#those little dreams you get inbetween waking and sleeping

[liskie]

i just had my first edible…

[irrlicht-writes]

within the clouds

Very long post under the cut! For easier access, please look at Ao3.

“Satoru,” Suguru calls, smiling, and the sun shines behind him. In the beat of infinity, Satoru stands here, lost in space and time all together, and stands somewhere completely different, in a different body and a different life. And then, he takes Suguru’s hand. | Gojo Satoru is the heir to the Gojo clan, a title that means nothing to him, and the Strongest, a title he never asked for. He is the sky, and all the clouds inbetween, and there is an invisible barrier between the sky and the ground forevermore.

“You’re strong, Satoru. Nothing else matters.”

Maybe the first words one remembers should’ve been kinder. Maybe they should’ve been full of love.

But they hadn’t been. They hadn’t been, and as such goes the tale.

*

Gojo Satoru is born on a winter’s day, and snow falls softly in the outside world. He opens blue eyes; and the world is not the same it was before. The world shifts and changes to accommodate him; he is not welcome. He forces his place in the world, and the world has little choice but to dread what’s to come. But it doesn’t hate the boy. The world is cruel and kind, and it cannot hate.

Growing up, he never wonders about love. He cannot miss what he doesn’t know, and he feels nothing. He is strong, and feelings are weak. He can honour his parents, his clan, but were something to happen to them, he would not care. He would watch them die, and would feel nothing. Someone dies, once, and he remembers not their name.

He remembers the invisible man he saw a lot longer. But in time, even he fades into obscurity.

He grows and grows and yet, he is never able to satisfy.

“You’re stronger than this, Satoru. This is your purpose. Why are you not the strongest yet?”

He is five, and maybe, he thinks, he shouldn’t be strong yet. He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to be. All he knows is fighting, curses, and the snow in winter. His eyes hurt in the sun. His skin burns, but he’s not allowed to hide. He’s taken to parade around the other clans. He doesn’t want to go, but he doesn’t get to decide.

The women prod his cheeks, and later he says he let them, because if he’s said he couldn’t keep Limitless up, he’d be chastised. Limitless makes him tired, and it gives him a headache. He’ll grow into it, he tells himself. He’s the strongest, after all. Failure isn’t an option. And yet, he wishes he could close his eyes for a moment. Six Eyes never rest, yet he is but a child.

“You’re not a child, Satoru. You’re so much more than that. Now get back to training.”

What’s the difference between year three and year six, he can’t say. Nothing’s changed for him. Between training, between learning, he looks at the world. It says nothing to him, and it speaks too much. It’s everything, and it’s nothing. When he sleeps, those rare days, he dreams of blood. His own, that of others. It never quite shocks him. He won’t say it’s nightmares that wake him at night, that keep him restless. Nightmares make one weak, and he is not.

He doesn’t know where he’ll go. He’s read about a star burning bright, so bright, it lights the entire sky aflame. But because it burns so bright, it falls fast, and it dies. He wants to stay. He wants to stay in the sky. It’s winter again, and the snow falls gently, uncaring of him.

The world whispers all its words into his ear, and he listens.

The world whispers nothing into his ear, and he listens.

When he opens his eyes, there are countless lights in the distance.

Together, they burn so much, he has to close his eyes again.

“Look at us,” the world whispers, “we are forever different for you.”

*

He yearns for the world he can’t be a part of. He would not call it yearning just yet, the word still eludes him. And still, he chooses to walk among the people of the world, just walking, just existing and none of them know who he is. His elders say they are not worth his time; that he shall not care for the weak. The strong stand alone, and the weak do best to cower in his shadow. A part of him agrees, and yet another is unwilling to. If he is not strong for the weak, what is he strong for? But that part is quiet, and while it never quite falls silent, it is easily tuned out.

In the city, some people follow him. He knows they are threatened by him; that they are after the bounty on his head. But if he just looks at them, they cower and run. They are weak, and he is not. Under his gaze, they learn their place and he can move on. He does not know who they are; and he does not care. They are weak, and they deserve no further attention.

His elders ask him why he seeks to walk the city. He tells them a lie. They do not question him. He wonders if they could stop him if they disagreed – if anyone could. He stands above the common people, he is told, and yet he thinks, he should walk with them, to learn their place, to learn what they are. One would not step on unfamiliar ground, after all.

He is the sky, and he floats above the clouds.

He watches the playground, but he does not approach. He knows the children are laughing. He knows they are playing, but he’s not sure what that means.

“Sweetie, are you lost?”

He’s not surprised at the woman approaching him. He looks at her, and she’s smiling, and all she is, is concerned for him. Her smile feels kind, and warm, and different than snow.

“No,” he answers her and in the back of his mind, he can hear the elders scolding him. She’s weak, she doesn’t deserve an answer. But it’s the right thing to do, to answer her and ease her worry.

“Where’s your mom, dear?”

He doesn’t know. He hasn’t seen her in a while, and he hadn’t wondered where she went.

“She’s just picking something up she forgot, is all.”

He finds it easy to lie to her.

“Is it okay if I wait here with you until she comes back? I’m sure she’s worried with you all alone here.”

Her words are true and kind, and he feels bad to continuously lie to her. But there’s no mother that’s picking him up. If he waits long enough, the elders might come looking for him, but he’d rather not have them come here.

“Thank you,” he says and means it for once, “but I’m going to go to her now. Take care.” He waits not for her reply and leaves the playground. If he sticks around close-by and gets rid of the curse on her car, then that’s nobody’s business.

“Hey there, young man,” a voice calls to him on another day. He has a terrible headache, and he had just needed to escape the stuffy estate. He has little patience to deal with the common folk today but yet he still turns his head. The voice that called out to him belongs to a young store-worker with a striped cap on her head. She smiles brightly when she sees he noticed her and she gestures him over. He could go. Turn his head again and keep moving, like he’s wanted to. The people flow around him, never touching, never coming close, and that young woman looks straight at him like he’s precious. Precious, like he matters. In the beat of infinity, he stands here, lost in space and time all together, and stands somewhere completely different, in a different body and a different life.

And then, he moves to her.

Her name is Hikari, she says, and she calls him Satoru like it’s just any other name. Like it doesn’t mean anything, like it isn’t important.

“I’ve never had chocolate before,” he says to her, trying to sound as detached as he’s been taught to be.

Hikari gasps, like it’s a great offense. “We need to rectify that!” She declares like it matters and hands him a candy bar. Apparently it’s a new brand, and she’s giving out free samples. He’s never eaten anything that hadn’t been clan-approved. He knows he shouldn’t eat it, what if it was poisoned? He could die.

He could die.

He reaches for the candy bar anyway.

It doesn’t kill him, but it does something different.

He inhales the candy bar in one big bite, and Hikari laughs.

“I take it you quite like it?”

“Yeah!”

Oh, they would have his head for this, if only they could see him now. Taking food, chocolate, from a total stranger and now acting like a child? Oh, he would never hear the end of it. But right now? Right now he doesn’t care, and he feels free for the first time in his life. He is the sky, he is above the clouds, but only now is he flying.

“It’s a new sort,” Hikari says, oblivious to everything he’s going through, “I’m sure you could persuade your mom to buy you some.”

“Can I keep the wrapper?” he asks instead because if he has the wrapper, he can just buy the candy himself.

“Of course, Satoru,” she answers with a smile and Satoru beams. He doesn’t want to leave yet. His headache feels like it’s gone, and in here, in the candy shop, he can pretend the curses don’t exist and that infinity is just another word he shouldn’t know yet.

Hikari answers all the questions he asks her, but after an hour, he can tell she’s getting concerned as to why nobody’s come to pick him up yet. He wishes not to make this awkward, so he makes a big show of noticing the time.

“Oh no!” he wails, “look how late it is! Mom is going to be so angry! I’ll come back, Hikari, can I? I wanna talk to you again.”

She laughs and says yes. He stuffs the wrapper into his pocket and waves, smiling brightly, for once content until he gets back home. But even after, after all the scolding and training, a re-grown headache, and bloodshot eyes, when he looks at the wrapper again, he remembers Satoru, and remembers a world beyond the curses.

He blinks while straightening the wrapper and outside, the world shifts again.

The void between hums a silent song through infinity to him and he holds on tight.

*

He goes to visit Hikari again. Not every day, because he can’t slink away every day, but as often as possible. The shop she works at is small and while he would prefer to be inside, he understands she’s doing her promotion outside. She allows him to stay by her side, and he is content.

He learns she’s a student still, and that she’s working here to pay some bills. He thinks students shouldn’t have bills to pay, but he says nothing on it. Maybe he’ll have bills to pay when he’s a student – if his family will even let him go. But they will, right?

“Of course!” Hikari reassures him when he wonders out loud. “Education is so important, Satoru! They can’t home-school you all your life, you have to make friends!”

They could, and he doesn’t.

His clan knows everything there is to know about Six Eyes, don’t they? Probably more than the school, so there’s one reason less to go. But then again, the school is responsible for dishing out missions, so he might just be required to go.

And friends... friends are a weakness, aren’t they? They make you feel things, and feelings are a weakness. He didn’t need friends. Nobody in his clan is friends, so he shouldn’t have any, either. But – it sits wrong in his belly. Hanging around Hikari is nice. It’s utterly useless, he learns nothing and she is weak, but – but it’s nice. She’s different, she doesn’t see the Six Eyes, she doesn’t even know what that is, and she still likes him.

“You go to school already, Satoru, don’t you? What’s your favourite subject?”

He looks up at her smiling face. He just suppresses a frown – no, he doesn’t go to school. They would never let him go to a mundane public school. When do children start attending anyway? At six, seven? He’ll turn six this December. So maybe the answer she’d want is yes. But he’s been studying for years at this point.

“Uhm, I think – math, probably.”

It’s hard to call that his favourite, but something with the numbers just speaks to him. It makes Infinity a bit more tangible, if he can explain it with numbers. Numbers just make sense, and he can apply them to literally everything. If you squint enough, everything’s a number. Infinity is just all the numbers combined.

“Really? Maybe you could explain math to me, then, I’m so terrible at it,” Hikari laughs and pats his head. She’s been doing that, and he’s been letting her. It feels nice, like shade on a summer day. He doesn’t speak anymore, never all that talkative, and leaves soon after. He doesn’t look back, he never does, but he knows she’s waving and watching him leave. Making sure he’s safe until he’s out of view. It’s an odd feeling. It’s like she cares. It’s as if she cares about a random lost child.

Two weeks in, and Hikari’s smile does not dim, her bubbly personality persists, but it’s wrong. Curses are slinking through the shop and while they cower from him, he can’t do much about them. Getting rid of the one on the car was an exception, and there are too many here. They dance and circle around Hikari and he can see the drag in her shoulders.

“Hikari,” he asks, because he cares, because he wants to be good, “are you happy?”

It’s just a second, but he can see it in all its infinity. For a second, she’s honest and he knows she’s lying before she even decides on it: “Of course, Satoru! Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

She’s smiling. It’s when he learns.

If you just smile brightly enough, nobody will suspect anything. If you smile brightly enough, you might just fool yourself.

Not two days later, the curses kill her.

Hikari makes him mad. He’s strong, and she’s still dead. The curses still slink around the candy shop. She’s dead, and nothing’s changed. He knows it’s his own fault, but the curses in the shop had been so weak. He hadn’t thought they’d be a problem.

He sits awake at night and wants to throw the wrapper away. He takes it in his hands and looks at it. It’s a memento and he doesn’t need it, he doesn’t need it, but –

He remembers her watching him leave. He remembers watching her smile whenever she’d spot him. In the end, he doesn’t throw the wrapper away. It’s pointless, useless, but it means something. He can’t bring Hikari back, but he can do better. He can do what he should’ve done before. It’s a bright night, the moon high and bright in the sky. Quietly, Satoru slinks away.

He’s never been out at night before. It feels so different than during the daytime. Everything is quiet, and all he can hear are low-grade curses slinking about. The way to the candy shop isn’t far. Idly, he wonders how he’s gonna get in, a store would surely be closed at night. At worst, he would break a window. He’s never fought an actual curse before. He knows what to do, of course – in theory. Blue is an amplification of Limitless but it is also rather destructive. He’d rather not destroy anything in the city if he can help it. Maybe he could just be stronger than them in body and only use his cursed energy in small bouts. He’s gonna get scolded for this if anyone finds out. So, easy solution is: nobody is going to find out, simple.

When he turns the corner, he frowns. Around the candy shop is a – a barrier? He’s read about this. And shifting his eyes to the curb, he can see a person clad in a suit standing there. Sorcerers are inside the shop. Why? Why now? The curses have been in the shop for at least a week. Why didn’t they come earlier? Maybe Hikari could still live. He doesn’t even know why she was sad before the end, if there had been more than just the curses weighing her down.

“Curb your emotions, Satoru, you are above such things.”

Maybe he should be. Maybe, as a god amongst men, he should be. But he isn’t. He isn’t he isn’t he isn’t.

He doesn’t fucking want to be.

Gradually, he creeps closer. The person in the suit is fiddling with something but he doesn’t care enough to look closer. As long as their gaze doesn’t wander over to him, he’ll be fine. He’s never encountered a barrier before and wonders if it’s also meant to keep him out. Well, there’s only one way to find out.

He reaches out his hand, expecting to meet solid matter, only for his fingers to pass through effortlessly. The barrier itself feels odd, a little like solid, soupy water. He frowns and then steps through.

In front of him is the candy shop. He remembers Hikari standing out front, roughly around where the suit person is standing right now. He can’t see outside, and he couldn’t see inside before so his bet is on that the suit can’t see inside either. That makes it easier to get inside since he can just use the main entrance – the same one the sorcerers would have used. Straining his ears, he hears nothing from the inside. Are they done already? But then why are they still inside? Cleaning, maybe? Putting his hands in his pockets, he walks over, always listening.

He’s quiet when he approaches the front entrance – he doesn’t know if sound can leave the barrier, and he’d rather not test it out at the moment. The door slides open for him as the sensor detects his presence and he enters the shop proper.

It’s dark inside, but that’s no problem. The odd stillness is one, on the other hand. He can’t see any curses or sorcerers, but he also sees no signs of combat. Perhaps it had been a simple exorcism? Still, no evidence is worrying. He goes deeper in the store. Maybe the curses huddle in the basement at night? It might be worth a check. Looking back once, he turns towards the stairs to the basement.

The stairs are dark, but now he can hear some sounds. The fighting is still going on? The sounds are faint; even he has to strain to hear them. Cautiously, he moves forward, making his steps light enough that any faulty stairs would not move under his weight.

He keeps to the shadows; he doesn’t want to necessarily reveal his presence just yet. Carefully, pressed against the wall, he peeks into the basement proper.  Someone is lying on the floor, but he can’t quite see if they’re dead or just knocked out. Some curses are sprawled around, and a second sorcerer is barely holding his weight against another curse. There’s blood on the floor and the curse seems hardly concerned. Yet the remaining sorcerer is struggling to breathe and the hand holding his weapon is shaking.

He looks at the curse. He’s not yet sure how to gauge the power level of a curse, so he won’t even attempt to. Its body is big, with multiple skinny arms protruding from it. From where he is, he can’t see any legs, but they might not be necessary if the arms are strong enough. It reminds him a little of a fat worm, trying to wriggle away from a hungry bird. Its face is vaguely humanoid, with big bulging eyes that were lacking eyelids, no visible nose, and a grotesque mouth. It had a few wounds, but is largely unbothered by them, grinning wide in the darkness, showing its perfectly aligned teeth.

Apparently having gathered his courage once more, the sorcerer spins into action, charging at the curse. The monster doesn’t even try to evade the hit, and instead slaps the cursed tool aside, flinging the sorcerer with it. He crashes against the far wall, not too far from his fallen companion. The curse cackles and slowly moves its body around.

“Candy...” it utters in its strange voice and Satoru frowns.

The sorcerer groans and pushes himself back up again, using the wall as support. Satoru huddles closer to his little place of shadow even though he’s aware if anyone were to look this way, he’d be discovered instantly. The sorcerer is panting hard, and there’s blood running from his nose and head. It seems unlikely he’ll be able to defeat the curse. And yet, he prevails, sprinting towards the curse once more and this time he’s actually able to cut one of the many skinny arms however his victory is short-lived as another arm grabs him by the throat. The cursed tool clatters to the ground, as the sorcerer starts to pound his fists against the hand choking him.

He could wait.

He could stay here and wait until the sorcerer chokes to death, and then wait until the curses kills the other one too. Nobody needs him to intervene. He’s not even supposed to be here. If they send two sorcerers against a curse they can’t handle, it’s not supposed to be his problem.

That thing killed Hikari.

Maybe it shouldn’t kill anyone else.

“Yo,” he says, stepping out of the shadow. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, you overfed worm?”

The curse turns toward him and cackles. “Run away,” the sorcerer chokes out but Satoru pays him no mind.

“Come,” he says instead, “aren’t I snack-sized?”

Still cackling, the worm tosses the sorcerer aside who lands on the floor, gasping for breath. Good. Momentarily distracted, he misses the rampant speed with which the curse lunges at him – interesting; there must be more feet or hands below its body. It crashes hard against infinity, and one gloomy eye turns down to look at him.

“I think,” Satoru says as bored as he can muster, “that you should try a little harder.”

He lifts his hand and in a swift motion amplifies Limitless into Blue, pushing the curse away. His Blue isn’t all that strong just yet, and it is also not reliable enough to fight. The one thing he can rely on is his Infinity, but he won’t win with it. Briefly, he considers picking up the cursed tool on the ground, but disregards that idea. He has no training in these weapons and it’s likely he won’t be able to use it yet, lacking the physical strength for it.

Crowing, the curse recovers and its body is convoluting. Satoru frowns, before the worm spews out liquid. Thanks to Infinity, it doesn’t hit him directly, but it is now on the ground all around him. It doesn’t look like vomit, it looks like – candy? But before he can give it much thought, the curse lunges again and while it still doesn’t hit him, he loses his balance still and falls to the ground. Embarrassing. He rolls quickly to get back onto his feet and survey the room. The two sorcerers are still out of commission, one still lying still and the other hacking out his lungs. Huh? Why is he doing that still? He barely got choked, but it seems like he can’t breathe –

This time, the weird spew hits him and it burns.

Acid.

His eyes snap back to the worm and it wiggles, clearly excited to have hit him. It’s on the ground – the sorcerer! They need to get out of here, the acid fumes alone are enough to seriously damage them. He needs to immobilise the curse long enough to get both sorcerers on their feet.

“You!” he shouts, making the coughing one look at him, “grab your friend! To the stairs, hurry!”

They’d have better chances outside, with fresh air giving them an advantage. Luckily, he doesn’t question it and hurries over to his friend while Satoru shoots off another Blue, pushing the worm back into the rubble it created earlier. He needs it to follow them outside – but then where? The barrier is only over the shop, and Satoru can’t have the fight extent into the city – too risky to be seen.

No, the best would be to kill it down here, but how? If he could amplify Limitless enough to have Blue rip straight through the body – but he already has a headache, bordering on migraine. What’s he going to do? The sorcerers could retreat, and return with reinforcements, but what if the worm just disappears during that time? Is Satoru supposed to hold it here all the while? No. No this is a problem that needs solving right here, but first he needs the sorcerers to get out of the acid fumed basement.

“Boy!” The sorcerer calls and Satoru looks over. “The stairs are covered in that stuff!”

“Fuck,” Satoru curses, but there’s nothing he can do right now. He can’t evaporate the acid. “Call the suit!” Not that they could help, but it is worth a shot. “And wake your friend up!”

He doesn’t have many Blues inside him. If he could do just one Red... but that’s beyond his abilities still. Damn it, he shouldn’t have come here. Hikari was already dead, so why does he care? Why does he care?

“Get me my cursed tool – I can imbue it with fire.”

Satoru glances over to the man. He’s shaking, and the acid fumes are not doing him any favours. Imbue the weapon with fire? “Can you imbue anything in fire?”

“Huh?”

“Just answer me!”

The worm began to crawl out of the rubble. If Satoru could hit its core... smash its cursed energy, they could get out of here. But he doesn’t have the necessary strength. His body is still too weak, too limited in its age. But if he were to imbue his punch with Blue... and with fire, maybe it would be enough. He has to try. And then, it just has to work.

“Imbue my fist with fire when I hit the worm! Don’t think about it!”

He has to give it his all. His Blue cannot fail, and it cannot miss. He doesn’t wait for the sorcerer to agree. Timing is crucial. It is going to work.

“Lollipop!” The curse shrieks and Satoru zones in on the bright spot of cursed energy within its body. He has to hit it with all the strength and energy he has.

“Now!” He shouts, wrapping Blue around his hand, putting his all into it and a second before he hits the body, he feels the cursed fire wrap around him. His fist connects, and he uses his momentum, throwing his whole body into his punch, blowing right through the cursed core.

His head swims and he can barely see. The purple blood burns on him, and only then he realises Limitless is off. His head his killing him, but as the worm explodes, whatever acid was still left inside was sprouting out.

The stairs were full of acid, and they couldn’t get up. They were going to dissolve here unless –

Blue is gravitational pull. If he could pull himself through space, then –

He runs back to the stairs, head throbbing, heart thrumming, he grabs the cursed tool and reaches for the two sorcerers.

“Boy, the acid –!”

He pays the man no mind. Satoru grabs him by the nape and looks up the stairs. Suit is standing there. He reaches out his hand, almost as if asking to be held, and he finds the space between, and then he grabs it and he yanks.

They don’t land where Satoru wanted to land. Looking up, he can see that they landed on the spot where he always used to hang out with Hikari. Interesting – it works better with places he can see in his mind?

“What the hell happened? Is that a child? Mito, what – is that... oh by the gods, is that?!”

Satoru stands, albeit his legs are shaky. Everything hurts and he knows something is bleeding, but he feels a rush of adrenaline he’s never felt before.

“I – I don’t know where he came from, he was just in the basement! I, I had it covered, though!”

He’s going to pass out. He’s going to pass out soon.

“What were they thinking, sending you? You would’ve died if I hadn’t come along – do they not know curses?”

“It was a lucky hit for you –!”

“Silence!” Satoru shouts, and the sorcerer shuts up. “You are weak enough that a child had to save you. What grounds do you have to stand on, that you could even think of addressing me?”

Power is prickling under his skin. It wants to get out, now that it had a taste of it. Something inside is yearning. He – nobody can know he was here. He’s going to get scolded. He was only here for Hikari. These people cannot tell anyone he was here. He could kill them. If he killed them, then they couldn’t tell anyone. Nobody would know.

He could.

He could kill them.

Who would stop him?

He looks at them, one sorcerer still unconscious. He reaches his hand out.

But he blinks, and there is Hikari behind them. She waves and smiles, and she is happy.

“Nobody can know,” he whispers, “nobody can know I helped you, please.”

“I – I have to report to my superiors, I’m sorry, Gojo-sama...!”

“G-Gojo?!”

Of course. Of course they would need to report this. He doesn’t want to get scolded, but what can he do?

“Of course,” he resigns himself, “but if you can – if they don’t ask – then leave my name out of it. I couldn’t have done it without your friend’s technique anyway. I’m not supposed to sneak out by myself.”

Home. He has to go home. He has to go home before he passes out. He can’t pass out on the street. Sluggishly, he turns to the door and leaves the shop behind, leaves Hikari behind. He’s avenged her, but nothing changed.

But maybe she can be happy now. Wherever she is, maybe she can be happy now.

*

He does get scolded. It takes a few days, but it does happen. The training they force upon him leaves him utterly exhausted for days on end. The migraine doesn’t leave him and he can only alleviate it by begging a servant to get him some medicine. But even with the pills, his head pounds in a steady rhythm.

They keep pushing him to use Red, but he just can’t do it. If he manages to manifest it at all, it’s barely a flicker in the wind, and then it’s gone again. And every time, it leaves him with such a pounding headache that he has to fight against the nausea. He doesn’t always win.

Officials visit the winter he turns eight. They talk to the Clan Elders, but he watches them arrive. He doesn’t learn their names, but he’s wearing his official kimono. He’s being kept out of the talks – he has a feeling that this might not change for a long time. The snowfall is heavy and the world is coated in deep, deep snow.

He is told to wait in his room, barren as it is, but he doesn’t listen. In the garden, they have a small pond, and he likes to sit next to it. As the talks drag on, his feet lead him exactly there. A servant tries to remind him of his orders, but Satoru ignores him. The servant doesn’t follow.

The water is frozen. He wishes they had a koi pond, but they don’t. It doesn’t matter. Snow keeps falling around him, and if he waits long enough here, it will engulf him entirely, and he will disappear like water.

It doesn’t take long until he hears footsteps in the snow. He opens his eyes again, but he doesn’t stand up, nor turn around.

“Gojo Satoru,” an unknown voice says behind him, “we’ve come to speak to you.”

How quaint. “So you do,” he responds, “why are you not speaking then?”

“Satoru, address them properly.”

He raises his head from where it had been fixated on the frozen pond. Sighing, he stands up and turns a half-side. “I don’t know who you are.”

His caretaker is getting agitated, he can tell. He doesn’t care. He’ll turn if he wants to. From the corner of his eye he can see the sorcerer from the basement. Interesting, that he is here. Briefly, Satoru wonders if his friend recovered.

“We are the Supreme Court of Jujutsu Society.”

What a pompous title. Something in him wants to tear it down and burn it with a flame too bright.

“And whatever could the esteemed Court want from me, a small unimportant child?”

His caretaker wants to intervene, he can tell, but Satoru turns around and fixates them with enough of a look that they stay silent. Now, he looks at the men that came. Except for the sorcerer, all these men are old, and way past their prime. Their cursed energy runs low and slow, and even the tiniest spark would enough to burn them up.

“We’ve hadn’t had the chance to meet just yet, Gojo. We wished to formally introduce ourselves.”

“So pleased,” Satoru replies as he starts walking, back to the house, “I simply cannot wait to get to know you all. I’m sure we will get acquainted very well in the future.”

