#fic: cv(sm) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kinktae · 4 years

Note

holy crap!! I just noticed y/n’s family in bitchin is like stranger things !!!! I love that sm omg love it so far btw ♡

YESSSS thank u for noticing!! I have a lot of fun with writing bitchin i do hehe

(warning: literal 80 asks under the cut)

Anonymous said: not @ me reading bitchin’ during math literally SLAMMING YHE DESK

crystalsnowd said: I LOVED BITCHINNNN OMG UR SO TALENTED I CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT PART

Anonymous said: I was going to stay up to wait for Bitchin but I went to sleep instead because today is my first day of school (second year of university) so I decided to get sleep while I still could. Also I read the update on the train sitting next to a random lady and I really hope she didn’t look over at my phone lol. I loved the update and I can’t wait for the rest of the series!!!

Anonymous said: OMG BITCHIN WAS SO GOOD! You're such an amazing writer!!!

jun-sohyunnie-dotnet said: Just an fyi, bitchin' jk is my FAVORITE jk I've ever had the pleasure of reading. Ever. He could stomp all over me and I'd thank him profusely. (And you're writing is absolutely captivating 🥺💕💕)

sugarkinky said: Bitchin just wrecked me for real, U ARE AWESOME ROSE mierda que te amo chica ¿cómo consigues escribir así? Eres perfecta ❤

Anonymous said: Bruh bitchin was everything I wanted and more thank u baby

Anonymous said: Bitchin’ is amazing! I have so many feelings ahhhh!!! I love you and your work 🥺

awkwardaegyo said: YOU HAVE GOT ME SO THIRSTY FOR JUNGKOOK FUCKIN PARCHED D-HYDRATED IF YOU WILL BITCHIN HAS GOT ME FUCKEC UP!!!!!

Anonymous said: Bitchin' is literally my favourite fic right now, it's so good! 😍 Can't wait for the next part!!

gardenofrosesx said: Im in love with bitchin 🥺💗 I think that the song that represent it so well is Wait a minute by Willow Smith, every time a hear it I imagine this fic💗 I send you thousands of good vibes and love and peace to your side! Keep going 💗

Anonymous said: Ahhhh I just wanted to say bitchin is absolutely amazing and is so well written and I’m just completely hooked!!! YOU DID AMAZING!!! Also is there gonna be angst in future chapters BECAUSE IM REALLY NOT READY IF BOTH JUNGKOOK AND OC DENY THEIR FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER

Anonymous said: girl, I finally got around to reading bitchin' and I CAN'T BELIEVE I DIDN'T READ IT SOONER. it's been a while since I've found a chaptered fic that kept my interests but I was hooked with pt 1!!! I love your spin on tatbilb, and I love the characters you created. I have to honestly say, I'm also absolutely in love with the way you write. your descriptions and dialogue hit me in all the right places. I can't wait to see where this story takes me. thank you for doing what you do!

Anonymous said: Love Bitchin so far!

Anonymous said: i keep rereading bitchin pt. 5😭😭 love it so much

Anonymous said: hi!! I just wanted to leave an ask and let you know that you’re one of my absolute favorite authors and your work is incredible!! the concept behind your rewind series is so unique and interesting and all of the stories have been wonderful so far. I’m so looking forward to the rest of bitchin’ because it has been so so so good and I love the way that you’re developing the characters and the plot. I hope you have a wonderful day!!

Anonymous said: just finished bitchin 5 and ................ i cant believe how ure able to write jungkook to Life and characterize him in such an attractive way it makes it so artistic and aknejdjdj it’s art it’s everything

Anonymous said: Argh the grind is real! I’m about to start my exams too so we can both be working our asses off! Also Bitchin is such a great series and I wanted to let you know you’re an amazing writer!!! The series made me so emotionally invested in the characters and I can’t get enough of it!! ITS SO GOOODDD THANK YOU FOR WRITING SUCH A MASTERPIECE

sanniinnas said: Hiii! Love your writings soo much! You have such a talent with words! You inspire me as a writer and make me want to learn writing and English better.

Anonymous said: I am seriously laughing from the asks that have been send to you and i cannot wait to read the ff because now i am busy :( also random fact, my biology teacher told us aboit Rosa Franklin and i already knew about her, and all i could keep thinking was bitchin pt5 and i started laughing. They thought i was a maniac 😎🤙

Anonymous said: just wanted to say bitchin’ is *chefs kiss* and i can’t wait for part 7 🥺 i’m not trynna rush you i’m just excited 🥺

nochusbutt said: okay but FIRST OF ALL, YES BITCHIN’ YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. secondly, my name is Rose too I’m so, what? omg yes I literally share a name with a legend. quote me!! 🥰☺️🤪

Anonymous said: Ahhh I am so excited for Bitchin Pt 6!!! No exaggeration this is my all time favorite fic, I think ab it a lot honestly. Whenever I see 80s aesthetic BTS edits I think of Bitchin and lots of love songs make me think of this fic too. I’m not a huge fan of smut but this fic is just so good. The OCs and Jks interactions are precious and I’m obsessed with the 80s theme! I am a huge fan of angst so I am ready to cry my eyes out. Thank you for writing this amazing fic

Anonymous said: aight...time to go re-read bitchin again ....[insert /ah shit, here we go again/ video]

Anonymous said: I CANT WAIT FOR BITCHIN

hear-me-growl said: Wait! Bitchin' is not done?! It's one of my favourite fics ever! I love the whole cliche college vibe, the dialogues are sooo good and the chemistry between Jk and the girl it's just perfect, really. And now you tell me it's not finished.😱 I AM SO EXCITED! you've made my day! Keep up the good work, you are amazing 😍

Anonymous said: AAAAAAAA THE BITCHIN UPDATE WAS SO GOOD !!!!! but also Kiri that bItCh y/n don’t fall for it 🤡😩

Anonymous said: i want sleep but BITCHIN

Anonymous said: IM PUMPED FOR BITCHINYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Anonymous said: Thankyou for updating bitchin sis!!!! But im so sad because this is their first fight(?) i hope they can talk about it and hoping kiri doesnt talk nonsense tp y/n ok :( but I AM GLAD JUNGKOOK REALIZE HE LIKES OC OKEY OKEY! 💜💜💜 sending 💜💜💜💜 to you because you deserve it👏🏼

diortae said: rose I have class in a few minutes and all I can think about is how much I want bitchin jk to raw me what have u DONE

Anonymous said: BITCHIN WAS GREATTTT 🥰 RLLY CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTT 🥺🥺

sunnyoongles said: bitchin is literally so good*chefs kiss* i love angst*chefs kiss* i love drama*chefs kiss* i just love the whole rewind series*chefs kiss*

Anonymous said: BITCHIN’ PART 6 EXCUSE ME STOP TRYING TO HURT MY FEELINGS IM NOT READY FOR THE ANGST

ppampin said: so yesterday i read bitchin pt. 6 three times in a row because it was just so good and now i can't wait to pt. 7 to come out

Anonymous said: Finally got to read bitchin 6, WTF IS GOING ON!? I’m so confused!! Do I trust my so called boyfriend or do I trust “girl code” by my boo’s ex who tried to scare me away from my boo the first time we met ??!!?

Anonymous said: i really need to know something about bitchin 🤔 is kiri a bitch or we don't have feminine rivalry here? help me out rose

Anonymous said: It is almost 1 am in here and I have a morning class but guess who is gonna binge re read all the Bitchin because the last chapter was so good?? 🤔

Anonymous said: I’m so ready for you to break our hearts in bitchin. I live for the angst 😭😭😪

Anonymous said: Rose you are KILLING ME with this story like I'm not even caught up on my favorite TV shows this week but goddammit I still made time for Bitchin' 💕💕💕

cheeky-kookie said: Girl I am sooooo fucking happy with Bitchin' 6. Like I love the small progressions Jungkook is having coming to terms with his actual feelings with Y/N. Also btw, loving the whole Yara/Tae moments going on ;) As always, I'm in love. Thank you for blessing us with this masterpiece

Anonymous said: Rosie !! I just read Bitchin’ and BIIIIITCH you have my feelings on a rollercoaster !!!!!! I’ve never been so invested in a fanfic like this and imma tell you how much I appreciate you for putting your work out on the internet. Especially for free like wtf ! Your writings are some quaLITY shit that I would purchase without hesitation 👌🏽👏🏽 I was wondering if you ever considered going into the writing career ? Anyways have a lovely day 💛💛 -MC

Anonymous said: This ch 6 getting all the attention away from my precious zombie Jungkook 😤 But who am I to say I love Bitchin😂😍 This Kiri better not be playing dirty games we are already not in good terms with her 🧐 And why is nobody talking about the fact that Y/N finally got her event she dreamed of?? Congrats girlll 🎊🎉🥳👌👏

Anonymous said: EXCUSE ME DID I READ THAT U SAID BITCHIN WILL BE ANGSTY FROM HERE ON OUT WBAT MY HEART I CANG FJSHSHDJS

sapphireprinces5 said: I am 1000% not ready for angst between the precious y/n and Jungkook in Bitchin’ omfg i’m honestly terrified and going to buy some tissues from the cvs across the street

Anonymous said: I JUST FINISHED READING BITCHIN 6 AND JUNGKOOK PLS TELL ME THAT JUNGKOOK IS OVER KIRI )))): he couldn’t have been lying about the way he felt for y/n even though it was reheated, right??? I’m SADD. But Rose, you are so beyond talented!!! I love reading your works!!!

