#regardless of whether or not he realizes it.
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Eddie is hot-wiring the RV when he should have noticed. The signs were there, clear as day. If only he had paid attention then.
The air is musky and unfamiliar — it smells like other people.
Like something stolen.
Steve asks him where he learned how to hot-wire as he leans over Eddie’s shoulder.
Eddie’s movements are hurried as he cuts the wires and strips them to expose the copper within.
Steve is still wearing Eddie’s jean jacket over his naked torso and leans in closely. Eddie can feel the heat of his skin settle in the leather of his jacket and it seeps into his skin like ink on paper.
The RV smells familiar, like when he was younger and his dad took him along, teaching him how to steal a car. The smell of copper meeting copper.
Nostalgia. But not in a good way.
Steve is not backing off, not even after Eddie shoots back an uncomfortable fact about his negligent father. In fact, Robin joins in on the fun. She leans over Steve, looking worried as she asks whether Eddie will be the one driving.
Eddie feels antsy and needs something to take the edge off. Maybe a smoke. But there is no time right now. The thrill of messing with someone is the next best thing.
He knows an opportunity when he sees one and turns his head.
“Steve’s got her” – Eddie leans in close, his breath hot on Steve’s cheek – “Don’t you, big boy?”
A playful smile.
Every normal person would have pulled back by now, but Steve remains unmoved. He regards him with dark eyes and dark lashes. There is no betrayal of emotion. No betrayal of anything amiss.
He doesn’t even flinch.
***
The second time it happens they are hanging out at Robin’s house while her parents are out of town.
It’s a strange mix of company, consisting mostly of people from band. Eddie recognizes some of them, although he doesn’t know them by name. Music is music, regardless of whether you are in the school band or play in an actual band – although the latter is way cooler, obviously – and Eddie finds himself actually enjoying the company of some of them.
Eddie realizes he rambles too much when his mouth runs dry. He takes a final sip from his beer, crumples the can, and makes his way to the kitchen with a swagger in his step.
The kitchen is semi-crowded and Eddie spots an untouched six-pack on the kitchen counter. As he pulls out a can, he feels a weight settles next to him. Eddie turns, beer in hand, and leans against the counter.
He realizes it is Steve.
Steve acknowledges him with a simple nod and Eddie raises his unopened beer to him in a silent toast.
He side-eyes Steve as he cracks open his beer, the hiss loud in his hands.
Steve’s presence is like a loose thread and Eddie feels the irresistible urge to pick at it.
To elicit a reaction.
To make Steve squirm.
He leans in closer until his shoulder is pressed against Steve's and their thighs touch.
Eddie fidgets with the can lip as he waits for the inevitable reaction of uneasiness. It usually doesn’t take long.
Steve remains still.
Eddie shifts his weight, pressing himself closer to Steve’s side.
This was his little game and he always won. For more than a year now, Eddie had been the undisputed king of personal space invasion.
There was something so empowering – so utterly bone-tingling – about the way people’s shoulders would grow tense, how they shifted to create some distance without making it seem intentional.
Eddie reveled in it.
Steve casually sips his beer, seemingly unaware of the fact that they are too fucking close. He takes his sweet time staring through the open kitchen door into the living room.
Taking in the people around him.
Totally, utterly unaffected.
Eddie taps his foot on the floor as he feels himself grow restless. He can’t believe Steve is so oblivious — or maybe he is fine with it — but there is no way he can’t notice that the way they are standing is just…not normal.
The music seems to synchronize with his thoughts.
He is about to lose his own game if Steve doesn’t move soon.
“Steve!” Robin bursts into the kitchen.
Her dark-lined eyes are wide and she looks flustered as she makes her way over to Steve’s side.
Eddie thinks she looks pretty cute, although a bit of an odd match for Steve. He had always figured someone like Steve would end up with a cheerleader or some perfectly prissy blonde. Robin is a little nerdy, her style bordering on alternative, and she is anything but prissy. Eddie would go as far as to call her a decent choice.
But Robin just didn’t suit Steve in a way Eddie could hardly put his finger on.
Steve shifts his weight and leans more towards Robin.
Eddie feels his shoulders tense in a way that has nothing to do with the fact he is about to become the once-defeated king of personal space invasion.
Absolutely not.
Robin casts Eddie a quick look before making up her mind and then the floodgates open. She is whispering at such a rate, Eddie would be surprised if she was speaking English at all. He catches bits and pieces. A name. Ricky ?
He drums his fingers along his beer as he tries not to focus on the fact that, due to Steve’s turning, his ass is currently brushing against Eddie’s thigh with every small movement he makes.
Only when Robin pulls Steve to the living room does Eddie feel like he can breathe again.
Eddie realizes Steve is a tough nut to crack.
***
Robin insists Eddie must join them for movie night.
Somehow, Eddie has become a third to the dynamic duo — although he has a feeling he’ll never get as close to either Robin or Steve as they are to each other.
They aren’t dating, Robin told him — insisted on it — when he had made the assumption, and somehow Eddie likes that.
He likes the fact that Steve and Robin are just friends. It makes him feel like he fits in better, even if it will never be at that level.
That’s fine with Eddie.
He’s not a close-friendship kinda guy anyway. He has friends for D&D, friends from the band, and now he also has friends with whom he shares a strange supernatural trauma.
Each in its own little corner, as all things should be.
Although his relationship with Robin is far better than that with Steve, he wouldn’t say they are on bad terms. He just feels very… judged by Steve. And it may have something to do with the way he dresses — the polar opposite of Steve — all black leather, ripped jeans, and silver.
Or the fact that Dustin apparently won’t stop talking about him and Eddie is pretty sure it makes Steve jealous.
Robin and Steve work at Family Video. It’s strangely adorable, the idea that these two idiots even work together. It’s hard to believe they aren’t dating, but whatever floats their boat. Eddie wouldn’t be surprised to be invited to their platonic spring wedding.
They’re weird like that.
Family Video comes with a nice bonus; they can take the new arrivals home once the store closes for the night. It's a neat perk of the job, Eddie supposes, although he isn’t much of a film guy. He sometimes watches them for inspiration when it comes to a new D&D campaign, but good films are far and few between when it comes to his tastes.
When Eddie walks up to the house, one of Steve’s neighbors eyes him suspiciously and Eddie resists the urge to flip her off. Instead, he balls his firsts and stomps a little more aggressively towards the door, hoping it will make the lady clutch her pearls.
Hawkins is a small town and people talk.
Steve’s fancy little neighborhood is even smaller.
“Hey, man.” Steve opens the door and steps aside to let him through.
“He’s finally here?” Eddie hears Robin call from somewhere in the house.
Steve asks if he wants a beer and leaves for what is presumably the kitchen. Eddie is left alone and looks around the living room. It is large, but only the three-seat sofa faces the TV. Besides that, there are two chairs facing the seating area and Eddie finds it an absurd amount of sitting surface for a family of three.
Eddie sits on one side of the sofa and plays with the rings on his fingers as he waits for either Robin or Steve to return. The silver skull disappears and reappears maybe five times before Robin walks in carrying a bag. Only a moment later Steve returns with three bottles of beer. The good stuff, Eddie notes. Not whatever has to pass for beer back at the trailer.
Robin empties the bag on the floor in front of the TV and rummages through some VHS tapes, holding them up while Steve comments.
“We’ve seen that one last week — I can’t stand to see her face again — Fine, fine, let’s go with that one.”
Eddie is fine with anything because he will most likely think it's trash anyway — especially if Steve has a say in it.
Steve lets himself fall in the middle of the sofa while Robin works on the VHS player. Eddie feels like there is plenty of room on the other side of the sofa where Robin will take her seat and he wonders if Steve is challenging him for his title as King of Personal Space Invasion.
Such a greedy boy, Eddie thinks. After all, Steve already had one ‘king’ title to his name and he should leave some for the rest of them.
“Have you heard of this one yet?” Steve asks as he slings his arms over the back of the couch. Eddie feels the ghost of his hand linger behind his neck. Steve is playing on the offensive here and Eddie feels himself growing flustered.
“Remind me what this abomination is called again?”
Steve scoffs in disagreement with Eddie’s assessment. “Ferris Bueller’s day off. Right up your alley.”
“And why is that?”
“It’s about a guy playing hooky. I recall missing you from class every now and then.” Steve gives him a knowing smile.
Robin joins them on the sofa. She rests her back on the armrest with her legs against Steve’s thighs. She probably doesn’t realize that she is effectively pressing Steve further into Eddie.
“Oh, you recall huh? I didn’t know I was disappointing my fans,” Eddie tries to keep his tone light and shifts in his seat.
Steve responds with a small chuckle but any further responses are drowned out by the sound of the movie starting.
Eddie can’t seem to make himself comfortable and he feels it has everything to do with Harrington’s startling audacity to be so physically present. Around the halfway point of the movie, Robin moves herself in a lying position with her legs over Steve’s lap. Eddie looks down on her socked feet as they move mindlessly in tune with the soundtrack.
