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bonny-kookoo · 9 months

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Jungkook/platonic!OT7

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 [Part 4: Skies]

In which you realize that you're no longer alone.

Main tags/Warnings: Werewolf!Jungkook, Werewolf!Bangtan, strangers/enemies to lovers, romantic Jungkook x reader, Platonic bangtan x reader, eventual smut, mentions of past emotional/psychological manipulation, hurt and comfort, fluff!, some Angst, mostly fluff tho

Length: 5k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

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A/N: hi I really like this fic and I refuse to let it end up in the basement

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

You've become rather stubborn and even after consulting a specialist- you just refuse to take any of the meds despite Jungkook's clear advice to take them for now. And while he can understand you, somewhat, there are simply consequences to that choice you made.

"I'll leave your groceries in front of your door then." He says with a sigh, and you feel yourself sit straighter now at the other end of the call. "It's probably not a good idea for me to actually come inside if you're off your meds-" he begins, and you panic.

"I can just take them right now!" You hurry out, not wanting to be alone. "I can take them now, and you.. come back later? I don't know.." You mumble, and Jungkook fights a little with himself as he walks into the hallway of your apartment building to enter the elevator, finger of the hand that's holding the plastic bag pressing the right button. "I don't want to be alone.." You say, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair in front of your door.

"Listen, I know, trust me I get it." He says. "But I'm not sure what the effect of me might be on you right now." He admits. "You might feel like you want me close right now, but once I'm there that could instantly change. Those mood swings can be wild, I'm telling you!" He laughs, attempting to change your mind.

"...how do you know?" You wonder quietly, though you're not sure if you want to know the answer to that. Of course he's probably been with other wolves in the past. Pretty ones who know themselves well and are proud and all that. Maybe he's seeing someone right now. You wouldn't be surprised- he's pretty handsome and a nice guy too.. one would be stupid to pass up on an opportunity to date him. Do wolves even date? Or do they just kind of.. live in a pack?

What do wolf-relationships look like? And why do you even think about that with him? He's clearly just your friend, nothing more than that.

"My mom is an omega." Jungkook cuts through your thoughts. "And trust me, she kicks me out randomly whenever I visit unannounced just because she can't stand my alpha-smell!" He laughs, but you're quiet. Of course his parents are wolves too. Yours were one's too- but you'll never have that at all. You'll never have that kind of family that Jungkook has. And even if he was interested in you, what would his parents even think of you?

A girl that was hidden away because her own stepmother was ashamed of what she was. Who'd want that?

"Hey." Jungkook speaks through the phone, before he knocks on your door. "Let's.. maybe you can take a peak and decide if you can handle it?" He offers as a compromise, and you get up to answer the door, unsure what he's talking about since you don't feel anything at all the moment you crack the door open to look at him dressed in a leather jacket.

And then it hits you, and you know exactly what he meant- though not in the way he explained it.

You're basically salivating at the thought of having him close- and it's not at all in any sexual sense whatsoever. Just the sight of him makes you feel like you're starving, like you're gonna pass out if he's not holding you up any second now, and he visibly seems to understand as he gently pushes the door a bit further open. "You can kick me out any time." He reassures you. "Won't be mad at all, promise." Jungkook makes sure you know, and you nod, stepping back reluctantly to let him inside.

You feel like a creep. He could literally have a girlfriend and you're here acting like he's your long lost army husband coming home from war!

"I bought all that you said you needed, and some extra things, just in case." He explains as he sets the bag down in the kitchen, before he turns, probably some of his senses tingling or something as you simply nod at him, avoiding eye contact. He doesn't really elaborate on what 'just in case' means- but you're also not in the mood for any of it, body not feeling like your own at the moment. "You know, it's okay to give in." He chuckles. Considering you've not kicked him out yet, and going after your scent alone, he knows exactly what you're struggling with.

"No.. I- I don't want to overstep some boundary, you know.." You shrug to yourself. "I know.. I know I wouldn't want my boyfriend to like, cuddle with some stranger girl in her apartment and all that.." You begin, before you cringe. "Oh god I don't know why I brought that up I'm sorry-"

"It's completely fine, really." He laughs. "And understandable. Omegas tend to be pretty physical most of the time- nothing wrong with that." Jungkook explains. "And- I also don't have a girlfriend right now, so no worries there either." The wolf tells you, making you nod a bit awkwardly.

You feel nauseous even though you've actually taken at least the minimum of your medication before he came, just out of panic. It's like you're going to cry and sob and throw a tamper tantrum if he's not getting close in the next few minutes. This is stupid. How long will it take for your dumb pills to take effect and make you normal again?

What even is normal at this point?

Jungkook moves to shed his jacket, a wave of his scent hitting you so much it makes you have to adjust your position a little as to not sway and fall over, and if he noticed he chooses not to comment on it, simply leading you towards something he's already spotted.

Your couch is covered in blankets and pillows and sweaters even. You're nesting, and you probably have no idea you're even doing it.

"I have to cook though-" you weakly argue, absolutely his slave however as he sits down in the blanket mess with you, helping you to lean closer to him- and the moment you catch his scent so strong, you're a goner, all shame thrown out the window as you pretty much push him onto his back to lay on him, arms and legs around him to keep him close and immobile- but all he does is laugh a little under his breath and grab a stray blanket thrown over the back of the couch to put it over your back. He moves a bit to adjust the things underneath his head and back a bit, but he soon settles, hand on your back running up and down in a soothing motion.

It's not all that bad actually, at least not when he's around like this.

You can feel how heightened your senses are like this- from your hearing to your sense of smell and even taste, somehow the tips of your fingers feel more sensitive to touch just as much. "...will I ever get used to it?" You worry, and Jungkook nods.

"I'm sure of it." He agrees optimistically. "And I'll be there every step of the way." Jungkook promises, making you cling just a little closer to him.

And as you fall asleep, he can't help but think just how good you feel in his arms like this, safe and protected-

and most of all warm, as your scent lulls him to sleep as well.

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

When you wake up a few hours later, it seems like you're getting a taste of what Jungkook's wolf behaviour can actually look like if he's not awake enough to really control himself like he does whenever he’s typically around you these days.

Because the moment you attempt to get up, a growl leaves him, rumbling from deep within his chest- a warning for you to stay put, as he instead moves around a bit with his arms around you, and at this point, it's his body that almost entirely covers yours, as if to hide you away beneath him. There's no sexual intentions, that much is clear- and it also, surprisingly, doesn't scare you.

Like a voice is there, deep down in the back of your brain, telling you that this isn't something to be panicking about.

But you really need to go use the bathroom, bladder screaming for you to get up and relieve yourself- so you slip out under his arms, before you rush to enter the small room, closing the door behind you. It’s odd how.. Good you feel with him in your home, like there’s nothing to worry about at all as long as he’s here. Even the thought of your potential future to come doesn’t appear as scary as it usually does.

He’d told you you’ll be part of his pack if you end up failing your evaluation. So you’ll be fine, right?

Will Namjoon even accept you? He appeared to be very friendly, so he might. But there’s always a potential that having a female in the group could prove to be too difficult to handle. Would Jungkook stay with you in that case? Or at least help you find another pack that wants you?

You’re drying your hands after washing them when you hear something fall in the living room, opening the bathroom door to take a look- when Jungkook exhales in relief at the sight of you, visibly distressed. “Something wrong?” You wonder, and he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair to sort himself.

“No- no no, just.. Some stupid instinct stuff, don’t worry about it.” He laughs off, though you can see how he fidgets around still, so you walk a little closer, unsure.

“I.. Uhm, can I help you?” You ask, and he looks up at that, a bit confused. “I mean, you look a little.. I don’t know. I feel like I should do something to help you..” You mumble, and at that, his expression softens.

“It’s called nurturing instinct.” He explains. “Common with wolves of your subgender. But uh.. Mostly towards, you know.. Young wolves or..” He fidgets around a bit again, before he plays with his lip piercing. “..or.. towards mates.” He shrugs, as if he doesn’t care- but he does a horrible job at masking his emotions.

“Oh.” You simply answer, a bit surprised. “Does one like.. Choose a mate? Or is it some sort of..” Jungkook laughs a little, walking towards the mess of blankets on the couch with you, where you instantly hide your legs beneath the soft fabrics, Jungkook doing the same before his hands reach out to help you adjust the blankets.

“It’s not some magical soulmate thing.” He chuckles. “People believe it is, but it’s not.” He shrugs. “It’s just a combination of.. Emotional connection and some instincts sprinkled in. Really not that different from regular relationships.” He explains to you, and you nod.

“So because I like you, I want to.. Take care of you?” You wonder, and he nods, before his head snaps towards you, as if he just realized what you said. “What?”

“Nothing!” He barks out almost, looking away. “Just uh.. I like you too. So, that’s why I got.. Kind of clingy earlier when we were asleep.” He mumbles.

“Oh. It didn’t actually bother me at all.” You make sure to tell him. “Just.. I needed to pee, so that’s why I kind of ran off like that.” You giggle, visibly making him relax again.

“I was about to apologize the hell out of that situation.” He laughs. “I- it’s something my pack is a bit worried about. I’m not just a standard alpha after all, and neither are you just an omega. So they wonder if I could become a bit too much for you to handle, considering your situation.” He admits.

“Your pack cares too.” You shrug, and he nods. “I appreciate that. I.. don’t know why I’m so calm now, I think it’s probably some sort of instinct stuff since you’re here-” You say, before you get comfortable under all the blankets again. “-but I feel.. A lot more calm about all of this.”

“Yeah that might just be.. Well, me.” He laughs, watching you get comfortable next to him. “I tend to have that effect on people. Even my own pack.” Jungkook explains, settling down as well now.

There’s a bit of silence between the two of you, a moment Jungkook uses to watch you for a little bit, especially the way you seem to look at his hands with a bit of longing almost. “We should.. Practice for my evaluation.” You mumble, but he just chuckles.

“We got time.” He softly disagrees. “Right now I want to.. Figure out what kind of ‘liking’ you were talking about earlier.” He teases, leaning his head on the backrest of the couch while you whine in complaint, squirming a bit. “Come on, you can tell me! I wanna know.” Jungkook presses, and you huff.

“...it’s probably just.. Your smell or something.” You deny, but he grins impishly.

“Just told you though, it doesn’t work like that.” He laughs. “If you’re not sure yet I get it- but I’d like to know if there’s.. At least some sort of connection that you feel towards me. So I know where I’m at.” The wolf shrugs. “Or rather what I can aim at.”

“Aim?” You wonder.

“In terms of, if it’s okay for me to.. Approach you romantically.” He admits.

“Would you.. Want that?” You ask, and he nods.

“But only if you’re okay with it too.” Jungkook makes sure to let you know. “Right now, I’m not head over heels or anything like that. Just.. Interested. You seem like the kind of girl I’d be happy with.” He admits. “But if you don’t have any interest in me like that, that’s cool too. I’ll simply be your friend then.” He explains to you, and you nod.

“I.. I like you.. Like that. But I don’t want something like.. Right now.” You admit.

“Alright, fair.” He nods. “Wasn’t going to jump you right here and now anyways. Just wanted to know where you’d like to go with me.” He shrugs.

“Is it okay if we like.. Take it slow?” You ask, and he nods.

“Absolutely.” the wolf agrees, and at that, you calm down, visibly so- making him relax as well as he settles down with you, holding you close beneath the numerous blankets on the couch.

Falling asleep with you just a little longer, because you’ve got time, after all.

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

“What’s this all about?” You ask, as the employee closes the door to the room, leaving you alone with a wolf you’re not familiar with.

Jungkook has told you he’d like to ask his pack to help prepare you for both your upcoming evaluation, and for what’s to come in general- and you agreed to let them help you, which brought you into todays situation. Min Yoongi has tagged along with Jungkook to a training center specializing in instinct control and helps young wolves practice around in a safe environment. It also offers some specific physical therapy for elderly that struggle with shifting- and you feel oddly taken care of here, everything looking very inviting, bright and clean.

“Jungkook will be watching from the outside.” Yoongi tells you, nodding towards what appears to be a mirror- but is actually a one-way window.

“Why isn’t he here?” You worry a little, sitting down in the middle of the room like the instructor had explained to you earlier. You’re wearing simple clothing- just a top, comfortable leggings, socks, no shoes. You had to take off all jewellery and accessories outside, just like the wolf sitting in front of you with a good amount of distance.

There’s no furniture inside here. The walls and the floor are padded. Insulated. Scratch-resistant, as the employee had told you with pride.

“Because this won’t be pleasant.” Yoongi says with honesty.

“What’s.. Gonna happen to me?” You ask timidly. You actualy appreciate how honest and upfront Yoongi is- he seems very rough and nonchalant, but you like that he’s not masking his words or emotions.

It’s comforting.

“It’s different for everyone.” He explains. “The only thing you need to keep in mind is that nothing is going to happen to you.” The wolf offers. “You won’t be harmed. You can’t die here. You’re safe.” He tells you, when a short tune plays, signalling an announcement.

“We’ll begin the training now. Please try and stay relaxed.” The instructor says, and you look at Yoongi uneasy, a very faint sound being emitted from a corner before it stops again.

It’s quiet between the two of you. You’re not sure what you’re training for, right now.

Suddenly, you feel weird. Your muscles ache, as if you’ve sat in an odd position all day, bones stiff as you shiver a little. You’re not cold, but your fingers still tingle as if you’ve been holding ice all day- lips becoming dry. “You can move freely, by the way.” Yoongi offers, voice a lot gentler now. “Everyone deals with this differently.”

“Deals with what differently?” You ask, adjusting your legs a little before you arch your back, unable to get rid of that odd unease you have in your limbs.

“Shifting.”

Your eyes snap towards him, and he even cracks a smile for a second, before he adjusts his own position a bit. “You won’t be actually shifting right now, don’t worry.” He reassures you. “But you will feel like it. Or at least, it’ll feel similar.” He offers.

You’re standing up now. Pacing. You can’t stand still.

Whatever it is, it’s making you feel like your clothes are itchy, burning in every spot they touch your skin. You’re trembling too, as if you’re freezing- but you don’t feel cold at all, if anything, it’s the opposite. You run your hands through your hair. For some reason it bothers you, makes you want to pull it out from your scalp.

Tears knock at the backs of your eyes. Why do you feel like crying?

“Why- why do you not.. React at all?” You ask, trying to distract yourself. Yoongi shrugs.

“I’ve been shifting for years. I’m used to it.” He offers. “It’s not like I don’t feel it. I just handle it better.”

You take a deep breath, remembering what he’d told you. You’re fine, you’ll be okay, nothing is going to happen to you.

“Jungkook is probably just as fidgety as you right now.” The alpha chuckles.

“Why?” You wonder, walking around aimlessly before your entire situation gets worse. You don’t know this, but on the other side of the room’s one-way window, you’re very much constantly watched by both Jungkook, and trained staff to make sure you’re alright. Your vitals are being measured.

You’re safe, just like Yoongi said.

