#And first time writing a Tumblr Post

[dapper-lil-arts]

The Inheritors of Night and Day

[twentyfourducks]

Know him in a biblical sense: Sunday x Reader w/ implied Gallagher x Reader

When Sunday finds a different brand of cigarettes in your nightstand, he begins to grow paranoid.

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3378 words

Sunday’s heart is still racing from prior activities; the post-sex flush still present under a sheen of sweat. The desire that he was overflowing with moments ago was starting to drain from his system. Like how he typically does when he’s at your place, he reaches over to the nightstand (that you’ve dedicated as his own), and opens the drawer, rummaging through the items within. 

His nimble fingers quickly find and wrap around the little cardboard box. Immediately he notices that it doesn’t fit in his hand comfortably like usual: it’s slightly wider, a tad shorter, and peculiar to hold.

When he withdraws his hand, he sees the reason for the change in proportions; it's a different brand. There’s no cellophane around it, signifying that it’s already been opened. 

His eyebrows raise once he sees this, and he glances at you, already preoccupied with something on your phone. He combs through the drawer once more; this is the only box. 

Frowning, Sunday opens the lid and picks one out. The smell is an acrid stench compared to what he's used to, but he takes one anyway. There’s an empty space where two cigarettes would have been amongst the rest. When he lights it, the warm glow sharply contrasts the blue light of your screen, each of you separated to different sides of the bed.

He exhales and watches your face illuminated by your phone. He’s too tired to think about the implications of a foreign cigarette box.

For a while, his mind is blissfully empty; no concerns about Family work, no anything, just the comfortable burn in his throat and the fire in his heart. 

Laying your phone face down, you shift closer to him. Your nude body presses to his, and you press a kiss to his neck followed by a soft bite and gentle sucks. He can’t help the filthy sound he makes, as you've never done something like that before; he would be lying if he said he didn't like it.

You softly giggle at his reaction. He feels the hot breath of your whisper against his ear, and it asks for a drag. He gingerly hands the lit cigarette to you; as you take it, the red warmth of the tip illuminates your fingers that Sunday wishes oh-so-badly were somewhere else.

He hears a slow inhale and exhale before you climb to straddle him. His mind races as he thinks about how close you are to him, your thighs around his torso. A few inches lower, and he wouldn’t know how to react…

In a daze, he follows the glow in your fingertips all the way to the ashtray, where you put it out. He longs to be the one bearing that smoldering heat instead, but his thoughts are quickly swept away as you lean in to close the distance once more.

___

It’s hard to get work done when you’re distracted. Sunday knows this from experience, but he’s never had it worse than today. 

His thoughts flash to last night with you, lingering on your touch, your voice, your words…

…the foreign cigarette box…

He must set these thoughts aside. 

…the foreign box…

He has a meeting with the other Family heads shortly regarding the proposal in his hands. 

…the box…

Creases in the paper form where Sunday holds it. He shuts his eyes in frustration and forces out a sigh. So what if there was a suspicious box of cigarettes in your nightstand? 

Maybe you had wanted to try a different brand. 

Maybe that was all they had at the store. 

Maybe someone else bought them for you. 

Maybe someone else left them there. 

Maybe…maybe…

His trembling hands tell him that he can’t bear to finish that thought. 

Proposal be damned, he thinks as he sets the packet down. It’ll get passed anyway. The Alfalfa Family always gets their way.  

He fumbles for a small, metal key: the one that unlocks the top drawer of his desk. When he finds it, he struggles to align it with the keyhole, but succeeds after a few agitated tries. Sitting right where he left it, on top of other various things he would utilize if you were to pay him a visit to his office, is a box of cigarettes; the familiar brand, with its correctly shaped box and its comforting smell. 

Sunday takes the box and a lighter, shoving them into the depths of his pocket before pushing away from his desk. An unintentional screech resulting from the chair against the wood floor grates against his ears. He winces at this, the sound stuck in his mind as he walks out the door, across the hall, down the stairs, down the main hall, past the receptionist, and to the exterior of Dewlight Pavilion. 

Near the far grounds of the landscaped courtyard is where a bench sits obscured by topiaries; the spot where you would typically sit with him and chat on days you drop by. 

You haven’t been by to visit him at the Pavilion in ages…but maybe that’s his own fault for insisting that he needs to focus on his work all the time. He’s since come to learn that his body aches in your absence. It took him too long to realize how crucial you are to him.

The cold stone of the bench is nothing less than uncomfortable when he sits on it, but he's learned to tolerate it in exchange for seclusion. Sunday takes off his gloves and pries open the box, nearly tearing the lid; sitting within are two cigarettes. He had been saving them for your next visit: one for him, one for you. But alas, he’s alone today. 

He flicks the lighter —one that you gifted him— a few times until a small, tremoring flame is visible. With quivering hands, he struggles to light the cigarette…but succeeds eventually. 

When Sunday brings it to his lips, he satiates a hunger he didn’t know he starved from. He savors the taste and fixates his eyes to the ground while an induced calmness permeates his brain. 

You couldn’t actually be cheating on him, right?

He curses himself for being foolish. The least he could have done was ask about the foreign box in the moment. Then these thoughts wouldn’t haunt him.

He goes to adjust his shirt. In the wake of your actions last night, he had to wear a shirt he doesn’t typically wear in order to obscure the multiple dark spots on his collarbone and neck. His fingers linger on the first one you left him, pressing against it absentmindedly, invoking a dull pain. Where you kissed him so tenderly and then nipped at him. 

Where did you learn to do that, anyway…?

Possibilities flash through his mind, and the ones that draw a connection to the foreign box of cigarettes are the ones he refuses to consider further. Yet he can’t push them out of his mind. 

Already, the cigarette is nearly spent. And the meeting draws near. 

Sunday lets it fall to the ground, watching it spill its ashen innards onto the brick path. He gazes at it on the ground before stamping it out with his shoe. It almost hurts him to do so, as he imagines the cigarette as an extension of you; your brand, your gift, his addiction.

After all, you’re the reason he picked up the habit. 

He picks up whatever remains he can and tosses it into the trash before returning to the hell that awaits him. (He’ll have to remember to clean off the bottom of his shoe later.) 

“Mister Sunday,” the receptionist greets as he walks back in. “The other Family heads are waiting for you in the first conference room.”

Of course they demonstrate their punctuality today of all days, Sunday thinks to himself as he musters the most pleasant smile possible for his current mood. He thanks the receptionist, and hurriedly walks not towards the conference room, but to the restroom, to check his appearance and rinse out his mouth.

When he pushes open the door and walks into what he figures to be divine punishment for his sins, four faces turn to regard him with varying looks. They all know that it would be unbecoming to comment on his lack of timeliness, even if he is only four minutes and thirty seven seconds late. But who's counting?

Sunday takes his usual seat at the head of the table, where a portfolio filled with meaningless documents waits for him. The meeting commences, the beginning of an hour and a half of meaningless banter that could’ve been condensed into a simple memo.

In the midst of the meeting, while Oti Alfalfa goes on and on about the profit trend of The Reverie (it hasn't changed since the last meeting) and the increased smuggling in the Golden Hour (typical Bloodhound negligence), Sunday comes to a startling realization that has nothing to do with the aforementioned topics. 

His face doesn’t betray his emotions as he processes the fact that he remembers where he’s smelled the stench of those foreign cigarettes before. 

___

Dreamjolt Hostelry is sparsely populated, like usual. A mechanical dog looking to be a member of the Sweet Dreams Troupe growls at him as he enters, and Sunday immediately feels the instinct to turn back and leave. He wills himself to ignore this feeling; after all, he’s here for a reason.

The front bartender, Siobhan, is familiar; he’s seen her around Maeven during Family gatherings. Her wary, contemptuous gaze directed towards Sunday doesn't go unnoticed, but he’s not offended; instead, he’s surprised that someone with such a high standing in the Iris Family allows such feelings to surface openly.

“May I help you?” She picks up a perfectly clean glass and begins to polish it with a rag that has certainly seen better days.

“Is Gallagher around?” 

“Yes, but he’s not working right now. I can make you whatever drink you’d like,” she responds, focusing on wiping a particular spot along the rim.

“I’m afraid I need to speak with Gallagher about…” Sunday adjusts the sleeve of his coat. “…particular matters.” 

Siobhan quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't press further. “I’ll go fetch him.” She sets the glass down with the rag and disappears behind two swinging doors. 

After a few moments, Gallagher returns in her place. He crosses his arms at the sight of the Oak Family head. “Well, birdie. If it isn’t you. What brings you here?”

“Is a visit not reason enough?” 

“Maybe if we were somewhere else. And maybe if you had no ulterior motives. But this is a bar. If you’re not here to order a drink, then there’s no need for me to provide you with any service.” He makes a show of turning his back to Sunday and leaning against the counter, pretending to ignore him as he reaches his hand into his back pocket to pull out a lighter and a box of cigarettes (of a particular brand that Sunday’s had the displeasure of becoming familiar with recently.)

“Wait. Fine.” Sunday grits his teeth. “Give me a drink.”

The box and lighter disappear back into the pocket. Gallagher cracks his knuckles one at a time before turning to face him. “I knew you’d come around. What is it you want?”

“A water.”

“You can do better than that, birdie.”

Sunday rubs his temple in vexation. He must have forgotten what a headache it was to deal with this man. “Just give me whatever you recommend.”

“I was waiting for you to say that.” Gallagher chuckles, reaching for a fancy glass. “I’ll whip up something special just for you, birdie.”

The nickname gets on Sunday’s nerves but he persists through it anyway. He watches the man at work selecting various spirit bottles to formulate a drink base with, while also observing him in great detail: eyeing the wrinkles in his clothing; how one sleeve is rolled up higher than the other; his shaggy, unkempt hair that gets in his eyes…not to mention the fact that his vest barely even fits him, his unevenly buttoned shirt that exposes his chest when he bends over to scoop ice…

Gallagher looks up, catching Sunday’s stare and holding it for a moment. “You haven’t changed, have you?” The latter looks away with an irritated scoff, and the former returns to his drink mixing with a smirk. 

The finished drink slides along the counter and stops perfectly in front of Sunday, who welcomes it with a glare. 

“Well now, aren’t you going to give my hard work a try?”

Sunday regards the drink with disdain; the colors are unnaturally vibrant, glimmery, and somehow separated into layers. He grabs it, ignoring the unpleasant sensation of the accruing condensation, and takes a sip. The strength of the alcohol overwhelms his senses as he forces himself to swallow it.

“Now,” Gallagher props a hand on his hip. “What really brings you here? And I know it’s not because you miss me.”

Beneath the counter, Sunday digs a gloved nail into his palm. “I’m curious about the brand of cigarettes you smoke.” 

Gallagher regards him with a skeptical look before taking the box out from his pocket and brandishing it with a smug gesture. “What, these? I’m rather picky about what I smoke. Don't worry, they're perfectly legal, but I bet you won’t see many others with this brand.”

“Why is that?”

“I have them imported.” He takes one from the box before offering one to the sitting Halovian. “Want a sample? It’s on me…this time.” 

The memory of a bitter taste resurfaces in Sunday’s mind. “No thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Gallagher shrugs, proceeding to cup the flame as he lights the end. 

“Where are they imported from?”

“Somewhere way, way past the reaches of the Asdana system. If everyone knew, then they’d be a hot commodity, and the price would leap up. Not everyone has Family money around here.” Tendrils of smoke escape his breath and curl around his face. “Seems like you’re rather fixated on them. Sure you don’t want one?”

Sunday’s nose burns as the smell reaches him. “I’m very sure.”

“I did hear through the grapevine that you’ve taken up the habit.” Hooded amber eyes meet wide golden ones. “You a shy one?”

Those words give Sunday reason to freeze, as he either smokes with you or in solitude; he takes great care to ensure that. “Just who did you hear that from?”

“I have my ways.”

Vexation leaks into Sunday’s words as he clenches his jaw. “Tell me. Who?”

Gallagher laughs. A hearty one. Sunday almost wants to grab the rumpled tie around the man’s neck and yank it to force an answer out of him. But such a move would be inappropriate. Has he been…?

“You’re too paranoid. Has anyone ever told you that?” Honeyed words talk over a slow drag and an even slower exhale. “Maybe you should take a step back and examine what’s real and what’s not in that pretty little head of yours.” 

Sunday huffs before turning to leave the bar.   

“Drinking on business days isn’t a good look for you, birdie.” Gallagher calls to the receding man. “Better stick to the Pavilion during work hours. I’ve got my eye on you.” 

When the bar is far behind hallway twists and turns, Sunday finds himself standing alone in The Reverie’s dreamscape lobby. His fingers twitch as he stares up into the seemingly infinite floors. How he would love you to be here. How he would love to have something between his fingers right now. 

___

Sunday rests his head against your bare chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of your breaths as your fingers gently run through his hair.

“I’ve been worried about you,” you hum. He buries himself deeper into you. A multitude of questions swirl in his mind, each one heavier than the last. But the fear of your answers paralyzes him, trapping the words in his throat.

“Why have you been so distant recently?” you ask.

His face burns with a mix of shame and fear, and he hopes you can’t feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. “The Alfalfa Family is being a pain as usual.” That in itself isn’t a lie. But he knows you can see right through him and tell that’s not the root of the cause. 

That’s why he loves you so much, because you understand him like no other.

Call me out on my words, he beseeches you internally. Set me free from this agony…Tell me that I’ve been concerned over nothing at all.

“If you say so,” you murmur, and move on to stroking his wings. It’s a feeling that excites him, how your hands brush against his feathers and massage the sensitive area where the wings stem from behind his ears. However, any feelings evoked mix themselves with the swirling void of negative emotions inside him. But he can’t help how his body reacts, and shifts so you don’t notice anything. 

“You know there’s no reason to hide anything from me, right, Sunday?” 

Are you hiding something from me? He wants to respond. Please tell me…

Moisture accumulates in his eyes. It was a habit he could never break even as a kid, crying when things become too much…he hates it. It makes him feel weak. 

Weak…maybe that’s why he’s not enough for you. 

“Sunday? Sunday!” 

He resists you trying to pull him closer and curls into a ball facing away from you. He doesn’t want you to see him like this. What is wrong with him?

“Why are you crying, Sunday?” 

“Why are you crying, Sunday?” He was posed this same question many times as a child. He didn’t know then. He doesn’t know now. 

The swirling concoction of emotions choke him. Lamentation threatens to rear its head but he forces it back down.

“Sunday, you know you can tell me anything. Please,” you beg. “What’s wrong?”

Blinking away the tears that cloud his vision, he forces his words out as evenly as he can: “That box of…cigarettes in your nightstand.”

“Huh? What about the box?”

“Where did you get it?”

“I got that box from a friend when I ran out of my main ones.”

This time when you try to roll him over, he acquiesces, vulnerable as he stares blankly at the ceiling. A friend, huh?

A warm sensation graces his cheek and he reaches a hand up to meet it; it’s you delicately kissing away his tears. 

“Just a friend?”

“Just a friend,” you assure him, but the words fall on deaf ears as he imagines all the ways this “friend” would treat you. Do his calloused hands roam your body, exploring areas that you promised Sunday were his only? Instead of tender embraces, does he pin you down and have his way with you? Does he desecrate the wonderful altar that is your body with his slovenly movements? That altar that Sunday has spent many times worshiping himself? Is it his secondhand smoke you breathe in once when the two of you lie in the aftermath of passion? 

He begrudgingly realizes that these thoughts are not helping him feel any less sad or aroused.

“Sunday,” you hum, coaxing him out of his trance as if you were a siren. Your hands guide him, and the two of you are face to face. “Don’t overthink it.” You kiss him on the lips, and he tastes your sweetness. “You know I love you.”

“Do you promise?” He asks through a shaky breath. 

You wrap your arms around him, his face nuzzling the crook of your shoulder. “Always and forever.” 

Sunday closes his eyes, and it takes him a moment before he allows himself to at last find solace in your arms. “I love you more than anything,” he professes. 

For tonight at least, his doubt will be kept at bay, replaced by the gentle assurance of your love. He’ll pretend that he doesn’t see the unreadable expression on your face and he’ll refuse to perceive your hesitation as you whisper sweet endearments in his ear. 

All he’ll do is savor your scent and remain lulled by your touch.

[feelingsdumpcaptain]

her heart isn't gone

A/N: this is literally just a bunch of drabbles put into one post :') and yes, maybe i was listening to his car isn't yours on repeat as i worked on this. i haven't written in awhile so i'm a little rusty but i can't keep editing this so sorry for any inconsistencies.

Words: 8.6k (haha whoops!)

Emily briskly makes her way toward the cafe near the hotel, hoping to get a chance at a pastry. She could feel the sun warming her back and she regrets the blazer thrown over her longsleeve. It was peak summer and the team arrived in Carmel late last night so the heat hadn’t set in yet. Now that she feels the heat early this morning, she wonders how much warmer it can get.

She tugs on the cafe door, the smell of freshly baked goods surrounding her. Her mouth waters and her stomach rumbles as she considers the different options.

Lemon blueberry muffin, almond croissant, cheese strudel, banana bread…

She decides on the lemon blueberry muffin but just as she’s about to ask for it, she watches as they take the last one and place it into a bag. Her eyes follow, seeing them hand it over to a woman at the register and sighs. 

Emily makes her way to the front and glances at the coffee menu. “Hi, one salted cream vanilla latte and an almond croissant, please.” 

Once she pays, she steps off to the side and pulls out her phone to check for any messages. 

JJ (5:53 AM): Is anyone up for a run? Morgan (6:03 AM):  Sorry, some of us have already finished our workout ;) Garcia (8:48 AM): Do you people ever sleep???

Emily huffs a small laugh. She goes to reply but hears her name called for her order and puts her phone away. She grabs her drink and croissant and goes to throw a ‘thanks!’ over her shoulder as she heads out. As excited as she is about her drink, it’s short-lived when she feels herself bump into someone else. She only loses her breath from the impact but the coffee in her hand falls from her grip and spills.

She glances down and her eyes meet yours, the one who took the last lemon blueberry muffin. Emily can admit she finds you pretty, even with the dazed look on your face as you look up at Emily. She can feel the heat rush to her face when she realizes she’s just been staring and offers her hand to help you up. 

“Are you alright?” Emily asks, giving a gentle tug. Her eyes scan your clothes. “Did the coffee spill on you?”

You shake your head, cheeks going pink. “I’m okay, thank you. No coffee stains either.”

Emily’s chest flutters at the flush on your cheeks, keeping her smile small. “As long as you’re not hurt.”

You wave your hand. “Really, I’m okay. Just embarrassed. Here.” You hold out the white paper bag, and Emily realizes it’s the muffin she wanted.

“Oh, no. I can’t.”

“I insist! Please. You spilled your coffee. Or I could buy you another?”

Emily glances at her watch and winces. “I don’t think I have enough time to wait for another one. It’s okay.”

You push the bag into Emily’s free hand. “Take it. It’s delicious. They’re known for these muffins here.” 

“Oh, okay. Thank you, then. I’m still really sorry about bumping into you. I guess I wasn’t paying much attention.” 

“No worries. I could say the same for myself.” You rub the back of your neck. “I’m kinda known for being clumsy around town. Anyway, I better go before I embarrass myself even more. If you see me here again, let me know and I’ll buy you your coffee!” You give Emily a small wave and head out. 

*

Emily leans back in her seat, glancing out of the cafe window. She arrived earlier than expected, and the cafe was still quiet. She was able to grab two of the lemon blueberry muffins right as they came out of the oven, two resting on the table. She could feel the chill in the air, but her iced latte probably didn’t help.

She hears the bell over the door ring, her eyes glancing over. Her eyes meet yours, a small smile on her lips.

“You’re here early.” You sit across from her and reach for one of the muffins.

“More like late night. I haven’t exactly slept yet, but I didn’t want to risk sleeping through the morning.”

You grin and bat your eyelashes. “Aw, you didn’t want to miss our morning munchies?”

Emily lets out a huff. “Please don’t call it that.”

“But that’s what we do.” You take a bite of the muffin, glancing at the iced coffee Emily held onto. “Is that your salted cream latte?”

Emily’s eyes narrow, pulling the drink a bit closer to her. “Maybe. Why?”

Your eyes go wide and your lips pull into a small pout. “Can I have a sip?”

“What? Why? You don’t even like the cream on top! You’ve tried this latte multiple times and each time, you say you don’t like it.” 

“What if I change my mind this time?”

Emily laughs. “You won’t.”

*

“Are you following me?”

Emily rolls her eyes. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, I live here so I should be asking you that question.” You bump your shoulder into Emily, a smile on your face. “Who told you about my secret getaway?”

Emily laughs. “Secret getaway? It’s the beach.”

“Yeah, but this spot in particular. It’s away from the main boardwalk and it’s hidden.” 

Emily grins, leaning into you. “I have my ways.”

“Uh-huh. So you are stalking me.”

“Stalking? Please, you flatter yourself.”

You let out a small laugh, enjoying the warmth from Emily’s body. “I’m surprised you’re not working. How did you get a Saturday night off?”

“Told ‘em I had a hot date.”

*

“Hey, I wanted to tell you something.” Emily rubs at the inside of her wrist, just below her watch. She tries to look at you but can’t bring herself to, focusing on the empty plate between them. 

“What’s up?” You wipe at the table with a napkin, gathering the crumbs into a single spot.

“Well, we caught the guy last night so I’ll be leaving soon.”

“Oh.” You pause and look at Emily. “How soon?”

