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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 5 months

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you are somebody that i want to keep ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you aren't sure what you have with satoru gojo, but you know that it’s good.

word count; 6.7k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, colleagues to friends to something unlabelled, you love each other though!!, fluff, hurt/comfort, very very soft, reader falls first but gojo falls harder, both of u are afraid of intimacy lol, a lil angsty if u squint, satoru gojo cherishing u for ~7k words straight <33

a/n; basically just a collection of moments between you and gojo throughout the years <33 (a significant amount of time has passed between each part!!) hes an emotionally repressed loser but i love him and he is smitten w u.

in the soft luminescence of daybreak, your kitchen looks something like a dream.

tainted with a hazy sunshine, simmering with warm colours and pleasant scents, it almost seems to sparkle in the peripheral of your vision. brimming with that feeling of home, a home you’ve broken your bones building, desperate to shape it into something safe — and you think you’ve done a pretty good job.

it’s soothing, comforting, all of these sensations. bleeding into each other like smudges of paint on a canvas; hyacinths blooming by the windowsill, espresso-flavored steam wafting up to the roof, soft meows stemming from the cats by your feet. absolute bliss.

indulging in a peace yet to be shattered by the strain of the working world, you rub the sleep from beneath your weary eyes. blinking and yawning like a drowsy child.

beyond the translucent glass of your windows, glimmering with the light of a sun soon to rise, the world is painted pink and indigo — save for that one hint of gold, a streak of honey slathered across the surface of the sky. fluffy clouds drift through the chilly air, melting in the wake of a new day, and you think they look a little like tufts of cotton candy. soft enough to sink your teeth into, if only the glass wasn’t in the way. keeping the cold out.

it’s a new day. a pleasant morning, sitting comfortably on the brink of dawn, before the city has a chance to rouse from its slumber.

a kind of solitude you so rarely get to bask in.

a false solitude, really. because, for once, there’s another human being in your home — one you don’t know nearly as well as you’d like, for him to be fast asleep on your couch, cheek smushed against the leather. snoring softly.

satoru gojo.

like this, he looks very… human. vulnerable. hair just slightly tousled, from tossing and turning on your not-so-comfortable couch, blindfold only covering one of his eyes and close to slipping off entirely. his expression has melted into one of something vaguely resembling relaxation, as close to unguarded as you assume he can physically get.

even in his sleep, he looks a little stiff. not entirely at peace; like a stray cat sleeping under the hood of a car.

(you’re curious. fascinated, maybe, by the loneliness that clings to the strongest person in the universe. by the paradoxical innocence of his grin.)

honestly, everything from last night is kind of a blur. you remember accompanying the strongest sorcerer on a mission, one long enough to leave you completely and utterly spent, fatigue nestled deep into your bones. remember gojo getting a sudden migraine, so earth-shattering that you thought he was going to keel over and throw up in the middle of the street.

then you remember bringing him back home with you. very hesitantly, only after he begrudgingly accepted the fact that he didn’t have much of a choice. because you were fucking exhausted, and so was he, and your apartment happened to be conveniently close. you remember him practically passing out on your couch, still somehow managing to crack a bad joke you can’t recall, while you went to collapse into the comfort of your bed.

and now you’re here. dyed in half-transparent sunbeams, caffeine bubbling in your veins, gazing at your sleeping coworker from your spot by the kitchen table. waiting for the world to open its weary eyes.

it’s still early. some part of you expects him to sleep a while longer, but you can’t say you’re particularly surprised when gojo begins to stir.

a splotch of sunshine splatters across your living room window, staining the floorboards, falling over the contours of his pretty face. in the light, he looks positively holy; white lashes, pale skin, plump lips. like a goddess.

when he opens his eyes, it’s even worse. a single iris cracked open, pooling with unbridled brilliance. eyes so blue they seem to cut through the stillness of the air.

(— and the world wakes up.)

a little groan slips from his lips, barely audible. with groggy movements, he brings a hand up to his face, obscuring the grating light of the sun flitting in. you think you can almost see the gears of his mind turn, as he takes notice of his surroundings, remembering what transpired just hours before.

faster than you thought, he regains some semblance of composure. huffing under his breath, as he forces himself into a sitting position.

it feels a little wrong, to see the closest thing this world has to a god act so human. be so human. morning-fatigued, just like you, wearing droopy eyelids and a soft, sleepy pout. a little disheveled. groggy with lost dreams.

when his gaze meets yours, you can’t control the breath that hitches pitifully in the back of your throat. a meek skip of your heartbeat, like you just saw something you shouldn’t have. oops.

gojo cracks a grin.

“.. watchin’ me sleep?” he calls out, cheeky. paired with a drowsy yawn. composed, unbothered, but there’s something almost performative about it, something you’re sure you’d miss if he wasn’t still in the process of collecting himself.

“good morning,” is all you offer him. ignoring his teasing remark. he doesn’t push it, to your surprise. “sleep well?”

a hum. absentminded, jovial. one of his large hands goes to adjust his blindfold, the other to fluff up his hair. kicking off the blanket you just barely had the energy to throw over him last night. your fluffiest one, warm enough to protect him from the chill gnawing at the windows. hopefully.

“like a log,” he quips, stretching idly, muscles straining under his baggy uniform. they must be sore, after that mission. or maybe he’s above such things.

choosing not to comment on his obvious lie, you put your lips against the ceramic of your cup. sipping from the bitter brew, a tinge of hazelnut on your tongue. letting him gather his bearings without you scrutinizing him. a little favor, one liar to another.

“thanks for letting me crash,” he grins, lazy. toothy. stumbling to his feet with a low groan, gaze flitting around the room — looking for the exit. “i’ll get outta your hair,” he mutters, and you raise a brow.

“not staying for breakfast?”

gojo stills. your question rings out, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen, into the living room.

his smile twitches, ever so slightly, in what you think must be surprise. then it’s back to normal; like putting on a mask, not allowing a sliver of weakness to slip through the cracks. he exhales a raspy chuckle, a sound that flows through the air and crawls down your spine.

”generous, aren’t you?” he hums, voice rich with amusement. dappling sunlight licks at the white locks of his hair.

you shrug. “i wouldn’t mind the company.”

the words climb up the walls of your throat, a little reckless, eager to catch a glimpse of the miracle before you. satoru gojo, framed by the simplicity of your home — somewhat hard to let go of. sunkissed skin, restless hands. a little out of tune. shifting from foot to foot, eager to get away.

(a little like a frightened fawn, you amuse yourself by thinking. he’s really more like the fox who scared it.)

you think he must be bit uncomfortable. forced to spend the night in a coworker’s apartment, one he doesn't even know that well, one he probably doesn’t have any intention of getting to know. still trying to politely excuse himself. persistent, stubborn.

maybe he didn’t expect this. maybe he was convinced he could sneak away, before you had a chance to wake up. maybe he thought you’d be all too eager to let him leave, and never speak of this again. maybe he’s not used to being wanted.

“ha… i’m flattered, believe me, but —“

“what do you usually eat?” you ask. cutting him off, gently, tapping your fingertips against the edge of the table. “for breakfast, i mean. i’ll whip something up.”

a chuckle slips from his lips. you can’t put your finger on it, but something about it bothers you. “really, there’s —“

“if you’re worried about inconveniencing me, don’t be.” you pause, unsure of what to say. but the words end up spilling out of your throat, oddly honest. ”it’s been a while since i had the chance to make breakfast for someone else.”

it’s strange, really, how intent you are on seeing this through. how much effort you’re putting into making him stay. you barely even know him. actually, you don’t know him at all — all you know is that his smile makes you happy and his strength makes you envious. that you aren’t afraid of him, even though you probably should be.

something about him just feels safe.

“i’m pretty good at making pancakes,” you hum, a small smile playing at your lips. polite, jovial. pale light flits in through the window and slips into its curve. ”do you want some? before we go to work.”

(something in his fingers twitch, when you say that tiny word; pancakes. a little tell. you just barely catch it, before it sputters out. before he reels it back in.)

a moment passes. slow, drawn out, a rubber band bound to snap.

gojo stands there, a very subtle contemplation etched into his features. behind him, your cats begin to scratch at the couch, but you don’t scold them. just waiting for something to happen. beyond the glass of your windows, the sun unfurls in the sky, stretching its arms to envelop the world.

he grins, suddenly. soft light reflecting off the white of his teeth. cocky, composed. not quite performative, a little more natural.

“well, if you insist.”

he strolls over to your side, just a tiny bit sluggish, lazy steps and comically long limbs. he must still be tired. but he takes a seat, right across from you, plopping down on the chair with an effortless air of confidence. lighthearted, leaning his elbows on the table, crossing his legs under it. comfortable. settling into his role.

you’re pleasantly surprised.

“how would you like them?” you ask, and you think some of your excitement may have spilled out with the question. if it did, gojo doesn’t comment on it. ”your pancakes.”

“with chocolate chips, please!” he shoots you a sweet smile. “and whipped cream on top.”

so demanding. for some reason, it makes the corners of your lips quirk up. kinda like a bratty younger brother.

“got it.”

the smell of dark chocolate hangs heavy in the air as you get to work, shuffling around the open space. all while gojo waits, patiently, tapping his foot under the table and staring out the window. leaning his jaw on the heel of his palm. listening to the humming of nightingales on the branches of the apple tree down on the ground, and the buzz of your old radio.

the kitchen fills with motion, sounds, smells. life. splotches of sunlight, crinkled cartons of orange juice. the clinking of plates. two tired adults, seated at the same table, indulging in a fleeting peace and the promise of something new. something almost concrete.

a small, precious moment. enough to make your fascination shift into something you know must be fondness. or close to it.

gojo grins at you, mouth full of pancakes, eagerly telling you about something the kids did last week. wolfing them down, chocolate smeared over his bottom lip. you laugh, and suddenly the world feels a little safer than it should. a little more intact.

you wonder what it means. where it’s going to lead. this feeling of something wonderful beginning, something you couldn’t stop if you wanted to.

a budding connection.

the city lays blanketed beneath a layer of thick snow. blurry pale dots dancing in the wind, obscuring the sky, frost engulfing every building in a bone chilling hug.

with a slight shiver, you dig your hands into the comfort of your pockets, seeking the fleeting warmth you find. admiring the frozen landscape before you, the hustle and bustle of people going about their day. the saffron light of the lamp posts, the glittering snow by your feet, the skeletal apricot trees and their bare branches. this monochrome city you find yourself in.

gojo exhales. strolling cheerily down the street, in tandem with you, a frosty breath to your left that scatters and melts into the open air. it smells minty.

today, he’s wearing black shades — like he usually is when you meet outside of work. it’s kind of nice. when you angle your face a certain way, you can almost see the blue pooling in his eyes, the white of his eyelashes.

he’s beautiful. he always has been. but like this, you think his beauty is simply unfair, highlighted by the winter wonderland you find yourselves in. mesmerizing, the red flush of his cheeks, how he hums along to some jolly tune playing from a little corner store further down the street. all bundled up, in a stylish overcoat and a nice scarf, untouched by the snowflakes fluttering about.

protected by his infinity, always. the silly god you call a friend.

he looks content, despite the cold that keeps nipping at your bare skin, smiling widely. blabbing on about the movie you’re about to watch, how he saw it back in high school but never thought it’d get a remake. how his friend thought it sucked but that friend always had bad taste so his opinion is irrelevant. how he has faith that you’ll like it.

