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solarmorrigan · 5 months

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Steve Harrington is absolutely the sort of person to become emotionally dependent on a pet. He grew up lonely and he loves taking care of things, and here's this creature that loves him unconditionally and is dependent on him for care? He's a goner

He finds a kitten in his backyard, wet and cold and alone, but in pretty good shape, all things considered. It hisses and swipes at him, but it's also mewing pathetically, and Steve can't just leave it, so he manages to get the thing inside with minimal blood loss (all his) and cleans it up and feeds it. It's a lot more amenable to the idea of Steve once it's warm and dry and full, and by the end of the day, it's curled up and purring in the crook of his neck, and Steve is already prepared to die for this thing

He does recognize that the right thing to do is to ask around and see if anyone is missing a kitten, which he does do, but no one on his street or the next one over lays claim to it, and there aren’t any kind of wanted posters going up for it, so Steve decides he is now the proud owner of a cat

He names her Baby and dotes on her accordingly. (In his defense, the name is Robin's idea; she tells him that he treats the cat enough like a baby, so the name might as well fit. Steve's always been shit at coming up with names, so he just goes with it)

Baby is the world's most spoiled cat, which Steve readily admits. But isn't that what cats are for? She's a wonderful cat and she clearly deserves nice things and Steve is going to get them for her. Toys, treats, a plush cat bed, the best food, whatever he thinks she could possibly need or want. If "I work hard so my cat can live a better life" t-shirts had existed in the 80s, Robin probably would have gotten one for him and he probably would have worn it

Of course, it helps that Baby actually does adore Steve. With everyone else, she ranges from frosty to outright hostile (she's taken a particular dislike to Eddie, of all people, which is unfortunate, because Steve really, really likes Eddie); she'll consent to be admired, and she'll accept treats, and she might even let more familiar people pet her, but in the end she is very much Steve's baby. If he's home, she's stuck to his side like a burr, curled up wherever he is and purring away, content just to be with him. She still snuggles up in the crook of his shoulder at night, just like when she was a kitten, even though she's bigger now and is a bit less easily accommodated

It goes without saying that Baby is strictly an indoor cat. Steve lives right up against the woods and there are predators out there, and people in town drive like assholes, and Steve won't take the chance of her being eaten or run over or meeting some other horrible fate. He really doesn't think his heart could take it

But of course, because all cats are terrible bastards at heart (affectionate), Baby darts out the back door one day as Steve is coming in off the patio, chasing after some other small animal that Steve can't even see, and she's out of the backyard and up towards the trees before Steve can do much more than make a grab for her

And Steve, who has survived interrogations and monster attacks and many situations objectively much more stressful than this, does not panic. He does spend half the night wandering around in the trees with a flashlight, shaking a bag of cat food and calling for Baby, but that's not panicking, that's problem solving

He eventually gets too cold and too tired to keep going and has to pack it in for the night. He holds onto some shred of hope that she'll be waiting by the back door when he wakes up, wondering why the hell it's taken so long for him to come let her in, but apparently that's not the way life works, because the patio and all areas around the house are still distinctly catless come daybreak

Eddie shows up sometime mid-morning, just as Steve is preparing to head back out and look for her. He has genuinely never seen Steve so upset; he looks like he might actually cry if he doesn't find that damn cat, which just isn't something that Steve does. But he's actually fucking distraught, and Eddie simply can't have that, even if Baby is his nemesis, so he goes to the phone and makes some calls

He cashes in on favors, he makes promises, he actually agrees to pay Mike ten bucks to show up, but he gets the kids, all the older teens (the only reason Robin hadn't been there already is because Steve hadn't paused long enough to tell her what was going on), and even the Corroded Coffin boys up to Steve's house to comb the woods for Steve's damn cat

It's Eddie who finds her in the end, a shock of pale, mewling fur actually stuck in a fucking tree. The cliche nearly kills him – either that or trying to climb down a tree one-handed while holding a cat. He's surprised she actually lets him pick her up, but then again, she's been out here all night, she's cold, and at least she recognizes Eddie. Maybe this is the beginning of a truce

Or, she might go back to hissing and swiping at Eddie any time she the mood takes her, but Eddie doesn't even care, because Steve is elated to have Baby back, so fucking happy that he doesn't even seem to notice that she's digging her claws into his arm as she clings to him for dear life all the way back to the house. Eddie will deal with anything that Steve loves that much

Steve pays for pizza to thank everyone for putting their Saturday on hold to search-and-rescue a cat, and everyone warms up and eats their fill before slowly filtering back out of the house. And later, after Baby's been cleaned up and fed and properly doted on and is purring away curled up over a heating vent in the living room, Steve takes Eddie upstairs to show his thanks in a much more thorough manner

After all – Baby is very important to him, and he's more relieved than he can say to have her back, but she isn't the only thing that Steve adores

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #while I'm sure steve would love a dog too I just really see him as a cat person #he wants to spoil the shit out of something and that's what cats are made for #meanwhile Eddie is losing his mind because cats love him normally. they LOVE him! what is wrong with Steve's cat!#(she does not like sharing steve. that's it that's the reason)#solar wrote

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flowersforjude · 1 year

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𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | A night in a beautiful meadow and an innocent question leads to a startling confession.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1,422

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Literally none. Just an oblivious reader and nervous Din. Fluff rised to the max.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Guy’s, this made me weep with how cute it is. So, just fair warning I guess?

masterlist | read on ao3

Like most things, it started with a simple question.

“Cyar’ika, can you hand me that wrench?”

You were helping Din with some repairs on the Crest when you heard that word for the hundredth time.

As you picked up the tool, your mind wrestled with the wandering thoughts of what that word meant. Din called you that all the time. He’d throw some others in the mix every once in a while.

Mesh’la.

Cyar.

Cyar’ika was the most common, though. You didn’t speak a bit of Mando’a, so you had no clue what he was calling you. He could be calling you the worst thing ever, and you wouldn’t even know. But even with his rough exterior, you highly doubted that he was referring to you as anything too horrible.

With every cyar, mesh’la, or cyar’ika your curiosity grew. But you didn’t voice your questions out of fear that you’d overstep some invisible boundary. You and Din were close—well, as close as the Mandalorian would let himself get to you. He’d told you his true name, so you counted that as progress. He still had so many secrets, though. So you didn’t want to push him to reveal stuff he wasn’t ready for. You would take whatever he’d give you. You would have him, however you could.

But sometimes your interest was almost too much.

Like at daybreak when he would touch your shoulder oh so gently and say, “Good morning, cyar.” In that deep, velvety cadence his voice had in the mornings.

Or when you’d just had a close call on a mission and he would rush to you, frantic, and place his hands on your cheeks. “Are you alright, cyar’ika? Are you hurt?” The words would leave his lips in a hurry and sometimes jumble together. You knew what he was saying nonetheless.

It was those moments when he showed you gentleness, concern, and care that you found it hard not to blurt out everything on your mind.

“What does cyar’ika mean?”

“What does cyar and mesh’la mean?”