He would be right.

As he stood there, long in the past, he realised he wasn’t a person. He was Gojo Satoru, and Gojo Satoru was nothing more than a hammer.

The snow was heavy that day.

~*~

Years and years later, he stands in front of Jujutsu High. It’ll be the first real school he ever goes to. The sun is terribly bright in the sky, and his eyes hurt. He’s taking three pills against them already each day and he’s worried he might build up a resistance to the stuff. Nobody’s dropped him off or picked him up and he won’t ever admit he got a bit lost in the city at first.

He wonders what the school can even teach him. He’s basically mastered Blue, and Limitless is practically no effort to keep up anymore. Yeah, sure, Red still fizzles out more than it should, but that’s what practice is for, right? He’s never even attempted to use Purple but surprisingly, nobody’s pushed him toward it.

“Gojo Satoru, right? I’m Yaga, your teacher. Come, I’ll show you to your room.”

Satoru squints against the sun, and sees the man that called himself Yaga. He’s taller than Satoru, and has a lot more meat on him, apparently. Squinting hard, he hurries after the man, shouldering his lone bag on his shoulder.

“There’s one other student so far. Her name is Ieiri Shoko, and she specialises in Reversed Cursed Technique.”

Satoru blinks. “Like, on others?” Yaga just nods.

A lot of high-ranking sorcerers were able to use Reversed Cursed Technique on themselves, but not on others. He himself couldn’t do it, at least not just yet, so maybe it would be useful to get to know this Ieiri. He’s here to make useful connections for the future, after all.

Making friends is nothing that’s ever crossed his mind.

“Here,” Yaga says and shows him to an empty room, with a plain bed, a nightstand, and a window. “Decorate it as you see fit. Leave your things here, we’re going to introduce you to Shoko.”

Satoru steps inside the room and dumps his duffel bag on the bed. There’s no dust on it. Decorate... he’s not sure he gets what Yaga means. Is this a test? But he can’t fathom the purpose of it. Pushing this for later, he rejoins Yaga in the hallway and follows him as they make their way to the classroom.

“Ieiri!” Yaga bellows as they enter. “Got a fresh one for you.”

Satoru frowns, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

“Eeeeh? He looks so weird.”

“I look perfectly normal!”

“Suuure, lots of teens with white hair. Is that box bleach?”

Satoru blinks. What in the hells is she talking about? And what is box bleach?

“Ieiri, this is Gojo Satoru, the heir to the Gojo-clan.”

“Eeeh? A clan kid? Damn, Gojo, my condolences.”

“I – uh... okay?”

Did someone die and he just kind of missed it? He’s known Ieiri for a total of two minutes and he’s already massively confused. Is that really how people are? Maybe it had been right to just never leave the estate. It feels like these three years might just be long ones.

“So, what do you like?”

“Huh? Uh...”

Oh, is this socialising? He’s never done that before. Just, what is he supposed to say? The only things he ever does are studying and fighting. Maybe sleeping, if it’s a good day. Popping pills? No, probably not.

“I, uh, like math.”

Ieiri groans. “Gods, what a nerd. No, what do you do for fun?”

Didn’t – didn’t he just answer that? It had probably been wrong, then. How is it possible that he can exorcise a curse while being half-asleep, but he simply cannot talk to someone his age? He wracks his brain, desperately trying to find something that would make a good activity.

“Oh, I, I like Digimon.”

That’s a lie. While trying to find his way, he passed a corner shop with several TVs on display and he stopped to look at the shows they were airing. They were mainly news broadcast, the weather... and Digimon. He only knows the name because he had been on time to see the title screen. The TV had been running without sound, so he had no clue what the show was actually about, but it had been nice and colourful. It had been... nice.

“A nerd and a weeb, huh? Ah well, I guess it fits,” Shoko grins. Before Satoru can protest he doesn’t even know what a weeb even is and where the hell did Yaga vanish off to, she continues: “You know I’ve never actually been to Tokyo? I have like, no clothes. You’ve been here before?”

He shakes his head: “Not really, just a few times, on occasional trips.” Exorcising curses, he doesn’t say and while he thinks she knows that’s what he meant, she actually might not know that.

She beams: “Great! Let’s go explore the city together! It’ll be our first bonding experience! And we can go shopping too! I want more skirts with pockets in them.”

She springs up from her chair and grabs his hand, dragging him outside.

She’s grabbing his hand.

His hand, like he’s a normal person.

*

Satoru’s never gone shopping before. All his shopping had been done by his caretakers, and he just always wore what he’d been given. Shopping with Ieiri is a new experience. She does eventually let go of his hand, but she sticks close to him, bumping into him at every opportunity. He could raise Infinity, like he usually does when he’s outside, but he finds he doesn’t want to.

“Yaga said you can use RCT –“

“Shhhh, no curse talk while shopping, it’s bad luck.”

Well. Maybe this is some sort of test? A mutually beneficial arrangement? Satoru figures he’s got enough money at his disposal that he could buy her favour. Learning RCT would be helpful for tougher fights to come in the future. It would also help with maintaining Limitless in general. He could go shopping with Ieiri if she teaches him for it.

“Oooh, Gojo, look! That shirt is adorable, let’s go in!”

He doesn’t get the chance to look at this so-called adorable shirt before she yanks him into the store. Whelp, new experiences enhance the body and mind, or something like that. It’s not quite fighting, but maybe something can be gleaned from this experience nonetheless.

He was wrong.

He was so, so wrong.

Shopping is a fucking war ground.

Ieiri keeps piling clothes into his arms and she keeps saying she’ll try them on in just a moment, but that moment keeps sliding trough his fingers. People keep bumping into him left and right and he thinks that this might be a bit too much after all the seclusion he grew up in. He loses Ieiri multiple times in the crowd and is only able to find her thanks to Six Eyes.

“These guys are all vultures,” Ieiri says as if Satoru hadn’t just lost her for twenty minutes straight, “just because there’s a sale going on doesn’t mean they get first dip! I’m a poor college student, I should get priority.”

“Ieiri,” he says – not whine, thank you – “will you actually put these clothes on? There’s so many people here, I’m sure I lost a cardigan somewhere.”

She stops and looks at him. Satoru can’t actually see her face, nor can she see his, the clothes pile extends far above his head at this point. He only knows because he can see her cursed energy turn.

“Oh, you’re a clan kid,” she responds as if that makes any lick of sense.

“Yeah, I know! So what –“

“Put the pile down now. Come with me.”

She doesn’t wait for him to confirm, as he’s quickly coming to expect from her. She doesn’t brush past him, though, so he dumps his pile onto another and Ieiri drags him outside by the hand again. They’re leaving?! Then what had even been the point?

They leave the store again and he expects her to drop his hand like she had before, but she just keeps dragging and dragging, until they reach a small park where Ieiri parks them on a bench.

“Wha – what are we doing here? I thought there was this absolutely adorable shirt you wanted –“

“Gojo. Look at me.”

“No! Why did I have to carry all those clothes if you weren’t going to try any of them on? And gods, what did all the other people want there? They kept bumping into me, and I’m not easily overlooked! Also, I don’t quite get what any of this has to do with RCT –“

“Gojo,” she says again, all serious, and her hands hover over his cheeks. She’s not touching him, and now he looks at her. Her face is all stern, unlike before. He doesn’t understand. Nothing makes sense.

“It’s okay. Focus on me. Here,” she takes his hand, gently, and presses it against her chest, “feel me breathe? Be a good sport and match me. In and out, slowly. Just like me. Just focus on me, okay? Look at my face. Good, you’re doing great.”

He doesn’t understand what’s going on. But he’s doing as he’s told. He’s doing well, she’s said, so that’s good. Yeah. Ieiri keeps talking, and he keeps doing what she’s saying. It’s easy to follow her instructions.

When he had been ten, he had fought his first special grade curse. Back then, he hadn’t known that, but it didn’t really matter either. It had been way stronger than the worm in the basement, and he had genuinely feared for his life. Blue just kept bouncing off of its skin and he knew, he knew, if he didn’t use Red, he’d die. Looking back, he can’t even remember what the curse really looked like. Over the years, it morphed into everything and nothing all at once, and it doesn’t even matter in the end. Infinity burned through his brain, and he was in pain.

“Gojo can take care of it.”

And he did. Back then he did, and all the days in the coming future, he did too. He could take care of it. If he was afraid or unsure or in pain it didn’t matter. He can take care of it. It doesn’t matter how big the curse will be, how strong or powerful it might be, Gojo can take care of it. He will be Gojo Satoru, and he will be the Strongest. Nothing else matters. Nothing else matters. Nothing else matters.

But today, on the bench in a no-name park, Satoru gets hugged by Shoko.

Today, he gets to be weak.

He gets to be Satoru.

*

Ieiri says that he was on the verge of a panic attack. He’s not sure what that is. Panic attacked him? He didn’t even notice. Panic is a funky name for a curse. He tells her so and tries to make banter – curses he can talk about.

He doesn’t understand the look she gives him.

“We’ll get a milkshake.”

“What’s a milkshake?”

She bumps her head against his shoulder.

“I’ll show you,” she says, “I’ll show you.”

She doesn’t take his hand, but he feels connected to her regardless.

He likes milkshakes. He won’t admit it right then and there, but he likes them. He knows Ieiri can see it. Call me Shoko, she says and calls him Gojo. But she smiles. She smiles, and only asks him to finish her milkshake for her. He sacrifices himself, like a real knight.

In the coming weeks, Shoko introduces him to the mundane world. Eventually he even stops calling it mundane, as he’s quite fascinated by it. It’s everything but mundane. She takes him to watch his first movie, and accompanies him on his first festival. They go shopping together and Satoru finds he really likes shopping. Spending his clan’s money to buy a black shirt? Hell yeah.

He finds himself smiling genuinely.

He likes smiling.

He likes seeing people he cares about smiling.

Alas, not everything is so buttery smooth.

One month into their school year, they are sent on a job.

“What do you mean you don’t know anything?”

Yaga is the one to drive them to the location – an abandoned cabin in a forest patch. People have been hiking the way and had then gone missing. A quick survey had concluded cursed energy around the hut itself.

Deeming it appropriate for first-years, he and Shoko had been sent for the task. He knows he can handle whatever the curse will throw at him, but he’s worried about Shoko. Her cursed energy doesn’t lend itself to actively attacking, and she hasn’t been performing too well with cursed tools – neither has he, to be fair, but unlike her, Satoru doesn’t need them.

“I mean,” Yaga says, “that I don’t know anything. They tell me it’s a Grade Two, but you know them.”

Shoko makes a confused face, she doesn’t know them but Satoru nods, knowing them well indeed. They are sending him, after all and while he needs the field experience, they won’t send him for a Grade Two really. But Shoko is here too, and she can’t defend herself.

“A semi, you think?”

“Maybe,” Yaga replies, “stay vigilant. If things get too hot, get out of there. I mean it, Gojo,” Yaga focuses him over the glasses he wears; “don’t let Shoko get hurt.”

“I’m not a waif, you know.”

Awkwardly, Satoru pats her head like she’s done it to him sometimes. “There, there,” he says like he’s consoling a sad dog. And just like a dog, Shoko tries to bite his fingers.

They arrive at the hut eventually and Satoru squints. It’s still fairly bright outside and his eyes have been hurting something fierce over the last couple days. His headache hasn’t left his side in over a week and he really hopes the curse is a pushover.

“It doesn’t look like much,” Shoko says and shoves a lollipop into Satoru’s hand. He’s thankful. The candy helps his head, even if it’s only for a short while.

“It’s why curses like them,” Yaga says as he draws the veil.

“Come on,” Satoru says to Shoko and moves towards the door. Quietly, she follows him. She doesn’t take his hand.

“You think it’s a Grade Two?” She asks once the door closes behind them. She fumbles a little with her flashlight before he answers: “I’m not sure. It’s a bit worrying that they didn’t retail any info at all. Stick close to me and do what I say, and we’ll be fine.”

Limitless was easier to maintain these days as he got used to the strain but he was unsure how far he could extend it – if he could include Shoko in it if push came to shove.

“What are we looking for?”

“For starters, let’s see if we can find any remnants of the people that have gone missing – backpacks, shoes, sweaters, whatever. How fast can you run?”

“Huh?”

He doesn’t look at her. Something feels off. It’s a two-story cabin, but the inside looks much better than the outside would suggest. He can feel cursed energy all around him, but he can’t pin-point the source. He wants to split up, so they cover more ground, but Shoko is basically defenceless. But she is a sorcerer and as such, he doesn’t want to babysit her.

“I want to split up,” he says, “I’m going to go upstairs and you check down here. Shout if you find anything and if anything finds you, run outside to Yaga.”

Assuming the exit wouldn’t be blocked, but he just had to hope for the best in that case.

“And leave you alone –“

“I don’t need you, Shoko. I can handle it, now let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait, he moves towards the stairs. Unease sits low in his belly, and he doesn’t like it. Shoko doesn’t call after him, and soon he feels the beam of light leave his back. Somehow, it feels cold, but he ignores it.

The upstairs doesn’t tell him much. There are only a couple of rooms, but he finds nothing of note. A few items are scattered around, things that don’t quite fit. He assumes they come from the missing people, but he senses no trace of cursed energy. The cursed energy in the cabin doesn’t shift at all, but the source is still undisclosed and he hates it. He comes across a larger room and decides to investigate it a little more. There are several backpacks here and judging by the bed in the room has probably served as temporary bedroom by kids and hikers alike. The backpacks themselves don’t give him anything, just a few changes of clothes and protein bars. No water bottles whatsoever. How odd. In one of them, he finds a thin book. Curious, he opens it and skims through the pages. It seems to be a re-telling of the owner’s days and Satoru is widely uninterested in this person’s new shoes. He flips to the end, and reads:

I’ve been here for two days, and this place looks better and better. At first it was just a run-down cabin, but it’s really grown on me! Even the bed gets comfier every time I look at it. Just at night I hear these strange noises, but they don’t come through the door. Maybe it’s just rats. Large rats, but hey, even paradise has snakes, right?

Satoru frowns and looks around the room again. The bed looks old and torn, with several cobwebs hanging from it. That’s supposed to be comfy? And rats? He hasn’t seen any rats scurrying around, but they might just hide themselves.

I should really get going though. Gotta get back to work soon, and the drive wasn’t short. But I don’t want to leave. But it’s okay, I can just come back. I should look into whoever owns this cabin, maybe I can take it off his hands. I’ve got some money saved, and while Rika might not like me spending the money we’ve set aside for our wedding, she’ll change her mind when I show her this place.

“Gojo!”

Hearing his name, he lifts his head. Her shout hadn’t sounded distressed, so she probably found something. He leaves the useless book behind and hurries over to Shoko. He doesn’t read the last entry:

Couldn’t find the door. The basement is open. The rats are inside. Big big rats the basement is open it’s loud Rika i’m sorry the basement’s open it’s open and the rats are in

Shoko waits for him at the bottom of the stairs. She looks fine.

“What is it?”

She gestures to follow him and he does, glad she turned the flashlight away from him.

“I found a hatch,” she says as they walk, “but it was closed and I ignored it. But I came back around and I found it open. I didn’t go inside but it gives me the creeps. Did you find something upstairs?”

He shakes his head: “No, just bits and bobs. And a book, apparently detailing some dude’s day. Nothing useful though.”

“A diary, huh? Shame he didn’t describe the curse we’re looking for.”

He just nods. Diary? He’s on the verge of asking when they reach the open hatch. His skin is prickling, that’s the source he was looking for. He looks around and frowns. This looks like the lobby, doesn’t it? Where’s the door? The hatch looks so prominent, how did they both miss it?

“What do you think?”

“I think that’s where our curse is hiding. Come, let’s go down. Stay behind me.”

The disappearing door is concerning but if they exorcise the curse, it’ll come back. If he could use Red just one time, it’d be enough. They approach the hatch and peer down, Shoko pointing her flashlight down the stairs. It’s full of cobwebs.

“Ugh,” they say in union and Satoru goes in first, Shoko sticking close to his back.

“Is the light unhelpful?” She asks and he shakes his head. “No, you can keep it on. Just don’t shine it on my face.” It’ll be more helpful if Shoko could see. The curse would smell their cursed energy anyway, the light is a non-issue.

The basement doesn’t fit the cabin at all. Concrete walls, with several metal doors lining the sides. They try a few of them, but none open. He could smash them open with Blue, but there’s no reason for that yet. What they do see, however, are tiny curses. They are not worth the trouble, and they don’t seem to register their presence at all. Are those the rats the diary had mentioned? But they can’t be why the people have gone missing. Maybe there are a lot of them on ahead? The source of the cursed energy sits further ahead, presumably at the deepest point of this basement.

“These fuckers creep me out,” Shoko says as they are traipsing alongside.

“Do you want to exorcise them?” He asks her, slightly stopping. She bumps into his back a bit and maybe he did that on purpose.

“No,” she responds, “not really. Just – why aren’t they paying any attention to us?”

That’s a good question. Even if they are non-aggressive, they should’ve tried to scurry away. He has a theory for why they’re here, but it doesn’t answer Shoko’s question.

“Come,” he says instead. “The curse is further this way.”

If only this corridor would end. Seriously, for how long have they been walking? This isn’t a domain, is it? No, it can’t be. A technique? But wouldn’t the point be for the humans to actually get to the curse? Maybe the curse realised they’re sorcerers and tries to keep them away. They’d need to break this somehow. Maybe turn back and try to break in from above? He grumbles, and doesn’t hear a door open.

“Gojo!!”

Snapping his head around, he just sees Shoko being dragged off through a door. “Shoko!” He tries to get after her, but only slams against the metal door. He rattles the doorknob but it won’t open. “Shoko!” He calls again, hoping she can hear him. “Shoko, get away from the door!” He extends his hand and blows the door off its hinges with Blue. The room behind is dark and when he runs inside, there’s nothing there, nothing but bones. Where’s Shoko? Where did she go? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He has to hurry. He doesn’t have time for the curses’s technique shenanigans. He needs to get to Shoko, and he needs to get to her now.

Still, he looks at the bones for a spell. They are male, and while one example doesn’t exactly confirm his theory, he still takes it as one. If he’s wrong, he’s wrong. But if he’s right, Shoko is in grave danger. But how is he going to get to her? How does he break through? There’s no way he can run all the way back and break through from above, even if he could make it all the way back. He closes his eyes. First, he needs to find her. He knows her. He can find her cursed energy. His eyes snap open when he does. She’s with the source, but that doesn’t matter. He stretches out his hand, and focuses on nothing but her energy. He can’t pull her here, but he can pull himself closer. He’s never pulled himself through walls, this could potentially be very painful. But he doesn’t have a choice. He has to save Shoko. He has to exorcise the curse.

“Focus, Satoru. Don’t be a disappointment. Achieve the impossible, and don’t fail.”

Satoru finds Shoko in the space between and between his hands, he pulls. He can hear the walls breaking around him, the concrete bouncing off Infinity, but he pays no mind. When he gets close, he closes his hand into a fist and as he breaks through the final wall, the entire technique crumbles and breaks apart.

His head is dizzy, and he sways when he lands, but he hasn’t got time for weaknesses like that. He catches himself in a split second and orders the dizziness and the pain away for now. Before him, he sees the curse that they were looking for. It has the form of a woman, vaguely at least but her body is massive, always twitching from place to place. At her knees, the tiny curses are gathered, and around the room there are more skeletons. He can’t confirm, but he assumes they are all male. He can’t see Shoko anywhere.

She has cursed energy. She’ll be fine. She’ll be fine. He just has to believe that.

“Give her back,” he demands, “give the girl you ate back.”

The curse rears its head and blinks at him, with large, hooded green eyes. Her long black hair falls across most of her face and she studies him. He doesn’t back down, doesn’t look away, but he wonders what she sees. The tiny curses gathered at her knees are chattering, but they are not leaving her side. He is a threat, shouldn’t they try and defend her? But he can’t worry about that now.

“I mean it,” he says, “give her back yourself or I’ll rip her out of you.” He takes a step forward.

The curse doesn’t yell, her mouth doesn’t move. And yet, her shrill cry pierces the air, and pierces straight through his head.

Satoru doesn’t double down. He doesn’t fall to his knees.

But he wishes he did.

He wishes he did.

Her cry disrupts his vision and he can’t see straight. His headache, already bad, just gets a lot worse. And it doesn’t stop. He presses his hands against his ears, in a desperate attempt to block the sound out. It doesn’t work, and he feels blood flowing out of his ear. He shuts his eyes closed, and he wants to turn and run. But he can’t. Shoko is in danger and he has to save her. The tiny curse’s chattering gets louder and he realises that they’re amplifying her voice. Is that why they didn’t leave her side?

No.

He has to act fast. If he waits around much longer, his brain will start to seizure, and then they’re both lost. He has to save Shoko, and he has to save her now. Pushing the pain down, ever down, down, he focuses. Shoko is inside. He can’t pull her out, so he has to go in. Removing his hands from his ears, he reaches out. With straining, paining eyes he finds her energy, still intact, still shining. Like before, he finds the space between and prays, prays that it works. Holding onto Shoko’s energy, he squeezes hard and pulls himself through space.

He crashes against a wall and loses himself for a split second. Desperate, he scratches at the wall, just barely suppressing a scream. What happened where is he where is Shoko –

“Gojo?!”

Frantic, he turns his head. Shoko. Shoko Shoko Shoko Shoko.

“What are you doing here? What happened?”

It worked. He can’t believe it. It fucking worked. But he has no time for that. He needs to concentrate, and he has to work. Nothing even hurts anymore.

“Are you bleeding?!”

“We are inside the curse,” he ignores her, “I had a theory and it seems correct. This specific curse uses hikers to birth new curses – the females are used to increase her output, and the males serve as food. That’s why we saw so many critter curses earlier. When you were snatched, you were probably brought straight here – do you remember what happened?”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I remember being grabbed and dragged into the room, and then it felt like I was being flung through the air. I woke up here, and I found some women here – none of them responded to me though. You think... you think the curse really ate them?”

Probably. Eating might not be the correct word, fused might work better. It’s probable that Shoko was able to maintain her consciousness in here thanks to her cursed energy. But these are theories and not worth the pursuit. He needs to get them out of here. He looks around. It looks just like the basement did earlier. He can’t pull them out of here like he pulled himself in – there’s nothing outside to focus on, and this place is brimming with energy, it’s dizzying. Satoru knows he’s on the verge of being overwhelmed but he has no time.

“Can we save the girls?”

He blinks to her and follows her gaze to a few slumped bodies on the floor.

“I tried using RCT on them, but it didn’t work. You think it’s because we’re inside the curse?”

Probably. The energy flow is maddening and messes up his head. He can’t think straight, and he’s busy.

“There’s nothing left to save,” he says, “they’re nothing more than batteries. They were dead the moment they entered the cabin.”

How is he going to get them out of here? Shoko is rubbing her temple like she has a headache and he is uneasy. He, as a man, isn’t supposed to be here at all, and Shoko, as a woman, is supposed to supply her energy to the main body only. He needs to destroy the curse. He feels something flow out of his eyes. He has to hurry. His eardrums are pierced, and the blood is clogging his canals. In his mouth, the blood pools. He doesn’t have time, he doesn’t have time, what is he going to do?

“Gojo,” he hears Shoko’s voice, “I want to sleep.”

He wants to break. He understands.

“You are impossible, Satoru. Do the impossible. It’s what you’re good for.”

He reaches for Shoko and pulls her against in chest, almost akin to a hug.

“Hold tight,” he says and she does with weak hands, “don’t let go. Trust me. Bet on me. Bet on me.”

He needs to use Red. Red is strong enough to destroy the body. Blue won’t suffice. He needs to repel, not attract. He can do it. He’s strong enough. He’ll be the strongest. It’s what everyone says, and so that’s what he’ll be. Shoko is slumping against him and he doesn’t have time. He doesn’t have time to think.

Satoru reaches out his finger. Failure isn’t an option.

Space is his.

Even if his body is trying to shut down, space is his.

“Red,” he mutters, and space is his.

He doesn’t remember crashing to the hard concrete floor. He doesn’t remember losing consciousness with his eyes still open. He remembers staring into an infinite void, with the centre staring back at him. Neither blink, and neither fade.

He falls, and falls.

Far, far away, someone shouts. He doesn’t know what. It doesn’t matter. The void is endless, but it is familiar. He can’t close his eyes. They burn, they hurt, but he can’t close them. He’s not allowed. His eyes must remain open, no matter what. He has to see. He has to see.

He wonders what he’s supposed to look at.

There’s nothing there.

*

Shoko doesn’t know what’s happened. One moment, she was sticking as close as possible to Gojo, pointing the flash towards the floor, and the next second she was grabbed by a thousand little hands, losing her flashlight and only seeing Gojo’s face snap to her for a split second.

And then, she wakes in a different hallway. It looks almost like the one they were in before but something feels different. And Gojo is nowhere to be seen. What happened?

“Gojo?” She asks, but gets no answer. Maybe she got pulled to another part of the basement? No matter, she should try and find a way out of here. If she can find the curse, she can head towards that, as Gojo is likely to do the same. The only problem is that she can’t locate the cursed energy properly anymore. It feels like it’s gone, but then it’s not. She frowns. Something’s wrong, and she doesn’t like it. Fighting’s not her style and while she knows why she’s being sent out on these missions, she doesn’t like it.

Starting to wander the hallway, she looks around for any clues. Surely there must be a way out of here? It’s also surprisingly bright in here, considering that she needed a flashlight before. Her eyes couldn’t have possibly adapted to the darkness, could they? Frowning, she almost trips over something. Huh? She looks down and sees two women lying on the floor, slumped together.

“Hey,” she calls, “are you okay?”

They don’t respond. Shoko gets down on her knees and examines them. She doesn’t actually have much medical experience yet, but they seem to be alive but also... not? They have a weird feeling about them. Still, she uses RCT on them, but for some reason, it bounces straight off. Blinking, she looks at her hands, flexing the fingers. How odd. Is the cursed spirit interfering with techniques? But Gojo didn’t seem affected, had he?

