so easily. The banter you’ve built together over a decade and more shines through no matter what state your relationship is in. 

Neither of you say anything until Gojo replaces his blindfold for his sunglasses, placing the piece of cloth on the coffee table. 

You break the silence. 

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you ask quietly. Gojo aches at that, how you still choose to regard him so kindly. 

Why has he been avoiding you? It’s a good question, completely valid with how he’s been treating you lately, but he could draw up every answer he has, all one million and one, and still not know what to say.

Gojo’s a pretty bad communicator; for how much he talks, he doesn’t really say much—and maybe that’s the root of all this. There are too many things he wants to say but can’t formulate in the right way. 

“If it’s something I did, can you at least let me know?” you continue. Gojo frowns, how can you be wronged yet still think of yourself as the one to blame? 

“Why do you do that?” he tuts, head tilting sideways as his hands dig deeper into his pockets. 

“Do what?” you furrow your brows, confused. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t worry about it.” he says dismissively. 

You arch an eyebrow; he has it all mistaken. 

“Satoru, I’m not worried because I feel guilty,” you sit up, inching towards the edge of your seat, “I’m worried because you’re pushing me away.” your voice is level, but your pupils shake.

Something grips at his chest seeing you this way; together or apart, he seems to be the main contributor to your heartache. 

You wonder if confronting him like this is any good if he’s not going to say anything anyway. 

“If you want space, that’s okay, I get it, but,” you exhale, “at least just tell me why.” 

This entire time avoiding you, Gojo’s had you on his mind—the million and one. He’s come to terms with what he feels when you’re together, and how it amplifies when you’re not. 

It’s shitty of him to practically ghost you, not just in text but in real life too. But he’s thought about it logically, really, that removing himself from your life should be just like ripping off a bandaid—painful but quick. At least that way, you’d get over it fast. 

He’d been resigned to doing that and that was the plan—until now. 

All it takes is seeing that look in your eyes, and his resolve falls apart. 

“I can’t.” he speaks softly. 

What hurts the most is that beneath his sunglasses, his eyes still hold the sky. 

You think you want to cry. 

You take this as your answer and close your eyes, taking a deep breath before getting up to leave. If this is goodbye, you don’t want your last interaction to be an awkward memory of him watching you bawl in his office chair. 

You push yourself up with the armrest only to sit back down—because Gojo is right in front of you, blocking your way. His infinity is up but touching, a tingling sensation sweeping across your knees. 

“Wait,” he swallows, a franticness you’ve never seen before. His head stays down as he bites his lips, sunglasses hanging by his fingertips. You wonder what he wants to say, that even if it comes out messy, it’s okay. You want to tell him that it’s just you—that you’ll always want to hear it all anyway. 

What comes next is unlike any version of Satoru you have ever known—nervous and uncertain, almost like he’s afraid. He lowers himself, slowly coming down to his knees in front of you. A giant of a man so small in your presence. 

“I don’t know how.” he mutters, dropping his sunglasses to the floor. 

You blink once, twice, still surprised by what’s in front of you. Gojo has always towered above you, has always known how to do anything and everything so effortlessly without fail. 

Watching him now, with every inhale and exhale dragging in slow motion, you do your best not to startle him. 

“How to what?” you whisper, the moment so fragile. 

He looks up, eyes locking with yours. A reaction happens in that moment—the split second of all his thoughts collapsing into one. You see a clear sky, blue and bright as day, the Satoru he saves for you—while he sees you, with that look on your face, the one that he knows has always only meant love. 

The sincerity in your gaze overwhelms him—makes him look away before it becomes too much. Red blooms at the tips of his ears as he bites the inner corners of his lips, fingers grabbing at the fabric of his pants. You’re afraid he might run away again, but he doesn’t and stays right where you are. 

“You know…” he looks to the side, pouting, “whatever you do….”

“Like…?” you coax lightly, trying hard to hide the small smile forming on your lips. 

You wonder how many versions of Satoru you’ll meet in your lifetime, and if this one, shy and nervous, will be one you’ll fit into the crevices of your heart just like all the others. 

He grips his pants tighter, fabric bunching under his fingers, “When you hold my hand… those things. You get it.” 

And you do (get it), so you don’t push, taking whatever Gojo has to give you like you always have. 

The tension relieves from you slowly, comforted by the fact that at least he’s given you his reasons now (no matter how vague they still seem to be). That at least there are no non-answers this time. 

You tell yourself that it’s okay, that you’re content as long as Gojo’s in your life even without the possibility of becoming something more. 

“Ok—”

But there’s always one thing you forget about Gojo—

“So show me how.”

—in the moments you least expect it, he speaks the words that matter most. 

.

.

.

You choose to show him slowly, gently, like the trickling introduction of water to a man who is first learning how to drink. 

In the first few weeks of you and Gojo readjusting to one another, he turns on his infinity again—but only when he gets close enough to touch you. Lunches together happen more often, dinners sometimes too. Then he puts his infinity down, indefinitely. 

For the most part, your relationship falls into the usual steps of your dynamic with Gojo; there’s no pressure for anything and he likes that, appreciates the time you’re giving him to learn things at his own pace. 

It grows organically that way: knuckles brushing as you both reach for the stapler, pinkies touching whenever you walk side-by-side during site visits—until you’re able to hold his hand fully again, leaving that little infinity between your palms for him to close (hopefully, one day). 

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.

.

The faculty room is cold, especially during winter. The heating system is never warm enough to keep your hands from shaking whenever you mix your morning coffee. 

“So loud so early,” Gojo saunters into the kitchen, hands in pockets as he approaches the pantry. 

You stop mixing, ceasing the clinking of the spoon against your mug. “How are you not freezing?” 

He shrugs, grabbing his box of (heavily sugared) cereal. “I guess I’m just hot.” he says, turning to wiggle his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes and set your coffee on the table, Gojo following with a bowl brimming with cereal and milk. 

Mornings usually consist of you and Gojo, with an occasional new hire who has an early class that day. Most of the time, it’s just you two though, with Shoko coming in much closer to lunch time already. 

“Want some?” he asks, holding out his spoon.

It’s routine—Gojo asks and you decline, choosing to save yourself from the cavities that he somehow manages to evade despite having a diet of 80% sugar. 

Today though, you’re feeling a little adventurous. 

You nod, opening your mouth. Gojo’s eyes widen, nearly dropping the spoon at your request. You see the flush of his cheeks and smile, corners of your mouth extending wider. The spoon is shoved to your mouth too quickly, almost like he’s embarrassed to feed you. 

“Too sweet,” you scrunch your face, swallowing down the copious amount of sugar you’ll feel for days. 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Gojo throughout this whole relationship trial period, he recovers from any state within a nanosecond. There’s no end to how shameless he can be. 

“Like me, right?” he winks.

“Sure,” you drawl sarcastically and Gojo smiles like it’s high praise. 

You sip your coffee slowly, revelling in the heat that flows down your throat.

“Can I have half of that?” you point to his bowl. Gojo looks at you, confused, but slides it over anyway.

What happens next is an abomination to Gojo’s eyes—pure absolute disgust: you pour half of his cereal into your coffee and mix, sipping and crunching on a few pieces every now and then. 

His face contorts into complete distaste, horror and revulsion in the way his mouth hangs open. 

“What are you doing? That’s gross!” he nearly yells, reaching over to bring your mug down. His hand covers yours for a moment, the contact still causing gallops in his heartbeat. 

You laugh, giggling as he processes what you’d wasted his cereal on. It honestly doesn’t taste that bad, you think. 

“You’re weird,” he says to you, the grin on his face uncontained. This morning, he feels fond, like the butterflies in his stomach are warm, tickling him from the inside. “Give me.” he motions to your mug. 

You hold it up for him to take a sip but he keeps his hand over yours when he tastes, sticking his tongue out once the bitterness of your coffee hits. You set the mug down, preparing to reach for your spoon, but he takes your hand in his, long fingers slotting right between yours, interlacing. 

Gojo doesn’t normally reach for your hand, much less interlace them together (a recent evolution to your hand-holding), but this feels nice, how your fingers fit right in the spaces of his. 

You turn to him, a shy smile on your face. The tips of his ears are blush red but he looks at you the same, “Your hands were cold,” he pouts, “is this– is this okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s warm. Thank you, Satoru.” you nod, beaming. And it’s not a competition but he hopes you see the light in his eyes, how it feels to be ignited within him only when he’s spending breakfasts like this with you. 

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.

.

Shoko asks what you are and you don’t know what to tell her other than you’re happy and it’s good. Gojo’s existence is loud and vibrant, easy to spot from miles away—but he cares for you discreetly, in the hand that gently rests on your lower back while crossing the street, and the seemingly unlimited supply of your favorite coffee when you have no recollection of restocking it ever. 

He gives you a new mug for Christmas, one with little cereals painted all over while you give him his own tube of hand cream that he claims always smells like you. 

During the faculty New Year celebration, you overhear one of the new hires make a move on Gojo. You aren’t bothered by it or anything, simply walking past to sip your sake by the couch. You can hear them talk a bit from the kitchen, but you try not to pry despite how curious you are about his response. 

Until—

“I’m taken,” you hear Gojo say bluntly. 

Everything rings in your ears after that. The countdown music is loud, but your heart beats louder; there are murmurs and footsteps around you, but only one man crouches down to check on you, glass of water in hand. 

You snap out of it and see blue, the sky—a familiar light; you don’t think you can control the smile on your face, the alcohol lowering your inhibitions to paint on something lovesick. 

And when he smiles back, pink lips stretching wide—oh your heart can’t take it. He places one hand on your knee, rubbing gently. You hear it faintly, how he asks if you’re okay, but all you can do is nod, words failing to express how you feel right now.  

The countdown starts. 3 — and you take his face in your hands, squishing his cheeks to an image of him on your phone from many, many years ago. 2 — you go closer and his eyes go wide, a mixture of panic and surprise, but soft at the same time. 1 — you lean in and his eyelids fall shut, his chest on rampage. Then it lands, there, on the tip of his nose: a delicate peck and the smell of sake mixed with mint (like the lip balm you always carry around in your pocket). 

When you pull away from him, you’re smiling the biggest he’s ever seen, and he can’t feel it from how numb his cheeks have become, but he’s doing the same. 

.

.

.

That kiss to his nose serves as the catalyst to the months that follow: Gojo becomes more comfortable touching you now, and though he blushes every single time, there’s nothing to be ashamed of because you do too. Shoko can’t believe the slow burn this is taking you both, having watched this on the sides since you were both 22, but you think you like it—like the slow drizzle of honey on Gojo’s favorite breakfast waffles. 

“How is it?” you ask, watching as Gojo takes a big bite. 

“D Beft.” he replies, mouth full as he chews. You take the seat beside him and take a spoonful. 

“There’s a secret ingredient.” you say mischievously, wiggling your eyebrows. 

He swallows before he scoffs, “What?” cutting up another piece, “Love?” 

You’re surprised because he says it so casually, and Gojo’s never talked about love, has never even mentioned the word since this shift in your relationship. He realizes a beat late by the expression on your face and gets flustered, thinking immediately of ways to brush past it. 

You had meant to say that you used that infused sugar he buys whenever he goes to Kyoto, but… you suppose love works too. He should know by now, right? 

“If it is?” you whisper, pretending to stir your coffee. 

Gojo doesn’t know how to approach this, really, but he’s come too far to back out now. He clears his throat, mentally running through what he wants to say, then, “Good. ‘Cause that’s what I put in your coffee too.” 

You laugh and the tension dissipates; there are hearts in your eyes for how hard Gojo has tried after denying himself of this for so long. 

He stares at you—at the laugh lines by your eyes and the soft curves of your lips, the moment moving much too slow, stop motion in his mind. He’s drawn in until you’re all too close, a few centimeters from your noses touching. 

Your laughter dies and your cheeks feel like they’re on fire; he’s so close you think he might kiss you. The signs are there—his eyes scaling your face to focus on your lips, his tongue peeping ever so slightly to wet his lips. 

So you wait. 

But he doesn’t, because he moves away after wiping his thumb on the side of your mouth. Even though you know there was nothing there. 

Gojo continues to eat, blabbering about a site visit he’s assigned to next week, but you don’t miss the way his ears are fully red and how he’s biting his lips to death.

.

The tension this time is different; instead of a growing rift, you can’t seem to be close enough. Every time you part ways, he lets go of your hand more reluctantly—as if he wants to say more, do more, but stops himself while he still can. 

When he leaves for missions, you kiss his cheek, pull him in by the hand and linger there, shyly. He gets embarrassingly red but tries to cover it up by telling you not to miss him too much (even though you know you will, and he knows he’ll miss you more). 

Your near-kisses with Gojo happen more frequently, and it comes to a point where he even manages to land one on your forehead, while you fall asleep next to him on his office couch. 

It’s driving you crazy, this tension—the mixed signals of it all. You try to kiss him a few times on the lips, but he evades them each time. You’ve caught Gojo staring at your lips more times than you can count; if that isn’t a sign, you don’t know what is. 

Now that Gojo thinks about it, he’s come so far yet the prospect of kissing you properly still scares him. What if he fucks up? Doesn’t do it right? What if it’s not how he wants you to be kissed? 

There’s that secret Gojo will never tell you, of how seeing that look on you has never gotten him more afraid. And he’s worked through that now, but it’s evolved into something else: how Gojo is now afraid of love, more than anything else, not because of loss but because he might not know how. 

And kissing you, loving you this way—he’s never done it before, doesn’t know how to make you feel love without his lips shaking and heart palpitating; how to do it while letting you know he feels the same. 

.

It happens during an assignment out of town. Curses aren’t as bad as they used to be, but they’re still stronger than what any of the available sorcerers right now can handle. 

You don’t remember the last time you saw Gojo use his technique that way—almost forgotten how powerful and ruthless he can be. Every time since, holding your hand, keeping you close—he’s just been your Satoru. 

Your apartment for the weekend is a two-bedroom unit with one bathroom and a decently sized living area and kitchenette; Gojo always chooses the room in front of the bathroom because he tends to wake up in the middle of the night to pee (information you know from your many other assignments with him before). Still, going as what you are now—it feels different. 

There’s a charged air between you as you move around the unit; you make your nightly tea while Gojo looks through the groceries for some crackers. It’s peaceful and quiet—domestic almost, but there are goosebumps on your skin for reasons you can’t explain. Being around Gojo lately has felt that way.