Anonymous said: Ok, Rose you gotta let me know if Bitchin’ will have a happy ending, because I don’t know if my emotions can handle an upseti spaghetti ending. Anywho I love you and your writing, everything is chefs kiss. 💗

Anonymous said: bitchin will have 10 parts?????? ma'am u got the power

Anonymous said: OKAY SO BITCHIN’ IS AMAZING AND LIKE— I LOVE (1) DUMB “”””COUPLE”””” Your writing is amazing omg

Anonymous said: Me: already read bitchin completely You: reblogs pt.6 Me: a little refresher wouldn’t hurt 👀

Anonymous said: I wish u the best during your hiatus!!! Take lots of care bby :3 Just wanted to tell you how much I love the 'Bitchin' series, I'm shooketa at how well written it is. Y/N is a really refreshing character, especially as an STEM major myself, it's so relatable to some extent, especially when it comes to appreciating compliments about your inteligence, that really got me, since it's kinda unsual. I hope I found a Jungkook one day then :') jk, but really, I absolutely loved it, you're the best!!!

Anonymous said: hi just so u r aware if u make the end of bitchin’ sad i will cry. that will be on u. my tears will be UR fault.

Anonymous said: i just wanted to say thank you. when bitchin’ came out, there was a part where y/n talks about why she hated her twin sisters. it was comforting to know that i wasn’t alone in feeling uncool or boring. i never brought up my brother because i thought people would see how uncool i was and so i put my effort into school instead. thanks for bringing me comfort and for pushing me to love myself more and to change my viewpoints on the parts of myself i view as boring!!!!! 💛💛💛💛💛💛🌼

this made me :’))) i love knowing that you can find comfort in my characters!!! there is a little piece of me in all my characters but I do try to make them all somewhat different so that other people can relate. best of luck lovely!!

purplealiensblog said: Yo ily and cant wait for the next chapter of bitchin but i have to share: i got a notif on a new chapter and was all excited and then i discover its tumblr being glitchy again and notifying me on the last one :( i hope you will find time soon to write the rest and thank you for writing i love your work🥰♥️

Anonymous said: BITCH I JUST FINISHED READING BITCHIN IN JUST ONE DAY AND NOW I’M CRYING BECAUSE THIS IS MY NEW FAVORITE FIC OF ALL TIME!!!.!.!.! (also sorry my bad englisheu i’m not native lmao)

Anonymous said: HELLO LOVELY AAAAAAAA IM HAPPY YOURE BACK 😩 are u reallyback tho? Hehe im so shookt with the new chapter of bitchin’ has me yearning for more😭 im def a proud bitchinator😔👏 tHANK YOU FOR THIS GIFT BEFORE CHRISTMAS😃 WE LOVE U!!!!💜 we MISSED YOU!! 💜 i hope u are loved and happy and cared for! 💜K

Anonymous said: Hi there !!I hope your doing well ! Taking your time to recover and work on yourself I literally just finshed bitchin to the last update and oof I just gotta tell you what the f How do you write the characters so well... I love me some good characterization like oof ICANNOT JJK IS SO I WANNA SMOOSH HIM IN MY ARMS LIKE PLEASE THE STORY IS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING HAHA I HOPE IM NOT SCARING YOU WITHMY CAPSLOCK I just wish to sincerely get my excitement across hahaha I love you boo take care x

nonecesitodenadie said: I rarely send asks but... I'm reading bitchin and I'M LOVING IT, really it's amazing i hope that you can continue it, i send you much love and thanks for your work you're so talented 🥺❤️

Anonymous said: can i just say bitchin' is honest to god such a good good good fic like i'm so in l*ve with it 😩 i've probably reread it thrice waiting for a new update ): i also happen to love your other works so much as well!!

sydney--chan said: Okay so no cap yesterday I was talking to my friend (who also reads your work) about me and my bf n she was like "he loves you the way Bitchin' jk loves Y/N aND I SOBBED ROSE IT MADE ME CRY FOR HOURS

usagionthem00n said: Lol I know you’ve been kinda quiet on here BUT IM HERE TO PLATONICALLY HARASS U???(tbh idk I’m just trying to find a reason to bother you) I-I miss u 👉👈 HOPE THIS POST MADE U SMILE ILL BE BACK BITCH (Um speaking of bitches I still need to join the bitchinators :/) I PROMISE ILL GET TO IT!!!

Anonymous said: HIIII! so, one night I spent about two hours trying to find another great Jungkook story... I was losing hope in finding one BUT THEN I FOUND “BITCHIN” and omg it’s amazing, I absolutely love it!!!!! take care always, have a great day!! thank you for creating such a beautiful story.

Anonymous said: Can I just say.... bitchin is so good! like it’s been so long since I’ve liked a fic as much as bitchin??!!? Everything about it has me like :)))) so yes just wanted to let u know hehe

Anonymous said: IM ACTUALLY OBSESSED W THE “BITCHIN” SERIES YOU DONT EVEN KNOW 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

SO MANY OF U LOVIN ON BITCHIN!! MAYHAPS IM OVERWHELMED (in the best way possible). Thank u everyone who sent an ask in, i am the happiest bean in bed rn reading all these asks C:

#ask #I DID ITTTTT #jk tho there are actually a few more ones about bitchin but imma make another post I think #Anonymous

10 notes · View notes

nevermindthewind · 6 years

Text

the question queen

shoutout to @fourdrinkamy for helping me come up with this idea and for being my fave hype girl, @amyscascadingtabs for the constant support and encouragement, and to everyone else who’s let me yell about this fic for the past three weeks. I love y’all sm <3

Zoey Peralta loves to ask alllll the questions. When Amy gets pregnant again, the questions become even more frequent and even more hilarious.

read on ao3 or under the cut.

I. “Mommy, why won’t you open the door?!”

This is the question Amy is bombarded with not even seconds after entering the bathroom. She had just left Zoey in front of the TV, seemingly entranced by the episode of Paw Patrol currently on the screen in hopes that she could use the bathroom in peace.

Not entranced enough, apparently.

Dammit.

Really, Amy knows she shouldn’t be complaining. She’s gotten to spend her day off snuggled up with Zoey on the couch, alternating between reading and working on the puzzle sitting half-completed on the coffee table with Paw Patrol on in the background. It’s the type of day she often dreams about when she’s in the midst of a crazy, exhausting case. So, yes, Amy knows how lucky she is.

But she also knows if she hears “Chase is on the case!” one more time she will freaking lose it.

So as soon as Zoey is settled with a bowl of cheez-its Amy slides out of her daughter’s grip and scurries to the bathroom, snagging her purse off the kitchen table as she does so. For the first time in what felt like years she actually turns the lock after closing the bathroom door. Part of her is surprised they still work.

She had just opened her purse and pulled out a small CVS bag when she hears the banging on the door, followed by her daughter’s incessant yelling.

“MOMMY! I said, why won’t you open the door?”

Amy squeezes her eyes shut as her hand freezes inside the bag.

“Baby, Mommy needs a minute to go potty.”

“But why can’t I come in?”

“Because...because I’ve got a surprise for you!” Amy says wildly, internally cursing herself because now she has to figure out a surprise for Zoey on top of everything else.

“Oooh a surprise?! Is it candy? A new binder? GUMMY WORMS?!”

Amy can’t help but smile. Zoey really is such a combination of her parents.

“Go finish your snack and I’ll come show you when I’m done, okay?”

“Okay!”

As soon as she hears Zoey pitter patter back down the hall she turns her attention back to the bag in her hand. She slides the obnoxious pink package out before plopping herself on the toilet.

It’s a weird feeling, the combination of excitement and dread that courses through her veins as she takes out the pregnancy test. She’s taken what feels like a billion of these at this point and she’s felt pretty much every emotion in the book. This one, though, feels different.

Once Zoey had turned three they’d decided to try for another kid. However it turned out to be much, much easier said than done. After almost a year of trying, three close calls, and one particularly heartbreaking conversation where Amy had admitted to Jake she was convinced the universe didn’t find her worthy of another baby, they’d finally decided to leave it up to fate. It was just too damn hard. They weren’t going to stop trying, but they weren’t going to force it either. If they had another baby, amazing. If not, that’d be okay, too. They already had the most incredible, beautiful daughter. They didn’t need anything else.

That was four months ago.

Fast forward to today. Amy’s period is five days late (which never happens), her boobs hurt like hell, and she hasn’t been able to stop eating for the past 72 hours. All signs that point to her possibly being pregnant.

She wants to be excited, Christ does she want to, but she can’t help the nagging fear telling her it’s going to be negative. There’s no way she’s pregnant.

And yet…

There’s still the tiniest glimmer of hope as she awkwardly places the test between her legs (that part never got any easier either). Maybe this is it. Maybe there’s another Jake-and-Amy combo residing in her belly. Maybe.

Amy’s just placed the test on the counter and set her alarm when she hears Zoey once again trampling down the hall.

“Mommy, the show is done. Are you done with my surprise?” The question is followed by what sounds like Zoey attempting to break apart the door with her own two hands.

Amy winces, eyeing the timer still open on her phone. Two minutes, forty-six seconds.

“Not yet, Zo. I had to order it online.” Again with the lies. Get it together, Amy.

“Oh…” A pause, and then, “Can I come in now? I miss you!”

Amy can’t help but laugh as she stands up to unlock the door. The door swings open to reveal Zoey with her tiny fist up in the air as if ready to strike. Zoey looks up, her eyes widening with excitement as she sees her mom.

“Finally!” she says dramatically, flinging herself into Amy’s legs. “You were in there forever.”

Amy rolls her eyes as a smile flickers across her face. Since the day she was born Zoey Peralta has always been one for dramatics. “It was only two minutes, Zo.”

