#jae writes

[anjaelle]

I Think She Knows

Pairing: Tangerine x Black!Reader Warnings: Drunk!Tangerine, Needy!Tangerine, Jealous!Tangerine, (Kinda Toxic Behavior) Word Count: 2.4K Summary: In which Tangie starts realizing things and absolutely does not have the bandwidth to deal with it. Because babygirl is bad at most things, and feelings are at the top of the list. a/n: Something something... I don't advocate for getting drunk and being weird at your not-girlfriend's house. Thanks!

(gif source)

--

When it fully hit him, it was like being mowed down by a 10-ton truck.

He felt like he couldn't breathe. The way his chest suddenly rose and fell made him made him question if his heart was attempting to escape his ribcage just to be closer to you.

You were talking about...something. You came over wearing a skin tight red dress and you carried your shoes in your hands as you tiredly strolled into his kitchen.

Actually, he remembered what you were talking about.

You mentioned how tired you were of having to talk to idiot men, but that stabbing them in the head for your efforts was almost worth the annoyance. Ordinarily he probably would've just laughed or made a smart ass comment about how lucky he was that he could be around you without the threat of violence. But you mentioned fighting, did a small spin in a circle, and did something akin to a silly jig to show how secure you felt in your dress.

He felt his thoughts halt in their tracks, and he suddenly couldn't remember his own birth name, let alone how to form a coherent sentence.

You didn't even seem to notice. Or maybe he hid it well. Because the conversation continued like he hadn't malfunctioned right in front of you. Maybe he was running on autopilot. That had to be it.

He swallowed hard, ran his fingers through his mess of untamed curls, and shakily came back into himself with the heavily realization that he was deeply in love with you.

Did you even know? Was it evident on his face like ostentatious neon lights in the middle of a darkened street? You kept talking about your day and he tried to listen intently. But his own brain wouldn't shut the fuck up.

When he realized that he broke the one rule you two made (which he introduced), he wanted to walk into the Atlantic Ocean with rocks in his pockets. He loved you. You weren't even dating. You were definitely seeing other people and he realized he slowly cut out every other person he'd ever fucked just to spend more time with you.

God. He'd dropped SO many other people. He could remember canceling potential hookups just because you wanted to hang out. Of fucking course he couldn't tell you this now. He'd look like a massive idiot.

"Are you alright? You seem off." You suddenly asked. Your beautiful eyes seemed to roam his face in genuine concern. Death would've been easier to face. In fact, death has notoriously been much easier for him to face.

He forced an assumedly easy grin on his face and shrugged, "I'm just listenin', babe."

You quirked a suspicious brow at him, but continued on with your story of your mission. Every so often he could feel himself staring at your mouth and the way your nose seemed to crinkle at certain memories of the night. He was suddenly hyperaware of how much he seemed to be study your every move. Had he been doing it this whole time?

On some level, he was confident that he could tell you exactly how many birthmarks you had on your entire body.

God what a sick fucking freak.

Suddenly his mouth started moving as if it wasn't connected to his own goddamn brain.

"You stayin' over tonight?"

He'd cut you off mid-sentence with the question. Naturally, you shot him a look that screamed contempt.

"...Maybe." You cut your eyes at him in a subtle challenge.

He felt like he didn't sound the least bit convincing, but he straightened his back to force an air of confidence that he obviously didn't have, "Well I need to know, because I might have plans. With a girl. Tonight."

He wasn't sure what he expected your reaction to be. Maybe he wanted you to be jealous. Or maybe he wanted you to try and convince him to change his mind. It was childish, but he wanted you to give him...something. Instead you raised your brows in surprise.

"Oh, really?" You grinned, "Is she cute?"

Oh come on. He thought.

"Yeah, a real stunner." Stunner? What the fuck was he saying? He couldn't stop himself, "Rebecca's tall, blonde, a model. Fuckin' sexy. So gorgeous."

He watched you slip your heels back on and adjust the top of your dress to hide your bra. He wanted to grab your beautiful face and kiss you. Instead he was spiraling and you didn't even notice.

"Blonde?" You seemed skeptical. Yes, good. "Since when do you go for Blondes?"

"Since always, actually. You think I tell you about everyone I've shagged?"

You shot another cutting glare in his direction, and he fought the childish giddiness rising in his chest. When you looked away from him to tap away on your phone, he tried to figure out what else he could say to get your attention again.

"You're in a particularly bitchy mood today." You suddenly said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe you should leave, then." He responded, much harsher than he intended to. He winced the minute the words left his mouth and you looked like you wanted to throw something at him.

"Since you wanna be a dick, fine. I'm having Jamesy pick me up."

You threw your jacket on and started tapping on your phone again, which irritated him to no end.

"Jamesy?" He spat, "Who the hell is Jamesy?"

"You think I tell you about everyone I've shagged?" You threw back at him in an almost perfect accent. He deserved it. But he started to panic as you headed towards the door.

"Well fine." He countered, though it sounded akin to a whine, "Stephanie's probably on her way, anyway. I don't want to watch you two fight over me or somethin'."

"Nobody's trying to fight over you, shut up." You mumbled, shoving your phone in your pocket. You took a second to pull the door open, but hesitated, "And also who's Stephanie?"

"The model."

"You said her name was Rebecca."

He stumbled over his words but finally came up with, "I--it's...You just have to be right all the time, don't you?"

He caught the way your mouth twitched in an attempt to fight a laugh, and he really wanted to grab you by the waist and pull you back into his apartment. But your phone dinged again, and you pulled it out of your pocket, "Look, when you're done throwing this little temper tantrum, and you figure out what your problem is, text me. Otherwise, sort your shit out."

Tangerine was having a terrible night. His face sat in a permanent frown as he stared into the fake embers of his electric fireplace and nursed a mason jar of vodka. You were out there getting railed by some prick named James who's too fuckin' old to still be going by Jamesy. And you probably weren't even thinking about him and how he's absolutely piping a real person named Bethany. Stephanie. Rebecca.

♫ I wish, I could just make you turn around Turn around and see me cry There's so much I need to say to you so many reasons why You're the only one who really knew me at all♫

He'd lost track of how many times Phil Collins' miserable pleading played on a loop through his speakers. He felt like a goddamn loser. He scrolled through your Instagram noting that you truly had the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. And you were so funny. Maybe the funniest person he knew. Even the emojis you used were cute.

He wanted to jump in front of a train.

"'Maybe you should leave then' you fuckin' idiot." He mumbled pitifully to himself. "What if I just like...went to her house? What if that guy is there? What if she doesn't answer? What if she tells me to fuck off? What if I tell her and she never speaks to me again?"

