#why didn't you make an attempt to understand?

[freeabortionslol]

don't marry him (quinn hughes x bsf!reader)

summary: angst, quinn talks reader out of engagement, unrequited love (kinda), reader is a lawyer, lots of flashbacks, italics mean flashbacks, not a single y/n used (yay!)

warnings!! anxiety, panic attacks, cursing, intense argument

a/n: okay so I rly didn't know what to do with this bc it honestly felt wrong to have him confess his feelings in this moment LMAO so I think I'm def gonna do a pt 2. anyways this was the fic from my drafts that the people voted for so here it is!! hope u enjoy :)

wc: 4.1k

“You lost.” Quinn said, staring out at the Lake, not making eye contact with you.

“What?” You asked, twirling your flashy engagement ring around your finger. 

Max had come into your life at a time when everything felt uncertain. You were fresh off a series of career setbacks, questioning your worth and your ability to build the future you had always dreamed of. He was steady, charismatic, and above all, ambitious. Qualities you admired and felt you needed to anchor yourself. He made you feel secure in a world that often felt chaotic.

Quinn sighed, turning to face you slightly. “At life. You lost.” He mumbled out, taking a sip of his beer before turning back to the lake. Your face quickly softened with a hint of sadness.

“I-I didn’t lose. I’m happy and successful.” You said, your tone coming off with a hint of anger. 

You and Max met at a work conference, one of those overly formal events where you spent half the time pretending to be interested in panel discussions and the other half networking. Max had approached you during a coffee break, his easy confidence setting him apart from the crowd. His suit was perfectly tailored, his smile sharp but not unkind.

Quinn took one look at you, shifting in his seat slightly. “Y-You…you don’t want this.” Your heart thumped slightly, cracking your knuckles to drown out the sounds of your own thoughts. “I’m scared for you.” 

Max’s love came with conditions. He valued success above all else, and he expected you to do the same. Work always came first, even if it meant skipping family events or cutting vacations short for a meeting. He didn’t understand why you needed to spend time with Quinn, Luke, and Jack.

“Quinn, I love him. You know that.” Your brows furrowed in an attempt to make him understand. 

The engagement came as a surprise, even to you. It was during a charity gala, one of those glittering events Max thrived in. He had pulled you onto the stage during his speech, getting down on one knee in front of hundreds of people. The ring sparkled under the chandeliers, and the applause was deafening. You had said yes because saying no didn’t feel like an option. Not with Max’s expectant smile, the cameras flashing, and the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

“But do you like him?” His words sent a shiver down your spine as you continued to fidget with the ring on your finger. The ring that was far too heavy to be wearing constantly, its band made of gold instead of your preferred silver. His words hung in the air, the weight of them sinking in your chest like a stone tossed in the still waters of the lake. His gaze remained fixed ahead, unwavering.

Max wasn’t a bad man. He wasn’t cruel or unkind. But he didn’t see you, not the way Quinn did. He saw your potential, your ambition, but not the person you were when all the noise fell away.

“I-I…I don’t- of course I like him. What are you getting at?” You stuttered, confused about your own feelings on the matter. Quinn glanced at you with a side eye, taking another swig from his bottle before speaking.

“Really?” He asked, his heart shattering at the sight of tears welling in your eyes. “I see the face you make when he talks. It’s blank, unreadable. And when he laughs? Your eyes scrunch up like when we would drag you out of bed to get on the boat.” Quinn lets out an uncomfortable chuckle. “You really want to wake up next to his mustache every morning for the rest of your life?” You roll your eyes, posture slumping.

“Don’t make fun of him.” You warned, your voice becoming stern. Quinn bites the inside of his mouth before turning away. “I’m successful, Quinn.”

“Yeah-yeah, that’s great. You have all the fuckin’ money you could’ve wished for.” He huffs out with a sarcastic smile.

“Don’t do that. Don’t make me sound materialistic-” You crossed your arms, Quinn cutting you off quickly.

“Well it’s kind of hard when all you do is work and work-” His voice raises significantly.

“This is my dream! If you can’t accept the fact that i’m happy-”

“Yeah! And you’re so damn caught up in it that you don’t have time for us anymore!” He yells, sending you a look of anger. One you’d never seen before. He breathes heavily, trying to calm himself down as he moves to the edge of his seat. His eyes soften when he catches your expression, scared. He sighs reluctantly before he speaks again. “Luke notices the way you brush him off when Max is around. He notices how you never fly out to Jersey to see him and Jack like you used to.” Your breath hitched as Quinn’s words pierced through the air. His voice had calmed, but the raw emotion in his eyes cut deeper than his raised tone ever could. You looked away, not able to face the weight of his gaze, and stared at the rippling water instead. The golden light of the setting sun shimmered on the surface, mimicking the perfection you thought you’d built. 

“Luke said that?” You whispered, your voice barely audible. A lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it down, refusing to let it show. You didn’t want this, not here, not ever. 

“Yeah.” He replied softly. “Jack see’s it too. They miss you.” Quinn turned his head to face you, your gaze still not meeting his. “I miss you.” You turned to glance at him, tears bubbling as you brushed a strand of hair from your face. You continued playing with your ring, biting your lip to hold the cries. 

You sniffled, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “This is my life. I won.” You croaked out. Quinn sighed, leaning back in his seat as he swirled the beer bottle in his hand.

“When we were kids, my Aunt Julia came over to visit us during christmas. Do you remember that?” He asked quietly, catching you off guard in a moment of vulnerability. You nodded your head, continuing to bite your lip. “She asked all of us- Me, you, Jack, and Luke ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’” Your eyes softened quickly, bringing your knees to your chest. “Do you remember what you said?” He asked, his tone empathetic.

“Yeah, a lawyer-”

“A mother.” He interrupted. The words hit you like a punch to the chest, knocking the air from your lungs. You froze, staring at Quinn as the memories hit like a tidal wave.

“I…I don’t remember that.” Your voice barely above a whisper.

Quinn gave you a sad smile, his eyes softening. “You do. You just don’t want to.” He brought the bottle to his mouth, looking out at the lake again. The two of you sat in the thick silence. Quinn, knowing he was winning this conversation and you, overthinking every little moment from the past two years. Tears began to escape your eyes as you stared out at the lake, refusing to look at Quinn. He turned to you, seeing how hard this conversation was for you. He wanted to pull you into him, let you cry into his shoulder until all the pain went away, but that wasn’t his job anymore. It was Max’s. The pain burned deep into Quinn’s chest as he recalled every memory he shared with you at this house. Jumping off the boat together on hot summer days, neighborhood barbecues where you would wear those short little sundresses he liked so much, your first kiss while playing spin the bottle together, and of course every deep conversation you shared on this back deck, in these exact chairs. When he was thirteen, he was sure of the fact that he would marry you. He never expected to be sitting here, watching you fiddle with an engagement ring that he didn’t buy. 

You blinked, wiping the tears from your face as you decided to face your fear of confrontation. “I-If I don’t work hard now, I won’t have anything left when I'm old and burnt out.” Quinn’s jaw clenched as he processed your words, his gaze fixed on the lake but his mind clearly elsewhere. He tilted his head back slightly, exhaling through his nose like he was trying to suppress his frustration. Your lip trembled, more tears falling by the second as you looked away. 

“H-He um-” You paused, taking a long sigh as you looked over at Quinn. “He says there’s no time for children in our career.” Quinn whipped his head over to you, his expression softening as he got lost in your words. 

“He’s a piece of shit.” Quinn mumbled, shaking his head as he returned his gaze to the lake. 

You licked your lips as you rolled your eyes. “He’s not a piece of shit, okay? He’s a good guy, you just don’t know him.” You said, your tone growing in frustration. Quinn looked over to you, mouth open, brows furrowed as if you’d just said the most unbelievable thing. 

He huffed out a small laugh before returning his eyes to the bottle in his hand. “You’re fuckin’ delusional.” He let out quietly, taking another sip. You whipped your head to him, your frustration quickly bubbling over. 

“Excuse me-”

Quinn was quick to interrupt you, his voice raised slightly. “You heard me. You’re fucking delusional if you think that’s love.” He rolled his eyes, looking back at you. 

You scoffed, licking your bottom row of teeth as you let out an uncomfortable laugh. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” Your expression had become serious, your tears stopping in their tracks. “This is love!” Your voice carefully rose in volume. “I fell in love,” You laughed slightly, letting a slight smile escape your lips out of frustration. “You’re just jealous.” 

Quinn’s face turned bright red as he took in your words. He looked down at his lap, then back to you. He bit the inside of his cheek, letting out an uncomfortable chuckle before speaking. “Jealous?” He asked, brows furrowed. “My god, you're so full of yourself sometimes.” He didn’t mean that and he knew, but you didn’t. You bit your lip, trying to hold back tears as your best friend tore you apart. “You seriously think i’m jealous of him?” He asked, his voice just below a yell.

“No, of me!” Quinn froze, his beer bottle mid air as the words echoed between the two of you. “You’re jealous because I found love and-”

Quinn slammed the bottle on the wooden deck, the sharp sound making you flinch. “Don’t.” He snapped, his voice shaking with anger. “Don’t twist this into me being the bad guy for giving a shit about you.” 

“You don’t give a shit!” You shot back, standing up as your emotions boiled over. “You just can't stand the fact that i’m not following you around like a fucking puppy anymore!” Quinn stood too, his frame towering over you, but his expression wasn’t filled with intimidation. It was filled with raw, unfiltered pain. 

June 23rd, 2012

Dear diary, today was pretty good. In the morning, Jack and Luke jumped on my bed to wake me up which sucked, but when are they not annoying? Anyways, they dragged me down to the lake for a boat day. We went with their dad and their brother Quinn (my future husband). Jack and Luke were doing this wakeboard surfing thingy so I decided to stay close to Quinn. He’s just sooo perfect. His hair is amazing and he smells so good. I wanna be his girlfriend like literally so bad but I can’t tell if he likes me or not. He held my hand when we jumped in the water which was literally the best thing that has EVER happened to me. Anyways, that was the most important thing that happened today.

“What are you reading? You don’t read.” Jack’s piercing voice pulled Quinn straight from focus. He quickly turned around, shutting the book immediately.

“Nothing uh- just something for school.” He stammered out. Jack furrowed his brows, crossing his arms. 

“It’s summer.”

“Yeah, summer reading.” Only it wasn’t summer reading. It was your diary, something personal and private. Quinn was only reading it to find out where you hid the hockey puck you stole, but he stumbled upon a catalog of entries about himself. Do you expect a thirteen year old boy to not read it? 

“Okay well, dinner’s in five minutes.” Jack said before spinning on his heel to exit the room. You liked Quinn, like really liked him and now he knows it.

“You need to think about what you just said.” Quinn said, his voice low. “Think about that and then compare it to every time I talked you through your panic attacks, or every time I picked you up at three in the morning when we were sixteen because you were too drunk to drive home, or every time I offered you a place to stay when your parents were fighting. Then, you can tell me if you think I give a shit or not.” He stared you down, his eyes becoming tense as your bottom lip began to tremble. 

“I didn’t-”

Quinn huffed out his breath, interrupting your speech. “Do you know how hard it’s been to watch you? To see you become someone I don’t even recognize anymore?” His voice became stern, raising in volume. “You don’t smile the same way anymore. You don’t laugh like you used to!” Your breath hitched, the weight of his words suffocating. You looked down at the ring on your finger, the glittering diamond that once felt like a prize but now felt more like a shackle. “You think I don’t care?” His voice was quiet, but the pain in his voice was unmistakable. “I’ve always cared. A-And seeing you like this, wearing that ring, in this life that’s clearly eating you alive? It kills me.” 

You licked your bottom lip, tears spilling down your face as you looked up at him. You swallowed the lump in your throat, letting out a shaky breath as you gathered your thoughts.

“Hey, babe. You almost ready?” You heard Max’s voice shout from the living room as you finished putting your earrings on. 

“Yeah, just a second!” You yelled back, fluffing your freshly blown out hair in the mirror. You took a deep breath as you looked yourself up and down in the dark green bodycon dress that Quinn had gotten you for your 21st birthday. You’d never put it on, but you assumed it was fitting for a work Christmas party. Was it too much? You thought to yourself as you ran your hands down the sides, seeing that the length was about an inch above your fingertips. You decided it was fine and made your way out of the bedroom, purse in hand as you walked to the living room. Max sat on the couch in his tailored Prada suit, a bit pretentious to wear to a work party. His legs were spread wide as he had one hand on his phone, and the other on the back of the couch. He looked up from the screen to glance at you in your dress. You gave him a soft smile, your shoulders tensing up as he furrowed his eyebrows. 

“It’s a bit short, don’t you think?” He asked as he ran a hand through his blonde hair. You looked down at your dress, then back up at him. 

“W-Well, I was thinking that a little. Should I change?” Your voice was shaky, filled with nerves at Max’s disapproval. 

He shook his head, standing from the couch with his hands in his pockets as he made his way to the door. “No, no. We're already gonna be late with how long you took to get ready.”

There were little moments like that that clouded your mind as you stood in front of Quinn. Your breathing was shaky, your face now fully engulfed in hot tears as he stared into your eyes. “You don’t get it.” You let out, your voice just barely above a whisper. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to find stability. To feel…safe.” Your voice cracked on the last word, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. 

“Safe?” Quinn repeated, his eyes locking with yours. “Is that what this is? Because it doesn’t look like it. You’re not safe. You’re trapped.” He gestured to the ring on your finger, his voice lowering at the depressed sight of you. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You stared at him, your chest tightening as his words dug into the thoughts you’d been trying so hard to suppress. Quinn softened, stepping closer. “You deserve more than this.” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “And I think, deep down you know that.”

You bit your lip, sniffling your nose before wiping your tears with your sleeve. “I’m in too deep. I can’t get out.” You whispered, finally bringing yourself to the point to admit it. You weren’t happy, you knew that, but you couldn’t tell anyone. Well, you thought you couldn’t until Quinn finally pushed you to the point where there wasn’t another option. 

Quinn let out a sigh mixed with exhaustion and a hint of relief. He sent you an empathetic smile as he absentmindedly grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb against the back of it. “You can.” He said, his voice quiet. “You’re not alone. I’m here…if you need help. I’m always gonna be here.” Your breath caught in your throat as Quinn’s hand enveloped yours, his warmth cutting through the icy wall you’d built around yourself. His touch was steady, grounding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a flicker of hope. His words echoed in your head, soft and firm. You stared down at his hand, the calluses on his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as his thumb moved in slow, soothing circles. It felt so familiar, so safe, and the contrast to Max’s cold indifference hit you like a wave. You couldn’t help but let all the emotions running like a swarm through your head push you to the point of breakage. You began to sob, your eyes still looking at your hands intertwined as your breath came out in short, stammered increments. Quinn didn’t waste any time before pulling you into his chest, allowing your sobs to escape into his shirt as he wrapped his arms around your body. He held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you like a shield against everything that had been weighing you down. His chin rested on top of your head as your tears soaked into his shirt, but he didn’t seem to care. His hand rubbed slow circles on your back, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in ages. 