Zoey lets go of Amy’s legs and crosses her arms, making her look fourteen instead of four. “Yeah, two whole minutes!”

Amy can tell her daughter is trying to look mad, but her eyes are sparkling and there’s a mischievous grin attempting to show itself beneath the angry facade. It’s a look that screams Jake Peralta and it’s enough to make Amy’s heart burst with (exasperated) affection.

“Well I am very, very sorry.” Amy reaches out and lifts her daughter into the air, rousing a giggle out of Zoey before resting her on her right hip. She kisses Zoey’s forehead, sweeping her brown curls out of her face. “I missed you too, Zo-bug.”

She carries Zoey over to the toilet and sits so she’s straddling her lap, pausing to check the timer. Thirty-three seconds. Oh shit.

“Mommy?”

“Hmm?” Amy snaps back to look at her daughter.

Zoey cocks her head. “Why’s your face all scrunchy? Is something wrong?”

Amy gives Zoey what she hopes is a convincing smile. “No, nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why are we still here?” Zoey asks, wiggling in an attempt to get out of Amy’s grasp. Amy steals another glance at the test. This look does not get past her daughter, who immediately reaches for the counter. “Ooh what’s that, Mommy?”

It’s all Amy can do not to burst out laughing. Of course Zoey wants to get her hands on a used pregnancy test.

“Well, it’s a test that Mommy took,” she explains, grabbing the stick and shoving it into her pants pocket. She doesn’t look to see the results.

“I love tests!” exclaims Zoey. She turns back to Amy with an inquisitive look. “Can I take one, too?”

Amy snorts before shaking her head. “No, baby. This is a test for Mommies only.”

“Oh. Okay.” Zoey thankfully isn’t too upset she isn’t included in this particular activity. She does, apparently, have more questions. “But why did you take it on the potty?”

Just as Amy’s about to try and explain herself the timer goes off, causing Amy’s brain to officially go into panic mode. This is it, the moment of truth.

But wait -- Should she look with Zoey right there? Part of her wants to, wants her first baby to be there for the moment she becomes a big sister -- or for comfort if she doesn’t. But there’s another part of her that knows if Zoey finds out she will tell Jake, and their parents, and every stranger she meets on the street before Amy even has a chance to open her mouth.

Maybe she should just wait for Jake. He should be home any minute. She can make it til then, right? Right.

Amy lifts Zoey into the air as she rises off the toilet seat and sets her on the ground.

“Alright, Bug. Should we go see what Ryder and the rest of the gang are up to?”

“Yeah! No job is too big, no pup is too — ”

Down the hall they hear the front door click open, followed by a booming voice calling out, “Anybody home?”

“DADDY!” Zoey’s eyes light up before she sprints out of the bathroom and down the hall. “Daddy, you’re home!”

“Hey Zozo!”

Even from her spot in the bathroom Amy can hear Zoey collide with Jake. She giggles to herself as she follows her daughter’s path towards the entryway. Once in the hallway she can see them; Zoey wrapped around Jake’s leg while Jake places his keys on their designated hook.

“How was your day with Mommy?” Jake asks, lifting Zoey into the air. He blows a raspberry on her cheek, causing Zoey to burst into giggles. Amy’s pretty sure it’s scientific fact that Zoey giggles are the cutest sounds in the entire world.

See, they don’t need a second kid. Just look how amazing their first one is.

“Good. We watched Paw Patrol and started a puzzle,” says Zoey, now clinging to Jake’s neck.

Jake’s eyes light up in over-the-top excitement. “No way! You’ll have to show it to me.”

“Okay. Mommy helped but I did most of it,” Zoey adds proudly.

“Yeah she did,” Amy confirms, smiling as she reaches the two of them. “Hi there.”

Jake returns her exhausted smile with one of his own before kissing her gently on the lips. “Hi.”

“Guess what, Daddy?” Zoey pipes up, inserting herself right between her parents. Jake and Amy snicker at each other. God forbid there be a single moment where Zoey isn’t the center of their attention.

“What?”

“Mommy took a test today for Mommies in the bathroom. Isn’t that a funny place for a test?”

Jake’s eyebrows as shoot up while Amy closes her eyes. This was so not how she wanted him to find out.

If there even is anything to find out.

Amy opens her eyes to see Jake looking right at her. She can see the gears in his head turning, quickly putting two and two together. He tilts his head slightly, as if looking for a confirmation.

“Oh really?” His question is directed at Amy. She nods, feeling a blush spread down her neck and cheeks.

“Question Queen over here caught me just as I’d finished taking it.”

“Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool.” Jake lets out a nervous laugh. The corners of his mouth are attempting to smile, but it’s like he’s trying to keep it hidden. Like he’s just as scared as she is.

“And?” he asks in a terrible attempt at being casual. They both know this is anything but casual. “What’d it say?”

“Yeah, did you get all the questions right?” Zoey asks.

“I don’t know,” Amy answers honestly, not taking her eyes off Jake. “We got a little sidetracked.”

“Right.” Jake runs his free hand through his hair.

“I have it here. We should look, right?” Amy asks, slowly reaching her hand down to where the test was currently residing and burning a hole in her pocket. “Get it over with?”

“Sure, yeah, that sounds good,” says Jake, hoisting Zoey over to his other hip. “It’s your call, babe.”

There’s a shift in the air, as if they’ve been suspended in time. Amy grips the test, but freezes just before pulling it out. She doesn’t know if she can do this again, if she can handle another heartbreak.

“Ames?”

Amy looks up to see Jake giving her the sweetest smile with Zoey still tucked into his side.

“It’ll all be okay.”

“Yeah, Mommy!” Zoey adds with a toothy grin of her own. She doesn’t have the slightest idea what her parents are talking about, but both her and Jake’s encouragements are all Amy needs to take the test out of her pocket.

They will be okay. Baby or not, they will all be okay.

She gives them a nod and a tiny smile, takes a deep breath, and finally flips the test over.

“Oh my god.”

A gasp escapes from the back of her throat. She brings her hand to her mouth.

“Ames, what’s it say?”

“Did you get the questions right?”

Amy can’t speak, she can barely breathe as she holds up the test for Jake to see.

A dark pink plus sign.

Turns out Zoey’s getting a surprise after all.

—

II. “How’d the baby get in your tummy?”

In retrospect, Amy probably should have seen this coming.

As soon as they found out Amy was pregnant, both Jake and Amy had been researching ways to make the pregnancy less confusing for her and to prepare her for having a little brother or sister. They’d spent hours scouring the internet and talked to the Sarge and probably bought WAY too many books about the subject.

One thing Terry had suggested was using a doppler to hear the baby’s heartbeat. Apparently he and Sharon did that with the twins before Ava was born and they thought it was the coolest thing ever. They’d even let the girls take turns using the wand, following the baby around as she moved. So last night Jake had rummaged through their closet and dug out the doppler they’d bought when Amy was pregnant with Zoey. Amy, on the other hand, read through the Zoey tab on the pregnancy binder for the thousandth time.

It’s a win-win really and honestly, she’s surprised she didn’t think of this sooner. They hadn’t heard the heartbeat in a few weeks, and Amy already misses hearing it. Even though she’s showing now, she still wants — no, needs that extra reminder that her baby is there, that this is really happening. Sometimes she still has trouble believing it.

So now here they are; Amy’s propped up on the bed with her (Jake’s) t-shirt pulled up and gel all over her belly while Jake sits with Zoey in his lap, the doppler ready to go in between them.

“Alright. You ready for this, Bug?” Jake asks.

“Uh-huh.” Zoey starts to nod then stops herself. “Ready for what?”

Jake and Amy lock eyes and smirk to themselves. Their daughter, they’ve realized, has inherited her father’s goldfish brain.

“To hear the baby’s heartbeat,” Amy reminds her gently. She places her hand on the machine. “Remember? We’re gonna use the doppler so you can hear its heartbeat from inside my tummy.”

“We did this all the time when you were in there,” adds Jake. Zoey looks up at him with raised eyebrows.

“You did?”

“Oh yeah,” says Amy with an exaggerated nod. “We listened to your heartbeat all the time. In fact, it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. Until I heard you cry.” She reaches over and pokes Zoey’s belly, causing her to break into giggles. “And heard you laugh.”

“Silly Mommy,” says Zoey, still giggling. “Heartbeats aren’t beautiful! And neither is crying. Crying is so annoying.”

Annoying is Zoey’s new favorite word. Everything is annoying these days.

“Maybe most crying is annoying,” says Amy. “But hearing you cry when you were born was the least annoying, most amazing thing in the entire world.”

“Okay…” Zoey says, clearly unconvinced. However she moves on rather quickly, now turning her attention back to the doppler. “How does it work?”

“How about we show you?” Jake asks in reply. “Give me your hand.”

Zoey obliges, extending her arm out towards Jake. Jake, in turn, places the doppler wand in her hand before wrapping his own hand around hers. He guides the wand towards Amy’s belly and helps Zoey place it just below her belly button.

“What is this, Daddy?” Zoey asks. Her eyes are still trained on the doppler wand in front of her.

“This,” Jake starts dramatically, “Is a magic wand.”

“For realz?” Zoey’s eyes are wide as saucers. Jake nods, his eyes matching his daughter’s intensity.

“For realz. It sends a special message into Mommy’s belly and then plays the baby’s heartbeat into this little speaker.”