She gulps. She doesn’t like this. Yaga should’ve come in with them. Shoko pulls out her phone but she has no reception at all. Damn it. All she can do is wait for Gojo. Well, that sucks. She decides to wander around some more, and she finds more women, all in the same state as the ones before. Whatever happened to them? If only her RCT would work...

Then, she hears a crash and when she looks, she can see Gojo scratching at the wall, looking half-way crazed.

“Gojo! What are you doing here? What happened?!”

He’s bleeding. His eyes are unfocused, and he’s bleeding. He says they’re inside the curse. He came to save her, and she is so tired. He pulls her against his chest and she can hear his heartbeat. It’s too slow and too fast at the same time. She tries to push some RCT into him. She wants to help. She needs to help him so he can save them both.

“Bet on me.”

She does. The world explodes. Gojo dies, and they crash onto the hard floor beneath them.

“Gojo!!”

Now free, her senses return to her quickly, but Gojo isn’t responding. His hand still loosely hangs onto her waist, and his eyes are wide open. His heart isn’t beating, and he’s bleeding. Panicking, she pushes RCT into him but it’s not enough, and something’s blocking the way. She just needs to kick-start his heart. She grabs his short white hair.

“You ain’t gonna die here, you ain’t gonna die on me here.”

The energy she needs is massive and far more than she has at this point. She gives it her all, focusing on his brain, his heart. Everything else can come later. Her arms are shaking but she can’t give up. Gojo is her friend, and she won’t let him die on their first mission. But she is fading. She needs help. She fishes for her phone and manages to call her teacher.

“Yaga,” she bellows into the phone, not caring what he says in response, “the basement. Now! Hurry. Gojo – just hurry please!”

She tosses the phone aside and concentrates on Gojo again. She has to hold on. She has to –

“Ah,” she hears then. He doesn’t say anything else, and his eyes stay open. But he’s breathing. His heart is beating. He’s not dead. Slumping into herself, she looks around the room. On the far wall, there is a large splutter of cursed blood. It’s massive.

Yaga comes to her in a blur. She barely hears what he says, but he’s gathering Gojo in his arms. Gojo’s arms flop almost comically and in a trance, Shoko goes after them.

In the car, his eyes aren’t so wide open anymore, but he still doesn’t blink. He’s slumped against Shoko and she holds the sleeve of his jacket, staring into nothingness. Gojo says soft words above her head, but she can’t hear them. She can’t understand, but it’s comforting. When finally, after too long, they arrive back at the school, she can’t go with Gojo. She understands. She’s exhausted, and she has no training. She still hovers outside the door. Eventually, she sits down on a chair, determined to wait it out. If she hadn’t been grabbed... but that’s not her fault. It’s not Gojo’s fault either.

She wakes again as someone picks her up. Yaga. She fell asleep? Sleepy, she turns her head towards the door. Maybe it’s open. Maybe she can have a look.

“A barrier...?”

“Gojo was thrashing. He almost blew one of the medical staff up. Sleep, Shoko. You’ve had a long day, just sleep.”

So close to his chest, his voice is comforting. And he’s right. Today has been long. She gets to sleep. She can go see Gojo when he’s okay again. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. She’ll see him tomorrow.

Tomorrow, Gojo is gone.

His clan demanded to see him, Yaga says. He’ll stay there for a month or so, he says.

Shoko stands before the bed he lied in.

She is supposed to see him tomorrow.

*~

Satoru strolls back onto campus three and a half weeks later. His clan really didn’t like it when he almost blew himself up. Could he have been more logical, more rational? Of course. Of course he could have been, but then Shoko would’ve died – or worse. But that didn’t matter. They did agree with him that she is useful – using RCT on others is quite a rare technique. They agreed that she would be useful if she could teach him. On the same note, they were disappointed he still couldn’t do RCT himself. That Red had worked hadn’t mattered.

“Why are you not the strongest yet, Satoru? Are you doing this intentionally?”

As if. Frustrated, he kicks a tiny stone. At least he gets to come back here. The entire time he had been gone, he wondered if Shoko had been alright. He sighs. He couldn’t even call her, because they had never exchanged numbers. It had seemed futile, since they had been together all the time. Now he wishes they did. Ah, well, no use crying over it. At least he’s back now, and Shoko won’t have to suffer through Yaga’s teachings by herself anymore!

With a new spring in his step, he moves to enter the school and make his way to the classroom. It’s early morning still, so they should be there instead of the track field. Turning the corners quickly, he busts the door open the second he reaches it.

“Hellooo!”

Three pairs of eyes settle on him. He basks in the surprise on their faces. Wait, three?

“Hold on, who are you?!”

There’s a boy sitting next to Shoko. He has black hair tied up in a bun and purple eyes blinking at him.

“Oh, hello,” he says in a soft tone, “you must be Gojo Satoru. Shoko’s told me a lot about you.”

The face smiles, but Satoru sees the cursed energy. It looks different than Shoko’s, or Yaga’s, or even his own. It’s –

“You’re a cursed spirit manipulator.”

“Ouch,” the boy says smiling, “Shoko said you’re direct. My name’s Geto Suguru by the way. I hope we’ll work together well, Gojo-kun.”

Satoru is rooted to the door. Geto Suguru, huh? He frowns. He’s strong. Satoru doesn’t actually know all too much about curse manipulation, only that it involves consuming exorcised curses, and that it works a little like shikigami, but different still.

“Close the door, Gojo, I’m cold,” Shoko says, pulling him out of his thoughts. Dumb fuddled, he does as he’s told and sits down. Up front, Yaga grunts.

“I didn’t know you’d come back today, Gojo.”

Satoru blips his tongue. “I ran away.” He grins when he sees Yaga’s vein pop.

“I swear to high heavens, Satoru –!”

“Won’t they be worried, though?” Geto interjects. “If you just ran away? I thought the clans keep their children close.”

Satoru frowns. What’s this guy’s deal? Besides, who cares if his folk are worried? They probably didn’t even know what that meant. (He hadn’t, either, until Shoko explained it to him.)

“Tsk,” Satoru responds, “relax, will you? I didn’t run away. And even if I did, they’d know I’d come here. Besides, I’m the strongest! They aren’t worried about me.” Worried about their asset, their only claim to power? Hell yeah. Him, not so much. But that’s okay. That’s just how it is. He’s not Satoru to them.

“Ah,” Geto responds, “I’m glad to hear it.”

Satoru doesn’t like him. That smile sits wrong with him.

“Suguru, wanna hang out?” Shoko asks after Yaga left the room. Satoru, half-asleep in the chair, perks up. Suguru? Shoko’s calling him Suguru?

“Why not?” Geto responds, smiling still. Is that smile stuck on his face, or what? “Maybe we can look over our assignments together. I’d like to get them done as soon as possible.”

Satoru sees Shoko pull a face, and at least on this they can still bond. “Fine,” she agrees, “if you sponsor me a cigarette, we can do bloody homework.”

“What about you, Gojo-kun? Want to join our assignment team?”

Satoru frowns. He’s not interested in the assignments, and it’s really just math.

“Nah,” he says, “It’s just math. Hey, Shoko, wanna go downtown? I haven’t had a milkshake in forever!”

“Tempting,” she sighs, looking at the ceiling, “but I’m gonna stick with Suguru I’m afraid. We can go later, though, if you want.”

“Tch,” Satoru simply pouts and stands up. “Fine, go be boring, you two. I’m sure there’s something more interesting to do somewhere.”

Not waiting for their response, he leaves the room. He rubs his eyes as soon as he turns the corner. Ever since, they’ve been even more sensitive. He feels exhausted still. Though, he hasn’t told anyone. He’d just get scolded, and he doesn’t need it. Slouching in his walk, he makes his way to the vending machine. The one on the ground floor is better than the one on the second floor. There’s no reason for it, but it’s just true. Thinking, he taps his coin against the glass.

He keeps thinking about that infinite void he fell into. It’s there when he closes his eyes, and it won’t leave him alone. It’s like it wants something, but it won’t tell him.

“Gojo,” Yaga says, tearing him out of his thoughts, “thought you’d be here. What do you think of Geto?”

For a split second, Satoru wants to pretend he doesn’t know who Yaga’s talking about. “Dunno,” he says, “he’s sure smiling a lot. When he’d get here?”

“About a week after you left. He’s a very well-mannered young boy, and he has great potential. His technique is rare, so I hope you get along, Satoru.”

He clenches his fist. I hope is a threat. He knows that. It makes him not want to get along with Geto, just on principle. And what’s this about great potential? “He’s stronger than me?”

“Hard to say. Geto Suguru has exceptional control over the curses he’s absorbed, and his cursed energy is strong enough to even take in special grades. And you, so far, have only been able to use Blue.”

“That’s not true, I –“

“Used Red, I know. You used it under massive duress, and it nearly ended you. That’s not using it, Gojo, and you know that. If you don’t put your back into it, Geto will surpass you very easily. He’s also very capable in hand-to-hand combat. You’ll train together; you’ll learn something from him. It’s an opportunity, Gojo, don’t slander it. I’ll see you all on the track later.”

Yaga turns and leaves, as if he hadn’t just insulted Satoru to the fullest. He wants to get angry. He wants to use Red, right now, just to show him. Show him that he can use it, easy-peasy. That it’s no trouble at all. That he’s strong, that he’s the strongest.

But he knows he couldn’t. If he tried, it would fail. So he stands here, next to the vending machine, still holding the coin in his hand. Yaga’s already disappeared and he feels lost. If he’s not the Strongest, then who is he at all?

In the early afternoon, he heads to the training field. He’s tried taking a nap against his headache, but now he just feels groggy. He doesn’t understand why his headache lingers still. He’s even turned off Limitless, and it still won’t fade away. Maybe something is wrong? But what? And how does he fix it? Before, he thought asking Shoko for help, but now – she called him Suguru. He’s just Gojo. He shouldn’t sulk. It doesn’t befit him. Who cares? Geto is from the mundane world, born to non-sorcerer parents; of course they’d have an easier time getting along. He doesn’t need them. Geto might be a valuable ally down the line, and Shoko is a great asset. That’s all they are. If they are lost, they are lost. It doesn’t matter. They don’t matter.

“You have to make friends!”

He doesn’t stop, and his steps don’t falter.

That voice doesn’t really have a face anymore.

He can’t even remember where he heard that. Maybe on a TV somewhere? It’s not like it matters. Nothing matters. He’s strong, the strongest, and nothing else matters.

Geto and Ieiri are already sitting on the stairs.

“There you are, Gojo! We’ve been waiting! Where’s Yaga?”

“I thought he was here,” he responds, not looking at her.

“That’s too bad, we thought he’d come with you,” Geto sighs, “I can’t believe this slacking teacher. Anyway, should we warm up, Gojo-kun? Yaga said that you’re shit at hand-to-hand, so I’ll be gentle.”

Gojo doesn’t look at him, and he doesn’t rise to the bait. It’s just another training session, is all. It will serve its purpose. He’s been beaten countless times before. If your opponent is physically stronger than you, you have to be faster. He’s never fought Geto before, but he seems to have more bulk to him, even if it’s not by much. It doesn’t matter, though. Strength doesn’t always translate into muscles. Gojo will likely lose the fight, and that’s okay. He’ll get scolded, and he’ll have to take it.

“Ah, you’re all here. Very commendable of you, Geto, to warm up. Take notes, Gojo.”

Gojo doesn’t respond, and he doesn’t look. He hadn’t been ordered to warm up, so he hadn’t. Suggestions aren’t orders.

After a beat of silence, Yaga continues: “Very well. Geto and Gojo, you’ll train together today. Shoko, you’ll watch, I’m going through the basics with you later. Don’t look at me like that; you need to know basic self-defence at least. Gojo, no Limitless, you hear? I want this to be a fair fight. No blood, boys, I don’t want anyone hurt.”

Stepping onto the field, they take positions. Geto stands opposite of him, still smiling. That damn smile that Gojo’s seen too often in his life. Slimy, fake smile. He hates it.

“Well then,” Geto says, “let’s make this fun, hm? Our first memory as classmates, huh? Give me your best, Gojo-kun.”

“...just Gojo.”

Geto frowns, but smiles. He doesn’t say anything else and on Yaga’s call, they start to fight.

Geto’s not faster than him. But he moves with the full range of his body, knowing exactly what to move and when. His hits have the exact right amount of impact, shaking through Gojo’s body while not exhausting the aggressor. In comparison, Gojo’s hits are faster, but they don’t run fluidly into each other, making most of his movements sloppy. He’s more agile, because he lacks the core balance Geto has. With the right hit, it’s easy to knock Gojo down. It’s not surprising when it happens, but it’s embarrassing all the same. It didn’t even take long. Yaga calls it once Geto has Gojo pinned to the ground.

“Why didn’t you win, Satoru? Are you trying to be an embarrassment?”

“Geto wins! Satoru, I hope you took some notes. I’ll expect better next time! Off to the shower with you two. Shoko, you with me.”

The girl groans, and Geto chuckles as he stands up. “That was easier than I thought. You were going easy on me, Gojo? Come, I’ll help you up.”

He extends his hand as an offer. Gojo looks at it, and ignores it. He doesn’t need or want any help. He has nothing to say to the boy either. There’s no point telling someone what they did well. He stands up on his own and dusts his clothes off.  

“When Shoko is done with her training, we could go grab that milkshake you talked about? I’ve not really been to Tokyo before. You could show me around.”

Gojo looks at Geto then. He seems sincere, but Gojo sees no value. It would be beneficial for an ally to know the terrain, but Sho – Ieiri can show it to him. His own presence is not required.

“Ieiri knows the city better. I don’t really like sweets, anyway.”

He turns and walks away. He lost, and he feels nothing.

“We changed ourselves for you”, the world whispers, “and yet you are still the same.”

The weeks pass in a blur. He slacks on his assignments, and Yaga scolds him. He doesn’t go with Geto and Ieiri when they ask him if he wants ice-cream. Yaga scolds him for that, too. He’s doing everything wrong.

He’s doing everything right.

And yet, he still feels like shit.

He’s watched the entirety of Digimon.

He wants to fucking cry.

*

Gojo walks through the city. He didn’t want to go, but Yaga kicked him out and said he isn’t allowed to come back until evening. Yaga also said to take Ieiri and Geto, but he had ignored that. They don’t really talk to him anymore anyway, and can he really blame them? Everyone else was right; he’s not made for friendships.

Haunting the streets, he doesn’t really know where to go. He could get a crêpe, right? He hadn’t had sweets in so long. It wouldn’t be a weakness, would it, to indulge once in a while? His feet are slowly carrying him to the crêpes stall anyway, while he still mulls it over. Nobody’s here to see him, so nobody’s around to scold him. He won’t tell anyone. So – it’ll be okay. Gojo allows himself a little smile. Maybe today would be a good day, after all. And – and maybe he can make it right with Ieiri and Geto, too.

Maybe – maybe he could be Satoru.

“Big brother?”

He blinks, and looks down. There’s a little girl, tugging at his pant leg. Her eyes are teary, and her cursed energy is low. Concerned, he looks around him quickly, but nobody is paying them any attention yet.

“I’m lost,” the girl sobs, “I want to find mama!”

Gojo doesn’t really want to help her, does he? He had just made up his mind on the crêpes, and now he gets interrupted? He should just leave her. Someone else would help her, surely. But – she asked him, of all people. He can’t really turn her away, can he?

Sighing, he bends down. “What’s your name? Do you remember where your mama was last?”

“I’m Mina! And I dunno, mama was just gone...!”

Rubbing his temple, he decides to pick the girl up. “I’m Satoru. How about we walk back from where you came? I’m sure your mama’s looking for you, so look extra hard for her, okay?”

The girl just sniffles, but nods as well, while providing no additional information. Sighing once more, he looks around for any frantic looking woman. Failing to see any, he decides to start walking. If he stays in the area, they’re bound to bump into her, right?

“Are you sure you lost your mother here? Did she abandon you?”

They’ve been wandering the place for over fifteen minutes now, and he’s starting to lose patience.

“Mama wouldn’t!!”

Gojo just groans. “Don’t you have anything constructive to say,” he mumbles.

“What’s con-struc-tif?”

“Constructive! Something helpful to the situation!”

“Excuse me –,“ a new voice interrupts and he snaps at her the same time Mina shouts: “Mama!!”

What, it’s that easy? Why the hell did they walk around for so long if mama can just show up out of nowhere?

“P-please, I need your help,” the woman says and getting over his initial irritation, he can sense her immense dread. Is she being hunted by a curse? But the curse wouldn’t care that they’re on the street, and he can’t see any cursed spirits anyway.

“Big brother!! We have to help mama!”

“Eh? Uh, sure, I guess? Help with what exactly?”

Mina is tugging on his collar and apparently that’s enough to get him to agree to help random strangers.

“P-please this way. I really need your help.”

She’s shaking. She’s a terrible actor. He’s walking into a trap. He knows. He just doesn’t understand the child’s role in it. Wouldn’t it be more beneficial to hold the daughter hostage? Why send her to get him? Mina keeps tugging at his uniform, urging him to move. Oh. He’s holding her. He can’t activate Infinity while he’s holding someone.

“I will,” he says, “but you need to do something for me.”

The alley they walk into is a dark one. Darkness doesn’t irk him, but he now understands the duress of mama better. Mina is clinging to him and he hates that she’s involved. Since when does he care?

Someone steps out of the shadows behind him, and Gojo could take him out. But there are more people in the dark, and he’s not naive enough to believe they’d just let that happen. A needle plunges into his neck, but there’s no liquid, not yet. Mama is shivering and he can tell she’s trying hard not to cry.

“Let them go, and I won’t resist,” he says to the faceless man behind him. They’re probably after the bounty on his head – he keeps forgetting about it. He’s not sure what to do. They came prepared, so he assumes whatever is in that needle will knock him out cold. His only hope is that they underestimate him, and he can get out on top. His hand-to-hand has actually improved, but it’s too risky.

“Let them go, and we’ll talk like real adults, hmm?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a nod, and mama rushes forward, taking Mina from him.

“Big brother?”

Gojo smiles wide. “Don’t worry, Mina. Big brother is just going to talk to his friends! We found mama, so you can go home now, right? Don’t get lost again, you hear? Don’t worry, everything’s a-okay!”

She half-believes him, and that’s good enough. She and mama are hurrying away, and Gojo feels the needle move. He’s probably got some time still, right? Before it starts to work...

The world falls away before mama and Mina have truly moved out of his sight.

*

When Suguru comes to Jujutsu High, he’s not sure what to expect from it. The only solace he has is that its existence means he’s not completely clinically insane. At least, not yet.

At class, he meets a tired-looking girl who says her name is Ieiri Shoko. A class of two is extremely small, he thinks. But, apparently there’s a third student who’s gone home for a while. His name is Gojo Satoru. Their teacher, Yaga, says it with all his chest and Suguru is confused. Is that name supposed to mean something? It’s not the president’s son, is it?

“He’s a clan kid,” Shoko supplies, but that only means marginally more to him. He decides not to ask. He’ll meet this Satoru soon enough, and then he can ask the boy himself.

“I hope,” he says, “that we can all be good friends.”

When he actually meets Gojo Satoru, a few weeks later, he thinks the boy is beyond pretty. He has stark white hair and shining blue eyes. Sadly, his personality seems to be massively lacking.

“Yeah, he’s kind of a jerk, isn’t he?”

He and Shoko are sitting on the bleachers where she smokes a cigarette. They had tried to complete their math assignment and hadn’t gotten anywhere so Shoko had suggested they take a break.

“You’ve known him long?”

Shoko shakes her head as she takes a drag from her cigarette. “Only two months longer than you. He’s kinda full of himself but you know, he’s a clan kid. He’s the clan kid, so I guess it’s warranted.”

“You keep saying that,” he replies, “but I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

Shoko shoots him a side-eye. “It means he’s important. He isn’t like us, Geto. He got raised like a god among humans. Who knows, maybe he is. But he’s a damn idiot, that’s what he is. Don’t worry about him, I bet they messed him up back home. We’ll set him straight again and then we shove him into the dirt.” She sighs dramatically. “Man I wish that was about now. Gojo would solve that damn assignment while low on sugar and half-dead.”

“He’s – good at math, then?”

“Like, so good, holy shit. It’s unfair.”

Fighting Gojo is – strange, to say the least. It feels like his opponent knows the right moves, but ultimately fails to follow through. It’s – it’s like Gojo already wants to lose. He doesn’t understand, is Gojo just trying to gauge his strength? No – no, that’s not it. Right now, it doesn’t matter. He’s just trying his best, and maybe eventually, Gojo will warm up to him.

Gojo loses, and doesn’t take his hand after. HE refuses the milkshake he himself had brought up before and Suguru doesn’t know what he did wrong – if he did something wrong.

“Probably not,” Yaga says later as he’s sitting with him and Shoko. The girl is currently trying out several cursed tools.

“Who knows what his folk did to him back at home. It’s not your fault, kid. Let him sulk.”

“You mentioned Limitless before our fight. What is it?”

“It’s Gojo’s innate technique. It has different applications, but in its neutral state it serves as a barrier, making it impossible for things to touch him. Makes hand-to-hand combat pointless, no?”

“Shoko said he’s the clan kid. What does that mean?”

“Gojo has inherited both Limitless and the Six Eyes. It puts him in a very high position in our society right from birth. Both these things enable him to be the strongest of our generation. He’s been raised to be that ever since. But,” Yaga turns towards Suguru then, “he’s still just a teen, like you and Shoko. I don’t want you to treat him differently because of it, you understand?”

Suguru isn’t sure but he nods anyway.

Gojo is impossible to get a hold of. He comes to class, skips his assignments, fights with Suguru and brushes them off at every attempt to go out to the town. Eventually, Suguru grows tired of it. Why should he be the one to try? If Gojo doesn’t want to be friends, then they won’t be friends.

“Hullo?”

He and Shoko are hanging out in the dorm kitchen, waiting for their cup noodles to be done. Suguru is blankly staring at the water heater, urging it to go faster. They hadn’t seen Gojo since class today, but Suguru hardly cares.

“Hey, slow down – are you still there? No, I understand, yeah. Okay, okay. Can you stay there, is that okay? Yeah, we’ll go now. Okay, thanks. No, I’ll come with someone in baggy pants – yeah. Okay, see you.”

At baggy pants, Suguru looked at her. Did she mean him? Surely he could get a better description than baggy pants, no? “Shoko –“

“Gojo’s been kidnapped.”

“Why didn’t we tell Yaga?”

“If Yaga learns of this, he’ll have to report Gojo missing. And if Gojo is missing, then everyone is on our fucking asses. Not to mention they would lock him in a room and only let him out to exorcise fucking curses. No, we find Gojo ourselves like the grown-ups we aren’t.”

Her words are insane. Yaga surely could help them. Suguru still doesn’t understand the fuss about Gojo. In their fights, he didn’t seem particular strong, but everyone was saying he would be. But he was still their class-mate, and as such they needed to save him. Suguru would have just liked to involve an adult.

“Hey!” Shoko calls, “You’re the one who called me, right? I’m Shoko.”

In front of them stands a woman with a child in her arms, in her hand a cell-phone. She looks distraught.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts as soon as they get close, “they were going to hurt Mina, I –“

“It’s alright,” Suguru tries to soothe her, “can you tell us what happened?”

With a shaky voice, she does. Sadly, she isn’t able to give them more than vague descriptions of the men that took Gojo away.

“Thank you,” Suguru says, “we’ll find him. You go home, okay? We –“

“You’ll save Big Brother?”

Big Brother? What an odd thing to call Gojo. “Yes,” he smiles, “we’ll save Big Brother.”

The two leave, and he and Shoko enter the alleyway. There’s no blood, and no signs of a fight. Whatever had been in that syringe must’ve worked fast. “You think they killed him?”

“Nuh-uh. Why take him if they’re just gonna shoot him? I’m guessing they’re gonna ask for money from his clan. I’m more interested in whatever they injected him with. There’s like almost no residuals here.”

She’s right. And if she’s right, then they are on a short timer if they want to keep it under wraps. Without Gojo’s phone it might take them a while to take a hold on someone.

“Let’s follow the residuals. I have a manta ray we can use if they’ve gotten too far.”

“Can you do recon with them?”

“Sadly, no,” he sighs, “I only know if they get destroyed, but we can’t communicate. But let’s think about that when we get there. How fast can you run?”

Shoko chuckles. “You know, Gojo asked me the same thing. Let’s just go. I’m back-up only anyway, yeah? We need to get to get to Gojo as fast as possible so show me how those legs work.”

She talks like a middle-aged woman. Briefly concerned, he shrugs it off and they take off running. Shoko keeps up with him for quite a while before she inevitably falls off. Part of Suguru wants to slow down, but recovering Gojo is more important. He summons a small curse to keep watch on her, and dashes on ahead.

The traces lead him to the outskirts of the city. It would be easy to hide someone here, he supposes. The last bit of the residuals lead him to an abandoned, but still intact building. He has to be careful now. He doesn’t know how many there are or what weapons they hold. He also cannot count on Gojo to have his back, and he can’t count on Shoko either – she’s just started her martial training, very reluctantly. He would also prefer if there was no structural damage to the house – the less outside people would notice the better. But that meant he would be unlikely to be able to use most of his cursed spirits. Maybe he could use a few small ones, mostly for distraction. The best scenario would be if they were inattentive, having won their prize already. He won’t know unless he goes in. Looking behind him, he slips inside, leaving a singular flyhead out front, so Shoko would know what building he went into. The residuals were already fading when he got here, and he doesn’t know how far she is behind.

It’s dark inside, and he has to be weary of potential creaky floorboards. It’s unlikely that they’ll be on the ground floor, but he still has to check. Suguru creeps forward, always on the lookout for any lights or voices. Eventually, he makes it to a staircase. If he strains his ears, he can hear a voice. There had been nothing on the ground floor, and now he has a tiny lead. He looks at the stairs and hopes none of them will creak. Climbing up, he very carefully shifts his weight to avoid any potential faulty stairs.

