#koi writes again

[koilaniazul]

why not me? (pt 2)

pairing- matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: matt confronts y/n and it turns into a confession. but of course, these things don’t always have a happy ending.

warnings: swearing, angst, matt is a meanie once again

go check out part one!

after seeing matt’s date, you felt empty. the boy you had loved for years had just slipped from your fingers.

he didn’t even text. or call. hell, he could’ve sent a damn pigeon and you would’ve jumped for joy.

but no, he just ghosted you. that wasn’t like him.

the entire time you were in your house you stalked eiliana. her instagram, her tiktok, her threads account, her moms facebook account. you found out she has an onlyfans. (that she barely even posted on.)

*she’s not good for matt.* you thought to yourself

you hadn’t got up from your bed in DAYS. and the dishes + smell in your room was a dead giveaway.

on the 5th day you unltimately decided it was time for self care.

you got up from your bed and felt disgusting. gathering all the takeout boxes and bowls with living organisms inside them, you stuffed them in the dishwasher as well as taking out the trash.

pulling off your dirty and crumb filled sheets and putting them in the washer, disinfectant over EVERY surface in your house.

hopping into the hot shower and letting out a soft moan feeling the anxiety and overwhelming stress wash away.

standing in your towel you looked at your phone, an instagram notif popped up.

a message. from matt.

he wanted..to talk? he wanted to talk. matt wanted to talk. and he was coming over in 10 minutes.

reality suddenly hit ur brain as you hopped out of the bathroom and quickly got dressed into the most decent fit you could find.

ur hair was still wet and you barely had time to put makeup on.

matt was coming over and you looked like a wet abandoned dog.

putting on perfume you heard your doorbell ring.

oh shit.

halfway sprinting to the door you opened it as your heart stopped.

there stood matt who you hadn’t seen in weeks.

and he looked so good. even his outfit looked so fine.

you checked him out without shame and he noticed.

clearing his throat, the boy looked her in the eyes. “can..i come in?” he asked a bit unsure.

stepping out of your trance, you looked up at matt with doe eyes. “yeah..yeah sure”

matt carefully stepped inside and took his shoes off as you walked into your living room.

sitting on the couch you patted the spot next to you for him to sit down.

he sat down and avoided eye contact.

deciding to break the quietness, you spoke.

“so, why are you here? missed me that much?” you asked slightly laughing.

he didn’t return the laughter. matt side eyed you as he spoke, “i think you know why im here y/n”.

your smile faded. “i don’t know..”’. as much as you hated lying, you didn’t want to talk about what happened.

matt’s jaw clenched in anger. “ what do you mean?! you showed up at my date with my girlfriend!”.

girlfriend? there’s no way he was dating her already.

you stood up. “are you serious matt? you’ve only known her for like a week!”.

matt’s eyes widened as he stood up as well. “you can’t be talking right now. why are you so interested about how long i’ve known eiliana?! if you need to know we’d been talking for like months before!”

you scoffed. but as you tried to speak again he cut you off. “matt- no y/n shut the fuck up! you’re crazy. eiliana literally complained to me that she was scared of you because you kept stalking her profiles every.single.day.”

your mouth went dry. you forgot to hide your own profile.

“you’re supposed to be my best friend! not some psycho who’s literally joe goldburg.” matt says obviously stressing

“well i cant just be your friend matt!” you yelled. you didn’t think before you spoke. *shut up y/n* you thought to yourself

matt looked even more confused than he was before. “why not?”

“because i fucking love you!” you cried out.

dead silence.

you panted. suddenly out of breath.

you looked up at matt. his eyes darkened.

he.was.pissed.

“matt-“ you said trying to touch his arm

“don’t-don’t touch me!” he said taking two steps back from you

you jerked your hand back scared from his reaction.

“matt please listen to me!” you yelled, tears started to pool your eyes.

he looked up and scoffed. “no you don’t get to cry y/n. you don’t get to fucking cry after you stalked my girlfriend and showed up at our date.”

“i- i didnt even mean to!” you stuttered. “i only left my house because you stood me up!”

matt rolled his eyes. “so what? i went on a date with a girl. you’re being a sensitive bitch.”

“why are you being such a dick right now?! this isn’t the matt i know!”

“oh yeah because you know me so well. matt said with a hint of sarcasm. “you don’t know me at all!”

you started to sob now. “matt-matt please!”

he walked to your front door. “i can’t be here.”

you panicked and sprinted to the front door, blocking him from leaving.

“let’s talk! please.” you begged desperately.

he finished putting his shoes on. “out of my way.”

your breath hitched. “matt.”

he sighed. “we can’t do this y/n. this isn’t healthy.”

confusion reached your face. “what are you talking about..?”

“we can’t be friends anymore.”

your heart dropped. “h-huh?”

he rubbed his temples “that’s why i came over here anyway. eilana and i had talked about it before i drove over. she suggested it and i think it’s a good idea.”

tears rolled down your face. “you’re one of my best friends i cant lose you!”

“ my girlfriend is terrified of you, and you clearly need help, please move out of the way y/n”

you gave up.

moving out of the doorway, matt opened the door and stood in the door frame.

“you know, i wanted to introduce her to you. i thought you two would be good friends. guess not. see you around”

he shut the door as you heard his footsteps walk away.

you tried to cry but you couldn’t.

you were so tired.

only one thought circled your head.

why not me?

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

𝗄𝗈𝗂'𝗌 𝗒𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 ↷

BYEE WHY DOES THIS SUCK ASS

anyway.. i did not mean to make matt this mean. welp!

ALSO TELL ME WHY I SPELT EILANA THREE DIFFERENT WAYS

please tell me if you find any mistakes!

ok bai love ya ꨄ

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[akoichoi]

something I love about the new Zelda game and it being a direct sequel to BOTW-

Okay. So playing BOTW, Zelda and Link's relationship always felt professional, at least, to me. It was a princess and her knight. And by the time the calamity started, their relationship 'ended' right when it started.

We see this in most of the memories, with Zelda brushing off her appointed knight and Link, stoically performing his duties and not getting personal with the princess.

Link waking up after a hundred years and fighting Ganon felt like due diligence — redemption for failing as Zelda’s knight, a second chance to save humanity, and maybe a few side quests but that’s besides the point.

I like to imagine Link's story in BOTW as an opportunity to become human, experiencing a life away from knighthood. He's finally experiencing a life that he never got to have. Zelda mentions a bit of Link's past in one of the memories. Specifically how his fate was essentially locked-in from birth. Like Zelda’s role as the princess of Hyrule, he was destined to be the knight that would seal away the darkness.

I like to think that him waking up from the shrine of resurrection as a literal rebirth.

but TOTK. TOTK is where the real story starts. Zelda and Link have an established relationship that they've cultivated over the few years in between the two games. We see this in the intro of TOTK, where they don’t even have to exchange words or gestures to communicate. Their backs are no longer turned against one another and they’re working in true harmony.

We immediately pick up that, at this point, the two are able to work as one. So the quest to find Zelda has some real weight to it.

At this point, Link (and the player) knows Hyrule and its inhabitants. Everyone is talking about her disappearance, as if Link is running everywhere, from town to town, trying to find any clue about her location. There's no need to explore the surface after doing it once, but he is running around everywhere, desperately trying to find her.

And he is traversing the depths and climbing the skies; doing the absolute impossible just. to. get to where she is.

[gingerbreadmonsters]

[melting into goo]

[koipalm]

YOU PLAY GENSHIN? please more hot takes and more hater opinions please i am parched for those

everybody loves the haterisms until i say something that no one likes .. no but really i havent played the game lol unfortunately whenever i like a game or draw stuff for it theres a 98% chance i havent played the game.. and even if i have its really up in the air as to how much ive actually completed ahhhh i wish gaming didnt make me feel so guilty about how i spend my time.. anyway

since you were so so sweet i will give you this i didnt like scaramouche/wanderer or more specifically i just didnt really care for what they did with his storyline. its genuinely not even a question of story writing i just didnt care for it HAHA i thought it was really fun when he showed up at first and i was really excited for all the tricks his character was gonna pull out and then his backstory was like "dont you feel sad for this little guy. cmon hes just a little cat" and i just was.... yeah i mean. that sure is some kind of animal. happy for him or sorry that happened

anything else ummmm im sure theres like a dozen more things the nice thing about being outside the big fan space is being a hater in peace so i didnt get irritated seeing weird takes all day... what else. oh i think the neuvillette/wriothesley ship was also just like the al haitham and kaveh thing... i think a lot of people just see ambiguous white boys and bluescreen lol they just did not interest me... i will say that i did like some of neuvillettes writing and i do think i could have liked wriothesley on his own if his character had been tweaked a bit but alas... i am here. also albedo really doesnt interest me that much despite all the lore surrounding him which is funny because i usually love lore and also because a few of my old tiktoks with him and kaeya were pretty well liked

[twistedappletree]

Queue will resume at 9pm, this is a threat

[apopticghoul]

making Dew be a Good Boy for Mountain while he gets his bandages changed is proving difficult.

[mechazushi]

Kitagawa's Soulmate Customs Order.

Soulmate Customs is a channel on Youtube. They specialize in spicy/sweet/sad custom embroidery clothing for the loved ones in your life. This is a short story about Marin Kitagawa getting a reason for an order, giving it to Gojo, and the consequence of getting him a spicy sweatshirt. #not sponsored, just really like what they do. also #i am single and channeling my lonelyness through fanfiction.

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It was a cold and windy day in Japan where Kitagawa was at. It was January so she shouldn't have been too surprised, but the biting chill in the air felt a little over-dramatic for the season. Part of her knew she would've come to regret the decision to wear a pencil skirt and should have compensated for the weather with more than thick, fur lined leggings, but she wanted to look cuter than usual today. She was on her way to meet her boyfriend Gojo for a very important coffee date. It was important because they were finalizing the paperwork outlining Gojo's moving details into Kitagawa's apartment.

After working everything out and being the one to finally admit she liked him, it had been a few years and some life altering changes had gone down in this seemingly brief period of time. Kitagawa had gotten approval and started working as an official cosplayer for Sparkle Productions. Working with them meant she got a consistent income at a much higher rating. Meaning she could afford her own apartment in an inner-city location. It was close to work, but it inadvertently made it farther away from Gojo's home. It made her feel like she couldn't see him as often as she wanted. Speaking of which, Gojo's gone off to college.

He's still striving to become a Hina doll maker, but him and his grandpa thought it wouldn't hurt if he had some knowledge running a business. He was also partnered with Sparkle Productions as well, seeing as it was made very clear that him and his skills were inseparable from Kitagawa. Between the commissions he's been getting paid with from the production company and commissions from doll making, he's raking a bit of money as well. He's been living with his grandpa since the beginning of their relationship however, and some people( no stories will be told, but the grandfather has been the biggest advocate for this) felt it was time for that to change. Gojo has just ended his most recent semester, so now the time for this was about as best as it was going to get.

Tightening her pink fleece and strawberry decorated cardigan against a sudden blast of chilling wind, it made her wonder if she was going to die of freezer burn before she reached the coffee shop. The only thing keeping her warm in her mind was the possible chance she could convince Gojo to let her crawl into his lap in the public cafe. She knew he would object if she said it outright, but probably wouldn't notice if she came at the plan slowly. Start off with complaints about the weather while giving a longer than necessary hug, lather him in compliments about how warm he is, snuggle up as close as she could get away with and just... slowly invade his innermost personal space an inch at a time. She could see it working.