He stared at his phone sending and unsending his texts to you over and over, trying to figure out what to say. Or if you'd even read it. Suddenly his phone vibrated and a text from you popped up:

You've sent and unsent me like 9 messages. What the fuck do you want?

It took him 8 minutes to find an Uber to your place and 20 minutes to get there. Was he drunk and irrational? Maybe. But goddamn it, you were his woman.

You just didn't know it yet.

When he got to your floor, he started knocking incessantly on your door.

"Babe," he whined, drunkenly, "darling, are you still mad at me? I'm sorry." When he pressed his damp forehead to the cool metal door of your apartment, he didn't even realize how much he was sweating, "I know I said I was fucking that model. Um. Sabrina! Rhonda? Whatever the hell. But I lied. I'm a filthy fuckin' liar."

He pressed his ear to the door, but he didn't hear anything through the thick metal.

"Please don't fuck that James prick--I'm not callin' him Jamesy. I reckon the man is nearly 40, BARE MINIMUM!" He pressed his palm to the door and called your name again, waiting for you to open it.

When you didn't, he slid down to the floor and cradled the half empty mason jar to his chest.

"So take a look at me now, there's just an empty spaaaace. And there's nothin' left here to remind me. Just the memory of your faaaaace. I'm not leaving 'til you talk to me!"

He felt the back of his head thud against the door but he was too wasted to really feel it. He'd definitely feel it come morning, for sure. His eyes drifted closed as his mind started to wander. Maybe you were asleep after being fucked into the middle of next week. Maybe the guy was telling you to ignore his desperate pleas for attention. He wanted to throw up everywhere.

"Fuckin' Jamesy." He mumbled, crossing his arms in childish disappointment.

The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and you stumbled out of the door with another woman, giggling uncontrollably. You both held bags of fast food in your arms and it was clear you'd had something to drink as well. The minute you caught a glimpse of him sitting slouched in front of your door, he noticed you exchanging looks with the red headed woman by your side.

"Tangerine, what are you doing here?" You carefully asked, clocking the booze in his lap.

"Nevermind that," he slurred, stupidly, "where's Jamesy?"

The tall, slender red-headed woman raised a hand and waved, "Hi, I'm Jamesy. Do we, like, know each other? Or?"

Tangerine groaned and rested his head against the door again, "Ugh! Jamesy's a lass? How the shit am I supposed to compete with that?"

The woman turned to you with a curious look on her face, "What is he talking about?"

"I don't know. Can you hold this please?" You handed the bag of White Castle to your friend and approached the sad, drunk assassin sitting on the floor outside of your apartment. He looked pitiful. When you brushed his curls from his forehead, you noticed that he was sweating vodka. "Okay, sweetness, you need to get up."

When he looked at you, and saw the concern on your face, he gently touched your cheek and frowned, "You're so pretty, baby. You're the prettiest person I've ever seen in my whole entire life."

"You're pretty, too. But you really need to get up. And you're heavy as fuck, so I need you to help me out here."

"Okay," he nodded sharply, shoving the jar of vodka into his leather jacket pocket. And it surprisingly fit. You didn't question it further. You took a step back and held your arms out in case he lost his balance as he rose to his feet.

It was like watching a 5'11 baby deer.

He leaned against the door, trying to keep his balance, as you grabbed your share of the food from your friend and kissed her goodbye as she left for her Uber.

"What kind of girl is named Jamesy?" Tangerine muttered, as you attempted to unlock the door.

You sighed heavily, "Her name is Siobhan James. But I couldn't pronounce Siobhan when we were little, so I called her Jamesy and it stuck."

"That's so cute. I reckon you were a cute kid." He mumbled, resting his damp head on your shoulder. "You're a cute grown-up. We'd make cute kids."

"Yes, sweetness. We would. And also you're soggy."

"Mhmm." He kissed the shoulder that was covered in his sweat and mumbled, "I'm so sorry I was so, so mean to you, angel face. I was just being a massive dickhead."

"Yeah, you were." You agreed, giving up on trying to unlock the door while he leaned onto you.

"I--I just love you a whole fuckin' lot and I don't know how to deal with that shit. Because, like, you could have anyone you want. So why would you want me, you know?" He grumbled.

"There are a lot of reasons why I want you, Tangerine. You never have to feel insecure about that. I'm just...confused. You decided that the answer to this was to make me mad?" You scratched his scalp, "Does that make sense to you?"

"I wanted you to tell me that you didn't want me to see other people."

"Why would I tell you that, if that's what you want?" You asked, sincerely, "I stopped seeing other people because I love just spending time with you--"

"Hang on. You stopped seeing other people? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You never asked." You finally managed to unlock the door, and you both stumbled over the threshold.

"Here I was thinking you were getting pounded by lumberjack-built twats named Jamesy. I was in my apartment crying to Phil Collins for nothing?"

"I guess so." You tossed your keys on the kitchen island as he stumbled to the couch and face-planted into the cushions. By the time you showered and changed, he'd fallen into a deep sleep beside the bottle of water and advil tablets you placed out for him.

"And for the record..." you kissed him on top of his head and turned the lights out, "I love you, too. But you probably won't remember this. So we'll revisit it tomorrow."

#aaron taylor johnson #atj x reader #tangerine x reader #tangerine x black!reader #tangerine bullet train #tangerine fic #I feel like I should just make a tangie tag at this point #jae writes

[jaewul]

I wanted to do something for Desmond's birthday and I really didn't feel like drawing, so lo and behold, my first fanfic since high school, and my first ever work of fiction in English! It's quite short but hey, it's something. It's an AC/Murderbot crossover nobody asked for. I'm open to criticism, especially if it's about my English sounding weird. Enjoy :D

(for those unfamiliar with the Murderbot Diairies, all you have to know is that it happens in a dystopic capitalist space society and constructs are a combination of cloned human material and inorganic bot parts)

CombatUnit-17 was vaguely aware that it was special (“the best money can buy” would say the cheerful voice of the company’s seller). As such, it was usually rented alone for highly sensitive missions, because why send a full troop of constructs when 17 alone could do the job? Also, most of the time, renting it was expensive enough that the clients could hardly pay for anything else.

However, on rare occasions, some SecUnits had been leased simultaneously with 17. In its opinion (constructs don’t have opinions), those were both the best and the worst missions. 

It liked being close to other constructs. Not that they ever really interacted, but it liked to imagine that there was some sort of unspoken comradery between them, that when it looked at them through its opaque helmet, sometimes their eyes would meet and they could share some of his mental opinions regarding the stupidity of their clients. It was a sweet illusion to maintain, however fleeting. 