Though Jungkook still feels oddly uneasy watching you like that, the way you begin to cry from the sheer discomfort you feel, instincts so clear now as you walk towards a corner to rest your back against it, curling up on yourself with your backside against the wall. He wants to comfort you, help you feel better, but he knows it’s better like this. They won’t put you through the full course today- just a taste, to ease you into things.

You’re doing great already. He feels oddly proud almost.

Yoongi watches you from his spot, looking almost completely unfazed by it all. What he does do however is slowly approach you as you whimper to yourself, curled up into a ball as you try and fight this all on your own. Jungkook watches as the wolf in the room with you sits right in front of you, gaining your attention.

“You’re not alone.” He tells you, making you watch him while your head feels ready to burst open like a balloon. “and it would be the smartest decision to realize that now.”

“...why.” You ask, barely heard.

“Because the help you need is right in front of you.” He says, and it takes you a moment to realize what he’s saying. So, as you slowly open up a bit more, you let yourself just exist.

Jungkook is right. The only way to face this properly, is to accept it all first and foremost.

And so you let your instincts do their thing, as Yoongi seems to instantly catch onto it, opening his arms to accept you clinging to him. It’s normal omega behavior- the company and affection of packmates ease a lot of pain and anxieties, and you feel it right now, too, as you let him hold you.

It doesn’t magically make this experience easy- but it makes it definitely more manageable.

The second the training is over, you feel immediate relief- something hissing in the corners of the room, and it’s as if you can finally breathe fresh air again, throbbing head finally easing up. You basically melt into a puddle of tired muscle and he’s quick to hold you, surprisingly comforting as he watches the door open to let in Jungkook.

“Hey.” He softly tells you, and you reach out to him- though you stay close go Yoongi as well, somewhat surprised how Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind at all. Maybe because they’re friends? Maybe that’s why there’s no obvious jealousy.? “you did great.” He praises, and you lean back from Yoongi to compose yourself again, wiping your cheeks in embarrassment.

“..that was.. odd.” You mumble, and Jungkook helps you stand up again, both wolves leading you out the room to have one last checkup before you leave again. “so that’s.. somewhat what shifting will feel like?” You ask a nurse, who laughs.

“a little. It’s not quite the same- but the simulation is the best we have to prepare you for it.” She explains, while she checks your vitals. “and considering that you have a pack, you’ll do just fine. The first time is always scary.” She smiles, looking at Jungkook who happily nods, while Yoongi has his back turned towards you.

Back home, by yourself, you let the entire day run through you once more. From the feelings in the room, to the way Yoongi soothed you, up towards Jungkook driving you back home- things are so much different than what you thought wolves would live like. This feels a lot more intertwined and connected than your own family life ever did- why would your mother keep that from you?

Maybe you’ll call her, in the future. To ask her why she took care of you even if she knew what you were. To question why she would even involve herself with a child like you were if she hated wolves so much.

But not today.

And not tomorrow, either.

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

This is embarrassing.

You can’t sleep. You keep waking up, windows open or windows closed, you feel watched, chased, never safe. And the worst is when you actually do end up asleep, you dream of Jungkook, and the pack, and then you wake up and realize you’ve barely slept half an hour even.

Your eyes sting whenever you close them. You feel drained, and it’s not even three in the morning.

Are they still awake too? Probably not. They all have their routines down, their a pack, a family, something you can only really fantasize about. What if you’ll disrupt that peace and quiet they have established for themselves? Sure, Jungkook didn’t seem to mind you clinging to Yoongi yesterday, but what about the rest of his fanily- surely this will just end in disaster.

You sit up in bed. You can’t sleep.

You turn on a documentary on your phone to watch, but it really doesn’t help much to force you into slumber- if anything, the screen just starts to give you a headache, so you stop the video after not even twenty minutes in. This is stupid. You never had issues sleeping- so why now?

You’re only taking half the dosage of your medication that you used to get. And this dose will be cut in half by the end of the month as well, to slowly prepare you for the time when you’ll be off of them entirely.

You already have pamphlets and little books about the changes to come- from your first instincts pushing through, to other.. intimate things, such as how your periods will change, and what to expect from your first heat. It’s a lot to take in, really, and while doing your research these days, you realized just how complex the world of a werewolf really is. From specialized hotels that care for lone wolves during their heats, to other programs helping single packless wolves stay healthy in mind and soul. Weekly social activities, phone counseling, personal health care just for wolves without a pack make you feel oddly comforted.

You’re not alone. That’s the slogan almost all these companies use on their ads.

Maybe you should make an appointment soon. Just to have things figured out- and so that Jungkook doesn’t feel like his pack has to take you in. Sure, You like him, and it’s clear that he likes you too, but is that enough? Can wolves from different packs even be together?

There’s so much you still need to learn. Just thinking about it makes your head spin.

Your phone vibrates with a message. You tap on it, to see the sender- Jungkook- still online.

‘Hey, just wanted to check in if you’re alright.’ Is written, and you reply.

‘Yeah, why do you ask?’ You respond with, and he instantly starts to type on the other end.

‘I couldn’t sleep.’ He sends you. ‘neither could Yoongi, and then I saw you were online half an hour ago’ he continues. ‘so I figured you must be still up’

‘I can’t sleep.’ You admit, and at that, your phone vibrates with an incoming call from him.

“Why didn’t you say so?” He yawns, and you’re a bit confused. “Yoongi said you’ve been up since around one or two AM.” He chuckles.

“How does he know?” You wonder astonished, when the lower voice answers.

“I was working, and saw you online multiple times.” He chuckles. “It’s not rocket science.”

“Oh.” You mumble, realizing that it was actually pretty reasonable. He was probably texting with someone and checked up on you as well- but that doesn’t explain why Jungkook seems to know as well. “But wait, why can’t Jungkook sleep?” You ask.

“Because we’ve bonded more than you did with Yoongi.” He replies. “it’s like.. an instinct you could say. I could sense something off.” He tells you, and you just take it in. All of this is so complex and difficult to understand sometimes.

“Its most likely the stress from yesterday.” Yoongi reassures. “either that, or your instincts are pushing through. You’re an omega- they don’t do well on their own.” He bluntly states, while you hear some clicking from a computer mouse. “did you not tell her she could sleep here as well?”

“What, no I did!” Jungkook defends himself. “I think? Wait, I did tell you, right?” He asks you now, and you think for a second.

“uhm.. I don’t think so?” You answer. “but even so, I wouldn’t want to intrude-“

“Jungkook are you a whelp?” yoongi is heard scolding.

“I forgot!” He defends himself. “hey- okay so, you can really sleep here as well, it’s no bother, believe me.” Jungkook tells you now. “Namjoon was actually wondering why you aren’t here yet. His cousin is an omega too, so he knows how to handle a lot of stuff.” He explains.

“Wouldn’t it be.. awkward?” You ask, hesitating.

“Tripping in public is awkward, yet millions of people do it everyday.” Yoongi answers stoically. “if you want to stay here, stay here. If you don’t, don’t. We wouldn’t be offering it if we wouldn’t be okay with you.” Yoongi explains, and oddly enough, it helps you feel better.

“..is there anything specific I should take along with me?” You start, when Jungkook cuts you off.

“I’ll help you pack your stuff-“ he starts, when something clattering is heard. “what?”

“Jungkook you dog, it’s four in the morning!” Yoongi whines. “You’re going to wake up the whole pack!” He complains, when a door is heard opening. “see? Now Jimin is awake and that means the entire woods know about it!”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean!” the new voice argues, before he laughs. “I’m just curious, you’re acting like spies in here.”

“did you- Jimin, you left the door open!” Yoongi complains. “and the stupid kid left his phone here too..” he sighs, while you can’t help but laugh.

“Well, at least she’s having fun.” Jimin giggles along.

“For now. Wait until she finds out Jungkook snores in his sleep.” Yoongi teases.

“Hey, it’s not that bad!” Jungkook complains, making them laugh as their voices fade into the background, the wolf having taken back his phone after having grabbed the car keys. “I’m gonna come over now, and we can either nap first and pack later, or pack first and nap later.” He tells you.

“Its.. thank you.” You tell him.

“No problem.” He answers easily.

“you’re not alone.”

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #werewolf jungkook

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rux363 · 6 months

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"He was, unfortunately, very handsome."

This one's a real interesting prompt because I overthink this a lil too much - but here’s what I have for this year's KaiShin One Prompt Challenge!

Please do check out how everyone has gone about with the prompt at @dcmkkaishinevents! And once again, thank you mac for organising it!

Thoughts on it under the cut!

Right. Okay. I really struggled with this one. Not only in terms of time constrains (it's been a really busy time) but also because the prompt is reaallllly interesting. Like super interesting that I just jumped onto to join the event because I wanted to challenge myself (been in a slump lately and this prompt was screaming at me) and I was latching on real hard to something here:

Shinichi and Kaito look alike. So alike that Kaito has gotten mistaken as Shinichi before, and he has used it to his advantage too.

How do I use the prompt, while also remembering that they would look the same? I thought about going the crack route, as seen below:

Kaito: He is, unfortunately, very handsome ??: ... don't you guys look exactly the same? [Narcissist much?] K: oh. Right

But I wasn't up for it. I tried thinking about the idea of one of them looking like an absolute dork (affectionately), and then the line - but it kept feeling wrong to me, because I feel like that would be attractiveness. Handsome is too much of a physical word for me.

As Faith (@indelibleme) says, "this prompt is more for the "damn he's hot" type of vibe lol" - which is absolutely true.

So it's something about the physical appearance. Or at least that's what I want to focus on. But they look the same. (Kinda. You get the idea)

And then, it hit me. What if we make it so that Kaito likes Shinichi - everything from his intelligence to his appearance, and it's not because he looks like Kaito - he doesn't feel attracted to himself duh - but it's because it's how Shinichi looks. Kaito just happens to look like him. And is pining after him in the mirror.

Like. Does that even make sense? Probably. I don't know And right after that thought, I had that image of Kaito looking at the mirror and seeing Shinichi.

AND THEN THAT ONE FIC THAT POPPED UP IN MY HEAD KEPT REVOLVING IN MY HEAD WHENEVER I THINK OF THIS BECAUSE IT IS ABSOLUTELY NAILING IT I JUST HAD TO HUNT IT DOWN AGAIN yea. Here's the link to it: the only victim of these innocent crimes (is me) by dytabytes - it's an explicit fic so 18+ only and please read the tags and summary. I guess this drawing is an ode to that fic because when I went back to reread it, the premise really hit all the right spots.

Anyways, again, Kaito and Shinichi has their similarities, and they also have differences. This is just one route I went and m quite happy with what I have.

There was going to be an exposition and conclusion that used the prompt more explicitly, featuring the crack portion, before what I have - but time and energy. I am lacking of them.

If you have read uptil here - seriously thank you and have a good day/night/whatever time is a social construct haha

#DCMKOPC24 #kaishin #kudo shinichi #kuroba kaito #I spent too much time over thinking about this #like - it's such a odd train of thought - even for me #but I really like it haha so here we are #seriously though - if you like something like this - read dytabytes “the only victim of these innocent crimes (is me)”#11/10 hit that crave - just make sure to read the tags and summary yourself - not your thing? move on #also m alive yay #ruxart

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wonysugar · 11 months

Text

hate rodrigo (literally) | aeri uchinaga

a/n: this is not even a fic this is a tiny little one shot that i wrote yesterday night AT LIKE TWO AM due to thoughts we had in a discord server ahem anyways I FELL ASLEEP THO. soo have this now!!

genre : really bad crack smut like i genuinely have no idea how to describe this

word count : like 600 something?

tags : one shot, smut (obvs), crack, ptv mention, falling in reverse mention, olivia Rodrigo mention, mcr mention, taylor swift mention (sorry @pupyuj)

pairing : angsty!giselle x whitegirlmusic!femreader (I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO LABEL THISSFJEKF)

your music taste wasn’t something you particularly shared with people, but you didn’t hide it, either. to you, it was music, nothing more, nothing less.

however, one of your friends, aeri, took music very, very seriously, and it really showed. she had a certain aesthetic, she wore certain things and god, did she listen to certain music.

“no like i genuinely can’t grasp the fact that you unironically listen to olivia rodrigo?” she laughed, leaning back on her bed as you stared at her in disbelief.

“god aeri, some of her songs are good, you just haven’t tried them.” you snapped back, wearing a convinced smile as you proceed to jokingly hit her arm.

“okay, sure, whatever. but just imagine getting to know someone, going on dates with them, all the sha-bang. then, when it’s time to get down and freaky, they turn on their sex playlist and motherfucking driver’s license starts playing??”

she was basically cackling at that point and you couldn’t do anything to stop it. defending your cause seemed like it would’ve been difficult, with how far up her own ass she was.

“yeah, because that isn’t a sex song? olivia rodrigo doesn’t make fucking sex music?? try putting a falling in reverse song while you get naked, see how that works out for you.” you fight back.

“oh i don’t know about you, but i’d be soaked for sure. plus, anything would be better than hearing young adult women sing about their previous relationship like it was a war they fought in.” she kid, crossing her arms in victory, as if she even won the argument in the first place.

“i’m gonna make you swallow those words right back up, uchinaga.”

“try me, l/n.”

“f-fuck y/n, go- mmh- slower..”

so, it wasn’t supposed to happen this way!

it originally was just the both of you, taking turns and putting different songs on the bluetooth speaker and rating them based on ‘how wet it got you’.

turns out, while that was a theory stage, there seemed to be a practice one too, and you’ve been in it for the past 10 minutes now.

thrusting your fake cock in and out of her, paying no mind to the very loud, very obnoxious pierce the veil song that was playing in the background, you pinned her hands above her head. your pace increased with time, and the decibels of her voice increased with the pace.

“oh my god y/n pleasepleasepleasepleasee i’m s-so sorry i- fuck me- i didn’t mean-“ she cried, poor thing probably didn’t even realize that her black eyeliner was running all over her cheeks. her arms and legs wrapped around you,

“shut your fucking mouth and take it, you emo fucking cumslut.” you slammed your strap into her as she yelled out your name. while she was pleading and begging for something, you were on top of her perfect laying-in-mcr-bedsheets body.

she, herself, wasn’t aware of what she was begging for, her mind was completely blank. all she could think about was how good her pussy felt when you pounded it so violently, when you were being so aggressive with her that you just used her body however you wanted.

you thought that whole thing would be a one-time occurrence, but no, it happened a second time, when she said that taylor swift had mid music. was she doing it on purpose or something?

anyways,

yes, you fucked her with the 1989 album playing.

#smut #kpop gg #female reader #aespa smut #aespa #smut aespa #aespa giselle smut #aespa giselle #aespa giselle x reader #aeri uchinaga x female reader #aeri uchinaga #aeri my love #giselle smut #giselle #giselle x reader

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lilac-5ky · 10 months

Text

The Party (Satoru x Fem!Reader)

Plot: You decide to surprise your boyfriend on his birthday

Tags: Birthday fluff, Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Shibuya incident?What Shibuya incident? (year is 2018), Established Relationship, Gojo Senpai, Satoru being the adorable menace everyone loves, SO. MANY. CHARACTERS. MAKING. APPEARANCES, feels like an actual jjk ep at this point, (fic deteriorates a bit over the latter part as my mental health does, writing until 6 am is exhausting, i know im late but spare me)

Word Count: Slightly under 9k.