“Do you know what it does to me when you touch me?”

“Do you love me as much as I love you?”

But you kept quiet and let the thoughts mingle in your mind. You were just going to leave well enough alone. Hoping that possibly ignoring your curiosity would make it, and your developing feelings fade away. That proved to require arduous effort, which you found yourself lacking day by day. And eventually, your efforts proved to be in vain.

The night it happened, the Crest had landed on some forest planet. Din had just wrapped up a difficult hunt, so he perched the ship on the first globe he could. You and the kid had been cooped up inside for days now, so as soon as the hatch opened, you were both bounding down from the cockpit.

The kid ran into the tall grass of the field, chasing frogs and crickets with the moonlight guiding his expedition. You stood close to the ship, just watching him with a loving smile. Din came to stand beside you, quite as ever, but his presence was a comfort you relished in far too much.

The first blink of light had you curious. The second and third and fourth flashes had you in awe.

The serene meadow was set ablaze with glittering brightness. Fireflies floated high and low, strung about the tall grass like hundreds of flawless silvery stars. They blanketed the grassland far and wide, down to the glimmering lake in the distance.

“Oh wow,” you breathed. You ventured farther out into the plain, turning in a slow circle, absolutely awestruck.

You could hear the child’s gurgling laughter from nearby. You couldn’t help the giggle that erupted from your throat. The dazzling excitement from the whole experience makes you somewhat astounded. You've never seen anything like this before. Something so beautiful.

You face Din, still standing guard at the front of the ship. “Isn’t this spectacular?” You questioned.

You could hear the airy chuckle get past his vocoder. “It’s certainly something.”

You rolled your eyes in a very childish manner and tilted your head in confusion. “How could you think this is anything but…what’s the word for beautiful in Mando’a?”

You’ve caught his full attention now, seemingly catching him off guard. He appears stunned beyond words. Beyond thoughts as well perhaps. You don’t understand why. It was just a simple question, but it seemed to have knocked any rational notion from him.

What you don’t know is that while you look at him with such sincerity in your eyes and you wait slightly nervous for his response, his brain is nothing short of a mess.

“Din,” you begin. “If I’ve crossed a line somehow-”

“The word is mesh’la.”

That stops you short. Your heart thudded to a halt for several seconds as you took in the sudden confession.

“Mesh’la,” you repeat softly.

You have no idea that his knees almost buckle at the sound of your voice speaking in his mother tongue.

Your face heats at the implication. Mesh’la means beautiful. Din calls you Mesh’la. Din calls you beautiful. He thinks you're beautiful? Or was it meant as something like a courtesy? Was he just being a flirt? No, Din wasn’t the type. So he must think it if he calls you it.

“Y/N.”

You speak up before he can get another word out. “You think I’m beautiful?”

He nods. “Yes.”

A grin tugs your lips up ever so slightly. Realization dawns on you as your mind recalls all the affectionate exchanges that you fooled yourself into thinking were merely friendly.

A coo from below takes your attention for a moment. The kid is at your feet with his arms stretched up for you. You hold him in the crook of your elbow as you close the distance between you and Din. When you stop in front of him, a radiant smile is permanently placed upon your lips.

“And uh, cyar’ika,” you whisper. “What does that mean…?” You’re a little hesitant to let all your questions come to light. A small part of you still worried you’re reading too much into it.

He takes a deep breath, and you try to ignore the anxiety coursing through you. “Cyar’ika…” He’s never sounded this breathless before. “It means sweetheart.”

The blood rushes to your cheeks with a new fury, painting your skin scarlet. It terrifies you a little that you can’t see his face, that you can’t read the expressions he is wearing right now. You think you know where this is going, but not being able to sense the situation from the other person makes it hard to be sure. You can see that he’s tense, possibly waiting for you to tell him that you were uncomfortable. But you weren't; you were a nervous wreck, but you were not uncomfortable with this knew information in the slightest. You were trying to figure out how to move forward with this without seeming like a lovesick fool.

After waiting an eternity trying to get a hold of yourself, you make a decision. You slowly bring your hands up to him, gently gliding along his arms until they reach the broad expanse of his shoulders, and then the cool surface of his helmet.

You can feel his panic, but you softly sush him. Eventually, your hands still on the side of his helmet, where you imagine his cheeks would be. You picture them flushed like yours. Even through the impenetrable beskar, you feel like the heat of his skin is melting into yours. You imagine how it would actually feel to be skin to skin with him. If you ever had the privilege to experience that, you were sure you could die happy.

What happens next is a surprise. Din clutches your hands in his and brings them down between you both. He then slowly touches his forehead to yours. The shock of cold metal draws a gasp from your lips.

“Ni ganar hid ner kar'taylir darasuum teh gar par chaaj'yc too munit, cyar’ika.” A whispered admission comes from him.

You can’t help but laugh as you have no clue what he said. “What?”

He chuckles along with you. “I said that I have hidden my love from you for far too long, sweetheart.”

Your heart cracks open with so many emotions that it’s overwhelming. It aches inside you, but the pain is welcome because you’d rather have this, him, than the uncertainty you lived in for so long.

I poured over this for days, and I still feel like something isn't right. But oh well, maybe it'll come to me later. 🤷‍♀️

#pedro pascal #the mandolarian #the mandolorian x reader #the mandolorian x you #the mandolorain imagine #din djarin #din djarin x y/n #din djarin imagine #din dijarin x reader #star wars #star wars imagine

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tojiwrd · 9 months

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the consequences of the voice in your head ; toji fushiguro

pairing toji fushiguro x fem!reader

summary it was easy to love toji but, sometimes, it was difficult to make peace with loving toji.

word count 4k

content warnings angstyyy, hurt/no comfort kind of, open ending kind of, grieving, self-loathing, comparing, lots of overthinking. toji's a good good dad, megumi's a lil ice hockey kid, naoya and toji r civil and almost friendly cousins in this

Breaking habits was difficult. Waking up on a Monday at seven in the morning was difficult. Love was difficult. These were all things you knew, and they always lingered in the back of your mind ready to put their claws into any thought that questioned why? Daybreak came and went everyday, sunlight got chased away by silver streams of moonlight, and these thoughts—no, facts—remained asleep, waiting for the moment to pounce onto the occasional question that flitted across your mind: why was love difficult?

You knew there was no true answer; there was no prose you could read written by a qualified doctor on WebMD that told you exactly why love was difficult. It just was. You could ask friends, family, and even strangers on the street and they could give you an answer that, in their own circumstance, ranging from calm to increasingly tumultuous, was true. But you could never get an answer for yourself from anybody but yourself. Perhaps breaking habit was difficult for Toji Fushiguro because he had learned that love—not the fleeting kind that you have when you meet a one-night-stand and immediately feel like the stars had aligned that night for the two of you, only to feel near to nothing for them until they turn into a silly anecdote—could only happen once, with one person.

For you, breaking habits was difficult because when you were thirteen, your friend handed you a cigarette and said once you get used to it, it’s akin to the feeling of laying on your bed and the duvet is warm to the bone on a chilly day.