Having successfully made it up, he breathes an inaudible sigh of relief. The voice has gotten louder. Suguru can’t understand what they’re saying, but it doesn’t matter. Remaining careful, he slinks closer to the source of the voice.

Pressing into the shadows, he reaches the door. It’s not closed all the way, allowing him to peek inside. From his point of view, he can see three men, but there might be more – in this room or somewhere in this house. He can’t let his guard down.

He can also see Gojo. He seems unresponsive, sitting on a chair. Suguru can’t see all of him, so he assumes he’s bound somehow. It’s very unfortunate that Gojo is unconscious, but he supposes it makes sense.

“What do we do?” One of the goons asks, “Our entire plan hinged on having his phone. It’s fun to poke him, but I wanna get the money I was promised. It’s not like the bloody clan has their number in the damn phone book.”

“Someone’s gonna look for him sooner or later. Meanwhile, we use him as target practice. As long as he ain’t dead, the clan’s gonna pay whatever sum we’re asking.”

Unsurprisingly, Shoko had been right. Gojo had given his phone to the child’s mother beforehand – had he known, or suspected? It is irrelevant none the less. He can’t affirm from where whether or not Gojo is hurt or not. Until proven otherwise, he’ll have to categorise Gojo as a liability. He calls forth a small curse, an ankle-biter, and sends it into the room to chomp on the first ankle it comes across. It does its job perfectly and is promptly shot dead, but the confusion is all Suguru needed. He runs into the room and swiftly takes down the first man he encounters. He only has a small knife on him, but it’ll do for now. Lucky for Suguru, there are no more people in the room than he initially saw.

“Let my classmate go,” he says, taking position with the knife.

He doesn’t have the high ground. They still have Gojo, they are two people, and at least one of them has a gun.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

He doesn’t answer, and instead rushes forward, bodying the larger of the two – the one closer to Gojo. He has to end this fast, before Shoko stumbles inside. The man falls, but he grabs Suguru’s uniform, pulling him halfway down as well before Suguru can free himself.

“Drop the knife!”

The other man wisely had grabbed Gojo by the hair and is pointing a gun at his jaw.

“Tsk,” Suguru curses quietly, “don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

But he has to be fast. In a quick movement, he throws the small knife and hits the man’s knee, forcing him to drop Gojo back onto the chair again.

Moving quickly, he evades the man he threw onto the floor and rushes over, giving the man he knifed a swift kick into the chest. He needs to get Gojo loose. He doesn’t care about killing these men; he just needs to recover Gojo. Not wasting time, he dives behind the chair and glances at the bindings. Fuck, they’re chains. He had hoped it was just rope. He had a curse that could breathe fire and potentially melt the metal but he doesn’t want to risk burning Gojo’s skin off. One of the men will have the key, but it’s impossible to retrieve it. He could dislocate Gojo’s shoulders to get him off that chair but all by himself, he doesn’t have the time. There’s a bullet buzzing by his head. He doesn’t have time. He doesn’t even have a plan. The chair is wood. It might work. Summoning all the flyheads he currently has, he sends them into the men’s faces. They’re not going to accomplish anything, but will give him enough time to break the wooden back of the chair.

Gojo slumps forward the second Suguru breaks the back away. Quickly rounding back around, he gathers Gojo in his arms, summons his manta ray, and breaks through the wall. Now he just has to get to Shoko quickly and pick her up –

“Hyahh!”

Oh no.

Shoko.

Why did she have to come in now?!

She’s even holding a pipe. His summoned curse is still next to her, as is the previous flyhead. They’re both useless in a fight. His grip on Gojo tightens, and he knows he won’t be fast enough. The barrel of the gun shines in the sun.

“Shoko –!”

He sees her head turn in slow-motion. He reaches out his hand, urges the manta to go faster, but he won’t make it in time.

The world glitches, for just a moment.

The manta crashes back into the house, and Gojo stands up. Nobody fired at Shoko, it’s like – it’s like the world just stopped for a moment. The two men stand there, just as flabbergasted as he himself. Shoko dropped the pipe she had been holding and crowded against the wall. With sure-hit steps, Gojo walks across the room, hands still bound behind his back.

There’s something in the air, and Gojo is the dead centre of it.

He has to help. Suguru has to help him.

“D-don’t come any closer!”

There’s a shot, there’s two. Nothing stops. Suguru tears himself away from the manta and rises to his feet.

“Satoru,” he says, gentle. His heart is beating too fast. Satoru stops, and turns his head. His eyes are blue, too blue. But he looks at him. He listens. “Satoru,” he repeats, “don’t kill them. There’s no point.”

Satoru doesn’t respond, but he stands still. The men before him shake, their guns still pointed straight. Satoru’s ears are bleeding. There’s another shot, but it connects into nothing.

“Approach me again,” Satoru says, still half-looking at Suguru but not talking to him, “and I will make you wish you were dead.”

There’s pressure in the room, and it’s getting worse. “Scram!” He hears Shoko shout. “Scram while you still can!”

The men don’t move. Satoru starts to grin, and his teeth are bloody.

“Yes,” he says, “scram.”

Something pushes the men into the wall behind them. Suguru stands in shocked silence and he sees the wall break. The men fly out. They won’t die, probably. But they might just break their spine.

“Stop,” he whispers, “Satoru, stop.”

Satoru blinks, and there are tears in his eyes, blood-red tears. Slowly, Suguru approaches him. Shoko is holding her ears. He raises his hands, slowly, ever so slowly. Satoru looks ethereal, like he does not belong into this world, this body of his. Having his focus feels wrong.

“You’re hurting yourself. You’re hurting Shoko.”

The pressure is insane. It keeps rising. All the flyheads combusted – he hadn’t even noticed. There’s a beat, and then something akin to recognition in Satoru’s eye – he turns around and approaches him slowly. Frozen, Suguru stands, hands still outstretched. Stopping right before him, Satoru bumps his forehead against Suguru’s. Eyes that are too blue are too close, but Suguru can’t look away.

“Sorry,” Satoru breathes, “I messed up.”

The pressure dissipates, and Satoru starts to sag down. Suguru clamps his arms around him and they sink to the floor together. The boy is warm and solid against his chest, and when he looks down, his eyes are closed. His delicate eyelashes cast a gentle shadow on his cheeks. From the broken wall, the sun shines on them. It’s warm.

It’s warm, and he holds Satoru close.

“Suguru?”

Shoko’s voice, in comparison, is so small. It takes him a moment to turn his head. She kneels next to him, but she isn’t hurt.

“Your nose is bleeding,” she says and he blinks, reaching up to wipe it away. There’s blood on his fingers. He stares at it.

“Suguru,” Shoko says again, “let me look at Satoru.”

He loosens his grip on Satoru. But he can’t let go. He can’t. Shoko reaches forward and takes Satoru’s face in her hands. A moment passes, and Satoru jerks away from her. He blinks his eyes open again and looks around frantically.

“Gojo,” Shoko says, “it’s me. It’s me and Geto. Calm down. Look at me. Look at me.”

“Hurts,” he says. “What hurts?” She asks. “Look at me,” she demands.

“RCT,” Satoru says, “it hurts. I want – sleep. Please.”

“Soon,” Shoko promises, “but not yet. Talk to me. It hurts when I use RCT?”

He nods. “How’s that possible?” Suguru asks. RCT is meant to be soothing. It’s not designed to hurt. Shoko ignores him.

“Tell me, did Limitless hurt? When you used it just now?”

“Yes,” Satoru admits, “sorry. It burns. Beneath my hand, my skin, it burns. I don’t – don’t make me use it.”

“I won’t,” she promises, “but I’ll need to look at you, yeah? No RCT, I promise.”

Satoru just nods. His eyes are barely open. He leans heavily against Suguru.

Satoru has two bullet wounds. Seeing them, seeing the blood on his skin, Suguru hopes these men broke their spines ten times over. Satoru hardly seems bothered by them.

“His pupils are dilated. See those marks? They must’ve injected him with some sort of drug. I just don’t understand why he’s sensitive to cursed energy of all things. Satoru, do you know how much they gave you? It doesn’t need to be exact a number.”

Satoru blinks and frowns, thinking. “I think,” he starts and stops, “it was – 500? Some didn’t go in. They – fumbled with the needle. There was – a woman, but she left. I think, I think she gave it to them. I can’t, I don’t remember her face.”

“Five – they gave you 500 millilitres?!”

Satoru just hums, clearly tired. “How the fuck are you alive,” Shoko mutters. “Okay. Okay. Whatever. What the fuck. We have to – we have to go back. If I can’t use RCT, I need to steal some bandages. Also Gojo needs a fucking nap. By the way, dude, can you not overcook your brain for once?” Thinking for a moment, she tacks on: “Does the light hurt?”

“Yeah,” Satoru mumbles and his eyelids flutter.

“Can all three of us ride that manta? I have some sunglasses for his eyes. His pupils won’t shrink anytime soon, and Yaga absolutely cannot learn of this.”

“If he catches us,” Suguru asks as he gathers Satoru in his arms. He’s lighter than he thought. He fits well too, and his hair is soft against Suguru’s skin. “What do we say?”

“I don’t know. Make something up! We had fun in the city, ate some crêpes, whatever!”

They step on his manta ray and Shoko clings to Suguru’s back. He’s never flown the manta with three people, but there’s no problem. He doesn’t want to fly into the barrier with it, because it would trip the alarms, so they decide to walk the rest of the way. Suguru carries Satoru in his arms, and the boy has fallen asleep. Hs breaths are soft and warm on Suguru’s neck.

“Let’s hurry to my room,” Shoko says, “we can’t exactly park him in the infirmary after a harmless day on the town. Hurry, hurry!”

“Wait,” Satoru says and indicates his desire to be let down. Suguru complies, but still holds him steady. “What –“ he starts, when he hears Yaga calling.

“Kids! There you are!”

“Kids...?” Suguru and Shoko mumble in unison.

“Ah, Gojo, there you are. You’ve been gone a while. I even tried calling you, and you wouldn’t pick up!”

Suguru tightens his grip on Satoru’s arm.

“Yes,” Satoru beams with the most professional fake smile Suguru’s ever seen, “I had so much fun today I ignored your calls. We ate crêpes! Such a nice idea you had, kicking me out today, but now I’m tired. It can wait until tomorrow, right? Great! Come on, friends, let’s go! Let me talk about Digimon with you! I’ve watched it all twice!”

He starts swaggering away and Suguru hurries after him. Shoko joins them a beat later, sighing a deep breath of relief.

“Gojo, I didn’t know you could act that well, I was stressed as hell.”

“Nope!” Satoru replies, way too cheery. “I’m passed out actually! Was that Yaga we talked to? I can’t see shit! What even happened? All I remember is Digimon. We should watch it together! Does someone know where we’re going?”

Taking Satoru’s arm, Suguru steers them in the right direction. Satoru had been headed towards the vending machine on the bottom floor.

Suguru places Satoru on Shoko’s bed once they finally arrive. The boy’s eyes are wide open, but he stares into nothing. His pupils are still wide-blown, and he has that stupid smile on his face still.

“Okay,” Shoko says, “I’ll run into the infirmary real quick and grab some stuff. You get him out of that shirt, alright?”

Suguru just nods and she rushes off. He watches the door close behind her, and then turns his head towards Satoru. He’s still staring straight ahead, and Suguru doubts he’s aware he’s in Shoko’s room.

“Satoru,” he says gently, “I’ll undress you now, alright?”

Satoru doesn’t respond, but neither does he protest when Suguru takes his shirt off. He has a gunshot wound in his left shoulder, and one beneath his ribs. They’re not bleeding anymore, but he doesn’t like how they look regardless. He has several bruises and a few scratches, but nothing that looks too bad.

“Does it hurt?”

Satoru blinks, clueless. Suguru lets out a sigh. “What you did back there... you were hurt, why did you – how...”

“They were going to hurt Shoko,” Satoru replies easily. “I’m supposed to keep Shoko safe. I hurt you, too, sorry. I was a bit mad. It won’t happen again.”

Suguru blinks. Right, he had a nosebleed, he remembers now. Had it been from the pressure?

“You’re human, Satoru, you get to be mad.”

Satoru grins. “Nuh-uh! Not me. Gojo doesn’t get to get mad, or angry. Who knows what would happen? Who knows what catastrophe I would cause? No, no, I’m not mad. I can’t!”

Suguru wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what. He’s lived his life pretty isolated up until this point, with monsters surrounding him that nobody else could ever possibly see. He had believed to have had a bad life, and now he wonders. Shoko keeps saying that Satoru is a clan kid, but Suguru still doesn’t understand what that means, or why it’s a bad thing.

“Hey,” he asks, knowing the answer he might get may possibly not make sense, “why is being a clan kid a bad thing?”

 Satoru looks at him then, and the sun shines on his face. Ah, the window is behind Suguru. The blue in his eyes sparkles, and it’s mesmerising. He fears, if he were to touch Satoru now, the boy would simply disappear within the shattered light in the room.

“Because a clan never has kids. It has assets, and if you’re not an asset, then you have no worth. We’re all assets, in the end, to someone else. Maybe it’s your superior, maybe it’s your grandmother. It doesn’t matter, you know? It’s all okay when you see the monsters in front of you, and it gets worse when you realise the real monsters are behind you, and there’s nothing you can do about them.”

Satoru grabs Suguru by the hand and pulls him up from the bed. Something feels surreal. Where is Shoko? What’s taking her so long?

“Can you see the sky?”

Suguru blinks and Satoru’s eyes are right there. All the colours of the sky are right there. The wind is cold and warm at the same time and he’s holding tight. It feels like floating.

“I can never look away. If I do, I will crash. Look above. Do you see? So far above, and so out of reach. If I crash into above, what will happen? The world will shake, and it whispers its fears to me. For you, we flipped us upside down. Walk the sky, and do not look down. Crash not into us, we cannot bear your weight.”

At his behest, Suguru looks up. Above his head, there is the ground. All around him is the sky. What’s this? What’s happening? He didn’t smoke anything, did he? It doesn’t make sense; Satoru doesn’t make any sense. Cautiously, he reaches an arm upwards and when it is fully outstretched, he touches the surface. It ripples beneath his finger, and the sky breaks beneath his feet.

They fall, and Suguru can’t tell what direction they’re falling in. He holds onto Satoru. “Leave it to me,” the boy says and he sounds too old, too old for the body he’s in. It feels like a different life, a different body, somewhere else in far forgotten future. “Space is mine. Space is mine.”

When Suguru opens his eyes again, they’re kneeling on the floor, and he’s holding Satoru in his arms. The sky is gone, but it’s still here. It’s still here.

Not much later, Shoko returns. She reprimands them for sitting on the floor, but it’s okay. She puts salve and bandages on Satoru’s body and shows him the sunglasses she wants him to wear. He says he likes them. He can keep them, Shoko says. Satoru laughs, and soon after, falls asleep. In the end, all three of them end up in the same bed and it’s cramped. Satoru is halfway lying on Suguru’s chest and Shoko is squeezing his arm too tight to be comfortable. But it’s nice. It’s nice.

When Suguru dreams, he is walking on the ground. When he looks up, he sees Satoru, floating so, so far above his head. He can never reach him, but he outstretches his arm anyway. So far apart, he can’t see it clearly, but he knows Satoru is reaching up, too.

*

They stumble into class together the next day. Satoru only feels marginally better, and his pupils are still too wide-blown. He still hisses at RCT and has said he can use Limitless, but it would rub his skin the wrong way. He had estimated he’d be fine within two days. They just needed to avoid any jobs until then.

“What’s with the glasses, Gojo?”

“None of your business,” Satoru replies, but continues anyhow: “Helps with headaches. Also you know how annoying it is to keep saying no, this is my real eye colour, please leave me alone?”

Yaga hums and Suguru is sweating tears and blood. If he demand Satoru take the glasses off, they’re fucked. But thankfully, their teacher just moves on with his schedule. He shoots a quick glance to Shoko, who gives him the tiniest thumbs-up.

Satoru falls asleep early on in their math lecture, but every time Yaga kicks him awake, he’s able to give the answer without even raising his head. Shoko was right; he really is good at math. Suguru is a bit jealous.

“Let’s watch a movie later,” Suguru says after Yaga calls the class off. “If you’re up to that?”

Satoru is still lying face-down on his table but gives a thumbs-up. “Let’s watch The Princess Bride,” Shoko suggest and Suguru is fine with that. He reaches over and grabs Satoru by the nape, dragging him upwards.

“Come on, sleeping beauty; let’s smash your face in some lunch. Maybe we’ll bury you in the vending machine, would you like that?”

Before Satoru can respond, Yaga re-enters the room: “Sorry guys, I have to cancel your lunch time. A job just got in, you gotta go. Shoko, you can sit this one out.”

Suguru and Shoko share a look. They can’t really afford to have Shoko sit anything out with the way Satoru is at the moment.

“No,” she says, making a decision, “my medical training is progressing fine. I want to go with them, I’ll stay on the sidelines. Besides, if one of them gets hurt, who’s supposed to patch them back together?”

Yaga sighs deeply. “Fine, but don’t complain if something happens. Come on, then – car’s already waiting.”

“Satoru –,“ Suguru starts but the boy just grins. “Come on,” he parrots, “the sooner we get back, the sooner we can bride the princess.”

On the way to the car, Satoru sways, but he plays it off as swagger. The glasses certainly help conceal how hurt he still is. Suguru deeply hopes that whatever the job entails, will go over smoothly and most importantly; quickly.

In the car, the three of them cram into the backseat together. Yaga is not coming with them on this one. If they need back-up, it will take time for it to arrive. Suguru hopes he can handle whatever curse they have to deal with. He doesn’t want Satoru to be anything but back-up on this one. Someone who can distract and hold his own, but is not the main focal point of the fight. Somehow, he has an inkling it will fail, but he still has to try.

“What info do we have?”

Satoru, who sits in the middle, shuffles through the papers they’ve been given.

“According to this, it’s multiple curses. Apparently, they inhabit a particular patch of forest and it says here it used to be a battleground where a lot of people died. Tremors have been reported, so at least one of the curses can operate underground. Might be massive too, if it can cause tremors worth reporting.”

“I’d like to try and absorb it, it might be useful.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s how my technique works. Exorcise, absorb. Basically, if we can, we don’t destroy the tremor-causing curse. Or any of the curses for that matter, I’ve lost all the flyheads I had.”

Behind his glasses, Satoru blinks, then nods. “Sure, we’ll try. So, we just knock it out, right? I guess we can do that.”

“We’re here.”

Putting the papers aside, the three of them get out of the car and the assistant supervisor casts a veil around the area.

“If we’re not back by sundown,” Satoru says, “call Yaga here. Give him this, and stay the hell outta dodge.” Satoru hands the woman a small slip of paper and she nods. “Of course. Good luck to you all.”

Shoko and Suguru share a look, but don’t ask what’s on that paper slip – or when Satoru wrote it. The boy in question is already swaggering off, and they hurry after him. The further they go in, the darker it gets, and the gloomier the forest turns. There are no animals scurrying about, and everything is too still. Suguru doesn’t like this. He should’ve brought a cursed tool, but he didn’t think about that. He’ll have to rely on hand-to-hand, and hope that the cursed spirits he has right now will be enough.

“How many curses, you think?”

“Hmm,” Satoru replies. “We’re getting closer I think. One’s beneath us, but it’s pretty far down. I think they’re further up ahead there. It’s all mixed up though, so it’s hard to tell. Shoko, do you want to stay here?”

“All alone, are you insane? No, I’m coming with. I did some endurance training, I can run faster now.”

Satoru shrugs. “Suit yourself but don’t complain if you get eaten again.”

She hits him in the back and Suguru frowns. Again? When did Shoko get eaten? He should ask, after they’ve made it back. They walk a little further until they cower behind the bushes. There’s something moving behind the trees, and they need to utilise every little advantage that they can.

“Are you good, Satoru?”

There’s a beat of silence. “No,” he admits. “But it’ll have to do. I’m not going to use Limitless unless I have to. I’ll have to limit Blue as well, but I can use it. It should be enough. I think there are four things up ahead, and the thing under us. It hasn’t moved much, and if we don’t make too much of a ruckus, it might not even realise we’re here.” He looks over to Suguru. “Let’s try and wear them down one-by-one. Can you deploy curses to occupy the rest until we can get to them?”

Suguru nods. “Let’s see what they are first. We might be able to exorcise them in one go, if they’re weak enough.”

With Satoru in the lead, they crawl over the ground, constantly careful not to disturb the bushes.

“There,” Satoru says and scoots to the side so all three of them can line up. Suguru realises they look stupid and also there’s leafage in Satoru’s hair. It looks adorable and he shouldn’t be thinking that right now.

“Three giant flowers and something that looks like an overgrown cadaver. Wonder what they can do?”

“The flowers look immobile,” Suguru replies, “so they can probably do a long-range attack? In any case, the large zombie is probably more of a threat. It’s plausible that the plants are susceptible to fire. Here, Shoko.”

Calling forth the small fire curse he has, he drops it into Shoko’s hands.

“What’s that,” she asks, “a handwarmer?”

“Very much not so. It can breathe fire, see?” He squeezes her hands together and the lizard-like curse spews flames.

“Oh sure, I’ll kill the flowers with that, it’ll just take a thousand years.”

“Great,” Satoru butts in, not really listening, “let’s go, Suguru.” He doesn’t wait, and storms forward. Suguru sighs and shoots after him. Shoko squeaks behind them, but only rushes off to the side, slinking closer to the first plant.

Shoko starts squeezing her flame-curse when he and Satoru arrive closer to the cadaver. With a snap, it turns its attention to them and barrels forward Satoru. Off to the side, Suguru summons a curse to knock into it, hoping to knock it over. The curse successfully crashes into the corpse, but it is not phased and simply rips his summon away, throwing its fist towards Satoru. The boy evades with a spin and shoots off a Blue that only staggers the cadaver.

“We need something bigger!” He shouts the same time as Suguru yells: “Watch out!”

Something hits the back of Satoru’s shoulder and he stumbles forward but catches himself with a swift movement.

“The flowers are shooting darts! Are you okay?”

“Don’t get hit!” He yells. “I think they’re poisonous. Hurry it up Shoko!”

Shoko doesn’t reply but Suguru can imagine she’s giving them the finger. He should probably look for bigger utility curses.

“Suguru!” Satoru shouts. “We have to immobilise this thing! What do you need for absorbing?!”

“We need to knock it out!” He responds. “But if we have to destroy it, then it’s alright too!”

Satoru is already hurt. He doesn’t want to add to that just because he wants to absorb a tough-skinned curse. In the background, he can see the first flower burn away. Good work, Shoko. He just hopes the tiny spirit he gave her won’t run out of steam before she’s done.

While he’s distracted, he doesn’t quite see the cadaver raising its fists, preparing to hammer them onto the ground. He then remembers what Satoru said: that there’s one more curse below them. If it’s burrowing through the ground then that means it is very likely blind. Which also means that it will react to tremors that would occur on the surface. He doubts that the cadaver is aware of it, but neither of them can risk it.  

“Satoru!” He just shouts and the other boy nods, having had the same conclusion. The longer they can keep the underground curse away, the better. Both of them jump up and grab ahold of the cadaver’s arms and prevent it from slamming into the ground. The curse roars, but both Satoru and Suguru hold steady. He’s trying to think. What cursed spirit does he have available that could help? Wait... the eyes! He can go for the eyes!

He calls forth two bird-shaped curses – they have sharp beaks and they are the right size. They just have to go right through, is all. Satoru seems to understand, as he abandons the arm he clung to, to hop up to the curses’s head to hold it steady. Part of Suguru wants to worry about whether or not his spirits will hit the boy, but he can’t. He can’t afford to. So he sends the two birds forth, hoping they can build enough momentum.

The curse roars, but Satoru’s strong enough to hold its head mostly in place – he’s got his arms wrapped around its forehead, and his legs are locked around its neck. Behind dark glasses, he’s watching the birds approach at rapid speed and not even a split second before the impact, he lifts himself up, performing a brief handstand on the curses head before he jumps off. Further back, the second flower goes up in flames.

The two summoned curses dissipate, having served their intended purpose. The cadaver stands firm for a solid second before it tumbles and falls backwards onto the ground. Satoru lands on the ground, holding his balance with outstretched arms. He looks over to Suguru, who outstretches his hand. Exorcise, absorb. He’s not looking forward to it. But he really needs to build up a repertoire. Closing his eyes, he pulls on the cursed energy of the cadaver and pulls it towards him, forming into a round sphere. He looks at it. They’re always the same size, and a part of him is as grateful for it as he hates it. Not sparing a glance over at Satoru, who he knows is watching, he opens his mouth and swallows the ball in one go. As expected, it is vile and disgusting. But he can’t throw up, not just yet. He has to keep it down.

There’s a soft touch at his back and he glances open to see Satoru squatting next to him. “Your nose is bleeding.”

Surprised, Satoru wipes under his nose, and glances at his fingers. “Huh,” he states, “well, you look like shit, too. We’re two of a kind, huh? So, uh... you absorb that curse now? You can use it?”

Suguru nods. “Yes. Give me some time to digest it, though, I won’t be able to use it right away. You got hurt, Satoru, let me see –“

He reaches out his hand, but before he can touch the boy or finish his sentence, the ground beneath them erupts. Shit, the underground curse...! He’d almost forgotten about it. Suguru had hoped they could get more of a breather in between.

What emerges looks like a weird mix of centipede and earthworm. It has the large mouth, but the hard shell of a centipede. It’s massive. They might have to destroy it in order to win. Damn, he wishes he could utilise the curse he just absorbed already, it would be a valuable asset. He definitely needs to go on more cram missions, just to stock up on curses.