Part of Amy wants to interrupt, to give Zoey a more accurate depiction of what’s happening -- that’s what all the books say to do and it’s in subsection five of the Zoey tab. But as she listens to the two of them talk about magic and how the gel on her skin is actually a secret potion, she can’t bring herself to do it. Zoey’s completely enamoured. Her gaze keeps switching from Jake to the doppler to Amy’s belly with infectious excitement. It’s the most she’s really engaged with the baby since they first explained the pregnancy. How could she interrupt?

“How are we gonna find the heartbeat?” Zoey asks after Jake’s done explaining.

“Well, first we need to turn on the machine,” says Jake. He looks up at Amy. “Mommy, will you do the honors?”

Amy grins. “Of course.”

She reaches over and flicks the switch, and instantly a static noise fills the air

“Is that it?!” Zoey asks, already excited. “Is that the heartbeat?”

Jake shakes his head.

“Not yet,” he says gently. Using his hand to guide Zoey’s, the two of them begin to move the doppler across her stomach. “Now we have to find it. It’s like a treasure hunt.”

“It’ll sound different, Zo. Kind of like a galloping horse,” Amy adds. “That’s how Abuela always described it to me.”

“Like this?” Zoey beings clicking her tongue, jumping up and down in Jake’s lap in what Amy assumes is a horse impression. She gets so into it she almost throws Jake off the bed.

“Easy, cowgirl!” Jake grabs the headboard and pulls himself back towards the middle of the bed so his knee is bumping against Amy’s side.

“Yep, kinda like that,” Amy says with a giggle.

It takes them another minute or so to find the baby, specifically the heartbeat. She knows they found it a second before Jake does. It’s fast -- very similar to Zoey’s horse impression if she’s being honest -- and absolutely breathtaking. Amy’s never been as into music as Jake, but this? This is music to her ears.

“There you are,” she whispers. One corner of her mouth curls into a smile as she instinctively brings a hand to her belly and raps her fingers against the bump. She’s almost immediately rewarded with a nudge under her hand. It’s too early to feel it from the outside, making it all the more special. Right now the kicks are just for her, her own secret code with her littlest baby. “You’re excited too, aren’t you?” Another nudge. “That’s what I thought.”

Next to her she can hear Jake talking Zoey through the whole experience.

“You hear that, Zo? That’s the heartbeat. That’s your little sister,” he says. His voice is soft, almost reverent. His hand is still wrapped around Zoey’s as they continue to press the doppler onto Amy’s belly.

“Wow…” says Zoey, clearly in awe.

“I know, isn’t that awesome?”

“Yeah, so awes -- Hey! Where’d it go?”

Static replaces the heartbeat, causing both Amy and Zoey to look up at Jake with identical annoyed expressions.

“Hold on, ladies. Give me a second. She must be moving around in there,” Jake explains, bringing his attention back to the doppler. “We have to move the wand around a bit so we can find her again, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

It doesn’t take them long to find it again, the familiar whoosh once again filling up the room within a minute or so. Amy can hear Zoey firing off more questions, to which Jake gives a multitude of answers. She probably should be paying more attention, but it’s just so hard to focus on anything other than the heartbeat and the little kicks she’s getting to her side.

However there is one question that manages to bring her out of her trance real quick.

“How’d the baby get in your tummy?”

The room falls silent as Jake lets go of the doppler, letting it fall onto the bed with a soft thump.

Amy snaps her head up to see Zoey looking right at her, her eyes furrowed with curiosity. She’s seen that look hundreds of times; it’s the same look Jake gets when he’s thinking through all the possible outcomes of a case.

“Mommy?” Zoey asks again. Her eyes flicker between Amy’s eyes and her belly. “How’d the baby get in there?”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”

For all of the binders and all of the tabs she’s created for this pregnancy and how to explain it to Zoey, Amy never even thought about making one for this particular question.

Rookie mistake.

Amy looks up from her daughter to Jake, who’s just as shocked as she is. Amy raises her eyebrows, hoping he would have some brilliant idea for how to answer their daughter’s latest question. He merely scrunches his face up with an alarmed shake of the head.

“Well,” Amy starts, “Mommies grow babies in their tummies.”

“I know that,” huffs Zoey. “But how did it get inside?”

“It’s -- uh, well it’s kinda like…”

“Like what?”

Amy shoots Jake another panicked look, trying to telepathically get him to step in. Thankfully he seems to get the message.

“It’s magic, Zo,” he explains, pulling something out of his ass based on his wild expression. “Yeah! When two people love each other a magic spell gets placed on them and it takes part of the mommy and part of the daddy and puts them together in the mommy’s tummy. Then it grows and grows until it’s a baby and it’s ready to come out. How cool is that?!”

“Yeah that is kinda cool,” Zoey says thoughtfully. She’s quiet for a second, then, “Will I have a baby in my tummy?”

“If you want to, baby,” Amy says, pursing her lips as she tries not to laugh at Jake’s terrified expression. “But not for a long, long time,” she adds.

Zoey furrows her eyebrows before nodding. “Okay. Can I hear the heartbeat again?”

“Yes!” Jake exclaims a little too quickly as he fumbles for the doppler. Amy covers her mouth to hide her giggles, which earns her a flick to the shoulder. “Rude,” he mouths.

“You love me,” she shoots back.

She expects some snappy comeback, but as always Jake continues to surprise her. He leans over, catching her lips in the softest kiss.

“Yes I do.”

—

Later on after Zoey’s had her fill of the baby she decides to go play in her room, leaving Jake and Amy alone.

“So magic, huh?” Amy asks at once, giving Jake an amused smirk. “Did our Hogwarts letters just get lost in the mail, or…?”

“Hey, I didn’t hear you coming up with better!” Jake says defensively. “Besides, at least she bought it. Now hopefully she won’t ask about it again for a while.”

“That’s true…” she trails off before letting out a groan. “God, our daughter is too curious for her own good.”

“And just think, soon there will be two of them,” says Jake, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Amy can’t help but melt as he lowers himself down so he’s laying on his side, propping his head on his hand. “I love you, baby girl.”

Amy feels the slightest nudge right as Jake places his other hand on the swell of her stomach. Based on Jake’s non-existent reaction, the kick isn’t strong enough to be felt on the outside. Usually she tells Jake when the baby moves, but this one she decides to keep to herself. It won’t be long until the kicks aren’t just for her. For now she’d rather keep it that way. Instead she runs her hand through the curls at the nape of Jake’s neck, relishing the rare moment of tranquility as Jake continues to trace patterns all across her stomach.

It’s Jake who finally breaks the silence.

“Wanna listen to her heartbeat again without a four-year-old asking a billion questions?”

Amy grins. “Oh you know it.”

----

III. “Is this my baby?”

Amy is nervous.

Well, she’s a multitude of things. She’s tired and sore and excited and terrified and so, so, so deliriously happy. But right now, she’s mostly nervous.

It’s not that she thinks anything bad will happen. They’ve been preparing for this. Not to mention Zoey’s been asking everyday for the past month when the baby will get here. She’s constantly been telling both her parents -- and everyone else she knows for that matter -- all the things she wants to do with her baby sister when she gets here. They’re gonna play Ninja Turtles, watch Moana, read all her favorite books, you name it. Amy and Jake have tried explaining that the baby won’t be able to play for a little bit, but Zoey doesn’t seem to care. She’s just too excited. She even made a little to-do list of all the activities. Granted, it’s a piece of paper with a bunch of colored squiggles, but still. The point is, the girl’s excited to have a little sister.

So really Amy shouldn’t be nervous at all. They’re ready for this.

But still, there’s a part of her that remembers the horror stories she’s read about where the older kid threw a tantrum when they realized they weren’t the only child getting mom and dad’s attention. It’s that very thought that’s been running through her head since Jake left to pick up Zoey from his mom’s. What if that’s Zoey’s reaction? What if she hates her sister?

The tiniest movement from the hours old bundle in her arms grabs Amy’s attention. Her gaze is brought back to her daughter, who’s face scrunches up before stretching into the most adorable yawn.

Amy can feel her heart exploding into a million little pieces. God, her daughter is breathtaking.

How could anyone hate her?!

Truth be told, there’d been a tiny part of her that was worried she wouldn’t love this baby as much as she loves Zoey. It was a fear she never voiced, not even to Jake. She didn’t want anyone thinking she was going to be a terrible mother, or that she’d already somehow picked a favorite child. But sitting here in her hospital bed with their beautiful baby who has the darkest hair and tiniest nose she can feel all those fears disappear.

“Because I love you so much, yes I do,” Amy whispers, bringing the baby up to eye level. She closes her eyes and plants the softest kiss on her daughter’s forehead. “You beautiful, beautiful girl.”

The baby blinks before looking right back at Amy and she thinks there’s no question who’s eyes she inherited.

Jake had put it best before he left to pick up Zoey.

“She’s like an opposite Harry Potter, babe! Looks just like her mom except her eyes. Pretty sure those are mine.”

“He’s right, you know,” Amy says, kissing the baby’s cheek this time before tucking her back into her arms. She runs a finger over her cheek. “Your dad is actually right a lot of the time, but we don’t tell him that. Can’t have him getting cocky.”

Her phone buzzes on her bedside table.

“I bet I know who that is,” Amy sings as she picks up the phone to check her texts. Sure enough, she’s right. She types up a quick response before turning her attention back to her daughter. “Your daddy and sister are on their way up. Zoey’s so excited to meet you. Although, you might want to clear your schedule. It sounds like she’s going to be keeping you pretty busy,” she jokes.

The baby lets out a tiny squeal.

“I know!” Amy exclaims softly. “You two are gonna have so much fun.”