He brushes past you to throw the finished packet of crackers and the feeling intensifies; it’s not awkward, just tense, like anticipation sitting deep in your bellies, waiting on each other to make the first move. 

He announces that he’ll use the bathroom first, if you don’t mind, and you motion for him to go ahead. Your mind is fuzzy and having Gojo around seems to only make it worse.

When you walk past the bathroom and straight to your room, you hear Gojo humming that soft pop tune from a popular girl group on the radio earlier. You giggle, thinking it’s sweet—how he sings obnoxiously around everyone else but is admittedly pretty good when it’s just him, alone. 

You still have the rest of the weekend in this area, having agreed to monitor the site and any nearby locations for other suspicious activity, but at least the worst of it is over (maybe just to you though; Gojo hates paperwork). 

The sound of running water stops and you hear the bathroom door swing open. You don’t see Gojo when you exit your room but he leaves the door open to release any remaining steam.

There’s a reason why people say showers are good for the mind. You’re happy for those who’ve found it, but that couldn’t be you, because the only thought plaguing your head right now is Gojo—and whether you should greet him goodnight, if you should kiss his cheek or hug him tight. The tension between you now is palpable, an electric current waiting to zap on both ends. 

Your mind is so out of it that you don't realize you’re missing your skincare bag until after you finish brushing your teeth and dressing for bed. You open the bathroom door with the sole intention of going back to your room to get it, but instead, you’re met with a wall of chest.

Gojo’s eyes are wide, bright blue with damp strands of white falling like curtains barely shielding the sky. He’s just as surprised as you are, toothbrush in his hand as you hold up the towel wrapped around your head. 

You’ve seen Gojo in his pajamas many times before—white long sleeves with gray cotton pants, but your eyes trail to his collarbones and the way the bathroom lights cast it under a soft glow. The redness on his cheeks, a visual manifestation of the heat on yours. 

Gojo can’t stop staring at your lips, at how soft they look—at how soft you look fresh out of the shower. The little baby hairs sticking out under your towel are cute, and he leans in without knowing—a pull he can’t seem to resist. For once in his life, Gojo’s mind is still. 

You try to meet him halfway, tiptoeing, but you’re a little out of your element; you don’t know where to put your hands and your heart’s about to explode out of your chest. When your noses touch, you can’t breathe, closing your eyes while you wait for it. 

But it doesn’t come. 

You feel Gojo’s breath stilling before speeding up into little exhales. Something is wrong. You open your eyes and find him staring back at you, a version of Gojo you haven’t seen in a while—that you rarely see ever, except that day during your confrontation in his office. 

Concern laces your features and you move back a little, hands coming up to caress his cheeks. His eyes still look frantic, but they focus on you when you cup his face so gently. 

“Satoru,” you whisper, voice grounding. His breaths slow down a little. 

You realize that it must be true then, what they say, that those who love to be feared, fear to be loved, because you’ve never seen anyone afraid of something so good as Gojo is of this. 

“Satoru,” you repeat, massaging his temples with your thumb, “we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

Gojo hates it, how you’ve always had to adjust for him. He hates that he can’t give you this one thing, hates that you’re still so patient, that he’s still so afraid. He swallows, closing his eyes tight before opening them again. 

“I want to,” he chokes out, “I just don’t know—”

You chuckle, without judgment, “I don’t either,” you lean forward, foreheads touching, “but do you want to try together?”

You learn that Gojo sees himself so differently from how you do—and maybe that’s everyone, but Gojo tends to say things while doing the other. He says he can’t bother with kids, but continues to take so many of them under his wing anyway; he calls your cereal concoction disgusting but tastes it regardless; and he says he can’t think about love, doesn’t know how, but proceeds to try so much harder, everyday. 

When you look at Gojo, you see a heart so big, so capable, that he can’t see it himself. 

You nudge his nose with yours and he breathes deeply, closing his eyes once again. If he doesn’t do this now, how much longer ‘till he does? 

Gojo hums before nodding his head slightly. His hands come up to cover yours, toothbrush wedged in the spaces between his fingers; they’re clammy, he’s sure, but he’s kept you waiting long enough. 

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, everything trembles—his pupils, his lips, the breath he takes. It’s all shaky and nervous, but your lips touch and all you know is that you like it there. He’s a little bit stiff but you don’t mind, pressing closer just for a little bit before pulling away. 

Gojo keeps your hands in place, half-lidded eyes staring at you lazily. His ears are fully red now but he’s giving you a look you’ve never seen before—like lightning crackling in the gaps between his eyelids. 

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, you don’t expect it to be by the bathroom door of a rented apartment, while away on a mission. You don’t expect it to be in your pajamas, towel wrapped around your hair as you’re getting ready for bed. You definitely don’t expect him to guide your hands down his neck while he places his on your lower back, squeezing lightly before pulling you in to kiss you again. 

This time, his lips move more pliantly, parting yours slightly; he tastes mint, mixed with the strawberry candy he had earlier and it’s nothing he could have ever imagined before, but is now everything he’s ever wanted. The push and pull between you is magnetic, soft lips and the intermingling of held breaths. All Gojo can think of now is to take, to devour—to keep you with him, like this, always. 

You wonder if Gojo is lying—that he’s never done this before, because you don’t think you can kiss anyone after this and not think of his lips on yours. 

By the time you part, the air is significantly warmer. Your fingers thread through the hair at the base of his neck and you smile, sighing. Gojo looks warm, with his swollen lips and flushed cheeks. 

“That…” you trail off, nudging his nose. 

Gojo looks at you fondly; to ever even think he could have this now, with you—he doesn’t believe in any higher being but you must be his prayer come true. 

“We can practice a bit more, I think.” he pulls you closer, hands gripping your hips. 

You feel it against you, something solid and firm against your stomach and your eyes go wide at the realization; Gojo does the same. 

“Satoru, you–” he moves back and freezes, untangling himself from you completely. There’s a faint outline on the crotch of his pants and your whole face goes red. 

“Let me use the bathroom real quick.” he panics, rushing past you and closing the bathroom door. 

You stand there stunned for a good minute before you shake out of it, laughing. Gojo yells about how you’re being so mean, making fun of him when he’s like this, but you aren’t—not really. 

It’s been a long time getting to this point with Gojo, but considering all things, you think, this might just be the beginning.

thank you notes: i would also like to shoutout @stellamancer for leaving such lovely comments on dybil that it actually kinda pushed me to write this longer piece connected to it!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[augustinewrites]

cw: jjk manga spoilers (up to 221), blood, sword fights heh + note: it's finally here, and somehow it's worse than shibuya!

“is he gonna be mad?”

“satoru?” you snort lightly, taking another bite of your frozen yogurt. “he’s just going to ask if you won. he might try to take the sequel of that new book set you got as punishment— but i’ll see what i can do.” 

across the table, megumi huffs, leaning back into the plush booth. you’d picked him up early from school today, the reason being yet another suspension. his second since he’d started the school year. you suppose that’s the reason for his sullen disposition and existential crisis. 

“am i a bad person?”

you glance up at him in acknowledgement, but take a moment before answering. he stirs the frozen yogurt around in its cup, looking rather glum.

there’s a delicate way of going about these types of things. children (especially teenagers) are complicated creatures. they’re still at their most malleable, your words and actions shaping their very future.

“i don’t think you’re a bad person, megumi,” you answer softly, setting your spoon down. 

“but i…i keep doing bad stuff,” he argues dejectedly. “and— and i was mean to tsumiki—”

“hey. no one’s born wanting to do bad things,” you tell him. “and when they do…it’s usually more complicated than we think. there are bad situations where sometimes we have to do bad things. even if we don’t want to. even if we’re not proud of them.” 

“but how do you know that i’m not?” he asks again, and your heart aches. 

“because i know you,” you smile. “i’ve known you for eight years, megumi. yeah, i think you could afford to try using your words instead of your fists once in a while, and be a little nicer to your sister…but i know everything you do comes from a good place.”

megumi doesn’t reply, staring out the window with that pensive frown of his. all you can do is wonder if you and satoru have done right by him. if you’re doing right by him now. (such is the life of a parent, you suppose.)

all you can do is hope. 

“hey,” you grin, holding your hand out to him. “promise me something?”

_____

you stumble backwards, narrowly avoiding being gutted by a sword. gasping, your fingers fumble with the hem of your shirt, the material sliced right above the small, almost imperceptible bump of your stomach. 

your megumi would never hurt you. your megumi, your sweet, gentle boy who still muttered the song about bunny ears as he tied his shoes. who always offered his sister the last bite of cake, even though you knew he wanted it for himself. who cried the first time his shikigami were injured in battle. 

but this isn’t megumi.

you barely dodge the blade again, ducking and sending your demon dogs out to slow him down as you sprint down the alley. your heart shatters at the sound of a high-pitched whine, but you can’t stop, you can’t look back—

“going somewhere?”

you skid to a stop in front of him, staggering back as quickly as you can. 

megumi— no, sukuna stands in front of you now, holding a sword you’d taught his vessel how to make, how to use. 

“please,” you beg, thinking of tsumiki’s body a few blocks away. thinking of gojo in the prison realm. you can’t lose anyone else today. “please let him go.”

“i don’t think so,” he grins, sick and twisted as he slowly makes his way towards you. “if only he’d unlocked his full potential sooner. if only you had.” 

“he’s just a child.” you say, voice trembling. you look around. there’s no use in running. he’s gotten much too strong.

but you’re not ready to die either.

he wasn’t patient, lunging first and taking the offense. it’s a struggle to meet him at every swing, deflecting blows that send tremors down the sword’s point of impact and reverberate through your arms. 

playing defence is the smart move. you’d wait for an opening or a drop in his own defence. then your goal would be to disarm him and attempt to grant yourself an advantage. 

(in theory, at least.)

when your swords lock once more, he forces them to the side, kicking you square in the chest. the impact knocks you onto your back. before you can get up, he’s on top of you, driving his sword into your shoulder.

the pain is so blinding, so white-hot and tortuous that you almost immediately pass out when he pulls it free and tosses it out of your reach. 

sukuna is in your face now, lips peeled back into a smirk as he laughs, the top of his finger slowly dragging down your face.

“putting you down now would be letting this brat off too easy. doing it slowly, however—”

“get off her.”

your heart skips a beat. that voice. 

there’s a flash of recognition in megumi’s eyes. just a for a second. 

“satoru?” 

“is that any way to treat the person who washed your underwear for almost ten years?” he tsks, hands in his pockets as he steps into the alley, quite literally kicking the king of curses off of you.

he sweeps you off the floor as gently as possible, your stomach flipping at the familiar sensation of being teleported.

you’re not in the alley anymore, you’re up on the roof of a building. as soon as satoru sets you on your feet, you look up, studying his face. the eyes you love so much stare back at you. 

the emotions you’d kept bottled up since he’d been gone pour out at once. proof of your heartache, anger, pain, and loneliness spilling over your lash line.

suddenly there’s too much space between you and you tentatively take a step forward. 

“it’s you,” you breathe. “it’s really you.” 

he says your name softly, and arms you’d longed for envelop you. you feel safe, if only for a moment.

“you need to get to ieiri,” he whispers, a hand cupping your cheek gently. “go. i’ll stop him.”

you both close your eyes, as if the words hurt.

_____

“promise me you’ll always be good.” 

megumi sighs, but places his hand in yours, squeezing it tightly.

“i’ll see what i can do.”

[sarah-yyy]

Jie jie, what is The Double about?

hahahahahaha i was waiting for someone to ask!! mr r has bailed on me at work again and bossman has the man flu so it's just. me at the office today. working my ass off for partners who are trying to Kill Me™.

what: period cdrama // completed // 40 eps, roughly 45 mins each where: youku (standard disclaimer that i don’t watch with subs so i don’t speak to the quality of eng subs) // i think viki is picking this up?

this is xue fangfei. daughter of a small town magistrate. married a poor scholar for love against the wishes of her dad. this turns out to be a bad, bad, bad decision because he ends up burying her alive in the mountains sometime post-marriage. :)

this all happens in like ep 1, we're just getting started.

xff ends up being rescued by jiang li, who is the prime minister's kinda-sorta-exiled daughter. jl has been stuck in a kinda-sorta-nunnery in the mountains for the past 10 years because of her evil stepmother.

i'll skip past all the other bits because there is a bit of a backstory about what happened to jl, but long story short!! jl dies (kinda-sorta-because of xff). xff decides to get justice for both herself and jl. her plan is:

1. become jiang li 2. go back to the capital 3. ?????? 4. profit make everyone pay

this is xiao heng a.k.a. su-guogong (the translation is duke su but it sounds weird to me so i'm going to stick with su-guogong). he chances upon xff while he's trying to catch a criminal.

xff, who is in the process of executing her Escape Plan, decides eh, any way to escape will do and lets s-gg arrest her to take her back to the capital for interrogation.

(yes, this is wang xingyue who played zhang zhe in kunning palace. yes he looks a++++++ in this show. i am obsessed.)

side bar, counsels, for a bit of very important information -

su-guogong recognises xue fangfei!! he knows 100% that she is not jiang li and that she is going to cause some chaos. he is Committed™ to watching this drama play out.

ANYWAY. this is the loose premise of the show. it's been fun to watch, and i'm enjoying this a lot!! why should you watch the show?

wang xingyue looks so good in this!! the fans? the capes?? i am obsessed!! everyone in the costumes department deserves a raise.

the story moves quickly and doesn't really drag on. so far, it's been nothing complicated and interesting to watch - i wouldn't say this is a plot-heavy show, just a v good 宅斗 for now, but i'm only like 10 eps in.

the torture my ex-husband who murdered me by showing up in front of him and saying all the right things to remind him of me and the fact that he killed me is so good - normally when this happens, the person looks nothing like their former self, but!! xff's looks haven't changed!! so she's just out here going - hi i am jiang li now and oh btw do you know how cold it is in the mountains where you killed me :)

look i'm......intrigued by this whole shen yurong (ex-husband) and the zhang-gongzhu storyline. i want to see how this whole thing plays out!!

eta: quick post-watch thoughts (may contain spoilers)

a v enjoyable drama!! this is a 爽剧 for reals, like all the plot points get wrapped up and we get a few cute snippets into their happily ever after!! i'm a bit :/ about the way the last few scenes were done in ep 40 (the side character deaths??? extremely unnecessary 🙄🤬 actually the whole war scene was unnecessary but i'm not complaining too much because it gave us That Scene), tbh the whole thing looked more OE leaning BE than HE to me, so the 番外 was quite important to me!! glad we got that!!

shen yurong and zhang-gongzhu both turned out to be so much more interesting than i thought!! a+++ villains, v well-written, and both actors played them beautifully 👏🏼

still an 8.5/10 rec tbh, started strong and held my interest the entire way through

[itsaship-literally]

It’s A Ship - Literally Revisited

As many of my long-time followers and friends know…

THIS BLOG supports the POTENTIAL FUTURE of Beetlejuice and Lydia.

