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silkscream · 1 month

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CHAPTER 9: GOD IS A CIRCLE

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

Your angels do not react. They only look at you with concern, shielding you from the blazing sun with their wings. They stare as you laugh, doubling over, falling backwards into the green grass. You only remember that you’re alive when they trace the contours of your body with their fingertips.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, high sex, threesome, oral sex, fingering, graphic depictions of violence and blood, recreational drug usage, biblical imagery, angst

ੈ✩ wc: 5.5k

ੈ✩ a/n: i was barely conscious when i wrote this. sorry bout it

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

August, 2009

Bliss is never eternal. If it was, you’d think the world would stop turning with everyone busy with their greatest indulgences. It’s not like you were much of a hedonist anyway, not even with Satoru’s influence.

You feel intoxicated with him and Suguru, but it’s not enough to keep you from reality. Yaga-sensei proves this the moment the boys are ordained the task of protecting the star plasma vessel—a fourteen-year-old girl with more spirit than you ever had at that age. You admire her spunk, her unwillingness to take shit from either of the boys. It entertains you endlessly.

“How do you deal with them?” she mutters to you. You learn that her name is Riko Amanai. She loves the ocean and has a sweet tooth like Satoru. Her favorite flavor is anything blue.

“I keep them in check.”

“Are you my bodyguard too?”

“Not really,” you laugh. “But I’ll be around.”

Riko likes you. She clings to you more than you anticipate, considering this isn’t your mission, but you understand. She’s vulnerable despite her confidence in her fate as Tengen’s vessel. Talks a big game with blue eyes shining bright, similar to Satoru.

She pouts at your absence. You think nothing of it, knowing that she’s in good hands between the boys and that caretaker of hers. The bounty on the girl’s head is daunting, but the boys are the strongest, and you watch them evade the enemies easily.

It’s when they end up in Okinawa that something in your chest feels a bit empty. A bad omen, anxiety pooling in your gut.

Satoru texts you pictures from the beach—sea creatures from the ocean and the aquarium, selfies with Suguru that are often blurry. He texts you how much he misses you, how much he craves the parts of you that you think may be too intimate to even talk about out loud, let alone through text. Suguru sends you pictures of Riko and Satoru on the beach with the creatures they pick up from the ocean, of sunsets he knows you would enjoy.

You ache for their return.

satoru: gonna stay for another day jsyk

you: having fun?

satoru: yeaaaa

satoru: tired as fuck though

satoru: but riko likes the beach. thought we could give her one more day

you: you’re sweet

satoru: not as sweet as uuuuuuuuu

satoru: she says hi btw

satoru: shes mad ur not here

you: she likes me more than you

satoru: >:(

you: i’ll see you soon. get some sleep please

satoru: anything for u baby

Something has gone terribly wrong.

You have no reason to be worried—Satoru is more than capable of handling that assassin, no matter how swift his movements may be. It was whiplash to see a sword go through him, and it was whiplash to see Satoru react like it was a paper cut.

Now, in the Tombs of the Star, you feel a chill run up your spine as you escort Kuroi out. She’s still emotional, wiping tears after her goodbye to Amanai. Trepidation strikes you the same way it did in that forest all those months ago. The air has grown cold, but you can’t sense any other cursed energy but your own.

“Kuroi,” you breathe.

“Yes?” She sniffles, wiping her tears quickly.

“Go on without me,” you say cautiously. “I think I better guard the Tomb just in case. For Geto.”

“Alright. Thank you for being there for them.” Kuroi smiles at you with a warmth you aren’t sure that you deserve.

“I wasn’t the one protecting her.”

“I know, but she admired you a lot. We missed you in Okinawa.”

You pull her into a hug, one that you wish you’d given Riko moments prior. It’s a parting gift.

When she departs, you’re left alone in a dark hallway. You expect a spirit to jump out — something monstrous, an amalgamation of your nightmares. But this is a sacred place, you suppose. One meant for sacrifices and blessings. You’ve never really believed in blessings. The world is built on too many curses for that.

Something in the air made you want to choke, swallow back bile. Nothing like your old anxiety spells. It’s something else, you’re sure of it. And yet, it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. The rustle of fabric.

He couldn’t go undetected, not completely. Not when your intuition was on overdrive, making you sick with it. Your senses acute.

“Haven’t seen you before.”

His voice is raspy, the sound of skinned palms on pavement. Deep the way Japanese whiskey burns down and sits in your stomach a little too heavy. There’s a split on the corner of his mouth as if he’d been nicked by a thorn. He smiles at you with lazy, bovine eyes and a snake-like smirk.

This man is not a figment of your imagination — he’s real as can be as he towers over yet, and there’s not a lick of cursed energy you can feel, even when you’re this close to him. A human.

You think about Satoru and the sword that went through his chest. You look at the sword that the stranger in front of you wields. Within a second, you rush to touch him, but your technique doesn’t activate as soon as you want it, too. He slashes you across the stomach, crimson permeating the torn fabric of your uniform.

“Weak little girl,” he chides. “You’re too pretty to kill, though.”

You gag, nearly vomiting on the ground.

“You their girlfriend or what? Would’ve thought they were fucking each other, to be honest.”

You shake your head weakly, your vision blurring already. You hear a bark of a laugh. Not even your bared teeth can be taken seriously, not when you’re bleeding out on the ground. He tuts as if he’s scolding you.

“He’ll kill you,” you hiss. The man laughs again. You must be referring to one of your boys. He grins wider when he realizes.

“Which one? The one with the bangs?” he scoffs. “Because I already killed the Gojo brat, sweetheart.”

You feel your heart drop, sinking like an anchor as the feeling drags your body down with it. You look at him with wide eyes, and the sadistic stare you get back tells you he wants to humiliate you. It would hurt less if he just killed you.

Satoru would never die by the hand of a non-sorcerer. Not a fucking chance. But the notion doesn’t stop the itch behind your nose, your eyes threatening tears. The man crouches, his face looking down at you in mock sympathy, and places a rough palm to your face, swipes your quivering bottom lip. You taste blood.

You clutch his wrist immediately and he raises his hand.

Something metal whips the side of your face, something heavy. Your sight of vision narrows into black.

When you wake, you aren’t sure if you’ve arrived in a nightmare or had just left one.

For one, Satoru is saturated in blood. The scratches on his face are brutal. He looks half feral, half shell-shocked. It’s nothing you’ve seen before.

Despondency paints Suguru’s face into a shadow of himself. There’s something off about their cursed energy.

You don’t want to ask them how the rest of the mission went — you can already tell what the answer might be. If everything went according to plan, there wouldn’t be a blank stare in each of their eyes. If everything was fine, they would return to you like themselves — animated and flirty and teasing. If everything was the way it was meant to be, maybe you wouldn’t have the slight scar of a side wound aching at the side of your gut.

Instead, they’re all business. It’s like they look through you when they speak to you.

“Is Riko…” you trail off.

“She’s dead,” they say.

They deliver the news to you, expressionless. Mirroring each other.

There’s a blankness in Satoru’s eyes. Cold. No one exactly knows how to deal with being killed only to bring yourself back again. The thought of his mangled body surrounded by flyheads makes your stomach churn.

He had always been god-like, prodigal. After being reborn, he really was a God. Untouchable. You’d think him to be cockier or more cruel, but on the surface, he’s devoid of anything, really. He’s stony-eyed, instead, a little empty behind the face. There’s a spark of something when he sees the large bruise on your cheekbone and the ghost of a slash on your rib.

He won’t say much about the man who killed him. Only that he had no cursed energy and a son. You remember a scar bending with the curve of a mouth and sharp green eyes.

It’s quiet at Jujutsu Tech afterward. Yaga continues classes like he always does, and all of you do your best. There are fewer missions that are being demanded of you. You think it’s because of the failed mission. Despite this, Satoru takes on whatever he can, even volunteering for the tougher ones just so he can let off some steam. Suguru often tags along with him, leaving you alone to sulk.

You don’t think you have any reason to sulk. It’s not like you were killed, anyway.

You feel them both pulling away. You don’t bother to pry — they at least seem to be occupied with each other. They were best friends before you ever got close to either of them. You knew your place. You’d give them space, knowing the gravity of the trauma they’d experienced on the mission, and yet your heart ached all the same. It was a familiar hurt, the same you’d felt in high school about Satoru. It was only peculiar now because those feelings applied to both of them.

But then there are times when Satoru sneaks into your room like he always does. He likes to nip at your shoulder with teeth that feel sharper, meaner. Hand around your throat, the calluses squeezing flesh. He likes to pin you down to the mattress, likes to hear the squeak of the bedframe as he fucks into you mercilessly.

Suguru takes you, too, but not so desperately, not so obviously. He lures you in, instead. You realize that he’s different than Satoru in the way that he has the patience for games. It explains the teasing, the touching. He’ll have you wrapped around his finger just from talking to you, and within the hour, he’ll be fucking into your soaked cunt in the locker rooms after sparring.

You suppose this is the way they both let out their frustrations, how they cope with the trauma of losing Riko. They were tightlipped about her.

Both of them had changed in ways that were beyond your comprehension.

Satoru gets colder. Similar to the way he was in high school, when he barely acknowledged you. He doesn’t like to look at you for very long, as if the mere fact of his gaze on you would hurt him, hurt you. It was stupid. He didn’t care about your fragility before, so what point was there to care about it now?

Suguru is mostly the same, just quieter. Hell, he’d always been quiet, other than the times he’d fuck you or when you’d be alone with him. His sarcastic streak was weaker. He touched you less.

You can’t stand any of it.

Satoru isn’t meant to be someone so vulnerable. It’s out of character for him.

You soothe his nightmares when he wakes you up in the middle of the night clutching your waist with nails digging into the skin underneath your shirt. He’s always shaking, always mumbling something nonsensical.