A/N: Happy late Birthday, my love 💙💙💙

Masterlist | Requests | AO3

“Are we there yet?”

“Almost there—watch your step!” You warn, only to lose your footing a second later as you smash head first into your boyfriend’s back.

There is no way Satoru doesn’t know where the two of you are headed. Even with his technique supposedly turned off and your shaky hands concealing his curious eyes, all the things that make Jujutsu Tech into the place that raised generations of sorcerers (yours, included) continue to exist, bearing witness to his intentionally dumb guesses.

“Is it the beach? Are you taking me to see the ocean?” Satoru excites. “Aw, baby! You should have told me so; I would have brought my swimming trunks with! Although, I hafta say swimming in December is probably a bad idea, my nipples will freeze and fall right off. You wouldn’t want that, right?”

A sigh evades your lips, expelled as a little white cloud of frustration. On second thought, his mouth was what needed to be covered. Preferably stitched.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but we aren’t going to the beach”—aw, shoot—“and your nipples get to live another day.” Your teeth chatter. Tiptoeing behind him with upstretched arms is already hard on its own. Doing so in the cold is purely exhausting.

You lose count of how many torii gates you cross, the joint click of your shoes switching to an uncoordinated thump as you go from traversing cobblestone paths to climbing an endless uphill of stairs, your stroll, again, feeling like part of a survival show. Curse Master Tengen. They might have only been responsible for the barriers, though in your scare, that doesn’t stop you from holding them accountable.

We are going to die.

Or more like you are going to die, considering Satoru’s already secured himself a life net in the form of your poor broken-to-be bones, and that’s the best case scenario you can hope for, the worst being having to repeat your ascension from the bottom step up.

“Then, are we visiting Himeji Castle?” Satoru continues, the frigid temperature not enough to crack his spirit. “Because I know the single best place for Tama Tsubaki. So fragrant, so elegant, so deliciously sweet! You haven’t been to Himeji before, have you? It’s also known for its excellent leather craftsmanship. Last time I went there, they had these insanely pretty wallets with—”

“N-no!” You yelp, voice as strained as if you’re walking on a tightrope. Shivering, “Wouldn’t you have noticed if I took you on a 4-hour road trip?”

“But time always moves so fast when I’m with you.” He coos in response, his tone serious when he asks, “Wanna take a break? Promise to keep my eyes closed till we reach the top. And after that too, if you want.”

Silky lashes map out the inside of your palms as they flutter against them, sweet little butterfly kisses that convince you to withdraw your hands. After all, you’d hate for his birthday to be stained with blood.

Not yours, at least.

“If you dare open them, I’ll kill you.”

“How scary!” Satoru captures your frozen hand and slips it in his coat’s pocket with far too great precision for someone with impaired vision. You don’t complain. Not even when he makes you bump into every single step on your way up, giggling to himself, until, as promised, you reach the summit and he lets go for you to assume your previous positions.

“I don’t”—pant—“miss”—pant—“walking this w-walk.” You muster in between labored breaths, palms on your knees as you crouch forward like an elderly lady with chronic back pain. “Wh-what are you smiling for?”

“Nooooooothing!” Satoru chirps, soft dimples carving hard into his milky complexion. “Just takes me back to the time when you still called me Gojo Senpai is all.”

Your youth comes playing in your head like an old cassette forced to rewind, bittersweet recollections sending you on a sudden trip down memory lane.

You met Satoru at the peak of spring and fell in love with him over the course of fall—a swirl of autumn leaves coloring the currently naked maple trees red. Muddy soles and uniforms soggy from the rain. Chasing after an umbrella you agreed to share and hopscotching across shallow puddles. Laughing louder than the pending storm.

But before that, bickering. So much bickering that continuously tested the patience of those around you, arguments over video games escorting you to morning assembly, and plans to catch new movie releases sealing your goodbyes.

The bitterness of Shoko’s cigarettes and the promise to never smoke again. Arcades and electronics in Akihabara. Karaoke and conveyor belt sushi in Shibuya. Getting a stranger to buy you your first beer and puking your guts outside a convenience store in Shinjuku. The promise to never drink again.

Moon-viewing festival. The unforgettable sight of him in a yukata, your heart multiplying itself into your eyes. Stolen glances and not-so-accidental nudges. Your first kiss tasting of melon soda, your second burning faster than the wick of his sparkler. Another kind of promise.

The giddiness of first love filters the film pink. Five-minute dates behind the old gym in flash forward. Late-night expeditions to each other’s dorms. Your loss of innocence overshadowed by the sudden loss of Haibara. Tears that threaten to spill out of the sequence. Suguru’s betrayal. The strength to move forward.

You’ve come a long way since the days you cheekily called him Gojo Senpai without a care in the world, and even though tragedy managed to forever sully them, standing here with him now makes it worth the pain. Given the chance, you’d do it all over again.

Rolling the cricks around your neck and shoulders, you walk up to Satoru, a tug at the lowest hanging tuft of hair signaling for him to meet your height. Knees bent. Eyes still closed. Lips still curled. Features so undeniably beautiful at 29 as they were at 17.

“Don’t move.” You mumble, smiling softly as you watch him pucker his lips in anticipation of a kiss. Instead, you fish out a pair of rectangular shades from inside your pocket and place them over the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s go before we get scolded for being late again.” Your hand steals his this time around, ushering him forward. A speckle of heat shooting from your fingers to your cheeks. “I trust you not to spoil your own surprise, Gojo Senpai.”

You are less than thirty steps away from your destination when, without a warning, the man behind you stops moving, forcing you to halt with him.

“What is it?” You ask, your body reeled closer to his from the bind of your fingers. “If you’re gonna ask whether I’m taking you to Laputa, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m still figuring out the coordinates.”

“That’s not it.” He huffs a chuckle against your knuckles, tenderly brushing them against his cheek. “But drop a pin when you do. Always wanted to take a nap in that fluffy flower bed. I’m sure it tastes fluffy too, just like whipped cream.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” You return, a yawn coaxed at the mention of napping. “So, what is it? Why did we stop?”

“I’m cold.”

“Well, so am I, but we really are close this time. If you just—”

“You should kiss me.” Satoru announces with solemnity better befitting a declaration of war. He realizes that himself, bringing his free hand to ruffle the hair on the back of his skull. Awkwardly. Ears tinged red. Cutely. “That would warm me up.”

“Is that your excuse?” You ask, chapped lips rubbing together. Your heartbeat felt in your throat. You shouldn’t be feeling like this. Not when you’ve known each other for the better part of your lives. It’s not normal. You don’t think you are.

“Nope.” He balances things out with a boyish smile that doesn’t make things any better for the lovesick teenage girl residing in your heart. She doesn’t know any better but to fawn over it. “My excuse is that we haven’t kissed here before. We’ve kissed there,” you follow his pointer, first to a bench made of stone and then to a blind spot behind some shrubs, “and there—many times there, heh, but not here. So we should kiss.” He reasons with a simplistic, nearly childish mindset. One you can’t quite argue against.

Until his spell breaks on you rather unceremoniously.

“I thought your eyes were closed!”

“Well, they were, but then I—hah, stop pullin’ like that—started missing your pretty face too much. Can’t deny me the simple joys in life, sweet cheeks.” He grins. “C’mon, just one kiss. Then we can meet with Yuji and the others. Promise I’ll act extra surprised!”

“Y-you knew?” Your eyes widen.

“I’ve known for about a week now? Heard you two talking on the phone, plus the kids asked to be put on cleaning duty when they usually leave everything to Megumi. Then a ton of chairs started to go missing, and—”

You barely bother listening to the rest, too caught up in your thoughts for Satoru’s detailed explanation of where it all went wrong to matter. Every year without exception—from your 16th birthday party-for-two in that tiny storage room you were accidentally locked in together to last year’s all-out murder mystery dinner party—he’s managed to sweep you off your feet, and yet you can’t throw him one party without it being spoiled.

You aren’t a planner. You know that. You know, but somehow you hoped this year would be different. That, twelve years after his insistence to spend his birthday in your company alone took root, (“Why would I want to spend this day with anyone other than you, angel? We have tons of fun together, don’t we? Just me and my special girl. Speaking of, any special requests for your birthday? I have some ideas myself, hehe~”) and one year after he stopped waiting for an apparition to show up and celebrate with him, he’d allow himself to bask in the appreciation of the living.

“Are you mad?”

The buzz of his voice quiets down, the paleness of a winter morning dawning beneath snowy lashes as he peers at you from above the rim of his sunglasses. Snowflakes of wonder stirring in his irises that contain them like two perfect snow globes, trapped in them, an ageless moment of the past.

“I’m relieved.” Satoru whispers, so faintly you almost miss it.

“Re…lieved?”

“You brought everyone here, right?” You nod. “Without blackmailing anyone?”

“Just Nanami.” You admit. “And Ijichi—Shoko promised to take him out for drinks if he came.”

“That’s good.” His lips pull into a smile warm enough to thaw your worries. “Honestly, I’m not the biggest fan of my own birthday.”

“I’ve noticed,” you interrupt. “You aren’t the only one perceptive here, Mister Six-Eyes.”

He gives you a funny look, creases forming over his brow as an imaginary zipper is drawn across the corners of his lips.

You unzip it. “Please continue, Great Gojo Senpai.”

His eyes light up. Satoru isn’t one for honorifics, yet hearing you address him as such makes the lovesick teenage boy in his heart shudder with excitement.

“You know what birthday I got the biggest haul for?” A shake of your head prompts him to continue. “Seventh.” Figures, you add. He nods. “Wanna know what they got me? A Hokusai painting. You know. One of those wavy ones.” Only he would ever refer to a Japanese classic that way. “But seven-year-old kids don’t care about dead people’s paintings or Shinto shrine visits. They want adventure, balloons, and luscious Gâteau au Chocolat. The new Street Fighter game, maybe.” His fingers snap together. “They want Laputa.”

You forget your hand is still in his until it’s given a light squeeze, Satoru nervously fiddling with your fingers while he mulls over what to say next.

“Bottom line is, birthdays with the clan suuuuuucked. And then, as I got older, I grew tall enough to outrun those stupid goons watching over me. So I’d run straight to Suguru’s house, drag him to the station, and from there, we’d go to that one pastry shop in Shinjuku and buy every cake on display. We’d eat till we both got sick—hah, you wouldn’t think his stomach was this sensitive with all those curses he gobbled up, right?—and then a few years later we met Shoko, and she’d put out her cigarette on my share.” He hisses like a distressed cat. “Then we met you”—another squeeze—“and those were the best birthdays of my life. Back when we were all together.”

“Satoru—”

“I didn’t think I could have that again.” He cuts you off. “But you said you got everyone together, and while some of us are no longer here, a lot are. This is good. You did well. I’m relieved, really. I’m happy.”

By the time Satoru finishes talking, you find yourself at a loss for words, blankly staring at his unaffected expression. It’s easy to forget how vulnerable he can be in those rare outbursts of sincerity; easy to forget that the one branded as the strongest is a person who cries and breaks too, and even easier to let yourself be deceived by that happy-go-lucky attitude. But as a smile begins to take shape upon your features, you can see where he’s coming from.

You are relieved.

“What are you smiling for?” Satoru asks in the same manner you did earlier.

“Nooooooothing!” You shamelessly steal his line. “Just thinking about the sorry look on your face when you realize there’s no chocolate cake.”

“You evil witch!” He proclaims, mouth hanging slack and forefinger pointing in accusation. “Next you’re gonna tell me you didn’t buy candles either!”

“Actually…”

You take hold of his finger before he can protest any further. Not that he wants to when both his hands are enveloped in the warmth of your smaller ones, childishly swinging by your sides. Back and forth. Up and down. Round and round. Arms overlapping as you both step closer, chuckling at a joke only your eyes seem to know.

“About that kiss.” You begin, laughing again at the small, exasperated mhm your boyfriend lets out, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the high neck of his sweater. “Are you still feeling cold?”

“So cold.” Satoru wiggles his shoulders as if he’s truly shivering. “Warm me up before the cold hand of death takes me away. Pleaseeeee.”

You aren’t one to deny him. Tiptoeing forward, you crane your neck so you can reach higher, while he bends his knees to shorten himself, meeting you halfway. Heavy breaths are shared as your noses brush together. The subtle notes of bergamot on his clothes blending with the wintry crisp in the atmosphere. Eagerness tugging at his bottom lip.

You might not be one to deny him, but you definitely are the type to tease him.

“Why don’t you do it? Why should I be the one to kiss you?”

“Wha—because I asked you!” Satoru quips.

“And?”

“And I have Senpai rights. Plus you didn’t pay boyfriend tax this morning, and come think of it, you didn’t wish me a Happy Birthday either!” He gasps like he only realized that just now. He builds his entire case around it. “Birthday Boy demands it. You have no choice but to give in or you’ll be cursed for your next seven birthdays!”

“But I thought you didn’t like your own birthday.”

“Baby!” Satoru finally breaks, his voice reduced to a high-pitched whine. “Even so, you can’t be mean to me on my own birthd—”

His lips are warmer than yours when you nullify the distance, conveying the softness and fruitiness of your stolen chapstick. A smirk is written on them, bitten away as you drag his hands closer to your body, foreheads bumping together and sunglasses nearly slipping from his nose. He giggles into your mouth, whispering how hot he finds it when you take the lead—moaning at the way your tongue presses against his, and disregarding the three sets of footsteps that enter the scene.

“Sensei!” A somewhat recognizable, albeit squeaky, voice calls out. “We’ve been waiting for you!”

“Way to ruin the surprise, Itadori!” Another, angrier, squeaky voice scolds.

“Idiot, you just said there was a surprise. And I told you both to go easy on the hellion.” The last of their group tries to deadpan, somehow sounding more ridiculous than his peers.

“Pft—F-Fushiguro!” Nobara and Yuji laugh in sync, too preoccupied with poking fun at their classmate to notice your form erasing itself from existence behind Satoru’s back as he turns around to face them.

“Yuji! Nobara! Megumiiiii!” His tone is colored with a falsetto when he addresses his favorite (target) student, prompting the duo to keep harassing him with countless pokes at his confetti-laced spikes.

Your plan to use poor Megumi’s torture as a decoy to flee the premises goes to waste as your hand is held out in the open, with Satoru showing you off to them like the big prize at the end of a wrestling match.

“Oh, future Mrs. Gojo Sensei!” Yuji is the first to acknowledge your presence; the effects of the gas are all but worn off as he timidly waves at you. “I didn’t know you were here! What brings you to school today?”

“That’s quite the title, Yuji. Told you to just—ugh!—call me by my first name.” You struggle to pull your wrist out of Satoru’s grasp. You lose. “Also, no need to keep playing charades. He knows.”

“You told him? Then what was all of this for?” Nobara comes forth, a pink balloon dramatically deflating in her hands.