In some ways, Ferris Bueller reminds Eddie of Steve with his floppy hair, enigmatic personality, and the way everything just works out for him.
Perfect Ferris with his stupidly gorgeous girlfriend.
The place where his thigh touches Steve itches for him to move it, but Eddie keeps still. Eddie is cool, he can handle this.
This. Whatever Steve is doing.
That is until he feels Steve’s hand droop down from the backrest and settles itself in his neck. Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat, a soft gasp escapes his lips — too soft to hear.
Unless you sat currently plastered to his side, that is.
From the corner of his eye, Eddie can see Steve shoot him a curious glance.
There is no way Steve doesn’t know what he is doing.
No way.
***
Eddie squats down in front of the sci-fi wall. He does this more often now — hanging out at Family Video when Steve and Robin are working.
Whenever he’s bored or has nothing better to do, he somehow finds himself there.
He sometimes wonders if he’s imposing himself. Inserting himself into their friendship.
But both Robin and Steve greet him with smiles.
They welcome him into their little world and it makes Eddie a little weak.
Eddie is used to feeling unwanted. An outsider. A freak. This type of friendship is new to him and he hasn’t been able to give it a proper place in his mind yet — like a fresh layer of paint still sticky to the touch.
He goes there often.
He’s there so often that people sometimes confuse him for an employee, asking him questions about where to find stuff. Eddie always points them in the wrong direction, even though by now he knows the shop by heart.
Mainstream films are always displayed at eye height. Easy to reach — it’s what most people come here for. But not Eddie. Those types of films hardly interest him, even though he will watch them with Robin and Steve during their movie nights ( Our movie nights). He does so because they like it and he likes their company.
The good stuff is always at the bottom.
He feels Steve before he hears him — the weight of his legs on Eddie’s back.
Steve starts restocking above him and Eddie’s mind is screaming. Steve has no regard for the fact that Eddie had been there first. He stocks the shelf, reaching over Eddie’s head.
Leaning his weight into him.
Steve’s proximity makes Eddie nervous. Makes the necks of his hair stand up on end.
It makes him crave more. But that’s a thought he shoves away, deep.
On the small TV from the ceiling, Back to the Future is playing and Eddie can hear Marty McFly declare, “Nobody calls me a chicken!”
Eddie won’t be a chicken either.
***
It's unbearably hot, and Eddie is certain he'll perish if he stays another second in Wayne's trailer. The insulation is poor, and the metal shell traps the punishing heat of the heatwave, making it impossible for even the coolness of the night to offer any relief.
Eddie hasn’t slept well for days.
He is fanning himself with a trashy magazine when the phone rings and it’s Steve’s voice on the other end.
Steve’s parents have air conditioning and a pool and Eddie would be an idiot to refuse an invitation to a Harrington-exclusive pool party.
He arrives at Steve’s house wearing a Dio shirt over his swimming trunks. Style be damned, Eddie just wants to have the least amount of layers to shed before he can hit the pool.
Steve’s garden is big. The pool is big. It smells like chlorine and sunscreen and the sound of loud splashing echoos against the house.
Lucas and Dustin are in some sort of competition to see who can drown who the fastest. Max and El are cheering them on, although Max seems much more invested in Dustin’s untimely death than El, who is cheering for them both from the side of the pool.
On one of the sun chairs, Mike and Will are huddled together — hair wet and knees pressed together. They are reading a comic of some sort, discussing it in hushed voices. They don’t seem the types for rough-housing. Of the boys he knew, Mike always seemed the most reserved.
And a bit cranky, though less so now that Will and El were back in Hawkins.
Next to them, Robin rubs sunscreen on herself. She’s pale and freckled — the type of skin that burns easily. Eddie is the same, pale but without the freckles. He should probably mooch some off her soon.
Sunlight is bad for tattoos.
“You runnin’ a daycare here, Harrington?” Eddie greets as he saunters into the backyard.
He doesn’t ring the bell, not anymore. He’s been over at Steve’s house a couple of times now and the backdoor is always unlocked.
Steve sits in a hammock, dressed in swimming trunks and reading a magazine with a car on the front. He looks up when he hears Eddie and unapologetically smiles at him.
“Eddie!” Dustin calls out when he notices him. He tries to swim to the edge of the pool but is promptly intercepted and tackled by Lucas. While Dustin is busy drowning, Eddie loses his shirt and shoes. The moment the boy rears his curly head above water, Eddie launches himself in front of them, splashing water in their eyes.
Dustin shrieks, wiping at his eyes and Lucas releases him in the violence of Eddie’s attack.
“You little shitheads better swim fast.” Eddie grins as Lucas and Dustin scatter in the pool.
Eddie finally feels cool after three full days of overheating.
“I should’ve come here sooner,” Eddie says, hair dripping wet, as he sits at the other end of the hammock. Steve protests as Eddie’s feet hit his magazine.
“You’re dripping all over my read, dude!”
Steve’s frowns at him, but in a way that he doesn’t really mean it. Eddie sees him do it to the kids as well when they’re pushing boundaries.
Like Steve should be mad, but he actually finds it humorous.
They’re a tangle of legs and the hammock hangs low to the ground. It’s not made for two adult men, Eddie knows, but it feels more fun this way.
Besides his precious car mag, Steve doesn’t comment on it. He settles comfortably and continues reading, even when Eddie’s water-streaked legs poke him in his side.
Steve only swats at Eddie’s feet when he pushes the magazine closed. The silence between them is comfortable and only intercepted by the endless squabbling of the kids.
When the sun sinks behind the trees, Steve leaves the hammock to fire up the grill.
Eddie watches lazily as Steve puts an apron over his naked torso and swimming trunks. He ties the apron over the hollow of his back. Warm skin, slightly tanned, with a little mole to the left.
“Quit drooling, dingus.” Robin settles herself in Steve’s old place.
“I wasn’t—”
“Right.” Robin smiles at him and it's so gentle that Eddie forgets to be snarky. The hammock swings slightly from Robin’s addition, but it doesn’t drip as deep as when Steve sat there.
They all eat together. All the kids, Steve, Robin, and Eddie.
A strange feeling settles in Eddie’s heart as he looks around him.
This must be what family is supposed to feel like.
Safe. Comfortable.
Belonging.
“You can stay the night,” Steve says once they’re back in the hammock. Dusk has settled in and Eddie can only barely make out the expression on Steve's face.
Around him, the sound of crickets embraces the night and their skin smells like citronella to ward off mosquitos.
Nancy and Jonathan had picked up the kids. Only Robin remained, but she had since claimed the guest room.
The air is still warm, but Steve’s legs against his own are warmer. Eddie looks up at the sky where stars linger in the violet absence of the sun.
“We could stay out here.” Eddie stretches his arms behind his head. “Anything better than the trailer.”
“Hold on.”
Steve ungracefully lifts himself from the hammock, leaving it to swing in its wake.
He returns with a light blanket and settles himself back in the hammock. Legs entangling once more before he throws it over the both of them.
Eddie pokes Steve’s cheek with his toe and unsurprisingly, Steve has no reaction to it. It seems that way no matter what Eddie does.
“You ever slept out here before?” Eddie asks while he settles his foot back at Steve’s side.
“When I was a kid,” Steve begins, “I sometimes build a little tent in the garden from cushions and the like. My parents allowed me to sleep there in the summer if it was warm enough. It’d be covered in mosquito bites the next morning, but it felt like an adventure.” Eddie hears Steve’s smile in his voice.
“Sucks to be a mosquito tonight. We smell like shit,” Eddie quips. The lemony smell of citronella is piercing and it sears itself into his memory as much as it does his skin.
Steve nudges his leg into Eddie’s. The hairs of it tickle his skin.
“You ever slept outside?”
“Hm…once a few years back. Got in a fight with Wayne and trailers aren’t very big. I walked out and slept by a tree. The next morning when I walked back I saw a snake coiled up on the ground with a footstep in it. Made me never want to sleep outside again.” Eddie chuckles.
“Shit, a snake?”
“Not a venomous one.”
“Did you step on it?”
“I think so. Poor fucker.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t sleep out here then,” Steve says. In the darkness Eddie can see him turn his head to scan the ground, looking for snakes presumably.
Eddie follows Steve upstairs. He didn’t bring a change of clothes as he didn’t anticipate staying.
He has never been in Steve’s room before and he takes a moment to take in.
The plaid walls with matching drapes, the framed picture of a car on the wall — It’s like Steve's parents bought his room straight from a folder and Steve’s absence from it feels loud.
Hideously impersonal.
Not at all like Steve.
“Robin has the guest room. That only leaves the couch, but trust me, it will break your back—” Steve says as he clears some clothes off his bed. “ — so I thought we could share. It will be a bit of a tight squeeze…” Steve looks at the bed with his hands on his hips.