Selfishly, you find that it feels nice to be needed. To be his only form of salvation during these times.

In his waking moments, Satoru is himself again. Belligerently so, with his recklessness. It’s up to you and Suguru to tame him, often. Satoru is almost a different version of himself – familiar and still annoying — but he is much more adamant about his power, nowadays. A God complex in the making.

Satoru gets greedier. He likes to wake you up with his nose nudging your clit, tongue already making a mess of your hole. No amount of pushing his head away with your hand would make him stop, though you blame yourself for indulging.

He likes to tease you for the semblance of control. You suspect that beyond playing with you, he finds solace in Suguru, instead. They aren’t particularly shy about it—sometimes you walk into Satoru’s dorm and find them entangled with one another, clothes off and warm to the touch. They always welcome you into their arms, forcing you in between them.

You feel like you’re at an arm’s length from them at all times despite this.

November, 2009

You settle on a routine. It’s less than pleasant, but you’re used to it. Convincing yourself that it’s normal, at least.

Yaga puts you on more solo missions — you’ve improved your technique. The precision of it is tough, always a wildcard given the unpredictability of destruction beneath your fingertips. Regardless, it’s gotten better. It doesn’t traumatize you so much to be a vehicle of decay anymore. You’re numb to it.

It’s odd — you’re carrying the burden of something you didn’t experience. Satoru finds that you are a mirror for Suguru, the same temperament and all. Always leaving the party to smoke cigarettes together. It doesn’t make him pissy necessarily, but it makes him pout. Clingy to the both of you.

“Stop being antisocial,” he whines.

You and Suguru look up at him in question. He had followed you out of the party when you saw Satoru’s hand on the waist of a girl you didn’t recognize. It was nothing, probably, but it wasn’t something you had ever had to deal with. It wasn’t like he could pry anything out of you, anyway.

“We’re not,” you defend, waving a cigarette around. “It’s too hot in there.”

It was true, to be fair. You were too warm in there and the outside air was nice. That, and you figured that Suguru would follow you, and he always wanted to steal you away for kisses.

Satoru had technically intruded on that, interrupting the moment Suguru had pulled away from your mouth. He eyes you wearing Suguru’s jacket and softens.

“You wanna go home, don’t you?” he asks.

“I can stay if you want,” you shrug.

He sighs. “Can you guys at least hang out with me?”

“Needy,” Suguru teases, stomping the butt of his cigarette on the ground and ushering you in between the sliding glass doors, hand on the small of your back. He nips at Satoru’s neck on the way in.

As if in apology, you don’t leave Satoru’s lap for the rest of the night. You don’t really get to. He even follows you to the bathroom and considers taking you over the counter for the hell of it.

It’s been difficult to touch you, lately.

In late August, the Zen’in outcast had killed him. Satoru had never thought of death as an option that was even possible. It’s why his mind was frenzied in his last moments, panicked as the two of them were surrounded by fly heads. He had not anticipated death, hadn’t anticipated the impact of it, how Suguru would have to return his corpse to Jujutsu Tech. How you would be shedding overflowing tears.

He’d like to think that your face or Suguru’s was in his mind when he took his last breath, but truthfully, he doesn’t remember. His mind was blank.

And when he had risen from the dead and shot a lethal hole through Toji Fushiguro, his mind was blank then, as well. The euphoria had faded. He had fulfilled the ordained role of a boygod, his hands were bloody, and he killed a man who would leave behind a son. He thought of his supposed immortality, his transcendence beyond something human, and then he thought of you.

You were the most human thing about him.

Your warmth, the flush in your cheeks. The way he had taken you back when you were in school, none the wiser about the world of curses. Sometimes he thinks you are one.

It wasn’t meant to go this far, but he had taken the leap and continued to wade in the pool of it all. He does not think of love when he thinks of his family, but he thinks of love when he sees you and Suguru. Something beating, something alive.

It was why he was constantly tipping the line between overflowing completely and being numb — Satoru was no stranger to his indulgences. You, on the other hand, were something else entirely. Fragile underneath his hands. Sometimes, he didn’t even think it was worth it to keep you in the bear trap he had set for you.

And then Suguru would kiss away your tears when Satoru was too rough, too cold, and he would succumb to his desires again. Instead of being something akin to a god, he often dreamt about being ordinary.

Maybe if his birth didn’t throw the planet off its kilter, he could truly be good to you instead of wanting to cut you open and live inside of you. Satoru would always be safe in your skin, but he had started to doubt that you would ever be safe in his.

You were the first to know him, he thinks. You had met him as a child and didn’t assume his divinity, rather, you were oblivious to it. Even as a little servant, you refused to kiss his feet. It relieved him. Satoru knew you always meant more to him than a toy, but in his emerging adulthood, he had taken you as a form of escapism and couldn’t cut you off. You had fastened yourself to him like an extra limb unknowingly.

“I don’t get how you can be so overbearing to her yet so distant at the same time,” Suguru remarks.

Satoru makes a face, scrunching his nose.

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re referring to,” Satoru says blankly.

“The teasing goes too far. And you get insensitive because you’re a prick, and then you barely text her back when you’re on missions.”

Satoru scoffs, fiddling with the pencil he twirls in his hands. Suguru was right, he supposed. He noticed you were a little hollow, all blank stares. Sleeping in while Satoru did not sleep at all.

“They’ve gotten harder lately. And it’s not like I’m–”

“Not what?” Suguru snorts. “Her boyfriend?”

Satoru says nothing to this. Instead, he tackles Suguru onto his bed, slides his palms underneath his shirt and up the smooth planes of his abdomen. He sighs, setting his head on Suguru’s chest.

“It’s not like she cares.”

“She does. She loves you.”

Satoru’s face reddens as if what Suguru says isn’t fact. On Satoru’s end, however – his feelings for you were an understatement. Calling it love seemed fruitless. He’d like to be fused with you, never letting you go. Stuck in the bliss of your skin kissing his in the early mornings forever.

“Think something got knocked loose when I died,” Satoru mumbles, his eyes blank.

Suguru looks at him in question, not following.

“I’ll make it up to her.”

January, 2010

“What are you getting Suguru for his birthday?”

“I don’t know,” Satoru shrugs, a blue raspberry lollipop filling up the hollow of his cheek. Tongue matching the blinding saturation of his eyes. “A blowjob?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Don’t be homophobic! You like watching.”

“I’m serious,” you roll your eyes.

“We’ll take him out,” he grins, shoving his hands in his pockets. Always stupidly attractive, his beauty borderline mythological.

You knew he was lying, knew that he would be away on that Wednesday, that his calendar was always filled a month prior with what the higher-ups needed from him. You thought it was unfair, given that he was still only a second year, though you still knew better. The glaring truth of his strength ever since the failed Star Plasma Vessel mission was conspicuous, a reminder that started to become egregious to you.

Satoru takes some of your takoyaki in unspoken amusement with you rolling your eyes, passing the tray towards him. He pouts despite the gesture, reaching over to poke you in the cheek.

“That can’t taste good with all the sugar in your mouth.”

“You’d be surprised.”

You fixate on the television. Satoru had gotten lucky recently, convincing Yaga to convert one of the common rooms with the connected bathroom into a dorm for himself. He had the Gojo money to “donate”, and he’d been on his best behavior in the past few months, which was rare. It wasn’t like Yaga really gave a fuck about their boarding situation as long as the missions went smoothly.

The room was big enough to fulfill that dream of pushing two beds together. A TV set and dingy couch to match. He needed the TV to fall asleep at night, especially if you weren’t there to stroke his hair. It was the only light source beyond a Hello Kitty lava lamp that Suguru had gotten him as a joke gift.

Satoru had recently started an obsession with Godzilla for some reason, forcing you to watch one every few days before bedtime. You were going in order since Christmas – tonight was the one versus Hedorah.

“You never look at me anymore,” he whines.

“What are you talking about?”

You’d rather say something biting, like how it was the other way around. How he’s been shoving your face into the mattress. How you’d come back to your dorm and see Satoru in between Suguru’s legs without much acknowledgment to you until he’d finish.

“You look at me like I’m a mosquito bite or something. What’s wrong? You don’t think I’m pretty anymore?” he grins, settling his cheek into his palm.

“Not at all. You’re hideous,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. The remark earns you a light kick to your shin under the table.

“Wow. Rude. Personally, I think you’re God-sent.”

“I thought you wanted me to watch this movie,” you mutter, trying not to let him know how much his comment affected you. You always flushed when he said things like that still, and it would always be out of the blue.

“You know I like talking during movies.”

“Right. It’s one of your worst qualities,” you sigh.

The pillows around you are discarded when he suddenly pins you down to the carpet, your face right next to an old ash stain from one of Shoko’s cigarettes. He grins as he parts your mouth with the pad of his thumb, and you’re as obedient as you always are. There’s a ribbon of saliva from his mouth stretching as he takes the lollipop from his tongue to yours.

It wasn’t difficult to get his dick hard, really. He’d known that ever since he’d seen you sprawled on the grass next to the track field when you were fourteen, the way your chest was heaving and your underwear was just slightly visible underneath your gym shorts when you parted your legs.

Satoru thinks you’d laugh in his face if he’d told you about all the times he thought about you when you were teenagers despite the fact that he didn’t speak to you at all. He knows that he would deserve it.

It’s funny. He used to resent you then. He knew he could have you if he’d simply tried a bit harder, if he didn’t so abruptly toss you aside in middle school. Even so, you were everywhere for him—in his dreams, in his house against your will like a chained ghost. Back then, he hated that he loved you, hated that you were weak, hated that, at least besides Suguru, nobody knew him except you.

He wonders briefly if he was high on the taste of you or if the candy is laced with something— he wouldn’t be surprised, since Shoko and Suguru were enablers for the two of you even when you tried to be responsible. It didn’t matter anyway. Your body always made him this frenetic.

