#Sad fluff?

[idontknowreallywhy]

A Part of Her

For various reasons (train strikes etc) I haven’t done a commute fic (where I just thrash something out in a linear form and don’t obsessively edit it later) for a while, but a little idea occurred to me today so here is a hurried lunch-break fic…

What do we call these two? Was it Astro Turf?

Whatever, a bit of Allie and Virg…

🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵

“Virg?”

“What’s up, Allie?”

His little brother had drifted across the room and was slowly running his hand along the edge of the piano lid watching the hammers rise and fall as Virgil played. He’d not said anything for a while and not wanting him to believe his presence was unwelcome, Virgil had just smiled at him and waited for whatever was coming. When he eventually spoke, Alan’s voice was steeped in uncertainly.

“This was… Mom’s, right?”

“Yes Allie it was. We had it shipped over when we moved here.”

Alan nodded and was quiet again for a while. Clearly something was brewing. Virgil shifted from the concerto he was niggling at into a slightly sparser, atmospheric piece which gave more space and time for any words that might be coming.

“She… played a lot?”

“Pretty much every moment she got. More than me I think.”

“Why do you play so much?”

“Why do I play?”

Virgil paused to consider, looking down at his hands as he ran a couple of gentle arpeggios through a series of chords. There was a lot more behind that question than there appeared and he needed to choose his answer carefully.

“Firstly, because I enjoy it, I like the music I create and I like the fact it’s something I’m creating, even if it goes a bit wonky.”

Alan nodded, blue eyes met his with very deliberate focus. He was clearly concentrating on every word Virgil said.

“Secondly, because you guys enjoy it. I like being able to help Scott relax, or Gordon laugh… or cheer you up sometimes.”

Another nod. Virgil stopped playing a moment and rested his fingers over the black notes.

“Um, I also often play to try and process how I feel about things. Sometimes it’s hard to put the difficult stuff into words but…” he played a series of chords around D minor and then coughed and reverted back to a slightly cheerier key as he noticed Alan try to cover up rubbing at his eye by scratching his nose.

“Then I guess the final one is… it helps me feel close to her, to Mom. I imagine her hands on the keys, making the same sounds and I feel like a part of her is still with me.”

Alan closed his eyes and whispered something hurriedly. Virgil leaned over to put his right hand over his brother’s left where he held the side of the instrument in a vice grip.

“I didn’t quite catch that Allie?”

He opened his eyes and looked Virgil full in the face again, eyes wide. “Can you teach me?”

Virgil knew his expression must have betrayed his surprise as his baby brother rushed on hurriedly.

“I know you did before when I was a kid and I sucked, I didn’t try very hard or practise because I didn’t get it. I didn’t get what it meant. And I’m probably still going to suck at it Virgil, I know that.”

Alan swallowed hard.

“But I want to try because maybe, maybe there is a part of her inside me too and if there is I want to find it.”

Virgil pulled gently on the young man’s hand and guided him around to perch next to him on the stool and wrapped him in his arms.

“She’s in your every cell, your every breath, Alan. And she would be so proud of you.”

Alan sniffed and tightened his grip on Virgil’s shirt. Virgil unpeeled his little brother’s fingers from the flannel and guided his right hand to rest on the keyboard.

“If you want to play it would be a privilege to teach you, but you need never doubt she is a part of you Alan.”

Alan twisted and placed his left hand on the keys alongside his right.

“Show me. Please?”

🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵

[nkogneatho]

Toji has never once shown his vulnerability towards the scar he has on his lips. He never even talks about them. But you know he is somewhere insecure about it when he stops and stares in the mirror while shaving, green eyes scanning the scar. Or when he purposely rests the right side of his face in his hand so the palm hides it. He thought he was being subtle with it, but you noticed. You noticed how deep down he was scared to even talk about it, let alone wear it with pride. That scar was a nightmare and he hated how it was visible to him, to everyone in the most obvious place.

"Toji?" you cooed from behind, walking into the hall while he was watching TV.

"Yes, baby?"

"I bought a new gloss, and i want to test if it's transfer proof."

"Don't know what that is but c'mere, lovie. Sit on my lap while you do it." You smiled and plopped yourself on his lap. Before he could finally look at you, you pressed your tinted glossy lips at the end of his lips where the scar settled.

he tried opening his lips to catch yours but you didn't really kiss his lips. he was so confused why you were pecking one spot.

*one peck. two peck. three peck. smooches tightly*

"D'ya know? I love this." You ran your thumb over the skin. "It makes me realize how strong you are, Toji. Sooo strong. Please don't hide it. It makes you look more handsome." He couldn't form words. The sudden love bomb opened a can of bad memories. Yet, oddly, he was comforted by your words. For a man so big, he was still weak over you and your love. Because you determined his vulnerability. Which is why your relationship was perfect. He is not the kind of man to be vocal about his issues but you read him like an open book. You understand him before he even has to spell it out.

Toji rested his forehead against yours, inhaling and exhaling with his eyes closed. God. He feels so in love, it kills him. What would he do without you? Everyone picked his flesh till it was just his heart exposed in the dirt, still struggling to beat. But you found it. Not to pick anymore flesh(there was none left). But to rip open your ribs and keep that heart locked in you forever. Safe and sound.