Waking up on a Monday at seven in the morning was difficult for you probably because as soon as your eyes flickered open, you would see Toji staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows with a rueful look on his features. The first time you’d seen this image was the morning after you, Toji, and little Megumi Fushiguro moved into your new place. It brought a smile to your face, the kind of smile that is only worn by a person when they admire somebody when they aren’t looking. That was until he opened his palms and stared down at his fingers, right hand coming up to softly brush the empty ring finger. He’d bit his lip slightly, and you just about missed him from seeing you awake, before he reached down to the pocket of his plaid blue sleep shorts you’d gifted him and pulled out a ring—the ring, you’d realized—and placed it on the empty finger he was focused on.

You had beat yourself up over witnessing him having a moment as private as that for the next week without his knowledge, but there was truly no way to bring it up to him afterwards organically.

You could say, “Hey! I actually saw you put on your ring from your last marriage on your finger that morning when you thought I was asleep.” But that would, in nearly every case, not go down well.

Toji had told you, though, why this had grown into a Monday morning ritual. Well, he didn’t exactly tell you that he woke up a few minutes before you to reminisce about his late wife and their marriage, but you’d put the pieces together like you always did. Apparently, Toji’s late wife would always wake up early on Monday mornings and prepare an otherworldly breakfast for herself, Toji, and Megumi; she claimed it started off the week right, and it always made four-year-old Megumi more inclined to wake up on Mondays. In hindsight, perhaps it was silly that you clung onto that little tidbit Toji had told you in passing when Megumi brought it up, but when you saw him wake up on Monday mornings and start his day off by playing a video reel encased in his mind of Megumi’s mother, Megumi, and himself, it was difficult for you to feel comfortable by your presence around him on Mondays. Still, it was hardly Toji’s fault for missing somebody he’d spent years with who got taken away from his life so suddenly.

You were just overthinking like you always did.

A Thursday in late June marked one year since you had been living with Toji. A year of going to sleep next to him and waking up with him there. It was a silly anniversary, and you weren’t going to mention it for it would most likely garner confused looks from the Fushiguro’s, but you still decided to cover the dining table with a variety of well-enjoyed foods between the three of you.

There was a small photo-frame that stood in an arbitrary corner of the table where nobody sat. It was a small, old digital camera picture of you, Toji, and Megumi on a lake and camping trip your friends had dragged the three of you to. It was simple; Toji was sitting on a log, five-year-old Megumi between his legs who grinned wildly with a s’more in his hand, and you sat next to Toji with your head leaning on his shoulder. Your friend had gifted it to you on a random Tuesday, and when you smiled so wide at her, she embarrassedly brushed you off and said, “The person who printed this said there’s a discount if I get two pictures printed for the price of one. I just thought the picture of me and my husband would look good with you and your… Toji.”

Neither Toji nor Megumi had seen the picture. Well, not until the moment Toji walked in with a sweaty Megumi wearing his junior league hockey uniform. Megumi was babbling about the delicious smell until he saw the new addition to the table (after cooing at the takoyaki from his favorite restaurant and telling his father he knew he could smell it while they pulled into the driveway) and picked up the frame with his growing, stubby fingers.

“Is this from Lake Ashi?” he asked excitedly, eyes tracing every corner of the picture as if he was recounting the exact moment it was taken. When you nodded, he said, “I had such a good time there!”

You smiled, and ruffled his dark locks before retracting your hand and saying, “Go shower!”

He stuck out his tongue at you before he ran upstairs, saying something about how nobody can start eating until he’s back.

You walked to Toji who was watching the scene play out from the other end of the table and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Hey, how was your day?” You grinned slightly as your body melted against his frame, a strange sense of euphoria enveloping you even though you’d only been apart for a day.

His arms wrapped around your waist and he bent down slightly to peck your lips. “Thrilling. I watched a bunch of seven-year-olds run around ice with sticks longer than them.”

“Sounds like a fun time,” you replied, nuzzling into his chest, right against the soft thumping of his heartbeats.

“What’s the good food for today?” he asked, stepping away from your hold and scanning the dishes on the table with a puzzled expression.

You smiled teasingly. “Why? Do I not make good food everyday?”

He snorted, and you concluded that the way he looked at you then was with love. The usual deep set of his brows were relaxed as he reached over to you and flicked you on the forehead. Lovingly. “I cook all the meals because the last time you tried, there was a fire alarm and the entire building had to evacuate.” He paused, staring at you while you opened your mouth to stop him from continuing. He beat you to it, though, by saying, “At four in the morning, too.”

“Me and Megs wanted a late-night-snack,” you argued playfully, slapping his bicep.

“That you ended up getting in a 24 hour convenience store after running the entirety of the fire department and residents wild.”

“Semantics,” you brushed him off. Walking over to the plates, you started scooping portions and placing it on the plate until you remembered Megumi’s demand.

Your body unconsciously carried you to the photo frame and you picked it up, smiling slightly. Toji walked to stand beside you, his eyes uncharacteristically focused on the slightly overexposed picture. His fingers reached to pull it out of your hands and you didn’t stop him when he walked to the small ledge above the (fake) fireplace to place it between the small collection of Megumi photographs. It was a small gesture, but it was more than you could ever ask for.

Your mind skipped over the fact that all the other photos on the ledge were either taken by Megumi’s mother (five of them were) or had her in them holding Megumi (two of them did). Although whenever your friends had come over to your place, they’d cautiously asked you if you truly are OK with keeping pictures of his late wife in your living room and you’d always said that you were perfectly fine with it. Honestly, it was never your intention to erase her from their lives because, after all, she was Toji’s wife and Megumi’s mother. There was no erasing her, and that was fine whether or not you had a place in their lives.

When you came home from work the next evening, the house was relatively quiet.

You walked into the living room, feet aching from having to wear short-stump heels but, still, heels all day. Every single day at your job as an editor for a magazine made you question whether or not you truly had the skill to walk around heels, even short-stump ones. But once again, the feeling of taking them off with delicacy because you were afraid the rough insides would scrape the parts of your skin your sock didn’t cover gave you a feeling of triumph. You were convinced that the day you come home without the visceral urge to shred the dark pieces of footwear into pieces would be the day you could claim you were invincible.

You didn’t call out to Toji because you figured he was probably with Megumi, shopping and whatnot, doing simple father-son activities. He hadn’t texted you all day, and the little demon slithering through your thoughts wanted you to overthink (like you always did) and go berserk. But you had learned to tame that little demon (severely distracting yourself by doing anything and everything).

When you had changed out of your work clothes, showered under a moderately warm stream of water, and thoroughly washed your face to stave away the office particles, you sat down on the couch expecting a text from Toji. It was nine in the evening, and it was dark outside. He had never gone this long in a day without dropping you a text, even if it was just a word, and you weren’t wrong for expecting it. Breaking habits was difficult.

When you scrolled through your missed notifications and scrolled past your friends’ messages, making a mental compartment in your mind to reply to them later, you were surprised to find that Toji had, in fact, not texted you but Naoya Zen’in had. Toji’s cousin. It was simple, short, lighthearted, and it read:

missed you today!