It was also the worst missions because the SecUnits rarely made it out of the mission in any form of working condition. Orders never encompassed the protection of other constructs.

Today, if it was human, CombatUnit-17 would describe himself as something along the lines of exited, maybe even giddy. Some non-standard emotional state, for sure. For the first time since its last factory reset, it was paired with another CombatUnit for a mission.  Right now, they were both in their respective cubicle, waiting to be shipped to the clients, unable to so much as look at each other. Strangely, the simple conscience of the other’s presence was enough to bring 17 a profound sense of peace. Enough that when the cargo pod started to move, it nearly immediately dropped into rest mode. Its circuit filled up with phantom sensations of falls and gray spaces. Somewhere, an eagle cried. Constructs don’t dream.

#no sure who the other construct is #could be clay could be altair #either way as soon as '17' get desmond's memories back they're going to raise hell in the Corporation Rim #desmond miles #asscreed #ac #assassin's creed #the murderbot diaries #murderbot #jae writes

[jae-gerbomb]

Of the ancients!!! I need to KNOW 🤲

OH i was just working on that one dkfjhg so i won't post what i already put in discord lmao but it's my first(?) IF that i've been slowly chipping away at for Years

"… the {torch/flashlight/lantern} illuminates but a portion of a great and sprawling cavern of rock, with several paths leading further into the dark unknown. There's no telling what lies beyond or how far these paths might go, and that singular thought sends a {chill down/thrill up} your spine."

-

"Echoing somewhere, deeper down the narrow hallway - the walls feeling much too much like a coffin - you hear the steady drip-drop of water, the only indication that you're actually covering ground as you cautiously tread forward."

i'm Sure i've posted one or both of these before but i can't for the life of me find them which means i get to reuse them (and definitely not because i haven't written anything new besides worldbuilding 😂🤡)

.................. actually i do wanna post some lil worldbuilding bits too. as a treat :3c

it's set in a sleepy little town in a valley (so, surrounded by dense forest and then also mountains), BUT it was also built over an extensive underground network of ancient ruins - think the deep roads from dragon age, or engwithan ruins from pillars of eternity. and basically it's filled with a whole bunch of. well. ancient shit that starts messing with the town and its residents after MC shows up bc they are by nature an Instigator of Things :)

other than that a lot of it's still up in the air bc i can't decide on Just One Thing lmfao,,

#jae talks #jae writes #heehee ty for asking about this one. its my BAAABY

[not-so-secret-nerd]

Hey my old readers, you remember this scene? <__<

For once, the vacuum of his mind didn't suck the knowledge away, letting it bloom in the bright sun of recognition. Orin remembered a hand cradling the instrument's slender neck. Fingers pressing against tawny strings. Smooth wood grains held between thumb and forefinger. He remembered the horsehair bow polished with rosin, and music. Such beautiful music. 

I remember this. 

He rested his chin against the built-in catch, the cool pocket caressing his stubbly skin like a lover’s palm. His right arm lifted, bow gently clutched between fingers that remembered the shape they needed to take. 

I remember music.

The first notes were low and resonating like a cold wind heralding a storm. Orin held it for an impossibly long moment, feeling the vibrations as the rosin gripped the strings, making them shiver against his calloused fingers. The note pushed a breath through his body, blowing the dust from his antique mind and waking once-dead embers that cast shadows of a past long since forgotten.

#Blood and Tines #book snippets #Jae writes #dark fantasy

[nebulousbrainsoup]

Hard hours are open ? ? If I may ~ ?

Thinking about boxer San cuz honestly the bouncy mv and the whole scene of San and wooyoung in the underground boxing ring made me dizzy 🫣🫣 really want that man to ruin me for me,, maybe as a lucky charm or a good luck quickie (maybe with a dash of wooyoung on the side 🤭😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫)

Idk your very recent mingi fic/ask is making me feel things lol

oh you absolutely may, my dear. that whole entire scene???? had me thinking Thots(tm) from the moment I saw it and I... mm. yeah for SURE I'm with you on this one.

18+ under the cut ; minors/ageless dni

buy me a ko-fi?

tags/warnings: gn!reader, woo's a lil jealous, lil bit of public sex, voyeurism, sorta poly, woo's a creep (affectionate), pet names (baby, my little charm), mentions of masturbation, unprotected sex (boo)

Because the thing about San—about nearly everyone in that dingy, sweat-filled basement, is that they do their best work when their blood's already pumping. Even when the place is nearly empty, only the fighters and their select entourages milling about, the residual energy is palpable. Wooyoung is not immune to it, as much as he may turn up his pretty nose at your pre-match antics. You think he does it more for his own pride than anything, trying to put himself above the fighters he manages, to maintain some degree of separation. Both you and San can see straight through that façade, and it's quite a laugh for the both of you each time he "accidentally" stumbles upon you. Each time, you're met with exasperation, and each time, once you're both sated, you fall into a fit of giggles over it.

Neither of you are stupid. You can see the way Wooyoung's eyes drag over the taut muscles of San's back and ass as he rails you against the wall under the stairs. San catches lingering stares when he's got you bent over the bathroom sink, his friend's eyes glued to where his cock is disappearing into you. You both have caught him glancing back at you in their dingy van's rearview, and San has his own little secret tucked away, having caught your name falling from Wooyoung's lips late at night. It's kind of fun to see how long he'll keep it up, so you bide your time, waiting until he comes to you. Until then, San has you, anywhere and everywhere he can.

At first, the whole "C'mon, baby, it's like a quick little testosterone boost" bit was just that, an excuse to get you under or over or on him (as if he needed one), but after the first match you couldn't make became San's first loss, you became his good luck charm. They'd shown up at your place before the next match, their blacked out van sticking out like a sore thumb, and both practically begged you never to miss a match again. Who were you to say no to their cute little pouts? Time was tight that night, you having gotten off work with just enough time to make it to the match yourself, so San had yanked you into the back and taken you then and there.

You were distantly aware of Wooyoung's wandering eyes, catching his gaze in the mirror once or twice for fractions of a second before he had to pay attention to the road again. Each time, you found yourself clenching around San's cock, a lazy smile spreading across your lips as his moans grew louder, hips snapping more roughly against your own. Your moans pitched up with the rough-handling, and your eyes snapped back to San's face, finding him smirking down at you.

Within seconds, he had also glanced up to the front of the van, smirk breaking into a grin as he moaned lowly into your ear. "He's eating this up," he muttered, leaning down to suck a mark into your skin. "Might wreck us; he's too busy jerking himself off up there."

Your walls fluttered around him as you felt the coil in your gut tightening, a heady "Sannie!" leaving you.