“Actually, I figured it out myself! Aren’t you proud to have such a smart teach—”

“No!” Two out of three shout in unison. You almost do so yourself.

After their back and forth escalates into a full-blown debate on who’s more intelligent, Satoru or Megumi’s shikigami (the results to be announced on a future episode of Are You Smarter than a Toad?) and happy birthdays are wished, Yuji asks the one question you feared answering the most.

“Sensei? Miss Y/N? What were you doing out there in the cold?”

Their own curiosity beats Megumi and Nobara to the classroom as they stall their entrance, with Satoru being the first to hit the buzzer.

“You see, Yuji, when a man and a woman love each other very much, they—ahahouch! Love really does hurt! It hurts so badly!” He yelps as you stomp on his foot hard enough to cripple an average man.

“Don’t you dare use me as a test subject for the talk, Satoru!”

“What talk, darlin’?” He smiles coyly, not losing the chance to brag. “Oh, you mean the talk about how you fell victim to my charms and couldn’t wait till we were alone to kiss me? Guess I still got it, despite the extra candle on the cake.”

“Aww!”

“Eww!”

“Gross!”

The reactions vary.

“You’ll get another candle lit up in your memory if you keep spewing shit like this!” Your attempt to step on his shoe is countered by his technique.

“Hey, no cursing in front of my precious students!” Satoru chides. “We’re supposed to set an example for them, not taint their innocent souls!”

“Satoru!” With a tremendous roar, the door flies open, startling the three students to jump behind their teacher and you to follow suit.

Principle Yaga stands by the frame, his authoritative tone coursing through your body as it recalls every punishment he ever subjected you to. The soreness in your calves from running laps around school for being late. The dryness in your eyes after surviving one of his excruciating educational VHS tape sessions for being “cheeky” and the ache in your fingers from scrubbing the gym floors squeaky clean—courtesy of being caught sneaking back into the dorm with tousled hair in the dead of night.

You almost feel sorry for Satoru acting as the wavebreaker for the incoming tsunami, but then you remember how the majority of your crimes were incidentally committed in his name and wish him good luck. He deserves whatever earful he gets, possibly something along the lines of “Sixteen minutes late? Are you trying to break a world record?”

“You think Gojo Sensei will die?” Yuji whispers. “He’s at that age when a lot of celebrities die, right?”

“He’d better not! I didn’t bring any funeral wear with me.” Nobara answers back.

“Can’t you read the room?” Megumi rasps. “Plus, that’s the 27 Club you’re talking about. Gojo Sensei has outlived that.”

“Didn’t take you for a clubgoer, Fushiguro.” The two of them snicker, prompting Megumi to sigh as he again points out their idiocy.

“Principal Yaga!” Satoru bravely puts himself forward, your line of defense falling apart like a house of cards you’re made to support on your own. “Are you here to wish me a happy birthday? How thoughtful! Guess it’s true what they say: People mellow down with age.”

“Sixteen minutes late—”

The man’s mouth twitches furiously as an invisible countdown starts in all your heads, none of you expecting the situation to simmer down before it boils over.

“But I’ll let it slide this once. Happy birthday, Satoru. I’ve stopped hoping that the years bring you wisdom and fix your bad habits. It’s pointless; every year you turn more impudent than the year before,”—is that supposed to be a birthday wish or you getting kicks from throwing shade at me?—“but I wish they bring you happiness. I made this with you in mind. Hope it’s to your liking.”

You watch as Principal Yaga reveals a felt doll from behind his back, handing it to a repulsed Satoru, who makes no effort to conceal his personal feelings, let alone express gratitude.

“Huh? What’s that supposed to be?” He asks, shaking the doll so quickly you only catch a glimpse of its fluffy white tail and stitched black sunglasses—a cat?

“It’s you.” Its maker replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And he has a name. Satoru, say hello to Catoru.”

Four of you share a look among yourselves, too stunned to say a thing until Satoru and his doll counterpart face you, the latter being held up by the scruff of his neck. Just like an actual cat.

“Do I look like this?” Satoru asks, and you all go quiet, with three hands simultaneously nudging you to represent them. Traitors!

“I mean, there are times when you do act like a cat—kinda?” Your voice is pinched up, hands moving frantically to dispute your words as your boyfriend’s face turns sourer than umeboshi. “But you look ten times—no, a hundred times more handsome! I promise! If anything, you resemble a—uh, Turkish Angora? Those are super beautiful!”

“You’d better get along.” Yaga warns. “I designed Catoru with a sweet tooth like you.”

“I don’t want a little mochi thief in my house!”

Yaga marches back into class without waiting to hear Satoru’s concerns about the impending depletion of his secret mochi stash. The kids tail after him, leaving you to comfort Satoru with a gentle pat on his back. “Let’s go inside, mm?”

The atmosphere inside the classroom is significantly more promising than what Yuji showed you on FaceTime this morning. All desks are pulled to the side in a rough T formation, with the spread of food you spent two nights making carefully put in order, from platters full of golden-crusted corn dogs and crispy chicken fingers to dainty cupcakes decorated with Konpeito candy and colorful mochi of every filling you could think of. Inumaki serves bar, and you’re pleased to see people returning for seconds, with Yuji waving his hands while praising your popping candy cake poppers to his taciturn upperclassman.

Balloons hang near the ceiling—a flag garland dangling from one end of the blackboard to the other. A gigantic birthday message spans across the surface, with smaller wishes sprinkled in abundance, some consisting of mere congratulations and others expressed with heartfelt emotion. You can easily guess who wrote what based on handwriting alone; Megumi’s by far the tidiest.

You knew leaving the decorations to Nobara was a smart choice. She knows it too. She doesn’t waste the chance to boast to Maki about it, the older girl twirling a bouquet made of lollipops between her fingers while gazing at the drifting clouds outside the window.

Satoru was right. This is good. You have every reason to be proud, too.

In the far back of the room, the adults have struck up a conversation with Panda, who snaps a picture of your entrance. The two party poopers—Ijichi and Nanami—look up from their quiet exchange.

“Satoru! You came!” Principal Yaga’s pride and joy steps forward with open arms, a party hat pulled taut between his round ears. “Congratulations on your birthday,” says Panda, planting two identical party hats on your heads. “Let me take a picture of the two of you. Couldn’t get an angle from back there.”

Your shoulders get squeezed as Satoru smooshes your faces together, the pointy tip of his hat nearly taking your eye out when he tries to steal a kiss from your cheek. You squint—and snap!

“Hey, can you take another? I think I wasn’t looking straight.”

“No do-overs!” Satoru interferes before Panda can even open his mouth. “Don’t worry! Getting a bad picture of you is impossible when you look perfect at any given time. Right, Panda?”

His former student glances down at the camera, letting out the exact same sound your computer makes when a Windows program crashes, and then rushing to mask it with a hearty chortle.

“Of course, Satoru! You got very lucky; Y/N is as beautiful as she is kind-hearted.” He shows you a grin that’s mostly teeth. “You know, she worked really hard for this party. We barely did anything ourselves.”

Not true; you all did your part…

Your eye is endangered once more, with his lips finding their target this time around. “That’s my vanilla caramel drizzle cupcake muffin baumkuchen pie to ya!”

That’s half your macchiato and half your bakery order, you argue silently.

“Shame Yuta couldn’t make it.” Panda continues. “Heard he’s down with a cold, though he did send you his gift via Maki.” A fuzzy thumb points at the closet-turned-gift-depository, where various bags and packages are stacked into a pyramid. “Anyway. I’ll let the two of you mingle. Come over if ya want more pictures of you taken. Got lots of props too.”

Your eyes follow as he returns to his post, spotting Shoko experimenting with a pair of groucho glasses. Nanami shakes his head disapprovingly, leaning back into his chair while Ijichi’s stutter is visible from where you and Satoru stand.

You glance up at him, a default smile plastered on his lips. Unreadable to others, but painfully obvious to you. The face he’s searching for is not among those present.

“Everyone seems to be having fun.” Satoru points out.

“Y-yeah.” You croak.

“Can’t believe you got everything down. Class looks like it did back then. Even the wobbly pom-pom on the party hats.” He squeezes the one on your head. “That caught me off guard.”

“Well, it would’ve been a greater surprise if you didn’t eavesdrop on my private phone calls.”

“That ain’t on me, sweets.” He whisks your hand into his and drags you onward. “Not my fault I was born with heightened senses. Better get used to it; our kids will probably take after me in that aspect.”

You shrug his comment off, watching as Satoru stows the cat away in the closet and dramatically dusts his hands off. “Another great addition to the world’s creepiest collection.” He grumbles.

“But Catoru is the cutest so far!” You object.

He is about to answer when a sound akin to that of someone choking has you both turning toward the makeshift buffet where Ijichi is downing water straight from the jug, his sunken cheeks a scarlet shade of red.

“Shit! He must’ve discovered the jalapeno poppers.” You bite your lips into a straight line, feeling somewhat responsible.

“Nice job!”

“It wasn’t my intention!”

Your plea of innocence doesn’t resonate with Satoru, who gives you a thumbs up before forming a cone around his mouth and shouting at Ijichi—chuckling at the hurried way the man searches for an escape between chairs and people.

“Ijichi! Oi, Ijichi! I-ji-chi! Over here! Come wish me a happy birthday!” He waves his arms around like Tom Hanks in Cast Away, declaring—unlike Tom Hanks—that he’s coming to him instead.

“Don’t go around terrorizing people, ‘Toru.” Your voice has him stopping his march to peck your lips.

“Promise I’ll be a good boy. You’re free to punish me if I’m not.” He smirks, finger-gunning you all the while stepping backwards in slow motion.

“You never are!”

“Hmm, that’s only because I’m the best. And you’d better prepare a handsome reward for when we get home, ‘cause the best always wins.” A flirtatious wink makes you question how many people listened in on your exchange, praying that the answer is none.

You take advantage of Satoru’s absence to pay a visit to your old friends, mentally counting the days since the last time you all gathered up. It’s been way too long—the beer you’d promised to catch up over turned into a distant fantasy.

“Gonna get yourself nauseous if you keep staring at that whirlpool, Shoko Senpai.” You plop down on the closest vacant chair, the bored brunette humming without lifting her eyes from the lemonade swirling inside her cup.

“If you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss will also gaze into you.” She states, managing to sound both mesmerized and disinterested at the same time.

“And? Seen anything yet?” You lean closer.

She retires with a sigh, dark circles looming below her hazelnut eyes. “Nothing yet.”

“How about now?”

Pulling your trump card—aka one of those miniature vodka bottles you specifically brought with her in mind—from your pocket, you pour a generous amount into her drink, reminiscing about the time she accidentally spiked Satoru’s soda and had him swimming on the floor.

It takes one sip for Shoko to liven up, a sudden jolt of energy coursing through her veins as she reaches out for the bottle.

“You’re a lifesaver, you know that?”

You chuckle. “Big praise coming from someone who actually saves lives.”

“Big words coming from people who openly drink in front of underage students.” The man to your left observes, absentmindedly picking at the tentacles of the octopus sausage on his plate.

“Kento! You made it!” You tip from one side of your chair to the other, arms dangling empty as he dodges your hug. “Having fun?”

“Please stop acting like him. I know the years in his company have caused your twisted personalities to merge, but the world is already wretched enough with one Gojo Satoru around.” He munches on the “good part” of the dissected octopus, discarding the tentacles inside a carefully folded napkin.

“But to answer your question, whether I’d rather spend my Friday afternoon explaining to everyone I know that the man in the picture dancing inappropriately with half-naked models in Ibiza isn’t me but a look-alike or sitting here, chaperoning a bunch of kids and making sure no one kills themselves, then yes. It’s not as horrible as I expected. And you’re as good of a cook as I remembered.” He wipes his mouth. “But I’m still clocking out at 7 sharp.”

“Come on! I did what I had to do to get you here!” You giggle, experiencing a little of the same rush Satoru feels when he’s poking fun at Ijichi. Oh no. “I am glad you’re enjoying the food, at least!”

A sound viler than any curse’s wail pierces through your ears as a TV cart is dragged into the room. You recognize it as Yaga’s old torture device—those five-hour black and white tapes gleaming menacingly on the lower shelves, with an unknown machine piled atop the cassette player. You aren’t sure what its purpose is until Yuji connects a microphone to it.

“Everyone—ah, ah, ah! Can you hear me?” The boy dabs a palm against the microphone, sounding loud and clear across the room. “Fushiguro, can you hear me? Fushiguro—ah, ah, ah!” The last of his ah’s interrupted by Megumi’s calling him out in front of their live audience.

“Everyone, thank you for coming to Gojo Sensei’s birthday party! I’m Itadori Yuji, and I’m happy to have co-hosted this event with Miss Y/N.”

A couple of heads turn in your direction, Satoru’s among them. It’s easy to make out his silhouette when he dwarfs everyone around him—Principle Yaga on his side and an antsy Ijichi lurking behind them.

“I enrolled in this school a little over a semester ago by accident.” Yuji continues undeterred. “Back then, I didn’t know any more about curses than the next person. Not that I do now.” He scratches through his hair. “Honestly, it was a lot to stomach, especially the part where I get to share my body with another. I was told I’d be better off dead, and I did die once. I was supposed to be dead, but then Gojo sensei gave me a choice, and I’m here because of that choice. More than a helping hand, he’s been a guiding light to me, and on behalf of all of us, thank you, and Happy Birthday!”He bows. “I hope you have a good one!”

Yuji holds out the microphone for Satoru, the two of them sharing a high five with an affectionate pat seeing the boy off.

“Thank you, Yuji, for this wonderful speech!” Satoru grins, evidently moved by his student’s words. “Everyoooooooooooone! Give it up for the man of the hour, the one and only, the most incredibly handsome and magnificently strong sorcerer known as Gooooooooooojo Saaaaatoruuuu!” His body twists in a pirouette, peace signs and heart signs flying everywhere as he lands with a finger pointing at where the imaginary camera would be.

Unsurprisingly, no one is impressed. Cricket sounds almost audible.

“Wow, okay. Tough crowd, I guess.” His lips comically jerk to one side of his face, his tone turning nasal before switching back. “I won’t bore you with individual thanks and other useless formality crap.”

He smirks at the way your mouth rounds a silent gasp. Nanami notices too, posing a question you shrug off.

“To cut it short: first-years! You’ve all proved yourselves as worthy sorcerers and worthier humans. As a reward, I’m proud to announce your reward in the form of a—c’mon guys, drum your desks a little!—luxurious, one of a kind, ten outta ten, uniquely planned field trip by moi!”

“Is it Paris? Are you taking us to Paris?” Nobara dreams out loud.

“Sensei! How about Universal Studio? I saw them post their newest churrito flavor on their webpage.”

“Can I sit this one out?” A gloomy murmur begs.

“Great thinking, Yuji! Unfortunately, Nobara, we won’t be going overseas this time, but, Megumi, you’ll definitely want to reconsider once you hear our destination, which iiiiiis—excitement is free, everyone!—Parque Espana!” Satoru claps for his suggestion.