Eddie knows he should take the couch. It would be the polite thing to do. The problem is, Eddie hasn’t been polite since he was seven.
“Yeah, sure.” Eddie tries to keep his tone cool.
This is like playing chicken on steroids. But maybe this will be the moment Eddie can finally win from the unflappable Steve.
Steve turns back to Eddie and gives him a once-over.
Suddenly, he feels very naked, standing there in just his swimwear. Steve nods to himself, coming to a silent conclusion as he turns to his drawers.
“Here.” He hands Eddie a pair of boxers. “For sleeping.”
Eddie takes them, grateful, but it's also kinda fucking weird to be wearing Steve’s boxers.
“I’m gonna hit the shower real quick. There’s another bathroom down the hall. You can just take one of the towels. I’ll show you.”
Hot water hits Eddie’s skin and he closes his eyes as the scent of Citronella slowly dilutes until it’s gone altogether.
He – Eddie freaking Munson — would be sharing a bed with Steve Harrington. Wasn’t that a wild thought? Definitely not something he’d imagined when he sat at the back of the class, three years prior, staring at the back of Steve’s perfect hair.
Neither had he thought that Steve would be immune to his little proximity game.
Nor that Eddie could grow to tolerate Steve’s — or maybe even grow to like it.
Life is a fucking riot.
When he walks back into Steve’s room, clad in baby-blue cotton boxers, Steve is already in bed. When he hears Eddie enter, he scoots over, making space.
Eddie settles in beside him, on his back, staring at the ceiling.
“Good night, dude,” Steve says as he leans over Eddie to turn off the light. Eddie can smell his deodorant and unfamiliar shampoo, and Steve’s skin radiates heat where it touches him.
Eddie can feel his heartbeat in his throat. It thumps so insistently, he is sure Steve must feel the bed move with it. But if he does, he doesn’t show it.
Eddie turns to his side, facing away from Steve. When they’re both on their sides, the bed feels bigger, but that doesn’t stop the scent of it from engulfing him in a tight embrace. It smells like Steve.
Everywhere.
Clinging to his skin.
Sinking into his pores.
He can feel Steve shift behind him, moving his head closer to the shared pillow until he feels Steve’s nose in his neck and his arms against his back.
His breath hitches in his throat and Eddie tries not to make a sound when he feels Steve’s lips against his neck as he lets out a sleepy sigh.
Nobody calls me a chicken, he hears Marty McFly echo in his mind.
Eddie isn’t sure who is playing who right now.
Part 1 of 2 | AO3
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rewatched secret society and. the sheenkos do straight-up call chiro "son". no one else in the series does that. we hear skeleton king and mandarin and a few other villains call him "boy" but they specifically use the word "son". the narrative even calls attention to this, with chiro saying "don't call me son". we don't really see the sheenkos talk to anyone other than chiro and valeena, and they call them "son" and "daughter" respectively. we don't know if, idk, they call everyone familial names like that, but i find it odd that they specifically call chiro "son" while also calling valeena, their biological child, "daughter".
anyway my crackpot theory of "chiro is the secret youngest son of the sheenkos and therefore is valeena's little brother" has a little bit of weight to it.
#when ur parents are too busy training your older sister to be the perfect successor to an evil dictator to pay attention to you#i think chiro doesn't know the sheenkos are his real parents but like. he probably knows somewhere in his subconscious#he cries when he finds out theyre evil. he CRIES. theres gotta be some latent memories in there#regardless of whether or not he realizes it.#aughhhh i'm not usually an angst person but this is some good shit right here#HEY WAIT HE WATCHED HIS SISTER GET FUCKING INCINERATED RIGHT IN FROMT OF HIM#srmthfg
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simple thoughts on meta knight and gender euphoria
#kirby#meta knight#king dedede#bandana waddle dee#misc knights#rhyn's art#he’s so gender#i wanted to keep this concise but if i were to go into more depth with it#when i look in the mirror on any average day wearing any old outfit#i see myself. technically#i know that i'm there. i know it's me#but it feels so foreign and unfamiliar#and then other days i have the right sweater or the right combination of clothes#and i see myself. definitely#those moments make me so much happier#because sometimes i catch my reflection really quickly and have to do a double take when i realize i recognize the person staring back#in those moments i feel like everyone who looks at me sees the same person i do#regardless of whether or not they know anything about me#hope this is all comprehensive. i'm not very good at putting this into words
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Reminder: You can draw and write things that can't exist in real life.
You can draw a dog in space if you want to, and you don't owe anyone an explanation for why it's in space or how it can survive without a space suit.
You can draw perspective that doesn't make sense. Your art is allowed to defy reality and canon. You can change chronological rules, write crossovers that break spacetime, and make AUs that don't make sense without having to explain how or why. You can draw characters in nonsensical scenerios, doing things they'd never do and saying things they'd never say, and you don't have to apologize or justify yourself. You can draw heroes being unusually angsty and irredeemable villains being soft and cuddly with NO regard for whether it would "actually ever happen in the story"
You can do that if you want. You are allowed to.
#inspured by the time i wanted to draw Mr.Freeze in a tanktop and thought ''but he couldn’t survive like that! he HAS to be in his suit!!''#and then realized that i could draw him like that regardless of whether he could or couldnt exist like that in the show !!#reminders#friendly reminder#important#artists#writers#art appreciation#writerscommunity#artist relatable#art advice#writing advice
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That is true freedom.
(C3E40 || C3E76)
#critical role#criticalroleedit#laudna#laudna cr#fresh cut grass#fcg#gifs#*#*cr#*parallel#cr3#cr spoilers#r: laudna x fcg#scheduled#38m c3e40#3h41m c3e76#impossible to tell whether sam remembers that convo from ep 40 or not#but regardless i think it's very cool to hear fcg arrive at the same realization at their own pace#and to say that to his god in his own words because it's something he has an internal understanding of#This Show Is Very Neat!!!#can't believe this stuff isn't scripted. insanity
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do you think annabeth gave percy the side of the oreo with more or less creme when they were in the zoo transport?
#some people prefer the side with less right? but she wouldn't know at that point whether percy did#would she had given him whatever side she enjoyed more as a silent show of good faith and appreciation?#or would she have realized from his eating habits at that point which he would appreciate more and went with that#regardless of her own personal preference?#orrr would she have been twelve and taken the side she preferred. giving him the worse side?#or would she have taken her preferred side bc she knew by then that he really wouldn't care?#i think about this a lot#percabeth#annabeth chase#percy jackson#pjo
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I understand most people aren't very conscious of these things but gender is a huge, huge mode through which people connect to each other, especially in youth. (Think wanting to imitate gendered features, or participate in gendered activities together.) Yamato didn't have peers or a real parent to connect with, so it makes perfect sense he would connect with his hero through gender instead. To invalidate that is just insane to me.
What do people who do that think gender is.... no don't tell me, because if someone doesn't respect the language people choose for themselves, (and trust me, there have been and continue to be plenty of real people who describe their own trans experiences as "choosing to be x" whether you like it or not), I am not interested in anything they have to say on the subject. Yamato is a man!
#yamato#one piece#my posts#you either support gender liberation and autonomy or you don't. it is honest to god that simple hahaha#regardless of one's personal discomfort with people's “unclear” or “problematic” language! it's not anyone else's business!#and how a person reacts to yamato's clearly stated and untroubled gender identity says a lot about their ideas of gender.#whether they realize it or not.#I've seen a couple assholes but we're mostly past this discourse right. I'm not.. gonna get death threats or something..#i was just thinking of how gender is a social activity and how yamato substitutes his hero for what he should have had. it's sad :') but#also metal as hell. ok just decide that then. I love you.
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I wrote about this on discord a bit back but I think a big part of the whole doctor-master complication is that it's the type of argument and the master is the kind of person where they'd rather die than do something that might make it seem like conceding they're wrong, regardless what they actually think, and that's why "where I stand is where I fall. Stand with me" that almost works on Missy: She has made her move here, she killed him- made so he's dead when the other shoe drops- and he knows and acknowledges that and can offer her a way of coming near him and being on the same side without it being her side losing, saving face that she can join him in this. And the speech very much highlights how to the doctor it's never been about winning, always about harm to people and help to people, but I don't think the master is as affected by that as by the 'if you want to hold my hand now I can make it so it doesn't make you seem the fool for your past actions'.