“It’s okay,” He murmured softly into your hair. “I’ve got you.” You clung to him, your fists gripping the fabric of his shirt as if letting go would mean losing the only thing tethering you to solid ground. 

The room began to shrink in an instant, reading the text from your mother. “It’s final. Dad and I are separating. You and I are moving to Gran and Pop’s when you get back from the lake house, so I need you to pack up everything.” 

The tears came almost immediately, but that didn’t scare you. It was the feeling you got in your chest, like your heart was radiating pulses all over your body. Pounding over and over again, like the beating was the only thing you could hear. The sound of Quinn shooting pucks only made it worse, like each shot was another banging ache to your head. You tried to slow your breathing, but it felt like the most difficult challenge at that moment. Your breaths were short and hitched, gasping for air at any chance you got. Your hands shook as your phone fell out of them. You were terrified, you didn’t know what was happening. You couldn’t die, you were only sixteen. You still had so much to do in life. You tilted your head up, staring at the ceiling light, but that only made it worse. Quinn noticed when you didn’t say anything about the shot he’d just missed, immediately dropping his stick to run over to you.

“Hey, Hey. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He said frantically as he leaned down to where you were sitting on the floor. You tried to tell him, tried to speak, but your head was stuck looking up, and you felt like you couldn’t move it. Quinn placed his hand on the back of your neck, pulling your head down to face him. Your face was covered in tears, completely red as your mouth parted slightly. “Talk to me.” He said gently. “Please?”

You licked your quivering lips, trying your hardest to breathe. “I-I…I c-can’t. I can’t b-breathe.” His heart dropped at your words, the panic in your voice cutting through him like a knife. His hands moved to gently cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears even as more fell. 

“Okay, okay,” He said softly, his own voice trembling but steadying for your sake. “You’re having a panic attack. You’re not dying, I promise.” You gasped again, your breaths shallow and uneven, your chest tightening with each attempt. “Look at me.” He instructed. “Breathe with me. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” He blew out softly, his eyes locked on yours as he repeated the motion.

You tried to mimic him, but your breath was quickly caught in your throat, sending you a fresh wave of panic. “I c-can’t Quinn, I can’t!” You cried.

“Yes, you can.” He reassured, his hands never leaving your face. “I’ve got you. I’m right here. Just take it slow.” You managed a small, shaky inhale, your body trembling as you followed his lead. “There you go.” He said, his voice laced with a small flicker of relief. “Now, out through your mouth.” Quinn stayed with you, guiding you through each breath as the pounding of the room began to dull. Finally, your breaths came easier, the crushing weight on your chest lifting little by little. You looked at Quinn, your face still wet with tears.

“Thank you.” You whispered, your voice hoarse.

His thumbs still traced circles on your cheeks as he sent you a soft smile. “I’ve got you. You’re not alone.”

You stayed, sobbing into Quinn’s shirt as his grip around you tightened. He listened to your breathing patterns, looking out for a sign of a panic attack. He’d memorized you at this point. He knew the exact time to jump in, and he knew how to calm you down. 

“Quinn, I’m so scared.” You cried out, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer. 

Quinn moved his hand from your back to your head, running his fingers through your hair. “I know.” He whispered. “I’m sorry.” He leaned back just enough to gently tilt your chin up with his fingers, his blue eyes meeting yours. They were soft, but filled with an intensity that made your heart ache. “You thought you had to want this.” He said, speaking the words you never had the confidence to say. “Doesn’t mean it’s right. It doesn’t mean it’s what you deserve.” You looked up at him, not seeing Quinn Hughes, captain of the Canucks, but your childhood best friend, Quinny, who talked you through every panic attack, walked you home from every party, and gave you a bed through every fight between your parents. That’s what you deserved. Someone willing to give you that much dedication, not some pretentious lawyer who only loves you for your accomplishments. In a moment of determination, after wiping your tears, you dramatically pulled off your engagement ring, slamming it on the railing of the deck. The sound of the ring hitting the wooden railing echoed in the stillness of the night, sharp and final. Quinn’s eyes darted to it, then back to you, his lips parting in surprise. You stood there trembling, not from fear but from the sheer weight of the decision you’d just made. Your chest heaved as the tears continued to fall. This time they weren’t from sadness, they were from release. Quinn hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer, his hand hovering over yours as if to silently ask for permission. When you didn’t pull away, he took your trembling hand in his, holding it like it was the most fragile thing in the world.

“You-” He started, his voice breaking slightly before he cleared his throat. “You did it.”

“I did it.” You whispered, almost in disbelief yourself. You stared at the ring, gleaming under the soft glow of the porch light. It had once symbolized everything you wanted, but now it felt like a chain you’d finally broken free from. 

[hannieehaee]

hi can i req ff that “really nice guy to everyone but you” thank youu

them being really nice guy to everyone but you

content: sort of enemies to lovers implied, not angsty at all, implied repressed crush, etc.

wc: 651

a/n: i've never heard this concept before so im assuming its some sort of repressed crush type of thing(?) sorry if i got it wrong</3

masterlist

seungcheol -

he's petty and stubborn, so this game could last forever to him. he'd want to be very obvious in his niceness towards other people in front of you whilst just completely disrespecting your existence. it'd give him satisfaction when he'd see you fume at him. maybe it was something he needed to externalize to understand why it pleased him so much.

jeonghan -

god you're the biggest target to his pranks and teasing. wont leave you alone ever. he just finds so much entertainment out of making you miserable. unlike with other people where he'll prank them half the time and be a caring angel the other half, you just get a demon out of him 24/7.

joshua -

he's a cocky bastard in your presence. he's the perfect gentleman to everyone else but you never really get to see that side of him. what's worse is that he'll only ever smile at you when he know's he's getting under your skin, and it's always a smile of satisfaction.

jun -

he would not have even meant to be mean to you right off the bat but somehow things ended up like this. so now he's just kind of a dick around you whilst being his easygoing self with everyone else. you're mean in return so it kind of works out.

soonyoung -

he'd slip up sometimes, lost in staring at you in the midst of what was supposed to be some weirdly mean interaction between you. you'd probably know that he liked you beneath all the rudeness, but it'd be fun to play around with him.

wonwoo -

he'd drive you insane with how soft and sweet he is with everyone other than you. you'd feel dejected at first, but at some point you'd treat him exactly the same. this would either lead to sone amazing slowburn between you or someone being killed off the friend group. no in between.

jihoon -

it'd be easy for him to be perceived as mean by you. he didn't even have to try, he was just a little dismissive by nature anyways. he'd never actually be too outwardly mean, but he'd be able to get away with it the most.

seokmin -

it'd be obvious to everyone that he didn't mean it. he could never be mean a day of his life. he'd try very hard to make it seem like he didn't like you, but he'd snap out of it sooner or later, making amends and treating you as nicely as he did everyone else.

mingyu -

he'd be cocky as hell around you, giving you snide remarks left and right. he just loved when you'd fight back, insulting him twice as hard and even attempting to go after his gigantic physique.

minghao -

it'd bug you how obvious he'd make it. he'd give you a dirty look one second and the next he'd be hugging someone as he greeted them. it'd piss you off, but the mere reaction from you would just get him to amp it up even more.

seungkwan -

when you realized this special mean treatment was reserved for you only, a war would start between you. it'd become a battle to see who could be meanest to the other. it'd be painfully obvious to everyone else that you liked each other behind all that meanness.

vernon -

he's just so annoyingly indifferent around you, it'd drive you crazy. he's not even mean, he just ignores you .... except when you're not looking. all his friends would know the truth, but he'd keep the act up in front of you.

chan -

would be weirdly standoffish and a show off in front of you just to piss you off. knows all your pet peeves and ticks and takes advantage of that. classic example of trying to get your attention by being rude and basking in it even if its only ever to tell him he's annoying and a loser.

[ipilokko]

Hello! This is me attempting to write after a looong time. I was not home today so i wanted to try again. I don't think I'm the best at it and i probably made a LOT of grammar mistakes since English is not my first language. So i might get embarrassed and delete this later 💀

The thing is under the cut...

From the warmth of their home, Mollie stood in front of the window, she could hardly make out her immense husband between the layering raindrops. It was getting colder and colder each day as the weather pulled away from autumn and was being dragged more into winter.

His back facing her, he was wearing a dark brown coat with his umbrella on his hand, creating a spotlight on him free from the raindrops. She gripped the ladder, slowly climbing down to reach the ground. She put on her jacket, her hat, took her own umbrella, her gloves and went outside from the human door.

The oversized raindrops were a bit sticky as the surface tension was, for sure, directly proportional to the scale. She slowly made her way through him, whose gaze was lost in the foreverness of the ocean. She watched as he stretched farther over her horizon line, much farther over her head and then finally, as he completely took over her vision as she got closer.

The raindrops stopped falling on her when she passed the lineage of the circular waterproof fabric hundreds of feet above. He wasn't acting like it but she was sure he had noticed her coming, he always did.

"Always by the sea... Why do you hate me so much?"

Mollie teased before letting out a short-lasting laugh, cranning her neck to be able to see his face... Well, more like underside of his jaw. He looked down and his eyes landed on her. She was not even sure if he could see her eyes, yet it WAS an eye contact. Roy smiled kindly and looked back up to his own vanishing point. He moved his umbrella to her direction and centered it on top of her, even though he knew it was already covering her before. The sound of huge raindrops falling just a few feet away from her tickled her ears.

"What so nice here anyway?"

She walked closer to his feet. She could smell the fresh polish he applied on his shoes just a day ago.

"Stay here with me for a little longer and you will find out" He replied softly without breaking his eye contact with waves for a moment, then glancing at her.

She shifted her attention back to the ocean and glanced around between the waves. "I guess I'll be here for a while, then"

"I would love that" he once again, smiled calmly.

She was a bit cold, but it was no excuse to get back into the house. Yes, maybe she didn't understand what he liked so much about the sea but just staying with him made her happy. And her staying with him made him happy. Despite her being really talkative, it was actually the speechless moments of pure togetherness she adored the most.

His long legs shifted behind her, transferring his weight onto them with a soft tremour, shielding her from the cold breeze. His movements calm and bare of rush, as they always were. After a short amount of time, she felt a movement behind her and noticed he was lowering himself on the ground, his stature folding in half and getting more than twice as big with the affect of perspective. He smootly reached for her and slightly spread out his fingers to reveal his palm, inviting her to join him up in the sky. She glanced at his ring, which was a symbol of their marriage. it warmed her heart seeing how well he took care of it, not a single piece of dust between the elegant engravings.

With her barely perceivable touch, she put one of her hands on the inner side of his forefinger and the other one on his thumb. She supported herself and climbed on it, her small weight barely forming a dent on the soft flesh. She felt the welcomed thrill of weightlessness as he began to rise her up in the air, making her previous ground shrink and shrink more until it stopped.

"Shoulder, please" she requested. He obeyed after he deeply studying her with his soft gaze. She took a step that led her on his shoulder after his hand was aligned with the level of it. She carefully passed his and made herself comfortable near the wall of his neck with the warmth of his life blood leaking on her. His presence was dominating yet somehow, so recessive that she felt like she was taking advantage of him. She was always grateful that the gentle giant was always so patient, so respectful and considerate of her needs. He was a gentleman from every angle and his manner and accent only made her opinion stronger.

She once again paid attention to the sound of rain, a wee bit muffled now as she was further away from the origin.

"Shall we go in?" His voice rumbled through her from where she was leaning her head on. Weird enough, even though she was this close to his voicebox, his voice always touched her so gently.

[redsrooftopprincess]

SOBBINF I LOVE YOUR DISABILITY HEADCANONS SO MUCH,, MIKEY'S IS A STRAIGHT PUNCH TO THE GUT <33

May I possibly request reader x Mikey where they find out how he copes and helps make him feel more comfortable? Maybe they find him stoned and snuggles are just exactly what he needs at the moment? Possibly even attempting to help him through his unhealthier coping mechanisms? Bonus points if reader has depression as well!

Of course, no rush and you totally don't gotta do this if you don't want!! Headcanons or one-shot would be rad either way, if you are interested in this req!

Your writing is just so real and I love it so much oml. You are doing AMAZING (in general- as a fanfic writer as well I understand the effort that goes into this stuff and maintaining a regular life ontop of it) and thank you for all your hard work!!

I hope this is okay! 😅

Crushed

Warnings: Drugs/Alcohol, Inebriation

"That's what this is, isn't it? A drive by?" he says, standing, and putting his clothes back on. 

You're on the couch in the club's green room, after the best sex of your life. The party ended hours ago, and in your E induced haze, you'd taken his hand and dragged him down here. 

"What? No! Why would you-?" You swing your legs over the side of the couch and walk over to him a little unsteadily, "Mike, no..." He doesn't look up at you. "I mean... is that what you want it to be?" You ask, hesitantly.

"That's what it is," he says simply.

You swallow and inhale, tears threatening.

He finishes putting on his belt and looks up at you, he tries to ignore the tears in your eyes. Regret, that's all it is, that you ever let him touch you. It didn't matter, it was almost sunrise, "That's what it is," he repeats, "That's always what it is."

You hear it, the bitterness, the acceptance in his voice. He just doesn't have it in him to hide it tonight. It breaks your heart. "Michaelangelo, please..." 

"Look, it's almost morning. I gotta get back underground. I'll see you Wednesday," he said, not really sounding like he was looking forward to the next party. He leaves before you can protest further. 

He knows what you're going to say. He's a great guy, but he's not exactly normal, you know? He's not exactly someone you can bring home to meet the folks. And he really doesn't need to hear it. He gets it. He does. And he feels like shit would be a lot easier if he didn't. If he didn't know *exactly* how unwanted he is. Only good for a good trip, and a decent fuck, if you're feeling adventurous. He snatches a bottle off the empty bar as he makes his way out into the alley. 

It had to be you tonight. He already hadn't been in the best place when the party started, so there was no resistance when you took his hand. On a good day, you could lead him into hell, and he'd follow with a smile on his face. On a night like tonight, he'd thank you. You're friends, but in these circles the line between friend and lover blurs easily. You've slept together a number of times and he always leaves right after. You mean everything to him, so he'd let you do anything to him. Use him however you like. As long as he doesn't have to hear you let him down easy.