It’s when his fingers graze the heat of your cunt that Suguru barges in. He blinks at the two of you entangled on the floor and merely laughs.

“You guys just started?”

“Mmmf,” Satoru grunts. His hand’s wrapped around your neck, now, and your eyes are closed.

Suguru’s musk fills the room. White pine and sugary maple — he’d used Satoru’s deodorant before the mission. There’s still a blood splatter under his cheekbone the color of ripe plums. This was the usual weekend routine. Mindless fucking with a movie in the background. At least one of you would be too exhausted to muster up the energy to go into the city. It was easier to indulge inside, especially when the temperature kept dipping.

Your eyes flutter as Satoru bites your neck down to your collarbone. When you look toward the couch, you see Suguru with a plastic baggie of something you don’t recognize.

“What’s that?”

“Shrooms.”

“How the hell did you manage that?” Satoru quips, his hand digging into your hip.

“There are some freaks in Akihabara,” Suguru shrugs. He eats the mushrooms like they’re crumbs at the bottom of a chip bag. “Got this shit after my mission in a fucking vending machine outside a love hotel. Can you believe it?”

“What, did you get a room there or something?” Satoru snorts. “Whore.”

“Why would I, when I can home to this?” Suguru’s eyes are viper-like, serpentine as he smiles lazily. You’d eat from his palm if he asked you to. In sickness and health—it was stupid. You crawl to him and you do.

Satoru doesn’t take any. He knows full well that psychedelics fuck with his Infinity, that it would only make his insomnia worse. The last time he’d tried acid, he had nightmares for days, seeing green eyes of a hunter. Blood slashed from a blade to his neck. Flyheads swarming.

The drugs make you giddy. Another hour and the room spins in an orderly fashion, the ceiling dancing around in a kaleidoscopic pulse. Suguru had limited your dose, knew you’d freak the fuck out if your self started to disconnect. He’d been there enough times to despise it. Ego death was torture for the introspective kind.

He sucks a hickey into your neck while you’re mindless. It’s amusing how invested you are in this episode of Sailor Moon. Satoru lays his head on your thigh, playing with you lazily. You’re happy enough to take it, grinding against his hand as Suguru distracts you with a kiss. It’s tender and slow, not unusual for him, but with the two of them together, everything is usually frenzied.

He gets you in his lap, the sacrificial lamb you are. Always eager to walk into the predator’s gaping maw on your own accord because of his beautiful eyes. Suguru is no beast, but there’s something twisted about the way he plays with you sometimes.

He likes you to beg for it, but it’s not the taunting way that Satoru does. Suguru will inch his face close enough to yours to smell the artificial sweetness of your breath, then pull your hair when you lean in to kiss him. He’ll touch your thigh under the table, not unlike Satoru, but his fingers will dance around your core in a way that leaves you unable to speak to your fellow peers.

You wonder if they’ve learned their cruelty from each other. But this time, he’s sweet.

It’s the hallucinogen fogging his brain. It makes him like a teenager in love. Open-mouthed, pawing love handles. You’re wearing Satoru’s t-shirt, something monochromatic and stupidly expensive, and Suguru tears it off of you as his mouth waters.

Coughing, Satoru tilts his head, supports it with elbows on the carpet. His temperament is neutral, teasing even, but for some reason, looking at him makes you sober up to some degree of lucidity that’s sensitive to him. The part of you that wants to please him at all times.

You crawl to him and say his name. It’s child-like. The shrooms make your eyes wide, colors innocence onto your face from the bliss. It reminds him of when you were younger—bruised knees and twigs in your hair from tumbling in the forest with him. Something tugs at his chest.

“You tryin’ to seduce me?” Satoru jeers, tongue licking his teeth. His palm on your face is hot.

You smile and nod. His gaze lowers and he snaps the waistband of your sweats against your hip. Hand on your thigh again, taunting your synapses. You think he’ll take you with his usual ferocity, but he steals your breath with a kiss instead.

The kiss never ends. Maybe they switch in between, but you don’t notice. Your eyes are shut, tight enough to see phosphenes like a galaxy. Blue and purple bleeding into your irises. You feel them pulling you apart, cock filling you up, hands everywhere.

“Fuck,” someone gasps. Something like groveling, desperate hair pulling.

“Inside,” you beg. “Please.”

Satoru watches, mesmerized. The heat of your body, sweat pooling into the divot above your clavicle—it all makes his mouth water, but he stays still on the couch as Suguru pins you to the floor. It’s the most the Six Eyes has felt in months, for some reason, and he hadn’t even taken anything. He half-wishes he could get his hands on something other than you to inject into his veins—maybe then he could learn to be calm or fall asleep at regular times. Anything to stop the odd ache in his chest whenever he looked at you.

He’s never been a man of God. He was God himself. And then he sees you moan out, bliss-wrecked and flooded with light, burning like seraphim. He’d come back to life a thousand times just to see your face. It made him sick.

Satoru kisses you before you knock out on his bed, eyes half-open and dazed. You’re refusing to go to bed, citing euphoria for your desire to run a few laps. Meanwhile, Suguru is asleep on the couch, fucked out and satisfied.

You’re coaxed into sleep. It’s not hard once you start rambling, shut up only by the feeling of Satoru’s fingers running across your scalp. He lays awake like he often does, talking to the moon. He sighs as you nuzzle into him, your whole body curling towards him to ward off goosebumps. You’re nearly bare considering you didn’t bother to put on clothes after you and Suguru had finished.

Satoru pulls the blanket over you, sighing. He’d had the leftover beers in the mini-fridge just to feel a buzz, even the taste of German ales made his nose wrinkle. It still wasn’t enough to put his mind at ease. He stares at the stained carpet, then Suguru’s sleeping shadow, then your face. He shuts his eyes.

It’s been months, yet the memories still cage you. It’s like something wraps its hand around your throat in your subconscious. In each dream, you are aching for their return, and they come to you like newly-bloomed flowers.

It feels like you’ve been waiting for them for centuries, your body stuck in the grass with a bruise over your left eye that doesn’t stop aching. You don’t even know how much you’re bleeding until they return to you again, caressing your sides and pulling away at the sight of a wound.

Your angels are not dead. It’s enough relief for you to keep going, but they still look at you with furrowed brows. Blood spills from your mouth.

“I missed you. I missed you. I missed you.”

Despite the pain, the vision is familiar. You’re too distracted by their beauty, how their mere presence is arcadian in itself. You don’t need anything else. You could die here.

Here, between them and their celestial bodies, in the green, green grass. Spider lilies bloom around you like kisses in blessing as the golden evening swallows you up. There’s a sinking feeling—a literal one, of you descending into the ground in a way that feels like a loose feather falling.

Your angels reach for you until they grasp the whole of you and turn you inside out. They pull apart the mess of you, reshaping you, undoing tangles and knots and bending the stem of your being so you can be reborn in their image. They love you enough to do so.

And when you look back at them with love in your eyes, you flinch. They’re eclipsed by something terrible, too far away for you to reach. It’s bloody. It has a voice like skin scraping pavement, full-bodied whiskey.

You stretch your hand out only meet a sweaty palm. When you open your eyes, a pair of blue ones stare back at you.

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #geto suguru x you #geto x you

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dribs-and-drabbles · 17 days

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Get to Know Me Tag :)

I was tagged by @telomeke and @hughungrybear. Thanks for tagging me!

do you make your bed?

It depends... I live in the part of the world where it's usual to have a duvet in a duvet cover and a sheet covering the mattress, and I have a duvet twice the width of my bed so it usually doesn't get rucked up during the night, so when I get up I fold over the top third of the duvet to air out the mattress/sheet. If it's a work day, it will stay like this until I get home, then I will usually pull the duvet back over the bed. If it's a weekend, I might make the bed again midday. I like it when my bed looks made.

what's your favourite number?

I'm not sure why but I like the number 7, and then also the numbers 4 and 3 because they make up 7. I've never really considered numbers beyond single digits to be 'favourites'. But if I did it would be my birthday day. Oh and I don't really use favourite numbers as important passwords or pins or the such...jsyk.

what is your job?

The work I do is quite niche, so I never really want to say too much because I'm pretty discoverable online with a few key words...but then sometimes I really want y'all to know what I do because it's unusual (and, I think, quite cool!)...but without revealing too much I work in the arts sector - specifically dance.

if you could go back to school, would you?

School, as in aged 11-16? Absolutely the hell no. But school as in higher education, degrees, masters, or smaller qualifications for my general interests? Well, I sort of did a few years ago (*she looks at the calendar and realises it's more than 'a few'*). I did a Creative Writing Masters over 2019-2020, which was GREAT to do but sort of killed my spirit and drive to be a writer...but whatever, I can always pick it back up again in the future if it returns. I also went to classes to learn Swedish when I lived in Sweden and I'm going to a different language class now one evening a week. I enjoy studying...but I get too focused on getting good grades.

can you parallel park?

Yes but I only do it when the space is big enough for me to confidently do it (especially with all these sensors beeping nowadays) and usually only on the side of the road opposite to the steering wheel (I can drive on both sides of the road).

a job you had that would surprise people?

I think my whole career is probably surprising to people but in the sense that I think people are mostly confused because they don't really understand what I really do on a day to day basis.

do you think aliens are real?

I think it would be incredible if in this whole universe we are the only planet who has developed 'life'. Aliens don't necessarily have to be intelligent life like us (and that's debatable sometimes!), so yes, I think somewhere in this universe there is another planet which has the conditions for some form of life, whether we could survive there or not.

can you drive a manual car?