Three dejected faces say pass in unison, with only Megumi daring to complain about Satoru taking him and Tsumiki to the theme park every second Sunday when the two were younger. You remember that. Some times you’d tag along, and you’d all grab ice cream while staring at that humongous roller coaster the kids were too short to ride.

Undefeated, Satoru directs his attention to the second-year students, the three of them loitering by the chip bowl. His tone turning grave, “Second years, I’m honestly very disappointed in all of you. In our two years of knowing each other, you never thought to throw your favorite teacher a party for his birthday. You’re lucky I don’t have the authority to drop you a grade, but still. You fail!”

“Fish Flakes!” Inumaki expresses his supposed disagreement.

“Huh? You never even told us when your birthday was because you didn’t want us knowing your real age, you blindfolded idiot!”

“Maki, not now!” Panda anxiously gets in her way. “Cool it!”

“You should have figured it out yourselves.” Satoru toots. “Moving forward! I’d like to give my special thanks to the moon of my life, my sun, and my stars.”—you knew watching Game of Thrones with him was a very bad idea—“Y/N! Come here, sweetie. Don’t be shy; everyone knows how much we love each other.

It almost feels like you have the limelight shining on you, with every person eagerly awaiting your response. You gulp hard, whispering so that only Nanami can hear. “You were right. Please save me.”

“What is it, Buttercup? You already have my heart, but if there’s anything you’d like for me to do, then now is the moment to say it.” Satoru smiles sweetly, his voice dripping with honey.

“Actually, there is. Can you put me down?” You kick your legs around while he hoists you up in bridal style, your unjust abduction having occurred in the blink of an eye.

“Anything and everything for you!” He kisses the top of your head, holding you close to him even after letting your feet touch the ground. “Alright, that’d be all! I hope everyone gets to have the time of their lives. Now, let’s get this party started!” He throws the microphone up in the air.

Nothing happens.

“I said, let’s get this party star—whatever.” Satoru gives up half-way through raising his arm again. “Yuji, play something fun!”

“On it!” Yuji salutes him, and the two of you walk away from the blackboard.

A faint sigh echoes behind you, its relief cut short as Satoru grabs the microphone once more. “Ah, right. Ijichi, I’ll see you in my office on Monday. I’d wear a headband if I were you.”

“I’ve c-committed a mortal sin, G-Gojo!” Ijichi struggles to say, uncertain of the crime he’s being accused of, yet hopeful for Satoru’s forgiveness.

“You are such a menace!” You throw a playful punch to his chest once he sits you on his lap, away from the eyes of people gathering around the karaoke machine, and close to Nanami, who departs with a disgusted scoff.

“You love me for it.” Satoru’s lips press softly against yours, incapable of hiding his smile when you pull his face in for another kiss, the tight squish of his arms making sure you’re going nowhere.

“I do.” You affirm, rubbing your nose on his. “I love you.”

“How much?” His eyes crinkle fondly.

“Hmm, like, a lot?” You giggle, your fingers absently brushing through the trimmed hair on the back of his skull. “Enough to spend half a lifetime by your side and still find you the most incredible person in all of creation.”

“Wanna spend the other half too?” His breath on your cheek colors your skin red, your eyes momentarily lost between shades of blue.

“Come back with a ring, Shit-toru.”

“That’s not the way you talk to your future husband!”

“He’s here? With us? Right now?” You gasp, frantically looking around, until Satoru forces you to face him with a thumb on your chin, his other hand squeezing an innocent touch around your thigh.

“Satoru!”

“Scared your future husband will see us?” He throws his head back, laughing at your panicked state. “Don’t worry. I’ll fight him for you. And win. After all, I am the strongest.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, he did it! He said the line with only—”you glance at your phone—“six hours left before the day ends, what an amazing record!”

A shrill screech fired from the other side of the room interrupts your banter, the microphone turning into a lethal weapon in Panda’s massive palms. The students appear to have divided themselves into couples, fighting over who gets to go first until Inumaki takes the initiative with a rap song—or, more accurately, sings over a rap song, as the only words in his roster revolve around onigiri ingredients that are mentioned nowhere in the lyrics.

“Stop hogging the mic!” Maki attempts to steal it, backing away as the boy teases to unzip his collar. She knows better than to push her limits while unarmed.

Panda still gets in the middle. For precaution, you assume.

“Reminds you of something?” Satoru comments on your riveted attention. “They’re just like us. How we once were. Young and full of dreams.”

“Nah. You were always a horny bastard.” You slap the inappropriately placed hand away before you get up and sit where Nanami was previously stationed. Poking your tongue at his devastated expression.

Conversation between the two of you is kept to a minimum after a different tune begins blasting from the speakers—Yuji and Megumi take over the stage with Takada-Chan’s most recent success, one of them performing the vocals to perfection while the other merely mumbles yeah’s whenever the song calls for it. Next are Nobara and Maki, the two girls belting out to an anthem of empowerment that has the boys in the room gulping uncomfortably among themselves.

The mood shifts completely when Yaga pours his soul into an 80’s power ballad, his raspy voice transforming into the smoothest velvet, complemented by Panda’s harmonies. Even Satoru praises his old teacher, cheering him on from the bleachers with a makeshift napkin-banner.

You don’t realize your boyfriend’s gone until you see him with the microphone in hand, bending the cable as he makes quick gestures for the floor to empty, performing what is possibly the cheesiest, most romantic love song ever written, and ushering you to join him once he drops to his knees—quite literally at your feet.

You ruffle his hair and shove his goofy expression away. No matter how charming his singing voice may be, he’ll never get you to sing in public. Similar to how he’ll never catch you admitting how loudly your heart beats in your chest, despite the fact that it’s written all over your face.

God, you hate this man. So much that part of you wishes you’d spent his birthday like you did every other year—tangled in his sheets and kissing till you cannot breathe.

As soon as the karaoke session ends, Megumi and Yuji exit the room to bring in the cake, with Satoru jumping them for a thorough inspection. The dessert is inspired by one of his favorite confections. Handmade mochi bites are spread evenly between three layers of fluffy strawberry cake, the entire enterprise covered in fine red bean paste and topped with vanilla buttercream, strawberry cutouts, and, of course, more mochi in a light pink shade to recreate the world’s largest daifuku.

You lost count of how many failed attempts it took to create your own recipe from scratch, but the look on Satoru’s face is better than any payment you could possibly ask. He struggles to find a word that describes his feelings—phenomenal being the one he ends up using. Definitely better than chocolate cake. Perhaps even on par with the legendary Laputa.

Everyone gathers anew for the birthday boy to blow out his candles, awkwardness sweeping through the crowd as, one by one, you come to the conclusion that there is no available lighter.

you search through your pockets for a lighter, finding none. Shoko’s unhealthy (and supposedly cut) habit comes in clutch, with the brunette handing Yuji the keys to her office. The boy sprints outside at full speed, idle chatter put on pause as the TV starts playing on its own, the song selection window traded for a relic of the past.

“Is this even working?” A young Shoko taps the camera, tilting her body at a curious angle. Short skirt rolling up.

“Probably not. That shit’s ancient, but feel free to test it! Maybe try showing it something funnier, like your pant—”

Horny bastard. Right on the money.

“Cut it off, Satoru.” A voice makes both you and present-day Satoru shudder, its owner taking the camera from their friend’s hand to shoot footage around the gym. “Yaga Sensei told us to use this to document the Goodwill Event, not film amateur gravure.” The frame shakes once more. “Looks good to me.”

“Pft, what’s the point?” Satoru flicks a pebble at the camera. “So he can make a quick buck out of me destroying those brats? The outcome’s already decided. Now turn this thing off. I wanna lay under the sun without some junk in my face.”

The camera zooms in on him splaying his limbs on the grass, possibly near the track field, based on the slight hint of red inside the green.

“The only junk in your face is your face itself.” Shoko deadpans, making him chase after her while Suguru continues filming them until they turn into a pair of flickering dots.

“These two.”

The world is turned upside down as a close-up of his bang takes over the screen. Realizing that himself, he pulls the camera further away, cat-like irises shining like pure amber under the sunny sky. You’ve missed their warmth.

“Preparation for the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event, Day 1.” He declares, and the screen goes black in an instant, white noise reigning over the space.

Your hand seeks Satoru’s on its own, the faint sound of his name dangling from your parted lips, both your breaths catching in your throats. He’s left gawking at the screen, reciprocating your touch with shaky fingers that try to anchor him to you. It’s safe to say this was not part of your plan.

“Weird. Thought it’d be one of those old workout tapes.” Nobara reveals herself as the culprit behind the incident, ejecting the tape back into its box and later standing with her hands pinned to her waist. “Gojo Sensei, I recognize you and Ieri, but who was that third person in the video? Bangs Guy.”

Out of everyone in the room, she’s the only one to have absolutely no information on Suguru. Aside from the adults, the second-years were all present during last year’s attack, and Megumi knows whatever has slipped from Satoru during his stay at the Gojo clan’s compound.

Nobody rushes to respond; all of you tuned in on Satoru even though only Shoko, Yaga, and you are directly gazing at him, his face contorted with a pained grimace he tries hard to disguise.

“Geto Suguru was—”

“My best friend.” Satoru grins at Principal Yaga’s attempt to help him, grasping your hand more confidently as he confronts the girl. “Geto Suguru is my best friend.”

“Huh. Guess there’s hope for everyone.” No one’s left with any courage to laugh at Nobara’s poor attempt at a joke. “Where is he now—”

“Senseiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” A voice gains volume as the door bursts open, Yuji pouring into the classroom with the lighter held over his head like it’s the Olympic flame. “I g-got th-the—” He tries to breathe, ending up only saying, “Fire. Wish. What. Miss?”

“Yuji!” Satoru makes you follow him to the door. “You’re right on time! And no, you didn’t miss anything. Just stories of the past.”

“Stories?” Yuji wipes the sweat off his forehead. Still very much exasperated. “But I…like stories.”

“I know you do.” Satoru’s eyes settle on yours, the clamor in his eyes hushing for the first time in years. “But birthday wishes are meant for a future that’s yet to be written.”

“Thank you!”

Appreciation falls from your lips as a long-drawn yawn, every second you spend huddled under the kotatsu’s warmth begging to lull you to sleep. Today was a long day. So long, it feels as if it spanned an entire lifetime.

Satoru plops down beside you, the neckline of his sweatshirt diving low over his collarbones as he chugs his share of hot cocoa. Yours remains untouched while you switch between the same two movie options, incapable of picking one over the other.

“What do you have for me?” He asks, running his fingers over the ceramic rim. A melodic string instrument-like sound is induced.

“Okay so. Got the cult classic Sixteen Candles, which we’ve probably watched more times than Molly Ringwald had to practice her lines for the role, and I also have La Boum, in case you’re feeling more adventurous, and I don’t know. Frenchy, maybe.”

“Hmm, I mean. When you phrase it like that…”He acts as if he’s seriously contemplating his choice, only to snatch the remote from your hand and choose La Boum. He smiles slyly, curling near your chest. “It’s what you obviously wanted to watch. And I always choose, so.”

“Forfeiting your birthday boy rights?” You hum, tenderly combing through his freshly washed white strands. He smells just like his cake, you think. “Be careful. There are still nine minutes left before your birthday’s over, and you’re robbed of your rights for an entire year. Think you can make it?”

“Will you be with me during those horrid days?” His voice turns muffled.

“Always. Now, before the movie starts and you ruin the fun with your excessive blabbing, how about you reach under the kotatsu for your gift?” You suggest, chuckling as his head lifts up, cerulean eyes shining with unfeigned surprise.

“Angel! You shouldn’t have!” Satoru beams whole as he drags the heavy box out, shaking it in an attempt to feel out its contents.

“You know that doesn’t work with me. C’mon. I’ll pause for you.”

He wastes no time to untie the light silver bow that ties the box together, taking, however, his sweet time to review each and every object placed within. Carefully, he lays everything out on the table, small gasps evading him at a constant and maturing into a full-on shriek as he spots that one rare Digimon trading card you bust your gut trying to purchase via private online auctions.

“I—um. I know it doesn’t sound too good ‘cause I’m your girlfriend and I’m supposed to know everything about you and what you want, but I really had no idea what to get for your birthday. So I decided to get you a bit of everything from your favorite things. You can blame me for weaponizing nostalgia later.”

You clear your throat with a quick sip of cocoa. Licking your lips, “Anyway. It’s really no biggie as you can see. I just bought off some trading cards, ported a few of your old favorite games to a current generation console—yes, Street Fighter included—and made you this silly beaded charm with our initials for your phone, since they are back in fashion.

“I know it’s not much, and you could buy those things at any given time, but—time is something you cannot buy, right? Your childhood, your youth. The so-called best years of your life. I wanted you to have that back, even if just for a day.”

It’s been minutes, and Satoru remains quizzically silent, to the point where the array of kisses aimed at your neck comes as a true ambush. You’re knocked to the floor, giggling and flailing while he shows you his affection in every way possible, kissing you, praising you, hugging you—loving you.

“H-Happy Birthday, Toru.” You repel his face enough to say. “Y-you know, a thank you would be nice to hear!”

“As if you don’t know what I’m about to say.” Satoru grins, holding your palms to his mouth. Kissing them one by one, repeatedly, and slowly. Multiple times each. “You are my childhood. And my youth. And the best years of my life—they are all you. Everything we’ve been through, and everything we’ll live together.”

“How’s that for a thank you?” He chuckles, quickly breaking the tension with a final kiss on your nose. Perhaps the only part of you that’s not tinged red. “That being said…”

“You want to go for a quickie?” You sniffle against your will.

“See? You do know everything about me.” He reaches for the deck of cards with the swirly brown backside. “It’s time to duel!”

A/N: sorry for hastily written ending. had no time, oopsie!

#gojo x reader #gojo birthday #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jujustu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #satoru <3 #jjk gojo #jjk fanfic #satoru x reader

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rennorthernlights · 9 months

Text

The World We Knew

Chapter 1: Radioheart, Chapter 2, Chapter 3,

Trigger warnings; Zombies, mentions of death, very brief mention of suicide in the very beginning.

You can also go to AO3 for RenNorthenLights. I post more on there than here. If you go to my AO3 than PLEASE look at the tags for this fic! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

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October-ish, 2023. Time??? Location???

It’s become almost routine now.

Waking up at the ass crack of dawn, checking her backpack, cleaning her rifle, making sure the ‘room’ she’s in is safe. Over a year ago she wouldn’t be up this early. Over a year ago she wouldn’t even be touching her fathers rifle without permission. But life has a funny way of throwing curve balls. In this sense, life threw a massive curve ball at everyone and everything. The world as she knew it become sick with disease— No, not COVID-19, though many speculated that it was the reason, the beginning of it all. No it was the dead-come-back-to-life-and eat-your-face kinda disease. Normally people bring up that type of disease in conversations with speculations on the “what if” scenarios of what they’d do.