(cute.)

distracted by the pretty man so close by, close enough to touch, you don’t look ahead. maybe just a little bit entranced. which would be fine, if you didn’t happen to be walking on the right side of the street —

crashing straight into a lamp post.

”owch!”

it’s sudden. and it’s a harsh collision, enough to leave your nose stinging, an ache that makes you whine. cursing under your breath as you take a couple steps back, hands reaching for the part of your face that took the brunt of the hit.

and gosh, is this embarrassing. you dance on the edge of death for a living, and here you are — whining over walking into a fucking lamp post. because you were too enamored by the beauty of your own coworker to pay attention to your surroundings.

a coworker who is currently looking at you, silently. having failed to warn you in time, stuck in his own memories, caught up in his in-depth, spoiler-filled review of a movie he’s been waiting to watch all week.

for a moment, all he does is blink. long eyelashes fluttering, like a dove flapping its wings.

then he starts laughing.

scratch that — gojo is downright cackling, thoroughly amused by your clumsy mishap, like he just saw the funniest thing in the world. laughter ringing out into the cold air, white breaths to compliment the red of your burning ears.

asshole.

with a harsh furrow of your brows, you attempt to look angry; but before long, your lips are curling up. infected by his joy. a soft punch to his shoulder is all you manage, biting back a little puff of laughter. you’re embarrassed.

(so embarrassed you don’t even notice how he puts his infinity down.)

”don’t laugh, you piece of shit!” you hiss, grinning even still, flushing and trying to ignore the curious glances you get from passersby. ”it really hurt!”

but gojo doesn’t stop. doesn’t even attempt to. you think he just grew even more amused, if anything, practically bending over from how hard he’s laughing — clutching his stomach.

”sorry, sorry — ’m just…” he tries to speak, taking deep breaths in between bursts of giggles. ”how the hell — how’d you —”

he stops trying. laughing, again.

and it’s a genuine laugh. a little wolfish, spilling out from his pretty parted lips, showing off his sharp teeth. from the very bottom of his gut, clear and bright, deep and infectious. melodic. shades close to slipping off the bridge of his nose, eyes tearing up behind them. trying to collect himself, muffled giggles turning to soft vapour in the cold air. dimples visible on his rosy cheeks.

and suddenly you can't think, can't speak, can only look at him and wonder how a human can be so very beautiful. how it’s metaphysically possible. like a crushed cluster of stars was given human form, a body of celestial light.

he looks so young, like this. a millenia younger, no weight on those broad shoulders, no immovable wall to separate you both. he looks like one of the guys you used to hang out with in middle school, running through corridors and play fighting and holding back shared laughter in the library. before the bite of the world left a mark in your skin.

he looks like himself. like someone pulled the mask off, and all that’s left is the human. none of the godhood he was saddled with at birth.

while you’re busy staring, gojo finally finds his composure again. wiping at his glassy eyes, a chuckle slipping out here and there. distracted by the breathtaking sight, you begin to forget the sting of your collision — until you feel something warm trickle down your chilled skin.

searching for it with the pads of your fingers, you feel a trail of wetness beneath your nose. and when you bring them down, to get a look, all you see is red.

”ah.”

gojo moves closer. maybe just a little alarmed, by the blood dripping from your nose, staining the white of the snow beneath your feet. a chilling contrast, one you’re frighteningly used to. it’s almost comforting. blood on your skin, that sting of pain clogging up your nose, enough for you to get lost in. colours melting together, memories rising to the surface —

when suddenly, something touches your cheek.

one large hand goes to keep your jaw in place, gentle. smooth leather, sneaking under your chin, lifting your face up ever so slightly. warmth trickles from his fingertips through the fabric, and you can smell a hint of his perfume. strawberries and vanilla.

gojo looks at you fondly. wiping the blood from your nose, smudging his expensive gloves. from this angle, you can see his eyes, a blue shimmer in an evening painted white and gray — the sole flicker of colour in this monochrome city. they’re crinkled at the edges.

he looks awfully amused.

(you stay still, not breathing, like any slight motion could have him pulling away.)

”careful,” he croons. so low you barely hear it, almost a purr. the word has a soft underbelly, something you don’t need to dissect to feel.

a sentiment that seems to simmer in the air around you, drifting past the little corner store, a dog tied to a lamp post, your reddened cheeks. past the blue of his eyes, a peripheral that stretches to cover the city before you. words too heavy to speak aloud.

stay safe for me, silly.

then he’s letting go. sudden, the bite of the air replacing his hand. it lingers on your skin, like a memory, like the ghost of a memory. but it’s there. strawberries and vanilla, leather and warmth. something kind. warm.

and it stays there, even as gojo takes a step forward, no longer facing you. walking confidently, the wind bending around his tall stature. long legs and large steps, leaving an imprint in the snow for you to follow. a northern star.

he turns his head, and grins. hair tousled by the breeze, white locks glittering with snowflakes. ”you coming? it’s starting soon.”

a moment passes.

”or do you need me to call shoko?”

you puff out a breathy laugh, at that, stumbling forward. reaching up to wipe more of the blood sticking to your skin. sniffling, but smiling, teeth peeking out between your lips.

”yeah, yeah,” a roll of your eyes. ”’m right behind you.”

gojo’s eyes crinkle, disappearing behind his shades when he straightens his back and raises his head. moving forward, while you follow; his back turned to you, snowy hair melting into the white all around you. like something out of a painting.

with a pep in step, you catch up to him. eager to hear more of his voice, his memories. still basking in the warmth of his hand on your jaw.

a touch from the untouchable.

gojo’s lying on your couch.

he usually is, to be fair, so it shouldn’t be surprising. kicking his legs up, watching tv — or sleeping, snoring loudly, like the couch belongs to him. like your home belongs to him. like he pays rent, and doesn’t just laze around and devour all the sweets in your kitchen cabinets.

(he’s there so often that you’re starting to wonder if you should give him a copy of your keys, or something. but you have a feeling that’d be just a smidge too intimate for him to ever accept.)

this time, however, gojo is doing neither of those things.

he’s on your couch, but he isn’t manspreading, or draping himself over the leather with a lazy grin. he doesn’t have that air of effortless confidence. and it’s palpable, in the air, the open space, enough that you can feel it. an itch on your skin, a lump in your throat. you could practically feel it as soon as you walked through the door.

he isn’t wearing his blindfold, or his shades. he isn’t even smiling. and gojo is always, always smiling.

you think he might be having a rough day.

even the cats are noticing that something’s off. jumping up in his lap, trying to comfort him, brushing against his legs. purring, when he cradles them close — always so gentle with them. hands petting down their backs, softly, the same hands he uses to rip out the throats of curses and curse users alike.

then they mewl and run away. and for once you wish they wouldn’t, wish they could keep clinging to him like they always do. just to make him feel better. right now, in the state he’s in, you wouldn’t even mind gojo’s usual smug declarations of how does it feel to know they like their papa best?

you can’t help but feel unsure of yourself. gojo isn’t doing anything, and he isn’t saying anything. he’s just lying there, on his back, eyes closed. letting the darkness of the room engulf him. drowning in his own thoughts.

he must know that you’re there. he must have heard you come in. but he isn’t saying anything, and you wonder if that means he wants you to leave him alone.

you’re reminded of that one morning. when he woke up on your couch, and looked more human than you’d ever seen him. how you wanted to avert your eyes, how wrong it felt to see a god rouse from its slumber.

(but you know better now.)

hesitantly, you begin to inch closer, step by step. quiet, floorboards barely creaking beneath your weight. tentative, as you settle down on the couch. brushing against the infinity between you.

gojo’s eyes flicker open. like an old tape beginning to play. they still shine with that same brilliance, they always do, but now you think they look just a little dull. a little red.

a moment passes. agonizingly slow.

before you can properly think it through, you’ve done it. almost on instinct, jumping the gun before he has the chance to cover everything up with jokes and laughter. opening your arms; a silent invitation.

gojo only stares.

his gaze moves down to your outstretched arms, and then up to your face. your pursed lips, nervous eyes, worried crease between your brows. one second passes. two, five. you stop counting.

for a moment, you’re almost certain that he’s about to get up and leave. that he’ll flash you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, walk out the door and then never return. like you flew too close to the sun, just another icarus too mesmerized by the glow of his grin to notice your melting wings. like you stepped over the fragile line that separates his bones from yours, his heartbeat from your greedy hands.

— but then he sluggishly gets into a sitting position, and doesn't look at you.

when gojo collapses into your embrace, you’re so surprised that you almost forget how to breathe. almost forget your own name, forget whose home you’re in, why your arms are wrapped around a pale man. all you can think of is how warm he feels, how he’s like a weighted blanket against you. how he trusts you enough to come so very close.

cheek pressed against your chest, arms loose around your waist. no infinity, no barriers. just a single touch shared between two damaged human beings.

a brief inhale gives you the composure that you need. air flowing into your lungs, your brain, as you settle into a comfortable position. no words leave your lips; you just continue to hold him, one hand on his back, testing the waters. letting him hear the echo of your heartbeat. unsure, the both of you, but something about this feels right. close to right. almost there.

gojo is stiff. when you strain your ears, you hear a sharp intake of breath, and a full body shiver courses through him. a tremble of his spine. like he’s itching to run, like he doesn’t quite know where to put his hands. so painfully unused to a proper embrace.