Yes, I learnt on one and have managed to adapt to both right-hand and left-hand gear sticks, although I'm still a little 'fumbly' with the right-hand gear stick. I prefer automatics when in a traffic jam but otherwise I'm happy to drive whichever. Sometimes it's good to have something to focus on when driving, so a manual is good. The problem happens if I've used different hire cars in a short period of time (which I need to do sometimes with work) and when I forget I'm in a manual and brake coming up to to a junction and just...stall because I forget to change down gears 😂

what's your guilty pleasure?

If a guilty pleasure is something I'd feel shy or embarrassed admitting or talking to others about...then it would probably be watching ql or reading fanfic 😂 Other than that I'm not sure I have anything...I enjoy what I enjoy and don't feel guilt over it.

tattoos?

No but I've always thought about getting one but I think the thought of the work I'd have to do to find someone I would really trust to permanently mark my skin means I've just never done it. But I would like some kind of minimalist abstract colour art that starts on my shoulder and trails down my arm. Maybe. I've never been able to find exactly what I'm imagining, which is also why I've never pursued it.

favorite color?

I think I'm in my blue stage in my life, looking at the majority of colours surrounding me, but I also like pops of red.

favorite type of music?

The music playlists I listen to most are 1) OSTs and similar style songs from all the qls I've watched over the past 3 years 2) the instrumental background music from all the qls I've watched and 3) Swedish pop (to keep the language fresh in my brain). I do like all kinds of music - just NOT drum and bass - anything can work for me in the right mood.

do you like puzzles?

Yes, although I don't often do them. I enjoy the 'escape room' type Exit games as well as sudoku, and for a few months several years ago I really got into hanjie puzzles.

any phobias?

I'm not sure if this is a phobia or not but I absolutely CANNOT deal with cotton wool. Just thinking about pulling it apart makes me want to crawl out of my skin and lay down in a bath of acid just to get away from it let alone actually TOUCHING it and pulling it apart 🤢🤮 The cotton wool pads are ok because they have smooth sides and I don't...pull 🤮 them 🤮 apart 🤮. Ok, I gotta stop talking about this now, I'm squirming in my seat.

favorite childhood sport?

I did gymnastics as a child, from about aged 8 to 13, but I don't know if that counts as a 'sport', although I did compete. I didn't really enjoy most ball sports as a kid.

do you talk to yourself?

ALL. THE. DAMN. TIME. I talk to myself in my head. I talk to myself out loud. Sometimes, if I'm talking to myself aloud about something important and then do something that means I can't continue (cleaning my teeth, drinking/eating etc) then for some reason I can't continue in my head. I have to wait until I'm finished to then talk out loud again. But I also talk to myself aloud when I'm out 😬 but I do it quietly and without moving my mouth too much so people don't notice. I was in a shop recently and a gentleman was talking to himself out loud (commenting on the offering of tea towels ikea had and wondering whether to buy any) - loud enough that I thought that he was actually talking to someone else but he wasn't - and I felt like I had a glimpse of my future if I wasn't careful 😂

what movies do you adore?

I don't watch a lot of movies nowadays - the last I saw was Barbie. But the one that has stayed with me as a favourite since I first saw it is Some Kind of Wonderful. And I love The Holiday as a Christmas movie (although I haven't watched it for ages). Oh and it's not a movie, so maybe doesn't count, but the BBC's adaptation of Pride and Prejudice has my whole heart.

coffee or tea?

I'm definitely a tea drinker (approx 3 cups of black Earl Grey plus one or two herbal teas every day) but sometimes I'll crave a coffee...but then I'll have decaf. I'll crave it because I think the milkiness of it (oat milk though) makes it feel like a comfort drink, and I like a small shot of gingerbread syrup in it too.

first thing you wanted to be growing up?

I remember things like 'lawyer', 'journalist', and 'doctor' were common aspirations when I was a kid which I also contemplated but when I decided I wanted to be a dancer at aged 13 that was it for me. My 'back-up' career plan was some kind of palaeontology or archaeology ("you get an -ology you're a scientist!" 😂) but I never needed to pursue that.

Onward tagging: I'm not sure by now who has done this or not, so I'll tag some people and if you have done it then tag me in your post so I can read it! @grapejuicegay @dimplesandfierceeyes @casualavocados @ranchthoughts @jourquet @lollygirlpops @airenyah @incandescentflower and @linosaur

Like @telomeke, I also get tagged now and then by others in various tag games but then get too busy with work to be able to do them. So if you've tagged me and I've not responded, please know that I really wanted to but I just didn't have the time and then probably forgot.

#get to know me tag #that tag game

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ashes-writing · 2 years

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burnin for you | stranger things ; g.emerson

A/N ; So this little shit hijacked my brain around lunch today and I've been writing like a woman possessed since the idea presented itself. I know, I knowwww.. let's just ignore the million other x reader wips I have, alrighty? Like... Idk how popular Gareth Emerson is as a character but lowkey, I thought he was pretty bitchin. So.. here I go again, I guess.

What I'm posting is all I got.. for now. LMK if you wanna see more of this -or any of my x reader things, tbh. Feedback really does help. Some of y'all giving feedback are the very things that have actually inspired me to carry on with certain fics, jsyk. I love you all for it too.

[ writer firmly believes that Gareth Emerson enjoys bands like Blue Oyster Cult, hence the name of this one. ]

Pairing ; Gareth Emerson x Sweet!Girly!Fem reader

Timeline / Other Stuff to Note ; Set during season 4 but free from the Upside Down and all of it's assorted fuckery and nasties. Nobody dies, all we get are high school shenanigans and some pining slash angsttt... and hopefully some real cute filth at some point. So if you like that, stick around yeah?

Tag List ; @musichealsscars @aries-arcade @allelitesmut @hcloangcls are the only people on my Stranger Things taglist.. if you'd like to be added to my taglists for anything including Stranger Things, please let me know or add yourself -> here.

Warnings ; Jocks being assholes, reader may be cute+smol+sweet but she's got a very dry wit + razor sharp tongue, hints of reader having a lonely absentee parent homelife / rich girl probs, awkward fluffy flirting, mutual crushes. Eddie Munson being a covert lowkey matchmaking shit for his bestie cos I felt like it.

Other Stuff ; tag list doc || my rules - fandoms and some characters I write for || requests are open -> send me things. Headcanons or fluff/filth alphabet letters only. No wrestlers, please and thanks.

I do not consent to my work being reposted elsewhere or copied/reworked/rewritten and reposted here or elsewhere. You don't own this, I do. So like... don't steal my shit.

Gareth Emerson is on the verge of dozing off at his desk until the classroom door opens and you make your way inside quietly. You pause by the teachers desk and hold out a piece of paper and the teacher looks out at the classroom to address them.

“We have a new student today.” the teacher nods to you and your only response is to fidget with the sleeve ends of the pale pink cardigan you’re wearing while shuffling your feet. Gareth’s eyes fix on you and he swallows hard, drums the pencil in his hand against his desk. The teacher finally seems to realize that you’re dead set against introducing yourself to the class so with a roll of her eyes, she nods in the direction of the vacant desk right across the aisle from the one Gareth sat in.

You make your way down the aisle and sit down, digging around beneath the desk to try and find a textbook. The teacher notices and gets Gareth’s attention. “Mr. Emerson, be a dear and share your textbook with ____ until I can slip down and pick up one to go in her desk?”

Gareth glances across the aisle at you just as you look up and lock eyes with him. For a second or two, you’re just staring at him with your head tilted. Gareth gets up and moves his desk closer, putting the book between the two of you.

The scent of cotton candy hits his nose and at first, he thinks somebody’s eating the stuff in class. But then you lean into him slightly to get a better view of the page in front of him and it’s in his nose and he realizes that the scent is coming off of you and it’s your hair.

You can feel the boy with bright blue eyes staring at you. When you finish reading the page in front of him and move on to the page in front of you, you glance up for just a second or two and you flash him a cute little smile as you suck in a bubble with the pink gum you’ve been chewing for the duration of class.

Gareth manages a smile in return and goes back to reading. When your hair softly grazes his arm, he feels like someone’s dragging a live wire across his skin and he tries not to tense up but he can’t help it, it’s not like girls -especially the really pretty ones like you, are going out of their way to touch him or smile at him and he doesn’t really… know how to handle it.

You gaze up at him with your brows knit together, twisting a strand of hair around your finger. “Sorry, uh..” you mumble, your words trail off softly before you’ve even finished the sentence.

By now, he’s starting to realize that you’re just this shy little thing, all soft and pink and sweet like candy. Or this is the image he’s building of you in his own mind at the moment, either way.. One of you has to make things less awkward and for some reason, he doesn’t think two,three and four times about him being the one to do it this time.

He tears a strip of paper out of his notebook while nobody’s paying attention and picks up his favorite pen.

Hey. What’s your name?

He slips the paper over to you using the thick textbook as a cover. At first he doesn’t think you’ve seen him do it, but then, just as he goes to pull his hand back, you place your hand on what you think is the slip of paper, only to discover it’s his fingertips. You glance down at your hand on top of his fingers and you slowly pull your hand with the note in it closer to yourself.

You pick up your favorite pink pen and start to write back.

It’s ___. But I hate it, so you can call me literally anything else. What classes do you have? I can show you my schedule, if you want me to??

You slip the note back towards Gareth and he’s staring at the words on the page. When he feels the softness of your fingertips against his hand, he lowers his hand on the slip of paper. You pout a little because he doesn’t really look up, but you shrug it off. You’re probably annoying him already.

You’re doodling in your notebook, delicate little flowers and suns, stars and hearts and you really don’t expect him to answer because you’ve come to the conclusion that you were annoying somehow, and so when you feel him sort of awkwardly nudge you and nod down, you’re surprised. You slip the strip of paper towards you and your eyes scan it.

I’ll come up with something then. Yeah, if you want to show me, you can. You smell like cotton candy.

The last part is scratched out, almost like he didn’t mean for it to be seen. You giggle softly and reach out to the textbook to turn the page before picking up your pen to respond.