#and thats how i think you get missy2 is that hes at a point where hes so exhausted with the role he stuck himself in w the master#he wants out but he would NEVER take the embarassment of changing his mind or his ways in public-#proving anyone else right all along? unthinkable- he instead concots some great last evil design#not sure whether its to gurantee some retirement from a position of dignity or to change his own timeline-#leaning second- but regardless its Very very much 'or die trying' (and have that peace)#and when 18 realizes she cant not just. her hearts are so squished by that. by seeing her friend treat himself like that#and if she foiled his plan before realizing this and now she needs him to step from the beink and not go down w his ship#and his tardis gets destroyed and. what is she gonna do. well obviously take him but what i mean is#when she takes him what do you expect her- to be all naggy and complicated about his morals?#ok maybe but shes gonna just let them both be messed up and trying to do better except when theyre not yknow#he can have little a murder as a treat. or. yknow. 'if youre gonna femme fatale please just do what my wife did and go behind my back'
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i gave you all i had, i did
day 5 : sacrifice ( from @adfaugust )
all he’s ever done, he did it for this family.
tyler’s long been used to hours of work with little reward, underpaid for hard labour and chalking it up to his family name. the world’s out to get him, he’s always known it, has been told so time and time again by the holt matriarch. and he knows better than anyone that sharon wouldn’t lie, has been an honest woman from the day she was born. if she ever was dishonest, it’s cause she had to be, cause she wasn’t given another option. but ma’s honest, gets her way through respect built from her steely and admirable nature. sharon, impossible not to respect with her fingers poised elegantly around a cigarette. lord knows tyler gladly picked up that habit for a few stolen seconds of her company. always wishing blindly to soak up her presence, as if it would somehow cure him of his own inferiority, childishness she frowned upon. he always feels adult standing next to her — ’cept for when he don’t, when he feels like he’s quakin’ in his boots just being near her. tells himself it’s because he loves her, because he can’t stand the thought of her coming to harm. knows that he’s her protector and that’s all he is, and for a holt, that’s a blessing. no higher honour than to be at sharon’s side, making sure their shitheel of a pa don’t try anything.
never strikes him that he might be thinking backwards, that the person he’s afraid of is the very person he loves the most. so wrapped around her finger he can’t see it for what it is, embraced into her perfumed storytelling, lies that sound like the truth, until tyler can’t help but believe in her. she’s his ma, and she needs him, everyone does. shoulders heavy burdens so she don’t have to, under the firm belief that he had a choice, but that no sane man would choose the other option.
what man would leave his ma to suffer all alone? none that are mannerly or polite, none that really care for her. tyler’s signed away his life, all twenty-five years of it thus far and whatever rest of it that cruel fate gives him. quickly revises the thought, since he oughta be grateful for what he has — the opportunity to be there for his ma, for his brothers.
still doesn’t stop the white-hot jealousy from bubbling up in a weary chest when he sees how easily dale and jay are awarded with ma’s attention. don’t know the last time she called him sweetheart — or if she ever has. keeps blindly charging forward, since he knows why dale’s got ma’s heart; no one could hate a face like that or deny him a thing. and jay… as much as he don’t contribute, as much as he ain’t really one of them ( as much as his sensitive nature is rewarded when tyler’s was long stamped outta him, told time and time again that he’s the eldest and real men gotta keep their upper lip stiff ) … sharon’s affectionate towards the golden boy because he reminds her of that sister of hers. that woman who got herself knocked up and imposed herself on her charitable sister, only to wind up dead and leaving her screaming kid behind for sharon to care for like he’s hers.
( and if tyler had to pick up those motherly responsibilities, it’s cause ma obviously couldn’t, not after her own sister had died, and no one could have expected her to be well enough to take care of a kid or her three-year-old and certainly not her seven-year-old little man, the nickname brooke gave him as she pinched a solemn cheek still ringing in his head — )
— but ain’t he the same as brooke, now? running off to save his own skin when dale’s … a sharp pain lancing through his chest, solid evidence of how he’s failed the family. still feels the sting on his cheek when ma told him clear as day — he ain’t got this, he wasn’t responsible enough, never good enough. and selfishly he wonders how long he has to sweat and toil for … her approval, but he’d never say that. sharon don’t give out praise that ain’t earned, and tyler never earned it a day in his life. no matter how hard he worked. no matter how little he slept. no matter how kind he was to his charity case of a cousin.
and he’s doing everything he can, even if ain’t good enough, even if it ain’t perfect. tells himself this is the best he can do for the ones he’s lost — protect himself cause he’s the only one left to protect her. when dale’s gone, pa’s in some hospital after his act of cowardice, and they had to leave jay behind when the cops were too close for comfort. he’s the only one left, and sharon’s safety’s all that matters. they come up with a plan, her and her only child, and there’s an unspoken understanding that passes through ‘em. the knowledge that they’re all they’ve got anymore, that they have to stick together.
it’s everything he wanted. least, he thought it was. until jay shows back up on their doorstep and tyler’s left to stare. a brother back from the dead and the short-lived attention from his ma itching at the back of his ribcage. forced to think horrible thoughts, wondering if it was jay all along who took this from tyler. if sharon’s affections were only doled out to the youngest boys because that love’s finite, and because jay just had to be difficult, ruin things by taking that book and killing dale, the sting of a motherly slap across the cheek still smarting. can’t accept that he wants more than he’s got, so it’s jay’s fault. that festering itch getting worse until it’s damn near unbearable. it’s jay on the doorstep of the cabin and not dale, not his baby brother who sat on his lap and babbled to him in half-formed sentences, who didn’t leave him ( didn’t leave the family, comes the mental correction ) to go galavanting off in the woods.
still, tyler takes first watch. is used to staying up and expects that neither ma nor jay will wake up for a second watch. maybe he’ll catch an hour or two, but he ain’t counting on it. more important that sharon gets her rest, and it’s not like tyler trusts jay to stay up and keep an eye out. not after he found out about brooke, the long-kept secret that shoulda been told to him long ago, so he could understand why he’s gotta make it up to the family more than ever. if anything, he thinks maybe jay’ll try to slink out and talk to him. the lie weighs heavy on his chest, but it’s the most sensible solution. ma needs to go on the motorcycle, and jay can survive out here in the woods. if tyler stayed ( and his chest constricts at the mere thought ) … he’d die. still, even though ma knows that, it’s still his duty to stay back. even with this busted leg, even with his lack of familiarity of the bush of two rock. when jay wasn’t around, the solution was simple. now, it’s staring him right in the eye. his imminent death. the same fate as dale. loving jay, then dying for it.
the door creaks open, and tyler’s heart squeezes in his chest seeing it’s ma. it ain’t rare for her to seek out his company, whether it’s to unload some stresses or just cause he’s smoking at the same time as her, but that weary heart still jumps when she does. hard and clear evidence that he’s doing something right. but that brief hope gets squashed like an insignificant insect as soon as the words leave her mouth. can we talk about this canada thing?
shoulda known she was coming out to ask about it, silently curses himself for not realizing sooner. remembers the other mistake he made, telling jay about his real ma, and braces himself for a scolding that thankfully never comes. sharon’s not a petty woman, and she’s moved onto more pressing matters. wondering why jay can’t have the prized seat next to her on the bike. wondering all that when she’s whip-smart and definitely smart enough to know tyler’d die if he stuck around back here. and it all comes flooding out. a juvenile confession, practically sobbed out. a desperate begging for love he’s always thought he was above. is it so wrong to want to live? is it so wrong to want a shot at life even when it’s long over? all his life, he’s given her ( the family, he hurriedly corrects, because even now, he can’t stop the helpless fawning over her ) everything he has, everything he is. and here he leans against the cabin post, staring up at the consequence bearing over him like a giant. finds himself scared and utterly alone in the face of this insurmountable beast.
he just wants to live. and if that’s gotta mean just surviving from here on out, he wants that. if his fate was never to live his life, he’ll mourn it and bury it alongside dale. clenches his fists and jaw and tries not to let the grief consume him, crush that bad leg before he’s even got a chance to try to keep going. wouldn’t dale have wanted him to live? wouldn’t dale have wanted… and it feels blasphemous to even think, but wouldn’t dale have wanted his happiness? couldn’t sharon have loved him enough to want that for him?
but it can’t be about dale and it certainly can’t be about sharon, so it’s about jay, the boy who got everything tyler wanted just by being. who whines and gets his way, the eternal favourite and the one dale eventually left tyler behind for. but tyler knows he can still win. he’s just gotta convince jay to stay back. and he does. feels that affection he always had for the kid come back full force, all babyish smiles and hints of wisdom he don’t think even jay knows he has. tyler will miss him. he gets that now. wishes blindly and with all his heart that there were three seats on the motorcycle, even if the thought of sharing ma with jay was nauseating just an hour ago.
tyler trudges back to his world, leaving jay to his own. greets sharon with a weary look, disillusioned like he hasn’t been in a long time. no longer is he excited to be the only one left. misses his brothers, both of ‘em, like hell. but at least he’s got ma, his sole purpose for as long as he can remember. something nettles him about that. maybe it’s just that jay taking off didn’t make him feel any better.
that’s what he sticks with until one night at the church turns into two, and then three.
and tyler lays with his cheek pressed against a dilapidated floor and wonders. do we get what we deserve?