In the past, I have written posts about WHY we ship Beej and Lyds, specifically here on this blog, when there are so many controversies. It needed to be cleared up many times because, with every new piece of media, there comes opposition, which is totally understandable if you are not used to supernatural or horror-themed romance tropes.

I am here to help break it down for all the new fans sitting back and trying to figure out the ship's where, what, why and whens.

Here we go!

Movie verse:

Many of us were young when we met Beetlejuice and Lydia for the first time. Some latched on to and related to a young Winona Ryder. It was a vibe, and while we are well aware that in real-life terms, a teen is not ready to be involved with a 600+ ghost (cuz that’s an option 🤣), we couldn't help but find the allure in the Living Meets Death dichotomy. As you will undoubtedly see, this is a running theme in the fandom.

We had countless reunion fics featuring an older Lydia (sometimes by years, sometimes by months) reconnecting with her villain/antagonist. Many were dark fic, some light and fluffy and some off the wall chaotic, while some crossed over into the MoToon verse (yes that is a thing)

So here we are, more than 30 years later, and our pair reunited legitimately on the big screen. It was beautiful and, without giving away any spoilers since this new piece of media is still fresh, it gives us more to play with because, let’s face it, he is not done haunting her.

With this movie universe, there is still potential for this ship to thrive. (And that’s not just because Winona and Michael are down. I still am in shock over their revelations)

Toon Verse:

Yet another oldie that many grew up on. This one is a hotbed for both friend-shipping and Relation-shipping.

Here, we have a long-term bond that can be wholesome, platonic, romantic, complicated, or, on occasion, dark and twisted.

Stories have ranged from childhood crushes to outright possessiveness. The fanart from cute fluff to… well… rule 34.

Lydia is young in this cartoon. We are aware of that and in any cartoon fandom, aging up is par for the course. It is expected (and preferred by many) that any stories of romance happen in circumstances outside of the toon cannon.

Age issues aside, we cannot deny that BJ adores her. The man has an entire shrine in his head, idolizing this twisted, weird girl that, once again, many older fans related to. He would do anything for her and has proved it many times. The chaotic dead man with no shits to give will give up freedom and wealth and go against his nature to make her happy.

How can we not find the potential for a future of these two goofballs?

Musical Verse:

This universe combined the goofiness of Toon with the antagonism of the movie—a nice combo that I and those we call MusicalBabes enjoy.

Regardless of what the cast believes or feels about the shipping subject, they are working with a pair of unseen, attention-starved, chaotic nut jobs—a compliment, not disparagement.

Beetlejuice and Lydia need each other. They were miserable before they met and would have continued to be so had they not entangled themselves in the other’s existence.

Living and the dead, once again, need each other to balance their lonliness.

Does musical verse have ship potential? Hell, yes, it does. (Also, this is the only piece of media where the wedding actually went through)

Just a few Common Tropes In This Ship: (there are so many more than this)

Mayfly/December Romance (also see: May/December and Age Gap)

Reincarnation Romance

Death and the Maiden (also see: Monster and the Maiden)

Beast and Beauty

Ugly Guy, Hot Wife

Boy meets Ghoul

Why the name Beetlebabes?

Read: Beetlebabes: A History

To find more ship related content use: Beetlejuice x Lydia, Betelyds (alt. Beetlyds), Beej and Lyds, Beetle and Babes, Beetz and Deetz (or more simply Beetz) are the original ship names. BeetleBabes, MovieBabes, ToonBabes and MusicalBabes are all relatively new.

This blog often uses Beetlebabes but it’s not a hard fast rule that it will be on every post.

The goal of Its A Ship - Literally...

I created this blog many years ago (around 2016) to collect all the goodness in the fandom. Memes, art, fics, fan theories. I picked up the ship names and used them as tags. Gathered as much as I could from Tumblr posts, in all universes, and tried so hard to stay neutral amidst the internal fandom drama. (give or take a few misteps, iykyk)

The only goal I have here is to collect and share and boost all universes. Movie, Toon and Musical, including the mini verses of MoToon and Graveyard Revue if I can find it.

I do this for fun, to destress and play internet magpie with shiny beetle stuff while I stuff everything into the queue.

Lots of love to you guys. And as always, please show love to your fan creators. Credit them and boost the signals. These creators do so much hard work.

- 🪲 - 🪲 - 🪲 - 🪲 - 🪲 -

Previous Posts Like This: Because It Needs to Be Said Yet Again (2017) | One More Time (2019)

[simply-wlw-kpopstan]

4. Accident

⚠️ Spoilers ahead

You woke up and groaned lightly at the light peeking in from behind the curtains. You buried your face in the mass of hair that was in front of you and shifted closer to the warm source, the soft scent of cinnamon and sigarets were just lulling you back to sleep until realization hit you.

Sometime in the night, you and harin got closer and ended up cuddling. Harin’s back was pressed against you, your thigh wedged between her legs and an arm loosely over her waist.

You try to pull away slightly, but all you end up doing is accidentally rubbing your thigh against her 'causing harin to moan lightly in her sleep. Luckily for you she doesn't wake up and you try again, shifting more slowly this time and you manage to escape the bed without waking her up and got ready for the day quietly.

As you walk into the living room you see eunjeong sitting on the couch with her headphones on. You walked closer to her and tapped her on her shoulder, she jumps a little at the touch and shifts the headphones slightly so she can hear you. "What's up?"

"How's your foot?" you nodd towards her leg that's taped, "think you can walk on it to get a coffee?" She smiled and nodded.

"sure, let me grab my bag first." when she left the room you walked towards the window that stretched across the suite, the sun was rising and there were a few people jogging downstairs. If you have the time later you'll go for a run, who knows what you'll find along the way." ready? " eunjeong's voice startled you and you both laughed it off.

"Let's go." you left the suite and ran into yerim and suji at the coffee shop. The air was pretty awkward when nobody said a word as you waited for your orders. It seems like luck was on your side when they call out your order number. "so what's going on between you and yerim? Are you fighting or something?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me what's going on between you and harin." she gave you a knowing look as she sipped from her cup.

"Okay so no talking then. Got it."

"what is it that she has on you?" She watched your expression closely, searching for a sign that could confirm her suspicion. "it looks like you're being protected by her or maybe she's just keeping you for her entertainment. I heard about the clay incident, that must've been hard. Did she ruin one of your pieces?"

"no. It wasn't like that. It's complicated." lie. It was simple, you like her and have been sneaking around in a certain way. You don't know what you are, no matter what harin says there will always be a voice doubting her. " I met her before I came here and she was not like how you know her, I didn't see that side of her until a few weeks ago."

"you like her?" judging by eunjeong's voice she wasn't judging you like you thought she would. "you liked her and then you got to know her other side but it was too late wasn't it?"

You just nodded at her question, no words needed to be said to confirm. " it's crazy right? I hate that I still see the good in her when I know what she's done."

"well, I'm ignoring yerim because I want her to debut."

"I'm sorry for saying this but that doesn't make any sense."

"yerim was against the game from the beginning and harin didn't like that. But since yerim comes from a powerful family harin couldn't just make her an F so she uses her debut against her. I know that me and yerim are obvious but I want her to achieve her dream of debuting."

"so that's what she got on you." you said it more to yourself then to eunjeong but she nodded anyways.

"all I want to say is just be careful. It seems like this thing between you is the only way of her having a hold on you. I'm not saying she doesn't like you but...."

"I know. Trust me there's a little voice in the back of my head whenever she's sweet to me. It's constantly reminding me to keep my guard up just in case. "

"well as long as you listen to it you'll be fine." she smiled and you both finished your drinks as you made your way back to the hotel.

Harin was nowhere to be found but you assumed eunbyeol was with her since she was gone too. You still had 10 minutes before you had to go downstairs, paintball would sound fun if it wasn't with this group of people. A lot has happened and you knew today would be a recipe for disaster. Your only hope was that harin kept her word but That hope was shattered the moment eunbyeol announces you were playing for a replacement F and a penalty. As the game starts everyone scatters around and you tried to find harin to ask what all this was about but you couldn't seem to find her. There were times when someone passes you without shooting and you start to wonder why nobody had any paint marks when you heard shots a couple of seconds ago.

You walk inside a building and heard shots and voices talking. Not just any voice, harin. You walk up to the corner and took a peek to see her standing in front of jaeun who had multiple paint shots on her shirt, was that her plan? Shoot Jaeun so she'd get a penalty? You knew that eavesdropping wasn't really nice but did it matter in this situation? Harin had asked jaeun something about her mom and then told her to betray her friends. That's when it clicked, jaeun and suji's room were all black vests. The alarm sounds and they both leave before you could talk with harin.

In the end it's jaeun, suji, jaehyung, jiae and eunjeong. It doesn't take a genius to know eunjeong took the fall for yerim and that jiae was set up. As eunbyeol explained the penalty you looked over to harin but she wouldn't turn towards you. Out of nowhere jiae begins to shoot herself and it takes everyone by Suprise and then it's followed by the rest doing the same. You couldn't help the smile as they took turns confessing and then jaeun begins and for a second you think she was going to confess what she did to harin but she freezes and suji shoots her, claiming she looks evil next to her and they continue to shoot each other. You looked at harin once again to see her holding back her anger. As you're watching her you notice eunbyeol talking to dayeon and before you realize it she's fighting with eunjeong.

You immediately run towards them but sadly you were to late as dayeon throws her against the wooden panel, "are you fucking crazy?" you yelled at dayeon as you pulled her away.

"what? You think I won't hurt you because harin told us not to? Try me and find out. " she spat on the ground at your feet.

"Someone call 911!" suji yelled from behind you. You turned back and saw the blood coming from eunjeong's leg, you didn't care about the consequences and pushed dayeon back. She stumbled backwards at the force but managed to keep standing.

"you fucking bitch!" She yelled as she charges at you and both of you fall to the ground. You tussled on the ground for a moment but managed to land a hit and overpowered her quickly.

"stop it!" harin spoke and it turned your attention towards her for a second too long. Dayeon quickly hits you and you can feel it connect with your cheekbone. No matter what happens you won't just roll over because she wants you to so you ignore her, landing another punch before staff members of the facility pulled you off of dayeon.

"do neither of you feel sorry for what you did?" you yelled to dayeon and harin, "and you!" you turned towards eunbyeol, "I saw you! Don't even think about saying you didn't do anything. If you didn't tell dayeon whatever it was you told her, all of this wouldn't have happened."

Everything feels like a blur as they take eunjeong to the hospital. One of the staff members takes a look at your cheek since it was already bruising and gave you an ice pack to reduce swelling. Your eyes fall on harin who was standing near the entrance, watching you as the woman applies an ointment. After that you're free to go and you walk the other way to ignore harin. The bus ride back to the hotel is silent, nobody dares to say anything after today's events.

Suji walks up to you in the hotel lobby and drags you away by your arm, as she pulls you towards the corner you see harin stare at the two of you and swear you could see her eyes twitch from where you're standing. "thank you for standing up to dayeon and the others." she smiles a little, "I talked with the others and we wanted to ask if you wanted to stay in our suite instead of yours."

"I'll think about it."

"aren't you worried they'll do something to you?" She frowned.

"not really. But if things do get weird I'll text you and I'll come join the sleepover" you joked and you both managed to loosen up a bit and laugh. "I think you have a big shot at stopping the game."

"you can still help us you know. Never too late."

"I don't want to get dragged into this eventhough I did just jump in the middle of it," you smile and rub the back of your neck, "Just know if you need a vote to stop this you got mine."

You end up talking about eunjeong for a little while before parting ways. As you're headed to your suite you hope harin isn't in the living room that way you can shower peacefully before having to deal with her anger. You successfully escape to the bathroom without being seen but heard harin's voice pass by when you closed the door.

Once you step out the shower you take in your bruise on your face, the throbbing feeling was returning as the painkillers were wearing off. It wasn't too bad but it wasn't pretty either. Thank god for that staff member that gave you some ice and ointment or else the swelling would've been much worse. You reach your hand up to touch the skin around but flinch at the pain, looks like you won't be able to lay on that side for a little while.

The moment you walk in your bedroom harin is laying on the bed, staring out the window with her arms crossed, "about time you showed up."

"didn't know you were waiting for me." you lied and you both knew it.

"why were you talking with suji?" She moves to the side of the bed as she watched you walk over to your suitcase.

"because she wanted to talk to me and unlike some people she tells me the truth." was it a low blow? For sure but you couldn't care less. she had promised you that there wouldn't be any bullying, you had a feeling she wouldn't keep it but to go this far? Eunjeong was in the hospital because of her game, she could've stopped dayeon but she didn't.

"What's that supposed to mean?! I didn't lie to you." she got off the bed and made you look at her. "are you helping her?"

"no. But maybe I should." you stood up and got closer to her, your face just an inch away from hers. It was clear she was mad at you but there was also a trace of hurt in her eyes. " you promised me harin. You wouldn't hurt anyone and now eunjeong is in the hospital, Her chances of a swimming career might be gone! All because of your dumb game!"

"it isn't dumb!" She gritted her teeth and you knew this could end bad for you. No matter what happens you would end up at suji's and jaeun's tonight. "eunjeong chose to defend yerim and after that she chose to stop dayeon. Those are not my choices and I didn't tell dayeon to do anything."

"did you talk to them like you said you would? Like you promised me?" you stepped away from her to get dressed but she followed you anyways. "you didn't did you? I was there when you shot jaeun, when you told her to betray her friends harin."

"she deserved it."

"did she? You were both 9, she didn't know any better! Sure she's guilty of some stuff too but you've done so much worse lately. You're not even sorry for what happened today!"

"she shouldn't have! -" she raised her voice but you cut her off.

