userheng

[userheng]

stop it bro pls 😭 he's just so seegc when mad like. bless u for posting this 🙏

be alright

i’m sorry i really had my exams 😭 and i couldn’t write in december, but soon i am hoping to post winter blurbs

pairing ➳ tasm!peter x reader.

warnings: heavy angst. like forced kissing and a bit of grabbing.

masterlist

“it’s like you’re never here.” your voice came out shaky. it felt like the cold outside had gotten to you even through the closed window of your room and the radiator going in the room didn’t make you feel warm anymore.

december always felt like a lonely month to you, with your exams approaching and having no plans for christmas or the new year. it always felt unfair that your family got to enjoy while you stressed about your exams. but when you met peter, a little voice inside you told you that this year would be different.

you’d been dating for ten months now and it felt so natural with peter. he was always there for you, always holding your hand, always looking out for anything you needed, always helping you with your homework and your studies, always bringing you coffee.

until he wasn’t.

it stopped by the last of november. maybe it was the stress of all his college projects or maybe he was busy taking pictures to submit in hopes of finding a new job. you told yourself everything was fine for a month but now it wasn’t water under the bridge anymore. now all the avoided calls and the lack of his ‘good morning, beautiful’s had gotten to you.

so, in your state of desperation, you went to the only reliable source to reach peter. his aunt, may.

and it had worked.

when you looked up from your study and found your spandex clad boyfriend knocking at your window, you got up quickly and ran to open it. a little spark igniting in your chest and the voice told you that everything will be okay, finally.

peter climbed in and took off his mask, “you complained about me to may?” were his immediate words. his voice was no sort of sweet like you had expected and wished it to be, “what am i, a child?”

your mouth opened and closed, then opened again and then it closed. peter gave you a look of exasperation, making you frown. you watched him run a hand over his face as he shivered a little, the mix of cold from outside and the heat in your room getting to him.

the room felt eerily silent for a few seconds.

“i didn’t know how else to reach you.” you mumbled.

“just text me.” he sighed and turned to face you as you walked towards your desk, closing your notebooks, placing your pen on the last page you were writing on.

“i texted you hundreds of times!” your voice sounded rushed, “you never answer!”

“don’t you think that means i’m busy?” peter argued. you felt guilt rise and clench your heart in your chest. he sighed, “i was going to text you, but i was busy.”

“it’s like you’re never here.”

and that’s how the fight started. it felt like a fight. it felt like peter was throwing harsh words and pushing you away. you knew his tendency to do so when he thought he was doing something wrong. he knew he didn’t give you enough time and it got to him, and he took it out on no one other than yourself.

“that’s because i’m out there trying to save people.” he pointed a hand towards the window and you gulped, “i’ve got a lot on my plate.”

“so do i, peter.” you pleaded, your voice shrill, “i wish i wasn’t missing you so much but i do. i feel selfish for missing my own boyfriend, how’s that fair?!”

“i’m not trying to make you feel like that, you have to understand my responsibility towards the city-”

“yes, you have great responsibility! i know.” you gulped, watching his face harden. he looked colder, nothing like your peter. you tried again, “i know what you feel about the city… but don’t you think you’re overdoing it?”

he blinked, “overdoing it?”

“peter, you have a life outside spider-man.” you tried to reason with him, taking a step towards him. his brown locks looked so soft and you wished you could run your fingers through them.

“and you want that life to revolve around you.” he rolled his eyes, speaking matter of factly. his words may have been spoken in the heat of the moment, to you it felt well-thought. it felt like peter was slowly twisting the knife that had pierced through your heart.

“i didn’t say that.” you mumbled, feeling your eyes brim with tears. he avoided looking at your face. he knew that if he looked into your eyes, he would break. he would fall down to his knees and cry his heart out. and he couldn’t afford to do that right now.

“it felt like you wanted to.”

to you, it felt like both of you were trying to blame the other for everything that felt wrong. you wanted to throw your thickest history book at him but you also wanted to hold onto him and cry until all the stress you felt vanished away. you wanted to pull at your hair in frustration but you also wanted his soft hands running through your hair, comforting you.

but it was hard to realise the good things when you hadn’t seen the person you care most about in a month and he was not even trying to be civil. so you pushed those thoughts aside and retaliated.

“there was a time before spider-man.”

peter’s eyes snapped towards your face, cold and venomous, “what?”

“there was a time. when there was no spider-man. and the city was carrying on just fine!” your vision was blurred, jaw clenched as you finished, breathing harshly. your nails dug into the palm of your hands as you clenched your fists.

peter stood there, looking at you unbelievably. he was almost shaking from how tense his whole body was. you gulped, almost opening your mouth in an apology but before you could, peter’s voice reached your ears, hoarse and deep, “you said you missed me?”

you took a step back, intimidated by the way he was looking down at you. peter was taller than you but it had always been an intimate thing between the two of you. you liked being the ‘big’ spoon and he liked teasing you about it. but in this moment, it felt like he was a predator, staring down at his pray.