“Two hours?” Emily winces at the look on your face. “I’m sorry. We’re very… we move around, and fast.”

You can only nod.

“It’s not like I haven’t been enjoying our… us. I just can’t stay.”

“No, I understand. I mean, I knew that from the start. I just wasn’t expecting you to leave so fast after you caught him. I thought you might get like, a day or two off.”

“As nice as that sounds, that rarely happens. You know what they say.”

“...What?”

Emily sits up straight and clears her throat, her voice lowering. “Crime never sleeps.”

You groan. “Ew, don’t ever say that again, please.”

*

“Hey, are you up for drinks tonight?” 

Emily glances up from her computer screen, finding JJ leaning against her desk.

“Ah, not tonight. I’ve… got plans.” Emily hopes JJ doesn’t push but this is the third time she’s missed out on drinks with the team. “Next time?”

JJ’s eyes narrow, staring at Emily.

“Stop trying to profile me.”

“Only if you tell me why you haven’t been out with us for the past three Friday nights. The first time, fine, we get it. The second time, it’s a little suspicious. But the third time? You are not getting out of it without an explanation. I will tell Garcia on you.”

Emily huffs, leaning back into her chair. “I have plans.” She holds a finger up. “That I cannot cancel or reschedule.”

“Uh-huh. And does it, by any chance, have anything to do with a certain woman from a certain beach town we may have been in recently?” JJ’s smirking now, arms crossed. “And it wouldn’t be because she’s been visiting every weekend since then, would it?”

Emily only gapes at her. “How— who told you that? How do you even know about her?”

JJ shrugs. “I went on a run every morning there that no one ever showed up for. I ran through the whole town eventually and may have seen you at the same cafe around the same time with the same woman.”

“If you know, then why are you asking?”

“I didn’t but you just confirmed it for me.” JJ taps her desk with her knuckles before heading out. “Well, maybe next week you’ll bring her along. Goodnight, Emily!”

Emily only groans, dropping her head into her hands.

*

You step out onto the sidewalk, waving to the doorman. It was almost 8 and Emily was on her way. Your heart flutters in anticipation and you rock back and forth on your feet as you wait. 

The sight of headlights coming down the street catches your attention, and you follow with your eyes as it approaches. You recognize the Jeep and get in, eyes meeting Emily’s. 

“Hi,” you breathe out, hand brushing against the one resting the gear shift.

Emily gives you a small kiss on the edge of your lips, letting out a quiet hello before leaning back into her seat. “Ready?” 

Your seatbelt clicks into place. “Uh-huh. Where are we going on this exhilarating Friday night?”

“Exhilarating? I was thinking of taking you to my place to crochet.”

“Emily.” 

“What? You don’t want to spend quality time with me? Not to mention Sergio is just dying to meet you.” She pulls away from the curb, eyes focused.

“Oh, are you ready to introduce me to your family?” You tease, leaning close enough for her to feel your breath on her cheek. “Are we taking that next step so soon? You haven’t even taken me to bed yet.”

Emily’s hand immediately falls onto your thigh, her grip tight. “Don’t start.” She hesitates, before coming to a stop in a parking lot. “But… what do you think about it?” 

You abruptly pull away from her, eyebrows raised. “What do I think about meeting your family? Emily, we haven’t even… it’s only been–”

“No! No, I don’t mean my family. Well, I mean I do but I don’t mean my parents. I meant more like my team.” Emily grabs your hand, pulling it close to her lips. “I haven’t told them anything but they have their suspicions.”

“God, Em, don’t scare me like that.” You let out a shuddered breath, closing your eyes. “Why do you want me to meet them suddenly?”

“Just… it would be nice, I think, if I could spend time with the people I care most altogether?” She glances at you, eyes wide.

“Oh, you’re good.” 

*

You felt a paw lightly pat your face, the fur tickling your nose.

“Sergio, please. Five more minutes,” you groan. You turn over in bed, trying to bury your face in the pillow that still smells like Emily’s shampoo.

You hear a laugh from the other side of the room. “You should know better than that.”

“He’s your son, why isn’t he bothering you instead?”

“Because he knows that I have to get ready for work.” You hear Emily shuffling in her closet. “Hey, have you seen that blue button-up of mine, by chance?”

You pause, looking down at your body wearing that exact button-up. You pull the blanket up higher. “Uh, no, I haven’t. Might be in the dirty laundry pile? I can start it today while you’re at work.” 

“Yeah, that’d be great.” She grunts, putting her shoes on. “Also, what do you think we should have for dinner?”

“Whatever you want, babe.” You sigh, realizing sleep is no longer coming. 

Emily chuckles, sitting next to you. “I’ll see you later, okay? It’s supposed to be quick.” She presses a kiss onto your forehead. “And maybe we can…” 

You smack her with her pillow. “Let you in my pants one time and now it’s all you think about. Get outta here.”

She laughs, resting her body on top of yours. 

“Em! Please, I can’t breathe.” You push at her shoulders, laughing.

“You seem to be breathing just fine.” She relaxes her body even more, letting her full weight rest on you. “And I’ll have you know that you seduced me!”

“That’s not true! You’re the one who wined and dined me, showing off your fancy wine knowledge and your fancy French.”

“Fancy French?” Emily chuckles, rolling her eyes. “It’s just French, babe.”

She pushes herself up, adjusting her shirt before her eyes land on you. “Hey, that’s my shirt!”

“Oops?”

“You’re lucky I think you’re so cute.”

*

It starts with a small itch on your cheek during dinner that you brushed off. As you lean back into your seat as Emily drives, eyes drooping, you think it might be a stray hair tickling your face. Emily’s talking about possibly going out for drinks tomorrow night with her team but you’ve started to rub at your eyes. 

“Hey, you okay?” Emily’s brows furrow, watching you unable to keep your hands from your face. 

“I’m okay, my face just feels a little funny.” The skin of your face actually feels so tight, especially when you try to smile. “Hey, Em…”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Was there, by any chance, Thai eggplant in any of our dishes tonight?”

“I think the curry did. Why?” 

You huff out a laugh. “Oh no.” 

“Oh no, what? Should I be taking you to the ER?” Her voice is rising in pitch, eyes darting to try and think of the nearest ER. “Baby, you’re allergic? Why didn’t you tell me before? Oh God, do you need me to grab an EpiPen? Do you even have one?”

“Relax, Emily, I’m fine, and no need for an EpiPen. I’ll be okay, it’ll go away on its own. I’ll pop a Claritin and I should be okay.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re allergic? Are you allergic to anything else?” Emily’s biting onto her lower lip, eyes glancing over to you every few minutes. “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the ER?”

“I’m sure, but thank you for caring. And no, as far as I’m aware, I’m not allergic to anything else. I do try to stay away from fava beans though. Not allergic but it does make me feel nauseous.”

“Fava beans? What the hell are those?”

“It’s usually in like hummus and falafel, but I think you can make them into a dish itself? Not sure, but again, I stay away from it in general.”

“So hummus and falafel are banned from my house, got it.” 

“Emily, don’t be ridiculous. You can have those in your house, they’re not going to kill me.” You pat her thigh. “Thank you for your concern though.”

“What if you accidentally eat it?”

“Emily,” you chuckle. “What’s the hummus going to do, open its container, scoop itself onto a spoon, and force its way into my hand?”

*

You spin yourself around in Emily’s chair, staring at the ceiling and wondering what movie to watch tonight. It’d been a long day for you, your flight being delayed stranding you at the airport for a few hours. By the time your plane landed, it was late, and there weren’t many cabs around. It felt like every part of your trip was a challenge, and you were just glad to finally be near Emily.

You glance at the meeting room she’s in and can only wonder what she’s discussing with Hotch that has her looking so troubled. 

“Oh, Y/N, you’re here! How was the flight?” Penelope leans against Emily’s desk. “I saw it was delayed.”

“You saw?” You shake your head. “Wait, don’t answer that.”

Penelope grins, sending you a wink. “You should know better.”

“The flight was okay, definitely felt longer than usual. Then when I get here, there’s like no cabs at the airport. Which, fine, I get it, it’s late but seriously? And then when I try to get an Uber, the price is like triple the usual rate!” You roll your eyes, leaning back in the chair. “I should’ve just rented a car.”

“Well, at least you made it. Are we seeing you at all this weekend or is Emily hogging you for the whole time?” 

“Ah, well, I guess that’s up to Emily. I’m up for a girl’s night this weekend.” You tap at your chin. “There is a cocktail lounge I’ve been wanting to try but I think they’re only accepting reservations.” 

“Hm, interesting. I’m not making any promises but I’m gonna try and work some magic and see if I can get us on the list.” Penelope wiggles her eyebrows. “All you have to do is convince your big, bad girlfriend to say yes to sharing you.” 

“Not a chance, Garcia.” Emily’s standing behind her, arms crossed. 

“Aw, but Emily! We haven’t seen Y/N in so long and you always keep her to yourself every weekend.” 

“Yeah, Emily, stop hogging me,” you tease, leaning forward onto her desk.

She throws her hands up. “Fine, we can do a girl's night. Pick a place and time, Pen, but tonight, we’re busy.” Emily tugs at your arm, pulling you to the exit.

“Goodnight, Penelope! Let me know about the cocktail lounge!” You wave, happy to be dragged away.

Once you get into Emily’s car, you can’t help but look at her and grin. “You don’t have to be so jealous, you know.”

She scoffs. “Jealous? Why would I be jealous? You’re not secretly dating Penelope or JJ.” She pauses. “Are you?”

“I don’t know, am I?” 

Emily pinches your cheek. “Don’t be a smartass.”

“You love that about me.” You freeze, heat rushing to your face and the tips of your ears going pink. “Emily, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking–”

“I do. Love you, I mean. Granted, I didn’t think this was when I would tell you this. Maybe at a nice dinner or home but… I do.” 

“Home?” You stare at her, heart stuttering. “You love me?”

“So much,” Emily breathes out. 

You can only smile, reaching out to stroke her cheek. “You’re something else, Emily Prentiss, but I love you too.”

*

“So… what are your thoughts on being neighbors?” You focus on the book in your hands, refusing to look at Emily beside you on the couch.

“Excuse me?” She lays her book down and turns to face you. “Neighbors?”

You hesitate before looking at her. “My contract in Carmel is ending and I’ve been offered an analyst position with the city. Here. I haven’t accepted yet because I wanted to talk to you about it first.”

She frowns, grabbing your hand. “Y/N… if it’s a great opportunity, you should take it regardless of my opinion.”

“I know but I don’t want to make it seem like I’m… being pushy? Or rushing you? It’s one thing to date someone long distance, it’s another to be in the same city.”

“Shouldn’t I be happy that I get to see you more often than just weekends?” She tilts her head. “Not only that, but if you don’t accept this position, doesn’t that mean you won’t have a job?”

“That’s not my point, Em. I just mean that maybe you might feel… suffocated. With me, here. Yes, we love each other but–”

“No buts.” She presses her finger against your lips. “But I’m hurt that you’re planning to be my neighbor.”

“What do you mean? You want me to live on the other side of town or something?” You grab her hand and move it to your lap. “That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“No, I mean, why wouldn’t you just be my roommate?”

You splutter. “Excuse me? You want me to move in?”

“Well, it’d make sense, wouldn’t it? If you got a place, we’d just be going back and forth between the two. Not to mention paying an unnecessarily ridiculous price for a place.” Emily begins to list the reasons on her fingers. “We have dinner together every night you’re here, you currently don’t have a car, this house is decently close to the city office, and I have the room for you. Obviously.” She leans back against the couch, letting out a relaxed sigh, and closes her eyes. “Any other concerns?”

You can only gape at her, at a loss for words.

“Now the real question is this: how much are they offering you to take the job with the city?” She opens her eyes to look at you. “Baby?”

You shake your head. “Their initial offer is for $175,000.”

“Christ, for maps?!”

“Hey! You use maps at your job all the time so you’re welcome. And I said it’s their initial offer. I’d technically be considered a senior analyst, so it’s closer to $200,000.” 

Emily’s eyes roll back. “God, keep talking dirty to me.”

“Em!” You tug at her ear gently. “You’re so annoying.”

*

You can barely hear the knock over the music you have playing, but you’ve been expecting it. Swinging the door open, you find JJ and Henry standing with bags over their shoulders.

“Ah, my royal guests have arrived for the night.” You step aside to let them in, locking the door behind them. “Are we hungry yet?”

JJ groans. “Please tell me you made what I think you made.”

You turn the volume down on the sound system low enough to not have to yell. “That depends. What are you hoping I made?”

Henry wraps himself around your legs. “Pasta chicken, please.”

You gasp. “How did you know I made pesto chicken? Do you have superpowers?” You look up at JJ. “You can put your stuff in the guest room if you’d like. Or we can set up in the living room?”

“No, the guest room is great. I’ll be right back.” She grabs Henry’s bag from the floor and heads down the hallway.

“Alright, my dude, let’s check on the food. And I made brownies for dessert.” You guide Henry toward the kitchen, stomach grumbling. “Emily also better get her butt here sooner than later, or else.”

“Or else what?” 

You jump, hand flying to your chest. “JJ, please, not everyone is an FBI agent!” 

She lets out a laugh. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Habit, I guess. Did you need any help?”

You wave her off. “Nah, I got it. I have drinks in the fridge if you want some. There’s beer, wine, soda, and j-u-i-c-e.”

“Sounds good. Want me to grab you anything?” JJ tugs the fridge open, pursing her lips. “How’s the wine?”

“Don’t know, it’s Emily’s.” You let out a small laugh. “Feel free to open it.”

She shakes her head, pulling the bottle of wine out and a juice for Henry. “Her loss, I guess.”

“Whose loss?”

You both jump this time. “Christ, Emily!” You rub your temples. “I’m not going to survive like this. I feel like my heart’s restarted so many times since moving in.”

“Well, maybe if you listened to me about the music volume, you wouldn’t be so jumpy.” She tugs you close. “Sorry, I’m a bit late.”

You roll your eyes. “You know how I feel about music.”

“You have it on so you don’t feel lonely when you’re home alone,” Emily and JJ both recite. 

“Wow.” You scoff. “I don’t say it that often!”

JJ leans down to hand Henry his juice, wiping the condensation on her pants. “You don’t have to. It’s always on when we come over.”

“And it’s always on when I come home from work.”

“Well, it’s better than just sitting here in silence by myself.”  

Emily smiles, heading to the fridge. “I know you don’t like when it’s too quiet. It’s okay.”

*

Emily’s chin drops down to her chest and lets out a heavy sigh. She was late, much later than she told you. She rubs at the ridges of her house key feeling like a stone sat in her stomach. Things have been somewhat tense the past few weeks and she knows she hasn’t made it better. This is the fifth Friday night she’s missed, and it doesn’t help that it was your anniversary tomorrow. 

She’d promised you she’d be home early but the team caught a case right after lunch. She tried to keep you updated throughout the day but by the time it hit midnight, you stopped replying. Emily pushes her way in, instantly rearming the alarm. Setting her bags down on the small side table, she heads further in, ears straining to hear for any movement.

She notes the lack of music and wonders how long it’s been off. By the time she makes it to the bedroom, she’s shed her shoes and blazer. Emily sighs once more when she sees you asleep in bed, Sergio curled onto the pillow beside you. 

She makes her way to the closet, shuffling through to grab some pajamas. She can shower tomorrow morning, and maybe she can make it up to you and have you join her.

“When did you get in?”

Emily’s heart jumps as she turns to look at the bed. You’re still curled beneath the blankets but your eyes are staring straight at her.

“I’m just getting in,” she breathes out. Emily pulls her button-up and bra off, exchanging them for a large t-shirt. “Did I wake you?”

“No, Sergio did.” You glance over to the cat that’s now made himself comfortable halfway onto your forehead. “Everything at work okay?”

“Yeah, just got unlucky. We caught a case right after lunch.” She tugs her slacks off and settles into bed beside you. “Didn’t make much progress either, but the amount of bodies we kept finding were… a lot.”

You let out a quiet hum. “Make a profile yet?”

Emily shakes her head, rolling over to face you. “No, not yet. We’re missing something but we just haven’t found it yet.” She stares at you, hesitating just a bit. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

“It’s okay, Em, it’s work.” 

“It’s not though. This isn’t the first one I’ve missed, and I’m sorry. I know it might feel like I’m not trying but I promise that I am.” She reaches for your waist, pulling you close. “And I don’t want you to think that I’m avoiding you or anything like that.” 

“Emily, I mean it. I know how your job works. I’m not mad at you. Am I a little sad and disappointed? Anyone would be, but I’m not going to hold something like this over you. That’s like if you held a grudge against me every time I lose track of time when I’m working.” You tuck your face into her neck, breathing her in. “Just glad you’re okay.”

She squeezes you tight, letting her body relax. “I’m going to make it up to you.”

You let out a small laugh. “Oh yeah? What’d you have in mind?”

“I don’t know yet but I’ll figure it out. Maybe…” Emily bites her lip, thinking. “Maybe after the case though?”

“Of course, babe. I wouldn’t expect anything else.” You try to hold in your yawn, but Emily can feel it against her skin. 

“Go to bed. I’ll wake you up before I leave tomorrow.”

“Mm, tell me about your case. Not too many details though.”

Emily smiles, letting her eyes close. “You don’t wanna hear about what they did to the bodies and where we found them?”

You shudder. “God, no. Just wanna hear your voice.”

*

“Emily, hey. I’m glad you answered.” You stuff as many shirts as you can into the small luggage, holding your cell phone between your ear and shoulder. “Listen, something’s come up and I’m on my way to the airport.”

Emily ducks into an empty conference room, leaning against the door. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Do you want me to meet you at the airport?”

“No, that’s not necessary. My mom called me and– it’s nothing. Not anything bad but I just have to help her sort some stuff out.” You zipped the luggage up, doing a quick scan to make sure the windows were shut and Sergio’s water bowl was filled.

“You sure I can’t do anything?” Emily turns to look out the window, unaware that she’s started to bite the nail of her thumb. “We don’t have any pressing cases right now, I can meet you–”

“It’s okay, I promise. Stay.” You set the alarm and lock the door behind you. “Just… it’s my brother. He’s always had a tough time once he finished high school. He’s been doing good, but my mom is worried. I just need to see what’s happening and have it sorted. I should be back in a few days.”

“Y/N–”

“I’m sorry, Em, my mom’s calling. I’ll call you when I get there, okay?”

Emily sighs when the call disconnects, shoulders slumping. It’s been a good few weeks since your anniversary and things have been getting better, but it just feels like something’s been off. She makes her way back to her desk and opens a new window on her computer. 

This is wrong. You shouldn’t be looking him up. If she wanted you to know about him, she’d have told you by now. It can’t be that bad.

Emily groans, closing the window. 

“What’s wrong, my dark fairy?” Penelope perches herself on the edge of Emily’s desk. “Trouble in paradise? Don’t tell me Y/N’s still mad at you. Haven’t you been taking any of my advice? Groveling, presents, and ravishing her every chance you get?”

“Penelope, please, not so loud.” Emily shakes her head. “It’s not that. She said she had to fly home to handle some stuff that’s come up and she mentioned her brother. I don’t really know much about him and I was gonna…” Emily wiggles her fingers and points to the computer. “But I can’t bring myself to do it. That’s– I shouldn’t do that, right? It’s wrong?”

“Oh-ho-ho. The good ol’ dilemma of wanting to find out what’s going on vs. not betraying someone’s trust.” Penelope leans in, lowering her voice. “As a hacker, I say do it. As a friend…”

“As a friend, don’t?” 

Penelope darts her eyes to the computer. “I’d still do it, especially if I think it’s for someone’s safety or well-being!”

“Pen!” Emily drops her face into her hands. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Want me to?” 

Emily thinks about it for a few minutes, worrying what your reaction might be. “Just… If you do it and you don’t find anything pressing, don’t tell me that you did it. But if it’s something bad, then tell me. I need to know if I need to be there too.” 

“You got it, goth queen.”

*

“Happy birthday, Emily!” You lift Sergio from the floor and press his face against her cheek. “Welcome home. I hope you’re ready to celebrate.”

Emily smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of Sergio’s head. “If that means relaxing on the couch with my two favorites, then I’m so ready.”

“Not just that but I also have some extra surprises in store for you.” You set Sergio into her arms and give her a quick peck. “I just need to grab them. You go get comfy and I’ll meet you in the living room?”

“It’s a date.” Emily watches you head to her office, shaking her head in disbelief. “Can’t believe that’s where she’s kept them hidden and I didn’t even think to look in there, Serg.” 

Emily places Sergio onto her bed as she goes to change into pajamas. She glances at the box at the top of her closet, wondering if today would be the day. 

“Em? You almost done?”

She lets out a breath, shaking her head. Not today. “Yeah, I’m just about finished. Be there in a sec.” 

Lowering herself down to her knees beside the bed, she brings her face close to the cat and lowers her voice. “Listen here, buddy. I’m going to need you to put in some work and be extra cute and irresistible. I’m going to need all the help I can get.” He only stares and blinks at her. 

“Oh my god, I’m losing it,” Emily mumbles, scooping Sergio back into her arms to head back to the living room. Her eyes widen when she sees the gifts on the small table. “Uh, Y/N? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “That’s rich, coming from the woman who paid for a month-long trip for my birthday and didn’t let me chip in. We also flew first class, Em, first class.”

She scoffs, plopping down onto the couch. “That trust fund isn’t gonna use itself, so what better way than to spend it on you?”