[kenntolog]

it’s 3 in the morning. satoru probably shouldn’t be out this late, but it feels right to be sitting on a random bench on the side of a street, gazing at the sky mindlessly with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. unlit.

though, the bench is ‘random’ only for the idle people walking by, the light screeching or clicking of their shoes being one of the things that disturb the peaceful ambiance surrounding him. another thing is the ringing of his phone, echoing in his mind along the empty street.

the beeping seems just as infinite as the time he spent sitting on this bench, by the entrance of the apartment complex where your flat, the rough wooden plates doing nothing for his hurting back. somehow, when you were sitting with him here, after long dates that never seemed to end because of much you both loved to unintentionally prolong them.

satoru moves the phone away from his face, face scrunching in disappointment before he once again sees the time and tries to accept the fact that you’re probably sleeping, deep into your fantasies in the dreamland, and he should probably bother you later.

he promised himself that if you won’t pick up the phone he will light the cigarette stick. you don’t like it when he smokes, but you wouldn’t know he did, right? and it’s either he spends the night with you or a pack of cigarettes.

sighing heavily, gojo pulls out the lighter, the end of the cigarette now burning red before dimming down. just as he’s about to inhale, the familiar ringtone hits his ears and when he is met with the picture of you on the screen of his phone, with your name shining as brightly as your smile, satoru throws away the stick, hurriedly answering your call.

“sato?”

a soft smile stretches on his lips when he recognises the sleepy rasp of your voice, indicating to him that he did indeed wake you up.

“sweetheart.”

“you okay, baby?”

frankly, satoru is far from okay.

the reason why he’s been sitting on the bench under your building for an hour now being that he is surprisingly unsure if he should go bother you this late because he hates being alone after missions. the part of him that doesn’t accept the words ‘personal space’ wants to barge in and mess with you a little before coddling you to sleep.

the adequate part of him knows you’re exhausted too. but it’s still hard to let go and deal with the troubles that have been building up for a while now alone. he just needs you to hold him and maybe kiss him a little. talk to him and call him by his name sweetly.

tell him that you love him.

make him feel human again.

satoru is so so tired.

“d’you think i could come over?”

“aren’t you already here?”

right. he huffs out a chuckle as he looks up only to see your face a few metres above, hanging over your balcony and waving at him with your free hand. he waves back, eyes never leaving you as you both stare at each other for a brief moment, silence overtaking the line.

you disappear inside rapidly, closing the balcony door behind yourself, “i’ll keep the door unlocked.”

“thank you, sweetheart.”

his steps are finally relaxed, shoulders weighing him down a little as he walks to the elevator, getting inside and pressing the number of your floor. suppressing a long yawn, satoru lets his the frown on face completely fade away, already prepared to be enveloped by you and your magical aura.

the door is unlocked, as you promised. he doesn’t waste time on anything other than taking his jacket off in the darkness of your hallway and hurriedly striding over to your room, the door of which is slightly open.

and there you are. his precious little baby, the sunshine of his own, the apple of his eye, his everything; laying on the bed and waiting for him to join you, your expectant yet soft gaze never leaving his face as he takes off the rest of his clothes, discarding them on the floor with no care.

it’s so nice to be in your arms, though. satoru wouldn’t change it for anything. there is no need to ask if he’s had a rough day, no need to talk about yours and say anything, because it’s almost half past four and you both would rather sleep, leaving all the tough talk for the morning.

you kiss his cheeks, he hugs you closer to himself, arms tightening around your waist as he moves his limbs around just to have more skin to skin contact.

the feeling of your lips on his, a kiss so light and feathery he would have barely sensed it if he was asleep, it brings him back, back to you. satoru responds with a gentle press of his own mouth to your chin, trailing soft nips to your neck and then your chest, stopping right where your heart is.

right where his heart is.

[arminsumi]

「 🔴 RECORDING 」

found footage of satoru's student years... recorded on the camcorder that he carried around everywhere.

warnings : heavy angst, fluff, implied death, not proofread

[ the first footage is one minute long. there's two blue eyes widening comedically on the screen. the resolution is low and the audio is tinny. ]

"Ooo it works... well hellooooooo there... i'm... GOJO!! SATORU!! and this is... suguuuuruu getooooo... oh look at that walk, you're such a model."

[ the camera is on suguru, who's walking with bad posture. he doesn't like the camera. ]

[ he has his old hairstyle; this was recorded before his hair was long enough to be in the bun style. he hides his face from the camera. ]

"... aw, he's a model that doesn't like cameras. anyways... this is the beautiful... STUNNING... hot... talented... playing-hard-to-get... (haha kidding)... y/n~"

[ the camera pans to you. you can hear the flirty tone in satoru's voice. ]

"... we are currently walking through the gates of hell..."

[ the camera pans to the school. the resolution clears for a second to show a blue sky with slowly drifting clouds. ]

"okay. we have arrived in hell; look there's satan himself—"

[ the camera pans to yaga. ]

[ the footage ends with yaga confiscating satoru's camera and scolding him. ]

[ a video starts off shaky. the camera is dropped on the train floor and suguru sighs. ]

"satoru...... did you just break it after having it for one day?"

[ satoru picks it up and gives a toothy smile to the screen. ]

"nah. she's all good. not even a scratch. ooh... suguru we look so hot. and look how hot y/n is... she's so scandalous — sittin' next to me on the train. this proximity's got me sweatin', baby... kidding kidding... don't gimme that look!"

