#then the conclusion is it's love it was always love. but from the person who doesn't even understand that

[rubberduckyrye]

Okay in all seriousness. There's something that I REALLY want to talk about as an open discussion with the fandom, but. This is not going to be a very nice thing to hear/talk about.

It's about how Gonta is treated by the fandom.

As a fan of all the V3 characters now, and as someone who has always been a fan of Gonta, and as someone who has many mental disabilities and two diagnosed neurodivergancies... I'm tired of playing nice about it.

You all need to stop being ableist towards Gonta.

I've mentioned in the past that I don't like shitting on personal interpretations. I don't like saying something is or is not canon because narration is just a big web of text that you try to decipher with your own personal biases, experiences, and thoughts. That's why two literary analysts analyzing the same text with the same literary criticism rules can come to wildly different conclusions--why people develop different headcanons from the same canonical information.

But one of the things that challenged my integrity is just how many people view Gonta as this innocent, naive, ignorant, baby boy who can do no harm/never has a complicated/dirty/violent/sexual thought in his life ever.

This incredibly ableist interpretation of the character bothered me for, well, obvious reasons (See: It's fucking ableist, need I say more?) but I never challenged it as harshly as I am now because to be frank, it's not my place to tell people how to HC a character. It still isn't. But I've pretty much given up on my integrity on the subject and have decided to go all in on discussing why this interpretation of Gonta is just. Really bad.

First of all, not to promote my own analyses here or anything, but I think this analysis I did of Gonta explains a LOT in regards to the ableism the cast gives him in canon. I also think that this subtle ableism is why the fandom is so bad with Gonta's characterization in headcanons and fanfic--because they've seen how the cast treats him, and they think it's normal. They don't see the microaggressions, they don't see the subtle ableism in the cast--they just see this big giant idiot who speaks like Tarzan in the English version (which... I don't actually know why people assume Tarzan (Thinking of Disney's version) is stupid. Like as a boy he had to reinvent the spear with no one to guide him on how to do it. He was able to strategize and outsmart "civilized" men in the final showdown. Still I digress) and don't see the literal genius behind his social awkwardness.

There is also another very important point I'm going to make in addition to this, and it's going to be very uncomfortable to Gonta fans who insist he's nothing but a sweet baby who only has pure thoughts. Especially to the fans who insist he "can't be sexual" or think it's weird to ship him with his peers.

Sorry to burst your bubble, but... Gonta blatantly has sexual desire and gets horny right in canon.

This is further clarified here:

It wasn't a matter of Gonta didn't want to touch her because touching someone in their underwear was inappropriate, or being flustered because she was in her underwear which is inappropriate...

It was literally a "weird feeling" that made him unable to approach her or touch her. A "weird feeling" that Miu makes pretty obvious as to what it was--sexual arousal.

He literally was sexually attracted to and felt sexual arousal from looking at Miu in her underwear. He had sexual feelings and thoughts about Miu. Why?

Because Gonta is a young man.

Gonta is a brilliant, talented young man who has normal human thoughts for someone his age--sexual desires, upsetting thoughts, complicated thoughts, ectect. He is not a child, he is not mentally stunted (I've been informed that people have literally said this on Ao3 for the NSFW Gonta fics, please for the love of god stop that)

I think the reason why Gonta fans typically want to keep him as a "pure baby child who can do no wrong" is because treating him like the young adult that he is makes it harder for them to justify Chapter 4. Every time I've seen a Gonta fan that hates Kokichi, it's always followed by the sentiment of "Kokichi manipulated and abused Gonta into killing Miu, so it's all Kokichi's fault." They're afraid of nuance and liking a character with the grey morality of genuinely thinking Mercy Killing the cast is a viable option, because it challenges their own morals about the character they adore.

To those people who read this and are upset: You can and should like Gonta! Gonta is a magnificent character who showcases the subtle way microaggressions can manifest and hurt people, he's a good-hearted person and a literal genius, he cares deeply for his friends and loves everyone with upmost sincerity.

But.

You need to re-evaluate your stance on Gonta if you think he's a stupid, naive fool who Kokichi manipulated. You need to re-evaluate why you think those thoughts, why you think Gonta being shipped with anyone is "Kinda weird" or "has weird consent problems" or "give you the ick." You have to challenge yourself and ask yourself uncomfortable questions in regards to why you treat Gonta like a child when canon has proven otherwise, why you think he cannot have violent or sexual thoughts, why he can't think mercy killing his class is the only way to save them.

This isn't an attack on you--but understand that these specific takes on Gonta? They are ableist in nature. They belittle and dismiss him, they treat him like a child, an idiot who can't think for himself--and you have to come to terms with the fact that Gonta is a far more complex character with complicated thoughts and feelings who is a young adult. Not a child. A young adult.

So again, ask yourself this: Why are you treating this young adult like he's a toddler?

[wonbineatsme]

: •̩̩͙ ໋ IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE •̩̩͙ ໋: - RI7ZE

RIIZE x fem!reader

Crack

SYNOPSIS: Boys’ reaction when you say you’re in love with someone - And that someone in question is them, but you decide to hide this part.

WARNINGS: This is just a hc, which means it doesn't match reality. I created the scenarios in my head :))

!! English is not my first language

WC! 0.8K

ᄀᄉᄀ SHOTARO: For me, Shotaro is very responsible and understandable. Even though it hurts to know that you are in love with someone else, I think Taro would react to this news in the most welcoming way possible, because above all you are his best friend. Maybe later he thinks he failed in some way, like he wasn't interesting enough for you, but he would try to push away those negative thoughts.

You both once promised that you would always be happy for each other's achievements. Shotaro will keep that promise, no matter who that person is, he will help you and make them feel welcome.

ᄀᄉᄀ EUNSEOK: There was no reaction, which made you a little upset, to say the least - Even though he is the person you like, in question.

You see, Eunseok isn't good at expressing his emotions. In fact, he never wanted to like you, he still refuses to believe that after so many years of friendship, his heart was stupid enough to fall in love. Not that the problem is you, you're perfect, but Eunseok is the rational type and to him all this shit doesn't make any sense.

He never thought that hearing from you that you are interested in someone else could cause so many feelings at once in him, so in the middle of all this confusion, Eunseok remained expressionless. Of course, your happiness is his happiness, but honestly? I think he'd be a little angry - Not at you, but at the bastard.

ᄀᄉᄀ SUNGCHAN: He would be the personification of the Lady Gaga meme “Brazil, I'm devastated”.

I know it doesn't make much sense, but for me Sungchan is the most intense of them all - Which means he reacts to situations in his life in a kind of… Dramatic way. He would be in a mix of “Tell me now the name of the son of a bitch who is stealing you from me” and “My girl is loving them for the first time, they grow up so fast :'))”

Yeah... With Sungchan it's always 8 or 80. He would be happy for you, but he couldn't help but feel jealous. He would make it clear that if you left him for the unfortunate man, he would beat the drum for the guy to leave you.

ᄀᄉᄀ WONBIN: My poor, Binnie :(( As much as he tries to pretend to be mysterious, Wonbin is sensitive. From the moment you opened your mouth, he would feel an existential void as great as if his pet had passed away.

He would literally be in mourning for a relationship that never even existed, too shaken to remember to be happy for you. Would call Anton destroyed and cry in the youngest's lap like a baby, not believing that he lost you to someone.

Would be a real show of tears and ice cream, but after a week he would apologize to you - Embarrassed - and be honest about his feelings.

I feel like Wonbin is the only one who would tell you the truth.

ᄀᄉᄀ SEUNGHAN: He would activate gossip mode, would scan all your social networks to find the bastard who wants to steal his place.

What do you mean you're in love with someone else? How bold! Well, now it's war. Seunghan only accepts losing to a guy better than him – Which is impossible, because he is perfect. He would only rest when he found the boy, all while pretending to be super calm with the news so you wouldn't suspect anything.

He would call the other boys for a debate, but would receive a lecture from Shotaro and a reality check from the others.

I love Seunghan, his reaction would definitely be the best ever.

ᄀᄉᄀ SOHEE: Wouldn't understand, like “How did this happen and I didn't even notice?”

Sohee knows ALL your friends, if you were seeing someone new, he would know. Based on this, he would start to think that you like one of the boys and classify them in order of proximity, coming to the conclusion that you might only be into Wonbin - After all, after him, Wonbin is the most intimate.

Sohee would go into crazy paranoia, looking for signs in your behavior, anything that would confirm his theory.

Behind the scenes, you would be laughing at this investigation of your best friend, knowing that it is wrong to have fun at the expense of his suffering. You swear you’ll tell him next week.

ᄀᄉᄀ ANTON: I don't know how Anton would react. At the same time that he gives off a baby vibe, the baby is also not a baby.

I feel like it would be something similar to Sungchan. He would feel a mix of emotions, between being sad that you weren't his and being jealous that you weren’t his. The only thing Anton would say is:

"But… What about me?"