“pete-” you thought you could reason with him about this whole argument. about how stupid it was but he was taking fast steps to fill the distance between the two of you until you felt his breath of your face, “p-peter…”

“well, here i am.” he said, instantly grabbing the back of your neck, making you gasp as he pressed his lips harshly against yours. your hand instinctively flew to the back of his head as his lips mingled with yours. it didn’t start like the other times, it wasn’t sweet. it was rushed, and messy. your salty tears mixed into the kiss and peter’s hand in your hair tightened, pulling at it. you whimpered, but he didn’t stop. his other hand traveled to your hip, squeezing it with force, holding you against him.

you knew it was going to bruise badly in a few hours. he had trapped you between the desk and himself and even though it felt like he was violating all your space, you kissed him back, you tried to hold on to him. tried to calm him down but it didn’t feel like he was in charge of himself anymore.

you tried to push at his chest but you knew it was not gonna help. he was way too stronger against your normal human strength. you felt peter bite at your lip and you gasped at his harsh behaviour, feeling the copper taste fill your mouth when his tongue pushed past your lips. your fist collided with his chest once, trying to make him stop as more tears slid down your face.

you felt yourself sob when peter finally pulled back, but only to pull your hair, prompting your head to tilt backwards. his lips trailed over your neck, down to your collarbone.

“peter, stop!” you cried, trying to push him away from you, your hands hitting his shoulder, trying to snap him back to reality. his teeth dug into your skin and you gasped, “stop.”

you felt your knees buckle, trying to push him away and when peter finally looked up at your face he realised.

he finally realised what he was doing. his grip immediately loosened on your hair, and your hip. and your head sprang forward to reveal your busted lip, his doing. he was holding on to you, this time to stop you from falling down and as were you, hands clutching on to the wooden edge of your study desk.

you looked lost and peter looked petrified as he couldn’t catch your eyes even though he was looking right at them, “baby…”

watching you try to regain your posture, peter felt your hand still pressing against his chest to push him away and he backed off, letting you stand on your own, “i’m so… sorry.” he mumbled, feeling his eyes fill with tears as he watched you wipe your own.

you turned around, your back towards him. he couldn’t move, just staring at you back as he felt his heart fall to the pit of his stomach. he knew he deserved it. he wished you’d yell at him, hit him, do something so he knew how wrong he was. not like he didn’t already know.

“you should go.” your voice was so quiet. so quiet that if he wasn’t spider-man, he wouldn’t have heard it. but he listened to you. last thing he wanted to do right now was ignore you and end up hurting you more than he had for the last month. especially today.

he picked up his mask and you heard the shuffling of his feet. you heard the window slide open and you heard it close. and you heard the ‘thwip’ that took him away from you.

“and i was wondering if you’d clean out the back, you know the boxes and everything that’s clogging the garage entrance…” may trailed off, looking at his nephew who was in turn busy staring at his phone, “peter?”

the old lady placed a hand on her nephew’s shoulder when he didn’t respond, “peter.”

his head snapped towards her, eyes looking tired as ever as he locked his phone, sliding it in the pocket of his jacket, “sorry, i-”

“we don’t have to do this today.” she smiled at him kindly, “i’m sure miles would be okay with helping me. you could use some rest.”

“no, no, i got this.” peter stood up, “it’ll… it’ll keep me distracted.”

may nodded and started telling him all the things she needed cleared out from her garage. she was getting her house renovated, hoping to put a room on rent. it never hurt to have a few extra bucks in hand.

peter followed the instructions, sorting out stuff from the old boxes into the new ones so they could be donated or stored in better condition.

it had been five weeks since he saw your face after the way he left it. he was sure the bruises would be gone by now, at least the physical ones. he sighed and tried to focus on the task at hand but his mind kept wandering back to his phone screen. all the texts he’s sent and the way you hadn’t read them. he was surprised that you didn’t block him because he would have, if he was in the position you were in.

it was january now but peter knew your exams were still going on. he gave you as much space as you needed. however, it didn’t feel like new year without you. without your laughter, there was nothing happy about the new year for him. he tore his eyes away from the screen again and got back to the work. it was going to take way longer than expected if he kept letting his mind wander.

brushing his hands together when he was done, peter made his way inside the house through the garage door. he carried the box with the items may was going to donate.

he walked to the living area but the sudden sight of you standing in his aunt’s house made the box drop from his hands, the (thankfully) metal objects clanged against the polished wooden floor.

peter’s mouth opened, then closed– partly in disbelief, and partly in perplexity. his heart was hammering in his chest as he took a step towards you. for a minute he thought he was hallucinating. his desperation of getting another chance to just talk to you was getting to his head.

it was not until he reached right in front of you, less than five feet apart, and all breath knocked out of his lungs, that he spoke, “you’re… here.”

he was relieved when you responded, “i am.” you nodded almost formally, “i was here to donate some clothes. may asked.”