[ suguru gives the middle finger to the camera and satoru's iconic laugh sounds beautiful even through the crap audio quality. ]

[ there's a 3 minute video that's half-corrupted of a party happening in your apartment... of just you, satoru, suguru and shoko. lykke li's "i follow rivers" is playing loudly, satoru is screaming the lyrics in broken english and suguru is recording you and him dancing like maniacs. shoko is offering her cigarette to the camera and blowing smoke into the lens. ]

[ there's a 25 second clip of satoru aggressively kissing you until you laugh. ]

[ there is a photo of satoru crouching to pet a cat. he's holding an umbrella. ]

[ there is corrupted footage of laughter and a flicker of the video shows a tiny pot on a stove with ramen cooking in it. ]

[ there's a photo of you, satoru, suguru and shoko. you and satoru are looking at each other like lovebirds. suguru is giving the finger to the camera. shoko is laughing with her eyes closed. ]

[ a long video of satoru waking up in a hotel bed. he looks like he just woke up. he blinks at the camera, bleary-eyed and cute with puffy lips and messy hair. ]

"goodmornin'."

[ his morning rasp is strong. ]

"i'm awake... but miss sleepy head and mister sleepy head are not, as you can see..."

[ he zooms in on your face. you're laid at his right, and suguru is laid at his left. ]

"here's the sleeping angel... and here's the sleeping dragon... anyways... WAKEY WAKEYYYYYYYYY!!! IT'S A BRIGHT NEW DAY!!!"

[ suguru's wakeful groan sounds groggy and disturbed by satoru's loud, piercing wake-up call. you scrunch your face as you wake up, seemingly out of a dream. ]

"satoru... what the hell is the matter with you..."

[ it's an ultra close-up shot of your nose as you mumble this. ]

"i was lonely being awake by myself, gosh. you're so mean!"

[ he experiences a voice crack. suguru gives a sleepy, murderous look at his best friend. ]

"satoru... i swear i'm gonna throw that camera into traffic one day."

[ suguru's mumbling into his pillow too softly to be taken seriously. ]

"wanna say that to the camera?"

[ suguru looks grouchy. ]

"i'll kill you."

"WOW... buddy, this is evidence if you ever do kill me... the police will find this footage... 'n put your FLAT ass in jail. aw... y/n fell back asleep look look... aw she's so fucking precious."

[ suguru and satoru admire you for a bit. there rest of the footage is corrupted. ]

[ footage of a breakfast in the same hotel. sunny side eggs are zoomed-in on. and there's only eggs. ]

"we're too broke to buy bacon, isn't that cool?"

[ satoru gets a nice view up his nose as he tilts the camera to himself. then he turns the camera to you, who's sleepily eating this miserable breakfast. ]

"... so we just have eggs to eat... heyyyy hot babe..."

[ satoru flirts with you and you roll your eyes in response, smiling and chewing on your egg, fork in one hand. ]

"wanna hear a joke?"

"mhm."

"if you ever broke up with me, what would you call me?"

"an idiot?"

"your eggs."

[ you groan and stop eating because his pun was so awful, but you've got a big smile on your face and satoru is laughing heartily. ]

[ the video ends with you and satoru leaning in for a big kiss and a sleepy suguru walking into the room, itching his tummy under his shirt. ]

[ there's a clip of you, satoru, suguru and shoko yelling happy new year and watching fireworks explode into blazing, brilliant colors. suguru winks at the camera as you hold it and you giggle flirtatiously back. there's clearly tension between you two that neither satoru nor shoko acknowledge in the moment, because the fireworks distract them. ]

[ there's footage of you, satoru and suguru kissing. it ends with satoru kissing the camera as a joke. ]

[ most of the footage is corrupted after this. in the next video, satoru seems a bit older. ]

[ there's footage of a solo satoru, who's been enlightened and and burdened with being the strongest. he's on a mission alone, keeping the camcorder on as he exorcises a curse. he trots over to the camera. he seems less enthusiastic compared to the other videos. ]

"aaand that's what the strongest looks like while he's at work."

[ satoru looks smug and goofy, but something is off. his features look worn and tired. ]

[ there is already that slightly disingenuous liveliness showing in his demeanor just in this small video; the version of satoru that his students would know as just normal gojo sensei. ]

[ his smile falters as he rambles about y/n and suguru. ]

"i'm gonna give y/n a big kiss when i get home. miss you, angel. haha... why am i talking to a camera all by myself... that's so sad. i'm gonna film myself gettin' that kiss at home, just to prove i'm not some lonely idiot. i have a hot fiancé..."

[ one of the last photos taken on this camera is dated; august 2009. it's of you and satoru sharing a big kiss... neither of you knew it at the time, but it was your last kiss. ]

[ the next piece of footage is from 2018. it's a 28 year old gojo, his features show his maturity and the weathering of all the years he's endured living without you and suguru.]

"i found this camera while cleaning up. if i look 'n sound funny it's 'cuz i've been crying haha......"

"...... i miss you two..... haha... i can't shove the camera in your faces like i used to, now can i?"

