#my blatant favorite dorm !!!!!!!!!!!
Note
OMGG you wrote the first years finding out reader was a girl so well! i love it :D could i maybe request the same thing but for thirds years? thank you so much and have a good day :)
Third Years Find out You’re a Girl?!?!? (NOT CLICKBAIT)
TW: Rook and Lilia are creepy
Info: Trey, Cater, Rook, Lilia x Reader (platonic)
Tags: @kierancaz @danchann33 @arashrita
🍓Ahh, the third years… How I do love them. Please ignore my blatant favoritism in Rook… I just… I really <3 him. Truly, the third years are my absolute weakest character, but I hope I did them well. Remember, dorm leaders are on a separate post. Love you all, and enjoy <3
First Years
Ortho & Sebek
Second Years
Dorm Leaders
-Okay so, I know we’re all wondering, how the hell do you get away with hiding your gender for so damn long?
-Firstly, those ceremonial robes do great at hiding the figure. The only tell would maybe be your hair, but feminine men aren’t unwelcome at Nightraven College, so you mostly get a few questioning stares and that’s it.
-Secondly, Crowley wants to save his own fucking ass. He already has to hide from the press that he has a MAGICLESS student from ANOTHER DIMENSION here, he doesn’t need the fact that you are a woman ALSO on his plate. So, obviously, he helps you hide your gender from others.
-Grim knows, of course, and he keeps his mouth shut for a few yummy cans of tuna (and threats of being expelled from Crowley <3)
-Even when you were just a janitor, he couldn’t have the rumor that he put a “helpless” young woman to work. (Like it wouldn’t be expected.)
-So how do you two do it?
-Baggy ass uniform. Crowley gave you at least three sizes too big.
-Your figure is completely hidden. Sure, you look completely homeless, but at least you’re hidden.
-For your voice, you simply deepen it. After some point, you blackmail Crowley into giving you a potion to help with it, since it's so taxing on your voice. (Or maybe your voice is naturally deep!)
-Sam provides you (for an unfairly pretty penny (not too different from your original world…)) any feminine hygiene products you might need.
-Honestly, you’re set for being cared for, but it’s the adjustment period that’s the hardest part.
-Truly, it’s very jarring to suddenly be thrown into both a magical world and be isolated in a man's world with nowhere to hide.
-At least in your world you had other women who could understand your struggles. Here though? You’re completely alone.
-You notice how… messy some of these guys could be. How some of them smell… really rancid. -How rough they were with you and each other.
-Honestly, it’s kinda eye-opening. The way men show affection to each other is oddly refreshing to watch and experience!
-Ace and Deuce specifically are a good… trial run.
-That’s not what we’re here to talk about though…
-For the most part, it's incredibly easy to hide yourself for the first while on campus. Everyone on campus is so self-absorbed that they don’t bother questioning you.
-Your only real risk factor is Savannaclaw, but it's easy to avoid those guys (minus Jack, of course).
-However, you can only hide your gender for so long… It’s mentally draining to keep up this facade all the time around people you care about.
-So… how do they find out?
Trey
-Trey is a very good middle ground compared to everyone else in NRC.
-He doesn’t find out immediately like some people, but he finds out pretty soon into knowing you.
-Trey has siblings. Specifically, he has younger sisters he helped raise alongside his mother and father.
-He’s good at reading women thanks to his sisters. He knows many tells of discomfort, displeasure, dislike, etc..
-It’s different from how his brothers would show it, how others at NRC show it.
-He can’t even explain it, he just knows the differences and it makes sense to him.
-With you, he notices the tells. Notices that you deepen your voice and you shy away from the more… intimidating and touchy guys on campus.
-He’s not one to assume, though!
-He’s attended three years at NRC in the same class as Vil.
-He understands that gender expression presents itself in tons of different ways.
-You clearly prefer using he/him pronouns, Ace and Deuce use strictly male pronouns, so it’s not his place to say anything.
-Still… the way your eyes glitter when he praises you for doing well on your tarts reminds him a whole lot of his little sisters.
-It’s not till a bit later, shortly before Riddle explodes when he asks Cater that his suspicions are concerned.
-“Cater, don’t you think the new guy in ramshackle is a little…”
“Girl? Yeah, it’s kinda obvs.”
“Is it now…?”
-Cater pretty much lays out everything he noticed about you, and it matches up pretty well with what Trey was thinking.
-Still! Trey doesn’t want to force the idea that you’re a woman on you!
-What if you are trans, non-binary, or anything else? To assume something like that is completely awful, and he’s better than that.
-He’s not a troublemaker after all.
-So, during one of Heartslabyul’s tea parties, (much like many others at NRC), he pulls you aside just to get confirmation.
-“So, this might seem a little rude, but I want to make sure I’m respecting you.”
“…kay…”
“Are you a woman?”
“Didn’t Cater tell you already?”
-Oh. Okay. Cater was right. He shouldn’t have doubted him. Noted.
-You make him swear up and down that he won’t tell Ace or Deuce, and you move on from it like it's nothing. (You’re not sure you can trust Ace and Deuce to keep their mouths shut at this point).
-And, really, it should be nothing. Trey should just be able to move on and relax… but his brotherly instincts sort of act up around you.
-He’s not overbearing in any way, it isn’t a creepy thing that suffocates you… it’s just a notable increase in intake of Trey in your life.
-He invites you over to “try this new recipe he made” (an excuse to ensure you’re eating, because he’s confident Crowley isn’t providing you nearly enough nourishment).
-Sometimes he shows up at Ramshackle to pick up Ace and Deuce and ends up staying and helping you clean up after the disaster freshmen.
-Most importantly, he checks in on you and your well-being considerably more than he does anyone else.
-He has, in fact, called you little sis before as well. He was incredibly embarrassed by it and refused to acknowledge it happened.
-Cater does not let him forget that it happens, calling you “Trey’s honorary sister” every chance he gets.
-It’s not so bad though. Especially at the start, you really needed someone reliable like Trey to lean on when you needed help since Crowley would only do the bare minimum.
Cater
-Cater finds out pretty damn quick after meeting you.
-It's not the exact second he sees you, but very shortly after your first interactions… he gets it.
-As we know, Cater was sort of forced into being feminine and girly by his sisters — something he was completely uncomfortable with, but later forced himself to embrace.
-When he looks at you… how big your clothes are, how you artificially deepen your voice, how you’re clearly uncomfortable with both of those things… he sees a younger version of himself.
-Still… it's super not his place to bother you about something like that.
-He hardly knows you, and as your upperclassman, he should be a role model and not worry about superficial stuff.
-M’kay! It is no big deal for Cay Cay, he can leave it all behind him with no issue! Totally doesn’t bother him at all!
-…He’s a big fat liar.
-It’s not his fault okay! He just… can’t get that look of discomfort out of his mind.
-You looked so miserable :( You looked like how he used to look :(
-So, Cater, far more impulsive and honest than good old Trey, straight up asks you. (Privately, of course, he’s not a monster.)
-“Heyyyy, so, weird question… are you a girl? It’s totally cool if you’re not, I’m just curious.”
“…How did you know…”
-It kinda freaks you out a lot. You thought you were hiding it so well.
-Cater, sweetie that he is, assures you that he’s different from others.
-He’s got special circumstances that allowed him to notice what was going on.
-Promises he won’t open his mouth…
-He tells Trey less than a week later.
-It’s not his fault! He was on your trail already, he was gonna figure out one way or another!
-Other than the Trey debacle, he’s really good at NOT gossiping about it, believe it or not.
-He’s your reliable senpai after all :D
-He is your first official ally!
-Completely supportive of what you’re trying to do here, and is more than willing to be a safe space when you just need to… be a woman sometimes.
-You spend a lot of time with him after he finds out.
-His dorm is always open for you, even if Riddle hates it, m’kay! You can always come to your old pal Cater for help.
-He really helps you on selling the whole “I’m a man” act.
-He shows you easier ways to hide your chest so you don’t always have to swim in your clothes and helps you keep your hair styled in a way that either hides it or makes you look more masculine.
-He’s like the best big brother figure to have, honestly, and he remains one of your dearest friends through your whole stay at NRC.
-He’s someone to vent to, someone who gets what you’re going through just a little, and someone who’s really there for you all the time.
-Also very protective of your secret.
-The only reason Ace and Deuce don’t know for so long is because Cater is working overtime to keep them off your trail.
-He tells you all about his escapades and keeping them in the dark too, he’s so proud of himself. (Please praise him, he needs it).
-Seriously though, he’s such a sweetheart and he’s always there for you if you need him.
Rook
-Ah beloved lover of beauty Rook!
-He is quite the oddball, isn’t he? Always off in his own world spewing flowery nonsense all in “the pursuit of beauty” as he calls it.
-Most people on campus just call him a freak and move on from it.
-You’ve heard about him, of course. The stalker-hunter from Pomefiore makes the beastmen on campus tremble in fear (or annoyance, in Leona's case).
-You knew he existed, but seeing him was never really common. In fact… seeing anyone from Pomefiore was rare.
-You guessed such an elitist dorm probably wouldn’t want to mingle with someone like you.
-In Rook’s case, however, you couldn’t be more wrong.
-He was quite interested in you from the very second you’d interrupted the whole opening ceremony.
-You were… striking in his eyes. Not quite as beautiful as Vil, of course, but very eye-catching.
-While Vil insists you are a pest not worth Rook’s attention, he disagrees.
-Truly, he’s fascinated by you and your story.
-You from another world, who goes out of his way to hide such natural beauty with baggy clothes and messy hair… Ah! How his heart pounds in excitement, he must know more!
-So he does the only thing he knows how to…
-He goes on the hunt. For what? He’s not sure yet, but his hunches are rarely wrong.
-He follows you to classes, watches you get yourself into trouble and out of it, stalks you through the windows of ramshackle, and laments about his findings to (a very unimpressed) Vil.
-You can feel his piercing gaze on your back, but you never see him. It’s chilling honestly.
-It’s not until he decides to follow you to Sam’s later at night that he figures it out.
-You had purchased a large box of feminine supplies…
-He had gotten you, little trickster :)
-Now, since he had gotten his solution, he laid back on the whole… creeping on you in your dorm thing.
-He is a hunter, not a pervert.
-Leading up to the VDC, when you’ve decided to try out officially, you suddenly see a lot more of this mysteriously creepy Rook character.
-And, honestly, he was really nice!
-Sure he said a lot of needlessly long and poetic sentences, but at the end of the day, he would always wave at you in the hallways or offer to help you learn the dance for auditions.
-This was all a ruse to be able to get closer to you and uncover your inner beauty.
-HE convinced Vil it was a good idea for you to be manager, and HE was the one who offered to ensure you “didn’t cause any trouble.”
-And Rook, good as he is at hiding secrets, pretty much lets you know that he knows. Constantly you find him… flirting? Complementing? You… saying how badly he would like to see you cleaned up and in more fitting clothes.
-Nothing he’s doing is romantic… you think… he’s just very clearly interested in you.
-So, of course, you have to ask him.
“Did you… figure out I’m a woman.”
“Perhaps…”
“You’re… not going to tell anyone, right?”
“Little trickster, I am the master of secrets.”
-Honestly? It’s not so bad having him and the others in Pomefiore know.
-You really get to be yourself with Vil and Rook, so it's nice! Besides, you haven’t been prettied up in a really long time. You kinda missed it.
Lilia
-Ah, Lilia… beloved elderly man.
-He won’t lie and say that he isn’t incredibly curious about you too. Who wouldn’t be?
-A human from another reality with no magic, no concept of where they are, and no idea how to get you back.
-Very curious indeed.
-However, he has no reason to get himself involved in your business.
-You are a confident young lad, and clearly strong and capable.
-In the few interactions he did have with you, you clearly had your head on your shoulders and well-founded confidence in your own abilities.
-The only thing truly odd about you was… your face.
-He isn’t one to talk, he’s thousands of years old and he’s got quite (unnaturally) large eyes and soft skin.
-You, however, aren’t fae. You aren’t anything more than a human.
-Excuse his close-mindedness for just a moment, but if he wasn’t mistaken you look quite… feminine.
-Small(er) stature, baggy clothes, clearly discomforted by “manly” activities that your friends drag you into.
-It wasn’t his place to question, of course. He understands that gender isn’t easy to define, and his thoughts are only ideas from his past creeping up on him.
-Still… it raises some questions in his mind.
-He knows where his responsibilities lay, so he brushes his thoughts under the rug and moves on from the thought.
-That is… until he notices Malleus’… interest in you.
-The prince’s visits to ramshackle only seemed to increase after you arrived.
-As Malleus’ caretaker (and out of morbid curiosity), he must investigate you further.
-That's how you start… seeing a lot of Lilia. Like, too much Lilia. How in the world is he always there, it’s creeping you out.
-He’ll talk to you, sometimes, but most of the time you can feel his beady little red eyes watching you.
-You don’t know what you did to him, but it’s really starting to freak you out.
-You’ve seen his fangs, does he want you for a blood bag or something.
-You, being strong as you are, decide to just confront him one day in the library.
-“Okay, what’s your problem. You went from acting like I don’t exist to constantly staring at me like I’m your next meal.”
“Please forgive me, that wasn’t my intention. I’m simply… curious about you, and I didn’t want to scare you off by approaching.”
“I don’t think your solution to that problem was any less scary.”
-You give him the benefit of the doubt, and you realize this guy talks like your grandpa or something. He’s so old, it’s almost funny.
-You decide to start spending some more time with him, and you realize he’s really fun to be around.
-Despite his seemingly old soul, he’s rebellious and feisty, and he has an endless treasure trove of stories to tell you.
-He becomes a comforting force in your life, so much so you begin to confide in him your stresses and worries.
-Inevitably, you end up telling him how hard it is to hide being a woman. How only so many people know, and how exhausting it is to pretend to be something you’re not.
-“Does Malleus know?”
“Malleus…?”
“The man you meet in front of your dorm at night.”
“Oh! Do you mean Hornton? No, I don’t know if he’s good at keeping secrets or not.”
“He is not.”
-Lilia is more than willing to be a force in your life that keeps you happy and healthy.
-He is more providing and giving than Crowley is, constantly giving you little gifts and ensuring you have enough money to keep taking care of yourself.
-You insist that he doesn’t need to do any of that, but his fatherly instincts tell him otherwise.
#twst#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#x reader#bunni's treats 🧁#trey clover#cater diamond#rook hunt#lilia vanrouge#trey clover x reader#cater diamond x reader#rook hunt x reader#lilia vanrouge x reader
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watercolor eyes ━━━ draco malfoy.
pairings: draco malfoy x fem!reader.
summary: it’s not your favorite thing to be stuck in a loveless marriage. much worse, being married to draco malfoy of all people, you despised and loathed him simultaneously, yet your heart craves for him while your mind opposes him and his entire persona. hopefully, you make clever decisions, or he’ll leave you with watercolor eyes.
warnings: arranged marriage, miscommunication, reader accuses draco of cheating, cursing and alcohol consumption.
author’s note: a reposted fic. do not copy, post on another site, translate or claim any of my works as your own or you will be reported! nav.
When your future was planned and finalized, life began to lose its significance.
How could you not have anticipated something like this would happen at some point? Your parents had been preparing you for this since you were a little girl, yet the whole arrangement still felt enraging and terrible. Such a dreadful thing yet you can’t be disappointed, it was bound to happen but nevertheless, it just seemed presumptuous.
You were enamored with the concept of love as a child. You’d always admired how your father and mother act around each other—their eyes sparkling with blatant devotion, sweet honey utterances, and the naked love so evident in their faces—and you’d always wished for that.
Someone who loves you as much as you love them.
But, as they say, life may very well be cruel. When you realize that you will soon marry Draco Malfoy of all people, your little fairytale of love is shattered. You wanted to scream, complain, and say vile things that your mother would have chastised you for, but you couldn’t. This was your life, and you had to suffer and live it regardless of the injustice.
It was mangled and atrocious. An arranged marriage isn’t something you want to be a part of; two people who have no love for each other, not even a smidgeon of passion for each other, but who are forced to be together in a golden cage. Strangers in a relationship were like sand in the winter air, entirely at odds.
You needed to be away from all this for a while. When your family and the Malfoys ate lunch together, you were incredibly tired of the sparkling wine, the unrealistic politeness, and the tension of a stupid grin. It was uncomfortable for you, and even Draco appeared uneasy as he ate slowly and cautiously.
You were now in Hermione Granger's—actually, Weasley's—comfortable and pleasant home, which she shared with her husband Ron. She greeted you with a beaming smile and a compelling hug right away, and a part of you felt glad for the warmth she provided as she welcomed you into their home.
“How are you doing?” Hermione asked, taking a sip of the tea she had made for the two of you.
You hesitated, your hand clutching your skirt’s edge. “If that’s what you’re wondering about, I’m perfectly all right.”
When Hermione observed you, she knew you were lying. You and her had been best friends for your entire Hogwarts year, along with Ron and Harry, but you felt the closest to her and vice versa, so she knew you were deceiving by the look on her face, which was like a frown, and the way she squinted her eyes.
“You’re lying,” she remarked as she placed the tea on the table, her voice knowing.
“No, I’m not.”
Hermione sighed. “Y/N.”
“Fine,” you didn’t intend to be mean, but it just came out of nowhere, but thankfully Hermione didn’t seem disturbed; she’s probably accustomed to it. “I feel… conflicted.”
She frowned, her face deep in contemplation. “Does this have anything to do with your marriage to Malfoy?”
“Arranged marriage,” you corrected almost spitefully.
Hermione’s face had a pity look on it, which you didn’t like to see. She was well aware of your animosity for Draco; you’d rant about it all day in your dorms and even in the Great Hall, with Ron chiming in with a few supportive remarks. Even after the battle, you still despise the man you’re supposed to be entangled with.
It didn’t make any sense; Draco was the least suitable person for you to marry, and he wasn’t the sort of bloke you expected to be with. You were a pureblood Gryffindor, and it didn’t seem like a good match to be with someone as arrogant and conceited as Draco, who shamelessly flaunted his Slytherin pride in your years at Hogwarts, rubbing it in your face.
In comparison to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, he didn’t harass or taunt you, but there were insults and sarcastic remarks about you, though they never went deep; you were resentful and petty, so you chose to detest him. When he’s at the back of the class, he’ll mostly tug at the ends of your braids, or he’ll mess with you in your free time and take up all of your time instead of doing what you want because of his irritating presence.
“I’m not justifying him, but don’t you think your hatred for him is a little insensitive?” With a shrug, Hermione continued, “He already apologized and even helped us in the war.”
Your eye twitched, possibly in irritation. “It makes no difference. I’m not interested in marrying him.”
“Can’t you just call it off? Perhaps if you told your parents, they’d understand.” Hermione suggested, her eyes lighting up.
“This is what they want for me, Hermione,” you stated grimly, your voice devoid of any hope. “And this is what I was conditioned to believe, that it’s for purebloods to have arranged marriages, but I’m confused…why Draco of all people?”
The door to Hermione’s house opened and footsteps emerged before she could say anything. Then someone—Ron—came into the room they were in. When he saw Hermione, he grinned broadly and looked relieved. Then when he saw you, he was taken aback but enthusiastically embraced you with a short hug.
Ron questioned, his freckles prominent on his face, “What are you doing here?” with a little grin. “Are you doing the therapy thing with Mione?”
Hermione appeared aloof, but her eyes shone with mirth. “I taught you the word therapy, and you use it every time Y/N visits here.”
You chuckled for the first time in a long time. “Maybe he’s right.”
Ron sat alongside Hermione in the couch across from you and laid his arm around her with a familiar knowing expression in his eye. “Malfoy?” he said, humor crossing his face.
You gave a tired sigh. “The one and only.”
You three conversed until it was past noon. You felt out of place and envious when you and your friends were conversing. You had yearned for the kind of love Ron and Hermione had. You’d watch Ron kiss Hermione’s cheeks or Hermione gently stroke Ron’s hands with a glimmer of longing in your eyes.
While you were passively observing, possibly in resentful longing, their eyes gleamed with genuine unconditional love, but you knew you could never be like that with Draco. You felt like you were outside a transparent glass, and Hermione and Ron were inside of it; you could see but not feel it. It’s so gruesome not to be bestowed with love. But you were ecstatic for them since they were happy with one other.
But what about you?
Maybe it was the occupants’ moods, or maybe it was just you, but the Malfoy manor felt cold and miserable. It finally occurred, the worst thing that could have happened was that you were already married to Draco. You were bound to one other not by love, but by iron chains, which encompassed you and forced you to be together.
Your love for each other was brittle, and you could see Draco was doing his best; he was impersonal, to be certain, but he attempted to communicate with you, albeit his tone was contrived and stiff. After your wedding kiss, he never touched you again; you remembered how frigid but soft his lips were on yours, but you despised the sensation of something fraudulent.
Like Hermione said, he changed, but your perception of him hasn’t altered at all. Draco, on the other hand, never mentioned what occurred at Hogwarts, about the taunts and insults, and neither did you. Now you were living in the Malfoy manor, a frigid place that didn’t seem friendly to you despite Narcissa’s warm greetings, and your room’s bed was cold, dismal, and exhausting.
“I’ll sleep on the couch.” Draco had said as you stood there, in your shared room, wary of the enormous single bed, hugging yourself since the chilly air was caressing your skin since you were only wearing a flimsy nightgown.
You didn’t say a word, not even a nod. You didn’t even look at Draco since the silence was so uncomfortable, enough that you went to bed and drew the covers over your body. You heard his sigh, which was most likely frustration, but you didn’t care as you closed your eyes and focused on oblivion.
And now you were in the bedroom, there in bed, reading with a tiny amount of light, half of your body covered by the comforter, and for the first time you felt peaceful, Draco wasn’t here, and strangely you felt comforted in the cold room’s isolation.