He hummed, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, this time speaking loud enough for your companion to hear. "I know, baby, I'm almost there, can you just hold out a few more minutes for me? You know how much more it helps when my little charm cums with me."

The soft moan you let out pitched up violently as the van jerked to a stop, the sudden change in momentum driving San deep into you, his cockhead slamming against your sweet spot. You saw stars as you came unraveled, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling of the van. Wooyoung's voice and the shifting of San's hips brought you back down to reality, the latter muttering in his pout, "I was so close, dammit."

"Too bad, we're here. Put your fucking pants back on and take your frustration out in the ring," you heard Wooyoung mumble, the engine dying a second later. "I'm going in to stall. You have five minutes, tops."

San sighed as the driver's side door shut, his head hanging just slightly. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your forehead before moving to your lips, muffling your whines of overstimulation as he slid his still-hard cock from you.

"Not gonna use your five minutes?" you prodded, sitting up with him to straighten yourself out.

He shook his head. "And leave you with more of a mess to clean up? I've already got my lucky charm taken care of."

"Such a gentleman."

He grinned, leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek. "I'd rather save it for a victory lap anyway. Especially if you can get Woo to join us."

You raised an eyebrow, grinning mischievously as you buttoned your pants back up. "I'll see what I can do."

taglists (open): permanent: @justhere4kpop @tastymintchocolate @.soul-jae ateez: @pyeonghongrie-main @thatonenoona special: @jaehunnyy (come get ur mans baby)

© June 2023 nebulousbrainsoup | all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my work

#neb.requests #soul-jae #it thinks 😈 #ateez hard hours #neb.atz #choi san #choi san smut #ateez smut #choi san x reader #ateez x reader #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #woosan #nebulous writes

[takadokii]

a touch worth dying for !! .ೃ࿐

pairing gojo x gn!reader summary satoru is reckless, ready to meet death if he has to, to get you to at least look at him. he doesn't want to tell you that you're the first person he lets touch him in years and simply appreciates that you're so gentle. warnings minor descriptions of wounds wc 700

collection masterlist | my masterpost

this is an additional chapter of my series "caught in the middle", if you enjoyed this, consider checking it out! <3

This has never happened before, Satoru thinks.

His eyes are glued to your movements, gentle hands gliding up and down his arm, turning it and moving it around as you please. And he lets you, of course.

The pain he feels is new, foreign. The aching that consumes his body feels like a distant memory, one before he had learned to control his Infinity. One when the world was still able to reach him. 

There’s a gash that’s covering his chest, and his lower lip is bust open, the blood that had dripped down already wiped away by a cloth, though all he remembers about that was the way you held his chin so gently with the other hand.

“I don’t know what you were thinking,” you continue to scold him as you scan the rest of his body for injuries, starting off with his arms as you carefully settle your fingertips against his skin and letting it trail up his arm.

He shrugs at your words, though he actually does have a vague memory of what he was thinking when purposefully deactivating his Infinity in the middle of getting attacked by a curse. 

At that moment, his eyes met yours, and he recalled a few days ago when he heard your laughter echo through the hallway. He followed it before he had time to think about what he was doing and was met with a sight that made his heart stop. There you were, kneeling, tending to his best friend's wounds with soft, caring touches. 

All he could think about, as the sharp teeth of the curse were heading his way, was the feeling of your skin on his. 

He was bruised and bleeding in a way that hadn’t happened since he was four at best, and still, seeing you now, a strand of hair slipping from behind your ear as you lower your head to inspect his body, he couldn’t help but think it was worth it.

The most obvious injury, a giant gash along his torso, had already been somewhat tended to, and despite using your Cursed Technique, it didn’t heal fully, so you continued to dab the wound as blood dripped from it in a steady rhythm.

He wasn’t sure if you could feel it, your hand on his lower abdomen when just inches above, his heart was pounding at being so close to you, so vulnerable and exposed to you in more ways than he had ever known.

He wants you to see him like this. He realised as he watched Suguru get tended to in envy.

Satoru is aware it’s a twisted and wrong desire of his, but he can’t help but revel in the way you look so worried about him. 

He’d do it all over again, he knows, just to keep your eyes on him a little longer. 

“Isn’t the whole point of Infinity that nothing can touch you?”

He just hums along. 

“But you let that curse touch you?” You’re still confused. In the months you’ve known him, this has never happened before, especially not in a high-stakes situation.

And you. He thinks, well aware of your fingers pressing a little harsher against his wound now.

“I was distracted,” he finally answers, the shrug he gives you is lazy, and it provokes you even more.

You click your tongue and lick your lips, the tissue you held up to his wound wasn’t as bloodied as the other ones, and so you reach for the bandages now that his bleeding had slowed down.

He lets his eyes linger on your lips, the bottom one pulled between your teeth as you focus on wrapping it around his torso. He likes that you’re too lazy to walk around him, so whenever you have to reach behind him, your face is inches from his chest for a second.

When you’re finally done, your shoulders slump, and you meet his eyes.

You look tired, he realises, and suddenly, a pang of guilt washes over him.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he says. It’s sincere, and you know it, but you return his gaze with mixed emotions, your frown showing your confusion and your anger all the same.

You reach for his hand, the very first time, almost instinctively. Not because he’s hurt but simply because you want to touch him, and he lets you.

“Go get some sleep.”

im sorry i havent published in so long, ill try to get more side chapters out while working on the main one, though getting the main story done is my priority of course!

i love you all soo much and i want to say thank you again for being patient and reading my silly little stories.

much love, jae <3

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fanfic #gojo fanfiction #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #🏮: tales of the cursed !! #🏮: caught in the middle !! #🪄: jujutsu kaisen !! #💙: jae writing !!

[thisonelikesaliens]

omg the scream i scrumpt

watch this MV!