“oh.” he mumbled, nodding back at you in acknowledgement.

there was a moment where no one spoke. neither of you knew how to, or what to, talk about in this moment. the door to the house was closed but somehow peter felt a gust of wind flow– maybe he left the garage door opened– but that was last of his worries.

“so…” he started quietl, “how are your exams going?”

“good. good. well enough.” you shrugged, “today was the last one actually… so i thought why not clear out my closet too.”

“that sounds nice.” a small smile appeared over his face.

now as the two of you stood in front of each other, it felt like there was nothing else to talk about except for the elephant in the room.

“about our fight…” you started at the same time as peter.

“you look better.”

then both of you went quiet at the same time.

“you go first.”

peter nodded, “i know what i did was unforgivable. i’m not gonna ask you to forgive me. b-but i will keep apologising for it. i will try to make up to you if you let me.” he rushed through his thoughts. you could tell he was being sincere even though his eyes didn’t meet yours. then he surveyed the surroundings, quietly mumbling to you, “it was the lizard. everything was so crazy and i almost got killed and i didn’t want you to worry so i tried to push you away. and my head was going in circles it…”

peter quieted down when he felt you close the gap between the two of you. your arms wrapped around his shoulders and peter froze. until he realised that he should hug you back. a soft sigh left him as soon as his arms were around you and he realised how much he’d missed this.

“i missed this.” you mumbled, as if reading his thoughts.

“i missed this too. i’m sorry i hurt you. a lot.” peter pressed a kiss to your hairline and you closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling for as long as you could.

“i know you didn’t mean to.” you looked up at him when you parted from the hug, “i was really stressed too. i shouldn’t have said things about spider-man. i know how much it means to you and i don’t even know how this city was lucky enough to have a guy like you looking after it. i guess i got jealous.” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

peter gave you a smile, “you know you come before everything for me.”

you smiled in return, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it once, “so then… i’ll get going.”

“oh.” peter sighed, disappointment clear in his voice, “can i…” you waited for him to finish his sentence, “take you out on a date?”

you smiled slightly, relieved to find the same old boy you used to love after what felt like an excruciatingly long time and for a moment, as you nodded ‘yes’ to his question, it felt like everything will after all, be alright.

#she better than me bc i would've fucked him right there & then 🧍‍♀️ #— peter recs.

[userheng]

“Akari (燈)” by Soushi Sakiyama (崎山蒼志) - Jujutsu Kaisen 2nd Season - Ending Theme

#— jjk.

[userheng]

i am absolutely in love with ur writing AND with gepard landau,, can i request a first kiss fic for him? i read your kiss the girl fic for dan heng and ITS SO GOOD!! tysm in advance, take care of yourself!

teenage dream

summary ⎯ gepard knows he can't keep these feelings to himself. gepard also knows that he can never tell you about how he feels. so, he goes to the person he tells all his secrets to: serval. serval, who told pela. pela, who is determined to set you two up. and doing so, entails a bookish adventure for you to enjoy.

tana's words ⎯ i too am in love with gepard. i feel u anon. also thank u for the kind words!

tags ⎯ matchmaking (serval and pela). first kiss. pining (this should be expected). bookish!reader. bookstore owner!reader. oblivious idiots.

IT’S EXTREMELY SURPRISING TO HEAR GEPARD frantically knocking on the doors of nevermore workshop, so serval obviously had to open the doors for him.

when he entered, gepard immediately shut the doors as if he was being followed. the expression on his face was dire; he looked as if he was chased by wolves and he was being hunted down.

“gepard?” serval asked, concern dripping in her tone, “what the hell happened?”

“serval,” gepard panted. serval was getting worried; this was all irregular behavior coming from gepard, “i need help.”

gepard never asked for help. he is one of the most self-sufficient and stubborn people serval knows. he would rather stare death in the face instead of asking someone for help.

“what is it?” serval rushed by his side, “whatever you need, i got you.”

“i think i have feelings for,” gepard sighed, palm dragging across his face, “the owner of the bookstore,” he finishes quietly.

serval’s jaw dropped. it wasn’t because of the declaration of gepard’s crush. it was that he made it sound so dramatic. serval thought that he was being tracked down and was about to be sent to the madhouse.

“are you serious!” serval shoved gepard, “i thought you were about to die or something!”

gepard recoiled at serval’s shove; his sister was stronger than most people thought, “it feels like i am! every time i’m around them my heart rate quickens so much that i think i’m about to have a heart attack. i get all nervous on the inside and i can barely think with them beside me.”

aeons, gepard has definitely fallen in love with you.

“wait⎯so, where are you gonna go from here?” serval leaned on the counter, trying to process all the words her brother confessed.

“that’s the thing,” gepard sighed again. he sounded like a lovesick puppy, “i don’t know. that’s why i came here, i thought you’d be able to help.”