Most likely, you were brutalizing yourself. If you’re reading a romance novel and envisioning things occurring to yourself rather than fictional characters, you may have gone mad. However, as the familiar scent of Draco’s fragrance flooded your nose as you read about romanticism, the tranquility didn’t stay long.
Though you had uttered words—short and forceful—you did mostly ignore him in the months since you last spoke. Maybe you were being abrasive, because Draco was doing everything he could to make the marriage work, most likely to please his parents, but why couldn’t he just accept that he couldn’t make something like this work?
When you felt like the manor was suffocating you, you’d go out and see Hermione and Ron, or even Harry and Ginny. You’d stay in their homes since it was warm and welcoming, and it felt more like home than your own. You had wished for a household full of love and cheerful laughter more than anything else.
The words in your book were starting to lose their interpretation, and your thudding thoughts were distracting you. It’s just that you can’t help but feel betrayed by the injustice; you may consider yourself a lovesick, but you always wanted to experience that as a child, but life could be callous, and all you wanted was to love and be loved.
Like a frothing serpent, a sudden thought hissed through your mind. The idea of learning to love Draco popped up. You didn’t like the concept but you won’t deny you feel melancholy to him, on how his eyes always follow you whenever you attend pureblood events, on how he’d mutter if you’re alright, lingering his hand on your waist when you’re talking to other people, not quite touching.
You frowned and shook your head, attempting to focus on the words in the books and ignoring the yearning for something you shouldn’t even crave for.
Draco arrived at the manor quite late. His steps were a little unsteady, and his eyes were a little unhappy. He’d been out drinking with his friends Theo, Blaise, and Pansy, and the alcohol had apparently rushed into his system, causing him to become inebriated as he stumbled into their room.
Despite being slightly intoxicated, he entered the room discreetly, his gaze softening when he saw you. You were nearly buried in the bed, looking unusually troubled yet content as you read a book. You hadn’t noticed him yet, or perhaps you were ignoring him as you always were.
It bothers him or, more likely, his ego. He was well aware of your hatred for him until now, as evidenced by your pretty face, and perhaps he couldn’t blame you. He felt a pang of cynicism, though, because despite his apology for his actions during your Hogwarts years, you still didn’t like him. It was difficult to act as if he didn’t care about you and that he despised the whole thing as much as you did.
You eventually noticed him, and your enraptured eyes widened in surprise as you closed your book and clutched the duvet against you, as if trying to hide from him. Draco’s breath got caught in his throat as he realized how beautiful you were. Your face contorted into nothingness for a brief moment, almost delicately concerned. Draco was undecided as to whether he was disappointed or amused.
“Draco,” you finally acknowledge him, still unable to get out of bed. “…Where were you?” Your tone was disinterested, but at least you were talking to him.
He swayed slightly as he approached you, and he could see the apprehension in your eyes. “Hello, my wife,” he almost slurred, watching your face change with emotion. “Did you miss me?”
As Draco’s eyesight became fuzzy, you shook your head, your face unreadable. “Are you drunk?”
He chuckled as he proceeded to loosen his tie, completely oblivious to the fact that your eyes were drawn to the movement. “You seem concerned about my wellbeing.”
You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Don’t be daft.”
Draco only chuckled as he proceeded to the couch, shaky feet almost tripping him up, as he grunted and fell on the couch, you hesitantly got out of bed and moved closer to him. Your feet were light, and your breathing was quiet, and Draco concentrated on that, his back straining from his couch position, and his eyes blinking furiously.
“You’re drunk,” you said almost monotonously as you tentatively approached him and stared down at him.
“Oh really? I didn’t notice,” Draco muttered, his eyes almost drooping as he placed his arm over his eyes as if to prevent your being in his gaze.
“Did you have fun?” you sarcastically questioned, your arms crossed across your chest, the cold nipping at your delicate skin.
Instead of responding ordinarily, Draco opened his eyes, withdrew his arm, and gave you an euphoric look as his gaze wandered about you. He asked, gesturing to your hair, “Is your hair braided?”
You scowled and consciously touched your hair, which was braided but had become practically tangled in the hair ties since you had lay on the bed.
“You didn’t answer my question,” you said as you started removing the hair ties from each side of your braid.
“No,” Draco exclaimed abruptly, leaping to his feet and snatching your wrist, halting your motions. “Don’t remove it…”
In your impeccable face, you had a surprised expression. Despite the swirl around him and his blurry vision, Draco could see the glint of affection in your eyes as you glanced at him. Draco would have cursed himself and probably regretted it, but he didn’t.
He took his hand from your wrist and gently tugged one of your braids in your hair, almost fondly, perhaps because he was intoxicated, but he couldn’t stop himself.
It frightens him.
Draco could tell your expression was impenetrable as you both stared for a while, his hand lingering over your braid. Because you were so motionless, he was certain you weren’t breathing. A flicker of something flashed over your face, then vanished as fast as it appeared. You took a hasty step back and narrowed your eyes at him.
He could only look at you, his hand hovering over the spot where you were only a moment earlier.
You sniffled. “You smell different,”
Draco was taken aback and questioned, “What?”
“You have the smell of a woman’s perfume.”
“What?” he asked again, completely baffled.
Your face was blank. “Did you really have fun?”
Your tone was accusing, your face was completely empty. But there were tears in your eyes, shimmering like lovely flecks of crystals, but they weren’t dropping, and it wasn’t the first time he’d seen you stop your crying. But it was evident in the silence that you were implying that he was cheating, and that thought was partially ridiculous.
Draco was well aware of your irrational hatred for him, but he had no idea how poorly you regarded him. Since you were ignoring him and acting as if he was invisible, he went out to spend time with his friends. He’d talk to his friends about his feelings and frustrations while drinking. Perhaps he smelt different because Pansy hugged him, platonically, and she’s dating Blaise for Merlin’s sake, maybe her aroma clung into Draco.
But the prospect of you dismissing his improvements or simply making him feel like shit made him say something, which he quickly regretted. “Do you blame me if I did?”
You froze, your eyes wide, and the misery on your face was palpable.
“You’re so fucking hard to love,” Draco continued, his mouth acting as if it had its own brain, and perhaps his inebriation was assisting him in saying things that struck you.
Draco’s voice was shaky and he staggered, collapsing against the couch and quietly grunting. He couldn’t read your face, and he didn’t really want to see your reaction, but he felt satisfied when he said that. The impact of the fall jarred his back, and he could hear shuffling.
You practically hissed, “Get up.”
Draco had a baffled expression on his face and exclaimed, “What are you doing, wife?” as you grabbed his arm and practically yanked him away from the couch.
Then you let go, and Draco sank into the bed’s soft cushion. Draco was rather hefty, so you let out a sigh of relief. His eyelids were droopy, but he had a mischievous grin on his lips as he made himself comfortable in bed.
“Are we—?”
“Sleep,” you demanded as you walked over to the other side of the bed, noticing Draco peering at you stupidly out of the corner of your eye. “What?”
“You’re going to let me sleep in the bed?” he asked, still completely baffled.
You felt compelled to smack him. “Would you rather sleep drunk on the couch?”
You grabbed a pillow and placed it between you and Draco, creating an internal barrier. As you fixed your side and the pillow, you could feel his eyes on you. You didn’t look at him once.
“There. So we’re still separated,” you replied nonchalantly as you lay down on your side.
“We’re already separated enough, don’t you think?” Draco mumbled sleepily.
You didn’t respond since you could hear soft snores next to you. Draco had already fallen asleep, leaving you alone in the dark, cold night, on the opposite side of the bed, with humid and sorrowful thoughts. You thought you were stupid, and perhaps you are, because you were being harsh and a brat.
You were in the garden at the time. It was lovely but bitterly chilly outside, and while you weren’t inside where Blaise and Pansy's wedding was taking place, you couldn’t help but crave some fresh air.
Despite the fact that they are both purebloods (which was almost likely set up as an arranged marriage) you can see they are much in love with each other. The way they stared at each other, sparkling crystal eyes with particles of devotion. You let out a tired sigh, oblivious to the fact that the door to the garden’s outside was opened and a figure stepped out.
“I figured I’d find you here,”
You fixed your gaze on the person. “Draco.”
He gave you a tentative smile and sat down on the bench next you, but not too close. At the same time, you were dissatisfied and relieved.
“I didn’t think Blaise or Pansy would settle…” you began hesitantly.
The sound of Draco’s chuckle was nearly pleasant in your ears. “They’re confusing. They break up and then get back together. I’m as surprised as you are.”
You discreetly remark, “They must really love each other.”
Draco remained silent and only gazed at you. You looked stunning, with the moonlight illuminating your features. Your outfit was lovely as well, but it was short and suggestive, causing you to shiver. He didn’t spend any time shrugging his coat and slung it over your shoulder, completely disregarding your protest.
“You look beautiful,” he says mindlessly. “But you’re cold.”
“Thank you,” you muttered, nearly frowning; was there a double meaning there?
“No problem, wife.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
Draco smirked fiendishly, but there was distress in his eyes. “You’re my wife, aren’t you not?”
“It must be a burden.”
His smirk had vanished, as if he had been smacked. “Well, if it’s a burden, then I’m willing to bear it,” he murmured.
Something was moist in your eyes, but you blinked rapidly. You could feel Draco getting closer to you, but you didn’t say anything. You were overwhelmed, your heart ached, and you desperately wanted to pull Draco closer to you, but you were initially reluctant.
“Draco—“
Draco abruptly grasped your freezing hands in his warm ones, lifted them to his lips, and kissed your knuckles; he didn’t remove them thereafter, instead staring at you with piercing eyes. You felt torn as your breath became stuck in your throat.
“Don’t say anything unless you say you want this marriage between us as badly as I do,” he murmured, brushing your knuckles with his lips.
You were on the verge of gaping at him. “You wanted this?”
“Of course I did.”
“I assumed you didn’t like me and that all the affectionate gestures you made were all a ruse,” you added almost incoherently.
Draco pointed out, “You were the one who loathed me.”
Feeling guilty, you shut your eyes. “Shit. I wasted many months.”
“We both did,” Draco murmured, releasing your hand only to play with the ends of your hair, a smile hidden. It was a braid, to be specific.
“I’m deeply sorry, Draco.” you said. “I’ve always thought of you as a fiend and the bane of my existence, knowing that you can’t take love seriously. And I was so wrong; I was so focused on myself and my selfish desire to be loved that I was blinded to the fact that it was I who was sabotaging your efforts to give me what I wanted.”
Draco tugged on your braid with tenderness, and you smiled.
He almost begged, “Just tell me you’ll start to love me.”
You turned around to face him, then kissed him after closing the gap between you—things that had previously separated you, the barriers had finally been broken down. Before Draco could react, he stiffened and drew you closer by the waist.
You mumbled into his lips, “I already started, simply blinded that it took me so long to know.”
You were now loved—you could feel it, even taste it, and it felt good—and you knew it. Your heart would no longer ache, and you would no longer shed longing tears for someone. Tears of color, droplets on the palette, it’s no longer there. The only thing that mattered was Draco and his touch.
“Oh my Merlin,” A man’s voice groaned. “Did I miss something?”
You broke apart and began flushing. You gave a surprised squeak as you stared at the man. It was Ron, and you couldn’t tell whether he was amused or repulsed by his face.
“Perhaps an invitation,” Draco drawls as he shields your face from Ron’s gaze and cradles your head against his chest. “I didn’t know you were invited.”
You smacked his sides and muttered into his chest, “Be nice.”
“You were too focused on Y/N, it’s disgusting.”
Draco remarked almost smugly, “She’s my wife, I can stare at her for as long as I want.”
“Perhaps the therapy with Hermione was helpful,” Ron rolled his eyes as he began to walk away.
Draco was dumbfounded, but you just laughed.
#♡ — ani’s works.#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy x female reader#draco malfoy x fem!reader#draco malfoy x y/n#draco malfoy x you#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy angst#draco x reader#draco malfoy#draco angst#harry potter x fem!reader#harry potter x reader#harry potter imagine#draco malfoy fanfiction#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter x you#harry potter x y/n#harry potter#draco x female reader#draco malfoy x gryffindor!reader
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Another hc time!!! This one was fun to make,,,
I stand by my placements, if you have something to say, you're wrong :)
JK...kinda
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hogwarts addition
Dick:
Dick is a Gryffindor
This bitch is hanging off the moving stairs railing, flipping from branch to branch on the weeping willow, and doing hand stands on his flying broom
The definition of no fear gryffindor
Has the anger issues for it
Pulls pranks on the other houses (aka Slytherins)
Always in trouble for doing dangerous things
Favorite class is defense against the dark arts
Can’t be on the quidditch team bc during try outs he kept doing tricks instead of protecting the goal
His roommates is Wally, Roy, and cyborg
Somehow became a prefect
Lol this is just a nicer James Potter
Jason:
Jason is a Ravenclaw
Smart ass,
he’s those types of Ravenclaws
Helps makes the riddles for the Ravenclaw dorms every year
Really good in his classes and his teachers love him,
or they would if he wasn’t picking fights with the Gryffindors
Potions is class is his favorite
Snape wants to hate him, but can’t bc Jason is the best in his class
On the quidditch team (the members were scared bc his brother dick wanted to be fancy with acrobatics, but he’s surprisingly good),
he plays beater
Prefers to throw hands instead of using words (despite his house).
he wouldn't unless he really needs to,
or if they're a Gryffindor (those bitches be annoying) (yes that includes Dick)
Has weekly book club
Tim:
Tim is a slytherin
Another smart ass,
but unlike Jason (who raather fight then waist time with words), Tim has a mouth
Calls out bullshit in the teachers are saying in the classes
All his teachers hate him, especially Snape which actually shocks everyone,
Tim calls him out on his blatant favoritism (even tho its his own house) (He gon call it how he sees it)
Denied any prefect or headboy offerers (it’s not his thing)
Has a lot of gryffindor and Hufflepuff friends
Finds quidditch boring
Did I mention he’s has a mouth,
like Jason has a mouth too, but Tim is just mean
Picks fights with ravenclaws bc they think just bc they're the “smart house” that they are smarter then him
Did I say mean?
I meant unhinged,
boy will make you feel dumb
Slytherin behavior, honestly
Dating a gryffindor (Conner) or dating a ravenclaws (Bernard) (or both) (whichever you wanna pick)
Damian:
Damian is a Hufflepuff
Was loudly upset when he was sorted into Hufflepuff
"I should be in Sltherin, the only house that's up to standers and the most logical choice"
He actually doesn't mind being in Hufflepuff after getting situated
He loves Hagrid only bc of they share love for magical animals
Also on the quidditch team,
Plays Seeker
He's small which makes him fast enougth to chase after it
“Mean Hufflepuff”
Has friends from each house (Jon - Gryffindor, Raven - Slytherin, Colin - Ravenclaw, Billy and Beast boy - Hufflepuff also Damian’s roommates)
Favorite class is magical creature and where to find them,
obviously
Becomes headboy in later years
Honorary mentions!!
Alfred - Slytherin
Bruce - Slytherin
Cassandra - Ravenclaw
Stephanie - Gryffindor
Barbara - Ravenclaw
Duke - Hufflepuff
Selina - Ravenclaw (her and Bruce were head boy and girl)
Clark - Griffindor
Diana - Gryffindor
Bart - Hufflepuff
Cassie - gryffindor
Harley - Hufflepuff
Ivy - Ravenclaw
#batfam headcanons#batman#batfamily#hogwarts au#dc headcanon#dc comcis#dc characters#duke thomas#dick grayson#damian wayne#damian al ghul#tim drake#jason todd#cassandra cain#stephanie brown#barbara gordon#timkon#timberkon#timber#bruce wayne
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The Dorm Leaders With Crushes (Pt. 2)
●Not edited○OOC Characters (?)●
Vil Schoenheit
"As if I could ever develop romantic attraction toward some lowly potato spuds. There is no one in Twisted Wonderland worthy of my affections."
○ Vil isn't completely lying, this was his viewpoint, until he accidentally developed a crush
○ Vil has experienced crushes in the past, mainly on actors he looked up to as a young boy, but he isn't very good at dealing with them. Because of this, he thinks they're quite bothersome, and are most likely to interfere with his career
○ It takes Vil an extremely long time to develop a crush on someone. He's probably only ever had two, in all his eighteen years of living. He had genuinely accepted that he'd most likely remain single, and his top priority was to better himself further, so he wasn't actively looking for love. But of course you had to stroll into this world, of course you had to grow close to Vil, and of course he had to develop feelings for you
○ It actually took Vil a while to put two and two together. While he knew others in his dorm complained of him favoring you, Vil just chalked it up to them being jealous. When Rook, however, pointed out his blatant favoritism, it finally clicked for Vil
○ As stated before, it takes Vil a very long time to figure out that he sees you in that light. Vil is a bit finicky with who he "allows" himself to like, and unless he sees you as worthy, the thought won't cross his mind. Having met you at the beginning of his third year, it would most likely be some time towards the end of that year, or even the beginning of his fourth year at Night Raven College when he realizes he likes you
○ Vil can and will admit his feelings to you, but he won't do it immediately. He wants to go through all the necessary steps, ensuring you like him as well, and that you're both ready for a real relationship
○ Vil is first amd foremost, a gentleman, and will never do anything to make you uncomfortable. While he can be strict, serious, and honestly quite terrifying, he also has a softer side to him. He's recognized the progress you've made on any self improvement you've worked on, and he most likely will lead with that when the time comes to confess
"Spudling... No, I can't even call you that anymore. You've grown so much, you've blossomed into a lovely flower, Prefect. I commend you for your hard work, you've earned both my respect and my affections, Potato Flower."
Idia Shroud
"W-what? Why are you suddenly bringing this topic up? Of course I don't have a crush!"
○ He's a horrible liar; with the way Idia's hair is flaming pink, anyone can recognize his obvious crush on you
○ Idia knows only far too well what a crush is, not only is he secretly (obviously) crushing on fictional characters, he's also had multiple crushes in the past
○ While he is very experienced with the emotion, Idia actually dislikes the thought of romantic relationships. Don't get him wrong, Idia loves the idea of loving someone and someone else loving him, but his self confidence suffered a pretty harsh blow knowing the only person who has ever wanted him was a dead woman who nearly killed him, and even she left him at the altar! He's very negative about his love life
○ Idia develops crushes quite quickly, but they also fizzle out very fast, too. One day he'll be telling Ortho about a new friend his age he met online, and a day later he's forgotten their existence because he doesn't care any more. You were a different story, though; you were a real person Idia could actually interact with. And while the thought absolutely horrified him, he eventually found the courage to befriend you (Ortho forced him)
○ As cheesy as it sounds, Idia almost immediately liked you from the moment he saw you. How it works with him is he sees someone attractive, develops and interest, and personality will wither break that interest or enhance it.
○ What made him realize that he was absolutely down bad for you though, was when you were gaming with him online while he was sick one night. Idia had felt a sneeze coming on, and kept trying to prevent it so he could continue chatting with you through his headphones. Eventually he couldnt suppress it, and Idia ended up doing a soft kitten-sneeze. You called him cute, and Idia has never been the same since
○ Idia would rather die than make himself look like a fool by pouring his heart put to you. Part of it may be some unresolved trauma from Eliza, and part of it is just his self-hatred telling him he could never have someone like you. Prove him wrong
○ Idia is very, very inexperienced, he's probably never even held hands with anyone so you're more than likely going to have to make the first move, or be extremely patient and he'll eventually start leaving very little hints that he likes you. Majority of it is compliments that can sound like insults if you think too hard on it, but Idia doesn't mean it that way, he's just very socially awkward and he's trying his best
"Wow, you're surprisingly good at this game. A-ah, I didn't mean it like that, I mean I'm, er- just surprised because so many people suck at this game and you're doing great! But of course you are, I mean you're amazing! S-shit, I'm gonna shut up now!"
Malleus Draconia
"Lilia, what is a 'crush'?"○ Poor boy has no idea what a crush even is, nor what it feels like to experience romantic attraction to anyone
○ Once somebody (most likely Lilia) breaks it down for him, Malleus actually quite enjoys the idea of having a crush, though he still doesn't completely understand it
○ Contrary to what most people would believe, Malleus can develop crushes very quickly under the right circumstances. If you're kind to him and treat him as you would anyone else instead of the Prince of Briar Valley, then he's crushing
○ Lilia would most likely have to point it out to Malleus that the feelings he's experiencing aren't solely platonic. Despite having lived a longer life than most humans, Malleus has never experienced anything like this, and can't recognize whatever emotion this is
○ It doesn't take a very long time for Malleus to find out that he likes you. Between the longing stares, more frequent smiles, and his obvious attempts at impressing you, one of his guards is going to ask him about his behavior, prompting him to research this new feeling in his chest
○ Malleus has no problem admitting his feelings to you, his problem is that he doesn't want to pressure you, or make things awkward if you don't feel the same way. You're one of his most important human friends (besides Silver), he doesn't want to ruin your relationship- platonic or romantic
○ He's not used to going out of his way for others, but Malleus will do his best to ensure that you've fallen for him. This warm feeling is strange and new, but if it's for you, he'll embrace it
"Child of man, you have been the object of my affections for some time now. I would like to take the next step in our relationship, but only if you are willing."
#twisted wonderland#disney twst#vil schoenheit#vil x reader#idia shroud#idia x reader#malleus draconia#malleus x reader#wrote too much for idia and not enough for malleus smh
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Tyranno Kenzan (Hassleberry) Headcanons 🦖💥
Because the inner machinations of my mind urge me to go feral, as I do, over this boy. Enjoy my madness.
He's very familiar with plant life, to the point of knowing their scientific names and being able to recognize edible plants and herbs in the wild. He's confused Syrus and Jaden many times by picking a plant seemingly at random and munching on it as they walk back to the dorms.