[ he awkwardly smiles at the camera but then his face trembles and contorts into an ugly-cry as if he just remembered every single memory of his youth. ]

[ the footage ends with a broken, barely audible "fuck..." falling from the teacher's lips as he starts to cry and drops the camera to the floor. the rest is corrupted footage... just heaving sobs of the man who has no more memories to record with suguru and y/n. ]

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[rotten1angel]

just imagining pampering toji. he’s just gotten back from a mission. you had washed him as you showered together and now were curled up on the large bed in your bedroom.

toji’s large body laid across your side as his head tucked into the juncture between your shoulder and neck.

“toji.. my love..?” you asked tentatively, worried to wake him if he was asleep. you heard him hum into your skin. your fingers found their way to his hair, gently massaging the man’s scalp.

“i jus’ love you s’much,” you murmur, leaning slightly to kiss the crown of his head. you feel the man shift over you to lean on his forearms. his tired eyes scan over your features before dropping a sleepy kiss on your lips, drawling afterward “love you too, doll.”

he settled back against your body, his nose tucked into your neck once again. you would’ve assumed the man was asleep now if it weren’t for his iron grip around your waist. however, soon enough his grip did loosen and you could feel his deep, lumbering breaths as he dozed off, safe in your arms under the cast of night.

[cute-sucker]

EX HUSBAND RAFE HEADCANONS !!

note: here is an extension of some of this: ex-husband rafe when you start dating again..

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

ex-husband!rafe will continuously come to your house telling you it's only to check up on your baby girl

ex-husband!rafe will catch himself calling you sweetheart and honey, and them stop himself before it gets out of hand, iching his head and tilting his head in that endearing way

ex-husband!rafe is in tune with your cycle, and you swear the man knows the exact day to send you chocolate and sweet things to handle your sweet tooth

ex-husband!rafe will sleep on the couch with a sheepish smile, but then will soon later join you in your bed, cradling you in the way that made your breath catch whispering "what's the master bed for then, huh?"

ex-husband!rafe will know everything about your dating life/borderline which may seen creepy but somehow you know it's for your health and somehow you understand it all

ex-husband!rafe will let the goddamn pretentious expensive preschool know that his daughter is worth the world and the last thing they want to do is piss the cameron's off

ex-husband!rafe would find himself desperately cracking an inside in an attempt to reminisce about times before your split

ex-husband!rafe will still introduce you as his wife in business outings, a sharp smile on his face while his hand wanders possessively low at the small part of your back, and sometimes you liked how he took stake of what was his

ex-husband!rafe would always attend school events for their daughter, cheering their daughter at the soccer match, and making decisions over coffee

ex-husband!rafe would have you a new bouquet every single time he comes to your house- almost as if to make up for every single one he didn't give you when the two of you were together

ex-husband!rafe still glances at you in that way where dull sparks travel up into your heart, and you feel the testament of time and the feeling that you would never forget the imprint he has on your mind

ex-husband!rafe always compliments you, and sometimes he kisses your forehead, and when you're crying too hard he bundles you in his arms and tells you everything

ex-husband!rafe watches cheesy romance movies with you, both of your legs entwined, and he watches you during those rom coms all teary eyed and telling him it was the best time for romance

ex-husband!rafe lets you know everything that happens in his life, if it's for a little chat or a ride in his car- and his car? he still drives you everywhere. who knows the types of sickos there are in the world? that's what he says to say as he rants furiously

ex-husband!rafe is still the first emergency contact in your phone, and when you get in trouble - he's running to you, arms open to cradle you in his warmth. he always knows how to handle the situation

ex-husband!rafe starts baking for you, and sometimes he leaves a few cupcakes or muffins every single he comes. at this point you feel the sudden urge to grab his face and kiss him every single time he cheekily leaves more loafs of bread for you

ex-husband!rafe loves your daughter and you to the moon and back, and he calls the two of you, "his girls," and you swear sometimes you feel your heart break when you see the wary look on his face

ex-husband!rafe always avoids the question regarding why you split up, because he sees the way hot tears well up in your eyes, and the way your hands shake underneath the table and the last time a bastard asked that question--rafe almost punched him in the face

ex-husband!rafe curses himself every single day for signing those papers and letting the best goddamn thing he ever had go.

[rafedaddy01]

Jealous

Summary: Rafes ex walks in on you riding him

Warnings: mentions of sex, riding, semi public sex, being watched, getting caught

A/N: his hands ^^^ 🤤

-

Your startled as the door swings open, met with Rafes crazy ex girlfriend.

“Do you care to explain why your fucking my boyfriend?” She shouts

You fake a gasp as you turn your head to face him, his dick throbbing inside you, he grips your arms and pins them behind your back. “Rafe! How could you!”

He scrunches his eyebrows at you in confusion and you wink, turning your head back to his ex.

“Are you just gonna stand there and watch, or did you want to join?” You joke and she turns bright red.

Rafe bursts out in laughter, “I fucking love you, princess”

His eyes darken as he turns back to his ex, you slam down harder onto to him and try to calm him down.

“Get the fuck out of my house. I have more important things to do. Can’t leave my girl unsatisfied. Close the door on your way out” he doesn’t even look at her as he speaks, to caught up on the prize in front of him.

You take one last look at her. Her cheeks flushed red, clearly embarrassed, as she walks out of the room slamming the door behind her.

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @dilvcv

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

come rest your bones next to me ; satoru gojo, suguru geto

synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most. 

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues

a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33

”holy shit!”

the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.

”satoru, it’s too early for this...”

”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes. 

your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.