(a little like a frightened fawn.)

a tender something unfurls within your chest, and you feel almost devoured by the fondness rooting itself into your beating heart. delicate, as you begin to brush away his tousled bangs, leaning close. pressing a kiss to his forehead, glistening with sweat. letting your lips linger on his skin.

he’s pale, shining in the bleak moonlight cast from the translucent curtains of your living room windows. pale like a ghost. and there are dark crescents beneath his dull eyes.

nightmares, you surmise. they haunt him too, don’t they? of course they do.

eyes brimming with emotion, you gaze at him; quiet as a mouse, closing his eyes. leaning into your touch, ever so slightly, breathing out a sigh tinged with pure exhaustion. and a certain realization washes over you, akin to a tidal wave, sudden and inevitable. so obvious it’s funny.

you’re not a god at all, are you?

a coo slips from your lips. barely a sound, more like a soothing breath. warm against his cold skin.

you’re just like everyone else. just as fragile.

one of your thumbs goes to smooth over the puffy skin beneath his eyes. so, so gentle. like one wrong touch could have him crumbling into little grains of stardust, spilling out over the worn leather of your couch.

there are so many things you wish you could say to him. so many things you’ll never be able to say, because you’re afraid that if you give him too much it’ll scare him off. like love could burn him if it were to leak out too fervently. like it’s burned him before.

so you don’t say anything. but you think it, you repeat it inside your mind like a prayer, and some part of you thinks that’s enough. i’ve got you — a whisper that you don't dare to voice.

one gojo still manages to hear, somehow, if the way he tugs you closer and snuggles into your neck is anything to go by. a shaky exhale brushing against your collarbone.

(if you feel something wet touch the skin of your shoulder, you don’t mention it.)

you simply hold him, and don’t even think the thought of letting go. even though it takes him hours just to fall asleep, hours you spend anxiously wondering if he’ll change his mind and pull away. but he doesn't leave, even though his body may want him to, and that's enough, and you don’t let go. not even once. he stays cradled to your chest the same way you’d hold a tiny puppy, something fragile. something you need to handle with care.

and when his heartbeat finally mellows out, when you hear little barely audible snores flow from his lips, you finally begin to relax. melting into the couch beneath you, watching him get the rest he deserves. praying that any nightmares of his will be given to you instead.

sleep comes, eventually, to the both of you. tangled up on the couch, him on top of you, comforted by the flutter of each other’s heartbeat. by the warmth of another human being. safe in each other’s arms.

(the next morning, through hazy sunshine and the clinking of coffee cups, he teasingly tells you that just satoru is fine.)

it’s barely daybreak when satoru wakes you up.

a rude awakening, to say the least. he pulls out all the stops, intent on not letting you sleep even a second longer; poking at your cheek, pinching them when that doesn’t work. tickling you, blowing cold air into your ear, flopping down on top of you like a big dog. anything to rouse you from your deep slumber.

and he just will not give it up. no matter how hard you try to ignore him, no matter how many times you swat him away with your duvet pillow or turn to bury your face into the sheets. that’s how satoru always is, how he’s always been, how he hopefully always will be — an absolute pain. one you wouldn’t trade for anything else in the world.

so, when he starts whining for you to just wake up already, voice tinged with a sadness that tugs at your heartstrings, you find yourself opening your tired eyes. all while he murmurs on and on about something unintelligible, still trying to bribe you.

”i’ll make you coffee, okay? just get up. c’moooon.”

”… what time is it, satoru?” is all you mutter, voice leaving your lips in a raspy, disgruntled fashion. stirring a little at the promise of coffee.

he cracks a grin. ”don’t worry about it! just come with me.”

despite your grumpy attitude, and the ungodly hour at which satoru shakes you awake, you find yourself letting him scoop you up and set you down on the kitchen counter. placing a hot cup of coffee in your hands, made just the way you like it, before grinning mischievously in a way that has you feeling ill at ease.

and ten minutes later, you find yourself on top of a hill. overlooking the woods, and a big lake below you, no city lights visible no matter where you turn — god knows where he’s taken you, but it’s pretty.

breathtaking, even. all frost and wildlife and peace, sweet solitude, tiny flowers blooming on the patches of grass around you. a murder of crows takes flight in the distance, scattering into the indigo of the sky.

gojo grins, boyish and bright, excited breaths turning into vapour as he speaks. awfully proud of himself.

”i can’t take you on vacation, but —”

he drags you with him, arm looped around your own, plopping down on the ground. not before taking off his jacket, to cover the ground beneath you. grass tickles the skin of your palms, as you comfortably spread your legs, making sure to sit as close to him as possible.

and your heart softens a little.

because he’s mentioned it, before; how it’d be nice to go on a road trip, someday, just the two of you. all around the world, wherever the wind takes you. basking in that feeling of freedom. it’s no more than a fever dream, though, with how busy satoru is, the responsibilities you both shoulder.

so this’ll have to do. that’s probably what he’s thinking.

”the sun’ll rise soon. it’ll be pretty, i promise,” he beams, so close that you feel his warm breath on your skin. that you can see the dimples on his cheeks, his barely visible freckles.

”oh, so that’s why you woke me up so early.”

his smile widens. ”nice, right? i wanted to surprise you. d’you like it?”

a smile blooms on your lips, in tandem with his, honeyed and content. indulgent. gojo looks at it, and immediately knows your answer.

”yeah. it’s really pretty out here,” you face forward, taking a deep breath, fresh morning air entering your lungs. cool and crisp, stirring your sleepy mind. ”kinda nostalgic.”

satoru hums, and follows your lead. looking ahead, admiring the beauty of an empty world.

the big lake looks like a mirror, from here, glittering in the peripheral of your vision. the sun licks at the frozen sky, not quite breaking through, not entirely ready to rise — but it paints everything a rusty gold and you can almost feel spring shining through, taste it on your tongue, that promise of something better, something more concrete. a warmth you don’t have to question.

a warmth that’ll stay with you for a long time to come.

it takes about ten seconds for the man by your side to start speaking, again, shattering the peaceful silence. but you don’t mind. his voice is nice, a mellow melody to your morning-fatigued brain.

side by side, you wait for the sun to rise. sharing hushed whispers and laughter, like two kids having a sleepover. like nothing exists but the space that cocoons you, wraps you up in a nostalgia so palpable the entire world feels like a fond memory.

(it makes you feel a millenia younger.)

satoru giggles like a child, telling you about something shoko said, or something megumi did, and you don’t miss a single word that spills from his glossy lips. hanging on to every word he’s willing to give to you.

he looks so unbothered, like this. eyes crinkling, humming some tune you don’t recognize, like a little nightingale ready to take flight into the skies.

you part your lips, admiring his features. every patch of skin you can see. words making themselves manifest, hungry to see inside his brain, to know more about him. a fascination that’s never quite left you — though now you think it may be better described as love. ”hey, satoru?”

at the sound of his name, he turns to you. the weight of his eyes feels so light, like this. those blessed eyes staring into yours. he tilts his head, a smile playing at his lips. ”mm?”

”if you could go anywhere you wanted, where would you be right now?”

satoru blinks.

he looks at you, a mild surprise flitting through the lines of his face, as he takes you in. measures the weight of your words.

then he smiles, again. lopsided, almost a smirk, rich with amusement. a hum buzzes in his throat, like a butterfly itching to break out.

”.. you teasing me?”

a huff fills the air. ”it’s a genuine question!” you insist, moving your leg to nudge his own. ”c’mon. anywhere in the world. i’m just curious.”

another hum. he narrows his eyes, playfully, biting at the inside of his cheek to hold back a chuckle when that makes you grumble. pouting softly, tilting your head. he’s amused, you can tell.

but he closes his eyes, lashes fluttering, glimmering with morning dew. and you can tell he’s taking you seriously. tasting the question on his tongue.

something shines in his eyes, when he opens them again; crinkling at the corners, soft lines of crows’ feet. you can almost see that burst of aquamarine, breaking through the black glass of his shades. like the laws of physics can’t contain it. and he smiles, as always, a smile so beautiful you wish you could live on the curve of his lips. flimsy, no teeth peeking out, no dimples to admire. but sweet. slathered with honey, as sincere as can be.

his voice comes out a little raspy, tainted with a tinge of fatigue, a smokey residue that sticks to the walls of his throat. but it's genuine, like he just woke up, like he's too sleepy to be dishonest. like every word he says can be no more or less than the absolute truth.

and when he turns to face you, tilting his head enough for you to see that shade of blue you love so dearly, his eyes shine with an honestly so palpable you feel like you’re being devoured.

satoru parts his lips.

”right next to you.”

a moment passes. silent, endless, no sound to be heard but the beating of your own heart.

at last, the sun breaks through that layer of frost, peeking up from the boundary of the world — and the morning begins to thaw. streaks of sunlight cascade down the contours of his handsome face, painting him a mellow gold, and it’s almost enough to distract you from the warmth of his hand finding yours.

for a moment, satoru looks unsure. smile shifting in the light, into something slightly stiff, and you know that means he's nervous. silent, as he wets his glossy lips. pink tongue tasting strawberry chapstick.

then he’s leaning forward.

it’s chaste, the kiss he plants on your forehead, soft as the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. but it lingers, even after he’s pulled back — a warmth on your skin. a silent declaration.

he doesn't have to say anything. when you look up at him you can see the red flush of his ears, and when you strain your ears you can hear all those unspoken whispers. the sentiment neither of you will ever have to say out loud, because you know. it’s there. and it means everything.

and you know that for as long as you live, you’ll both have this. one single thread of normalcy, in your unorthodox existences, one single glimmer of something almost entirely good. something that heals, something that isn’t a blessing and a curse all in one. something soft to the touch.

there’s no need to find the right words for it. there never was.

”kinda looks like melted ice cream.”

the words pull you out of your stupor. satoru’s looking at the sky, and you follow his gaze, watching the sunrise in tandem with him.

it’s beautiful. soft clouds melting into pinks and oranges, dappling sunbeams lapping at the trees, a saffron shade washing over the empty world in front of you. a world that may not be so empty, after all, because you hear crows in the distance, and someone’s fishing by the lake, and you think you spot a squirrel in the tree closest to you.

and you have someone, right next to you, right by your side. someone who won’t ever leave.

sometimes, loving satoru gojo feels a little like strolling on the edge of a cliff. like one wrong step could have you tumbling down, a mess of broken bones and unspoken words. but if you do stumble and fall — you know he’ll be waiting at the bottom of the precipice. arms outstretched, wearing that same innocent grin, ready to hoist you both back up.

so you know it’ll be fine.

swallowing down a bout of fresh laughter, like a flower unfurling in your chest, petals brushing against your ribcage, you give in. opting to bask in the moment, in his presence.