She turned the corner and charged in the direction of the glass doors to the building, before stopping herself as she caught a glimpse of her boyfriend sitting against the wall in side-view of the long expanse of glass acting as the front of the building. Gojo played on his phone as he was cross-legged and reclined languidly in the bench seats that lined the left wall. The low coffee tables set in front of them offered a full view of the daring outfit that he walked out with. Black from the shoes up, he wore leather loafers, corduroy pants, and a tight turtleneck. The main focus of the outfit came from the quilted biker-style jacket made out of boldly patterned and oddly shaped patches of red, grey in varying shades, and white fabric.

She recognized the fabric as scraps coming from a cosplay she did last year. The long and wide, tri-tiered, ruffled mermaid skirt it had was made out of geometric chunks that had to be individually sewn together, meaning there were a lot of off cuts left and were considered unusable. Despondent and irritated at the waste it created, Gojo was left puzzled as to what to do with the scraps, not wanting to toss it all out. Marin had sent as many pictures as she could, hoping it would inspire him to try his hand at street wear. While some of it ended up getting patched together as a Hina doll's outfit, she was told that the rest of it did end up as a couple personal projects, ones that she wasn't given any hints as to what they were.

She knew he was still uncomfortable with non-traditional clothes, but had been making personal strides in his own time. It was still a shock nonetheless, to see him not only in something that wasn't his usual samue, but something that he'd created. She knew it had taken a lot of willpower from him to commit to walking out of the house in something that absolutely would have sent his anxiety straight through the roof three years prior. Sitting there in the warm shop lighting made him come across as more of a model than she did most days. Seeing him without an ounce of fear in his dashing appearance tugged on her heartstrings and filled her body with pride.

Snugging the manila file full of paperwork up into her armpit, she reached up and tightened her high ponytail up even tighter, straightened her curled side bangs, and pulled down on the hems of her outfit. Checking her outfit in the mirror finish, she giggled a little once she noticed she was wearing a turtleneck as well under the cardigan. While it was white, she couldn't help but smile at how the two of them were going to look as they sat there. Lounging against each other, drinking hot drinks and sitting the warm cafe, soaking up each other's body heat- God she needed to get out of the cold.

As she entered the shop, Gojo looked up from his phone and immediately brightened. He stood up as Kitagawa got closer and pulled her into a friendly hug. Gojo tried to let go, but she clung onto him a little longer and hummed as the warmth began to replace the chill she developed walking outside.

"Blisteringly cold out there, isn't it?" Gojo questioned as he chuckled, realizing why Kitagawa was holding on so tight.

"You wouldn't mind if I just weaseled my way into your new jacket, right? I feel like my bones are shivering." Her eyes were closed as she tested her chin on his chest.

"So you noticed it, huh?" Gojo said as he tightened his arms again and swayed her lightly from side to side.

She opened her eyes as she looked up and saw that something was different about him. Feeling transfixed by his gaze, she noticed that his eyes seemed more intense than usual even though she could see the soft love he had for her in the plains of his face. Drawing attention to the shape of his eyes, she could see that they were rimmed in a thin, but noticeable line of smoky black. It helped emphasize the dark pools that were his ebony irises and strengthened the emotions in his gaze.

"You- you look different." Marin uttered out sweetly, not wanting to break eye contact.

"Ah. It's... noticeable, isn't it?" Gojo turned his head away in embarrassment

"N-no! It's good! I've just... never seen you in guyliner before." Kitagawa broke from the hug and the two of them sat down. She passively clocked the half finished mug of milky tea on the table before turning back to Gojo.

"Yeah, I was leaving an Economics lecture and a girl next to me retouched up her makeup with something I haven't seen before. I might have interrogated her over it, the poor thing." Gojo said as he looked somewhat ashamed, "Anyway, I bought it because it's never a bad idea to have more options for makeup with you. Before I left I had noticed that my eye bags were a little more obvious than usual and you had left your makeup bag in my dorm, so I might have helped myself to the concealer. Since I was already applying makeup I thought it would be a good idea to try it on myself and make sure I know what I'm doing. You know?"

"You've gotten really good with the color matching. I couldn't tell you had any on!" Kitagawa said as she tilted her boyfriend's head back and forth, "What did you use for the eyeliner?"

"It was this." he said as he pulled up a picture of the product listing and showed her an image of a surma stick.

"That's... Are we sure that's not a torture device?" Kitagawa said as she visibly paled.

"It does look like one, doesn't it?" Gojo giggled, "When I asked about it, she gave me some tips, but it still took me a few tries to get it to look straight. It's probably for the best that we keep the makeup on you though."

"Why? You look amazing!" Marin said, being very adamant in hopes it encourages him to be just as bold in the future.

"Maybe." Gojo said simply as he put his phone back in his pocket.

"Did something happen? I really think you look good." Kitagawa said as she inched closer, removing any space she could between their laps.

"it's just... I think I might've scared the girl at the front counter. She looked nervous before I started talking to her and I think she was shaking when I left." Gojo said as he pinched his lips and looked downcast.

"I sincerely doubt that was the reason." Kitagawa said as she patted his thigh. She tested her head against his shoulder and looked him in the eyes while smiling. He returned her smile, but it didn't seem as bright as it could be.

"Speaking of the counter, I should go order myself a drink. I still feel frozen on the inside." she said, already regretting having to leave his very warm side.

"I know it looks like I'm almost finished with mine, but I ordered yours a few minutes after you texted me saying you were leaving your place." Gojo said as his hand drifted to her wrist, preventing her from leaving.

"Oh, really? What did you get?" she asked.

"This place is serving the strawberry hot chocolate you saw on the TV. That sound okay?" Gojo questioned.

'OMG, You are amazing!" Kitagawa said as she threw herself into his arms.

An attempt was made to see if she could wiggle her way onto more of his lap, but she quickly slid off as she missed the landing. Almost as if summoned by their conversation, a nondescript looking waitress walked over to them with a tray carrying two drinks.

"A hot chocolate covered strawberry and a refill of the chocolate truffle chai." the rather petite looking woman said as she stuck around to confirm the order.

"Oh, I didn't order the refill." Gojo said, trying to be polite.

'It's okay. It's on the house." the waitress said as she winked before nervously scurrying away.

"Huh. That's never happened before. I think that was also the lady I talked to the first time as well." Gojo said as he watched her tip-toe back to the counter, puzzled. Immediately feeling skeptical of the waitress's intentions, Kitagawa began to inspect the outside of the fresh mug of tea that was placed on the table. Looking closer at the decorative napkin, she found that someone from behind the counter, probably that waitress, had scribbled down their number with the words 'Call Me' next to it.

"I take it you've never had a girl give you their number on a coffee napkin before either?" Kitagawa said as she held up the evidence to Gojo.

He was taking a sip from the first mug as he turned to look at it and proceeded to choke a little when he saw what was written. As Gojo was trying to recover from the lukewarm liquid almost invading his lungs, Kitagawa looked at the offending napkin a little harder. While she recognized that it happened through no fault of his own, she still felt mildly threatened and had a desire to make the waitress rethink approaching a taken man. Putting the number into her phone, she waited until Gojo had fully recovered from his coughing fit and asked him to lean into the camera's frame. As he adjusted his face, Kitagawa turned and planted her lips in a solid strike against his mouth. When she could tell he had relaxed into the sudden bout of affection, she took the photo and uploaded it to her text messages.

"Not that I mind getting surprised like that, but what was that for." Gojo said dreamily, his eyes only focused on the now smudged pink lip gloss she was currently sporting.

"Just sending a message. Literally." Marin giggled as she sent the photo to the unknown number with the caption saying 'He's taken." under it.

"Kitagawa... Isn't that a but much?" Gojo replied worriedly once he saw that the picture had been sent. No less than a minute had passed before everyone had heard a loud cry of disappointment echo through the cafe.

"Nope!" Marin giggled.

It was later in the evening now, hours after the date had ended and Gojo had walked her home. She was in bed relishing in the afterglow of a warm shower and wrapped in her fluffiest pair of pajamas. She knew it was late, but couldn't help herself as she scrolled down the infinite chain of short videos in an attempt to stop thinking about what had happened at the cafe earlier. She knew her Gojo was handsome and she felt it was an appropriate reaction to seeing him spending a little more effort on his appearance. Mainly because she could see herself pulling the same stunt if she hadn't known him before that day. It didn't change the fact that it had happened.

They had known each other before they started dating, but their relationship still felt a little young. She had no doubt that she could trust him to stop other people's advances, but Marin couldn't help but want to do something that would stop that all together, or at the very least make people think twice about it. It was impossible to spend all her waking hours by his side, not to mention that it would be an obsessive and quite toxic move on her part. She already felt that Gojo was the one for her, but since she made the first move she wanted to give him the chance to be brave and propose. Kitagawa had already accepted that it was going to be a while longer before that was going to happen anyway. A quiet, unhinged part of her said "Get a dog collar." but that was quickly disregarded as soon as it was brought up.

Deciding on one last attempt to clear her mind of the turmoil, she made the decision to scroll for three more minutes and then put the phone down. She had noticed that her For You page had begun to fill with happy couples recording their happy moments together. She would always joke with the people in the comments, all of them relating to each other about how single and alone the couple on screen made them feel. Now she just smiled and laughed imperceptibly to herself in the dark, feeling better about her situation because now... now she could relate to the happy couples. The ads felt like they were picking up on this too. It kept sending her listings for couple's gifts, with some being actually cute and some she just couldn't find a reason why there had to be a couple's variation.

Getting close to the end of her self imposed time limit, she almost scrolled past one that seemed to be an American ad, but upon closer inspection it didn't have the usual banners or the click bait links bordering the edges of her screen. What really caught her attention was the red faced and sweating emojis that took the place as the video's title. Kitagawa considered herself to be a simple girl. Hot emojis probably meant that the video's contents were going to be something she might be interested in. Yeah, it was a cliche tactic, but it is how she found some of her most recent eroge games and manga. Letting the video play out, she saw a pretty red-headed woman looking at the camera, her face looking shocked by what she found. Cue the camera angle panning over to a gold engraved key-chain with an outline of a woman in lingerie with the back of it saying "Cum home safe <3"

Kitagawa let the clip play over again, just to be sure that is what she actually saw. After confirming that, she immediately clicked on the clip's link to the redheaded woman's main page. Disregarding the self imposed time limit for the sake of research, she looked at videos after videos on this woman's page. She got the clear impression that this woman had a custom engraving and embroidery shop that didn't shy away from its more... risque submissions. Sure there were some fluffy, more sentimental pieces and a few sad memorial works, but the ones that had the half naked women on them clearly got more views (Go figure). To be fair, there were one or two male submissions. Kitagawa got a little chuckle at the thought of putting a shirtless Gojo on an embroidered hoodie for herself, but that would be next to impossible as even in the middle of summer she wouldn't find him just casually shirtless.

As she scrolled down one more, she found out that they did jewelry as well. Different types of necklaces as well as bracelets. That got Kitagawa thinking. Bracelets weren't as obvious as a ring could be, but an engraved bracelet could be something she could get away with. Gojo didn't seem like the kind of guy to be down for wearing a necklace, hell it took him four years to try and wear something that wasn't a samue. But she could probably convince him to wear something as small and innocuous as a wrist band. Getting him a sexy sweatshirt with her almost-bare ass plastered on the front of it should have been an immediate no as an option, but she had to admit it was right up her ally.