#as dusk falls#tyler holt#sharon holt#adfaugust2023#pan writes#this is obviously inspired by the cabin scene and my intense feelings about it#and there's a lot i could say about it but i will say that this fic does not paint sharon positively#people do not seem to realize that both bear AND sharon have seriously abused their kids ESPECIALLY tyler#and the cabin scene really shows how for the first time in his entire life tyler is having an intense breakdown about#the absurd expectations placed on his shoulders#it's baffling to me that sharon would not stay behind if it meant her kids would be safe#ESPECIALLY since she goes to paul for help regardless!#but because both tyler and jay are so emotionally abused by her ( especially tyler ) it's never a question whether she should get that seat#leading to this huge fallout between tyler and jay#which tbf was already coming since we know tyler was dying to tell jay he was adopted#and he is severely in his feelings because he (AND LITERALLY SHARON) blames himself for dale's death#cannot stress enough that if dale dies from the sniper sharon tells tyler POINT BLANK that it was his fault. and similarly in the barn scene#if jay fucks up the two by fours bear LITERALLY tells tyler 'weren't you watching him? what's wrong with you?'#so like this isn't something tyler is just making up in his head. people ACTIVELY assign him responsibility over his brothers#in any case the point is atp tyler is DISABLED and there is no way he can make it on his own. leaving him there IS a death sentence#and while jay probably doesn't realize this there is no WAY sharon doesn't. why else would she abandon him and latch onto paul?#and i know she tells paul a different story but she is HEAVILY established as a liar/unreliable narrator in that chapter so#ANYWAY. i have normal thoughts and feelings about sharon and tyler's abusive ass relationship /lie
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I'm finally gonna post abt amihan's bisexual ~Awakening (for a lack of a better word)
I wanna put a disclaimer that this is BASED OFF my own personal experience and writing it through amihan is a way to express and explore that experience
amihan always knew she was attracted to women. she had a crush on lily when she was in the Circle (which was a reason why she tattled on jowan, very bad jealousy, yeah she messed up there). she thought she was only attracted to women
when she got conscripted and left the circle, she got to the outside world and met a bigger variety of people (not just men) and was able to know herself outside the Circle.
alistair got her realizing that she was attracted to men. he's sweet and kind, and was nice and patient with her even when she was an absolute nightmare.
I don't want it to come off as the "Oh you just need to meet the right man" because it's not - like me, it's just that her attraction to women was obvious first. then it wasn't until later she also realized she was attracted to men.
she was also in a place where the men she trusted weren't authority/parental figures (Irving, but she definitely doesn't trust him anymore) or are like siblings (finn and anders) to her
I've been transparent about my own journey wrt to realizing I was bi (I didn't think I was attracted to men from when I was 18-24, then realized I was) and i want to make an oc that goes thru that same queer journey. I chose amihan because I've had her before my bi realization and back then she was also a lesbian, so I wanted her to come on this journey with me.
#amihan amell#even in the storyline where shes w nate it was still alistair who helped her realize#i think in that case even its why she was more comfortable abt pursuing nate bc she was sure about it now#i have a lot of meta abt amihan x alistair whether its requited/unrequited etc#hes important to her regardless of the context
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a little concerned about uh. williams opinions about this doctors morality?? he’s like ‘yeah this doctor who’s in prison for child endangerment and dangerous experimental practices on children is equivalent to doctors who fail to save someone in a surgery. this is a reasonable argument that i would be willing to break this person out of prison for. there is not a single flaw in this ideology’. like. hello?? i’m not the only one who thinks he’s a tad off the rails about this right???
#dandy blogg#jrwi spoilers#jrwi prime defenders#for the most part i’ve been able to get behind most of his ideals and whatever so far but uhhhhh. this ain’t it chief#i’m glad that doctor is in jail even if the way he got there is morally and ethically dubious via potential paying off judges in order to#get him put away. like that’s fucked and shouldn’t happen obviously and that’s an entirely different issue#but he’s a monster who was EXPERIMENTING on DEAD CHILDREN. whether his goal was to save them or not that’s still what he was doing#he was using dead kids bodies or at the very least dying kids to test out and change them fundamentally on a genetic level#like that’s fucked. in so many ways. regardless of his goal in all that that’s still just not ok#highly unethical medical experimentation is not equivalent to surgeons failing to save someone or dakota not being able to save that girl.#i also get where will is coming from tho because he recognizes that potentially the only way to save dakota is for the dr to be free#but he also thinks that the doctor is just like. chilling. idk i just would’ve thought he would realize otherwise but i trust charlie’s dir#ctive. charlie’s setting something up here i feel like. it’ll be very cool to see what
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Am I the only one that hates the whole "I never would've forgiven myself if something happened to you, especially if I had never told you how I really felt" thing? Why would I want you to be more ok with something happening to me. Why is the amount that you mourn me if I beef it dependent on a you thing. Why do people think that's romantic
#i like the i didnt realize how much i loved you until you were in danger thing tho#i really hate it tho man it annoys me every time i see it#if somebody got me killed i would want them to feel really bad about it regardless of whether or not they had professed their secret love#also implies that youd be more fucked up if they died before you said anything than if they died while you were dating#like at the funeral he aint cryin and hes like yeah ik its the worst but i did hit that first so its cool#not missin that one on the bucket list thank you
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like I'm not to excuse grown women's actions bc what Joan and Cherie did to Jackie was awful and staying quiet would've been less harmful to her but it's also so sad how besides Jackie none of them never truly understood how much they were abused by Kim they're mostly just like oh he was mean sometimes but that was necessary like girl no not only he would verbally abuse you all the time he also had sex with a girl in from of you when you were a minor to "teach" you about sex he'd throw bottles and random objects at your head to "prepare" you for crowds like that is not normal At all he deserved to die all those years ago
#regardless of whether they were present during the rape isnt relevant its what they said was just completely out of touch#jackie wasnt even blamimg them she knew they were all children likd she was literally just describing the situation there was no reason for#them to get all defensive and shit#obviously Jackie is the only one who truly realized how fucked up the entire thing was but its sad how even now that hes dead no one says a#thing about him like they literally don't realize
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tbh y'all get too caught up in the idea of like. whether someone is ""genuinely"" experiencing a certain -ism or -phobia aimed at them if they are not genuinely part of that group. as if it matters. as if a guy getting attacked for holding another man's hand has actually ever had sex with another man or if he actually is married to a woman like it literally does not make a difference. he is a victim of homophobia in actual reality in the actual world. stop being pedantic and drawing little circles around words and realize that people are getting fucked over regardless.
#queer#people caught in the crossfires are also victims. full stop.#like it does not matter if the perpetrator WOULD back off if corrected and go ''oh sorry i didnt mean you''#because the damage is DONE
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☾ Seeing you cry in your sleep
How they react to finding you crying silently in your sleep.
☾ Characters: Argenti, Blade, Dan Heng, Dr. Ratio
☾ Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, GN Reader, StellaronHunter!Reader in Blade's, Ratio (affectionately) calling you fool in his part
Might write a 2nd part with Gepard, Jing Yuan, Welt and Luocha (and maybe Sampo) in the future :)
Argenti
Upon entering your shared cottage, Argenti finds you sleeping on the chair by the window. They must’ve fallen asleep while admiring the scenery of the falling snow outside, Argenti thought with a fond smile.
For a moment, Argenti found himself unable to move, for his emerald colored eyes were transfixed upon the serene beauty of the scene before him. The falling snow, the white winter wonderland serving as the perfect backdrop to accentuate the beauty of your resting figure.
Still, he realized it probably wouldn’t do well if you were to fall sick from the cold. So, he quietly made his way through the room and draped a blanket over your figure.
That was when he noticed the presence of tears on the corners of your eyes.
For a while, Argenti thought his eyes were deceiving him. It wasn’t until he saw a lone tear fall from your eye that he was finally hit by the fact that you were, indeed, crying in your sleep.
His heart ached upon the sight and he instinctively reached to cup your cheek; his thumb gently caressing the corner of your eye, wiping away the stream of tears that began to fall like tender snow.
After some deliberation on how to proceed, Argenti would kneel before your sleeping figure before carefully stirring you awake with a gentle squeeze to your hand and softly calling out your name.
“Good morning my dear,” He would greet you with a tender smile, though you could easily sense the twinge of sadness and melancholia lingering in his voice. “I apologize if this may sound unpleasant to you but … you were crying in your sleep. Is … Is everything alright?”
He would fret over you, but he would try to keep it to a minimum lest he were to accidentally do more harm than good. He was obviously worried about what ailed you, but again, what mattered most to him was your comfort.
Regardless of whether you choose to speak of the reason for your tears, Argenti would remain by your side, kneeling before you as he held your hand in his.
If he could, he would do anything in his power to vanquish the reason behind your tears. He never wants you to shed tears, neither in sleep or wake, ever again.
Blade
It was almost time for the opening act of Elio’s Script. Blade comes to searches for you in the meeting spot, and finds you asleep above one of the many wooden crates of the abandoned factory.