(snowing.)

with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ”really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.

satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks. 

maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth. 

it’s beautiful. 

satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded. 

all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere. 

the first snow of the year.

and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.

there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.

like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.

and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again. 

(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, surely, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.

and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s really lucky.)

high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.

and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling. 

a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.

he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.

— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.

satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.

(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)

”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.” 

he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.

it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.

so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.

satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.

”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.

”never.”

a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.

a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”

and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.

his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”

his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.

he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face. 

when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.

you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips. 

hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.

satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.

because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs. 

what more could a man want?

”hey, idiots!” 

the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.

”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”

”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.

suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there. 

(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)

with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.

”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.

then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”

satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”

a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”

a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”

and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.

despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”

”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.

”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”

satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.

suguru sighs.

”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”

his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.

he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot. 

when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.

the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.

(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.

and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)

suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.

when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.

that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.

”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.

satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.” 

but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”

a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”

you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”

a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.

and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word. 

his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.

and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology. 

(i'm sorry, you big baby.)

satoru grins.

you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.

”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”

he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”

”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”

”and don’t play dumb, either.”

a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”

said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown. 

and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.

”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”

satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”

you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”

”hmph.”

suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.

and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again. 

that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.

this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.

(married.)

sometimes he still can’t believe it. 

”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.” 

and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.

and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.

your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.

his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.

(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)

and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.

a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.

and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.

”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”

”— you’re disgusting.”

the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.

and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.

you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.

then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?” 

”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.

silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.

”… santa can only do so much, baby.”

two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.

”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.” 

you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”

”of course not! blasphemy.” 

a moment passes.

”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”

a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.

then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow. 

he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.

and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.

he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice. 

for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?

(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)

— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.

it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.

and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.

warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter. 

he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself. 

and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest. 

he hopes it never goes away.

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. pretty brown eyes.

about. gojo might be the one with the six eyes, but there’s nothing special about those. your brown eyes are real weapon, here.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, fluff, hurt comfort. slight hints to insomnia, idk how infinity works sorry, reader has brown eyes, afab!reader.

“you could kill me if you wanted to.”

it’s the dead of night when he whispers your name. though low in volume, his tongue curls around each syllable loud enough for you to hear him. “

“‘toru, what are you on about—” digging the heal of your palm into your eyes, you dislodge the crust from your lash line and groan. the red lines on your digital clock read sometime between three and four am— but the digits blur as your mind swims with sleep.

“your eyes. they’re so perfect.” a loving grin etches itself onto his face when you crack one open to look at him, masking over the exhaustion seeping from his pores and the anxiety that spikes in the sapphire pools of his own eyes. “you should be able to get away with anything because of them.”

“baby,” you reiterate and roll over to face him fully. gojo gets like this when he’s overworked and worried, when there’s something big on his mind you’re not quite sure you’d understand. you move to jab a thumb into his forehead, right between his brows to alleviate the ache in his skull but you don’t let your disappointment show when rough skin meets the dull buzz of his infinity.

you forget that his six eyes flow in the dark — that his blue eyes are not as blue as they seem. “you’re talking nonsense, it’s late. get some sleep.”

“my eyes. they could kill me if i worked too hard.”

satoru’s eyes are a lot stormier than most would expect, they can be dark and cold. like an angry ocean tired of tournament. they can be bright, full of hope and loving — you notice that change whenever he’s with your students. they hide behind the frame of his ability, the one that hardly ever turns off despite how it really could kill him.

his mind is always running, his body almost always on empty.

in the moonlight, you see a faint sliver of silver between the flecks of diamond and stormy skies.

he swipes a gentle thumb just over cheek yours to catch a fallen lash. “but yours,” gojo continues, voice thoughtful and low. tired above all else. “those pretty brown eyes…baby, they’re dangerous in a different way. beautiful in another that makes me feel safe. puts my mind at ease or somethin’. one look ‘nd I’d be doing anything for you,”

there the two of you are, face to face in the dark — cheeks pressed to pillows and heads under the covers as if you’re children shielding yourself from the world. creating the safe space to let satoru confess.

“if those pretty brown eyes were the last thing i got to see before i died. then i think i’d be okay.”

“don’t say that.” your face crumples and his infinity falls away as if gojo had been anticipating your touch, the buzz just shocking through your skin as you wrap your arms around his larger frame, pull his head down to your heart beating in your chest. “you’re not allowed to die, satoru. not yet.”

“i know.” for once he’s grateful he can’t see your eyes — he hates the way they shine when you cry.

“i need you.”

“i know.” he’s quiet. “i need you too.”

“then rest, you don’t have to keep watch.” gojo feels the shake in your lungs as you speak. you worry too much about him. but with your hand cascading through his soft locks, and the other squeezing him close he’s finding it hard to resist.

usually when he lays next to you, he’s stiff as a board, always anticipating whatever danger might come next. but the biggest threat to him of all is you, and those big brown bambi eyes of yours — the way they’re wet with love, shiny with tears because you adore satoru gojo. you care about him way too much for your own good.

those eyes of yours are convincingly treacherous , he can’t help but let his body sag and let go of his cursed technique while you rub his back and soothe him.