”yeah,” you puff out a chuckle, head slumping against satoru’s shoulder. he makes a little noise of approval, and your grin grows. ”it does.”

he doesn’t say anything. smiling, wordlessly, admiring the way the sun kisses up your collarbone. lighting up your face. and you bask in his warmth, how right it feels to be tucked into his side. how safe he feels, even now. how safe you make him feel.

you look at the man to your left, and he looks back at you, and that wonderful unnamed something unfurls inside your chest again. and, without having to speak it aloud, you know it will continue to do so.

many, many years later, he’ll still be satoru, and you’ll still be you. the distance between you will be what it always was; breachable.

and that will be enough.

#someone sedate me i giggled while writing this. im so in love w this stupid weasel #this is rly just my attempt at writing a more canon-aligned gojo and the kinda-sorta relationship i could see him having in canon #i firmly believe that he’d feel most at peace w a love that sits somewhere right between platonic n romantic !!#”me n the bestie <3” (selfie of u wearing matching rings)#its the kinda love that u dont need to label bc its just There. its just love !! a love that comes easy #im happy w how this particular gojo turned out i think!! :'3 hes my lil baby #in other news hes so bambi coded ☹️ i need to nurse him back to health #listen to capable of love by pinkpantheress btw its so gojo to me #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x gender neutral reader #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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girlgenius1111 · 1 month

Text

all of my pain and all your excuses

part 2 of family line ingrid arrives home, and realizes how much she's missed with her sister. her and mapi try to figure out how to put the pieces back together. r struggles with the mess inside her head. cw: mommy issues galore 🙃 mentions of poor mental health. solstråle continues to be sad.

-------

It took you a few minutes of crying into Mapi before you realized what she’d probably done. At this realization, you pulled away from her in a panic, practically falling onto the ground.

“Mapi, please don’t tell Ingrid about this, please please, you can’t, she’ll be so mad, she’s already mad, I can’t,” your gasps for air cut your words off and Mapi took your face in between her hands.

“Breathe. In and out pequeña. Just breathe.” She instructed, dramatically exaggerating her own breaths.

“Please, Mapi,” you whimpered after a minute.

“I’m sorry, nena, I had to. I had to.” She said, seemingly begging you to believe her that she’d had no other choice. You couldn’t really blame her; you’d gotten yourself here, after all. You’d written the letter. You’d meant every word you’d said, and every word you didn’t quite have the guts to say. You’d collapsed into her arms. You’d given her no choice.

“I’m really scared,” you mumbled.

Mapi pulled you back in, tucking your face easily into her chest. “I know. You don’t need to be, but I know you are. Everything is going to be alright. I promise you.”

You wrapped yourself tight around the defender, hoping with everything in you that she was right.

When Ingrid burst through the front door, eyes immediately finding you on the couch, crumpled up into a little ball in Mapi’s lap, she knew it was bad. Mapi was holding you so tightly, expression unreadable when she glanced up at Ingrid, murmuring inaudible words in your ear. You looked so small, visibly trembling in your baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants, Mapi’s arms engulfing you. Ingrid practically ran to your side, sitting as carefully as she could next to the both of you.

“María, what..?” Ingrid asked, trailing off when Mapi silently held out a piece of paper to her. Ingrid took it, having no idea what she was about to read. Having no idea what she was about to feel.

You were hiding your face in Mapi’s sweater, much too distraught to care about how pathetic you probably seemed. You’d heard Ingrid enter, and you knew it was just a matter of time before you had to leave your safe little bubble and confront this. When it had been silent for too long, and you knew Ingrid must be done reading by now, you shifted away from Mapi. It was time to be brave, and it was time to take whatever was coming your way.

The look on your sister’s face made you want to take it all back. Because, fuck, you weren’t sure your happiness was worth making Ingrid this upset. She was scanning over the paper over and over, as if she was hoping the contents would change with each reread.

You acted stronger than you felt, sliding off Mapi’s lap and moving a bit closer to Ingrid. She didn’t look away from the letter.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly.

Your sister’s head snapped up to look at you so rapidly, you almost jumped.

“Solstråle,” Ingrid began, and you felt like the last stable part of you broke sharply at the nickname. Sunbeam, it meant. Ingrid had called you that your whole life. Her sunbeam, always breaking through the clouds to shine a bit of light. She’d assumed you’d grown out of it, recently. You looked so small, though, so scared and so desperately sad, that it just slipped out. She didn’t regret it, not when you practically fell towards her. “Oh, honey.”

If you were crying with Mapi just minutes before, you were bawling now. Hysterical, hyperventilating cries that were painful to hear, and painful to let out, but somehow so cathartic. Ingrid pulled you into her, beginning to cry herself.

When Ingrid spoke, it was in Norwegian, and nothing had ever sounded so safe. “I am so sorry, my perfect baby sister, I am so so sorry. I love you. I love you, I love you. More than anything in this world, I love you.”

And though you still cried, you relaxed marginally at the comfort hearing her speak in your native language brought you. You relaxed, going completely limp against your sister. You probably would have slid off her onto the ground if she hadn’t had her arms wrapped around you so tight. Ingrid wasn’t sure she’d ever let you go. You weren’t sure you wanted her to.

-------

Ingrid stood in your doorway, eyes fixed on your sleeping form. She’d brought you up to bed, carrying you like she used to when you were little. You’d fallen asleep on her downstairs, and she hadn’t dared to move you for a while. She and Mapi sat in a rather stunned silence for a while, before Mapi suggested she bring you up to bed. So, Ingrid tucked you in, pulling the covers up to your chin the way she knew you liked them. She noticed something tucked under one of your pillows, and carefully pulled it out. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the plush polar bear in her hand. Snø. She’d given him to you when you were three, for your birthday. She thought you’d stopped sleeping with him, but apparently not. The thought that you’d pulled him out of your closet for some comfort upon arriving in Spain made tears flood Ingrid’s eyes. She carefully kissed your forehead before rushing out of the room, almost colliding with her girlfriend.

“Oof,” Mapi grunted, steadying Ingrid, when she caught sight of the other womans’ face. “Amor,”

Ingrid shook her head, wiping harshly at her eyes, and pushed past Mapi towards their bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled the folded letter out of her pocket, smoothing it out, and began to read it. Again. Mapi had followed her into the room, and took the paper out of her girlfriend’s hands.

“Give it back.” Ingrid said through clenched teeth. She sounded angry, but Mapi saw the tears in her eyes and knew better.

“No, you’ve already read it.” Mapi said firmly.

“María, give it back, I need to read it again.”

“Mi amor, it's just going to hurt more, and you don’t need that right now.”

“Yes I do,” Ingrid cried. “I do, she’s been hurting like this for god knows how long. Wanting to–” She cut herself off, shaking her head almost frantically. “She said she felt like no one would care if she was gone. Reading this hurts but it is nothing compared to what she has been feeling, and it is all my fault, so let me read it so I can fix this, because I need to fix this, I can’t lose her, María, I can’t lose her.” Ingrid was sobbing by the end, making little to no sense, and Mapi placed her hands on Ingrid’s cheeks, forcing her to make eye contact. She noticed in that moment that while you looked alike normally, you looked just like Ingrid when you cried.

It wasn’t enough, though, Ingrid was crying so hard, every sob shattered a part of Mapi that she hadn’t known existed. She climbed onto the bed, pulling Ingrid with her, guiding the younger woman’s head onto her chest. Ingrid clutched at Mapi’s shirt almost desperately, muffling her sobs there too, although her body shook heavily with the force of them. Her world was falling down around her, and it was all she could do to hold onto her María, and not let go.

“I know, mi princesa, I know.” Mapi murmured, running her fingers through Ingrid’s thick hair. “You aren’t going to lose her. We aren’t going to lose her. We’ll fix it.”

“I don’t know how to fix it,” Ingrid whimpered. Mapi tilted the Norwegian’s head up, until Ingrid was looking at her once again.

“That’s okay, mi amor. You don’t need to have all the answers now. We’ll figure it out together. For now, just be her sister. Not her parent. Just be her sister, and if you don’t know what else to say, tell her you love her.”

Ingrid nodded pitifully, scooting up and cramming her face into the crook of Mapi’s neck.

“Thank you. For helping her and for texting me and for being so perfect. You’re always so perfect.” Ingrid mumbled.

“I’ll be perfect for you any day. I love you, and I love your sister. Now relax, mi princesa. Relax, breathe, calm down. We’re going to be okay.”

And like you had earlier, Ingrid hoped with everything in her that Mapi was right about this.

-------

Ingrid and Mapi fell silent the minute you walked into the kitchen the next morning. They’d been talking about you, clearly, and they looked at you nervously the minute you were in sight. You’d woken up irritated, though, as you sometimes did, feeling like your blood was boiling, as if one wrong thing would set you off. You wished you had more control than that, but you knew the minute you heard your sister’s voice, you would fly off the handle. Because this morning? You weren’t sad. You were furious.

The room was a complete contradiction to how you were feeling. Ingrid and Mapi’s home was bright with sunlight, and warm with color. They were both holding matching coffee mugs, and looking at you with matching concerned expressions, and all of it made you want to scream. Why did Ingrid get to have this perfect life, and you didn’t? Why did she get to be happy so easily, and you didn’t?

You were lost in your thoughts, taking the coffee Mapi handed you with a quiet thank you. The kitchen was uncomfortably silent.

“Hi, solstråle. How are you feeling this morning?” Ingrid piped up. You clenched your jaw. How did she think you were feeling?

“Fine.” You snapped.

Ingrid remained quiet and soothing when she spoke next, and it made you even angrier. “Honey, last night,”

“I don’t really feel like talking about it right now.” You said harshly, cutting her off. Ingrid tensed, trying to keep her reaction in check.

“I’m sorry, solstråle, but that is not an option. We need to talk about what happened, we can’t wait on that.” Ingrid insisted, voice measured.

Still it was like she’d hit you. Your head snapped up, your features contorted with rage, and you set your coffee down dangerously softly, glaring at your sister. “Oh now we have to? Now we have to talk about it? I’ve been here for 6 fucking months Ingrid. It took you months to realize something was wrong, and you didn’t even realize! I had to write it out for you. You told me last night that you love me, that you want me here, well then why didn’t you fucking show it before now! I said I don’t want to talk today and I meant that.” You yelled.

Ingrid shook her head, her hands clenching tight into fists. “Do not yell at me. I am trying to help. I understand that you’re hurt, and that you’re upset, but-”

You scoffed loudly then, interrupting her, and Ingrid got visibly more frustrated with you, her lips turning down into a disapproving frown.