The curse slams back down onto the ground, making both him and Satoru jump a little into the air. The force of that thing is immense. It doesn’t even wait, and burrows back into the ground. “How do we fight it?!” Suguru shouts. “We can’t go after it!”

“We lure it, then!” Shoko shouts from the sidelines and Suguru snaps his head up, ready to reprimand her, but as he looks up, he sees that all the flowers have burned to ash. She’s still holding his little curse in her hand, and the poor thing looks completely deflated. It’s amazing that apart from the initial shot, none of the poisonous darts have hit any of them.

Satoru doesn’t say anything, but he shoots off a Blue to the furthest end of the clearing. Just as Suguru wants to asks what the hell he’s doing, the earthworm is emerging from that area, doing the same manoeuvre as before. Ah. It tracks cursed energy?

“I don’t have enough curses –“

“I’ll be bait,” Satoru says, “if I crank Limitless up to maximum, it should go after me. Can something dive-bomb the worm? Like the birds, but bigger?”

Suguru frowns and thinks. The manta? No, that one is a bit too fragile – and too useful to potentially lose. And cranking up Limitless? “But doesn’t it still hurt –“

“It doesn’t matter!” Satoru balks. “Unless you have a better idea?”

The earth beneath their feet trembles, and Suguru doesn’t have a better idea. Satoru’s ears are bleeding. He can’t see his eyes behind the glasses, but he imagines they must be glassy at best. What does he do? He doesn’t even know if he can knock the curse out. It’s too risky. They should fall back, regroup and come up with a plan, now that they know what they’re up against –

There’s cursed energy behind him. Slowly, too slowly, he turns his head. He only just sees the giant mouth with too many teeth come up behind him before they clamp down over him. He gets gulped up and loses his footing. It’s pitch-dark in here, and he doesn’t want to fall into whatever acid is in the curses’ stomach. He summons his manta and tries to figure a way back out. Does he go back up and hopes it’ll open his mouth for another attack? But what if it’s already gone back underground? Never mind if the manta could break through or not, it’s too much of an unknown. He tries to search for Satoru’s and Shoko’s cursed energy, but orientation is impossible. He can spot them, but how is he to tell if he’s above ground or not? For now, he should try to fly back up to the mouth. Even if the worm starts digesting dirt, he should be up high enough to avoid being swept away. He just can’t let fall off; or have the manta be destroyed.

Then, something shakes through the worms’ body, and Suguru knows Satoru’s attacked it. That means he must be above ground. He has to hurry. He urges the manta to go faster, and he hopes it’s up he goes. Inside here, it’s impossible to tell. He gets back to the teeth, but he has to wait for Satoru to attack again. It’s too risky to break through the mouth now, and he might not even be able to, with its jaw clamped shut. Hopefully Satoru still has one more Blue in him. One more attack is all he needs, and then he can escape.

Something rips through, and it’s only thanks to his manta that Suguru is able to stay aloft. His spirit manoeuvres them perfectly, and Suguru barely notices that the worm crashes to the ground. The manta zooms towards the slightly opened mouth, and once outside, Suguru stumbles down. Behind him, the curse lies dead. What... what happened?

Satoru.

He whips his head around and sees his friend lying down, propped up by Shoko, with her hand on his chest. He’s too far to see clearly. “Satoru!”

“I’m fine! Go absorb, or whatever!”

He halts in his movements. He’s right. Shoko’s next to him anyway. He hesitates for a moment, but turns back around. Looking properly now, he can see that the earthworm got ripped in half. How... Blue hadn’t done that, had it? The cursed energy had felt completely different, too. No matter, he can ask Satoru about it later. He outstretches his hand again and hates that he has to ingest two curses on the same day. But they’re both powerful ones, and they will serve him well. He swallows the ball and the bile down and hopes he can keep the vomit down until they’re back at the dorms.

Fighting off the nausea, he turns around and hurries over to his classmates. They haven’t moved. He drops to his knees next to them.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

Satoru grins. “It’s a-okay. I can’t stand right now, but all’s well. I used Red! I was lucky you stopped moving. I’ll tell you later. Oh, next time, it’s my turn to get eaten! It’s no fair you two got gulped down and I didn’t! Rude! I want in on the fun!”

“Are you a maniac?!” Shoko bonks Satoru on the head and that’s when Suguru knows everything will be okay. Life at Jujutsu High might not be like he envisioned it to be, but with these two as classmates, it might not be so bad.

It might not be so bad at all.  

*

Afterwards, they’re laughing. Soon, they would go into the city and eat the pancakes they lied to Yaga about. They would find an empty playground and introduce Satoru to the swings. Close by, they would find a photo booth and squeeze inside together, taking as many photos as they could. They would buy darker shades for Satoru and shop for new gauges for Suguru.

They would be laughing, and for that moment, they would be happy.

Then, it would feel like this moment would last forever. The cooling autumn sun would always shine their way forward.

Right now, they would be just them, and nobody else. The sky touches the ground, and everything is all right.

“Satoru,” Suguru calls, smiling, and the sun shines behind him.

In the beat of infinity, Satoru stands here, lost in space and time all together, and stands somewhere completely different, in a different body and a different life.

And then, he takes Suguru’s hand.

Behind them, the world shifts once more.

*

“Are you the Strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru? Or are you Gojo Satoru because you are the Strongest?”

Maybe the last words one remembers should’ve been kinder. Maybe they should’ve been full of love.

But they hadn’t been. They hadn’t been, and as such goes the tale.

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“At least curse me a little at the end, eh?”

[this-will-be-what-kills-me]

Today the exhaustion felt like it had seeped into my bones and even to have my eyes open was fighting the greatest war. I did the things I had to do and inbetween I lay in bed and prayed for sleep to take me under, just for a little while.

I wonder if the exhaustion is linked to the sadness. That wasn’t in the self help books or on the Google results when I researched what to expect when your mum is dying. I read all about the changes in breathing, the change in skin tone, changes in eating and drinking and sleeping habits. Change, change, change. I close my eyes and wish it would all stay the same. Even in this moment where she’s the worst she’s ever been and I feel like I’m made up of 50% worry and 50% grief, she’s here.

I’ve poured my heart out on these very notes pages more times than I can count… screamed about my hurt from the rooftops. I cried about everything and now none of it seems worth it. In all that time, I never once doubted my strength or ability to carry mountains on my back. I thought that’s what I was doing. But this has taken me down, day by day, minute by minute. I feel this physically slice through my heart 700 times a day and my legs go so weak that I have to sit down and I never know which will be the time I don’t make it back up again.

I just downloaded The Carpenters because she listened to it when I was growing up and I know even now that it will take me years to press play. But if life is all about those little threads and invisible strings then mum, I want spider strength to tie me to you forever and ever and ever. I want to see your face in real life, I want your smiles and your sarcasm and your sharp tongue to be the reality instead of the waking up in the middle of the night with your sadness haunting my dreams. I want it all to be over so badly that I’ll never stop feeling guilty for wishing time to move faster when you have so little of it left. And if we had a thousand or a million seconds to go, I know it would never be enough.

How am I supposed to ever fall in love or buy a house or get married or have a child without you being a part of it. Who do I call when I can’t call ‘mama’ from my phone. How am I supposed to go on living when you’re not here? Up to now, it’s been 18 months of grieving for someone who still takes breaths. Not once in those 18 months have I felt true joy or happiness, not once have I laughed without thinking of all the jokes you’re going to miss. And mum, I am so, so scared. I’m so terrified that I feel sick so often, I cry when I’m on my own for more than 5 minutes, I never put my phone down when I can help it. TV lost its interest a long time ago, songs that I loved became reminders of the biggest loss I’ll ever know. I’m scared because I know what’s coming and I know that I’ll never be ready. All of this I guess is just to say, that if this pain is the price for getting to love you extra these past 18 months, if this pain is punishment for all those years of conflict, if I have no choice other than to sit here and take it then I want you to know that I’d hurt and bleed and cry for you a billion times over. If there was any way on this earth that I could help you to stay then I’d have already found it. And I love you, I love you, I love you. You are a part of me forever ❤️

[fangirlstorycreator]

Terry CK X Reader

Context: Terry has a bad dream, trying to help him get back to sleep, you end up making love 💚

You weren't very tired tonight, and you were sat up in bed reading a book with your bedside light on, and Terry was lead down next to you, sleeping peacefully. You look down at him for a moment and just admire him, your so lucky to have Terry in your life. You reach down and just gently stroke over his long silver locks as he sleeps, smiling at him happily. You then go back to your book and continue to read. It's about 11.30 at night and you still dont feel tired, you know you should put the book down soon, but not until you have finished the last 2 chapters of it. About 10 minutes later, Terry starts stirring next to you, he is moving around and his face looks like he is in pain.

He moves from being on his side to being on his back, and he starts mumbling in his sleep. But he looks scared, and begins to talk in his sleep like something is frightening him. You put the book on your side table and turn to face Terry as he is lying down. Gently resting one hand on his shoulder and the other against his cheek, you try to wake him. "Terry? Terry babe its alright, open your eyes Terry" Your sweet and kind voice gets through to him and helps him to wake up out of his frightened state. Terry had tears in his eyes as they open and look up at you, but he looks relived to be awake. "Sweetheart?" "Its ok Terry, you were having a bad dream" He sits up with you and you wipe away a few of his tears, while you rest a hand on his heart. "Oh Terry, your heart is pounding" "Yeh I umm, I dont remember what I saw, I just know that it...it frightened me" His face looks a little pale and he doesn't seem to have calmed down just yet. Giving him a kind smile, you plant a sweet kiss on his lips while holding his hand.

"Do you want to talk about it Terry?" "No thank you sweetheart, I dont really feel like it" "That's alright babe" You brush a strand of his silver curly locks behind his ear as you rest your hand against his cheek, making him smile. "I just have to use the bathroom sweetheart" He gets up out of bed and walks into your ensuite bathroom, you could see his beautiful body as he moved. He was wearing only a pair of comfy pyjama trousers and nothing else, and you could see his beautiful muscles against his chest, arms and shoulders. While he was in there, you decided to put a book mark in your story and put it in your bedside drawer, that's when Terry walks back towards the bed. "What are you still doing up sweetheart?" "I couldn't sleep, so I just read a bit of my book for a while" Terry climbs back into bed, lies back down but leans on his side to face you.

"Thank you for waking me up sweetheart, hearing your voice and seeing those beautiful eyes of yours made everything better" "You are the sweetest man Terry, and I'm glad I was able to help you feel better. Are you going to head back to sleep now?" "To be honest, i dont feel tired anymore. I'm quite alert" You smirk and snuggle down into the quilt next to him. "Well, maybe we could....you know...." you ask as you run your hand over his chest. He chuckles and says. "With pleasure, beautiful...." He leans in and starts to kiss you, gently and sweetly at first. As the kiss gets more passionate, your hand reaches into his silver locks and pull him closer to you, and you lie down on your back as Terry snuggles in closer, never breaking the kiss. Terry's hands move under the quilt and he starts running his hand up and down your leg as it slowly wraps around him.

He maneuvers himself so he is now on top of you and is resting himself inbetween your legs. You were wearing a short and silky night dress with no underwear on, and Terry's hand slowly started to move the bottom of your dress upwards. You were already turned on, and so was Terry, he was about to move his hand to your sweet spot when you break the kiss and say "Let's just skip to the best bit Terry" "Are you sure sweetheart?" "Yes Terry, I need to feel you" He smiles before kissing you again, and he pulls his trouseres down from underneath the quilt. His hand pulls out his already hard cock and he slowly rubs it over your sensitive area before slowly putting himself inside you. The feel of him makes you gasp, he just feels so good. Usually, sex with Terry is a bit faster, but tonight it felt more sensual and intimate. I think I after his nightmare, he wanted some physical comfort.

His thrusts were slow but still felt amazing. He continued to kiss you, occasionally breaking the kiss to look you lovingly in the eye. Making love to Terry was just perfect. When he started picking up the pace just a little, he buried his face against your neck and started kissing and sucking at your soft skin. One of your hands is holding onto his beautiful back as he thrusts into you, and the other is entangled in his hair, loving the feel of his lips and tounge on your neck. You can feel that he is close, his thrusts are harder and you can also feel your orgasm building. Pulling his face up and kissing him deeply, he thrusts one last time, much deeper and harder than the others, and he cums at the same time as you. You both can feel eachother moan in pleasure against eachothers lips. The intensity is so much and you both break the kiss to let out one last moan. His thrusts stop as both you and him need to come down from your high, and he is leaning on his arms as he looks down at you.

"Thats was incredible sweetheart, I love you" "I love you too babe" Smiling warmly down at you, he leans in and kisses you sweetly, before climbing off of you and pulls you into his chest for a cuddle. "I think you should wake me up more often Y/N" "If it results in moments like that, I will be happy too" He kisses your forehead before you both drift off to sleep....

[spider-mancan]

it's been a long time since either of them slept well. even before titan, tony struggled with insomnia, ptsd, nightmares, workaholism, and a general cocktail of things that make sleep a little lower priority than, say, staying sane. keeping his hands busy, his head busy, is the only way tony knows to stay sane. closing his eyes is the worst thing he can do, most nights.

peter has been staying over at the tower most nights. he moved out of may's and into a shoebox apartment with his friends, but he tends to sneak into the tower when he's out patrolling too late. "ned has early classes," peter said the first time, when he knocked on tony's bedroom window and waiting for tony to get out of bed and open the glass. "i don't like coming in late and waking him up."

tony remembers it clearly. he wasn't asleep, not even close, but there's a strange filter that hangs over a bedroom in that gentle inbetween today and tomorrow, and when tony looks over to see peter grinning at him, he thinks he's dreaming. peter had taken off his mask and looked windswept and cheerful, and his little rhythmic knocking to get tony's attention was so endearing. he still does it, every time.

"you're lucky i wasn't in the lab, kid."

"i checked with friday first," peter had said, before taking off the suit and peeling off his shoes. he was wearing a giant t-shirt and the smallest shorts, like he was already planning to have a sleepover. "i'm not lucky; i'm clever." and then he'd looked at the tablet tony left on the bed and said, "what are you working on?" and tony had told him.

neither one of them slept that night, but tony walked into pepper's office the next morning with a breakthrough.

since then, tony expects to find peter at the window of his bedroom or the lab, or coming down from the landing pad on the roof, or politely coming up the elevator in his civvies. peter spends more nights at tony's than at his own apartment. given that, it's surprising tony was suspicious earlier.

but peter seems fine. if anything, peter is even more cheerful than usual. tony starts finding peter's snacks in the pantry, his blankets thrown over the back of the couch, his clothes in tony's drawers.

that's the thing that makes tony question things, finally; he pulls out a threadbare pair of shorts that might have fit tony thirty years ago and wonders when peter started keeping pieces of himself in tony's bedroom.

it's not even that peter doesn't have his own room. tony has a room and bathroom dedicated to peter's uses -- not just guests, but peter specifically. the first few times, peter pretended to head that way would finagled himself into tony's bed anyway. he doesn't bother pretending anymore. he just showers in tony's bathroom and pulls his pajamas out of tony's drawers and slides between tony's sheets like that's a normal thing.

it is normal.

and tony can't complain. he's getting more sleep than he has since he first started being iron man, maybe even since his parents died. peter is also a workaholic, capable of running on fumes nearly as long as tony, but he's not good at hiding when he's tired. every time tony sees peter start to nod off, he has to force peter to stop and go to bed. inevitably, that means peter will smile through a yawn and grab tony by the hand and pull him out of the lab to his...to their room? to their bedroom? where peter with shower and change and sleep and tony will...also do those things.

"do you want to watch a movie?" peter asks one night, drying his hair with a towel. his face is flushed from the shower and he's wearing one of tony's sweatshirts and those tiny, tiny shorts. "ned hates scary movies. he won't watch it with me unless i convince him the special effects are worth it."

tony watches peter patter around the room. his legs are so long, heavily muscled, much thicker than they were in high school. his shoulders are broader. when he stretches tony sees peter's abs between the shirt (tony's shirt) and the shorts (so tiny). "shouldn't you be headed to bed?"

peter shrugs. "i'm not tired. what?" he leans over where tony is scrolling through his tablet, sitting prone on the bed. "you don't want to watch it with me?"

"i don't want to move."

"lies!" peter delicately plucks tony's reading glasses off of his nose before smacking him with a pillow. "you love spending time with me and you hate sleeping." he's grinning when he tucks the glasses back behind tony's ears. "so a movie should be perfect."

and it's late and tony is warm and peter is here so maybe he isn't thinking as clearly as he should be. "i'm so comfortable," tony argues.

"you haven't even showered yet!" peter tosses back, hooking his fingers in the loosened knot of tony's tie. his lower lip juts out. "please?" his fingertips rest in the dip of tony's throat, where the top button hangs undone.

"don't flutter your eyelashes at me," tony grouses, but he sets his tablet aside. "you know i'm easy."

peter pumps his fist. "friday, he said yes!" and runs out into the living room.

tony smells popcorn before he's even roused himself from the bed. clearly this was a plan ready to be set in motion at any time; there are more blankets and pillows on the couch than ever before, and the lights only on enough to see tony's feet in front of him. peter is pouring popcorn into a bowl while tony situates himself on the couch. "two bags, pete," tony reminds.

"yeah, yeah." the last time, peter ate everything by himself. he'd claimed it was for tony's cholesterol, but he'd been blushing to high heaven. "i know how you are about stealing food."

tony doesn't care about peter stealing his food, but it's too fun to tease him. they both know it.

it's dark and late and warm, and tony is so surprised when peter folds himself up against tony's side that he can't even bring himself to say anything. he just makes a questioning nose while peter wiggles his way around tony's hard edges and pulls a blanket over them both. "friday, start it, please?"

peter's breath is hot on tony's chest. he's warm against tony's side. he's slack in tony's arms.

tony has no idea what the movie is about.

halfway through, peter looks up and - quick, coy, questioning - presses a kiss into the corner of tony's mouth. it's soft and chaste and peter is cherry hot to the touch, settling back down against tony like it never happened.

"pete-"

"-the movie," peter chides quietly. he buries his face in his butter-slick hands, embarrassed, and tony laughs so lightly. he kisses the top of peter's head, warm.

tony wraps his arms around peter more tightly and peter falls further into tony's space.

the movie finishes in a quiet room, credits rolling over two sleeping bodies, more peaceful and entwined than either would have hoped in daylight hours.

sun streams in through the large windows of tony's living room, but it's not the light that wakes him up. it's peter gently touching the corner of tony's mouth where he'd chastely kissed the night before, like a dream, and saying, "hey, tony?"

tony grumbles, pursing his lips against peter's fingertip, and curling around peter just a little tighter. "mmm." he hides his face in peter's shoulder. peter smells like tony's aftershave and sleep. "g'morning."

peter's fingers curl, and then they run through tony's wild hair, and then peter is smiling; tony can feel it pressed against his temple. "good morning, mr. stark."

💤

[chocominnie]

One Last Time — 05

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Previous : 00 01 02

⇢ Word Count : 3k

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

The scent of vanilla with a hint of cinnamon is what wakes you up from your sleep. Hair and body tangled in-between the blankets, which lets you know you you had tossed and turned once again. The frizzball on your head is definitely going to be a challenge to work with. Stretching your limbs, you let out a small yawn only for your hands to drop back down and feel nothing but cold emptiness.

Was it a dream? Dream? You didn’t even have one of your night terrors for the first time in a year. The dream to you seemed rather pleasent. Jimin tangled up in your arms as he holds you tight while you breathe into his bare chest. The warmness is something you had longed for once again and it all felt surreal.

‘‘ You awake yet?’‘

The voice startles you, making you drop your phone onto the comforter and turn your head towards the bedroom door where it came from. His blonde hair and small smile peep through the door, hoping to atleast get a better reaction out of you. 

So it is real.

“ You’re really here? Did I bump my head too hard to where im imagining things?” You pull the covers close to you for security. Just as in your dream, there he is barechest and all.

He lets out a squeaky laugh followed by a smile as he comes towards your bed, tapping them to give you a signal to open. You raise an eyebrow but oblige, spreading them a bit only for him to sit inbetween them. It feels as if you’re heart might explode with the sudden flirtacious moves from him. Something you have been wanting but still aren’t used to.

‘‘ You slept so good that you don’t remember last night?”

You look at him eyes wide and then down to your body, “ Please tell me we didn’t-’’

‘‘ As much as I would of love to, No.’‘

A shot of relief flows through you but sadness soon comes over. He isn’t yours to be thinking these sorts of things. He isn’t yours in general. It wouldn’t be right for him to say things like that to you, while still entangled with another female.

‘‘ Why so sad?” His hands comes to your face to caress your cheeks. You shake your head softly then grab his hand to slowly lower it back down.

Jimin sighs, “ Baby just tell me whats wrong.’’

That word. That word you know always messes things up with your thoughts. Your emotions, hell everything in your body too.

You slowly make your way off of the bed, not interested in the conversation anymore. It’s not like you don’t want to continue, you do, but the guilt of everything that comes with it is enough to stir you away.

‘‘ Jimin don’t use that word. You technically still belong to Isabel.”

‘‘ Is she here at this very moment?” He cocks his head to the side with a smirk. You roll your eyes in response to his cockiness.

‘‘ No. That doesn’t change the fa-”

‘‘ Alright then. Now are you going to tell me what’s really on your mind or do I have to force it out?” He raises his hands and scrunches them with grabby motions. You don’t fall for it though. 

You make your way to the doorway, “ That’s all Jimin. I promise. Just call me by  my real name okay?’’

But that’s not what you want. What you want you know you can’t have. It’s not because you can’t have it because you want too. It’s just that it would make you feel like a terrible, horrible person. The look on his face when you say those words almost make you give in. Those puppy eyes caught yours and for a split second you almost consider it but don’t. It’s hard for you, it really is. Having something dangling in your face but you’re too concious to have it.

He’s still not yours. 

With the morning being spent eating a good breakfast Jimin made your favorite pancakes. You watched him carefully, the way his hair bobbed up and down a bit while his right arm whisked the batter quickly. He seemed so natural and comfortable as if he was used to doing this for you. With your elbows on the island counter and head in your hands while you’re seated, you can’t help yourself to stare at the back of him and let the memories float in your mind.

Memories that never fade from you. It’s cute of him to steal glances of you here and there when pouring the batter into the pan. The small winks he gives you makes your heart flutter and the blood rush to your cheeks. It feels rather good to you to have his presence here. Despite the guilty feeling in the pit of your stomach.

 The rest of the day you two decide to lounge around. Endless movies and tv shows throughout the day as you’re cuddled up next to him with a pink colored blanket for the two of you to share. Clara seems to enjoy her time with him too since she won’t let him put her down. She meows loudly with every movement of him. Such a drama queen.

‘‘ Jimin it’s getting late..” You pause, looking up at him. He gives you a small frown when he sits up in hopes you won’t finish your sentence. “ She might begin to worry you’re not home yet.”

Jimin ignores your comment only to latch onto your body a little more rougher, arms not wanting to let go. You giggle before running your fingers through his hair as his head lays softly onto your chest. You wan’t him to leave mentally, but your body wants to hold on to him for way much longer.

‘‘ Your heartbeat is soothing to me.”

It always has been. Anytime he just wanted to talk when you were in a relationship, he would lay you down and then lay himself on you with his ear pressed against your chest. Some days he would have been happy to talk, others, he just wanted to lay there to fall asleep.

‘‘ Seriously Jimin. You should leave.” 

He shakes his head, ‘’ Shhh. Jungkook is coming soon and I would love to sit here and have you to myself.’’

You raise an eyebrow is confusion, “ Why is he coming here?’’

‘‘ I kind of sort of lost my keys to my home. Isabel came yesterday to give the copy’s she went and made when we were at Ryan’s office.  I left the house key with Jungkook while going after you instead of putting it on my keychain right away.”

So that explains why she came. It also would of been better to have touch pad, or even facial recognition to enter the home. Anyone can just copy the key to your home. The fans are already crazy enough after that time you two saw one trying to follow you into your used-to-be shared apartment. It didn’t end so well either.

“ Why don’t you have touch-pad?” You say, sitting up with a disappointed look.

‘‘ Funny story. When the house was made I thought keys would be better than touch-pad on the outside because any paparazzi who manages to get through the front could snap pictures of the code. So why not use a key right?’‘

You just sigh and shake your head in disappointment, not even wanting to explain why that would still be a dumb idea. “ Whatever makes you happy.”

‘‘ But if you were there you would of stopped me.. right?”

Your eyes shoot down to him only to see him staring right back up into yours. The butterflies in your stomach begin to flutter once more. It’s been so long since you felt those.

‘‘ Yes. Yes I would have told you it was a dumb option because nobody can make it past security without calling you first.’‘ You whisper, both of your faces inches away from each other.

‘‘ I thought so. Can I make another dumb suggestion?’‘ His voice says, faint enough for you to hear making the hairs stick up on your neck.

You swallow slowly as chills run down your spine out of anxiety, ‘‘ What?’‘

‘‘ This.’‘

It all feels surreal to you. His lips against yours moving in sync together it’s all just surreal. Within seconds his tongue is swiping against your lips begging for entrance in which you comply. The way his hands rub up and down your thighs is sure to make you moan against the kiss, grabbing them to lead it to your core. He obliges and traces the outline of it outside of your clothing, laying you down gently on the couch in the process.

Until that painful doorbell rings loudly causing you both to groan. Jimin pulls away with a plop noise and give you a wink before lifting off of you to go see who is at the door. Your clothes are ruffled up a bit and that small wet spot between your legs seems to not too noticeable when you fix yourself up quickly.

Sex with Jimin. You almost had sex with Jimin. You feel wrong about it but at the same time you want nothing more to have him make you a screaming moaning mess. You miss him, the way his stroke game is, and everything about him dominating you in the bedroom. 

He’s still not yours though.

‘‘ Who is it?’‘

You sit up and fix your hair to at-least look presentable. That kiss meant everything to you. Your feelings and body enjoyed it but your mind did not. It slipped your mind that you should of pulled away. Nothing can replace how it felt to have his lips on yours again.