You push her shoulder, settling in beside her. “I could say the same for myself, minus the trust fund. Do you wanna open gifts first or later?”

“Mm, later. I just wanna lay here with you.” 

“Any movie suggestions?”

“You pick.” She buries her face into your neck, closing her eyes. “It’s been a long day so nothing too heavy or intense, please.”

“Taxi?”

“Again?” 

“You said I could pick!” You poke at her side, scrolling through movies. “Do you wanna do a TV show instead?”

Emily only mumbles.

“Ah, yes. Thank you for that detailed and clear answer. That narrows down my search immensely. I have a top 3 for selection.”

“Stop being a smartass.”

You laugh, selecting Taxi anyway. The movie starts and as you both sit there, you can feel Emily’s body going lax. “Happy birthday, Emily,” you whisper. 

*

“No, Emily, absolutely not. You can’t drive like this!” You argue, holding her car keys close to your chest. “Hotch said you can take the rest of the week off, so why don’t you?”

Emily only gives you a look. 

“Uhg, I know. Can’t you just, I don’t know, get a ride from someone? I can call JJ and she can swing by?”

“I’m already up later than usual, Y/N. It’s 10. The day’s already started for the team a long time ago.”

You bite your lip, glancing at your computer. You don’t have any pressing deadlines coming up so you could technically take an early day. The real dilemma is getting Emily to agree.

“I’ll make a deal with you.” You straighten your shoulders and clear your throat. “And if you don’t agree, you’re going to have to think of another way to get to work.”

“I’m listening.”

“You let me drive you to work. I can take you now and pick you up later.”

Silence.

You can feel the heat spreading on your cheeks as you wait for Emily to say something, anything. “Em?”

“Nobody drives my Jeep but me.”

“Emily Prentiss, you literally got shot yesterday. If you think for one second I’m going to let you drive with an injury, you are out of your mind.”

She grits her teeth. “Y/N…”

“Emily.” You stare at her head-on. “If you love me as much as you say you do, you’ll let me do this for you.”

She dips her head, closing her eyes. “Fine, you can drive my Jeep but if you get a scratch on her, I’m putting my cold feet on you for a month!” Emily turns around with a huff, going to grab her work bag. 

*

You can’t help but admire the new ring that sits on your finger as you sit at your computer. It’s been two hours since you clocked in but you can’t concentrate. The butterflies in your stomach haven’t gone away since you woke up and Emily smiled at you. Biting your lip, you try and focus on the map in front of you. 

Your phone buzzes on the desk and you sigh. 

Emily ❣️(9:53 AM): Get to work.

You startle, looking around the office and debating on whether you should turn the music down or not. There’s no way she’d have cameras set up without telling you, would she?

You (9:55 AM): I don’t know what you mean 🙂 Emily ❣️ (9:59 AM): I know you. Now get to work. We can celebrate again when I get home 😜

You can feel the tips of your ears go pink, locking your phone and setting it face down on the desk. Instead of getting back to work, you open a new browsing window instead and immediately search for rings. You’ve yet to find one that would fit Emily, and it’s starting to feel like you’re going to have to make a custom piece. 

Your phone buzzes against the desk, causing you to jump. There’s no way you were getting anything done today. 

*

When you swing the door open to a red-eyed JJ, your stomach drops. The way she’s looking at you is something you’ve never wanted to experience. 

“JJ… don’t.” You shake your head, the ring on your finger feeling so, so heavy.

She takes in a deep breath, her voice shaky. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. She– they said she didn’t make it off the table.”

The only thing you can hear is the music you’ve been playing all day and the sound of your breathing. JJ is speaking to you, hands moving, but it’s like no words are coming out. You can’t process anything she’s saying and you can only stare into her eyes. 

JJ would never lie to you and she would never put you through this if she knew there wasn’t a possibility of Emily surviving. She’s guiding you back inside, her face tight. 

“Y/N?”

You look at her, finally taking her in. The tip of her nose was pink, her ponytail was a mess, and her shirt was rumpled.

“Sorry, could you repeat that? I’m–” You’re at a loss for words, uncertain. 

“I asked if you wanted to stay with me.” JJ grabs onto your hands, her eyes roaming your face. “You don’t have to be alone tonight, or any night. I’m sure Henry would love to have you and Sergio over.” 

You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. You don’t need to take care of one more person.” 

“Y/N, it���s okay, really.” JJ glances around, wincing. “I think it would be best. At least for one night? And then we can go from there, okay? If not for you, then for me.”

You sigh, nodding. “Okay.”

“Okay. You stay right here. I’ll grab you a few things and then we can go, okay?”

As JJ makes her way into the bedroom, her eyes water. This is not how she wanted to find out the two of you got engaged over the weekend. Taking a deep breath, JJ is quick to grab a change of clothes and Sergio. She finds you still sitting on the couch, the music turned off. 

“Come on, let’s head out.” She squeezes your shoulder before handing you Sergio. 

You slowly stand, looking down at the black cat, realizing that he won’t understand why Emily will no longer be coming around. You take in a breath and blink back the tears as you move to turn the alarm on. “Are you sure, JJ? I can stay, really. I’m sure you’d like to be alone too–”

“I want you to come, Y/N. Please. I’d like to keep you close tonight.” JJ frowns, the indecision clear on her face. “I can’t tell you everything yet, but once things are settled, I promise I will. I just need to make sure you’re safe.”

The drive to JJ’s is a blur. It felt like it went by in the blink of an eye but at the same time, it felt like hours. As you both make your way to the front door, it feels like you’ve been awake for hours. Wasn’t it just this morning that you were making plans with Emily for Friday? You have a dentist appointment tomorrow, your mom wanted you to call her back, and there’s a deadline coming up– 

Your head throbs.

JJ pushes the door open, the lights off and the house is silent. “Well, looks like everyone’s asleep. Here.” She guides you to the guest room you frequented every girl’s night, not bothering to turn the light on. 

As you sit, you look at her once more. “JJ…”

“I know. I’m so sorry.” She presses a kiss to your forehead. “Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll figure things out, okay? And if you need me for anything, don’t hesitate to wake me.”

All you can do is nod as you lay down, tugging the blanket over you. “This is real, isn’t it, JJ?”

She pauses at the doorway. “Yeah, Y/N, it’s real.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “And she’s not coming back.”

“No,” she whispers.

You can feel the adrenaline and nerves finally hit, and somehow your eyes close.

* 

“I don’t know how that makes me feel! Isn’t that why I’m here?” You raise your eyes to Dr. Crane, the psychologist that JJ has been forcing you to go to. “I told you from the start that I didn’t think that this would help.”

Dr. Crane leans forward, setting her notebook aside. “Y/N, in the past two months, do you want to know what I’ve noticed about you?”

You throw your hands up, defeated. “Sure, why not?”

“You insist that being here wouldn’t help you but you come to every appointment. That’s three times a week, by the way. You start the session calmly, and as the questions progress, so does your anger.” She taps her desk with her pen. “Not only that, but you’ve been unable to say Emily’s name once in any session, you refuse to answer questions you don’t like the answer to, and you frequently try to change the subject when I ask about your engagement.”

You wince, glancing at the ring on your finger. “Not much to talk about. It didn’t last very long.” 

Oh, that one hurt. 

“Look, people grieve differently, right? This is how I’m doing it.” 

“And do you think that’s healthy? Being unable to say a name? Wearing a ring that you seem to resent whenever you talk about it?” You can feel yourself clenching your jaw as you look at your hands. “Are we finished for today?” You don’t wait for an answer, but stand and grab your things. 

“Y/N, a loss is something so many people experience but very little know how to process. If you continue this way, how long do you think you’ll last before you’re forced to confront it?”

You say nothing as you storm out of the office, the frustration building. JJ stands from the waiting room, a frown on her face as she sees your haste to leave. She looks back toward the office before following you with a sigh. 

“Y/N, you said you’d try–”

“This is me trying, JJ! I’m just– I’m not ready.” You stand on the sidewalk, staring at her. “I’m not ready to accept she’s gone. Every day I wake up, thinking that I had a bad dream. I look down at my finger and I see this ring and I wonder how much longer it’ll be until I can take it off without feeling like I’m trying to forget her.” 

JJ shakes her head, hand reaching for you. “We can find you another psychologist if you want. If you think Dr. Crane isn’t helping, then we can–”

You shake your head, taking a few steps back. “No, I know. I just– I need to be alone for a little while, okay? You’ve done a lot for me these past few weeks, JJ, and I appreciate that but I just need to think.”

“Let me drop you off, then. Where are you going?” 

“No, it’s fine. I can walk. Please, JJ. Just let me be alone for a little while. I promise I’ll be okay. I’ll call you?” You take a few more steps back before turning away.

“Y/N! You call me if you need a ride, okay?” 

You throw your hand up in acknowledgment as you briskly walk away from JJ, your head pounding. 

*

They’re everywhere. No matter where you are or what you’re doing, it’s like they follow you all day long. You know it’s not true, but that’s what it feels like. Just how many people actually drive Jeeps? Maybe you’ll look at some data later.

It’s like the car itself was following you, trying to force you to acknowledge it. None of them are her’s though. That one’s sitting in the parking garage, untouched. Over the past few months, you’ve thought about selling it but can’t bring yourself to actually do it. It’s not like you drive it, but it’s just one more thing to hold onto. 

You tap at your keyboard, the posting halfway finished. This is the fourth time you’ve tried to sell this Jeep but every time, something stops you. The first time, the wifi disconnected. The second time, Sergio jumped onto the desk and stepped onto the keyboard which caused the window to close. The third time, you kept getting interrupted by phone calls from work so you just gave up. But now? Now you don’t think you should sell it at all.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” You buckle your seatbelt before looking at Emily.

“Yeah, what’s up?” She pulls away from the curb, the engine rumbling as she made her way to the highway.

“Why’d you get a Jeep?” 

Emily grins. “What’s wrong with my Jeep?”

“Nothing! Just… it’s not what I would expect from someone who works for the FBI. I feel like you’d have something more, I don’t know, practical? Discrete?” 

“How much more discrete could this be? It’s all black, even the rims!” 

“Yeah, but I imagined you having like an SUV or something. All blacked out, reinforced, or bullet-proof, you know? Not a Jeep.”

“How do you know it’s not reinforced or bullet-proof?” Emily speeds up now that she’s on the highway. “Besides, if I ever had to, I could go off-road in this baby. Wanna see?” She jerks the steering wheel slightly, causing you to let out a yelp.

“Emily, don’t you dare! If we’re late to our reservation again–”

“Baby, on our Friday night? I would never.”

You sigh, turning your computer off. You can try again tomorrow. 

*

“Do you think I should do it, JJ?” You gaze out of her car window, recognizing her neighborhood. “Or is it too soon?”

JJ takes in a deep breath. “I– I think you should do it if you think you’re ready. And if you’re not, that’s okay too.”

“I should try though, shouldn’t I?” You begin to twist the ring on your finger, hesitant. “It hasn’t been that long but it feels like it’s been years. I feel like I’ve been living without her for so long now, but…”

“Y/N, if you want to try, you can. And if you change your mind, you can always cancel or leave. Whoever it is that you’re thinking of is hopefully a good person and can understand where you’re coming from.” JJ pulls into her driveway and turns her car off. “Look, it can be a group outing if you want. No expectations.”

You take in a deep breath, chin dropping to your chest. “My coworker. She’s been… very persistent. She knows but I can’t tell if she’s genuine or if she’s just trying to–”

“Get into your pants?” 

You huff. “Yeah.”

JJ nods, getting out of the car. You follow her up through the front door, the sound of the TV on and the washing machine running. 

“Then we do a group outing. You can see for yourself and we can tell you if anything feels off, okay? Or if you want, we can ask Penelope to do a quick check on her beforehand.” 

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

*

JJ (7:51 PM): You sure you don’t want one of us to pick you up instead? You (7:53 PM):  It’s a little too late to be asking me, JJ. She’s supposed to be here at 8. JJ (7:54 PM): And if she’s as understanding as she says she is, she wouldn’t mind.

You sigh, shaking your head. The windows light up from a car’s headlights and you make your way to the door. 

As you lock the door behind you, your eyes find your coworker, Lucy, standing at the passenger door. As you approach, she opens the door.

“Hi.” 

“Hello. You look beautiful.” She tilts her head. “Shall we?”

“Thank you. You, too.” You slide into her car and it feels all wrong. The height of the car, the way you fit in the seat, the windows, even the smell. You shake your head. 

I have to try. I just want a good night out, whether that’s with Lucy or with my friends.

Letting out a breath, you try to relax in your seat as Lucy maneuvers her way through the city. Your eyes are playing tricks on you because you keep thinking that you see Jeeps in every parking lot you pass. You’re grateful when you arrive at the sports bar.

Once you’re settled in and made introductions, you find yourself sandwiched between Lucy and JJ in the booth. Thankfully JJ is on the inside, and you instinctively sit closer to her. It’s an easy night thanks to the group and you’re able to avoid any awkward conversations with Lucy because of them. 

JJ leans in close, lowering her voice. “Doing okay?”

You nod, patting her thigh. “Yes, thank you.”

Lucy stands from the booth, shooting you a smile. “Would you like a refill?”

You didn’t even realize you had finished your drink. “Sure, yes, that’d be great. A whiskey sour, please?”

“You got it.” She makes her way to the bar, disappearing.

“Thoughts?” You murmur, fingers tracing the rim of your glass.

Penelope rests her chin in her palm. “She’s not bad, my sweet, but there’s no sparks if that’s what you’re asking. Something feels a little off too, but I can’t put my finger on it.” 

“She’s nice, Y/N, just…” JJ pauses, trying to choose her words carefully. “It just doesn’t feel right yet.”

*

It’s 2AM and Lucy insisted on walking you up to your door. She’d gotten tickets for a concert and you figured you could try being with just her without a group.

“Thanks for inviting me tonight.” You rub the house key in your hand, trying to maintain a distance. Although her company is nice, you don’t think you could handle anything physical with her. 

“Of course.” She pauses, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat. “I know it’s late but–”

“Actually, Lucy–”

“Ah.” She nods her head, taking a small step back. “Sorry, too forward? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me. I know, so cliche, but it’s true. I thought I was ready to try again but I don’t think I am.” You try to smile, but it falls. “Everything feels so wrong right now. Not just you but just… every part of my life. I thought that if I put myself out there, it might be what I needed to get things going but, as you can see, it’s not working.”

“I figured.” Lucy pats your shoulder, giving you a small smile. “I didn’t think you’d say yes in the first place, but you did, so I think I ignored all the signs too. I’m really sorry, Y/N. If you ever want to talk, you can text or call me anytime, okay?”

“Okay. And I’m really sorry, Lucy.”

“Don’t apologize. I knew what I was doing, too. I’ll see you later.” 

You turn away and let yourself in, leaning against the door. Your chest feels so heavy and you wonder how long you’ll continue to feel this way. All you want is for things to go back to the way they were.

[natsumiheart]

“There was a time when I didn’t like seeing flowers. They would bring back memories… and they reminded me that what is beautiful can quickly wither away.”

💐💕 Yukari with Gerberas ‘cause she likes them!

[serenescribe]

I’ve been infected with the fever of Lilia’s bats adopting Silver as their non-bat pup, and it’s adorable! I suppose this is just me asking to see Lilia seeing his bats chitter and nuzzle Silver as a child or as a teenager. Whichever you prefer~!

[✐] ficlet frenzy

“Silver? Siiilver?”

No response. Lilia sighs, hands resting on his hips. Now where could his son be at this time of the day?

He’d just returned home after a trip to the market, and had called out Silver’s name in hopes of hearing a sleepy response and the soft pattering of feet before his son emerged at the front door. But today, he heard nothing.

And so Lilia had glanced around the house, leaving the groceries in the kitchen in favour of checking every nook and cranny of their little cottage. At the very least, he can still sense Silver’s presence somewhere, even if he can’t find him. Perhaps he’s playing a game of hide and seek? It’s a distinct possibility, Lilia supposes.

He comes up empty-handed until he tries the one room he had saved for last, for no reason outside of the fact that he can’t think of any explanation why Silver would be in there. With a flick of his wrist, the door to Lilia’s bedroom creaks open, the doorknob turning with the help of magic, and…

“Ah,” Lilia says, as he looks into his room.

He understands now why Silver couldn’t reply. Because Silver had been preoccupied.

Dozens of his bats — those sneaky little rascals! — surround Silver, chittering and flapping their wings at Lilia as he steps into the room. Lilia scoffs, rolling his eyes as he approaches the bed his son lays on. “Don’t give me that attitude,” he lectures, even as the bats huddle closer to the slumbering human boy, pressing against his neck and shoulders, clinging to his clothes and hair. Lilia squints, peering closer. “Did you cover his ears?!”

One of his bats — the largest of the group, and the boldest one, who always makes a habit of clinging to Silver even when Lilia chases the others off — squeaks out a response. Lilia folds his arms, lips twisting into a pout. “I told you, you cannot hoard him for yourself!” Another protesting whine. “‘Why not?’” Lilia echoes. “Oh, for the love of— we’ve been over this already! You can have your quality time with Silver, but you cannot hoard him like this! How heavy do you think you all are, hm, crowding him like that?”

The bats do not seem to care. Bastards, Lilia sulks, tapping his foot against the ground as they nuzzle into Silver, continuing to strategically cover his ears with the thin membrane of their wings in order to stop him from waking at the sound of his father’s voice.

Of course his pesky familiars don’t give a damn. They know the real reason why Lilia keeps fending them off — a deep-rooted jealousy that feels pathetically childish to admit, hidden under the guise of whatever excuse Lilia can think of on the spot.

“You win this time,” Lilia grumbles, throwing his hands up in defeat. “But mark my words, if you make Silver miss dinnertime again, I swear—”

The bats chirp back their protests, and Lilia’s voice pitches.

“You have no RIGHT to criticise my culinary skills when you can’t even COOK!”

[downtilts]

i do think it’s essential to their relationship that benson really does “fix” randy, at least in the way he wants to, which is to rid him of his shame/self-hatred so he can live life on his own terms. when they're in the diner at the end and randy looks at benson saying “i called the cops” he does it with such an insane expression of gratitude on his face, like he can’t believe it’s possible he did that, and he knows it's only thanks to benson. like he’s saying “benson, we did it” and he’s completely bought in to benson’s plan to fix him, and it just so happens that the natural conclusion of that plan was for randy to betray him, because the way benson made it all possible was by doing something unforgivable. but that’s the central tension of benson’s character for me… this tension between him being capable of doing these really horrific unforgivable things and then simultaneously capable of facilitating a truly profound and beautiful, permanent change within randy. and having the beautiful change only be possible because of the unforgivable things. in interviews johnny and kyle talk about “benson there were other ways to do this!!” but i think the story is the most interesting if you approach it with the premise that there actually were no other ways to do this. the only thing that could have possibly convinced randy to change is something this extreme. and randy realizes that and so develops this genuine gratitude toward benson. and so im sure randy has an inexplicable and difficult grief that haunts him now but he no longer believes in his own inherent unworthiness and he considers that a gift benson gave him and will never disrespect himself again because it would be equivalent to disrespecting benson's sacrifice. so he is able to live a good life

[hanafubukki]

Happy Three Year Anniversary 🥹💚🌺

It’s my three year anniversary since I first started writing fanfics on tumblr. I think back about the first time I published fanfics on here and everyone I met along the way because of that one moment of time.

When I took that step to allow myself to express/be myself and publish something I wrote. It led to meeting so many wonderful people here and irl and I am forever grateful to myself and to all of you.

I am forever grateful for all the encouragement you all give me and I can’t say it enough. Be it comments, asks, reblogs, likes, tagging or what have you.

Everyday is fun and brings a smile to my face. I look forward to the future because of it.

So really, thank you everyone. I’m so happy to have met and interacted with you and hope to continue to do so ☺️💚🌺

[ruershrimo]

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 6: beginning

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | next | m.list

chapter synopsis:

'“Why else do you think I am the way I am? I may be shy and scatterbrained, or a horrible woman with a muddled sense of morality or what I think should and should not happen, when in reality it’s just what I want to happen. But this is why I’m so resolute, and so stubborn. This is why I love you so fiercely. All mothers are like that to some degree, even if my own would never let me bear witness to it.”

You haven’t told her you love her too in years.'

'And Itadori seems… like a good person. I think it’s good, that… you were able to find a friend like that.”

“It was. He’s a really, really good guy.”

“You love him a lot,” Megumi says.

---

You and Megumi set out to prevent an emergency involving Yuuji and a cursed object. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen. But at least everyone is fine in the end, even if it means you'll have to walk away from almost everything (or maybe it's the other way around).

You're going to be all on your own. Still, now it seems like this will hurt less now.

word count: ~8k; tws: none for now :)

17-6-2018 

The two of you walk down the lane. It’s midnight. There’s a loitering silence in the air, no words exchanged between you and him, and it twists your heart in brief moments of hurt when you’re not trying to keep your mind occupied with other things. Your legs move subconsciously without you caring to think of them, the route to the hospital ingrained in your mind as if intrinsically there. 

At some point, you think your hand with its sweat and its grip is going to leave imprints like a marring on his skin, but it’s of your own selfishness that you choose to hold onto his wrist anyway. 

There’s a million things you could say to him right now, things you’ll forcefully push to the very back of your throat, things you’ll keep under lock and key in a mangled mix of quiet anticipation and sombre anxieties. Right now you’re holding his wrist and that’s enough for you, to have him walking behind you if not beside, to be two people near each other— not together— in silence since any conversation is not an option; any conversation could lead to the last spark needed to be fanned into the flame for it to erupt bigger and brighter than ever before. 