You confess that Brachio's reactions still take you by surprise. You two have been best friends forever, but at this point he manages to be a mystery. Chanyoung appears to be dumb, but he knows very well what he wants and sometimes he's not afraid to express it – Like now.

Do you like another guy? Fine! But first you'll have to explain to him how you can fall in love with someone else with him there entirely for you.

You went to play and became a toy.

[jimraisedmeup]

TICK // 4.1 - the chain

Rating: mature (talk of homophobia, angst, language, sexual content)

Word Count: 1300

☾

Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies

☾

December 1983 - junior year

The morning after the barn party, you sat uncomfortably on the pew in between your mother and Robin.

The pastor was ranting about something you really didn't believe in. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see your mother quietly nodding along to the sermon. Robin, on the other hand, was particularly jittery - her leg bouncing up and down made the whole pew shake slightly.

Your father leaned his head forward, shooting his two daughters a stern look. 

"Sit still. Can't either of you behave appropriately in public?"

You spoke up before Robin could. "Sorry, Dad. I shouldn't have had that second cup of coffee today."

He scrutinized his eldest daughter for a moment. "This is the house of God. Pay attention."

Once your parents stopped fussing, you looked at your sister. Robin still seemed anxious for some reason. Trying to make the best of an annoying situation, you gently pinched Robin's arm.

Love you, Robbie, you mouthed at her.

Minutes ticked by and it felt like hours. 

Successfully drowning out the noise of the church service, you pondered over your actions from the night before. 

Daydreaming about sinning in the Lord's house. You almost snickered to yourself. 

Eddie Munson.

You didn't believe in anything religious, but for lack of a better word, you felt possessed at the thought of him.

Sure, growing up you were a firm believer in God and everything that came along with it. Your parents were devout Catholics. They did their best to raise you and Robin in a God-fearing household.

Things changed over the last two years, though, and as you watched your younger sister suffer so greatly at your parent's beliefs, your own beliefs slowly dissipated. 

What kind of God wouldn't accept Robin Buckley, no matter who she loved?

You felt jaded and a little betrayed. The girl you used to be - who thought God was always right and we should repent for our sins - was naive and brainwashed by her parents. By the church.

You would take Robin's secret to your grave, or at least until the day where the younger Buckley girl could kiss a girl in public and not be burnt at the stake. You felt an uncontrollable instinct to protect your baby sister.

That's where your cynical view of the world began to take over. You suddenly felt free and independent, not to mention closer to Robin than you ever were before. But you were always on edge, fists up, ready to fight anyone who wanted to judge Robin.

And now you had a whole new thing in your life. A boy that most people in Hawkins looked down upon simply because he was different. Weird.

Your parents would probably have simultaneous heart attacks if they found out that you had your first kiss behind a dirty barn, kneeling in front of Eddie like you were worshiping at an altar.

Squirming a bit in your seat, you glanced at your parents with an irrational fear that they might read your mind and discover your sins. Melissa and Richard Buckley were completely ignoring you, though, and kept their full attention on their beloved pastor. 

Until you could graduate high school and move out, you came to the gloomy conclusion that hiding most of yours and Robin's personal lives from your parents was the path of least resistance. Best to not disrupt Mommy and Daddy’s image of perfection! 

Don't look behind the curtain, Mr. and Mrs. Buckley. One of your daughters is a raging homosexual and the other one fantasizes about sweaty premarital sex with the town freak.

You weren't really sure what came over you the night before. Maybe it was the stereotypical jocks pissing you off at the party. Maybe it was your religious parents neglecting you at home. Or maybe you just liked having secrets, like the tattoo. 

Including little secrets like your damp panties after kissing Eddie at the barn party, which were currently sitting at the bottom of the washing machine so no one could side-eye them in your laundry basket.

You didn't feel judged by Eddie Munson. Even though he was everything that you were taught to avoid as a child.

The pastor before you spoke calmly. 

"...marriage should be honored by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually immoral…"

☾

And if you don't love me now You will never love me again I can still hear you saying You would never break the chain

☾

Monday arrived quickly and, for once, Eddie was actually happy to go to school.

He was nervous, though. Crossing his fingers, he was hoping that you weren't the kind of girl to kiss him on a Saturday night and then continue to act like she didn't know him in public.

Anger bubbled under his skin, simmering frustration. He reminded himself that he didn't really know you yet. The older Buckley sister was mysterious and closed off. It was hard for him to guess what battles you could be fighting in your mind.

Cause, hell, did he know all about inner demons.

The feeling of your cold lips brushing against his own was in the forefront of his mind. It was a quick, simple kiss - he had wanted to touch you, lay his hands between your warm thighs, but you pulled away and rushed back inside the barn before he could get a word out.

Eddie leaned against his locker. Gareth was talking to Jeff next to him, something about new t-shirt designs for the Hellfire Club.

He remained nonchalant as he watched students flood past him, bustling and energetic on a cold December morning. Among the crowd, Eddie spotted your distinct figure. Thankfully, you appeared to be alone.

"Buckley! Y/N, wait up, will you?"

As usual, your face was expressionless, but your eyes glinted with some kind of emotion as he walked beside you. You fiddled with the knitted hat in your hands.

"You know, sunshine, I am a classy broad. I charge fifty bucks per hour for my services. How long was our kiss the other night? Five seconds?" Eddie's confidence swelled when you smiled at his crazy antics.

But you still looked a little defensive, stopping and looking around you. "Uh, yeah. Five seconds, tops."

"So…" he continued, pretending to count on his fingers. "You owe me…"

"Four dollars and fifteen cents." You smirked at him.

Eddie groaned dramatically. "Oh, Christ, don't tell me you're a math nerd."

"I like to call it a gift, Munson."

"I probably wouldn't have let you throw yourself all over me at that party if I had known any better."

You snorted, "You're kind of an asshole."

"That's hilarious, because you're literally the biggest asshole I've met in a long time."

And then Nancy Wheeler appeared, closely followed by Carol Perkins. “Hey, walk with us to History?"

You waved Eddie off as you strolled away. "See you around." 

He would have written the whole encounter off as a win if he didn't catch the conversation between you and Carol.

"...what did he want? He's so creepy."

"Oh, nothing. Just questions about math homework."

☾

Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies

☾

He felt a little defeated for the rest of the school day until he walked out to his van in the parking lot.

A folded piece of paper was tucked under his windshield wiper. Eddie quickly scoped the groups of people around him, checking for any sign of it being a dumb prank. Like the time last year when someone wrote freak in red paint on his back window.

But no one was looking at him. The paper was probably just an advertisement or something.

Eddie was surprised to see a crisp ten dollar bill laying inside the folded paper, like a makeshift envelope. 

Unfolding it further, he could see neat cursive handwriting.

This should get me a few more minutes with you, right?

☾

Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light

☾

(song lyrics credit: "The Chain" by Fleetwood Mac)

TAGLIST for this series if you would like to be notified when I post new chapters!

[annabelle-creart]

A lil Blurr redesign for the Life of Rescue Bots Au because I wanted her to look femenine (I know in the show is male but Rescue bots don’t have enough women and I wanted some body angst for the Chase and Blurr plot, and by that I mean father and daughter plot)

I added the lil things that look like antenae cause of Chase’s moving fins of his head sides, that move when he hears something, and also I added an ambulance mode because they really need a real ambulance in the program, they don’t even have one in academy :v

In conclusion: i keep much of the body shape cause of her personal plot but also wanted her head to look femenine, and of course her character as well, added and alt mode ambulance and antennae so she would look physically more to Chase

In this Au she was an ilegal racer back on Velocitron before the war knock at the planet, she was one of the best but always get injured, the debts were higher and with the police getting out of control just as the people, she and Salvage decided to escape together to another planet near, but something went wrong and they both ended up crashing on earth and then into stasis, if they weren’t asleep so much time they would probably had Chase’s age but due to the stasis, they remain as teenagers, the day the sky turn red and green due to the battle between Mandroid and the autobots, the ship they were trapped into send a signal to Griffin Rock, because it was near, so the rescue team went into the rescue and awake them, becoming since then the two new members of the rescue team with Sissi. Even if sometimes acts like a kid she is really passionate and love people but is a little insecure in the moment of recieve and give care, she was orphan just like Salvage, they only learned to trust in each other, even when Blurr treat Salvage like less and lie to him too much times to count it or Salvage says things at her ear to annoying her and keep her away from the rest.

it’s actually something i want to talk about not here but in a comic but if Blurr and Salvage are teenagers who grew up alone and treated like scrap i would not be surprised that they depend too much into each other at the point of a toxic relationship where Blurr treats Salvage like less even if can’t do anything without him and Salvage makes her think no one is enough or secure for her except him, so, yeah, both have problems and need therapy… you know? I’m going to edit Salvage’s psychiatric disorder from ‘none’ to ‘emotional dependent’ I literally just thought in the idea and like, i didn’t even planned that Salvage and Blurr would be such a mother fraggers ajksjaksjs

But don’t think wrong, Blurr and Salvage are not bad, they are just hurted and don’t know how to deal with the situation, Blurr can be a little egotistical for all the years she had been thinking and taking care about herself and Salvage talk to her just like she wants because he knows her well, enough to be like a second conscience, they do what they think necesary to survive because what is now a toxic relationship was Salvage’s superhero who could keep him safe and sound and never allowed a night without energon, and Blurr’s family who cure her wounds and kept her faith in humanity (well, velocitranity?), they just were together too much time and started treating the other with more authority than they actually have.