Yay! When the bell rings I’ll give it to you. Uh… can I walk with you? I promise I won’t annoy you or anything… Thanks. It’s my perfume, I think? You smell nice too. ;)

You slip the paper back towards Gareth and quickly turn your attention back to the book in front of the two of you. As your eyes scan the page, you twirl hair around your fingertip and you can feel him when he stares at you. You glance over at him and you give him that cute little grin.

He wants to kick himself because the grin is yet another thing about you that he has the feeling will be what dooms him.

He nearly chokes on air when he reads the last part of the little note and before he can stop himself, his face is on fire. The more rational side of his brain keeps trying to tell him that the popular kids are gonna find a way to coax you over to their side so there’s no sense in getting all caught up in you, but no matter how hard he tries to keep that in mind, there’s this small part of him that knows it’s already way too late.

He’s thrown for a loop by you promising not to annoy him or anything and it actually makes him look up from the little strip of paper and stare at you as you doodle in your notebook and twist hair around your finger.

The bell finally rings and you gather your things. You’re pretty sure he’s not going to want to lead you around all damn day, so you start to walk out of the classroom. He catches up to you just as you reach the classroom door and taps your shoulder.

Before you can stop it from happening, you can feel your face and body getting a little hot when you turn to look up and find him standing there, staring down at you with his brows knit.

“Sorry, I..” you stammer. He chuckles quietly. “It’s okay. You were gonna show me your schedule..?”

You dig around in your notebook as you two step into the hallway and you hold it out to him after you’ve found it. Gareth takes it and scans the classes you’re taking and as luck would have it, you have every one of his classes but one.

“We have everything together until our last one. I have shop. You have Home Ec, I think?” Gareth takes the paper back and nods. “Yeah, Home Ec.”

You giggle quietly.

“C’mon. I don’t mind walking with you.” he knows it’s probably stupid as hell and in a few days, after you’ve been at Hawkins High long enough to learn the social system, you probably won’t even look at him in the hallway anymore, but he also feels this overwhelming urge to be around. To be protective. To just be near you.

They say this shit doesn’t happen at first sight. And maybe it doesn’t.

But Gareth would be lying if he didn’t own up to the fact that he feels… Something.

— ( lunchroom, same day )

“Okay, so where do you usually sit?” your eyes scan the crowded cafeteria and you somehow instinctively shift so that you’re standing closer to Gareth. You pull your eyes off of the room itself to tilt your head to the side slightly and look up at him. He nods to a table full of guys of varying ages who all happen to be wearing the same tee shirt that he’s wearing underneath his flannel vest.

“Over there.”

At the table, Dustin nudges Eddie. “Who’s she?”

“I have no idea. She’s cute though. Definitely not the kind of girl you picture with him, but cute.” Eddie muses thoughtfully as he takes a bite of his apple.

Jeff is gaping. Wiggling his brows and just being a teasing shithead as you and his best friend make your way over to the table. He notices how you seem to squish yourself into Gareth’s side just a little when you pass the noisy assholes on the basketball team sitting at the jocks table when one of them calls out.

“Hey! Sweetheart you are worlds better than that freak. C’mon, come sit with us. Let me show you around Hawkins High.”

Gareth stops in his tracks and so do you. You point to yourself. For at least fifteen seconds or so, Gareth is convinced that this is it, it has to be. That you’ll figure out you don’t belong with him or his friends and you’ll go to the better table.

But your response surprises him.

A lot, actually. Because you haven’t really acted like you possess any certain fire or sass until your mouth opens to respond to Mason Allen.

“I’d really rather not..” you bite your lip, gazing at the jock. “Don’t all of you like… carry unidentified airborne STD’s usually? Yeah, no thanks. I’d really rather not.” and you start to walk away. Gareth is still frozen in place and as soon as you realize it, you walk back over and gently grab his wrist. “C’mon. Don’t let those Stepford assholes get in your head.” you say it loud and with a smirk in the general direction of the popular table.

Still in shock, Gareth lets you lead him to the table he’s told you he usually sits at.

“Okay, where the hell did he find her? Asking for personal reasons…” Jeff mutters, making Eddie chuckle quietly beside him as he leans in to whisper, “I was thinking the same thing, man.”

“Guys, this is ___.”

Eyes fix on you and you bite your lip, giving a soft little smile and wave. “Hi?”

“What’d that jackass Mason say to you?”

“ Oh yeah… He called you guys freaks. He was trying to get me to sit with him I think? I unno.” you shrug and go quiet again, eating your lunch.

“And you didn’t. Interesting.” Eddie muses, mostly to himself. Giving Gareth a smirk that has Gareth giving him a dirty look. And before he can stop himself, he’s sitting just a little closer to you. He knows that look and he knows that nine out of ten, his best friend is being a shithead, but he’s also still not willing to risk even losing you as a friend.

Because a friend is better than nothing at all.

You happen to overhear Eddie and you glance up, taking a bite of your chocolate pudding. “Yeah. I didn’t. I hate jocks.”

What you don’t explain is that at your old school, you were popular. But then a boy you thought cared about you went around spreading rumors about you and after that, nobody wanted anything to do with you.

So yeah, you’re not falling into that trap anytime soon.

Besides, there’s just something about Gareth. You feel just a little less ill at ease in your current situation with him around, even if you’re scared to death that he’s going to wind up being annoyed by you. Or sooner or later, being around you will be such a pain in the ass for him too that he won’t want to anymore.

After all, your own parents can’t be bothered to stick around very long. No sooner did they have the furniture unpacked and in place and everything settled in than they were leaving again. Another business trip, so they said.

This is the first time in days since your arrival in Hawkins that you’ve felt even a little secure at all. So maybe it’s needy, maybe it’s clingy as hell, but you just don’t want to lose the feeling. If being around Gareth Emerson is comforting for you, then that’s exactly what you’ll do. At least as much as you can get away with.

“You. I like you.” Jeff grins as he chuckles. “Since Gare is gonna be a bag of dicks and not introduce us to you, I’m Jeff.”

The boy with curly hair and a baseball cap speaks up next with a bright grin. “Dustin. Where’d you move here from?”

“Vegas.” you answer quietly, raising the straw in your milk carton to your lips as you take a noisy sip.

“That’s cool.” Dustin smiles at you, hoping that maybe it’ll ease you a little. He can just kind of tell you’re wary of everyone right now and he wants to make you see that you don’t have a reason to be.

The boy with black hair goes next. A cocky sort of little smirk that kind of makes you think he’s probably all mouth. You discover this is true when he introduces himself. “Mike Wheeler. You know Gareth’s an idiot, right?”

You snort in laughter and shrug. “Yeah, I’ll uh… Keep that in mind, kid.” you reply, smiling at him.

The boy sitting next to him chuckles. “Ignore Mike, he’s an idiot. I’m Lucas. Probably the only nice jock you’re gonna meet here.” and you smile a little. “I think your mom asked me to babysit one of your little sisters this weekend, actually.” you nod, remembering seeing him in the store with his mother when she’d stopped you because you were posting an ad on a bulletin board nearby.

“Hey, yeah! I remember seein you now! Cool. My sister Erica’s gonna be a pain in your ass though. Just gonna tell you that now. Kids always annoying the hell out of me.”

“Dude, Erica’s not that bad. At least you have a sister. It’s just me, my ma and the new cat.” Dustin laments. You laugh softly. “I’m an only child too.”

The boy with long hair, tattoos and fingers full of rings with almost black brown eyes is the next one to introduce himself. And he’s giving you this little smirk. You return the smirk. “And you are?” you question quietly.

“Eddie Munson.”

Gareth tenses up just a little at your side and you glance over at him while he’s not looking.

You can feel tension between the two but you don’t say anything about it. What you do instead is shift just a little closer to Gareth.

“Hey, Gareth is in the band with me, Grant and Jeff.. You should come hang while we practice.” Eddie is grinning. He’s at least seventy five percent sure that Gareth thinks he’s trying to flirt with you but that’s actually not what he’s doing.

He’s inviting you because he knows his friend too well. And he knows that grumpy dumb fuck won’t invite you himself. Or make any sort of first move. So he’s assuming that maybe if he hits on you just a little, it’ll do what it just did and make you kind of draw closer to Gare instead.

When he sees your reaction to his lingering gaze, he pumps his fist in victory under the table because he called it nail on the head. You immediately smushed yourself into Gareth just a little more. Not enough to really be noticed by anyone else, but Eddie gets one glance at Gareth’s flushed face and he knows damn well that Gareth has noticed it at least.

You mull over the question Eddie’s asked you as you drink your chocolate milk.

Gareth speaks up quietly. “We uh… practice in Jeff’s garage or Grant’s basement. Today it’s Jeff’s garage… If you wanted to come.. I mean you don’t.. Like you don’t have to.” he’s stammering and holy shit he’s making a mess of it because he really wants you there, but he doesn’t want Eddie to keep subtly hitting on you.

He’s gotta do something and he’s gotta do it fast.

#gareth emerson #gareth the great #gareth emerson imagine #gareth emerson fanfiction #gareth emerson fanfic #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x reader fanfiction #gareth emerson x reader imagine #gareth emerson x fem!reader imagine #gareth emerson x fem reader #gareth emerson x fem!reader fanfiction

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masked-and-doomed · 6 months

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NEW ME NEW INTRO!!

Hello, I'm Kat/Kats (or Yomotsu), I had a blog previous to this but I accidentally deleted it! It went by the same url as now, "yomotsu-hirasaka". If you've followed me in the past and now just finding my blog again, apologies! I had like 20-ish mutuals and 130~ followers so. Yeah sorry about that.

Discord: thatonekats

👆 just in case. Tumblr explodes. Talk to me if you wanna ig (I am not good at conversing. So. Keep that in mind.)