“you’re dangerous, yanno,” satoru grunts, lips dragging along your skin with every word. “especially when you look at me like that, with those puppy dog eyes…can’t say no to you.”

but you smile as he drifts off, his tall frame heavy against you — your lashes blinking soft against his forehead as you curl around him protectively. “i’d rather use them to get you to rest, rather than kill you. ‘toru.”

your words are wasted on deaf ears — his deep snore indicating that gojo is finally asleep, doing himself a favour and locking his pretty blue eyes away.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[elalalune]

Reaching through the looking glass

(Wonderland au)

[sainzinnorris]

“ you came. ” “ i always will. for you.”

[nkogneatho]

"i can't believe you did this to me, toru" you looked at him with almost tears in your eyes. your heart was aching. you couldn't believe that you just witnessed the love of your life betraying you. and the worst part was...he wasn't he even sorry about it. not an ounce of shame or regret masked his face.

"you want me to be sorry? aww poor thing. you'll never get my apology, y/n." he mocked you.

"after all those times we spent together...this is how you treat me?"

"you deserve it if i am being honest," he spat. how can he say that? did he never love you? was all that a lie??

"i can't believe you right now. i wish this was a nightmare. i loved you so much but you? you give me this in return?"

"babe. i love you too but pick up 24 cards. you can't win this time," he pointed at the deck of uno cards. he really pulled out three draw fours on you. well he was right. you did deserve it since you did the same last week. but you thought he'd go easy on you.

"i hope your favorite kikufuku stores shuts down." you glare angrily at him while counting the cards you have to pick

"you take that back or i'll give you another draw two."

"FUCK YOU, GOJO SATORU!!"

"yeah, i love you too"

[gardnhee]

faint memories - zuko

୨୧- tw/content. angst with a pinch of fluff, intentional lowercase, not proofread, little cursing here and there.

୨୧- zuko x afab!reader

୨୧- note. this applies to both animated and live action zuko!! requested by my baby @lovlyrickyyy 🤍

୨୧- dividers by @plutism !

୨୧- wc. 1.2k

“stop…moving!” you grit, holding zuko’s face as he glares at you, small wince erupting from his throat.

“how do you expect me-“ he hisses, hands instinctively flying up to get a hold of your wrists. “to not move when there’s this huge fucking burn on my face!” zuko retorts, grip tightening on you. you sigh, heart dropping as you no longer see that glint in his eyes. the glint that is now replaced with sadness, pain, suffering.

zuko’s chambers grew dead silent, no more arguing, no more disagreeing from you or him. just silence.

a small smile spread on his face as he now caressed your wrist with his thumb, pressing a small kiss to it, “i’m sorry for grabbing so hard.” this made your head perk up, blush spreading across your cheeks. you shake your head, “i understand.” the room goes silent again.

only thing that could be heard were the faint yells of the firebenders training outside and the mouse like footsteps of whoever passed by the unnecessarily and stupidly huge doors.

you kept applying the ointment onto zuko’s wound, sitting back with a small huff to examine him. to you, even with that huge scar on his face, he’s still as handsome as ever. you noticed how he tried to hide it from you, looking down at his trembling hands as the events from earlier are still fresh in his mind.

he slumped back on the bed, eliciting a whine of disapproval - you weren’t done tending to him. zuko ignores this as he just lays there, gazing up at his tall ceiling with a blank stare.

you knew him all too well, which means you also knew he was hiding something. restricting himself from talking. you hated it.

“zuko-?” you started as his body jerked up from the wine red sheets.

“i’m getting exiled.” he didn’t let you speak, words crawling up his throat as he was unable to hold them back.

you felt as if all air had been knocked out of your lungs, like a punch to the gut. your chest heaved, eyes squinting and eyebrows knitting together.

“w-what?” it’s not that you didn’t hear, in fact zuko’s words unfortunately fell upon very perceptive ears.

“i’m-“

“you’re joking, right?” you chuckled awkwardly, fading into nothing as his eyes saddened. “i’m sorry.” was all he could muster. you frantically shook your head, disgusted that he felt forced to apologize for something he had no control over.

“how long?”

zuko hummed, eyes spaced out somewhere, looking everywhere but at you. you bit your lip, kneeling towards him, cold and shaky hands cupping his cheeks.

“stop avoiding and answer me, zuko. how long?”

zuko’s eyes peeled away from wherever he was previously glancing at, “however long it takes.” he mumbles and you frown, “what does that even mean.” you grunt, sitting back in defeat as you run your fingers through your hair.

“until i catch the avatar.”

you scoffed, “that’s fucking ridiculous.” zuko agreed silently, but that wasn’t enough for you. nowhere near, actually.

“i’m going to speak with your father.” you stand, making him stand with you, eyes wide and pupils blown.

“you can’t, yn.” he reaches for you in vain as you yank your hand back. “don’t try to stop me, zuko.” you were beyond pissed, tone dripping venom as zuko stood in front of you, obstructing your way to the door.

“move, goddamnit!” you hit his chest repeatedly, each strike more desperate than the last. “how are you just…okay with this?” you sobbed, forehead propped against his chest, his arms falling beside him, stiff as a statue.

“what more can i do?”

he made a good point, so good that it shushed you with a slap to the face.

“i’m leaving.”

“yn please wait-“

“im. leaving.” your lip quivered, voice shaky, eyes watery. zuko nodded, moving back to his bed, sitting on the edge.

you made your way to the bed as well, grabbing the ointment and placing it back on the metal tray.