I think sleep absence is making me do angst, night mfs, I need more sleep than Kade dreaming with gremlins

[irregularbillcipher]

going over old fic notes and outlines and character talks with friends and it's always really funny when i get to the stuff i was developing early-mid 2019 where bill just literally kept kryptos around to rag on, and he genuinely just. did not like the man. like was just completely annoyed with his general existence. boy have things changed

[r0nnietherat]

One thing about Mac is that

First he was afraid

He was petrified

Kept thinking he could never live without Dennis by his side

But then he spent so many nights thinking how Dennis did him wrong

And he grew strong 💪💪💪 (mass, so much mass)

And he learned how to get along 😌☝️

And so Dennis is back :0

From North Dakota

He just walked in to find Dennis here with that sad look upon his face

He should have changed that stupid lock, he should have made Dennis leave his key

If he had known for just one second Dennis would be back to bother him 🙄

And if there’s one other thing I know about Mac, it’s that

he will survive!

As long as he knows how to love, I KNOW he’ll stay alive ❗️

He’s got all his life to live 🏳️‍🌈

And he’s got all his love to give 🏋️ and he’ll survive

he will survive ‼️‼️‼️‼️

[florenceisfalling]

tonight was a weird night i sometimes forget how intense it can feel to be confronted by someones morals that are so drastically different from yours. truly endeared by the fact that i got a lecture on fiction affecting reality from a person in a marvel shirt though. tbh its kinda like they're experiencing the same thought processes i had like 3 or so years ago that led to me being like this so its whatever

[inlocusmads]

Nora "film scores are bangers from a cinematography point of view" Rose 🤝 Trystan "film scores are bangers from a lyrical point of view" Thorne

[septembersghost]

me watching any piece of media ever made: how can i make the thesis here about the wondrous, fulfilling, frightening, destroying, restorative, glimmering thrall of, and tragic inevitability of grief within, any and every form of love?

elvis (2022): *very first thing we hear* oh, let our love survive... *later*: love song i've known since childhood used in a dark, ominous way and a desperately tender one: some things are meant to be. take my hand, take my whole life too, for i can't help falling in love... *later still*: it was love. *last*: i need your love...

ah. okay. so you just made my job too easy. i don't even have to search for it. thank you. guess i'll go insane.

[mymarifae]

I think it’s more like how light world time flows to the dark world. As in the supply closet definitely existed before the abandoned classroom was a thing so that’s why it might be considered the first. The other two fountains were built later in the town’s history, but are still pretty old. That’s my theory anyway.

oh so like. a dark world has existed as long as the light world's corresponding location has existed? so likeeee: cyber world came into existence once the computer lab was built, and queen's reign began when her light world counterpart was taken out of the old classroom after alvin retired/passed away and was moved to the computer lab. (because that is totally what happened. i know it.)

that's a really interesting idea and it makes a lot of sense and i really like it!!!! files it away in my brain forever. but honestly, taking it into consideration, i'd be more inclined to say that the abandoned classroom has existed as long as the school has, because it was part of the original building plans, thus making it older - while the supply closet could have been built in literally any time. 🤔 or, Brought In. it's kind of hard to tell, but the supply closet doesn't look like a built in part of the school. it looks like a portable closet

[ID: the hallway supply closet followed by an image of the closet in the abandoned classroom. end ID.]

see how the top kinda looks like, 3d almost? implying that it's not actually two double doors built into the wall, but a portable closet that someone shoved there. in that. hole in the wall. (????????)

anyway. either way as far as the "which fountain thing came first" debate goes, i like this thought a lot!! it definitely works. thank you for sharing! :)

[gibbearish]

reddit refuses to stop recommending me the antinatalist sub and i just saw a post from there saying "women who breastfeed in public or on streams are just doing it for male attention" like dude that's literally just Regular Old Misogyny. this isn't an antinatalist thing you're just misogynistic is all

[area51-escapee]

What I think I find most disgusting about 'menstruation as a signal of motherhood' is the fact that largely, we don't even think that way about animals.

Greedy/shitty people and shitty backyard breeders aside, we actually take more care to ensure that animals aren't bred before they're physically sound to be than we do people. Its even considered neglect and in some locations outright abuse to breed an animal before its 'feasibly sound to bear and birth' young.

My neighbour actually had her French bulldog taken away from her because it seasoned young and she had it bred straight away. It was far, far too small and young to bear puppies without serious risk and complication and her vet clinic reported her for neglect and puppy-farming.

YEAH???? And like. It doesn’t make any sense to me how somebody can genuinely believe that that’s all it takes to safely carry a pregnancy to term. You don’t have to go to medical school or have a degree to know this, I’m sure as shit not a genius, I’ve just listened to people’s experiences with being pregnant and giving birth. The human body is fucking weird, things happen all the time, just because you’re born with one set of organs doesn’t mean you’re good to go and won’t have any problems. There’s all kinds of complications that can occur, there are people capable of getting pregnant who will never be able to carry a pregnancy to term, there are people who can get pregnant but giving birth could cause significant damage to their physical or mental health, or outright cost them their lives. I find it absolutely insane when people try to say that having a period or having a uterus means you were meant to get pregnant, meant to give birth, as if that means fucking anything when the human body is simply unpredictable, and even if somebody is capable of doing so without issue, they should never have to unless it’s their decision. I try very, very hard to understand where other people are coming from, especially when I disagree with them, not because it will change my mind but just because I want to understand their point of view better, but this feels nearly impossible to me because I can’t understand how people would believe this when there is so much factual evidence that proves otherwise.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

we can dip if you’re ready ; satoru gojo

synopsis; your dreams of a peaceful summer are rudely shattered by the presence of your best friend’s older brother; the same brother who rejected you five years ago. the same brother you’re still hopelessly, uselessly in love with.

word count; 7.4k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, best friend’s brother!gojo (he’s the hottest man in the stratosphere), mild age gap (four years!), unrequited love, but with a hopeful ending kind of, bittersweet fluff, mostly summer shenanigans and pining, riko is satoru’s younger sister and i would give her the stars, sugu makes a guest appearance, (they’re both just there to bully gojo), he’s fairly mature in this i think, reader is very stubborn and very down bad, [name] is used exactly once

a/n; personally i would let him use me as workout gear (tagging @teddybeartoji @dollsuguru @hayakawalove @stellamancer @vagabond-umlaut !! tysm for the help and encouragement ily 🥺🥺)

one mellow summer morning, over a breakfast of pancake and toast, the puppy-love you’ve nurtured for the past three years finally reaches its conclusion.

you’re seventeen years old. in three months you’ll be eighteen, standing on your own two feet, headed in a new direction — the whole world within your reach. but right now you’re still only seventeen, and lovesick, and sleeping on a mattress in your best friend’s room. listening to the sound of the nearby sea. 

you’re seventeen, and dreaming about things you can’t have. you’re seventeen, and wearing your heart on your sleeve. 

you’re seventeen, and hopelessly, uselessly in love with a certain satoru gojo.

it’s early. your veins are sleepy and your heart is heavy, and you wake up at the crack of dawn just to catch a glimpse of him before he leaves for work. he’s leaning against the kitchen island when you trot down the stairs, and the smell of syrupy pancakes hangs heavy in the air; his bare chest is exposed, his pajama pants cling to the curve of his hips, and he rejects you with an easygoing kindness you wish he wouldn’t grant you. 

suddenly, without mercy. a finality to his voice.

”you’re more like a younger sibling to me. you understand, right?”

he ruffles your hair, and you’re still sleepy, and you wish you could grasp the strings of your heartbeat to stop it from fluttering like this. wish you could pull yourself out of whatever trance he put you in, three years ago, when you stumbled over the threshold to your best friend’s house and crashed headfirst into his chest.

”you’re a good kid,” he says, and his smile teeters on the edge of something apologetic. mostly, it’s pitying. ”there are lots of people out there for you.”

he ruffles your hair, as affectionate as ever, the same as it’s always been. not a trace of any romantic intent. the weight of his palm on your head is usually a comfort, but like this?

it’s a specific kind of torture. 

there are lots of people out there for you.