"what about me?!" your voice cracked and you swear you could see a flash of guilt in her eyes. "I stepped in too, dayeon and I fought and the only thing you did was tell us to stop once. You could've done that before dayeon hurt eunjeong but you didn't."

"I don't care about eunjeong. I care about you. This is the first time I've felt this way and I didn't want to see you get hurt" she reached out to grab your hand but you pulled away.

"that doesn't mean it's okay. " you turned your head away from her as you thought back to your conversation with eunjeong this morning, " If there's anything that I've learned these past few days it's that I don't really know you."

"you do know me!"

"really? Because I never thought you would threaten to out a person. I talked with eunjeong this morning and she told me everything. Yerim was against the game from the start but you couldn't control her because of her family. The only thing you could do was destroy her chance to debute and then you found out about them." you grabbed all your stuff and threw it in your suitcase." jaeun might have hurt you when you were kids but that's no excuse for everything you've done. "

" wha- where are you going? We leave tomorrow."

" I can't stay in the same suite as you and your minions. Not after today. Whatever this was between us is done harin. " you feel your throat tighten and turn away from her to close your suitcase.

" no! You can't just walk out on me!" She followed you as you left the room. Doa looked up from her place on the couch and dayeon smirked as you walked past her.

" leaving 'cause you're scared i'll do something?" it was the first time you saw her after the fight and saw the damage you did. Dayeon had a busted lip and a bruise on her cheek, it wasn't as bad as yours and you were a bit disappointed by it.

"i'm leaving because I can't stand to look at any of you... Except for you doa." you gave her a soft smile and she nodded.

"understandable." she smiled.

"where are you going?" harin's voice was stern.

"none of your business." you opened the door and left the suite. A part of you was worried she would follow you and loose her shit when she sees you walk in suji's and jaeun's suite. She would find out either way but you'd appreciate a bit of peace and quiet before the storm. The moment you walk in the suite you see the girls surrounding yerim as she read something on her phone. Eunjeong was going to be okay but it was too soon to tell if she'd have to give up her swimming career or not. Jaehyeong soon lifted the mood by joking around and flirting with jaeun, maybe things could get better if you helped them out.

What would happen if harin lost her game? Could she lose? Her control goes beyond the school, she can change a person's life with just a single text. How far can she go? Better question, how far is suji willing to take this? Harin wasn't a nice person and yet you couldn't help feeling bad for leaving her. She already dealt with so much in her life and this game was the only thing that made her happy in some way. Time passes by fast and before you know it you're alone in the living room at night.

"What's on your mind?" yerim pulled you out of your daydreaming as she sat down on the opposite side.

"nothing." you gave her a quick smile, "you can't sleep?"

"not really." she looked down at her phone as it lights up.

"have you heard anything from eunjeong?" She shook her head and you just nodd, "i'm sorry for today."

"it's not your fault. I should be thanking you for defending her." she smiled lightly, "you could've just stood by and you wouldn't have gotten hurt." her eyes trail over the bruise as you waved her off. "aren't you worried harin will come after you?"

"don't worry about it."

"can't help it. Harin is dangerous, she's unpredictable. Add the drugs on top of it and it's-"

"drugs?"

"yeah, her vitamins? Don't tell me you didn't know." she looked at you in disbelieve, "everyone knows about it."

"I didn't."you look down at your hands." do you know what kind? "

" no. Sorry. Maybe you could ask her? She seems to like you"

"I think that ship has sailed after today." you end up talking for a few more hours about all sorts of things. As you lay down on one of the beds your mind goes over yerim's words. How did you not realize harin was taking drugs? Things started to click in your head. She took those pills throughout the day while most people take vitamins in the morning. Could her behavior be a side effect of the drugs? What kind did she take? Would she tell you if you asked? Probably not. The only person who might know is doa, she's very observant and her dad's a doctor. You closed your eyes as you thought about how you were going to bring it up. Doa was helping suji behind the scenes so if she knows she would tell you right? Guess you'll find tomorrow.

masterlist | next

[snootlestheangel]

A Very Unique Ghost Headcanon

My friend and I got lunch together today and we went to a bookstore afterwards for a bit. An idea about Ghost had spawned so here's the whole thing.

*Does contain MW3 spoilers towards the end*

When Ghost is on leave, he spends a lot of time at a local bookstore. The staff and other locals began calling him "a ghost" because he's very quiet and appears for several days every few months. He's always very quiet and seems to "appear and disappear" randomly. He eventually spends so much time there, pretty much everyone knows him. Not by name, but they recognize him/when he's in town. They know he's a bit weird based on all the things he reads. He goes from reading really deep books about self-improvement to horror/true crime novels to silly animal fact books and laughing cause "penguins are silly". He's very kind though, everyone knows, and is always willing to grab something off a high shelf or assist an elderly person in carrying their items.

There's a table that's basically reserved for him now, sitting in the back corner of the bookstore's little cafe. There's always a stack of books that he wants to read sitting on the table. Sometimes the stack remains untouched for several months before "Ghost" is seen again. Sometimes, he comes back a bit more ragged than normal, and even sometimes more he comes back with an arm in a sling and a limp. But everyone gets used to the presence that is their local cryptid, even if he isn't much of a conversationalist.

Then they realize he journals everything he reads. He likes to write about all the things he learned while reading that day, and is diligent about dating everything.

This habit spawned from a few years he spent giving himself therapy because the military believed him dead, and he couldn't afford one outside of it. So, he took to the bookstore and it's nice section of self-improvement books and the mental help journals. He realized he actually really enjoys journaling, and likes being able to reflect back on all the things he read that year.

But he leaves the journals at the table with the books he has yet to read. And some people start getting curious. And someone reads the journals. They know it's horrible, but they figure there can't be anything personal if the man is willing to leave the journals unattended for months at a time. And that's when everyone learns he's actually journaled everything he's read for the last 4 years (how long it took him to get into that habit), and it's an incredibly fascinating read.

He's very well-spoken about the things he discusses, and his handwriting is pleasant and easy to understand. Not to mention, he only uses pen, and the fact he sometimes has to scribble out mistakes makes the journals feel familiar in a human way. There's something so personal and intimate about it, and it all adds to the local myth of the ghost that haunts the bookstore.

But then one day, the regular people that read the journals realize Ghost has started to mention someone within his readings. It starts small, a little comment on a book he read about the history of explosives: "I blame JSM for me reading something like this. It's fascinating stuff, and they have grown rather complicated these days. Wonder if there's more on modern explosives."

Just the initials: JSM. What they don't know is the initials belong to one John "Soap" MacTavish, the man to hold Ghost's heart.

And for a while, there's a lot of entries including the initials "JSM" somewhere in their contents. Some entries are almost entirely relating to this "JSM" person. And it's clear, as the mentions of "JSM" increase, that Ghost has fallen madly in love with whomever this is. And the people that read the journals have grown fond of Ghost, and are cheering him on, hoping he gets his happy ever after.

But then Ghost doesn't show up for over a year. The stack of books remains the same, the journals untouched.

But when he does, something's different. He immediately heads towards the section on "Grief and Loss". He stands there for an overwhelmingly long time before picking a couple of books and heading for his little table in the back.

And he reads, and journals, and cries all at the same time. No one even realized he was crying until a staff member passed by and noticed the tears falling from his eyes as he scribbled into the journal. No one bothers him, of course, but there's an overwhelming sadness that passes over the bookstore that day.

No one's brave enough to read the entries from that day, and they let the journals sit overnight. Ghost is back the next day, does the same, and leaves. Doesn't spend hours just simply perusing, but instead sits and reads the books he collected on grief/personal loss and journals.

But one day, after Ghost stops showing up again, becomes brave enough to read the journal entries from the last 3 days.

Word spreads like wildfire.

JSM is now Johnny and Johnny is gone.

It all makes sense, and all the regulars, all the staff that are familiar with Ghost and his journals mourn. They mourn on Ghost's behalf and they mourn for Ghost.

They mourn for him because the way he wrote changed, the way he spoke in his entries changed, his demeanor when in the store changed. They mourn Ghost because clearly Johnny took a part of him with him; his heart.

One day, there's a book about coping with losing your spouse, specifically geared towards younger people (especially ones in Ghost and Soap's age range *25-35*). There's actually no journal entries specified for most of the book, almost like he simply read it and didn't bother sharing his thoughts.

That is until the end of the book, where there's one journal entry marked to accompany the final chapter.

{I've read this book probably ten times now. The first time was actually the easiest. It was new to me, and I enjoy picking apart new books and getting through them. The second time was the hardest. It's when the words I had already read were starting to sink in. Too quickly I had been brought back to that day I lost Johnny. I didn't dwell too long on this book. I didn't want to, at least. But I kept going back to it because I knew it had answers and solutions. In reality, it didn't really help. It more took the mess in my head and sorted it out so I could deal with it more easily. I miss Johnny more than anything else in life. Losing him has been the worst thing I've ever gone through. Which is quite impressive, considering some of the things I've experienced. This book has taught me many things, and I only wish to share the one I feel speaks the greatest volumes. "But like all wounds, it takes time to heal a broken heart." What an incredible lesson. I've had my fair share of wounds to heal from, and I am painfully intimate with the recovery process of broken bones. Never once did I consider my heart something that could be wounded and recovered from. I always figured if my heart had been wounded, then that would be the end. But I was wrong. A heart can be broken and wounded, and like all injured things, it can heal. It's a beast of a recovery process, I won't lie, but the idea I'm merely recovering from a near-fatal injury comforts me. It's morbid, I suppose, to be comforted by that, but I am. It means he didn't die in vain, and that is all I ask for.

~Simon "Ghost" Riley}

[jessamine-rose]

♱ Dance with the Devil ♱

Against my will, I was inspired to write more for WHB. Istg some of these characters aren’t even my biases but their paraphilias are too creative. I hope you all enjoy reading this <3

Characters:: Sitri, Leviathan, Astaroth, Glasyalabolas, Paimon, Amon, Marbas, Gabriel, Minhyeok

Note:: Nsfw, pls take note of each character’s paraphilia before reading, noncon for Gabriel, MH-2 spoilers for Minhyeok, MINORS DNI

♡ If you like black tea, you are a perfect fit for Sitri. He often brews your favorite drink for the purpose of enjoying your satisfied smile, your bittersweet kisses, the melody of your palpitations as he makes love to you. If you ever send him a recording of your heartbeat, he will save it on his phone and listen to it religiously in your absence. Just don’t be shocked if he uses your gift for impure reasons; his imagination can only do so much.

♡ Leviathan enjoys the sensation of your hands around his neck, but what more if you were to experiment with his kink? Does he get more excited when you use your bare hands? Does he prefer the metal chill of rings or the soft lace of gloves against his skin? Would he come faster if you dig your fingernails into his throat—and if yes, what if your nails were longer, sharper? There are so many factors at play and you have all night to find out~

♡ Astaroth’s kink is perfect for literature lovers!! If you write erotica, he will gladly proofread your work, going so far as to enact the scenes and his suggested revisions. Another time, you asked him to read you a “bedtime story” and he complied after much pestering. He accepted your book and read it aloud in his soothing voice…then upon reaching a raunchy scene, he looked up from the page, met your cheeky gaze, and joined you in bed <3

♡ Once you were done kink-shaming Glasyalabolas, you decided to indulge him. His paraphilia is creepy, to say the least, but you knew what you were getting into. The best method? Play dead. You can’t resist the occasional moan or involuntary shudder, especially when he is touching you, but it certainly does wonders for his arousal. You’re his Ophelia, his Sleeping Beauty—beautiful, voiceless, and completely at his mercy.

♡ The only thing Paimon enjoys more than your blood is the sight of your body decorated with cute bandages!! Once he’s had enough of you, he will treat your wounds and present you with a set of printed Band-Aids. Here, would you like a pink one for your finger? What about a heart pattern for your thigh? A smiley face on your neck? Even better, what if your Band-Aids match the stickers on his horns? Take your pick~

♡ Sometimes, you wonder if Amon gives you tasks which he knows you will fuck up. There are telltale signs—his constant gaze, a hint of a smile, empty reassurances which somehow lead you to his bedroom. It begs the question: How would he react if you were to make a mistake in bed? Would he still smile after you “accidentally” touch a sensitive spot or ruin his orgasm? How will he react once he realizes you’re doing it on purpose?

♡ If Marbas were to cite an example for the term “heaven and hell,” it would be your moments of intimacy. He encourages you to restrain him to the best of your ability—tying complicated knots, using strong materials, testing his new set of regular restraints—then use his body as you’d like. It’s difficult to say who enjoys it more, especially when you are relishing the sight of him beneath you, totally submissive and desperate for your touch.

♡ Considering your history, your sadism towards Gabriel is warranted. So once he is defeated, in a church no less, you waste no time in humiliating him. If he refuses to yield, it only takes a few minutes to bend him over the altar and force him to face the image of his God. How does it feel to be watched by the passive, artificial faces of his creator and fellow angels? At any rate, the stained glass casts such pretty shadows on his defiled body~

♡ Of course Minhyeok knows your underwear preferences. The color, the style, the type of fabric, every detail. So when he finds a black lingerie set in your closet, he recognizes it as a new purchase—but for who? The next thing he knows, he is visualizing the lingerie on you and  calling you for answers. Whether or not he understands your invitation, that specific underwear will frequently disappear from your room.

♡

Sitri fic ๑ Lucifer fluff ๑ More headcanons

Fun fact, a day after I wrote Glasyalabolas and Sitri’s headcanons, they came home in my gacha pull. D-Did I summon them?? (´⊙ω⊙`)

So far, my favorite devils are Leviathan, Sitri, Astaroth, and Satan but the other characters’ paraphilias are…….interesting to write about, to say the least. Cheers to more hornii xD

Tag a WHB enjoyer!! @sparkbeast20 @2af-afterdark @d34dlysinner @pinkaditty @og-in-a-bog @h2o2-and-baking-soda @paradivis @potol0ver @obeythisass @gr0tesquerom4ntica @dobaekki @binar-es @ushitoshiii @yanmaresu @beelsjuicytitties

[magics-neptunes-things]

Snow

Hello everyone!

Since it is soon Christmas, I decided to make several stories on this theme. Some will be related to stories I have already written and others will be completely separate from others. This one is related to Historia de Amor (1) | (2) which you can find on my blog.

Enjoy :)

TW: None

Manchester, December 2020

You were deep asleep, huddled under the sheets in your girlfriend’s bed. Despite the short time you’ve been together, about three months, whenever you have the opportunity, you sleep at her apartment. Not every day so as not to be too invasive, fearing a little to cool the intentions that Ona has towards you.