“i hope to see you again, yn.” he murmured, back facing you as you stayed quiet, not wanting to entertain the idea of him leaving. sadly, it doesn’t matter if you entertain said idea or not, it’s happening anyway.

the moment you stepped out the door, that was it, even the hope of ever seeing him again started to dissipate.

by this point you were halfway down the dim hallway, ready to turn the corner to the servant’s quarters. you looked back, guards standing proud and tall outside the prince’s room. you bit your lip, gazing down at the cold tray in your hands, caressing it with your index finger.

after taking a deep breath and preparing yourself for a life without your first love, you walk off, never to hear from zuko again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“fucking hell!” zuko groaned as the memory made an unwanted visit for the nth time this week, standing from his cot like bed. he looked outside the small ship window, eyes landing on an endless ocean, stretching far and wide, separating him from you.

it’s been 3 years since zuko had the pleasure of laying eyes upon you. your pouty lips - which he longed to kiss - sparkling eyes, and beaming smile, he missed it all; every single second of it.

he made it his mission to capture the avatar, whatever it took, zuko will bring him before his father and finally get to feel your embrace again.

the fact that he didn’t seize the opportunity to confess, to tell you just how much he loves you - vocalize the burning desire to make you his partner - was eating at him from the inside out.

zuko paces around the room, breathing heavily as he grows anxious. his patience is running thin and he doesn’t know how much longer he can stay civil.

with three curt knocks zuko turns, uttering a ‘come in’ as his mind was somewhere else. a soldier walks in, with a small bow of his head, he exclaims, “we’ve found the avatar, sir!” this made zuko’s face brighten, nails no longer trapped between teeth.

“where?” the prince breathed, unspoken urgency in his voice. “here in the south pole, sir.” he raised a brow, “how far?” zuko questions.

“close by, approximately 2 nautical miles.” despite his shocked expression, zuko was elated.

“good job.” was all zuko said before strolling out his suffocating room. his palms grew sweaty, his heart hammered against his chest. he simply couldn’t contain himself.

he will see you again.

oh, he’s just imagining it; walking up behind you and surprising you, indulging in your warm laugh, welcoming eyes, and safe presence.

this is something he simply won’t - can’t - pass. zuko has the target within reach and he’s going to hold on tight, so tight the avatar will have no choice but to turn himself in.

a way one ticket, an opportunity peeking its face through the blur that is his life.

no matter the circumstance, he will not miss or give up - no, he’s coming home to you, forever this time.

© GARDNHEE 2024, do not copy, modify, or upload on other platforms

୨୧ - hope you liked it!! this is kinda rushed so im sorry if there’s any spelling errors :( please like, comment, and reblog. would be highly appreciated 🫶.

[stsgluver]

synopsis. you’d always wait for satoru.

tags. JJK CHAP 236 SPOILERS, it’s like fluff and angst but neither at the same time yk

"took you long enough."

satoru blinked twice, those icy lashes fluttering as his blurry gaze focused on the figure next to him. he hadn't heard that voice in so long that it barely felt real, a fragment in his memories.

"i thought you'd be at least a little bit happy to see me," your lips were tilted up in a grin that easily met your eyes. you're eighteen: white blouse tucked into a long skirt and your hair twisted up away from your face. there's a sliver of silver peeking up from below your collar and he didn't need to see the necklace fully to know that the characters on the bottom spelt his name.

you were gorgeous.

"i'm always happy to see you," it was unnatural for satoru's voice to be so quiet and gentle and your laugh created a symphony he'd long forgotten. it had been six excruciating years since he'd last been blessed with your joy.

the last time he had seen you you were twenty-two, a white cloth covering your body. a mission gone wrong. that was what shoko had told him and he just had to accept it, because what else could he do?

he was the strongest until it mattered.

"smile a little for me toru, i've missed you," you were bubbly but there was a tenderness in your tone. you were dead, and now so was he, it wasn't something someone could acknowledge lightly.

but he was here, with you, and so despite it all he did as you wished, the smile he reserved only for you. there was a brief moment, the two of you staring lovingly into the other's eyes as you adjusted to this new reality: one where curses didn't exist and gojo satoru was just gojo satoru.

"you waited for me?" satoru asked, his glasses dropping further down his nose as his blue eyes flicked to your lips - the lips that had once been so familiar to him.

"we all did," you nudged his shoulder lightly and pointed in the direction of a vending machine where haibara and geto were arguing whilst nanami watched in eternal disappointment.

satoru swallowed thickly, blinking quickly like that could stop the tears that wanted to spill down his cheeks.

the gentle touch of your hands against his face redirected his attention back to your pretty face. `'you're safe now, pretty boy. you've done all that you could for them, you can have peace now."

them. megumi, yuji, nobara, yuta, all of his students past and present. it hurt him to know that they were now facing kenjaku and sukuna without him, but death offered him a freedom he'd never had before. the peace you spoke of; not having to constantly be on alert for the next assignment or worry that he would be seeing his students in the morgue, it was a bliss he wanted more than he'd care to admit.

so he wouldn't admit it.

instead, he kissed you, his dead heart beating loudly in his ears as he remembered what it felt like to truly be alive.

a/n. no one talk to me ever again unless you’re saying sike this was all a big practical joke your hubby is alive

[lucabyte]

Taking pride in One's own appearance.