It could have been Naoya texting the wrong person (it wouldn’t be the first time) but an itch in your mind told you it wasn’t.

It was simple, short, and lighthearted. You were surprised at how quickly the bubbles appeared on his side of the chat; you barely had time to exit the screen before he’d replied:

the stupid zen’in dinner is boring without you there to annoy toji

he said you were feeling sick tho. feel better

It was rude not to reply, but it was ruder for you to find out this way. Find out what, exactly? That Toji had simply not wanted you to go to the once-in-a-while Zen’in family dinner you had been to a grand total of one time. That was one incident you always pushed to the back of your mind—something you couldn’t do with the Monday morning incident(s) because they always played out in front of you, never missing a week—because if you thought about it too much, you would end up shattering your entire heart and it would all be your own, unstoppable mind’s doing.

Toji wasn’t the one to invite you to dinner last year. Surprisingly, the callous cousin who had manifested in the form of a breaker of peace today was the one to invite you. Your boyfriend had his jaw clenched throughout the entire interaction, and you were sure it was because Naoya wasn’t meant to meet you. You had been at his apartment while Megumi was in school to spend time with him when Naoya burst into his cousin’s home through the spare emergency key Toji had hesitantly given him. It started with Toji yelling at his cousin that it is actually rude to barge into someone’s house without knocking and that the rule applied even if they were cousins and yes, it still applied after they had come closer after being distant and despising each other their entire childhoods. It progressed to you making tea for Naoya that burnt his tongue and Toji telling him that you are no good with anything that heats up. It ended with Naoya bringing up the dinner and how he, too, was introducing his girlfriend (now his wife) to the family and it would be lovely for you to be there, too. He’d said something about divided fire.

The dinner itself was what you could call pleasant. You met his family and they were as civil as they could be surrounded by many people who are related to them. The entire time, though, Toji was bouncing his leg up and down and brushed off your hand when you tried to stop him.

You do remember his mother had said something to you that ticked Toji off, and it wouldn’t take a mastermind to figure out why.

“You’re the perfect girl to have as a daughter-in-law, dear.”

Truthfully, you hadn’t realized that Toji would see her words and level its severity higher than you would. That was why after the longest hand of the clock ticked thrice and his chair scraped against the floor when he stood up and walked away wordlessly, you were shocked.

You assumed that, today, Naoya had taken his wife to the Zen’in dinner. You could have texted her to confirm, but you knew. And you weren’t sure if you had any right to be mad at Toji over this.

When you walked over to the television next to the (fake) fireplace, you noticed something missing. You knew it was missing because despite it only having been a day, you had looked at the picture of the three of you on that ledge for so long the night before when Megumi was fast asleep and Toji was immersed in a book and the image of the scene had been ingrained into your mind. It was somewhere beside the habits, Mondays, and love compartment.

The picture wasn’t there.

And the only trace in the living room of you being a part of Toji and Megumi’s life had vanished as soon as it materialized. It was just a picture, but it was the first one that you had brought out in the house. Toji was the one to keep it between the other pictures, and he was the one who took it off, too. You understood second-thoughts, and you knew he probably had strong feelings about it but it still hurt. It was akin to being handed candy as a kid then having it taken away from you after the first bite.

You had been heartbroken before, but the way your heart sank into a cold abyss was a feeling you had never experienced before. You weren’t sure if this was your heart breaking or the tendrils of a boyfriend-girlfriend argument sowing its way into the universe and you were just the first to realize it. It had been a year and a day in this apartment you were convinced turned into a home over that time. A year and a day since you and Megumi began collecting stickers from the different stores you went to and stuck to the corners of his whiteboard. A year and a day since you and Toji woke up with each other in the same room after a night of you tossing and turning, coming to almost-there consciousness when Toji would steal the blanket back from you and pull you into his warm embrace because you had a tendency to hog it.

The door clicked and you weren’t sure when you had gone back to the couch and began wordlessly staring at the ledge. You weren’t sure when this house stopped feeling like home for you, despite your best efforts to make it one. You weren’t sure if it ever was because there were no pictures of you, Toji, and Megumi in the living room.

You barely noticed Megumi coming towards you, pressing a slobbering kiss against your cheek and mumbling, “So tired. Gonna go to bed now. Goodnight.”

When Toji was the only presence you could feel—not see, because you were sure that seeing him would ruin you when you were in this state—in the room, you continued questioning whether or not you could get upset at him over this.

So, you said simply, “I haven’t had dinner yet.”

You heard him sigh softly. When he came to sit next to you and say, “Sorry, love. ‘Gumi’s practice ran late.” You knew Toji, so you knew he probably thought it was overkill to use his son for this lie.

It was like a time bomb was ticking, and you were the time bomb.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and he was sweet. It made you think, for a hitch of a moment, that he cared. And you knew he did. Care, you mean. Just not in the way you had convinced yourself he did. It might’ve been your fault because you always saw Toji as your boyfriend when, in harsh, world-turning reality, Toji was just your boyfriend.

You have had many boyfriends over your lifetime, so what prompted you to believe Toji was anything more serious? Just because Toji came with a past baggage that weighed just about what you could help him carry and an adorable, hockey-loving seven-year-old kid? Because he moved in with you? People move in together all the time. Hell, you lived with a girl you only spoke to when you had to make a cleaning schedule for the room back in university for a year.

“No,” you replied truthfully.

In that moment, you were scared of how this interaction would end but you were more scared of how the words you carefully locked away in your mouth had been tampered with by some universal force and were just about to come out.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. You finally turned around to look at him, and you didn’t realize you had stared over every inch of his face, as though memorizing it to a tee. He seemed to realize that, too, because his fingers fished for your hands and suddenly your hands were warm. Under his touch.

“I haven’t had dinner.” You were sure the words would come rampaging out of your mouth, ready to strike blows at Toji where it hurt, but you were reduced to a mere shell within now and the minute you saw Naoya’s text.

“Baby?” he asked and it hurt. “D’you want me to make you something? I can. Whatever you want.”

“How was dinner?” you asked, and you wanted to make yourself believe you weren’t waiting for a ‘ha, got you!’ moment, but you weren’t perfect.

“We just stopped by the convenience store to get some food.” You hated that he was lying because if you didn’t know the truth, you’d believe him. Toji, you realized, was good at lying.

“Naoya texted me,” you said, shaking your head as if you were trying to get rid of any thoughts.

“What?”

“Naoya texted me. Said he missed me at dinner.” At this point, you knew Toji could see the cracks in your facade.

Toji didn’t reply for a moment, and you felt like you both were blessed with the silence you needed for a moment. You weren’t prepared, you didn’t have a set of bullet points you wanted to discuss with him like you usually did when you were at odds. No, this time you were discussing everything you always omitted from those bullet point lists; they were off-the-table because you knew they would do more harm than good. They would break the cycle of a comfortable relationship.

“I didn’t think you wanted to go,” he said, sighing as he squeezed your hands lightly.