It's however a small excited cry of this one that wakes you up with a start. You immediately sit in bed, looking for the burglar who must have awakened her. But you only find yourself facing the silhouette of Ona planted in front of the window of her room.

"Hermosa, it snowed!"

"Oh man" you grumble, already imagining the ordeal that it will be on the road.

You let yourself fall on the bed again, sticking your nose into the cushions. The smell of Ona came to you and made you smile softly.

"Come and see" asks you Ona without leaving the window with her eyes.

"Onita I was born in Manchester. I see snow every year. Come back to bed, it’s only seven in the morning"

But Ona shakes her head negatively, her eyes still glued to the outside.

"I’ve never seen snow" Ona says softly.

The softness of her voice makes you turn your head in her direction and you feel your heart melt in a few seconds. Her amazed look and her smile (which quickly became one of your weaknesses) make you fall in love with her again. You don’t know how she does it and what her magic powers are, but sometimes it keeps hitting you with the force of a truck.

So you end up getting out of bed, shivering as you feel the cold ground under your feet. You join Ona and place yourself behind her, your arms around her waist and your chin on her shoulder. And, since you have the right, you start laying kisses on her face, kissing every inch you can reach. It makes laugh Ona and turns her face in your direction after some moments.

You put a kiss on her lips, longer than the others, before resuming your initial position, your chin on her shoulder.

"The view is incredible" whispers Ona, who has shifted her attention to the street.

Not you. You keep looking at her.

"I prefer mine" you say maliciously.

Ona briefly looks at you before rolling her eyes with an amused look.

"What a sweet talker"

You hums for any answer, brushing her cheek with your lips. Just when you were going to ask her to go back under the sheets for a cuddly awakening, Ona resumes speaking.

"Shall we go for a walk?"

"What?" you say while stepping back a little, without letting her go, to see if she’s serious. Spoiler, she is. "But Ona it’s 7:23 in the morning"

"I know but it’s so beautiful! Come on Hermosa please! Please, please, please!"

********

It's precisely 8am when you find yourself in Ona's street, dressed in a way to fight the cold and the weather. It continues to snow gently but fortunately no wind to whip your face. And even if you grumble a little, the happiness that reads on your girlfriend’s face is definitely worth it.

She's smiling, walking while looking around her with the happiest smile and you can't take your eyes of her. You follow her quietly, letting her immerse herself of Manchester under the snow. You wonder what Barcelona looks like in winter and you promise yourself to ask her the question later.

For now, Ona turns in your direction and reaches her hand to you, which you hurry to take in yours. Your gloves make the gesture more complicated, but you still manage it. When the Spanish woman speaks again, smoke comes out of her mouth, testifying to the ambient cold.

"Thank you for coming with me" Ona said tenderly before tiptoeing to kiss your cheek.

"Everything for my girl" you smile maliciously.

Despite your lack of desire earlier, you are happy to have accepted, her happiness above everything else. And, icing on the cake, you got multiple of hugs and hot chocolate back home.

______________________________________________________________

ona.batlle

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ona.batlle Snowing morning at Manchester with the best ❤️❄️

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Ellatoone Man it's FREEZING

Aitana.bonmati Que linda 🤍

[strikersexhaver]

Ok but what if striker has a s/o that is the seven deadly sins, gluttony who is curvy maybe both sfw and nsfw? 👀

Oooo- this is an interesting one! Aight bet, firstly though, I will say I’ll mostly base off the Beelzebub lore plus what we know for our reader! Like how most princesses/princes are tall, so Reader is much taller than any other demon they’re still curvy though.

As usual! NSFW under the read more cut!

spoiler warning though for the latest episode, Western Energy!

Striker’s Bee 🐝 | Beelzebub!Reader

Striker never expected to be where he is now, with one of the most powerful demons in Hell. Solely because his hatred towards uppercrust demons, like yourself.

But to him, you managed to prove to him that- there’s an exception to royals on rare occasion.

He still hates royals mostly, even with whatever you say.

But before that, Striker had met you traveling to the Gluttony ring for murderous affairs. Apparently one of his clients wanted a Hellhound dead, one of your home’s bodyguards.

You bore witness to the event on total accident, your first instinct was punish Striker as per usual with events like this.

But you were intrigued, you had heard of an event in the Richest Cup Café where an imp had attempted assassination on a Prince of the Ars Goetia.

Not being a member yourself, you had the freedom to investigate things drama-free.

Striker looked for a way to escape, but your powers prevented him from doing so. The bees of your glutinous hive prevented every nook and cranny escape.

Normally, Striker would fight until his last breathe- but he knew to hold off and wait for an opening instead. He’s may be cantankerous but he’s not idiotic.

He looked up at you, a tall curvy person who was the Prince/Princess/Majesty of Gluttony.

He only listened to you for the sake of getting out of there, until you offered to pay him for information on what’s going on. Because you do love hearing all about drama, who doesn’t? You needed your honey tea after all.

It lead from talking about what happened between Stolas and Stella, to a more normal conversation that lasted longer than you two realized.

You helped him get back to Wrath via conjuring a portal, then waved him off.

You treated him like a person, on equal grounds and didn’t belittle him- it was, strange. Albeit, he’d assume it would be for the sake of business as you did pay him for information.

Which as per usual led to conversations, meaning you two talked and communicated. You’d tried your best to make him feel- equal.

Because he despises being treated as lesser, or like a pet obviously. So don’t pick him up, or belittle him, using names you’d give to a dog he will pitch a fit.

He found himself actually liking you, and usually saying you’re not one of the other royal trash there is.

He’s love language towards you is acts or service, as he internally is ashamed he’s dating a royal. Because of how boastful he was about hating royals.

He probably wants it to be on the DL, not public and that’s good for you.

It’d be a lie to say he didn’t find you attractive, he loves holding your hips (if you shift to a smaller form) sometimes he slides an arm around your waist.

He does it with a smug smile on his face and a slight flick of his tail.

As for in the bedroom, there were complications at first- establishing boundaries were important. As Striker I can see him not liking to be bottomed on often, since he dislikes being out of control.

But he will have some moments where he is,but very few.

He’s always preferred being a dominant, which may seem awkward sometimes however with the height difference.

Y’all find work arounds, even if you have to shift to a lower height to make it less so.

He loves your body, he absolutely does- he loves kissing down your thighs

He likes fucking you rough to see your ass jiggle, it’s pleasing to him.

When you top him, he’s either a power bottom or a brat.

He refuses to get pegged by you, nah, not a day in hell. He’ll let you ride his face and hold your thighs on him.

If he’s gonna die to a royal, it gotta be this way he refuses any other way.

[the-little-ewok]

Collateral Damage

Poe Dameron x G!N reader

Rating : M

Wordcount : 6800 (ish)

Warnings : Friends to lovers, sort of slow burn I suppose, angst, fluff, reader has a fear of flying, arguing, vague illusions to Poe's torture by the FO, vague mention of parental death (Poe's mom), mentions of panic attacks.

Summary : Poe finds out you are scared to fly, and makes it a personal challenge to fix that. Only spending so much time together, causes some complications.

A/N : there's a few bits here that mention Poe's past as a child which is from Freefall however there are no direct Freefall spoilers contained, and it isn't necessary to have read it to enjoy this.

To the anon that requested an angst to fluff Poe fic...I hope you enjoy!

~

"Poe, please don't look at me like that!" You beg.

"Like what?" Poe gives you a genuinely confused look, as though he hasn't been staring at you for the past ten minutes like you're a particularly complex puzzle he needs to work out.

"Like there's something wrong with me," you sigh, twisting the mug of tea nervously in your hands.

"I never said that! But seriously? You're scared? Of flying? This is a joke right?"

"I just think if we were made to fly we'd have wings is all." You shrug, trying to be nonchalant as you sip your drink, your fingers pressing hard into the china as you try to ignore his shock. You don't look up but you can feel his eyes burning into you.

"How did I not know this? How have you hidden it from me of all people! I'm equally impressed and offended." You suspect by his tone he's more offended than impressed, but it was never truly your intention to hide it from him. The secret just sort of… happened.

When you were children you barely knew Poe, not until after he returned to Yavin, his eyes a little darker than they had been before, his steps a little more calculated, though no less bold. When you started helping Kes out around the little farm he bought, you had gotten to know Poe a lot better. Barely tolerating him at first, before you fell into an close friendship. It had been easy enough to deny his requests to go flying with him in the early days, especially given the amount of trouble he got into.

Then when you were older Poe seemed to flit in and out of your life. Between the academy, the navy, and now the resistance, sometimes it seemed like he was never around.

But he always reappeared eventually. He came back to Yavin sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks. He used your back garden like his personal shipping yard, but you never had the heart to tell him off about it, despite the fact you had smashed more than your fair share of crockery in shock at the sudden noise of a roaring engine coming down on your house.

Everytime he asked if you wanted to go flying you found some excuse not to, sometimes elaborate ones you aren't even sure Poe believed. You assume perhaps he thought you were avoiding spending time alone with him, which was in part true some of the time.

You could have told him the truth, but the way he lit up when he talked about flying — the freedom of it, the adventure of it — had always made the words dry in your mouth. He couldn't possibly understand, and you knew he would react, well, exactly as he had.

"I didn't! You never asked, and it never came up in conversation. It shouldn't have tonight. It's irrelevant. I don't need to fly," you shrug stubbornly, wanting to get away from the topic if only to stop the quizzical gaze he's fixed you with since it came up.

"But-but there's a whole galaxy you're missing out on!" He splutters, still wide eyed with shock. "You can't tell me you want to spend the rest of your life on Yavin."

"I like Yavin!"

Poe gives a huff of disbelief at you, folding his arms.

"Liar."

"You know Poe, not all of us have the need to fly out into the night and get blown to pieces like you," you sigh, rubbing a hand over your eyes, frustrated at his reaction. "Anyways it's late. I should go."

Getting up you put your mug in the sink and grab your jacket, intent on leaving and finding some way to avoid this topic for the next however many years, probably forever.

"Hey, hey, don't go. I'm sorry, okay?" Poe begs getting up and taking a gentle grip of your arm to prevent you moving. You ignore the fire that ignites your skin where his fingers are wrapped loosely around your arm.

"Tell me what scares you? About flying I mean? Let me try and understand," he pleads.

Taking a breath you sigh. How could you explain it to someone who spent their whole life up there? How could you explain it to someone who lived and breathed the freedom of the flight?

"Pilots die, all the time. Things go wrong, fights, pirates, technical failures…" you trail off with a wave of your hand, freeing your arm from his gentle grip, not used to his touch. "I just…can't stand the thought of dying alone out there in the cold. It's hard enough worrying about that happening to you."

"You sound like my dad," Poe sighs quietly. "He didn't want me flying either. Not after my mom."

Reaching back out you squeeze his hand briefly, knowing that while the relationship between Poe and Kes had somewhat mended over the years, some cracks ran too deep to ever be fully healed.

"You know, Kes never shuts up about you flying. Always talking about what a good pilot you are and how your mom would be so proud of you, how you fly just like her. I swear it's all I heard for weeks the last time you were here."

Poe falls quiet for a long moment, deep in thought, a frown etched deep into his brow.

"He's proud of you, Poe. I know he struggles to say it sometimes, but he is," you offer gently.

Poe waves a hand nonchalantly, as though it doesn't bother him, but you know it does.

"Well you know my dad likes to keep things to himself, but apparently not from you," he eyes you somewhat suspiciously. "He likes you, you know. He told me once I should marry you. Imagine that, us, married."

He lets out a snort of a laugh as he shakes his head at the thought. You want to make a joke about it, you want to laugh it off and tell him you'd never agree to it even if he asked, but the spark of feelings you've so carefully navigated all these years flared to life suddenly and in full force at his words.

There's always been something between you, something a little more than friendship, something you both know can't be. Something both of you have avoided talking about for a long time now.

Perhaps when you were younger maybe you could have figured something out, but Poe was hardly ever around and now, well now your worlds were too far apart. Yours here on the ground, his far off in the stars. It was better not to prod too hard at open wounds, but Poe's laughter at the thought of you together, still cuts deeply.

Something must flicker across your expression because his amusement dies and Poe gives you a half smile.

"It's just, you know, you're seeing someone. Aren't you?"

"It didn't work out." You shrug as though you don't care. The truth was it never worked out, because you would always be in love with someone else. How were you supposed to give your heart away when at any given moment the one that makes it beat could drop from the sky without warning?

"Oh," he sounds genuinely sad which only drives the knife further in. You drop your eyes from his, pulling at a loose thread on your jacket as he continues. "I'm sorry. You'll meet someone else though! Although maybe…. Off this planet?"

You sigh and roll your eyes. Really you shouldn't be surprised that he found a way to spin the topic right back to your issues with flying, which you suppose was better than your love life so at least there was that.

"Oh come on. You can't be scared if you haven't tried it! Lemmie take you!" Poe sounds like an excited child on life day. Clearly the thought of conquering your fear appealed to him.

"Absolutely not! I've seen the way you fly!"

"Did you not just say even my dad thinks I'm good at flying? And besides," he leans on the counter, a shit eating grin plastering his face, "didn't you hear I'm the best pilot in the resistance?"

You roll your eyes at his cocky statement.

"Poe, I've heard a great deal of things about you over the years, not all of them I can believe and most of them I've had to defend your good name against!"

He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head like a curious loth cat.

"Like what?"

You quickly go through the ment rollerdex of things you've heard, deciding to pick out your favourite.

"Like… the time you apparently almost married a Hutt."

Poe opens his mouth and then closes it again, suddenly becoming very interested in a tin of tea on the side. He picks it up, rolling it between his palms, purposely not looking at you.

"Well, really that wasn't even my fault," he mumbles eventually, realising you aren't going to fill the expectant silence.

He can't seriously have done that? The ridiculous story can't possibly be the truth?

"You have to be kidding me! I got into the biggest argument that you wouldn't be so stupid to get into something with them. Do I even want to know the real story?"

You had vehemently defended your friend, arguing well into the night that while yes, Poe was reckless, and yes sometimes he spoke without thinking, and yes sometimes trouble found him, you were still absolutely sure the story was completely untrue. You suppose you have a few apologies to make now.

"It's not like I intended to agree to the marriage! It just sort of… happened."