Kitagawa left her phone on the clip's main page and turned it off for the night. She wanted to take a closer look at what was available in the morning as she wanted to put some real thought and effort into what she wanted to get. She had already decided to buy something from them anyway, seeing at how cute and personalized each item could get. She knew she couldn't spend forever making a decision however, with Gojo slated to move into the apartment in less than two weeks. She was going to pay through the nose for express shipping, but it would be worth it.

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Two weeks had passed and it was finally Moving-In Day for Gojo. He was a minimalist at heart, but due to taking up cosplay as well as keeping up with Hina Doll creation, there was quite a bit of equipment to lug over. Thankfully the heaviest thing he owned was a sewing machine. Kitagawa would never admit this willingly, but she bought an apartment with a second bedroom with the intention that Gojo would move in eventually and take over that space and turn it into his hobby room and office. Four hours later, all furniture was rearranged and the boxes were flattened and put outside the door. It was a bit early for lunch yet, so Gojo decided to collapse in the main room and stretch out in the new environment. He landed on the floor with a comically long and low groan.

"Enjoying yourself down there?" Kitagawa said as she giggled at him, watching from her place on the low couch parallel to him.

"I'm going to get used to seeing this view, aren't I ?" Gojo responded after a moment, the realization of moving in settling into his mind and body frame. Kitagawa crawled on her hands and knees over to where he laid and gave him some deep and unhurried kisses on his lips. An activity Gojo reciprocated gladly in a similar fashion.

"You're gonna get used to the view of my bedroom ceiling first, I bet." Kitagawa whispered salaciously as she pulled away and moved her head to his chest. Gojo rolled his eyes hearing that and shifted his arm to lay across her waist.

"If someone had told me that I'd not only be in love and dating the most beautiful and extroverted girl in my class, but also living with her in a few years... I'd think it would have given me a heart attack." Gojo said and he sighed deeply.

"I think you would have the heart attack from finding out time travel exists." Kitagawa responded.

"Why time travel? Could have met a fortune teller." Gojo playfully interrogated.

"You're too skeptical to believe a fortune teller." Kitagawa offered simply as she moved a hand to the back of his head, longingly gazing at his face.

"That is true. Guess it would have to be a time traveler." Gojo chuckled out tiredly. His eyes were closed, but he could feel Kitagawa play with his short tufts of hair. Her hand brushing in a relaxed and loving manner, acting as an anchor to this moment.

"Oh! Almost forgot." Kitagawa said as she clumsily got to her feet as quickly as possible. Gojo watched over the kitchen counter as she got a footstool and used it to gain access to the top of the fridge. She pulled down an already opened cardboard box and walked around the counter with it.

"I know you're just moving in and all. buuuut I decided to get you a few housewarming gifts." She said as she sat down and crossed her legs, placing the box on top of her lap. Gojo propped himself up onto his elbows as she got herself prepared to show him the surprise.

"Do you want the Sweet gift or the Spicy gift first?" Kitagawa bit her lip as she offered and drummed her acrylic nails on the top of the box. Gojo groaned loudly in mock agony at hearing that one of the gifts he would be receiving was described as "Spicy".

"You know what, humor me. The Spicy one first." Gojo said, already preparing himself for the gift by throwing all expectations out the window. Hopefully mentally preparing himself this way meant that Gojo wouldn't be sent into a heart attack that he seemed to be prone to getting around her. Kitagawa giggled maliciously as she opened the box and pulled out a vacuumed sealed, plush feeling, rounded, and black object. After she handed it over, he gently pulled away the plastic wrapping. He could already see the outline of what could be a leg dressed in fishnet stockings.

"Oh, this already doesn't bode well- what is this?" Gojo exclaimed as he unfolded the black hoodie.

The smile on his face was unmistakable, but he was still very shocked at what he was seeing. Taking up as much space as it could on the front of the soft hoodie, was a detailed white outline of what he assumed was his girlfriend dressed in a very complicated looking lingerie outfit with her hair up in a bun. She wore a high cut pair of baby blue underwear paired with a similar colored bra that left little to the imagination with matching strips of fabric crossing her midsection. There was a garter belt harness holding up some white fishnet stockings and a bunny ear headband completed the look. She was posed sitting on her thighs with her knees spread and holding her phone off to the side so as to not obstruct any part of the outfit. Curiously though, her head was turned and looking behind her. The phrase "Dress me up" Was plastered in bold lettering at the top of the framed image.

"Wait till you see the back of it." Marin tented her fingers and continued to laugh manically.

"God, there's a back to this?" Gojo said astonishedly. He quickly turned it around and moved the hood out of the way before he held it up again.

It was the same pose, but seen from the back. The high cut underwear had a large white pompom stuck to it to represent a bunny's tail and he could see why her head was turned away in the first picture. While it didn't show the rest of her face's features, it showed her tongue sticking out. If one looked closely, they could see the smallest dot of silver on the tongue that was supposed to represent the piercing that she had. Under the photo this time was the phrase "I'm your mannequin.".

"You... you know I can't wear this outside, right?" Gojo stuttered, taking in the magnitude of the gift he was presented with.

'Come on, I know you better than that! Wasn't expecting you to!" Kitagawa continued to giggle though her fingers at her boyfriend's embarrassed appearance.

"Th-then why...?" Gojo tried to ask while processing the gift in front of him.

"You've been in the guest room, right? That room can get super cold in the winter. I think it's got a weird draft problem." Kitagawa answered as she sucked on her lips and rested her elbows on the edges of the box .

"I figured we would have gotten a heater?" Gojo questioned.

"Yeah, I think the money for that is gonna go to getting a window air con for the bedroom. You know by now that I'm a cuddler and you like the room arctic when you sleep, sooo..." Kitagawa left the sentence to hang as Gojo nodded in agreement.

"I'd hate to get paint on it if I'm going to be working in this." He said as his eyes landed back onto the hoodie.

"So what! Get some paint on it!", She said as she scooted over to sit behind his back, "You know what? I think you should get a fat dollop of white paint on it. Right about there, don'tcha think?" Kitagawa moved her finger over his shoulder and pointed to her right ass cheek.

"K-Kitagawa!" Gojo exclaimed in embarrassment once he remembered why she would say such a thing.

"What? It's what happened last time I wore that!" She laughed as her arms tightened around Gojo's neck playfully, making sure he didn't run away from the conversation. He could feel himself melting at the playful goading.

"I'm still surprised you would get me a hoodie in the first place. Not that I don't appreciate the gesture." He said as he tapped on her arms in hopes she'd give him back some breathing room.

"Well... to be honest... This might be playing a part in a master plan." Kitagawa said mysteriously as she side-eyed him.

"A-and what plan would that be?" Gojo replied, his tone already dripping in fear.

"To steal... YOUR SHIRTS!" Kitagawa stealthily pulled on the strings that held his samue together and swiped his top off his body with surprising ease. Before he could counter the attack, she stood up and had already put her arms into it. She grabbed the sides of the top and wrapped it as tight as possible around her. As he stood up to look at her, Kitagawa took a handful of the top's fabric and brought it up to her nose. He continued to watch in amazement as she took the heartiest snort and sighed in satisfaction.

"Ahhhh. Been wanting to do that for years." She continued to look content even as she heard Gojo try to hold back a fit of laughter.

When he finished, he looked at her like he saw what love really looked like for the first time. She looked at him like she always had. With the deepest, most complete understanding of what happiness really was. Gojo picked up the hoodie from the floor and shuffled it over his head. After tugging it into place, he spread his arms out for a hug. Kitagawa gladly fell into them, just like they fell into each other's heart years ago. They held each other in place in the middle of the room for a moment, savoring the other's presence and heat in the room.

Love never looked so damn good.

"Didn't you say there was a second gift?" Gojo muttered into the top of Kitagawa's head after a long beat of time. She shook her head in his chest and slowly pried herself from his embrace. She walked back over to the box and pulled out two bracelets.

"I know the hoodie is never leaving the apartment, but I wouldn't mind if you did start wearing a little something for me. If it's not too much, 'cause I know you're not really a jewelry person." She handed over a metal bracelet plated in rose gold and held onto the silver one. On the top of the rose gold one was an emoji of a needle and a spool of thread, while the silver one had a bow and hands making a heart.

"There's a little something on the inside too." Kitagawa said looking sheepish. Flipping them over, Gojo could see that there was a line of kanji etched on the inside.

"She's my doll." in the rose gold bracelet

"He's my doll maker" was in the silver one.

"Kitagawa..." Gojo sighed affectionately.

"Is... is it okay?" she slid the silver one on before she asked nervously. Gojo sliped the rose gold one on and gently took her by the hands before he responded.

"It's perfect." Gojo whispered as he leaned in for a kiss, one that Kitagawa was happy to return back. They gently played with each other's lips for a moment before Gojo broke it off to ask a question.

"Surprised you didn't get the rose gold one for yourself. I figured that color would be more up your alley."

"I didn't because of what you said right there." Kitagawa smiled. Gojo only tilted his head in bewilderment.

"You saw the color and thought of me. It's why I chose mine to be silver." She purred. Gojo chuffed at hearing that, understanding how it made sense. Kitagawa went to lean in to continue the kiss, but was stopped when Gojo asked another question.

"This is to get me used to the idea of wearing a wedding band, isn't it?" He said with a knowing smirk on his face.

"Wha-why would y-you say th-that?" Kitagawa sputtered as her eyes darted nervously, not thinking that her line of thought would be discovered and revealed so soon. He just chuckled quietly as he placed the adorned hand on her face. He held it still as he leaned down for a silencing kiss.

"I will. At some point." he offered simply when he pulled away again, thumb brushing her rosy cheeks.

"That's all I ask for." Kitagawa grinned.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

It was another month later and Kitagawa had a short workday planned out for her. There were plans to head home early because Gojo also had a short day ahead of him. Well, short enough. He had more classes after five, but he had a window of time around three. Their schedules had become fairly out of wack between the classes and the photo shoots, so they wanted to make the most of this opportunity. Which really just summed up to Gojo coming home and making dinner with an hour of watching shows or gaming before he had to leave again. As Kitagawa was wrapping up getting her normal outfit on, she received a text from Gojo.

Hubby <3<3<3] I'm out of class right now. I need to stop by the store before I head home however because I don't think we have enough dumpling wrappers for gyoza. Could you do me a favor when you get home and chop the vegetables that we have and defrost the meat?

She sent back a sticker of a rabbit saying okay and left the studio. Now back inside their apartment, she made a beeline for the bathroom and dug out a previously worn samue top and replaced the shirt she was wearing with it. She made it back to the kitchen and took the meat out of the freezer to let it thaw on the counter. After she gathered up the vegetables, she prepped them and started cutting, getting lost in the rhythm of the work. Nearing the end of the green onion she was chopping, she heard the door open.

Gojo? You're back already?" She cleaned her hands and went to see him at the door. As she turned the corner, she was stopped in her tracks at noticing a familiar black hoodie that he was wearing.

"Notice something Kitagawa?" Gojo said in a clearly playful and passive aggressive tone. He removed the strap connected to his duffle bag and let it drop unceremoniously to the floor.

"Uhhh... maybe?' she replied, her voice ticking upward several notches.

"You want to know how my day went?" Gojo continued, still in the same tone of voice, "My day was interesting, to say the least. I found out early this morning, that every time my girlfriend comes over to my dorm, she's somehow been maliciously stealing my samue tops and replacing them with the shirt she was wearing at the time." He said as he passed her and rounded the corner with some grocery bags to shove them onto the counter.