You dress quickly. You know what's happening. It keeps happening. He's shutting down. Shutting you out. He assumes you got what you wanted, end of transaction, and honestly the sex was great, it's *always* great, but what you want is him. Not sex. And your not letting him run away. Not this time.

You follow him down into the sewers, and find him sitting against the wall of one of the tunnels, knees curled up to his chest and tears staining the fabric beneath his eyes. You startle him and he tries to get up to face whatever might be attacking him, but stumbles, drunk. 

He sits back down once he realizes it's you. Now everything is so much worse. He never wanted you to see him like this. He didn't need you to feel bad for him. You ask him what's wrong and he doesn't want to talk about it. You say that's okay, and move the bottle out of reach, sitting next to him. 

You sit together in silence for a few minutes. You're terrified that saying the wrong thing will send him running from you faster. 

"Mike-" 

"I don't wanna talk about it, okay?" He gets up to leave, taking the bottle with him, and has to catch himself on the wall when he sways. 

You sigh and stand, but don't move to follow him, "Why not?"

"Because there's no point." 

"Why not?"

"Because you..." He looks at you and his heart clenches, he sighs, "forget it." He stumbles a few steps away and stops with a heavy sigh, "I can pretend all I want, and so can the rest of you, like I'm normal... I'm not," he turns around to look at you, his face a mask of escalating pain and injustice as his fists clench tight, "I'm not. I'm not normal. I'll never be normal..." he shakes his head with a sickening smirk, "It's just a game. Everyone gets dressed up to be freaks for a night and we dance and drink and trip and fuck, and at the end of the night, everyone else gets to stop playing and go home because they can. But I can't take the costume off," he says, grabbing his plastron where it meets his chest, "This isn't fucking make up. I can't even walk around in the FUCKING DAYLIGHT!!!" He roars, hurling the bottle he's holding against the wall of the tunnel, a shard of glass ricochets back and cuts his cheek. "I'm not a person. I'm the fucking party mascot." He spits, venomously,

You take a step forward, "Mike, you know that's not true." 

Bitter laughter echoes in the enclosed space. "Funny. That's... That's funny. Really. Because I've been coming to these parties, meeting people, for seven years now. I've watched *seventeen* people end up just like Sarah and Ben." Your friends had been celebrating their engagement tonight, Michaelangelo had introduced them at a party three years ago. 

"I don't get to have that... I'll *never* get to have that," he chokes, "even as a joke. Honestly, at this point I'd take a joke. I'm already pretending to be a person, wouldn't be that hard of a jump to pretend to be loved, too. I'd just have to find someone willing to lie to me..."

He trails off and the silence that hangs in the air once the echoes of his voice fades is heavy and oppressive. 

"Like I said, there's no fucking point..." He turns around and starts walking down the tunnel towards home, one hand on the wall for support. "Don't worry, I'll be back to all smiles by Wednesday. We can pretend like this never happened. This doesn't have to be a thing and you don't have to pretend whether or not it matters if I'm okay." He hears you take a step toward him, "Go home, Y/N," he calls back without turning around. 

Fine. If he's going to leave anyway, you have nothing to lose. "No." 

"Okay, fine," he sighs continuing down the tunnel, "do whatever you want." 

"Okay," you say, simply, as you begin to follow him. 

He stops, shoulders tight, face toward the ceiling, and sighs heavily, "What are you doing?"

"Whatever I want?" you reply, closing the distance. 

He turns to face you, tired and hurting. If you want to go another round, he isn't exactly in a place where he can say no. At the very least, he could use the dopamine. He used to imagine it would be different with you. He should have known better. Jaw tight, he sighs before reaching for his belt.

Your eyes widen as you realize what he thinks you're implying, your heart shattering all over again. You bring your hand up to rest gently on his, stilling his movements. His eyes meet yours. Hesitant. Guarded. Unsure of what you're playing at. Your hand tightens gently around his as you step forward, and he tenses as if he might run. 

You reach up, and pull him down into your arms. He stiffens for a moment, he's already hanging on by a thread, but he can't help it, it's you. Instinct takes over, wrapping his arms around you and buying his face in your hair. 

You feel his grip tighten as the dam breaks, and despite his best efforts at keeping his shit under control, a ragged sob rips through him. 

You hold him as he cries, moving the two of you back to sitting against the tunnel wall. Eventually, the tears dry up, and he pulls himself away. He quiet for a long time, and looks down at his hands in his lap. He can't even look at you, ashamed and embarrassed. You didn't deserve that. To feel obligated to take care of him. You have better shit to do than this.

You reach up and twist one of the tails off his mask around your fingers, tugging once, gently. It draws his attention, and he meets your eyes, begrudgingly. You reach up and wipe the blood from his cheek, meeting his eyes again. "I'm sorry," he whispers, "I'm sorry, I..."

You hush him gently and sit up on your knees. Taking his face in your hands, you bring him down to you, kissing his forehead. 

He doesn't get it. Why are you being so nice to him. You got what you wanted, why did you follow him? Why are you comforting him? Why do you even care? He looks at you in bewilderment. 

"Tell you what," you say, "I'm not super comfortable with the idea of leaving you alone right now, and it's going to rain, and I don't want to get flooded out down here, so... What do you say we head back to my place. I can order us a pizza, and we can watch a movie, and you can head home once you're feeling a bit more sober stable..." You smile, you hope persuasively. 

"Yeah... Okay..." He says, as you help him to his feet. You aren't wrong. It is going to rain, and as fucked up as he is, traversing this set of tunnels in particular will be a little iffy if the storm drains start to flood. 

You bring him home. You do exactly as you say. Pizza. Movie. Ice cream for good measure. He's not sure what to do. He's usually the one doing the entertaining, and now here you are making sure he was happy and comfortable. 

It takes time, but by the end of the movie, Mikey's mostly sobered up, both physically and emotionally. You even get a genuine smile out of him as sunrise looms and he begins to make his way out. 

"So... thanks... for this," he says, looking at you softly. It was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him.

You smile, walking him to the window. "Anytime," you say, taking his hand and turning to face him as you come to the window, "and I mean that. Next time you get into that headspace will you do me a favor and try to reach for a phone instead of a bottle?" 

He smirks, nodding, "no promises, but I'll try."

"Thank you," you say as he reaches for the window. You touch his arm, gently "hey, one last thing," he steps back from the window to face you, and you stand up on your tiptoes and kiss him softly. It's simple, sweet, honest, "there's no reason you can't have what Sarah and Ben have," you whisper, before pulling away. 

He freezes. He's misunderstood. There's no way you're saying what it sounds like your saying, because it's what he wants you to be saying, so there's no *way* it could actually be what you're saying... Right?

You watch the torrent of emotions play out in his eyes, and you reach up to tug n on his mask. "Sunrise, Sunshine." You say. 

"Sunrise..." He repeats before he blinks, shaking his head, "Right. Yeah. Sunrise. I, uh, I'll see you -

"Wednesday."

"Tomorrow."

You say at the same time, before you laugh nervously under his gaze, "If, you know, you're not busy." You don't want to have to wait until Wednesday.

Hope flickers in his eyes. It's tiny and buried under so much hurt and insecurity, but it's definitely there, "I, uh, yeah... I mean, I gotta work, but I'll be wrapping up around two... so, if you're still up..."

"I'll be up," you say quickly, and he can't help but smile as both of your faces grow warm and you laugh gently. 

"Okay... I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then," he says quietly, almost in disbelief. Is this... What? What is this? He doesn't know, but it feels... better. Warm. Comforting. The things you said, the things you did for him tonight, this... He wants more of this. He'll do whatever he has to to have more of this. 

You can't help the grin that brightens your face. "Until tomorrow, then," you say, and kiss him one last time before he slips out into the desaturated predawn light, and is gone. 

.....

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

"I CARRY YOUR HEART IN MINE"

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology, smut.

Words count: ~13.3k

tw1: jujutsu kaisen 0 mild spoilers

tw2: unprotected sex, creampie

⊲ previous

There was no questioning of your conscience, no rage pressed upon you - you sat in the black office chair, still dressed in your hospital pajamas, and stared blankly at the desk. You didn't know or feel whether an hour had passed or twenty-four hours - you mourned in the dark office, the windows of which were always covered with dark gray curtains.

The dead, unlike the living, don't repay debts - you couldn't understand what you were paying for. Yes, you were a thief. Yes, you were a killer. But there were creatures on Earth who were far worse than you, and they got away with it - otherwise, if punishment came to them, it took the face of death. They didn't suffer long, they had no time to grieve, nor did their souls boil in attempts to make things right.

You were confused. You came to the deity half asleep, guilt-ridden, hundreds of thoughts and memories swirling in your head, knocking you off balance, unable to distinguish reality from dream. Slowly, you put your elbows on the table and almost knocked over the clear glass, and held your head, hiding your inhuman face from the faces that flashed before your eyes. Were they payment for your stubbornness, or were they taken away because you had allowed yourself to be happy for a moment? A haunting thought was killing you with its grief - it could have been a necessary course of events, and you should have retreated, leaving your loved ones behind, without changing anything.

If you only knew the moment it all went wrong, the day your sister was taken from you, maybe things would have been a lot easier. The slightest mistake, and your only chance to get rid of the demons could slip away. You couldn't just jump around in time because of the guilt and loneliness that fell on your shoulders - that's what common sense told you, but you couldn't recognize its voice.

In the corridor there was the distinctive sharp sound of heels on parquet, which grew louder and louder. As soon as they stopped right in front of the door, someone turned the key and, pulling the doorknob, entered the office.

"Y/N, long time no see," Laitta greeted you cheerfully, turning on the light in the room - you couldn't even hear the surprise in her voice, and you got a sense of deja vu.

She didn't pay attention to your appearance or your condition - Laitta walked smoothly to the table, and you stood up to make room for her. You turned cautiously and locked gazes with each other as the goddess sat down, and you exhaled, stepping around the table to stand across from her.

She flipped back her dark curls, sighed contentedly, pushed her laptop to her side, and opened one of the folders on the table, pouring whiskey from a crystal decanter into a clear glass. The goddess didn't care about you - you were a ghost to her.

"Give them back to me," you commanded, clawing your hands into the table, trying to draw attention to yourself. Your tone was strikingly different - just a little while ago you'd been begging Rei for it, but now you were spitting out orders.

"Give you who?" the goddess asked idly, staring at the laptop and sipping whiskey from a glass. The quiet clinking of fingernails against glass was enough to make you snap.

"My family!" you yelled, sweeping everything off the table, Laitta's eyebrows raised in confusion and she glared at you squeamishly. Her graphite table began to be covered in the darkness that your dark lines carried with them, spreading beyond your body.

"Why would I?" she asked mockingly - she wanted to chop your hands off her desk so they'd stop making it dirty. "You have nothing to give in return," she reminded smugly, leaning forward.

The creature gave an order - you obeyed. You grabbed Laitta by the neck and slammed her against the wall, the impact so strong that the shelves collapsed to the floor with their contents. Open books, broken statuettes, plants, and scattered earth sprawled around you as you pressed the goddess's neck into the wall with your forearm, tears of rage streamed from your dark eyes.

You groped Laitta - your hope was fading more and more with each empty pocket as the goddess laughed hoarsely. "Talking to you taught me a useful lesson," she chuckled huskily, clinging to your forearm with her hands. "Keep anything of value away," the woman hissed, jerking away, but your grip was firm - you only pressed her harder into the wall. Your grin and the dagger edge pressed against her throat amused the goddess more. "So what are you going to do?" she asked with contrived pity in her voice. "Kill me?"

The goddess didn't seem it, but she was on the verge of passing out - she couldn't breathe. The mirth and irony had been replaced by coldness and arrogance. "Are you seriously threatening death to someone who has lived for more than a thousand years?" she wheezed indifferently, sensing your desperation - instead of trying to offer the goddess other jewels, to find a compromise, you were immediately ready to tear her to pieces. That was your mistake, and she should have put you in your place. "The only reason I helped you that time was because you had Atlas," she said proudly, despite her position - your grip was weakening with every word she said. "You can kill me for all I care," Laitta said calmly. "No one will notice the extra few drops on your already bloody arms."

You whimpered and staggered backward in horror and denial - not a mockery, but a reminder. It seemed that your fear had come to life, and you should have stopped being afraid - you had fallen down where there were no ladders or ropes, and you had become someone who not only lived off human blood, but also enjoyed human suffering. You could not justify yourself even before the reflection in the mirror - it didn't expect explanations and reasons from you, it was blind to your suffering and attempts to return everything back to normal. It still wanted to live at any cost, but you had nothing to pay for it.    

Not to return, not to fix, but to hold on to the last opportunity for which you came into this world to be who you were. No one will pull you out of the abyss, no one will pull you deeper into it – just the balance and eternal peace you have learned since you were a child. Fill deaths with meaning, justify your deeds before the silent human wrath, and, if you were lucky, see them all again - if that side existed, maybe you would meet again.

You stood before the goddess who had lived a long time and looked at all the sins of humans, and you wanted to ask her if she had ever seen anyone worse. Laitta didn't judge you, didn't blame you, but she didn't want to help you either; resigned to the fact that you couldn't bring anyone back, you turned and walked out of her office on weak legs.  

[October 23, 2023, 04:39pm; USA, State of Alaska, Utqiagvik]

At the edge of the world, a white mist rose slowly the town over, spreading between the small houses that stood on stilts. Red spears pierced the chill haze as the sun retreated, illuminating the snow-covered roofs one last time. The few people wandered leisurely through the streets, wrapping themselves in jackets and exhaling clouds of steam. 

The North, as always, was serene and calm. Beyond the Arctic Circle, the cold dispelled people's fears about the future, there was no room for worries among the snow and ice, the gusty wind didn't drive home, on the contrary - it made get up and look around, freeze in place, feel the searing tide that flowed coldly through lungs with every breath. The feeling of frozen earth underfoot, blue colors in the sky, and a measured beating heart under the supervision of the harsh polar region mercilessly smothered any anxiety, and every tear froze in the eyes, never rolling down the cheek.

You could no longer see the shore because of the fog, but you could feel that the boat was taking you farther and farther away from it in pursuit of the white whale. You huddled as tightly as you could against the bridge, fidgeting with your orange lifejacket as you were tossed by the waves. Motorboats whizzed by, men's excited exclamations were heard, and you squinted every now and then - you should have stayed home today and not gone along with Jordan. The man standing on the bow was trying to see the escaped whale in the dark waters - white small ice floes in the distance, brazenly impersonating its tail, gave false hope.