You stare at him, open mouthed waiting for the rest of the story, knowing he won't be able to resist defending himself. But instead of launching into a lengthy explanation he grins, setting the tea down slowly and fixing you with an expression you are all too familiar with. The one he uses when he knows he's about to get something he wants.

"Trade. I'll fly you somewhere. Then I'll tell you."

And there it was. He knew you wanted to know the truth, unable to resist a good story about the far off places he visited and troubles he got into. You should have predicted the bastard would use that against you.

You fold your arms.

"No."

"I'll just fly you to the other side of Yavin? Short trip, in and out."

"No!"

Poe sighs dramatically, pushing himself up off the counter.

"Fine. You drive a hard bargain. I'll tell you the whole story if you let me show you around my ship and tell you how unscary it is to fly. Strictly no piloting."

"Please agree so you can both shut up. It's after midnight, and the noise you two make will bring the first order down on our heads without them even looking!" Kes Dameron booms from the hallway, making both of you jump.

"Sorry dad!" Poe yells while he gives you a grin of victory.

"Sorry Kes! I'm leaving now." With a sigh of resignation you slip on your jacket. "Fine. No flying."

"No flying," Poe agrees with a nod, holding out his hand and wriggling his fingers invitingly. You hesitate to take it, but he slides his hand into yours anyway, squeezing your fingers. "I'll walk you home."

You try not to think about how right it feels to have your hand in his.

~

"Poe, Poe," you repeat a little louder as he continues rambling away, pointing to the different parts of his X-Wing, a misty look in his eyes. You're sure you lost him a good while ago, and he hasn't stopped talking long enough for you to explain you have no idea what he's talking about.

"You have to put your hand up to ask a question when I'm teaching," he chides you teasingly. Rolling your eyes you put your hand up, glaring at him when he grins silently at you for a long drawn out moment. Just as your patience breaks, opening your mouth to ask anyway, he cuts in first.

"You have a question?"

"Several," you respond dryly. "Firstly, can you please slow down? I've no idea what you've been talking about for the last twenty minutes. Secondly, I'm pretty sure you've told me about everything that can go wrong and now I want to be near this thing even less. Thirdly -"

"This thing? This thing?" He interupts, his eyes going wide with shock. "This thing is a T-70 X-wing. I've done a lot of work on this thing!"

"I apologise I insulted your ship," you laugh, watching his brows pull together in an annoyed frown. Maker, Flyboys! As cute as he was you couldn't really expect any other reaction.

"Don't apologise to me. Apologise to her!" He points at his ship before he folds his arms stubbornly, as though he's actually serious. You pause for a moment, realising he is serious.

"Thirdly, I don't think this is helping and I'm sure you have better things to be doing," You continue, ignoring his sulk. Poe drops his arms, his expression softening.

"It is helping," he insists. "If you know what can go wrong then you know how to fix it, or how to account for it at the least. Then that part isn't so scary anymore. I promise."

"It doesn't feel like it's helping," you mumble, wrapping your arms around your chest, the low hum of anxiety vibrating under your ribs. "I'm sorry. I'm not being ungrateful. It's very nice of you to do this."

"You don't think I can do it," he grins and you roll your eyes at him for what feels like the thousandth time since he's been back.

"I'm not a challenge," you remind him with a glare.

"You kinda are though," he grins. Trust Poe to see this as some sort of game he can win. "Come on. You can trust me. I know about these things. How'd you think I survived this long?"

"Sheer dumb luck?"

Poe laughs, a deep elated noise that brings a smile to your lips and makes your heart ache with affection. It seems so rare these days that he truly laughs like that, and when he does, here with you, it only makes his inevitable absence harder to swallow.

"Probably a bit of that too," he admits with a shrug. "Okay, new plan."

He plonks himself down on the ground, patting the space in front of him for you. When you're settled opposite him he takes both your hands in his. When you try to pull away, the touch giving a jolt in your chest, he grips your fingers tighter, forcing you to stay with him. It's an all too familiar dance now. You push him away, and he only proceeds to try and hold you closer. When he's here you wish he wouldn't, but when he's gone, you ache for his easy familiarity.

He gives you a genuine open look, and your heart aches a little that he's truly trying to help when you feel so beyond helping.

"What do you think about when you get scared? When you think about being up there. What is it that worries you so much?"

"I guess dying alone?" You suppress a shudder at the thought of floating out there in the darkness, no one to hear you scream for help.

The pilot doesn't even miss a beat before he answers quickly.

"Okay, I'd be with you so that's not a problem. We would die together."

You glare at him, unamused. Ignoring your vehement stare he gestures for you to continue.

"Fine. Being shot out of the sky. Lot of time to think about dying while you're plummeting to the ground."

He gives you a grin, "We both know that's not an issue because I'm a great pilot, so no matter where we are I promise you I'll land safely, all parts intact, especially all the bits I like," he winks and you desperately try to ignore the flare of heat on your skin. "I've done it so many times I could do it in my sleep! Next problem."

"Kidnapped by pirates." You shoot quickly.

"They'll give you back after half an hour." Poe snorts with laughter when you reach out and slap his arm hard.

"Asshole," you grumble, fighting back a smile.

He grins at you, clearly enjoying himself at your expense and while you should mind his teasing, you find it hard to care, not when his eyes are lit up with genuine joy.

"You are really not helping," you laugh eventually, shaking your head. "I'm a lost cause."

"Not entirely, just mostly. I mean none of these are good reasons to be scared," Poe smiles and you have to admit it chafes you a little that he still doesn't seem to understand.

"I never said my fear was rational."

"It's not entirely irrational either," Poe acknowledges with a shrug, finally allowing you to pull your hands out of his while he taps his chin in thought. You curl your fingers into your palms, willing away the memory of his touch.

"What you need is a distraction!" Poe proclaims brightly. For a shocked moment you think he's talking about a distraction from him, which is entirely exactly what you need. But he keeps talking and you realise it's nothing like that, although he inadvertently makes you distracted anyway, from flying at least.

"Yeah, something to take your mind off getting up there."

You shake your head, knowing it won't work. Suddenly this whole thing seems like a bad idea. Poe wasn't one to give up, and yet over the years you've tried just about everything to get over your fear. A weariness starts to creep in, encouraging you to make your excuses and leave.

"I doubt anything would distract me that much. Anyway, I think we should do something else. Flying isn't that important." You try, knowing it's hopeless now you've encouraged him this much.

"What if I flew naked?" He grins, wiggling his eyebrows. His constant blatant flirting is starting to take a toll, and you can't muster even a smile this time. He knows, yet he does it anyway. It's infuriating sometimes, purposely poking and prodding when you're just trying to get by without spilling your heart all over the grass.

"Coming from the person who laughed at the notion of us being married, I don't see how you think I'd care about that." You don't quite mean to bite it out the way you do, but Poe ignores your attitude and leans back on his arms, gazing at you.

"Yeah, because we'd argue all day long about everything. I'd be messy, and you'd want a tidy house, we would fight over what to have for dinner, because you won't believe I'm the better cook, I'd want to paint the walls blue, but you'd want green. You'd want to live here and I wouldn't." He waves his hand, indicating that there would be a longer list of issues if he continued. "The thought of us being married is funny because it would be chaotic, not because I don't love you."

The words hit you like a shot, and judging by the look of fear on the pilot's face he probably hadn't thought them through before they left his mouth.

"Guess the cats out of the bag now. Well, suppose it was never really fully in the bag anyway," he mumbles, running a hand through his messy curls, before he stares up at the sky. "I mean, I know we've never….I know we've never gone down that road, but you know I've always had a soft spot for you."

You knew. Of course you knew. You both held an affection for each other, but you also know it wasn't meant to be. Maker knows you've spent your life trying to get over him, and Poe… well he never breathed a word about his feelings in the matter. You assumed he had moved on some time ago. If his list of conquests was anywhere half true, he moved on quite well.

You avoid his gaze, looking down at the dirt. "Love is a lot different than a soft spot. Seems funny you never mentioned that before."

Poe swallows, sitting back up properly and reaching to take your hands, you snatch them back before he has a chance, a swell of anger starting in your chest. There is no need for him to tell you this. You don't want him to tell you this. It won't make any difference to say it out loud.

"I knew I couldn't stay so what was the point? You've said yourself how much you love Yavin. Who was I to ask you to give it all up? You deserve someone who could be there for you, where you wanted to be. You still deserve someone like that."

"So why bring it up when you know it isn't you?" You snap angrily, getting to your feet, panic pulsing through your veins. While you've had this conversation a hundred times in your head, in reality you have no idea how to react. Suddenly the open wound becomes a sinkhole, and every wall you've placed around your feelings starts to crumble in. Your chest constricts with panic. He can't do this now. Not after all this time. You won't be able to rebuild what he's torn down. This will burn your friendship to the ground.

"Because I'm selfish," the pilot admits, jumping up and following you as you storm across the garden towards the house, the flaring pain in your chest getting worse with each word that leaves his mouth. You won't talk about this. You can't talk about this.

"Yes, you are! You blaze in and out of my life and everytime I think I might have a chance to mend myself, you come tearing down from the sky. Maybe it is about time to actually have this conversation so we can both move on!" You spin on your heel to face him, stepping back when he reaches for you again.

If he touches you now you won't ever be able to let him go, he'll find a way to calm you down and you don't want to be calm. You want to be angry. You want to yell, scream, and let out every feeling you've kept locked inside. You want him to feel even a small spark of what he's done to you for years. You need to be angry.

"Why can't we just be together now?" He interrupts your rant.

"What's the point, Poe? You know I won't leave, I can't leave. And you can't stay. It won't work and we both know it."

"We don't know that because we haven't tried!" He implores passionately. "You can come with me! The resistance would be lucky to have you. If you just try! If you just let me show you. I promise it's not so scary, and then we can go anywhere we like!"

"I can't do it, Poe. I just can't and there's no point trying to make you of all people understand that."

You turn to leave but this time he's quicker than you, reaching out and catching hold of your wrist.

"So this is how it ends is it? We dance around this for years and then we just do what? Give up?" The pain lacing his voice is enough to make your lip tremble as you bite back the tears.

"You're right. We've danced around this for years because we both know it isn't going to work! Why now? Why after all this time decide to drag all this up now?"

"Because we are in the middle of a war. Because I don't know what's going to happen to me tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. Because I might not be here to tell you this, and for some reason it kills me that I might be gone and you would never know that I loved you. I've waited years for you to find someone who makes you happy, someone who gives you everything I can't, but everytime I come here I know it hurts you because it hasn't happened. And I need you to know that someone, that I, love you. I don't think I can just walk away this time." He sounds resigned and it crumbles away every last brick you had to protect yourself. Poe doesn't think he's going to survive this war. In the end, he knows he's going to leave you anyway.

It makes you angry to hear him talk that way. Poe was the upbeat one. Poe was the one who always figured a way out. He doesn’t just accept the inevitable. And you don't need him concerned about you either.

"Well you should just walk away, because I don't need your pity!" You yell, feeling the hot tears escaping your eyes.

"That's not what it is!" Poe takes a breath, clearly trying to calm himself and de-escalate the situation. "I'm just trying to be honest with you for once. I can't just leave and say nothing this time."

"You mean like you have every time you disappear into the sky for months on end?" You laugh bitterly.

The pilot swallows, his eyes searching yours, pleadingly, begging you to understand why now, but the anger still swells in your chest.

"I've always come back to you. Every time I can. For Makers sake do you think I'd be here so often if you weren't?"

When you say nothing Poe frowns, reading your expression all too clearly.

"You won't even consider coming with me? You won't even try?"

You wrap your arms around your waist, holding yourself together as you shake your head.

"I can't. We can't and you know it. I…can't leave. I can't leave," you repeat in a whisper, shaking your head, the tears flowing fast down your cheeks.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," Poe apologies softly, reaching out to take your arms, drawing you close to him. You try to fight it, pulling your body away, but Poe ignores you, holding you tight against him until you stop fighting, allowing him to hug you tightly.

"I know you can't leave," he admits, letting you go to cup your cheek, his palm warm against your cooled skin, his thumb sweeping away tears. "You don't have to, okay? Just say the word. Say the word and I'll be here, with you. I'll stay right here so we can try. Tell me that's what you want. Tell me you feel the same and I'll do it."

You know what he's offering, and you know he can't fulfil it. He's speaking without thinking it through, in desperation, trying to fix things, to fix the damage his words have done.

You wish you could accept it, but the thought of Poe grounded, here, a place he fought so hard to escape, causes an ache in your chest. You know it can't be that way.

Maybe he would give it all up for you, but it would never be enough. Not for him. Eventually the cracks would form, and he'd be gone, and leave you so much more broken than you already were.

"Tell me you feel the same," he whispers, leaning into you.

"Don't do this," you beg softly, bring your hands up to rest on his arms to push him away. You can't seem to make your body follow through with the action.

"Then stop me," Poe challenges, his hand sliding around the back of your neck. He's so close you can feel his breath against your lips, the warmth of his body against yours.

Maker, he was going to break your heart. He won't stay, he can't stay. You won't make him do that, not for you. But you're sick of fighting it, sick of trying to pretend. He's here, with you, wanting you. Just this once, once can't hurt.

The screeching beep of his comms stops you both, the sudden insistent noise cutting through the tension and your own clouded thoughts, making you step away from him quickly. Poe lets you go, his expression pained, though he doesn't move to answer the incoming call.

Swallowing hard you gesture to his pocket, refusing to meet his gaze, fearful of what you might find there.

"You should get that."

"Yeah," he nods distractedly, taking a breath and fishing the comm out. He holds it in his hands, glaring at it before his gaze flickers back to you. "Can we talk later?"

You hesitate initially but then nod. Later gave you time to think, to process everything, to try to explain to him why this can't be. Maybe you can salvage your friendship after some time apart.

A tiny voice in your head whispers the vicious truth. It was too late for that.

It's less than an hour before he leaves again, back on urgent business for the resistance. You hadn't opened the door when he came to say goodbye. You hadn't answered when he asked if you wanted him to stay, and you hadn't the strength to smile and see him off this time. He left you with the memory of his muffled voice, promising he will come back, promising he'll figure out a way to make this work, begging you to think, to try.

For once you're grateful he's gone. At least he isn't around to see the damage.