"Someone also thought it would be funny to put the hoodie that was never supposed to leave the apartment into my bag of clothes for the week. Which, if you can't tell where this is going, means that I had no shirts with my only option of tops for today being either a woman's top that is mostly likely too small for me or the sexy hoodie that was never supposed to see the light of day." He rapidly stalked over to her and grabbed at her waist before she could make her getaway.

"I had people giggling at me the entire day at college! I got yelled at by old ladies! Three different old ladies yelled at me and called me a prude!" Gojo began a vicious tickle attack on his girlfriend as punishment for the treatment he had been receiving all day. Kitagawa was rendered useless and disarmed as she helplessly fought a losing battle against his experienced hands.

"I had some guy on the train ask me who the anime character on my hoodie was and where I bought it! I had to tell him it was my girlfriend and when I did, he scoffed and said 'Yeah right. Guys like us don't get girlfriends.' It took me showing him my home screen and the bracelet for it to get through his dense head!" The attack never let up as he continued to berate her with his precise, wriggling fingers. Kitagawa started to feel lightheaded as she had a hard time taking in oxygen.

"Di-didn't I l-leave one o-of my m-en's si-sized sh-irts ov-over there?" She found it difficult to speak as she was still being tickled. Miraculously, Gojo stopped as he processed what Kitagawa was trying to say. Letting her have a moment to breathe again, he walked over to the duffle bag left at the door and rummaged around looking for a sign of what she had said.

"Aaaugh, I'm an idiot." Gojo groaned as he pulled out a shirt he recognized as having a men's design on it. Leaning for support against a corner of the wall, Kitagawa slowly gained the ability to speak again.

"Almost makes me wonder if you wanted to wear it out in public." She joked dangerously as she gasped. Gojo turned and started daggers through her soul.

"Alright, that is it." He snarled. He ran back to her and lifted her up into a princess carry. Using one hand, he pulled back the hem of the samue she stole that hadn't gone unnoticed by Gojo, and began to blow massive raspberries into her stomach. Sending her into another fit of laughter, she didn't notice until it was too late when he dropped her onto an open space on the counter. Moving to stand in between her legs, he continued his assault of raspberries while Kitagawa shrieked and squirmed while trying to knee him in the ribs. Another moment of relentless tickling passed and Gojo could feel the slapping against his shoulders start to make their intention clear. He lifted his head up to see Kitagawa's face before him.

Flushed red as a bright cherry with unfocused eyes and gasping for air, it was a familiar sight to him. He could feel himself flush a little in response, but decided to keep the angry act up.

"Well? Do you feel like apologizing?" Gojo smirked as he loomed above Kitagawa.

"If I say yes, will you let me breathe?" She gasped out tiredly.

"Only if you really mean it." He muttered into her belly, planting little suckling kisses while it twitched. Kitagawa giggled as her hands drifted to his hair.

"There might be a problem then." She moaned lightly as she felt the attention her midsection was getting, wishing that type of care was placed in other areas on her.

"Guess I'll just have to find other ways of making you pay, now won't I?" A small groan was muffled as he felt the heat of her exertion radiate through her skin.

It was still very cold outside and she felt oh so warm now. A hand came up and tugged on the tie holding the panels of the top together and used his hands to bunch up the sides of it to pull the panels away from each other. Opening up the stolen shirt, he could see that there was only a plain white bra under it. Using the grip on the shirt, he slid her down the counter's edge and used the opportunity to kiss a path up her stomach. Kitagawa moaned louder as she felt Gojo lick a strip in between her breasts, feeling the tip dig under the border of the fabric.

"I thought you were going to make dinner, Gojo?" Kitagawa goaded as her hands betrayed her thoughts, carding and tugging pleasantly on his short locks of hair.

"Dinner? I've got a juicy rabbit roast right here." His head continued up to her shoulder where he bit and pulled on the strap of her bra, letting it snap back on her skin.

"And use my first name." Wakana growled hotly into the spot where the strap landed. Marin rolled her body into the attention, not feeling guilty in the slightest for what she had done.

[mclqren]

THE LECLERC CHRONICLES ★ F1 GRID

PAIRING ✦ charles leclerc x fem!younger sister!reader ; f1 grid x fem!leclerc!reader

SUMMARY ✦ you're the younger sister of charles leclerc, and your relationship with the rest of the f1 grid has the internet going crazy [ SMAU ]

WARNINGS ✦ cursing, use of the word 'slut'

NOTES ✦ let's pretend the dog i used looks relatively like leo!! reader is 22 years old, and the youngest leclerc sibling. the fc i've used is lexi jayde, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are closed. i acc love writing for this series no joke.

SERIES ✦ the leclerc chronicles masterlist ; previous part ; next part

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 745,109 others

tagged alexandrasaintmleux

yourusername to summarise: these sunglasses were the best investment, i am THE GOAT at bowling, and im planning on stealing alex from my brother. 😘

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user1 Y/NNN MY FAV LECLERC

user2 SO REALLL

user3 how are you not jet lagged rn

yourusername believe me i am (can't wait for japan though!)

user4 so like does she work orrrr

user5 she's an influencer babe?

charles_leclerc that's my girlfriend??

yourusername not anymoreee!!

alexandrasaintmleux im sorry baby, i didnt want you to find out this way 😔

charles_leclerc this isn't fair ☹️☹️

yourusername boo hoo life's not fair mate get over it

landonorris pretty sure i beat you at bowling though???

oscarpiastri so did i??

yourusername listen yeah the australian bowling lanes are a bit wonky so that's why i lost. otherwise i would've owned BOTH OF YOU

lilyzneimer i beat y/n too but i love her too much to be rude to her 🩷

yourusername this is why ur my favorite lily, instead of ur rat of a boyfriend & his teammate

landonorris im sorry?

yourusername BOO MCLAREN 👎👎 FORZA FERRARI ❤️❤️

charles_leclerc you are awful at bowling y/n but FORZA FERRARI ❤️

maxverstappen1 the one thing you could probably beat me at ☹️

yourusername get used to it verstappen 😘 LECLERC 🔛🔝

maxverstappen1 yeah but who's won 3 f1 championships 🤔

yourusername watch yeah put me in a racecar and you're officially done mr verstappen ‼️

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 801,333 others

yourusername ticked another city off the bucket list today! 愛してるよ東京 🩷 ( i love you tokyo )

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user6 Y/N IN JAPAN WOOHOOO

user7 seeing y/n in japan makes me so happy idk

user8 she's living her best life fr!!

charles_leclerc the second photo was taken moments before disaster 😘

georgerussell63 WHAT HAPPENED

yourusername charles marc hervé perceval leclerc don't you dare.

charles_leclerc she dropped her sandwich in the koi pond and they all ate it 🤷‍♂️

yourusername WHY ARE YOU EXPOSING ME CHARLES. IT WAS EMBARRASSING ENOUGH. FUCK YOU.

georgerussell63 that's not THAT bad y/n but also your name is so long charles??

charles_leclerc tell me about it ☹️

yukitsunoda loved getting sushi with you y/n!!

yourusername YUKIII WE NEED TO DO IT AGAIN i swear you know all the best spots

landonorris sushi 🤮

yourusername mr norris you have the palate of a five year old boy now shut up before i remove your ipad privileges ❤️

logansargeant third pic goes harddd wonder who took it 😍

yourusername thanks logie much appreciated babes 💋💋

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, and 856,210 others

tagged charles_leclerc, pierregasly

yourusername last slide is very much true, coming from a very credible source (me). loved being in japan this week, すぐに戻ってきます ❤️ ( i'll be back soon )

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user9 sometimes i forget that y/n is monegasque as well

user10 NO REAL

user11 THE RED THEMEEE LOVE!!

user12 the last slide HELPPP

user13 everyone say THANK YOU Y/N for the charles crumbs

user14 THANK YOU Y/N WE LOVE AND APPRECIATE YOU MORE THAN YOU KNOW 💋

charles_leclerc the last slide y/n 🤣

yourusername @/pierregasly my favorite bromance 👊

pierregasly thanks for the love y/n 🤣❤️

landonorris photo credits? 📷☹️

yourusername not needed after the little stint you pulled today ☝️

oscarpiastri lets normalise giving context 😊😊😊

yourusername someone (naming no names) CHEATED at uno.

landonorris I DIDNT KNOW YOU COULDNT KEEP CARDS FOR SAFEKEEPING

yourusername IN WHAT GAME CAN YOU KEEP CARDS FOR SAFEKEEPING??

oscarpiastri yeah...the no photo creds was deserved

yourusername

( caption one: ferrari girls on film 🏎️ + tags | caption two: to all the haters saying i can't bowl, guess who just fucking won!! @/charles_leclerc you are a WEAK opponent 👎 )

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 799,012 others

tagged charles_leclerc, lec

yourusername i hereby declare that this ice cream brand is officially y/n certified (coming from ice cream's no.1 fan). now go support my brother or wtv 🍦😜

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user15 AWWW Y/N SUPPORTING CHARLES

user16 my fav siblings ever 🫶🫶

user17 THE ICE CREAM LOOKS SO NICE CANT WAITT TO BUY

charles_leclerc thanks for the free advertisement y/n 😊😊

yourusername you're welcome cha!! (i'll act like you didn't ask me to do this 😊)

charles_leclerc shhh y/n that's meant to be a secret!

yourusername whoops?? 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

landonorris if you advertise my quadrant merch in the future i'll give you a papaya paddock pass? 👐👐

yourusername unfortunately y/n leclerc's services extend to that of her immediate family only. if you have any issues with the above, don't message me about them!

landonorris why are you speaking like someone else y/n

yourusername so i sound more fancy

alexandrasaintmleux something delicious is in this post and it's not the ice cream 🤤

yourusername MY WIFE 😘😘

charles_leclerc not the public flirting AND being rude about my ice cream ☹️☹️

yourusername hahahaha sucks to be you rn 🫵

liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe, and 901,221 others

yourusername "i've only had leo for a day and a half, but if anything happened to him, i would kill everyone in this room and then myself"

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user18 Y/N IS A B99 FAN CONFIRMED??

user19 THE BEST SHOWWW

user20 LEO IS THE CUTESTTT

user21 auntie y/n babysitting omg 🥺🥺

yourusername stop it rn auntie makes me sound so old 😔😔

user21 OMG SHE REPLIED?!

charles_leclerc my baby 🥺

yourusername im planning on stealing him from you at some point 😘

charles_leclerc im sorry?? first my girlfriend now my dog??

yourusername stay on high alert charles nothing is safe around me 🚨🚨

lilymhe cutie 😉😉

yourusername YOUUUU!!

alex_albon the dog's cuter

yourusername 'the dog' has a NAME albon, and you're just jealous your girlfriend prefers me to you!