You grabbed the side of the boat as it shook again, and looked at Jordan, who wasn't going to turn around at all, just clutching the harpoon tighter in his hand. "Jordan, the storm's coming, we have to go back!" you yelled, trying to shout over the roar of the engine and the wind.

"Quiet!" the man hissed, waving you away. He adjusted his black hat and stepped forward easily, still searching with his eyes for a hunted victim. You realized you were taking someone's place. To be more precise, you were standing where his son should have been standing - that was never an excuse for his gratuitous rudeness, but deep down you understood the man. It's hard to seal emotions inside forever - everyone coped as best they could. He chose to be rude.

Jordan wasn't a bad man - when you'd come to this town and wandered the streets as a homeless girl, he'd been the first to notice you. He'd brought you into his house, fed you, warmed you, and then, when you came to your senses, he'd let you live in his son's house for a nominal rent. Jordan had no sense of tact - he bombarded you with questions, and you had to make up a story about the tyrant father from whom you'd fled. You consoled yourself that it was partly true - you kept thinking of Rei as you told the fictional story.

The faces of those you had left behind flashed before your eyes, most vividly Gojo's face when he found out you had run away again. You couldn't see him, but your mind drew out his painful features, and in a voice that wasn't yours asked why you'd done it. You lost all sleep again, and at night, when the town was asleep and it hurt the most, you'd show up at Jordan's house - you'd always be greeted by a sleepy, disgruntled, unshaven face, but he never sent you away. You drank whiskey, played cards and did it mostly for money - when you realized that the man had a passion for gambling and a complete lack of gambling skills, you had to give in, lest he lose his small fortune and the house. But there's a silver lining - you did win yourself a few months of free accommodation.

Today was your second whale hunt - Jordan unceremoniously showed up at your house, tossed you a lifejacket, and dragged you to the dock. You tried to get through to him, talking about the forecast, but as you approached the shore, you saw people as desperate as he was - hunters crowding in, talking excitedly and getting into boats, and now you were here, in the middle of a restless ocean in a thick white fog.

Everything went smoothly on the first hunt, except for Jordan's perpetual nagging. It was the moment you realized why his son had fled to the big land, to the university - most people wouldn't want to witness a poor animal being harpooned and dragged ashore by its tail while dead blood washed over the blue waves. Even your body organized a protest at that moment, pushing nausea down your throat, but you were only laughed at - whale hunting was a tradition in these lands, a tribute to the past.

You almost flew overboard when an ice floe brought in by a swift wave crashed into your boat. The boats that were circling near you began to turn around - there was a whistling sound in the air, and that's when Jordan came out of his prostration. "Hey!" yelled the man from the other boat. "We have to turn around or we won't find shore!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Jordan spat, and turned unwillingly to throw the harpoon, heading for the bridge. "There's a reason they say a woman on a ship brings misfortune," he muttered as he passed you.

"Ya the one who brought me here!" you exclaimed, stepping onto the bridge with him. It wasn't any warmer, but the wind was no longer whipping at your face.

"Missed the white whale," he continued to lament, turning the boat toward the shore. You saw other boats whizzing past you, and they weren't even floating - they were riding the waves. Soon faint glow showed on the horizon - lights in the windows of houses called you home.

The hum of the engine died down, and the angry voices grew louder. When your boat was moored to the shore, Jordan hastily threw off his lifejacket on the deck, and then, adjusting his hat and taking off his gloves, he jumped to the ground. You followed the man, hesitating a moment.

As you stepped ashore, your head snapped up, and you looked around anxiously, feeling the stare, but there was no one you knew, only disgruntled men who were ready to blame anyone and everyone for the disruption of the hunt, even though it was the fault of the coming storm. As they stomped, shaking off the mud and sticky snow, you took a slow step back, trying to get away as fast as you could to avoid the swearing, but Jordan, sensing your cowardice, grabbed you by the shoulder. "Hey," he huffed, patting you on the shoulder. "Get us a beer while we get the boats secured on the ropes. There's got to be some use of you."

"No wonder why your son ran away from ya," you muttered, holding out your hand - you weren't going to pay for them all with your money.

"No wonder why your daddy tyrannized you," he muttered back, but put the money in your palm. "Hurry up. The storm won't wait, and we all have to go home," he said, shoving you toward the store, which wasn't far away, and even its friendly streetlight was hard to see.

The blustery wind made the snow rise and wander clumsily across the road - you tried to look at your feet, but you were surprised to realize you could barely see your shoes. Your eyelashes and eyebrows were frosting, and you threw your fur hood over your head, hugged yourself, trying to keep warm, and quickened your pace. The road seemed longer through the snow flakes than it had in the sunlight, and the light of the store was still far away.

It was getting darker. It seemed to you that behind the creak of your footsteps you heard another one - constantly frantically turning around, you couldn't see anyone in the northern darkness, and the storm, impudent, disturbed and raised the snow, drawing white silhouettes. Out of breath, you ran - climbing the stairs and bursting into the store to the tinkling of door bells, you met the surprised stare of the seller, who had been half asleep only a second ago. "Howdy," you smiled, waving your hand, and the salesman nodded confusedly.

No one came in even after five minutes of wandering between the counters. With a sigh of relief, you stopped at the liquor shelf. You should have hurried to avoid the righteous wrath of a bone-chilling Jordan, but once you were alone again, you were at the mercy of the memories that immobilized you. You'd never tell Jordan that he was the reason you hadn't fallen into inhuman despair, that his every shout and rude remark had kept you moving and thinking less about what had happened.

It's true that you couldn't bring back the dead, but you left the living behind too. You didn't talk to Dany, you didn't see Megumi, you didn't ask Issu how he was feeling or if his brother was okay, you just ran away. Your gaze mindlessly wandered over labels you couldn't read - you'd already forgotten exactly what you'd been sent here for. No matter how much you thought it was for their safety, you couldn't justify yourself - there was always a selfish purpose behind the noble one. Your possible death sounded like a quick song - until then you wanted to live like a normal person, shielding yourself from loss and sorrow. A dull life filled with peace on a far corner of the Earth - an unattainable treasure you couldn't steal, and even holding it in your hands, you knew that eventually it would be taken away by force.

In the north, the creature was silent, though hungry - you wrinkled your nose at the thought of having to go out sooner or later. There was a hospital in this town, but it was so small that there was no storage for a blood bank, which meant you'd have to get sustenance elsewhere. Gritting your teeth, you grabbed the first bottle you could find and went to the checkout counter. "Here," you said, showing the beer to the seller. "Need a six-pack. Got one?"

The salesman nodded and disappeared behind the warehouse door. You spotted a white cat with a bobbing head near the cash register, leaned your elbows on the counter, and jabbed your finger at it; it nodded merrily, hypnotizing you. You must be out of your mind to see Gojo in that cat. You shook your head and straightened up, as a salesman came out of the warehouse and placed a beer in front of you. 

The store said goodbye to you with a clink of bells, and the storm greeted you with a gust of wind and snow in your face, tearing off your fur hood. With an annoyed sigh, you pulled the hood back on. As you looked ahead, stepping onto the stairs, you froze - the northern nature had brought with it a guest that looked so much like it. You refused to recognize the white, disheveled hair in the snowy patterns, but there was nowhere to hide from the piercing blue eyes that looked at you with longing and hope. 

His voice didn't speak to you at night, nor did he appear in your dreams, nor did he beg you to return in any of your thoughts. You ran away cowardly, looking for a better life for Gojo - unless you were there, there was a monster who always cried out with terrible hunger. You dared not think of the sorcerer, for every bitter impulse to dream of his embrace was overshadowed, chased away by the memories of what he had endured while holding your hand. And as you saw him in front of you, you were trapped by the repressed emotions rushing out - you hadn't realized how much you'd missed him.

You underestimated Gojo. You couldn't believe that he would follow you, and all his students' words about him being the strongest had fallen apart - how could such a man look so miserable when he had won? You wanted to fall at his feet, to beg for forgiveness, but you kept silent, not moving - if you hadn't been born like that, you could have stayed with him, fearing nothing, but in this life your happiness had a countdown that was coming to an end. If it wasn't a demon that was going to kill you, your madness will do it then. 

The bag of alcohol fell out of your hands and rolled down the stairs and landed tiredly at Gojo's feet, and you took a step back in disbelief, shaking your head frantically, and jumped over the railing and rushed away.  

For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, even if death do you part - Gojo never made vows to you, but he was ready to fulfill them, but you didn't realize it even when he came to the far north for you. He felt your fears as his own - in every word you said, every clumsy decision you made, you wanted to keep him safe, to protect him, to spare him pain, but there was no pain greater than being alone, without you at his side.

The sorcerer was chasing you, barely able to make out your silhouette in the blizzard, barely able to see what was right in front of him. There was only one outcome to the chase - once he found you, he wasn't going to let you go, and you couldn't get away from him by hiding in the snow. Gojo ran so fast that even his anger couldn't catch up with him - it was left behind, left to the cold wind. In his imagination your reunion looked different - amidst the apologies and promises he could hear the ringing laughter, but the dreams were shattered by the blizzard and he continued to pursue you relentlessly. You were as small in comparison to him as you were nimble - the faster he chased you, the more the cold burned his lungs. 

Gojo caught up with you at the corner - you were trying to escape by ducking into a small alley between the houses. He didn't realize it, so he grabbed the first thing he could reach. Miscalculating his strength, he yanked at your hood, and you fell awkwardly into the snow. "Where are you going?" he whined, trying to get you to answer where you were going and why you were running away, but you crawled helplessly away from him, disturbing the soft snow beneath you. You could barely make out Gojo's voice through the whistling of the storm. "I asked where are you going?" he echoed painfully, and you, with your back against the pile of the house, could run no farther. He collapsed exhaustedly in front of you and raked you into his arms, despite the fact that you tried with all your might to shove him away. "No," he shook his head stubbornly, sobbing and hiding his face in your hood, his ragged breath turned into wet droplets on your neck. "I'll never let you go," the sorcerer gibbered in a broken whisper, pressing his lips to your cheek - his strong hands were freezing, but his fragile soul was burning. Your body went limp, and you lost all ability to resist. "Never, did you hear me?" you nodded weakly, pressing your nose against his wet cheek. 

You led Gojo by the hand into your house, and he followed obediently. When you got to the front door, you were embarrassed for a moment for you couldn't remember the last time you'd cleaned the porch - all around the house was covered with snowdrifts, and there was only the thin path you'd made before. As you came up the stairs, you fumbled in your pocket for your keys - you pulled them out and with trembling hands got them into the keyhole. You were afraid to look back at Gojo, so you glanced over your shoulder, smiling awkwardly before you saw him. 

You frowned wistfully, opening the door and inviting him in. It was cold and almost deserted, there was no entertainment, and after a week the familiar faces were starting to get annoying. You, taking off your jacket, threw it on a shabby, old chair at the entrance. The sorcerer, looking around and not noticing the hooks, looked confused and repeated after you. "Ya cold?" you quietly interrupted the silence. He didn't answer out loud, but slowly shook his head. "I'll... um, I'll make something for us to eat then, and you... look around for a while," you mumbled haltingly, realizing that there wasn't much to look around - the little house up north wasn't a mansion.  

You went into the kitchen, and Gojo remained standing in the living room. He shuffled from foot to foot, staring at the couch and the TV in front of him, unable to distinguish lie from truth and truth from dream. How many nights did you spend here while he was desperately searching for you? The sorcerer took a step forward and opened the left door where your clothes hung - behind it was a cramped bedroom. Glancing at the bed, he immediately realized that you hadn't slept on it once. He walked over to it, and after a moment's hesitation, sat down - the old, laundered sheets were too cold under his hands. Still not believing what was happening, he sighed convulsively, wiping his burning face with his hands. All this time he had dreamed of being as close to you as possible, but when he found you, the sorcerer couldn't stand to be near you - he thought you were about to turn him away. You had settled here, most likely living a quiet, peaceful life, and Gojo was a bitter reminder of what had happened. In his pursuit of you, he was thinking of himself, as he always did.  

Gojo flinched when you knocked on the jamb of the open door. "I just wanted to warn ya that dinner won't be hearty," you scratched the back of your head and lowered your gaze to the floor. "I wasn't expecting guests, and I didn't buy any groceries, so I hope... you'll be fine with pasta and marinara," he looked at you like you were a ghost, and your soul turned inside out at his silence. "It's almost ready," you said in a half whisper.

With a nod, the sorcerer stood up and walked past you - you leaned back weakly against the doorjamb, watching him walk away without a word.  

Gojo pulled plates from the shelf - some of them had broken, chipped edges, and he had to choose carefully. He set the dishes on the table and sat down without even inviting you in. Your zeal was fading by the second - you couldn't get him to talk. The only thing you could hear in the silence was the clinking of forks against plates. "Ya know," your voice cracked with excitement, and his heart skipped a beat, but you didn't hear it. "When we were messing around, Frank sometimes set the table, and we ate in absolute silence," you said, messing with pasta around your plate with your fork. "So say something already," you pleaded.

"Messing around? Is that what you call it?" snapped Gojo, throwing his fork at his plate - you shut your eyes involuntarily at the sound. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, startled by your reaction - the last thing he wanted right now was for you to run away again. "I don't... No, I understand why you ran away," he hissed, holding back his emotions leaning against the table, hid his face in his hands. "You think you're dangerous. I just don't understand how you could leave... everything like that," between everything, endless and boundless, the word 'me' modestly slipped in, which he didn't dare to utter. "You really never once felt like calling me?" whimpered Gojo. "Or message. Did you even think of me?"  

Fear clenched its clinging hands around your neck - you had a hard time talking about everything you felt. Gojo was beautiful in every way, except that he sometimes forgot it. You tugged at the damp sleeves of your sweater, naively hoping he'd forget his question or pretend he hadn't asked it, but your silence only pressed harder on him.

You both jumped as you heard a loud pop - the lights in the house went out instantly. Gojo moved closer to you, peering into the darkness of the hallway, and you realized what was wrong. You walked over to the window, covering the glass with your hands and peering through the storm, and noticed that there were no lights on in the neighboring windows either, though it wasn't too late for sleep. "I think the power plant's having trouble again... It happens a lot around here," you muttered apologetically.  

Your breath caught when Gojo came up behind you and put his arm around your waist - not so much from surprise as from the fact that all his clothes were damp and cold. "Oh my God!" you exclaimed, turning around. You cupped his icy cheeks, but it was as if he was bewitched and didn't feel the cold. The sorcerer, feeling you again, covered his eyes and gently rubbed his cheek against your palm, kissing it. "Get in the shower!" you worried. "I'm not gonna sit by your bedside for a week while ya sick with a fever!"

"I don't think so," he grinned playfully, covering your palm with his.