Many of her college friends all had plans and ideas and yet most of them now roam the streets looking for the next person to chomp on. Ironic isn’t it? She never believed she’d live this long hell many times the conversation of “Quick a zombie apocalypse happens! What do you do?!” She’d laugh and says she’d die in the next month or two. To which her friends would moan and groan because surely “You wouldn’t give up so easily?? Come onnnn what would you actually do.” She’d think it over and before putting much thought, she said.

“I’d kill myself.” Her friends went silent before laughing at how serious she sounded and even she laughed. A good banter back and forth as her college friends sipped on cheap booze. “No, no, but in all seriousness. I’d stay with my parents. My dads a police Captain after all. He’s taught me how to shoot before I could write and my ma… well she’ll probably teach me something.” Snorting a chuckle since her moms a teacher. One of her friends asks what she’d do if her parents became zombies.

“Well I guess I’d try to find groups to stay in. What do y’all think? I guess I’d put up with y’all.” Nudging her friend playfully on the shoulder. Laughter in the room as the music starts playing and the cheep booze starts kicking in. As her friends dance and sing to “Only Girl in the World” by Rihanna she sits on the couch in deep thought. Her drink in hand as she thinks bout her life. Thinks about her finals coming up and how she’s gotta take all the tests to become a nurse. Both her parents were exceptionally happy that she didn’t follow in their footsteps.

“I love kids but please… do not become a teacher.” Her mother sounded so exhausted when they spoke early on the phone. “And don’t become a police officer!” Her father yells in the background. The running joke for every phone call even though her parents are well aware that she’s going to be a nurse. She’s been deadset on it since she was a kid. She doesn’t plan on telling her ma that she’s gonna try and apply to be the school nurse where her ma works. Sipping her booze some more as the apple news on her phone pings “Reports of a New Virus, Scientists say… ”

She huffs, reading the first couple of paragraphs before getting bored and exiting out of the article. “Probably another variant of COVID. Great another shot I’m gonna have to take.” Turning her phone off and chugging her drink before she starts dancing with her giggly and much too drunk friends.

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Oh how life turned so fast and so quickly the following week. Nearly half of the friends in the room became the first percentages of “Turned” and the other half “Missing, have you seen them?” She barely made it out herself. But that’s life. Cruel and beautiful and so, so lonely in the world she now knows. She stays too long thinking about it and she’ll drown. She doesn’t want to think about her friends, her home, her… family. It’s still too much even after all this time. Even with it being well over a year it still hurts.

Shaking her head of those thoughts as she gets situated. Glad that she triple checked the ‘room’ she’s in. Her anxiety has been through the roof these last couple days and every lil noise is having her jump. At least she can put her mind at ease since she’s checked and barricaded the exit. A couple deads outside that she handled quickly. Who knew that she’s be so proficient with a bat and knife? She’s a good shot but before a to keep her rifle hidden. Not many bullets being made anyways..

She turns her radio on as she waits for it to come to life. For months she been speaking on it. Using it as a dairy of sorts, it helps her when she feels the loneliest. Helps when the days feel colder than what it typically does in Texas. She spoke and spoke until one day it started speaking back. The man on the radio commented how he’s been hearing her speak and at first, he and his group thought it was a hoax since they couldn’t get the radio to work. She didn’t speak on it for days, but the men would still speak back and call out to her.

Finally, she worked up the courage to speak back and from then on, they’ve become a part of her routine. Once a day around noon they’d speak. She has her rules, No names, no locations, no descriptions. She doesn’t want to get attached only to one day not hear them speak back again. She doesn’t need another name added to her list of grief. That, and as much as she wants to trust them, she knows that humans can be just as dangerous if not more so.

“Static, come in Static.” She grins as she sits in the office room that she’s been sleeping in. Stretching her legs as she’s never gotten used to the floors even after all this time. Her legs stiff as her other hand rubs her knee. The radio crinkles and scratches until finally.

“Must you keep calling me that?” The man speaks, the heavy Scottish accent shining through, and she can just tell he’s grinning. “I’ve told ya, mah name is Joh- “

“No,” she cuts him off as she clicks on the button. “No names. I don’t... I don’t want to hear it, please.” She’s told him before that she doesn’t want to hear his name. He’s been understanding but sometimes he’ll still try it... The thought that there is an actual person behind the radio scares her and intrigues her. Hearing someone even through all this mess makes it all bearable even if it’s just by a little bit. “Don’t make me ‘hang up’.” A lighthearted threat. She wouldn’t actually do that. She needs her daily talks with them.

“I know, Bonnie, I know,” the voice speaks with understanding. The man knows all too well on why it’s easier to stay nameless, easier to not be attached incase the voice one day doesn’t speak back. “But one day I would love ta hear my name from your pretty voice.” The voice chuckles, “Where are ya now?” A hopeful tinged to his voice.

“You know I don’t give locations, Static.” Singing back her words with a furrow of her brow. “But… I’m in an office building.”

“Ah, I see that’s become a fan favorite of yours.” A tease in the man’s voice. “Oh, it seems my friend wants to speak to ya.” Her eyes perk up as she knows who is about to speak.

“Electricity!” She smiles big and she just knows Static is rolling his eyes.

“Sunshine haven’t heard from you since, Static,” emphasizing the other man’s nickname and she can practically hear the glare. “has been hogging you.” Electricity, as she’s been calling him even though he’s also tried to get her to call him by his name, has a much softer voice. Calmer and levelheaded compared to Static who's more outgoing and louder. She’s called them the duo 1 and duo 2 before she called them Static and Electricity. Much to their annoyance and amusement, much better than her other idea of calling them Thing 1 and Thing 2.

“Well next time hit him or something.” She smiles as she can hear Static mouthing off something. Probably Static telling him where she’s been in for a bit. “In an office building again? That seems to be your usual, yeah?” The man speaks lowly. His words concerned and yet with the subtleness of memorizing something.

“Am I that predictable, Electricity? She stands up from where she was sitting. “Static said something similar.”

“Not predictable just doing what you always do, Sunshine.”

“That’s… That means I’m being predictable.” She teases as he stammers.

“No, no, I meant that you are more comfortable with what you know to be safe.”

“Soooo predictable with my safety?” She teases as she can hear him muttering “bollocks” like he always does when, she assumes, he is flustered. “I’m pulling your leg, Electricity. Just messing around and being a brat.”

He laughs and sighs in relief. His voice cool like the summer breeze after a rainy day. “So where are you?” His voice sounding slightly insistent.

“No where near you.” Rolling her eyes as they always ask the same questions everytime they talk. “Quit askin, I’m fine on my own. I don’t do groups and you know why.” She’s told them about her run in with the only group she’s been with. Handmaidens Tale meet zombie apocalypse and she barely got out.

“I know, I know, you’ve done well on your own, but a little help goes a long way, Sunny.” Sometimes she wishes she would hate the nicknames that they give her but it does give a warm fuzziness in her stomach whenever they say it. Sighing as she speaks back. “Oh yes because you’re military right?” A bit of sarcasm in her voice as this is one of her questions that she always asks.

“Taskforce 141, Special Operation Forces, you already know this, Lass.” The other man speaks making her jolt. Guess he was listening in when she was speaking to Electricity.

“Yeah, yeah, just making sure you’re not lying and trying to sound more badass than you both already do.” Remarking quickly as a light blush spread on her face. The way he’s speaking sounds deeper. Like she’s in trouble somehow and he’s going to correct her.

“We know, Sunshine, we know you just want to be safe. It’s hard to trust especially with the dead around.” Electricity’s speaks softly, the cool to Static’s heat, “But to say it again; Joh— I mean, Static, is a Sergeant and I am also a Sergeant. Static is an expert in demolitions and trained as a sniper. I myself am an expert with prime target eliminations and covert surveillance.” He says it so sincerely and she has half a mind to believe him.

“And why are you all the way in Texas then?” They’ve told her how they moved up here and she knows the reason, but she wants them to say it again.

“We received word that a base, Fort Sam Houston, was working on a cure for the zombie virus. The BAMC is a hospital within that fort that was conducting research.” Electricity sites off the very thing that they’ve repeated for the last month.

“And?” She makes a go on motion that they can’t see but she knows that they can imagine that’s what she’s doing.

“But when we got there it was already over run and Kyl— I mean Electricity almost got killed in the process.” Static says, he sounds upset. “We’ve been over this, Lass. We tell you about the same things over and over again.” A hushed murmur from Electricity is heard and she starts feels bad.

“I know… I’m sorry, I just...” she starts off as she tries to not sound upset. “I just want to make sure that I can trust you. Last time I did...”

“Handmaidens tale, you’ve told us about it. The leader, Abraham, is a far-right Christian, yes?” Static says the man’s name and she shivers as she gives a tiny yes in reply. “He tried to keep you. To force you to stay with his group and be treated as a... how did you say it?”

“A breading cow.”

“Yes, that,” he sighs deeply on the radio, and she wonders what he and Electricity looks like. Wonders if they are as comforting as their warm voices. Wonders if they have beards or stubbles but her self-imposed rules keep her from asking. “I know it’s a lot, learnin ta trust when it's hard to. We’ve promised since the beginnin ta be honest and if I ever see him.” The threat is laced in his voice but he clears his throat. “Enough of that. We are finally moving to Houston. We acquired a car. A Jeep to be more precise. Any chance we’ll be near ya?”

“You might be…” she says softly as she bites her tongue. The urge to let them come to her gets harder and harder to say no to everyday they speak. “I don’t give locations, Static.”

“I know but can’t blame a man for trying. Oh?” She can hear his eyebrows furrowing as voices in the background speak. They’ve told her that they are a group of 4 in total. She’s never heard the other 2 speak but she can sometimes hear them… they sound funny. “It seems we have to cut this shorter, Bonnie.”

“We’ll speak again tomorrow, Sunshine, we promise.” The other man promises, and she knows they will. They’ve never broken a promise. Never did more than what they couldn’t do from the month that they’ve talked.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow and please,” she stresses the word as she hopes and prays that one day they can meet. That she’ll be brave enough to let them in and find her. “Please be safe. Please don’t get hurt, okay? I’ll metaphorically hit you, I swear I will.”

“Always, Bonnie, we will always be safe. Take care and check corners and windows. Make sure you can quickly get’n and out. Don’t go’n if your gut tells ya not to.” Static says, listing off his advice like he would to a fresh-faced recruit. “Don’t play fair and don’t play kind. Everyone’s an enemy until proven otherwise.” He waits a couple seconds before he passes it to the other man.

“Make sure to pack light and that you can easily grasp your weapon.” Electricity warns. A deep sigh from him before he speaks, “And if you ever… if you ever need help, just... please just tell us. We’ll do whatever we can to come for you, okay?” He waits and waits for her to speak but when she doesn’t, he sighs. He waits another minute and then the radio turns to static signaling the end of their conversation.

“I know,” she says softly as she hears the static of the radio. “Be safe, please be safe.” She murmurs the bits of name that she has overheard them say. Going against her own rules of not saying their names even though she knows it’s half of what their names are. She’s gotten too attached and now… now she’s worried. Worried for men she’s never met and probably never will.

“One can dream,” she rolls her shoulders and bends to stretch. Her stomach growling as she knows it’s about time to eat. Pulling her backpack on the office desk and opening it. A couple cans of food and jerky from gas stations. 2 water bottles and a simple medkit along with an extra shirt and pants. “Okay… raviolis or beans….” Humming as sits and pops open the beans. “I’ll save the raviolis for a special day.”

She’s sat for too long on her ass now it’s time to get a move on. Can’t stay for too long in the same places. Always gotta keep moving to different places. Curse the anxiety that still makes her think that a zombie is around every corner. Guess that’s what she’s been alive for so long.

#simon ghost riley #johnny mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #141 x reader #poly 141 #ZombieAU #The World We Knew #TWWK #If you go to my AO3 please read the tags #It’s a slow build to when the boys finally meet Reader #No physical descriptions of Reader or a name for Reader #Reader uses She/Her pronouns though #Reader is Texan cause I’m Texan and I haven’t been to most other places so I just set it up in Texas

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plzandspanku · 6 months

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Extremely Hot Marauders Takes

(that will probably get me so much hate but it's worth it)

You would have found the "next big fic" in the fandom already if you were more willing to read wips. Reading them hyping up the writer with comments and kudos keeps the work going. That gives the writer more incentive to complete the work and more incentive for the work to then blow up.

A lot of people (not all, not even most, but enough that it's extremely evident) who write Jegulily very clearly only do it because they want to write something Jegulus but they're afraid to get hate from Jily shippers.

If you can get over the things that Peter, Regulus, Barty, and Evan did in canon enough to include/head canon them in canon divergent or alternate universe works and make them the good guys you should get off your high horse and do the same with Snape.

Outside of it being a very easy plot device a lot of the marauders fandom write Snape negatively because you can't handle the idea of Lily being presented in/with a non-crack heterosexual relationship with anyone but James

The demographic age change in the fandom skewing significantly younger than ever before has ruined a lot of aspects of the works in the fandom especially with the rising puritan culture of the Gen Alpha/Gen Z cuspers. You guys are prudes and if you don't want to read explicit works and smut move on, there is literally no need to interact.

People will sit on here and cry that the girls are underdeveloped and neglected in fanworks, and then play Ring-Around-the-Rosie with their relationships rather than bothering to develop them into something consistent and impactful. At this point there are so many half baked ideas that you could literally just swap out the names for any of the girls in any work and most people probably wouldn't notice.

WRITE A FUCKING OUTLINE!!!! It doesn't even have to be deep or well done, but you should have a vague concept as to the direction that your story is going in.

Most of you don't know how to use AO3 properly. Why the fuck are you marking a work as completed when it is so so very clearly not. Why in the world would you not include important tags just for shock value. And for the love of God, write a summary. I don't care if it's a one paragraph excerpt of your work followed by a "this is the one where this happens". I'm not gonna read your story if I don't know what it's about.

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wizard-finix · 6 months

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Ao3 tag game!

THANKS @ragecndybars FOR THE TAG I APPRECIATE IT

*cracks knuckles* lets do this

How many works do you have on AO3?

24 works! I would have never expected to have that many 5 years ago, hahaha

What's your total AO3 word count?

186,291! oh wow, almost 200k!! (unsurprisingly PT minato takes up over a third of that LMAO)

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

10 fandoms! I'm counting Persona 3, 4, and 5 and separate, but I'm grouping all the Zelda fandoms together since it's all Linked Universe fic.

Here's the breakdown!