If you asked about Tsumiki right now, or why either of them never bothered to speak to you since 2016, it could break you apart, of that you’re sure. And even without words it threatens to do so to you like a chandelier of melting wax candles hanging above you being suspended precariously from the ceiling or light lightning soon to be thrown down mercilessly from the sky. 

“The turning to Sendai Hospital is on the right.” 

“I know the routes better,” you let out, and rather disappointingly it sounds brasher and more derogatory aloud instead of the unobtrusive tone you were aiming for— you hope it doesn’t hurt him but then wonder why you still even cared that much about how he felt about what you said or did anyway, “I got myself accustomed to taking the one on the left that leads you through. Quick shortcut and all.” 

You’re not looking back, but the light pull of his hand from the hold of your wrist seems to suggest his slight reeling back in a small sense of surprise and an equal amount of shock, as if suddenly remembering the fact you were your own person, that you had your own autonomy as one, because somehow everyone thought you weren’t. 

It’s strange to look back at how you were before: meek, timid. Too shy to speak up. Too innocent to be angered by anything. Always dreaming, mind bleary as if on a cloud in blurred skies, hiding behind the backs of others like a petrified forest critter. 

And now you’re this— this person who frowns and disagrees and retorts at every little thing, and as much as you have to, as much as it was nearly inevitable the way you turned out, all you can think you share with the person you were when you first met Megumi and Tsumiki was your need to be useful— and even that has been exacerbated by how you’ve grown, how you’ve become this person you grew into. And a part of you— no, just you as a whole— doesn’t like yourself at all. 

Your father was right. That little girl was hopeful, obedient, kind, caring— you don’t know why even then you were dissatisfied with the way you were, or why your dissatisfaction would matter because at that time you’d cared so little about everything besides caring for people and having fun with the pair of siblings that you were so rarely bothered by it, that it was still just a slight whisper from the back of your head that could be shushed or tuned out with library visits and nights in front of the TV and the glow of old cartoons. Your father was right and this is proved even more by the fact that the whole situation just infuriates you on the surface, and just makes you feel like an empty, hollow shell left behind when you reach deeper into yourself. 

That little girl had potential, potential to be useful but kind, obedient and close to the people who raised her even if it meant abandoning her own ideals. But you’d been so devoted to them, you think, that she was killed and destroyed in the world she grew up in, and now there’s a space for her that’s left vacant due to the way she wasted away. You miss her, the girl you once were, you miss being her, how easy and lighthearted everything was and how all of you felt so content in every sense of the word. But you don’t want her back. Now that’s just what makes you miserable sometimes. 

Self-reflection just made you feel revolted by yourself. You keep your eyes on the road. 

“It’s here,” you state, pointing at the building in front of you. 

Sendai General Hospital is an institution made out of bare concrete. Its walls are yellowed and close in on its wards like a prison, coloured using old paint that hasn’t been repainted over and is as pallid-looking as the skin of the people sitting on the beds it is inhabited by. Just being in it feels like a hit to the body and the brain and the senses, too. There are old-fashioned tiles on its floors, their pale beige hue muted yet the blinding shine on them harshly mopped clean. Inside it reeks of an imminent presence of sickness or death or illnesses and conditions never to be able to be defeated and sterile sanitisers. Looking at the latex-blue curtains in it feels like a blindfold unwantedly, forcefully pulled over both your vision and your ears. 

“You and that Itadori seem close.” 

“We are,” you say, then you add, not really knowing why, “He’s my best friend.” Maybe you’re trying to make him jealous, rile him up a bit. But even then you wouldn’t want him to be riled up, nor would you be satisfied if he were to keep silent. Maybe you just wanted to hurt him, to hurt him back or something, if only for something small, even if you’d already resolved not to do so. 

You’ll make sure not to do that again, though. 

Instead he does something else, takes another route instead. “Then it seems you visit his grandfather often.” 

“Uh-huh,” you nod as the two of you enter the hospital, and you have to blink a few times as always in order to adjust yourself to the light and how it reflects off the detachedly clean floor. “My mother’s here, too.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry— is she alright?” 

“She’s okay, I… think. She… she got sick a while back and stays here now,” you explain, “Let’s not talk about that…—I mean, I… don’t really want to.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to keep saying that.” It just makes people feel worse. 

He doesn’t push further and you suppose that’s okay. Your chest hurts a bit, like phantom pain on a wound that’s still there. There’s not really a way to explain it but almost everything makes you feel that way these days. Everything makes you feel horrible to some degree. Maybe it’s being a girl, maybe it’s being a teenager, but it’s not quite either, you guess. 

“He won’t be here for a while,” you say, “He’s either still in the room where his grandfather is or he’s buying flowers for him.” 

“Then I’ll just contact them and let them know the whole situation first.” 

Who’s ‘them’? 

“Okay.” You turn your back on him, “—wait.” 

“What?” 

“Do you have any emergency contact or something? Like, a trusted adult who could help you with any of this? In case things go really bad?” 

“...why would you need one?” he questions. 

You roll your eyes, “Just give it to me, damn it… if there’s anything I have nowadays, it’s probably foresight for stuff like this. For emergencies.” 

He gives you the number, albeit a bit begrudgingly. Why’d he have to be so pissy about anything and everything? 

“Okay, thanks. I’m going to visit my mother now.” 

The air and the colour from it seems distant as always, the ward she was basically imprisoned in smelling of the indistinguishable mix of sanitiser and sickness. There her body chains her to her bed, and there is little she can do besides rely on and weakly cling to the nurses who assist her, a frail shadow of what she once was. 

“Hi, Mummy.” 

She turns to you, and your chest constricts. Her hair, once much longer, the type that you dreamed to have as it billowed in the wind, the type that invited you caressively to bury yourself in and take in that heady scent of roses that emanated from it— that hair is now replaced with a cloth wrapped around her head. Radiation. Chemotherapy. 

The wrinkles on her face make the difference between her now and her years ago all the more stark. Every visit you come back here, you’ve forced yourself to be acclimated to this new reality, one where she isn’t waiting at home no matter how tedious the fights get or how exhausting it was eating with someone who remained silent, someone who chose to continue suffering if it meant she could hurt and turn her daughter to guilt (as if that would change anything). At least she was there. 

Cancer is a terminal illness, especially the type your mother is facing— regardless of how much chemotherapy she would struggle through and how much you didn’t want to acknowledge a truth so plain and conspicuously bare, she would be confined to this bed until her final days, her illness like gyves tying her limbs and forcing her earthbound; the bed a cage she could never be liberated from. 

Sometimes she made it a point to you that she didn’t want to liberate herself from it anyway, and you’d never been so depressed yet irked by anything else. (You’d regret everything— not spending time with her, not appreciating her nearly enough— except for your decision to be involved in the Jujutsu world, if not as a sorcerer then as a doctor. That was, and is— your ultimatum. Your end all be all of this whole situation.” 

“Hello. Where’s that Itadori boy?” 

“Not here today, he’s still with his grandfather— maybe later.” You swing your bag over your shoulder, rummaging through it a while before pulling it out. “I’ve something for you, by the way.” 

“Oh! These,” she exclaims, and she smiles faintly, bits of colour rushing back to her face like watercolour dots on moistened paper. “I used to make them for you, sometimes. They used to be your favourite when you were really little.” 

“I know,” you explain, “That’s why I made them. I don’t like them anymore, but… I can’t remember your favourite food or if I ever asked, and I know you don’t like the food they give you here as much as… I don’t know. Your own cooking, I guess.” 

“It’s not my favourite,” she states, matter-of-factly, bluntly, “But thank you for the effort. My favourite will always be my own mother’s cooking.” 

Silence. 

“Now that I look back at everything, there are so many things I regret. Things I should have done but never did out of fear; things I should not have done and never apologised for out of pride. I’d like it if you could be different. Your grandmother went out the same way. At least, even if you had the same illnesses as we did, which I hope the genes for which have been curbed by your father’s— at least you would not leave the world with regret,” she looks down at her hands, staring down at them solemnly like a shadow, an excluded figure. “But it was a good life.” 

“...then maybe you can tell me more. While you— while we still have time. What was your childhood like? What was your mother like?” It feels strange, imposturous, maybe— to be referring to someone basically a stranger as “grandmother”, to name someone so far away from you so intimate, even if the only generation between you, tying the two of you together, was your mother’s. If you had a daughter it would be the same for her, most likely. There’s a part of you that would find honour in becoming your mother once you’d grown, but there’s a part of you that would think being such would accost you horribly, for all time. 

She sighs, “I’ll tell you later. There would be so much to say, like compressing all my words into one tiny paper. The stories have weight in them the same way letters and words in handwriting can be firm and large. But if I were to start,” she begins, “I’ll say that I was born as the daughter of two very powerful sorcerers. Now, I know how much this would sound like some nonsense spouted by your mother, but I think you should listen anyway. 

“My parents loved each other a lot, but my mother had come from an obscure clan whose name I can’t remember, but who had high hopes in them having a child with a powerful cursed technique as their last resort, since, if I recall correctly, there had been a crisis within the clan for it to keep surviving. 

“I still remember when they found out I had no cursed technique and how terrified they were. In me I had a bit more than the relatively normal amount of cursed energy most people have, and so I was expected to have techniques as powerful as they did. They loved me and treated me preciously, like a fragile object, so long as I was quiet and demure— and I guess to some extent I still was and still am today. They wondered what they could do to run from the clan, as if they didn’t have enough power when they were supposed to protect me despite my father’s bullheaded industry and my mother’s patience-formed strength. They lacked grit to grapple against them, and only in this did they lack it, I think; only against my mother’s family did they not have the ability to resolve things whether peacefully or violently. And eventually they just gave up and thought they would just… surrender me over when I entered my adolescent years. I was their daughter. I… suppose they didn’t love me enough. I know it sounds awful— thinking that they should have always protected me, through and through—” 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

“—when it could have been the clan itself that would have been mostly to blame.” 

“But they were still supposed to protect you! They were your parents—” 

“Why else do you think I am the way I am? I may be a shy and scatterbrained or a horrible woman with a muddled sense of morality or what I think should and should not happen when in reality it’s just what I want to happen, but this is why I’m so resolute, and so stubborn. This is why I love you so fiercely. All mothers are like that to some degree, even if my own would never let me bear witness to it.” You haven’t told her you love her too in years. 

“But then when I was an adult I met your father, who was a bit like a country bumpkin, but a formidable sorcerer and a kind, honest person, and I couldn’t help but fall in love with the person he was both inside and out. And for the next few years we struggled to have a child until I found out I was pregnant with you,” she continues, “Even though by that time I was well into my late thirties, we were overjoyed and decided to keep you.” 

Suddenly you wish there had been more time before things were ruined. Time for you to know her better, the beginning of your existence. You would have begged her for old photos, stories, mementos of her and your father. 

“And now the clan’s faded into obscurity, finally. The younger members left and the older ones passed away peacefully. Happy story, right?” 

“...yeah.” It all ended well, but you don’t know if you can say the same for your mother’s. At least, you hope, when she goes away, it can be swift and peaceful like the way her relatives did. 

Then suddenly there’s a buzz in your pocket. An inconvenient one, out of the blue. 

“You should go get that first,” she says. 

“...okay.” 

You lift it up to your face and feel like crushing the damn thing. Old number. Stupid number. Number you haven’t called in months because you’d given up on that bastard— oh. The two of you were working together now. 

You turn away from your mother, creeping to the edge of the room. “What’s wrong?” 

“I just talked to him, but I think it would be easier if you came back and was there with him too since you know him better than I do. And he… doesn’t seem like the brightest. He may think that it’s not important enough to hand over unless you ask him to or something.” 

You muffle your voice with your hand and whisper, “Hey, you shut up, you know nothing about him. He’s way smarter than people give him credit for. But I’m— I’m with my mother right now. Wait for a second. Just ask him to wait for me first; he wouldn’t need any of my help for all of this yet. Make a friend or get a life or something.” 

“...fine. But you’ll have to join us later. He’s bound to ask about you.” 

“Then just tell him I’m with my mother!” you snap, still whispering. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Wh— you little— oh, don’t you hang up now—” 

Weird thing is, he probably wasn’t even being so infuriating on purpose. And you wouldn’t have burst out at someone for being that way anyway. It was only because it was him, specifically. 

You’d sworn to put that past you. 

Your immaturity strikes once again. 

“If you have to go now,” your mother says, “You should. Just come back again next time. I can tell you the rest. Thank you again for the food, [Name].” She doesn’t call you ‘darling’ anymore, doesn’t she? Just your name. 

“Okay. Sorry.” 

You swing the bag back over your shoulder, wearing it this time instead of taking it off, easing your way out of the room. 

“It’s okay,” she assures you, “Goodbye. I love you.” 

“...I love you, too,” you say, but it’ll mingle with all the other sounds in the hospital, and it’ll be drowned out like a ship in the middle of nowhere, your voice soft and thoroughly soused by the cacophony of bleak noises like telephone rings and beeps from electrocardiographs outside of her deafeningly quiet hospital room. 

“Hi, Yuuji,” you greet them in the dimly lit waiting area, “...and Megumi. Sorry to keep the two of you guys waiting for so long.” 

“Oh, hey; it’s okay!” he goes, although in his voice it seems that there’s been some of his usual energy seeping away from him. “Didn’t know the two of you knew each other until just now or that you were a part of some magic curse society. Are you guys childhood friends who met because of all that cursed stuff or something?” 

“Something like that,” Megumi explains. 

“It’s a long story,” you say, not exactly denying him nor conceding his words anyway. Once again, there’s a trace of anger despite your promise to be untethered to your puerility like this. “Anyway, are you okay, Yuuji? How’s your grandfather?” 

He pauses. “Oh, about that… he just passed away.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Yuuji…” you hold the fabric of his jacket (sometimes it still feels wrong to try and hold his hand— it just makes your heart ache again like a scab being clawed at) and pull him into a brief caress, patting his back as gently as you can manage. 

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” he smiles as you pull yourself away, “Grandpa wouldn’t want me to be crying right now anyway. So don’t worry.” 

“Okay, I won’t. But if you’re sad, just know you can always talk to me.” 

He laughs, softer than the boisterous manner he usually does so in, “Yeah, I know.” 

Megumi clears his throat, pointedly trying to make a sound, “Anyway. Itadori Yuuji—” 

“Just call him Itadori. You don’t have to be so uptight.” 

“Nah, [Name], I’m fine—” 

Megumi sighs. “Anyway, we need you to give the cursed object now.” 

“Oh, yeah, that,” you start, “So, Yuuji, do you have the thing that Megumi would have explained to you? The cursed object? We need it for everyone to be safe, and all.” 

“Yeah! Hold on, let me get it. I told you I didn’t have it already, but here’s the box,” he says, tossing it over to Megumi. 

He retrieves the box. It’s ancient and wooden, the craftsmanship behind it elite and adroit, and the paper on it has the words for a buddhist sutra written on it like an inscription. You’ve heard of it before, the kind of curse it was meant to seal, but it definitely couldn’t be— 

He opens the box. 

Holy shit. 

“Where is it?” 

“It’s empty…” Megumi panics, “Wait— hold on!” 

Things are bad— as in, they couldn’t get any worse— not only was the school doomed by the loss of its cursed object, the cursed object was Sukuna Ryomen’s finger itself. 

You blame your inadequacy, your inability to have stopped everything sooner— if not for that nobody would have gotten hurt. If not for that there wouldn’t even be a risk of anything happening anyway. You should’ve tried harder to sense it, and you should’ve focused more on it to keep the student body safe and sound. 

It was your fault. No one else was to blame but your useless self, and even if that were wrong, you’d still have the most to be blamed for. 

Megumi has a hand on Yuuji’s shoulder, keeping the other boy from moving, his breathing erratic and his eyes wide in frantic shock. 

“...well, they were saying, ‘let’s open it up to see what’s inside it tonight’,” Yuuji clarifies, standing a few centimetres away from the door, “Why? Is that bad?” 

Sasaki and Iguchi? 

The air in the hospital feels particularly chilly tonight, gooseflesh terrorising your skin all over, and for all the kinds of reasons that would cause anything like such. 

“It’s way worse than bad,” Megumi declared, fear and grim so thick in his voice they were tangible enough to be cut through with a knife. “Your friends are going to die.” 

“We’ve got to go,” you rush, “Now! Quick!” 

It passes by like a blur, as if you’re in that moment and out of it simultaneously. Your mind has been bombarded with and pressed so thoroughly onto the moment, like tissue on a wet surface, that it seems it’s being blanked out, while your legs continue to run despite your mind nearly forgetting, at this point, why you’re running— as if your legs moving so frantically to help them was something intrinsic, something you didn’t need your mind for. 

Sasaki and Iguchi are in danger. Sasaki and Iguchi are in danger. 

You didn’t know them all too well, really— just through Yuuji, and Yuuji himself wasn’t as close to the two of them, being their junior and all. And although a part of you was doing this just because you could, like the way you did when you first discovered your cursed technique, you knew that another was doing this for Yuuji. If in any way they were hurt or could not survive, he would blame himself to no end. He possessed such a kindness within him, so much that it hit the depths of your soul sometimes; shattered your heart so gently a million times over or heated it in the kindly way mothers heated pans on stoves despite the heat of it being greater than that of blue flame. If anything happened to them, no matter how much or how little he knew of them, he wouldn’t be able to live after that. 

The two of them are near the barrier separating the school from the street before you (you struggle with catching up to them— one’s a star athlete and another has been training for much longer than you, you’re sure), the gates tall and enveloped in darkness. You didn’t think much of school except for when it came to your grades and being with Yuuji, thinking of these gates— the ones that you and Yuuji use when you’re running super late— in particular as just a shortcut entrance you paid little attention to, just something treated with indifference as you passed through them whenever you were late. Yet now they echoed denial, refusal, and slim chances— it was unlikely that they’d be alright, especially since this cursed object in particular was the finger of Sukuna Ryomen. 

“Is that the building?” Megumi questions, “Where are they?” 

“Fourth floor— guh!” Yuuji seems to come to an abrupt halt, nearly slamming into what seems to be an invisible wall. A veil. 

“Yuuji!” 

“I’ll handle this,” Megumi declares, hopping onto the metal wires, more directed to Yuuji than you. So even he can tell how selfless Yuuji is, even after only having just met him. 

“I may not know those two that well, but—” Yuuji starts, “But they’re friends! I have to help!” 

“You’re staying here,” Megumi commands, “[Name], if you could— get your father or any sorcerers you know to come here and help.” 

He climbs over the gate. 

He’s going away from you again. Slipping away from your grasp. And now, all you can do is watch. There’s nothing else— nothing else you can do, at all. If you went inside now, you wouldn’t be able to help except— what?— tend to their injuries? Manipulate your own cells into weapons? The former wasn’t possible with how much you’d strained yourself from running so quickly earlier, and the latter was too dangerous: you hadn’t even started with the basics of that yet, on your father’s obstinate insistence that even if he’d let you play doctor he wouldn’t let you manipulate any of the cells in your body into any kind of usable weapon. Any simple wrong move could make things turn south in the most drastically terrifying of ways. If you went in there, you’d just die, and there’d be more casualties, more trouble, more problems caused by you and you alone. 

You can’t even call your father, either. That would always be your last resort— because even if you fought, you still needed him to rest. You didn’t want him overexerting himself by using his cursed technique at all. 

(You were selfish. You didn’t want to lose your father. You didn’t want to have to visit not one but two parents lying sick and tired and grey in matching hospital beds.) 

“Yuuji?” you start, turning to him. “You’re…deathly quiet. Are you okay?” 

His lips quiver slightly, a faint whimpering noise coming out of him. Is he crying? 

“Yuuji, look at me. Are you okay?” you ask, as gently and softly as you can right now, despite your ragged, unsteady, unathletic-addled breaths. You place a hand on his shoulder, slowly rubbing up and down from his shoulder and crook of his neck to his back. “It’s okay. …Megumi’s a good and… capable, strong person and jujutsu sorcerer. He’ll be okay, and they’ll be okay too. Just… just put your trust in him, okay?” 

“I’m sorry, [Name], but I’ve got to go,” he tells you, “You stay here, and call for help or something. I’m sorry, but I’ve just really got to do it!” 

He hugs you, quickly, deftly. And then he crosses the gate, leaving you all alone like Megumi did. You wish he’d hug you longer, that you could take care of him for a little longer— it was your last way to be useful now. 

Still, there’s someone you could call, now that you remember him.

The emergency contact. 

You snatch your phone out, resolute. 

“Hello! Gojo Satoru speaking,” the voice on the other line says. 

You’ve heard it plenty before by accident. 

When Gojo and Megumi are back, Yuuji’s in the form of a figure slung over Gojo’s shoulders like he’s been reply entrenched into slumber, his body seemingly limp and his torso completely bare. There’s barely an ounce of movement in him, except for slow exhales and inhales you can see on his chest. Sasaki and Iguchi are both nearly the same, the former covered in bruises and in a deep, panicked haze, and the latter as asleep as Yuuji seemed to be while harbouring injuries he may never recover from. 

The only non-roughed up one here is Gojo, it seems; Megumi has a stream of blood running from the top of his head in rivulets, staining his sweaty, scraped forehead. 