Suspected BPD, have been diagnosed autistic. I will feel things very intensely either forever or feel nothing about it in the next hour max. You may see vague vent posts. Every now and then. Check the tagging system to block em out.

I am deeply in love and sickly affectionate for 4 men. They're my boyfriends, girlfriends, besties- our relationship? Is uhh whatever man. It's love. It's love. (Also not the best fathers but hey I take what I can get)

First two being Yomotsu Hirasaka (pfp), and Takao Hiyama. They are my most intense hyperfixation of 2 years.! They are from Mirai Nikki/Future Diary. An anime/manga which I don't really like.

The next beloved is Pocketcat! He is from Fear and Hunger. He's. A silly :) There's so much intrigue of him aaaghhh ough he is so sad.

Last one !! Faust. From Guilty Gear. He's a. He's somebody. Got him on Valentine's Day. He makes me a different kind of ill. Alas, this doctor cannot cure me.

They're 💙 just like me fr. I love them. URL is them btw. Masked men, doomed.

(comfortable with sharing and gushing together with everyone. I don't mind if you send or @ me in stuff that has Faust shipped with someone, (I like appreciating art of Faust in any form :] ) just know I'm uncomfy with all Faust ships except Happy Chaos)

I do block on some criteria but I will not disclose it. So, you may get blocked by me for something, and you will never know. (Followers only)

(if we're mutuals and you block me, I'd like to know the reason why. Not a requirement.)

Yayaya tagging system time!

#ah rambling - general yapping tag

#[MN/funger] rambling - ramblings of MN or funger

#[MN/funger] bangers - memes/shitposts of that fandom

#oc time - posts about the little OCs I have

#unnamed girlie - posts about my self insert. (UG for short)

#guy in my head - headcanon posts

#doodle tag - stuff not high effort enough to put into my art blog goes here

#reblog moment - reblogs! So you can filter them out

#lovesick - yandere / obsessive behaviour

#gatito - kitty tag.

#belalang beloveds - grasshopper tag. Belalang is grasshopper in Malay :)

#art save - images I wanna draw (typically memes I wanna draw with my guys)

#art reference material - reblogs of posts with helpful art stuff

#general reference material - reblogs of posts with whatever that isn't art. Not really 'general' perse but I don't have another word

#epic meowtual art - art by the meowtuals!

#ask game - reblogs of ask game posts

#ask game answer - answers to asks abt the ask game

#hello asker - ask tag

#tag game - reblog of posts that are meant to have you tag other ppl to continue the chain

#negative. And #/negative are used for vent posts. Make those sometimes.

#hxrny aroace on main - (mind the x) epic posts where I feel feelings for some characters (carnally)

#fanfic shit idfk - posts related to fanfics I'm reading (or something like that)

#shit I send to fictional guy - posts I'd send to fictional characters. Will prob have their name tagged too.

#unnamed oc core - wow it's just like him fr. Many things will be tagged this btw. They are not okay. (Same person as UG jsyk)

#pocketkitty - for posts I don't want in the pocket.cat tag or reblogging posts that are like pocket.cat. (only applies to him everyone else gets tagged with their name in posts that are like them)

#robot nephew - similar to pocketkitty just that it's. Mr robo.t K.y

#silly doctor man - I fell into gui.lty g.ear and now I'm in love with this bozo. When I don't want it to be in the main tag. Yes like pocketkitty and robo bo.

#mister omelette - guy that asks which came first the chicken or the egg. Answers himself, it's omelette.

Liveblog tags:

Guilty gear: #pride in my gears: sign, #pride in my gears: rev

Tag me in stuff you think I like!! I don't mind! Or like tag games .

@katsdoodles - art blog/archive.

There's also a *cough cough* side blog. For degenerate thoughts of mine. If you want it just give a DM ig.

That's all for now!! Have fun!!

#intro post

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 3 months

Note

heyo jsyk censoring words like r****st or a****r or alternatively with numbers and symbols like [email protected] or @.bus3r helps no one, especially if youre trying to tag something so others can avoid it, please keep that in mind for the future ^^

The thing is, I only censored it for those who might be uncomfortable just blatantly seeing those words plastered all over my rant all of a sudden. I also thought since when my friends @puff0o0, @shoukiko and many others spoke about it and censored it then I should too since it seems better to do so on my platform given that my content is mainly domestic and romantic, it's so far from that.

I wouldn't need those alternatives and whatnot given the fact that I won't even THINK of writing things that involve such topics unless it's a brief mention or comfort fics for those who have been victims of those disgusting, revolting human beings.. (If they can even be called that)

You claim that it "helps no one" however there are people out there who'd much prefer to see censoring, it might not help you however it does help me (being responsible for what I post, say and do on this account) and anyone else who might read the post and find it disturbing to see it without censorship.

By saying that you're implying that you speak for everyone and I know that's most likely not your intention, I could only hope you meant to send this to me as an informant and with the best intentions as this reply is to you.

What you did say applies to other creators who do write about the content we've been referring to, however I don't plan on applying any of the sort on where I stand as a writer and creator.

Also damn, please be careful on how you word or phrase certain sentence next time because even if you might have good intentions, sometimes it'll just come off as rude or make someone feel inadequate and even something as little as words on a screen..

Sometimes I need to immensely calm myself due to the benefit of the doubt that you just have good intentions with a harsh execution before replying to anything so that I won't say anything rash or anything that'll come off the wrong way. I now also need a lot of convincing myself not to turn my anons off because of certain messages I got recently.

#aethelwyne lia answers

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worldenough-and-time · 10 months

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Fic Song Tag Game

Thank you @spindrifters for the tag!! This is gonna be unhinged jsyk, basically half these songs actually inspired the fic and the other half happened to be my hyperfixation song during an intense period of writing so they do not relate lyrically at all, but the vibes… the vibes.

True Blue by Boy Genius

But it feels good to be known so well

I can't hide from you like I hide from myself

I remember who I am when I'm with you

Your love is tough, your love is tried and true blue

Okay obviously I have to include the song that TTTB gets it’s title from. You’ve never done me wrong!!! Except for that one time!!!! Genuinely the sapphic Wolfstar anthem… what else can I say….

Body to Flame by Lucy Dacus

Longing for your short hair to grow back to the way you like

Thank you for the gesture

I regret ever implying that you could be better

Didn't mean to empty your perfect body

And fill it with my passing will

Easily won, weary of losing, gullible girl

Weak and alluring, well, we break our rules

Get drunk in the dark

Laughing aloud at the spinning stars

Ok this one is scary- so what happened is I wrote two scenes for TTTB before I ever heard this song, and then Mel read them and then she listened to this song and she was like “dude… this song is about your fic and those two scenes specifically” and I was like “haha yeah it’s Lucy Dacus, the Queen of Sapphic Pining” but then I listened to the song and like… the specificity. They lyrics match up exactly. You will see when we get to fourth and fifth year, but, Lucy, my wife, we were drinking from the same mother lake…

Vampires by Tommy Lefroy

And I know you

I know you

I know you know

I know you feel everything

Okay so this one has the above lyrics, which became a sort of source code for TTTB Sirius. I associate this song with her and it helped to ground my writing of her character in the first couple chapters. Anyway I love her, also Tommy Lefroy rules, they’re gonna get big, I just know it.

Holland, 1945 by Neutral Milk Hotel

The only girl I ever loved…

This one has absolutely jack shit to do with anything related to this fic, but I was deeply hyperfixating on it back in January when I was first outlining TTTB, sooo yeah. I also wrote the first scene I ever wrote for this fic while listening to this song on repeat at my favorite coffee shop.

The Bench by Like Roses

Break down with me on the phone

Just like we did those nights when I was at home

This is another one that lyrically doesn’t have much to do with anything, but really helped me achieve the specific angsty headspace I needed to be in to write the year one Christmas chapter when Sirius goes home to Grimmauld Place. Also the above lyrics really gave me ‘prongsfoot talking through the mirrors’ vibes. I know this song is actually about addiction, like I’m aware.

Francis Forever by Mitski

I don’t think I could stand to be

Where you don’t see me

Mel texted me in a panic because she had read a snippet of a scene I wrote from sixth year and then listened to this song in close succession and she said that she had never really listened to these lyrics before, or she didn’t fully get what they meant, until she read that snippet and thought about this song and had a breakdown. Anyway, something for y’all to look forward too. Post prank vibes, delicious angst.

Honorable Mentions go to:

The entirety of Transgender Dysphoria Blues by Against Me- nothing is more punk rock than being transgender and if you haven’t listened to this album yet, do yourself a favor and turn that shit up right now. Fucking bangers all the way through.

Dreamt We Were Closer by Ash Tuesday- look it’s not my fault that this is a Wolfstar song, okay???

For Sale: Ford Pinto by Rosie Tucker- my current hyper-fixation song, idk what will come of it yet but it is a whole vibe.

Tagging Mel @capacity-for-wonder who is on her honeymoon but will never miss a chance to make a playlist.