You pinched his side hard, shocked at the insolence of it - at his outraged yelp you broke free, and, panting with anger, you went into the bedroom and stopped by the dresser in front of the bed - a little rummaging through the drawers and you found candles. The locals were always prepared for such conditions. "Here," you muttered grudgingly, tossing the sorcerer a couple candles. "Go take a shower, I'll set up the rest." 

Gojo took a moment to kiss you on the forehead and quickly disappeared behind the bathroom door, taking all your irritation and anger with him. You dazedly put your hand to your forehead - not only the place of the kiss was burning, but also your whole face.

You walked around the house with the sound of running water in the bathroom, setting up candles and lighting them as the flames dimly illuminated the rooms. When the last candle was lit and there was nothing left in your hands, you didn't know what to do with yourself. You had left Gojo unanswered to the question that troubled and worried him - he was chasing you, looking for you, and you couldn't even get a word out of yourself. Disappointed in yourself, you walked over to the bed and got down on it, arms out to the sides - even though you were a coward, you were embarrassed to thank the universe that Gojo was braver than you thought he was. Thoughts that he wasn't supposed to be near you drifted away with the muffled sound of water, and your heart stopped for a moment when it did. When you heard the lock click, you jumped up and sat up - you swallowed involuntarily as he came out of the bathroom. Wearing only a towel that hugged his hips. "Wha...," you began, stammering. "Get dressed!"  

"Into what?" parried Gojo, raising an eyebrow. "Your robe fit me right here," he pointed to his waist level, and your cheeks flared. "Or do you want me to put on those wet clothes again and get sick after all?" he asked, pursing his lip pitifully.

"My turn!" you exclaimed, flying past him and closing the bathroom door with a loud slam. Gojo laughed softly but heartily - you hadn't realized how much courage it took for him to show himself in that state to you like that, or the embarrassment behind it.      

The sorcerer looked around the room, which was lit by flickering lights, and dropped his gaze awkwardly to the floor, smiling sadly. He should have done it, but you beat him to it again. He looked around the room again with a sober gaze. It was empty, uncomfortable - no framed photos stood there; no clothes strewn about. Even when he looked in the dresser, he frowned, realizing it was empty, as if you were ready to flee this town at any moment. 

Gojo was still angry, but he could never blame it on you - he blamed fate itself for keeping you away from him, for making you think that you were unworthy, that you were cruel and bloodthirsty and would hurt him sooner or later. Did you remember that you came to him in your unconscious state, silently asking for help and seeking protection? The sorcerer grinned, biting his lip - he didn't know if he'd made it up himself or if he'd read it in the memories of your face, but in the end, lying on that bed without the black orchid running through your veins and without the tourniquets that bound your limbs, you never attacked him.

Gojo looked at himself in the small mirror on the wall above the dresser, embarrassed; he no longer saw the strongest sorcerer. He was still him, but the face that appeared before Gojo was no longer smug and cocky, and the only thing missing was you standing next to him. When he caught a glimpse of you, he decided it was now or never. And never, taking its infinite nature with it, retreated. 

The sorcerer glanced timidly at the bathroom door as the sound of water behind it subsided. Slowly walking up to it, he knocked. "Mochi?" he asked. "You done?"

"Yes," you replied muffled.

"May I come in?"

"Why?" he almost laughed, hearing the childish disbelief in your voice.

"I need to brush my teeth."

"Well...," you drawled uncertainly, pursing your lips. "Come on in."

When the sorcerer came in, you stood, tucking your white robe as tightly as you could without looking at him, but the awkward and hurried movement of your hands screamed embarrassment. Pretending he wasn't interested, he walked around you and stood in front of the sink - you, chuckling, repeated after him. The only sounds in the bathroom were the water running from the faucet and the rustle of brushes. You weren't used to someone else standing next to you in the bathroom. Gojo was not used to having someone else standing next to him in general.

But you've learned.

You looked at Gojo through the mirror, and you frowned when he looked back at you, but in person - putting the brush in the glass, you snorted and walked out, trying to brazenly leave him alone with his damn towel on his hips, but the sorcerer, throwing his brush right into the sink, followed you. You squeaked quietly as you were picked up in his arms and placed on the dresser - you shook your head fearfully from side to side like you were afraid you were being watched, but really you were afraid to look directly at Gojo, at his face that was inches from yours. "I can't take it anymore," he confessed in a trembling whisper against your cheek - you shuddered invisibly at his hot breath. "I'm giving up," he exhaled soundlessly. "I lo-"

"No!" you shrieked, clamping your hand over his mouth - Gojo whimpered into your palm, his eyes squeezing shut as the unspoken words throbbed painfully in his chest. "Ya can't," you shook your head desperately, tears were welling up in your eyes. 

"Who are you so afraid of?" he asked morbidly, cupping your cheeks, trying to reassure you. Gojo knew you too well, and the fear you were feeling was not for your life at all. "Judges? I don't give a fuck about them," the sorcerer grinned bitterly. No one would drag him away, no one would take him away from you - he could pick out hundreds of words, but in this vulnerable moment, Gojo could only stroke your hair with trembling fingers.

Your wishes and your peace of mind were the undeniable priority, and so be it - his words went unspoken, but the greed inside Gojo grew more and more fiery. If he couldn't tell you that, then he'll show you. "I know what I want for my birthday present," the sorcerer said quietly but firmly, stroking your thighs.  

"What?" you asked confusedly, fixing your wet hair with your hands. "But your birthday is in December-"

"I want it now," Gojo resisted hesitantly, but squeezed your hips more stubbornly. "I won't ask for much," he promised, resting his head helplessly on your shoulder - you turned slightly and buried your cheek in his snow-white hair. When he felt that you weren't pushing him away, the sorcerer stirred and rested his forehead against yours. "Take off your mask," he asked. You, frowning, lowered your gaze. "Take it off, please," he pleaded, touching your temple with his lips - you suddenly remembered how he had asked you to take it off long ago - that request had been impertinent, insolent, and now he stood before you, waiting obediently for you to take it off. Gojo had seen you in all your forms, and you thought it would be all right for him to see the last of you.  

You wrapped your hands around his tentatively and brought them up to your face - you could feel his warm fingers shaking, and you could barely look him in the eye, but you forced yourself to feel what you had forbidden yourself to even think about before. You pressed his fingers lightly against your chin line, and he bit his lip, breathing feverishly, trying to calm his heart - Gojo realized what he had to do. He led his fingers downward, painfully slowly, along your cheekbones, and you, unable to find the courage, closed your eyes and tears ran down your cheeks. "Shh," he whispered softly, cupping your cheeks - you could almost feel how soft his lips were. "There you are," the sorcerer laughed wetly, stroking your cheeks and kissing every inch of your face. 

Gojo pulled away from you a little - the agony was tearing his patience to shreds. He ran his fingers along your chin, your nose, your lips - how could you keep it from him for so long? Your conscience had to get back at you for the sorcerer, for all the days and years he'd lived without seeing your beautiful face fully. 

Gojo moved closer and stopped right next to your lips. He breathed raggedly against them, feeling your closeness. How many nights he'd spent with you, how many days he'd been with you - all of them combined wouldn't be enough to describe a second of what he was feeling now.  

You clutched at his shoulders and froze - you knew what would follow, but you had no idea how the sorcerer would treat you afterward. You had no experience, no loving hands to caress you, no warmth to give you, and you were alone with the fear of the unknown. 

Gojo felt almost cruel - unasked, without permission, he kissed your lips, pulling you to him by the waist, trying to convey all the tenderness he'd been saving up since almost the first day you met, but his movements were curbed by fever. He couldn't resist anymore, he didn't have the strength to live without you. 

Closing his eyes as if in pain, Gojo felt uncertain. You were responding to his kiss, albeit clumsily, but whether you were doing it of your own free will or being overwhelmed by his assertiveness, he couldn't answer. His lips, trying to keep up with his feelings, barely moved, and the sorcerer panted. His hands were restless – he stroked your hair, then your soft neck, and those scars that he constantly touched reminded him how you were treated – only then did he feel how hard you were grasping into his chest.

Gojo suddenly pulled away from you and looked at you anxiously, his hands gently cupping your face. Your flaming skin felt icy, your body chilled, and you weren't looking at him - your black, frozen eyes were staring through. 

Startled, the sorcerer recoiled a little, but he was still clutching at you. "Baby," he whispered, kissing your temple. "I'm sorry. I didn't...," he mewled, biting his lip painfully. He looked at himself in the mirror that was right behind you and saw himself as an animal, no different from the ones who tortured you when you were weak. With barely suppressed anger, he pulled you against him, burying his nose into the top of your head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to be... like this."

Gojo flinched when your fingers touched his stomach - you drew circles on his skin in soft motions. "It's okay," you murmured into his shoulder. "It's just... Can ya slow down... just a little?"

Gojo looked at you worriedly, surprised. "I...," he began, perplexed - he saw no disappointment in you. "Sure," he laughed softly, and shyness chained him - in the rush, in the greedy passionate kiss it couldn't catch up with him, but now, as he kissed you desperately but tenderly, he realized that the dream had come true. You were here with him, real and alive, responding to his kiss, stroking his cheeks, digging your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer to you. Gojo could endure anything as long as you were by his side. A thrill ran through him, unsparing his heated soul, and he grasped at you shamelessly, his hands digging into your thighs then and stroking them as if apologizing for his impatience.  

You involuntarily pressed yourself against Gojo, seeking protection - past humiliations, oppressions and torments had tried to catch up with your tenderness, to make you doubt, to push Gojo away and close in on yourself as you had always done, but this time it was different - in the light of the blazing fire your shadows cast gentle movements. Feeling how you fondled, how you pressed into him, he whimpered softly against your lips and, clutching your head, tipped you over a little and covered you with his body from the whole world, wanting to kill the bitterness of memories on your lips. The rush could have ruined everything, but Gojo, unable to resist, wrapped his arms around your waist, the privacy begged to continue. Shrouded in security, you wrapped your legs around his hips, and cowardice left your shores - you chased it away from your night with him.

You touched his towel – Gojo, frowning, pressed his hips deeper into your thighs and, whimpering, grabbed your hand and placed it back to his shoulder. Perplexed, you tried to pull away from him, but the sorcerer, whining resentfully, tried to press his lips to yours again, to feel your warm, tender tongue against his, but you stubbornly recoiled, forcing him to answer your mute question. "I'm a little shy...," Gojo muttered under his breath, embarrassed, and you laughed quietly. He scooped you up into his arms - you squeaked in surprise and clung to the sorcerer, and now it was his turn to laugh, despite the weakness he didn't show you - his legs shook long before he carried you to the bed.   

Gojo sat you down on the edge, and he, exhaling, slowly knelt down on the floor in front of you - you awkwardly tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, hiding from his blue eyes, remembering and realizing where things were going. He didn't tear your clothes, he didn't rush you, he didn't threaten you - he was subdued before you, but love wasn't something you two could subdue. Gojo wetly kissed your neck, gently nibbled at your collarbones, and when he faced reality, he clenched his teeth and pulled back. He could shamefully admit that he'd imagined it more than once, but finding himself here now, with you, he was afraid to go any farther. "What's wrong?" you asked worriedly, taking the sorcerer by the chin and forcing him to look at you.

"I'm afraid of scaring you off," he admitted honestly on an exhale, stroking your knee. "I've only just found you, and already I'm doing everything I can to get you to run away again," Gojo swallowed and looked down, and dishonor choked his neck – he was weak before the urge. "Are you sure you want to do this?" 

"No," at your answer, his heart dropped and he was ready to swallow his own desire despite its sheer size. "I don't want that. I want you," you admitted shyly. "I...," you laughed, trying to hide the brokenness in your voice. "Yeah, I'm a little scared, but it's okay if it's ya."  

For another long moment, Gojo stared at you devotedly, and then you felt his warm hands on your neck again - pulling you to him, he deepened your fragile kiss with a gentle flick of his tongue. "Can I take it off?" he dared to ask, rubbing the waistband of the robe - crumpled by your passion, it hid almost nothing, but the sorcerer wasn't going to make any more mistakes. You, closing your eyes, nodded. Covering your forehead with light, almost ethereal kisses, he slowly untied the waistband - the fabric of the old robe slid down your shoulders along with his hands. You tried to wrap your arms around yourself, to hide the scars that the sorcerer hasn't seen yet, to shield him from this picture. Gojo wasn't going to push you anymore - instead of objecting, he nuzzled against your cheek. "Hold me," he pleaded, knowing you couldn't refuse him, and you gave in and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders.    

The walls of the windowless room no longer pressed against you, you didn't feel the dozens of clammy touches, you only wished the Gojo's hands were touching you more - they not only didn't bring any pain, they took the old one with them. He would never kneel down like that in front of anyone, he would never show obedience to anyone but you - you breathed into each other's mouths as he gently, tentatively cupped your exposed breasts, not daring to go any farther - you wrapped your palms around his and squeezed it a little harder with his hands. "My baby," Gojo moaned against your lips, and you felt unbearably hot - despite your open eyes, you couldn't see anything in front of you, but the blazing spots on your skin told you where he was kissing you. You arched your back, whimpering softly as you felt his wet tongue on your breasts - Gojo stifled your doubts, listening to your every moan, pulling you tighter against him. He licked and sucked your nipples - he was maddened by your flushed, hot skin, the way your touch silently begged him for more, unwilling to let go. It wasn't a desire - that disappeared once it was done, but it wasn't an obsession - not to keep you in a cage, not to pull your leash, but to tear it off and follow you everywhere.

Feeling brave, you pulled Gojo to you, your initiative got him confused, and Gojo whimpered into your mouth as you kissed him, responding eagerly to your urging. With his thumbs he continued to stroke your nipples, wet with his saliva, in circular motions, and you, losing your balance and your mind, caressed against him, rubbing your cheek against his in brief pauses. "I'll never hurt you," he whispered into your neck, and you frowned, trying to hide the confusion - wasn't that a necessary part of the process? But his words, unlike the memories, felt more real - you wanted to hear them more and more. 

Still sitting in front of you, between your legs, Gojo took hold of your undies and looked at you cautiously - you nodded, biting your lip. He kissed your forehead again and slowly, as if deliberately, began to pull down your underwear. You involuntarily squeezed your legs and looked away, unable to look because of the shame. You sighed in surprise, curling your toes as you felt his lips on your ankles - Gojo was moving higher and higher, kissing your shins and cold knees, and you clenched your teeth and tried to relax, and his promise, dousing you with a soft wave, helped you do it - you closed your eyes and slowly spread your legs apart, making Gojo whimper with anticipation.  