He has this innate ability to sense when it's going to rain/storm, both because of his leg tensing/aching and he gets HORRID migraines when the weather changes significantly. And he despises them. He doesn't like being dizzy.
Doubly, his leg cramps far more that he gives off, but he doesn't want to bring it up most of the time. Jim's the only one that's noticed, because Karen will nuzzle her head against Tyranno's leg when it's sore.
[Cut for the sake of breaking up the text!!]
He gives such blatant neurodivergent vibes, like that is an autistic man right there!!! but the notable parts of it are him being the type to communicate with/subconsciously stim through growls and grunts, especially when trying to focus, and he chews stuff (his necklace, fingernails, pencils, random ass stick he found outside-)
He really likes creature feature films!!! He has a small collection of collectors edition copies of movies in the genre, and outside of Jurassic Park, his favorite is the original Godzilla.
On the subject of movies, he cries so easily at them. Like during any peak emotional moment, my man would be tearing up without THINKING ABOUT IT
He has an internal list of all of his friends' birthdays, music tastes and food preferences ^^ as the token mom friend does
If the others are ever running late for something, he'll just scoop them up and start SPRINTING, like man's got no chill, he WILL lift you like a bag of cement onto his shoulder and RUN
He absolutely HATES VR headsets, they only make his migraines come back, and they're also too high-tech for him,,
He can talk to Karen. Like, the two have full on conversations while Jim's doing something nearby. Jim would be working on homework and in the background its back and forth growling.
Every. Single. Time. They go to the beach, he will run off and start digging a hole in the sand. No purpose, he just digs. And usually Jim and O'Brien join him!
I imagine he was raised in a home that operated on the "take care of your own stuff first, but help when you can" discipline, and while he's happy to do stuff for his buds, they're not immune to a lecture on responsibility every now and then
He has a dino-themed apron and he's a stress baker, something Judai and the others discovered during his first exam season.
Additionally, I imagine he started spending more time with Prof. Sartyr (the Ra dorm leader) after their duel, where they get to cook together and he expands on his already decent homemaker skills.
Yes I said homemaker skills, that man is a malewife and a PROUD one and I will stand by it.
⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️ EXHIBIT A HE LOOKS SO HAPPY ABOUT IT!!!
I was informed by some lovely Discord people that he has some fascination with mob/yakuza films, and I can't unsee the idea of him throwing in some gangster phrases mid-duel. Like he comes out with the "swimming with the fishes" and everything.
(Which, sidenote, I also imagine he was super offended by the one Society of Light duelist who talked like a gangster and got a little snobby about it-)
He signs his name by drawing a little dinosaur in the "R" of "Tyranno". I know he does he told me himself.
Similar to the stuff with Karen, he's the kind of person to respond to animal noises with similar noises. Like, he meows back at Pharaoh when he meows.
He has a horrible poker face, and is generally not a great liar. He's easy to read since he's such a physically emotive person.
Rock. Collection. He absolutely has a small pile of rocks with fossils on them in his room somewhere.
I wrote most of these a long time ago but some are newer as a result of me needing to chill~ School is hell, I almost wish I was at Duel Academy instead,,
I think I might do posts like these with all my main favourite characters from all my franchises, lemme know what y'all think :>
#yugioh gx#ygo gx#tyranno hassleberry#tyranno kenzan#kay's headcanons#(yeah im giving it a tag now fuck it)
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Maybe #2 from the spicy promt list with Haasel please?
EHEEHEhEHEEEEEEEEEE. Okokok, so concept, Y/n is TECHNICALLY a student at the academy, but like one of the blatant adults. Also alcohol is involved cuz this feels like something said after drunk sad times.
You can send prompts from THIS list
"I just wanna fuck away the pain."
To say shock would be an understatement on Y/N's part. They shared a drink in his dorm, letting him vent about the Dragon Clan. Apparently, he was set to become a leader, but didn't want that. He wanted to be a teacher and focus on art, something he cherished dearly.
To hear the emotional man say that in a drunken stupor was a shock. It was even more so when he leaned in close, kissing her neck.
"You're drunk," Y/N moaned softly as he pulled her into his lap.
"Want me to stop?" He asked, looking at her worriedly.
She shook her head and kissed him, grinding down against his hardening length. Maybe they blamed the alcohol, but neither would deny themself what they wanted from the other.
Instead, Y/N pushed him back. "Let me take over," She whispered. "I need to show my favorite professor just how much he is loved."
#ask request#ask me stuff#drabble#spicy dialogue prompt list#ask game#pokemon smut fic#hassel pokemon#hassel x fem!reader#hassel smut#elite 4 hassel
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Cater is one of my favorite characters, but I feel like eng twst did him dirty😭. Like he seems a lot more shallow and socially unaware in his English lines if that makes sense, whereas before on the jp server he was actually shown to be a whole lot deeper than how he's portrayed in the English server, and seems more aware and intelligent. Not to mention his background with his sisters seems looked over a lot (from what I've seen at least)
I don’t personally like Cater as a character, but I do agree that EN Cater feels more shallow than his Japanese counterpart due to how his lines were localized. It’s true that JP Cater also spoke in colloquialisms and slang, and that he also used hashtags, but EN Cater overdoes it and inserts additional slang and hashtags where it very clearly wasn’t in the original, nor needed in the localization.
Again, while I expect there to be changes for localizations, I feel that what was done with Cater doesn’t make sense for his character. EN Cater is TOO shallow, he is TOO socially unaware. Why is this a problem? Because a big part of Cater’s personality IS that he is extremely socially aware and socially intelligent. This is something that Cater demonstrates many times over in both vignettes and the main story. For example, he uses his amicability and his position as an older student to trick Adeuce into taking over for his rose painting duties in episode 1. He is also explicitly said to be an ideal assistant for episode 2’s investigation, as he knows how to use social media to gather information about potential suspects. Cater’s shallow to a certain extent, both to get what he wants from others (while keeping them none the wiser until the task is already completed for him), and to keep people from looking to close and realizing his more melancholic nature behind his photo filters and selfies. There is a delicate balance to it.
Compare this to EN Cater. He seems very socially unaware, which contradicts what is laid out for him in the JP canon. An example of this (that I’ve admittedly mentioned in many previous posts) is that Cater exclaims “#Wow” when his dorm leader is right in front of him, having a post-OB breakdown. If you listen to the JP voice for this scene, Cater is NOT saying any kind of hashtag. JP Cater recognized the seriousness of the scenario and only communicated his shock that Riddle is crying, but EN Cater makes an insensitive and tonally jarring comment with “#Wow”. There are other little examples of this sprinkled throughout the localization, but this scene particularly stuck out to me because of how grave the situation is, contrasted with how lackadaisical EN Cater’s response to it is.
… And yes 😂 they messed up with a Cater line in the main story of all things; EN Cater says that he has “no siblings”, which is a blatant mistake (that I don’t believe they’ve fixed yet?), as Cater canonically has two older sisters. It’s not like this is a lore change specifically for EN either; in Cater’s Labwear vignettes, EN Cater says he has two sisters, just like the original JP Cater did. It’s an inconsistency that TWST EN overlooked 💦
#Cater Diamond#twst en#twisted wonderland en#Riddle Rosehearts#Ace Trappola#Deuce Spade#spoilers#notes from the writing raven
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Hi! For the ask game I’m curious about question 3, 8 and 10 for the fic There were two beds :D
Oh this is one of my favorite Killugon fics I've written, thanks for suggesting it!
3: What’s your favorite line of narration?
Gon rubbed the side of his head. Ow, that had hurt. Oh man, Killua would never let him hear the end of it if he heard about this. What kind of idiot falls off the bed? Especially when they know they’re on the top bunk?
8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?
Yeah! The idea came from a conversation I had with some friends of mine about a "what if there were TWO beds instead of ONE bed" situation, a lot of the lines of dialogue I have in here come from jokes I wrote into the group chat about 5~ months before I even wrote the fic.
As for Gon + bunk beds... When I was staying in university housing, my dorm room was really tiny, so I opted to loft my bed (which is essentially like having a "top bunk" but no bottom bunk). It was a strange experience for me because I couldn't sit upright without grazing the top of my head against the ceiling (luckily the ceiling was made of these panels that could be pushed up so it wasn't a blatant smack to the head). The flimsy rail separating me from a 6 foot drop meant at first I was a bit wary about falling (hint: just don't move in your sleep). Combine that w/ having fit two people up there before, I knew exacty how much room to account for haha.
10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?
I thought it would be a fun twist on the "there's only one bed" trope because I felt Killua and Gon were close enough to not have an issue sharing a bed, but instead present them with the ultimatum of having two beds to pick from.
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𐚁֙࿐ CONFESSIONS
gojo satoru x male!reader
Tags — fluff , kissing , love confession , blushing , questionable age gap but still legal
Notes — none
"Y/N-senpai?" A familiar voice calls as the boy in questions blinks in surprise, turning towards the familiar figure.
"Ah... Itadori?" Y/N's head tilts to the side, frowning in confusion as he blinks the sleep away from his eyes.
It was, surprisingly, not some hallucination caused by lack of sleep. Itadori was heading down the hallway from where the kitchen was, a baggy t-shirt and shorts being in place of the uniform that he (along with most other students) were often seen in.
"You... shouldn't be up this late." Y/N frowns, lightly scolding the boy. "It's not good for someone your age."
"Huh? But you're only four years older than us, right?" Itadori asks, sounding uncertain if he was right now that he's said it aloud.
"Which means I'm legally an adult. Either way, it's my cursed energy's fault so not much I can do to fix it..." Y/N frowns slightly before sighing, shaking their head and looking up at Itadori with a neutral expression.
"Whatever, just get back to bed." Y/N suggests, glancing out the window to briefly look towards the entrance of the school.
Itadori gives the older boy a hesitant look but eventually nods, sparing one more concerned glance before continuing down the hallway towards the dorms.
Silence falls over Y/N now that his kouhai had disappeared down the hallway.
"...Why do I even bother waiting for that guy?" Y/N mumbles to himself with a tired sigh, turning on his heel and walking towards the main room of the dorms.
Plopping down on the couch, Y/N leans against the armrest, tugging a blanket over his lap as he grabs the remote.
After clicking on a streaming service and putting on the first movie to pop up— it happened to be some animated movie titled 'Your Name' —Y/N slumps further back into the couch.
About halfway through the film, his half-asleep state was interrupted by a door loudly opening— whoever opened it obviously uncaring of who they would wake up with the clatter.
"Mh...?" Y/N turns towards the door tiredly, glancing towards the door to see a familiar white-haired sorcerer standing in the doorway.
"Oh... you're back." Y/N yawns, raising a hand to cover his mouth before stretching out his arms, letting the joints pop satisfactorily before he sets them down again.
"Ho? Is my favorite watching movies without me?" Gojo walks over to lean on the couch behind Y/N.
"Stop being so blatant about your favoritism..." Y/N sighs, ignoring the warm feeling bubbling inside of him with the knowledge that he was Gojo's favorite.
"Y/N is just too cute!" Gojo teases, patting the boy's head affectionately.
"Egh..." Y/N grumbles, leaning away from the touch as he focuses back on the movie, watching the scene play out impassively.
A comfortable silence rests over the two as Gojo walks around to sit next to Y/N, throwing his arms over the edge of the back of the couch.
"You don't even have half of the context for the movie." Y/N points out, bringing his knees to his chest and crossing his arms over them, resting his head atop them.
"Hm? I'm sure I can figure it out." Gojo shrugs offhandedly, "I am the strongest, after all, understand a movie won't be an issue."
"Right." Y/N gives the man an unimpressed glance before rolling his eyes and focusing on the movie once again.
Colors flicker across the television screen— a meteor falling through the sky over the small town as a girl watches with widened eyes.
Y/N wonders what it'd be like to witness something like that, something so colorful and bright that it makes the entire sky seem to glow...
"Y/N." Gojo's voice interrupts Y/N's musing, his tone light but still holding an unusual amount of seriousness.
"Hm?" Y/N glances up at the man, feeling the six eyes burning into his figure through the blindfold.
Gojo stays silent for a moment, expression unreadable with his lips drawn into a flat line— it turning up into a small smile after seemingly finding whatever he was looking for.
"I love you."
Y/N blinks in confusion, wondering vaguely if he misheard but ultimately knowing there was no denying it— the words were far too clear; far too confident to be anything other than a confession.
"Oh..." Y/N feels his ears burn as he mumbles the words, unable to muster up anything other than a simple; "Okay."
At his lack of a proper response, the blush only spreads across Y/N's face further, turning his head away to hide the redness.
He should answer, Y/N knows that, but his first response was embarrassing enough that he honestly doesn't trust whatever might come out of his mouth next.
Unfortunately, Gojo didn't seem to agree with his plan.
"'Okay'?" Gojo's grin widens as he leans forward, no doubt seeing the fluster that spread across Y/N's face.
"Y/N~" Gojo chimes, an almost scolding lilt to his voice— as if Y/N were some misbehaving child. "That's not an answer, you know."
"Uh—" Y/N panics, leaning back further as a dizzy feeling spins around in his skull from the sheer closeness of the two— noses nearly touching as Gojo's lips hover inches away from his.
Y/N's breaths come in shallowly, everything feeling all to much and the bastard infront of him wasn't even—
Y/N reaches his hands up towards Gojo's head, simultaneously pulling part of his blindfold up and pushing his head downward— their lips finally connecting.
Y/N glares into dangerously beautiful blue eyes that were gleaming with satisfaction.
His head gets tilted back as a tongue enters his mouth without shame— Y/N not bothering to fight back as he allows the man to continue his ministrations; too content with the feeling of them being so connected.
A breathy whine forces it's way out of Y/N's throat at the rough pressure against the top of his mouth— soon slithering down to move elsewhere as if Gojo was trying to find something hidden inside his mouth.
Gojo pulls away, a lewd string of saliva connecting their lips as Y/N huffs— cheeks burning a bright red as he looks up at the man's smug expression.
Gojo's lips (still wet from their mixed saliva, Y/N realizes absentmindedly) were curled upwards into a lazily grin, crystal-like blue eyes half-lidded as he watches the younger man below him intensely.
"You're such a pervert..." Y/N sighs, turning his head on it's side in another feeble attempt to hide his expression.
"Is that a yes, then?" Gojo asks— his voice annoyingly playful despite their previous actions.
"You— obviously." Y/N grumbles, embarrassed from having to admit even after the heated kiss shared between them.
"Ha~ I'm so glad!" Gojo slumps his body atop Y/N's, earning a strangled yelp from the younger boy.
"Wh— Ugh! Get off me!"
© 𝓢OLARSAINT 2024 ─── all of my works belong me alone! do not copy, steal, plagiarize, or spread any of my works in any other social media platform. these have only been reloaded on my own accounts on ao3 and wattpad
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SSR Idia Shroud Dorm Uniform Personal Story: Part 2
"Be more self aware"
(Part 1) Part 2 (Part 3)
[Ignihyde Dorm – Lounge]
Ignihyde Student C: Let's remind Idia how the real world works.
Ignihyde Student C: Is what we declared earlier, but...
Ignihyde Student C: Idia really doesn't leave his room at all!
Ignihyde Student A: I heard that he was proficient in summoning classes, so I swapped out his equipment to try to embarrass him, but…
Ignihyde Student A: I didn't expect for him to not even show up for practical application classes. Looks like he really doesn't even like to interact with us "mediocre people."
Ignihyde Student C: Why is Idia given special treatment to attend classes with a tablet, anyway?
Ignihyde Student B: It's only a rumor, but… in return for safeguarding the school's network environment, he's received special permission from the Headmaster.
Idia (on tablet): GG.
Ignihyde Student C: What? A blatant act of favoritism from the school administration… Doesn't this seem like some kind of issue?
Ignihyde Student A: Oh man. I didn't think we'd have to go this far, but… there's no way we can stay nice and silent now.
[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia’s Room]
―Crimson Muscle has logged in―
Idia: Nice. Looks like you've logged in exactly on time today too, Crimson Muscle-shi!
Gloomy Samurai: Yo.
Crimson Muscle: Hey. So, we were planning to go collect weapon crafting materials today, right? Ready when you are.
Gloomy Samurai: Ah, first let me tell you. I'm gonna dip a few min before midnight for something.
Gloomy Samurai: I should be back within 30 min, but it'd be great if you can go solo while I'm gone.
Crimson Muscle: Understood.
Idia: Niiice～! A concise but reliable reply!
Idia: This is why Crimson Muscle-shi is my sole trustworthy comrade.
Crimson Muscle: It's rare for you to have other business. If you're busy, you don't have to rush back and stress, alright?
Idia: And this concern… I would love to see every single being in this school to learn from him.
Gloomy Samurai: Not to worry! I will return shortly. This will be a quick and decisive battle.
Crimson Muscle: Quick and decisive?
Gloomy Samurai: Indeed.
Gloomy Samurai: Crimson Muscle-shi, are you familiar with the Fates?
Crimson Muscle: Hm, I may have heard of it before.
Crimson Muscle: You're speaking of the Idol Group Fates on the Edge, yes?
Gloomy Samurai: Yee! I expected nothing less, Crimson Muscle-shi! Your font of knowledge is large.
Gloomy Samurai: Recently, I've actually been pretty hyper-fixated on these ladies...
Crimson Muscle: Oho. That's a bit unexpected. I didn't expect you to enjoy real life things, Gloomy Samurai.
Gloomy Samurai: Wait, that's so harsh lolol
Gloomy Samurai: I guess I get it, since I normally only speak of 2D things lolol
Gloomy Samurai: But anyway, there's a reason that I got addicted to these 3-D idols…
Gloomy Samurai: They're like jerky, where the more I taste of them, the more I end up wanting!
Gloomy Samurai: One of the charm points of the Fates is that they don't have any kind of sparkly merch!
Gloomy Samurai: The three ladies of the Fates are just,
Gloomy Samurai: Performing with whatever the "thread of fate" they were given without any kind of fuss.
Gloomy Samurai: After all, humans are all bound to our fates by a single thin thread.
Gloomy Samurai: Once that breaks, everything ends…
Gloomy Samurai: That kind of fleeting feeling,
Gloomy Samurai: It really hits home to nerds like me…
Crimson Muscle: I see. Apologies for not knowing anything about it.
Gloomy Samurai: Ah, no. I'm sorry for going on forever on something you don't care about. Just ignore me.
Crimson Muscle: Actually, while listening to you talk so enthusiastically,
Crimson Muscle: It also piqued my interest in Fates.
Gloomy Samurai: For you to be interested so quickly after being preached to about it…
Gloomy Samurai: Aren't you too kind? It's like you're dropping 100 rare items for me or something.
Crimson Muscle: Do you have a song you recommend for newcomers?
Gloomy Samurai: And you’re so proactive! Please take care of that ability!
Crimson Muscle: Ability? I suppose it's true that when I find something interesting, I have to check it out right away.
Crimson Muscle: But don't you think it's a little too much of an exaggeration to call something like that an "ability"?
Gloomy Samurai: No way, it's an amazing ability! It's not something everyone can do.
Gloomy Samurai: And whenever you talk about a faraway land, you usually say "I've been there."
Gloomy Samurai: I thought that maybe you were much older, but,
Gloomy Samurai: Maybe you're an elite businessman who is always on business trips…?
Gloomy Samurai: I look up to you so much～～～～!
Gloomy Samurai: I wish that one day we could meet face-to-face…
Crimson Muscle: Face-to-face? If you're inviting me to meet offline, then I will rush to join you anytime.
Gloomy Samurai: Ah, nononono! Actually, I'm living in a super remote place right now!
Gloomy Samurai: For the town I'm in, you'll have to take a plane, a train, a bus and a ship to get here,
Gloomy Samurai: So it may be very difficult to meet up…
Crimson Muscle: How fascinating. That is the same for me.
Gloomy Samurai: Woah! Is that so～?
Idia: …Then I guess it definitely would be difficult to meet.
Idia: Oh, shoot, that was close. I'd have lost my very best online friend if I had forced him to come see me in person.
Idia: But Crimson Muscle-shi… He says something so proper like "I'll join you anytime"… What a mature response…
Idia: For that guy, whether it's making a recommended playlist or paying for a livestream, I'll just do anything!
Gloomy Samurai: Crimson Muscle-shi! I know you must be busy right now,
Gloomy Samurai: But if you have the time, please visit the Fates website from this URL…!
Idia: …Eh? The homepage looks a bit different from usual.
Idia: It's completely black. What in the world is…
THE FATES IS A TERRIBLE IDOL GROUP!
Idia: !?
NOWADAYS, THESE KINDS OF EDGY, ALL-BLACK WEARING IDOLS ARE SO PAINFUL TO WATCH, THEY'RE SO PATHETIC I CAN'T EVEN LAUGH LOLOL
AND THOSE FANS WHO ARE ADDICTED TO SUCH LAME IDOLS (LMAO) ARE PROBABLY THE SAME LOL, THE LOWEST OF THE LOW LOLOLOLOL
Idia: Wh… Wha…
Idia: WHAT IS THISSSS!?
Idia: There's just so much abusive language one after the another towards the Fates on the official site…
Idia: This is…
Idia: A cyber-attack on the Fates website server!?
Crimson Muscle: …Some fool seems to be doing something petty.
Crimson Muscle: Even if no one is watching, vulgar behavior such as this only serves to warp their heart and ruin their character.
Idia: Crimson Muscle-shi…
Crimson Muscle: There's no need for you to worry about it, Gloomy Samurai.
Gloomy Samurai: Yeah. I appreciate your kind words.
Gloomy Samurai: …Sorry, I know it's 30 min earlier than I planned, but I'm going to log off quickly.
Crimson Muscle: I don’t mind, but… Are you alright?