“um. you are aware of my past relationship with cocolia, right? i think i’m like the least qualified person you should be asking romance advice from,” serval pointed out.

“i don’t know who else i could tell,” gepard ran a hand through his hair. this was really stressing him out.

“how about you just… tell them?” serval suggested.

“no!!” gepard shook his head distraughtly, “i can’t do that. what if they don’t feel the same?”

“then it’s not meant to be,” serval said, “simple as that.”

“but it’s not,” gepard whined. serval thought he was making this a lot more complicated than it needed to be. when she was his age, she confessed her feelings to cocolia like it was nothing. they were happy until the break up anyway.

but then it donned on serval. gepard had little to no relationship experience. the only “experience” serval remembers him having was when they were children: his friend had a crush on him and tried to confessed, but gepard rejected her.

that’s why gepard was so distressed. he had no idea how to go on with this. these feelings for you? all new. what he missed out as a teenager, he is now getting as an adult.

“tell you what,” serval wrapped her arm around her brother’s shoulder, “i’ll get this sorted out. trust me. yn will never know about this,” she reassured him.

“you just go along with your guardly duties. i’ll help you,” serval grinned. she knew that she had the perfect plan. except, she couldn’t do it alone.

pela already knew about your crush on the silvermane guard captain. every time he greeted the two of you at the book store, pela practically saw the hearts in your eyes. it was sickening and disgusting, but it was cute too.

what pela didn’t know, however, was that gepard has a crush on you as well.

serval came to pela just a few minutes after gepard’s confession. she knew that she probably shouldn’t have told pela right after the conversation happened, but serval didn’t know how else to console gepard.

“so… you’re telling me that they both like each other?!” serval slammed her hands on the counter. “and they’re both too scared to confess!?”

“that’s exactly what i said, yes,” pela monotonously replied.

you knew that there couldn’t be anything between you and gepard. it was highly improbable that you, a bookstore owner, would be able to gain the captain of the silvermane guard’s interest. it seemed like something straight out of a fictional (key word: fictional) romance novel.

so you appreciated his friendship while he was around. sometimes, as a way to become closer to the captain, you’d suggest different books to him every week. despite being on the front lines quite often, he always comes back to see you. well, he comes back for the books anyway.

serval groaned into her hands, “so what do we do? they both like each other but they literally can’t bear to admit it.”

pela smirked. she’s read enough romance novels to figure out what to do next.

“two words, serval,” pela smirked, “grand. gesture.”

gepard took a few deep breaths before approaching your book store. after his chat with serval, he's been distressed the entire day. he had these feelings for you storming all over his body; occasionally, they'd get so strong that it would feel like those feelings would overtake him.

he opened the door, book in hand, and greeted you formally. gepard couldn't help it: he was so nervous, he wasn't able to function straight.

"hello, captain gepard," you turned around. you were on a latter stacking books on top of bookshelves. originally, you thought it would be cool to have towering shelves, however you quickly learned that it was extremely impractical and difficult.

"i told you," gepard stood near the counter, refusing to slouch in your presence, "you can call me gepard."

"and i told you," you grunted, trying to reach a higher spot on a shelf, "to drop the formalities," you grinned to yourself.

gepard noticed your (potentially) perilous situation and quickly got near the end of the latter. in the case that you fall, at least gepard would be there to catch you.

fortunately, you made your way down the tall latter peacefully. as you descended, the sight of gepard holding down the latter for you made you flush. it was the bare minimum, but it still made your heart speed up.

when he reached out his hand to guide you down (it was out of instinct), you gave him a warm smile. it looked easy on the outside, but you were burning up on the inside. similarly, gepard had the same reaction. for you, he'd do anything.

"thank you," you held onto his hand for a little longer. once you realized what you were doing you quickly recoiled your hand away and apologized. gepard wished your hand was still entwined with his; he wanted to hold onto to the feeling of your hand in his. gepard wanted to trace patterns on your hands, wanted to feel every part of them.

as an attempt to dissipate the tension (it was making you nervous), you decided to ask gepard for help. "we had a busy day yesterday. a best seller recently came out; people were storming the shelves. good for my profit but not good for my sanity," you let out an airy laugh, "would you mind helping me clean up?"

realizing what you just did (asking the captain of the silvermane guards for help) you quickly added, "unless you're busy! then i'll be okay. you can leave. i'll be fine," you rambled.

gepard parted his lips, almost as if he was about to say something. how could you ever think he wouldn't make time for you? even so, he'd deploy a few other guards if you needed help. he'd make sure your needs were met as soon as possible.

he reached his arm out; his hands were close to your collarbone. then he reached back, scared of what would happen next. how silly. the captain of the silvermane guards was not scared of no monster, but of rejection of the one he likes.

"i'll stay for anything," gepard blurted. you were taken aback for a second, but then once you realized what he had just said, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and covertly pinched yourself to make sure that whatever was happening was not a dream.

gepard didn't intend to add, "anything," to his sentence. but his mind was thinking it, and then it just accidentally came out. he meant what he said though. if the bluntness of his voice didn't show his sincerity, the blush that was slowly grazing his face probably did.