(i know, you want to tell him, but your voice is raspy and your throat feels sort of dry. i know.

but i want you.)

“don’t get hung up on a schoolgirl crush, hm?”

when you finally raise your head, satoru is looking right at you. kindly, patiently, like a benevolent god. his blue eyes flecked with dots of white, like fluffy clouds on a summer sky. tilting his head to the right, as if searching for confirmation, waiting for your response. you muster up the will to nod; smiling in a way that must seem pitiful.

but he just pinches your cheek, throws his backpack over his broad shoulders, and asks you to let his sister know he’ll be home later than usual today.

then he leaves. he leaves you alone with two plates of sugary pancakes on the kitchen table, one for you and one for riko. he put whipped cream on top, and chocolate chips in the batter. it smells good. it smells like an apology.

and that’s how it ends. 

there’s no great climax, no real resolution. you bite down on your lip, and spend about an hour pitifully sniffling into a fluffy pillow, even though none of it comes as a surprise. it still hurts, though. your best friend comforts you, tells you that at least you have some kind of closure now — an absolute rejection to make your feelings go away. about time, she thinks, though she’s far too kind to say it outloud.

except they don’t.

the moral of the story is; satoru gojo doesn’t love you back. he’s known you since you were fourteen, since he was eighteen, and he could never see you as anything more than a little kid. you’re his sister’s best friend, and he loves you, but not in the way you love him. it’s not surprising, or shocking. it’s exactly how it should be.

satoru gojo doesn’t love you back. he never will.

(you really, really wish your stupid heartbeat cared.)

one mellow summer evening, five years later — you step onto a bustling train platform, dragging your luggage behind you, and breathe in the scent of a familiar seaside.

above you, seagulls chatter and cry. you look around, and everything feels familiar, despite the time that’s passed since the last summer you visited. the same flowers; peach blossoms and hydrangeas and tulips in all kinds of shades. the same street vendors and aroma of freshly grilled fish. the same cute and quaint port town, quiet during winter and autumn, pleasantly noisy during the warmer seasons. right now, on the cusp of june, there are enough tourists around to make finding the right face in the crowd a difficult task.

luckily, she’s quick to find you. 

with her long, dark locks of hair, neatly braided; her yellow sundress and matching headband, sunflowers embroidered into the fabric. barreling towards you with a speed that would scare you a little if you weren’t so used to it, so used to her.

riko. your one and only best friend.

she’s nestled into your embrace before you can get any greetings out, and squeezing you so tightly that you have no choice but to let her beat you to it. she’s warm, like a bundle of sunshine. the same as always.

with a low whine of your name, she nuzzles into your chest. “i missed youuuu…”

a chuckle bubbles up in your throat. and even though it hasn’t been very long at all, even though you talk on the phone almost every day and saw each other in person just about a month ago, you indulge her.

“i missed you too, riko.”

another whine, and then she’s pulling back. squishing your cheeks together and pouting petulantly. “you better have! don’t ever make me spend summer all alone again, okay?”

you match her expression, eager to protest. “you’re still mad about that? it’s not my fault i got sick.”

“too sick to see your best friend? too sick to continue our most important tradition?” she shakes her head, letting go of you. struggling not to smile. “awful. just awful!”

“drama queen.” her lips break out into a grin, and yours follow. “i’m here now, aren’t i?”

“you are,” she agrees, quick to link her arm with yours. you follow her steps, leading you towards that familiar house. you can see it from here, a roof burdened with morning glories, those expensive white walls. “no, but seriously. i’m really happy to see you.” her voice drips with joy, giddy and sweet. “i don’t think i’d survive two months alone with that old man.” 

ah. right.

your lips curl up into a smile, albeit a little uncertain. giddy, maybe. nervous? you aren’t sure. something swirls around in your stomach, little butterflies. tickling the ridges of your ribs, all those fluttering heartstrings. it’s been a while since you felt like this. all your summers are spent here, and all of riko’s, but he’s usually too busy.

the girl on your right chatters on and on, clinging to you, gradually melting away your skittish nerves. she tells you about her morning, what she ate for breakfast, the new show she’s been binging — it’s just as familiar as the house that soon comes fully into view. big and expensive, but still cozy, overgrown with flora. you don’t think either of the siblings really bother to take care of it, but it’s a pretty kind of neglect. a cute veranda, a beautiful garden. the apple tree you used to climb. the buzz of an old radio spills out from an opened window, translucent curtains swaying with the breeze. when you strain your eyes you think you hear humming.

riko grins, dragging you with her through the opened gate. the yellow paint on the fence is starting to peel, and someone from inside has started pushing the door open, and the butterflies in your stomach can do nothing but sputter and squirm.

it’s summer, and you're back. back in that cute, quaint port town.

(and so is he.)

“why, hello there! if it isn’t my cute little [name].”

time stills, for just a single moment.

he looks the same as you remember. a little taller, you think, but he was always tall enough to tower over you; broad shoulders and long legs, sharp blue eyes gazing down at you. he’s wearing black shades, but you can still feel the weight of his pupils, crumble under the knowledge that his attention is entirely on you. wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tight black shirt, showing off every dip and ridge of his chest.

a pleasantly cool breeze ruffles his white hair, short and trimmed, healthy locks to match his bright and sunny grin.

he looks happy to see you.

“don’t be weird,” comes riko’s voice, breaking you out of your little spell. all while she’s ushering you both towards the door, beyond the threshold, into the hallway. satoru clicks his tongue.

“so hostile today. shouldn't you be in a good mood?”

then he’s turning towards you, again, tilting his head just enough for his eyes to peek out. they’re crinkled at the edges, and his smile is fond. “how was your trip?”

more butterflies. his voice flows from his glossy lips, smooth and melted, pleasantly deep. you can only hang on to riko’s arm, mustering a small smile of your own.

“good,” you chirp. a little stiff, but polite, like you’re greeting an old friend; it’s been so long since you last spoke to him. ”i’m tired, though.”

your reply is met with a chuckle, a raspy tremor of his vocal cords. it sends a shiver down your spine. the weight on your arm disappears, as riko stumbles forward and kicks her sandals off. muttering something about gum getting stuck on the sole. you’re left standing right across from satoru, suddenly very aware of how much space he takes up all on his own. leaning against the wall, making himself comfortable. and chuckling, with that stupidly sexy voice. “i bet. take a nap if you need to, yeah?”

a moment of silence. riko curses in the background, and you shift from foot to foot. unable to properly look into his eyes.

for a second, his smile drops — eyes obscured by the black glass of his frames, betraying no emotion. it only lasts a second.

then he’s moving forward, one large stride towards you, leaning down to wrap his big arms around your waist. bringing you into a hug, not as tight as you remember them being. you wonder if he’s holding back.

(his touch burns your skin, all the same.)

one of his palms finds solace on the top of your head, ruffling your hair. you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks, terribly sincere.

“i missed you, kiddo.”

a quiet squeak tumbles from your lips, and you pray to every god you can think of that he doesn’t hear it. his chest is pressed right against you, firm, radiating body heat. his limbs wrap you up in it, a cocoon of warmth that makes it hard to breathe. you can smell his cologne from where your cheek meets his collarbone; sandalwood invading your senses.

“i m-missed you too,” is all you can croak out, voice breaking pitifully. at this rate you might actually faint.

just out of view, riko narrows her eyes. before you can plead for help, she’s tugging you away from the embrace, pushing her brother away, and you inhale as much of the fresh summer air as you can. 

“alright, that’s enough,” she huffs, pulling you closer. “c’mon! we should unpack your stuff right away!”

“want me to carry it?” satoru asks, already eyeing your luggage like a predator about to lunge at his prey. even if you say no, you know he’s not going to listen. 

so you let him. and within the next few minutes, you’re seated on riko’s bed, suitcase on the floor, a glass of lemonade in your hand. blinking sluggishly. 

“are you sure you’ll be alright?”

you raise your head. your best friend is looking at you with a questioning glance, head tilted and brows furrowed. now you’re all alone, and it’s quiet, peaceful. her brother went out to buy snacks for you. all you can hear is the low buzz of the radio downstairs, and faraway waves. 

“huh?”

“i mean, with, y’know…” she moves her hands haphazardly, making some kind of gesture you don’t understand. “with my brother. and your… condition.”

you blink.

“… did you just refer to my crush as a condition?”

“well, it might as well be!” she groans, muffled, faceplanting onto the mattress. “don’t think i didn’t see you checking out his biceps just now. you’re so obvious.” 

heat rushes to your cheeks. you try to shoo it away with a furrow of your brows and a loud exhale, but it lingers underneath your skin. “look — i —“ you scramble for words, brain tied up in fatigued knots. “did you see that shirt? is he buying them a size too small, or what?”

“oh, come on! that’s all it takes?”

another pair of exhales. you cross your legs, and she rolls onto her back. the silence is comfortable, and you gnaw at your bottom lip until she speaks up again.