You exhaled sharply. “Please don’t lie, Toji.”

“I mean it—”

“Please don’t lie.” If you weren’t aware of Megumi upstairs, you probably would’ve raised your voice an octave higher. Just because you felt like you had to. But as you pleaded with him, your words came out soft, delicate, and a complete contrast to the red, hot, fiery anger taking space through your veins.

“I didn’t want you to go,” he admitted.

You had never been stabbed, but you were sure this is close to what it would feel like. “Why?” you croaked out.

“My family, they’d start asking about when we’ll get married and… yeah. Jus’ didn’t want the hassle.”

“Will we?” You didn’t think before you spoke.

“What?”

“Get married.”

“What?”

You changed the topic swiftly because truly, you didn’t care about getting married to Toji. As long as you had him and he had you. “Where’s the picture, Toji?”

“What picture?” Surprisingly, he sounded almost OK with talking to you and didn’t curl into himself like he usually did whenever topics such as this almost arose. Almost, because they never completely did.

You felt like you were breaking an unwritten rule.

“You know what picture.”

“I kept it in the room, Y/N,” he said, sounding as though he was treading carefully. As though you were a hibernating bear, ready to pounce.

This shouldn’t be hard. Love shouldn’t—

“Why?” you whispered, closing your eyes as you felt the salty wetness build up.

He didn’t respond, and you weren’t patient.

“Why, Toji?—”

“Because it didn’t belong there.”

You wanted to laugh. He might as well have kicked you and knocked the air out of your lungs because the latter did happen. You found it hard to breathe under his stare, his nostrils flaring in annoyance the way they did.

You didn’t want to ask why, because you knew why. You understood why, and you wished you could be blind to human emotion, to human flaws and errors because it would be a lot easier to walk away from this with the feeling that he was wrong and you were right.

When you stood up, your joined hands pulled away, too. If you weren’t as cynical as you were in that moment, you probably would’ve thought it was symbolic. Because a part of you was slowly pulling away from him, too. And love can be hard, you realized and accepted once again, but it doesn’t have to be dealt with all the time.

You weren’t sure if you could continue fighting constantly with the thoughts inside your head just so you could feel that Toji is here because he wants to be, and he’s not doing it while comparing you to his late wife. It was difficult to feel you being pushed away from him and his son’s life, even though it happened in the form of a photo frame from a small printing store. But maybe, just maybe, love shouldn’t be harder than you can handle.

“Do I belong here, Toji?” you asked, a sad smile forming on your lips.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #toji angst #toji fushiguro angst #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk toji #toji x you #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro #toji fluff #naoya zenin loml

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writingoddess1125 · 7 months

Text

Theater Brat 🎭 pt. 2

Didn't expect to make this to turn into a series but due to popular demand I gotcha guys! Also I got the other part set too

Support me on Ko-Fi ☕️

Part two Also kinda Fluffy + bit of Angst

Buggy couldn't lie- he had enjoyed his time with you. Greatly- often whining and throwing what was equivalent to a temper tantrum when others watched over him, so you had become essentially in charge of his head of sorts.

You'd feed him, humor him with your smart comebacks and even shared a interest with him. That and he couldn't help but find you attractive, which he often exploited in a series of dirty jokes. The two of you could judt sit for hours and talk about different play, or whatever came to mine. He had never had a person in his life he could do this with- Even Shanks hasn't been this open to conversation.

Buggy often talking about different things he had done in his young life in order to love the theater. Even admitting in some way it was for attention he went into his performing roles. Laying on your bed you looked to Buggy who was on his respected spot on the nightstand.

"Well, Buggy I'm sorry to Rain on your parade but- It doesn't sound like Shanks betrayed you-" You deadpanned.

"But he did! I would have been rich and started up my crew early! I could have done so much!!" He yelled, Angry just thinking about his old friendemy- you chuckled

"It sounded like an accident and then he saved you- honestly you should be happy, You're a feared Pirate Captian like you wanted and have abilities to boot" You pointed out, Smiling as you watched the gears turn in his head at your words. Before he replied your bedroom door slammed open- Zoro standing there with a frown at the sight of the two of you.

He had grown very suspicious over the freindly relationship you'd develop with Buggy. While no one else spoke on it and Even Luffy thought in some way it was funny, Zoro had been very resevered and his attitude growing a bit frosty at you.

"We are landing in Tangerine Town soon-" He said calmly, walking forward and picking up Buggy and Tossing him in the burlap sack quickly. Ignoring the Fuss from the head as he shot you a cold look.

"Be ready" He said before leaving with Buggy head. It was rather uncomforble being in the town and seeing Nami with her village- a bubble of resentment there even when learning from her sister and later Nami herself what had taken place and sobbing to Luffy for help. The whole time Buggy having been silent on Zoro's hip... listening. That evening when everyone was trying to rest for the fight in the morning to help Nami and her Village you heard shuffling from the bag Buggy was in-

"(Y/N) get out now.... Arlong is too strong.. please" You heard him whisper. But turned away and continued to sleep. Hoping he thought you asleep...

At daybreak the plan was set heading to Arlong Park to liberate the people, As the battle started it was like chaos broke out, Fishman surrounding you all and beginning to attack- Your specialty wasn't fighting but you tried your hardest. Eventually being that you couldnt help but notice a headless body hanging next to stuffed animals.

Making your way towards it, you pulled out the short Dagger you'd been using to defend yourself. Ready to help cut the restraints that held him up, However as you got close you saw a larger Fishman appear next to the shack, He looked similar to that of a pufferfish- he was twice your size and cackled at seeing you, Holding a massive sword which he swung at you and you barely dodged.

A scream ripped from you as you dodged and ran- A Dagger wasn't going to beat a giant pufferman with a damn claymore. You ran into the forest, hearing heavy footsteps behind you which made you glance back.

Seeing Pufferfishman chasing you ran as fast as you could. Your lungs burning as he tried to outrun him. Tears brimming in your eyes as his quills pulled and he shot out poisonous darts.

While you tried to weave through the the trees it seemed lucky wasn't on your side- as one of the poisonous darts stuck in your arm. You screamed in pain and stumbled, trying to keep a running bur the pain felt almost unbearable. Stumbling to the ground as you held your arm- it felt like fire.

"Hahaha! Such weak things you humans are!" The Fishman yelled, getting closer to you as he puffed up to deliver a final blow.

"Chop Chop Canon!"

Two arms shot out with knives attached, Slicing the Fishman down the sides- cutting off effectively its arms. Before a flying hand turned and sliced off the head. The Fishman crumbling to the ground before your feet as the arms returned to its owner-

Buggy panted as he was covered in blood ot seemed having killed some more of Arlongs men to find yoh. Rushing to you quickly as you held your side, you gasping in pain as you felt the harsh burn of the poisonous dart in your skin tears rolling down your cheeks as you watched Buggy look over the injury. Using his gloved hand and in one fluid motion yanking out the dart making you scream in pain.