"thank you, gepard," you bit the inside of your lip to keep yourself from beaming too hard. you had to turn away from the captain once again, for your smile at his words would be too embarrassing to show. how silly of you to act so giddy and childish at one simple word.

gepard thinks he could hear you say his name a million times, and he would never get bored. he wants to hear his name on your lips as if it were a mantra; you've said his name a few times before, and each time he swears he gets more and more addicted to the sound.

"how about i start on the right and you'll start on the left. that way, we'll both finish in the middle!" you clapped your hands together. you gave gepard a reassuring smile.

you two started on opposite sides, but how gepard wished that you two would be closer. however, there are positives to this situation. gepard can brainstorm ideas for the "grand gesture" pela and serval texted him about.

gepard already had ideas in mind. he just needed to figure out the material for them. he obviously will not tear out papers from a book; that will cause more harm than good (for you and gepard; he cares about books).

while gepard was planning, you were blushing. you still couldn't believe he actually stayed with you. surely, there are more important deeds than helping out a leisurely bookstore owner. and this was the most boring task ever: organizing books. yet, gepard was still here. and he was only a few feet away from you.

you turned back to observe gepard; you wanted to see if you had trapped him in a boring task or not. to your surprise, gepard seemed to be enjoying this. he would flip through pages of various books, spend time reading the summaries; gepard would even go as far to reading the first few pages of some books.

gepard liked to read. at first, he started coming to the bookstore to fetch some books for pela. however, after he met you, he began to adopt a newfound interest in books that he never had before. he read some of pela's books, discovered that he did not like them, and went to browse for more. that's when you came up. you thought you had talked his entire ear off that entire morning; you went on and on and on about what kind of books he would like.

you tried to ignore him afterwards; you even offered the books for free because you were so embarrassed. but gepard kept coming back. your recommendations impressed him: gepard had never met anyone who was so meticulous at their craft. and he loved hearing you talk. he loved your rambles, your rants, your reviews. maybe that was the first sign.

gepard caught your gaze as he turned around. he had the same motivation as you: he wanted to see how you were faring in this task. did you miss the proximity you had before? are you flustered as well? do you like him too?

you two were both staring at each other, thoughts racing, until you shouted, "see something you like?" to break the tension.

gepard thought the question was a taunt at first; similar to asking, "like what you see?"

"no!" he abruptly shouted, trying to hide the fact that he was just staring at you. and then he realized the real meaning of your question: he was browsing the books with such intensity. the truth was, he was trying to find your favorite books. you've informed him about them before, always on your bookish rants. he was going to use them for his gesture later on.

thinking that he now looks like an idiot, gepard tries to save himself by shouting back, "i mean⎯ yes! i do. these books are nice," he tried to cover up.

you seemed not to register his mistake, as you tell him, "whatever you want, it's on the house. for your work today. it'll be on the house for life!" you put some books on some shelves and move closer to the middle.

gepard shook his head and chuckled, "you've always given books to me for free." he put some books back and continued around the room.

"are you complaining?" you raised an eyebrow, "what if i just kept a tab on you this entire time? and you never knew?" more books get put away.

"then i'd rightfully pay you back," gepard wholeheartedly responded, "or i'd arrest you," he joked.

you mock-gasped, "for what?" you're getting closer to the middle now.

stealing my heart, the intrusive part of gepard's mind thought. he'd been hanging out with serval too much; he would never say that. gepard internally cringed.

"false advertising," he moved closer to the middle, “i don't know," he smiled to himself. gepard doesn't think he would have the heart to arrest you.

you blushed at hearing the captain lost on amendments. the captain wouldn't know how to arrest you. is this flirting? or are you reading too much into it?

you don't know if the heat on the back of your neck is from gepard's words or the sun shining so brightly on the back of your neck. you stack some more books on shelves; you've now reached the middle. you're having trouble reaching one of the shelves, but you're too lost in your thoughts to even think about that.

in fact, you're too lost in your thoughts that you don't even notice the warmth disappear from the back of your neck. your cheeks are still warm, so you are still blushing. your struggles with the tall bookshelf are lost when you feel a hand over yours.