You could no longer feel the scars on your thighs - his gentle, unhurried bites burned on them. You could hear the crackling of the candles in the room, your ragged breathing and the way Gojo stroked your skin. The kiss on your lower abdomen was timid but unexpected - you twitched, and he lavished your worries with a kiss of calm and adoration as he rubbed his nose against your thigh. You weren't angelic to him, but you came to him from heaven - his most beautiful creature that Gojo had once mistaken for a monster, and he was ready to pay for it for the rest of his life. 

Gojo wanted to revel in every moment, for he couldn't hold back any longer - you felt his fervent breath between your legs, and you moved in impatience, touching his hair. A shy frenzy swept over him, and he responded to your silent request by slowly running his tongue over your clit - you tried to pull away, unaware of yourself because of the unfamiliar sensations, but Gojo whimpered pathetically and pulled you to him obsessively, drowning, eager to take all your vulnerability he felt on his tongue. 

Your moans were getting wilder, louder. You tried to muffle them against your hand, biting it painfully - he stubbornly but gently grabbed your palm and put it back in his hair, not letting you take away the melody of your pleasure, the notes he'd been searching for so long. He almost wanted to laugh triumphantly, you had nowhere to run - the sorcerer pressed you closer to his face with his forearms, his palms soothingly stroking your convulsively heaving belly. Gojo kept changing his pace, giving you no time to think, taking all your thoughts from you as he gently, slowly ran his tongue, wet with his saliva and your juices, over your clit, then sucked it greedily, and the sorcerer was dizzy from the closeness - he could only moan helplessly into your pussy as you clutched desperately at his shoulders.   

Your legs began to burn, not from the pain, but from his touch - never a fraction of the pleasure you'd felt before, and your eyes widened in fear and your legs trembled as you grabbed the sheets and tried to pull away from the sorcerer again. "Don't you dare," Gojo whimpered between kisses and flicks. The towel, tired of hugging his hips, slowly slid off, falling to the floor. His hard cock throbbed painfully and he felt like his lower abdomen was about to burst, but Gojo didn't dare touch himself - he knew that if he did, it would be over before it had even begun. But he wasn't chasing his orgasm - his pleasure without yours meant nothing to him, though passion had curbed the sorcerer, but it wasn't lust that drove him, and in all his ardent, timid, jagged and sometimes clumsy movements, he tried to convey to you, the blind one, what you meant to him. He wouldn't run away in the morning, he wouldn't avert his eyes after - he would give you pleasure at night, making you laugh and protecting you during the day. "I don't- I think- I-" you stammered, almost out of breath and squirming, and he pressed your trembling legs harder against his face. 

"Do it for me," Gojo moaned with you, and you stiffened, arching your back - the orgasm drowned out all cries of consciousness that you were supposed to be in pain, and you collapsed onto the bed, freed by loving hands. You panted in affectionate but insistent oblivion, still stroking Gojo's hair as he kissed your wet, glistening thighs. With a satisfied, self-conscious smile, he climbed higher, deliberately loudly and quickly smacking your belly - you giggled stupidly, hiding your face in your hand. "Nom," Gojo bit your cheek softly, and you laughed, though both of you had tears in your eyes. "How are you feeling?" the sorcerer asked, gazing at you intently and stroking your hair - you snuggled into him, kissing his neck.   

"I didn't even know it could be like this," you admitted with an embarrassed laugh, but contrary to that, you didn't hear Gojo laughing - you looked at him worriedly and saw an anxious, wistful look. Your careless compliment reminded him of your agony. "Hey...," you began, but he playfully grabbed you, flopped you onto the pillows and plopped down beside you. "We...," you began perplexed, overcoming the awkwardness. "Um... We're not... gonna... continue?" you asked almost resentfully. Gojo had opened a new world to you, but you didn't realize that he had led you by the hand into his own where you were the only one who belonged. 

Gojo raised himself on his elbow and leaned over you, rubbing his nose against yours and lightly touching your lips with his, stroking your belly. "Baby," he whispered, holding on to his vow - he promised to keep you safe. "Is that really what you want?" he couldn't restrain himself - he sought reassurance from you by any means necessary. You frowned and nodded stubbornly, making him chuckle sheepishly. "Then listen to me carefully," Gojo ordered sternly, squeezing your stomach slightly. "If you get scared, hurt, or you just don't feel like it, you have to tell me, okay? At any moment," you absent-mindedly bit your lip and wrinkled your nose, but he took your chin with his fingers and ordered you to answer with one look. "Promise me."

"I promise," you exhaled penitently, mesmerized by the restless blue eyes.

Gojo, already missed your kisses, covered your lips with his again - he nibbled gently, searching for any spot that brought you pleasure, that made you moan into his mouth, driving him crazy. Hovering over you, covering you from the world with his body, he kissed you briefly on the forehead and tilted his head slightly to look down - he almost burned his throat with his own breath when he saw your spread legs. With light touches of his fingers he stroked your lover abdomen, preparing you, but as he looked into your eyes, the sorcerer saw no fear or apprehension in them, only the infinite trust that you entrusted to him. "I'm gonna try to put one finger in, okay?" 

"Okay," you sounded flustered, but pressed yourself harder against him, kissing his shoulder. After stroking your wet clit and getting an impatient moan from you, Gojo began to slowly put a finger into you - you shut your eyes and he stopped, seeing your jaw tense. "It's okay," you assured him, and Gojo, hesitating, continued - you were so warm inside, so tight and wet, that he, bashfully hiding his red face in your neck, began to pant.

He increased his pace, gently stroking the soft walls, trying to find the point, and he nearly came when he heard your feverish whimpering. "Right there?" he asked excitedly, catching your moans with his lips. "Am I making you feel good?"

"Yes," you panted, grabbing his forearm, not to stop him, but to warn him not to stop. Hearing the long-awaited affirmation that flew from your lips, Gojo couldn't resist - he sank into your lips frantically, tasting your pleasure, and it was the sweetest he'd ever tasted in his life. Gojo pressed relentlessly against the spot, making you squirm, shaking you free of the last shackles of protection you'd built up over the years - your eyes darkening again with recklessness.

When you felt a second finger, you immediately grabbed his wrist, stopping him. "Baby, what's wrong?" he asked anxiously, almost panickedly, examining you from head to toe. "Does it hurt?" 

"No, no, not at all," you shook your head nervously, and lifted up and began kissing his neck - Gojo gave in without a fight or objection, his head tilted back and his mouth open in pleasure. "I wanna feel ya inside me," you whispered in his ear, taking away what little sanity and self-control he had left. Whimpering painfully, he bit your lip and began to caress your tongue with his - you squeaked as he lifted you up sharply and pulled you against him. Something rustled beneath your ear, but you didn't dare open your eyes as he laid you back on the bed, and you felt something soft under your lower back - groping the pillow beneath it, you eyed him suspiciously. 

"Why?" laughed Gojo, kissing your face. "We're not young anymore, I need to watch your back. In every sense," he chuckled, tickling your sides - you squirmed, trying not to laugh, and you both exhaled. "Are you ready?" he asked suddenly, laying on top of you, and you felt his hot, hard cock pressed against your thigh.  

"Ready," you smiled, kissing his chin. Gojo put his hand under your head and cupped the back of it, rubbing the tip of his cock against your swollen clit - you let out a ragged breath as he began to enter you slowly. You closed your eyes shut, feeling the stinging sensation that was ready to burn you from the inside out - you realized your mistake as soon as Gojo stopped. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his worried blue eyes with tears in them, and you shook your head frantically, pulling him closer to you, begging him not to stop - he'd promised you wouldn't get hurt, and you believed him. 

"Shh," Gojo whispered into your forehead, and he was ready to curse all the nonexistent gods for not bestowing him with the ability to take away other person's pain. "It's okay, baby," he soothed you as you sobbed into his shoulder. "Look at me," he pleaded, stroking your hair - you obediently pulled away. "It's okay. It's me. It's just me. It's your Toru, see?" under the vast blue skies that lurked in his eyes, your pain melted and stewed. You cried out quietly as he put his cock all the way in, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. "Let's stay like this for now," the sorcerer said, giving you time to adjust, stretching you from the inside. He listened to your every breath - at first your breathing was intermittent, wet, but the more he stroked your hips, the more frantically he covered your face and neck with soft kisses, the calmer it became.

"Ya can start moving," Gojo didn't hear the order in your voice, but your wish was his command. He began to penetrate into you slowly, watching you, protecting your pleasure. Your grip on his shoulders grew stronger and you whined and nestled against him, but you didn't even have the strength to kiss him - you moaned against each other's lips, and you leaned back on the pillows, lost, but he didn't want to let you go - he covered you with himself, kissing you uncontrollably, though you could barely respond. Your hips were touching, and he thrust into you gently, but deeply, so that you could feel everything he felt - the arousal was on the surface, and he wanted to reach your depths with his own. 

"Toru," you whimpered, afraid of the nature of these feelings, afraid that you were experiencing lust instead of pain, and that it could be taken from you.

You clung to his back, to his show-white disheveled hair, and Gojo grabbed at you, pulling you by his waist, stroked your head, squeezed your breasts gently, pulling away from your lips only to press his lips brazenly into your neck and collarbones. "More," he moaned pathetically. "Say my name more," and you obeyed without orders, repeating his name like a mantra while Gojo went mad - the candles crackled mysteriously, protecting you, and the unfamiliar town, flinging blue smoke, painted your tenderness on the walls with a storm.

Unspeakable words lurked in your intertwined bodies, filled with each other - his life didn't depend on that embrace, but Gojo felt he would die if he let you go, and he clung with all his might to your vulnerability. His name on your lips was like the confession you were so afraid to utter, afraid for his life - the sorcerer was almost incoherent, oblivious to the world he lived in, for you were all that existed to him.  

Gojo sucked in air through his teeth as you began to clench around him - he whined and reluctantly stopped, realizing he was on the edge. You, in exhaustion, didn't even realize it before he started stroking your clit with his thumb in feverish, gentle circles - you trembled, and he sobbed as he saw the dark lines begin to form all over your body. "Do you really feel that much for me?" whispered Gojo in your ear, whimpering. 

"Yes," you replied tearfully to his question that had tormented his soul for several years - and if the sorcerer had once been convinced that he would spend his life here beside you, cherishing you, now he knew that he would follow you to your lands as well when your time came. "I feel it, Toru, I feel it," you cried, letting go of your essence, and it no longer dared to hurt you in his loving arms.  

"My love," your neck was wet with his tears. "You're so beautiful," Gojo whispered, kissing feverishly the patterns the other world had drawn on you. He called your name with desperate, intermittent moans, feeling how close you were - the sorcerer began to penetrate you again, his thrust grew faster and messier, and as you pressed your legs around his hips, unwilling to let him go, he began to shake with you. "Cum with me," he whimpered. "Cum with me, please," Gojo begged, trying to catch your lips with his - he pulled you against him with such force that your ribs nearly crunched, and you both stiffened in the mute scream that froze between you. You danced sensuously with Gojo on the thin edge and fell over the it with him - he pulled you with him on purpose, to a place where no one would ever find you. His whole body shuddered, and he couldn't hold back his tears - Gojo sobbed shamelessly, silently against your neck, confessing his vulnerability while the storm outside the window sang northern songs to you both.  

Returning from the heaven first, you stroked Gojo's trembling back, guarding his defencelessness as he left wet sloppy kisses on your neck. Your bodies were so close that you mistook the frantic pounding of the sorcerer's heartbeat for your own - it spread across your skin in desperate beats, making you snuggle against Gojo harder and feel more. "When did ya become a crybaby?" you asked softly, kissing his temple. 

"I don't know," he exhaled convulsively, sniffing his nose. Gojo lifted himself up, brushing his nose against the tip of yours. "It's just that you're so beautiful," he said, covering your lips with gentle kisses.   

"Mm-mm," you drawled playfully, giggling. "You said that a few minutes ago, when-" you shrieked as he started tickling you - an attempt to hide embarrassment lurked behind the sweet, little revenge. Returning to you, a wave of realization came over the sorcerer. He finally did it. You finally did it. You allowed him to get as close as you'd never allowed anyone else - thinking about it, he sniffed his nose again and burrowed into your neck. "I don't wanna ruin the moment, but can ya...," you started, and Gojo instantly lifted his head, blushing shyly - you were still involuntarily clenched around him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he apologized frantically, slowly pulled his cock out - you cringed a little, for the sensitivity reminded you of itself with an unpleasant burning. "Sorry," he repeated more quietly, kissing your forehead. "How are you?" he asked suddenly restless, nuzzling your cheek. "Everything okay? Doesn't hurt anywhere?"

Your quiet, sincere laughter awakened your shared happiness. "I feel wonderful."

"Really?" Gojo chirped softly but happily, kissing your face shamelessly and laughing with you. "Then lie here for a second," the sorcerer said, standing up - you glanced at him, but when you saw his naked ass, you looked away at the shabby wallpaper with interest. You frowned, sitting up and cradling your knees against your chest as you heard him fidgeting about, digging and rattling dishes in the kitchen, turning on the water in the bathroom, and in the intervals of silence you heard him humming to himself. "Here I am!" he exclaimed, coming back. "Miss me already?" Gojo cooed, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to you. As he handed you glasses of water, you realized how thirsty you were.

"Ya brought... water?" you asked perplexed, dumbfounded. 

"And a towel and clean panties," he announced cheekily, twirling your underwear on his finger. You looked away in confusion, sipping from your glass, but he moved closer to you and kissed the tip of your nose. "I just wanna take care of you," Gojo whispered, dispelling your doubts - even though no one had ever done this for you before, he was glad to be the first. "Here you go," he boasted proudly as you finished your water and set the glass aside. "Now...," he mumbled embarrassedly, rubbing the back of his head. "Can you spread your legs?" 

You widened your eyes in surprise, feeling your cheeks burn - it didn't feel so sharp in the embrace of arousal. But you trusted Gojo, and with shame, but without question, you slowly spread your legs apart, hiding your face in your hands. He didn't laugh at you, didn't mock you, but slowly and gently wiped your wet thighs with a damp, warm towel. You hissed involuntarily as he tried to wipe your pussy clean of your shared mess - your clit was still too sensitive. "I know, baby. Just be patient for a little while," he whispered, encouraging you. When he finished cleaning you, Gojo put your underwear on you as carefully as he had taken it off you.   

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he plopped you down on the bed, unceremoniously lay on top of you, and hid you under the covers. "That was... an interesting experience," you chuckled nervously, still in shock.

"Get used to it," Gojo murmured contentedly, making himself comfortable and resting his head on your bare chest, but despite his sleepy state, he remained awake. He was drawn to the spot between your collarbones, kissing it with excessive care, stroking it with his fingers, glancing furtively at you and pressing his lips together in resentment that you didn't understand his hints.