The door opens revealing Jungkook who’s face is a little red and breathing hard. He runs inside and shoves Jimin out the way before slamming the door shut and locking it with his back against the wall. You furrow your eyebrows and get up from the spot you’re sitting in.

‘‘ Jungkook what’s happening? Why are you run-”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

‘‘ Open the door now! I know you guys are in there! Jimin get your ass out here now!’’

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Your eyes go wide. That voice. That oh so familiar voice is standing right outside your apartment door. 

‘‘ I tried telling her you went to practice with Seokjin for some new choreography but she knew I lied. Im sorry I tried to run as fast as I could to my car to get away from her. She followed me here in her car and then I had to run some more up to your apartment.’‘ He breathes hard, handing the new set of keys to Jimin.

Shit! You have no words to say. This wouldn’t of all started if you wouldn’t have been so stubborn yesterday to just take a taxi. You wouldn’t of passed out, he wouldn’t have been here with you all day today.

That doesn’t excuse the fact that this girl is batshit crazy for following Jungkook and showing up at your actual fucking apartment. Jimin looks at you with sorriness in his eyes. You look at him with anger and cross your arms to prove your point as to why he should have left in the first place.

 ‘‘ Im going outside to talk to her. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Jimin’s hand pushes down the handle to the door and as soon as he cracks it open, the force of the door pushes open harshly hitting the wall next to it, making him stumble back a little.

‘‘ So you think it is okay to go to your exes apartment? I would never disrespect you like that Jimin, you know that!”  Rage has taken upon her, face red and it doesn’t already help that her facial expression is beyond pissed.

Slap!

You watch in horror as her hand connects with his left cheek. Jungkook’s eyes go wide, but then frown into anger before walking over to her. Stomping with each step he takes.

“ Watch what your fucking doing okay? That’s my brother and I certainly do not hit girls but with one click of a button Ryan will be on her way to beat your ass got it?’’ 

‘‘ Jungkook stay out of this! This isn’t your battle. Now you, you have some nerve letting him inside here. Obviously you were not enough for him to go cheating on you.” Isabel says, stepping away from Jimin and leaving him there at the door.

That one hurt. She does have a point though, you should of made Jimin leave regardless of what he said to you. You got caught up in the moments that weren’t meant to be yours. Its true, she has every right to be mad.

‘‘ I don’t appreciate you being around Jimin..” She inches closer to you, hands on her hips. You begin to back up, eyes to the ground of guilt. If only things wouldn’t have unfolded like this.

‘‘ Your relationship to him is starting to be inapropriate.” Isabel’s eyes make contact with yours when you look up. She looks at you as if you’re disgusting, and you can’t blame her.

‘‘ Isabel..’‘ Jimin warns, coming behind her.

On the heel of her feet, she turns around shaking her head. “You don’t deserve to talk. You care so much about her, but did you forget we are a couple? We may just be cooling things off between us, but you are still mine as I am to you.’‘

Jimin sighs, stopping just behind her, ‘‘ Isabel look..”

“ Jimin..” Jungkook starts, uneasy of what his brother is to say next. You know what’s coming and you know that tone of Jimin’s voice all too well.

The same one he used when breaking up with you. You see the tears well in her eyes. Some part of you feels bad for her because you know those words well. You know that feeling all too good.

‘‘ Are you really breaking up with me because of her? We were doing just fine until she showed back up in the picture. Are you seriously doing this?” Her voice cracks on the last words. That made your heart sting a bit. This isn’t right.

Jimin sighs looking at the two of you back and forth. You are the one for him, it’s no doubt. It was a stupid choice for him to cheat on you. It was a stupid choice for him to leave you in the dust like that. You gave him everything. A loving relationship, a home, happiness, you are the highlight of his days. He misses you just as much as you miss him.

“ Isabel we are through. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the man to your expectations. It’s my fault. All my fault and I shouldn’t have let you belie-”

“ Fuck you. Fuck you Park Jimin.” Her words slice through the air, piercing Jimin right in his heart. It hurt for him to hear that, but he deserves it.

Jungkook doesn’t look so shocked, but he does wish Jimin would have did this else-where other than your apartment. Isabel looks at you with envy, reaching into her small chanel bag for something. Jungkook gives her a warning look to just leave before grabbing your arm to make you stand behind him.

“ Isabel I’ll walk you down. It’s best to just leave it be. Please.” Jimin begs from behind her. You watch the tears roll down her eyes and you still can’t help but to feel guilty.

You are the cause of their breakup. Maybe you really should have minded your business about Jimin. Maybe you shouldn’t have entertained his charming ways at all. Looking back down at her hands, you see a small pocket knife she grips tightly. You tap Jungkook and point which makes him push you behind him even more. 

“ It’s a bad idea. You can hurt me but you wont hurt my brother or her.” He says, daring her to make any type of movement towards you. 

Jimin comes behind her and attempts to grab the knife in which she slashes his palm on accident trying to push him away. In that quick second, Jimin hisses in pain while pulling away giving Isabel all the time she has to get to you while Jungkook is already across the room for his brother, forgetting you hiding behind him.

‘‘ Shit! Jimin are you okay?” He asks, but then quickly turns to you, “ Quick! Go hide! Hurry! “ Jungkook screams.

‘‘ Isabel this isn’t what he wants. He wants you to be happy and getting back at me will only upset him more!”  As if your words would even convince the crazy girl in the slightest. 

She just laughs as your words, fastly walking to you who’s, running towards the living area thinking it would cut time shorter if you cut through there to your bathroom.

You aren’t fast enough. She tackles you to the ground where you two rumble around trying to get away from her until she putting all her weight on you as she sits directly on your chest making it hard for you to breathe. 

“ Maybe a little mark on your face will tell you to stop home-wrecking people’s relationship.” She raises the knife up high and you watch in horror before she raises it back to in attempt to make a slash on your forehead.

You block each attempt at her trying to slash anything on your face. Your dad always told you to protect your face in self defense and fighting and thats what you do. Only until with one last thrush, the knife connects with your forearm, making a nice sized gash on it.

‘‘ Fuck!”

The voices in your area fade in and out. You look to your left to see Isabel being dragged out by a pair of cops. But the puddle of blood forming around you rapidly sends you into panic. Only you cant panic. You cant speak. Your vision is slowly loosing faith in you.

Open.

Close.

Open.

Close.

Open.

Cl-

[dapandapod]

*omg omg omg prompt 8 from the hug list I go feral for number 8* (geraskier? But any pairing you wanna write works for me 💖)

Also hi I love you 😘

8. hug where Person A is sitting and Person B is standing

Hi I love you too Comfy, thank you for prompting me! 💖 Hope you like it, and as always, Beta read by my lovely @kuripon! Please enjoy <3

Send me hug prompts? On Ao3 Hug collection here

Geralt isn’t one for lazy mornings. The breaks he takes are few and far inbetween, and even when he does, he finds it hard to really relax.

Today is such a day and so, Geralt rises with the sun as he always does. The room is narrow, the walls too close and the floor too creaky. He can hear every snore from two rooms away, even Jaskier complained about it, and he wishes he would have taken Jaskier up on the offer to share the bed.

He didn’t, because he is a pining fool.

So now Geralt sits at the small working table, trying not to make too much noise with his little bottles of concoctions as he lines them up for a third time for inspection.

Trying not to make too much sound as he takes out his worn bestiary from the saddle bags to fill in fading ink lines. Trying to make no sound as his skin crawls with nervous energy.

He may be wrapped up in his own head, but the moment Jaskier starts to stir, Geralt notices. He pretends not to, hiding his head in his hands, but he listens to the familiar sound of a snuffling, snoring bard.

Geralt has this theory; Jaskier’s dates don't want him to stay until morning because of his sleeping noises. He has yet to be proven wrong.

It doesn’t matter much though, because Geralt has spent enough time in the darkness listening to each breath, counting heartbeats, each of his snuffling snores proof that he is still there. It has gotten to the point where it is hard to sleep without them. He spends the first few weeks in Kaer Morhen recalibrating his sleeping habits, adjusting to the relative silence of his brothers.

He knows every huff and mumble now, the slow ritual of a bard waking up. He takes comfort in it now more than ever, focusing on that and trying to block out all other restless feelings.

If he weren’t such a fool, maybe he would dare to listen to it closely. To press his ear against that hairy fucking chest, to dare be held like he dreams of. To listen to that rumbling, hiccuping snore while being mere inches away, to watch Jaskier’s lips move as he mouths words.

Even in sleep, he won’t shut up.

Geralt listens to Jaskier’s heart speed up, his breathing become shallower, and then the smacking of a dry lips. He listens to him scratch his stomach and reach for a glass of water by the bed that Geralt put there a few hours before. He listens as the bard sits up and stretches with a little grunt.

Bare feet hit the floor and a silent shudder when the cold trickles between the blasted wooden floor. Plodding steps and a hand on his shoulder, and suddenly Geralt is pulled back to himself.

“You alright there, Geralt?” Jaskier asks, his voice still hoarse from sleep. Geralt doesn’t reply, but he does remove his hands from his eyes and look up at Jaskier.

Which is either a mistake or today’s greatest blessing.

His jumper is too big, his neckline open and inviting, and his eyes are still a bit bleary with sleep. His hair is a complete mess, sticking up in every direction as it does every time they sleep in an inn, and Geralt just wants to run his fingers through it.

They look at each other for a few seconds. Jaskier blinks slowly and then opens his arms to invite Geralt into a hug.

Geralt isn’t one for hugs. Those he gets are few and far inbetween, and rarely ones that he initiates.

Jaskier is inviting him. Not forcing him.

Between one heartbeat and the next, Geralt has made up his mind. He turns and pulls Jaskier into the vee of his legs and pushes his face to his stomach.

Closing his eyes, Geralt fists his hands in the worn fabric of Jaskier’s tunic, breathing in the scent of sweat and Jaskier’s perfumed oils. Every breath Jaskier takes is felt against his cheek, and every humming sound he makes resonates through Geralt’s body.

Geralt shivers when fingers start playing with his hair, when an arm wraps over his shoulder. He sighs and shifts his head so that his forehead rests against Jaskier's diaphragm, rubbing his face against him.

There is no way of telling, but he hopes Jaskier is smiling. He is making that content hum he does when he receives a nice surprise. And Geralt… settles. The nervous energy is still there, but it is focused on each touch.

“Come on,” Jaskier mumbles, backing up and pulling Geralt with him. “I’m not ready to be awake yet.”

And with a pounding heart, Geralt allows himself to be guided to the bed and placed to Jaskier’s liking. The nervous energy trickles through him, intensifying as he allows himself to relax into the bed and once again be held.

His rests may be few and far inbetween. But maybe, just maybe, he can learn to make the most of them, with Jaskier’s arms around him.

[whump-a-la-mode]

Would you continue the villain nausea whumpee? To show how he is after he is removed from the chair? Do they set him free since he won’t be violent anymore ?

I loved the idea of Villain being set free, and ran with it a bit! I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for the ask!!

This is a continuation from here, and, once again, the story below is below a read-more to prevent any accidental viewing of content that could trigger emetophobia very badly. I would hate for anyone to see it as they scroll past.

However, this time, the first scene is shown, as it contains no potentially triggering content.

CW//Emetophobia, graphic description of vomit, self-hatred, medical malpractice, low self esteem, hatred of former friends, Stockholm syndrome, whumpee liking whumper, minor eye whump mention, nausea

The auditorium crackled with the feedback of a thousand microphones, shoved towards the stage, frequencies battling and screeching against one another in chaotic choir. From a mass of bodies, of cameras and clattering boom mics, the wire spheres emerged in their dozens, all pointed centrally.

All pointed at the stage, and the podium that lived upon it, glistening in freshly-polished hardwood and media attention.

Behind the platform stood a figure, as equally basking in fame, and equally as glimmering. Upon their face, perfect white teeth glowed as freshly-fallen snow, pressed together in a wide grin.

In Hero’s eyes, it was pride that shone. The pride that came with accomplishment, with recognition, with glory, with perfect hair and thousand-dollar suits and the attention of the world, all upon their face. Their words.

“Thank you, everyone, for being here.” With a greeting alone, the world tucked back in hushed quiet. “Now, we will have plenty of time for questions later, but I wanted to start off with what has surely found itself on every headline this morning.”

A pause. The expected clamor erupted from the horde of media, incoherent shouting and stomping. A rioting crowd.

“Now, now.” It was a practiced ritual, between lion and tamer. “I will be taking all of your questions at the end, but let an old guy speak a little, first.”

Laughter queued.

“Well, then. I’m sure you’ve all seen the headlines-- you guys especially, you wrote them! But, for everyone at home, yes, the rumors are true. A villain is now loose in the city.”

A practiced gasp.

“And it’s a good thing! You see, for years, now, our in-house villainous psychology research has been working on a technique that they have dubbed Reaction-Based Morality Rehabilitation. Now, I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

The hero leaned forward, hand cupping the microphone, playful smile clear upon their face.

“They gave me this paper, and it was like, 100 pages long. And I didn’t know half the words in it.” They backed up, smile remaining. “But, trust me when I say, those guys in R&D? They’re amazing. They know exactly what they’re doing, even if I don’t.

But, I won’t leave you hanging. I do understand the just of the procedure, even if I’m not so sure on the jargon.

It’s a very simple solution to a very complicated problem. I am a firm believer in the fact that people are not born as villains. We are all born as heroes. Some of us, through unfortunate means, however, turn rotten. Through this technique, however, me and Organization believe to have found a way to separate the villain from the person inside.

By using innovative methods of therapy, our psychologists are able to help villains reject their evil ways, all the way at the center of their neurology! We have heard many concerns about the possibility of relapses, of a villain turning sides upon their release. Yet, with this technique, changing sides is not a conscious choice. It is as much a thought process as it is a carefully embedded instinct.

Of course.” They straightened momentarily. “That does not mean we are simply allowing once of those who have harmed you return to our beautiful city unsupervised. We ensure you, multiple surveillance methods have been put in place. This is only a trial run.

We at Organization wish to think each and every one for your cooperation and participating in the beta test of this revolutionary new technique. If this run receives positive results, you can all think of villainy as a thing of the past!”

From the crowd emerged a cheer. A cheer for glory, for fame, for progress!

For the destruction of a foe.

For unquestioned success. A villain defeated!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Villain’s fingers brushed over the top of the kitchen’s oak-stained counter, kicking up enough dust to suffocate, even as their tightly pursed lips protected them from such.

This was a house.

Their fatigued, half-haunted gaze turned to move over the surrounding interior. The kitchen was fully-featured, oak accented with shimmering, mottled granite. Not that anyone had bothered to clean in the place. Beyond the room and its attached dining area, a step lower, a carpeted area was positioned, furnished in felt couches and a television.

But this was not a home.

With a scratching nail to their neck, the villain moved forward numbly, to the base of the stairs and up them. Beneath their skin, the tracking chip was an awful feeling. Buried just deep beneath that it could not be seen, yet shallow to the point that its presence was unyielding and unignorable. A constant itch, embedded between twitching folds of muscle.

Maybe they could take it out. Maybe with the right kitchen utensil-

Halfway up the stairs, they dropped, keeled over themself with sickly pea soup filling in the space behind their eyes. In an instant, their mind retreated desperately from the thought, or any semblance of it, even as their stomach heaved with the residual ghost of it.

The tracking chip was fine and they didn’t care about it and they wanted it to stay there forever because it wasn’t coming out.

Legs now taking on an appearance that ever so slightly more resembled gelatin, the villain leaned upon the railing, ascending with a considerable additional difficulty up the stairs. In the very brief tour they had been given, their bedroom had been identified as the dark spruce door at the hall’s end.

Moving to it was a struggle on its own, insides still twitching and squelching with the remnants of acute nausea. Yet, their agony was only internal. They made it, and, all the way, kept their mind empty. Thoughts clear.

Not thinking of anything that could make them fall.

The bedroom was a bedroom. A dust-coated vanity. A small attached restroom. A nightstand. A bed.

At the very least, the quilts had some color to them.

Struggling in an attempt not to clutch their own stomach-- an action that they had learned, time and time again, only made the organ flip-- Villain shuffled to the piece of furniture that had been designed for use when they slept. Dust coughed from beneath the covers as they lifted them, crawling under.

Laying down helped, at least in some slight way that may or may not have been a placebo. It meant they could close their eyes. Make unwise thoughts that much less likely to happen.

For a moment, Villain succeeded in blackness. A blank mind. A world unmarred by the horrible jolts within their brain, the firings of neurons, the innate jostling of their frontal cortex.

Yet, it only lasted a moment.

With a jerk, they curled to a fetal position, legs bent and tucked beneath arms. Their body struggled as though weeping, though they had long ago learned not to cry. It was terribly difficult to produce tears, after all, when the metal drew their eyes to unbroken wakefulness.

This was a nightmare. They were certain of it.

That had been their first thought, of course, when the news of their liberation had been shared with them-- after it had been shared with the wider public. Things did not reach their cell very quickly. They had believed it to be a dream, for there was no other possible explanation.

Villains did not deserve freedom. They knew that. Violent little scumbags.

When they had been driven to the house, that was when the orinique connotations in their mind had flipped-- when dream turned to nightmare.

It was their home. Such had been stated clearly, so many times. Upon a thousand channels of media syndication. They had been given the keys, had stared at them for an agonizing moment. Watched them dangle between their fingers.

Hero had practically had to shove them through the doors, and even so, their attempts at escape ceased only after the fourth time they had been reprimanded for them.

Somewhere, something mechanical twitched. Moved. Buzzed. One of the cameras. They knew they were here, obvious, blocky, black eyes. At the very least, they provided some semblance of comfort.

Of home.

Of safety.

Oh, how desperately Villain wanted to go home. Everything had made so much sense there! Was so fantastically, wonderfully simple! If they were placed in their cell, they stayed in their cell. If offered food, they ate. When seated in their chair, they watched.

It was so easy. So invariable. Strict and stringently controlled, as the life of any vile beast who called themself a villain should be. Not a chance they could make a mistake, that they could do anything wrong. Only the slightest opportunities for their mind to slip, their thoughts to wander, to go somewhere bad.

Somewhere that would send them to their hands and knees, heaving and retching.

Food came often, with how difficult it was to keep it down. They’d counted once. Certainly the chefs must have become tired after preparing thirteens meals in a single day. Yet, in the end, they had only managed to fully digest one.

Especially since that was only the day on which they had counted-- it certainly wasn’t notable.

Now, there were no chefs. No cells. No chairs. No screens to watch. Order was gone, and chaos reigned.

Terrible, bloody chaos.

The house was far too large. So many times, Villain had begged for a schedule. For orders. For what they were meant to do-- when to get up, when to go to sleep, what to do inbetween.

Yet, the answers always came the same: A shrug, and four terrible words. “Whatever you want to.”

That which they wanted was not that which should be carried out! They were a villain! A terrible, retched thing! A monster! A devil! Their thoughts deserved no attention, their wants deserved only the click of the IV.

The sickness.

Somehow, despite the inherent maleficence that it most certainly carried with it, an idea manged to work its way through the folds of their brain. A thought. A plan.

A good one. One that did not incite their stomach to heaving.

Certainly, if they laid here, in this bed, then their freedom could not lead to the harm of anyone else. The world would remain safe, regardless of their liberty. And, when the cameras at last noticed, the heroes would be forced to return. To bring them back to the cell and the chair. To return them to where they belonged.

It was perfect-- though that wasn’t to say that anything they created could possibly be good.

Thus, they put the plan into action. Beneath the chains that were covers, upon the chair that was a bed, Villain waited.

Their plan worked for perhaps an hour.

An hour. Then the door was kicked in. This time, that which seized their chest had nothing to do with nausea, nothing to do with conditioning. Everything to do with terror.

Even their wildest dreams, their most optimistic ambitions, did not expect that the heroes would have come so soon. If they had, they would have knocked.

They curled tighter into their fetal position, fingers gripping skin until both turned white. Desperation and willpower, even together, could not stop their mind from tracking the noises as they moved through the house. Through the kitchen. The living room. Up the stairs. To the hallway outside.

Certainly, they would have noticed the lack of dust on the bedroom’s doorknob.

Perhaps it was a member of the public, come to take their righteous revenge. Such would certainly be deserved. Or, perhaps, a wayward hero, disliking the arrangement that had been made. Having decided to take the matter to their own hands. They deserved that, as well.

But, when the voice came, Villain knew that their hopes were as far as could be from the truth.

“Villain?”

Blank mind. Don’t think. Blank mind. Don’t think. Blank mind don’t think.

Beneath the blanket, they twitched.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Footsteps dashed to the bedside. Hands upon them. There was such a wholehearted relief to the voice, an unimaginable burden relieved.

Yet, such was impossible, as villains did not have hearts.

“We were so worried, so, so worried. You have no idea! Come on, come on.”

A hand, to the top of the blanket.

“There’s about a thousand cameras in here, buddy, so we need to get going. Everyone at base has been so nervous, all day. Ever since we heard... My car’s just outside, we need to go, quick.”

Villain’s only solace was torn away.

“Buddy? What’s wrong?” The voice was practically a whisper. “It’s me. It’s-

Supervillain.”

A blank mind, filled with thoughts.

The initial strike of nausea was enough to make them wail, even as they had no ability to. They hardly remembered getting to their hands and knees, hardly remembered as they began to heave. No. They registered only the horrid, green-and-brown mess that exploded upon the pale white bedspread.

Again, again, a thousand exhausting times, the heaving struck them, until chunky vomit was spilling off the side of the bed, ruining the antique carpeting. It only ceased to spill when their insides were well and truly empty.

That was when they were picked up.

It was a caring, warm hold, tucking them close to the chest of a vile demon. Yet, they had not the slightest ounce of energy to resist. Any muscles not exhausted by fatigue went back to work, heaving and coughing, even as nothing more emerged.

“I’m sorry.” With a broken voice, Supervillain spoke. “I’m so, so sorry. Let’s go back to base, okay? Everything’s going to be okay, I promise, I promise, buddy.”

No.

With evil like this in the world, nothing was even going to be okay again.

[thetransguard-archive]

hi seph! if you're still doing those prompts, can i ask for 26. Cuddling in comfortable silence before murmuring “I love you” ? <3

26. Cuddling in comfortable silence before murmuring “I love you”

maybe this turned into In How Many Ways Can I Say I Love Yusuf Without Saying It Until I Can

this safehouse is comfortable and warm, just what they needed that last grueling job. two bedrooms on opposite ends of the house, and they could in theory drag the narrow cots together, but they're all just too exhausted. so andy and nile claim the single beds and that's how nicolo finds himself curled around yusuf on the couch under a threadbare blanket that's more dust then cloth.

one of the many enduring things about his joe, one of his little quirks and habits that nicky has grown to know as well as his own over the last nine hundred years, is his ability to sleep well about anywhere. he’s not yet mastered andy’s shut-your-eyes-and-breathe technique, which works in water and upright, but nicky figures in a couple hundred more then yusuf will be sleeping on his feet. he sleeps quickly and heavily, wakes up slowly, and gets endearingly grouchy the sleepier he gets. which is why nicolo finds it so odd that joe’s eyes are still open now, albeit heavily lidded. the couch isn’t so uncomfortable. they’ve slept in worse places.

he doesn’t trouble himself to speak, however, just watches him. breathes in as he breathes out, their limbs tangled together hopelessly, tucked so close as to be one soul, one body. there’s a curl hovering just above his right eye, joe’s hair is getting long now, and nicky would reach out to push it back, but he’s too comfortable right now and his hands are full of joe. he wonders if he’ll cut it. yusuf goes through long phases where he lets his hair grow and grow and grow, past his shoulders even, and others where it’s like he cannot bear the extra weight on his skull and shaves it all off. nicolo doesn’t really have a preference for how long joe’s hair is, he looks fantastic with any length. he feels like he’s seen yusuf with anything, in anything, and the effect on him is always the same. 

you think we’ll ever grow tired of each other? asked joe once, sometime long ago somewhere far away. nicky remembers it as a bitter winter but joe remembers early spring, later, when they revisit the conversation in the morning. he can’t remember his response exactly, but it was somewhere between cautious mirth and disbelief. grow tired? of seeing this man at every hour, going to sleep with him every night? of the way he laughs with his whole body, the easy, blinding smiles? the charcoal-smudged fingers and how he’ll praise every dish nicky serves with gusto even if he’s had it a thousand times before, of the silly way his face scrunches up when nicky “folds” the clothes- “no, you cannot just throw them in, nicolo.” there have been millions of people, all living and dying throughout the history of the world that nicky has been alive for, and of all of them, this man has been closest to his soul.

i died and lived, all so i could meet you.

“i love you,” he tells yusuf, and his husband smiles as bright as if it’s the first time, the second time, every other moment inbetween from the beginning until now. kisses the skin of his shoulder, and they lean into one another, yusuf’s breath feathering over his jaw. 

it’s a small couch and the blanket’s made of dust and held together by a dream, but they sleep easy, wrapped in each other’s arms, wrapped in their love.

[thespectralvision]

Avengers: The Children’s Crusade (Part 2)

So after a number of discussions about where Wanda (and Vision) are likely to appear post Multiverse of Madness in the MCU, a lot of rumors and ‘leaks’ are pointing to a likely Young Avengers Children’s Crusade adaptation. I’ve not read the run in some time, and decided to refresh myself and do a breakdown of it for those not familiar with the story. I’ll be including my commentary about how I think they could adapt this for the MCU.

This series of posts WILL HAVE MULTIVERSE OF MADNESS SPOILERS. If you have seen MoM or don’t mind, feel free to keep scrolling. It will also obviously have spoilers for the comic stories Avengers Disassembled, House of M, and Children’s Crusade.

PART ONE - Background Info from The Vision and The Scarlet Witch (1985) and Vision Quest, Avengers Disassembled, and House of M

This section will explore Wanda’s whereabouts between House of M and The Children’s Crusade story arcs, as well as the set up for Wiccan and Speed going to look for her.