“Wh— you two, what happened? Why are they all asleep? What happened to Yuuji? Are they okay? What—” 

“Calm down, kid,” Gojo says, “They’ll be fine. I mean, there’s a 100% chance that your friend can be executed, but…” 

“Executed?” you almost scream, “What the hell happened? You said things would be okay!” 

“Uh-uh, again, calm down. I mean, we don’t even know when they’re gonna make him kick the bucket! He ate Sukuna’s finger, by the way.” He holds his arms up in faux surrender. 

“Gojo you ignorant slut! Don’t you fucking dare tell me to ‘calm down!’ He ate Sukuna’s finger? Why weren’t you able to stop anything? What’s going to happen to him now? You know what— give him to me!” 

“You know, it’s not like I’m scared of being hunted down by your father if you use your cursed technique— I mean, I’m leagues stronger than him— but the stuff was too strong. It’s not like you’ll be able to get rid of the finger in your little boyfriend.” 

“He’s not her boyfriend!” Megumi interjects.

“Thank you, Megumi!” Your face is going hot like a campfire fanned by the wind. 

“Oh?” Gojo adds, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Anyway, we’re going to get him to a place where we can cover everything with talismans to surround him.” 

They’re going to execute him at Jujutsu High after.  

“I’m coming with you.” 

“You sure?” Gojo asks, “Your father isn’t going to like you travelling so far away without telling him.” 

Megumi shifts, a little sombre. “[Name], you don’t have to.” 

“...I’m doing this for Yuuji, not for you.” 

“You okay?” Gojo asks while the three of you are back in the hospital. (You hate this building so much.) Iguchi’s been transferred to a ward, Sasaki having woken up and insisting on staying with him. “I’ve got kikufuku if you want some. You must be really tired since it’s so late, huh?” 

The whole situation is so incredulous you’re unsure of whether you want to burst out laughing or dismember someone. 

“...nothing. Wait, let me see Yuuji again.” 

Everyone is asleep, it seems— all except for you and Gojo. Yuuji’s been knocked out, and Megumi’s stuck in the world of his dreams. 

You can’t sleep. There’s just nothing to put your mind at rest. 

At least if there’s one thing you can do it’s this. 

Gojo picks him up by the sides of his torso (now temporarily clothed with a spare white shirt) like a child with a heavy book. “Woah— he’s pretty heavy for a fifteen year old kid.” 

You lay Yuuji face-up on the line of hospital chairs. There are thin scarlet marks right under his eyes— Sukuna’s eyelids, you’ve been told. 

You should’ve done more to protect him. 

Slowly, reticently, you kneel by the side of the chairs. You press your fingertips onto that pair of thin tiny lines. 

Nothing happens. You can’t picture his cells being able to grow back. It’s as if there’s been a slit on his face and its outline has been replaced with brand-new skin. His cells don’t budge. 

“Why don’t you help Megumi? I bet he’s got plenty of healable injuries.” 

“…I don’t think I’ll be able to help much. I could faint if I try helping him now. It’s better to leave it to Dr Ieiri or something.” 

“Pft,” he scoffs, “Shoko? She’s definitely not going to heal all of him. It’ll just be a waste of her time. You can just help him with the tiny scrapes and bruises first. And I’ll even tell her that you did it. She’s really fond of you, you know.” 

You give him a shy, modest smile. “Thanks, then.”

It’s time to get to work. 

Megumi’s skin is smooth like a baby’s just like the last time you felt it, though the frown on his face, ever-present, is bound to cause wrinkles there in less than a few decades’ time. You place your hands on him, bruised and bloody, watching in your mind and directing his cells as they work. 

Once the smaller injuries have been dealt with, you stop. “I can’t really work on the one on his head, since then you’d get another fainted person to carry around, but he should be fine with some bandages and patching-up there, because I’ve already kind of catalysed the start of that area’s healing process a little. Other than that, he should be completely fine. I’ll give it, say… two weeks or so for it to get better completely.” 

“Good work!” he smiles, the outline of his cheeks visible on his blindfold. 

“By the way, Mr Gojo…” 

“You know, I appreciate the respect you’re giving me now, but just Gojo is fine.” 

“Okay, Gojo. Do you think Yuuji will be okay?” 

“I mean, I’m pretty sure. And I’m going to ask them to suspend his sentence. I’ll just see whether he wants that or not once he wakes up.” 

“That’s the thing. I’m not sure if he even will.” 

Gojo laughs. “Don’t worry. He was really strong, and able to switch between being possessed by Sukuna and being himself at will. We haven't seen that kind of talent in a millennia! I’m sure they’ll listen to me, anyway.” 

“Thank you,” you sigh. Thank goodness. “If you need any type of payment, um… teleport to my house whenever you get inconvenient little cuts like bruises and stuff. I can help.” 

“Nah, reverse cursed technique’s got me covered.” 

“Oh, wait— I forgot about that— um… I can…”

“Just leave it to me! No payment required,” he exclaims, holding both thumbs up. “And for the record, the one who wanted to save Yuuji was actually Megumi.” 

You wouldn’t have imagined that would happen. Megumi— pragmatic, serious, unkind when he needs to be (no matter how kind of a person he actually is— no, was— at heart), different from Tsumiki in so many ways. There was no way he would have been the one vouching for Yuuji, someone he’d only just met, to be spared. 

“Really?” you ask, “I… wouldn’t have thought he was the one who would do it. I thought, maybe, you were just… really kind tonight or something…”

“Well, maybe it was because he saw how much you cared about Itadori and did it for you, or maybe he had met Itadori, liked him, and just wanted to save a good person,” Gojo suspects, “But if there’s one thing for sure it’s that your old friend saved your new one.” 

“...oh.” 

You’ll have to bring it up with him next time— maybe, if he’s still there tomorrow…

“I know you’re mad at him, but a lot has happened,” Gojo states, voice lower, softer like a schoolteacher’s, “Still, I won’t tell you that you have to give him a chance or any of that. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to thank him or anything. I’m sure he did it out of his own volition without expecting anything from you. He knew he probably didn’t deserve to if it were you.” 

You pause. “No, it’s just… I’ll talk to him again the next time I see him. Alone, most likely. And I can figure something out. I think that would be the best way to go around things. Thank you, Gojo.” 

18-6-2018 

The aftershocks are still there, although you’ve come out unscathed. 

Last night was a mingled mess, a blur. You’d tried your best to help Iguchi by the time Yuuji was placed in the room of talismans and you could come back to the hospital and visit, but in the end he still needed better help than that. His injuries were too large of scale for how you were at that moment, already tired after healing some of the numbers done on Megumi. 

(You were useless. You couldn’t help anyone. You couldn’t prevent Yuuji from being hit with such soul-striking guilt., couldn’t help Sasaki from being traumatised, couldn’t help Iguchi enough for him to be back at school soon—) 

Sasaki’s injuries were limited to bruises and scrapes, but though you could help her physically, there was nothing you could do to assist her emotionally. 

You stayed with them for a few hours in the ICU and then one of the hospital wards (a floor under your mother’s), your father calling you once the sun had risen. 

“Gojo Satoru told me about everything that happened.” 

“Yeah. I know you’ll scold me, but… not now. I’m sorry, I’m just really tired.” You hang up. 

For all you spoke of wanting to be useful, the night when your powers were needed the most was when you were at your most useless— you couldn’t help them, you couldn’t help attack the cursed spirits, and the only thing you could do was call for an adult’s help like a little, scared and helpless girl. 

You needed to train, and train harder than you had been doing for the past few years. 

There’s a knock on the door, a dot-dot-dot-dot-dot. dot dot. It’s Yuuji, you know it is. How ever could you not? 

Timidly, movements quiet like the room itself, you pull the door knob, seeing him there, relatively unscathed. You sigh in relief, a moment’s respite before you return to the panic you had been living in before since you deserve the respite less than other people do— no, you don’t deserve such a break at all, you’re absolutely sure of that, not after what you pulled, how horribly and utterly useless you were, you’ll remind yourself of that again and again and again— the heart-piercing guilt and the worry and the constant need to care for the people around you, almost like a mother, maybe, but you don’t like that thought as much as you think you should. Maybe if your own mother knew, she’d disagree— maybe she’d tell you that you should be a mother, maybe she’d ignore that you were also a child at certain times— the most convenient ones, probably. When she thinks it good that you, a child, were someone’s caretaker because women should take pride in and appreciate that, she would encourage you to be one; when she thinks it bad that as a caretaker and a so-called ‘adult’ you can have your own autonomy, agency and opinions, then maybe she’d remind you that in her eyes you knew nothing of the world. But maybe, just maybe, there was also a chance that she wouldn’t be like that in any way. 

But you wouldn’t put it past her. 

“Yuuji, are you okay?” There are questions about to spill out of you, tears about to fall like gushing rivers, but you’re just happy he’s alive at this point. 

“Yeah.” His voice is soft. Your chest twinges; it hurts like an awful, intransigent little bruise. “Hi, [Name].” It feels so unignorable, the way it’s filled with such sorrow and worry that it weighs his usually loud and boisterous voice down. 

“I thought that—” you start, lips trembling, “I thought there was a chance I couldn’t lose you. The only thing I could do was—” you sniffle, “Hope that they could delay it or something.” 

“Yeah. I’ll explain it later,” he says, his voice sincere. 

You squeeze the wrist of his sleeve. “Don’t do things like that ever again,” you plead, “Promise me that at least.” 

“I promise.” 

“And keep your promises.”

“I will.” 

“...want to come inside?” 

He walks inside, and you step back to make way for him. 

“Sorry I came so late,” he says to you and Sasaki, who shakes her head in reassurance. “Hello, Sasaki,” he greets, “Is Iguchi okay?” 

They speak for a while— you don’t feel like it’s much of your right to join their conversation, since you did nearly nothing at all when they were most in danger, so you leave them be for a while. It would be better not to bother them right now, anyway. They’ve both been traumatised until it reached beneath their bones within the past twenty-four hours. 

When you leave the hospital, Sasaki tells you that she’s going to stay. You tell her to take care, squeezing her hand one final time. 

You let her, patting her on the back. You’ll call them later— she’d given you her contact— just to check on the two of them. 

“Where’s Megumi?” you ask Yuuji. 

“Oh, Fushiguro? I’m not too sure, but that Gojo guy said he’ll be there soon.” 

“Where, though?”

Sheepishly, in peak Yuuji fashion, he scratches the back of his neck. “Actually, another reason why I came here was also because… I mean, I know you and him weren’t close, but I’m going to the place where they’ll keep Grandpa’s ashes, and I think… you know, you could come with me. I… I don’t think I’d be able to do it really well alone, even though he had definitely made it clear he seriously didn’t want me moping around after his death and all. Gojo and Megumi will probably be there, but I thought it would be better if you were there because I know you better than those two, and you’re my friend. So… could you come with me? I know that he never really showed it, but I think he had always liked you a lot. Like, he was happy we were friends and stuff.” 

“...mhm. I’ll always be happy about that,” you tell him, before pulling him into a hug. The guy must need one right now. You’ve never hugged him before. Your heart hurts. 

The air is hot and humid with the breath of summer, bundles of mosquitoes bound to be breeding new ones these next few weeks. Up in the sky is the sun, bold and bright, glaring down harshly at the two of you. 

“Before he passed away, Grandpa actually said something. He… kind of cursed me, if I’m being honest,” Yuuji starts. “He said I was a strong kid, so I should help people. And I’m going to do that. So that was why when Gojo asked if I wanted to be executed immediately or just eat all the fingers before dying, I chose the second option. I… I think I want to help people that way.” 

‘You’ve already helped people enough. You helped me,’ you almost tell him. 

You frown, because that’s the only thing you can do right now. You search for words to say the same way you do looking for dog books in libraries chock-full with those of other genres. “I’m… disappointed, I— I know I should be grateful, grateful that you’re still going to be alive and all, but… you’re still going to be in danger, and you’re still going to be executed one day. I mean, again, I know I should be happy you’re going to have more time alive and that I can still see you, but what if things don’t go as planned? What if you lose control of yourself once you reach, like, the fifth finger or something?” 

You’re selfish like that. In a way, you’re just the way your mother is. You should’ve always known— you were her beloved daughter after all, and the people you know would be loved the same way she did you since the day she knew of your existence, and maybe even before that. 

“Don’t worry,” he grins, wide as always. Even in an over-enveloping darkness he still manages to be the light. “I’ll be just fine. I’m a strong kid, after all. And we’ll always be friends!” 

Gojo asks if he and Yuuji can talk in private for a while. You wonder if this was how your mother felt as she had to give the person she loved most away (but you will have to go away, one day), because you can briefly tell what Gojo is going to ask. You wonder if she felt this twice. 

Yuuji can’t stay with you forever. In the same way you can’t remain by your mother and father’s sides for all eternity. 

This won’t be the last time you’re here, you think. For a place of death, it’s quite a bit beautiful how there’s such large masses of grass and plants surrounding it. 

Megumi nearly walks past you, his eyes on the old photographs of the deceased all around him. 

“Megumi.” 

He turns around. 

“I just wanted to thank you for wanting to save my friend, even if you may not have wanted to do it for me, specifically… um… I didn’t expect that you’d still be here. Are your injuries okay?” 

“I’m okay,” he answers you. “And also, I…” he hesitates, the first time he’s talked to you for something actually related to the two of you in a long time— nearly two years if you’re counting correctly, but the thoughts in your head are a bit too jumbled to count at the moment. “I didn’t really do it for you, though. It… it was for Tsumiki.” 

“Oh.”

“Wait! I’m sorry, that didn’t… come out right. But I should also apologise for something else. You wouldn’t have been thrown into this world anyway if not for my own demon dogs years ago.” 

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault. And I would have wanted to be in it anyway. There’s not many who can heal other people and all, so I just thought… even if I can’t do as much yet, since I don’t have reversed cursed technique and the drawbacks that come from mine are really bad, I can still help people sometimes if they’re dealing with relatively minor injuries. I can, um… make things easier for people. I can be useful like that. I’d keep to it anyway, because I’m stubborn, but… yeah. It wasn’t your fault, really.” 

“Okay. That’s good to hear.” 

“Yeah. Anyway, I’m happy to know that Tsumiki is okay.” 

Silence again for a while. The air turns a little more sombre, and a lot more awkward. 

“She is. And Itadori seems… like a good person. I think it’s good, that… you were able to find a friend like that.” 

“It was. He’s a really, really good guy.” 

“You love him a lot,” Megumi says. 

“I do. He’s a really good friend. If there’s something I’ll always know I know that, at least.” 

“I can see that. It doesn’t seem like he loves you back in the same way, though.” 

“...wow. Way to be blunt, Megumi. And yes, I do know that, too.” 

“Let’s just… change the subject.” 

“You’re the one who introduced it in the first place.” 

“Okay. How… how are you?” 

“I’m good. Wait, I think you should… go back to them. Maybe they’ll need you there right about now. He’s probably going to have to go to Jujutsu High, right?” 

He pauses. “Yeah. I’m sorry, [Name].” 

“No, no. That’s okay. I expected it. It’s just that I’ll miss him a lot,” you tell him, “He took care of me, kind of. You know I’ve always been a bit of an awkward or shy person, but he still approached me since I was new and we ended up hitting off as friends, kind of. We did a lot of stuff together.” 

Sounds pretty familiar, huh. 

“If you want I can make sure he’s safe for you.” 

“...you should be able to do that regardless of whether it’s my wish for you to do so or not…” you state, “But that would help, I guess. And I’m sorry for my attitude towards you for the past few hours or so. Thank you again.” 

“...I’m sorry I never spoke to you for so long, by the way,” he says abruptly. ‘By the way’? Classic Megumi… 

“I could tell you were. It’s… it’s okay. The two of you kind of have a habit of doing that.” 

All your rage, your loneliness, your feelings of abandonment— and this is all you can do. This is all you can say. You can only just let it go, in the end. 

“I’ll explain it all one day.” 

“You don’t have to if it’s hard.” 

He stays. “No, I will. I promise. And I promise I’ll start to talk to you again, as well. I was just… scared of a few things, maybe.” 

“That’s okay.” 

The two of you aren’t quite friends again yet, but it’ll happen soon. Maybe. And even if it doesn’t, you’re finally able to say, with an open, honest heart, that that doesn’t matter as much anymore. 

“I guess this is goodbye again, then.” 

“Not really.” 

“Oh, right— promise to keep in touch, okay? My patience is running thin with you,” you chuckle at that last part, attempting to joke and make things lighter again. 

“Promise.” 

“I’m going to go home now, by the way. Please tell Yuuji that I wish him the best and I’ll visit when I have my own money to visit Tokyo and all.” 

“I will.” 

“And help me say goodbye to him for me,” you add, “Hope that’s not too much for you to do. Sorry for the trouble. It’s just that I’d actually just about cry if I had to do it in real time right in front of him. Be good to him and be good friends, okay? Keep that promise, at the very least. That’s the one thing that I wish for the most.” 

“Bye, Megumi.” You turn back in the direction opposite of his. 

“Wait—!” 

His hand is on your wrist. Now you’re in front of him, like yesterday, and he’s holding your wrist, albeit a bit gentler than the way he used to pull it a whole eight years ago. 

His eyes are cast away from you, slightly avoidantly and in a way that’s a bit abashed. “I’ll miss you, [Name].” 

“It won’t even feel like I’m not there,” you say. Though his grip is slightly tight, he loosens it as soon as you try to slide it up, as if he’d let you be free of it if you want him to. 

You squeeze his hand instead, turning to face him. It feels warm. It feels like there’s blood coursing through you, the sensation more tender and tangible than it’s ever been. 

“Goodbye.” 

“Goodbye, [Name]. I’ll… I’ll call.” 

“Thank you.” 

Now you’re the one slipping away from his grasp. You move your hand away and walk back. The door slides open. 

2010. Springs, summers, autumns, winters. Hands on wrists, a back faced to your eyes, wide with innocence. Warmth and laughter and happiness and love. Days coloured with vibrant hues and time spent with dog books and in libraries. Frowns were greeted with smiles. Hesitance was non-existent. You didn’t feel a need to compensate for your uselessness. You were a child. You didn’t feel useless at all. You just felt this: a constant leaping in your heart, the corners of your mouth twisting up into a juvenile grin, braiding someone’s beautiful brown hair and tying it with a pretty cherry hair tie. 

You want to cry as you walk back home. 

You’re pretty sure you do. 

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you'd like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

[love-death-and-desert]

silly

crop + alt versions

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Li Zeyan’s MQ: Burning Imprints (Eng Translation) - Part 1

⌚Warning⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a mind quest, 灼痕, that is yet to be released on the global server! ♡

✦ Part 1 || Part 2 || ASMR

🔞 Additional Warning 🔞 Same old but more severe warning this time LOL. The steamy parts of the MQ are as explicit as they can get, i.e., some of the most explicit stuff you’ll read in a CN otome game right now, so if you don’t qualify for the game’s 17+ rating (CN server), I’d very highly recommend that you don’t proceed under the cut~ :>

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

──────────────

【Subbed Video】

【Chapter 1】 

Toot–– 

The melodious steam whistle sounds from afar. A ferry sails over the shimmering, crystalline waves, its sleek and majestic hull gradually becoming clear in the field of vision.

Accompanied by the heavy thud of the ferry entering the port, the seagulls on the coast are startled, scattering and flying into the azure sky.

I exchange a few words with the staff next to me, and eventually, we fine-tune our respective appearances. As we look on in anticipation, the ferry slowly lowers its gangway.

In no time, people begin to descend in small groups of two or three.

Employee A: Wow! I can’t believe the entire island has been booked for team-building. The company really is committed to this.

Goldman: After all, we’ve managed to seize back several projects from FengZhen Group, and the financial report has some commendable highlights. Anywho, the only one who is capable of making such strides is our LFG. [1]

Executive B: Indeed, let’s have the administration team shoot a few extra videos. We can use them as promotional material when recruiting from universities next year.

Amidst the continuous ebb and flow of conversation, a staff member next to me props up their head ornament and walks up to the crowd.

Staff Member: Welcome, travelers from distant lands, to Nan’Ao Island!

Staff Member: I am an elven emissary of this island. In the time that follows, I will be accompanying you on this journey of exploration along with my companions.

In cooperation, I point the “wand” in my hand toward the direction of the shore. As I watch the expression on the staff members’ faces, either of astonishment or admiration, the weariness accumulated over the past few days of running around dissipates a little.

With the Spring Festival approaching, LFG offered employees the opportunity for company-sponsored travel as a benefit. Nan’Ao Island was among the destinations that were up for choice.

This place has just undergone the transformation into a vacation-themed resort with a “Magic Holiday” theme. In addition to the subsequent promotional campaigns, [MC’s Company Name] was also involved in designing the majority of the activities.

In order to closely follow up on the initial operations, I decided to stay on the island. Concurrently, I made most of the opportunity and assumed the role of an “NPC” to promptly identify and address any potential oversights that might occur during the process.

MC: Now, please make your way to the nearby golden beach. We’ll be guiding each of you to choose your own “abodes.”~

The crowd follows the guidance and walks toward the beach. I maintain a courteous smile, my gaze subconsciously scanning around, but I’m unable to find Li Zeyan’s figure.

...Could it be that he got caught up with some last-minute work? Or could there be some other reason?

As I silently ponder to myself, memories of the conversation during our video call the other day surface in my mind.

–

──── [FLASHBACK STARTS] ────

LZY: …they can only truly relax when the higher-ups are not around.

LZY: There are still many year-end matters to attend to, and not all members of the management, myself included, necessarily need to be directly involved.