“you could really, really do better, you know?”

her voice is quiet. soft, sincere, delicate as a sheet of glass. you know she’s just looking out for you, that she doesn’t want you pining for a guy who’ll never return those feelings — she’s kind like that, always has been. but…

“… i just like him.”

you take a tentative sip of your lemonade. sour and sweet. the cubes of ice clink against the glass, fresh condensation cooling down the tips of your fingers. her gaze lingers on your skin. it’s heavy, just like his.

you meet it with a sheepish smile, a little self-deprecating, but not embarrassed. she already knows all about your predicament. 

(you just like him. that’s all there is to it.)

and she pulls herself into a sitting position.

“i know, i know,” she finally sighs, slumping against you, cheek smushed over your shoulder. “just don’t give him more attention than me, ‘kay?”

you let out giggle. “well, duh.”

she gives you a sunny grin.

“okay, good.” 

you put the glass down on the windowsill beside you. just so you can stretch your arms out, falling backwards; a mountain of pillows cushioning your fall. a yawn spills past your lips, and riko sits up.

“wanna take a nap?” she tilts her head, dark locks framing her pretty blue eyes, deep as the sea. “that’s probably good. we’re going straight to the beach tomorrow, you know!”

“mm…” your eyes flutter shut, and you focus on that faraway sound. waves crashing against sand, the whistling of seagulls, the salty scent of the ocean. “that sounds nice.”

despite your exhaustion, you end up tossing and turning that night. not because of your best friend’s snores, or the feeling of a mattress you haven’t slept on in two years — but from the quiet sounds downstairs. glasses clinking, a chuckle here and there. the tv being turned on. tossing and turning from the knowledge that your childhood heartthrob, current heartthrob, is in the same house as you. a little older, a little less childish, even more charming than you remember him being.

you’re older, too. more mature, you like to think, even if the gain is small.

(maybe there’s a chance?)

shaking the thoughts from your head, mind still spinning along to the tune of his humming, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to fall asleep.

you’ll be okay.

okay, nevermind. you’re completely screwed.

“oh, there you are!”

satoru is already waiting up ahead when you step onto the beach, feeling the sand between your toes, a pleasantly cool breeze giving you respite from the sweltering heat.

the sun beats down on you, fervent sunlight warming the water up ahead, calm waves and a sparkling blue to match the hue of the sky; cobalts and ceruleans, melting together like watercolour on a canvas. people crowd around the food stands, shaved ice and churros and grilled fish, scents mingling together with the joyous chatter all around you. vibrant sensations, enough to excite but not to overwhelm. 

a picture-perfect summer day.

your heart tingles with something giddy, skipping happily as you follow riko’s lead; she’s wearing a cute bikini set, frilly and floral, hair styled into a pair of braided pigtails, kept together by her favorite scrunchies. leading you towards her older brother, waiting patiently, having already grabbed a nice spot for you. a parasol, a blanket, a picnic basket. you see bottles of pink lemonade, wrapped sandwiches, strawberries in a plastic container.

more than anything, you see him. you see him, and realize just how screwed you are.

he’s smiling, when you approach. as always. hair tousled by the ocean breeze, blue eyes gleaming with mirth, exposed by the sunglasses close to slipping down the bridge of his nose. he’s wearing a hawaiian shirt, black in colour, white floral patterns to tie it all together. just unbuttoned enough to show off his collarbone, a sliver of his chest, the short sleeves exposing his biceps; patches of pale skin, shining with the beginnings of sweat. 

(you’re about to fucking explode.)

as soon as you’re in sight, satoru lights up, aiming the flash of his phone in your direction. his other hand stays tucked into the pocket of his shorts. “aw, look at you two!” he coos, grinning brightly, teasing and sweet. “pose for the camera, okay?”

you’re still too hypnotized to react, but riko scurries ahead, ready to steal it from his grasp.

“no pictures!”

“oh, don’t be like that!” he takes a step back, dodging her attack by a hair, still wearing the same grin. “you’re gonna thank me ten years from now, trust me. it’s for the memories!”

a new voice spills into the air, suddenly, and you’re brought back into reality. it’s silky and low, smooth and nice, honeysuckle nectar turned into sound. interrupting the siblings.

“it’s been ten seconds. how are you already bickering?” 

you turn towards its source, and spot a familiar face — right next to satoru. were you seriously too mesmerized to notice him? black hair, another hawaiian shirt, slightly lidded eyes… 

suguru. 

he meets your surprised stare with a relaxed smile, and takes a step forward; meeting you for a quick hug. he looks the same as he did when you were younger, odd bangs, hair tied up into a bun.

“hi there,” he hums, right by your ear, a light squeeze before he lets go. “it’s been a while.”

you part your lips, smiling through your words. a little stunned. “i didn’t know you’d be here too!”

he chuckles, a light shrug of his shoulders. “me neither. satoru called me last night and asked me to drop by. i had time to kill.”

“you missed me.”

a dubious look. suguru gives a lazy roll of his eyes, avoiding the smug voice to his right. “i saw you last week,” he tuts, an unimpressed expression on his face. “how could i miss you?”

“do you need a reason to miss your best friend?” he shakes his head, slowly, side to side. white locks swaying back and forth. “awful. just awful.”

you stifle a smile, completely unsuccessful. the sun feels nice on your skin, and the scent of the sea is nostalgic, and they’re all the same as ever. it’s like you can feel your nerves melting away, slowly but surely, like grains of sand slipping through the gaps between your fingers. 

“the matching shirts are cute,” you point out, wanting to partake in the conversation, only to be met with a pair of furrowed brows.

suguru sighs. “that…” he mutters, massaging his temple, not before shooting satoru a dirty glance. “wasn't planned.”

said man only grins, unperturbed, tucking his phone back into his pocket. thoroughly amused. “he’s mad that i stole his fit,” he chirps, stretching his arms idly. it makes his shirt ride up, ever so slightly, and you swallow a gulp.

“well… you look good in it.”

at that, satoru stills. gazing at you, silently, before breaking out into another grin. self-satisfied, a smooth curve, sunlight against the white of his teeth. you glance away, suddenly a little shy.

“does he?” the other two deadpan, completely in sync. it shoos away the smile on his lips, making way for a displeased frown.

“oh, come on. would it kill you to call me handsome now and then?”

“handsome?” riko places her hands on her hips, raising an unimpressed brow, a sassy lilt to her voice. “you look like a single father down on his luck.”

“seconded,” suguru quips, hiding the beginnings of a smirk. picking at a piece of lint on his shirt. “honestly, i’m surprised you’re wearing any layers at all. not gonna flaunt your abs this time?”

satoru brightens, suddenly. wiggling his brows, a sweet coo on the tip of his tongue. “oh? want me to loosen up a couple buttons?” he purrs, and you hate yourself a little for the instant yes that resounds through your mind. “you know you can always just ask, suguru.”

his teasing goes ignored, but you don’t miss the amusement that flits through the scope of suguru’s eyes, even as he tries to maintain that deadpan expression.

finally, he exhales. “well, see you later,” he hums, directed to you and riko, checking the time on his wristwatch. “i should probably get going.”

“you’re not staying?” you ask, lashes fluttering with a confused blink. he smiles.

“i am,” he reassures you. “just gonna go fishing for a while. i thought i’d give it a try.”

“fishing?” riko exclaims, covering her amused grin with the palm of her hand. stifling laughter, you can tell, a bout of giggles begging to push past her lips. “what are you, fifty?”

satoru lets out a snort. to his left, suguru goes eerily silent — ominous, staring into your best friend’s eyes with no visible emotion. enough to make her smile fall. you feel a sense of deja vu.

“wait, i’m just kidding!” she suddenly squeaks, clinging to your arm and hiding behind you. she’s always had good survival instincts. ”don’t put me in a headlock!”

(they’re so stupid. 

gosh, you missed them.)

“oh, by the way — do you want some shaved ice?” she turns to you, eyes crinkled at the edges, voice syrupy and sweet. “i can go get us some. what flavour do you want?”

“ah, great idea!” satoru matches her tone, tongue flitting out to lick his lips, glossy with chapstick. “i was just craving something sweet.”

“you’re paying, by the way.”

“…”

“so? any preference?” she tilts her head, waiting patiently for your reply. smiling once she gets it. “alright, got it. you, suguru?”

“i’m good. thanks, though.”

“okie-dokie,” she puts her palm out, facing satoru. “money, please.”

he only tuts, digging through his pocket and pulling out a black wallet. you think you spot a photocard, but he’s pulled out a credit card and tucked it back into his pocket before you can get a closer look. 

“get me watermelon, okay? strawberry is fine too. if push comes to shove, go for anything other than lemon.” he hands her the card with a click of his tongue. “and watch out for creeps. if anyone hits on you, you know where to aim.”

she pockets it with a huff, exasperation on her features. “i’m twenty-three, toru. i can take care of myself.”