With her free hand she grabs the plastic bassinet over to her side before gently lowering the baby onto the bedding. She doesn’t want Zoey to feel threatened, so she’s decided open arms would be her best option. Besides, she needs her hands to be free so she properly hug her firstborn; it’s only been 24 hours but she misses her question queen so much it hurts.

While she waits for the other half of her family to arrive, Amy takes the opportunity to study her daughter‘s features. Looks wise the girls are pretty similar, but there are a few differences she’s picked up on; they share the same chin and eyes and they both have the Santiago nose, but while Zoey has her dad’s mouth and hair color, their newest addition definitely favored Amy. And while she’s only been in the world for eight hours, this little girl is proving to be much more, well, chill than their eldest.

Although that could be because of the fact that she was born right on schedule on a sunny morning in July rather than almost three weeks early in the middle of a Halloween Heist.

“But who’s to say. Right, cutie?” Amy coos, running a finger over the baby’s fine, dark hair.

A quiet knock on the door echoes through the quiet hospital room, causing Amy’s grip on the bassinet to tighten. She doesn’t have time to even invite them in before the door bursts open.

“MOMMY!!!”

Zoey races into the room wearing the “World’s Best Big Sister” shirt they’d bought for her a couple months ago followed by a slightly frazzled Jake. His hair is still stuck up in a million directions and Amy’s pretty sure his shirt’s on backwards, making him look just as exhausted as she feels.

“Zoey, remember what we talked about?” Jake asks softly, causing Zoey to stop in her tracks in the middle of the room. “We need to be gentle, okay?”

“Oh yeah. Sorry.” Zoey drops her voice to a whisper before continuing to inch towards the bed. She gives Amy a toothy grin. “Hi Mommy.”

“Hey, Zo-bug,” says Amy, returning her daughter’s smile. She pats the spot to her left and Zoey immediately climbs up and curls into Amy’s side. “How was your night at Nana’s?”

“Good,” Zoey replies, her voice muffled by the hospital gown and her mom’s side. “We had ice cream with oreos in it.”

“Ooh that sounds so yummy. Maybe we should get some of that for our apartment,” Amy says, brushing a hand through one of Zoey’s curly pigtails. “Did Daddy do your hair?”

But Amy’s question goes unanswered, as Zoey is now looking curiously at the bassinet, or rather the tiny bundle inside the bassinet. Amy smiles up at Jake, who returns it with an excited grin of his own. He’s got his phone out, already taking copious amounts of photos.

“What do you see?” Amy murmurs into her daughter’s ear.

In true Zoey fashion, she answers with a question. It is officially the cutest, best question she’s ever asked.

“Is that my baby?”

Amy lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, Zo, that’s your baby sister. That’s Sarah. Sarah Grace Peralta.”

“Oh.” Zoey’s still mesmerized. She sits up so she’s no longer in Amy’s arms and reaches out, pressing a finger against the plastic. “Hi, Sarah.”

Sarah flails her arm free from her swaddler.

“Look, Bug! She’s waving at you,” says Jake. Out of the corner of her eye Amy can see him moving closer, taking a spot on the couch to get a better view.

“Yeah…” Zoey trails off before looking up at Amy. “Can I hold her?”

“Of course,” says Amy. She sits up and carefully lifts Sarah into her arms before looking up at Jake. “You wanna grab the hand sanitizer from my bag?”

“Oh yeah.” Jake jumps from his spot and sifts through Amy’s overnight bag before pulling out the giant bottle of Purell she’d bought a few weeks ago. He sits down on the bed and pours a dollop into his hand. “Come here, Zo. Let’s get your hands squeaky clean.”

“Why?”

“Because Sarah hasn’t had time to get used to germs like we have. So we want to make sure she doesn’t get sick,” he explains.

“Oh okay,” says Zoey, holding her hands out for Jake. “Kinda like when we go to your work? There are germs there too, right Mommy?”

“Exactly,” says Amy with a nod. “Now, how about you go sit in Daddy’s lap and he’ll help you hold the baby?”

Zoey nods fervently, scrambling across the bed and plopping herself onto Jake’s legs. “I’m ready!” she announces.

Amy bites her lip as she smiles back at her daughter. She can already feel the tears forming and Zoey hasn’t even held her yet. But seeing Zoey so excited and watching Jake help her hold her arms the right way is just too much for her hormonal brain to handle.

“Okay, baby. Here you go. Be gentle, okay?” Amy carefully places Sarah in Jake and Zoey’s arms, making sure her head was supported by Jake.

Zoey is silent, her eyes growing wide as she felt the baby’s weight in her arms. She’s more still than she’s been in months, which honestly is freaking Amy out. Zoey is never this quiet. Is something wrong? Does she already hate her? What could possibly be going through her daughter’s brain right now?!

Jake, on the other hand, is completely calm.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?” he asks, his voice low, steady.

“Mmhm,” Zoey says. She doesn’t take her eyes off the baby. “She’s so cute.”

Jake smiles, leaning down to nuzzle the top of Zoey’s head with his cheek. “You’re doing so well, Zo. You wanna give your baby a kiss?”

Zoey nods, slowly leaning down and planting the softest kiss on Sarah’s cheek.

Oh god, if Amy wasn’t crying before she definitely is now. This is better than anything she could’ve imagined. Her three favorite people are loving on each other and being so sweet it actually hurts her heart. It’s so pure, so warm. It’s better than anything she could have possibly imagined. She’s honestly surprised she hasn’t completely melted into a puddle in the middle of her bed.

While Jake and Zoey keep fawning over Sarah, Amy reaches over and grabs both her phone and a box of tissues off the table. She hastily wipes at her eyes before snapping picture after picture, hoping at least one of them turns out. Jake’s going to want to remember this. Hell, she’s gonna wanna remember this.

At one point Jake looks up and makes eye contact with Amy, and that’s when she sees he’s been crying too. Amy cocks her head, wanting to make sure he’s okay. Jake nods back, his eyes shining.

“Just happy,” he mouths.

She juts her lip out. “Love you,” she whispers. Because she does. She loves Jake Peralta with all her heart.

He grins, biting his lower lip. “Love you too.”

Not to be outdone, Zoey looks up to see where her dad’s attention has gone.

“Mommy, why you crying?” she asks, looking alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

Amy laughs, wiping at her eyes again. “Oh nothing, baby. These are happy tears.” She reaches out and runs a hand down Zoey’s arm and squeezing her hand. “I just love you and your baby sister so much.”

“I love you too, Mommy,” says Zoey. She gives Sarah another kiss. “And I love my baby.”

And that’s how Amy Santiago-Peralta died.

Just kidding. She doesn’t die.

She does, however, go through a whole box of tissues as Sarah gets passed from Zoey to Jake and back to her. Zoey’s never far from her sister, always wanting to hold her hand or give her a kiss.

Between Amy and Jake they take almost a hundred photos, and Amy already has one of them picked out as her new desk photo (Holt says to not keep photos on your desk but she can’t help it, she likes to see her daughter -- no, daughters -- faces while she works). It’s a selfie Jake took. He’s smiling his softest, close-lipped smile with Zoey in his lap, not looking at the camera but at Sarah. The baby is fast asleep in Amy’s arms, and Amy herself is smiling so wide you can see her molars if you look hard enough. It’s not a perfect photo -- Zoey’s a little blurry and the bags under Amy’s eyes wouldn’t fit in the overhead compartment of an airplane -- but it’s perfect to her.

It’s her family.

#ITS DONE #G'BLESS #peraltiago #peraltiago fic #jake x amy #jake peralta #amy santiago

170 notes · View notes

ddelline · 9 months

Text

wip wednesday

blurb | I have nothing 2 say except here is writing from a time before ch236 was released, featuring actual goyuu, so pls savor it (and if yr not someone who checks chapter leaks, I’m happy for u, and pls savor yr happiness)

premise | part 2 of time!loop fic, featuring culling game!goyuu. a bit short, but that’s where we are atm

“Yūji,” warns Satoru.

“Sensei,” replies Yūji. All things considered, he’s remarkably settled, caging Satoru’s lap between his thighs, with the solid mass of him pressing Satoru into the ground. He’s got one palm flat against the dusty floorboards, the other still knuckling Satoru’s shoulder.

“This isn’t going to go the way you think,” says Satoru. It’s not hyperbole, nor is it a lie: whatever it is Yūji thinks, or wants—what Satoru wants; this isn’t going anywhere either of them thinks. Satoru, all that he is and isn’t, is wedged stuck somewhere between a rock and a hard place, with the rock being the inability to live on in a single timeline, and the hard place being an inability to stay alive. Yūji might not remember that countless iterations of Satoru’s been KO’d every which way from Sunday; might not be aware that time as a concept is a fucking lie, a sham. But Satoru does.

This isn’t going to go the way anyone thinks.

Yūji tilts his head. He hums. He eases insistent fingers from the tight clench they’ve fisted Satoru’s jacket in, loosening until he drops his arm. He settles it across the flat span of Satoru’s thigh. Satoru swallows against the urge to abandon sense, caution and thought. “To be fair, sensei, nothing’s going the way I think lately. I’m still alive though. I think that counts for something.”

“You—” begins Satoru. He cuts himself off. The knee jerk instinct—something which he typically never allows himself to follow—to redistribute his own weight and lift the hand which he’d had steadied into the floor at his back, lay it as a mirror atop the straining fabric of Yūji’s thigh, is something he isn’t quite sure why he allows now. There is the faintest echo of a pulse thudding against his palm, and the most miniscule of rippling in Yūji’s muscles, the cords of his quadriceps wavering and shifting with each breath.