I let out a prolonged “Ah” and lean a bit closer to the screen.

MC: Team building is an essential component of corporate culture… how can CEO Li, as a member of LFG, make an exception?

MC: In such opportunities to strengthen team cohesion, if the boss also actively participates, it can provide even better motivation for everyone!

MC: Moreover, “sharpening the axe doesn’t delay the cutting of firewood.”  Taking a break before the New Year also means entering work with a better mental state afterward, don’t you agree?~

Li Zeyan, on the screen, locks eyes with me for a brief moment, and his motion of flipping through the documents comes to a halt.

LZY: If [MC’s Company Name] ever incorporates a debate competition into team-building activities, a certain someone here would surely come out on top.

MC: So, to translate your words, does it mean that CEO Li has been persuaded by me?

Li Zeyan leans back against the chair noncommittally, and though he doesn’t confirm or deny, a touch of softness settles in his expression.

LZY: Don’t celebrate just yet; I need to arrange my schedule first.

LZY: If I can carve out time, I’ll try my best to make it there.

───── [FLASHBACK ENDS] ─────

–

Seeing the stream of people on the pier gradually thinning out, my gaze falls on Goldman, and subconsciously, I consider asking him about Li Zeyan’s situation.

But considering that there are still numerous unfamiliar LFG employees present here, and given my current role as the “Elven Emissary,”...

After some thought, I decide to play the role of an “NPC” for now and find a moment to give him a call later.

Click.

A soft sound emanates from behind. I reflexively turn around and find myself involuntarily squinting my eyes into a smile.

Li Zeyan is leisurely leaning against the railing of the pier, holding up his phone in my direction. His hair dances in the sea breeze, revealing his deep-set eyes and brows.

Perhaps due to the vacation atmosphere, he is dressed somewhat casually today. The collar of his shirt is loosely open, allowing the sunlight to sketch out subtle contours.

Noticing that I’ve turned around, he then shifts his gaze away from the screen. A barely perceptible hint of a smile lingers on the corners of his lips.

At this moment, only the two of us are on the boardwalk. I finally can’t resist the urge to let a smile tug at the corners of my mouth and briskly walk up to his side.

MC: Hm-hmph, I knew you’d definitely come~

MC: By the way, were you sneakily snapping photos of me just now?

LZY: I’ve been standing here for quite some time already.

LZY: You were the one who didn’t notice me, so you can’t really call it being “sneaky.”

LZY: Besides, I haven’t seen a certain someone for several weeks. Am I not even allowed to take a few pictures now?

MC: Hehe, Sir, you’re allowed to do whatever you please~

MC: After all, this “Elven Emissary ” here is so cute. It’s only normal if you want to treasure this moment~

LZY: [laughs helplessly] …as usual.

His voice carries a subtle undertone of helpless resignation, causing me to involuntarily burst into laughter. Li Zeyan looks at me and slows down his pace.

LZY: Your mood seems exceptionally upbeat today.

MC: Of course~ After all, I had a hand in creating this tourism project, and the first batch of guests to be welcomed here happens to be employees from my boyfriend’s company.

MC: One must acknowledge it’s a wonderful stroke of fate.

The bright and beautiful sunshine beams down, and the warm sea breeze carries with it Li Zeyan’s soft chuckle.

LZY: Turns out this kind of hectic coordination can also be viewed as a “serendipitous coincidence.”

LZY: Obviously, when the administrative department was selecting the team-building destination, in order to advocate for Nan’Ao Island to be included in the list, a certain someone even went out of her way and brought a PowerPoint presentation to explain.

LZY: What was it? Something along the lines of “since there’s a hierarchical relationship, if LFG chooses Nan’Ao Island, they can enjoy discounts and save on budget funds.”

LZY: “After tirelessly working for the entire year, what better place to warm one’s heart than heading to a sun-drenched island during the chilly season?”

LZY: While you did deploy a bunch of rhetoric, you also appealed to emotions and reasoned with logic.

MC: In any case, judging from the results, the strategy did prove effective!

MC: CEO Li, rest assured. Since I’ve strived for this opportunity, I will ensure the quality of your team building is guaranteed.

MC: I pledge that no matter what, both CEO Li and the employees of LFG will enjoy a perfect vacation~

In the midst of our conversation, we’ve already reached the end of the boardwalk and stepped onto the soft, warm beach. Li Zeyan’s voice resonates from beside me.

LZY: And what about you?

MC: I’m gonna fulfill the duties of the “Elven Emissary ” and ensure you all have a great time, of course~

LZY: …a certain someone never forgets her professionalism.

In the distance, the hubbub of indistinct yet clamorous laughter emanates from the meeting point. I clear my throat and speak in a serious demeanor.

MC: I officially welcome you to the island~ Our magical holiday journey is about to begin!

──────────────

[Tidbits]:

[1] It’s a reference to his top-up SSR from this same event.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 2】

As we get closer to the meeting point, the distant voices of conversation become increasingly clear. I loosen my grip on Li Zeyan’s arm, lowering my voice.

MC: I’ll go ahead first; we’ll catch up later, okay~

–

I gesture to another “Elven Emissary” as I speak. The latter, understanding my signal, walks in front of the unfolded map and speaks during the interval before I take the stage.

Staff Member: Up next is the segment for choosing your accommodation. Feel free to pick based on your preferences.

Staff Member: For those seeking a quiet retreat, you can choose locations near the “Healing Hot Springs” and the “Elves’ Home Bar.” The surroundings are picturesque, and it’s convenient to reach us whenever needed.

Staff Member: If you lean towards activities, you might want to choose accommodations near the boardwalk. This not only offers more convenient access to activity spots like “Blue Sea Snorkeling” and “Dragon Wing Gliding” but also…

MC: But also, there’s a higher concentration of hidden items in the nearby area!

Seizing the opportunity, I smoothly take over the conversation and walk to the front. And sure enough, a curious inquiry reaches my ears.

Employee A: What was that you just mentioned about the hidden items?

Beaming ear to ear, I raise a string of coconut shell bracelets.

MC: This is the Easter egg segment we’ve designed~

MC: Scattered around the captivating spots worth exploring on the island, you’ll find 16 sets of these bracelets. If you find them, please pass them over to the Elven Emissaries.

MC: Once you collect them all, you’ll unlock a hidden scenery–– share this delightful surprise with someone you hold dear~

MC: Now, who would like to come up first and choose their accommodation?

The air buzzes with excitement as conversations erupt. Though no one comes forward to take the stage, everyone simultaneously turns their eyes to the back of the crowd as if in tacit agreement.

My gaze follows the direction of the crowd, and looking up, I see Li Zeyan standing alone under the shade of a tree.

Probably not wanting to draw attention to himself, he has deliberately chosen a spot slightly removed from the crowd. However, he is still unable to escape from the employees’ gazes locking precisely onto him.

The beach at the moment is akin to a natural conference room, with countless eyes of either admiration or curiosity trained on Li Zeyan, all awaiting his directives.

I struggle to contain the urge to hook my lips into a smile, suddenly recalling Li Zeyan’s words from our video call – “They can only truly relax when the higher-ups are not around.”

During the relaxed time of team-building, it’s actually a great opportunity to lessen the sense of distance between superiors and subordinates...!

Suddenly, an idea pops into my mind, and I speak with a beaming smile on my face.

MC: Although no one has spoken yet, their collective gazes have already pointed to the most fitting candidate.

MC: That handsome gentleman back there! Could you come up to the stage, please?

LZY: …

Across the bustling crowd, Li Zeyan and I lock eyes for a brief moment before he finally walks unhurriedly to the front of the stage.

The moment our shoulders brush against each other, his thin lips move almost imperceptibly.

LZY: [GAHH THE “THREATENING” WHISPER]  You’re gonna have to settle this account later.

MC: C’mon, enliven the atmosphere a bit. Please cooperate, CEO Li~

I also answer in a voice that only the two of us can hear, briskly leading him to stand in front of the map. Then, with a serious demeanor, I ask.

MC: I wonder which accommodation you’re planning to choose?

As I speak, my fingertips trace over the area near the “Elves’ Home Bar” as if inadvertently, and I stare at Li Zeyan expectantly.

His gaze wanders over the map for a moment, then he raises his hand and points to a vacation cabin nestled within the dense forest at the far end of the bay.

LZY: This one here.

LZY: However, it’s in a rather secluded location. I’m afraid I won’t be able to find my way there alone.

With this sentence, he slips one hand into his pocket and turns sideways, looking at me with an indolent gaze. Although he hasn’t said anything explicitly, I clearly catch his implication and discreetly pout my lips.

MC: ...Then, after everyone has chosen their accommodations, I’ll––

Goldman: Actually, after CEO Li’s demonstration, the process has become much clearer. We can complete the remaining steps under the guidance of others.

Goldman: Going in groups like this will also increase efficiency.

Goldman pushes his glasses up and suddenly speaks from the audience.

Several threads of understanding or confusion are thrown from the crowd, but they all nod in agreement in groups of two or three.

LZY: Could you lead the way now, “Miss Elven Emissary”?

MC: …please follow me. Everyone else, carry on.

Amidst the lively atmosphere, I escort Li Zeyan off the stage and walk out of the crowd. It’s not until we are seated in the equipped car that I turn to look at him.

MC: Sob, sob~ and here I was so sure of our tacit understanding. Did you not catch the hint I gave you just now?

MC: This place is the furthest from our offline work information exchange hub, “Elves’ Home Bar.” I’ll have to take so many detours in the future…

Suddenly, a warm touch lands on my lips. Li Zeyan raises his hand and caresses my lips, sending a wave of tingling sensation through me.

LZY: Well, isn’t that just perfect.

In the faintly intoxicating sea breeze, he leans in toward me, his voice tinged with a touch of indolence.

LZY: Since it’s so troublesome, just reduce the frequency of your visits.

LZY: Invest all the time you would have spent there on me instead.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 3】

The cozy tropical sunshine beams down as I sit on the deck of the small boat, adjusting the fishing net. Suddenly, a few drops of cool seawater land on my cheeks.

Li Zeyan floats up from the sea, lifting the breathing tube with one hand, and squints slightly as he looks in my direction.

LZY: Wasn’t it a certain someone who took the initiative for this and said she wanted to try her hand at fishing?

LZY: Why is she dilly-dallying now?

MC: Let me finish fastening this last buttonhole… don’t rush me!

I lazily scoop up a handful of water and splash it back at him. Looking at the dripping wet hair over Li Zeyan’s forehead out of the corner of my eye, I can’t help bursting into laughter.

MC: Don’t you feel this scene gives a sense of deja vu?

MC: It feels like when we were on White Pearl Island, I was waiting for you to come back from pearl diving just like this. [2]

As I speak, I adjust the equipment and give him an OK gesture. Li Zeyan seems to recall something as well, and a glint of smile glides across his dark-colored irises.

LZY: All I remember is you waiting on the deck for about ten minutes, and then you started feeling bored.

LZY: When I got on the ship, you persistently kept asking about the underwater scenery.

As he says this, he reaches out and clasps my palm, bridging the distance between him and me.

LZY: And this time, you can accompany me to see it together.

With these words, Li Zeyan pulls me along and together, we dive into the warm, cerulean sea.

The scenery undersea is akin to a picture scroll, its novel appearances unfolding before our eyes through the diving mask.

Schools of fish shuttle through the vibrant, swaying coral. Occasionally, one or two would swim alone, leisurely swishing their tails as they cruise along.

The target suddenly appears, capturing my attention instantly. I swiftly dash forward and swing the net. Unexpectedly, the fish rapidly changes direction and escapes from my encirclement.

MC: … 

Li Zeyan casts a sidelong glance at me, his long legs sheathed in a black diving suit swaying leisurely in the sea waves.

Despite the breathing tube and diving mask obscuring his face, I can still vaguely discern a smile.

Unwilling to resign myself, I chase after several lone fish again, but all my attempts to catch them end in failure. I grab his hand and float to the surface, exhaling a sigh of frustration.

MC: These fish are too agile. Can I apply for some assistance from outside?

Upon hearing my words, Li Zeyan glances at me and takes off his breathing tube.

LZY: When you say “assistance from outside,” what exactly are you referring to?

MC: I was referring to CEO Li’s Evol, of course~

MC: As long as you pause time for just a moment, we can catch them all in one fell swoop, can’t we!?~

I lean in with a beaming smile on my face but am stopped by Li Zeyan’s outstretched finger pressing against my forehead.

LZY: Even if we succeed this way, there won’t be much joy in it.

LZY: Instead, we should slow down our movements and allow the fish to relax their vigilance. Once they feel safe, they’ll come closer on their own.

LZY: When the time comes, they naturally won’t have any chance to escape.

Seeing my skeptical gaze, Li Zeyan doesn’t offer further explanation. He simply puts on his breathing tube and motions for me to join him in diving underwater again.

I follow behind him, observing as he pauses with the net in front of a cluster of coral, quietly slowing his movements. Before long, sure enough, a few fish swim over.

Silently, Li Zeyan leans forward, waiting until the fish approaches the net without any alertness, then swiftly pulls the net together.

Eyes wide, I suppress the excitement bubbling within me as we float up. I watch as Li Zeyan lifts the net, several fish floundering vigorously inside.

Glistening droplets of water cascade down his damp forehead, melding into his equally soaked neck and broad shoulders. I can’t help but gasp in awe.

MC: So amazing! You managed to really catch them!

LZY: I learned quite a few techniques from the fishermen back when we were on White Pearl Island. Just putting some of that knowledge to use. [3]

Li Zeyan lifts his hand and swings the net onto the small boat as he speaks, then helps me up onto the deck. Followed by this, he speaks with a hint of amusement in his tone.

LZY: On the other hand, a certain someone has already been on this island for quite a long time for planning and on-site inspection purposes.

LZY: How come it is that no matter if it’s diving or fishing, there’s always a sense of novelty in your reactions?

MC: Hehe, I indeed haven’t had the chance to enjoy myself here. This island is more of a workplace for me, after all.

MC: Every day, I’ve had to stay on top of the situation on-site, adjust program designs and coordinate personnel arrangements…

MC: Sob, sob, I’d just pass out as soon as I went back to my room, so I didn’t even have any time to explore properly.

A warm touch lands on my cheek as Li Zeyan casually wipes away the water streaks from my face, giving me a somewhat helpless glance.

LZY: Aren’t you always on the dot to remind me about “seizing” the chances to relax when I’m on business trips?

LZY: I remember you mentioning before that you’re not the only person responsible for this project inspection.

LZY: So, how come you didn’t sneak off to “touch fish” and relax a little? [4]

MC: I just can’t help but feel a little uneasy without seeing things with my own eyes. After all, this project is going to be recommended to LFG, so it’s only natural that I must ensure every detail is ironed out.

MC: Moreover, haven’t I already “seized” it back? Being by your side is already the best method of “touching fish.”~ [5]

Grinning, I reach out and touch the fish still flopping around in the net, the tail note of my voice carrying a cheerful lilt. Beside me, Li Zeyan chuckles softly in response.

LZY: A certain dummy has always been quite skilled at comforting herself.

LZY: So, what’s the plan for these fish?

MC: The restaurants on the island do offer processing services… but I want to push the envelope a little further.

Beaming from ear to ear, I lift my chin towards the open-air barbecue area on the shore as I speak. Li Zeyan follows my gaze, his voice now tinged with a hint of comprehension.

LZY: When it comes to troublesome tasks such as this, a certain someone really spurs into action.

MC: But I also need someone here to cooperate~ Pretty please, Li Zeyan; it’s been ages since I have experienced your culinary masterpieces!

As I speak, I fold my hands together in a gesture of prayer and gaze at him. Although Li Zeyan remains non-committal, the glimmer of a smile in his eyes grows increasingly pronounced.

—

Sure enough, once the small boat stops by the boardwalk, Li Zeyan picks up the net.

LZY: Go change your clothes.

LZY: Decide on the flavor you want, grab the condiments, and meet me at the barbecue area.

With Li Zeyan’s promise, my mood can’t help but brighten all the more.

After changing into dry clothes, I head toward the “supply point,” filled with joy and expectation, mentally calculating as I walk––

Naturally, we should include the local specialty sauces… but what if Li Zeyan doesn’t have a taste for them? I should also bring some classic condiment pairings like spiced salt and hot pepper…

Staff Member: Excuse me… Miss Elven Emissary!

A hesitant call sounds from behind me. I quickly snap out of my thoughts, and a polite smile forms at the corner of my lips.

MC: May I help you with something?

Staff Member: I just found one of the bracelets you guys mentioned while taking photos by the reef. Could you please guide me to the registration area?

The other party opens their palm towards me as she speaks. My gaze falls on the beaded bracelet, and my eyes can’t help but sparkle a bit at the sight of it.

The first bracelet has been found so quickly! This collection task seems to be progressing even more smoothly than I imagined…

MC: Of course, please follow me~

I reply in a brisk tone and send a message to Li Zeyan, letting him know that I’d be ten minutes late. Then, I escort the girl to the “Elves’ Home Bar.”

After taking care of everything, I inadvertently glance at my phone. My heart suddenly stutters.

…It’s been twenty minutes past the time I promised Li Zeyan that I’d be there.

—

I rush towards the open-air barbecue area at lightning speed, carrying the bottles and cans in my arms, and spot Li Zeyan leaning against the long table.

Several plates are already arranged on the table. As I draw nearer, the tantalizing aroma of grilled delights wafts into my nostrils, clearly indicating that they’ve been ready for quite some time.

Seemingly hearing my footsteps, Li Zeyan lifts his gaze to look at me. I promptly dash a few steps forward.

MC: I’m sorry for making you wait for so long… haha, the aroma is so delightful!~

MC: As expected of Mr. Li. You can maintain top-notch performance even without any condiments!

LZY: These fish have already been seasoned. You can stop buttering me up now.

LZY: While I was waiting for you earlier, a staff member passed by in the vicinity, so I asked him to help me fetch them.

LZY: Otherwise, if I were to wait for a certain someone to bring them back, the fish would have all burned.

MC: The route to the registration point was a bit circuitous. I didn’t realize it’d take this long.

As I rush to explain at lightning bolt speed, a not-so-firm yet no-so-gentle tap lands on my head.

LZY: [laughs helplessly]  Dummy, I’m not mad.

LZY: I just realized that you seem to be particularly invested in this group task.

MC: Because I designed that surprise single-handedly from scratch. Instead of it staying hidden, I rather hope it can be seen by everyone~

MC: And, to be honest, I also have a bit of a selfish motive.

MC: “The harvest reaped from a certain someone’s efforts during this time has indeed been worthwhile.”... I want to hear you say these words personally after seeing the “surprise.”~

LZY: [laughs even more helplessly] You’re already an accomplished producer in your own right, do you still need this kind of affirmation?

MC: Of course~ After all, affirmation from clients and work partners is recognition of my capabilities, which fuels my resolve to keep pushing forward.

MC: However, the affirmation from my boyfriend–– can sweep away all the weariness from this period, filling me with motivation to welcome the next challenge head-on~

LZY: [even more indulgently] Dummy.

As he says this, his baritone voice softens slightly, and he forks a piece of fish and brings it to my lips.

The delicious flavor explodes on the tip of my tongue. I squint my eyes contentedly, listening as Li Zeyan speaks in a low voice.

LZY: It’s okay to give yourself a break without any worries.

LZY: Don’t underestimate the people at LFG.

──────────────

[Tidbits]

[2+3] It’s a reference to LZY’s first UR card story: “Melding Into You.”

[4+5] The term used here is “摸鱼” (lit. meaning touch fish), which is actually used to mean “slacking off.” There are a lot of playful puns here, which I’m too exhausted to explain rn. Anyway, while I could have used the fig. meaning, I went with the lit. one b/c the conversation revolves around the whole fish imagery here, e.g., you see MC touching the fish they’ve caught together (with him guiding her) as she says her best method of slacking off, i.e., relaxing, is simply being with him– which essentially is a core part of this date, which you’ll see unfolding later ahah 🥺

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 4】

Outside the vacation cabin windows, the dense patter of rain mingles with the rustling of branches and leaves.

Standing on the terrace and looking outwards, I can see the buildings near and far being shrouded in a fine veil of rain. 

I withdraw my gaze from the eaves outside and glance at the work group chat that has been continuously bombarding me with messages since just now.

The sudden downpour has only now begun to taper off. The patrol staff just reported that the beaded bracelet placed at the seaside has been washed into the sea.

If similar situations occur at the other sites where the bracelets are placed, it will surely impact the experience of the game. With this in mind, I swiftly send a few messages in the group chat.

MC: “Once the rain stops, let’s each go check the placement of props in our designated zones.”

In response, there comes a series of consecutive affirmations in the group chat. Deep in thought, I raise my head and gaze towards the forest outside the vacation cabin.

The nearest hiding spot to me is right here... I’ll have to seize the opportunity when Li Zeyan isn’t paying attention and sneak out for a quick look.

As I’m contemplating, Li Zeyan’s voice suddenly comes from behind.

LZY: It’s so late, and you still haven’t come to bed. What are you zoning out for?

I discreetly tighten my grip on my phone and turn around to look at Li Zeyan.

He is sitting reclined against the headboard, iPad in hand. His dark fringes hang leisurely, partially veiling his eyes.

A pair of glasses rests loosely on the bridge of his nose, reflecting several glimmering points of light from the screen.

I plop back onto the bed, casually leaning closer to him as if nothing has occurred.

MC: The rain outside is quite lovely, so I was just snapping a few photos.