[cute-sucker]

note: this is a continuation of ex-husband rafe headcannons !! please send requests about this relationship! would love to write more about this <3

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

rafe cameron being your ex-husband made nothing easier and you hated every bit of it, specifically when you started to date again. it was like alarms went off in his head, as he started to show up more. you hadn't told anyone about dating anyone, but your therapist had recommended it.

she'd eased you into it, telling you maybe it was time to put yourself out there into the market. you had shook you head, and laughed at the suggestion, who would want you? a single mother with a obsessive ex-husband. but then suddenly you started to consider it. there was nothing wrong with it, so you accidentally brought it up to rafe.

you had been a bit tipsy, after downing a few fruity cocktail at rafe's work party. you still went to them even though the two of you weren't married. you tried not to notice the way rafe was still wearing the golden band around his neck, and the way his hand travelled to the low part of your back.

"hi," you whispered to him, leaning on him. he looked surprised, of course he was, anytime you saw him you were either scolding or glaring at him, and for you to be giving him your prettiest bright smile? that was something.

"hi sweets," he replied back softly adjusting your dress before dropping his gaze to your lips, and quickly back to your eyes. "what's on that pretty mind?"

you giggled, feeling happy as you looked up to him, "i think i'm going to start dating again. i think it will be good for me, what do you think rafe?" you asked him, before sipping your drink again.

you missed the way that rafe's eyes narrowed at your confession or the way his arms got tighter around your waist, hand going up to touch his nose. yet you felt a little uncomfortable, as you tried to wiggle away from his tight arms.

"yea? what gave you that idea?" he asked you quietly, yet his words felt razor sharp as he gritted his teeth, "who put that silly idea in your head?"

here you frowned, absentmindedly twirling your straw in your pink glass, "um," you started feeling your throat clogg up, "i don't know i thought-? why you think i'm not pretty enough? that i'm ugly now that i've had a baby."

"no, of course now sweets. but i just think it's a bad idea," he said biting his lip, tilting his head in that innocent way. it grated on you, and you rolled your eyes and you felt yourself sober up.

"fuck you cameron. fuck you," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes, before sniffling and you shoving your drink into his hands.

you tried to forget that. after all the both of you pretended it never happened, practically tip toing after one and other. he still came around once and while, trying to be sweet on you before you muttered something with an annoyed expression to get him off you.

and for a while you didn't see him, untill the day you were going on a date. you had a pretty dress on, dangly earings and a diamond necklace. all dolled up, you absentmindedly hummed under your breath feeling a bit nervous, only to hear the front door click open.

there he was. rafe cameron staring at you as you were making your breakfast. he quickly made away to put his arms around your waist, taking a deep breath of your perfume. "you smell good. all of that for me?" he teased, and you made an uncommitted hum.

"hey baby," he said to your baby girl with an easy smile, winking at your little girl who ran into his arms.

"aww you've grown, haven't ya?" rafe cooed to your little girl who jumped nodding furiously. she was holding some flowers in her hand, and had little pigtails. then she told him she had to show him how high she could jump, and he nodded raising his eyebrows in interest, but you didn't miss the way he scanned you and your party dress.

you wanted to give him a dirty look, but when he made your daughter happy like that there was nothing you could do but smile under your breath hoping that he wouldn't notice. you continued to prepare the pancakes, licking the chocolate batter and tossing in a few blueberries.

finally, he seemed to pluck up the courage to ask you. you felt your body tense up feeling anxious.

"where are you going?" he asked softly, eyes watching you move in the kitchen, "you look too pretty to just be dressed up." you closed your eyes, letting out a tired sigh. you could almost feel your throat clog up as you balled up your fists.

you had to tell him. couldn't lie, because rafe cameron would figure out anything he wanted. there was a reason he was a good business man it was because he continued to go for what he wanted leaving other things in the process.

"i have a date today," you said slowly, sprinkling powdered sugar on the warm pancakes, and before he could open his mouth you quickly started to speak again, "daisy, come in sweetie! breakfast is ready."

the look he gave you told you things were not done.

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚

"so who's the guy?" he asks you with a measured look, and you try to ignore the way he's gritting his jaw, and the way he's eying you in that predatory way.

you sighed, putting away your plates. daisy is gone playing with the new toy that daddy got for her. how convenient, you thought, it was almost as if what was going to happen. as if he had planned this all.

"just a random guy."

"lucky guy."

"alright, rafe, just say it!" you hissed out, spinning to look him the eye. "just say what you came for."

rafe closed his eyes, running a hand over his hair, "listen. if it was up to me you would live with me, we'd still be married, and there wouldn't be a random guy!"

"well good thing it's not up to you then huh?" you spat back, pointing an accusiatory finger to his chest, "you made a decision when we were married. you. not me. you were gone for nights and nights for work, it felt as if i was drowning and, you screwed this up."

"you think i don't know that?" rafe muttered back, throwing his hands in the air, "you think i don't wake up every day knowing i lost the best woman in my life."

you felt tears well up in your eyes, "no, you can't say that. you can't say something like that. not after everything."

"fine. have fun in with your date."

and then he's gone again leaving you with your shattered heart.

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚

rafe cameron being your ex-husband made nothing easier yet when you came back that night crying over the phone, telling him how he screwed up everything for you, he still picked up. he came over, nursing you back to health, his soothing warm hands on your back as you sobbed into his chest.

the two of you stay like that, a parallel of what could have been.

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