“You can’t-”

“Ingrid, just take a sec.” Mapi cut in, her soft voice a sharp contrast to how you and your sister had been conversing. “Nena, we do need to talk, but it doesn’t have to be now. Let’s just all take a breath.”

Ingrid was shocked when you slowly nodded your head and took a step back from her, inhaling deeply. It was like magic; she’d never seen an argument that you were involved in get de-escalated so quickly.

“Go get your homework, okay? You’re coming with us to training.” Ingrid said after a minute. There was no room for argument in her words, and you fought against another surge of anger, fought the urge to yell.

“Is this because of what I wrote?” You asked evenly. Ingrid and Mapi exchanged glances.

“Listen, nena, we just want to keep an eye on you.” Mapi told you, realizing that you were a lot less reactive when she spoke to you than when Ingrid did.

“I know what I said. I wasn’t going to do anything, though. Really. I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t do that to you.” You defended quietly.

Mapi felt Ingrid’s hand slide into hers and grip tight. I wouldn’t do that to you, you’d said. Not I wouldn’t do that, period. Everytime she thought about what you’d written, Ingrid felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She wasn’t sure what would have happened if Mapi hadn’t gotten home when she did. She wasn’t sure how close she’d come to losing you. She was so scared.

Ingrid had never been good at letting you see how she was feeling, and maybe that was why, until this point, you’d gone out of your way to hide your own emotions from her. She decided to take Mapi’s advice from the night before. Just be her sister. Not her parent. Just be her sister, and if you don’t know what else to say, tell her you love her.

Ingrid approached you like she was worried you would lash out at her, which may have been fair. When you made no move to step away from her, she carefully stood directly in front of you, and put her hands on your shoulders.

“What you wrote really scared me. I’m not mad, solstråle, I’m just really scared. And I trust you, I do, but if I left you here alone, I would just worry, and we haven’t talked yet, and I have no idea what you’re thinking other than the things you said on that piece of paper. So it would make me feel a lot better if you came with us to training today.”

You blinked up at her for a minute, before you slowly nodded your head. “Okay. I guess that’s fair.”

Ingrid seemed equally as surprised as you did, removing her hands from your shoulders, and gesturing for you to go get your bag. Once you’d disappeared from the room, she turned back to her girlfriend, who had a ridiculous grin on her face.

“Look! You communicated! Like a real human being!” Mapi joked, opening her arms. Ingrid instantly melted into the hug, though she scowled at her girlfriend’s teasing.

“I communicate.” She said stubbornly.

“Sometimes,” Mapi allowed. “You’ve definitely gotten better. And you’ll keep getting better because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as determined as you are right now to make sure that your solstråle is okay.” Mapi whispered, kissing the side of Ingrid’s head.

“My solstråle.” Ingrid smiled. “I started calling her that when she was 3, and she had this shirt with a sun on it. I told her I liked it once, and whenever she saw me sad after that, she’d run off to put the shirt on and come show me. I called her my little solstråle. My sunbeam. She used to be so smiley, María. So happy. She’s so different now.” Very quickly, the smile faded from Ingrid’s face and she held Mapi closer to her.

“It’s all gonna be okay, mi princesa,” Mapi promised.

You cleared your throat from the doorway, then, and your sister and her girlfriend sprung apart, blushing like high schoolers caught in an awkward position. “Are you guys done making out?”

“We weren’t making out,” Ingrid groaned, as you all headed towards the door.

“No, we only make out after training,” Mapi said seriously.

You made a fake retching sound, Ingrid slapped her girlfriend in the arm, and Mapi laughed to herself, but the tension was broken. And you had smiled, a real smile. Ingrid didn’t care what she had to say to see you smile again, she’d do it.

--------

As was the norm when you went to training, the younger girls immediately latched onto you, yanking you away from Ingrid and pulling you into some scheme to get back at Mapi for the prank she’d pulled on them last week. It was the usual suspects; Pina,Vicky, Salma, and a couple others pulling you from the room, already giggling. They kindly didn’t say anything about the bruising and cuts on your face, and for that you were grateful, although you did get a few raised eyebrows from the older players. Ingrid watched you go anxiously, only turning her attention away from the door you’d walked out of when Mapi squeezed her hand.

“She’ll be fine.” Mapi promised. Ingrid nodded, but she didn’t stop worrying. And when Mapi went off to work in the gym herself, the Norwegian had no one to pull her out of her head.

She worried all through the gym session, paying very little attention to what she was supposed to be doing. Which wasn’t normal for Ingrid, and it caught the attention of pretty much everyone.

Ingrid was staring intently at where you were sitting against the wall in the shade, working on your homework, when Alexia and Frido approached.

“Everything okay, Engen?” Alexia asked.

“Yep.” Ingrid said distractedly.

“What did our dear solstråle do this time?” Frido joked, having known your sister long enough to know precisely why you were living with her. Alexia knew, too, and smiled, joining in on the joke. Until Ingrid’s eyes inexplicably filled with tears, and she turned away from you, wiping harshly at her face.

“Ingrid? What happened?” Frido wondered, running a hand up and down the Norwegian’s arm, while Alexia looked around anxiously, searching for anyone, anyone on earth, that would be better at dealing with whatever was going on than she would be.

“It’s a long story.” Ingrid said, her voice cracking. Frido and Alexia exchanged looks, before the captain turned to Jona across the pitch.

“Ingrid needs her ankle taped!” She shouted, before leading both women off the pitch. Jona nodded knowingly, despite the fact that Ingrid hadn’t done anything to her ankle, and it was rather odd for 2 entire people to accompany her to tape it. Jona knew that Alexia wouldn’t be asking for a minute for Ingrid if she didn’t think it was necessary.

Ingrid let them pull her into the locker room, rather desperate for some advice and some honesty. Because Mapi loved her too much to tell her how badly she’d really messed up, and both Frido and Alexia were known to be brutally honest. She needed brutal honesty right now. No matter how much it hurt.

-------

You were busy struggling through an essay you were supposed to be writing entirely in Spanish when Frido sat down next to you. One look at her face told you she knew exactly what was going on. You weren’t that surprised. She was your sister’s best friend, and you’d known her for a long time. If there was anyone that Ingrid was going to talk to, it would be Frido.

Frido always spoke to you in Norwegian, a thing you were endlessly grateful for. It instantly put you at ease, and today was no different, as she tugged playfully at your ear.

“How is my favorite Norwegian?” She asked.

“I know you already asked your second favorite Norwegian.” You replied jokingly.

“Why would I ask Caro how you are?” Frido deadpanned.

You threw your head back, laughing loudly, and Frido grinned, continuing on to tell any and every joke she could think of.

Ingrid watched from the doorway of the building, and when Mapi turned the corner and saw her watching the two of you, she knew exactly what her girlfriend was thinking.

Ingrid saw Mapi coming, though, and forced a smile onto her face. “How was the gym?” She asked.

“Fine. I was distracted though. How is she doing?” Mapi replied, nodding in your direction.

“Well. She’s joking around with Frido. So, better I assume.” Ingrid said evenly.

“She’s joking with Frido because Frido speaks her language, and she trusts her, and she didn’t just get into a screaming match with Frido. Frido didn’t read a letter containing her most upsetting feelings. She loves you, Ingrid, she just needs time.” Mapi assured her. Ingrid kissed her cheek softly, very appreciative that her girlfriend always knew what she needed.

“What if she doesn’t want to talk when we get home?” Ingrid asked, after another minute.

Mapi sounded wiser than normal when she spoke. Ingrid wasn’t used to her being the voice of reason in their relationship, but she appreciated that the defender always stepped up, and was always willing to be what Ingrid needed. “What happened last night was a big thing. She needs to process, and she needs to take her time with it. She’ll talk when she’s ready. And until then, we keep an eye on her, we give her hugs, and we tell her that we love her, vale?”

“Okay.” Ingrid agreed. It was going to be a long and difficult evening of not suffocating you with questions, it seemed. She’d do it, though, if it was what you needed. Ingrid thought that she would probably quit football or cut off one of her limbs if that was what you needed.

-------

You didn’t talk much the rest of the day, as Mapi predicted, and as Ingrid feared. Your sister did her best not to push you, and was mostly successful. Mapi kept the conversation going, able to talk about nothing for hours. She knew exactly which topics to discuss and which to avoid, and she knew how to make both you and Ingrid laugh until your stomachs hurt. Thank god for Mapi.

You were… relatively alright. Until later that evening, when you got up to head upstairs to finish some homework. You’d accidentally picked up Ingrid’s phone thinking it was yours, and saw a few texts from your mom to her. All about how much she missed Ingrid, how she was thinking of her, how she made Ingrid’s favorite for dinner that night. Nothing about you. You put it back down silently, grabbed your phone, and tried not to think about it, to no avail.

Instead of doing your homework, you sat on the floor of your room, thinking of the fact that your mom had missed your birthday, and not even noticed. Ingrid had, too, but she’d apologized over and over, and she’d promised to take you shopping over the weekend, and to dinner. Ingrid was trying. Your mother hadn’t tried in a while.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Mapi knocked on the door to say goodnight. She peaked in, frowning when she saw the fresh tears on your cheeks.

“Hey,” she said softly, carefully lowering herself to the ground next to you, minding her knee. She texted Ingrid to come upstairs, and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, because I know that you aren’t. But Ingrid and I love you. Ingrid and I want you here. Ingrid and I are gonna fix things, and that is a promise.”

You registered the words, though you didn’t believe them. Still, you gave Mapi a watery smile and leaned into her a bit. Ingrid’s footsteps were quiet in the hall, but you recognized that she was walking faster than normal. She appeared at your door, then, giving Mapi a meaningful look, and took Mapi’s place, sliding down onto the floor next to you. You pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and holding tight. It looked as if you were trying to physically hold yourself together.

“Hey, solstråle,” Ingrid said softly. You murmured a greeting, not moving your chin from your knees, and not turning your gaze towards your sister either. It was quiet for a minute before Ingrid prompted you. “Talk to me, please.”

You sighed, a tear rolling down your cheek. “‘I just miss Mom.” You said finally.

Ingrid’s chest squeezed uncomfortably. You were so stubborn, so willful, sometimes she forgot you were just a kid. Just an 18 year old kid living in a foreign country, who missed her mom. “Do you want to call her?” She asked, not very confident in the suggestion, but not really sure what else to say.

You instantly shook your head. “No. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Kjære, of course she does,” Ingrid began, but she wasn’t really sure. Your parents were so different, now. And whenever Ingrid called her mom, she never asked about you. She only wanted to hear about Ingrid. Your sister wasn’t stupid, she knew she was their favorite, but she didn’t expect them to write you off completely when you moved to Spain. They seemed happier, now. Without you there. It was something Ingrid couldn’t understand. Neither could you, really, but you had long accepted it.