Gloomy Samurai: Completely fine. I'll come back soon, so please wait.
[Diasomnia Dorm – Lilia’s Room]
―Gloomy Samurai has logged out―
Lilia: Gloomy Samurai… He must have suffered a great shock from seeing his favorite group be under such an unjust attack.
Lilia: I hope he's not too depressed.
[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia’s Room]
Idia: …
(Part 1) Part 2 (Part 3)
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Could I request headcanons for the dorm leaders where they and their crush got hit by a spell that ended up forcing them to hold hands, only one hand per person, for several hours? I can tell that some of the boys would be blushing messes and I look forward to that :) Please and thank you!
Riddle Rosehearts
Oh, the scandal. Riddle has no idea how to deal with this, he'd been hoping he'd get to hold your hand one day, sure, but like this? It's way too embarrassing, so much more than what he can handle.
He's very meek all day long, blushing and stuttering whenever you ask him what's wrong. What's wrong? Oh, not much, he just feels like he's about to pass out because you're way too close! Sometimes he'll forget your condition and go back to his normal stern self, only to remember it and just go red all over again.
It's a bit of a mess of a day, you'll have to be patient with him because he hadn't been prepared to deal with something like this at all. If you tease him during the time you're attached, he's gonna be very huffy once you're finally apart, scolding you for the "inappropriate behavior".
Leona Kingscholar
Annoyed. He barely left his room, and now his hand is attached to some herbivore's like they're paired magnets? Sure, it's the cute one he likes, but he's still cranky about it. Say what you will about him, Leona just likes his independence.
Kind of goes about business as usual, skipping classes to sleep even if you protest. When you start trying to speak up against his behavior, he'll come up with the idea of tugging you so you fall on top of him, forcing you to nap too.
If you get flustered by that, then his time attached to you suddenly becomes much more interesting. He'll be teasing you until you're finally apart, which is when he thanks the Great Seven he won't have anyone interfering with his precious sleep anymore. That is... unless you actually want to join him again, he'll suggest, and you can't tell if it's a joke or not — He leaves before you can reply.
Azul Ashengrotto
Trying hard to play it cool, as always. It's just a spell, it's not like it's his fault he ended in such an embarrassing condition, he'll be telling himself, and it's not nearly as effective at calming his nerves as he wishes.
Cancels most of the business he had scheduled for today, not wanting you to see the less than savoury things he'd be up to without a doubt. Tries to make it into something "fun", taking you for a sort of tour around the Lounge to distract you... and himself too.
When the spell breaks, he's also extremely thankful — Not that he doesn't like spending time with you, he'll assure, and then blush at the embarrassing thing he just said. It was just... a really nervewracking time for him, he mutters, and you're not sure if he meant for you to hear it or not.
Kalim Al-Asim
Kalim really just takes everything in a stride, and a spell like this feels more like a blessing than a curse, really. He gets to spend time with you, and you're holding hands? He's surprised he never had the idea to have Jamil cast that on you two before, really.
Uses it as an excuse to spend time with you. Smiling cheerfully and swinging your arms as you walk, it's hard to not get swept up on his energy. He'll be throwing a party tonight, and he hopes you're still attached by then!
Whether you are or not, he still wants you over, and will probably be holding your hand even after the spell breaks. Ah, I think it's not fully gone yet! My hand keeps going back to yours! He says, and it's a blatant lie, but you're both laughing about it.
Vil Schoenheit
Also one to be annoyed. Complains about how sweaty his hand would be if it took to long to break the spell, he'd definitely have to take his gloves to the dry cleaner now... he has spares, of course, but that was his favorite pair.
He'll try to figure out a way to connect both of your schedules, he'll probably need to cancel a lot of things if he had any work today, which he doesn't mind much, things happen — But he still doesn't want to be improductive, and he doesn't want you to be improductive either.
Sadly, it's not a very romantic time. Vil is far too focused in just keeping his day efficient and making sure you don't use the spell as an excuse to be lazy either, though if you try to engage in some flirting at the right time, he'll likely humor you. It's a funny situation, now that he actually thinks about it.
Idia Shroud
Dying. Just dying. There's no way he's going to make it through all this time holding hands with you, do you even have enough love points to do something like that yet? And when he came to you so unprepared, too...! Idia is mumbling all sorts of things, glowing bright red, and you can understand maybe only one or two words out of all the babbling.
He'll insist you spend the day in his room, he would genuinely just faint if anyone saw him taking part in PDA, or worse, ask him if the two of you are dating. To avoid any further awkwardness, Idia will insist you two just hide for the day.
Then it's not nearly as bad, just... he can't play games without both hands, and with you so close, he can't focus on watching anime either at all. Poor guy's just having a really hard time. As soon as it's over, he locks himself up for a whole week, mortified.
Malleus Draconia
Unbothered. He's happy to have an excuse to spend time with you, of course, but the undeniable inconvenience of the situation is something he's not really thrilled about. Oh, well. He supposes he'll just have to take it easy today.
Malleus will urge you to do the same, though if you refuse, he doesn't mind following you around as you go about your routine either. He'd actually have a decent time with that, learning about the things you do in your day to day life.
And, of course, you'll be terrifying all your friends away, probably, having Malleus attached to you like a puppy on a leash. He finds that he doesn't mind that much now, since it means he's got your undivided attention. You'll be going for a nice walk at the end of the day, whether the spell is broken then or not, and Malleus finds that he's walked away victorious from the situation.
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ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GETOU X FEM READER
Some people have embarrassing exes, ones who are too childish, or overly controlling, or just downright way under their league. You have Getou, a mass murderer and criminal on the run. You are not coping well with that information.
wc — 12.2k
contains — Gojo My Favorite Deus Ex Machina Satoru, mention of kids (sorry), my blatant favoritism of Utahime and Nanami, angst with a happy ending, deviates from canon, death, violence, suicidal tendencies for a bit, grief, loss, mourning, imo most of this is happy though, i’m not joking like 50% of this is just jujutsu high shenanigans idk why the tags are like this
One of the primary purposes of education at sorcery school was to beat mercy out of it’s child soldiers. It sounded brutal, but in reality, it was an understood necessity - brutality was what kept you alive in your line of work.
That meant it was surprising when your classmate took his foot off your windpipe in the middle of sparring, having only rested it there briefly without crushing it hard enough to leave bruises. You blink up at him from your position in the dirt, winded but already preparing for another fight. That was the way sparring worked - fight until you either beat him or collapsed. At least this time, you hadn’t been paired against Gojo or Yuki. Yuki wasn’t even a student anymore, she just liked coming back to train the new generation. In your opinion, she enjoyed the fights a little too much, but no one had asked.
Getou kneels beside you and against your training, you close your eyes, only to snap them back open when you remember. It’s always better to be able to see a hit coming, even if you can’t avoid it. His hand comes towards your face. With sick humor, you think mockingly of how the bruise will at least match the black eye already blooming over your left eye, when his hand skirts past your cheek entirely and places itself on your shoulder, steadying you.
“You need a break.”
The first thing you learn about Getou Suguru is that he is not a typical sorcerer. Anyone else, even your mother, would have pressed you to keep going. Growth only comes from being pushed to your limits, but for some reason, Getou spares you the exhaustion and puking your guts out over the toilet from overexertion.
Ignoring your protests about your ability to still fight (complete lies, which he’s aware of, since you’re barely able to stand), he pulls your arm over your shoulder and half carries, half walks you to the dorm. He knows which room is yours.
“Creep,” you accuse, which isn’t really fair because he’s trying to help you out, but admittedly, it is a little weird.
“Don’t go thinking you’re special,” he snorts. “I remember everyone’s room numbers.”
“We’re having a rematch later,” you demand. You don’t understand why he would show you mercy, but you’re determined to make it count. He’s going to regret letting you off easy when you kick his ass. That’s just how sorcery works - empathy isn’t rewarded.
He looks amused when he tells you that he doesn’t fight the weak. His kindness stings more than an outright insult.
You’re surprised Getou’s succeeding so well in class when he so flagrantly ignores the most important rules of sorcery. Kindness is forgivable. Generosity isn’t, and yet Getou shows no end of it. He’s always willing to give up a snack he loves because someone else was looking at it, to brace Utahime when she trips over her skirts in a fight, to sit with Gojo when no one else can bear how annoying he is. You suppose it’s a virtue of the strong - they can afford to be empathetic without worrying what it might cost them.
In the few weeks since you first joined Jujutsu Academy, you've learned a few more truths about sorcerers, besides needing to be vicious. All sorcerers have terrible sleeping habits. They might as well be nocturnal.
This gives you free reign of the campus, with no one to bother you, if you can get up early enough in the mornings, but Getou surprises you by also being in the kitchen when you walk in. He’s always doing that, the unexpected, ever since your very first week here.
“Hey,” he greets you like he didn’t attempt to choke the life from you again yesterday. To be fair, he had held back, which is more than you can say for your other classmates. You wince, thinking of Yuki’s arms as strong as iron, the way one hit from her felt like it had cracked your ribs open. You’re still a little miserable at your easy defeat, and it probably shows on your face.
He slides a piece of warm, buttered waffle dipped in syrup in your mouth before you can greet him back. Your eyebrows raise before you can control your expression. He looks amused when you say, “You can cook?”
“Even better,” he says, bending down to check the oven. “I can bake. While we wait, can you come with me for a second? I want to show you something.”
He takes your hand without argument - his skin is so warm, probably from the heat of the stove - and guides you out the back of the dorms.
You walk a bit, and then he turns around, forcing you to stop or bump into him. “Do you trust me?”
Your first instinct is to say, “Not at all.” You don’t trust anyone that’s not from your clan, and you’ve only known Getou for a few weeks, but the sudden memory of him anxiously peering over you while checking your face for injuries stops you in your tracks. If he wanted to hurt you, he could’ve done so already, and without punishment.
Wordlessly, you nod, though you’re still cautious. He covers your eyes with his hands and directs you, “A little left, a little right, good, now straight forward.”
When his hands leave your eyes, you’re standing in a clearing, surrounded by a grove of trees. Their branches are woven together in a dome overhead, various flowers and vines clinging to their lengths, and wildflowers beneath your feet. It’s beautiful, and not something you would’ve expected from Jujutsu Academy.
Getou looks pleased with himself. “It’s pretty, right? Yaga-sensei told me about this place. He got engaged here.”
Pretty isn’t enough to describe it. It feels like you walked into the set of a movie. Getou laughs at your awestruck expression.
“It’s so quiet,” you whisper, almost afraid to break the peaceful atmosphere.
“It’s not far from the campus itself, but I think the woods are a good insulator. It’s a nice place to think, right?” He reaches his hands out to brush the trunks. With his long black hair, his white pajamas, he looks almost like he belongs there. A forest sprite, something not quite human, destined always for something beyond you.
“Thank you for showing me this.”
He shrugs off your gratitude, and you fall into awkward silence. Itching to break it, you cast around for anything, any topic of conversation to be interesting. He did bring you here after all. It’s an olive branch. You want to offer him something too, but instead you insult his best friend, because that’s the kind of person you are. He laughs it off, because that’s the kind of person he is.
“I kind of wish Gojo wouldn’t find out about this. He’d hog it every day and then we’d never get this silence again.”
He looks at you in consideration. “Okay, so don’t tell him.”
“But he’s your best friend.”
“My best friend, for what, two weeks? If you want me to keep this a secret, I will.”
A moment of tense silence stretches between you two. He’s waiting for a reply, you realize. “I want you to.”
He smiles.
When you return, Utahime is up, and her expression is thunderous. “Which one of you left this-“ she holds up a charred, unrecognizable black lump of coal, “in the oven?”
You and Getou realize at the same time that you’d neglected to set a timer.
Utahime taps her foot impatiently. “I’m waiting. You could’ve burned the house down!”
Out of the corner of your eye, Getou, ever responsible and kind, steps forward to take responsibility. Maybe you’re paying him back for the breakfast or the shared secret, maybe you’re just sick of him being so good all the time, but you take the burned remains from Utahime’s hands. “I did it. Sorry. I wanted Getou to accompany me on a walk and I just forgot.”
She sighs but melts somewhat. “As long as you don’t do it again.” She perks up again at the mention of a walk. Even though you’ve both been on campus for at least a few weeks, you’ve been too busy training to really explore. “Did you at least see anything interesting?”
You feel Getou’s eyes on your back, curious, but you refuse to turn around and meet his gaze.
“No, not at all.”
Shoko comes later in the year, having been exempt from the earlier classes as a non-combatant, but she’s immediately taken under Utahime’s wing, just like you are. You’re grateful that your upperclassman takes such good care of you, and a little surprised - your mother had always told you that kindness was weakness - but she’s adamant in her doting.
“Yuki Tsukumo did it for me, and now I’ll do it for you,” she says. Yuki graduated already, but occasionally she comes back to wreak havoc, cause more of Yaga’s gray hairs, and train Gojo as the one of the few people in the world that can put up a fight for him, though perhaps not for long, at the rate he’s improving.
It’s not just in classes though. You’ve never had friends like Shoko and Utahime, not back home, where your mother had kept you separated from the Three Great Families, and by extension, the rest of Jujutsu Society. Utahime insists on sleepovers and parties and all the things friends do, and you’re glad to indulge her. You can admit, even if it’s only to yourself, that the one that’s really being spoiled is you.
She barely complains when you throw yourself over her on the mattress, lying across her stomach. Shoko climbs up after you, though she’s much more dignified, choosing to sit at the foot of your bed instead. She pulls out a cigarette, but reconsiders after Utahime’s furious face. “You haven’t perfected your technique yet. Put that away.”
It’s easy to fall into inane conversation with your girls - the bodies in Shoko’s morgue, your attempts to master swordplay, Utahime’s constant fighting with Gojo.
“Speaking of,” Shoko says, the gleam in her eyes signifying she’s up to her usual mischief. “Are you sure there isn’t something else there, Utahime?”
Turning bright red doesn’t help her case, but she tries to play it off anyways. “What are you talking about?”
“Just that you’re awfully cozy lately,” she hums. “Yeah, you fight all the time, but no one can get under your skin like he can, huh? And you’re really touchy with each other.”
“I’m disciplining him. Are you really going to call it touchy if I’m slapping his hand? It’s not like that!”
Shoko grins. “Yeah, but it’s different if he likes it. What, you can’t tell? He’s always making excuses for you to touch him.”
Come to think of it, Shoko’s right. You chime in, “Remember this morning? He’s always grumpy when he’s just woken up, but Shoko, what did we walk in on?”
Utahime throws her hands up. “Stop, stop!” She pushes you off her, but you keep going.
In unison with Shoko, you strike. “Who was that sprawled over your lap like a large cat, Utahime? You know, the one you were petting, your hand in his hair?”
Utahime blows her bangs out of her face in a frustrated huff. “Fine, you want to play that game? What about you and Getou? And Shoko, don’t think I haven’t noticed the massive crush you have on Yuki.”
“What crush,” Shoko says, as collected as always, though the effect is lessened by the light blush covering her cheeks. “I just think she’s interesting. A good fighter.”
“Getou and I,” you start, then hesitate. What are you and Getou? You’re certainly closer than you are with anyone barring Shoko and Utahime, and you do hang out a lot alone, but still, you pause. It’s a deadly mistake that Utahime intends to make use out of.
“You’re whipped,” she marvels.
“What? No, I’m not! We’re just friends.”
“Come on,” Shoko says. “You can’t tell me you’ve never noticed the tension between the two of you. When you had him pinned down on the mat this morning, didn’t you see the way he was looking at you?”
You remember all too well, which is the problem. He had been the one that taught you the move you used on him. Ever since he realized you were frustrated with being unable to keep up with the more physical aspects of fighting, he had taken it upon himself to personally train you, leading to spending hours stretching into the night wrestling and sparring with him. The feeling of his body under yours, the shocked look on his face when you managed to throw him off his feet for the first time - your veins still sang with pleasure. You flex your hand, his phantom touch lingering, the way he had guided your movements.
Shoko gags. “Ugh, look at her face, Utahime. This isn’t fun if you’re going to get all lovesick about it.”
“I’m not in love!” Your protests fall on deaf ears.
Taking on missions is usually reserved for the upperclassmen, but with fewer and fewer sorcerers being born, they've accelerated the curriculum. You're only a second year when you get your first solo mission, in a few years, perhaps they'll be giving them to first years.
You shudder at the thought. You're very fond of your new underclassmen, Nanami and Yuu. Imagining them fighting curses alone is horrifying, especially sweet Yuu, whose empathetic nature always leaves him crying right alongside the mourning mothers of victims.
The special grades, on the other hand, were taking solo missions by the end of their first year. Utahime had been green with envy. You had taken one look at Gojo (you had thought he was invincible before this), freshly back from a mission and bleeding profusely, and decided that you were more than happy to wait your turn.
You had never seen Gojo's blood before that. Thinking about your classmates in various states of distress isn't the way you'd prefer to go to bed, but it's been several hours already, and your eyes have yet to shut. You toss and turn in your bed for thirty more minutes before you get up and head to the kitchen, resigned to the fact that you won’t be getting any sleep tonight.
It’s normally easy to find everything you need for your sleeping tea because Utahime meticulously organizes the kitchen when she wants to destress, but someone’s ransacked it. There’s a trail of blood leading from the front door to in front of the white cabinets, where it pools, like the unknown person had stood there for a while. The cabinet itself is thrown open and the first aid kit is missing. Following the trail, the light of the bathroom shines under the crack of the door.
You did say the box with the bandaids and alcohol should be kept in the bathroom, but no one wanted to listen to you because Gojo always cut himself when he cooked and he couldn’t be bothered to make the five foot journey.
Mentally, you run through a list of who was out on missions tonight - almost everyone but you and the first years. If it was Utahime in the bathroom, you’d keep her company while she cleaned herself up. If it was Gojo, you would either laugh at him, or, if it was really bad, distract him from the pain.
The door swings open, leaving you blinking in the harsh light. It’s Getou, white towel pressed to a gash on his forearm, hair slicked back from his forehead with sweat.
“Need a hand with that?” You nod at his arm. Judging by the defiled kitchen and the way the towel is quickly turning brown-red, he’s lost a lot of blood. Shoko’s off scamming admissions officers to let her into medical school, and won’t be back before dawn. That means it’s up to you, the second best nurse besides Utahime, who’s good at everything, to tend to him. You aren’t really giving him a choice, just being polite.
He turns you down anyways, like the headstrong idiot he is. He hates being compared to Gojo, but in some ways, he really is. They’re both too proud to accept help, and often, they don’t need it. Not today, though.
“I wasn’t really offering. Give me your arm.” He almost snatches it back out of your grip as soon as you grab it, but it must really hurt, because when you tighten your grip, his face goes white and he bites back a groan.
“Sorry.” You’re not really. Serves him right.
Up close, the wound doesn’t look as bad as all the bleeding suggests. Whoever cut him must have been terrible, missing all the important veins.
“Want stitches?”
He gives you a horrified look and resumes trying to yank his arm out of your grasp, making you regret your little joke.
“I was just kidding, it’s not that deep. You’re still going to need to disinfect and bandage it though.”
“It’s alright. I can do it myself. You should go back to bed - don’t you have a mission tomorrow?”
“I can’t sleep anyways. ”
Taking a clean towel from the stack set aside specifically for this purpose, you set to work washing the wound as gently as you can, doing your best to ignore the fact that he’s pale and sweaty and barely biting back whimpers.
“Hey.” You touch the back of his hand. “Are you still with me?”
“It’s not that deep,” he says, parroting your words back to you.
“That doesn’t mean you have to just suffer through it.” You’re almost amused with the childishness of it. “If you had just asked me for help, you know I’d be more than glad to. Here, take this.”
Dutifully, he dry swallows the pills you give him and makes a face. You wonder if it tastes like curses.
“You can complain, you know. I’d be mad if Gojo did it, but it’s okay if you want to. I know it hurts.”
“It’s fine,” he says, gritting his teeth. “Just finish, please.”
“Actually, it’s not a choice anymore. Doctor’s orders. Stop trying to chew through your lip, you idiot. If it hurts, just say so.”
“That won’t help it heal.”
“But it feels better.”
You get through it together, Getou squeezing his eyes shut against the burning pain of you pouring disinfectant into his cut. True to your words, he doesn’t try to muffle himself anymore. By the time you’re done bandaging him up (it’s not deep but it’s long, white cloth now covering his entire forearm), he looks like he’s about to pass out.
He’s gross and dirty from the mission, but this is probably the best you’re getting out of him for tonight. It’s not like you haven’t slept in worse conditions before. Coming home tired enough to sleep in barely cleaned off monster guts and sweat is unfortunately just part of being a sorcerer.
“Come on,” you say, letting him lean on you as you guide him to his room. “Get some sleep. When you wake up, Shoko will be here and everything will be better.”
You ease him into his bed with a sigh of relief. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
He mumbles something into his pillow, but since he’s speaking with cloth in his mouth, you don’t understand.
“What was that?”
“Thank you.”
He peers at you over the covers, eyes exhausted and dark circles prominent, but you can tell from the way the corners of his eyes crease that he’s smiling. His hand reaches for yours, clutches it, brings it to his lips.
“Thank you,” he says again, his breath ghosting over your skin. It tingles where he’s touched you.
You head back to your own room feeling faintly pleased, but also uncomfortable for a reason you can’t quite place until later that night. The last thought you have before you fall asleep is of Getou. Doesn’t he know there are other options to suffering?
Apparently not, because he’s fresh-faced and ready to accompany you on your mission tomorrow, sitting at the breakfast table chewing a slice of toast while Yaga debriefs him on the details.
“You’re not coming. Yaga, tell him he’s not coming.”
Your teacher looks apologetic. “Sorry.”
“Are you kidding me? He just got back!”