(i may follow up with translations later today)

edit: rough translations under the cut:

對你的好 給你擁抱 Being good to you, holding you in my arms 被我圍繞 是否煩惱 Revolving around you, I know when you're troubled 無理取鬧 我也知道 And I know when you're trying to pick a fight 唯一祈禱 陪你到老 My only prayer is to grow old with you

不明白 不意外 這一切不能重來 I don't understand but I'm not surprised, that we don't get a do-over 不擁抱 不應該 別用說都能明白 I understand even without words, that we shouldn't hold each other 懷抱希望 只剩下無奈 Embracing hope, but only left with a sense of helplessness

要明白 這依賴 卻不是一種關懷 I understand this dependence is not a show of care 別期待 沒期待 期待剩一片空白 No more expectations, only emptiness remains 懷抱期望只剩下傷害 Embracing expectations, but only left with pain

未知的我們 未來的我們 We don't know what the future of "us" looks like 別再掙扎就會很愉快 Stop resisting and we will be happy 拋開了是非對錯 只想與你相愛 Throwing away the notions of right and wrong, I just want to be in love with you 我不會感到後悔 也不再徘徊 I won't regret and will stop wandering 擁有你的 未來 This future with you in it

要明白 這依賴 卻不是一種關懷 I understand this dependence is not a show of care 別期待 沒期待 期待剩一片空白 No more expectations, only emptiness remains 懷抱期望只剩下傷害 Embracing expectations, but only left with pain

未知的我們 未來的我們 We don't know what the future of "us" looks like 別再掙扎就會很愉快 Stop resisting and we will be happy 拋開了是非對錯 只想與你相愛 Throwing away the notions of right and wrong, I just want to be in love with you 我不會感到後悔 也不再徘徊 I won't regret and will stop wandering 擁有你的 未來 This future with you in it

是我偽裝自己獨自心澎湃 I'm putting on a mask, hiding the cresting waves in my heart 忍不住眼淚 轉過身不想讓你看清楚 Unable to hold back my tears, I turn around so you can't see 如果可以重來 想要對你說 If we can start over, I want to tell you 我 和你 永遠不分開 You and I will never be apart

現在你和我 未來你和我 You and I in the present and future 不用掙扎 已經很快樂 We don't need to struggle anymore, we're already happy

未知的我們 未來的我們 We don't know what the future of "us" looks like 別再掙扎就會很愉快 Stop resisting and we will be happy 拋開了是非對錯 只想與你相愛 Throwing away the notions of right and wrong, I just want to be in love with you 感到後悔 也不再徘徊 I won't regret and will stop wandering 擁有你的 未來 This future with you in it

#unknown the series #關於未知的我們 #未知的我們 #kim jae hoon #this one watches #a korean guy writing lyrics in chinese #and me translating from my 1st/2nd language to my 3rd #lots of layers of translations here #maybe i should've just let google handle it #i did take a bit more liberty with some parts and didn't go for the direct translation #unknown ost

[boytumms]

Jae Anon here!

I had an idea that popped into my head after seeing something from, if I remember correctly, marmalade-draws. I could be wrong. But basically, a spell or a piece of jewelry or something is enchanted/cast to make anything Person A eats appear in Person B’s stomach.

Here’s my twist on it. It works both ways. So Person B can eat and it’ll appear in Person A’s stomach.

Enjoy!

~

Oliver prepared his suit and tie to attend his sister’s wedding. As he did so, he had an idea.

“Hey Elijah! Come in here for a second please!” Oliver called out, smirking a little as he heard his boyfriend’s footsteps.

“What’s up Oliver?” Elijah asked, leaning in the doorway. He raised an eyebrow as Oliver handed over a small necklace.

“So you know how I’m into stuffing? Well, I thought it would be fun if you could do it while I was at my sister’s wedding. Then we could have fun when I get back,” Oliver said, smiling as he put a matching necklace around his neck and tucked it under his shirt.

Elijah couldn’t help but smirk at the idea, putting the necklace on. He was very excited for this.

“You betcha. But how do you want to let me to know when to stop? I doubt you’ll have time to look on your phone,” Elijah said, a little concern showing in his voice.

“I’ll drink something so you feel it in your stomach. It’s the quickest and easiest way to do it. I’m gonna be late if I stall any longer. Start whenever you feel ready,” Oliver said, placing a quick peck on Elijah’s cheek before running out the door.

Oliver made it to the wedding with time to spare. As he sat in his seat, waiting for something to happen, he was surprised that Elijah hadn’t eaten anything yet. He went almost the whole wedding without feeling anything.

When dinner was served, Oliver decided to get a little payback on Elijah. He ate almost nonstop taking thirds and fourths on his plate. By the time he finished the fifth plate, he started feeling his stomach begin to get full.

Oliver sighed quietly as he rested his hand on his stomach, excited to feel himself being stuffed. It took a minute, but he felt his stomach become uncomfortably full. Elijah must’ve been taking some big bites because Oliver felt his stomach swell with each one.

Oliver was soon nearing his maximum limit, his stomach growling in response. It wasn’t noticeable yet, but his round belly was beginning to push on his buttoned dress shirt. Oliver took a glass of water and quickly drank it, becoming worried when Elijah didn’t stop. Oliver quickly got up and said his goodbyes, blaming it on an early work day for tomorrow.

Oliver ran to his car and hurriedly started it, groaning as he felt his suit begin straining against his stomach. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt and suit, not wanting to ruin it by popping the buttons. Oliver unzipped his pants, frowning as his stomach easily settled into the open space. As relieving as it was, he was not enthused, despite feeling turned on by the experience. Oliver drove as fast as the speed limit would let him, letting up belches and groans as he did.

By the time Oliver arrived home, he could barely get out of his car with how heavy his stomach was. He looked like he could easily be six months pregnant. The stuffed boy waddled his way into the house, using his hands to hold his stuffed belly. Even then, he could feel mouthful after mouthful of food being shoved into his already strained tummy.

“Elijah! What the heck?!” Oliver exclaimed, closing the door behind him with a huff. In front of Elijah on their coffee table was still loads of food, all meant for Oliver.

“I was napping when you rudely gave me this food baby, so I figured you could use a couple food babies in return,” Elijah said with a grin as he caressed his swollen, bloated abdomen. He immediately chugged a two liter soda, eyes intently on his boyfriend’s stomach.

Oliver groaned as he lowered himself into the soft couch, his stomach swelling and gurgling with the soda. He put his hand up to ask his boyfriend to stop, but Elijah was intent on watching Oliver wriggle uncomfortably. As time went on, Elijah watched as Oliver moaned and groaned with his growing abdomen, clearly stuffed beyond what he was used to.

Elijah decided to stop when Oliver looked nice and round, a record of looking nine months pregnant. He took the necklaces off them and smiled at his boyfriend, taking to gently rubbing and caressing the swollen, red tummy of his boyfriend.

“Now I feel kinda bad. How about next time, you can go to an all you can eat buffet and fill me this full for a change?” Elijah asked, working out bubbles for the little bit of relief Oliver could get. Soon enough, the stuffed man fell asleep. Elijah put a blanket over Oliver, returning to his original seat.

Elijah looked at the pile of food that was still left, deciding to eat the rest so it wouldn’t go to waste. After a couple hours, Elijah sat back and marveled at his stuffed belly. He wasn’t nearly as big as Oliver, but he was close. His shirt stayed snuggly on his stomach, unable to move from the sheer amount of pressure from his bulging stomach.