“No she doesn’t. I stopped calling her, just to see. 2 months ago. She hasn’t called me once. She doesn’t want me, anymore, Ingrid. I know I was an accident, but if they were going to hate me for ruining their early retirement plans, I don’t know why they didn't just…”

Ingrid was speechless. At a loss for words, and so so angry. You filled the silence, though, things you’d never said out loud falling out of your mouth like you couldn’t help it.

“I miss what mom was like before, when I was younger. When you were still at home. I miss that mom. I don’t miss the one that I could call right now.”

“I don’t understand,” Ingrid said quietly, her hand resting on your head, and pulling you closer to her.

“Ingrid, I know mom is always nice to you, but,”

“No, solstråle. I don’t understand her. How she could bring someone so perfect into this world and not want to spend the rest of her life watching you grow up. I’ll never forgive her for how she’s made you feel, and I’ll never forgive myself for not noticing earlier. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it better. I promise you.”

“Thanks, Ing.” You mumbled, looking up at her for a minute before resting your head on her shoulder.

The problem was, Ingrid could tell you didn’t believe her. She could see it in your eyes; they were still so guarded and so hurt. You were still angry with her, she knew. You thought she just felt guilty, and eventually she would go back to how she was before. Ingrid didn’t know how to make you believe what she felt and what she told you. She worried so deeply that she wouldn’t be able to. That too much damage had been done, and that maybe she wouldn’t be able to fix it. Late at night, early in the morning, right in the middle of a match, she worried about that. All the time until it consumed her, and all she wanted to do was sit with you, and promise you over and over that she loved you more than anything on this planet. What if you never believed her?

-------

doesn't everyone feel so much better now!

#woso x reader #woso imagine #barcelona femeni x reader #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #engen!reader

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ganondoodle · 3 months

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totk cataclysm event wasnt just a great (but utterly missed) opportunity to change the map in techincally little ways that has drastic consequences both in stakes and in gameplay (like i mentioned before, flooding the gerudo desert would have meant devastating consequences for its ecosystem- like imagine little islands of sand still poking out, acting as a sort of last doomed refuge for sandseals- but also cahnged the entire gameplay of it, good chance to introduce some neat new ways to surf on water like a new ridable creature or an ice shield freezing a path while you surf on it, the gerudo being forced to save the city from drowing in various means or now living on the roofs, trying to adapt by building boats ect - also call back to older games?? since totk loves that so much ..-, vah naboris serving as the savest refuge being high above the water, even if non functional; similarly takign away ALL water from the zora region, gaving it all dry out would imemdiately turn into something way different and could mean death for the zora- forcing them to move to the lower parts of akkala for example- maybe vah ruta is still halfway functioning bc the faith the zora have to mipha, dorephan and sidon is, while not enough to keep it fully functional, but enough to generate some water so the most stubborn or brave zora set up around it like a last oasis; i know its somewhat done with death mountain but the gorons dont really suffer from it bc their only problem is a drugged rock that makes them mean and lazy ..- what about collapsing or exploding it, leaving a large crater that over the course of the game could start to grow with plant life since vulcanic earth is so fertile- some never seen before ones that was dormant in the lava and now that its cooled off is springing to life, which might seem good at first but for the area and its wildlife means loss of their habitat; the rito freezing over, but actually having to move, maybe into the tabantha canyon, building their new makeshift homes in between the walls of it- generally just switiching things around a bit would have done so much wihtout having to edit every last detail ((seriously tho, how did this game take so long given that botw took similar but they did that ENTIRE main map as detailed as it is AND made it all coherent with itself and its themes- im ranting again ..)

-but it ALSO would have been the perfect opportunity to introduce new weather types created by the sudden change in environment, somethign like a super strong wind that slows you when walking agaisnt and lets you jump much farther when with it- a darkness thing that clouds the world in utter darkness with only little light getting through anything that is caused by mushrooms from the udnerground invading the surface and their spores snuffs out all light (which could explain the weird darkness in the ruins from botw too!!), or just simply mist! making everything misty changes the entire feel of any environment drastically- you could make vertain enemies spawn only in certain weather conditions, lessening the repetive overuse of them; and that is only on the surface- what if the sky had sunbeams so strong it sets anything on fire if you dare to leave the shadows- to comabt it get a armor with a giant hat!! the underground could have been filled with different environments in the first place, but then of course thered be those dark spores of mushrooms, an entire forest you have to carefully travers other wise making them release their spores and make it all more difficult, glowy mushrooms, MORE glowy mushroms, theres so many weird ass shrooms IRL you could take inspo from!! maybe soemthing like a forest of kelp, long flowy plants obstructing view and making you anxious by any movement- there could be one thats a mimic or infected with miasma, slightly off color and its knobs are malice eyes that open only if it thinks you cant see it

(also for the idea of taking botws stuff and recontextualizing it, the guardians or shrines, now non fucntional, could be infected my miasma sometimes, maybe randomly to keep you guessing- an overgrown shrine suddenly lifting itself up with hands clawing at you when you get too close or do sth wrong to distrub it- similar with guardians tho the effect might be less since you know them as a threat already- or sth i mentioned in another post, a tower being used as a weapon by a gigatic miasma monster- the one in the gerudo region with the bottomless pit for example, perfect for an arena for you to run around in the spiral while its swinging at you etc etc)

JUST taking what botw had and mixing it up, expanding on it, even if technically little change, it could do so much but in the actual game death mountain and rito is the only ones that saw anything of a change like it, and it largely .. didnt change anything or was reversible easily, and had no actual consquences that meant anything, neither stakes nor environmental or narratively (the gerudo felt like it at first but its also largely reversible, its just kinda .. adding a bit of city)

i hhhhhhhhhhhhhh have so many thoughts still, i am just better at holding them back .... also dont wanna annoy lmao

#ganondoodles talks #zelda #ganondoodles rants #totk #loz totk #i still want to do the rewrite #but man wheres the time #i will never not be salty about totk #“YOU WERE THE CHOSEN ONE”#i wanna yell bc it could have been ... so good

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anglingforlevels · 8 months

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Nature's Losers (Yandere Anglerfish x Reader)

CW: body horror, violence, non-graphic death depiction, reader is kinda useless in this, swearing. stalking and general creepiness, monsterfuckery, bad writing, dead dove.

Minors DNI

In nature, there’s winners and losers. Although enthusiastic biology professors throughout your school years had argued that, by virtue of surviving and continuing to survive and reproduce, there weren’t any losers among the living.

Late-night nature programs made it hard to agree, when they featured hapless creatures like the male anglerfish, doomed to fumble through the darkness through smell to find an elusive mate with the only end goal of holding onto the mate they found, ultimately, dying a parasite. Nature certainly picks losers, or so you had thought back then.

You hadn’t spared much thought for the female anglerfish in your assessment, it just seemed obvious that the loser in the equation was the male.

That day too, the day you met it.

It was a simple day by the oceanside, you were trying to enjoy a warm summer day through an increasingly harsh breeze, emphasize on trying, as the breeze seemed determined to outgrow its label of breeze to become a gust of wind, an achievement of personal growth that you were not in support of.

That’s when you spotted him. By the rocky hillside, where the rowdy waves crashed against rocks out amidst the water, before growing still and reaching its end by the hillside, but not without having splashed said hillside wet in the process. A small figure laid, collapsed, among the rocky land.

“Is that a child?!”

Panicked, you rushed out there, navigating between slippery rocks and wet sand. Your outfit clinging to your legs, which you ignored in your pursuit to reach the collapsed child. Getting closer, it didn’t seem to be a child at all.

Though, he was small. He seemed barely big enough to go to your armpit, even as his figure was fully splayed out. But he didn’t seem particularly young, or even youthful. He didn’t seem old or mature either. He just seemed odd. He felt undefined, like something that hadn’t been developed or fully rendered, with colors washed out.

Stepping closer, your heart rate spiked as you noticed the way his skin seemed too pale and paper-thin, he almost felt transparent, so much so that it felt as if a lazy sunbeam would reveal shadows of bones encased in flesh. Christ, had you found a corpse? He didn’t look bloated like a drowned corpse ordinarily would, quite the opposite but still, was this really a living person?

With his brittle and scrawny figure laid out, bruised and still upon the rocks, it really felt as if you were watching a shattered doll carefully positioned. You swallowed.

“Hey, uh, are you- are you okay?”

At this, he opened up his eyes, revealing one key characteristic of note. Big, milky-white, and slightly bulging eyes. You startled a little at the sudden intensity as he fixed you with a relentless stare, for how lifeless the rest of him had seemed, it appeared as if all life in him had been dedicated to those eyes, and yet their dedicated stare felt purposeless, as if it he saw nothing.

You quickly snapped out of it, instead shifting to relief at the fact he wasn’t dead.

“Hey, what happened?” You asked, but he simply continued staring at you, not even shifting his head, instead following your movements with his eyes exclusively. You cleared your throat before trying again with a gentler tone. “Hey, it’s okay. Can you tell me who are you?”

He repeatedly opened and closed his mouth slightly, and while you weren’t sure what that really meant – and you were increasingly unsettled by the lack of blinking – you decided to brush the growing discomfort aside. Really, given his situation, acting a little unsettling didn’t seem too unreasonable, the guy was probably in shock, so you took the fact he reacted at all, as a good sign.

You laid a hand on his shoulder, hoping it might offer some comfort, but almost retracted it per reflex at his cold, clammy skin.

“Goodness, you’re freezing.” You were about to take off your cardigan for some kind of cover, when you realized that your clothes was, of course, soaking wet and clinging to you, from the climb here. So, instead you held him, hoping your body warmth could provide anything, as you frantically fumbled with your phone to call for an ambulance. Honestly, with a temperature like this, you were surprised he wasn’t a corpse yet.

He burrowed further into your embrace, his head resting in the crook of your neck, as if desperate to get closer than what the laws of physics allowed. His breathing grew heavier, and his teeth accidentally scratched you in what you assumed was clumsily expressed distress, you couldn’t tell if the drips you felt was tears or simply ocean water. You tried to soothe him by rubbing his back as your call got through.

Sitting like this, more than anything, you had felt that nature really did pick losers, a pitiful truth.