#wolfstar #lesbian wolfstar #wolfstar fic #sapphic wolfstar #fic: tough tried true blue #tttb #marauders #tag game

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cackled0g · 2 years

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{Image ID: A reply by user ikishima. The text reads: "maybe its (sic) because you can literally search (transandrophobia) and see people lay out exactly why its (sic) transmisogynistic and no one needs to spoon feed you this information. but have fun using a term coined by someone with a fetish for raping lesbians I guess"}

For context, the post this user was replying to is this one

Well first off, I think it's a rude assumption to make that I haven't researched a term that I use near daily to explain traumas that I have personally faced. I have actually, believe it or not, researched transandrophobia. I've looked at both sides of the issue, and it has consistently been the side that is against a good faith term for a marginalized group's oppression that has been lacking in good arguements. Let's go over a few of the most common ones I've seen.

a.) The coiner, Saint, has been accused of having a corrective rape fetish. I have seen screenshots to verify that he has engaged with that, but from my understanding it was a password protected nsfw blog where he engaged with it and similar fetishes with his partner, who was a trans feminine person who had said fetishes. I don't know either of the people involved and haven't found any good sources leaning either way on that situation except for one callout document that has been accused of being bad faith and factually false. Like I've said, I don't know anyone involved in that whole situation so I can't say I have an opinion on it one way or the other until I have better evidence to go off of. Regardless of whether Saint is or is not a horrible shitty person though, I don't think he has full claim to the word "transandrophobia" and certainly not the concept behind it--the specific combination of transphobia and antimasculinism that primarily transmasculine folks face. The word is just the combination of the the words 'transphobia', the hatred of trans people, and 'androphobia', the fear or hatred of men, and I know that I at least stumbled across it before I ever knew who Saint was. It's simply the most popular term, aside from transmisandry, which I also use regularly. For trigger tagging purposes and general tagging purposes, it's the most widely used term and also has the most theory and good faith debate behind it from what I've seen

b.) The term 'transandrophobia' is inherently transmisogynistic because it copies the same formula used for the word 'transmisogyny', a word describing the intersection of transphobia and misogyny that primarily transfeminine people face. I don't find this a very compelling argument personally. First off, I'm not aware of if the term was in fact based off of the word transmisogyny, as the convention of "oppression"+" oppression "= "word for combined or intersectional oppression" isn't new or particularly controversial (see: misogynoir) when applied to other forms of oppression.

c.) The idea that transmasculine people are punished for their masculinity and not only their transness is inherently transmisogynistic because ???. I genuinely don't get this one honestly. Even if it were true that marginalized men weren't punished for their masculinity, which it isn't (see: black men bearing the brunt of police violence, the way that ast Asian men are hypersexualized by euro-american women, the way that all Asian men are desexualized by euro-american people) I don't see how that "false" belief being held is an intersection of transphobia and misogyny.

d.) Trans men don't need a word for their oppression because they don't face a unique oppression. This is demonstrably false. Many recent laws restricting HRT in the UK and United States have been actively targeting trans men. JK Rowling, the TERF surpreme, wrote an essay that extensively talked about trans men, books like 'Irreversible Damage' are explicitly about trans men 'ruining their bodies'. If that isn't blatantly transandrophobic then what is?

Of course, if anyone has any sources or additions feel free to drop them below or DM me. Engaging in good faith is highly encouraged, including from the person I'm responding to. I also may add on to this post later with more common anti-transandrophobia arguments as I think of them.

#transandrophobia #transmisandry #long post

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someinstant · 2 years

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Yuletide Letter!

Dear amazing Yuletide writer,

Oh my goodness, thank you for signing up-- I can't wait to read your work! I know that Yuletide can be a big commitment, so thank you for contributing.

What I really want for Yuletide is just for you to find the story you want to write, but I know that sounds vague and frustrating, so here: have a bit more guidance.

Fandom 1: ANDOR

What I've really adored about this show thus far (and I'm writing this between episodes 6 and 7) is the depth of character and worldbuilding. I'm not feeling particularly shippy about any characters thus far, so I'm not looking for romance-- although I don't object, if that's how the writing spirit moves you. And please write about any character you like, because the character tags for sign-up were extremely limited. What I'd rather see is an exploration of a character moment, a slice-of-life, or an examination of the technical, nuts-and-bolts side of the rebellion.

Feel like writing about Mon Mothma figuring out how to move money to the rebellion through lax banking laws and charitable foundations? I am here for it.

Want to write about Maarva watching young!Cassian sleep in the shuttle after rescuing-slash-abducting him? Want to dive into how uncomfortable she is with motherhood? Please do!

More interested in Cassian learning how to be the Fastest Draw in Ferrix? Or writing something about his (increasingly traumatic) adolescence? I will eat it up with a spoon.

If you want to look at Meero and Blevin's inter-office competence war in the ISB, or Karn's pathetic rage, I would probably do a happy dance (so long as we're all on the same page, and that page is: the ISB are bad, and Meero and Blevin are bad and competent, and Karn is bad and pathetic).

My only Do Not Wants in ANDOR are as follow:

I'm not interested in any sort of The Empire is Actually Good stuff. Complexity and grey morality is interesting, but sometimes people suck and aren't interested in redemption.

Bee is precious and lives no matter what.

Fandom 2: GOSFORD PARK (2001)

Okay, now for this one, I'm definitely looking for something a little more specific. I want to know what happens to Mary after the movie. Does she stay in service? Does she leave? How does she manage with knowing about the murder? Does she stay in contact with Elsie? Does she ever see Robert again? Does she join forces with Mabel and help her kick that dirtbag husband to the curb? Basically, I am here for anything with more Mary, because I love her and want good things for her.

(Those things could absolutely include more Robert Park in his undershirt, jsyk.)

I love the 1930s murder mystery aesthetic and the class-based tensions in this movie, and I'd love to see you play around in a world that is coming to the edge of another war, and struggling with what it means to be modern.

Do Not Want for GOSFORD PARK (2001):

I am enormously uninterested in Henry Denton as a character, so please give him a miss.

Fandom 3: THE GOBLIN EMPEROR

Look, Maia is precious and I will read anything with him in it, but I also have SUCH a soft spot in my heart for Csethiro Ceredin and her fierce declaration following the assassination attempt. I would love, love, love a Csethiro-centric work from her perspective-- perhaps something that works through her feelings towards Maia from the time of their betrothal until the assassination-- how does she get from duty to that fierce, devoted defense?

Do Not Wants for THE GOBLIN EMPEROR:

None, really. Go wild!

#yuletide #yuletide letter #yuletide 2022

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theflagscene · 2 years

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are you still doing the fanfic ask game thing? because I’m kinda intrigued by the eclipse/not me cross over one, ive read a couple other ones and they’ve all been so different so it’s cool to see what people are coming up with.

Hiya ‘nonny! Jsyk, I am always doing ask games, even if I posted them months ago. Just check my ‘Ask game’ tag or randomly poke me, I don’t mind, I like chatting… as much as an online introvert can lol.

As for that fic, the ever descriptive title that I have it marked as in my Google docs folder is ‘Akk is Yok and Ayan is pissed!’ Lol, I’m great at naming things.

Ngl, originally it was just going to be a PWP one shot smut fic because I wanted a reason to have Ayan lick Yok’s tattoos, I wish I was kidding. BUT then plot happened and I started getting into the hows and the whys Akk would leave his old life behind and take on a new name and a life of crime, etc. I will admit, a couple people got hurt in the creation of his traumatic backstory… his more traumatic backstory? 🤔 Boy’s already trauma central as it is. Anyway, Ayan does have kind of a right to be pissed, but ya know, it’s them, they’ll work it out. The fic has gotten long, way longer than I expected but sometimes that happens 🤷

Snippet below 👇

But he had left, not only his friends behind, not only Ayan behind, he had left Akk behind too. Yok was who he was, Yok was his strength, his shield. Ayan couldn’t have been still waiting, right? Not after five years, not after thinking Akk was missing or dead or both. He had to have moved on… right?

“I can wait, for you I can wait no matter how long.”

Yok remembered his words that day, the warmth of his hands, the tenderness of his kiss, their first kiss. With shaking hands Yok reached down and picked up the hoodie, bringing it up to his face, pausing momentarily before pressing his nose into the fabric and inhaling. How, after all this time, did Ayan still smell so damn good?

Ask Game

#anon answered #ask game answers #fic wip #fic writing

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thebibliosphere · 3 years

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Jsyk, cause one or two folks have asked now, I’m not watching the #phangs tag or the #Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites tag. I know it can be a little... stifling? to have the creator in the fandom. So yea, don’t worry about me hovering or whatever. The only way I’m going to see something is if you tag me directly.

That said, please don’t tag me in fanfic. I’m legally not allowed to read fanfiction of my own work. But fanart and questions? Go wild. I’m thoroughly enjoying seeing what my characters look like to all of you :)

#Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites #phangs #fandom stuff

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sweatandsmokes · 3 years

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— STOP! before interacting, you MUST READ ↓ (or fuck off right now)

ABOUT ME!

— i’m an adult, in college (aspiring mortician), a 2000s baby; from the usa. i don’t like to label my sexuality, so queer is the only way i’ll refer to it. i use any pronouns. if you have a problem with the way i present myself on my blog, please feel free to block me! most of my reblogs are on a very long queue jsyk

— ☉ aries, ☾ scorpio, and ↟ virgo. i enjoy weed, nature, and people, so that’s most of what i post

— anarchist. vegetarian. entp? idk. switch (don’t assume i’m a sub) and don’t assume i’m into anything, especially anal thanks

— don’t ask me for nudes

— don’t add captions to my photos or posts (unless you’re a beloved mutual and it’s sweet or funny)

— you can reblog my pics (unless stated otherwise i guess) as long as you’re not adding any comments to my posts (keep ‘em in the tags, thanks) or removing my captions and as long as all your followers have ages in their bios. if you don’t block ageless blogs, don’t reblog anything of mine. seriously

— if i reblog something that’s yours (or someone you know) and you weren’t given proper credit or you don’t want your content reblogged, please let me know so i can remove it promptly. if you notice i follow or reblog your abuser, reach out and it’ll immediately be deleted and they’ll be blocked. please just help me keep this a safe space

DNI!