How carefree, Blade thought with a scoff. Even so, Blade’s heart blossoms with warmth, that very same warmth that is born from his affection and adoration for you and all your silly antics.
If he could, he would let you rest for longer and perhaps even join you in your restful slumber, resting your head on his shoulder. But alas, the Script takes priority and it was almost time to begin.
So he reaches to shake your shoulder … but then froze upon the sight of tears falling from your eyes.
Blade has never been one for tears. In a different life, perhaps, he would have been. But tears have no meaning for Blade. Crying does not provide one with salvation, no matter how much one cries, what was lost could never return.
And yet, the sight of your tears shook him to his core.
Blade didn’t know what to do. What could he do anyway? Reach for your face and wipe away your tears with his thumb? Lean towards you and kiss the corners of your eyes, all in hopes for your tears to stop cascading from your eyes? How ridiculous. As though that would solve any of your problems.
So, he does what he is supposed to. Grab your shoulder and gently shake you awake.
“Wake up. It’s almost time to begin.” He says brusquely, already turning around for his back to face you. “Wipe your tears. Don’t let the enemy see even a single hint of weakness.”
You would be shocked upon realizing you were crying in your sleep and hurriedly wiped away the remains of your tears. Not soon after, you join him by the ledge of the building, watching over the city with puffy eyes. Blade would steal a glance at you and then he would say,
“Do not be hasty. I am with you.”
You didn’t need to try hard to know that he wasn’t just talking about the battle ahead.
Dan Heng
The hour was late when Den Heng jolted awake from his sleep. He dreamt of a vague memory of his past incarnation and saw a nightmare where his friends were swept away by the waves; of you disappearing in the dark sea of clouds.
Inhaling and exhaling slowly, Dan Heng takes a moment to recompose himself before shifting to rest on his side, thus meeting the familiar sight of your back. They’re here, Dan Heng thought to himself, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. It’s all just a dream.
Not wanting to wake you, Dan Heng simply stares at your back. The steadiness of your breathing, a reminder that you are alive. Gingerly, Dan Heng reaches to subtly trace soothing lines on your back. Truth be told, it was probably more soothing for him than you.
Then suddenly, there was a slight change in the pattern of your breathing. More feeble and erratic. Concerned that he might have woken you up, Dan Heng pushed himself up to check on your condition …
… Only to find you crying in your sleep.
Upon the sight of your tears, falling so steadily onto the fabric of your already damp pillow, Dan Heng’s breath hitches. He shakes your shoulders, calling your name again and again until your eyes open and meet his pairs of jaded blue.
“You’re crying.” He said bluntly, his brows furrowed as a tell-tale sign of his bleeding concern for you. “What? No, I’m fine. Yes, I woke up because of a nightmare but I’m more concerned for you.”
The two of you would both end up sitting on the bed, both fretting over each other’s condition. You asked Dan Heng about his nightmare and he would reply that it was the usual. He asked you about your tears, and you replied you didn’t even know you were crying until Dan Heng pointed it out.
In the end, the both of you would end up embracing each other tightly, providing both comfort and strength to one another. You both wind up laying on the bed in each other’s arms.
Dan Heng would stay awake for a while after you’ve fallen asleep, gazing at your resting figure in hopes that he would never have to see you cry in your sleep once more.
Dr. Ratio
After a long day full of shameful displays of stupidity from the people around him, Dr. Veritas Ratio was done for the day and is free to visit his beloved. I cannot wait to see them, Ratio thought as he made large strides towards your office. It has been far too long since I’ve had an intellectually stimulating conversation!
He thinks of all the topics he could talk with you, ranging from the most mundane things such as how each other’s days went and the more complex like the discourse regarding a recent hot theory.
Imagine his disappointment when he enters your office and finds you dead asleep on your desk.
Frowning, Ratio rationalizes that you were probably just as exhausted as he was and that there were plenty of chances for conversation when the two of you have rested up. Still. He was disappointed.
He walked towards your desk and took a moment to observe your resting figure. You were sleeping above your paper reports. Now that’s a lark. But then, he noticed something else.
Your papers were soaked, all from the tears that were still cascading from your eyes.
Upon the sight of your tears, Ratio’s heart seemingly ceased to beat. There was shock, confusion, concern and all these strong emotions that meld with one another. In a rare moment of panic, Ratio shook you awake, forcing you away from your stained papers.
“You fool, just what do you think you’re doing?!” He shouts, worry bleeding through his tone. “Don’t ‘What the hell, Veritas’ me! You’re the one crying on your reports and making them unreadable!”
You would be confused until you realize that you were crying in your sleep. You touched the lingering wetness on your cheeks and laughed feebly. It was probably the pent up stress, you offered weakly, annoying Ratio once more.
You expect a lecture, but unexpectedly, Ratio places hand behind your head, brings you to rest against his broad shoulder.
“You are a fool for ruining those reports. If you must cry … cry on my shoulder instead.”
It was a silly attempt at cheering you up, but you appreciated it all the same.
Hehe this was a super fun prompt to write! Might write a second part with Gepard, Jing Yuan, Welt and Luocha when I feel the inspiration hitting me 👀
Also still semi-working on banners ... sigh, lets hope I find a good theme soon enough.
Thank you for reading 💖
#honkai: star rail#hsr x reader#argenti x reader#blade x reader#dan heng x reader#dr. ratio x reader#ratio x reader#angst#hurt/comfort#hsr imagines#hsr headcanons#StarTearsWrites
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𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞— gojo satoru
pairing: gojo satoru x reader
summary: even after you leave the jujutsu world behind, gojo satoru finds himself unable to get over you.
genre: fluff! some angst but happy ending, friends to lovers
notes: inspired by the song "haunt me (x3)" by teen suicide, gojo is awful at realizing his own feelings and dealing with them
wc: ~4.8k
the day that you leave tokyo jujutsu tech is a dull one.
gojo think this must've been months in the planning, especially considering the fact that you're standing with nothing but a backpack slung over your shoulder with the rest of your belongings nowhere to be seen.
(he later learns that they had already been moved to your new apartment, and nanami and shoko had helped you move out over the course of a month.)
he also discovers that he's the only one that hasn't been informed of your departure, especially since he seems to be the only one taken by surprise as you stand by the entrance and say your goodbyes. he wonders if it's his fault for taking so many missions after geto's defection, and he feels his stomach lurch uncomfortably when he realizes that he's been so distracted that he once again couldn't see something happening with one of his friends.
and now you're leaving.
"you have to promise to visit," shoko says, engulfing you in a tight hug. gojo feels his mouth run dry at the sight, and he can't help but feel panicked when you give shoko a soft grin.
"i'll certainly do my best," you respond, reaching over to tug on her hair. she sighs in return, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you gently as she stares you down.
"answer your phone, ok? you can't ignore my texts now that you're leaving."
a quiet laugh leaves your lips at her words, and you nod reassuringly before giving her a loud smooch on the cheek and moving down the line. gojo watches you closely as you say your goodbye to yaga, the older man turning away from you to brush a fake tear away from his eye. he presses a soft, floppy doll into your hands before you move away from him, and gojo can see the distinct shine in your eye that lets him know that you're holding tears at bay.
he looks down at the ground when he realizes that he's the only one left for you to say goodbye to, and he can't help the way he tenses up when he sees your shoes come to a stop in front of him. there's a moment of silence during which gojo can feel everyone's eyes on him, and he begrudgingly looks up at you and removes his sunglasses.
if this is the last time he's seeing you, he's going to make sure he remembers every little detail.
there's a sharp intake of breath as you steadily meet his gaze, and you find yourself rendered speechless at the sight of his eyes. gojo can hear shoko cough lightly, and he steels himself before giving you a forced smile.
"so you're leaving," he whispers, his eyes widening slightly when he realizes what he's just said. you seem to be caught off guard as well, eyebrows raising in surprise before giving him a nod. he takes a moment to breathe, aware of shoko's lingering gaze as the two of you face each other. "oh. i didn't know."
"yeah," you breathe, rubbing your arm as you look away from him. "i hadn't gotten the chance to tell you. it seems like you're always off on a mission these days."
"you could've texted," gojo attempts to say jokingly, wincing when his words fall flat. you laugh lightly at his words, recognizing the teasing undertone even if the delivery had been less than perfect. you always seem to understand gojo, regardless of whether or not he wants you to.
"we both know you never look at your phone," you tease back, giving him a pretty smile that he hasn't seen in a while. he chuckles breathlessly at your jab, and he nods his agreement before glancing at shoko.
"neither do you," he shoots back, the corners of his lips turning up into a small smile when you follow his line of sight. "you gotta get better at that. can't risk pissing shoko off."
the space between the two of you is filled with uncertain laughter at gojo's remark, and you take a moment to study gojo before taking a step forward and wrapping your arms around his neck. he stumbles back a step or two at your sudden action, tensing up when you tuck your face into the crook of his neck.