Shoko twirls her hair around her finger thoughtfully. You have no idea why she’s looking at you like that, but her expression is a little like a cat who's found a particularly interesting mouse to play with. “It’ll be fine, calm down. It’s not like he’s actually fighting. You’ll be doing all the real work, he just has to swallow the curse at the end.”
In the end, it’s 3 against 1, and Getou ends up with you on the train to Osaka. It’s supposed to be a simple exorcism, but the town the site is located in has cats running all along the streets, and you can’t help but stop and feed them. Getou brings out the dried fish he packed as a snack, so they’re all over him. Watching them bat at his shoelaces makes you laugh so hard you almost fall over in your unbalanced crouch, and he slides an arm over your shoulders to steady you.
Shoko watches you and Getou play with the cats with a smug look on her face, like she knows something you don’t.
“You have a thing for taking in strays, don’t you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You raise an eyebrow at her, but she just brushes off her cryptic comment.
“Nothing. You’ll figure it out eventually. Probably.”
You fall asleep on the train ride back and wake up with your head pillowed on Getou’s shoulder. It’s such a small, simple thing. You had always thought if you ever fell in love, it would be something monumental, like the fairytales your mother used to read to you when you were little. You would see them and know that they were right for you, know that this is who you were meant to be with. Instead, your heart stutters in your chest because you’re realizing what Shoko meant, a series of small realizations piling on top of each other until it’s impossible to ignore.
You’re in love with Getou.
A quick glance at his face tells you he’s still asleep and so is Shoko, but it’s now or never. You can’t wait, or you’ll lose your nerve.
“Getou.” He grumbles and slouches further into his seat. “Getou. Hey! Wake up!”
His eyes snap open. “Who am I fighting? What is it?” His voice is still drowsy.
“I’m in love with you.”
“What?” He shakes his head slowly, like a large dog waking up. “Hang on, what was that? I think I misheard you.”
“I’m in love with you.”
His jaw drops open. “Are you serious? Is this a prank? You’re not funny.”
“I’m in love with you.” It’s like it’s the only thing you can say, all the nerves in your brain completely burned out in the all encompassing fear that he might say no, that he might laugh at you - but you can’t stop yourself. You don’t regret it. You had to tell him.
He hangs his head and peers up at you through his eyelashes. “You’re hopeless.”
Your heart drops into your stomach. “So you don’t-“
And then he’s kissing you, and it’s the most right feeling in the world, like everything is exactly where it’s supposed to be. You sigh into his mouth; the kiss more like a fight, like the way it started between you two, him stealing your air, you biting his lips. He kisses you, and kisses you, and doesn’t stop until the moon is fully bright in the sky and your lips are bruised, eyes bright.
Across from you, Shoko says, “Gross.”
You start dating the next morning.
As soon as you walk into class, Gojo can’t help himself. Shoko’s a horrible gossip. He jeers, “Look at the two lovebirds! Can you manage to keep your hands to yourself during class, at least?”
“Says the man who can’t even get a girlfriend,” your boyfriend comments, casually getting his writing utensils out of his bag.
Gojo blinks, and then turns his attention to you. “Can you get your dog? I don’t like when it bites back.”
Dating Getou doesn’t change much. You’re the same as you’ve always been, teasing, fighting, laughing together, but the knowledge that you love him, and he loves you, is always there. Love is always present, in the way your heart flutters when you wake him up for breakfast and his voice is rough, in the lump in your throat when he presses his lips to your neck as you cuddle.
You’re in bed together, since he’s taken to sleeping in your room. Strange conversations always happen at night, your idle mind wandering, but he humors you and your weird, stray thoughts.
“Would you want kids?” You murmur against the crown of his head, the stray hairs tickling your face. He stills in your arms (you’re the big spoon today), then rolls over so you’re face to face, breath to breath. His eyes are half closed, watching you with languid pleasure. It makes you restless, wanting to kiss each eyelid, scatter your love across his cheekbones and nose bridge and all of him, until he’s squirming away from you in laughter.
“Do you?”
You consider it. Kids, adulthood, even marriage are all things that seem so far away, like death. Eventually you’ll grow up and perhaps you’ll decide to start your own family, just like eventually you’ll die, but in the warm light of your room, shadows of butterflies scattered over the walls from the lampshade Getou cut shapes out of and presented to you as a gift, everything feels so hazy and far away. It’s just the two of you in this moment, you can’t even begin to imagine what tomorrow might look like, much less years later.
“I’m not sure. I haven’t decided.”
He hums in agreement. “I want whatever you want.”
“You better,” you laugh, and slap his arm playfully. “But have you ever thought about it?”
His fingers ghost over your hips, tap a steady rhythm on your ribs as he thinks. “Maybe two girls. I think I’d like daughters.”
“You would,” you agree. “You’d spoil them rotten.”
It all feels so far away. The conversation slides from your mind as easily as the memory of the day’s breakfast, only to stab you in the back in the not so distant future.
Nothing changes between you and Getou, but that doesn’t mean the world around you doesn’t shift to accommodate this new thing blooming between the two of you.
You meet Getou in the hall. “Any idea why Yaga wants us?”
He shakes his head. “Not a clue.”
You’re ambushed as soon as you step into his office.
“I’ve heard you’re dating.” Yaga turns his steel gaze on you. You’re not sure if you’re allowed to laugh, but this feels like a joke.
“Sir, with all due respect-“
“In my experience, people usually say that before something disrespectful,“ he says.
“I feel like you have better things to do than meddle in your student’s love lives. Do you need us to set you up?”
He stiffens at the last bit. Getou raises his eyebrows, but before he can ask, Yaga recovers. “As impertinent as ever,” he sighs. “I’m just looking out for you. Love for a jujutsu sorcerer isn’t the same as other people’s, you know. You will live and die alone.”
You’ve heard this bit before, but he continues. “I’ve seen husbands and wives torn apart. The anguish of being the one left behind -“ the way he looks at you sends chills down your spine. “I hope you never experience it. I would rather you not.”
“Speaking of kids,” Getou cuts in. “Shouldn’t you be encouraging us? God knows we need more sorcerers.”
Yaga’s face goes white. “Are you-?” He can’t finish his sentence. “Tell me you’re being safe.”
You shoot Getou a horrified look. Is this his idea of helping? “We’re not!”
“You’re not?” Yaga looks furious.
“We’re not doing anything,” you amend. “Yaga,” your tone softens. “Thank you. I appreciate it. But I’ve already chosen him.”
He sniffs. “You're both so young. What do you know of love? What happens when Getou dies and you’re left behind? What then?”
Getou cuts in again, face deadly serious in a way that it hadn’t been before. “I can love her from beyond the grave.”
Yaga says nothing. The way he’s looking at you makes you so uncomfortable, like he’s already seeing the future, one where you have to live without each other, separated by the greatest divide in the world. You’re reminded that your teacher, for his youthful appearance, is old. He’s taught and watched as hundreds of sorcerers, his students, came and left and died. His face is unhappy, but he touches both of your brows, brushes back your hair, and says, “Then you have my blessing. I want happiness for you both.”
The conversation with your teacher stirs something in you, apprehension lurking under your skin, but all that disappears when you return to the dorms.
It’s one of the rare days when none of you have missions - you suspect Yaga saw the schedule and took on Utahime’s mission for himself so you’d all be together - and everyone is in the common room: Gojo, sprawled across the top of the couch like a particularly annoying cat; Nanami, sitting on the bean bag Gojo had begged Yaga to get for you all; Yuu, reclining against the bean bag with his back braced against Nanami’s thighs; Utahime, flicking idly through channels on the TV, seated on the sofa and ignoring the imminent threat of being crushed by Gojo; and Shoko, head in Utahime’s lap and legs dangling off the couch. Utahime smiles up at you when you walk in. Getou selects a paperback from the shelf and collapses in on himself like a deflated soufflé in the armchair, absorbed in an instant. You join them, sitting at the foot of Getou’s chair, head pillowed against his knee.
For a while, everything is peaceful, then, as always, Gojo stirs things up. He’s been talking incessantly about his failed attempts to master purple for what feels like hours. You’ve long since tuned him out, but every once in a while you check back in to see how much more frequently Utahime’s eye twitches. You're running an experiment to analyze the number of twitches it’ll take before she loses it, but surprisingly, it’s Shoko that snaps first.
You watch in amusement as she gets up. “I’m not listening to this drivel anymore.”
“Shut up, yes you are,” Gojo hauls her back. Shoko thwacks him on the head, but he tosses a ten dollar bill and a fistful of candy pulled from his pocket in her lap.
You make a face. “I wouldn’t eat that if I were you. It probably has lint on it.”
“Gojo germs,” Getou says agreeably.
“Gojo,” Yuu says, horrified, “you don’t have to pay her to listen to you. I’m listening, don’t worry.”
It’s him that should be worried, you think. Somehow he’s gotten the idea into his head that Gojo’s being bullied by the four of you (being Utahime, Getou, Shoko, and you) and is determined to give him support and attention so he can flourish and stand up for himself. Gojo, of course, is eating it up, and takes every chance to burst into theatrics in front of the boy when he can remember he’s supposed to be a victim.
Above you, Getou snorts. “What’s so funny?” You tilt your head back to see his smile.
“Nothing. Just wishing we could be like this forever.”
No one’s listening to you in the middle of the full on war of words being waged between Gojo and Utahime, but you rest your head back against Getou’s leg again. “Yeah. Me too.”
Nanami rolls his eyes at Shoko. While you weren’t paying attention, somehow they started fighting. “Don’t get me started on you.”
“Oh yeah? Guess all that respect for your upperclassmen is just an act. Hey, Gojo! Ask him what his cat’s name is.”
“You have a cat?” Gojo blinks.
“His parents got one a week ago!”
Nanami flushes. “Haibara!”
“What’s the cat’s name?” Getou plays along.
“None of your business.”
“Either you tell them or I will,” Shoko teases, her voice sing-song.
You take pity on poor Nanami, if he gets any redder he’ll burst into flames. Just as you open your mouth to settle the tension, Shoko shakes her head in mock pity.
“Ding! Times up. He named his cat-“ she pauses for dramatic effect. Nanami scrambles over his seat to try to get to her and slam his hand over her mouth, but she’s faster. “Gojo!”
Gojo blinks, and then he’s the one blushing. None of you expected the mortified expression on his face. “You…named your cat after me?”
“You’re flattered?” Getou says. “It’s a cat.”
“Shut up, Getou! You wish Nanami liked you enough to name his cat after you.”
“I didn’t name my cat after you!”
“I don’t need Nanami, I have a girlfriend.”
“Ooh, does little Nanami have a crush?”
“Shut up, Shoko!”
The room dissolves into chaos as it usually does when you’re all together for too long, but your wish remains the same.
Things are going so well that you really should’ve expected it. The blame is on you for not having the foresight to see it coming.
It’s supposed to be a routine mission, if more important than any they’ve taken in the past. They’re the strongest. There is no one in the world that can beat them, certainly not if they’re together. But the man with the heavenly restriction obeys no rules.
You’re the one that finds them. Utahime took you off campus for a day off. Shoko couldn’t come because she had to convince her biochemistry professor she didn’t cheat on her final (she did, but not because she needed to, just because she didn’t want to put in the effort). It was supposed to be a fun day for both of you, returning home drunk off the taste of sugar sweet cake and tea - until you saw the pool of blood near the front gates. Immediately, you knew something was wrong. Utahime rushes towards the red pool immediately, but you hold her back, scanning the area for lingering signs of the intruder.
Everything in your brain is screaming at you that this is wrong. Jujutsu high is protected by barriers - there is no one who could get in without Yaga’s permission, no one who could hurt you. Your mother had promised when she sent you here.
A chilling thought occurs - had Yaga let them in? It dissipates as soon as you think of it. Your teacher would never hurt you, would put his life on the line to defend you. He had before.
It’s not a good idea to split up, but it’s worse to stay together. You have to take your chances. Utahime goes to alert the teachers and you go to find the Getou and Gojo. At this point, you still had faith that they were alright, if not perfectly intact. They were the strongest. You had no doubt in this fact. The pool of blood could have just come from an injury, but almost nothing was fatal as long as you had Shoko.
Then, you step on a dead body. For a second, you think it’s Getou, the long black hair covering the face of the corpse, and your blood chills in your veins. You don’t think you’ll ever breathe again, but then you move the bangs, and it’s not him. It’s a girl. The relief that comes with the realization is a guilty one, but you’re grateful nonetheless. As long as he’s not dead, everything will be okay.
Even when you have his body in your lap, you believe it’ll all be okay, because it’s them. They’re the strongest. Even when you’re applying pressure to his wounds, trying to buy time for Shoko to get here, you have to believe in him. You have no other choice.
The first thing he says when he wakes up is, “I’ll kill that damned monkey,” even as you’re crying over him. He doesn’t talk again until he sets out to find Gojo, leaving you behind even though you insist on going.
You’ve fought and killed and been hurt before, all of you have. Being a sorcerer was synonymous with a life of violence. But none of you had come as close to death (or in Gojo’s case, actually died), and so your friends were divided as you had never been before. On one side, Gojo and Getou stood, having gone through a trial by fire and came out forged into something different. On the other side were the rest of you, unable to understand them, though not for lack of trying.
Utahime said it best, alone with you and Shoko in your room, the place that you had taken to become the designated spot to discuss the change in your boys. They were no longer quite human, but you loved them all the same. You couldn’t help it. Love didn’t die, even when there might be a reason for it to.
Normalcy doesn’t come for a long time. In fact, it doesn’t come ever - what you have is a very good imitation of it, but you’ll take what you can get. During the day, Gojo has somewhat returned to normal, aside from randomly falling asleep for the first week and zoning out for hours at a time. Getou’s also different. He’s quicker to enrage, slower to apologize. His eyes are dark, and sleeplessness has left a semi-permanent bruise under them. He has nightmares that he can’t escape.
You almost shriek when you hear the knock at your window, the dark outline of a figure looming outside in the darkness. Then he moves closer, into the light, and it’s no one scary after all, just Getou. You’re moving to let him in before he knocks on the window. He looks more dead than alive, and you rush to usher him into your bed, no need for words. He shows up because he knows you won’t turn him away, even if you’re fast asleep, even if you’re still working on mission reports.
He doesn’t need to ask, but does so anyway. “Can I sleep here tonight?
Under the blankets, you wrap your arms around him, squeezing like you can hold him together through physical contact and sheer force of will. His head rests against your breast bone and that’s how you can tell, even when his breathing evens out, that he’s not asleep. He doesn’t for the entire night.
This goes on for several weeks until you can’t take it anymore. “I don’t know what’s wrong and I can’t help you if you don’t tell me. You told me you were fine. Is it Riko? We can talk about it.”
He looks at you with his woeful, tired eyes (he never seems happy these days). “You wouldn’t understand.”
“God, you can be such an asshole sometimes, you know that? Do you think you’re some kind of enlightened martyr? Just spit it out!”
He just keeps watching you with his dark eyes, and you have the horrifying feeling that he’s not seeing you, not really. Like he’s looking through you.
It’s like your words are only cementing whatever dark thought has taken root in his brain.
“The monkeys,” he mutters in his sleep. “I have to get rid of them all.” You only hold him tighter, like you can keep him together through sheer force of will. But eventually, he stops coming to you at all. You can feel him slipping through your fingers, and you don’t know how to stop it. You’d ask him if he still loves you, if he still wants to be with you, but you’re scared of the answer, so you don’t.
He shrugs you off all the time now, so you didn’t expect him to call you after his mission. In the darkness, you grope around blindly for your phone. It nearly falls off the side table and hits your face before you catch it. It’s a little annoying to be woken up, but all of your anger melts away when you see the caller ID, and beneath, a picture of Getou, face frozen in surprise, his smile completely candid. It was from a trip you’d taken back in your first year.
“Oh, you’re up?” Getou’s voice crackles through the other line. The connection must be poor - he did say he was going to a village in the mountains for his next mission.
You laugh softly, still half asleep. “How are you surprised that I picked up when you called?”
“I don’t know,” he says, sounding mildly shocked himself. “I wasn’t planning to call you, it just sort of happened. Guess I’m too used to your voice at night. Sorry. It must be late.”
It’s too much to hope that he’s returning to himself, but you do so, anyways. Maybe the fresh air and countryside did him so good. Maybe all he needed was to get away for a little bit, and then he’d return. You’d never expect him to be immediately normal after what had happened, but you want to see progress, for him to recover, even if it is slow.
When you can’t hold yourself back from yawning, he laughs softly on the other end.
“You say you’re sorry, but you’re not going to let me sleep, are you?” You accuse him.
“No,” he agrees. You can almost see his smile on the other end. “It’s my last night before I head back.”
“You couldn’t wait a day?”
“You don’t want to hear from me? That’s fine, I’ll hang up.”
It’s an empty threat, but you protest anyways, spluttering out apologies that only make him laugh harder.
You’re still sleepy, but it’s nice, hearing his voice. Even when he’s miles away, the simple thought of him puts you at peace. You roll over to a more comfortable position, face pressed against your pillow, so you can hear him talk about mundane things, the low timbre of his voice familiar and comforting.
“How was your day? Miss me too much?” He’s teasing, but you’re completely honest when you answer. It’s been so long since he’s been like this.
“Way too much. You should come back as fast as possible.”
He doesn’t respond.
“Getou?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just thinking.”
He’s been apologizing a lot. Maybe it’s true what they say, that distance really does make the heart fonder. Maybe he’ll come home, and everything will be okay.
This is your first relationship. You don’t know how these things work, but you’re scared all the time that you’re messing up, that you’re a terrible girlfriend, that you’re making Getou worse.
You flinch at the sudden intrusion of unwelcome memories and try to remember the breathing exercises Shoko taught you. In through your nose, out through your mouth, don’t think about finding a pool of Gojo’s blood, a fourteen year old girl’s corpse, Getou’s mutilated body. Don’t. In through your nose, out through your mouth, breathe, breathe, breathe. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. You squeeze your eyes shut as if that will take away the images.
His voice breaks through the panic. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.” You’re both liars when you need to be. Maybe that’s why your relationship works so well.
“How was the mission?” You wish you could take it back as soon as it falls from your lips. It’s routine for any other sorcerer. For Getou, it’s a touchy question.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he snaps. He apologizes just as quickly. “Sorry. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
It’s fine, you want to say, but nothing comes out. Instead, you say, “Getou.”
“Hm?”
“Bring me back a souvenir.”
He’s quiet for a moment. It’s a strange night, because it feels so much like he’s returning to his old self, and yet not, at the same time.
“Getou?”
“Babe, I’m in a village. You want me to bring you some grass or something?” You roll your eyes, then tell him you’re rolling your eyes when you realize he can’t see you. Somehow, you don’t think that’s what he was about to say, but you don’t push it.
“Come back soon, okay? Gojo and I are going to kill each other without you, and then you’ll have no one else to love in this miserable existence.”
“Yeah, okay. I wouldn’t let him kill my girl.”
“Hey! Maybe I’m the one killing him. Don’t underestimate me.”
To anyone else, this would sound insane, but you’re sorcerers. Death, murder, and betrayal are the norms of your life. You breathe out a sigh of relief, because everything’s okay. You shouldn’t have worried. Getou is going to be fine.
You yawn again, and that’s when he relents. His voice is soft when he tells you to go to sleep.
“Good night, babe.”
“Love you. Come home safe.”
Before you hang up, he speaks so quickly he slurs his words and has to repeat himself, more slowly. “Wait, can you not hang up yet?”
“Suguru, I have to sleep.”
“I’ll hang up when I’m done, just stay on the line a little longer.”
“You want to hear me fall asleep? Alright, weirdo. Not like you can’t come home and do it when your mission is over.”
“Just humor me.”
And so you do, drifting off with his voice in your ear, the words indistinguishable but the sound comforting. Then you wake up to Gojo throwing your sheets off and hauling you out of bed, kicking and thrashing.
“What are you doing? Is this another prank?” You’re too tired from staying up all night with Getou to deal with more of his antics.
Then you notice his appearance. Gojo doesn’t cry - perhaps it’s a side effect of his six eyes, you’re not sure if he can cry - but you’ve seen signs of panic in animals in Shoko’s textbooks. He has all the same features, the preternaturally wide eyes, the heavy breathing, the high flush in his cheekbones.
“Gojo?” You ask carefully. If he’s actually snapped from stress, you don’t want to be in the same room with him.
“Did you know? Did he say something?”
“What are you talking about?”
His face falls. He looks almost concerned for you, if Gojo had ever cared about your feelings in the past. He opens his mouth, and your world falls apart. Life after Getou murders an entire village, kidnaps two girls, and is on the run goes on as normal, if you can call it life.
This is not what you thought he meant when he said he wanted two daughters. It almost feels too normal, for things to continue when he’s gone, but the world doesn’t stop. The missions don’t stop, even when you’re sad and confused and hurt, and nothing makes sense. You throw yourself into your work, because those are straightforward. It's like a mathematical equation: fighting until you’re dead or the enemy is infinitely less confusing than dealing with the aftermath of his departure.
“I think that’s enough,” Ijichi says timidly, when you demand another mission. You glare at him, stalking towards him so you can rip the file out of his hand, but he pulls it back away from you. He looks almost surprised at the sudden nerve he has, but he stands his ground, albeit cowering.
“You need a break.”
It’s what Getou first said to you, and that’s exactly why you can’t do this right now. You need to be fighting, need to be in situations where you can’t think about anything besides how not to die. Ijichi shakes his head when you reach for the document again, and that’s when you relent.
“One more,” you plead.
This is probably karma for being so terrible to him. You’ll have to buy him a present once this mission is over.
Someone’s calling your name, but you refuse to turn around, because you know who it is. You grit your teeth and resist the urge to curse Ijichi because this probably isn’t his fault. You’ve overworked him, since he accompanies you on all your missions and you’ve been working nonstop since Getou left.