Elijah now felt really bad for Oliver, feeling what he went through and now understanding his boyfriend. He soon succumbed to his food coma, snoring softly as he lay next to Oliver. The next day was a chore, both still being overly stuffed and bloated. Elijah made sure to tend to Oliver, ignoring his own pains and setting to help relieve Oliver of his.

Awww, these two sound so cute!!! Constantly in a cycle of getting revenge on each other for stuffing one another too much, then feeling bad and coming home to sooth their poor partners over stuffed belly

#ask #anonymous #tummy ache #stuffing #belly ache #stomachache #writings #jae anon

[smileysuh]

sorry I've been MIA everyone! On top of 2 destination weddings that I went to and my irl job, my boyfriend just started working out of town this month- he's back for the week and when I tell you a girl has been bUSY 👀

mans told me he loved me for the first time a few nights ago and I've been in a state of SHOOKETHNESS-

but I'm back on the grind and writing my little heart out- he leaves up North on Tuesday so I'll be able to work better once he's not bewitching me night and day 😂

#check in with nova :) #I'm writing a Jae fic and it's already set up to be angsty and romantic as fuck #had a plan for a meanie fic but I think I wanna take more time with it #so probably a cheol fic for svt this month instead and meanie for april :)

[maxescheibechlinichacheli]

That lingering touch of Ji Hyun on Jae Won's shoulder and the head tilt of Jae Won are speaking volumes. They are so aware of each other and that they want each other, of what could be.

#the eighth sense #the eighth sense the series #korean bl #bl series #bl drama #jae won x ji hyun #ji hyun x hae won #maxine gifs #maxine writes

[imajunhoe]

Manifesting a scene where Im Sol runs and jumps into Sun Jae's arms. I need to see him hold and twirl her around.

#lovely runner #i should write a fic or something #im sol #ryu sun jae #byeon woo seok #kim hye yoon #kdrama #my posts

[anjaelle]

Hello darling 💙

Would you consider writing for Count Vronsky from Anna Karenina?

Pairing: Count Alexei Vronsky x Foreign Socialite!Reader Warnings: Borderline Toxic Infatuation, Vintage Slow Burn, (almost) Infidelity Summary: A foreign born socialite/heiress visits a friend in Russia and meets a straight up demon. For @bettytaylorversion (AU where Anna doesn't go back to Vronsky and chooses to stay with Karenin.) Word Count: 2.3K a/n: I remember that Tolstoy made this character so straightforward that you can kind of play around with him as much as you like without changing much about who he is at his core. I can't be left to my own devices. That being said, I don't want purists yelling at me. So I hope everyone takes some of my choices here with a grain of salt.

--x--

Everything about Russia felt intimidating to you: the language, the size of the country, the power of its military, and the show of their aristocratic wealth. You were wealthy. But this was a different kind of wealth. You came to visit your close friend who was another socialite that you met through overlapping inner circles. It'd taken you a while to accept the invitation as you weren't sure how kindly they'd take to a foreigner.

You understood some of the language based on what your friend taught you, but you still weren't confident enough to converse in just Russian. Instead you opted for French, which seemed to work well enough. You knew your native language was a lost cause. While some people in the parlor were polite, others had no interest in speaking with you. A small number seemed interested in you and your home country. Or maybe they just noticed your Very New and Very Parisian wardrobe with your collection of gifted jewels. They decided you were important enough to talk to.

When she introduced you to Count Alexei Vronsky, an officer in the army, you felt her grip on your elbow tighten just the slightest bit. You knew about him. She told you all about his affair with the married woman from Saint Petersburg. You weren't sure how you pictured the man. She said he was handsome, but you lived in a world full of beautiful people. How much different could he be?

That was a terrible miscalculation. The minute he met you, he watched you with the intense interest of a fox stalking its prey. You felt your cheeks warm and your heart thud when he pressed his lips to your gloved knuckle. You averted your eyes when he rose from his bow, not really wanting to convey anything uncouth about the interaction.

The first time he found you alone, you were in your friend's library looking at a map pinned to the wall. He told you about every country he'd lived in, every country he'd traveled through, and which ones he'd be eager to see soon. When you pointed out your country on the map, he licked his lips and an easy smile graced his beautiful face.

"I suppose I have no choice but to come see you now." He said in his thick accent.

You realized, then, that he reminded you of angels you'd see painted on the walls of grand, gilded churches. You told him that you and your fiance would be happy to invite him to your engagement party.

"Hmm." he said, eyeing the map. "Fiancés..." he finished the statement in Russian, so you couldn't understand him.

Before you excused yourself to go find your friend, his fingertips gently grazed the back of your hand, stopping you in your tracks. "Your fiancé is incredibly lucky to have such a beautiful, clever woman."

The second time he found you alone, you'd been exploring the estate and decided to rest in the garden among the wildflowers. As you raised your face to the summer sun, he made his presence known by clearing his throat, causing you to jump to your feet in surprise.

"Good afternoon, startled rabbit." He chuckled, and you rolled your eyes at him.

"How long have you been standing there?" You warily asked, anxiously adjusting your skirts and brushing the grass from your hair. He cocked his head, studying you, "Long enough to notice that your beauty in parlor candlelight cannot compare to how alluring you are in the light of day."

It was interesting to see him dressed so casually compared to the night before. You wondered what he was still doing at your friend's estate when you knew he had a home of his own. You quickly glanced at her window to see the curtains still closed.

When you boldly asked him if he'd been watching you, something akin to amusement danced across his face, "You like the idea of that? Me watching you?"

"I have a fiancé."

He took a step closer, "That doesn't answer my question."

“You didn’t answer mine.” You countered, looking him square in the eye.

That wasn’t particularly ladylike, and you weren’t sure how anyone would react if they happened upon you and Vronsky standing so close in the garden without a chaperone.

As if reading your mind, he glanced down at your lips, then his eyes fell lower to your bodice. Your engraved gold locket rested on the top of one breast, with your fiancé’s initials glittering under the sun.

“I wasn’t watching you. I was…preoccupied.” His eyes met yours again and you felt like you’d been splashed with icy water. “Your husband—my apologies—your fiancé…he is a man of means? That necklace of yours is exquisite.”

You weren’t stupid. He didn’t care about the necklace. “That is a very inappropriate question to ask.”

“So he is not a man of means.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Who gave you that necklace?”

“Why does it trouble you to know?”

“You deserve a better one.” He murmured. You were unsure if he was still speaking about the jewelry. His fingers ghosted over the exposed skin of your forearm, "I could do that for you. If you wish." You took one large step back and glanced again at your friend’s window to find her watching you both suspiciously.

