#i watch this show for escapism when really it’s just fucking hs flashbacks

[rrat-king]

honestly thank god it’s looking like kristen and fig dont want to/couldn’t get into college cuz. there is no way in hell that jawbone and sandra lynn would have been able to put three kids through college at once

#i say this as someone who was only able to go to college cuz my sibling didn’t it’s like. a relief. it sucks but it’s true #i watch this show for escapism when really it’s just fucking hs flashbacks #d20 #fhjy #fantasy high #dimension 20 #kristen applebees #fig faeth #adaine abernant

[secondhand-trash]

“I love you.” “It’ll pass.”

Season 2 ep 6, Fleabag

(more lines I like from things I like as prompts for people I like)

A/N: I reserved this one for Dabi when I was making the list but fuck Dabi It’s Getou time😌✨this scene impacted me so hard when I was watching the show and I knew right then that I had to write something off of it one day

Pairing: Getou Suguru x reader

Description: He left without saying goodbye.

Warning: major manga spoilers (set after the hs flashback arc and connecting to the prequel)

Word count: 3007

Playlist:

Cigarette Daydreams//Cage The Elephant

You Say I’m in Love//Banes World

The Killing Moon//Echo & the Bunnymen

-

It wasn’t until the report came out that you realised Getou was never coming back.

All 112 villagers of the prev. ** village deceased.

The letters printed on the white paper was staring right at your face, but somehow it still felt like it was miles away, like everything you read fell through your ears as an echo.

Residues at the scene could determine that it was Getou Suguru’s curse manipulation.

No one said anything when they saw you staring blankly at the still screen of your phone. The last few messages were still there, sitting there and waiting to be read.

You weren’t sure if you were hoping or detesting a response. He probably never would, like he probably wasn’t your boyfriend anymore.

“Do you know when you are getting back?”

Getou Suguru escaped.

“This is taking longer than your usual missions, is everything alright?”

According to item 9 of the Jujutsu Regulations, he is to be classified as a curse user-

“Suguru?”

-and is to be executed.

The other two saw him again after that, which they had the mercy of not telling you explicitly, but anyone could tell from the heaviness lingering in the air. 

Shoko smoked more than usual.

Gojo got quiet, and sometimes you would catch him fidgeting with the candy paper in his hand underneath his table.

Getou’s table was still there, an empty space starkly standing in the middle of the already sparsely occupied room. You had assumed that they would remove all traces of him immediately, but you could understand why they didn’t when you realised that your gaze still paused at where he once sat whenever it wandered.

The same way crimes scenes were always kept as it was, only the supposed corpse was still out there somewhere.

It was a silence bonding, the unbreakable chain of experiencing the same loss at the same time, but somehow your remaining friends were already there when you pushed open the door to the rooftop where no one usually went to.

That was the first day when he was gone. You had felt an impulse to go somewhere where you were not trapped inside, where you could feel the air entering your lungs as you inhale and it seemed like you were not the only one with that thought.

Gojo was already there, with his back bent forward as he leaned on the rail. He had one foot on the iron bar of the railing, casting a glance to your side when you silently joined him in looking down.

There was no one visible in your sight, but still you looked, and looked. The quiet footsteps getting closer let you know that the third (and last) classmate was here, a soft sigh ringing before there was a click and the smell of smoke made you furrow your eyebrows together.

You remembered that he used to smoke rather often, but somehow always put the cigarette off when you neared. He stopped smoking around you entirely after you got together, because you would push him away if you smelt the tell-tale scent of tobacco on him. But if you caught him at the corner with one between his fingers, he would always pull you close with his eyes curling into two thin strands, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his other hand fumbled for the mints he kept in his jacket pocket.

You wanted to be mad at him, but the chill tickling your tongue when his breath fanned against your lips always had you weak.

“If he had come back for you,” Gojo’s voice was void of emotions, without the usual certainty or cockiness that always dripped from his words, “would you have followed?”

You shrugged.

“I don’t know,” you shook your head slightly, your eyes not once shifting away from the empty courts below.

The reality was that it still took you some time to process that fact that he killed a whole village of people, even longer when you eventually remembered that he did the same to his own parents. It didn’t feel real, like a bad dream that you could wake up from if you beat the thought into your head enough, like you could just close your eyes and see him walking up to you with his usual smile, asking you if you really fell for it.

But the feeling of being left behind, of conflict at the sentiments in your heart that you couldn’t brush away, of doubting if everything you once had was ever truly yours, of anger at how you were supposed to be the closest to him but knew nothing, of not being told anything, of not receiving a proper goodbye, of him running away without even telling you straight up that he was leaving you behind, were all very, very real.