— don’t interact/block me if:

— you’re a minor (18+), as some of the content on my blog is adult content. if i can’t find your age (at least an age range, not just “18+”) in your bio or pinned, i’ll block you. but it’s fucking exhausting so please just do me a favor. i’d prefer for those like 40 and older to leave me alone, i’m definitely too young for you and you probably make me uncomfortable

— you don’t block ageless blogs

— you’re any type of ed blog, including (but not limited to) pro-ana/mia, thinspo/other -spo, feeder, fatphobic, you post about weight frequently without tagging, even recovery accounts please just don’t interact. if i have to keep blocking you guys i’m just gonna start reporting

— you’re a bigot, including (but not limited to) homophobic, racist (including colorist or you run a blog that fetishizes race), pro-patriarchy, swerf or anti-sex work, terf 🤮 or transphobic of any kind, misogynistic, sexist, xenophobic, classist, ableist, antisemitic

— you’re a cop sympathizer (fuck the police!)

— you support incest, bestiality, or pedophilia (including “teen” porn… ew) in any way

— you post a lot of cnc or do not tag cnc posts (somno is ok…)

— you post images of self harm or promote self destruction

— you fetishize lesbians and are not wlw or something of the sort

— you’re going to be creepy or rude

— failing to adhere to these requests will simply result in getting blocked without warning

— blank blogs will get blocked

— blogs that are mostly or entirely stolen/uncredited porn/nsfw will be blocked. please credit creators

— if you’re a man, please be aware that some of the content i reblog is not meant for you to interact with it. so be fucking respectful. i’m gonna try to add #men dni, so if i reblog something of yours and forget to add that tag, let me know. i get uncomfortable in general when men (cishet mostly) interact with wlw posts, so don’t. if you don’t abide by this, i’ll have to block you

THANKS!

— no one is going to read this or respect my wishes so idk why i wrote all this but if you did read it, much appreciated <333

— i’m not the best at tumblr lol but i really love making new friends, so if you’re cool with everything above, feel free to shoot me an ask, or mutuals can ask for my snap. or send me pics of your pets or a song you love <3 moots can ask for snap! thanks for your time mwah

#my tags are >>>#sweatandsmokes #g

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ashes-writing · 2 years

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nothins gonna hurt you baby | ahs asylum ; k.walker

tag list babes || req rules / fandoms+characters reqs open || send me asks? || masterlist

CHAPTERS ;

Not sure if this is gonna have more than one part, tbh. But my AHS masterlist can be found here.

AUTHORS NOTES;

This one is gonna have dark themes jsyk. So this was inspired by a headcanons req I got recently and it re-ignited my love for Kit Walker from AHS Aslyum, so.. Here we are. Buckle up. It's gonna be an interesting ride to say the least. aka, ashes is going to have to do loooots of research to pull this one off accurately. This probably won't follow along with Asylum's plot if, and a huge if, I choose to make this into a multi part thing. For now, it's a oneshot. Just to be safe.

A huuuge thanks to everyone reading / encouraging my bullshit because when I started posting my writing on here again after my hiatus, I came back with nothing beyond the expectation to get my ideas out of my head before they drive me insane. You guys don't know how much your interactions have blown me away, seriously. They've been a huge motivator for me to keep going, the likes, the comments, the reblogs / reblogs with tags, all of it. They all blow me away and I can't even begin to explain it.

SUMMARY;

-- he is your protector.

PAIRING;

Kit Walker x Fem!reader ( Beyond having female parts / outfits + personality that will come if I write more to this sooner or later, she's a blank slate?)

WARNINGS;

murder implied, mental illness, trauma, hints of an arranged ab*sive marriage -in all forms, questionable practices from the 50's era asylums, blood / injuries, reader is non-verbal and her mind has mostly blocked out the crime she's committed that got her sent to Briarcliffe to begin with. The guards, nuns / orderlies mistreating the patients -this sadly, was commonplace back in the day, Protective!Kit should be his own warning. Writer advises that if you can't handle a little darkness in your reading experience or you have trauma related to any of the above that it's probably better advised that you don't read this because writer is not trying to traumatize anyone. Writer is also not a doctor, law enforcement official or a medical professional / psychologist of any shape/form and there may be inaccuracies that slip through.

TAGLIST;

@krys-orion is the only person on my ahs taglist. If you read the warnings and you can't read this, love, I completely understand because this is not the stuff I typically post. If you want to be on my AHS taglist please click the link above.

OTHER STUFF;

Loosely based on AHS Asylum's season. There will probably be a lot of changes made and/or it may not use events in said season at all. Please read the warnings above, cannot stress this enough. Fun fact. This is named after a Cigarettes After Sex song on my filth writing playlist.

You keep to yourself because it’s easier. Everything is scary for you, there’s too many people and too much noise and some of them are big, mean and scary. And then there’s the orderlies and the nuns and they’re terrifying.

You’ve been abandoned in hell. Nobody’s swooping in to save the day. It’s either Briarcliffe or prison for you and you’re lucky you got sent here even though it doesn’t feel like it most days.

The reality hits hard and it hits fast and in the end, you decide that maybe it’s just better. At least in Briarcliffe, he can’t put his hands on you anymore. He can’t try to force you to be intimate with him just because you’re his wife and that’s how it’s supposed to be. You don’t have to look at him, you don’t have to smell the whiskey on his breath or hear him mock you when you won’t pretend to love him.

What the hell did he expect?

You never wanted to marry him in the first place, your parents and his set it all up like a business transaction. To be fair, this is kind of what it was. You were a peace offering from your family to his .And you went along with it because you were meek and mild and too afraid to stand your ground. Until one day, you weren’t anymore.

,, and anyway, he can’t hurt you anymore now can he?” it’s the fragmented sliver of reality that slips in and jars you.

They keep saying you killed him but it’s all a blur. Blood on your hands, the clink of a tire tool on the concrete out in the garage, the death wheeze when you bent down to watch the life leave his eyes that last time he laid hands on you and you finally snapped. You might have killed him, who knows -you did kill him and you know you did. The doctor in here keeps saying it’s your mind block the trauma when you tell people that he’s alive and kicking and you’re afraid one day he’ll get his hands on you again. And maybe it is. But the fear is real. It’s ever-present and there’s nothing you can do to get rid of it.

Today is your first day in the common area, your first day off of solitary. You’re led in with shackles around your wrist -this is a joke, it’s not like you need restraint, you killed the only person you’ve ever wanted to, after all. And you’re led to a chair next to the big windows with a view of the garden on the grounds.

“You keep actin real good, sweetheart.. You be good t’ me and I might get ‘em to let you out, get some color in those cheeks again.” the guard’s words sound so much like him that your fists clench before you can stop it, your nails leaving crescents in your palm because you dig in so hard as the fear settles in. He takes off the shackles so you can move freely. You’re still trying to figure out why they were necessary. Flinching when the guard leans into you real close and winks. “I’ll come round later, sweetheart. You best be good to me.”

And then a loud voice behind you. Heavy accent.

Shouting and shoving, a brown haired man and the guard rolling on the floor.

The fight’s broken up and the guard goes off to fix his injuries. The brown haired man sits down on the sill of the window. “Name’s Kit.”

You give him a weak smile and your eyes dart around, it’s almost as if you’re terrified that any minute, he’ll jump out, drag you by your hair down the corridor because you’re so close to another man.

You’re non-verbal for the most part, so you pick up the pen and notepad left behind for you.

I’m ___.

Kit furrows his brows and stares at you a few seconds when you shove the notepad at him. He finally takes it, brown eyes dancing over the words, a roguish grin playing at nice lips. He’s got a kind face and if you were more talkative, -maybe one day, the thought comes, you’d tell him so.

For now, you keep it to yourself.

He takes the pen from your hands and you bite your lip when rough and thick digits brush against your smaller and more delicate fingers. He’s got his head dipped low, eyes trained on the notepad. As his tongue rolls over his lips, he writes out what he wants to say to you.. Just in case all the noise and talking bothers you or somethin.

– That’s a pretty name, dollface. Heard what that guard said to y’. He won’t bother you again. I promise.

He holds out the notepad and you take it, biting your lips as you read over what he’s written out. You glance up at him and he’s studying you, curious.

It’s almost like he wants to ask you something, he’s just not going to.

- Thank you. You can call me whatever you like. Please don’t get yourself hurt or in any kind of trouble with the orderlies on my account, Kit. Please don’t.

You hold it back out to him and he takes it, reading. Dragging a big and rough hand through dark brown hair. Chuckling as he rubs his chin and thinks for a few seconds before reaching out to take the pen.

- Think I’m gonna call you doll. Dollface. You’re cute. Don’t worry your pretty little head, doll. Y’ need somebody to look out for y’, alright? Trust me.

He holds the notepad and pen back out to you and you take it, twisting the pen between your fingers as you gaze at the words on the paper. You can feel your cheeks burn when you read what he’s said about you being cute. It’s probably the first nice thing anyone’s ever said to you. You glance up at him and shake your head no at him, frowning. Then you take the pen and start to write out your response.

-Kit.. Please don’t. It’s not worth the trouble, okay?

It is, doll. And I’m going to, whether y’ want me to or not.

You sigh when he shows you the notepad. He’s probably one of those stubborn types. Nothing you say will matter, he’s going to do what he wants, regardless.

Do you want to walk around? The guard is full of shit. You can walk, you just can’t go out yet. They did it to me too.

You nod and he holds out his hand. You gaze at it warily but you reach out and you take hold of it. Kit pulls you up from where you’re sitting and he leads you out of the room. As you roam the halls with him, he tells you about what got him put in, he tells you that he knows some of why you were put in too and you swallow hard when he admits that. As you round a corner, he stops you both, putting a hand up against the column of your neck. “This is.. It’s okay, right?”

You nod. He smiles a little, it’s a sweet little grin, his cheeks turning a pale pink. “I’m gonna take care of you now, alright? Everything is gonna be just fine, doll.”

#kit walker #kit walker imagine #kit walker fanfiction #kit walker x reader #kit walker fanfic #kit walker oneshot #kit walker x fem!reader #// read all warnings + proceed with extreme caution

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