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 822,122 others

yourusername 上海之夜 🌃 ( shanghai nights )

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user22 Y/N IN SHANGHAI FOR THE GP??

user23 I LOVE YOU Y/NNNN

user24 does she go to every race?

user25 she said on an interview once that she tries to attend every race & flies with her brother (& sometimes his girlfriend alex) whenever she does go to them! she couldn't make jeddah this year because she had other commitments at the time, but she tries to go to most of them!

user26 Y/N LECLERC IS THAT A MAN IN UR SECOND PIC??

user27 SOFT LAUNCH MAYBEEE??

charles_leclerc y/n i don't recognise that second pic? 🤔🤔

yourusername charles calm down it's literally a friend

charles_leclerc why not tag him then??

yourusername as a nice FRIEND, i actually value his life so im trying to save him from you, arthur and lorenzo ❤️

lance_stroll I MISS YOU

lance_stroll this is marilou by the way ive lost my own phone 😔

yourusername MARILOUUU MY ANGELLL I LOVE YOU!! leave ur boyfriend for me

lance_stroll y/n im back what is this.

yourusername idc about you tell marilou to come over

iamrebeccad in awe of you forever 🤩

yourusername love you becca ❤️

imessages ( y/n )

maxverstappen1

( caption: pov - mr world champion x3 gets his phone robbed by a 22 year old girl who enjoys harassing people on the daily 😘 [...] @/yourusername FOLLOW ME NOWWWW (please) )

yourusername

( caption: me when max asks me why i stole his phone, promoted my instagram account and then left [...] @/maxverstappen1 sorry about that 😬💗 )

imessages ( y/n )

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 800,100 others

yourusername cali this week, miami next ✈️

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user28 i swear i'd sell my soul to live your life y/n

user29 she's actually stunninggg

user30 Y/NNN MY ANGEL FR

user31 hottest leclerc (real)

georgerussell63 you after stalking me and carmen to california??

landonorris SORRY?

yourusername okay guys lets clear up the rumours!! 😁😁 i actually got invited to an EVENT in california, and george and carmen happened to be there, so like yes, i have been with them but i did NOTTT stalk them guys im not about that lifestyle

georgerussell63 yeah but like how do i know you're not watching me while i sleep 🤔

yourusername that's the whole beauty of it, you'll never EVER know 😁

carmenmmundt come over please george is annoying me

yourusername omw bbg 😘😘

georgerussell63 betrayal 101

alexandrasaintmleux missing you rn 😔😔

charles_leclerc you're literally with me right now??

alexandrasaintmleux yeah and im missing your sister??

yourusername I LOVE YOU ALEX im seeing you soon trust

logansargeant come to miami quicker you promised i could show you all the best spots :(

yourusername I SWEAR IM ON MY WAY LOGANNN

logansargeant

( caption: i let y/n in my house and the first thing she does is pull out her diary to document our day [...] @/yourusername least you could do is say "thanks for letting me in" ☹️ )

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 835,100 others

tagged logansargeant

yourusername bro said "i know a spot" and took me to a lake.

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user32 THE CAPTION SCREAMINGGG

user33 that's so logan i actually cant HELP

user34 the second pic 🤣

user35 y/n after third wheeling:

charles_leclerc so this is why you wouldn't go on a walk with me

yourusername maybe i shouldve gone on that walk idk, logan is a bit of a reckless boat driver

logansargeant IM NOT??

yourusername logan babe, we were coming up to a rock and you shouted 'land ahoy', i have reason to be scared ❤️

oscarpiastri HELP LAND AHOY?? ARE YOU A PIRATE LOGAN

logansargeant IT WAS A JOKE OKAY PARDON ME FOR MY HUMOR

yourusername 'pardon me' aren't we getting posh!

logansargeant dont lie you had a great time

yourusername define "great time"...because i sat there and sunbathed for like three hours while you caught a couple of 'beauties'

logansargeant and then you ate one of those beauties for dinner??

yourusername best part of the entire thing your mom makes a mean fish yum yum 😋😋

user36 AW SHE WENT TO HIS HOUSE

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 900,221 others

tagged landonorris, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

yourusername LANDO NOWINS BRCOMES LANDO WIQH WINSSSS 😁😁🏆🏆 so hqppy for you rihht now, and for max & charles and their podium!! ❤️

view all comments

user37 reason no.1209212 as to why y/n is the best:

user38 THIS POST AWWW

user39 the way she's so proud of him and her brother 🥺🥺

user40 and max!!

landonorris couldn't have a post without charles and max featuring huh 😔

yourusername unfortunately charles IS my brother, and max IS my friend as well, so im legally obliged to celebrate with both of them too

landonorris yeah but...my first win ☹️

yourusername next win trust i'll dedicate an entire post to you babes ❤️

charles_leclerc the spelling y/n 🤣🤣

yourusername I WAS DRUNK OKAY BLAME MAX

maxverstappen1 BLAME ME HUH

yourusername YOU GOT ME DRUNK MATE

charles_leclerc absolutely shocking behaviour from a world champion

yourusername RIGHT??

maxverstappen1 how come i never get these sort of posts when i win

yourusername would you like one next time maxie?? 😁

maxverstappen1 please 😔

yourusername watch its coming 🔥🔥🔥

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TAGS ✦ @willowpains ; @landossainz ; @charlesgirl16 ; @mellowarcadefun ; @bearryyyy ; [ respond under this post OR the main page for this series to be added to the taglist for 'the leclerc chronicles'! ]

[suguwu]

WOULD THAT I: PROLOGUE

The Gojo boy doesn't have a soulmate.

When you're both children, you overhear him being referred to as inhuman, between his power and his lack of a mark. The next time you see him, you use a marker to write your name on his skin, too young to understand what it means.

You forget, but Gojo—

Gojo never does.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

masterlist

pairing: gn!reader x gojo

wc: 2.6k

notes: thank you to my beta, as always! especially for putting up with my bratty ass and reading this early so i could post it earlier. this has been a fun fic to get started and i hope you enjoy the prologue!

content warnings: none. see masterlist for series content warnings.

The Gojo boy doesn’t have a soulmate.

You don’t think you’re supposed to know; it’s only ever talked about in hushed voices. The clans all speak like that, sometimes, each word a butterfly’s wing as it flutters from their mouths.

The servants, however, are louder.

One of them has a voice like a lark, a sweet, trilling song. It carries. You learn to hear her coming, to recognize her shadow against the shoji. You know the edges of her by heart. Sometimes she spreads her arms out as she makes her way through the hallway; her kimono sleeves flare out behind her like wings. 

“There’s something wrong with the Gojo heir,” she sings one afternoon, her fluting voice half-muffled by the shoji. “Those eyes of his—it’s like he can see right through you. And Fujioka says he doesn’t have a soulmark.” 

Another servant hushes her. “Don’t gossip,” she chides. 

“It’s true, though!”

“That doesn’t mean you should repeat it.” 

She huffs, grumbling something too soft for you to hear anything aside from the melody of it. The other servant laughs quietly before chivvying her forward. You watch until their shadows disappear, leaving only the hallway light to filter golden through the shoji. 

You return to your coloring book.

The Gojo boy doesn’t have a soulmate, but that doesn’t mean anything to you.

Not yet. 

—

There’s a boy in the courtyard.

He’s hopping from stone to stone in the koi pond, his snow-white hair glittering under the morning sun. He moves like a dancer, each step sure and swift, never once slipping on the wet rock. When he gets to the biggest rock in the pond, he crouches down, his back to you, and drags his fingers over the surface of the water. The koi rise to meet him, firework scales flashing in the sun. 

You watch him from the engawa, peeking out at him from behind one of the columns. You’ve never seen him before, and you’d remember him, with his starlight hair. 

“Who’re you?” he asks, not turning around.

You stay quiet.

“I know you’re there,” he says. “You can’t hide from me.”

He glances over his shoulder and the world goes blue.

It’s the cold burn of a comet’s tail streaking through the velvet night. It’s oceantide, relentless and unyielding. It’s a slice of the sky brought down to earth, heaven devoured.

Then he blinks, and he’s just a boy again. 

“Who’re you?” you ask, stepping to the edge of the engawa. 

He lifts his chin. “I asked you first.”

You introduce yourself the way your mother taught you, bowing to him shallowly. 

He scoffs. “You’re not even from the main clan.”

“Are you?”

“I’m not part of your stupid clan.”

“Oh.”

He stares at you, his crystalline eyes sharp-edged, all prismatic ice. “You don’t know who I am?”

“Nope.”

He rises to his full height, unfolding like an elegant crane. “I’m Gojo Satoru.” 

You tilt your head. The servants’ humming gossip made the Gojo heir sound ethereal, a fallen star that had burned away into human form as it plummeted through the heavens. His eyes are otherworldly, and you can feel the power rippling out from his lean form, as unstoppable as the tides, but—

“You’re just a boy,” you say. 

He scowls. “Am not.”

“Are too.” 

“I’m Gojo Satoru,” he says again, deeper this time, an intonation, a promise, a curse. His eyes flash, St. Elmo’s fire, a lightning strike of blue. “I have the Limitless and the Six Eyes. I’m not just a boy.”

You would believe him, but the last bit sounded more sulky than anything else. You’re about to tell him so when someone calls your name. You glance over your shoulder, but there are no shadows against the shoji yet.

When you turn back around, there are wet patches shining on the stones in the koi pond, an imprint of the past, but nothing else.

The Gojo boy is gone.

—

Your mother is hovering. 

She smooths down your yukata, chasing creases from the thin cotton with trembling hands. There hadn’t been time to change; she’d pulled you out of your lessons and hurried you down the hallways of the estate. 

“Bow low when you meet him,” she tells you, though she hasn’t bothered to tell you who ‘he’ is. “Understand?”

You nod. 

There’s a fine layer of sweat gleaming at your mother’s nape as she kneels before the shoji. She reaches out to open it; her kimono sleeve slips down, revealing the elegant curve of her wrist. You focus there instead of the opening shoji, the slow slide of it a hissing snake, coiled to bite.

The shoji clicks, a chime of teeth, its maw wide open. You take in a deep breath and step through, your gaze on the tatami mats. Someone shifts.

“Oh, it’s you.”

You glance up, directly into the gaze of Gojo Satoru. His eyes are as otherworldly as you remember, a crisp, clear blue framed in long lashes, like a snowy-edged mountain lake. He tilts his head as you gape, his hair gleaming bone-white in the sun streaming through the open shoji. 

You blink. “What’re you doing here?” you ask, and next to you, your mother hisses in a low, sharp breath. 

Gojo shrugs. “Dunno. The clan said I had to come and they caught me when I snuck out.”

The woman behind Gojo clears her throat. “Gojo-sama,” she says, her voice like the shivering leaves when the summer breeze stirs to life, “they’re a candidate for you to train with.” 

He eyes you. “Why?” he asks. “They’re not very strong.”

“Hey!” 

“You aren’t, though,” he says. “I can tell.”

You throw yourself at him.

His eyes widen, a devouring sea, and he grunts as you make impact. He’s sturdier than you thought; he’s slight, but it’s all lean muscle, even though he can’t be much older than you are. Your mother calls out your name, horrified, but Gojo is already recovering, grappling with you for control. 

By the time the adults pull you apart, Gojo is nursing a rapidly-purpling mark high on his cheekbone. Your split lip aches; you tongue at it and wince. You can taste blood, sour and metallic. You glare at Gojo even as your mother bows deeply to the woman.

“My deepest apologies,” she says, tightening her grip on the sleeve of your yukata and forcing you to bow with her. “I don’t know what came over them.”

The woman clicks her tongue. “The child should be punished,” she says, and your mother stiffens. “I would suggest—”

“No.” 

Everyone looks at Gojo. He thumbs at a rip in his kimono, grinning widely. It bares his teeth. 

“I’ll train with them,” he says.

“Gojo-sama—”

“I said I’d train with them. Now can we go? I want a popsicle.” 

The woman sighs. “Yes, Gojo-sama.” 

Gojo sweeps by you and your mother. He pauses right next to you. “You’re weak,” he tells you, ignoring the way you bristle, “but at least you’re fun.”  

He’s out the shoji before you can respond.

—

Summer settles over Kyoto, a wet lick of heat. Even the wind seems to feel it; it ripples honey-slow through the trees, barely strong enough to stir the air. Frogs move into the koi pond in the courtyard; they sing along with the cicadas’ sawing choir. 