“aww, don’t be like that,” he coos, hands reaching out to squish her cheeks. she tries to squirm away, to no avail. “you’ll always be my little baby sister, you know. and, as your dependable big bro, i —“

“ugh, whatever.” she shoots him an unimpressed glance, finally escaping his hold. ”are you gonna go all men are wolves on us, or something?”

”they are! just look at suguru.”

”hey.”

you hide a growing smile behind your hand, watching them bicker and banter, feeling that sense of peace again. the summer day feels a little like a hazy daydream, a heavy nostalgia that sticks to your bones like gum on the sole of your shoe. 

and, once again — you end up alone with a certain someone. suguru walks towards the faraway pier, riko strolls up to the stand selling shaved ice, and satoru lingers behind. you think he looks relaxed, at ease, but you can’t really look at him for too long without feeling nervous. without feeling as if you’re both ignoring the elephant in the room. 

it still feels a little like there’s an invisible wall between you.

he’s the first to speak up, craning his neck and stretching like a big cat, a tiny groan escaping him. “well, there they go,” he hums. “what do you feel like doing first?”

“ummm…” you rack your brain for ideas, coming up empty. a little fried by his presence. you could go into the water, and escape the heat — sunbathing with him doesn’t sound so bad, though…

lost deep in thought, you barely notice him inching closer. still weighing your options, water or land, a relaxing nap or a splash war. you don’t notice until you feel his arm sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer, just by a hair. stealing all the oxygen from your lungs.

(you think your brain shuts down a little.)

his touch burns, as always. bare skin on bare skin. electric, a trail of sparks rushing through your veins. he’s warm, and solid, effortlessly composed — guiding you right where he wants you, which is by his chest, where you can practically hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat —

and then he’s pulling away.

you raise your head to meet his gaze, completely flushed, unsure if you were hallucinating or not. he’s looking somewhere behind you, with an oddly cold gaze. you follow his stare, craning your neck, catching a glimpse of a man turning his back on you both before walking away.

… was he staring at you, or what?

when you search for satoru’s eyes again, they’re already on you. he’s smiling, a little sheepish, scratching at the back of his neck.

“sorry,” he chuckles. “i got paranoid.”

oh.

your skin still feels like it’s on fire. a lingering heat, blossoming where his skin touched yours, rendering you speechless.

finally, you gain control over your vocal chords, dry and charred. just enough to croak out a response. “i — it’s fine.”

your eyes stay glued to the sand beneath you, staring at a crushed seashell, unable to look him in the eye. feeling the back of your neck grow hotter. you miss the dirty glance riko sends his way, having just returned with the shaved ice, and the way satoru mouths out a silent what?

it’s easier after that. she grounds you, a little, leading you out into the sea. the water is pleasantly mild, licking at your ankles, coaxing you further, until it’s reaching up to your waist. it cools you down considerably, and before you know it you’re splashing her with all you’ve got, giggles filling the salty air — seagull cries above you and wet sand beneath your feet, a glimmer or two of tiny fish, loud laughter. sensations all around you. satoru watches you with a smile, munching on a sandwich, not joining you both until riko beckons him over.

the day stretches on, melting away into evening. people leave the beach behind them, suguru heads back to the house with a bucket of fish and a smug smile, riko dries herself off with a towel and rushes to a nearby convenience store when she notices that it’s about to close. murmuring something about dinner, shooting you an anxious glance, a silent will you be alright on your own? with him? 

you wave her off with a smile. hoping it’ll come off as convincing.

so, one way or another, you end up under a parasol with a certain satoru gojo; putting empty bottles of lemonade back into the picnic basket, rolling up the blanket, stuck with cleaning duty. satoru carries it all, unwilling to let you help, the basket hanging off his arm. you walk away from the beach, stepping onto solid asphalt again, beginning your trekk up towards the main street — not too long of a walk, but you’re tired, even though satoru doesn’t seem tuckered out in the slightest. walking a step or two ahead of you.

the sun is beginning to set, melting like a sundae on the boundary of the horizon, rays of golden sunshine dripping down your wrist. satoru looks good in it, the pink and orange; peaceful, somehow. when the breeze licks a stripe across his cheek, he closes his eyes and exhales. there’s a smile on those lips, a smile of contentment.

he turns towards you and waits until you catch up.

“tired?” he coos, tilting his head, absently tucking his shades into the breast pocket of his shirt. blinking slowly, eyes shimmering in the summery hue of evening. 

“kinda,” you smile, trying to muster a pep in your step. another hum buzzes in his throat, and then he’s facing forward again.

“c’mon. let’s get you something from the vending machine, okay? ‘s just up ahead.” he pats your head, once, twice. “that’ll give you some energy.”

you can only nod, following his lead. hydrangeas bloom all around you, a thick syrupy scent, paired with apple blossoms from the backyards you pass. then you spot the vending machine. satoru takes out his wallet, finding his card — it’s not the same one as before. riko still has it.

and this time, you’re close enough to see it. in his wallet is a photocard, clearly visible; of a baby, sleeping soundly, with short tufts of hair. a dark colour unlike his own.

(your heart melts, a little.)

“cola or sprite?”

you raise your head, looking through the barrier of glass in front of you. then you’re stepping forward, fingertip pressing against it, pointing towards a green can of sprite. not looking at him, as you make your choice. ”this one.”

— suddenly, you feel his skin on yours.

you’re sleepy, and pliant, jaw caught between his fingers. he lifts it up, turns it towards him, just so that you’ll meet his gaze. two seas of blue, flecks of pure white, summer skies and summer clouds.

“there,” he exhales, pleased. giving you a reassuring smile before pulling away. “you’ve barely looked me in the eye today. ‘s gonna break my heart, y’know.”

a pause. you gulp, on instinct, shying away from his unbridled attention — eyes moving from those summer skies down to the curve of his glossy lips, and then back up again. a mistake, because when you glance down once more, unable to help yourself, you see it.

that apologetic smile.

(you really are obvious, aren’t you?

how embarrassing.)

silence splits the scene in half, only the faraway sounds of seagulls as background noise. they sound a little like they’re laughing, mocking you.

satoru presses a button on the vending machine, followed by a quiet beep. he doesn’t look at you when he broaches the subject, and you wonder if it’s out of respect or discomfort.

“still not over that schoolgirl crush, huh?”

…

something twists inside your gut. a little ugly, a little sentimental. now that he’s made the first move, it’s easier to move the pieces.

“it’s not a crush,” you murmur, kicking at a pebble on the ground. surprised by how clear your voice comes out. “i’m in love with you.”

a sigh. another beep, and the sound of a sodacan falling against metal flooring. he crouches down.

“… you could really, really do better.”

you watch as he fumbles with the pick-up box, eyes trained on the back of his neck, the buzzed hair of his undercut. letting out a quiet breath. “riko said the same thing.”

a snort pushes past his lips, ripe with fondness. he pulls himself up from the ground, shifting his weight from one foot to another, reaching for his wallet again. “oh, i’m sure.” he tucks the card back, slipping it into his pocket. a stray cat strolls by you, unburdened, waving its tail in the air. “really, though. you should listen to her.”

something cold meets your cheek. metal, condensation, a pleasant shiver down your spine. he presses the aluminium can against you, and you receive it with a murmur of thanks.

“i’m too old for you, for one.” he continues, and suddenly you feel a little like you’re being lectured. you break open the lid of the sprite can.

“you’re four years older.” a fizzy sound crackles like static in your ears, carbonation bubbling up, sticking to your fingertips. “and we’re both adults.”

he huffs out a breath, only mildly amused. “i’m pushing thirty, y’know?”

you take a sip, lips against cold aluminum, melting sunrays lapping at your skin. it tastes sweet. 

“i know.” a pause, your bottom lip trapped between two sharp teeth. gnawing at the flesh. ”i can’t control how i feel, though.”

…

“yeah,” he sighs, leaning back against the glass. crossing one leg over the other, fiddling with something in his pocket. “i know.”

a moment passes. then he parts his lips, again.

“hey, how about you join me on a mixer someday?” he searches for your gaze, smiling, another one of those charming tilts of his head. “i know some cute guys. and girls, if that’s your thing.”

your answer is instantaneous.

“i’ll pass.”

…

another exhale, breathed out into the summer air. it drips with exasperation, ripe with fatigue, but there’s still something fond there. unmistakable.

“fine, fine. just… think about it. okay?” his palm finds its way to your head, ruffling your hair gently. that comforting weight. “c’mon, let’s go back. riri’s making dinner tonight.”

and then he’s taking a step forward. you watch his back for only a moment, still deep in thought. a fizzy, syrupy sweetness sticking to your teeth, a sense of nostalgia invading all your senses. and, as always, that silent adoration.

deep down, you know it’s true. there’s no changing this, whatever this is. in the same way riko will always be his baby sister, you’ll always just be the brat that sniffled into his chest after your first fight with her. 

he’ll never quite see you the way you’d like him to.