You can find a complete listing of my Comic Breakdown posts HERE.

New Avengers (2004) # 26:

So, before we get into The Children’s Crusade story itself, there are a few issues that show what Wanda is up to inbetween these event stories. New Avengers #26 is one of those issues. It released December 2006, about a year after House of M’s publication. It starts with Clint Barton (Hawkeye) coming back to life at the end of the House of M story. He visits Doctor Strange and they discuss House of M, Wanda, and Clint’s death. Clint asks Strange where Wanda is, seeking revenge, and Strange tells him he doesn’t know - Wanda has disappeared, or may have comitted suicide. Clint doesn’t believe that and says he needs to find her, to ask about what happened for his own closure. 

Clint ends up in a town located near Mount Wundagore. He helps a woman who’s bag was stolen, and when he sees her face, he faints. 

He wakes up and the woman is watching him, and she confirms her name is Wanda Maximoff. She also mentions her ‘Aunt Agatha’ asleep in the house. Clint is shocked and asks how long she’s lived her. Wanda tells him she’s lived there her whole life, and that her family are all gone except Agatha. 

He asks her about what she thinks about the Mutants and what happened in House of M, as well as about the Avengers. It’s clear Wanda does not know what he is talking about.

Wanda finally offers to go find Clint’s friend, and Clint simply says “She’s not here.” He gets upset, feeling like he can’t get the closure he came here to find. Wanda offers some advice from a Disney film, telling him to just let the feelings go. She also tells him the trip wasn’t a total loss. And ah, sleeps with him.

Background: For those who don’t know, Clint’s had a thing for Wanda in the Comic-verse for a long time. In fact, him hitting on Wanda was part of the story arc leading The Vision to finally admit his feelings for her way back in Avengers (1963) #99

The next morning Clint wakes up and he acts as if he is going to look into Aunt Agatha’s room, but doesn’t, and the issue ends without giving further information about what happened.

X-Men (2004) #204:

Another issue that discusses a little of what Wanda is up to before Children’s Crusade is X-Men Vol 2 #204. The Scarlet Witch content is part of the 2nd story in the issue, and this released in Oct 2007, about 2 years after House of M’s publication. 

Hank McCoy (Beast) is having a nightmare, where he and the Scarlet Witch are sitting inside an hour glass. He asks her why she did what she did, and Wanda shows no remorse for the events of House of M. 

He wakes up, and Nightcrawler is there waiting for him. Kurt asks Hank to go back to the school, and Hank says he can’t. Kurt argues that he can’t fix everything himself, and Hank tells him he is dreaming about Wanda. He believes he is being pulled toward something, and travels to Wundagore. 

While in town, Wanda approaches him and he asks her to join him. Once again she mentions her Aunt and says she’s lived here her whole life. Hank points out her American accent, and Wanda says she learned from movies. (Nice nod, MCU)

She also tells him later in the conversations She “doesn’t believe in magic.” Interesting. She asks Beast if he believes in wishes, and tells him a fairy tale. Hank doesn’t appreciate it, and gets the feeling she is warning him to stay away. Much like Hawkeye, the idea of “sometimes it better not to know” comes up.

Hank feels like something doesn’t make sense about this - why would Wanda make herself a nobody when she could be anything? 

Hank leaves Transia, commenting that he found nothing but then again he wasn’t sure what he was looking for.

Young Avengers Presents (2008) #3:

A few months after Beast’s encounter, Marvel gives us this story. We start with Billy Kaplan (Wiccan) telling Teddy Altman (Hulkling) about a dream he keeps having, where the Scarlet Witch is his real mother.

Billy says that the dreams are getting worse, and he feels that he needs to find the Scarlet Witch to find answers about his past. He also says that maybe if he can find and help her, The Scarlet Witch can come back and what happened before won’t happen again. Teddy, being Grade A boyfriend material, says he’s coming too.

And then Speed (Tommy Shepard) crashes the sweet moment. And they make a TERRIBLE pun. A Vision Quest? Wow Marvel, wow.

Teddy stays behind, using his Skrull shape-shifting ability to mimic Billy to cover for him. Tommy and Billy travel to Genosha, and explore the ruined island, the last known location of Wanda Maximoff.

Tommy searches the island in the time it takes Billy to arrive, and they head to Wundagore next. Tommy checks everything again, and it seems like another dead end.

The last place they look is...New Jersey (Leonia in the comics, not Westview - but same idea). Wiccan leads them to the house they were born in (The Vision and the Scarlet Witch 1985 #12).

Tommy runs up to the door and opens it and ends up in Hell. Billy calls him a dork because obviously it was a trap and Tommy should have known better. Billy manages to get inside the house and is approached by a face recognizes - Master Pandemonium (from Vision Quest)!

Billy fights him, managing to hold his own. Meanwhile Tommy wanders the hell dimension trying to figure out how to get back. In the middle of the fight, Pandemonium realizes why Billy is familiar - his magic is the same as Wanda’s.

Pandemonium leads Billy to Tommy, and they go upstairs to talk. Pandemonium recaps Vision Quest for the boys, and fills us in on his tragic backstory since that day.

Billy asks him why he came to this house then, and Pandemonium tells him he was seeking peace and solitude. He asks the boys the same question.

Pandemonium tells them they are better not knowing, as their past contains only chaos and darkness. The boys catch a bus back home and discuss the weird encounter, saying they’ll update the database on Pandemonium’s whereabouts, and lament not finding Wanda. Billy decides maybe she just doesn’t want to be found and for now they should let things be.

The Mighty Avengers #21-34:

So at this point, we’ve pretty established Wanda is living in Transia (near Wundagore), and has no memory of her former life as an Avenger or a mutant. During this time, Loki disguises themself as Wanda for a time to form a team to lead the Avengers against C’Thon (who has posessed Quicksilver). Since this Scarlet Witch is not really Wanda, I won’t get into too much detail here, but these events lead to the Young Avengers wanting to find the REAL Scarlet Witch and that is why I am including this arc here.

The world is in chaos - fires, floods, raining blood, lots of Old Testament apocalyptic stuff. Loki!Wanda appears in a number of locations to characters such as Jonas!Vision (Vision 2.0) and Cassie Lang (Stature), as well as to US Agent John Walker and Omega Flight (Canada’s Avengers basically), Bucky Barnes (who is Captain America at this time), Tony Stark, Hulk, and others. Meanwhile, Hercules, Amadeus Cho, and Edwin Jarvis are looking for Hank Pym. They find him in a lab with Jocasta, and try to recruit him, and he confirms he has tracked all of this activity to a central source - Mount Wundagore.

We then move to Wundagore and find Modred the Mystic, who has a long history with Chthon (Starting with Marvel Chillers (1975) #1, and he was the one who kidnapped Wanda and gave her to Chthon way back in Avengers (1963) #185-187) Modred is turning himself into the Darkhold, while Bova (the cow midwife created by the High Evolutionary who raise Wanda and Pietro, and who has been Modred’s caretaker since he was driven mad) tries to convince him not to.

Amadeus Cho and Jarvis manage to convince Hank Pym (now calling himself the Wasp in tribute to Janet Van Dyne who died suring the Secret Invasion arc) to join them, and they go through a sci-fi portal door thing and end up in Wundagore, where Loki!Wanda is waiting for them, along with the other heroes she’s gathered.

Modred senses magic and an army coming to stop him, as well as something he’s overlooked. He completes the spell, telling Chthon to walk the Earth and fill his vessel - and reveals it is not Wanda but Pietro who has been posessed.  Turns out the Knights of Wundagore had recruited Quicksilver, and he had agreed, seeking redemption for what happened in House of M. Only it was a trap, and Modred was waiting for him.

The Avengers gathered argue and try to fight Wanda (and each other), until Jonas!Vision points out this isn’t really Wanda, just her astral projection. Chthon isn’t impressed.

Loki!Wanda dissapears, and Chthon takes advantage of Quicksilver’s superspeed abilities to cast his spells around the Earth, sowing chaos. Loki!Wanda worries she has failed, as Pym can’t keep the motley crew assembled together, and spots Tony Stark. She sends Hulk after him, meanwhile the rest of the team commadeer a local inn and set up temporary Avengers HQ. Cassie asks the important questions - WHY is ‘Wanda’ doing this?

They decide to investigate the caverns, and they are attacked by Modred. Tony shows up and strikes Modred down, and the fight gets Chthon’s attention from half a world away. It is revealed by Bova that the real Pietro is currently trapped in the Darkhold book.

Issue #23 starts with Thor, being summoned to an audience with Loki (currently Lady Loki). She confirms Asgard has been cut off from the rest of the world, and how she wants to fix this having been exiled so many times before in the past. Meanwhile, Tony takes over the Avengers team at Wundagore (which Hank protests), and they tie Modred up. Bova tells them Modred is not the real threat, Chthon is, and that he’s posessed Quicksilver’s body.

Chthon returns to Wundagore, bringing Eldritch abominations and chaos in his wake. Iron Man suggests they need to destroy Wundagore Mountain itself, since it is the source of the demon’s power. Hank realizes a flaw in Tony’s plan - Wundagore is full of Uranium and blowing the mountain up will cause even more destruction.

Loki!Wanda manipulates things further, setting off the Hulk who attacks Chthon in Quicksilver’s body, slamming him into the ground. It doesn’t work, and Chthon gives the tradmard evil villain ‘now I can spread Chaos across all of creation’ speech. Hank thinks they can maybe use the telepathic field to weaken him, but it also backfires - but gives him another idea. Hank is able to use his Antman helmet’s communication features to scramble the language center of Quicksilver’s brain, rendering Chthon’s spells useless.

It gives the team the edge they need, and Modred starts a spell to pull Chthon out of Peitro’s body and into his own. It allows them to free Pietro from the book.It allows the Avengers to re-bind Chthon to the Dark Hold however, and the day is saved.

Hank Pym decides to lead this new group as the new Might Avengers, but Quicksilver said he has other plans. He suspects Chthon and the Dark Hold were also part of Wanda’s madness, and he may be able to track her down - then “Wanda” appears to his suprise.

The world goes back to normal and we return to find Jonas!Vision and Cassie debating if they should tell the others that The Scarlet Witch is back.

The Dark Reign story ends with Asgard returning as well, and we see Loki confirm their involvement, and the reveal that Wanda was Loki all along.

The Mighty Avengers #24 starts with another confirmation that Loki is taking on Wanda’s form to manipulate the world. We also see Jonas!Vision and Cassie discussing if they should tell Billy and Tommy about “The Scarlet Witch.”

Before they get a chance to tell the Young Avengers their discovery, they enter the Mansion to find “Wanda” is already there, along with the new teal of Mighty Avengers. We then cut to Quicksilver who is searching for Wanda around the world. He bumps into the Mighty Avengers, and “Wanda” manifests again, telling him to leave them alone.

He catches up to them again a little later, and asks about Wanda only to be informed “The Scarlet Witch comes and goes as she pleases.” The team agrees there is something odd about this, but once and Avenger always an Avenger and welcome Quicksilver into the fold, thinking he may help as they trying to find Wanda too.

Some time passes, and Quicksilver comments in issue #25 that it seems like since he’s joined the Mighty Avengers, The Scarlet Witch has appeared less and less. There is an entire plot taking place, and eventually Cassie Lang stumbles on “Wanda”. Loki!Wanda decides she has had enough of these mortals getting too close to discovering her deception.

Loki!Wanda convinces Cassie to leave, only she goes and recruits some friends. The Young Avengers rejoin the story, thinking Cassie and Jonas!Vision are going to leave them to be full time Mighty Avengeres, but Cassie tells them about The Scarlet Witch.

Wiccan takes matters into his own hands and summons Loki!Wanda with magic, and she’s not happy about it.

Only before she can attack, Clint Barton appears as Ronin with his own questions. 

Loki!Wanda escapes, for now, but the team are aware that she is not the real Scarlet Witch. A few issues later (#32), “The Scarlet Witch” returns to recruit the Avengers for a new mission - but this time they confront her.

Hank has a plan though, and his goggles record the energy signature of her magic. And in Issue #34, the Avengers finally reveal to Quicksilver that the Wanda they have been speaking with is not actually his sister.

He reacts as well as can be expected, and the team head to Loki’s summer palace to confront them about all of this. The Mighty Avengers manage to capture Loki, and we get this weird panel of Jonas!Vision making Cassie jealous (Spectral’s Commentary: This weird back and forth with him being a completely unique entity but also having flashbacks to OG Vision is what annoys me about Jonas!Vision. It was retconned when original Vision is reconstructed in a few years, but ugh.)

Thor arrives to save his brother, and Loki admits he has no idea where Wanda actually is, meaning Quicksilver’s failed in his mission to find her, as have the Young Avengers - for now.

Spectral’s Commentary: PHEW That was a lot! We’ll finally get into the ACTUAL Children’s Crusade story in the next installment. I wanted to cover where Wanda is in the Comic-Verse and set up how difficult she’s making it to be found before getting into that though. As for the MCU using these stories? I’m not so sure. Where Multiverse of Madness leaves us, I think we’ll certainly see Wanda again in Wundagore with amnesia, but I don’t think they’ll send Clint to find her, or anyone else. Same with all the Loki stuff - Loki in the MCU has his *own* problems to deal with first. I could be wrong, but my guess is they’ll just skip ahead to The Children’s Crusade if the rumors are true.

[sebbytrash]

Riley

Summary - Sam is having one of those nights so you take him to your secret happy spot within the compound. 

Pairing - Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings - None that I can think of.

A/N - Short but sweet.  written for Samtember for the “Riley” prompt @samwilsonfest

It’s dark. The complicated kind, the kind that can go one of two ways, coax secret smiles and tentative touches or ragged breaths and haunted eyes. Neither are the kind you want, and so you sit idly in the kitchen of the Avengers compound, wishing for the first and avoiding the second. The coffee in your mug is cold, barely touched, sitting abandoned on the table beside your head.

Footsteps, quick but quiet, interrupt your thoughts about nothing and you sit up quick enough to forget about the mug and send it crashing to the floor in a wave, a sad brown sea of forgotten. 

Sam halts in front of you, wide eyed and wary, his muscles rigid underneath his shirt pulled tight across his chest. Oh, what a chest. “Shit. You scared me.” He says it like an accusation, and then bends to pick up the pieces of your broken mug as you slide off the table and hope that the ground will give way and let you be swallowed up if only to avoid his eyes.

“Sorry, Sam.” You say automatically, and then add, “In fairness, you scared the shit out of me, too.” You mop up the coffee with your sweater, stripped from you in a less than graceful motion and still, ignore Sam’s eyes. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m sorry, too.” He laughs low, stands with the pieces and throws them in the trash, you watch wistfully and half heartedly wish to be one of those pieces, anything to avoid Sam’s scrutiny in the dead of night, “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be up.” 

“Oh, you know me. Anything for the last slice of Bruce’s apple pie.” You stand, attempt to scoot past him to wring your sweater in the sink and brush up against that oh so lovely chest of his, feel the weight of your fingertips just aching to touch.

“Any reason why you were lying on the table like an animal?” He asks, amusement evident in his tone and so you look, finally, at his eyes and allow yourself a small smile, a tiny moment of self indulgence to get lost in the decedent walnut depths and find yourself somewhere along the edge of his lips. 

“I heard it’s good for posture.” You blink away your stares, pray that none of that want shows on your face, “Why are you up?” 

His face crumples, not into a feeling but out of one, it crumples into a blank dust and you wonder if you can catch the particles in your hands, if you can mould it back to that smile he had just for you. “Couldn’t sleep.” Is all he says and you know instantly that he’s having the second kind of darkness, forcibly stopping your arms from reaching for him when you see the sadness that hides in his eyes. 

“Riley?” You whisper it, like a knifed secret and he nods, once, the tiniest dip of his chin and you wonder how much it cost him to admit even that. You have no words to offer him, no wisdom or advice as you sit here avoiding your own traumas and so you grasp at something, anything, that might chase away the shadows behind his eyes. Finally, you consider it, your secret and it takes less than a second to know that Sam is worth the reveal of it. “Wanna come somewhere with me?”

“Sure.” Even he seems surprised when he agrees so readily, takes a step toward you, almost eager and you fight the urge to do the same, to finally find out what it would be like to have that marble-solid body pressed against yours. You mentally scold yourself for the constant turn of your thoughts, that even when he’s a little lost, you still find the time to admire.

You take his hand, a bold move your heart mutters, and lead him to the stairs, up and up and up you both go in the quiet echo, surrounded only by the memories and the glaring fluorescent lights. He lets you lead him without question, even when you pass the communal floors, still says nothing when the last floor dies away and the stairs continue and the cool air begins to spill in beside you. You thrust against the final door, using all your bodyweight to nudge it open and let the breeze dance along your skin.

Sam follows you out onto the empty rooftop, looks around in confusion, “I had no idea this was here.” 

“Yeah, nobody does, for some reason.” You walk to your spot, affectionately named but marked only by the memories in your eyes, “I come here to get away. Never seen anyone else up here.” 

You wonder if he’ll hear what you say without saying, how you’ve never, not once brought anyone here and yet here he is, brought on the basis of bad dreams. He looks at you and you think he just might. 

You sit down on the hard concrete and pat the spot beside you, slip your shoes off and wait until he sits with you, until his body heat bleeds into yours and then lay back. In an instant, the worries disappear, you feel weightless, the sky above you carries it all off and lets you float in the air in between the stars. It’s always like this for you, the sky and the stars, and sight of them here so unhindered by city lights and tall buildings, a solar dusted blanket that wraps around you each night. 

“Oh, wow. That’s a view, right there.” He sounds how you feel, and you try not to notice his arm pressed along yours, or the way he smells like hopefulness. 

“You see that one there,” You point, try to adjust your angle for him, “That’s Polaris. The North Star.”

“I see it.” He keeps his voice low like he feels the weight of the stars like you do.

“And that there, if you follow it, is the Little Dipper. And there is Cassiopia.” You whisper into the night, watch the breeze carry away your words and the night swallow up your ghosts. 

“I didn’t know you knew so much about stars.” He turns to look at you, his now russet eyes that look a little less sad than before, reflecting all that quiet endurance. You grin before you can stop it, the relief at having helped even just a little is simply too large and it overwhelms the rest. There’s just something about the sky up here, with all those stars and worlds and lifetimes in view that makes you a little calmer. Clearly, it was doing the same for Sam. 

“I dabble.” You blink at him, refusing to be the one to look away from that stare, “There’s something a little humbling about the sky, dontcha think?” 

He looks away and up to the sky, the stars reflect in his eyes like the night sky itself and you know then that you’ll never only see the sky again. Forever it’ll be, the sky and Sam. You hate how much you love it. 

He makes a noise of agreement and then, softly, he lets his fingers tangle with yours in that narrow space between you. Your heart leaps straight from your chest and dances among the stars. The breeze picks up, perhaps in response to your heart rate, and you shiver, a little from his touch and a little from the cool air, belatedly remember that your sweater was now a soggy heap in the sink and sigh. 

“Your cold.” His fingertips disappear and you ache at the loss and wonder if the moment is over now, if he’ll make you go inside but he simply slips his arm around you, and pulls you tight to him, letting your head rest in the crook of his shoulder, “Here, let me help.” 

If there’s a heaven, you think, it’s pretty damn close to this. Or perhaps, it’s less heaven and more purgatory since you both love it, and want more. Ache to be closer than even this. 

It’s hours, or minutes, later when the sky is a little less dark and a little more wakeful that he speaks, “Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm? Yeah, of course.” You say, distractedly, caught between the stars and his heartbeat and never wanting to return. 

“Why did you take off your shoes?” The question startles a laugh out of you, the unexpected pop to a dazed bubble. 

“Oh Sam,” You smile, tilt your head to look at him better, “How else will the stars get in?” 

He looks at you in buttery confusion, and then suddenly, like he’s never seen you before, or is seeing you anew. There’s stardust in his eyes and it’s spilling into yours, his moon-washed smile lights up the sky with his resilience and promise. 

“Sam…” You begin, and find the word itself swallowed by his lips, gentle against yours with the stars inbetween. He kisses you, all the weight of the sky wrapped up in it and you kiss him back just the same. All the months and weeks of restraint come loose in a tidal wave of want, and need, and love. It lasts a lifetime in a minute, so many unsaids and maybes passed between your lips and his. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” He sighs, forehead pressed against yours like he can’t bare to be apart now that he’s been this close. You know the feeling, fingers gripping his shirt so that the moon can’t carry you away when it leaves.

Still, the admission surprises you, having spent so long hiding your own feelings for fear of rejection, “You have?”

“You are hilariously oblivious, you know that?” He kisses away the protest, kisses you and shows you how much he’s been wanting it, you, and you feel every word of it written on your lips. Even the stars don’t compare. “Ever since I walked in on you trying to sneak that goat into Stark Tower.”

“Sam…” You laugh, both at the memory and of when, “That’s the day we met.”

He smiles, wisps of red and orange from the rising sun dance along his skin, his eyes alight with the fire from within, “Oh, I know.” 

Your heart lifts with the sun, a painted star on your soul that begins the new day, your new day. When you kiss him again, in answer to a question that was never asked, you feel the glow on your face and within your chest together, and are reminded, tenderly, that the sun is also a star. 

Forever Tags:

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[ithinkilikeit-reactions]

NCT 127 “You moan their name in your sleep”

Ask:  OMG, can you do a reaction of Haechan and Jungwoo of NCT when you have a wet dream about them and moan their name in your sleep. SORRY, my friend gave me the idea.

A/N: the ask only asked for HAechan and Jungwoo, but I decided to turn it into NCT 127. Without Haechan however because I don’t feel comfortable.

Johnny: 

Johnny was a deep sleeper usually, he made it through the night even if you got up to use the bathroom. But the second a sound came out of your mouth that sounded like you were in distress, he was awake. So the moans escaping your lips as you dreamed about pounding him you into the mattress definitely caught his attention. 

Looking at you sleepily, he had a smile on his face. Your whimpers being quite loud now. His large hand shook you gently, making an even louder hum come out of your mouth. Johnny was laughing now, your eyes fluttering open as you felt his hand travel down. You were so worked up, you melted into his touch the second he gave you attention. 

“I thought that, that was what those sounds were. Let me take care of you, now.”

Taeil: 

Taeil was having a hard time falling asleep. At first it was because of things running through his mind, then it was because of you saying his name. The first time it came out, it was soft and merely a whisper. The next time he could tell by the breathiness that it wasn’t just you having a regular dream. 

He scooted closer to you, wrapping an arm around you and taking note of how warm your body was. Taeil smiled as he felt you curl into him even more, his name spilling from your lips a little faster. Your eyes fluttered open at his touch, looking at him breathlessly. 

“Have a nice dream?”

Taeyong: 

He had gotten to your apartment late but wasn’t disappointed with what he was greeted with. Your soft moans filling the living room. They weren’t loud at all but Taeyong could hear you mumbling in your sleep as you were passed out on the couch and decided to take a better listen. 

His ears instantly turned pink hearing his name fall from your lips. The moans pouring out as dream Taeyong made love to you. His hand moved over your back and he shook you lightly, not even because of you moaning but because he didn’t want your back to hurt in the morning. 

“Uhm, You fell asleep on the couch. You also were uhh, talking in your sleep.” 

Yuta: 

Yuta flipped through his manga, trying to calm down a bit before going to sleep. You were long gone, not finding the strength to stay up with him. Curled into his side, your head rested on his chest and the way you moaned his name suddenly caught him off guard. 

He had to hold back a laugh, not wanting to wake you up. His hand covered his mouth as he felt your hand grip his t-shirt, moaning even louder. A smile stretched over his face and his fingers moved to stroke your hair. 

“It’s okay, I’ll satisfy your dreams in the morning.” 

Doyoung: 

Doyoung’s eyes were wide after he realised you weren’t talking to him. His name was pouring from your lips as your hands fisted the sheets. He originally thought something was wrong as you said his name. Well something was wrong, dream you was getting laid and real you wasn’t. 

He moved his hands to your cheek, stroking it softly. He wanted to wake you but he didn’t want his intentions to seem to obvious. But the tent in his boxers said more as your whimpers grew louder. 

“I hate to wake you up because of this but look at what your dreams caused.” 

Jaehyun: 

The way you turned in your sleep woke him up, feeling you clutch his bare chest in an odd way. Looking down at you through sleepy eyes, Jaehyun could barely make out what you were muttering. That was when he picked up on it and suddenly he was wide awake. 

Smirking to himself, Jaehyun leaned down slightly and pressed his lips to yours. You were so needy, that alone woke you with a moan escaping you. He smiled at you with a knowing look, his arms wrapping around you and pressing you against him. 

“Need me to take care of something? Or is dream me doing just fine?” 

WinWin/Sicheng: 

He covered his face in embarrassment as you moaned his name into his back. Sicheng was the litte spoon tonight and you were holding onto him tightly. Squirming a little, he turned around in your arms to face you. 

Your cheeks were flushed and your whimpers were almost inaudible, but enough for him. Sicheng allowed his hand to move up your side, petting your skin lightly and hoping you’d wake up. Lazily you opened your eyes, heavy breaths leaving you. 

“It’s kind of hard to sleep with you moaning my name. Maybe we should do something else.”

Jungwoo: 

It was hard for him to ignore you, considering his head was resting on your chest. He noticed it when your breathing picked up and he was watching your expressions when you moaned his name. Jungwoo was watching you with wide eyes, unsure of what to do. 

He could feel your grip on him tightening as your sounds got a little louder and he couldn’t deny he was getting turned on himself. He settled a little inbetween your legs, his movements waking you up before he could. 

“I’m sorry, but you kept saying my name and baby I need you.” 

Mark:

Mark didn’t know what to do, looking at the ceiling with wide eyes. You were long gone and dead asleep. Completely unaware of the sounds you were making and how you were making him completely utterly hard. He looked at you and your furrowed eyebrows, deciding to clear his throat in the hopes it would wake you up. 