There was a dull ache budding at the back of your throat over the fact that your last image of him was still the way he looked at you with so much tenderness made you sick to the stomach, and twisted even more at the knowing that to you, that was his one biggest crime. 

Perhaps that was what love was. You could look past the fucked up morals or even the murder, but there was no ignoring that you were left behind, and that meant that there was where it all ended.

You chuckled at the conclusion you had drawn, earning you a questioning stare from the boy who raised the question.

Hell, then he might just be the love of your life.

“I don’t know,” you repeated, bitterness lingering on your tongue when you smiled.

Sick, just sick.

They were both looking at you, but you didn’t turn to see what expression they were wearing as you dropped your head. The metal pressing against your forehead growing warm under the heat of your skin as you muttered, this time to yourself and no one else.

“I really don’t.”

-

Time sped up from there. 

Life went on. Eat, sleep, going out on missions before collapsing on your bed when you came back alone and tired, repeat. Gojo and Shoko stayed after graduation season hit, you didn’t. You spent so many years there already, you clicked your tongue as you said, it is time to move on.

You were not really talking about High school, both of them knew it but neither said a thing. The empty table remained as it was until a new batch of students poured into the classroom that was once yours, before they left and another group filled in. 

Occasionally you met young sorcerers on the field who wore the same button that once adorned your collar, and wondered if it was them who sat at that table now.

You did not think about Getou Suguru for years.

Yet, you were not surprised to find the exact same man that once plagued your thoughts late at night standing in the middle of your living room uninvited, without a single hint just as when he left.

“It has been long.”

You had a gut feeling that he got taller since you last saw him, even though you were probably standing too far away from him to truly measure. The edges and corners of his face were more prominant, his hair running down his back in a way that used to happen only when he was at his most relaxed. 

“You should try to let it grow,” you mumbled as you ran your hand through one lock of his hair, letting the black silk fell from your hand onto his chest, “it would look good on you.”

He chuckled, and the vibration seeped into your skin from the way he laid on your lap. The weight lifted from your legs when he sat up, his face right in front of yours as he grinned.

“When my hair reaches my waist, will you marry me?”

You laughed, and the smile on him only grew.

“Where did you get that from?” you hid your smile behind the back of your hand.

“It’s from a poem,” he replied with a tilt of his head, “Never heard of it?”

“No,” you still sounded breathy from the laughter, “but did people teach you not to make promises so easily?”

The one long piece of his bangs had fallen onto his face, covering his eyes just slightly. He huffed as he pushed it away from his view, placing his head on your shoulder.

“Who told you it was easy?”

Ah, your jaw clenched at the waterfall of black that stopped just above his waist, so he did grow it out in the end.

You did not move from your position at the door, standing with your back straight and your keys still gripping tightly in your hand. “What are you doing here?” 

You were just about to head back from a mission when you got the call. “He showed up at Kousen just then,” Gojo did not bother with formalities, or give you any context as to who “he” was but still you froze, knowing exactly what he was talking about right away, “he might go see you.”

(You were sure that he wouldn’t, but it seemed like you truly didn’t know him well at all.)

He chuckled, a soft sound that made your nails dig into the middle of your palm, “Am I not allowed to check up on you because I want to?”

He sounded familiar, exactly the way you remembered him to sound like. The corners of his lips were lifted up in a calculated angle, smiling at ease but not from heart. You suppressed the heat that was near pouring out your throat, swallowing the discomfort back into the pit of your core.

Was it true that this wasn’t how he smiled, or did you only notice the way his eyes were lifeless now?

You replied with a smile of your own, not willing to lose your footing, “Oh please.”

You never bothered to check on me before.

He was not bothered by the dryness in your voice, and if he was then he did a great job at not appearing so.

“When I left,” he asked, “were you mad at me?”

“No,” But I spent nights crying over you. “is that supposed to come out as a mock?”

“No.”

You searched for a hint of wavering in his eyes, any sign that he was experiencing even a bit of the turmoil that was boiling and burning in your chest as you tried to keep your voice still.

You wondered what you had hoped to find.

“What do you want?” you said, and forced yourself to look right into his eyes. You imagined that you could see your own reflection staring back at you if you were any closer to him and the hint of soreness shooting right up to your nasal until it the sting that left almost resembled longing.

If you were to fight, you probably couldn’t win him no matter how hard you try.

“If I say I miss you, would you believe me?” 

 There was a ring in your ear as you shut your eyes tight, forcing the corner of your lips to hold back from twitching.

God damn it.

“Does it matter?” I wish I don’t.

“Perhaps.” 