Yūji reaches up towards Satoru’s face. Satoru stays put, Six Eyes mapping and contouring his every move, though his eyes remain closed, as they’re wont to do. “Can I?” he asks.

Satoru inclines his head. Yūji digs the tip of his index finger beneath Satoru’s blindfold and tugs it down.

If Satoru were more inclined to go along with society’s conventions, rules and regulations; if he weren’t stuck in a seemingly endless temporospatial reset, apparently destined to eternally live and relive his own worst hits (and his enemies’ greatest); if he’d been born a little less interested in power, and some peoples’ inherent ability to surprise him—there are countless what-ifs and if-onlys, and all of them apply to Satoru.

He’s just never given much of a damn.

Which is why, upon a quiet, not quite-intentional “oh” escaping Yūji as he makes eye contact with Satoru—Satoru who reckons he does his best to not squint into the bright light of indoor dusk, and whose hair promptly spills a mess across his forehead and into his lashes—well, Satoru is less inclined to breathe and consider his actions. He holds Yūji’s gaze, allows for the moment to hang between them; to take shape.

This isn’t going to go the way either of them thinks.

Yūji surges forward, crashing into Satoru by way of a mess of chapped lips and sharp teeth. The precarious balancing Satoru’s done to maintain them both upright and steady is offset as Yūji pitches forward. There are one and two ways to keep them upright, but really, what’s the point? Satoru snaps up and fists a hand in Yūji’s jacket and pulls him down. As they sink down, he tilts his jaw and opens his mouth, welcomes Yūji in wholly, guides his inexperience right and licks into his mouth. It’s filthy, too wet for what it is, but Satoru can’t bring himself to mind any part of it.

Yūji huffs against Satoru’s lips. His hips twitch, the hard length of his dick lining up against Satoru’s own. Satoru hums.

#work: fic #fandom: jujutsu kaisen #goyuu #jjk #wip wednesday #fic: cv/sm

13 notes · View notes

ddelline · 3 months

Text

friday fic f*ckery (wip wednesday 2 days late)

blurb | she returns! with updates! later than promised! new cv/sm snippet, after ..... six months :,) well, work kicked my ass, ch236 certainly didn't do any of us any favors, and then I f*cked off to latam for a month of vacation. but I'm back!!! rested, tan (for ca the 2nd time in my life) and freshly (re)inspired. so we can have some cv/sm ch2 snippet, as a treat ;a;

premise | we're entering culling game territory. that's all imma say for now. well ok, not much happens here, I mostly just wanted to show signs of life lol

Satoru is falling.

He’s falling, rapidly dropping from at least half a kilometer skywards. Cursing the inherent capricious fickleness of Prison Realm—Prison Realm, Buddha, Hell incarnate, whom- slash whatever has stuck him in this never ending loop—he rights himself midair, fumbling his graceless way through multi-seals of Red and Blue until he’s maneuvered himself from horizontal to upright. He cushions a dense amount of amplification/reversal beneath the soles of his feet, puffs an audible breath, and looks down.

Beneath his feet stretches a silver-black, opaque barrier. By cursory glance he estimates its radius to at least a handful miles. The skies above are overcast, though bright; the light spearing through the banks of cloud bounces off the barrier, giving its matte gray hull a sheen which flickers and wobbles in stretches of paces and tracts.

The barrier is an obvious giveaway: this is a Culling Game colony. Satoru’s well enough familiar; remembers a stretch of eight sleepless hours in which he’d devoured dossier after dossier of news clippings, incident reports, stat compendiums and autopsies, two weeks into the Culling Games, and a scant forty eight hours post-unsealing. He remembers boring naked eyes into a painstakingly noted, three-dimensional map-cum-graph of the Culling Game territory; affected regions: Tohoku, Kanto, Chūbu, Kansai, Chugoku and Kyushu; confirmed colonies: Aomori, Iwate, Miyagi, Saitama, Chiba, Tokyo, Tokyo, Kanagawa, Yamamashi, Aichi, Shiga, Kyoto, Hyogo, Osaka, Hiroshima and Kagoshima.

Satoru has taken in the broad sweeps of Tokyo’s metropolis from far above one too many times to mistake wherever he is for anywhere closeby. What he chances: a large city along the coast; given his current proximity to an Eastbound shoreline, as well as a considerable expanse of forested areas and roiling, yellow fields eating into the scenery, he’s going to assume he’s either a few hundred kilometers North or South of Tokyo. Maybe Miyagi. Or Chūbu.

The barrier is too dense and too cleverly constructed to allow Satoru to peek through and glean more than the most base information: cityscape and skyline are barely visible, the shapes and contours which oscillate beneath the ripples of the sky-in-the-barrier appear like a mirage out of focus. There is vague movement far below, tiny prickles of dots which move every which way. Every few intervalled seconds reveal noiseless, sepia-tinted flashes. Explosions.

Well. There’s only one way in which he can proceed, unless he’d planned on hightailing it out of there. Which he hadn’t. Satoru, at this point past the point of expecting the worst—and somehow, cyclically, living (dying, really) through it—makes his way downwards warily.

He doesn’t know what to expect, in truth; twenty nine years, an indeterminate number of days, weeks or years inside Prison Realm, plus an unknown bout of days cycling through iterations of timelines which may or may not have actually occurred—he’s been exposed to shoddy veils cracking around the density of his own cursed energy; written tests covering the cursed fundamentals of purification barriers; barrier techniques specifically tailored to keep him excluded from what’s outside, safely contained within.

He doesn’t know what to expect here.

Satoru touches down on the barrier.

“Yo! I’m Kogane!”

If he weren’t blasé about the most outlandish of jujutsu techniques being shoved in his face by now, Satoru wonders if he wouldn’t have reared back into guard. He squints at the cursed spirit which has materialised in his face out of thin air. He’s read himself to the basics of this, but it’s his first time seeing it.

He’s about to reply ad hoc when it continues, voice tinny and clearly electronically scrambled. “The death matches known as the Culling Game are underway inside of this barrier!! Once you step in, you’re a player too!!”

“I—”

“Knowing that, will you go inside anyway!?”

“That’s morbid,” huffs Satoru.

The cursed spirit, Kogane—its structural composition isn’t all curse, atom constellations mashed down somewhere halfway between cursed spirit and inanimate object—undulates and flicks its tail. It doesn’t go on, seemingly content to wait for his reply. It’ll have to be in the affirmative or negative, Satoru guesses. A game interface, then. Curse based, but all in all a tool.

“Sure, I’ll tap in.” What’s adding some more death, decay and public property destruction to his already considerable tally?

Kogane’s tail whips twice, ceasing when it’s a perfunctory line, its arrow-like tip pointing straight into the glassy dome beneath. Beware, ye who enter—but here’s a map, lest you get lost en route to the deathmatch arenas. “Tch, sick bastards,” he mutters.

When it next speaks, its delivery is robotic, flat: “Gojō Satoru has joined the Culling Game. Would you like to review the rules?”

Satoru has already reviewed the rules. Most cold, factual data obtained and recorded on the Culling Game had been cursory at best—and guess work and estimates at worst—Ijichi plus Nitta times two had managed to patchwork sorcerer’s statements, CCTV and aerial scans, and classified government reports into a general debrief: the (probable) how’s, when’s and why’s of the game.

“I’m good,” he says.

Kogane tuts. Mechanical and rote though it may be, it sounds chiding. Then it disappears, flickering twice, its shape disrupted by something static-adjacent until it bleeds out of sight and mind.

“Huh.” Satoru waits on the spot for a few seconds—parses out a few seconds, in case there’s more incoming.

Nothing else happens. He rights himself, and sinks a foot through the barrier.

#work: fic #wip wednesday #current wip #fic: cv/sm #goyuu #we back baby!!!!#jjk

3 notes · View notes

ddelline · 9 months

Text

time loop thursday

blurb | I did in fact miss wednesday wip posting deadline, but this works, and I did just write 6k of this in one sitting, even though I really did not have time to do that. this behemoth fic, istg

premise | since this isn't really a normal time loop fic, but also kind of time traveling all over the place!fic, ofc I'm visiting All Of The Trope-y Timelines. and here we are at hidden inventory/sudden death. bc I love writing shōko. honestly mainly bc of that. still no goyuu (lmao) but it is a quite lengthy bit of hi/sd!trio feat older!satoru

Suguru puffs an exasperated breath and crosses his arms over his chest. His nails are bitten down, not filed as they usually were; his left ring finger and pinky are taped. Must have happened at some point Satoru can’t recall from their (thankfully) brief bout with Fushiguro. “I can’t say either of that made it on to my list of concerns. This extra examination was unnecessary, as well. Why wouldn’t you notice it’s him? Satoru’s a horrible liar.” Suguru tips his chin in Satoru’s direction. He raises an eyebrow at him. His expression is relaxing in slow increments, even if it still retains an edge of caution. “You can tell from the CES. Like this.” Suguru reaches out towards Satoru. It’s cautious without for that matter being slow, clearly telegraphing, giving Satoru the chance to influence what happens next.

A horrible, rippling weight in Satoru’s chest seizes at that. He thinks it might be his whole heart. It’s such a painfully Suguru thing to do; is a thoughtful, mindless tic he’s had since they were kids, all of nine gangly years, spiteful and prideful and intensely aware of their prodigy: complete assholes, in fact. But it’d been underscored by sullen, insecure tenderness, like awkward adolescent friendship tends towards. He dispels Infinity with a twitch of his fingers. Three of Suguru’s fingers make contact, press lightly down in the crook of his elbow. He withdraws momentarily after. “It’s a lot more tempered, but it feels the same. There’s no change in the mass or texture of the signature.”