“Catch it!” Gojo shouts as your hands spear through the murky pond water. It gushes free from between your fingers as you come up empty-handed, the frog you were aiming for frantically disappearing further below the surface. “You’re so slow.”

“Am not!”

“Are too,” he counters, holding out his cupped hands. A plaintive ribbit sounds out from between them. “I already caught one. It was easy.”

“You’re annoying.”

He stares at you, his blue eyes icy. “You’re annoying.”  

“You’re the one who came over.”

He rolls his eyes. “We train at your estate.”

“How come?”

“How come what?”

“How come we train here? Your estate is probably better.”

He shrugs, opening his hands enough to peer down at the frog. It glistens in the sunlight, the same deep green as the lush courtyard. It makes a break for freedom; he closes his hands again, his long fingers sewing the gap shut. “I like it better here.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Why?”

“I just do,” he says, voice flat.

You don’t ask again.

—

“Why are we here?”

Gojo blinks, his long white lashes sweeping over the sweet curve of his cheek. “Why are you whispering?”

Your cheeks heat. The Gojo estate is a sprawling, massive maw; you’ve felt devoured ever since you set foot in it. Even the golden light that slants through the shoji feels cold. There are ikebana arrangements lining the halls, the leggy, deep purple irises sculptural as they rise proudly from the vases, but it still feels like a mausoleum. 

“We’ve just never trained here before,” you say, taking care to use your regular voice. “So why are we here now?”

He shrugs. “They insisted.”

“Who?”

He dismisses the question with a wave of his hand, his long pianist’s fingers cutting through the air. You roll your eyes, long used to his occasionally imperious ways. The two of you continue along the hallways, you trailing after him closely, as if caught in his gravity, an orbiting moon. 

You almost run into him when he comes to a sudden halt. You peek around him—in the last few months, he’s gone through a growth spurt, one that your mother says will come when you’re his age, and he’s too tall to peer over his shoulder—and see a servant bowing low, her ebony hair glinting.

“Gojo-sama,” she says. “Please follow me. The elders are waiting.”

He sighs, a dramatic heave of his chest. “What do they want?”

“They didn’t specify.”

“Ugh.”

“Gojo-sama—”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he says. “Go tell those geezers I’ll be there soon.” 

You wince right along with the servant. Gojo’s disdain for the elders is not new, but it still unnerves you every time, as if they will come along and smite you down. 

“C’mon,” Gojo says to you. “Let’s get it over with.”

The servant clears her throat. “Only you, Gojo-sama.”

He glares, his blue eyes burning, a comet streaking through the sky. “No,” he says. “They’re coming.”

“They cannot.”

“I said they’re coming.” 

“It’s okay,” you tell him, eyes wide. “Really.” 

Gojo looks back at you. For a second, his mouth is a wound, tender and pink, but in the next breath, it’s gone, frozen under a layer of ice.

“Fine.” 

You bite your lip, but he’s already walking away. You catch yourself before you reach for him. He disappears down the hallway, his hair glinting like exposed bone.

The servant turns to you. “This way,” she says, her voice perfectly neutral.

You follow her to an empty room; she slides the shoji shut behind herself as you settle onto the cushion at the chabudai. You gaze around the room. There’s not much to take in; it’s wealthy in a subdued way. You fidget with the hem of your sleeve and then get to your feet.

You slide open the shoji leading out to the engawa; it opens onto a huge, lush courtyard. The plush flowers are weighted down by their own blooms, their stems curving like a dancer’s back. A shishi-odoshi rings out with a hollow thud; a few songbirds scatter, their wings rustling like leaves as they soar towards the sky. 

You step out onto the engawa. It’s still early enough that the sun slants onto the wood, warming it. You sit down and bask in it, tilting your face up for the sun’s sweet kiss. You lay back, your eyes fluttering shut.

A voice wakes you.

“He’s an insolent brat!” a man hisses. “He needs to be taken in hand!”

“He’s too powerful,” another man answers. His voice is calm, but you can sense the ripples in it, the thing lurking underneath. “We can only do what we’re already doing.”

You go still. They can only be talking about Gojo. Their footsteps echo; they’re drawing closer and closer.

“It’s not enough.” 

“He’s still young. Maybe we can mold him.” 

The first man snorts. “You don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t.” 

“There’s something wrong with that boy,” the first man says. “Those eyes—that power—and not even a hint of a mark. He’s barely human.”

Their footsteps are starting to fade; their voices become murmurs. But you still hear it when the second man says:

“I don’t think he’s human at all.”

Then they’re gone, fading from your world like malevolent spirits, dissipating on the wind. You unclench your fists and find that your nails have bitten into your skin, little half-moon curves cutting through the leylines of your palms. 

Gojo shows up a mere minute later. He slides open the shoji with a bang; his eyes find you immediately. 

“C’mon,” he says, stepping out into the courtyard. His eyes are shadowed; his lips are pulled tight, an unstitched wound. He’s heard them, you realize. You’ve never seen him bothered by other people’s opinions; your chest aches, a pressed bruise. You open your mouth to say something, but you can’t find the words. 

He grabs your hand as he passes by you, tugging you along behind him, ignoring your surprised yelp. “Let’s go before those stupid geezers find me again.” 

“Where are we going?”

“Away from here.”

“But my shoes—”

He glances back at you and you drown in blue. 

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Let’s go.” 

He doesn’t answer; he just tugs you along. You stare at the back of his head for a moment, trying to make sense of the expression you’d seen flash across his face before he’d turned around again. You can’t understand it, but you know one thing.

He’s never looked more human to you.

—

The next time you see him, you’re prepared.

You uncap the marker with your teeth. You reach out for Gojo’s arm; he pulls away before you can grab hold, as quick as a darting fish. 

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Give me your arm.” 

“Why?”

“You’ll see.” 

He eyes you for a moment, but gives you his arm.

You push up his yukata sleeve to expose the tender underbelly of his wrist. You start to write, laboring over each stroke of the marker, keeping it as neat as you can. The silver ink covers the rivers of his blue-green veins as it sinks into his skin, a childish tattoo. 

“There,” you say, finishing with a somewhat-shaky flourish. “Now you have a mark.”

Gojo stares at you, his cerulean gaze lit from within, the sea beneath the sun. He covers the katakana of your name with his free hand, careful not to smudge the still-drying characters. Under the shadow, they fade to gray, but they still glint and glimmer the same way real soulmarks do. 

You hum, pleased with yourself, cap the marker, and toss it to the side so you can start training. 

You don’t know it yet, but it’s your last session with him. He disappears into the dawn like a fading star, spirited off to Tokyo to continue his training. You’ve only spent six months with him. Still, it aches, a pressed bruise, but you’ve always known he would outgrow you; his power is a black hole, always devouring. 

Life, ever unmoved, continues on. 

The boy you knew fades from your memories, though you never forget him. It’s impossible, with the stories that come out of Tokyo, how he completes missions that no one his age should be able to handle. 

Still, you forget things. The tilt of his mouth; the cadence of his voice. He becomes a shadow of himself, a shade with burning blue eyes. 

You forget that you once wrote your name on the delicate inside of his wrist. 

Gojo, though—

Gojo never does.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good. 

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left. 

and then satoru wins. 

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead. 

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure. 

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware. 

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place. 

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it. 

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free. 

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair. 

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared. 

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on. 

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close. 

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper. 

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?” 

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for. 

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore. 

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down. 

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were. 

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself. 

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever. 

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why. 

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought. 

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare. 

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature. 

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again. 

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face. 

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high. 

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath. 

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause. 

and then you remember. 

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru. 

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have. 

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again. 

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh. 

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself. 

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close. 

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness. 

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night. 

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans. 

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest. 

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room. 

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry. 

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly. 

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not. 

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen. 

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast. 

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between. 

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace. 

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile. 

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart. 

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.  

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name. 

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles. 

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away. 

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment. 

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years. 

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do. 

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you. 

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru. 

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had. 

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.  

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him. 

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind. 

his breath hitches. 

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror. 

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms. 

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened. 

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him. 

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance. 

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to. 

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention. 

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence. 

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them. 

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them. 

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to. 

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down. 

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it. 

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself. 

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life. 

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in. 

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you. 

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin. 

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for. 

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you? 

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it. 

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life? 

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him. 

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal. 

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score. 

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous. 

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort. 

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good. 

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off. 

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think. 

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles. 

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it. 

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug. 

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed. 

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place. 

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look. 

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch. 

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes. 

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this. 

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room. 

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook. 

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again. 

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind. 

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks. 

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left. 

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good. 

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence. 

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away. 

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow. 

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation. 

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too. 

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes. 

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too. 

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?” 

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever. 

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive. 

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy. 

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru. 

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little. 

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled. 

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises. 

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough. 

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink. 

finally, for once, you’re enough. 

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering. 

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much. 

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum. 

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。—will i ever bring you peace? | gojo satoru

wc: 1.4k

summary: gojo can’t give you a quiet life. no matter what. 

contains: written with f!reader in mind but no pronouns are used, hurt/comfort, jealous!gojo, more of gojo’s internal thoughts, mentions of an oc, gojo deserves all the luvin!!

a/n: split this into two parts: the first half (the prev part), lighter and more central to reader’s perspective, while the second half (this one), darker, and more central to gojo’s perspective. best read after ‘so this is what it means to be in love’ because there are some references made! reading the other parts, while not necessary, will add more to the experience (some references are made)! song i listened to while writing this was peace by taylor swift! 

collection masterlist: conversations on love 3.5a. this feeling inside of me— <- you are here -> +04. take my time (i'll spend it all on you)

“Would you ever want a quiet life?” 

The pond below you ripples as the koi fish swims away. 

You turn to face Gojo, hands hanging over the bridge railing, remnants of soft youth in his cheeks at 24. 

“I’d say it’s pretty quiet right now.” he answers, signature teasing lilt to his tone. He gestures around him, focusing your attention to how tranquil it is right now—sun beaming and the sound of nature in birds chirping and water trickling.

You roll your eyes; it’s always the distractions and non-answers with him. 

The silence between you is the product of years spent getting closer to reach this point; a silence of knowing that gives Gojo the space and time to reveal things on his own. 

“You already know my answer to that.” he says after a while, looking back down to the pond beneath you. 

And you do—with his small smile, almost resigned. There’s no point thinking about it. Just like when you’d asked him about love. It’s just not meant for him. 

“Would you?” he throws the question back at you, turning to you when he asks it. 

It’s a silly thing, to let hope like this bloom; you both know it’s well past that point now, too deep into chasing his vision for the future of jujutsu society—but it’s free to dream, right?

“I would, I think. Some peace from all this.” 

.

.

.

Gojo’s starting to hate that sinking feeling in his stomach lately—knots twisting before they burst into fits of pop! pop! popping!

It’s uncomfortable and annoying, seemingly getting worse the more he sits in these political meetings with you and ‘Kazuo’—or whoever this politican is, pulling your seat for you and making you laugh; the gentleman etiquette. He even lets you call him by his first name. 

There’s a slight tic to Gojo’s brow as he sits across you, leaning on the back of his chair with his arms crossed and leg propped up on the other. Obviously, you’re just being nice, nodding and smiling as you listen to Kazuo run through the document for this meeting beside you. 

But it still makes Gojo ache. 