For the remainder of your stay in Russia, your friend treated you coolly. Though she was kind in private, she wasn't as warm in the company of others. Specifically, in the presence of Count Vronsky who seemed eager to appear more often during your stay and even more eager to get you alone. You reminded yourself that it was a temporary trip, and that you'd be back at your father's estate--and back in your kind fiancé's arms--in no time.

"It's truly fortunate that you're betrothed," your friend said as you gathered your belongings to meet the carriage in the courtyard, "or it'd be a shame to see your name added to the Count's incredibly long list of jilted lovers." There was an edge of bitterness to her tone, but you chose not to bring it up. Instead you marked it as an incredibly odd ending to an otherwise enjoyable trip.

A month later, you nearly fell down the stairs when your father called you down to the foyer to greet his newest client who arrived that morning from Russia. Count Alexei Vronsky bowed as you descended, but you could see the mirth dancing behind his eyes when he righted his posture behind your father's back.

"He says you spoke extensively about my craftsmanship. He felt compelled to come by the shop for his own fitting while he was visiting!" Your father exclaimed merrily, pulling you in for a kiss on the forehead, "My brilliant girl. This will do wonders for us. I knew I could count on you."

Sure, you had spoken highly of you father's tailoring and shoemaking, because as popular as your father was it never hurt to expand the reach of his influence.

That being said, you were sure Vronsky wasn't there for that conversation, and you never continued any form of contact after you departed Russia. You assumed he learned about where you lived through mutual friends. You swore under your breath when your father left you alone to get his sketches from his workshop in the east wing of the estate. Vronsky eyed you briefly, then redirected his interest to the art and artifacts decorating your home. Ever the son born of Russian ice and stoicism, he looked out of place in the warm atmosphere of the home you grew up in.

"Your country is beautiful," he said, arching a dark brow, "a bit too hot for my liking. Though, it is nice to see you in your natural element. I don't think wildflowers like you belong in the comparative cold of a Russian summer."

You felt like you were being tested, but you decided that there wasn't much he could do in the confines of your home. He was, after all, in your territory. Your shoulders relaxed and you chanced a small smile his way, "You'd be surprised to know how resilient I can be."

Surprisingly, he laughed, "I don't think I'd be surprised at all. I know you better than you think I do."

You felt like you'd regret it, but you decided to ask anyway.

"What do you mean by that?"

He began to stroll through the hall of your foyer, pausing every so often to examine a portrait or vase as you trailed behind him.

"You attended your fiancé's nameday feast a few years ago. Of course, he was not your fiancé, then. He was merely your father's apprentice and a quite talented shoemaker from my country who moved and quickly fell in love with...your country." He chuckled to himself at a joke only he seemed to know. "I remember you. I remember that you were an absolute vision in white, and you danced with everyone in the room. Though you were incredibly quiet when you weren't wrapped up in the melody of the orchestra." He glanced over at your confused expression, fighting a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, "Like I said: startled rabbit. Always quiet. Always watching. I remember the way your dress hugged the delicate slope of your shoulders, and the way your necklace caressed your neck. That may have been the first time I craved to exist within the confines of a jeweled pendant. And though I was otherwise...occupied with someone...I do remember the way you consistently laughed when he whispered things to you. A kind gesture, as he's never been that funny."

"So you know him. You were there that night." You whispered, feeling chills running up your arm.

"I was," he shrugged, stopping again at a more recent portrait of you and your father, "as was my duty as his elder brother."

You felt your heart stop in your chest and your brain short circuited. Your fiancé never told you about any siblings, let alone an elder brother. You knew your fiance's father was possibly dead, and that his mother raised him alone in Russia. Was he lying about his life? You weren't sure what was conveyed on your face, but Count Vronsky turned to address you directly.

"My father was not an honorable man. He forbade us from speaking to my half-brother or acknowledging him. Of course, Father is dead now, and God hasn't struck me down for disrespecting the wishes of a dead man. This also isn't the first time I've ever sinned." He grinned widely at you and took a step closer, though you were too shocked to move. "From the minute I saw you, I knew I had to have you. And every time I've seen you since, I regretted not stealing you away for myself."

"That doesn't make any sense..." you murmured, hiding your anxious hands behind your back, "I've never met you before. I'd know. I'd remember."

"You make your presence known at those silly little soirées the ladies have. I never stay for very long, but I've always..." he took another step closer and you realized you'd been backed against a pillar, "I've always noticed you. Dancing. Laughing. Drinking. Sometimes smoking. Does your father know you smoke?"

You glanced down the hall over his shoulder, and in a small voice that surprised you, you whispered, "I don't always do that."

"Mhmm." He reached out to run his warm, slightly calloused fingers along the chain of your necklace, stopping just before the pendant that rested in the valley of your cleavage. Your chest involuntarily heaved, and your knees felt weak, "What other bad things do you 'not always' do?"

You parted your lips to attempt something sharp, but instead you swallowed hard and said, "I'm to be married."

"But you are not married." He was so close, "Do you know how badly I've wanted to come see you since you left?" You could smell the sweet wine of your country on his tongue as he whispered lowly to you, "The thought of his hands on you made me want to abandon all of my obligations to cross the sea. Did you think of me?"

Your gaze fell to his lips, slightly stained red, and then back up into his piercing blue eyes. God, he was beautiful. He caught the action.

"You did."

"I didn't."

"Your eyes betray you, wildflower." His hand grazed your hip above your skirt, and his lips ghosted over your own, "I thought about you every night. I think about how you'd look spread out for me on those expensive sheets your father bought you. Waiting for me. And you're wearing that charming necklace my brother gave you while my tongue is deep in that sweet little--"

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and Vronsky swiftly turned away from you to examine the nearest vase again, as if nothing happened. You hadn't realized that your hands were grasping your skirt in your fists and that you were squeezing your thighs together.

You realized then that it'd been so long since you were last touched.

When your father entered the hall, he shot you a curious look before handing Vronsky his latest sketches.

"Here you go, young man. Let me know if these are to your liking. We can begin as early as tomorrow afternoon."

The blond shot your father a charming smile and bowed graciously, "Thank you for taking the time to help a stranger on such short notice."

The conversation sounded like white noise in your ears as you willed your heart to slow down. Even as you composed yourself and released your skirt from your hands, you still felt out of sorts.

When he turned to you and bowed again, he rose and allowed his eyes to trail down the length of your body.

"Always a pleasure to see you again."

#count vronsky #count vronsky x reader #aaron taylor johnson #atj x reader #it's taken me sooo long to edit and re-edit this i'm so sorry #thank you for waiting #jae writes

[jae-gerbomb]

Let's see some of that Lighthearted WIP jae pls thank u

yknow the funniest part about that one is that i don't actually have a lot of lighthearted stuff about it atm LMAO,, 🤡 i have one (1) lil snippet and it's about Anger so., failed step 1 sorry Echo 😂

(but here it's under the cut anyway):

Her gaze flits back up to yours. You're momentarily taken aback by the depth of her ire, even though you know it isn't directed at you. It vanishes with a blink, and the tense line of her shoulders relaxes.