He was looking at you, and you could taste the blood at the tip of your tongue. You wished there wasn’t some part of you that was near breaking down inside of you, or that you didn’t feel such an urge to let the tears run free.

But you wouldn’t, your pride wouldn’t allow it.

His arms crossed loosely in front of his chest, the fabric of his cassock bunching up around his elbows. You had pondered why the cloak seemed so out of place, and then you remembered that he wasn’t even religious in the slightest.

It was all for show.

“Leave.” 

There was a hint of relief when you heard your own voice landing back on your ear and there wasn’t the shakiness you had so dreaded to hear. You knew you had lost the moment you even cared, but still, on the front you refused to show there sometimes, during the many years after he left, you would still see his face when you couldn’t sleep and all you could do was stare at the ceiling. You hoped the iciness in your expression was enough to cover up the fact that you had no erased all traces of what you once had with him completely, and there was still a photograph or two that you hid away so that no one would know you still hadn’t let go of him, a traitor.

He glanced down at your command, before nodding slightly to himself. Getou Suguru turned around until he was facing your window and his shadow slanted on the opposing wall from the cold hue of the moon.

The pale light blurred his figure, like smoke, like the mint tingling your senses.

“You ruined my life.” 

I love you.

He paused briefly, before turning to look at you once again. You were taken back when you see the look in his eyes, and the downward tug at his mouth.

With the moon and the cassock and the unexplainable depth in his eyes, he did look the part of feeling sorrow for the world and pity for the masses.

Oh, how ironic.

Getou parted his lips slightly, and you could see the shudder but heard no sound, until they pursed, before he finally spoke again.

I love you too.

“It’ll pass.”

You did not realise that you were staring out the window, not moving a step until you saw the dots of snow slowly landing on the glass. Your steps stumbled as you walked towards where he jumped out, your hand touching the chilled glass while the world outside was a scene of white.

He probably came and left on the back of some curse he had, not leaving even a trace.

You stared and stared, and wondered what it would feel like to be buried under the snow that was starting to pile up.

-

Gojo asked you if you want to see him for one last time.

You refused.

Your bones were cracking with each twist of your joints as you finally got back to your own space after the whole fiasco that went down had you drained. 

Of all the days he had to plan an uprising, it had to be Christmas Eve. A heavy sigh slipped from your lips when the door locked behind you, the lights flicking on to show the red number on the calendar hanging on the wall.

It was quiet, the handle of the clock ticking was all you could hear. It matched the pounding in your ear, drumming and drumming as you stared upwards at the ceiling, sucking in a deep breath as the cold air filled your lungs.

So he really was gone now.

“He said he couldn’t manage to laugh happily from the bottom of his heart in this world,” Gojo called you again a moment later after the initial one, and you had to swallow the want to tell him that there was no need to tell you what he said when the other end fell into silence when you didn’t response.

Only there was. You knew there was.

At the back of your head, you had a faint memory of where you had put the old things that you couldn’t find somewhere to store when you moved out of your dorm room. It was hidden under the piles and piles of clothes and blankets that you never used, much like how you had not touched that box since you first put it there. 

You sucked in a deep breath when your fingertip touched the rough corner of the cardboard, reaching in deeper to pull it out. It was covered in dust and slightly crooked from all the things you had stacked on it, but still exactly the same as how it looked when you sealed everything inside with the cover and shoved it in your closet.

There was still an innocent sense of glee when you opened it and saw all the things that reminded you of your youth. 

The student handbook, and your student card that was stuck in there like a bookmark. The gold button in which some of the gold pain had already come off from years of wear and tear. Your graduation picture, which showed the three of you sitting side by side properly in all its rarity.

The familiar ache in your throat returned when you got to the bottom, where you found the sole reason why you dug this out. You smiled, your hand gingerly picking the thin film laying flatly there without a single crease on it.

He was looking at you, who had your face on his shoulder with an arm thrown around your frame. Your hand was on his neck, pulling him down towards you as you laughed and he laughed back at you. You did not remember who took it, or when it happened, but the rush of warmth in your chest as you held the picture in your hand must be the proof that you were happy. 

You should have thrown this away the moment you knew he was not coming back, but you didn’t have the heart to.

How could you when he looked so happy too?

Your thumb traced over the smooth surface of the film, over where his lips were nearly touching your hair, over his eyes that were fixed on you.

Couldn’t manage to laugh happily from the bottom of his heart... huh?

You laughed, at him, at yourself, before the droplet of tear finally fell.

Like there was smoke in your eyes.

Like the chill on your arm was not from the snow outside but from the taste of peppermint on your tongue.

#jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #getou x reader #getou imagine #getou imagines