He hasn’t been to many of these meetings, but he’s gathered enough to know what kind of guy this Kazuo is: well-dressed, good smile, good teeth–all things he has himself–but also, a gentleman, good-natured and hardworking, kind and gentle, and most of all at peace. Rumor has it that he’s looking to settle down soon, away from the politics to a nearby town just on the outskirts of the city—not too far but also not too close.

Seeing you smiling with him now just brings it back, that conversation you had years ago at 24 gnawing at him. 

“Would you ever want a quiet life?” you had asked, and when he threw it back to you—

“I would, I think. Some peace from all this.” 

It aches.

.

Gojo waits for you at the end of the meeting, watching as you and Kazuo continue to exchange pleasantries. He knows there isn’t anything to it, but there’s that knot in his stomach again, pop! pop! popping! and it worsens when he hears the secretaries gush about how you and Kazuo look so compatible, perfect—fit to get married. 

How disrespectful to your relationship, Gojo thinks. 

He huffs, quiet enough not to cause a scene but loud enough for you to hear him—to know that he isn’t in the mood for any of this. And in the perfect way you’ve synced yourself to him all these years, you smoothly transition into giving Kazuo your well wishes, accepting his handshake as your eyes meet with Gojo’s for him to do the same. 

When you both step out of the room, you make sure to hold his hand tightly, surely, in all the loving ways, but he grips back only lightly, leaving a small space–that infinity–between your palms on the way back home today. 

.

When Gojo thinks about it, it isn’t even because he’s lacking. He’s worked hard and continues to do so everyday, treating you well, loving you in the ways you deserve. 

But will it truly ever be enough? 

How can it be when you deserve more, so much more than this life you’ve been chained to since you were young?

Jujutsu society has been so rough to the both of you, that he thinks you, out of all people, deserve at the very least, some peace. Now that his vision is turning into a reality, maybe you can take a step back and afford a little more leniency. 

A good life, with a good partner, who will love you in peace. 

Someone like Kazuo.

Not him.

The thought is unusual; Gojo’s never really been one to feel insecure, but he thinks that, when you love someone this much, you’ll always want the best for them, even when you realize that the best might not be synonymous to being yours. 

Gojo can’t give you a quiet life. 

No matter what. 

Who he is is so intrinsically linked to this society and the direction it's taking that it’ll follow him wherever he goes.

He sinks deeper into his pillow. 

“You okay?” you come out of the bathroom, dressed in the matching pajama set you both got a few weeks ago—his, buried somewhere in the mishmash of your laundry clothes.

The thought sears itself into his mind, how your lives now are so intertwined.

He doesn’t answer. 

How can he ever let this go?

It aches. Again. 

The bed dips as you get into it, lifting up the comforter to snuggle into him. His back is facing you, unmoving, but your heart beats against the warmth pressed to your chest. 

You hope he feels it, how it’s for him. 

“Wanna let me in your head a little?” you wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling your nose at the nape of his neck. You use the same body wash but Gojo has always retained a scent that is distinctly his own—a bit sweet like the strawberries he loves eating and something close to baby powder, as unassuming as it may be. 

His breath hitches before he starts fiddling with your fingers resting on his waist. He’s biting his lips, you know. 

“Do you still want a quiet life?” he mumbles, almost a whisper. You wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t so pressed up against him. 

You’re confused, a little shocked, but mostly confused because where did this come from?

Gojo holds his breath, waiting for your answer. He can’t turn to look at you when you do, afraid that what he’ll find—what you’ll want, won’t be something he can give you. 

“Doesn’t sound too bad, I guess.” you answer, lips tickling his skin. He can’t release his breath; it’s the answer he’s been dreading. 

There’s silence, a stretch that feels too long but only spans a few seconds. His mind plays an endless loop; the single thought that that isn’t the life he can give you.

Should he break up with you?

How is he supposed to tell—

“I like this life now better though, with you.” you squeeze him tighter, kissing the side of his neck that you can reach. 

He stiffens in your hold, but you can feel the thrums of his heartbeat. It comes slowly, but he releases the breath he was holding before relaxing a bit, something you hope is from relief.  

“You sure?” he asks, trying to sound teasing, but you hear through it. Of course you do.

“You’ll be stuck with me forever, you know.” 

You can swear he sniffled. 

“Doesn't sound too bad to me.” 

He shifts, turning to face you, and when he sees you—

—it’s like falling in love with you again, he thinks. 

The ache is still there, but it’s different, replaced by something burning, almost bursting; the feelings he can’t contain—he wants to say it: I love you; thank you for loving me, but the words are lodged in his throat and his eyes are watering, collecting like pools of rain along his lash line before spilling. 

Gojo doesn’t cry often, but when he does, you try to kiss away every hurt, every pain, that comes with it. So there, by his eyes, are your lips, soft and tender, kissing away his tears as you cradle him to your chest, letting him hug you for however long he needs to be held like this. 

It’s relief, he wants to tell you, that you don’t have to worry; these are good tears—grateful that he gets to have you in this life because you like it better. 

But there’s no pressure, there never is with you—you’ve always been like that. You don’t question him right now, trusting that he’ll tell you all about it tomorrow like he always does. 

For now, all you want to do is hold him, quiet down all the noise in his head and keep him right by your heart, loving him close.

a/n: the first and second part wouldn’t have fit in tone if i put them in one fic, so i split them! the first part is lighter and just overall good vibes if you're up for that!

thank you notes: to niku @stellamancer for listening to me and being there when i seriously needed it writing this!! & to dilly and somi my bbgirls!! @crysugu @soumies for always cheering me on, especially during the slump!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[koilaniazul]

get to know koi ↷

hello! my full name is koilani rose but you can just call me koi.

nicknames: koi, koi fish, koi boi

i really like: the sturniolo triplets, larray, the norris nuts (they’re my guilty pleasure shut the flip up), the kalogeras sisters and simgm productions!

i HATE: rude bitches, mustard, fake people, racists 😟

my music taste is legit elite 😼-

bashfortheworld, sza, playboi carti, dominic fike, frank ocean, summer walker, the streets, ariana grande, kali uchis, kanii, kendrick lamar, baby keem, ski mask the slump god, childish gambino, brent faiyaz, mac demarco, tay k, rich amiri, lil peep, alex g, tyla, 21 savage, eyedress, tv girl and xxxtentation!

facts about koilani:

south african

loves video games- life is strange, fortnite, mario cart, the suicide of rachel foster, etc. (mostly story games)

loves writing!

I HAVE BRAINROT HUMOR :c

i will definitely call you baby, babe, bookie, my love, pookie

call me mamas it turns me on ☆(ゝω·)v

ive been writing since 5th grade! i still remember my short stories on word that i would make randomly.

i have a second personal acc! @koilanipt2

so im pretty much awesome sauce 😂😂

[u3pxx]

In a roughly parallel universe, Demon Aziraphale tempts Angel Crowley to a little vacation, and they find their way to a bookshop in a familiar place inhabited by familiar faces. Crowley (both of them) would like to stop this nonsense before it can start, but Aziraphale's curiosity wins out, and they spend a day together that ends up being loaded with little revelations (but not, thankfully, any Revelations).

HEY DID YOU KNOW THAT @contritecactite WROTE A FIC ABOUT THE BAD OMENS SPOUSES MEETING THE GOOD OMENS SPOUSES THAT MADE ME EXPLODE A LOT LOT?! 🤍🖤💥

anyway, thanks again to elle for writing this and to koi for giving some painful name lore to these nerds because i genuinely can't express how GRAGHARGGH this made me! i swear i've been rereading it for like a billion times already bc it's just that good and charming!

i'm gonna put some bonus messy doodles of the fic and other things below the cut! :^] i'm also thinking about putting this up on my inprnt shop too but i'm not sure, tell me if you want it there or smth pftt

like this art? it's a print, here! | like what i do? support me on ko-fi!

i know i didn't go with the usual angel and demon color schemes show gomens has to offer bc i think these two are just disruptive like that pftt <3 but i was curious to know what they'd look like so here's a comparison gif i whipped up when i was in the flat colors stage of drawing this pftt

AND THIS ONE. oh im insane im normal im [static noise]

there are a lot more moments i wanna draw trust me but this one does make me laugh bc i want to leave angel crowley and angel aziraphale in a room and see what happens. their dynamic, i'm obsessed with it DFGHD

and here's the link to the fic again bc if you managed to get down here without reading it first, then what are you doing!

[xxnghtclls]

Pond and Poetry

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Permission Universe ❤️

Rating: Mature

Wordcount: 1,358

Fluff! Flirt and a little bit of dirty talk… Soft Sukuna all the way tho.

Summary: Sukuna meets you in the garden, while you’re busy playing with Kois. And then you flirt. Just flirt. I got some Permission feels recently so I couldn’t resist to write this.

—

Warm sun on your skin and green grass beneath your figure, as you lay in front of the pond. Spring is here, the air is not cold and not warm, perfectly balanced by cold breezes and the warmth of the sun. Cherry blossoms start to bloom and small little wild flowers poke their head out of the ground.

Colourful Kois are swimming quietly in circles. Back and forth and left and right.

And you watch them with a thoughtful smile on your face, while you let the sun warm your figure. The sight reminds you of the time, when you and Ak-

When you were watching the Kois together.

The kimono you’re wearing is heating up with each minute, coating you comfortably. Supporting your head on your right hand, you reach with your left one into the cold water.

Your finger dips in, an attempt to touch one of those big fishes, that sometimes disappear beneath the reflection of the sun.

However, this reflection is interrupted, as suddenly your tall King steps onto the bridge next to the pond. Without greeting him and now having a better look at the Kois, you manage to brush your skin against the smooth surface of their scales. Your eyes light up and you smile.

“Got you.” you whisper quietly, as you see the outlines of familiar spiky hair and a huge figure imprint a shadow on the water.

You blink and finally look up to your right, seeing Sukuna’s gentle eyes looking down at you, his head being propped up on his right upper arm, just like yours. He’s wearing his Hakama pants and black cloak, while he leans against the balustrade of the bridge. He cocks his eyebrow at you.

“Childish brat.” he teases, flashing his teeth into a smirk. You huff, before you stick your tongue out at him.

“Let me.” you mutter, before you turn back to the Kois, as you keep twirling your finger in the water.

He huffs at your response, as he keeps watching you.

“Join me.” you continue almost inaudible, as you wiggle up your feet and swing them back and forth.

No response.

Except a pull on your heart. And you know what’s up.

You sigh, before you retrieve your hand from the water and tap with your palm on the spot next to you.

Two times.

Tap.Tap.

“Come.” you say softly, still not looking at him.

And you can feel his eyes boring into your figure and how his shit eating grin eats you up, before you hear him shift. Sukuna’s naked feet move over the wooden bridge, then through the fresh grass, until they come to a halt at the spot you pat on with your hand.

Don’t look at him.

One of his hand brushes against your moving left ankle, before you feel his foot gently push against your hip.

You ignore him.

He huffs again.

Unbothered, you dip your finger back into the water.

Another attempt of touching those colourful scales.

With a soft breeze, you finally feel him crouching down next to you.

More.

He takes a strand of your hair, fiddling it between his fingers. You quietly retrieve your finger from the water again and reach behind you.

“Closer, my Love.” you mumble softly, as you get a hold of his cloak and pull. One, two times.

And you can feel his grin again. You know he’s just watching you, waiting with what you’re coming up next.

It’s amusing to him. Actually... for the both of you.

To your surprise however, he leans down. His teeth find the shell of your ear for a moment, before he lays down to your left, on his stomach, just like you.