"Do ya want to see it?" you pity him, laughing when the sorcerer gave an overly dramatic sigh.

"I do!" replied Gojo quickly, almost desperately, cocking his head and looking at you expectantly. 

The patterns that adorned your skin came to life - they crawled smoothly across your collarbones, reaching for each other, trying to join. When they came together right in the middle, Gojo gave a quiet, amazed gasp, revealing a small, black spot right between your collarbones. "Ya can kill me right now," you whispered, closing your eyes. "I won't be happier." 

Despite your words, you weren't expecting a blade between your collarbones, but the kiss on your heart was far more deadly - it killed your doubts forever. "You will," Gojo objected stubbornly, rubbing the tip of his nose gently against the black spot. "And even then, I won't let anyone touch you."

It was caressing Gojo, rising to meet him with its little black tongues. Gojo pulled back a little, and slowly brought his finger to it, stroking it gently, as if the slightest touch could hurt you, but you breathed measuredly, calmly, lulled by the protection. The patterns wrapped around his skin, begging to stay, and the sorcerer could almost hear their desperate cry when he pulled his finger too far away - to where they could no longer reach him. "Mochi...," he began uncertainly, glaring spellbound as he connected with you. "Back then, at the first meeting, you said I killed him first. How did you know?" 

"Because I saw it," you answered half honestly. You saw him frown his eyebrows. "Your director and Nathaniel kinda happened to be acquaintances, and Yaga asked for a little backup... Nathaniel told us, so we agreed. For money, of course," you clarified, chuckling awkwardly. "Besides, the director seemed like a man who could keep a secret. So he didn't tell anyone about us, after all."

"What an old geezer-"

You, laughing, pinched Gojo's shoulder softly. "But we didn't even do anything then - you were doing pretty well on your own. We just watched the show. But a deal's a deal, and as soon as it was over, I went back to Tokyo College for the money, and I ran into... you."

"So it was you...," he exhaled, seeing the light and finding himself back in the day where he had stood staring into the darkness after killing his best friend, searching for the enemy.

"Yeah," you said faintly. "It was me." 

Gojo couldn't have predicted and laid out the cards of fate - neither of you knew what would have happened if you had shown up then, or if he had been the least bit more considerate. Maybe you would have become sworn enemies, or maybe you'd just lost a whole year - he didn't lament the lost time. All that mattered to him now was that you were together, in a small northern town, lying on a bed, drowning in each other. You were more vulnerable than ever in front of Gojo - as soon as he looked at the black spot, he covered it with his palm, and the black patterns, seeking the same caress, crawled between his fingers, wrapped around his hand. Let those who in bitter resentment or in sticky fear once called you heartless burn with wild fire - henceforth, protecting and defending, caring and cherishing, he will forever carry your heart in his.

[December 24, 2017, 08:34pm; Tokyo, Tokyo Prefecture, Tokyo College]

You strolled leisurely along the towering stone fence, the long wall of one of Tokyo College's temples stretched out on the other side - you stayed as close to it as you could, trying to get away from the purple clouds that littered the evening blue sky under the overhanging roof. You looked around absent-mindedly, trying to find a clue that would lead you to Principal Yaga's office - you'd only been there once, and now you couldn't find your way out of the maze. Driven not by a noble goal, but by money, you continued to walk slowly but stubbornly, searching.

The dry, thin branches of the trees that had been lurking behind the stone fence began to peek out - you cringed as they imprinted themselves as shadows of bony hands on the college wall, trying to reach you. The wind made them rustle - when an unintelligible and mysterious whisper crept up the back of your neck, you thought about insisting on full payment in advance.

Tired after an exhausting day, you found solace in the usual child's play - you spotted a pebble in the road and started kicking it forward. When you could see a turn on the horizon, you left your mute companion and accelerated your steps.

"...trust?" you stopped just before the turn, hearing unfamiliar voices. You should have asked for help, for directions, but your policy was simple: don't show your face to anyone. As it turned out, you were already known to those who shouldn't know, and even though Nathaniel vouched for Principal Yaga as an old acquaintance, the other strangers from the jujutsu world weren't to be trusted.

You looked back - you'd already come a long way, exploring the area, and you had no desire to turn back. You leaned your shoulder against the wall, crossing your arms lazily over your chest, and waited for the strangers to talk.

"...your doing, too?" the second man's voice sounded less surprised than indignant. You could barely make out what they were talking about, but your innate curiosity played its part, and you involuntarily began to listen to the quiet conversation. 

"It was," the first one laughed muffledly in response. You, sensing the tension, frowned - never after the raids had you had similar conversations, much less a similar atmosphere.

The more they spoke, the more you had to strain your hearing - the words grew more serious, colder and quieter. "...any last words?" you stared open-mouthed at the stone wall. Your heart was pounding as if this question was addressed to you. If you took a step forward, you could see the strangers, could catch a glimpse of the end of their story, but you were afraid to even take a breath.

"...I hate those monkeys," you squeezed your eyes shut as hard as you could, for the hoarse voice was fading before it reached you, but no matter how many words flew past you, you still couldn't think of them through the prism of sworn enemies. There was no swearing, no breaking of bones, no collapsing of surroundings, all of which reminded you of your quarrels with your sister.  "...a heartfelt smile while living in this world."

"Suguru," you stunned when you heard the name - the first time it had come out of Director Yagi's mouth as he was filling you in. Dead silence wrapped around the dry branches, and they stopped rustling. There was only a brief whisper that you couldn't distinguish.

Hot blood rang in your ears, and you missed the last words. The wind picked up the fallen leaves, and they flew away, thudding against the stone walls. There was a sharp, sloppy sound, and that conversation was silenced forever. The man didn't torture his interlocutor, didn't mock him, only gave him a quick and, most likely, painless death as if it weren't a punishment, but a deliverance.

As an unwilling witness, you shifted your fingers awkwardly over your intertwined hands like you were on the field of vigilante justice - the revelations had never been meant for you, but you couldn't just cut them out of your memory. Biting your lip awkwardly, you stepped forward.

They sat across from each other, their backs against the wall - two mutilated men. One of them was limp, covered in blood, his dead face was hidden behind stained black hair and he seemed to have no arm, while the other, hiding his face in his palm, shuddered. Your heart was pierced with sympathy - even the kindest man wouldn't so grieve for an enemy. You were immediately ashamed of your behavior - the other man's sorrow made you retreat a step, and you were dazed when a dry branch crunched beneath you. There was no time to think.

"Shading."

The man was instantly in the place where the sound came from, right in front of you. And you caught your breath. Lies and pretense aside, you admitted it to yourself at once: he was beautiful. You stood mesmerized and breathless, watching him - his blue eyes, still full of sadness, scrutinized the walls of his home, and in the light of the sunset his feelings flashed in wet streaks on his pale cheeks. Everything but him blurred before your eyes - you lowered your hands and watched helplessly as he squatted down and took a broken branch and twirled it between his fingers. Frightened, you took a step back as carefully as you could, but you were still afraid to move, but it wasn't the exposure that you were afraid of. You were suddenly afraid that you would never see him again.

When he pulled himself up and stared at the road that had brought you there, you reached out involuntarily, imagining you were standing right in front of him. Your gaze focused on the way you were fixing the unruly white strands that fell over his eyes, but you frowned disappointedly, almost resentfully, sensing the distance between you. But even if you were destined to stay in different worlds, you couldn't deny yourself the small inner request to look at him one last time.

"Relocate."

***

Standing on the middle tier of the sloping roof with pointed edges, you didn't notice the devastation around you. You didn't see the broken concrete walls and cracks on them, irrevocably destroyed temples, the trees piled on top of each other and the splinters that scattered all over the Tokyo College grounds. You gazed desperately into the pink clouds, but all you could see behind them were twinkling stars, and for the first time you were disgusted by the sight of them. You turned your gaze again to the people below, far away from you, and they were all looking upward as one, their faces shining with hope and something elusive to you. You clenched and unclenched your fists with injustice, seeing how they were all mesmerized by the sight that was invisible to you.

You'd never wanted to be near a stranger, much less one who didn't know you existed, but here you were, trying to see what made the white-haired man smile so brightly, and you couldn't help but be angry with bewilderment as his body still shuddered in pain before your eyes. "Adoptee," Rachel called to you, climbing onto the roof, panting. "Did ya get the money?"

You didn't respond. You didn't care about the reward anymore, it had lost its value. The only thing that mattered to you now was the emotion this man could evoke. "Adoptee," Rachel muttered discontentedly, and walked over and shook you by the shoulder. "Uh-oh," she drawled warily, glancing at your profile - your eyes were completely black. "Come on, let's get out of here before you scare everyone away."

"Rach," you asked with hope in your voice, looking up again. "Do ya see anything?"

"The only thing I'd like to see right now is money," she snorted indignantly, tugging at your collar. "But apparently not today."

While your sister persisted in trying to get you out of there, you wanted to be in his world and see everything through his eyes. You felt like you'd been looking at the man forever, but even that wasn't enough - you needed the revelation that lay in his smile. You were unworthy to let the mystery open its veil and let you in, but you wanted to feel what he felt, and you didn't even realize how close you were to it, for the new emotions were so hot and fervent that they burned your gut for a moment, but even they couldn't answer your question - what was it that made him so happy that was hidden from your eyes?

That invisible blinding light made you want to cry, and you shifted your sparkling gaze from the sky to him one last time.

The answer was simple. The answer was one.

It clicked inside. And if you had been human, if you had held back that impulse, that feeling would have been yours forever, but by sharing a body with a creature that had no place in this small world, you'd exposed your one desire and let others feel it, trapping yourself.

next ⊳

[magneticflower]

Some thoughts about .... well, that

I'm seeing theories that Jinx isn't dead just based on the fact that cait was looking at the blueprints and such and there was that floating airship and that glitchy bit at the very end but honestly it doesn't stop me from feeling absolutely numb and off about how that last bit went down.

Like, a good portion of Jinx's appearances in those last two eps consisted of her either wanting to die or straight up trying to kill herself on repeat whilst Ekko has to witness each attempt over and over and over again just for it all to end with her just sacrificing herself in the end 'cause I guess she was just never worth saving.

And on that note, why didn't we get to hear what else Ekko said to her at that moment? I felt that it was an important conversation to be had between those two. Like, that whole bit with Ekko also just killed me because he couldn't even cross the bridge in the alternate universe without seeing her body lying on it and its like what was the point of doing all that to him, too?

On top of all that, they have her burn down The Last Drop, make a point of showing Silco's chair getting absolutely engulfed in flames, and they have her use her own little hideout as an airship thing to help with the battle and it's essentially like every little piece of Jinx that was in Zaun is now gone and she's just--- erased.

And then in the ending you just got her sister humming that bridge song and looking lowkey out of her wits and how am I supposed to feel about all that--- she was literally completely and utterly unable to let go of vander on that ledge and it led to her sister having to throw herself at him to protect her so Vi just experienced the same losses all over again except worse because it is really all over. What kind of ending was that for her???

I felt the narrative direction was really compelling in the first ep of act 3 and some of the second ep but I just--- I don't understand the choices made in that ending I guess.

Also, the fact that Singed manipulated nearly every single key player he got in contact with to save his daughter and it actually just straight up worked for him in the end is wild. I guess we know who the real winner is.

[deiastormborn]

Arcane Season 2 Finale theory. (Jinx, Cait and Vi)

Heya. Since I was somehow on a roll with my theories about the show previously, and I somehow hit the nail on 90% of the things I predicted, here is a new theory of mine.

Jinx is not dead. Yes, of course, that makes sense considering League of Legends exists, and everything that happened in Arcane happened before the game. Arcane was made canon, and a lot of current lore is being rewritten to match the show, so to people that play the game it's no surprise that Jinx is most likely alive. But how?

Here is what I think:

After Jinx said 'I didn't know your mom was in there', Cait realized that Jinx did in fact change. Or, at the very least, could relate to her pain and mistakes. If you think about it, Jinx's actions were mostly fueled with grief, and the rocket that was shot at the council building happened right after Silco died, who was like a father to Jinx. Caitlyn lost her mother, and became angrier, irrational, fueled with revenge. I think Jinx saying that to Caitlyn made her relate, and maybe understand what is hidden below all the madness that Jinx has in her.

I think Caitlyn and Jinx had a dialogue behind the scenes, that was not shown to us. Knowing Caitlyn's character and somewhat a soft heart, I think Caitlyn sat down and told Jinx that she can't be truely free due to the volume of the crimes that she has done. My idea is that Caitlyn tossed the idea to Jinx about escaping, fleeing, and faking her death. Didn't Caitlyn tell Vi that she became too predictable? Doesn't it mean that Caitlyn knew that Vi will try to free Jinx? Didn't Caitlyn say something about this place being thoroughly guarded too? Yet Jinx managed to escape anyhow?

I genuinely don't think it was done without Caitlyn's interference.

Maybe, after the talk that Caitlyn had with Jinx behind the scenes, Jinx asked Caitlyn to keep Vi oblivious to everything that is happening. Hence why Jinx said that Vi deserves to be with Caitlyn - that could not have gone out of nowhere. Caitlyn and Jinx didn't interact enough in the show for Jinx to say that. And Vi never really spoke to Jinx about Caitlyn for her to make this conclusion.

Now, possibly, Jinx took the whole 'fake the death' quite literal, since we see her go quite suicidal after that. It is possible that she thought that it is pointless, and genuinely didn't want to try and run anymore, hence why she attempted to blow herself up. Luckily, Ekko came in, and the rest we know.

However, it doesn't sit right with me. Not just because Jinx is very much alive in game, but also the fact that we were shown Caitlyn looking at the tower where Jinx fell, while holding the Jinx's monkey bomb in her hand. She also let go of a slight smile when she zoomed in on all the exits and rooms in the tower. Something tells me Jinx knew how to escape, and something tells me Caitlyn was the one who told her. Something also tells me that the balloon we saw at the very last scene of the whole show might have had Jinx in it.

The show is notorious for showing scenes that always mean and imply something. I previously had a theory where I drew a parallel between Vander, Silco and Felicia, with Caitlyn, Vi and Jinx, where Felicia was bringing Vander and Silco closer to each other, and her death ended up splitting them both. I truly think Caitlyn was meant to be the same mediator for Jinx and Vi as Felicia was for Vander and Silco. And maybe that was it. Maybe that's what happened.

Knowing Caitlyn, she is more than capable of forgiveness, and seeing good in people. I think it would be in her character to help Jinx escape, even if it is at a cost of lying to someone she loves.