"i'll take that," gepard quietly mumbles. it's so quiet that you didn't hear it at first.

on instinct, you turn towards him. when you looked at the position the both of you were in, you noticed that you were caged against him. you were caged against the captain of the silvermane guards. against a bookshelf.

gepard towered over you. his body was centimeters closer to fully pressing on you. his breath was fanning on your face. you could see every detail of his face from your view from below. your hands were so close to grazing his chest, so you immediately slapped them to your sides. you gulp, you start to breath quicker, and you feel like you're about to combust.

you swallowed, trying not to move. you were frozen in place as you tried not to disturb gepard. you gaped at him as he was working to organize the books, not noticing the position the two of you were in.

when gepard finished, he gave a sigh of relief. he underestimated your job: if you had to do this every day, you were probably stronger than some of his soldiers. when he opened his eyes, he was greeted by your wide eyes staring right into his.

he was breath-taken by your beauty. the look in your eyes as you look into his was captivating. gepard needed it framed. the way your lips parted made him go feral; his heart stuttered with every second he looked at you.

his arm was pinned above your head. your bodies were so close that you kept focusing on the rise and fall of gepard’s chest. the way his expression scanned yours made you want to quiver against him.

you said the first sentence, “hard work?” your tone was breathless. you were still trying to catch your breath.

“yeah,” he sighed, still not noticing the way your bodies curved into each other, “hard work.”

“did i waste your time?” you whispered. it was quiet, like you were ashamed of your actions. you looked down at his chest rather than his face.

“no,” gepard leaned in, trying to hear your voice one more time. he tilted your head up slightly with his fingers so you could look at him, “you’d never.”

silence crippled the room. it was just you and gepard, the two of you leaning oh-so-close together that your lips were nearly about to touch. a part of you wanted to lean into him; you wanted to pull him closer and closer until you were both out of breath.

but that was delusional. that was something straight out of romance novels, and your life was anything but.

gepard leaned in closer on purpose. he gave into temptation and wanted to feel your lips on his. he wanted to grab you by the waist and pull you so tightly into him. he wanted this: he wanted your kiss, he wanted your insight, he wanted you.

but with gepard, want is not something one could have. especially one like him.

“i’m sorry,” he abruptly let go, “i’m⎯i think, i have something i need to do,” he took a few steps back away from you, leaving about three feet in distance. quite the opposite from how you two were positioned a few seconds ago.

“oh,” you let go immediately. “i’m sorry! i didn’t know,” you quickly ran to the other side of the room. you wanted to hide from embarrassment.

“not your fault!” gepard shouted as he headed for the exit, “goodbye mx yn!”

you didn’t bother to say goodbye as you slammed the door shut after he left. what just happened was mortifying. the position you two were in? the way you two gradually leaned closer to each other? no wonder he ran away, you thought, you must’ve scared him off.

oh, if only you knew how wrong you were.

you didn't see gepard for a week after the incident. he hadn't come into the bookstore at all the entire week. however, that also could've been your fault: you've been in and out of the bookstore for the past week. if you faced gepard after the incident (you've dubbed), you'd probably apologize and beg for forgiveness.

but still, wouldn't he come in and leave a note? wouldn't he at least stop by once? did you scare him off that badly? the more you thought about it, the more you thought about becoming a hermit.

you'd thought you terrified him and ruined your friendship (and any future hope of a relationship) until flowers appeared on the counter of the bookstore. your assistant refused to let you know who they were from.

you bent down and eyed the pot of flowers sitting on the counter. they were your favorite color: pink. you had to admit, they were gorgeous. they looked well grown, as if these were from a master gardener. the flowers bloomed perfectly, each petal reaching out for the sun.

the message of the flowers also intrigued you. begonias are the flowers that symbolizes knowledge and deep thoughts. whoever gifted these to you must have been very observant or they wanted to be your intern.

"did someone come by asking to be my intern?" you stood up and put your hands on your hips. your lip twisted in thought. you were a bit preoccupied at the moment; the bookstore was getting exceptionally busy and (with your whole gepard crisis going on) you didn't think you were fit to be a mentor at the moment.

"no," your assistant shook her head. you leaned back on the counter, wondering why (and who) would gift you flowers on such a strange day. you already knew it wasn't gepard, due to the awkward tension surrounding the both of you right now, so you had a big list to narrow down.

"but," your assistant continued, "someone dropped off this letter with the flowers. they told me to give it to you after you saw the flowers," your assistant handed you the letter.

it was very formal, the letter. it's envelope was very extravagant, fit for someone with high standards. the stamp was still warm, meaning that this letter had been written recently. you tore open the envelope to reveal it's contents.

yn,

please do me the honor of accompanying me to everwinter cafe tonight. i would really appreciate seeing you there.

gl

"g.l." you paused, "as in green lantern?!" you asked your assistant, wide eyes and all. "who is trying to cosplay as a superhero to talk to me? this is insane. did i owe someone a book or something? charged them extra?" you panicked.

your assistant frowned at your idiocy. who else could 'gl' entail to besides gepard landau? "what if it's the captain," your assistant urged on, nudging your shoulder.

"it couldn't be the captain," you jolted. does your assistant know? "we barely even talk," you try to reason.

"he comes in here nearly every day," your assistant counters, "if not every day, be it every other day," they sighed.

"he just comes in to look at books," you placed the flowers in a safe space in the shelves. "we don't converse as often as you think."

"you talk every day," you assistant drags on. "you're telling me that the two of you have no relations whatsoever?"