~

The tea Kes Dameron had pressed into your hands has long since gone cold as you stare out at the grass, little shoots growing where previously a star fighter engine had burnt them away, one that so far hadn't returned, and perhaps never would.

There's a sigh behind you, a creak of the porch steps as Kes sits down next to you. The older man had come to help you fix the flickering light in the kitchen, something you'd have once asked Poe how to fix, allowing him to instruct you via comlink, teasing and laughing at your questions and frustrations. But you hadn't spoken to Poe, not in months now, too ashamed and regretful of your behaviour, and too fearful of what speaking with him may bring up.

"He was asking about you again earlier. You can't keep avoiding his comms."

You can feel Kes's eyes on you but you refuse to look up from the dent in the grass. You don't need to ask who he means.

"I'm not. Poe calls at bad times."

Kes makes a disbelieving noise, taking the now cold mug out of your hands and setting it down to the side, making you finally look up.

"It's been a bad time for the past two months. What happened between you?" He frowns at you.

"Nothing." It was the truth. In the end nothing had happened, not really. But the almost of it, the almost hurt worse.

You don't want to talk about Poe. You don't want to think about it. But the next question slips out without you being able to stop it.

"How is he?"

Kes lets out a long breath.

"You know Poe, all smiles and reassurances but he hasn't been the same. Not since…" Kes trails off and your stomach gives a now familiar lurch at the memory of Kes turning up at your door, pale and scared, stuttering out that the First Order had captured his son. As far as you know Poe never told Kes what happened in those days he was gone, but if the stories you heard were even half true, you're surprised he made it out alive.

"He needs someone there," Kes continues eventually.

"He has his squadron." You ignore what Kes is implying. It's a conversation you've had a hundred times over now. It makes your chest ache in a now all too familiar way.

"He needs you, and for all your denial you need him. You can't spend your whole life moping around here. I can make the arrangements to get you there. You just have to say the word."

You had tried in the weeks following his departure to do as he asked, to fly. You had walked to the shipping yard every day, listened to the roar of the engines, talked to the pilots, tried with every fibre to set foot on a ship, any ship, but you couldn't do it.

You had come to accept that you were right to distance yourself. There was no way for you to be together.

"Kes, I can't do that. I… me and Poe… we just aren't… our lives don't fit together." The shame burns in your chest that you couldn't be there for him when he needed someone the most, after his escape from the First Order.

Kes scoffs in an all too familiar way. You wonder if Poe knows where he got that reaction from, if he knows how much like his father he can be.

"Don't fit together? You kids," Kes rolls his eyes. "Nothing in this life is ever easy. If you want something enough you'll find a way through it. Poe's mother," he hesitates, the words catching in his throat. It's rare for Kes to mention Shara, but when he does, it always seems it causes him physical pain. The older man swallows hard before he continues, looking up at the sky.

"She was a free spirit like Poe. But she loved with her whole heart, and so does he. He'd give up the world for you. Don't let your fear hold you back. Don't make the same mistake with him that I did. If you do, you may lose him forever."

Kes was right in a way, your fear was holding you back, it always had. You'd always known Poe's heart was in the stars, and your fear would never let you leave the ground. But Poe had offered to give his world up for you — his stars, his resistance, his freedom. Even if he couldn't stick to it, he was willing to try.

Maybe you could try again. For him.

~

Poe is still in his flight suit, his hair damp and messy, helmet clutched in one hand, talking animatedly with another pilot who you vaguely recognise, who apparently knows you straight away. The pilot nudges Poe — who continues to chatter away obviously— before forcefully spinning him around to point at you.

You can tell you are probably the very last person he's expecting. His eyes go wide and he blinks a few times, as though he's imagining you here. He opens and closes his mouth but whatever words he wanted to get out, don't seem to come, or at least you can't hear them across the yard.

You hadn't told him you were coming. In fact, you still hadn't answered a single one of his comms. It's not that you hadn't wanted to talk to him, but more that you hadn't wanted to disappoint him if, in the end, you couldn't go through with it. Getting here had taken weeks, the trip was rearranged three times after you found yourself unable to get on the ship, and in the end Kes had dragged you in himself and tied you into your seat, reasoning that you needed a push. He was probably right, but you would still be having words when you saw him again.

Raising a hand to Poe you give him a small wave, glad that you landed a good few hours before he returned from whatever mission run he was on this time. It had given you time to clean up and compose yourself, for the shaking to finally stop.

You hesitate in the landing bay, unsure if you should go over or stay put. Poe decides for you because the moment you move a foot forward, he runs to you, skidding to a stop almost toe to toe with you.

"Here-you-h-how?" He stutters out looking you over, as though you might have been kidnapped and dragged here against your will. "Is everything okay? What's happened? My dad-"

"Is fine," you cut him off, recognising his rising panic. "Everything's okay at home. I just thought it was about time I came to see you for once." You give him a nonchalant wave of your hand and a shrug, although your stomach feels full of stones as you take in the new scar across his cheek.

"But… you wouldn't even fly with me!" He sputters out, as though that's the most important point.

You give him an apologetic smile.

"Your dad made me realise I needed to be here," you confess, "We heard about what happened. Your dad was worried about you and how…" you were coping after being tortured.

You don't finish the sentence, swallowing hard.

"I was worried about you." You drop your eyes, instead gazing down at his scuffed boots, still feeling ashamed you hadn't been here sooner.

The pilot sighs, "I'd have come to you if you'd just answered my calls. I just thought you didn't want to see me, and then things here got… a bit crazy."

"I know, but the way we left things. I didn't know…I couldn't…I'm sorry. I tried to come, I really did. I couldn't and… I couldn't tell you…I panicked and everything that happened, and what we said, and what I did, and I wanted to be here for you when you were… but I couldn't. I tried but i couldn't do it, and then -"

"Stop, stop, stop," Poe shushes you, pulling you into his arms and holding you against him tightly, while you try to ramble out an explanation, an apology, and confession all in one, the words tumbling together, desperate to escape.

"Shhh stop," he repeats softly, squeezing you against his chest.

It's more than just a friendly hug, it's more than just a greeting. He holds you tighter than he ever has, one hand curled into the back of your shirt while the other grips his helmet, his face buried in your neck, as though he could hide from the world. Your heart aches for him and everything he's been through as you hold him.

You wait for him to ask you questions, to call you out on how you acted, even to tease you for the whole situation.

Instead, "I'm so proud of you," is all he says.

You bite your lip hard to hold back a flow of tears, gripping his flight suit as he squeezes you breathless.

"I can't believe I wasn't your first," he huffs suddenly against your skin.

"What?" You squeak, heat flushing over your skin at the sudden change in conversation.

"Pilot! I wanted to take you on your first flight," He sighs, pulling away to pout at you in the most adorable of ways. It makes you want to laugh at the look of actual disappointment on his face. You hadn't realised it had meant so much to him, then you remember that he had seen you as a challenge and can't help but wonder if it's purely that someone else won, where he lost. You can tease him about it later and find out.

For now you'll sooth his jealousy just a little.

"Does it help if I tell you your dad had to basically restrain me. I cried, had I don't know how many panic attacks, shut my eyes the whole way, and I absolutely never want to do it again?"

Poe considers this for a minute before he grins, "Kinda does… but not the crying or panic bit. Or the fact you don't want to do it again" he clarifies quickly, before you have a chance to tease him about enjoying your misery. "We can work on changing that last part. And I'm still sad you didn't trust me to take you first."

"Well maybe if you didn't fly that barely legal piece of junk X-Wing I'd have-"

He suddenly leans forward and presses his lips to yours, cutting off any further insults you could throw at his ship, and while his kiss takes you by surprise, it's not unwelcome, and you immediately find yourself sinking into it.

The kiss tastes of desperation, of impatience, of longing buried for too long.

You let out a soft moan as his tongue licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss. You tangle your fingers in his sweat damp curls in the way you've wanted to for so long.

His helmet thumps noisily to the ground when he drops it to wrap both his arms around you this time, pulling your body hard against his. He slides one hand up your back to the back of your neck, holding your mouth to his as he kisses you passionately.

This time it isn't his comms that interrupt you, but the hollering cheer of his squadron.

You pull apart suddenly, your cheeks hot with embarrassment.

Poe gives you an abashed smile, throwing a rude hand gesture to his still cheering comrades, mumbling a soft apology.

"Sorry, I just decided it might be better to skip the talking part this time, since it didn't really work out so well last time."

You can't help but let out a soft laugh, feeling dizzyingly elated at the lingering feel of his lips on yours.

"No, it did not."

Poe grins, drawing you close once more, "now what were you saying about my beautiful custom X-Wing that you are absolutely going to be flying one day?"

You roll your eyes. Flyboys.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you enjoyed reading please consider hitting the reblog button and letting me know your thoughts!!

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Special thanks to @mandinlore for the beta 😘

[chiibi-chaan]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮. [𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐭 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.]

Content warning// afab!reader, chubby reader (only slightly mentioned with Kaeya, but you can still imagine the reader as chubby is you want, or not if you don’t), making out, small spoiler about Albedo, aged up Bennett and Razor.

I didn’t do Venti because I don’t really like him, I didn’t know what to write about him lmao I’ll maybe add him later if some ideas pop up in my head.

Not proofread.

Masterlist. Genshin Masterlist.

𝐊𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐚 𝐀𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡.

Kaeya loves to kiss you while having you sitting on his lap, he just feels more comfortable with having the weight and warmth of your body pressed against him, it’s not even just while kissing, he just loves showing that you are his girl and that he can handle you no matter your weight, he is strong and he knows it just as much as you do. Kayea is fond of PDA, he is proud of being yours and he won’t hold back if he feels like making out with you in public, he will hold your hips or even your neck while kissing you, his tongue already dancing with yours while he gently squeezes your hips or your neck.

𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜 𝐑𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐫.

Diluc is really reserved, he didn’t really have a girlfriend before going out with you, you could even call yourself his first one, and he isn’t ashamed of it at all, he wants to learn how to love and show affection with you, you are his first love and he was proud of giving you his first everything, except maybe for his first kiss since he kissed a girl when he was a kid, by mistake, but it still was a kiss. He was really clumsy at first, he didn’t know what to do with his hands, his cheeks reddening with a deep shade of pink as you kissed him for the first few times, his brain was melting and his heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest and it took a few seconds for him to relax, your fingers running through his hair really helping him to do so. Finally, he cupped your face, his warm palms resting against your cheeks while he kissed you back, his face becoming redder because he couldn’t help but hold his breath. Kissing you was truly breathtaking for him, and even now, after being with you for such a long time, he still held back his breath each time you kissed, as if breathing would shatter the passionate moment you were sharing.

𝐀𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐨.

Just like Diluc, Albedo is reserved, except that he does have experience, given that he is more than 400 years old. Even though you both are in a romantic relationship, it’s complicated to see each other, Albedo is almost always in his laboratory outpost in Dragonspine, and you can’t possibly go see him all the way up there, your body wouldn’t support the cold, you’re only human after all. But when he comes to see you in the city of Mondstadt, you can’t help but run straight into his arms, his smile and his warm embrace welcoming you, and at times like these, you felt more at home against his chest, wrapped in his arms, than in your own house, and his lips finally meeting yours always left you breathless, his arms firmly wrapped around your waist as he kissed you in the most passionate way, with a slow and long kiss showing just how much he missed you.

𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭.

Bennett is the most adorable and loving boy you know, even if his luck is truly terrible, it’s really hard for him to be anything but happy and cheerful, he can find positive things even in the worst situations, and he truly is the sun of your life, your sweet sunshine. Really, sometimes you can’t help but worry about him, as his girlfriend, seeing him come back home with cuts or bruises break your heart, but he loves being an adventurer, and you can’t take that away from him, so you just make sure to shower him with affection and kisses each time he needs you to, and even if he doesn’t. There are days when he isn’t that cheerful, even if he does try to, and that’s when he needs kisses and hugs from you the most. Most of the time, you are the one kissing him first, but he is the one holding onto you when you try to pull away, his hand resting against the back of your head while he melts into the kiss, smiling softly while pressing his lips against yours, and even leaving soft pecks all over your face while you catch your breath. Even if you make the first step, he is the one showering you with affection the most, because when he does so, it makes him feel the happiest and luckiest in the world. Being able to show you his love truly is the best blessing he had received in his whole life.

𝐑𝐚𝐳𝐨𝐫.

Razor is not like normal people, given that he was abandoned as an infant and mostly raised by the Wolf of the North and his wolf pack in Wolvendom. You met him when he stepped in the city of Mondstadt for the first time, and really it wasn’t hard to approach him and become friend with him, even if he looked more… wild than the average person. Razor started to interact with humans way before you met him, but you were the one who helped him to most to get used to life in society, even if he was still clumsy sometimes, or uncomfortable with crowds. You both grew up together as friends, and as a couple after becoming adults. For him, it was really hard to understand how humans showed their affection, it wasn’t like wolves did at all, he didn’t understand why people kissed, like what was the use of pressing their lips against each other, but what he truly liked the most was hugging, he was really fond of holding you. He was the most comfortable with having you in his arms, close against his chest, it made him feel like you stood closer to his heart too, even though you already occupied all the space in there. In public or in private, he didn’t care at all, he always had his arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you from behind when you were both outside and following you like a shadow sticking to your back. He started to like kisses too, when he became used to it, but between kisses and hugs, he didn’t even have to think before choosing, holding you was the best thing for him.

[turtlecleric]

I'm in Hell

SPOILERS FOR SYMPHONY CHAPTER 22 - THIS POST IS LONG YOU'VE BEEN WARNED

I'm so Unwell. I have never had any misunderstandings like the thing with Donnie, but I have been betrayed by someone who was my best friend for years, so this chapter... it's hitting me really, really hard.

---

When Leo first met Vi, he was studying her a lot. Remember the near-physical weight his scrutiny had felt like? You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. ... like a pinned rabbit ... you see an obsidian edge beneath his smile that feels a little sharp as you lean into it.

And then later in her apartment:

[Leo talking] “…You know what really got me interested in talking to you?”

“What?” you ask, tilting your head. 

“Donnie came back from talking with April and he was talking about you."

This is literally Vi and Leo's first time meeting - I don't think Leo started to really hate her until after she started coming to the Lair and he saw how Donnie reacted to her presence, but he mentions that Donnie talked about her already. It's framed within Vi's mind as him being careful with his family. He's the leader, he's careful around new people, he wants to make sure she isn't a threat, etc. But even though this is before the touch thing started, there could've been the seed of hatred already there depending on how Donnie spoke about Vi to Leo.