The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms (6)

Persona 5 (5)

Persona 3 (5)

SPY x FAMILY (Anime) (3)

Wizard101 (Video Game) (3)

SPY x FAMILY (Manga) (3)

Runescape (Video Games) (3)

Pirate101 (Video Game) (3)

Persona 4 (2)

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom (2)

Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga (1)

Star Wars - All Media Types (1)

The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors (1)

Top five fics by kudos:

The Ghost of Mementos/Stygian Ringlet (Persona3/5) - to the surprise of absolutely no one, since this is currently my longest fic. I'm very happy with Stygian Ringlet being the top because I love my boys :)

True Crime Special on the Midnight Channel (Persona 4/5) - my Ren has a TV Dungeon fic! also very proud of the dungeon concept for this one, I really need to finish the last two chapters

Dark Clouds on the Horizon (Linked Universe/TOTK) - I feel like this one got a lot of momentum partially because it was directly in the wake of TOTK's release, but I'm happy with how it turned out :)

Strangers Are Just Friends You Haven't Met (Persona 3/SPY x FAMILY) - this was a collab series with mewrose and a few others in the marigolds discord! we were throwing ideas at the wall to see what stuck and I really had a lot of fun with Shinjiro-related prompts, because I LOVE him and hitting him with the isekai baseball bat into a universe with Anya brings me great joy

Salt Tears and Raindrops (Linked Universe/TOTK) - directly related to Dark Clouds, and I'm glad people enjoyed good ol' fashioned angst >:) (I do need to post more of my wips, I do have a couple more roleswap AU wips that I want to post)

Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I almost always do because I really appreciate them and its my way of saying thanks for the comment! If I don't comment it's because I lost track of it or because I can't think of a response.

What's the fic with the angstiest ending you've ever written?

Probably Salt Tears and Raindrops. I was in a Mood and decided to go for the tried-and-true method of putting fictional characters I like through the emotional wringer. That's how I got the rough draft for this fic :)

Do you write crossovers?

*looks at my persona fics and recent LU fics*

...I think it's safe to say most of my fics these days fall under crossovers lmao

Have you ever gotten hate on a fic?

I wouldn't say I have? One or two comments that came off as rude, but no actual hate, thankfully. If I did, I forgot about it. I've been blessed by wonderfully nice readers <3

Do you write smut?

Nope. I don't read it, so I wouldn't know how to write it anyway.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of? I sure hope not.

I have seen a couple short fics slightly imitate Ghost of Mementos though, which I thought was really sweet that they liked it enough to inspire their own writing.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but I'd definitely be open to it!

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

RYOMINA. Hands down. I love them so much, I am so mentally unwell about these two

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will?

My two Runescape fics, Whispers in the Temple and Welcome to the Jungle. I absolutely loved going hogwild with rewriting old quests in Runescape, but I psyched myself out of Welcome to the Jungle because I got overly anxious about accidentally doing bad representation.

(in hindsight, it probably wouldn't have been as big a deal as I thought; it's hard to make it worse considering how bad Legend's Quest was with the british-african stereotypes. that quest DID NOT age well.)

I also want to finish Snake in the Grass; that was my first attempt at a genuine mystery plot and I really liked playing with Warriors in that fic in the context of the gang trying to figure out who the heck is trying to murder him.

What are your writing strengths?

I feel like I'm pretty good at dialogue! I try to make sure it matches the character's speech patterns and personality. Really well-written dialogue can tell you who's speaking without actually telling who it is. (For example, the way I write them: Minato speaks as few words as possible and has very little filter with his observations when he does share them, and Shinjiro is pretty rough around the edges, with shortened words and the occasional swear. Warriors is good with words and wit, but he has a certain military-esque directness and doesn't dance around the topic.)

I do try hard to keep the plot clear and understandable over everything else, so probably that as well.

Also, now that I think about it, maybe fight sequences? I don't do them much, but I do enjoy the challenge of making a clear sequence of what happens in a fight and trying to make it understandable. Fight sequences are easy to skip or gloss over, but I think of them like their own miniature plot. What happens? What surprises are there? What are their movesets? How do they get the upper hand? (and of course, what looks cool as fuck)

What are your writing weaknesses?

Time management. I tend to over-proofread since I beta my own work, and often I'll go back to tweak stuff if I had additional thoughts to add to it, or extra insight. Lately, it takes longer to write chapters than I'd like.

Also, dialogue-heavy scenes often get very chaotic in my WIPs because of the way I rough out fics. I'll throw together a bunch of dialogue bits I think would be cool to include, and sometimes they'll clash or get really messy, especially if there's lots of characters (looking at the latest two chapters of Stygian Ringlet)

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fics?

I think it's cool! It adds flavor to fics. If it's more than one short phrase though, or if it's story important, then I do prefer that there is a translation in the author's notes. I haven't done any non-English dialogue in fics, save for one memorable adventure into trying to figure out how Latin grammar structure works for a character that didn't speak English.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Wizard101 and Pirate101. I was obsessed with those two for YEARS. I really, really liked pirate stories in high school, and having a cast of crewmates that accompany you throughout the game really inspired me to write my first fic featuring my OC. (I was also into One Piece at the time, but I never wrote for it.)

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written so far?

Stygian Ringlet. It's really dear to my heart. I have poured so much love and effort into that fic, and the reception on it has completely blown me away.

THANKS FOR THE TAG!! Uhhhmmm for tags I'm going to go with @skyward-floored, @catreginae and @breannasfluff (but only if you want to!! no obligation of course)

and of course any other writers that want to do it as well!! go forth

#cici speaks #tagged #tag game #my god this is long if you read this I salute and respect you

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eddiebabygirldiaz · 8 months

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several sentences sunday

tagged by @tizniz @daffi-990 @disasterbuckdiaz @wildlife4life @wh0re-behavi0r @hippolotamus @buddierights @try-set-me-on-fire @elvensorceress @honestlydarkprincess @lover-of-mine

thank you lovelies! <3

im focusing on my summer sons fic right now and hoping to finish it soon, so sorry to all my 911 buddies who have no idea who these people are and don't care, feel free to ignore asdfghjkl

“You like my stupid fucking words,” Andrew taunts, slathering Sam’s stubbly chin with sloppy kisses and bites. “Admit it. You want to be wooed with pretty words.”

“Hmph.”

The sound is disgruntled but Andrew can feel Sam’s smile, so he pulls back to look at it. Absolutely devastating. Dripping with a lascivious tenderness. Melted at the edges. Wide and beaming.

Beautiful. All for Andrew.

He kisses that smile, his hands coming up to cup Sam’s face, their tongues dragging together with a loud scratch. “Take me to bed,” he mumbles into Sam’s mouth.

Sam deepens the kiss, licking over the inside of Andrew’s cheeks, and shoves his hand down Andrew’s pants, clutching at his ass and yanking the muscle to the side so that his hole is exposed and pulled tight.

Andrew absolutely hates the wrecked sound that bursts out of him, one which he will probably be teased endlessly about, but any shame is pushed to the back of his mind as his cock takes precedence, throbbing and leaking and very much loving this turn of direction, the hot pulse within it seeming to say to Andrew more ask him for more make sure he is buried in so deep he can’t leave.

His head spins as Sam starts to walk him backwards and then it goes blank as Sam drawls, “Sure thing, darlin’.”

For a moment Andrew is sure Sam heard his thoughts, but then it occurs to him that Sam is replying to his request to be taken to bed, and he shudders a bit in relief, happily letting himself be moved where Sam wants him and reveling in the wicked curl of satisfaction at being called darlin’ which isn’t something he ever thought he would like, but he’s pretty sure Sam could call him anything in that sweet, thick, rolling accent of his and he would love it.

The bed hits the back of Andrew’s knees with a soft touch and they both pause, Sam focused on kissing Andrew so deep and fast that his lungs scream and strain and nearly burst.

He rips his mouth away from Sam’s to get a breath and shivers as Sam moves to his neck, the hand still on his ass digging harder into the curve and brushing lightly over his entrance. The scream in his lung breaks free a little bit, dry and cracked and all too revealing.

Sam chuckles. “Not even wearing underwear. And you’re begging for me to take you. Been wanting this for a long time, huh?”

Andrew squirms and pinches at Sam’s bicep then decides to wrap his fingers around it because it’s really nice and firm and soft.

“Am I right? You been wanting this? Planned for this?”

“Didn’t I already tell you that?”

Sam hums. “Maybe I take back what I said. Maybe I wanna hear it again. C’mon, princess, say it. For me."

Andrew practically growls in response, even as his body turns liquid in Sam’s hold, pliant and open in ways he has never wanted himself to be before, but with someone like this–with Sam Halse who is a death wish wrapped in a body and has a sharp mouth and hands curled into fists to protect the softness of his palms and who is someone that wouldn’t ever rip Andrew open and leave him empty but someone who will help Andrew unleash himself and slip into his skin to make a home, well, Andrew can want to be pliant and open with him.

tagging @diazass @bvckandeddie @andrewblur @ghost-cowboy @shyaudacity @bigfootsmom @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @exhuastedpigeon @messyhairdiaz @rewritetheending @gayedmundodiaz @arthursdent @shitouttabuck and anyone else who wants to share!

#summer sons #andrew x sam #andrew blur #sam halse #summer sons fic #ryan writes #several sentence sunday

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tsukimefuku · 6 months

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Human resources, tasukete!

You're concerned and decide to ask your friends about Jujutsu High's HR policies regarding romantic relationships.

Tags: Implied/Past Nanami x OC/f!Reader. Higuruma x OC/f!Reader. Slight jujusanpo vibes. Crack taken (somewhat) seriously. Slice of life vibes. Humor. Angst. Fluff. Gojo, Shoko and Ijichi are at a loss. Reader is terrified of Shoko.

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU". A sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a Nanami x Reader x Higuruma long fic I might write. To see the ever-growing list of one-shots and short stories, please visit my masterlist :)

Disclaimer these stories are NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

"So, Hiromi, I have some concerns." You said, sat beside him on a bench, as you both took a break from strolling around Tokyo. You had a bag of sweets to bribe Gojo the following day, and licked mindlessly at your popsicle.

"You always have concerns, my dear." Higuruma answered, sipping on his soda through the straw, glad the cold beverage provided him with some relief in such a hot day. "What is it?"

"I have no idea if we should be publicly involved. I mean, I don't mind keeping it to ourselves, but-" You stopped to ponder for a moment. "Does Jujutsu High even have some kind of policy regarding relationships in the workplace?"

He looked at you and shrugged. "Whichever you decide is fine by me." He took another sip. "They might, given there are some missions involving two or more parties."

"Yeah, but there are those two weird siblings that usually go together on every mission, so I don't know, really." You paused. "Do you think they need to follow labor laws of any sort?"

Higuruma snorted at the sheer absurdity of it, grinning sardonically. "Well, I really don't think so. And if they do, any sensible lawyer would refuse their case. I mean..." He vaguely gestured in the air.

You smiled, a little embarrassed at the stupid question. "Yeah. Probably not. But it is a possibility they have some sort of internal policy about it, so I'll try finding out about it, okay? Because they barely tolerate me, and your sentence is merely suspended, as far as we know."

"Well, if we make our relationship known," he said, pulling you from your waist to press against him. You chuckled, and he planted a small kiss on your lips. "I'll get to kiss you whenever, wherever. I'd like that very much."

***

"Spill it." Shoko said, turning around and looking straight at you, while holding her cup of coffee. You were both seated at the morgue, as you helped her with her reports, having nothing else to do today. She clearly noticed your eyes burning a hole through her back, choked up on words.

"So, if someone hypothetically had a relationship with a co-worker here in Jujutsu High, how should they proceed?"

"What?"

"I mean, paperwork. What should they do?" You explained.

She was silent for a few moments, a little taken aback by your question. "Are you and Nanami-"

You sighed. "Shoko, the question is hypothetical."

She walked towards you, putting her coffee cup over one of the gurneys, and hovered, ominously. You involuntarily made yourself smaller, pinching your shoulders, as you sat on a small bench.

"Well, hypothetically, are you and Nanami together?" She inquired.

Shoko had seen the glances, smiles and eventual hugs you two had shared in vulnerable moments. On top of that, she was familiar with Nanami ever since high school, and knew for a fact he wasn't the smiley-huggy type of person. The tension between the two of you was palpable to anyone whenever you and him were both in the same vicinity.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You answered, slightly scared.

The ominous energy grew dire. Shoko wanted her tea and she was going to have it one way or the other.

You leaned back, defeated. "No, it's not Nanami."

"Say what now?" Shoko asked, surprised. "Who is it?"

"Can you promise me not to talk to anyone about this, please?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine." She dismissed your concerns, shaking her hand in the air. "Now who is it? Don't tell me it's Gojo-"

"What the hell, Shoko!? Ugh, no, never." You answered, shivering, and not in a good way. A great friend, but a man child, after all. "It's Higuruma."

"Oh..." She let out, "He's kinda brooding, I can see the appeal. But... I always thought you and Nanami-"

"Me too. I was wrong, clearly." You replied, sharply, feeling a knot bubbling up your throat.

"What do you mean?" She inquired.

"Ask him." You spat out, grabbing her cup of coffee and taking a sip. You grimaced. How does this woman drink this with no sugar or sweetener whatsoever?

Shoko noticed your face twisting, taking the cup back from your hands. "Sugar is for the weak."

"Then, I'm a weakling." You retorted, getting up. "I'll try to find out if there is anything I should or not do about this regarding Human Resources, or whatever the hell you have in place here."

"I mean, if I were you, I'd just keep it to myself." She pointed out, earnestly.

"Well, I thought about it, but I'm worried that saying nothing might be detrimental to me or him, given our... Particularities."

"Hm. Maybe you're right." Shoko answered, as you made your way out of the morgue.

Nanami how tf did you let that happen?! Shoko chastised him, texting as soon as you left the morgue.

Ieiri, I have no idea what you're referring to. Could you please be more specific?

The woman you so clearly love is dating what's-his-face black suit.

The typing icon appeared and disappeared on Shoko's screen around six times. It disappeared for a minute, and then came back, lasting a long time.

It's for the best. I hope she's happy.

On the other side of the conversation, Nanami was splayed over his sofa, staring at the ceiling, trying to not feel too sorry for himself. His efforts weren't working as well as expected, as he drowned in a mixture of jealousy and longing for you. But at least, like this, he'd surely have no other chance to slip up and hurt you like he did ever again.

At least, he tried muttering to himself, willing this fantasy into existence.

At... Least. He covered his face with his forearm, sighing deeply, as he picked his book up to resume his reading session. The words on paper were no longer making any sense.

***

Gojo saw you approaching him in the dojo. He had his casual on, white long sleeve shirt and glasses, after training one of the first-years.

"Hey, Satoru! How are you?" You said, walking towards the sorcerer holding a paper bag. "So, I remember you liked this particular type of kikufuku-"

"Stop right there," Gojo answered, leaned against the wall, tilting his head to the side with his frivolous smile plastered on his face. "I know bribery when I see it."

You sighed. "I mean, do you actually care that this is bribery or not?"

He chuckled, extending his hand and motioning you to proceed. "Of course I don't. Give it to me. What flavor are those?"

"Matcha."

"Oh, yeah. Very nice." Gojo said, satisfied, as he took the paper bag from your hands. "What do you want from me this time? Saving somebody else's life? Just my fantastic company? Tell me!"

You chuckled, sitting on the ground, looking up at him. "Human resources."

"... The what now?" He answered, pushing an entire kikufuku inside his mouth, looking very pleased. "Wow, I need to know where you bought these. Is it a new store?"

"That's unimportant right now." You shut down his rising antics. "If someone has a relationship with a co-worker here at Jujutsu High, do they have to report it?"