Shōko rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “Never mind a shikigami, your sense of curse echolocating seems to be just as good. Better. Why don’t they teach us this in med school?”

“Don’t call me a curse,” grouses Suguru. “And they do teach us this. In jujutsu school. You just happened to sleep through the majority part of the curse energy analysis curriculum.”

Shōko shrugs. “Cursed energy is just like, fwoosh, and crrrck. Like the crackle of fire, you know. Sometimes a little shhhwp, and yoosh.” Suguru rolls his eyes. “Besides, saying that just because it feels like Satoru, it has to be him, is reductionist. Your cursed energy signature isn’t necessarily fixed. Vessels’ CE have shown to adapt, even to a certain extent mix, with the host curse’s. From a scientific point of view, it’s highly unlikely that something like an innate technique capable of cloaking or imitating another’s CE, for example, can’t exist.”

Satoru whistles and grins. “Here’s someone who did all the suggested additional readings. At least in that class. I appreciate your being in my corner though, Suguru. Even if that was a solid, grade A-smack down.”

“Satoru,” says Suguru, in the same breath as Shōko says, “Gojō-san,” after which they both chorus more or less identical sentiments of “shut up, no one was talking to you.”

Spindly fingers fit themselves into the spaces between his ribs. They reach inwards, finding his lungs and heart and curl; settle securely around bloody, wildly pumping organ matter. They squeeze. Satoru’s fingers spasm marginally where they’re resting across the flat of his own thigh.

He failed them both before. And in so many more ways than he ever realized. More than he ever will, probably. No matter how long he lives, or how much he learns. Whatever he does, or doesn’t do here: he won’t fail them like that again.

Yaga rucks his sunglasses up to rest on his brow and pinches the bridge of his nose. An aggravated breath hisses out of him. Satoru can guess what comes next. “Goddamn!” swears his now-teacher, future-headmaster. When he looks at Satoru again, moments later, his expression is grim. “I can’t fault you for this one, Satoru. Maybe I ought to praise you. But goddamn.”

“Please don’t, sensei,” sighs Shōko, “One violation of fundamental world principles per day is enough.”

“I agree,” says Suguru. Satoru tsks.

Yaga gestures for them to zip it. “Enough. Cynicisms and smart quips aren’t going to get us closer to figuring out what to do about this,” he levels Satoru with a sharp stare again, “we’ve not got any time, either. Ijichi’s doing his best to keep the damned lid on for now, but a near-successful assassination of the Star Plasma Vessel carried out by a member of one of the big three—on warded school ground, no less; it’s a shitstorm the size of a hurricane brewing in a teacup. High council, the noble Three, plus a string of second tier branch families, jujutsu regulatory institutions—we’ve got an official inquiry pending from the desk of the PM; no one doesn’t want to get in on how we could’ve let this happen.”

Satoru desperately wants to note, out loud, something about Yaga’s uncharacteristically colourful language. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the gravity of the situation—no one is more keen than Satoru to figure out what the actual fuck is happening, or root out the apparent fail safe at the heart of the temporal knot he’s gotten himself stuck in, unpick it and put things right again. But frankly, if he’s not allowed to take a moment to breathe, and appreciate, Yaga Masamichi illustrating the monumental fuckfest of the protection and escort mission of Amanai Riko as a hurricane sized shitstorm wreaking havoc within the bounds of a tiny teacup—then what point is there to all the pain, suffering, and trauma they’ve needed to endure along the way (some of them twice over, now)?

“We didn’t let it happen, though,” says Satoru, who is sadly twenty nine and sensible. “Believe me, I’ve been privy to the alternative. It’s far shittier.”

“So you’ve alluded to,” says Yaga, “Cursory background is provided, but I don’t think that’s enough.”

Satoru doesn’t glance towards Suguru and Shōko, parked behind respective desks to his left. The crux of the matter, and the solution to the problem, won’t become apparent to them just because he provides a detailed account of this future’s, and his own past, eleven years. “People died. Curses banded merrily together to plan an apocalypse. Gojō Satoru, Strongest Sorcerer, failed. We failed, pretty spectacularly actually, in preventing jujutsu society, an idiotically archaic reactionist system which favoured genealogy over talent and control over reform, from rinse, recycle and repeat-doom cycling us straight off a cliff.” Satoru pauses, levelling Yaga with a flat stare, “If I had time stamps, I’d call Ijichi in to transcribe. But since what happened today didn’t happen the last time around—I’d guess we’re winging it from here. Sensei.”

Silence as thick as dewy, muggy fog settles over the classroom. Satoru slouches more exaggeratedly into the desk he’d taken to leaning against when they’d been summoned. Either Suguru or Shōko voices a small, shock-adjacent expel of breath. Yaga remains quiet, only emoting by way of one eyebrow twitching, and a muscle in his jaw spasming and fluttering with tension.

“Heartbreaking: the worst person you know just delivered a rousing speech on progressive political reform,” says Shōko faintly.

Suguru heaves a belly deep sigh. “Satoru,” he chides, “All of that, and you’re still so disrespectful?”

“All of you. Shut up,” booms Yaga. He unfolds his hands, displacing his weight, and slowly gets to his feet. Satoru vaguely entertains the hilarious irony in surviving Fushiguro Toji stabbing the Inverted Spear of Heaven through his frontal lobe, only to end up being strangled to death by his teacher for mouthing off during a debriefing. A lunging attack isn’t forthcoming, however. He stands, keeps regarding Satoru with dark eyes and a tense jaw. Eventually, he just sighs. Deflates. “You’re still an arrogant shit, Satoru, and for that you don’t deserve to be rewarded. But you’re right. Damned if you aren’t right.” His teacher pauses, then nods at him, hard and jerky. “You grew up. A lot of people probably benefited from that. Let’s see if we can as well.”

#fandom: jujutsu kaisen #work: fic #jjk #fic: cv/sm #wip wednesday #goyuu #at it again tagging goyuu when the goyuu is still pending #ddelline's blatant in-tag lies #when will this fic end #no one knows #certainly not me

8 notes · View notes

ddelline · 24 days

Text

thx f*ck I outlined cv/sm, both plot and concepts, before I sat down to write it bc uhhhhh coming back to this convoluted, physics-sprinkled plot heavy ass mfer six months later would Not have worked out otherwise

#most of the concepts of time loop fic #is just me tryna sound smart #why did I do that 2 myself #lmao otl #work: fic #fic: cv/sm

2 notes · View notes

ddelline · 25 days

Text

time loop thursday (is back in action baybe)

blurb | so I read leaks today, like the rest of us depraved leak enjoyers, and uhhhhh. figured we might get our spirits crushed next wednesday, so I might as well make use of the sudden, violent inspiration ch260 brought me (iykyk!!!!!!)

premise | culling games; issa a short one, satoru-centric as this fic is wont to be. I'm coming back to parts I wrote as early as last sept/oct, when I published ch01, and rewriting large chunks of them. I've made a 5k dent of progress in ch02 though, so fear not the rewrites, but anyway here's a mix of old content/new writing

Admittedly, certified expertise on barrier techniques, as well as in the art of temporal/spatial divergence/convergence, knows quite limited use. Even if you’re Gojō Satoru. Which is fine in principal—he didn’t go into either field expecting to come out equipped with one-solves-all abilities.

However, Satoru thinks, annoyance sparking in his gut—supposedly such expertise has a time and a place, like everything. So it sure would be nice if he could make use of said knowledge somehow. Preferably in situations like this one, which features not one, but both concepts at snug interplay. Like, oh, maybe something, anything he’s learned could have served to indicate—to give him a subtle heads up—a trill of anticipation up his spine, a blaring alarm in his ears, Satoru isn’t picky—that this spit-shined, well-crafted barrier in fact auto-employs spatial scrambling on new player entries.

Satoru isn't a fan of stepping through something upright, blink, and realise he’s once again falling, dropping towards the ground ass-over-tits, equilibrium and spatial awareness once again taken out back and point blank-executed.

The first time hadn’t necessarily been of the barrier’s making, however for all its disorienting, space-scrambling likeness, Satoru doesn’t feel like he’s above lumping them together. For all he knows, his looping through space and time and death happens at the mercy of the same cosmic force responsible for the Culling Game.

He sucks his teeth sourly, bullies his limbs as straight as the whipping, tugging, sucking wind will allow, and shoves himself right.

It’s needlessly violent, maybe, to break his trajectory by way of subtracting for Red; pinpointing it downwards and launching it into the ground like a targeted missile. Satoru jerks with the force, is propelled upwards by sheer force. A sharp explosion cuts through the air. He stabilises himself, cushions his feet and the immediate space around him with amplification/reversal. He chances a look downwards.

Smoke and debris rises from a crater like a sharp gash in the concrete below, spiralling as from a pyre upwards on the wind.

Oops, Satoru thinks, and, right, might have to take it a little easy in here.

Surviving the Culling Game (by his own capabilities, anyway) isn’t the problem—keeping his temper in check, however, might be. He’s rarely genuinely angry, nor is he really prideful, per standard definition—to be that, one couldn’t lounge quite so high atop the apex as he innately does—however being incessantly poked and prodded at by external forces he has little to no ability to impact or counter; being constantly impacted and undermined by sheer, helpless (now there's a first time) inability to predict and preemptively act—it’s starting to stake out a space inside him; is slowly coalescing into a permanent root system at his brain stem. He is—not quite helpless, but certainly toothless. Bark, barely any bite.

It’s a startlingly potent buzz in his central nervous system. A severe itch beneath his epidermis. He resists the urge to scratch at a bare forearm.