MC: And what about you… it’s only been a few days since the vacation, why have you already started looking at documents?

Catching my curious gaze, Li Zeyan leans back and casually angles the iPad in my direction.

LZY: In order to complete a certain someone’s mission.

I move closer with some confusion, and a chart titled “Technology is the Ultimate Weapon” immediately enters my field of vision.

On the topographic map of the vacation island, at least a dozen annotations are sprawled, detailing analyses ranging from distribution patterns to minimum spacing radii, both internally and externally.

For a moment, I can’t help but be bewildered by the scale of the arrangement. Then I hear Li Zeyan’s voice coming from beside me.

LZY: As you can see, there are already people from LFG who have begun updating the guide in real-time.

LZY: In addition to taking turns searching during the vacation, they also share the locations they’ve already found the bracelets each day to avoid wasting time.

LZY: Goldman even went ahead and prepared charts, saying that it would narrow down the search area through data analysis.

I withdraw my gaze and meet Li Zeyan’s eyes with a moment of incredulity.

MC: Isn’t that taking it a bit too seriously… hang on, you didn’t assign this as a task to them, saying something like, “You must complete it within the designated time frame,” did you?

Li Zeyan shoots me a cryptic glance with a hint of ambiguity in his expression.

LZY: I haven’t become that unreasonable yet. This is something that interested individuals did voluntarily.

LZY: At the end of the day, it was a certain someone’s previous introduction that piqued their curiosity.

With a pensive “Oh,” I suddenly think of something.

MC: So, to derive from what you said, this is a private chat group? Then how are you––

There is a sudden hesitation in Li Zeyan’s demeanor.

LZY: [you can’t see me but I’m actually crying lmao 😭] …I asked Goldman to add me to it.

His voice remains very calm. I hold his gaze for a moment, but can’t help bursting into laughter.

MC: Pfft, haha, so it turns out CEO Li is also participating in this activity, huh! Then doesn’t that mean you have to lead the team and set an example?

MC: But you have the “secret weapon” in your hands! Just “please” me a little, and who knows? You might uncover some clues.

I teasingly poke his cheek. Li Zeyan doesn’t say anything and simply stares at me intently.

A moment later, he suddenly chuckles and casually takes off his glasses, setting them aside. Without the obstruction of the lenses, those deep eyes of his stare at me unabashedly.

LZY: [chuckles teasingly]  How do you want me to “please” you?

His voice seems to take on a slightly huskier timbre than usual, as he reaches out and takes hold of my fingertips.

A wet, passionate kiss descends immediately. I quiver, instinctively wanting to pull back my hand, but he restrains my movements.

LZY: Like this?

LZY: …Or would you like me to go further in?

With these muffled words, his lips quietly trail to my neck, lingering there, taking his time and igniting a growing fire.

My heartbeat accelerates uncontrollably, but I still make a conscious effort to keep my willpower intact.

MC: …I already asked you to please me. Naturally, you should be the one to think about how to do it.

LZY: Hmm, I haven’t thought it through yet.

He appears to be genuinely reflective, but the force of his delivery suddenly increases, catching me unawares. The goblet glass at the head of the bed is knocked over, its content spilling silently and soaking the crumpled bedsheet.

I tightly clench the pillow, his voice reverberating in my ears.

LZY: [shaky, breathless voice x1] But since you’ve handed over the control to me…

LZY: [x2] When we should stop won’t be your call anymore.

—------------------------ interlude ------------------------—

The rain outside has stopped at some point. Only the gauze curtains in the distance dance in the breeze, occasionally making a rustling sound.

I stealthily open my eyes. The man next to me has half of his face buried in the pillow, his features traced by the moonlight pouring through the window.

His body rises and falls gently along with his light, rhythmic breathing. It seems that he has already drifted off to sleep.

MC: Li Zeyan? CEO Li? …Zeyan gege?

In order to feel out, I speak in a soft voice. Seeing that he still hasn’t responded, I slowly move his arm aside.

Then, gently and quietly, I rise from the bed, casting one last glance at the sleeping Li Zeyan before feeling at ease and pushing open the door.

—

Creak––

Along with this almost inaudible sound, the crisp air post-rain rushes towards me head-on.

The clear night drapes over the quiet vacation village, with the vaguely audible murmurs of the waves in the distance.

I walk along the cobblestone path into the woods, carefully identifying the location of the placement point by the distant lights.

The bracelet hanging from the branches sways gently in the breeze, almost blending into the dim light of the night.

Feeling relieved, I send a message to the group to confirm that everything was fine. But just as I’m about to leave, I can’t resist muttering to myself.

MC: …Li Zeyan, you really are a dummy.

MC: This hiding spot is clearly so close to where we’re residing, and yet you still haven’t found it.

LZY: After all, considering the vast expanse of the area to search through, it’s surely going to consume a lot of time.

LZY: Instead of running around aimlessly, it’s better to wait patiently for the chance to arrive.

A familiar voice sounds from behind me. Startled, I turn around at lightning pace. There, standing behind me, is the person who I saw seemingly “sound asleep” just a moment ago, now watching me.

MC: You… You were actually pretending to be asleep!

LZY: A little correction. I was simply concerned about your safety when I noticed you were heading out so late, that’s all.

LZY: The discovery I’ve made just now can only be regarded as an unexpected gain.

Li Zeyan’s eyes mirror a contemplative interest as he speaks.

LZY: On the contrary, a certain someone here seems to be getting more and more adept at pulling the wool over people’s eyes.

LZY: While her leading foot earnestly vowed that she was genuinely exhausted and just wanted to sleep quickly, her trailing foot dashed out the door to be busy with this and that…

LZY: [GAH THAT MENACINGLY SEDUCTIVE TONE] It seems like I don’t need to be mindful of such excuses from now on.

The roots of my ears can’t help but flush a bit, and I let out a cough before offering an explanation.

MC: Circumstances change… my current action is entirely driven by my dedication to work.

Li Zeyan lets out an ambiguous “ah.” His figure is outlined by the distant lights, casting a slender silhouette that projects onto me.

Amidst the murky darkness, I discern his voice carrying a slightly deeper chuckle, and it seems a little more muffled than usual.

LZY: Sophistry.

LZY: Whether or not there’s some truth to it… I’ll examine it in my own way.

His voice drops to a whisper, and what follows is a warm and entangled kiss.

I find myself involuntarily clutching onto the corner of his garment, tilting my head back to reciprocate. The next moment, I feel the tip of his tongue gently glide across the roof of my mouth.

Despite the brevity of that touch, it sends a shiver through me, making me tremble uncontrollably. I feel as if my heartbeat is about to melt into the fiery breath of this moment.

??: Has this area not been searched yet?

Indistinct chatter suddenly echoes from a distance. I gasp and turn my head, watching as two blurry figures appear far off at the edge of the woods.

MC: They seem to be looking for clues… We…

Before I can finish my entire sentence, it’s gradually drowned out by stifled whimpers.

Li Zeyan closes in on me from the back, covering me deeply. His one hand presses against my lips, seemingly trying to hush my voice.

His slender fingers teasingly caress the space between my teeth. After playing around for a while, they irresistibly delve further in.

MC: …!

LZY: They should know what’s appropriate.

LZY: But if you can’t control your voice… that might be a problem for us.

His fingertips carry the slight chill of the night, stirring my tongue every now and then. It feels like an appeasement, and yet also a form of punishment.

All the sounds in my ears fade away, leaving only the pounding of my heart, growing more and more violent amidst the whimpers. Unconsciously, I bite down on the fingers he has inserted.

His embrace, imprisoning me, tightens even more. A moist kiss descends onto the nape of my neck, followed by gentle nibbles, trailing down to my chest.

Rumble–– 

The rain, which came to a halt, has begun pouring down at some point unbeknownst to us, pitter-pattering onto the surface and creating ripples.

In the embrace of the night, everything is steeped in the surging tide.

──────────────────────────────────────────

Continue to Part 2: here!

────────────────

[whimsical-sonic]

oodles

[unicornpopcorn14]

13 for the ship prompt! :D

Ship Prompts 13- Write about your ship celebrating one of the members birthdays. Ship chosen: Queerplatonic Skk I got carried away with this (3.5k words aaaaa) 😭😭 Hope you enjoy it, Darcy!! :D

Saccharine

“You’re aware what day of the year it is, right?”

Dazai’s eyes widen, fork still in his mouth as the chatter of the restaurant fades in his ears. It’s been four– almost five years, surely Chuuya isn’t alluding to that. The moment he meets the other’s peeved face, however, his mouth gapes, with the fork still inside it, and whispers in horror,

“Don’t-”

Chuuya cuts him off with an exasperated sigh, “I enjoyed those 51 days of me being a year older, but alas. The time has come for me-”

“Do not-”

“-to be nice to you for the whole day…”

“NOOOOO!!!” He grabs his hair as he lurches back, other customers turning to their table, “Chuuya, if you’re a sadist, I’d much rather find out in better ways!” He bangs on the table with flat hands, to which Chuuya’s veins bulge at, “Would you quit with that awful annual torture-?!”

“Come on, you do this every goddamn year!” Chuuya bickers back, “Indulge a little in what I put myself through for your ungrateful ass.”

“You do it because I don’t like it!”

“Well, true.” Chuuya shrugs, leaning back with folded arms, “But don’t you get at least a little tired from doing this shit constantly? I’d say this is a much needed change of pace-”

“First of all, how dare you suggest that this ‘shit’ is but a front. Maybe you can’t help but pretend to hate me– and I get it, after all, who could resist my charm? But I truly hate you-!”

“Uh huh.”

“-Second of all, I’d rather stay alive than ever go through that quote-un-quote: ‘needed change of pace’ for the third time in my miserable life!”

“That so?” The smirk that Chuuya wears sends Dazai’s long-have-been-numb nerves prickling in foreign agitation that he hasn’t felt in a long time-

“Oh my.” Chuuya’s tone and eyes instantly soften, and Dazai recoils back before he can help it, “Miserable life, Osamu? I’m so sorry to hear that. We can talk about it, you know-”

Dazai clasps his ears shut, “Shut uuuup!!!”

“As you wish,” Dazai grimaces even further because Chuuya just listened to him, “but do know I am always here to talk, yeah?” Chuuya unsheathes one of his gloves to take Dazai’s hand into his own, expression so uncanny as he genuinely smiles at Dazai. The brunette feels sick-

“I’ll avoid you for the whole day if you keep this up!” He threatens crackly, can’t bring himself to take his hand away, “The Agency is definitely pummeling without me helping with the paperwork.”

Chuuya normally would tell him that he slacks on the job anyway, but now he just simply closes his eyes, that same damn smile on his face, “Just say the word, and I’ll give you all the space you need. Never doubt that, mackerel.”

The pet name doesn’t grant him the normalcy he’s desperate for when Chuuya says it in that tone of voice, “No- You’re not supposed to-!” Dazai can sense that his lack of acutely predicting Chuuya’s responses might drive him crazy very soon, so he attempts to try to calm himself, “Aren’t there mafia business for you to attend, Mr. Executive? Does Mori even know you’re here?”

“Don’t worry, Osamu, I freed the whole day just for you.”

“Stop calling me that-”

“Anything you want-”

“Raaaaaghhh!!!” Now he takes his hand back, clutching it on his chest as if he’s been burned, “You’ll crack. You’ll definitely crack. There is no chance you’re keeping this up forever. Your tiny brain won’t handle it!”

But he knows that isn’t the case, because Chuuya’s tiny brain had handled it for the whole day during his seventeenth and eighteenth birthday, and now at 23, his tolerance to Dazai’s insults have significantly heightened, to the brunette’s sheer disdain.

Chuuya tilts his head a little, hair swaying, completing his sickeningly sweet demeanor, “I’d do anything for the most precious person in the world.”

“Eugh- I think I threw up in my mouth a little.” He gags with a fist on his mouth, voice groggy-

The waiter comes up to them, telling them that the other customers have complained about Dazai’s occasional shrieks. Chuuya, still so freaking sweetly, informs her that they were leaving already, pays the restaurant without complaining once about Dazai never pulling his own weight, and they take off.

“This is a nightmare.” Dazai says after a long moment of silence between them, something that never happens, “My feisty dog is suddenly nice, he’s definitely transpiring something wicked against me!”

Chuuya- Chuuya laughs, “You know you’re ridiculous with that…” He doesn’t say it meanly, wiping a tear, which Dazai’s brain haywires at-

“Really, now? Laughing at calling you my dog?” The smallest of frowns dares crease his forehead, “This is too much, even for you.”

“What? You’re funny.” Dazai’s face pales- greens even, “So, where do you want to go, birthday boy?”

Dazai bristles at the nickname, then inhales to calm himself, an idea springing up, “Fine. You asked for it, Slug!” He knows just the perfect way to break him, “We’re going to the arcade.”

He sees the flash in Chuuya’s eyes, and deems himself victorious. Chuuya would never maintain this bullshit at the arcade given his ridiculously competitive nature. He’ll definitely scream at Dazai once or twice out of habit more than anything-

Nothing.

Clearly Chuuya’s willpower has also improved through the years, because there isn’t a single aggressive shout, there isn’t any accusations of Dazai tampering with the machines (he had), and though Chuuya laughs and enjoys the rounds, what he utters after his loss is the straw that breaks the camel’s back,

“Aw shucks. Good match, that was fun.”

Dazai leaps from his seat and turns around the machines to reach the redhead, grabbing his cheeks with panicked eyes, “Chuuya, Chuuya are you in there?! I think you’ve been possessed!” He speaks to the eyes, sensing their amused confusion, “Do something to tell me you’re in there! Any sign!”

Chuuya smiles.

“Ahh!” Dazai lets him go instantly, “Begone, demon!!”

“Come on, now.” The not-Chuuya says fondly- eughhh, “Up for another round?”

“No!” This didn’t work. Dazai needs to think of other ways, make up a plan. Operation: exorcising this cloying demon out of his partner begins in-

“How about we go to my apartment? I have a surprise for you.”

Dazai’s eyes dart as his mind runs in terrifying speeds, addressing the other without looking, “I don’t trust you with surprises right now. You may be small, but you’re no less terrifying.”

Chuuya chuckles, “You’ll love it, trust me-”

Dazai gets into a fighting stance, gasping, “Do not speak of trust with that tone of voice, not-Chuuya!”

Chuuya chuckles again, and his silky tone coaxes him to follow him to his apartment, nevertheless. Dazai can’t believe he’ll have to endure seven more hours of this, planning to break a thing or two of Chuuya’s belongings out of spite if nothing else.

“Don’t think your façade is fooling me, I can see right through you!” He announces impatiently from the couch, leg bouncing up and down as Chuuya pours drinks from the kitchen, “You gagged at least twice through this, didn’t you? Admit it.”

Chuuya laughs again, a record in Dazai’s book. This is so ridiculous. “Stop cracking me up, I can’t pour the drinks.”

Dazai sulks, sinking into the couch, “Shut up…” But it’s weak, replaced by flusterment he can’t ebb down. He feels suddenly helpless with the lack of the reactions, and wonders if he’s losing his touch. The antique vase looks like it wants to crash into the floor in full speed so much right now.

“You’re a little red.” Not-Chuuya is suddenly in front of him, sitting down as he gapes up at him in amusement, “Cute.” He attempts to give Daza his drink.

Dazai, with crossed arms, huffs and turns away, “I’m not talking to you.”

“Why? Did I do anything wrong?” Chuuya asks gently with a smile, placing the glass on the table. Dazai turns even further in order to hide the other from his peripheral.

No, you didn’t. And that’s the problem.

“Your hair looks soft. Fluffy.” Dazai suddenly feels fingers running through the back of his head. His noddle whips so fast his neck feels like it cracked,

“Ew, ew! Don’t touch me, cheap-Chibi-replica!!” He doesn’t exactly flinch away, fuming, “The real Chuuya calls my hair a dirty mop all the time! Do better!”

Not-Chuuya brushes his bangs this time, fixated on them as he speaks, “Maybe he never told you those things because…” He pauses, eyes down-casting a little. Dazai begged him to say ‘you’re a pain in the ass’. It’s what he expects, it’s what makes perfect sense, it’s what aligns with the Chuuya he knows like the back of his hand, pleasepleaseplease-

“…he never really thought he deserved you enough to do so.”

Dazai rigids, “WHAT?!”

“He’s afraid of things he’ll lose.” Chuuya, to Dazai’s absolute disdain, explains, “So he tries his best to push everyone away. Everyone he’s sure will be too precious to him, everyone he’ll latch onto just a little too much, he tries his best to maintain his distance from th-”

“Chuuya, I have never been more serious with you in my life: Please stop.” Dazai numbly says, suddenly so, so exhausted.

The redhead’s mouth clasps, as per request, but he clarifies that it still isn’t over, “Only six more hours and I will.”

“Why?” Dazai stresses, uncomfortable, “You can end it here. Nothing obligates you to-”

“You never asked for your surprise.” Chuuya cuts him off.

Dazai blinks, turning to him, “If I see it, will you stop?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Of course I will.” Dazai rolls his eyes, “Now, on with it. If it gets the real Chuuya out, then the sooner the better.”

Chuuya smiles, but there is something solemn regarding it. He gets up, with Dazai observing his every move, and scurries through a drawer big and wide enough to accommodate stacks of files and documents. Dazai’s eyes narrow, never taking interest to rummage through this particular drawer for how boring its contents appear to be, but now his interest in piqued, as Chuuya finds what he’s looking for with a small: “Aha.”

Dazai thinks he sees an envelope in Chuuya’s hand as he ambles closer, but that can’t be right-

“Here.”

“Your surprise is a letter?” Dazai truly hasn’t been more confused in his life. He hates that he can’t see where this is going, inspecting the brown envelope as he speaks, “Chuuya, I don’t think there is anything you can’t verbally say to me now, do you? This is usele-”

His eyes widen, breath catching in his throat as he reads the name embedded on the paper.

From: Odasaku

Time seems to stop while Dazai reads the nickname once, twice. It’s in English cursive that can never be Chuuya’s handwriting, and his hands tremble ever so slightly the moment he registers the credibility of what he’s holding. This is real.

“You- wh-” He looks back and forth between the envelope and Chuuya’s gentle eyes, gaze never seeming to want to leave either.

Chuuya sits on the couch, voice subdued, “Your Executive desk was cleared by me after your defection, as per my own request. I was admittedly selfish– looking for anything you might have left for me before you left. Something to explain, anything-”

“Chuuya-”

“Hey, let me finish, will you?” Chuuya sends him a soft smile in reassurance, “I found this instead, read the first two paragraphs before I closed it again. It explained everything I needed to know, Dazai.” He leans back, drinking out of the wine glass, “You can read it privately if you want.”

But Dazai doesn’t get up, scrambling to take the paper out with shaky fingers. His heart wildly throbs once a long wall of text meets his widened eyes,

This is but my latest prose as a person worthy of being a writer, a person who is not tainted with blood. Dazai, if I die before seeing you one last time, I do not wish to end things between us on such terms. There is a lot I wish to tell you before I leave…

Dazai reads every word, eyes welling against his will, making the letters blur and scramble as one. Oda speaks of their time together, his fondest memories, his ideals- tells him he would’ve left a letter for Ango hadn’t it been for the circumstances. Tells him the name of his adopted children, the characteristics each of them had.

I, truly, have considered you one of them.

Oda informs him of how much he resembled a burnt black cat the first time they met, how he doesn’t seem as burnt now. Dazai chuckles wetly as Odasaku says that he’s happy he’d known him, even for a short while, even in their circumstances.

Whatever path you’ll choose after what occurs, please remember this:

The brunette suddenly hiccups, an ugly sound seldom forced out of him. He covers his mouth, finds his lips too shaky to form words, heart feeling more than all it had felt in almost half a decade-

“He said he’s proud of me, even before knowing I’d defect.” He isn’t sure why he’s whispering this to his partner, “He-” His cheeks feel wetter than before, to which he looks at his hand. Droplets of salt continue to fall on them so assertively, he thinks they might cause them to bleed,

“What is this- what have you done to me…?” Dazai knows he’s crying, he just doesn’t know why he can’t will himself to feel numb again. Everything is hazy and sloppy and wet, and he keeps the precious paper away, afraid it will get caught up in that uncontrollable mess…

“Do you hate it?” Chuuya asks faintly, with some regret in it. Dazai shakes his head, leaving the letter on the table-

“No, I don’t but- these monstrous things won’t stop.” He croaks as he wipes with both hands on his face, and to his horror the tears double, the sobs get even more violent, “I think I’ve been possessed, too…”

“Hey, come here…” Chuuya guides him through his fit, which Dazai blindly follows, till he finds himself with a weight on his laps and both arms and legs embracing him. Dazai latches back so tightly, trembling as he puts all of his force into the fists that both hit Chuuya lightly and grab the back of his shirt with. He doesn’t have to wipe the tears when Chuuya’s garment acts as a napkin, soaking every single thing he wishes to hide.

“He said he’s proud…” Dazai repeats, squeaks, burying his nose into the warmth of his partner.

“That he did.” Chuuya’s ungloved fingers caress his hair, and don’t stop until the persistent tears finally stop flowing. Dazai stays huddled in the warmth for more seconds despite himself, selfishly wishing to steal it all, before shifting to indicate his desire to draw away, and Chuuya instantly gets off of him.

He can’t bring himself to look at the azure pupils no matter how hard he tries, eyes shifting away to the table and the carpet and the hands on his lap.