"I know I know. Bare with me just a bit more Doll"

He muttered. Pulling off his bandana first before leaning forward and putting his lips to the wound before starting to suck and spit out the mix of poison and blood. Holding your arm tightly to keep it from spreading as quickly as possible as he worked.

After a few moments of this he tied his bandana tightly over the wound. Looking over your face, noting the pale appearance.

"Come with me (Y/N) we need to leave my shop is close-!" He said ready tonpull you but you quickly resisted. Pulling back slightly.

"I can't go with you Buggy- I have to stay with my crew..."

Buggy grabbed your hand, Looking you in the eyes like he wanted to say more, fight, throw his fit or even beg. However he gave only a saddened sigh and released you.

"You really don't want to come with me?..." Buggy asked, it was odd- your chest hurt at seeing him in such a way. It wasn't exactly pathetic but it was like you had kicked a puppy..

"Just N-Not now- I did promise to draw one of your shows afterall. But right now my crew needs me-" You say, figuring this was the best option. His eyes softened in disappointment but he nodded non the less.

Buggy looked up, seeing the figure of Usopp running it looked like he had faced his own battle already. He looked back at you and carefully released your hand, backing away before he whistled loudly to catch Usopp attention before bolting. The fellow strawhat seeing you and rushing to your side.

Usopp helped you up, frantically ranting about how dangerous this all was before trying to lead to back to the group. Once the battle ended and the crew ended up back at Tangerine town you received the antidote for the poison which luckily had been mostly sucked out before it took effect. Laying by the fire you stared tried to let the day roll off you, it had been too eventful and you didn't know how to feel. Buggys disappointed eyes Seeming to appear everytime you closed them. A shuffle of someone sitting next to you drew you from your thoughts, seeing Zoro seated next to you with his second plate.

"He helped you didn't he- The clown?" Zoro asked bluntly, staring straight ahead. You looked to him softly before nodding and messed with the bandana still tied to your arm.

"Yes..." You mutter softly, Zoro giving only a grunt in reply before continuing his meal. A uncompleted silence falling over the two of you. Nothing else was said and while you enjoyed the party, you couldn't help but feel conflicted non the less.

That night back on the Going Merry you felt... Uneasy? Tossing and turning- Was it because you had gotten so used to Buggy being there? His head laid on a Pillow next to the nightstand? You sighed, Rolling over again to stare out the window. The movement of the waves finally starting to lull you to sleep, the long day slipping behind you as you felt relaxed enough to ignore any odd feelings.

"Mmm!?" You hummed, eyes wide as you felt a form pinning you down a hand placed tightly over your mouth to keep from screaming. Blinking quickly your eyes trg focused on the form above you.

"Don't scream" You hear the hushed voice whisper in your ear- A shiver running through your form as you recognize the voice. Buggy- Seeing him above you, it was far different then the disheveled head you had grown uses to- He was clean with fresh makeup, a few peices of his blue hair having slipped from his bandana and hat indicating it was freshly washed paired with the sweet apple scent that wafted off him.

Slowly he removed his hands from your lips, glancing at Nami's bed to make sure she was still asleep before meeting your gaze.

"Buggy? What the hell are you doing here?" You whispered harshly. Trying to sit up for a second but he gently pushed you back down into the bed.

"Well.. I made a promise to you that you'd see one of my shows- without the 'unpleasant bits" He used quotation fingers at the unpleasant bits, his eyes not helping to roll but he smiled down at you anyway. Paired with traveling down to snag a peak at the rest of your sleep attire- Which both made you blush lightly and pinch what was the closest to your hands- in this case his thigh.

"Oh~ Kinky-"

"No-" You give a faux glare, before glancing around quietly. One show couldnt hurt right? It wasn't like the crew would know about about it-

"Fine- One show" you whisper out, a wide smile pulling at Buggy face as he climbed off you gently. Fixing his large hat like he was preparing for something bigger.

"Good, and just to make it easier- Sorry (Y/N)" He said softly, holding up the stumble where his left hand should have been. You look at him confused before turning to see his hand floating next to your head as he squeezed a Muggy Ball. The red smoke filling your lungs as the world started to spin, as the world turned black you felt warm hands grab you.

#x reader #one peice x reader #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #one peice #op buggy

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takawbird · 1 year

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chasing daybreak

#fire emblem #fe3h #blue lions #fav house forever i miss them a lot

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peachdues · 9 months

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Wreckage

(Sanemi x F!Reader)

A/N: written back at the start of the month.

CW: angst • all hurt, no comfort • reader death • violence/death/blood

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

It had lasted through the night, that bloody war.

The sky above them was gray and wet; rain had long since dampened the earth, mixing with the carnage strewn about the remnants of the crimson-soaked battlefield. Though daybreak had finally arrived just a few minutes prior, the muted sunlight still working to chase away the smoldering remains of the demons slain, Sanemi felt as though he’d been wading through the slaughter for hours. His legs ached and his lungs screamed at him to stop, to sit and wait for the Kakushi to arrive and render first aid, but he could not; he had to find her.

A horde of demons had sought to feast upon an entire village, one with known ties to the Corps. In a desperate attempt to avoid mass casualties, the Master had sent three Pillars rushing to the scene, though many lower-ranked skaters had already been lost.

It seemed the Hashira almost had the upper hand, until he’d arrived.

Muzan Kibutsuji’s right-hand monster had deigned to grace the battlefield with his presence, ominous and lethal. Even other demons had cowered the moment he’d unsheathed his hell-sword, some choosing to flee rather than be caught in the crossfire.

Sanemi had been cutting through demons one after another, when he’d caught sight of the Lunar Hashira launching a defensive attack on the Upper Moon, in a desperate attempt to shield a group of younger slayers from the beast’s attack. He’d desperately moved to help her, but before he could reach her, Sanemi had been forced to defend against an aerial strike, and in so doing, he’d lost sight of the Pillar.

Later on, Sanemi managed to briefly engage Upper Moon One, though at the cost of a deep wound to his thigh. The battle only ended once the sun began to bleed through the sky, forcing even Kibutsuji’s highest-ranking demon to retreat into the shadows to avoid daylight’s punishing reach.

And so, the demons had left the surviving slayers to wade through their wreckage.

Sanemi was half-dragging himself through the limbs and entrails of his comrades, his right leg rapidly growing numb from the oozing gash he’d sustained from Upper One, but he paid it little mind. He persisted in his trek, even as he sunk to his knees amidst the mud and blood, because he had to find her — even if it meant hauling himself across the field with his bare hands.

By some miracle, even his color-blinded eyes could recognize the back of her familiar-patterned haori, only a few feet to his left, half-lying a top another fallen swordsman.

Sanemi felt relief, coarse, and sweet, pulse through him as he dragged his bleeding and broken body faster towards her, her name on his lips. He realized, as he drew nearer, that she wasn’t moving, and he called for someone — anyone — nearby to come help the fallen Pillar, to get her quickly to Kocho or the Butterfly Mansion for treatment.