---

He [Leo] peers at you like he can read your life story where it’s written on your soul. ... “…You don’t have a lot of friends, do you?” he asks, his voice soft and yet cutting you all the same.

and this:

[Vi talking] “I had a lot of fun tonight. I’d… like to have more nights like this one. To. To have a family. If I can.” “You can,” he [Leo] says

He knew from the first fucking time he met her that she was lonely. That she wanted friends, wanted a family, wanted to belong. He knew that better than anyone else in the family, not only because of her saying this to him but also because of how well he reads people and how much time he spent with her. He's the only one who has seen her in her apartment, too, caught her in those few vulnerable moments in her home. I'm so fucking angry.

There are so many times in the fic that... I can't even articulate... here's some quotes early on -> "you hate how much you like this guy [Leo]" and "you smile when you see [the text notification is from] Leo" and when Vi is sick in the store she says "I miss Leo" and on and on. And that whole fucking time! He was!! UGH!!!

---

When Vi agrees to make Leo some bread so that maybe he can get some of Donnie's apology cookies he texts her "ttyl i gotta go rub this in donnie’s face" and yeah that's him being a little shit as always, but it's ALSO proof of him using EVEN THEIR PRIVATE TEXT CONVERSATIONS as ammunition rile up Donnie.

---

Hey look! Bits that hit different/hint at more going on/might be Leo's mask slipping!

“How long do we hafta wait before she ain’t a guest anymore?” Raph asks, causing you to snort a laugh. 

“That’s up to Donnie,” Leo says, voice heavy with an undercurrent of meaning you’re not picking up on, causing you to look at him with a raised eyebrow. He smirks, reaching over to poke your cheek with his finger. “Y’know. He’s the one who met you first, and all that.” 

…Something tells you it’s more than that, but he’s good enough at hiding it that you don’t feel comfortable calling him on it in front of the others.

...

you have no idea how you fit in [to the family], and Leo had all but told you that the space is here, ready and emblazoned with your name on it. You don’t quite see it yet, even if he apparently does.

...

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. It’s complicated,” Leo says easily, and it’s only just, but you pick out the thread of iron bars in his tone, ready to come crashing down if you push even a little too hard. So, you don’t.

“Okay,” you say easily, causing him to get that piercing look he gets sometimes, the one when he feels more like a ninja than a funny turtle man who tries to see how many cookies he can shove into his mouth at once and sends you pizza rat memes at four in the morning. “…Dude, we’ve been friends for like, a week. It’s cool that you aren’t ready to spill your guts yet, you know that, right?” 

His eyes go sharp, but then he hums and smiles. You feel like you did the night you first met him, like there’s a test here and it’s in a language you don’t understand. It’s a bit uncomfortable, prompting you to grab your own drink and swallow a healthy bit of it just to have something to do.

...

[Vi talking] “…He [Donnie] seems lonely.”

Leo hums under his breath, cutting a portal that feels a little like home. “Well, lucky he has you, then.”

...

“Uh, I met her first,” Donnie says, scowling, while Leo just gives him a smug look. 

...

You do, however, lean in while the others are occupied, whispering to Donnie, “So, ten dollars, which one of them tops?” and laughing when he chokes. You catch Leo’s eyes and give him a devious grin, spying him look to Donnie with a curiously blank look before shifting to a catty smile of his own when he looks back to you

...

“One portal home for a lovely lady,” Leo says as he steps through, his face going a little flat when he looks over your shoulder to Donnie behind you.

...

Leo is… astonishingly quiet for a moment, his face blank of anything for you to read as he stares at the piece hard. Then he looks up at you, and you see an unusually capable person that doesn’t feel like your best friend, even as much as it feels like the real Leonardo, here for the first time for you to see.

...

[Vi talking] “I don’t… I don’t like keeping secrets. Or lying. Not from people I care about.” 

The weight of Leo’s eyes is almost physical. It makes you remember that he’s asked you to keep secrets, and your eyes snap to his, wondering if that’s the reason why he’s gone still like this. “I—I haven’t told anyone. About the ninja thing, or the Krang thing. I’d never—”

“I know,” Leo interrupts, threading his hand through your hair so he can cup your nape and press your forehead to his own. “I trust you.” You release a sigh of relief, nodding. “I’m just… thinking it might be time for us to repay that back.” 

You blink, gaze darting between his eyes. “I don’t… what do you mean?”

“We’re a pretty close-knit family. There’s a lot of… baggage. A lot of history. A lot of stuff we haven’t told you. And it’s… it’s starting to feel a little disrespectful,” he says, looking a bit displeased. “You’re one of us. It’s only fair.”

---

We all know about the constant comments Leo makes about being Vi's "favorite turtle" and "best friend" in front of the others/in the group chat. He talks in Chapter 22 about purposefully draping himself across her and pulling her close, hugging her, scenting her, touching her in front of Donnie to piss Donnie off. But there's all these other little things that seemed so innocent at the time and now I'm losing my mind wondering about each of them, wondering - is that something he did with malicious intent? How many nice things were ONLY done to piss off Donnie? There are so many times that he compliments her - for example:

“What? I can’t compliment my bestie and her fine legs?” Leo coos, reaching over and flicking your nose gently.

“Leonardo,” Donnie warns, folding his arms.

And I remember, during my second read through after I finished Chapter 20, being so happy and grateful that Leo was pretty consistently giving her compliments, because she deserves to be complimented and taken care of and loved, because she deserves good friends who hype her up, and this WHOLE TIME-

(Side note - that time that Leo complains she smells like Donnie's lab, he shoves her away and she falls to the floor. First read, it's just Leo being playful. Second read, I wonder... is that a little bit of his frustration getting out of him in a physical way? He shoved her to the fucking floor, and then, once Donnie shows up, Leo pats the cushion next to him for Vi to sit by him. Then he wraps his arm around her and pulls her in close to smell her. But that's only after Donnie shows up.)

When Mikey takes Vi's So-Shell profile picture -> “Wha—?” you start, only to feel Leo leaning in to smoosh his cheek against yours, the distinct feeling of bunny ears brushing the back of your skull. Once again, this is in front of Donnie. Plus it's for her profile picture, so that means every time Donnie sees her So-Shell profile he'll see Leo in the picture, too. Leo was also famously the first like on her first So-Shell post and gets her to always leave nice comments/emojis on his thirst traps.

When she comes to the Lair to practice with her viola, Leo offers up HIS room first, and only once she declines does he -> “Ugh, fine, you are so boring,” he says, and removing his arm, he shoves at your shoulders hard and pushes you through the portal. (Pushing her onto the floor, pushing her through the portal... he's kind of rough with her in the beginning, and I figured it was just because he's haha silly funny turtle man, physical comedy, joking around whatever but... again I wonder. Is he letting himself be a little rough as a way to express his true feelings?)

God, all these little things that... might have an ulterior motive and might not.

It's around the time Vi gets bruised up by that guy at the coffee shop that Leo seems to start actually acting like a real friend, in my opinion. “…You don’t even get how incredible you are, do you?” he asks, causing you to roll your eyes. “You seriously don’t see it.” 

The very next chapter he gets a glimpse of her being anxious over not being able to play, while she notices that he looks tired, invites him to listen to music and lets him sleep on her back, and in that chapter it says: you sit, quiet, letting him use you. My second read through, this line hit me hard because I KEPT noticing that she really does nothing but GIVE and I feel like she's constantly doing things to be useful to others. And now, as I'm skimming through a third time, it turns out that... yeah. Yeah. He was fucking using her. In Chapter 22, Leo says "then you reach out and touch me in a way no one has. You’ve helped me, even though I was just using you" and I'm thinking this is the moment that that really started. When she first let him sleep on her. And that's also the first time he churrs with her. After that, he gets her really nice sushi, and she thinks he's guilty for drooling all over for her, but I think maybe he was guilty because he's starting to realize how nice she is and how shitty it is that he's using her like that, even though he does continue those manipulative behaviors.

---

He sighs, his face going openly affectionate. “…You’re so…” 

What he thinks you are, you don’t know, as he chooses instead to pull you into a hug. You go easily, seeking the comfort of his embrace, hoping he can feel in your arms that you truly do mean what you said. 

“You know, instead of sorry, you should say—” Leo says, though as his face gets close to your throat, his mouth snaps shut and he goes still in a manner that reminds you a little of Donnie. 

“…Leo?” you ask, going to pull back from the hug to look into his face only to feel his hands go tight on your back, holding you close while he dips his beak to your skin and inhales. When he does pull back, he’s got a look of shock on his face that he quickly schools into something more neutral, but barely. 

This is where he smells Donnie on you for the first time, and the guilt he was starting to feel, the actual genuine affection he was developing for her, may have then been interrupted/overshadowed by his anger.

Vi was right to say she isn't gonna go back and examine every detail, because it's so fucking MUDDY! There are glimpses of true softness from him sprinkled throughout with him ALSO still hanging over her and doing shit that pisses Donnie off on purpose. And then of course the scene with Leo in the kitchen when he scares her, where we get the first big glimpse into his true anger about the whole situation, where we see him being sharp and cutting and dismissive and- I'm not going to paste in that whole scene, but he's so, so, SO angry. When she has that visceral, terrified reaction, he feels so bad (I do think he was genuinely, truly horrified that he scared her), but then he finds out that Vi and Donnie are (as far as Vi is aware) dating, followed by her telling him that Donnie misses touching his brothers, misses hugs, followed by Leo deciding to tell Vi about all the family secrets... so he's wrestling with this rage and jealousy, but he's also starting to really accept her as family (I think, since he shared the info about the Krang, about Lou Jitsu, about Casey, since he asked for her help)...

It kills me that, after that, he saw her trying so hard to help, like when she went to the library and got books on PTSD and fell asleep taking notes and she wakes up with a blanket covering her and a little blue heart on a note - he saw her doing that, on top of everything else she CONSTANTLY does for other people, for his family, and HE STILL, EVEN AFTER THAT, DOES SHIT THAT'S MANIPULATIVE. THE 4TH OF JULY PARTY, FOR EXAMPLE. “What she said,” Leo purrs, his fingers fluttering on your stomach as his eyes cut off to the side. He has a sharp look to his features that you’re a bit too drunk to dissect, so you just ignore it. He HAS to be looking at Donnie, here.

(Side note - we still don't know what Leo was doing when Vi was in the shower getting ready for the party... if anything. Maybe he really was eating cookies.)

It's at the end of the party that he smells sex on Vi, I think, for the first time. And the following chapter is when he starts avoiding Vi, and she goes to confront him and he says he's "Thinking about things. About what I want.” And THAT'S when he finally stops his bullshit. Ch 22 - "I stopped. Completely. After we talked in my room.”

---

I'm still working on fully re-reading Chapters 17+ until I make it back up to 22 and putting more thoughts into that post, but. Dear God. Sam is a genius and I'm so angry at myself. I had been so confused and angry with Donnie, when in reality he truly DID NOT KNOW about the misunderstanding between him and Vi. Meanwhile, as I'm fawning over Leo and so happy Vi has him and so grateful he's been such a good friend to her... he was the one using her, this whole time. I cannot believe it. I'm SICK with rage. I can't imagine how Vi could possibly... I can't... FUCK dude

[ultimatemissadhd]

Fuck I don't care this fandom is more dead than my grandma and that no one will know what I'm talking about

Cassandra from Tangled the Series Headcanons (spoilers for the whole show)

Tw: Mentions of self harm, depression, other mental health issues

- Between her leaving and the last episode there is a time skip because the show kinda made it look like there wasn't and I don't like that so there was a few months time skip

- During that time skip, she struggles with her mental health a lot. She keeps finding ways to punish herself like not properly taking care of herself. Rapunzel and others would take care of her and make sure she is well fed and rested.

- The idea of her leaving would actually come early after the finale but she would hesitate. Not only her, Rapunzel would be worried that Cassandra with how bad her depression was at the moment, wouldn't take care of herself properly on the road which could have really bad consequences. Eventually, Cassandra would get better enough for Rapunzel to not be worried about her that much.

- Cassandra did not know how to take off her armour after the finale and had to go to Varian for help. It was all a very embarrassing experience, she doesn't like talking about it.

- She was very wild as a teenager.

- She has lots of scars on her body from different incidents (most from her teenage era)

- She began having really bad nightmares after the finale.

- She and Rapunzel would (obviously) write to eachother while she is away. Rapunzel would write a lot, every minor event would result in a letter, Cassandra would love to hear about all of them. However, Cass would struggle to write to Rapunzel sometimes since she struggles to express herself and her feelings. As much as Rapunzel worries, she understands. On the bright side, it would make Cassandra's letters very long since she would have a lot to write about after putting it off for so long.

- She did want to get included in the search for the lost princess multiple times but her father forbid her from it. He was very strict about it, eventually she gave up on trying. (You may figure out the reason on why he was so strict about it yourself iykyk)

- The only person (probably in the whole kingdom) aware of what happens to the lanterns after they look pretty and fly away. She didn't have a heart to tell that to anyone because of the meaning of the tradition.

- She did have problems with her hand after it got burned and it did hurt her a lot when she used it but she never told anyone and pretended it's fine. (I don't like how fast the show moved on from her hand getting burned like she got over it too fast idk)

- The moonstone had very weird effects on her other than providing her energy (so she didn't need to eat or sleep). One of it being that her chest did hurt sometimes because of the moonstone being stuck there, she did her best to ignore it. There's a high chance that if she kept it for longer, the pain could become unbearable.

- The moonstone effected her brain more than she thought, sometimes making her dissociate or have derealizations. This why she doesn't actually remember many moments of her life after she grabbed the moonstone, especially the moments between the mayor events when she'd be alone.

- Always wanted to explore the world but never had a chance. She was a bit jealous of Eugene whenever he would describe the places he have been to but she would never admit it.

- Actually witnessed the dancing scene from the movie and was a part of it at some point very very much against her will.

- Dissociates when emotions become too much, Rapunzel always gets extra concerned during those.

- Touch starved but also hated touching it's complicated.

- Cold hands

- (This one is based on this one shot I read on ao3 I might put it later when it's not 1am for me)

Growing up she never learned how to take care of her curly hair, since she never had a mum and the other maids working in the castle weren't much of a help. Eventually, Eugene would help her with it and teach her to take proper care of it.