Still, a part of you is affronted. He never warned you there was a curse capable of creating hallucinations here, and you’ve hated any kind of curse that has the ability to mess with your mind ever since the incident. Still, there’s nothing to be done now, so you soldier on, ignoring the voice until the arm belonging to the owner of the voice forces you to look at them, and you promptly sock them in the face.
A curse with the nerve to show itself to you in the form of -
Your heart in your throat, tears in your eyes, you get ready to punch it again. There’s no need for knives when a good, old fashioned beat down will best relieve you of your sorrows (in the back of your mind, you hear Gojo accusing you of being a delinquent) but he raises his hand and rasps, “Stop, wait, it’s me.”
You don’t stop, if anything, you hit harder.
He cries out, “I told you once if I had kids, I would want two daughters.”
Your fist hovers in mid air, cursing your weak heart because this is a trick. Gojo killed him, and Gojo never, ever fails.
He failed Riko Amanai, you think.
There’s no way.
Getou sits up, forcing you to topple off of him before he catches you. He settles you on his long legs. You’re dazed and sad and tired of denying yourself hope, but even more tired of hoping only to have your dreams crushed.
Everything hurts. There’s pressure behind your eyes like you want to cry but the tears won’t come the way you need them to, great heaving sobs like the night Getou died, purging and cleansing. Instead, you hiccup and dry heave like a child, clutching his yukata in your fists, torn between hoping and not hoping, knowing both of them will hurt you either way.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he croons, pressing your foreheads together, and at first you want to push him away but the other part of you rebels, clinging desperately to him like he’s a ghost that will fade away without your touch. You’re disgusted with yourself but you want more. You’ve never had the discipline that Utahime has. Getou is a liar and a criminal and a traitor, and you want him all the same, your innocent, bloody villain.
“Come back home,” you whisper. “Please.” It shocks you as much as it shocks him because you didn’t think anything close to that would be the first thing out of your mouth, but you mean it. You want him to come home, to hell with the elders. You and Gojo would fight everyone and everything to keep Getou with you. It’s an impossible request, but you’re asking anyway, hoping he’ll say yes.
“The problem is you still think it’s home.”
You don’t know what else to say, because you’ve played your last card, your only card, really. Getou’s always been better with words, and you hold no hope of persuading him if he’s outright refusing. You wait patiently for him to ask you to come with him, forfeit your entire existence to murder the very people you swore to protect, and wonder if you’re going to do it. After all, you’ve surprised yourself a lot today.
He doesn’t offer. He really just wants the chance to explain himself and say goodbye. You want to bash his skull in with your knife, and you want to kiss him until he cries. You can love him, but that doesn’t change who he is - a monster who killed his own parents and an entire village.
Somehow, it was easier to accept that when he was dead. Probably because then, you had no hope of him reciprocating, so you could love and mourn him in peace, doing no harm to the dead.
This is different. This is an ethical transgression on unparalleled levels because he is a murderer, and you love him enough to not care, and it terrifies you.
The familiar sound of his gentle voice calling you sweetheart burns. “I can explain everything, I swear, but I need time. Can you give me that? Can you believe in me?” His face is so earnest and sweet, and he looks so much better than he did before he went rogue. There’s no trace of exhaustion in his face, his shoulders are strong and broad, his hair shiny. You didn’t know criminals on the run had time to hair mask.
“You didn’t kill them?” You ask, heart in your throat. You know the answer. Gojo would never agree to hurting Getou if there was a chance, however small, he hadn’t committed the crimes he had, but his simple presence here is a miracle. What’s one more?
That’s the problem, when good things happen. You get greedy.
His denial is like waking up to cold water. “No. I definitely did.”
You shove his arms off your shoulders and clamber off of him even though every cell in your body is screaming at you to go back, close your eyes, pretend this isn’t happening and just love Getou like nothing had ever gone wrong, but you refuse. You’re a jujutsu sorcerer. You’re used to doing the hard things, even when it hurts.
“You disgust me,” you snarl, and you get ready to -
To what? Are you going to kill him? Bring him in? That would be the same as sentencing him to death, too.
In the middle of your deliberation, Getou suddenly clutches at his head like it’s being split open. You’re not sure what’s going on, if this is just another manipulation tactic of his to have you rushing back to him in forgiveness, but that’s when you notice the long gash in his head, stitched closed.
“Run.” He says. He grabs your sleeves and hauls you down so you can look into his eyes. “Run! You have to go, he’s coming, he- Ugh.” He slumps over, breathing hard and fast, hand still scratching at the barely healed over stitches.
You’re confused and scared and lost, and you obey, running through the forest like the devil himself was on your heels. You don’t think, just flee, all the way back to your car. When you get back to campus, you’re determined not to tell anyone. It was a hallucination, a cruel trick your beleaguered mind played on you, aided by the technique of curses. Later that day, you come back to finish the curse off, and Getou’s gone. It’s what you expected, and yet, some part of you is disappointed. Your resolve hardens to steel.
You can’t tell anyone about this. The greater part of you thinks it a hallucination not worth telling. If the elders found out, they’d probably throw you in the mental ward like they did with all “hysterical” women, and good riddance. They’d be glad to wash their hands of you, a sorcerer too weak to be helpful to them.
The other, quieter part of you fears that if he’s real, if somehow, you’ve really been granted a second chance - then he’ll die again. Turning him in is a death sentence. You just have to hope that if it wasn’t an illusion - and you have hope, you always do, even when it’s idiotic - he’s smart enough to stay away, to leave the jujutsu world behind for good. You swallow hard.
Even if it means leaving you behind.
For a while, everything is fine, or as fine as it can be, given the circumstances. Getou’s a curse user now, and you’ll never see him again, but you can live with that as long as he survives. You don’t think he’s dumb enough to show his face in the jujutsu world again. Secretly, you hope that he escaped and is living somewhere in paradise with the little girls he rescued, in a nice, warm cottage with strawberry plants in the garden and a fluffy white cat. You’re starting to believe that he made it, that he’s off living it up with his little found family, because you’re naive, and no matter how many times your miserable existence tries to beat it out of you, hope insists on making a fool out of you. You can’t stop, even when you know it’s futile for any sorcerer to imagine anything besides the worst case scenario in any situation. Bad things happening is the way of life, good things is a stroke of luck, a momentary reprieve before nature resumes its course. You even dare to think that he’s lucky, because he escaped the hell that is the jujutsu world.
Life is never that kind to sorcerers - even ex-sorcerers, though, in this case, one could say Getou brought it on himself, attacking the entirety of the jujutsu world in such a way. When Gojo Satoru kills your boyfriend, at least the kids aren’t around to see you lose it (because Getou injured them so badly they’re all hanging out in the morgue with Shoko). You’re torn between grief and rage, because you know he deserves it. You still can’t reconcile the image of him in your head, sweet, kind, Getou, who would always go easy on you, with the man that nearly murdered your students. But you also can’t stop blaming Gojo.
Jujutsu sorcerers aren’t supposed to have regrets, but it’s hard, looking back, not to feel sorry for attempting to murder Gojo Satoru the day he came home from killing your boyfriend. It wasn’t his fault, after all, even if it had felt like it at the time.
No one told you what Gojo’s last mission was because of your relationship with Getou, but as soon as Gojo walked back onto campus, his white hair matted with blood that wasn’t his and his shirt stained with sprays of red, you just knew. You had been running to greet him because attempting to jump Gojo whenever he came back from a mission was an age old tradition, born of him always being first in class and power rankings, and you, forever trying to claw your way to the top, even in the face of his overwhelming natural talent. Of course, back then, it had been a friendly conflict, your way of welcoming him back and his way of indulging you.
This was much less friendly and much more of homicidal intent.
It takes Utahime and Shoko combined to drag you off of him, though you aren’t doing any damage. Gojo, as always, is untouchable. He doesn’t let down his Infinity, but he doesn’t try to erase your existence for daring to lay a hand on him either, which is as close as you’re getting to mercy from him.
If you had been just drifting through life when you thought Getou had abandoned you, in the wake of his death, you’re burning out. For a while after his death, you think you’re just waiting for the same thing to happen to you. You throw yourself into battle after battle, accept whatever missions are given to you and collect scars on your battered body. You’re not going to kill yourself, but you’re not going to fight it either. It turns out, passive suicidal tendencies - surprise! - still count as suicidal tendencies, according to Shoko.
Waiting for death, you find, is unexpectedly hard. Your body wants to fight. It doesn’t want to give up, every survival instinct pulling you out of danger, pushing your lungs to take in more air, keep fighting even when you’re dead tired. It fights hard for itself even when you don’t care, all too willing to just accept whatever happens to you. Every day, Shoko fixes you up, scolds you, and sends you on your way, and every day, you repeat the same process that lands you in her morgue, until one day, it’ll happen for real.
Nanami intervenes before that happens, because he’s a good man. Good men are rare in sorcery. You thought Getou was one, but clearly not, demonstrated by the full blown murder spree he’s gone on. You’ve always held a soft spot for your junior. He corners you in the hallway after your last narrow brush with death, the exorcism of a special grade curse that was particularly nasty. You might have earned a promotion with that one. It was a hard fight. You don’t think you’ll survive the next, and that’s precisely why Nanami invites you to dinner.
He’s a good cook, but he’s not Getou. He doesn’t remember all of your allergies and dislikes, and you end up picking all the mushrooms out of your dinner. Everything reminds you of Getou. You choke on your bitter laughter, and Nanami is polite enough not to say a word about it.
“When Haibara died,” he begins, the pause in his speech between Haibara and died making it very, very clear that this is difficult for him to talk about, “I thought it was the end for me too.”
He shakes his head when you frantically attempt to shush him. You don’t want him opening old wounds for your sake, but he ignores you. “Someone you love is gone. The existence of the world feels disgusting to you.” He says love, not loved. You should’ve known Nanami would understand. He always does.
“At first, everything is hateful to you. The sun, for daring to rise. Birds, for their annoying song. Gojo, for being Gojo.” He pauses. “The last part is normal, but the rest of the world feels intolerable now. It’s as if they took you to the grave with them.”
Nanami’s inscrutable eyes make you uncomfortable. Technically, Gojo has the Six Eyes, but right now, Nanami feels like the all seeing one. Casually, he reaches over and pulls your plate to him, cutting up the meat for you. Your throat closes up with unshed tears, though that might also be the anaphylactic shock from the mushrooms. Getou used to do that for you, too. He never let you cut your own food.
Nanami finishes dicing your steak into perfectly bite sized pieces, and throws the knife at you, in a perfect, straight line at your shoulder. You knock it out of the way.
“What the fuck?” You’re already looking around for assassins, maybe curse users with mind or body control techniques, but Nanami doesn’t make another attempt to hurt you.
“What did you learn from that?”
“That you’re spending too much time with Gojo. Have you gone insane?”
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. You think he’d make a great teacher, since he already has the aggrieved expression down pat when something is clear to him, but confusing to everyone else. He’d be better than Gojo, that’s for sure, if he didn’t fling knives at all his students.
“The lesson was supposed to be that you’re alive, and you want to stay alive, even if you don’t realize it right now.”
“No way.” You could be less rude to him, considering how he’s going out of his way to help you out, but he’s also practicing circus tricks on you, so you don’t feel inclined to politeness at the moment. “I would’ve never known if you didn’t show me. Quick, can you check my pulse?”
He looks unperturbed. “It means,” he says patiently, “no matter how much it feels like you already have one foot in the grave with them, you’re still alive. Don’t be so quick to throw yourself away. We’re all bound to die eventually, in this career. You don’t have life to waste.”
Nanami is a terrible therapist, but a good friend. He says, “Now finish your dinner and stop trying to kill yourself.”
“There we go. You could’ve just said that at the beginning.”
“It wouldn’t have made as much as an impact,” you’re tempted to tell him throwing knives at you didn’t make much of an impact either, but wisely keep your mouth shut. “Besides, you got free dinner out of it. Stop complaining.”
When eventually, Nanami leaves too, for a normal life, nothing stops you from throwing yourself into your work.
The second time you lose yourself, it’s so much worse. This marks the twelfth time Shoko has basically rescued you from the clutches of death in the morgue. Gojo’s the strongest sorcerer, but in your opinion, Shoko’s closer to being the most powerful. That might also be your favoritism talking. She grabs your arm as you get up to leave. “Stop dying.”
You’re a really terrible person for making all of your friends repeat this talk with you. “Not dead yet.”
“Stop trying to die,” she amends. “You’re making more work for me and I don’t like it.”
You roll your eyes. Of course she was worried about the extra effort it took to keep you alive. If Getou was here-
The thought registers like a blow to the chest. If Getou was here, this wouldn’t be happening at all. Shoko grips your arm hard enough to bruise. “I’m serious. I’m not going to let you die, so stop trying. It’s not going to work and it just makes my job harder.” Her face is grim.
“I’m not going to let you die,” she repeats, like she can keep you in this world through willpower alone. You feel guilty, all of a sudden, for what a terrible patient you are, and how snappish you’ve been with her. Hurting doesn’t mean you have the right to take it out on your friends, but remembering that only comes after the guilt, and the guilt only comes after the self sabotage.
Speaking of self sabotage, the last time you saw Gojo, you attempted aggravated assault on his person, but when the news came down that he’s been captured (the first time you hear it, you’re disbelieving) you’re the first to volunteer to go to Shibuya. You can’t lose anyone else.
You didn’t expect to gain someone back, but when you get there, the person on the other side of the battlefield is Getou, and suddenly, you know how Gojo, invincible, omniscient Gojo, could’ve gotten captured. Love is the worst curse of all.
Ignoring all sense, ignoring the fact that he’s captured Gojo - you hadn’t believed he was capable of hurting him, even now. You hurtle across the battlefield to him, past Itadori Yuuji and - was that a cursed womb? It didn’t matter. You only had eyes for Getou, but when you get closer, your heart sinks.
Even just listening to his voice, you know it isn’t him. It’s like the air has been knocked out of you - there’s no point in fighting, not anymore. You crumple to your knees. That’s not Getou. That thing is using your Getou’s mouth to murder your friends and bring about the end of the world. Distantly, you hear Yuki Tsukumo’s arrival, feel her try to haul you to your feet, but you can’t move on your own. The thought rings through your head. Getou is gone.
Kenjaku is reveling in his victory while Yuki tries to keep him at bay. She’s strong, she has to be, she’s a special grade, but she’s no Gojo Satoru and you’re dead weight. She can’t protect everyone. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Itadori Yuuji doing his best to dodge attacks. He’s a child. You have to fight, but there’s an emptiness inside of you that’s sapping your strength. Still, you muster up enough to reach for the dagger hidden in your coat, a gift from Maki Zenin, one of your favorite students.
The air stills. The relentless cacophony of the battlefield comes to a stop as the hairs on your arm stand up. Directly across from you, one of Kenjaku’s hands reaches up to grip his own throat. Getou Suguru says, “Give me back my body.”
Kenjaku coughs. “Ugh. Just a little voice in my head. As I was saying -“
The hand around his throat tightens. “I’m Getou Suguru. This is my body.”
Kenjaku frowns. “You have no claim to this body anymore. You’d be dead without me. Just go back to sleep.”
More insistently, Getou’s presence fights to the surface. “How are you doing this?” Kenjaku marvels. His eyes widen and he lifts his hand to stare at the object he’s clutching, the Prison Realm.
You should never count Gojo Satoru out.
Suguru Getou doesn’t exist anymore. He’s just a figment of Kenjaku’s imagination, clinging to life - if this can be called life - confined to the dark and murky corners of his own mind.
Go to sleep, Kenjaku says, almost fondly. They’ve been stuck together here for a long time now, long enough that Kenjaku has given up trying to get rid of him and instead just suppressed his presence.
He’s so tired. Kenjaku’s right. It might be a good idea to go to sleep and yet - there’s something he’s forgetting, isn’t he? What is it? He doesn’t like thinking. It splits his head apart - is it his head or Kenjaku’s, he’s never sure who it belongs to - punishes him with endless pain. It’s better, easier, to just let Kenjaku handle things.
That’s right, Kenjaku says. This is my body now. All you have to do is go to sleep. Aren’t I merciful?
But he remembers something, a flash of blue in the darkness. The voice of his best friend - he had a best friend? He keeps remembering things that don’t belong to him, scattered memories that might be hallucinations but -
He couldn’t have imagined the earnestness, the pain in that man’s voice. He doesn’t know him, but his heart aches for him.
Getou Suguru, a silky voice sighs. He flinched because he hasn’t heard a voice beside Kenjaku’s in years, no, since he was born. They had always been like this, Kenjaku and him. Hadn’t they?
Who is this? He’s panicking.
Are you really going to let him use you like that? We’re the strongest. You better start acting like it.
Then his body crumples in on itself, pain sparking through every nerve from the impact of so much cursed energy. Kenjaku curses. “Fucking Gojo Satoru.”
Kenjaku? Getou thinks.
Hm? Nothing, don’t worry about it. I thought I told you to go to sleep.
Getou flinches away from the hard edge in his voice but something in him doesn’t forget Gojo Satoru. He turns the name over in his head, wondering. The cursed energy hurts, it burns, but it’s lifting the fog in his head.
Gojo Satoru is his best friend and you -
You’re standing in front of him, eyes wide and wary, as beautiful as the last time he saw you. His girl, his sweetheart. You’re driving a knife through his ribs and he clutches your hand, helps you angle it up directly through his heart. It’s sweet, almost like you’re back in school again, him training you after hours because he couldn’t tell you he was in love with you then, but all he wanted was to be around you, all the time.
It’s nice, the way you wrap your arms around him when the deed is done, the pressure of your chest against his driving the blade deeper. It’s not such a bad way to go.
You’re crying, he realizes, the back of his clothes are wet.
He wishes he could talk to you before he has to go, but his mouth is filled with blood. With his one hand, he undoes the binding on the Prison Realm - his best friend, of course he remembers him, Gojo Satoru - and with the other, he squeezes yours.
Don’t cry, he thinks mournfully. I promised. I’ll come crawling home to you.
He dies in your arms, the only place he has ever wanted to be.
You hold him as he dies, just like you did the first time, though you had been too late then. He dies with a smile on his lips, as Getou, not Kenjaku. You don’t feel the tears as they come. You don’t feel anything at all, not even when Utahime comes forward from the crowd of stunned sorcerers to wrap her arms around you, not even when Gojo, bleeding from his side, pulls you into his embrace.
Nothing can get to you until you speak to Yaga, and he curses you with the worst gift of all: hope.
“You’re a war hero,” Yaga says.
You don’t have to say it aloud for him to know what you’re thinking. You’d rather be nothing and still have Getou.
Yaga’s never been much of a hugger, but he startles you with one now. “My poor girl. You’ve been so brave,” he says. “I didn’t try this before because we didn’t think there was any hope left. We didn’t know if his soul was still there, but if you’re willing to let me try now, I’ll do my best.”
There’s a low chance of this working. You’re so tired, and Getou is too. You’re almost tempted to just let him be at peace, but Yaga lays his hand on your shoulder.
“Do you remember what he said when I questioned your relationship? I’d love her from beyond the grave. Don’t give up on him now.”
Gojo takes your hand as you watch Yaga work, the two of you the ones that loved Getou best, even at his worst. “Don’t give up,” he echoes. You squeeze his hand back. You had hope for eleven, long, hard years. You’re willing to hold on a little longer, if he’s willing to try too.
On the table in Shoko’s morgue, his body stirs.
title from work song — hozier. also recommend home with you — fka twigs for the vibe.
#sera writes#getou suguru x reader#geto suguru x reader#getou suguru x y/n#geto suguru x y/n#getou suguru x you#geto suguru x you#geto x y/n#getou x y/n#geto x reader#getou x reader#getou angst#geto x you#geto angst#jjk spoilers#possibly i have no idea how caught up to the manga the anime is#getou suguru#♡ — jjk
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in fall & bloom | doyeon
disclaimer: top!fem reader x bottom!doyeon, mention of blood.
your shouts of glee resonate through the bustling streets of the city, pedestrians barely catching glimpse of your zooming figures. the autumn breeze is welcoming against your face, the sunlight warm on your skin as you veer the wheels of your bike onto the next street. your eyes occasionally gaze up at the bleeding tangerine sky through the palm branches without crashing into cars, or worse, have you and your passenger tumbling down the descending street.
“wait!” the latter suddenly yelps into your ear. you press the bike to a stop, both feet coming down to graze the gravel, then to finally land firm on the ground.
“you okay?” you ask when the bike’s stabilized, craning your neck to give doyeon a curious gaze just to find her eyeing the small dip laying a few feet away down the street. there's a pretty blush dusting her cheeks, chestnut hair outlining her forehead and even, darker lashes when her eyes glide back to yours in a form of uncertainty. she's wearing green contacts today, further accentuating her piercing gaze along with the dipping sun highlighting streaks of orange and yellow on her features.
“no way we’re going down that path.” she answers, a tone of incredulity in her voice.
“what?” your brows shoot up as you slightly look back at the road – it is a bit steep, but not dangerously so. you turn back to doyeon. “why not?”
doyeon’s eyes squint back at you, fully glaring, face scrunched – most likely wondering how insane you must truly be. but the endearing and dopey smile you offer back is enough to melt her rigid posture.
“they’ll kill you if i die.” is what she ends up saying instead. the light wind sweeps lightly through her hair, conveying the lulling scent of cotton candy and peach perfume.
you laugh, playfully bumping back into her. “wimp.”
“i’m sorry, is my death a joke to you?” she whispers menacingly into your ear, hooking her index through the belt loops of your jeans.
“hilarious, even.” you tease, tilting your head back to pucker your lips. “kiss.”