It did, your eyes opening and your cheeks instantly flushing in embarrassment. Mark leaned over, his hands stroking your cheeks with a soft smile turning into a small laugh. 

“So, uhm. Want me to do what dream me was doing?” 

[leandrafoxxo]

So I came up with a dream..

And it changes the scenes that I showed you earlier in a way that rather than editing what I posted I wanted to rewrite it. Most of it stays the same but there are significant changes now and I think it’s much better with the dream added in.. so here you go. ____________________________________________________________

"Hey, Chidori."

Junpei scratched his neck as he looked down a tad, but his gaze was caught by hers again, which was directed at him curiously, waiting for his response.

"Ah, I was just wondering, you know, whether you've got some time to spare.. like, on Sunday?"

She nodded in reply.

' I do.. why is it you ask? '

"Well, I thought we could.. you know, only if you'd like, but.."

- Ahw come on man, say it already! - he thought by himself before gathering his courage.

Under her curious gaze he finally managed to ask her.

"Would you like to uh.. catch a movie with me? They have some good ones at the theatre nearby.. Or anything you like, really, I'm not picky."

Just as long as he could spend more time with her.

Chidori kept looking at him for another second, then averting her gaze downwards, blinking, smiling a tad before she looked up to him again.

' I'd like that. ' she finally gave for an answer, which made Junpei smile alongside her in relief.

"Sweet! Sunday’s still okay, right?”

‘ If you don’t mind it being in the afternoon, yes. I wanted to go visit the old lady that keeps the flowershop, she wanted to have a cup of tea with me. ‘ she explained, seeming very happy that she would have so much good company.

“Ah, the old lady you’ve been telling me so much about? I’ve gotta meet her some time, too, she seems great!”

‘ She is. ‘ Chidori showed an earnest smile as she said that.  .

Junpei smiled back, getting a little more sheepish again. “So uh.. Wanna go back to the dorm again? We can think up something good for Sunday while we’re at it.”

‘ That sounds good, it’s getting a little colder again. I’m okay though. ‘ she said before Junpei could get worried. And so they carried on their conversation on their way back to the dorms. _____________________________________________________________

Chidori was sitting on that very bench next to the flower shop at the Port Island Station.

It was a little early for her to be sitting there waiting already, yet she sat there, at some point growing tired of sketching flower bouquets.

As beautifully arranged as they may have been, somehow she just felt tired in general.

And as she drew, her thoughts drifted off and the flowers became more and more abstract, as though she'd be seeking to capture something entirely different.

Like that she closed her sketchbook and placed it to her left, directing her gaze towards all those wind turbines, eventually losing it in the sky and drifting off to sleep.

At first she was sleeping calmly before slowly all of those pictures came up again.

Pictures she couldn't define, such that would only leave her with one feeling.

Longing for something.

But after a while all of those pictures faded into nothingness again and soon she drifted into a beautiful dream that brought her a kind of peace that felt so familiar and entirely new to her at the same time.

After a while she would wake up, the serene feeling staying with her, but.. no, it felt different now.

The sun stood much lower than before, but alongside that...

' Jun..pei.? '

Chidori found herself leaning against Junpei, closely cuddled up to him.

He seemed to have fallen asleep right there, with both of them supporting their weight onto each other.

Puzzled and a tad flustered she looked up to him.

However, as she watched him sleep serenely, something became clear to her. _____________________________________________________________

"Alright, alright.. You got this. You're da man. Just.. keep their advice in mind and don't screw this up, that's all." he mumbled to himself, on his way to Port Island Station.

As he got out of the train he adjusted himself and got down the stairs.

Like that he reached the bench, but..

He checked the clock.

No, no he wasn't late at all. Good. But still..

He looked over at Chidori, who was fast asleep right there in front of him.

To be frank, he didn't really know how to deal with this situation.

But, to be frank, he genuinely liked that sight.

And thus he kept watching her for another moment before he sat next to her, carefully, as somehow he just didn't want to disturb her sleep.

So he was waiting.

Then, after a couple of minutes she grew to be restless.

At first he thought she'd be waking up and he was already thinking up something to greet her with before he noticed that she was still caught in her sleep.. was she dreaming?

But he wasn't left alone long enough to finish this thought, as he saw how his lady shifted around a tad before her balance changed in a way that would've sent her lying flat on the bench.

That is, if Junpei wouldn't have given up on the polite distance he kept at first.

Like this she leaned onto him now, even snuggling up to him a little before she got calmer.

Junpei on the other hand gathered all his mental power to stay still, blushing a good tad as he thought about just how incredibly glad he was that he just took a shower.

So like this, somehow, he actually managed to calm down, though he was still incredibly stoked about the situation.

After all, it's been so long since he last...

Nah, he didn't want to overthink that, he just wanted to enjoy this moment with her.

Hence he carefully - very carefully - leaned onto her just a bit more to catch some of her scent, gently leaning his head onto hers, trying to push back the feeling of just how badly he wanted to hold her now, watching her just a little while longer before he closed his eyes.

In this serene moment, he drifted off to sleep. ______________________________________________________________

It's bright and wonderfully warm and the whole city spreads out below them. The many cherry blossoms that colour the city, her long froly hair, and the cloth of her dress are swept by a fresh but gentle wind as she looks around, mesmerized by the sight. As she turns to look back at him her eyes are shining and she is full of life, showing him a beautiful smile and the sight in front of him captivates him entirely until his body reminds him that he should breathe some more and he has to agree. He steps towards her some more and takes her hands into his, trying to put what he feels into words and failing hopelessly. He lets go of her hands gently, but only to pull her closer and into a tight hug that she returns after a moment of surprise, gently whispering his name into his shirt. And like that they stay for what feels like an eternity and neither one of them minds staying like this forever. ______________________________________________________________ ' Junpei.? '

Somewhere inbetween sleeping and waking he heard a gentle voice calling his name.

' Hey, Junpei. '

Someone was trying to wake him, and eventually she succeeded.

Amber eyes looked up to him as Junpei looked back at her, just studying her for a moment.

"Huh.. I'm not dreaming.. now am I?" he mumbled towards her.

Chidori smiled and shook her head, snuggling into him a little more.

He blinked for another second before he turned a lot more red, sitting up all straight before he started to talk really quickly.

"I-I'm sorry! I, you were sleeping and -" ' Hey.. ' "- I just really didn't want to disturb you but, you, you know, all of a sudden -" ' Hey, Junpei.. ' "I mean I didn't want you to fall and get hurt and -"  ' Junpei, please calm down! '

Despite calling out to him her voice was still gentle.

As she finally had a calmer Junpei next to her, looking at her in wonder, she began to chuckle at his sight, blushing.

And whilst his heart jumped a tad, she closed the distance that he’d put inbetween them as he was startled and patted his shoulder gently.

' Don't worry.. It’s okay, really. I.. I didn’t mind being with you like that. ' she replied, surprised how she was able to say that without getting terribly sheepish, but she really meant that.

His eyes got wide and he blinked at Chidori another second before he scratched his neck with a big smile on his face.

"Heh, you really think so?"

There she shared a bench with a genuinely happy man.

As their gazes met the moment was broken by a clock signalizing how time had passed on in the background. It has gotten late, as the night was not yet there, but the sun stood rather low.

"Ah- the movie!"

' It's almost over, huh? '

Junpei shrugged in reply, but then spoke up.

"Hey, uhm.. I know it could get later than we said, but, uhm, would you like to spend some more time with, I mean, doing something else.? Like, there's this nice cafe over at the mall. It'll probably get dark, but I'll make sure to keep all those thugs away from you on the way back!"

He tried to look all tough for her, trying to chase away the awkwardness, posing a little, which made Chidori smile.

And he couldn't say it wasn't part of why he did that, as he smiled back at her.

' Let's do that, then. ' she said, as she picked up her sketchbook, got up, and pulled at Junpei's sleeve gently.

She didn't need to tell him that twice, that was for sure.

They had to walk over there, but it wasn't that long and neither of them minded the other's company.

In fact something seemed to have changed.

[weirdlyhornyforegos]

Only One Tent

MINORS DNI! Illinois x reader. I know I got some other stuff to write, but this idea just struck me like a fucking lighting bolt god damn. Instead of one bed, one tent ;)

The trip had started out well.

It was supposed to be one of you longer ones, so both you and Illinois had brought some equipment along for the journey, since it was going to be at least a week without seeing any part of civilisation.  

The trip turned for the worse when a part of the path you’re walking dissolves under Illinois foot, sending him sliding down the rocky slope, right towards the cliff edge. You yell out, but luckily Illinois is able to grab hold on a rock, stopping himself before it all goes too wrong. His backpack however isn’t so lucky, tearing open and spilling most of its content out, most of rolling over the cliff.

As soon as Illinois is on the path once more, you insist checking him over, even though he insists he’s fine. Miraculously, he has no injuries except from a few scrapes, but you’re sure he’s going to feel it more in the morning.

As soon as you’re on more even ground a few hours later, you more or less demand that you stop and set up camp, not only for Illinois to rest (not that you tell him that), but you’re also worried about those dark clouds collecting far too close for comfort.

One of the things Illinois lost during his tumble is his tent and sleeping bag. He tries to tell you that the will just build something, but you’re having none of it, since those clouds are too close, he will have no time to make a proper one before they get to you. Your tent is made for two people anyway.

It doesn’t help that the wind is also picking up. You set up the tent inbetween a grove of big trees, trying to shield yourself slightly from the wind.

And it ends up being a good thing you argued with Illinois, since almost as soon as you hammer in the last tent plug, a roll of thunder can be heard and you feel the first few drops on the back of your hand.

Making sure everything is secured properly and all your things are were they should, you duck inside the tent. You roll out your sleeping mat and Illinois’ mat, since it was one of the few things that luckily hadn’t gone over the edge.

Not long after, Illinois joins you in the tent, making sure to shake off most of the water he can off his hat before coming inside.

Your tent may have been made for two people, but it was certainly a snug fit. With you, Illinois, and both of your stuff, there isn’t much space, so no matter what you do, you will be touching in some way. Not that you really care, you’re too tired and ready to sleep for that.

It was far from an ice-cold night, but it had become chilly enough that Illinois had rolled down his sleeves for once, while his hat balances on top of his bag.

He lays down on his back, one arm under his head, the other on his stomach. You’re snuggled down in you sleeping bag, trying to sleep. Since you are so close and can’t help but be touching, you notice really quickly when Illinois starts to shiver. It’s not much, barely there.

“Illinois, you ok?”

“Hm? Yes of course darlin’.”

“Mmhm.” You sit up, unzipping your sleeping bag and slipping out.

“Darlin’ what are you -?” You spread half of your sleeping bag turned blanket over Illinois, the other half over yourself when you lay down with your back to him.

“I could tell you were cold, you liar.”

“I-”

“Illinois, just go to sleep.” Mercifully, he doesn’t try to protest any more, and you feel yourself getting drowsier, while steadily ignoring the heat you can feel coming from the man behind you. It’s not long before you are asleep.

---

You don’t know how long you have been asleep when you wake, but you think it might be early morning. It’s pretty dark in the tent, and you can still hear the rain and howling wind outside.

It’s cold, as you discover that the sleeping bag had slide down your body quite a bit during the night, so you drag it back up.

A roll of unexpected thunder makes you jump, which causes you to roll into the body that you hadn’t realised was behind you, eliciting a groan. 

You go completely still for a second, before remembering that it’s just Illinois. He must have moved sometime during the night, so now you’re snuggled up with his arms around you, back against a solid chest.

You honestly don’t mind, and the steady breath against the back of your neck is weirdly comforting, so you try to go back to sleep.

This is foiled not long after however, as Illinois shifts in his sleep and you feel something hard pressed against your ass. Stilling once more, you hold your breath, thinking you might have imagined it. 

An experimental roll of your hips confirms it, Illinois is very much hard against you. You lay there, unsure of what to do, and then you hear Illinois mumble in his sleep. It happens sometimes, and most of the time it’s just noise or utter nonsense, but this time you hear your name whispered against your neck as Illinois rocks forward slightly in his sleep.

You have to hold yourself back from making a noise of surprise, but holy hell, that is so hot.

You start rocking back slightly, movements slow and small at first, unsure of yourself, but then you’re moving faster. 

This is what ends up waking Illinois up. You can tell he’s awake when he groans and his arms tighten around you. You still completely, waiting for his reaction with bated breath.

“Darlin’, what was you doin’?” You lick your lips, very much aware of the  hardness still pressed up against you.

“I woke up with you hard against my ass, and you started kinda mumbling my name and rocking into me, so I thought I might as well move a little?” You wait for any sort of reaction, and are relived when you hear him chuckle.

“My dream must have leaked into to reality I suppose.” A kiss is place on the back of your neck as he rocks his hips ever so slightly forward. You let out the breath you didn’t realise you were holding. 

You start to move too, grinding yourself back on him, causing him to moan, a sound that makes your stomach tighten. It tightens even more as you feel Illinois untuck your shirt and one of his hands disappear beneath the waistband. You moan loudly as his hand finds its destination. He chuckles and kisses the back of your neck once more.

“Feels good yeah? My hand on you?”

“Fuck yes.” You grip his unoccupied arm and his hip, using your leverage to push him into you. He groans, head falling forward, causing his hair to tickle the back of your neck

His hand starts to move in tandem with you rolling your hips into him. You settle on a rhythm where you rock back into him and forwards into his hand.

Illinois starts peppering the back of your neck with kisses, making you let you a few giggles between the moans as his stubble tickles you.

Rocking back and forth like this, between his hard cock at your ass and his hand in your pants, it doesn’t take long for you to get close. Swearing under your breath, Illinois seems to get what is happening. He doesn’t slow down at all, opting to move faster. 

With a whisper of his name, you come hard, body shaking and shivering all over.

A few more pumps with his hips, Illinois follows, coming with a groan as he still against your back.

You lay there for a little while, just catching your breath. When Illinois moves his hand out of your pants, you sit up, the sleeping bag sliding off you. You had been underneath it the whole time, but now it was a lot hotter in the tent, so you need some more air. You look down at Illinois as he twists himself on his back, meeting your eyes with a grin, hands under his head.

“Enjoyed yourself?” You eye him up and down, noticing his shirt has ridden up his stomach.

“Mmhm.” You put a hand on his now bare stomach. He draws in a breath as you lean down to kiss him. His lips are soft on yours, lazily kissing back. You keep the kiss short, breaking the kiss to lay down his shoulder, hand still on his stomach.

“Immensely.” Illinois chuckles and puts and arm around your back, holding you close. You end up falling asleep like that, warm and sated.

(You end up never buying another tent.)

[waithyuck]

FINE LINE

nct x fine line

kim doyoung

“you’ve got my devotion, but man I can hate you sometimes.”

a/n: I used to be waitjaehyun, but have moved to this new account. Hope you enjoy the last installment of the fine line series.

lowercase intended

nothing seemed set. nothing about this relationship seemed permanent anymore, emotionless and dragging on with no meaning. he felt like he had to pay to see you smile, or to see the you that he first met three years ago. the constant back and forth tired him out. he didn’t look good; purple circles under his eyes that resembled bruises, and large bags from lack of sleep and stress. he stressed to keep himself in check, to keep this relationship from falling apart. he loved you, but it was so easy to hate you sometimes.

it seemed like now all you would ever do is pick fights with him, no matter how big or small the problem actually was. he didn’t want to fight with you, not before and not now. he was so emotionally drained, so mentally tired from it all. he knew if he fought back he would end up in the dust, alone and away from you.

maybe that is what he wanted, although he wasn’t exactly sure. the only times he seemed to find happiness was when a bottle of alcohol was in his clutches, drowning out all of life’s problems, as he was doing in this very moment. he got to think of you when you both first met when he was drunk; it was almost like he relived it every time.

you used to be so golden; you would shine like the sun and blind his every sense. the brightness of your aura smothered him and he was so, so happy when you were around. now, it seemed like someone dowsed your fire with a waterfall of irritability and discontent, forming you into the hateful and almost grotesque version of who you once were.

the was no gray area when it came to the dynamic between you both. there was no muddled feelings of love and hate; they didn’t dance with each other like they used too, making everything a little bit more exciting. in the present, there was a fine line. there were only days where he loved you, and only days when he absolutely hated you. no inbetween. he was devoted to you, there was something telling him to hold on, just deal with it because he knew the person you truly were, even if you were now hiding it.

it was bad. the only times he caught a glimpse of you true self is when he had you spread out underneath him, moaning like a mess. those were the only times he felt like he was close to you, close to your heart. the pain he felt every time you got out of bed and walked away, not saying a word after sharing that passion with him, was ungodly. he felt like his insides were being torn apart, his lungs suffocating and his heart being tortured to no end.

doyoung hated you in those moments too, he thought.

he kept reminding himself that there was a fine line, a fine line that wouldn’t be crossed. a fine line that would fade to nothing and then he could go. he could leave once it became all to much.

he hated himself for allowing you tempt him, to reel him back in. he assumed in your own ways, you still wanted him around too. the light in you was somehow always drawing him back again, even with how dull it felt.

broken bottles, broken heart, broken boy. doyoung felt so conflicted with you; he couldn’t leave, could he?

that fine line glared in his face and made him feel agony, dread, anger.

the fine line. gnashing it’s sharp teeth at him, tempting him to go, chasing his heart away. hating you, but devoted to you regardless, doyoung shivered.

he hadn’t been alone in three years, you were too familiar. a change would do him in for good. he needed you, that light was still inside you, right?

he could make everything work. he would get to you, he had to. he’ll turn you back into that person you once were, the center of his universe.

that fine line burned in the back of his head, along with the headache that came from you. the alcohol still clutched in his trembling and cold fingers, he slammed his head onto the wooden table, the sounds of your bitterness fading away as his consciousness did.

~~~

doyoung awoke in his own dream. he knew this couldn’t be reality.

you were grinning, a true physical reaction to feeling happiness. he hadn’t seen that in the past 11 months from you.

he knew this was a dream because he’s witnessed this scene before. the day you had met him.

you were wearing bright colors, standing out by the ice cream stand in the summer heat. mid july always hit the hardest, causing everyone to be out trying to get their fix of something chilly.

he watched you laugh amongst your friends that day, young and confident. however, he was nervous when he approached you that day, hands wringing together as he walked with his head down.

you noticed him right away, turning to face him with friendliness spread across your beautiful face. when he saw you for the first time up close, he felt like he was going to marry you right then and there. love at first sight, he always thought.

he avoided using pick up lines with you, knowing that you deserved so much better than that. you were happy to converse with him, and you even ended up giving him your number. he thinks he remembers you calling him charming.

you two seemed inseparable; always by each other’s side, soon acting too cheesy for your friends to watch happening. you two consumed each other, leaving no room for anything else.

maybe that was the problem in the first place.

as doyoung watched this dream like fog move along, showing him his own relationship in front of him, he noticed how the colors changed. what once seemed like a bright gold and shining aura that painted the scenes, turned darker with each passing month. the aura turned muddy and gray, dragging along. he watched you change, your face morphing into one of misery.

even with the charcoal colors swirling around you, there was a hint of gold that you carried in your chest, by your heart. he didn’t think the symbolism within this dream just put that there by accident.

his own subconscious was trying to tell him something, persuade him to be with you, to try to fix you.

he didn’t know if he could, some things about you he truly detested now. your stubbornness, which he thought was endearing back then, tested him every day to the point of near insanity.

no, he thought, you’re in there somewhere. it’ll be alright.

~~~

doyoung awoke with a start, his head lifting from the table below him, a red circle marked on his forehead from the pressure of the wood. he looked around him, the room now dark with night. the clock on the stove read 3:06 a.m., he assumed you didn’t bother to wake him when you went to bed.

he sat back in the chair, the back creaking as he adjusted his weight. he rubbed his tired eyes until it almost hurt. he pulled himself up, discarding the empty glass bottles into the recycle bin by the sink of his apartment. he made his way down the hall, to the bedroom of which you two shared.

it was dark, but he could make out your sleeping figure, curled up alone within the sheets. it made his heart ache, how peaceful and beautiful you looked. there were no lines on your face now; nothing showing anger or irritability or sadness. he loved you like this, even if it sounded bad.

he sat on his own side of the bed, looking at you. he tenderly stroked the side of your cheek, pulling away only when you stirred slightly.

doyoung sighed as he made himself comfortable, not noticing how far he scooted to the edge of the bed away from you. he closed his eyes and whispered into the dark,

“we’ll be alright.”

[ketsuyuki-hibana-typed]

May I ask for Kyojurou and reader being domestic?

Yep! One sunshine boyfriend for all of us! ✨🔥☀️ I made this into Modern AU (again) but I have WIP Kyojurou x reader domestic AU in Taisho timeline on my draft! I hope you'll read it too when I posted it. Thank you for requesting!

Rengoku Kyoujurou x Reader (Modern Domestic AU)

Every morning, Kyoujurou will wake up first, since he is a light sleeper

"Hey, wakey! Wakey!"

If you didn't wake up immediately even after he kissed your droll-covered-cheek, he will open the curtain

And you groaned like a dying vampire

You usually went to bathroom first, because Kyoujuro will do some stretching and push ups before joined you on tooth-brushing

You cooked breakfast, while Kyoujurou making coffees. He made breakfast sometimes, but he prefers you to do it because he likes half cooked scrambled egg made by with you

Since both of you are teacher in the same school, you'll go with him together

You taught Classic and Modern Literature and he taught History (which is another reason, why you clicked so much with him)

Nudging nose and lip kissing before went down from apartment is a must-do in the morning

The train is usually crowded in this hour so you have no choice but stand. He'll protect you by pressing you to his chest and keep you safe from molesters with his big body

Because one time he didn't do that, there was a male groping you. You showed uncomfortable sign to Kyoujurou and he almost break his hand

Don't want it to happen again

You are quite famous on school because your teaching-style isn't boring and you'll always trying to make the lesson fun (because it's literature, everyone will fall asleep fast if you didn't do something)

The students didn't realize both of you and Kyoujurou dating after almost 6 months

Even though Kyoujurou dropped hint inbetween lesson when his students joke about his love life.

"The most beautiful, pretty and awesome person in this world."

Of course, everyone wondering

Until Inosuke accidentally spotted you feed him lunch with chopstick

You don't have any idea why all of the students relieved

"OUR SHIP IS CANON, EVERYONE."

You felt even more confused bc you thought everyone who has crush on him will be jealous.

"Knowing you're the one who took care of him, made us at ease."

Ah, you blushed a little and the whole class shouted for you

Sometimes, you and Kyoujurou eating lunch at cafetaria or nearest restaurant from school. Or bring your own lunch from home

Kyoujurou will cherish, or even worship your creation in front of other teachers

"LOOK, SHE MADE ME SUN-SHAPED RICE."

When you stressed out at your work, you asked, "Lend me your head for a while." and he will immediately understand you want to let out your stress by ruffled his fluffy hair as stress relieved

"Heaven." *angelic choir* Kyoujurou is a special angel and he didn't deserve this cruel world

Rengoku with glasses is just so lovely, you could stare at him for hours

He has so many nicknames for you. Darling, hun, honey, baby, melon-bun, cutie pie, you count it. He even didn't hesitated to use them on school.

"Hey, sunshine, could you bring those papers for me?"

"Pass the books please, sugar plum."

"I need you to take care of this student, cheese ball. Could you do it for me?"

You probably die in embarassment soon, because he made other teachers fluttered too (except Iguro, Giyuu and Sanemi, they are making the "What the fuck, fuck you lovey dovey couple, go love somewhere else" face)

When he upset, you'll see him nervous. Talk to him about anything while messaged his shoulder and showering him with little kisses on nose, forehead, lips and cheek will make him happy again

You don't have any specific favourite place for dating on weekend, but Kyoujurou's are beach, museum and open park

So you just nodded when he suggested place

"Look at this, this great!!!" "This is museum, Kyoujurou. You've seen this last month." "I know! But isn't it great because we still can seeing these things!"

Actually, you're a little understand bc you're literature teacher. Oh God, cute. You wiped your happy tears

He'll buy you random cute accesories on your way home

After work or date, you're going to supermarket together and shopping for dinner

"What do you want to eat, Kyoujurou?" "Anything you cook, I bet it tasty."

Could you please stop being a sunshine for a second because it's blinding

While cooking, he likes to help you with anything like chopped onion or clean the table.

Or sometimes you couldn't reach upper shelves, he will lift you up and tbh THIS IS SO EMBARASSING I'M NOT A SIMBA, JUST TAKE THE SALT FROM THERE PLEASE

Nah, he just likes to lift you up

He'll say "Delicious!! This is great!!" every dinner time especially when you are the one who cook for him. You usually wipe his mouth because he is a mess-eater

You went bathe together after eating dinner

"Go in first, I'll wash the dishes." "Okay, Kyoujurou."

For almost all of the time, he'll slip because he's too excited to get into the bath tub

Sometimes, he's the one who shampooing and messaged your scalp. Like, Oh My God, this is the best that happened everyday in your life

Both of you like to dried your hair with towels while making "Ruffle, ruffle" sounds

After bathe, he made you tea. You sat on his lap, and he dried your hair with hairdryer while watching tv

It's too comfortable, most of the time you'll fell asleep. And he'll carry you bridal-style to your bed

If you don't fall asleep, you brushed your teeth and went to bed after drink up your tea. And he joined you after checking door locks and switching-off lamps

By "joined" means, he jumped to the bed and tickled your body

Cuddle sessions is your favourite. While intertwining you fingers, you confided to him, or just a light and small talk will do. He'll listen carefully while caressing your hair.

"...I want to confess to you." He suddenly made a serious face. You're a litlle bit scared

"What is it?"

"You're beautiful today too." You pinched his cheek

"Silly. Go to sleep."

After he kissed your lips and forehead, he said "Good night, and sweet dreams."

You know that everyday will be a fine day as long as Kyoujurou besides you