Gojo looked at you, surprised, swallowing his sweets. "Hm... Seriously?"

"What?"

"Why would I know the answer to that question? Do I look like I have a secret sorcerer affair or something?"

"... Huh? This isn't about you, Satoru. What the hell." You retorted, incredulous. "I just need to know if there is any paperwork involved."

He simply shrugged, munching away. "Beats me. No idea."

This was useless.

You got up, in frustration, and that was when Gojo actually processed the words you just had said. "Wait, what do you mean 'you need to know' anything about that? Are you-"

"Bye, pretty boy!" You said, leaving the dojo completely empty-handed. What a waste of money on those kikufuku. Gojo seemed happy to receive them, at least.

***

"Ijichi, you're my last hope!" You jumped him, almost yelling, and the man nearly passed out when you left the bushes looking like a maniac. He thought Master Tengen's shields could have been compromised, and he was being lunged at by a curse.

You were walking around the campus relentlessly, like a predator in the middle of a hunt, trying to catch Ijichi before he left, considering most of his days were spent at home office, from what you had gathered.

"Y-yes, Ms.? H-how can I help you?" He asked, shaking briefly like a frail twig, before recomposing himself and adjusting his tie.

"How do I report a romantic relationship to whatever you guys have for human resources? Or I don't have to?" You asked, holding his shoulders, looking intently at the man, while taken by some kind of desperation.

He was, indeed, your last hope, before you had to speak directly to Yaga in order to inquire him about it.

Ijichi blankly stared at you, buffering your question before he could muster up an answer. "We don't really deal with those kinds of things administratively. So you don't have to report anything, I g-guess." Are she and Nanami-san...? He began pondering, mentally.

Ijichi never got to finish his thought, though.

You sighed, relieved, and pulled him into your arms, hugging the assistant tightly, almost jumping like a schoolgirl. "You're my hero, thank you!"

His face faintly blushed at the sudden appreciation received from a sorcerer, with no back-handed innuendo. "Y-You're... Welcome."

You let him go, smiled, and started frolicking your way out of the campus, glad there was nothing to report to any kind of higher authority other than your own anxiety due to this whole situation.

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jerzwriter · 6 months

Text

Tobias took his friend Casey to see his hometown of Washington, DC, all decked out for the holidays; then, she showed him how her hometown of Philadelphia did it. Now, they make one pitstop on the way back home and decide what city does it best... and wrestle with what they mean to each other.

Book: Open Heart Characters: Tobias Carrick & Casey MacTavish (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 2,400 (sorry) A/N: This series is a rewrite of a fic I originally wrote in 2022. But, as I fill in the gaps in my Tobias/Casey headcanon, I needed to make some adjustments - and wanted to make some improvements. I haven't tagged my full list for the other parts, but I'm going to do so here because this is the part that had the most alternation - and will lead us back to the question: "So how did they actually end up together?"

Thank you to anyone who has read this - it really means so much to me! :)

Series Masterlist | Tobias x Casey Masterlist Masterlist

“Last stop!” Tobias jumped out of his Jaguar, eagerly tossing the keys to the valet. There was no denying he was as excited about the last minute addition to their itinerary as Casey, perhaps even more so.

As she gingerly stepped out the passenger side, her enthusiasm was diminished, and concern was written all over her face. “Are you sure this is a good idea? The traffic was worse than we anticipated, and you have to be at work early tomorrow.”

“No worries,” Tobias chuckled. “I can sleep when I’m dead.”

Unamused, she stood her ground. “Well, I’d like to keep you around for a while, and you need your rest! So we’re not staying too long, all right?”

“Whatever you say, ma’am,” he nodded, and she couldn’t help but crack a smile when he animatedly gestured toward the street that would lead them to their next adventure.

The cold air and aroma of roasted chestnuts mingled with jingling bells and car horns blaring at tourists who blocked intersections made it clear... it was Christmastime in New York City. Casey was mesmerized, stopping at every store window to peruse the holiday displays. She was so enchanted that she didn’t notice the minor miracle that had taken place; Tobias Carrick was... quiet.

While his mouth had stopped moving, his mind was in overdrive. Amid the joyful chaos, he could focus on only one thing: fighting the visceral urge to take Casey’s hand in his, and not out of fear of becoming separated. His internal debate was relentless... would it be so wrong? Friends do hold hands sometimes, especially in crowds like this. It would make sense. Perfect sense. It wasn’t like he was leaning to kiss her. Not that they hadn’t done that recently. They had! Less than a month ago, they declared they’d be friends with kissing benefits. Of course, it hadn’t happened again, and if it did, Casey would have to initiate it, not him; fortunately, his rambling thoughts came to a halt along with the rest of him when he walked directly into a light post.

Casey turned around, startled, but began to laugh once she realized he was OK. “You OK there?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he recovered. “Just a little... disorientated.”

In desperate need of a distraction and wishing to prevent further injury, Tobias started a conversation to occupy his mind for the rest of their walk.

“So tell me, how did you manage to attend NYU for four years, yet you never saw this tree?”

“Well,” she shrugged. “I had intended to but never made it. Christmastime is also final exam time, and you know me, I had to get straight A’s, so my mind wasn’t fully on the holidays until I finished the last exam... then I was usually on a train home to Philly.”

He shook his head with a chortle. “Didn’t anyone tell you all work and no play is bad for you? Man... you really needed an influence like me in your life back then, kid.”

“Oh, that’s probably the last thing I needed,” she laughed. “And I managed to have a lot of fun in college. I saw the Bryant Park Tree. Of course the Washington Square Park tree and I were very well acquainted. I just never saw this tree.”

“Well, as much as I am surprised, I’m kind of glad you didn’t... this way, we get to see it for the first time together.”

Casey gave Tobias a side glance; it was now her turn to fight off visceral urges, but she merely gave him a tender smile. “I am, too.”

Then, with the turn of a corner, there it stood, towering above them in all its glory: the world-famous Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree.

“Holy shit!” Tobias exclaimed as Casey gasped in awe. “That thing is huge! It’s twice as big as I thought it would be.”

Casey playfully nudged his side with a giggle. “That’s what she said.”

“Really, Casey?” He mocked. “Really? It’s Christmastime.”

“Well, I’m not going to stop being a smartass just because of that,” she winked. “That wouldn’t be fun at all.”

After a moment, it was Casey who made the final determination.

“Well, I hate to admit it, but that guy was right. I think this Christmas tree is the winner. It beats Philly, and it definitely beats DC!”

“I’m so glad you said it,” Tobias chuckled. “I’m done conceding loss on this trip! I just wish we could see it at night. Can you imagine how beautiful it must be then?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. But we can’t stay that late today. Maybe we can come see it again next year.”

Next year. Those words from her lips took his breath away. Mere months ago, they didn’t know if Casey would survive to see this Christmas, much less next. Yet here she was, full of vitality and right at his side... smiling. Next year. She was thinking ahead, and she was including him in her plans. He wasn’t one for Christmas lore; he sure felt like that red-suited, white-bearded old man had dropped a present right into his lap. But as he felt a swell of promise rising inside him, he also felt something else: fear.

He promised he wouldn’t let this happen. Yet here he was... the happily confirmed bachelor was smitten; he couldn’t even deny it anymore. So he made a new promise: to keep his feelings to himself. Casey had made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t ready for any romantic entanglements, and even if she were, he didn’t know if she’d want those entanglements to include him. He had bungled their first chance together badly. He knew how much it had hurt to lose her and didn’t want to face that again. He was lucky to be in her life at all. Friendship was plenty, he convinced himself. Still, as he watched the tree lights flickering on her beaming face, his heart filled with a warmth previously unknown, and he had to wonder... if the time came, would he be able to watch her fall in love with someone else, knowing how much he already loved her so?

“Well, we’ve declared a winner,” Casey said. “We should start heading back to Boston.”

But Tobias had an impish glint in his eyes. “We could.... unless…”

“Unless what?”

“I have always wanted to take a carriage ride through Central Park... and how often will we be in New York. What do you say?”

Casey turned to him, and he could just see the little angel and devil battling over her shoulders. In the end, he was delighted that the devil won.

“You!” she said with a gentle shove. “Leave it to you to find something impossible to say no to!”

“Well,” he smirked, “that is kind of my specialty.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard,” she laughed. “Now, let’s go!”

As much as Casey insisted they make haste, that didn’t prevent her from having a lengthy conversation with Joel, the carriage driver, and she refused to step foot inside until she was satisfied.

“No, Ma’am, I promise you, George here is very well cared for. It’s not like it used to be. He only rides through a special route in Central Park. It’s perfectly safe.”

Petting George’s beautiful mane, Casey continued her cross-examination. “And what about at the end of the day?” She demanded. “How do you get him back to his stables?”

“In a trailer attached to my truck that I drive very carefully. Would you like to run my license?”

“Please, don’t give her any ideas! She just might,” Tobias laughed.

“Ma’am, George, here is family to me. I assure you, he’s the most spoiled horse in the City. I wouldn’t let anything happen to him.”

“OK,” she nodded. “Then we can take the ride, but can I feed him a carrot first?”

“You sure can,” the driver smiled.

When she was done, Tobias helped Casey step into the carriage. “You’re incredible,” he smiled. “You know that, right?”

“Really? Incredible in a good way or a bad way?”

Tobias’s eyes crinkled as the driver gave them a blanket to help keep them warm.

“In the very best way.”

“Thank God for this blanket,” Casey said with a shiver. “I didn’t realize how cold it was until we sat down.”

“I did,” Tobias laughed. “In fact, I’m thinking about striking a deal with Joel so we can keep this thing for the walk back to the car.”

While they were seated closely together, Casey eyed the tiny gap between them with caution.

“Well, if you’re that cold, we could huddle together. You know... for warmth.”

“We could,” he replied nonchalantly. “Anything to stave off frostbite, right?”

“Right,” she smiled, sliding closer to him.

Tobias cautiously lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulder, pleading with the universe for the gesture not to upset her, and the universe delivered. Casey nuzzled her head into his shoulder. He didn’t think this trip could get better, and just like that, it did.

The clip-clopping of George’s hooves cut through the crisp air, providing the soundtrack as the carriage meandered gentle curves through the park. About halfway through, delicate snowflakes began to fall, and Tobias and Casey agreed this was better than anything they had ever seen on screen. They were approaching the end of the ride when Casey looked up and nervously giggled.

“Yes,” Tobias asked with a raised brow.

She pointed to a small sprig of mistletoe dangling between the red fringe that lined the carriage’s hood; it would have been easy to miss. Biting her lower lip, she turned away. The scene was too perfect, the moment was too ideal, but should she take the chance? Not allowing herself to give it further thought, she turned to Tobias with abandon.

“So... remember that day back in Cambridge? When I asked if we could kiss... you know... with no strings attached... and you said we could be friends with kissing benefits?”

“I do,” he smiled mischievously.

“Well, we are under the mistletoe, and this is such a special day. Don’t feel obligated... you don’t have to... but if you want, I thought maybe we could.... mmmhhhh.”

Just like last time, she didn’t get to complete her sentence. Tobias’s soft lips were upon hers, his hand gently cupping her cheek as her arms wrapped around his neck. The kiss was sweet, warm, filled with a tenderness that each longed for but was afraid to claim as their own. This time, when the kiss broke, Casey was unwilling to let it end, pulling him back for one more.

When they silently parted, a blushing Casey diverted her eyes, and perhaps because he wasn’t ready to face the moment either, Tobias pulled her close against his chest, placing a loving kiss atop her head. They remained like that for the rest of the ride, each with a million thoughts swirling in their heads, but not a single word could make its way to their lips.

“Well, this is it, kids!” Joel yelled as he hopped off the carriage. “Did you enjoy yourselves?”

“Yes,” Casey said almost too quickly. “It was... it was beautiful!”

Tobias shook Joel’s hand, slipping him a tip, before he and Casey began their trek back to the car. The usual easiness between them was replaced with an awkward silence punctuated by small talk about the frigid temperatures and how they could no longer feel their toes. But each attempt to quell the discomfort faded too quickly, and quiet was upon them again. Finally, Casey grabbed Tobias’s wrist.

“T, wait a second,” she insisted, tugging him to face her.

“Is everything OK?” he asked.

“Yes... It’s more than OK. This weekend was just magical. It was more than anything I could have imagined, and I will always treasure the memories I made with you.”

“I’m going to do the same,” he smiled.

“I just hope,” she nervously chewed at her lip. “I hope I didn’t ruin things.”

“Ruin things?” he asked, with a creased brow. “Casey, you couldn’t ruin things if you tried.”

Looking up from under her lashes, she gave a tantalizing little smirk. “Wanna bet? The kiss on the carriage... I... I just got overwhelmed; everything was so beautiful, it was so romantic, and then the mistletoe was there, and I...I....”

“Casey, Casey...” he said, taking her hands. “It’s all right. Everything’s fine.”

“It... it is.”

“Sure,” he comforted. “Look, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

He watched as the relief that just settled on her features turned into something different, something that looked like hurt, and he was quick to recover.

“Let me correct that. Of course, it means something. Everything with you is very special... because it’s with you. That was a beautiful moment, and I’m glad we got to share it together, but it doesn’t have to mean any more than you want it to. I know where you are right now, and I respect that. We can just leave that tender moment alone.”

“You know... I am feeling better every day,” she insisted. “On this trip, for the first time since the attack, I felt like my old self again. In fact, I went two whole days without even thinking about it.”

“I could tell,” he smiled. “And it was beautiful to see.”

“But, I’m still not... I’m just... still not...”

“Casey,” he whispered. “It’s OK. I promise you...it’s OK.”

“Good,” she smiled. “Thank you.”

“But maybe,” he stalled, already kicking himself for what he was about to say. “Maybe we should hold of on that friends with kissing benefits stuff. You know? I don’t want it to confuse you, and I really don’t want it to hurt what we’ve built between us.”

“Well, I don’t see how they could hurt,” she faltered. “But... but... maybe you’re right, at least for now. But hug... hugs are still allowed, right?”

“Oh, hugs are always allowed,” he grinned, pulling her into one of the tightest ones he could offer.

“Good,” she sighed with relief. “Because I always need those.”

Then, the two friends stood in the middle of the busy street as the cold wind blew. The sounds that made up the City's symphony- laughter, arguments, honking horns, and sirens blaring in the distance surrounded them. But Casey and Tobias didn’t recall that they were on an island of nearly two million people, for there were only two who mattered, and right now, they were clinging to the moment for as long as time would allow.

“Come on,” Casey smiled, taking his hand. “We need to get you home to Boston.”

“You got it,” he nodded. “But I have a feeling we’ll be back to visit.”

“I think so, too. Oh, and Tobias?”

“Yes?”

“I know it’s early, but... Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Casey,” he smiled, tenderly bopping her nose. “Merry Christmas.”

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Will tag others in reblog.

#choices fanfic #open heart fanfic #open heart #open heart choices #choices open heart #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x mc #tobias x casey #holiday fics #playchoices fanfic #playchocies

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