You weren’t sure how long it took before the ambulance arrived, but the chill of his body felt as if it had seeped through you, zapping out most of your own warmth, and you were now shivering yourself as well. You were planning on going home for a warmth bath and then going to bed, since you had work in the morning, and your boss weren’t exactly lenient, so even with your spare time being spent like this, you hoped to at least be well-rested physically.

But when they tried to usher him off you to cover him in a blanket, he clung desperately onto you, nails digging into your skin. Your heart ached for him, it really did, you were sure he were feeling disorientated and scared, but it was best to leave this kind of thing in the hands of professionals, and, while you felt like a jerk for it, you still had to think about yourself and your depressingly early shift tomorrow morning, a shift you’d only survive through with the company of your friend and coworker Julia, and the upcoming weekend off.

Prying him off you was easy. Even his desperate, fumbling grasp around you didn’t amount to being much more than feathery, with even gentle prying leaving him stumbling a bit from the force. It was hard to tell if it was due to his sickly state or just general, physical weakness.

You did really hope the best for him.

“Hm?”

On your way home, as you separated from the crowd after a good ten minutes of walking, you took notice of steps behind you that echoed out with a loud, inelegant thud, thud, thud. You turned around and furrowed your brows in perplexation. The sickly complexion and the stare was undeniable – it was him.

Walking with clumsy steps, he moved forward with the blank, staring expression he had donned when you first found him as well, a poorly wrapped blanket still around him but gliding off as he continued to move forth slowly but resolutely, paying it no mind.

“Did you… Follow me?”

All the way from the oceanside? Your hands felt clammy at the thought of him following you between the crowds and many corners – it couldn’t be an accident, and in the first place, he was supposed to have been in a hospital by now, or at the very least, still inside the ambulance.

He didn’t answer, though you hadn’t expected him to, he just kept moving closer and closer. Perhaps it was his empty stare and clumsy movements, but it felt as if he moved with one singular purpose, not as in he was driven, but rather, he lacked any other intentions behind his movement than his goal.

Something deep within you seemed to come undone at that, an unsettling feeling grasping hold of you. You didn’t think he was able of hurting you, really, you were surprised he could even stand, yet goosebumps littered your skin, there was just something wrong about him.

He can’t do anything to you, it’s okay. It’s fine. You reminded yourself through a shaky breath. That’s right, you bested him physically, so, you ran. With the speed he was at right now, you could surely manage to lose him, and then that would be that.

You’d avoid this area for a while, it wasn’t like you came here a lot anyway, and that would be the last of this. It felt more like you were pleading with yourself rather than stating a fact, and you hated that sense of irrationality, after all, that was all it was.

This was creepy but not dangerous, you were sure, you had to be sure. So, you ran. You ran and didn’t stop. Not until your lungs and sides burned, and you stood before your apartment complex. Looking around, he was nowhere to be seen. Even after entering the building, which only residents could enter, and your dingy apartment, you didn’t see him from your small window.

The warm bath helped calm your nerves a bit and you went to bed, to face a new day, one devoid of him.

“Okay, so you think he went Wolverine on the door. Wasn’t he like, super weak?” Julia asked, as she unloaded the cargo of the day, prompting a sigh from you.

This morning, when you had woken up and left for the bus, you had noticed scratches on the door to the building, and had had a sinking feeling, but you hadn’t seen anything of him or any other sign of him. you had confided in Julia about the experience, though Julia seemed skeptical about whether the scratches even made up a sign about him having managed to find your apartment to begin with.

“I don’t know, I know it sounds stupid, but seriously, he just kept following me.” You reiterated this for what must have been the thousandth time, and judging by Julia’s expression, that estimate couldn’t be far off.

“Have you considered calling the police about stalking?”

“Well, it’s not like he’s done anything, or that I know he’s stalking me. It’s not like I saw him by my apartment to begin with.”

And stalking didn’t feel like the right word. It felt more like you were being pursued. Less thought-out and hidden, instead he seemed to be following the most direct path he could perceive towards you in the most literal way possible, and while it should feel less threatening and invasive, the simplicity and literalness of his behavior didn’t do much in the way of comfort.

Most of all, you didn’t feel like it warranted a call to the police, especially with a pursuer this ineffective at pursuit. Not when you had heard stories of others reporting stalking, cases much worse and more explicit, yet getting dismissed, you were sure your case would get you laughed out of the station.

And then, a bump took them out of the conversation, and your heart dropped. At the door, he stood. Fumbling around, lightly bumping into the door in attempts to open it or bypass it. “No fucking way.”

Julia glanced at the small, scrappy guy clumsily failing to open a door, with a raised eyebrow. “And this is the guy that’s got you all worried? I mean, freaked out I get, but…”

But I doubt he could do much, even if he tried.

You looked away, frowning. Julia took notice and sighed, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

It felt unfair, but somehow you almost felt worse from her words. Julia had always lived by the idea that, even if something wasn’t necessarily real, it still felt real to the person who was upset. But you knew that this was real, this pit in your stomach, it wasn’t for nothing, it wasn’t just nerves, you just couldn’t… explain it.

Julia understood it was terrifying to see someone possibly following you, and even though the store was public, she understood it being scary to see him here all of a sudden, without knowing if it was a coincident or on purpose, but for you, it was more than that, but you couldn’t put it into words. You didn’t understand it. The frustrating acid of “it’s real for you” poisoned Julia’s good intentions, but you swallowed the bitterness, and smiled a forced smile.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s… it’s fine.”

Julia shook her head. “It’s not. You don’t feel safe, and that’s not okay. Listen, we’ll be going on our weekend camping trip tomorrow, and there’s no way that the guy who can’t figure out doors, can find you out there, so… Stay at my place tonight, then we’ll go camping, and we’ll figure this out, alright?”

She squeezed your shoulder reassuringly, and you felt a pang of guilt. God, you were such an asshole. You nodded, but your eyes were still fixed on him, luckily no one had gone through the door, thus giving him access, because you needed this job, you couldn’t afford any more late rent and your boss was an asshole, so bailing wasn’t an option but if he got into the store, you’d… Fuck, you wished you could barricade the doors.

Then suddenly he stopped his fruitless attempts, maybe even he had a limit wherein he recognized something to be futile. His vacant eyes shot up and stared directly at you. And he simply stood like that, absentmindedly clenching his jaw as if chewing. Your heart pounded against your chest, it felt almost painful as if you felt an actual recoil from its force, but you couldn’t focus on that when the world seemed to blur together around you, leaving only his eyes, pooling in all light despite their own pale shine.

Julia glanced at you, worry barely hidden on her face, before clapping her hands resolutely. “That’s it – By now, even our boss will accept us having called the cops on this guy for being a public nuisance. Or, if nothing else, he’ll agree that the guy is definitely scaring customers away, what with the blocking of the door and general creepiness.” Julia said, though you suspected she’d be scolded for it regardless, and you knew that she knew that too.

He had begun to lean against the door. Man, you couldn’t wait for camping trip…

Even when time seems to stand still, eventually it caves in, making way for the approaching future, settling into the current present, which was, unfortunately, you sweating profusely as you fought to set up a tent, but even the frustrating battle of tents could not deter your relief and joy at finally having arrived at the weekend, and more importantly, the camping trip.

“I don’t think it’s supposed to bend that way.” Julia commented. You rolled your eyes at it.

“A lot of words coming from the person not helping me set it up.”

“Hey, you oh so cruelly banished me from helping, remember?”

“You’re just not that good at it.”

“Right, because this is the pinnacle of putting up tents. I salute your hard work.”

Julia’s unhelpful commentary aside, you were almost done, you just needed to focus. As if that was a cue, your focus was shattered by something rushing through a bush, and instinctively let go of the tent, as you tensed up.

And then a rabbit jumped out, making its escape from the loud sound of tent gear clattering. The world felt woozy for a moment as you collected yourself, breathlessly laughing. The tension still lingered in the air, but Julia made quick work of it.

“I gotta say, I think I’m a little better at putting up tents than that.” She said, gesturing to the pile of now fully undone work. The tension dissolved and the nervous laughter turned sincere. Julia was, benevolently, allowed to assist with setting up the tent – to her great dismay – and you laughed and talked together as you set up camp.

After a job well-done, you both felt a meal was in order, so Julia found the ingredients as you collected firewood while the sun was still out. With your arms full of twigs, your attention suddenly snapped to a bush, at the sound of the leaves being rustled quite harshly. No doubt by a particularly ungraceful critter, hopefully one as cute as the rabbit.

You were about to laugh and comment on how they must be a magnet for forest animals when a small but very humanoid figure stepped forth instead.

Your blood seemed to freeze.

It wasn’t like it was impossible to follow them. With the smarts and know-how, one could find out where they were camping. And then, it was just as simple as taking an uber. Or you could simply trail Julia’s car here.

Except, the torn clothes. The scarred and bruised skin. The ruffled, dirtied look. He had not gotten here by car.

“Fucking hell.” Julia’s whispered words said it all, fucking hell was right.

You stood frozen. Unable to tear yourself from his stare. He opened his mouth-

“Let’s go!”

It was first when Julia’s frenzied voice called out, and pulled your arm, that you began to move. Absentmindedly, you took notice of his bloody, jagged nails. It took a moment before the adrenaline kicked in, and you stopped being dragged rather than running yourself.

The car, they just had to get to the car and leave. Recoup, figure something out, cool their heads, just, they needed to get away. You practically flung the door open when the two of you reached the old car. Neither of you bothered with seatbelt before starting the car.

But all it did was cough sadly.

“Huh? It can’t have run out of gas.” Julia looked bewildered, trying to start it again, only for it not to turn on at all. “Oh – Oh. You have got to be kidding me”

“Care to clue me in?” Your voice cracked slightly, and Julia glanced at you, before composing herself, and trying to smile reassuringly, though her smile wavered.

“Well, it’s just, the battery. It’s dead. But” she hurriedly added, seeing the way your face fell at her words, “I have an extra one. Since we were going on a trip away from any kind of mechanic.”

“Right… But we didn’t park that far from the camp.” He’ll reach us before.

Julia nodded seriously. “That’s why, we’ll run. We’ll circle around, since he’s following you, if we get him far enough away, we can probably give ourselves enough time. We’ll run straightforward till we reach the cliffs, and then back.”

You didn’t like that idea very much, willingly letting yourself be chased and running around in the forest when dusk was approaching, neither felt appealing. But they didn’t have a lot of options.

“Since I’m the one he’s following, why don’t I do that while you change the battery?”

“And leave you to run around alone with a freak after you? No way. ‘sides, I wouldn’t freeze up in a fight.” Julia said, her smile no longer wavering. You weren’t sure if there was enough words to fully show your appreciation for Julia, warmth pooling in your stomach, despite everything, it felt a little more okay with Julia by your side.