"we⎯it's complicated," you sighed, "long story short, it could never be the captain," you looked down at the plant. even if it was gepard, what was he doing? sending anonymous flowers? cryptic notes? why couldn't he just talk to you?

"you should go," your assistant encouraged, "you never know. it could be the captain or it could be another potential secret admirer."

"you think?" you raised an eyebrow. your assistant nodded in response.

you looked at the flowers one more time. though you wished it was gepard who sent them, you knew it was probably someone else trying to flatter you into taking them in as an intern. but as you stared at the begonias, no other thoughts beside gepard consumed your mind

it was late when you walked to everwinter cafe. tonight was not a particularly chilly night, but belobog's slight chill was ever present.

you walked around aimlessly, trying to walk slowly so you can prolong the sight of your "intern." you tried to focus on other things as you walked past, such as the plants and heaters surrounding the city. it's wondrous how things such as plants are still able to flourish in times like these.

as you viewed your surroundings, you saw a note placed on a lamppost close to the cafe. it read, "'i know you're working. i wanted to be somewhere...' safe? familiar? comfortable? 'near you.'

you automatically knew which book that quote was from. book lovers by emily henry. it was your favorite romance book; you've raved about it many times with gepard.

as you continued, you saw another note, "'if you saw yourself the way other people see you, you'd never doubt again.' 'how do people see me?' 'like you're the most beautiful, most remarkable, thing they've ever seen."

you must admit, you blushed a little bit while internally reading that. the only reason you blushed was that because you discussed that quote with gepard. you were talking about the 'twisted' series and how it had it's pros and cons with gepard, and this quote was one of the pros.

another read, "'who are they? the best part of my day.'"

another, "books she has found, are a way to live a thousand lives."

and the last, "'favorite word?' 'you.'"

you quickly noticed that these were all quotes from your favorite books. these are books you've only discussed and rambled about with one person: gepard. you'd never thought he would've actually read these books. let alone, you'd never thought gepard would also quote them.

with slightly more hope than before, you ran up to everwinter cafe.

"did you get my message?" gepard stood tall in front of you. you couldn't look into his eyes and it was killing him.

"your letter? yes, i did. and your flowers too. they were beautiful," you rocked back and forth on your heels.

"thank you, i grew them myself," he gave you a soft smile. you wanted to talk about how he managed to even grow such beautiful flowers, but how could you talk to him if you couldn't even look at him in the eyes? "but, did you get my message?"

you looked down at the many notes in your hand. it turns out gepard had left notes after all, "oh yes. i did," you blushed at the obvious context of the quotes. "all my favorite books."

"yeah," gepard spoke breathlessly, as if all of his air had run out after he started speaking to you, "but did you get my message?" he looked at your face for any type of indication: whether you liked him back, hated him, or had no strong feelings towards him. his eyes darted throughout your face, and the sight made you slightly flustered. he was leaning over you, and you thought you saw his eyes graze over your lips.

then it donned on you. the flowers. the letter. the sneaking out at night. the romantic context of all the quotes. the way all the quotes were from your favorite books that you've only talked about with him. the way gepard has admired and remembered every single thing about you. your stomach dropped as you realized gepard had been feeling the same things you have felt for him this entire time. your heart pounded in your chest as you finally met his eyes in the pale moonlight.

"yes," you swiftly exhaled. it was like all your hidden feelings for gepard were compacted in your chest, and when you finally breathed, they were all let out. it was like all your troubles were leaving you, "i did."

"and..." gepard trailed off, now failing to meet you in the eyes. he was terrified of your rejection; your opinion was one of the things that mattered most to him. before, he regarded it was his passion for the people, but now he recognizes that he was just passionate for you. "did you like it?"

"i loved it," you smiled; it wasn't just a soft smile this time, like the ones you've always given him. it was a big smile: loud and talkative, much like you. one smile could convey so much.

but you still had thoughts, "i didn't need all of this though," you grabbed his hand for reassurance. you were in range of his lips. you could close the gap right now.

gepard froze; your words and your touch made him tense. he was finally able to look you in the eye, having prepared himself for iminent rejection and was ready to leave. whatever you needed, he would do.

"what do you need?" gepard asked frantically. "whatever you need, i will give it to you. whether it be space or never seeing me again."

what you needed? you needed his thoughts, his opinions, his reassurance. you needed his touch on a cold night, you needed his arm around you when you were cold, you needed to feel him beside you on nights similar to this. you needed everything that he was.

"i need you," you whispered up on his lips. "right now."

and gepard swore the entirety of everwinter city heard his heart drop to the ground. he was sure that you could feel his heart pounding in his chest after you said those five words. only five words, yet gepard felt like he was going insane. he was going insane for you: your touch, your mind, your words, your entirety.

gepard removed his hand from yours for just one second, using it to tip your chin up so you could be in his view. in the pale moonlight, you were gorgeous. to be fair, you were always gorgeous, but something about tonight extenuated your beauty.