“no.” she deadpans, encircling your waist. “first, get me down that road in one piece.” you snort at that, “we can just walk our way down, yeonnie. i was kidding.”
“no, i somehow trust you with this.” she gags out, reluctantly. “why do i trust you?” she mutters right after.
“that’s rich, coming from an arsonist.” you muse, sounding utterly contented, a sharp contradiction to doyeon's allegation.
“shut up,” she starts and you just know she’s about to read you. you furtively feign a roll of your eyes, yet, an infatuated smile stays on the edge of your lips. you'll never tell her, but there’s nothing more attractive than when she gets like this. “–told me you would come and pick me up for a walk, not a bike ride. and unless you have short-term mem–” she stops. “stop staring at my lips.”
you laugh, sheepish, then avert your gaze back to the road ahead. “i'm getting my kiss once i drop you off.”
“if i'm still alive.” she says, hooking her chin on your shoulder.
you whine about her being a pessimist bitch and she lightly, though discreetly presses her lips against your jaw. “kidding.” she singsongs, squeezing your mid.
so you kick off once again. aside from the air being squeezed out of you, you make it down safe and sound. you cycle the both of you through lush paths, to open green fields and watch butterflies fly above, occasionally slowing down the pace of the bike to take it all in. with the scintilla feeling of just the two of you on a bike — blissful with the speed, with the fresh wind in your faces – you’re at home.
doyeon leans the side of her head against your back, letting her eyes take in the beautiful scenery that nature brings. it was nice being able to hold onto you like so, not a care in the world whether she’ll wake up to her name trending on social platforms, or worse, being questioned about her affectionate nature. south korea still has its outdated ideologies, teaching her to enjoy the beauty of whatever it is you’ve started, drawing as much as she can from the light and secretive touches.
unlike her, you no longer seem to focus on the picturesque surroundings. doyeon's hands start having a mind of their own, palms flat on your abdomen, they brush with each movement of your legs on the pedals – and she wastes no time noticing. it's a position she very much enjoys. her eager hands begin to venture areas they’ve never had before. she skims her way up and down your stomach, smiling to herself when she senses you tense. they map their way lower, to the button of your jeans, and without warning, slide up under your sweater. your heart nearly burst from your chest.
the noise that escapes from your throat is a mix of a choke and guttural sound. “christ, doyeon!” you breathe, scandalized. “we’ll fucking crash!”
the frigid feel of her fingers on your skin almost swerves you off the damn bike.
she only laughs, kissing the back of your neck in an apologetic gesture. she resists the urge to tease for the remainder of the ride, only cooing and every so often – she can’t help herself. she’d caress the area over your ribcage, feeling your heart jump beneath the dainty sweater. you can always excuse it as the intensive exercise you have so willingly put yourself through.
you park the bicycle in front of doyeon’s building and lean slightly forward so your elbows rest onto the handlebar. except doyeon doesn’t budge, she stays put, only shifting to press herself further against you.
“you need to keep your hands to yourself, ma’am.” you reproach with a shake of your head, glancing around to make sure no one, especially from her company, is sighting you. “we really could’ve died, and it would’ve been your fault.”
needless to say, that’s no news to you; doyeon has always been quite blasé towards prudence and authority matters. she has a flair for rebellion, not so much that she wants to go against the grain, but she sustains an innate drive towards doing so, and that includes the blatant flirting she would put on at random times.
“but i can’t keep my hands to myself,” she titters and you feel the vibration all throughout your body. you look back at her with narrowed eyes, and she leans her head comfortably against your shoulder, freely gazing at you through long lashes, a smoldering smile on her pouty lips. “plus, i believe i owe you a kiss.”
there's a shout down the street as kids chase after each other, loaded backpacks swinging and feet banging against the gravel.
“i believe you do, yes.” you concur, squeezing her arms that are still wrapped around your mid. “too much people, though.”
and that’s how she ends up dragging you up to her dorms, barely leaving you time to shut the door close behind you – her lips are on yours. thankfully, no one’s home, or at least in the living room because there’s no scientific reason you could come up with to explain why you’re lip locking with one of korea’s favorite girls.
by some miracle, she manages to maneuver you down the hall and into her room, all the while remaining busy giggling and kissing on each other. you throw yourself on her bed, and she ensues, settling down beside you. your feet dangle off the bed as you both lay horizontally – it’s a comical sight that she makes sure to point out.
you're getting progressively mindful of the warmth in your lower belly, the tingling feeling somewhere in your stomach when you engage her into another kiss. the kiss is wet and slow, experimentally tasting the apricot balm coating her plump lips as you leave the sweetest of promises on them. you tentatively stroke her thighs and in turn, her hands resume its trail under your sweater, across your abdomen in a series of affectionate caresses.
you make certain to be slow and considerate as always. after all, this is the farthest you’ve gone. there's only been kissing so far, nothing more, not even touching. you figured if doyeon is ready, she’ll initiate it. which is exactly what’s happening when she leans slightly over you to unbutton your jeans.
“hey,” you whisper against luscious lips, now swollen and tender, while tenderly cradling her jaw into your palm. “no pressure, okay?”
doyeon stills under your earnest look and runs a hand through her locks, pearly teeth toying with her bottom lip. “i know. i just – i need this.” there isn't so much as a slight hint of uncertainty when the reply escapes her lips. more of an emphatic assertion.
you gently push her back down to hover her body, slowly peppering her neck with kisses and tiny licks. doyeon pushes the rear of your head forward, urging for more, however, you take as much time as necessary. your kisses become unbearably slow, irritating her while also lighting up every nerve and muscle within her body. each wet path your tongue leaves further drenches her panties.
you rise back to her mouth, gradually driving her insane with the laid-back, sluggish brush of your tongue on her lips all without fully pressing them. you tease, altering the angle of your head each time she'd drive forward to capture your lips. without much warning, doyeon’s teeth are sinking into your lip, biting harder when you take her sensitive nipple between the spaces of your fingers.
a dainty spill of blood streams down your lip, further startling you when she soothes over the texture with her tongue, gaze darkening as she stares directly into your hooded eyes. “stop fucking with me.” she hisses.
“and since when are you so fucking demanding?” you moan, there’s no denying how turned on and heated the little backtalk makes you. she grinds her hips against yours as your lips crash into hers in a searing fiery kiss. your hands cup her face, both of your tongues rolling, playing and sliding against each other. she’s sucking and biting at your bottom lip, tongue thrusting forward. you close your lips around it and suck with an appreciative moan. god, you could eat her right then.
in the midst, your hands roam over her breasts, fingers pulling her nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt. she breaks the kiss to throw her head back and gasps as you pinch and pull harder at them.
“oh fuck.” with that, she’s once again snaking her hands up your shirt, feeling over your warm skin and bunching the fabric up for you to take off. you grab the hem and slide it off you while the rest slowly comes off in the middle of feverish kisses and explorative touches.
you take to straddle her hips, admiring the pale skin of her tight abdomen with a rapacious curiosity. you gently fondle her pert breasts into your hands, pondering whether to tear the bra keeping you from making skin-to-skin contact. compelling, but an attempt at it will cost you your head – so you contempt yourself by sneaking them underneath the band, relishing in the pretty little sounds rippling out through her lips.
“you like that, don’t you?” you purr out quietly, rubbing your thumbs over the aching, hard peak against your hand.
“harder.” she mewls, torso arching and pushing just to feel more of that pain mixing in with pleasure.
you lean down, a dark glint in your eyes as you bite and tug at her bra’s fabric, she grows wetter at the sight and feel of your warm breath ghosting on her nipples. she wraps her legs around your mid to cage you in, her hand tangling into your hair when you bite down onto her nub. she's letting out a soft cry when your tongue pokes at the tip before sucking the nub into your mouth, pulling on the flesh and grazing the surface, just enough to leave reddened markings on the flesh.
“ooh–” she gasps, breath labored, gripping tightly into your hair as you give the same treatment to the other pair, rolling the tender flesh between your fingers. you're positioned much lower so you rise slightly back up her body so your cores are touching and snap your hips down against hers. it turns her world upside down; everything tingles from her head to her toes as you repeat the motion over and over again.
you lean up to peck her lips, setting an accommodating pace for you both that has doyeon rising up to meet each grind.
she watches you with unfiltered lust; hands coasting down your face, to your shoulders and arms for a few moments, then cupping around the back of your neck and back down to squeeze your breast. she truly cannot keep her hands off of you. “i want it from behind.” there’s always been something impressive, fervent, in the classic simplicity and directness that is doyeon. it still catches you off guard, agape and sputtering. you stop.
with the majority of your thoughts gone, head clouded with wanton pleasure, you’re unsure of what you exactly heard; you ask again, throat closing around the words. “from behind?”
doyeon's brow quirk in a form of amusement, seeming lucid enough to poke fun at you, but still far from collected. the column of her neck is flushed red, eyes low and glazed – she’s beyond gorgeous. “i don’t have a strap, but your fingers will do,” she shoots you a coy look. “so, fuck me from behind.”
you blink slowly. “alright.” you say, heart clenching in what could only be a mix of amazement, lust, anticipation and anything that can match up a synonym in the dictionary. "roll over for me.”
and she does just that, not before unclasping her bra. it falls down her shapely shoulders, exposing her tiny breasts that your mouth begs to take back in. she gets on all fours, back arching and head craning back to stare you down, challenge in her gaze. “better do your best.”
goose bumps break all over her body as you seize her by the shape of her waist, almost taking her up on the challenge. unfortunately, there was only so much you can leave on doyeon’s body. as much as you want to taint her body red with unique markings, she has an image to maintain so it’ll simply have to wait.
you pull her panties down the gracious curve of her ass, leaving it to slip softly down her thighs then off her legs. your hands caress the silky, supple skin appreciatively, tracing over the dip of her waist to the back of her thighs. you give each of her ass cheeks a hard slap, heart pounding with each moan of hers – you’d think she’s used to this.
"come onnn," she whines, pressing back against you.
"relax." you hum, stroking your hand up and down the long of her back, relishing in the way it freely glides. you gently nudge her knees apart and kneel down behind her. the slight bit of slickness trickling down her lips prompts you to give her a few long strokes of your index, doyeon moans and arches her back further down as the same finger gives hot pleasure within her.
“you’re so pretty.” you compliment, fully admiring all esoteric aspects of her body like a tulip about to bloom – the ones who shimmer in the afternoon and reaches to glow of sunshine- as you start licking between her folds, taking your sweet time to lap every drop of her slick melting down her center. you mouth along her swollen clit through the poetic pleasure rolling into every part of her body, spiking in every nerve ending.
you bury your face farther amid the girl’s puffy folds, licking with passion in your movement, your hands gripping her thighs as you lap away at her hole, occasionally reaching up to flicker across her clit and fling her whole body in a mass of spasm.
your sleeked fingertips gradually begin prodding her entrance, easily sliding between the folds, remaining slow and cautious as to not hurt her. doyeon's nails dig into the comforter, unfamiliar pain lightly shooting up her core and spine.
“you alright?” you ask; there is a tiny waver in your voice, concern and apologetic.
“i-” she sucks air through her teeth, “yeah. keep going.”
reluctant, but complying, you extract your index to replace with your thumb. you hope this helps to start small and later on, prep her to take more. she pants softly, eyes teary and unfocused as her body attempts to choose whether she wants to rock back into your hand, stay rooted at the feeling of being stretched or flee from the unfamiliar pain that’s snaking down her thighs.
you thumb through her opening with consoling words along soothing circles of your hand on her lower back. it diverts her from the pain and creeping pleasure probing inside of her. you extend the process, her gradual whines climbing in octaves when she’d try jerking away from a certain spot being brushed by your inquisitive finger. you'd have to grab her by the elegant curve of the waist, pull her back and keep her in place.
it's just a matter of time before she’s past dripping, pleading and moaning for more. hips inclined back, accentuating the fluid lines of her back; she's crying in nothing but divine ecstasy as you switch back to your index. you draw it out until just the tip is in, then plunge it back in her wet tightness. needless to say, she doesn’t simply see the stars but the cosmos in all its entirety before her eyes.
reiteration of strangled sounds and gasps spill from her lips when you start steadily pumping in and out. she tries stifling them by shoving her head down in the covers, not because she wants to be discreet but rather her embarrassment in hearing those sounds coming from herself – they're melodic, symphonic even, to your ears.
it's something doyeon finds herself loving – the feeling of being handled and taken care of. the knowledge that she can easily be reduced to a messy state if you so desired (as one would expect, you’d have to work for it). doyeon's thighs shake with more thrusts of your fingers reaching deep – and she takes it all, with great difficulty, but it’s a start. her eyes flutter closed as the thick stretch that your fingers amply provide, turn into blissful pleasure to bring her closer to her release.
"how about another?" you ask over the high pitched whines. "can you do that?"
"i don–" you swipe your thumb over her clit and her breath catches in her throat before going back to ball the sheets into her hand. you encourage her with a squeeze on her thigh. "yes, yes."
you add your middle finger, cursing at how tight she is, her spasmic muscles start clenching around you. that's all it takes.
in less than a second, your digits are coated in juices and sleek is sliding down her legs as you easily coax her into a slow, staggering orgasm. she bucks her hips up with one last startled moan and you look on, smug, gently twisting your fingers through the slight burn of her orgasm until she slumps down on her stomach with a silent scream.
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Name one thing you dislike about each dorm leader, I’m curious 👀
Anon, I'm bemused that you would ask this because frankly, my opinions are a bit harsh when it comes to this. 🤡It's an interesting question nonetheless, so I'll answer this.
However, I will put this under a read more because of multiple reasons. Vil's part does toe on religion, particularly Catholicism, so don't say I didn't warn you. If you're also sensitive to hearing negative opinions on your favorite character(s), please scroll past this as well or at least scroll past the part about your favorite(s). Furthermore, Riddle's part will contain manga spoilers and Kalim's part will contain the current event spoilers, so I suggest to proceed with caution or scroll past if you don't wish to be spoiled.
Riddle Rosehearts
Initially, I never had much qualms about Riddle. Of course, his way of ruling isn't exactly the best, but he makes up for it by being an excellent student who's willing to help others who struggle with their studies.
However, when the manga came out, that's when I felt anger at Riddle.
What happens in the manga is that Ace and Deuce do go to the Dwarf Mines to find the magic gem to fix the chandelier that they broke, basically like how the prologue went. Meanwhile, Crowley summons Riddle into his office to inform him of the chandelier fiasco and that Ace and Deuce are doing their punishment, which sets off the dorm leader's anger.
While Ace and Deuce are trying to get the magic gem and fighting off the OB Monster that still got up despite their well-coordinated attack, Riddle comes in and deals with the monster. The reason for his (and Trey & Cater's) sudden arrival is because Ace and Deuce disobeyed a Heartslabyul rule.
This part here set me off because in the game, it was established that while Riddle was particular with the Laws of the Queen of Hearts, it was also established that he deeply respects the rules of the school and general conduct. You'd think that Riddle would leave Ace and Deuce alone to carry out their punishment for causing property damage, which should be not only be part of a rule of the school but also general conduct.
But in the manga, he did not care about the fact that Ace and Deuce were doing what the Headmaster told them to do. He punished them and brought them back to Heartslabyul, even though they're going to be expelled anyway if they don't return with the magic gem.
I understand that this is the main flaw that Riddle has in this arc, and it's meant to be shown that this is horrible behavior because this is a story about villains after all. But nevertheless, it angered me how Riddle had blatant disregard for the fact that Ace and Deuce had to disobey a Heartslabyul rule that they never even knew about because it's their first day in school because they had to do something that someone of higher authority told them to do. Furthermore, Riddle was informed already about this.
Obviously, Riddle's tyranny is something that's not the most appealing, but the fact that he disregards any context about the situation that caused the "guilty party" to break the rules is something I do not like about him. I'm just glad that (in the game at least), he does learn how to manage that.
Leona Kingscholar
I think I mentioned this a few times because I did mention that Leona is my least favorite character. Over time, my feelings in regards to him have softened because it's fun to watch him roast and get roasted back. Plus, as a theorist and a writer, I find that his character is so fun to explore.
The thing with Leona is that I dislike that he's an asshole but a lazy one at that. He'd insult or blame others, but he himself lives such a slothful life. It makes me feel like he's not qualified to say such rude comments. In fairness, he's one of the most intelligent characters in the game, so I suppose he's qualified to make some comments? But if he's going to comment on something like people not listening in class, that's where it gets annoying because this guy skips class and repeated a year twice. Even Lilia pointed this out in chapter 2.
Another thing I find frustrating is that he wastes his potential, but in all honesty, I can't blame him. In fact, a good part of this frustration is also anger at myself because I do see that kind of behavior in myself. I know that I can do more than what I can do, but I have no motivation to do it. It doesn't help that I've said my own fair share of arrogant comments that can come off as mean, so really, who am I to judge him? Nevertheless, however, that sort of thing turns me off from Leona.
Azul Ashengrotto
Okay, I'm not going to lie, a part of me feels like anon asked this question just to know if there's anything about Azul that I dislike. Some of my friends are also curious to know about this too, so here's my answer.
Not going to lie, I'd love to answer something like "he didn't come to me in gacha and made me spend so much for him" or "he's too perfect, that's what I don't like about him", but a) I want to be fair, and b) if I set aside my bias for him, there is something about Azul's character that I don't like.
Funnily enough, the things that I don't like about Leona are things that I really like about Azul, and I'm mentioning this because I normally stray away from rude characters. Azul does have a rude undertone in his language, but I'd say it's more haughty and condescending. The difference between him and Leona, however, is that I feel like Azul is more qualified to roast people? He works hard to get to where he is – and he's still working hard until now – and because of that hard work, he has high grades and a successful business. I wouldn't condone that rudeness, but if he does poke at people's incompetence or intelligence, it seems more justified.
No, what I dislike most about Azul is that he's not an honest person. I deeply value honesty, so when Azul does lie about things, it personally irks me because I just want to not have to do a lot of digging just to know if someone is honest with their words. What makes this even worse is that Azul is horribly good at lying. God knows how many times I got bamboozled because of his words. 🤡
This is especially both hilarious and frustrating when I make theories about him. Every time I try to think of some theory about him, there's always that inner voice in my head that goes, "But what if he's not being completely honest?" and I feel like I got myself into some 4D chess game.
Let's take chapter 4–30 for example. When Jamil wanted to use his It's A Deal to gather people's secrets again, Azul answered that he remembers all the secrets of those who signed his contracts, including Crowley's. And I'd love to think that what he's saying is legit, but what if he's also bluffing to make Jamil reveal more of his true intentions? Azul was conscious during the hypnosis, since he was trying to let it control him enough that his eyes will turn red but also not enough that he can still use Bind the Heart against it. He even remembers the comment Jamil said to him about him underestimating Jamil (and even says it back to him).
This dislike is most prominent when I try to think of theories about him or dissect his character, but it does go against my personal values as well. Aside from that, I still stan him because I am a clown.
Kalim Al-Asim
Not going to lie, this is kind of hard as well because Kalim is genuinely a nice person, and everyone believes he's such a ray of sunshine. But okay, I have to go out and say that there is something that does annoy me a bit.
Mostly, what irks me about Kalim is his disregard for Jamil's feelings. It amazes me how he believes Jamil could just prepare a banquet in less than 3 days so often. Really, I appreciate that he wants to help Jamil, but he could at least do that by not making Jamil do things that are nearly impossible to do. For example, the frequent banquets and parties aren't necessary. Even in the current event, Jamil is already expressing how he can't look out for 6 more people, but Kalim ignores that and invites MC, Grim, Cater, Trey, and Malleus to the fireworks festival. It's probably the rich person mentality, but nonetheless, I wish Kalim had more consideration for Jamil.
I may also be projecting because my family likes making me do things for them when they don't want to, so I kind of know how Jamil feels. 😂
Aside from that, though, I don't really have much problems with Kalim. He's still kind, maybe a bit callous with his word choice, and he's evidently maturing in the main story.
Vil Schoenheit
Alright... this one is going to be a bit controversial as this may go into my experiences as a Catholic growing up. Before I go into this, I want to put a disclaimer that not all Catholics are mean or whatever, but rather, these are my experiences growing up.
Vil is in my top 5, alright. He isn't a total asshole like other students in the school, and in fact, he's a pretty honest guy. His hard work is really admirable, and his principles are noble. Throughout the hype of chapter 5, I had defended his actions because it is understandable that the industry that he's in is pretty harsh, hence his behavior. Despite that, however, there is one part in chapter 5 that angered me the most in the story.
In chapter 5, Vil often scolds Epel for not understanding that cuteness and strength have their equal levels of power and that there's no such thing as gender in dance and performance. And okay, Vil is right. He does need to correct Epel's frankly toxic views on masculinity because being cute isn't any worse than being strong nor is dance supposed to be gender-assigned.
What makes me angry about this is that he imparts this knowledge in a way that is oppressive. He just tells Epel to do what he is told to do or think what he should think without really giving a reason why or a good way to understand those ideologies. I acknowledge that Epel was not only rude to him on the first day of school, he also picked a fight– Vil's actions of putting him in place are justified. And I also acknowledge that sometimes, you may need to push those kinds of ideas onto someone for their betterment.
But in this case, Vil never really tried to understand Epel's side of things? He tells him this and that or to do this and that without really letting Epel understand why, nor did he ever try to understand where Epel is coming from and why he has that sort of mindset on gender. Which, well, he thankfully does later on.
The part that makes me the maddest is that Vil goes as far as to say things like, "If you don't understand this, then how can you beat Neige?" It makes it blatantly obvious that he's thrusting all his stress and frustrations onto Epel just so he can have a chance of beating his long-standing rival. I understand that he is that frustrated about always being in Neige's shadow and that he may as well do anything just to get the spotlight he wants, but nevertheless, it rubs me the wrong way that he made Epel enter a competition that he never volunteered for and then use him as a way of beating Neige.