He could see the thick, dark stain that spread across her tattered haori, but that did not dampen the flutter of burgeoning optimism he felt. Because, while he was covered in blood as well, they’d made it — and he could chew her ass out for getting so injured once he helped her get all patched up.

A scarred hand stretched out to grip her shoulder and he turned the motionless Pillar towards him. Sanemi loosed a breath of relief at the sight of her open eyes, because that meant she was conscious.

“C’mere, baby,” he grunted, sitting up and hauling her partially into his lap, helping her to sit against him. “Where’d he get you? Your shoulder?”

Sanemi looked to where he cradled Y/N against him, hands on either side of the woman’s waist, and could see the blood beginning to stain his skin. “Damn, sweetheart, he got you good.” He pressed a kiss against her rain-cooled forehead, to comfort her. “We’ll get you help soon, baby. I’ve got you.”

Y/N said nothing, her head merely thudding against his chest, and he worried that her injuries had sent her into shock; after all, the Wind Pillar could not remember the last time a demon had even been able to draw her blood, let alone wound her. A tightness bloomed in his chest, and Sanemi cast his eyes around, frantically scanning the battleground for any sign of the familiar butterfly-patterned haori of the other Hashira who’d been dispatched with them.

Sanemi’s gaze finally landed on the young doctor, only a few yards from where they lay as she limped away from helping another slayer.

“Kocho! Here!” Sanemi yelled, voice hoarse after hours of yelling and fighting.

The Insect Pillar looked around, trying to see over the piles of corpses and parts as she scanned the carnage for her fellow Hashira. Violet eyes met his, and Sanemi felt the suffocating tightness in his chest ease as she advanced towards them.

“I can’t tell where she’s bleeding from,” the Wind Pillar explained as Kocho drew closer to the pair. “And I think she’s in shock.”

Kocho made it to Y/N’s feet but drew short with a sharp exhale, her eyes widening as she looked over the Pillar gathered in Sanemi’s arms.

“Kocho ,” Sanemi urged, the edge in his voice appearing finally to inspire movement in her as she came around and crouched down by Y/N’s side.

“Shinazugawa,” Kocho whispered, and Sanemi looked at his fellow comrade in confusion.

“Please, Kocho, she needs help,” he repeated, trying to lift her towards the doctor. “So help her.”

Wordlessly, the Insect Pillar’s pale, bloodied hand trembled as she reached out towards Y/N. She hesitated slightly in mid-air, before she brushed her fingers gently over the Pillar’s eyes, closing them.

Sanemi gaped at the pale, shaking woman. “What’re you-?”

But the wounded Insect Pillar only continued to stare at him, her eyes filled with an inscrutable sorrow that vexed him, as she shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

Sanemi’s own head began to shake on its own accord, parroting that of Kocho’s. “No, no, just — see,” he muttered, shifting Y/N in his lap again so that she lay across his thighs, her face turned towards him.

“Y/N,” the Wind Pillar said gruffly, “Y/N, you’ve gotta — you’ve gotta tell Kocho where it hurts.” Sanemi jostled the unmoving woman in his arms slightly, insistent. “Wake up, Y/N.”

The Lunar Pillar remained utterly still in his arms, and Sanemi felt his heart quicken.

He brought the hand he’d had supporting her lower back up against her face, lightly slapping her cheek in a desperate attempt to make the woman he loved open her eyes again.

“Y/N,” Sanemi growled, his vision becoming blurred not by the cold rain, but by tears as his heart began to accept what his brain could not. “Open your eyes, dammit.”

“Sanemi,” Kocho’s voice was soft, dangerously soft, as she brought a gentle hand to rest against his shoulder. “She’s gone, Sanemi.”

Sanemi did not look up — could not, as he pressed his forehead against the Lunar Pillar’s temple. His fingers trembled as they brushed back the blood and rain-soaked strands of Y/N’s hair from her face and caressed the cooled expanse of her cheek.

“Please,” he whispered, brushing his lips against hers, over and over. “Please, Y/N. Let Kocho fix you.”

Still, the Lunar Hashira did not move. He felt as though he were suddenly submerged under water, a dull ringing echoing in his ears, as Sanemi stared down at Y/N in horror. His breath came fast and hard through his mouth, and his vision was nearly obscured by the tears that fell hot and fast from his eyes, splattering onto Lunar Pillar’s frozen, ashen face.

Shinobu hung her head as Sanemi Shinazugawa slumped over the corpse of his deceased lover, cradling her head in his hands, forehead still pressed against hers, as he began to wail, broken and lost amidst that bloodied battlefield.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

😇

Also I made my own icon for the first time so that’s cool!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kny #demon slayer sanemi #sanemi x you #sanemi x y/n #sanemi shinaguzawa #shinazugawa sanemi #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi #my first time making an icon too!

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nanamikentoseyebags · 11 months

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I know i'm home

for everyone the scars on his body showed that for all his immense power, he was still human. for him they were an agonizing reminder that he would never let it happen again.

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

content: just his little inner satoru finally finds peace, warmth and home, hurt/comfort, fluff

a/n: i've been thinking a whole lot about little satoru lately, here's the result of my reflections lol, hope you enjoy <3

The quiet, velvety night slowly descended to the earth, spreading out an endless blanket of dark sky, sprinkled with a myriad of shimmering stars, inviting the full pale moon to slumber upon it until daybreak. A light summer breeze penetrated into your shared bedroom through the slightly open window, filling every corner of it with a pleasant freshness while gently, as if by the hand of a lover, brushing the loose strands away from your face. The barely audible murmur of the leaves, intertwined with the lulling buzzing of night insects and the occasional trill of birds, produced melodies that any composer would have envied. You stood there barefoot, in his oversized T-shirt that reached your knees, leaning your arms on the windowsill and curiously observing the nature, engulfed in a captivity of a tranquil slumber. It was miraculous how, in this hectic and violent world, there were still such peaceful nights, reserved for the two of you.

You pulled away from the window, gently adjusting the thin floral curtain he'd hung so eagerly, almost on the verge of falling, a few days ago. Listening to the tinkling sound of running water, you tiptoed toward the bathroom, the door of which was slightly ajar. The moments of simple domestic intimacy were so rare yet so precious that his five-minute absence felt like hours of unbearable torture, while the desire to peek through that little gap and catch a glimpse of the dearest silhouette grew with each passing second. You reached the door gingerly, and, squinting slightly in hopes that you wouldn't make a loud noise, you pulled it toward you, widening the viewing angle and quietly peeking in.

Your face met the pleasant warm humidity. The lamps glimmered brightly, illuminating the white tiled walls, little pearl-like droplets still dripping down as if chasing one another in an unspoken game. Satoru was standing with his back turned to you, exposing his broad shoulders and strong back with his birthmarks scattered all across it as if he was a canvas and they were the drops of paint, placed there by the hand of a great master. His snow-white hair, sparkling in the light, shimmered in an array of colors, creating a subtle glow all around him. The misted surface of the mirror revealed the imprints of his large palm, which had rid of the unwanted shroud a few minutes ago, giving him a glimpse of his reflection. His left hand rested on the edge of the basin while the other firmly gripped the razor, moving expertly across his porcelain, now covered in a layer of shaving foam, skin.