"i'll miss you," you whisper, your breath warm against his neck. he tries to ignore the goosebumps that rise up along the smooth expanse of his neck, too focused on wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him when he feels you start to step away.
gojo knows that everyone else is watching the two of you, he can feel shoko's soft gaze and yaga's sad look as he does his best to ignore them and bury his face into your hair. there's an intense urge to ask you to stay building up inside of him, and he clamps his lips shut tightly in order to keep himself from blurting out his plea. the two of you remain in each other's arms before you finally take a deep breath and step away, giving gojo a watery smile.
"i'll miss you, satoru," you whisper, looking away and blinking back your tears. "i'll see you later, yeah?"
gojo nods dumbly as you finally walk away, giving everyone one last wave before slipping into the car that's been waiting for you this entire time. it isn't until he sees it disappear from view that gojo realizes that he didn't tell you that he would miss you too.
he wastes no time in slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes, clearing his throat quietly before turning and making his way back inside the building.
a week later, gojo hears that nanami has left jujutsu tech as well, and he can't help but wonder if he'll ever see either of you again.
gojo likes to think that he's matured, even though shoko might say otherwise because she's certain she's right. and also to piss him off.
but the truth is, he's no longer the same spunky, reckless teenager he was before everything went wrong in his life. he knows how to sort of work through his emotions now— in a way he thinks is healthy, he might add, but he can't help but find himself frozen in this very moment. there's a weird ache in his heart, one that he silently notes seems to be brought on by the flurry of emotions he's feeling in that very instant.
he wonders if they're visible on his face. they are.
gojo satoru is the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer in japan, maybe even in the world, and yet he feels like he's been reduced to almost nothing when a familiar face slides into the seat across from him.
five years is clearly not long enough to forget you, gojo realizes, physically wincing at the way his heart seems to race at the sight of you. his eyes meet yours, and he holds steady eye contact with you for a few seconds before ducking his head and quietly excusing himself from the table.
he takes a deep breath to attempt and soothe his rattled nerves as he takes a seat at the bar, squishing himself into the corner so that he's not visible from your table. he orders a soda from the bartender, ignoring the disbelieving look he gets in return before he ambles off to prepare the drink.
gojo has barely taken a sip of the soda before shoko is crashing into his side, settling onto the barstool next to him and digging her elbow into his side as she calls her order out to the bartender. neither of them speak until shoko gets her drink, and she immediately lifts it to her lips and takes a big sip that makes gojo shudder with disgust.
"surprise," shoko says dryly, glancing at gojo as he spares a look in your direction. he notices three extra people at the table, and he lets his shoulders drop in relief when he sees familiar heads of blond, white, and brunette.
"yeah, quite the surprise," gojo huffs, taking another sip of his soda. he stares at shoko until she turns to face him, a mildly displeased look on her face as she takes in his furrowed eyebrows. "i didn't know you still kept in contact with them."
"i didn't know you didn't still keep in contact with them," shoko shoots back, raising an eyebrow as she studies gojo's conflicted expression. she continues before he can gather his thoughts, earning a loud sigh as she speaks. "you kept in contact with nanami just fine. in fact, all he does is complain about how you never leave him alone."
gojo swallows harshly at shoko's words, and he thinks long and hard before deciding to remain silent for the time being. he can't find it in himself to admit that the thought of reaching out to you hurts him more than he cares to admit. you had left the jujutsu world, the one part of your life that included him, behind. even if he wanted to, gojo doesn't think he can find the words to express how he's feeling.
"switch seats with me when we get back to the table," gojo says suddenly, pausing to slurp up the rest of his drink. shoko glares at him when he sucks on nothing but air, the obnoxious sound causing her to reach over and flick him in the cheek. gojo grins widely when she hits nothing but air, his infinity protecting him from shoko's incredibly violent wrath.
"no," she says, getting off her barstool and picking up her drink. gojo realizes too late that she's heading back to the table, and he scrambles after her in an attempt to get there before her. his attempts are fruitless, and he finds himself awkwardly standing behind shoko's seat as she takes her place two chairs down from you.
gojo acts normal when everyone turns to glance at him, and he stiffly makes his way back to his own seat, avoiding your questioning gaze as he sits down. it takes a second for the table to break out into chatter again, and gojo doesn't hesitate before turning to the seat next to him and striking up a conversation with utahime. he notices mei mei grab your attention out of the corner of his eye, and he can't help but sigh in relief as he focuses on utahime once again, disregarding her annoyed look.
gojo is certain that ignoring you is much easier than dealing with whatever the hell is causing him to feel like he's dying inside.
the days that follow the dinner at the restaurant are unnervingly quiet, and gojo finds himself sitting on his couch and wondering if he should reach out to you.
there are no missions to take at the moment, and gojo is left with nothing to do but stare at his phone and wait for a message that never comes. megumi takes note of his sullen behavior, and although a part of him is curious about gojo's sudden attitude change, he doesn't think he actually cares enough to ask the white-haired sorcerer about what seems to be bothering him.
a few more days pass before gojo ultimately decides that reaching out to you would do more harm than good, especially with the way he completely ignored you at dinner. he's given no time to even think about changing his mind, and the very next day, he's being sent out on yet another mission.
he eventually falls into the same monotonous routine his life had prior to his run-in with you, and he wonders what would've changed if he had decided to take the chance and reach out the day after seeing you. there's a dull ache in his chest that seems to linger even after he makes his decision, and it only seems to get worse whenever shoko deigns to share updates about you with him.
the two of them know that gojo is more than grateful for her updates, even if he refuses to ask about you outright. he's certain that if he were to fully give into his curiosity that his heart would feel like it's giving out on him, and not even shoko's displeased looks are enough for him to get over himself and just ask you directly. he's even stopped pestering nanami, too afraid that he would give in and ask him questions about you.
it isn't until a long time passes (a year and a half; he's kept count) that gojo thinks he's finally getting over it— getting over you. his heart finally starts feeling lighter and breathing becomes a little bit easier and he can't help but think about how silly he was being, staying hung up for so long on somebody who probably never even thought twice about him.
they're small improvements but they're still improvements, and gojo reminds himself of that even as he walks down the busy streets of tokyo. he breathes out a sigh of relief as he slips into the local pharmacy, the cool air conditioning a welcome reprieve from the sticky heat outside.
he mumbles to himself as he moves through the aisles, scanning the shelves as he looks for children's allergy medication. the sudden weather changes had affected megumi and tsumiki in a way none of them had expected, and gojo was left alone to deal with their pitiful sniffles and soft complaints.
"allergy meds," he whispers, reaching out to grab a box only to put it back when it's not the one he's looking for. "there's so much cough syrup, where's the aller—"
"gojo?"
so maybe he hasn't improved, gojo thinks to himself as he freezes up at the sound of your voice. he holds his breath as you approach him, and he squeezes his eyes shut when he feels your sleeve brush against his.
six and a half years isn't enough to forget about you either, it seems.
"it's been a while, huh?" you ask, giving him a soft glance before looking at the shelves in front of you. there's a light hum that escapes your lips as you bend down to grab something before straightening up and holding out a box in your hand. "allergy meds, right?"
gojo nods silently as he takes the box from you, quickly scanning the text on it to make sure it was the right brand. there's an awkward silence as he thinks about what to say, and he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind when you turn your face away from him.
"it's not for me!"
a noise that gojo thinks might be a giggle leaves your lips at his proclamation, and he mentally kicks himself for starting up a conversation with you.
"it's for megumi, right?" you ask softly, unaware of the way gojo's eyes widen at your question. "that zenin kid you took in?"
when you notice gojo's shocked look, you hastily ass onto your statement. "shoko told me about him when i asked about you."
'shoko told me about him when i asked about you.'
gojo thinks he feels his head spin when he hears those words come out of your mind. he does his best to remain calm, reaching out a hand to lean against the shelf comfortably and wincing when he instead knocks down a row of the cough syrups he had been studying earlier.
"uh, fushiguro, actually," he mutters, doing his best to focus on straightening out the products he knocked down. "his dad took his wife's last name or something like that. but yeah, the medicine is for him and his sister."
he finds himself shuffling awkwardly as you look down at your watch, eyes widening slightly when you take note of the time. he watches as you turn to face the shelf behind you, quickly plucking some eye drops off the shelf before turning back to him.
"i have to go, i'm running late for a meeting," you say sheepishly, giving gojo a soft smile. he gives you a half-smile in return, accompanied by a lazy wave as he waits for you to leave. you stand in front of him for a second, hesitating slightly before leaning in and wrapping your arms around him in a quick hug. gojo tenses up in your embrace, his breath catching in his throat and hands freezing mid-air before he hesitantly places them on your back. you pull back slightly after a few seconds, looking up at gojo with a stare that makes his heart feel like it's about to beat out of his chest before you address him once more. "it was nice to see you. we should catch up sometime."
you're gone with a smile and a wave, quickly paying for your eye drops before darting out the door. gojo remains in his spot for five minutes after your departure, only moving when he sees the amused look the cashier seems to be giving him. he doesn't speak as he pays for the allergy medication, and he hastily makes his exit back into the stifling heat. he starts walking down the street as he tucks his change into his pocket, eyebrows furrowing in confusion when his fingers brush against a piece of paper that hadn't bee there before.
there's an annoyed grumble from a passerby when gojo suddenly stops in the middle of the street, his fingers clutching onto the paper that contains very familiar handwriting.