(but, then again, isn’t that a part of it? that subtle, subtle kindness of his. the sense of maturity that asks for nothing in return.)

satoru is a good guy. that’s why you can’t help but adore him, despite everything. can’t help but watch his back as he leaves you behind, wishing you could catch up.

it feels nice, to open yourself up like this. crack the lid of your heart and have him wade through the carbonation. it feels nice to have your feelings be acknowledged, even if they aren’t reciprocated. even if you’re completely delusional, and high on summer joy. it feels nice just to watch him shine.

you gulp down the rest of your sprite, toss it into a trash can across the street, and stumble after him. veins sleepy, heart heavy, overwhelmed by adoration. you’ve already cracked the lid open; everything else comes easy. you just want to make a move, any move. want to see how he’ll react.

“satoru,” you call, and he comes to a standstill. when he turns around your arms are outstretched. “can i have a piggyback ride?”

the man before you blinks. once, then twice, fluttering like angel wings, or pretty clouds. 

and then his smile grows. you catch a glimpse of his dimples, for just a moment, and then he’s beckoning you closer with a chuckle.

“yeah? now you’re suddenly all brave?” he shakes his head, no real discontentment behind it. “or are you really that exhausted?”

he studies you intently, ripe with fondness, and you think your sluggish blinks must be enough to convince him. because he crouches down, back facing you, and chirps out a hop on. a little teasing, of course, but still nice. his arms underneath your thigh, lifting you up like it’s nothing. making sure you’re comfortable.

he’s strong. very strong. the butterflies in your stomach flutter around again.

and you really are very exhausted. bones buzzing with something sleepy and fatigued, sore after all the running around you did in the water. completely tuckered out, resting your cheek against his back. like this, you can feel his muscles, the solidity of his body. it’s a little bit distracting.

“— remember?”

a series of blinks. you grasp onto his shoulders, holding back a yawn. “huh?”

“you falling asleep on me?” he chuckles, walking forward. one step after the other, the soles of his sandals hitting the asphalt. “i was saying — how i remember doing this back then.”

you tilt your head.

“when you fell and twisted your ankle. i think it was nearby, actually. some park?”

“... oh.” when you really concentrate, you think you do recall it; the feeling of his back against your chest, a dull ache in your foot. “yeah, i remember.”

satoru hums, a little buzz of amusement. “after that, you and riri would ask me for it all the time. carry us, big bro!” his imitation makes you smile, voice high and squeaky. “so childish, i swear. i could barely carry one of you.”

a chuckle tumbles from your lips, and it seems to spur him on; because he continues. nostalgia pouring out his throat.

“don’t tell her, okay? but, see — i started going to the gym after that. lifting weights. training, and stuff,” he huffs out an amused exhale, grinning softly. “suguru made me carry boulders on the beach. it was kind of our thing.”

…

“we almost got arrested once.”

you can’t help but laugh, hiding in the smooth fabric of his shirt, in between those white printed flowers. shoulders shaking slightly, giddy and amused. “you did that just ‘cause you were embarrassed?”

“no. because i wanted to be prepared,” he murmurs softly. “in case the two of you ever happened to fall over at the same time, or something. i wanted to be able to carry you both back.”

satoru continues to walk, facing away from you. always smiling, you’re sure. even if you can’t see it.

“you’re both precious to me,” he says, making sure to keep his hold around your legs steady. “that’s why i don’t want either of you wasting yourselves on some random guy.”

a displeased huff.

“… you’re not a random guy, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“well, of course not. i’m the guy,” he quips, standing a little straighter, and you can practically see the smug smirk on his lips. “but i’m not a very good person.”

you blink.

silence fills the open air.

he says it so casually that you almost don't catch it. matter-of-factly, like it’s just another obvious realization, something so deeply ingrained that it isn’t even worthy of a tonal shift. satoru, who makes pancakes for the people he loves, who carries your bags and buys you soda and keeps a picture of his baby sister in his wallet.

that satoru isn’t a good person?

(how could he ever, ever think that?)

“you are.”

a low hum buzzes in his throat, absentminded. you’re not sure he hears you. if he does, he simply doesn’t care enough to respond. the scene flickers by, the moment comes and goes — you want to protest again, but something about this silence makes you hesitate.

the only thing you can do is —

“satoru.”

another little hum. acknowledging, this time. 

“do you… i mean,” you choke down a bundle of words, replacing them with new ones. gnawing at the flesh of your bottom lip. “is there really no chance… you’ll ever feel the same? none at all?”

…

a mirthless chuckle. he sounds a little tired, you think. more than a little exasperated. but the amusement is still there, laced into his voice, and you drink it in the same way you’ve always done. a little root, soaking in the light of the sun.

“after all that,” he mutters, “you’re still asking?”

a moment’s pause. you listen intently, as if you could hear the gears of his mind shift if you focus enough. as if just being stubborn enough could coax him into opening up the way you have. 

finally, he parts his lips.

“well,” comes a sigh, a click of his tongue. he breathes in the summer breeze. “maybe in a couple decades or so.”

you stare. those white tufts of hair sway with every step he takes, and his voice has a finality to it that isn’t lost on you. 

“… okay.”

a pause. then he’s barking out a short laugh, shoulders shaking. you tighten your grip around them. “okay?” he repeats, pinching the skin of your thigh. “can’t you read between the lines, you little troublemaker?”

a huff. you kick your legs, a little, just stretching them contentedly. wet hair sticking to his skin, your cheek still smushed against him, enveloped in his neverending warmth. “i don’t mind,” you whisper, choking down a yawn. and you mean it. “i’ve already waited eight years. a couple decades more isn’t too bad.”

silence, again. you wonder what he’s thinking. you wonder if you’ll ever come close to cracking open the lid of his heart. he parts his lips, oxygen spilling out.

(you think it’s a start.)

“has anyone ever told you that you’re awfully stubborn?”

you’re quick to nod, forehead nuzzling into his undercut. wearing a satisfied smile. “riko tells me all the time.”

“does she?” there’s silent laughter hiding between his teeth, eager to spill out. “that’s good. listen to her, alright? you might learn a thing or two.”

he’s teasing you. the sun is setting, and the air smells like saltwater, and satoru’s back is warm. his voice is set to a melodic lilt, and you feel strangely tempted to close your eyes. 

and you adore him again. 

right — loving him was never a choice, and waiting wasn’t an issue. getting over him is the tall hurdle, the root of the problem, a root you intend you trip over as many times as it takes for this something to bloom.

because he’s beautiful, and comfortable, and kind. because it’s his back you always end up clinging to. because he knows how you like your pancakes, how you take your coffee, what you look like when you cry. because you like this feeling, the swarm of butterflies in your stomach. even if they’re completely meaningless in the long run.

satoru is right, and so is riko. you’re stubborn, terribly so — if only you could see that as a bad thing.

if only you were physically capable of giving this something up.

unlike the siblings and their overgrown backyard, you just can’t seem to look away from an ugly bud yet to bloom. just in case it ends up blossoming, this summer, or the next. just in case it turns into something worth plucking from the ground. it’s fine if it withers away, too. at least it’ll give way to better soil.

you just like him. you just want to see where it leads you. that’s all.

“but promise you’ll go with me to that mixer, okay?” his voice calls, breaking you out of your thoughts. unrelenting. ”i’ll find you someone who’ll get your mind off lil ol’ me.”

ah. that’s right. 

(you’re terribly, horribly stubborn —

and satoru is too.)

you grin, soft and giddy, thinking of the years ahead of you. what they’ll be like. where’s the fun in a certain future?

“fine,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck. inhaling that familiar scent of sandalwood. “do your worst.”

[chuluoyi]

✎ protect

- gojo satoru x reader

the word “protect” now means so much more to him

genre: soft and playful gojo, sugary dump fluff, pregnant!reader

note: anyone craving some soft gojo? :3 based on a suggestion by an anon who needs a soft gojo a while back, thank you!

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

When he was 16, Gojo Satoru thought that protecting other people was a pain, and didn't take it seriously.

Later, when he realized that even non-sorcerers deserve to live their lives in peace, he dedicated himself to becoming stronger so that he would be capable to protect them more. However, even then, he didn't perceive their worth as significant.

But when you entered the picture, that measly, glorified word suddenly became so much more.

Usually people would only care about whether he had succeeded his mission or not. His formidable reputation as the epitome of strength means no one is genuinely interested in his wellbeing—no one after Suguru, to be exact—until you did.

After a whirlwind romance of attraction and banters, Satoru reached the conclusion that he wanted you, the only person left who actually made him feel like a human, to stay happy and safe. He would do it with his own hands, even if it meant reshaping this cruel world to be kinder for you with him as your shield.