It has been long since he’s felt this bare, much less over a gift. He had received many birthday presents in the last two years especially: Ranpo would give him all the sweets he could offer, Kenji crops from his field, Kyouka pretty daggers, Atsushi hugs and flowers, the Tanizaki siblings a cake of their making, Yosano fancy wine bottles, Kunikida would treat him to a meal, and Fukuzawa would orchestrate the whole party…

While it would all be appreciated, he never really felt any joy over being one year older. Most times he regrets ever living this long, so he doesn’t regard the gifts or parties done in his honor with as much gratefulness as he feels he’s supposed to.

But this? This one letter lying opened on the table?

It might be the best birthday gift he’d… ever received.

And he wants to let Chuuya know that.

“Uh.” What was he supposed to say again? What did normal people say in situations like this? Thank you? Sorry? “You’re… appreciable, slug.”

That was neither- what the fuck, brain??

Chuuya would have pointed his terrible attempt at being grateful out at any other day, but now he simply smiles relievedly,

“I’m glad you like it.”

This version of his partner is starting to prove that he isn’t so bad, after all.

Dazai frowns, still avoiding eye-contact, “No, um, what I mean is… mmmm….” He sinks so far in the couch, till only his head is reclining by the back of the seat. He crosses his arms and averts his face, physically forcing himself to say it, “tnks…” he whispers.

“Hm?”

It’s a beat, then Dazai roughly flops his head on Chuuya’s lap, because he can’t articulate his appreciation with words, and thus wants to show it by doing something Chuuya likes, which is having to look down to see Dazai instead of the other way around. He feels the other tense for a second before his hand reluctantly cups his brown hair in question.

“Thanks.” Dazai grits into Chuuya’s pants, then rolls on his back, finally meeting the amused blues, “Don’t get the wrong idea, demon, you won’t catch me saying this to the real Chuuya at all. But you get a pass. Only this once.”

“Might as well feel honored, huh?” Chuuya chuckles, and it’s truly genuine.

A small smile cracks Dazai’s face for a mere second. Wannabe-Chuuya is really more acquainted to handle these moments than regular Chuuya. It’s definitely why he waited for Dazai’s birthday to hand the letter to him– an excuse to show his raw and real care that Dazai undeservedly bathes himself in.

“So, do you want him back, now?”

Dazai doesn’t, but can't ever shed light on contradicting himself, so he dramatically says instead, “I’ll think about it.”

The redhead’s brow ridges, though not with his typical ‘I’m done with your bullshit’ frown. It’s with a smile.

He wonders when Chuuya ever learned to be this good of an actor.

Dazai feigns a long sigh, “Fine, you can stay a little longer…” then pauses, blinking upwards, “Wait- am I betraying real-Chuuya that way?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind.” Chuuya says as he strokes Dazai’s unkempt bangs away from his face.

Dazai’s mouth curls in displeasure because he likes it, “I hate you.”

“He hates you too, buddy.” It’s better to hear it in third person, like this part of Chuuya forever believes he is worth not being hated, “Wanna spend the rest of the day here or go somewhere else?”

“Energy’s gone, not-my-Chibi.” He twirls the long end of the fiery hair in a finger, “Outdoor activities will be a chore…”

Chuuya shakes his head and rolls his eyes in fondness, “This might be the lamest birthday setting ever.”

“That’s exactly right.” Dazai sneers, “But when were we ever conventional with the way we do things?”

“Touche. At least I got a cake and a candle.”

“Ugh, no. You know I hate formalities.”

They carry it out anyway, with Dazai ruining Chuuya’s attempts to sing properly, and Chuuya being patient through and through.  

His partner must have expected Dazai to want to stay home after receiving his gift, because they spend the next six hours doing everything Dazai likes– They play videogames, they cook and Dazai makes the kitchen an unsalvageable mess, they wildly dance together and stumble on their feet, they watch murder mysteries and brain rotting soap operas in a pillow fort, they play with cards and Chuuya loses every single time.

It's until there is fifteen minutes left till midnight, with Dazai getting his hair braided, that he finds himself glancing back with a devious idea in mind. Testing Chuuya’s willpower one last time wouldn’t hurt, would it…?

“Ah, so. I hate to admit it– who am I kidding, no I don't,” He gives an exaggerated winces as he glances back, “but I maybe, sorta bleached all your coats while you were in the restroom when I was mad at you.”

Chuuya pauses his braiding, staring at Dazai for a long while… then all of the veins on his body pop-

He gets yanked backwards by the hair, “Ow, OW!” Dazai laughs because finally, “My, Chuuya, you’re back sooner than expected!”

Chuuya grabs him in a chokehold, which Dazai tries to escape from, “I can’t fucking take it anymore,” He growls, and Dazai laughs even harder, “My coats? MY COATS, DAZAI?!”

“It’s tie-dye season! Never heard of tie-dye season?!” Dazai slips downwards, successfully scrambling away as Chuuya attempts to grab him but he isn’t fast enough-

“GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!!”

Dazai's half-done braids bounce as he sprints, “Bring nice-Chuuya back first!!”

“SAY GOODBYE TO HIM FOREVER, BASTARD!”

“What?! Noooo, call me Osamu one last time!”

“IN YOUR WILDEST FUCKING DREAMS!!”

They pause the chase when Dazai’s behind the kitchen counter and Chuuya’s outside, if only to catch their breaths, “You know, if it weren’t for the fact that me being nice isn’t as effective on you, I’d have made it a staple on your birthday as well!”

Dazai grins evilly, as Chuuya pales.

“How would that go, again?” Dazai taps his chin, “Oh, Nakahara-Sama, You’re so smart and cool.” Chuuya’s face turns green, the piled urge to vomit since he’d started his act finally getting to him, “You are definitely not a dog and you’re actually the perfect height, goes nicely with your figure and strong build-“

“No, fuck! Euuugh!!!” Chuuya actively empties his stomach in a conveniently placed bucket, Dazai claps in victory,

“Aha! Maximum damage!!!” He points at him, “What comes around goes around, Slug!!”

“You’ll fucking pay for that!”

Chuuya breaks the door of the kitchen down, adding to the unhopeful mess Dazai’d made. Their wild goose chase keeps going till three in the morning.

And Dazai? Keeps laughing till all his heart’s content…

[lovereadandwrite]

Fyodor would absolutely invent a medieval cello just so he could celebrate😌🎶🎻 my tlkt0k: sarahdeleonart

[mycenalucentipes]

Panicked Confession

Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Pansy Parkinson has been picking on you ever since she found out about your troubles and little crush on Draco Malfoy. Pansy’s bullying wasn’t even the worst of your problems though. Life is just… You’re distraught. Everything feels wrong. You feel wrong. Something isn’t right and you don’t have anyone to turn to for help. It’s all too much. You just want to collapse. 

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, bullying, breakdown, cursing, panic attack, su!c!dal thoughts, one minor mention of blood

Word count: ~2.3k

a/n: Fluff at the end! I love Draco so much. Maybe I'm self projecting onto Y/n, but I too, would love to be hugged by Draco Malfoy at Hogwarts lol 

It was during dinner that Pansy fucking Parkinson decided that you would be her victim tonight. Somehow, she found out about all of your insecurities and your teeny tiny crush on the Slytherin Prince. Pansy was not about to let another girl try and “steal him away” from her. Though he wasn’t Pansy’s. He wasn’t owned by anyone. That’s just ridiculous.  

Weeks prior to the abuse, at the beginning of the term, you and Draco got paired up (Much to Malfoy’s dismay) for potions and then for an essay in transfiguration. Although arrogant and snobbish at first, you somehow managed to get Draco to warm up to you. Perhaps the kind little smiles and waves you gave him as you entered or exited the classroom. You didn’t show fear when he approached, nor an undying love for him. You treated him like a normal person and were quite competent at your work. 

Which is how you somehow ended up here.

“You useless little, filthy, half-blood bitch! Why are you still here? Hm? Why show your face, you’re such a disgrace to the wizarding world!” She spat at you while leaning over your shaking figure on the ground. Pansy and a couple other Slytherin girls decided to drag you into the bathroom during dinner. “He’ll never love you. You’re a fucking Hufflepuff of all houses. He won’t even glance in your direction!” They screamed and cackled in your face. 

They pushed you over, tore your robes, pulled your hair, and kicked you to and on the ground. Believe it or not, Pansy and her friend’s bullying wasn’t the main cause of your worries. You could care less about them in all honesty, but this semester has been rough. Your mind was letting their words get the better of you.

Recently, you really were beginning to believe you were just a good for nothing waste of space. You should just squash your silly little crush like a bug, right? Kill it. Before it consumed you further. It was this night, where you truly believed their words. That you never stood a chance in gaining Draco’s love and affection. You wanted to escape reality. You wanted nothing more than to finally escape school and home life. 

After they thoroughly beat you down, they left you to your own despair on the cold, hard bathroom floor. You needed an escape from reality tonight. Your mind was getting worse, growing weak, why couldn’t you handle it anymore? You took off running. Not back to dinner in the Great Hall, but to the highest place where you could escape the chatter, murmurs, gossip, insults, all of it.

You clumsily ran up the stairs. To the top of the Astronomy Tower, that was where you were headed. Everything was crumbling inside of you. You’ve tried so hard, yet nothing seems to be working out in your mind. Your mind was falling into a hole that you weren’t sure you could climb out of. So deep, so far away.

Sure, you looked okay from the outside. Nothing was actually falling apart on the outside, maybe except your appearance. But your grades were good, professors liked you, you had a few good friends, maybe your family wasn’t all that perfect, but they weren’t physically abusive. Even if things hadn’t started so great, they were ending up alright. So why were you so broken still? Was it the past years of trauma that you’ve hid from? You couldn’t figure it out. Everything was too much, you couldn’t breathe. 

Reaching the top of the Astronomy Tower, breathing erratic, you flung yourself to the railing. Not to jump over, no. Just to hold onto something tight, to try and gain a sense of reality back. Your whole body was wracked with shivers and the occasional sob that you tried to hold back. It was growing difficult to contain any semblance of sanity that might’ve been left in your panic stricken mind. Was the world caving in? Or was it your conscience?

Your thoughts were a cacophony of anxiety, they clashed and clamored around the inside of your skull. They’ve longed to break out and be free. But you were scared to let them out and be seen, to be heard. You didn’t want to be vulnerable or “attention-seeking”. So, what could you do, other than just bottle it up? Tonight though, you shouted. You shouted over the edge of the railing at the top of your lungs until your voice was hoarse. 

Tears spilled over the edge of your eyes as you kept shouting. Some screams were just pure screams, others were just insults to throw into the void. Hiccups here and there from the violent sobs that wracked your trembling frame. It was piercingly cold, but you couldn’t feel anything, just pure numbness. 

As your voice ran dry of screams and cries, you sunk to the ground. Bringing your knees to your chest, you kept sobbing. Unable to hear any outside sounds from the static in your ears that buzzed so intensely, you never heard Draco approaching you. 

Draco thought it was a little odd that Pansy and some other Slytherin girls took you out of the Great Hall. He was pretty sure he saw them drag you out, but maybe that was his mind exaggerating. He somehow grew a soft spot for the little Hufflepuff girl. Draco didn’t understand how you did it, but all he knew was that he cared for you and liked you. A lot. 

After thirty minutes had passed and you still had not re-entered, but Pansy and her friends did, he grew slightly worried. They looked smug, too smug to be innocent. He had to go find you, as this was not like you to just leave your plate untouched, or so he thought. Draco stood up abruptly from the table, his silverware clattered from the sudden movement. 

“Oh, Dracy~ Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Pansy tugged at his sleeve with a doe-like look. 

“Buzz off Parkinson. This doesn’t concern you– Or maybe it does?” Draco yanked his arm back and out of Pansy’s grasp. He shot her a sharp glare and snarled out, “Do you have any idea what might’ve happened to Y/n?” A look of fright flashed over Pansy’s features. She did her best to play innocent, but that one second of fear was enough for Draco to understand.

“I have no idea where that filthy little Hufflepuff could have gone. Why would I care? Why do you care? She’s not worth your time! She’s a bloody Hufflepuff!” Pansy shot back, desperation in her voice as she tried to convince Draco to stay. 

“Parkinson, just leave her alone! You have no right to meddle in my business and relationships! Don’t you or anyone else ever lay a fucking hand on her again.” Draco growled back. He stormed out of the hall in a hurry, not caring that Pansy was calling for him, or that other students were starting to stare. He had to make sure you were okay. 

He burst into the girls restrooms, not caring that he wasn’t a girl. All that he was able to find in there were scraps of your papers from your bag on the ground and a few specks of blood here and there. Draco huffed in frustration, then quickly left the bathrooms. He wasn’t quite sure where to start looking for you, this school was huge! He’d never known you to be in distress or anything more than anxious for an exam. You never showed him any signs of this happening. He opted to just start walking, he would cover more ground than just standing around. 

The Astronomy Tower. That was his first choice, he figured that might be the best option. He would occasionally visit the peaceful place in the late hours of the night to clear his mind. As he ascended the stairs he could hear strangled, painful sobs. He knew it was you. His pace quickened and he was soon bounding up the stairs to rush to your side. 

Once he reached the top, his eyes flicked around, looking for you. It didn’t take long until his gaze landed on you by the railing, huddled up to your knees, rocking back and forth. Draco cautiously approached you, not wanting to spook you. Slowly, he knelt down beside you, one knee touching the ground, putting his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/n?” He started out, his voice gentle and full of concern. Your eyes shot up to him, panic swimming in them. His heart clenched at the sight of your frightened form. You saw his lips moving, but could not hear a single thing coming out of them. 

“Y/n? What’s wrong? Can you speak to me?” His worry grew as you weren’t responding to him. Only looking into his eyes with tears pouring from yours. “You’ll be okay. It’s alright, Y/n. I’m here for you…” He kept whispering out sweet little reassurances. Eventually your hearing came back to reality, however your breathing was still erratic as you cried. 

“Y/n,” Draco’s voice slightly wavered with concern, “can I hug you? Is that okay?” His words, soft and comforting, offered deep compassion for you. He understood that it was difficult for you to communicate in this state. Still overwhelmed, you mustered a small nod. Quickly upon watching your answer, he drew you into a tight embrace. You felt the warmth radiating off of him that shielded you from the harsh winds of the cold night. You could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the steady sound of his heartbeat. 

“Follow my breathing if you can.” He whispered sweetly, while rubbing small circles into your back. Gradually, you were able to follow along, calming your breathing and senses down. Though the tears still fell thickly from your eyes, the hysteria was gone. Eventually you found your voice. 

“D-Draco, w-why are you up here?” Your voice was rough from tonight, cracking part way through your question. Your body was still shaking, but less so than before. 

“I was worried about you when you didn’t come back to dinner,” He sighed with worry laced in his voice. “I saw Parkinson and her friends saunter back in, but you weren’t there.” He continued to explain what happened between him and Pansy. His voice grew angrier and tenser with each sentence. He was breathing heavily when he finished explaining how he found you. 

You froze for a couple seconds, then snaked your arms around his waist, hugging him back. “Thank you, Draco.” You said with a small voice, “I-I’m sorry you had to see me like this. Everything became too much for me, and I– I just–...” Draco calmly shushed you as you struggled for words, one of his hands now stroking the back of your head. 

“It’s okay, Y/n.” 

“Thank you again, I just love you so much, I–” You paused, realizing what you just said. Flustered, you pushed yourself back a couple feet from his hold, looking anywhere but him. He stumbled back off his knees a bit, now sitting on his bum, looking flustered as well. Not quite as flustered, but blushing red nonetheless. 

“Y-you love me as well?” He asked, voice quiet, needing confirmation that he heard you correctly. 

“Umm, yes. I-I do quite fancy you, Draco. It’s okay if you don’t, I– Wait did you say ‘as well’?” No it was your turn to stare in shock, thinking about what he just asked. “Since when?”

“Since we had to write that transfiguration essay together.” He confessed, shyly rubbing the back of his neck. “I only recently came to terms with my feelings a couple weeks ago though.” You beamed at him, blushing even harder. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t the worst night ever anymore. Just a tad embarrassing to be confessing like this after having a full blown mental breakdown and panic attack in front of him. Not quite how you thought this confession would turn out. You actually had planned to just take this crush with you to your grave, not wanting to ruin the friendship you had grown with him. 

“I-I’ll confess, I’ve liked you ever since we were paired up in potions at the start of the term.” You chuckled at the memories of him huffing and pouting at the fact that he had to work with a Hufflepuff. 

“Hmm, I’m sorry I was so rude to you back then. You had done nothing wrong. Just merely been a Hufflepuff.” He teased at the end, earning him a small punch to the arm. He feigned offense and hurt at your playful act. “I’m so hurt haha.” 

“As if!” You let out a genuine laugh and it was like music to his ears. You shuffled closer to him again, sitting between his legs, facing him directly. Both of you gazed into each other’s eyes, mesmerized and gaining a new understanding for each. Slowly leaning closer, Draco delicately placed his lips onto yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as you reciprocated the action, leaning into a deeper kiss. Is this what bliss and heaven were like? You were sure you reached your utopia. Butterflies danced in your stomach and you truly felt sparks flying. After holding the kiss for a little while, you both pulled apart for air. 

Slightly panting and still staring deeply into his soul, you sat against him, your back to his chest. He wrapped his arms around your torso and rested his chin on your shoulder. 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” This time he sighed with content, “Don’t let Parkinson or her entourage tell you anything different. I’ll personally make sure of it.” You laughed at this then sighed with comfort as well. 

“Oh, but of course. You’ll protect me, my knight in shining armor!” You joked lightly, playing with his hands that lay in your lap. It felt so right, how your hands fit into his larger ones. “Can we stay up here just a bit longer? Just, hold me, please?” 

“Of course we can. I would love nothing more.” His voice hummed in your ears. So deep and calming in the cold and windy night. “Just the two of us.”

[wrylu]

FUCK!!! it's finally done. after a whole day

COD CHARACTERS, but they're B U G S

cw insects!! if you get hibbie jibbies from buggo art or just bugs in general, u can scroll💗

and for those who wanna see the art, it looks better if you click on it and zoom in on it or something :)

the worms in my brain bothered me last night to draw cod characters but they're bugs and this morning i started IMMEDIATELY

at the cost of my fingers, wrists, and hands 🕊

the amount of tags on this one.

[idiotdriftinginspace]

WIP MERMAY

(if I'll ever finish this, it'll most likely be next may, ops ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

this is updated version, i hope

Well, this is what happens when my brain just combines the two things i like into one... I mean, you can't blame me, 'cuz it's TRANSFORMERS AND SUBNAUTICA! How could I NOT combine these two things?!

So behold: Unicron And Earth as merformers? is that a word? term? I just for whatever reason decided to Play with their designs with alien fish. Anyway- these two belong to @lets-try-some-writing

and some rambling under cut, good luck, you'll need it

Uhhh spoilers for Subnautica ig

So the moment i let my mind wander, I get hit with this kind of ideas. Why Subnautica of all things? BECAUSE I LOVE THAT GAME AND THE REAPER LEVIATHAN AND SEE EMPEROR FIT PERFECTLY-

Ok, so the idea of a beastformers that turn into Subnautica fauna (and i guess flora as well, thank you Botanica from Beast Mashines for existing), was spinning around inside my head for quite some time now - JUST YOU WAIT, I WILL DRAW THEM, so many OCs to make, hopefuly this summer break.

UNICRON- my initial thought was just Reaper Leviathan: the mandibles on his back instead of wings, something similar to Tarantulas, mmm yes. Both he and Earth have four eyes only because both reaper and see empress four of them. All of them are aliens and have natural glowing body parts, so why not, my brain just said let's go crazy and didn't wait for an answers besides WE NEED MORE TRANSFORMERS WITH 4 EYES.

But then i rememberd that there's a bigger fish- THE SEA DRAGON. He dose have these matching spikes on his body, and the back appendages? tentacles? Are similar to Sea Emperors and is living in the deepest parts on the map. However, Sea Empress os the biggest alive creature in game (for aby fellow Subnautica nerds, o know that Gargantuan Leviathan i WAAAY bigger, but his design is eh, probably not the best here, maybe the colar thiengies could be like a cape?). But then i hit me- UNICRON CAN BE A REAPER AND SEA DRAGON HYBRID! It basicly gives me the ability to put all the parts of both fishes that match Unicrons og body the best and a "logical" explenation as to why he would be always bigger than Earth. With hybrids, sometimes they are bigger than parental species, so as hybrid he could be unnaturaly bigger, and with Sea Dragon parts he can live in the deepest game bioms.

EARTH- the Sea Emperor because yes. Also In game it's te Sea Empress babies that produce enzyme 42, the only thing that managed to destroy the deadly bacteria (GREEN BACTERIA, YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE IS GREEN? TOX-EN) and save/give life to the entire planet again, and she is a curious, young, litle thing like the hatchlings; i'm guessing that's why she's so small in authors drawing. She's a baby

(huh now that i'm thinking about it, maybe Primus should be Sea Emperor, Unicron just a Reaper and Earth a Sea Dragon, after all wild fires are a recurring events...version 2 ig?)

I really wanted to have it done by the end of may, but uhh i'm working on some other thing, that was suposed to be just a sketch, and instead it just grew bigger, and my brain is just demanding full render XD And it will now take even more time despite it being almost finished, because the moment i discovered tha faster and easier method for shading and lightning throu clipping masks, i knew I'd use it there, so XD But hey at least i know it'll look better now ( ≖‿ ≖ )