'can't wait to see you again! :)'
the line is followed by what he assumes to be your phone number, and gojo can't help but wonder when you had the chance to write the note. he begins moving down the street again, his steps sluggish as he hesitates near a trash can. before he can think any harder, he lets the paper flutter into wastebasket, only pausing for a brief second before moving away.
not seeing you over the past year and a half made his heart feel lighter, yet all it took was a five minute interaction with you to make his heart feel worse than it ever had before.
the world loves to play cruel jokes on him, gojo thinks.
the past two years have been a whirlwind of chaos and uncertainty, and he's had no time to stop and think about you while dealing with geto, sukuna, and the emergence of the cursed spirit that calls itself mahito.
if he really thinks about it, he's had no time to sit and rest. from geto's attack to yuuta's training to megumi's missions to yuuji's interesting choice that led to him eating sukuna's finger, he's had no time to sit and truly enjoy the little things life has to offer.
(not that he's ever had the time. the life of a special grade sorcerer is a busy one, but gojo can't deny that things weren't always as complicated as they have been the last couple of years.)
so when yaga tells him that nanami is returning to jujutsu tech, gojo thinks that it's the perfect time to let yuuji learn from someone other than him while he takes care of some unfinished business. what he doesn't expect however, is to see you standing next to nanami, a pretty smile on your face as you greet yaga with a hug.
ten years. ten years and somehow, you still manage to make gojo feel the same way he did way back then.
there's something wrong with him, he thinks, especially because it's starting to seem like he's cursed to always somehow coexist with those he cares about without ever fully being a part of their lives. there's no way he can turn around and pretend he never saw you, not with the way yaga is already yelling at him to go over and greet the returners.
gojo wonders why this happens every time he sees you. he doesn't know how to label what he feels whenever you pop up in his life, and it isn't until you give him a hesitant greeting— your tone shy and awkward after receiving nothing but radio silence from him— that gojo thinks he might finally know what it is he feels for you.
and when the thought of him being in love with you crosses his mind and makes him feel like he wants to die, all he can do is tamp down his swirling emotions with a goofy grin aimed at nanami.
"nanami! what a pleasure to see you here," gojo sings, immediately pulling the blond man into a reluctant hug. he gives you a polite nod in greeting, and he can't help the way his heart sinks when you nod in response and look away.
"likewise," nanami replies, his tone strained as he pulls away from gojo. he fixes his shirt as he steps over to you, and the two of you stand silently as you wait for yaga to speak.
"introduce them to yuuji," yaga says, turning around and heading back towards his office. "and don't cause trouble. i mean it, satoru."
gojo giggles at yaga's words before clapping his hands and motioning for the two of you to follow after him, leading you down a series of hallways before you come to a stop in front of an empty room.
"yuuji! there's someone i'd like you to meet!"
you're taken slightly aback when your eyes meet bright, brown ones, and you can't help but stare as a teenage boy with pink hair comes to a stop in front of you and nanami.
"this is nanami kento!" gojo all but yells, once again slinging his arm around nanami's shoulders and swaying him back and forth. the boy, yuuji, looks at nanami curiously, his eyes focused on the glasses perched on his nose. he has no time to speak before gojo is introducing you as well, his voice softer than it had been when introducing nanami. yuuji's eyes sparkle as they shift to you, and all of a sudden he's breaking out into a boyish smile that only serves to remind you just how young he really is.
"woah! i didn't think you were actually real!" he proclaims, earning a strained laugh from gojo. "when gojo mentioned you he said you were really p—"
the rest of his words are muffled, gojo's hands clamped tightly against his mouth as he pulls yuuji away from you. out of the corner of your eye, you can see nanami staring at you, and you only give him a shrug in return as gojo pats yuuji's head and lets him go.
"you'll be following them around on missions," gojo finally explains, pushing yuuji towards you and nanami. "they're both grade 1 sorcerers so don't worry, you'll be safe! now if you'll excuse me, i have to go."
gojo's out of the room before either of you can breathe out a goodbye, and you tense for a second before excusing yourself and following after him. he hasn't gotten terribly far, but his long legs give him the advantage of staying ahead of you even as you start jogging lightly in an attempt to catch up to him.
"gojo!" you call out, huffing lightly when he ignores you and turns a corner. "hey! gojo, wait! satoru!"
the sounds of his given name has his steps faltering, and he reluctantly turns around when he hears your footsteps getting closer and closer. there's a rigidity to his stance that you've never seen, his shoulders hunched in an almost defensive way as you finally come to a stop in front of him.
"yeah?" he asks, an uncomfortable grin settling on his lips as he looks anywhere but you. he's grateful for his blindfold in this very moment, the dark fabric preventing him from seeing you in your entirety and preventing you from seeing the way he can't seem to look at you for more than half a second.
"i—," you say, starting to speak and cutting yourself off before looking down at the ground. you sigh softly, shaking your head lightly as your shoulders slump. "never mind. forget about it."
you turn to walk back to the room, and gojo feels like he might actually keel over and die right then and there if he lets you walk away yet again.
"how have you been?"
gojo's question hangs in the air, and he can't help but flinch when you finally look at him again, your eyes swirling with hurt and sadness and other emotions that pass so quickly that gojo isn't sure he could figure out what they were even if he tried.
"you'd know if you hadn't thrown my phone number away," you retort quietly, crossing your arms as he approaches you. gojo breathes in sharply at your words but remains quiet, his throat going dry as he realizes that you had seen what he did that day. "why, gojo?"
gojo weighs his options, vacillating between telling you the truth or spewing a lie. the words seem to spill out of his mouth before he can even think about whether or not to say them, a trend he notices is extremely common whenever he's in your presence. "because you've ruined my life."
okay, so the truth it is.
your eyes widen in hurt when you take in his words, and it takes everything you have to not burst into tears on the spot. "oh, i see."
"wait," gojo says, scrambling to fix the situation that just keeps getting worse and worse with everything he says or does. "that's not what i meant."
"then what did you mean?" you ask sharply, your eyes narrowing slightly as you stare him down.
"what i mean is that i think i love you," he says in a rush, ignoring the way your eyes widen in surprise at his admission. he doesn't give you the chance to respond, too focused on saying everything that's been building up for the past decade before he gets cold feet. "you've ruined my life, you know? it's been ten years but it's damn near impossible to get over you. my heart still feels as heavy as it did the day you let, maybe even heavier, and i threw away your number because i didn't see any benefit in reaching out to you. why would i torture myself by keeping in contact with you when i belong to the world you wanted to leave behind?"
"i wanted to leave the jujutsu world behind," you interject softly, taking a hesitant step towards gojo before coming to a stop. "that doesn't mean i wanted to leave gojo satoru behind."
"oh," gojo breathes. he wonders if you can hear how loud his heart is beating in his chest, and he decides that maybe he doesn't care. "does that mean that—"
"i liked you?" you interrupt, nodding your head softly. "or like, i guess. i agree, ten years isn't enough to get over you."
"i was talking about you," gojo mumbles dumbly, earning a shrug in response from you. a loud crash sounds from the direction of the room you had left nanami in, and you give gojo a hesitant look before motioning in the direction of the noise.
"i should probably go and check that out," you say quietly, a smile twitching at the corners of your lips. "y'know, make sure that nanami is okay."
"um, yeah. yeah that sounds reasonable," gojo says, his mind still focused on your impromptu confession.
"i don't think this conversation is over yet," you continue, breathing out a laugh when gojo nods in agreement. he jumps slightly when you take his hand in yours, slipping a piece of paper into in before tugging him down to press a kiss to his cheek. "let me know when you're free, yeah? maybe we can get dinner or something and talk."
"are you asking me out on a date?" he asks cheekily, doing his best to compose himself.
"maybe i am," you say slyly, squeezing his hand once before letting go. you turn to walk down the hall, only pausing to look at him over your shoulder once before you turn the corner. "don't lose my number this time, okay?"
gojo chuckles at your words, nodding in agreement as he gives you a lazy salute. "i wouldn't dream of it."
it isn't until you're out of sight that gojo realizes his heart feels the lightest that it's ever felt in years, and he finds himself once again wondering when you had gotten the chance to write the note.
reblogs are appreciated <3 ty for reading !!
#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk imagine#gojo imagine#jujutsu kaisen imagine#gojo satoru imagine#satoru x reader#gojou x reader#jjk fluff#gojo fluff#gojo satoru fluff#gojo imagines#jujutsu kaisen fluff
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