Touching down on the ground, Satoru feels cursed energy crush down over his senses, potent and physical. Spread out though it may be, the pure concentration of curse inside the colony is impossibly dense; the layer of Infinity he’d purposefully employed before entering the barrier feels bogged down with weight. He’d feel dizzy with it if he weren’t so inherently used to it.

For most people, curse-sensitive or no, cursed energy will bog you down. It will infiltrate the spirit; cover the senses like sticky fly tape; spread insidiously through air, through touch; touch received and touch given—until you succumb to it. Cursed energy functions inherently like a toxin, or a very strong numbing agent, depending on how receptive you are to its effect; how innately weak you are to its effects. Here, at the centre of a Culling Game-colony, it’s heady almost to the touch.

To Satoru, what it is is a prime data scrape. Everywhere he looks, central Sendai—because it is Sendai; he’d gauged his location from enough small landmarks when coming down to land—brims with signature curse. It comes at him from all sides, so much different curse made into one entity, trapped as it is within the barrier, with nowhere to go except together. It rushes at him, ravenous for what he exudes; moths drawn to the Six Eyes’ gas blue flame. It’s unlike what he experienced in the Tomb of the Star; unlike Sukuna-within-Yūji, and Shibuya—this is thousands upon thousands of impressions consolidated into mass and sensation; countless participants within the colony—each with their own unique curse signature, shape and density and dexterity that’s inherent only to its owner.

Most of it is inherently unfamiliar. Satoru tracks curse traces zigzagging across the desolate, smoking-wreckage landscape. Splotchy reds, noisy magentas, sticky tar-blacks. They’re not so familiar, except—

Satoru’s breath stocks in his throat without him meaning for it to. There’s the lone imprint which overlaps others; evenly trod, headed straight, evidently cautious in pursuit—and overwhelmingly present.

It's hot pink, effervescent and glaring. It tracks sloppily, leaks across and into the rest of the standout signatures due only to sheer amount. It’s impressively meticulous. Sadly it doesn’t matter; its owner could reign it in with millimetre precision, could stalk further into the territory as painstakingly as a hunting dog caught on a scent trail, and it still wouldn’t matter for its sheer abundance.

Okkotsu Yūta is a homing beacon—blinding and overwhelming (Satoru’d implored him to work on reigning his cursed energy in, but alas; he supposes he can’t fault him at this point) where he shines a brilliant path through the derelict cityscape.

Satoru stares far down the remains of the closest had been-sidewalk. If he’s too late; if this is a timeline in which Satoru, once again, is too late—Satoru shakes his head. The Okkotsu Yūta of months ago wouldn’t be defeated by anything he can detect within the closest couple of kilometers. Nonetheless, shit happens. And does happen. Time happens, as well—even to the best of them. If it has, then he’s not so late that Yūta’s signature has winked out.

Satoru’s not a man of chance and hope, neither historically nor innately, but death—life-within-death, well, it's a bitch that comes for all. Even the best; even the most caustic and weary. Even the strongest.

#work: fic #fic: cv/sm #wip wednesday #jjk #goyuu #we back baybe #bc leaks #not rly but kind of #what can I say ch260 had A Lot and I'm just feeling it #jujutsu kaisen

2 notes · View notes

ddelline · 10 months

Text

wip wednesday (feat shibuya groundhog day/time loop multi-ch goyuu)

blurb | holy shit y’all, I’ve got another multi-ch jjk fic on the block. and it's not interfering w adsr. I have never had the mental capacity to as much as consider two multi-ch fics at the same time; if I’m working on a multi-ch wip, and inspiration suddenly strikes and forces me to get another one off the ground, I just abandon the former for the latter. they can never co-exist. well until now apparently.

maybe due to the fact that this is like, the first longish fic I’ve ever set out to write, that I know needs to start with x, and contain y, to equate z (in less dumbass terms: I know what the fuck I’m supposed to write (which I never do lmao, as a writer I operate on 0 thoughts 100% vibes in the purest sense, which is idiotic when all I can write is plotty as sh*t)). which is why I’m slowly fleshing out ch 09 of adsr alongside chapter 1/2 of cv/sm (title isn’t necessarily all that spoiler-y, but in a sense it is, so keeping the full thing under wraps for now). estimating chapter length to be around at least 10-ish k each.

annnnd bc it’s fun to dump a wip somewhere whilst in-progress, I’ll be doing these wip wednesday updates whenever there’s something to say about it.

premise | unlike what I told @voxofthevoid, this is not post-jjk light novel reading, crack-adjacent, wholesome goyuu fluff: this is ‘a groundhog day/timeloop two-shot feat satoru trying to move mountains/himself w limitless inside prison realm, wherein he succeeds in breaking out (and into different timelines), only to have his every attempt at righting various wrongs turn to shit’

may or may not turn out well; will absolutely contain 1. goyuu 2. post-apocalyptic timeline 3. bb!satoru timeline (& various ??? canon + non-canon timelines) 4. sports metaphors (sry but y’all know me by now)

jaySUS enough of me click on the cut to read a first (very rough) excerpt. if you want to get in to The Vibe I recommend listening to: 01. VTSS — Why we don’t deserve nice things 02. Tzusing — 戴綠帽 (Wear Green Hat) 03. Low — Poor Sucker

01. full time elapsed | t = tf (tf = 5 259 492 000) – t0 (t0 = 31/10/2018 21:22)

The shore is not so much a shore anymore.

Satoru shields a hand—and himself—against dank, bloodspill red rays of supposed-to-be-sunlight. He squints, for the second time in very short—a novelty—as he slowly treks up a quasi-path in sand that’s less sand, more earth-adjacent carnage. There’s as much splintered rock and powdered mineral, weighed down by radioactive algae, as there is—

Bone. Satoru didn’t pay all that much attention to any of his number of biology classes, but via this or the other, he knows that he just stepped clean through the porous curve of a partial ilium crest.

Bone. And calcified curse. Whoever’s pelvis he just crushed beneath the heel of his boot is fifty fifty, somehow. Curses have weight to them: Satoru doesn’t mean that in an abstract, flighty sense; curses weigh literal kilos, if realized enough. And this bit of so old it’s become brittle-bone isn’t brittle because it doesn’t have the amassed density of dense bone mineral and weighty curse—

It’s brittle because the curse which blankets the very atmosphere—and by extension Satoru—like the incredible opposite of stepping out into balmy, subtropical climate after so long breathing recycled air on long flight, is so much heavier.

Satoru swallows against a parched throat he hadn’t realized was this dry. Bile amasses sour at the back of his tongue. He’s not so naïve as to not believe his eyes; they’ve never deceived him, though he has admittedly, a scant number of times, seen only a partial piece when he’s supposed to have zoomed out, regarded the whole frame. So he won’t do himself the discourtesy of cowering for what he is indeed seeing, right now, either.

Wherever he is might be Tokyo; might be Japan. It might not be. The thought occurs to him that there might be no such thing as ‘Japan’ at this point.

He scuffs a toe in the wet kind of-sand. At least the ocean remains a steady, squalling, sucking depth of blue-grey-black: a constant. He puts a cupped palm to shield his eyes as he scans his immediate surroundings: the carnage-filled slope of the once-beach hitches up into a small rock jut. Satoru climbs it with wary, though loping steps. Can’t reach the peak far enough, just as he can’t wait to wake up, startled out of horrid, nightmarish slumber by his senses wavering, flickering out of active guard for a millisecond.

Fucking ironic, how being imprisoned in an alternate dimension, whilst your comrades are no doubt slaughtered, picked off one by one on the outside, can apparently measure up and beyond to a certain iteration of reality.

The world beyond Satoru’s meager outlook spot, for lack of actual, original words, looks like a most fleshed out iteration of Ducasse’s juxtaposed sewing machine and an umbrella, flayed bare and egregiously stitched together, there on the dissecting table. A subcutaneous fissure in the earth yawns wide and open ahead of him, having broken through what was once maybe an inlaid asphalt road, which might’ve bisected the dry landscape, made it into something traversable. Farther ahead, vines have staked their claim on man made structures: lampposts and road signs lilt askew, overgrown now and mostly impossible to identify by cursory glance alone. To his left, far up ahead, a probable once upon a time-gas station has been half-gouged out of place, bits and pieces of the foundation strewn, alongside the disembodied hood of a car, and the shriveled spirals of torn-apart rubber, like so much collateral, structural shrapnel.

The air is heady and thick with curse. It’s invasive, and everywhere, muggy and humid; it fills his pores to the brim, snakes into his clothes, mingles so thoroughly with the oxygen that it might as well be one and the same.

Satoru doesn’t have the personality to become overwhelmed: whatever typical strains of reactionary, knee jerk, emotional responses might’ve once been ingrained into the core of him, he’s successfully whetted away over time. Has picked out, grasped between the thumb and pad of index finger, and ripped out by the root.

He sinks to a crouch by way of slow inching. Drops his weight until he’s dislodged most of his mass to be temporarily suspended in the aborted motion of balancing himself between the flat of his sole, and his knees. He puts his right hand to rest on top of his rocky underfoot, not in support, but to feel dense, solid earth under his knuckles as he tightens them. He dispels Infinity, in this instant giving less than a flying fuck about what might happen to him as a result of it, and digs his blunt fingernails into the meat of his palm until it breaks into gaping, blood pulsing lesions.

#wip wednesday #work: fic #fic: cv/sm #A New Goyuu wip Appeared!#take 84 of ddelline can't write anything but plotty angst 2 save her f*cking life #¯\ (ツ) /¯#fandom: jujutsu kaisen

7 notes · View notes