She sighs. "Sorry, it's just… Well, you know," she trails off vaguely.

No, you don't know, but you don't want to be the one to bring that discomfort back - you've seen her intense training routines.

"Yeah… Yeah, don't worry about it."

A beat of silence passes between the two of you. She looks more relaxed than she did a second ago, though, so you decide to take that as a win. Still, you make a mental note of the discussion, hoping to revisit it at a more opportune time.

#jae talks #jae writes #s. sort of kfdjhgkd

[only-lonely-www]

Got some new colored ink pens today, and of course there’s only one way to test them out!!

#akatsuki no yona #yona of the dawn #akayona #kija #hakuryuu kija #shin ah #jae ha #ouryuu zeno #honestly no idea how to tag them so I’m just pressing the recommended tags that pop up #ANYWAY #my boys!! I love them!! #I’ve never really posted any of them because I have a really hard time drawing Yona characters usually #but these turned out pretty good! #maybe I’m improving! #I’ve drawn a lot of shin ahs and especially zenos though #they are just never post worthy #okay sorry for writing a tag essay bye

[jjsanguine]

People who said "everything in episode 6 really happened but the dreamlike quality was because the recollection of events was distorted by the trauma of the accident" how does it feel to have the biggest brain

#jury's still out on whether the trauma is jae won's emotional trauma from seeing what looked like yet another person he loves die #or ji hyun's physical trauma that is his brain injury from being in a coma and whatever unnamed injuries require him to do physical therapy #a film analysis person could probably write an essay about this but the show is from both jae won and ji hyun's POV #so from my perspective the answer to ''is it ji hyun or jae won's trauma?'' is just ''yes'' #i suppose ji hyun also has some emotional trauma related to almost dying but i feel like that's going to hit like later later #the eighth sense #jae won #ji hyun

[takadokii]

✴ what the heart wants !! ‧₊.࿐

summary You try to test your luck and have a vulnerable conversation with Satoru. But all he's thinking about is kissing you, and he doesn't understand the concept of crying anyway. pairing high school!gojo satoru x f!reader tags soft fluff, comfort, gojo doesn't know emotions (canon) warnings reader mentions that they cried last night, one nono word word count 810 links collection ; taglist

this is an additional chapter of my series "caught in the middle", if you enjoyed this, consider checking it out! 🩵

"When was the last time you cried?" 

The question caught Satoru off-guard. Sometimes, words would leave your mouth that would make him feel so small and stupid. He straightened his back, standing tense and tall. A million thoughts raced through his head about what could have possibly prompted you to ask such a silly question.

Did he look like he cried recently? Are you asking just out of pure curiosity? What made you think about that right now in the first place?

"I cried yesterday when you punched me, remember?"

You punch him again.

"Stop fooling around, you know what I mean...like really cry." You don't look at him when you say this. Trying to get Gojo's mood to match yours was about as easy as getting him to shut up for more than 5 minutes.

But tonight, you felt extra vulnerable for no apparent reason at all.

"I don't remember. It's been a while. I probably haven't cried since I was five." 

You hum in acknowledgement, your hand running up the material of the sweater you had worn that night, fingernails brushing against one of the larger loops in your knitted sweater.

And because it's Gojo, of course, this rare, vulnerable sentence must be followed up with a 3-minute monologue with the sole purpose of sucking his own dick.

"I mean... What would I even cry about? I'm pretty. I'm talented. I'm funny and smart. I have no reason to waste my tears. Tears of joy, maybe. Because I was born so pretty and smart and talented and-"

"I cried last night," you interrupted Gojo with a shrug. It was spoken with so little emotion like you were just throwing it out there. A quick, fun little life update as if you were telling him about a new show you started last night.

"...huh?!" Gojo was shocked. He was unable to process this information, as well as unsure what he was supposed to do now. Because, unbeknownst to you, in his eyes, you were just about as talented and intelligent and maybe even a little prettier than him, so this didn't make any sense.

"Why would you ever need to cry? Who made you cry?!" This sentence left his mouth in a way more harsh, belittling and "invalidating your problems" kind of tone than he had intended.

This was Gojo Satoru, after all, of course, the question is who, what else could there be but people that hurt people?

You, knowing he was just a spoiled, confused little child on the inside (and the outside), recognised his intention behind the sentence anyway and answered.

"I don't know...I just wanted to."

"Wanted to?" Gojo was beyond confused. Crying had become a distant concept to him a long time ago. Usually, whenever he felt overwhelmed or hurt, his emotions would skip sadness and instantly transform into annoyance or anger. But for you, it seemed freeing.

For Gojo, crying was a line that mustn't be crossed, a door unopened, its key buried in a drawer in the room he grew up in.

"It's okay to want to cry. Nothing to feel guilty about. The heart knows what it wants."

But for you, crying was something good, letting everything you had carried with you seep out, wipe it away with a tissue and let it dry out, long forgotten in the trash.

You had learned not to let it overflow or push yourself to test how much you can carry. Sometimes, you just felt weak, and everything else felt heavy, and you had accepted that.

Of course, Gojo Satoru wouldn't know what that's like. He had never felt weak in his life, and something inside of you told you that you wouldn't live to see many instances in which he would.

"I felt much better after," you elaborated, seeing him go through the mental turmoil you hoped to ease his mind, "I feel much better now."

Gojo doesn't understand. He understands so little he doesn't even know where he'd begin to attempt to understand.  

He's physically distraught by the confusion you had just set aflame in him.

"Well...if you ever cry again, you better not come to me because I am not at all emotionally capable of handling that."

You roll your eyes but grin nonetheless, nudging him with your shoulder before stepping closer and pressing yourself into him. Instinctively, Gojo raises his arm, letting you slip underneath as he places his hand on the sleeve of your sweater.

One of his fingers gets stuck in a loop, his eyes get stuck on your smile, and he tries hard not to kiss you right then and there.

Continuing to stare, a fluttery hot feeling formed in his chest, and he realised just how braver you were than him for giving in to what your heart wanted.

thanks for all the love on my latest one shot! :)

i hope the layout of my collection isn't too confusing, I'm working on making it more manageable and easy to understand!

i've put a lot of heart into this universe, the dynamic and my characters so I'm probably just thinking too far ahead.

i'm very happy i've started this and i can't wait for you all to see what i have in store!

love, jae 🩵

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