So, the two of you got out of the car, and waited anxiously for the sound of him approaching. Neither of you had talked about how he had gotten here, or known where to find you, perhaps none of you wanted to breach the topic.

Finally, you heard footsteps. And you sprinted. Then after a while, you’d wait for him to get closer. Then sprint again. On repeat. The darkness was rapidly increasing, forcing you to lower your speed, lest you injure yourself, and with the night animals awakening, it was both harder to hear and see him approaching.

“Just a little more, alright?” Julia said, between heavy breaths. The small sound of bells from her necklace and the way she held your hand, was a comforting reminder of her presence, amidst the darkness of the forest, each dancing shadow and crunching leaf reminding you that, hidden somewhere, was he. “Waves, listen, thank god, waves.”

Just as Julia had said, when you strained your ears, you heard the waves crashing into the cliffside. On burning, wobbly legs, you reached your destination, the trees giving way for the cliff edge.

“We probably don’t need to wait for him to be within hearable range, this time. Let’s just make our way ba-“

Crack.

Out he stepped. Only meters away. He lifted his hand up, as if reaching out to you already. You needed to move but only your beating heart seemed to get the memo. Then Julia flashed by, lunging at him.

Watching them both fall to the ground; it was a reminder. No matter how creepy he was, no matter how relentless – he was basically a stack of cards waiting to be knocked down by the wind. But you couldn’t help but feel like there were something more to it, a danger lurking within him.

Even as he was wrestled to the ground, his eyes stayed on you.

“Ouch!” Julia yelped, accidentally letting go of him, clutching her hand. “He bit me. it’s- it’s fine.”

You had seen the red liquid running between her fingers, even though she tried to hide it. It wasn’t fine. He, in the moment of being released, got up and returned to his goal of reaching you. Julia grabbed onto his ankle, forcing him down once more. You noticed that she used only one hand, the other curled up against her chest still.

He kicked his legs while continuing to attempt to crawl closer, somehow not paying attention to Julia beyond “hindered movements”, he seemed to just keep going despite his severe weakness. His kicks were weak but even so, a kick to the face was still unpleasant, enough so that he managed to squirm out of her hold to stand up.

But the sight of Julia’s pained expression, her hand bleeding profusely – you felt angry. Far angrier than the fear that gnawed at your core. Your hand searched for something, landing on a branch, and you jumped forth, hitting him.

You hadn’t expected him to be this frail and light, that it would practically send him flying, edging closer to the edge of the cliff. He stumbled around, the stones beneath his feet too loose for him to regain balance. He grasped blindly out for something to support him, as his body threatened to take a plunge down the cliffside.

His hand reached Julia’s necklace, as she was still laid on the ground. Before she could swat his hands away or do anything – a force stronger than either of us overpowered them, gravity pulling them downwards.

Your heart sank but even moving as fast as you could, you couldn’t reach Julia in time, her strangled scream cut off by the pull of her necklace must have been cutting off her airway before the unruly water ever got a chance.

“Julia!”

It was a long fall, directly into deep water, with jagged cliffs, even so, Julia had to… she had to be… She’d be alright. She just had to be. Frantically, ignoring the growing darkness and your own exhaustion, you ran. You had to get down there, to search for Julia.

You ignored the way your legs and lungs burnt, the way you only managed shallow breaths – you needed to find Julia, to see that she was okay. You don’t know how long it took until you got down to the bottom of the cliffside, but only the bright moon served as any light by now.

Your heart sank further as you stood at the edge of the water. How were you supposed to get over there, it was so far away, it would take you an hour to swim over there when well-rested – more importantly, how was Julia supposed to ever make it back here? With an injured hand to boot.

You ran out anyway, water going up to your ribs, as you desperately called out her name. It was futile, perhaps, but you just couldn’t accept it. If you called and looked, maybe you’d find her, maybe she had managed to get closer. Even though it was an impossible hope, you continued to search.

Each stray touch of seaweed wrapping around your legs made both dread and hope to shoot up in you, only for the same hope to crash into despair once more, that it wasn’t Julia, it wasn’t her. You spent so long out there in the darkness before you finally dragged yourself back to land, and only because the already unruly water had gotten worse, threatening to pull you down, and you knew, if it knocked you down, you wouldn’t be able to get back up, not as you were now.

You sat down on the sand, with legs numb from exhaustion and the cold, and just stared into the water. If you hadn’t used that branch, then Julia would… Julia would still… Exhaustion and grief made both your mind and body feel so incredibly heavy.

Then you heard it. Something else walking out of the water, and the small metallic clang of bells. Your head shot up. “Julia?” you voice couldn’t manage more than hoarse whisper at this point. But out of the water wasn’t Julia, of course, how could it be. It would be impossible to survive falling into such deep water, even if you hadn’t hit any of the sharp edges of the cliff.

That’s why, stone-cold dread turned into lead in your stomach at the sight. From the water emerged a small, soaked figure. It was him, no, it, because no human could have survived this long underwater. It was walking with the same expression as always, eyes finding and locking onto you, and it walked, with the same stumbling ease as always. And around his fingers and hand, Julia’s necklace was entangled, the bells clinging.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t human. Whatever this was, it had dragged Julia down with it.

You had to run, even though the world was spinning from dizziness and exhaustion, you had to run. Even standing up again was a struggle. On numb legs you clumsily ran. Even putting your all into it, you and it was evenly matched in speed now.

It got closer. Each step is accompanied by wet drips and clinging bells.

Drip, drip, cling, cling.

You couldn’t see the ground before you. You had run into the forest, you needed to get to the car or civilization, or anything. The trees kept out most of the moons light.

Drip, drip, cling, cling.

Branches and bushes caught onto hair and clothes. Leaving stinging nicks on your skin. No matter, continue, run, run, run.

Drip, drip, cling, cling.

What way was the car? How had you gotten down here to begin with? Not this way, that’s for sure. Just continue forward, no time to think.

Drip, drip, cling, cling.

You felt a pull, your foot getting caught by a root. Falling to the ground, dirt and stones stuck to you. You needed to untangle yourself.

Drip, drip, cling, cling.

Oh god, you needed to get free and get back up. You couldn’t see the root, so fumbling blindly in the dark, you tried to pull, pull, pull.

Drip, drip, cling, cling.

Cold, clammy hands touched you. Slowly look up from the root, it had crouched down before you. It’s eyes were the only source of light in the darkness of the forest, and you were almost mesmerized. Despite you being the only one out of breath, your jagged breaths were matched by it.

It leaned closer and you realized, the deep breaths – it was sniffing you.

It curled up against your stomach, as if settling to sleep. Was this the goal? It had gotten to you, was this it? Lie together like your first meeting? And then, searing pain shot through the exhaustion. It bit you, teeth tearing through flesh and holding on.

You felt light-headed and nauseous from the pain, or maybe the exhaustion? You couldn’t tell, growing disorientated, unable to focus on anything but the pain, so as the corners of your eyes darkened, you gave in to the numb darkness. As you fell unconscious, you thought you heard bells once more.

Your head hurts… That was the first sensation you noticed when you awoke.

It felt as if it was being split in two, a searing fire burning away any sense of emergence and thought, leaving you in hazy pain. Then again, your entire body felt heavy and warm in a drowsy and exhausting type of misery.

It took a moment to connect the sudden pain with anything, blinking yourself back into consciousness. You had been in cold water, maybe it was the flu? But it felt different, your head felt full but more than that, your body was too. There was a foreign sense of fullness, amid the dull, throbbing aches throughout her body, like something burrowing in between the fiery heat.

It was like a steady flow throughout your body, of something cold amidst the warmth. It felt wrong. That’s when you had half a mind to notice the most soaring pain of all was perhaps related to the weight of a very real thing, a very real presence.

On top of you, he… no, it laid, resting its head on your stomach, where it had bit you. God, it had bitten you, maybe it was an infection, no, that didn’t matter, not now.

Off, off, needed it off you.

Though the world spun around you, as dizziness clouded your mind from the simple act of lifting your arm, you managed to place your hands, your awfully clammy hands, on it, and push.

It didn’t budge, rather, the action seemed to hurt you. Like something attempting to tear your flesh off, oh god, was it still biting you? Was that why the pain felt so searing still? As your attempts to push it grew more frantic, it remained unmoved by it.

“Why, why, why the fuck won’t you- god,” tears prickled at the corner of your eyes, and the sensation seemed to bring you further into reality, the pain growing more and more real, and while you somehow had not been crying before, tears turned into full-out sobs and screams.

“You’re so weak, just, god why, why can’t I- off, off, off! I need you to-“ get off me. It had been so weak before, easily pushed and shoved. Then why, why couldn’t you make it budge now, each attempt hurting you further, at some point, you were convinced you heard the sound of flesh tearing, but you weren’t in your right mind to stop hopelessly trying through brute force.

As the pain became too much, the fight ebbed out of you, replaced by exhausted agony, moving already felt so hard, when you felt icy fire alongside the burning inside, and your skin felt… tight, as if it was housing more than it could, something prodding and poking uncomfortably at your own skin.

Had it not been because you could so clearly see the creature, you’d have frantically checked your clothes, at the feeling of intrusion, even if said intrusion seemed to be everywhere within you, all at the same time. As your fighting died out, replaced by breathless sobs, it lifted its head ever so slightly, its milky eyes finding yours, somehow, they didn’t look quite as empty now. You could have sworn the look in its eyes was joyful.

You broke eye contact because (it’s unbearable), because… Right, biting, was he still biting you? You stared blankly for a moment when you finally looked further down. You blinked. Once, twice, thrice. No, no, no, no. You hadn’t woken up yet. That’s it, this wasn’t real. Oh god, no, no, no. You blinked again, four times, five times, six times.

But the sight before you remained the same.

His lower face seemed as if melted, seeping into your skin. You couldn’t tell where his skin ended and yours began, as his face stretched out awkwardly, like melted wax, only the top retaining a semblance to his earlier appearance, though the skin around his eyes felt awfully loose, as if dragged down by the weight of… You? This?

Its nails dug into your skin, drawing blood, as its arms encircled you, and it nuzzled closer as if this proximity still wasn’t enough; more skin breaking loose and absolving before your eyes, as if watching a melting clay figure, the skin burning as it melted into yours.

Nature really did pick losers.

#yandere #yandere x reader #tw monsterfucking #yandere monster #tw body horror #tw death #not proofread #bad writing #dead dove do not eat #minors dni

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