As to why this connects with Catholicism, it's the kind of behavior I've witnessed growing up, from my schooling to my own home. I remember being told to quit Pokemon, a game that I loved, just because it's called "Pocket Monsters" in Japan and it sounds like something from the Devil. I remember being told that abortion is bad just because it goes against God's teachings or that the LGBT+ is bad for the same reason. And I've seen how other Catholics would push these ideologies onto others in such a way that it makes people seem like the bad guy for opposing them. It's why this sort of thing with Vil angers me. I've seen this behavior many times, and it really sucks.
Idia Shroud
Okay, I also mentioned not liking Idia more than once on this blog, but my feelings have softened over time, especially knowing that he is a mood.
Still, I also don't like his rudeness because he says things that he has no courage to say in front of people's faces. This is seen in his robe story, where Riddle tells him to go out and help with the entrance ceremony. Idia criticizes him just because the door is closed, which means he doesn't have to see Riddle's face. I'm not saying I'm a saint because believe me, I have said my own things about others behind their backs (really, who hasn't, even if it's just a vent?), but if Idia's always going to be like that, I'm turned off by it.
Well, he did criticize people in Ghost Marriage because there was a part where he criticizes everyone for failing to set him free. It actually made me angry at him because man, they're trying, and Eliza is intentionally finding a way to reject all of them. And it doesn't help that he ends up begging for help again to the people he just got angry at. 💀
Malleus Draconia
Okay, I've mentioned that I dislike Malleus also, but his case is special. It's less that he did something that caused me to be angry at him, but more of the fandom ruined my perception of him.
To start things off, Malleus personally never really intrigued me from the start. His character is interesting to explore, I'll give you that, but I guess because of the lack of lore that we have on him right now, there's nothing much about him that I particularly like.
But as time went on, I began to grow really weary of Malleus because people always insisted that Malleus and Yuu are meant to be an endgame ship or that they're canon, when there's more indication that romance can't happen between the two of them. As a ship, I don't mind it, but when people go to the point of saying they were canon (and not jokingly, by the way), it really made me dislike not only the ship but Malleus as well.
This kind of hatred really soured myself, so much so that I have made people uncomfortable with my dislike towards Malleus and the ship. I'm still working on fixing this so that I don't hurt people anymore, and my opinion on Malleus has softened too, but even so, I can't really look at Malleus the same way anymore. Until chapter 7 comes, my opinion on Malleus may be more or less stagnant.
Final Thoughts
In the end, these are only part of my opinions on the characters. Even if I do have my least favorites, I can't say now that I hate anybody in Twst. Everyone is really interesting in their own way because there's so much depth to each and every character. They have flaws, but that's a part of being a person, and I like that these flaws are presented in such a way that they can also be turned to strengths.
#ask#twisted wonderland#twst#riddle rosehearts#leona kingscholar#Azul Ashengrotto#Kalim Al-Asim#vil schoenheit#idia shroud#malleus draconia
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A very dramatic love confession (Tamaki Suoh x Male Reader) (it’s gay)
-Yayyyyy its the blonde little boy (I have him as my pfp for a reason, ok?)
-I know he’s *technically* into woman and also homophobic in the source material, but I say he’s gay and has internalized homophobia issues and I'm right so take that. (By the way, I have it set up so that the reader is male. I can make a female version as well if anyone wants it.)
-In this world, Tamaki has a dorm. A very expensive one, but a dorm. It has to be a thing for the *star* S t o r y *star*
-This one is very comedic because I enjoy that part of the show, but I’m open to making a more serious one and I probably will later on. But for now, have this masterpiece that I wrote in like 5 minutes at an unreasonably late hour because I thought it was funny
-
You had been in the host club for a while now. Long enough to know when Tamaki was upset with something. I mean, it’s not like he made it all that difficult. His emotions were so over the top, they were kind of hard not to notice.
Still, this seemed to be lasting longer than any of his normal outbursts. It was also…different. It wasn’t the normal sadness at Haruhi’s blatant rejections, nor was it an anger-filled outburst at the twins. Rather, it seemed like a silent debate in his head that was now spanning over days. It was still just as dramatic, to be sure. He would sit in his chair in a classic thinking position, seeming bothered by something as his eyes switched between different parts of the room.
Even then, something was different, and you and the rest of the club noticed it right away. This new mood seemed to be more...genuine. When he wasn’t sitting in his chair, this look of being lost in thought still followed him around. He was even beginning to space out at times.
So much so that it became a problem. A problem that found its home in your lap when Kyoya called you over one day.
“Tamaki is having a focus problem. It’s causing fewer guests to enjoy seeing him. Which means less profit for the club.” He said, pushing his glasses up slightly before returning to his keyboard. “You have to speak to him about it.”
“Me?” you asked, surprised. “Why on earth do I have to do it?”
“Because you’re the closest to him out of anyone. He listens to you more than he does the rest of us.” Kyoya stops typing for a moment to look up at you. “You haven’t noticed?”
Well, no. You hadn’t. You always assumed his favorite member was Haruhi, based on the special treatment he always gave her. Also because, I don't know, he was clearly in love with her and had said so more than once? Just a thought.
As stupid as it seemed, you knew you couldn’t change Kyoya’s mind. No one could. That being said, it was now your job to ask Tamaki about his odd behavior and find a way to fix this.
Of course, you had to find him first.
You must’ve spent an eternity looking for him in the expansive wasteland that was music room 3. You even discovered more new doors and areas you had no clue existed before that point. Eventually, while you were searching the pantry, Honey poked his head around the doorway.
“Hey!” he shouted while smiling wide. You jumped a bit, before speaking. “Oh, hello honey-senpai!”
“Are there any snacks in here?” He asked, looking at the close to empty pantry cabinets.
“Ah, nothing you'd be all that interested in, sorry. Looks like we’ll need to restock,” you say, trying your best not to upset him. He looks heartbroken before he starts to walk away in defeat, tightly squeezing his Usa-Chan to his chest. Poor Honey senpai. Whatever will he do?
Just before he walks away, you think to ask, “Wait, Honey-Senpai!” He lifts his head to look back at you. “Do you know where Tamaki is?” Honey vigorously shakes his head before going back to sulking. A dead end.
Just then, Mori comes over and sweeps up Honey to put on his shoulders. “I saw Tamaki walk out of the club earlier today.” Mori said bluntly, before walking off with honey asleep on his shoulders.
Ah, finally, a lead in the case of the missing Tamaki! Still, even if he did leave the music room, where else in this gigantic school could he be? Well, you’d better get to work looking.
So, you began sweeping the school, searching for any sign of where he could’ve gone. Just as you were turning the corner to the library, you almost ran headfirst into Haruhi.
“Woah! Sorry, Haruhi!” You apologized, laughing slightly as you took a step or two backward.
“No- It’s ok! Don’t worry about it.” Haruhi said, reorganizing the papers that were on her stack of books. “What are you doing over here, anyway? I didn’t think any of you actually wanted to study.”
I mean… She wasn’t wrong. Everyone there seemed to despise the thought of actually doing anything school-related and while that wasn’t exactly where you were at, who likes to study?
“Actually, I’m looking for Tamaki. Have you seen him?” you asked, hoping that his obsession with Haruhi might mean that he told her what he was doing.
“Oh, so that’s what you’re doing.” Haruhi sighed having this “of course.” moment in her brain. “Well, I did pass him on my way here. I’m surprised he wasn’t just following me around like a total creepy stalker.” Something that, based on Haruhi's uncomfortable reaction, had definitely happened before. She seemed to shake it off before continuing “Anyway, he didn’t tell me where he was going, but he was headed straight towards where the dorms are, I think.”
Facepalm. Of course, why wasn’t that the first place you checked? Anyway, you ended up running back to the other side of the school and into the area where the dorms were.
You didn’t even hesitate. You knew exactly which dorm was his, whether it be from your impeccable memory or the overly decorated door, covered with delicate white and gold ribbons and a mixture of roses. Or maybe it was the gold nameplate that read “René Tamaki Richard de Grantaine” that was attached to the front of his door.
Whatever it was, you knocked firmly on the door. There was nothing.
Slightly confused, you clicked open the door handle and pushed open the door. You found that the entire inside of the dorm was decorated in the same way the outside had been. Roses and ribbon laced the edges of tables and countertops. Overall, it was a huge spectacle. What else were you going to expect from Tamaki?
Speaking of Tamaki, he was there all right. He was at the top of a hanging bed that had been placed front and center- and was just about the showiest thing in the entire room. He was spinning a glass of non-alcoholic child-friendly red beverage in a wine glass, clearly still deep in his head as he hardly seemed to notice you walk in. On top of all of this, he was shirtless.
Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him at first, but then you had to bring yourself back down again. After all, you decided you would stop pursuing him after you realized he showed interest in Haruhi. You were just here to talk to him, that was all.
“Oh- (Y/N)- Hello!” Tamaki rolled onto his stomach to look down at you. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
Clearly.
“Here, let me get down.” He grabbed a small remote and clicked a button that caused his entire bed to lower from the ceiling.
“I’d be more than happy to- Wait, why are you here again?” He asked. You let out a long disappointed sigh before saying “Kyoya sent me to talk to you.”
“Kyoya? Why?” he asked, cocking his head slightly.
“Well,” you began. “You’ve been off as hell. You’re always swallowed in thought, what’s wrong with you lately?”
“Aw, you came all the way here to talk to me because you were worried?” Tamaki seemed to tease you.
Actually, Kyoya sent you, as you’d said. Then again, he wasn’t wrong. After watching the king of the host club fumble over his thoughts and not be at the top of his game for once, you couldn’t help but at least be a little worried about him.
“Well then,” Tamaki took your hand and pulled you closer to him, while also putting his other hand around your waist. “Fear not, darling, as I am perfectly fine. It’s merely a bump in the road of the journey my soul is taking on its way to finding love.”
He then let go of you and turned around “I’ve had a realization recently is all.”
Damn superficial charm! Why? Why did that work?
You attempted to shrug it off as you asked him “Well, what is it?”
“Ah.” he froze for a minute. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask me that.”
He turned around with a gentle smile on his face. All that work you had done to keep your heart rate down was all for nothing as it slowly sped up again.
“You see, the inner workings of one's heart is such a difficult thing to understand. Even my own, sometimes.”
He sat back on his bed and crossed his legs. “I think that’s why it took me so long to understand. I didn’t know what it was at first.” he looked up slightly.
“I was so convinced that I loved Haruhi that I forgot about my other options. Some that I never even thought possible, but…” He pauses before swiftly standing up and gently placing his hand on your cheek. “Then you showed up.”
He softly runs the back of his knuckles down your face before pulling away. “I never thought this kind of love was possible for me to have for another man,” he said, slightly turning away from you. “But, for you, anything seems possible.”
“You’re even more beautiful than any flower that has ever crossed my path, and this feeling you give me…” he does the classic actor move where he pulls away and blocks his arm with his face. “It must be what true love really feels like!”
This exactly is like watching a stage play. Better let him finish.
“So now I ask you, Y/N…” he turns back to you and takes your hand in his. He gets on one knee and kisses your hand before pleading “Please, be My Prince!”
“Wow, that was… Quite the confession.” You say, still stunned from all of that B R I L L I E N C E.
Yet again, I ask, what else do you expect from Tamaki?
#tamaki suoh#tamaki suoh x reader#ouran host club#ouran tamaki#ouran high school host club#ouran tamaki x reader#anime
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Dream VS. Dream | JAEMIN VS. TAEHEE
taehee scribbles each question she came up with down on the white paper, easily copying the ones she had prepared beforehand from her phone.
she makes eye contact with jaemin from across the set and gives him a playful wink, eliciting an enthusiastic reaction from the latter, “YEAHHH! SEXY!”
taehee finishes a few seconds before jaemin does and she looks to the camera to say that she came prepared. “i think i was too excited for filming this kind of content,” she giggles, “so i prepared them beforehand even if i didn’t know who i was gonna be with, but i changed some questions so jaeminie could answer.”
“it’s a mix of hard and easy questions,” taehee explains, yet her tone was unsure. “but jaemin-ssi is observant,” she nods, playing with the strings of her top, “and attentive, so i think he’ll get these right.”
“hello, jaemin-ssi,” she politely bows once they were both seated in front of each other, “what brings you here today?”
jaemin snorts, “what brings me here today?” taehee nods, anticipating a ‘jaemin’ kind of answer from him. “i was just passing by,” he says calmly, “being sexy.”
“ohh, being sexy?” taehee repeats, “you’re doing great so far.” jaemin lets out another chuckle before asking the same question she asked him, “how about you, miss jeon taehee? what brings you here today?”
“oh i’m a reporter,” she tells him, and jaemin’s mouth forms into an ‘o’, “i report what’s on-set. this is the interview portion and i’m holding my cue cards.”
“are you only interviewing me?” “yes, i’m only interviewing you.” “i feel special then,” jaemin shrugs proudly, showing his pearly white teeth at the camera.
“ladies first.” “okay, i’ll start with an easy one — what is my favorite ice cream flavor?” taehee raises both brows, expecting jaemin to get it right away yet he says, “easy, mint choco.” a short laugh escapes her as she shakes her head, “no? mango? no also… is this a flavor from baskin robbin’s?” the disbelieving grins they have on each of their faces begin to match, “jaemin-ah!” “it is mint choco!” “no!”
“jaemin,” she says, tone serious but the smile on her face says otherwise, “just think simply.” one, two, three seconds pass…. “cookies and cream?” “good job!” jaemin finally chuckles in relief, “how can i not get that?” she clicks her tongue at him, “right?”
“what was the first menu we had together?” she asks next, and jaemin decides to think a lot longer before answering, “it was in 2019, right?” taehee nods, “ah, tangsuyuk!”
“it’s funny how you remember that because we only ate together like.. twice,” she giggles.
“next one!” jaemin says in english, causing taehee to giggle at his adorableness. “which of your things do i want to have?” his eyes widen, “which of my things do you want to have?” “mhmm.” “can you give me a hint?” she bites the inside of her cheek before answering, “you bring this to set.. or like every time we travel or go out.” jaemin’s eyes light up as he answered, “ahh camera! i remember you telling me now, yeah.”
“jaemin’s really good at taking pictures,” taehee tells the camera, “he takes them so well, and then you’re good at editing too.” jaemin could only smile at her and nod, feeling wholesome at her shower of compliments.
“i like taking pictures of you the most,” he tells her, surprising taehee. “really?” a soft hum sounds out of him, “and you don’t really take pictures of yourself, noona... you should take more pictures of yourself, you’re pretty.” “alright~” taehee brushes him off with a playful roll of her eyes, hiding the fact that she was feeling shy with his nice words, “okay, next question!”
“this one’s fill in the blanks,” she gives him a short glance before proceeding, “i wish jaemin was my ... blank.” he tilts his head to the left, thinking, “i wish jaemin was my blank. i have no clue.”
“think of this,” taehee decides to give him a hint, “you’re caring. you take care of the members really well. you’re a good hyung and a good cook!” jaemin titters for a short while, before a blank expression dawns over his features as he shakes his head, “i still don’t know.”
“older brother,” taehee tells him, putting the piece of paper behind the rest of her stack. jaemin’s brows raise in surprise, “really?” he hears a positive hum out of her, “i don’t know if it was jisung or someone else, but i told them, ‘jaeminie would be a good older brother’ and they said, ‘why not me?’“ they both laugh at that, it was definitely jisung.
“i can be your older brother starting now,” he tells her. “are you serious?” “yeah but you have to call me ‘oppa’,” a giggle escapes jaemin at the way taehee freezes, watching her resume to fiddling with the papers in her hands, “ahh... it comes with that.”
“okay, last question!” taehee laughs before she could even get her sentence out, “what did i recently buy?” the younger boy’s eyes drift across the set as he repeated her question, mumbling.
“ah!” he exclaims after a few seconds, his eyes crinkling as he laughed, “a turtle! rocky!” his chuckles were contagious, and taehee finds herself cracking up at the memory. “noona and i were sent to buy take out for the team,” jaemin starts, “so i waited in the car, but noona wanted to come out so she did and went in the same direction as our manager.” this is the part where taehee starts hiding her giggles with her palm, “when manager noona came back, alone, i went, ‘huh? where’s taehee noona?’ and then she comes by a few minutes later from the opposite direction with a turtle!”
“as soon as she went inside the car, she said, ‘everyone, meet rocky!’ and our manager went,” he widens his eyes into a pointed stare, his mouth going agape as he imitated their manager’s expression. you could hear taehee’s as well as jisung’s laughs from off-screen. “and you said, ‘that is definitely not food!’” taehee adds.
"what came into your mind that made you decide to buy a turtle?” jaemin grins, looking at the latter with amusement in his eyes. “you know how taeyong hyung has an aquarium in their dorm?” she answers him, “it’s nice to look at and i thought our dorm can have something like that too.”
“so jaemin got everything correct—” “i think i only got four though.” “let’s just say you got everything correct,” she brushes him off quickly with her hand, chuckling, “so now it’s jaemin’s turn to ask!”
“what’s the most recent item i purchased?” he throws at her, and taehee subtly sighs as she looked off set, thinking. “speaker?” she answers unsure, but jaemin’s smile tells her she’s correct before they proceed with the next question.
“how many speakers do i have?” taehee brings both hands to her chest as she tells him excitedly, “i know this! i remember counting it in your room!” jaemin chuckles at her cuteness, “so do you remember?” “wait, give me a moment.”
taehee taps her feet on the floor as she fidgets. “speakers come in pairs, right?” she asks him, “are they all by pairs?” jaemin shakes his head, “nope, not all.”
“mm, including the ones you bought yesterday.. six?” taehee’s eyes light up with hopefulness, making jaemin’s smile grow wider at her enthusiasm, but he shakes his head again. “ten?” her eyes widen when he tells her she’s correct, before furrowing her brows at the number. “why do you need ten speakers? wouldn’t you hear anything outside if you have that many?” jaemin laughs, “no, for the surround system, i need it.” “ahh,” she nods understandingly, “that’s cool.”
“for editing photos, which device do i use?” “the computer! imac!” “there’s more,” he tells her. “imac.. ipad?” she raises a brow, continuing when she sees jaemin nod. “imac, ipad, i... phone!” taehee shouts victoriously, “iphone, your phone. right?” he grins at her proudly, “you’re getting so much right. good job.”
“what’s my favorite color?” he asks, expecting she’d get this question right. “black,” he shakes his head no. “white,” nope. “you don’t seem like a blue type of person though... pink?” jaemin laughs, “noona! this is super easy!”
“mint hoodie—” “nope!” “that wasn’t an answer! i was just pointing it out,” he chuckles at her blatant excuse, deciding to give her a hint. “noona,” jaemin drops his head down to the floor before facing her with a serious gaze, “you’re holding it right now.” she flips her own stack of papers quickly and grins, “yellow! i was just about to say that, you should’ve waited for me. talent takes time, jaeminie.” the younger boy snorts, “getting answers right isn’t a talent.”
“what is my favorite dog breed?” she finds the fourth question the hardest so far, “there are lots of dog breeds out there!” jaemin starts to look around the set and call a member out, “jeno! where’s jeno? i’m sure jeno knows.” taehee’s mouth closes and opens like a fish out of water until she stops and gives him a sarcastic look, “do i look like jeno to you?” (jisung, from off the screen, laughs loudly at this.)
“jeno knows it the best,” he tells her. a small pout appears on taehee’s face yet it disappears in a split second, starting to shuffle the papers in between her hands, “i gave you questions that had you in it and you give me a question jeno knows best, huh.” jaemin laughs at the scoff that leaves taehee afterwards. he shakes his head softly, “he knows it best because it looks like him.” taehee blinks two or three more times before she gets it right, “ah, samoyed! it’s a samoyed.”
“i didn’t know that about you,” she mentions, “do you like it because it looks like jeno?” a short laugh escapes jaemin at her question, but he answers her simply with, “i just like it. it’s cute.”
“what game do i play these days?” taehee points her finger to him, “you play with haechan, yeah? apex.” an evil-sounding laugh comes out of jaemin knowing that she wouldn’t get this question so easily, “no? pubg.” “nope.” “okay then, is it on the phone or on the computer?” he shakes his head at her, “if i tell you, you’d get it right away. it’s not on both.”
taehee hums, “rock, paper, scissors?” he gives her another sly hint, “no, think of a nonsensical answer.” she clicks her tongue, “don’t break the ice.”
jaemin throws his head back with a laugh, before telling her the answer, “none.” he says that with such finality that taehee looks to the side in faux annoyance, tongue brushing against the side of her cheek, much to the amusement of the latter. “it’s so fun, right?” jaemin teases, “next one... i do not have it, so taehee noona got everything right in a sense.” taehee nods with him, leaning back and looking at the camera, “right, jaemin got everything correct too.”
“we actually know each other so well,” she says, glancing towards jaemin as he agrees with her, “this was a piece of cake.” she starts to get on her feet while the other does the same, putting their hands out for a polite handshake at the end of the video.
taehee tries to put an arm around the taller boy, chuckling for a bit when she had to tiptoe to reach his height. she doesn’t notice the grin jaemin sports because of this, “we’ll continue to know more about each other in the future.. and eat together more often! we should eat together more often.” she meets jaemin’s adoring gaze when she faces him, and so she grabs him by the elbow and starts leading them both off-set, “thank you!” “dream vs. dream, bye bye!”
#taeheecut#s.minhee#nct#nct 127#nct dream#nct u#wayv#nct imagines#nct blurbs#nct scenarios#nct reactions#nct drabbles#nct au#nct fluff#nct angst#nct x reader#nct female member#nct female addition#kpop female addition#kpop female oc#jaemin imagines
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