“They’re your gift for me after all.” you say with a satisfied grin on your face, still not looking at him.

As long as he’s this mute, giggling hunk of a man, you would rather admire the fish... And you know it’s a lie.

You have to force yourself to keep looking at those Kois, because you can’t get enough of him. Still.

After all this time.

Because you are his and he is yours. For now and all eternity.

“What now?” he whispers quietly in your ear, his pretty nose presses against the side of your head, taking in the scent of you and your hair.

“You’ll get a kiss if you can touch one of them.” you nudge your head to the pond, before turning your head to finally look at him.

His expression slackens and his lip rises into a mix of a sneer and pout, before he rolls over onto his back and closes his eyes. It makes you snort.

But, you catch yourself, trying to suppress a laughter.

Behave.

You lean over and with the index finger of your right hand, you give him a poke on his bottom lip.

“A kiss on your lips then.” you say cheekily, as if you just upgraded your offer significantly, while you watch how the shadows of the trees and the light of the sun dance with each other upon his facial features.

He blinks his crimson orbs open, still holding his unamused expression, as he grabs your right wrist.

Too much?

You inhale.

“A kiss on my lips then?” a new offer, using a mature voice this time.

A pause.

And a breeze, while he contemplates your new offer. You watch Sukuna’s hair move from the breeze, before his lip twitches. He pulls you closer. Close enough, to let his lips slightly brush over yours.

“A kiss on your lips it is.” he breathes. “And a kiss on your cheeks. And...”

“And?” you raise your eyebrows at him.

“...the sound of your thighs.” he concludes, brushing his nose against yours. “And how they mute my ears.”

Oh.

Heat rushes to the cheeks in your face and to the lips between your legs.

Heartache.

“Maybe you should write poetry.” you cock your head to the side, trying to act over your embarrassment and arousal.

“Maybe I should.” Sukuna smirks quietly in response, as his eyes pierce through you.

God.

You chew on your lip, as you lean back into your previous position and turn back to watch the fish in the water.

“There.” you dip your left finger back into the cold, as you watch him in the corner of your eyes, how he rolls back over on his stomach, leaving the black cloak laying in the grass.

Sukuna reaches for the water too, but his finger brushes over your hand first.

So gentle. So slow.

His touch feels electrifying, sending a feeling of home and love through your whole body.

Those fingers that killed many men and women and children. Those fingers that did such cruelty.

So soft against your skin. You focus and watch his hand closely.

And your heart starts racing.

His index finger follows the line of your hand, along your own finger and finally dips into the water as well. Sukuna’s hand stays resting upon yours, as you both slowly circle your fingers in the water.

It almost drives you insane.

The Kois keep dancing around your limbs, coming closer, swimming away again.

Sukuna quietly guides your hand closer to one of them. A gentle vibration flows through your hand and you notice how the fish grows slower in its movement.

Careful.

Your fingers brush against the scales. In unity. Along the whole length of the fish. “Got you.” he whispers against your hair, sending shivers through your whole body.

Sukuna then guides your whole hand underwater and turns it upside down, making it able for you to even hold the Koi for a few seconds, until it swims away again.

Your eyes light up again, as your heart is beating in your chest. And Sukuna pulls on it.

“Use me as your canvas.” you whisper, your voice almost trembling, wetness rising between your thighs, before you look back at him and his eyes falls to your lips.

“I will.” he stares and you stare back at his wrinkly eyes, before he leans closer. “Gonna write my poetry all over your body.”

—

lmk if you want to read how Sukuna’s poetry looks like ✌️

[koipalm]

sometimes i write

[naffeclipse]

Summersoft Reunion

Reader x Snow Monkey!Sun

Commission Info

This one is a little reunion for the darling reader and Snow Monkey Sun! It was so sweet to write these two coming back together and a big thank you to @cipher-the-sidhe for commissioning this lovely moment! It's so cute to come back to the god of the mountain and give him a nice hug.

———

The wind drifts around you, gentle as petals upon a pond. You breathe in and warm the cool mountain air inside your lungs before releasing it. It’s summer. The beautiful frost and sweeps of snow along the mountain have melted back into dense forest greenery thick with scents of fir and spruce. There is a notable temperature difference between the sweltering heat set low on the island and this cool, refreshing crispness that hangs around the town.

You step away from the train station, your hand clutching a wooden comb in your palm and the other tugging on the handle of your luggage. Without the winter snow, the landscape has gently shifted into deep greens and warm browns with glistening ponds of koi fish still happily splashing in their little homes. The wooden buildings are lighter without the weight of snowfall and the calmness persists, still cultivated in their ancient quality despite the modern amenities.

You were not born here, but you feel a connection. A precious belonging that is begging you to hurry along, like a newlywed bride entering her husband’s homeland to meet all that he knows and loves.

A shiver rolls through you. That’s too dramatic, isn’t it? However, it is not to say that you’re not eagerly looking for a sweet reunion, softened by summer. You promised you would find him. 

He’s waiting for you.

The timber company has been stalled for the time being. You were able to raise a reasonable objection, joined by most if not all of the members of the town, to combat the raid on the land and halt the destruction of the forest. 

Protecting religious and sacred sites is difficult to prove, but noteworthy with the shrines littered throughout the mountain for the mythical beast. While the timber company argues through the bureaucracy to continue tearing apart the land and chopping down the trees, their work does not continue. It’s a chance. A chance to give Sun what he and the other spirits of the mountain need. 

You trot fervently through the town. You don’t linger on the beautiful brushstroke signs out in front of shops or how the lighting has been made to look soft and lantern-like. The inn is at the far end of the street, hushly tucked away from the bustle of the shops and restaurants. 

Is it you, or is it a little busier? You hope so. The more people who pay respect to the shrines, the more legitimate your claims are in protecting the sacred sites. 

The hostess of the inn recognizes you when you check-in, and you spy her two little kids again, a little more bold in flashing you smiles and teetering in delight when you wave back at them. You quickly excuse yourself, already slipping into a thick pair of hiking boots and tugging on a thick jacket built for harsher temperatures than this, but you will not be caught unprepared. 

Gently slipping the wooden comb gilded with a delicate, gold design of a flower into your jacket pocket, you turn your eyes towards the mountain slope and begin climbing. 

It’s so familiar yet so strange. The first time you trekked up towards the shrine, you were a mere tourist, intrigued by the mythical and hoping for… something—a blessing. You did not know then what it would mean to you. A mountain of snow would fall upon you and you would be saved, held, and kissed by a god. Suno. But he is Sun to you.

Your heart already picks up on what awaits you. Your gloved hands move to touch your other pocket, caressing the little bit of money you brought as an offering. It’s not a gold pendant, but it is something to give. 

The mountain slope is still stained with trees gouged from the earth and earth scooped up like a disemboweled carcass, but the rot of the timber company’s greed no longer spreads. You wonder if Sun noticed. Of course, you think it would be difficult to not see the change in the air. Even if you sometimes feel small and meager, you have still done something to try and help. 

You are still worthy.

The mountain path gradually opens up to you and levels out into a flare little clearing containing a meadow now thick with grass and wild mountain flowers. You think one or two may resemble the design on your wooden comb.

Gently, breathlessly, you approach the shrine that first brought you to the mythical beast. Humble but timeless, the gate allows you entrance to the shrine. Gently, you bow, and step onto the sacred ground. You slip the money into the golden box. The small carved figure of what you know now as the mythical beast regards you with a commanding air, but he seems a little more cheerful. You’re not the only one who has visited as of late with other offerings softly rattling in the box. Good.

You step back. A soft sound of wooden beads knocking together pricks your ears. Slowly, you turn around.

Standing only a few feet away from you is the mythical beast. Sun. His cornsilk yellow fur shines in the bright daylight. His eyes, pale irises upon black scleras, soften like ice melting in spring. He stands tall, his body willowy and his limbs long but he does not frighten you. Despite understanding who he truly is, your heart lurches with a desperate need to throw yourself at him.

He opens his arms.

“A sun-kissed hello to you, my peach,” he greets, gentle and warm as the morning.

“Sun,” your voice cracks with emotion. You meet him halfway before he takes you into his embrace and lifts you off your feet. Wrapping your arms around his scarlet silk scarf, you squeeze your eyes shut and unashamedly press your cheek against his face. He rumbles a great, joyous sound, animalistic and human, all at once.

“How are you, snow angel?” he utters. “Are you alright? I’ve been waiting for you while the snow melted. The people have stopped chopping away at the trees. That was your doing, wasn’t it?”

You laugh shakily—only due to the sheer warmth flooding you. You once again soak in his warmth. You never forgot the sweet heat of his body, but there is nothing quite like experiencing his lush, warm fur again after weeks without his presence.

“I’m good, I’m good.” You softly card your fingers through the softness of his fur at the nape of his neck. Your palm yearns for the softness of his fuzz. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. The systems we had to go through were sluggish on the best of days, but we made our objection! The timber company has stopped for the time being. I just can’t say what will happen in the future, I’m afraid.”

“No mortal can,” he hums knowingly. Gingerly, however, he lowers you back to the ground without releasing you. Sun crosses his legs in the meadow grass and slides you into his lap with the slightest bit of effort. “But let me look at you, panda. Oh, you are so sweet and precious.”

His thumb and finger gently capture your chin. His large hands are pale and comforting and they gently press into your skin to tilt your head this way and that. His simian canines flash in his mouth, pearly white and stunning in length, but your heart only beats with joy at his presence. 

Slowly, as if you were still in a dream, afraid to wake from it, you press your hands softly to his chest and take soft fistfuls of his fur. His shoulders rise and fall gently with deep, calm breaths. His tail whips behind him while the rest of him holds carefully still under your observation. 

He is still the same. He is not a distant, confused dream. He is still yours.

You spare him a glance while you softly lift his scarlet scarf. Sun chuckles in amusement as your fingertips find the gold chain holding your pendant resting around his throat. A stirring overtakes your middle, unfolding with warmth, delicious and soft.

“I missed you.” You flush softly, heat staining your cheeks.

He coos joyfully. His fingertips brush against your cheekbones as if wishing to dip his hand in the pink overtaking your features. 

“And I have missed you.” His hands slide down to your hips. His gaze is powerful, holding your own with a deep longing that you wonder if gods are known for.

Preparing yourself, you lift your head.

“I know what you are,” you say.

Sun arches a brow, a grin playing at his mouth.

“Do tell, my peach.” He gently squeezes your waist, perhaps in an attempt to distract you, but you lift your chin higher. You’re not afraid.

“Suno, the god of the mountain.”

“Ah, so you did figure me out,” he chitters in delight, though nothing much has changed. You thought he would be surprised or at least curious to see if you’re afraid of him—of course, you’re not. You’ve had a long while to think of his hands upon you, how he washed you in the hot springs with reverence.

You are his. 

“Yes,” you murmur, and rub your fingers along his shoulders, combing his handsome fur, “though you could have told me.”

“I could have,” he agrees with the tilt of his head, “but that wouldn’t have been the same. Mortals need to discover things for themselves.”

“Do we?” you dryly regard him.

He grins so big, you can’t help but smile back.

“You do, such as what my affections taste like.” 

Your heart beats stronger within your rib cage. You straighten as Sun cups the side of your face, easily holding you in place while he leans closer. You catch a sweet scent of musk and a distant breeze of warm, yellow flowers.

The god of the mountain kisses you sweetly, with utter devotion. He is soft upon your mortal lips.

He draws back, his smile sated and his eyes glimmering.

“Welcome back, my peach.”