And, since we see Jinx tell Vi to let go, I think it would be in her character to ask Caitlyn to keep Vi in the shadows.

[phoenix-eclipses]

Casting Love Intermission

Soulmates weren't an unheard of topic in your youth. From several storybooks in your early education revolving around the romance of soulmates and even adults around you speaking about their soulmates, it was hard to ignore their existence.

You had assumed you didn't have one. You didn't have that string, always depicted as red, that would lead you to your soulmate. You didn't have any lettering on your body, despite checking several times.

The disappointment you had over your lack of a soulmate wasn't unknown by those who lived with you. Babysitters coming and going, trying to comfort you, convince you that perhaps some sort of sign would appear later.

And it did. Only in a form you didn't realize that made you different. Sitting in art class, your teacher insisting on the severe differences between some colors you were looking at. That was when you were brought to a specialist who informed your father about your color blindness.

When your babysitter at the time was informed of this, she immediately took to explaining to you a type of soulmate bond was colorblindness until you met.

That was the last day you had seen her, your father firing her later that day.

Her replacement refused to read stories about soulmates. She didn't want to speak of soulmates at all, shutting it down anytime you brought them up. Instead, she'd sit down next to you, a pitying look on her face and say.

"I know it is hard to not see the world like those around you, but if you stay obsessed with soulmates as you are now, you will also not understand the world."

So you stopped. For two years, you'd zone out as your professors read books about soulmates, no longer listening to every single word. It was only after that two years something changed. You were visting your aunt in Tokyo.

She walked beside you, guiding you to a park that she told you that her and your mother used to frequent in their youth. When you arrived, she allowed you to go play at the playground as she sat and watched on a bench.

Throughout your stay at her place, she brought you to the park each day. Somedays you'd meet some of the kids who live in the neighborhood nearby, getting to play with them as well.

It was on the last day that one of the neighborhood kids who you hadn't seen before appeared. You immediately ran over, excited to make a new friend. You waved at him, slowing down as you stopped right in front of him.

"Hello-"

You froze in your introduction as you looked at him. His golden eyes stared at you in shock as you did the same. You watched as the boy in front of you and the world around him brightened up, colors you had never known existed appearing.

"Woah..." the boy muttered in amazement. You let out a laugh, reaching out and grabbing his hand.

"C'mon! Let's go play!"

He stumbles a bit in your hold but follows after you, the both of you glancing around at the colors. The two of you play until it turns dark, your aunt telling you it was time for you to go home. You wave excitedly at the boy, promising that next time you visited your aunt you'd come to play with him again.

It's over dinner that you inform your aunt that you think the boy is your soulmate. She drops her chopsticks and stares at you in shock for a few minutes.

"Do not tell your father."

That was all she said before continuing to eat. You frown, asking her why you couldn't tell him but she just shook her head and repeated herself.

Despite her lack of explanation, you find yourself listening. When your father picks you up, you don't mention the boy, you only speak of the other kids you had become friends with. You don't tell him about the colors that you could now see surrounding the two of you.

But you do tell your babysitter. After a week of not telling anyone, you can't hold back your excitement and as she attempts to deny to read you a book about soulmates, you find yourself blurting out the fact that you did have one.

"I met him! In Tokyo! You can even ask Auntie!"

Your babysitter frowns. Pulling out a book from the high shelves in your room, not a book about soulmates. And she reads it to you, not speaking to you about your soulmate.

You assume that's just how she would treat it, even with the knowledge of you having one, she wouldn't speak of them.

But she does speak of them. She shared it with your father. The next day he informed you that you would no longer be going to Tokyo to visit your aunt. You could still see her, but she would be coming over to Miyagi.

"I don't want you returning to speak to that boy."

You cast a look at your babysitter who refuses to meet your eye. It stays silent in the room, your father's words being treated like the law. You never went back to Tokyo to visit your aunt, though she made sure to frequently come over to visit you. She apologizes to you, promise she'd find a way to bring you to find your soulmate.

It only takes another two years for your father to decide to limit your meetings. Small family meals with him present, able to hear all of your conversation. And soon, not even those happen.

It's not until you graduate from Aoba Johsai and inform your father that you were going to attend Tokyo University, with or without his help, that you are able to return to Tokyo.

Back to the park, no longer aware of the name of your soulmate. All you remember is that golden color that was the first color you could ever see. But even then, in a world full of color and so many people, there was no way to ever find him again.

After all, there was no guarantee he'd even remain in Tokyo. Even if he did, who's to say he hadn't already had his heart casted in the direction of another after you had failed to fulfill your promise to see him again?

0.17 -- Masterlist -- 1.1

Notes

This honestly was finished like the day I posted 0.17 and then some of it didn't properly save so I didn't rewrite it until today lol

Thought it'd be kinda cool to like dive more into their like first meeting and also kind of why Y/N isn't sure about finding their soulmate but also kinda wants to

Ahhh I'm almost done with this semester so yay

Divider credits @cafekitsune and @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

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[aprillikesthings]

So I took a little bigger bite of gummy than usual and THEN Daci insisted we watch like a half hour of tiktoks together that they'd saved (lol 90% of them were Arcane jokes, including King Princess repeatedly being a troll) so by the time I got in the shower I was already feeling it. So if my typing or sentences get weird or bad you know why

This is one of those episodes I've literally only watched twice tbh

oh hey it's my tumblr background (on desktop)

I forget why they were sleeping outside lol it doesn't matter

But Glimmer's right the person who snores loudest is always the one to fall asleep first

okay so when Adora first sees the sword and tells Catra she's like "are you brain damaged???" Adora tells Glimmer "I thought I saw something" and Glimmer's like "pssht whatever" can people stop dismissing Adora seeing shit lol (edit: foreshadowing. right.)

oh right Im watching this for Castaspella in my 60's fic lol

"I've never relaxed in my life" lol we know

I know she's not the focus of this episode I'm just happy to see her heyyyy bb

(also has anyone watched bits of this show so many times they can pick out the styles of specific storyboarders/animators? not that I know their names, but like "whomever did this scene did this other scene." anyway whomever did a few random bits of this episode worked on parts of Moment of Truth)

ALSO ahahah I caught the moment she reacts to Adora's name

...I need to learn how to edit vids, I still want to make one of every time one of them reacts to the other's name/voice, bc once you notice that they do it every time, you can't UNnotice

Catra: ugggh another Adora mission, fine, when do I leave? (like girl you are acting so reluctant but ahahah)

Shadow Weaver: Nope, I'm gonna do it myself. Clearly, no one else can be trusted to bring her back to the Horde, least of all you!

Man SW realllllly loves to rub into Catra's face that her attempts at getting Adora back haven't worked, that's gotta sting

SW's voice actor was so good

SW: creates a terrifying monster

Catra:

is terrified

writing her as a hippie/shop owner who is also a bit new-agey and ALSO, a wine aunt, is gonna be so funny and fun okay

"Oh, Light Spinner, she's just a scary tale for children" I mean....she does...scare children...

Adora has ADHD. Also Aimee had fun recording this I bet lol

Bow: sounds like this Shadow Weaver really did a number on you growing up

Anyone else reminded of the first time they told a story from their childhood and the other person reacted with horror? anyway

lol I remembered that SW pretended to be other people and taunted Adora in Catra's voice but I didn't remember when so I still fucking JUMPED when she did the "Hey, Adora"

TBH this episode's plot is half "so SW is an abusive piece of shit, and Adora and her friends are starting to realize this"

Gahhh the bit of SW talking with Catra's voice and saying "SW controls us both, she always has" is so fucking creepy. Bc she's acknowledging she's, well, controlling.

oh hey did you know that Hordak's voice actor also did Kino (Mel's brother) in Arcane

SW pretending to be Glimmer and Bow and being a huge asshole to Adora is hard to watch ahhh

The only thing worse is watching her do the extremely typical abuser speech, but ...the kind a partner usually gives, not a parent! "they don't understand you, only I do, your friends don't really like you, they're just using you, you can only trust me"

gyahhhhh

y'know....I just realized. She knew Catra and Adora were close. She blames Catra to some extent for Adora leaving. She has Catra try to get her back multiple times and fail.

Which means at this point she thinks their friendship was entirely one-sided. Like, she could've used Catra's voice to beg her to come home, and she didn't.

I hope for every abused kid to have this moment

"this is what SW does. She manipulates people, she pushes them apart." yeah

lol I couldn't get one where she wasn't making a weird face bc she's talking but eheheh

"If you want to take down Adora, you have to go for the heart." She's looking at Bow through that spying bowl but....CATRA. she misses YOU. she cares about them but she also cares about you :(

also THE HEART YOU SAY???? (was this intentional foreshadowing)

the next episode is Princess Prom, but I'm not watching that one tonight

As it is. I know social media is a minefield atm. Anyone who started watching the last three eps of Arcane the moment it dropped is done.

What's funny is that I intentionally spoiled myself for the last season of She-Ra because I knew I wouldn't be able to watch it for a few DAYS

but Arcane we're watching tomorrow, and I want to know SO BAD whether or not they fuck, but I want to find out when Daci does, via watching it!!!

So don't tell me anything.

Can’t wait to engage in one of my fave midnight hobbies: get high as balls and rewatch bits of She-Ra and sometimes post screenshots with overemotional/horny captions

[an-absolute-nightmare]

it's funny how any decision i ever make that my mom doesn't like is something i do to her and any decision she refuses to take that would improve her life is me shifting blame onto her and nothing is ever her fault and everything wrong with her was done to her and the only times she has ever been wrong was when she is guilt tripping me but don't you dare ever imply to her that she's guilt tripping, oh god no, how dare you imply that her ''heartfelt'' apology (that consists of her taking all the blame and not even a little responsibility) is an attempt to guilt trip you, you're the problem, you just don't want to take responsibility of your life, you're just wasting opportunities served to you on a golden platter, you just picked the easier path, you just picked the harder path, jesus fucking christ mother i really don't want to say it but the truth is this, that for someone who never took a stand for her own life, you sure have opinions to offer about mine

[gayofthefae]

Found a new, concise way of putting it that I'm gonna try and remember so I can reuse it:

To say, as a straight person, that a queer character's queerness is out of the blue or unrealistic is to claim that they understand the queer experience to be able to identify inaccurate representation of it.

To call a character's queerness out of the blue as a straight person is to claim full understanding of the queer experience.

[sherlockholmeshound]

whenever ppl try to come up with some version of 'romance and love isn't forbidden by the jedi, on this one novel-'

i'm just...

[pet-genius]

Unpopular opinion but the bullying Snape endured is not that important on the whole. It's an explanation for why he treats harry like shit that preserves the possibility that he's a good guy regardless while also giving him a motive against Harry, so making James a bully was very clever storytelling. It's definitely why he hates harry. It's definitely why Hogwarts isn't where he would like to be and it affects his demeanor.

It's also not why he turned out like Snape. Snape was raised in poverty and abuse and has been groomed and radicalized since age 11, and on top of that, institutionally abandoned by the leader of the OOTP. And yes, he was also bullied. So he became a DE, in an attempt to move past all that and make his way in the world... resulting directly in his contribution to killing someone he loved. So he became someone who is stuck in the past, specifically someone who has to look after a living reminder of his own guilt and his own tormentor. Is he still a piece of shit and beyond even understanding to you? Fine, but it's hardly surprising that out of X people under these conditions, a majority would be very maladjusted.

And bullying is rather a mild term for what he suffered, imo, and even in universe Harry understands this. Plus, bully victims aren't typically forced to spend their whole life at the site of their trauma, serving the authorities that enabled their bullying.

James is not important. Not even as a bully. He is a single aspect of a rich character with a rich story. He is nothing. He has less depth than Dudley and less plot relevance than Winky. He is not even worthy of hate, if you're not literally Snape. You met a James and you're fine? Irrelevant. You didn't meet a Lily, a Tobias, a Lucius, a Dumbledore, a Voldemort. Sit down and be quiet.

“I was bullied in school and didn’t turn out like Snape.”

Well, that argument works both ways. I was never bullied in school—in fact, I’d say I was part of a group of people considered “cool,” and not once in our lives did we go around picking on others, either verbally or physically. Nor were we going around drawing attention to ourselves with jokes that only appealed to the intellectually challenged. So, I don’t know, this whole “kids will be kids” thing doesn’t sit right with me because I was in that position, and I was never that childish. Neither were my friends. If we’re going to personalize the argument without considering the characters’ context, then let’s all do it, right?

The ironic part is that the same people who endlessly excuse the Marauders are exactly the kind of people the Marauders would have bullied relentlessly, and the fact that they genuinely don’t see it is… I don’t know whether to find it sad, pathetic, or both.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

you absolutely already know this, but i adore your work. i think it's hard to avoid the pressure of being surrounded by people we might consider "true artists," but the fact is that, frankly, everyone who makes art is an artist.

before this year, i hadn't drawn a complete piece in nearly three years. the line work i did produce felt abysmal and i was tempted to give up. then, i saw your comic and i thought, "wow, that's really cute, and it looks like a fun style to emulate."

i drew you, pondering me, eating grass. and it WAS fun. i forgot how fun it could be. i can draw lesbian horses, or pony!WWX throwing a chicken, or me eating grass. i can even make shitty memes! and all of it, no matter how good or how bad, is fun again.

you bring a lot of fun to people here. that's something equally as important as people who cultivate fancy line work or expert level digital painting. i'm sure that's something you know, but i hope it never hurts to hear it.

happy first season, friend! i can't wait to see the rest.

As a chronic perfectionist, it's been a long journey for me to accept that 'done is better than nothing' and that the worst critical voice is my own. Sure there's people who've gone to professional art schools, and those with a more than a decade of experience on me, but honestly? Would I tell a child their sonic drawing isn't art? Just because they have no 'experience' or 'technique'? Absolutely not. So I'm no longer saying my efforts should not count as art.

At the end of the day, art is what we choose to make it. We have the power to create whatever we want. And we are going to use it to have fun! We never lost the love and fun for creation we all had as children, we just told ourselves it wasn't enough. But it really is B*)

[izzy-b-hands]

My doctor messaging me at 12:30 in the morning to tell me she wants to do a telehealth visit abt the side effects I'm having with my new Lamotrigine dose (including worse insomnia than my usual insomnia, as u may have guessed lmao) is. something.

[blackwaxidol]

speaking of onion boy (onision)... a very funny/strange/interesting memory i have is that my very first original post on this site when i joined nearly a decade ago was... a multi-paragraph rant absolutely ripping that man a new one because i could see exactly what kind of soulless excuse for a human being he really was and i was frustrated that this concept was not grasped by... his audience of people my age at the time. no introductory post no "how do i use this site" post no nothing. i just came in swinging with pure hatred in my heart.