Satoru remained concentrated, turning his head deftly and delicately wielding his razor blade. His celestial blue eyes were fixed on his own reflection, while his thoughts were elsewhere. Surrounded by an unusual silence, punctuated only by the gentle whisper of flowing water, he still heard far more than any human ear could. For Satoru, the quietest night, so silent and soundless to everyone, turned into a cacophony of noisy daytime sounds.

He diligently tried to keep the annoying thoughts and noises away from him, striving to mentally return to the pleasant moments of complete tranquility with you. He put all the unnecessary shaving items into the cabinet and bent down, rinsing off the rest of the foam and sending it down the drain along with his dark thoughts. Then he straightened, taking a quick glance at his face reflected in the smooth surface of the mirror and reached for the towel, as his gaze, surprisingly even for him, lingered a little longer on the scar, hidden behind the damp snowy strands that fell on his forehead, and then slowly moved to his neck, eyes flickering worryingly under the blinding light of the bright lamps. He cautiously, as if he were afraid of himself, brought his hand to his neck, tracing the damaged skin with his fingertips and swallowing heavily. He reluctantly lowered his gaze to his chest, staring with revulsion at the vertical scar that so distinctly marked his pale skin.

He shook his head a few times, as if driving away the ghosts of his past, and nestled his head into the soft cloth of the terry towel, gently removing the residue of water from his face. Finally, he lifted his head and flinched slightly, meeting your gaze in the reflection.

"Spying on me?" he immediately turned around, in a moment replacing his startled grimace with his usual wide grin.

"Me? Never," you smiled sheepishly, not expecting to be caught red-handed, and opened the door wider, taking a couple of timid steps in his direction.

"I thought you were already in bed, you little liar," Satoru smirked boyishly, holding out his arms and inviting you into his warm embrace.

"I couldn't sleep without you, so I thought I'd see what you were doing here without me," you teased, wrapping your arms around his strong body and gently stroking his back.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, nothing to make you feel neglected," he joked, sounding as confident as possible, but his eyes brimmed with all the colors of unrestrained sadness.

You slapped his back playfully, bursting into hearty laughter and burying your nose into his naked chest. His strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you even tighter against him as his lips left a light kiss on your head. Your palm slowly caressed his silky skin, tracing intricate patterns with your fingertips, feeling the hundreds of goosebumps running all over his body. You smiled, your index finger now drawing a small heart just where his heart was beating beneath it. Satoru shook his head, laughing softly and rolling his eyes, "You're so cheesy," but you could still feel his slender, long fingers leaving little hearts on every millimeter of your skin for several minutes now. You smiled blissfully, allowing yourself to melt into his tender embrace, forgetting time and plans, feeling only the comfort of his warmth enveloping you from head to toe and his heart beating right under your cheek.

You gently touched his deep scar, like a scorched mark resting on his flawless, soft-white skin. Satoru's breath hitched as he shuddered at the sudden sensation.

"Does it hurt?" a soft whisper, coming from your lips and fanning his chest with your hot breath, reached his ears.

"Of course not, silly, it has long since healed," he looked at you perplexedly, his eyebrows drawn into a thin line.

"No, does it hurt?" you stressed the last word, lifting your head and gazing into his wide-open hypnotic orbits, hoping that he would understand what you implied in that question.

His lips quivered, and his eyes flickered frantically over your face, trying to figure out if he should voice what had been languishing inside for so long. Small but obvious wrinkles appeared on his forehead, giving his face an even more baffled expression.

"Yeah...' he forcefully uttered the answer that was stuck in his throat, 'sometimes I feel his knife going through me all over again…,' his hand slowly covered yours, stroking your knuckles.

"Right...," you whispered, intertwining your fingers with his and squeezing his hand lightly, in hopes of showing that you could understand him.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm a kid again and I relive all this stuff over and over again, isn't that silly?" he chuckled sadly, hiding his eyes, in which you could notice snippets of the suffering he had seen throughout his life. It seemed as if, as he uttered these words, he indeed turned into a little boy, only the mischievous smile that everyone around him was so used to seeing had now faded, and his eyes no longer burned with such a vibrant light.

"It's not stupid at all," you lovingly brushed his hair away from his forehead, gently stroking his cheekbone, "I wish I was there to protect you from everything," you admitted sincerely.

"You know I would have done anything to prevent that," Satoru gently took your hand, leaving an appreciative kiss on your palm.

You nodded, knowing it was useless to argue with him, just hugged him a little tighter, while gently caressing his tense back muscles. You knew how hard he was trying not to reveal his true emotions to you, to keep cool, but it was his hands that were nervously rubbing the fabric of yours, or rather his T-shirt, and the ragged breathing that caused his chest heave so anxiously that made it all abundantly clear.

"I often wonder what that little boy I once used to be would have said to me after knowing how much pain and death those eyes had seen, what he would have thought when he saw that with every step I took there were bloody footprints on the ground, stretching endlessly behind me, how he would have felt when he noticed those scars, evidence that I had let it happen to him" he continued after a pause, burying his nose in your hair.

"He would have been proud of you," you uttered quietly, "after finding out what you had learned and what else those magic eyes could do, he would have admired seeing what your body, now adorned with a pair of battle marks, was capable of, he would have thanked you when he realized how many people you had saved. And he thanks you now for the way you protect him, because he still lives in you."

Satoru fell silent, holding his breath, heeding every single word that he felt was healing his wounds, kissing all the pain away. He closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes, and exhaled softly.

You caressed his side reassuringly, leaving a kiss on his shoulder, "I just know little Satoru feels safe now."

"Yeah, with you, little Satoru feels at home.”

***

The silent, dark night was replaced by a bright morning, filled with the peals of the birds, causing the sleeping moon to give way to the brilliant sun, illuminating the soft features of Satoru, who had fell asleep on your chest, with its gentle golden rays. The warm blanket he had so carefully wrapped you in before you went to sleep almost slid to the floor, his arm lazily wrapped around your waist while your legs were entwined, preventing you from moving. You smiled earnestly, fingertips stroking his soft skin and once again covering his body with little hearts, while your lips were leaving little kisses here and there. Your heart was full, realizing with its every beat that your whole world was encased in this one person. You lay there quietly, staring at his slightly fluttering white lashes and hoping that in one of the parallel universes you had somehow met sooner, and both little Satoru and little you knew no worries, faithfully carrying your love through life, holding tightly to each other with your intertwined pinkies.

thank you for reading, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated! <3

art and dividers are not mine <3

tags: @shamelessperfectionhideout @afortoru @keiskyutie @vagabond-umlaut @4sat0ruu @softsatoru @mitsuyeaah @playgrl0 @moonsinfonia @a-nuisance-called-sam @gojoshooter

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #satoru gojou #jjk satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x gn!reader #gojo x yn #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo satoru fluff #satoru angst #i needed this after the mess gege caused today #so this is extremely self-indulgent

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