And the word “protect” gained an entirely new meaning years later, when he rested his head on your swollen belly—the place where his new cherished treasure was growing.

“When will he come out~?” he asked in a whiny tone and a blissful smile, even though he clearly knew the answer.

You shook your head with playful resignation, unable to conceal your smile. "In three weeks. Now help me get comfortable, you dork."

He helped you turn over and fetched a pillow to place under your aching spine. Then, with a mischievous grin, he lightly poked your belly with two fingers, eliciting a yelp from you.

"Don't poke me! You're poking your child!"

To that, Satoru merely threw his head back and snickered like the dumbass he was. He then tenderly rested his hand on the taut skin of your belly, gently massaging it, smiling with ardent happiness.

"Can't really believe it," he sighed, brimming with the purest sense of contentment. "A mini Gojo, huh... You're really doing a honorable work."

A child of his and yours. He had always wondered how he would be after seeing him firsthand—would he laugh just like he had been doing now, or will it be the first instance that move him to the point of shedding tears? One of the reasons he eagerly anticipated his son's birth was just to discover how he would react.

Seeing the weight of his baby growing within you, making you rounder and fuller, stirred a deep well of warm emotions in him with each passing day though.

"I am," you retorted cheekily, rolling your eyes. "In fact, you should be revering and worshipping me for carrying your spawn."

He merely hummed in a childlike manner, feeling his baby move around under his touch. You were about to roast him again with something funny when he leaned down and planted a kiss on your tummy, whispering to it.

"Please come out already~ Papa wants to meet you!"

Your heart swelled with warmth at that moment. Gojo Satoru was many things, but he wasn't typically known for his softness—he was often seen as this all-perfect being, and so witnessing him acting purely on his human emotions brought you a sense of happiness.

“Who do you think he’ll take after?” you mused.

“Hmmm. Me, obviously. He'll be hot just like me!” he quipped proudly, and you playfully smacked him on the arm.

Satoru caught your hand and kissed it tenderly amidst his grin. "But I want him to have your personality. I'd hate to see him be a show-off."

"So you do realize that you're actually a menace."

He laughed out loud, patting the generous swell of your belly again with a smug look on his face.

"I know, but I'm your menace, and that's all that matters."

And when his adorable son was born less than three weeks later and you passed out due to sheer exhaustion, Satoru vowed by everything in the heavens and the earth that he wouldn't spare anything to protect you and his child from this curse-filled world.

Epilogue - on the night of the birth -

“Satoru—” you panted, grimacing, head jerking back as your womb throbbed and pulsed in order to bring forth your child into the world. “I… feel like I’m going to faint…”

Worry etched his face as you leaned on him. “Hey, hey… Calm down sweetheart, relax and catch up on your breath, okay? Don’t worry, he’ll come out soon.”

Somehow his words rubbed you the wrong way.

“Hahh—this… is because of you! This happened because you shoved your stick into me! You horny bas—aahh!”

“Well, hey! Last I remembered, you begged me to put it into you! And I'm not—pfft—”

“Then what are you?!”

“Hmmm, nothing but a man who got you pregnant, sweetheart~”

“If I bleed out and die, it’s going to be your fault, you evil, wretched sorcerer!”

[seffius]

I want to take a second to show my love to Wilbur's ex-community (and I give him no credit) for how incredible the response has been. I've involuntarily always found myself distanced from the worst sides of fandom and communities so this doesn't mean much but I haven't seen any fan try to justify or defend Wilbur's actions, or deny Shubble's story. There were people in the beginning (including survivors) who felt it disrespectful to speculate and jump to conclusions, I respect that. But now that we're all on the same page, I am genuinely astounded by the solidarity. I don't think I've ever seen such cooperation at this scale over the condemnation of an abuser. I mean the Twitch chat moderation team unanimously deciding to quit, taking their work and even Twitch's moderation bot with them, preventing Wilbur from even going live. Every update account across multiple platforms shutting down. Fan blogs closing. People packing up and going home like it's just another 5pm. I love all of you. I mourn your loss and I praise your solidarity and support for Shubble and victims of abuse. How such a terrible person could've created a community full of such good people, I guess I'll never know. Godspeed.

[earthtooz]

in which: a moment of impulsivity has ratio knocking on your door at 3 am with a grand confession.

There is a great cloud of curiosity that surrounds Dr. Ratio.

His intelligence is far beyond the average person’s comprehension, mind working at insurmountable speeds to reach conclusions and answers that no others have come to before. Mediocrity and Ratio could never stand to be in the same room, intelligence and reputation as an academic preceding him.

When people find out that you have been in a long-term relationship with the scholar, you can almost see the question mark above their heads. How did you meet? When did you start dating? How did you start dating? How do you put up with him? (You always answer that with ‘I’m still trying to find out myself’. He always rolls his eyes when you say that, but it’s nothing a kiss to the cheek can’t solve.) 

Only your closest friends know the story of how you started dating, but it’s always one you love recounting, much to the dismay of Veritas. 

For the decades that he has lived for, there have been few moments he regrets, always critically scrutinising every move six steps before he makes them. No one has ever seen him messy, uncertain, or dishevelled- except you. 

Towards the end of your university years, with an urgent final assignment due soon, you’re rudely awoken one night by frantic knocks on your dorm’s door. You notice the clock reads 3 am, and since the knocks only got louder by the second, you throw your covers off with a groan.

Who could be at your door at 3 am? Perhaps a drunk dormmate who forgot their keys? Or someone knocking thinking it was their room?

Looking through the peephole, you’re stunned to see a certain violet-haired friend on the other side, trouble etched deeply into his features. His hair was messy, falling haphazardly around his face, and his usual accessory of a laurel wreath was discarded, flamboyant outfit discarded for something more comfortable. 

It’s clear that he’s troubled by something, but you have half a mind to leave him outside until he goes away (that’s what he’d do to you, or so you think).

Opening the door, you begin by scolding him. “You better have a good reason to show up at this godforsaken time or otherwise-”

“-I’m in love with you.” 

Perhaps if it were a normal hour of the day, and if you hadn’t just been rudely awaken from your sleep, you would have processed his words faster. Instead, you blink at him once, twice, three times, fatigue weighing heavily on your features as you struggled to keep your eyes open. 

“What?” You murmur, shaking your head as if that would clear up the mental blockage.

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, firmer this time. 

You grab his wrist and drag him inside your dorm, blinded by the harshness of the hallway lights illuminating the outline of his figure. Turning on the softer light on your desk, you take a seat on the edge of your bed, gazing down at your hands. Veritas, however, stays near your door, annoyingly muscular arms flexed over his chest.

“I have so many questions,” you grumble, rubbing your eyes. “Why are you awake? You’re always asleep by 11 to get your ass up at 6 to exercise, or whatever.” 

“Are you avoiding the main point, or just stupid?” He grabs you by the shoulders and shakes. “I love you.” 

“Excuse me! You were banging bullets on my dorm room, I’m disorientated right now, not stupid- what?”

It’s almost like his statement from earlier only pierces through your brain now with the way you freeze, eyes morphing into something akin to disbelief and shock. He sees all the changes in your expression in the dimness of the room, nervously biting his cheek with every subtle shift.

“Did… I hear that right?” You whisper after what feels like an eternity. “You love me?”

He nods. “For a few years now.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Am I not doing so in this very moment?” 

Tonight has been nothing but agitating for him. First, he was kept awake by the pounding of his heart and the burning desire to see you, significantly delaying his sleep until Veritas decided to cast all caution into the wind, running to your dorm all the way on the other side of the University. Now, he is trying to pour his heart onto your hands, all because of a moment of impulsivity and bull-headed stubbornness, and a secret he cannot keep to himself any longer.

He may be stubborn (as are all geniuses), but Veritas is never impulsive. All truths will come to light eventually, no matter how hard he tries to hide them. 

“While I accept that my feelings may not be reciprocated, can you at least say something rather than stare at me blankly?” There’s an unfamiliar look of concern in his eyes, contrasting the usual pride and arrogance he always wears.

What happened to the Veritas Ratio you know? Who is this man by your feet?

“No- that’s not. I… I love you too, I have for a while now, but everything about this is… just… unbelievable.”

“Why?” 

“You’re aeons out of my league, Veritas. I never once considered you would return my feelings.”

He stifles back a laugh, dropping his large hands off your shoulders and clutching the mattress on either side of you. You won’t forget about the way the sheets crumple beneath his grip, or the way his head hangs, bangs tickling your legs.

Bravely, you raise a hand to his hair, running through it. Seemed like he could use the comfort.

“You make me too damn nervous,” he breathes, a hand coming to clutch at his chest. 

“Never thought I’d live to see the day you admit you get nervous.” 

“Why’s that?”

“The only thing bigger than your brain is your ego.”

His confession, and everything about that night, was unorthodox, never predicting that you’d end the day curled up next to Veritas, or the long relationship that would follow.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.