"can i⎯"

"don't even ask," you cut him off, leaning into him.

the kiss was soft and sweet at first. the feeling of your lips pressed onto his was heavenly: gepard felt ten times stronger with you than with anything else. it was gentle and tender.

but when you tugged your arms around his neck, all restraint went out the window.

gepard moved his hand from your chin to your waist, pulling you closer into him. it was bold for his first kiss, but who could blame him when you're holding onto to him so tightly?

you threaded your hands through his hair as he kissed you feverishly. his hands on your waist made you want to combust into him. you were standing on your toes at this point; if you tried to stand any taller, gepard was about to lift you up into the air.

when you finally stopped to breath, all that was left in the air was your love and the light from the sky.

"was i your first kiss?" you asked him coyly, arms still wrapped around his neck.

gepard blushed and you immediately knew his answer to your question. you stood up one more time to give him one more quick kiss.

yes, you were his first kiss. and gepard wished for more to come.

i need a week off after this fic i swear to god

#STOP IM COMBUSTING #will be thinking abt this all day #gepard.recs

[userheng]

Diluc, Kaveh, Ayato y Alhaitham

By z0umu_

#sheeeesh #— art.

[userheng]

𓆩♡𓆪 meeting dan heng.

synopsis: meeting dan heng.

warnings: slight spoilers from dan heng's character story. bros bold, march playing wing woman no 1, the reader has hot men disease

a/n: writing after almost two years i've lost my groove rip n e ways hope u enjoy!! pls lmk ur thoughts! <3 rb if u enjoyed :)

DO NOT REPOST/TRANSLATE.

As soon as you step foot in the Astral Express, your whole body lights up with excitement. 

You’re finally starting your journey to other planets and your joy couldn’t be contained. Your eyes take in your surroundings, a beautiful view of a bed of bright stars—you have to hold yourself back from almost reaching for them. 

“Hey!” 

A voice breaks you out of your reverie, you look for the source of the voice not finding anyone in front of you.

“Down here!” 

The voice speaks once more and you finally look down, coming in contact with the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.

“Oh…hello?” You say with hesitation, taking note of the unfamiliar creature.

“I’m Pom-Pom, the conductor of Astral Express,” The unknown creature introduces themselves. “You can come to me whenever you need help! But don’t cause trouble!” Pom-Pom expresses with a fiery passion, and you don’t know whether to coo or actually be scared of the little thing.

“Well, alright, you’re the boss.” You simply nod, trying to hold back a laugh at the adorable entity. 

“The Passenger Cabins are that way so you can keep your bags there. And the archives are the first door but um…” Pom-Pom pauses for a second. “There’s a guy called Dan Heng that practically lives in the archives but you’re free to visit that area! I have no clue what he does all day in there.” Pom-Pom’s petit body seems to deflate in defeat which once more makes you want to let out an audible coo but you refrain. 

You recognize that name easily—Dan Heng. After all, he’s one of the people you’ll be accompanied on your first journey, the other one being March 7th. You’ve never met these people but you trust Himeko’s judgment, after all, she’s the one who paired you with them. The only piece of information she gave you about them is that “You’ll have fun,” which excites you but also worries you, but you push that away for now.

“Thank you, Pom-Pom, I’ll be mindful of that.” You smile before bidding Pom-Pom goodbye, they wave back telling you to follow the rules.

You make your way toward the cabins, locating yours fairly quickly. You settle in nicely. You feel a bit lethargic already but the enthusiasm of finally being on the Astral Express keeps you from getting a shut-eye. Rather, you decide to explore different parts of the Express. Freshening up quickly you venture out of your cabin, taking in the sites of the surroundings around you. The view of the vast shimmering galaxy almost bought you to tears. You’ve finally reached your goal. You’re a Trailblazer now. After working meticulously for years and honing your skills, you’ve achieved your aim and you couldn’t be happier. 

Walking around for a bit more, observing the decor around you, you head for the main compartment, and as soon as you descend down the stairs you’re greeted by a cheerful voice.

“Hello! You must be our new companion, I’m March 7th!” The girl with bright pink hair and blue tips introduces herself and her cheerful demeanor brings about a smile on your face. 

“Hello, March, it’s lovely to meet you.” You say, holding out your hand for her to shake and she does so with enthusiasm. 

“So you’re coming with us, huh? Are you ready for some fun?” She asks with a wide grin on her face, clasping her hands to the front, and it makes you feel at ease. 

“Born ready, I’ve been waiting for this.” You reply, patting your prized polearm, a proud smirk on your lips. March nods in response, and suddenly she takes out her camera. 

“I have some pictures—wait have you met Dan Heng yet?” She asks, pausing her original question. 

“Oh no, not yet, I think he’s in the archives, Pom-Pom told me,” You respond and March lets out a sigh. 

“He’s always coped in there. How about you go introduce yourself to him?” She suggests and you think it over for a moment…you don’t really know what this Dan Heng character is like so you feel slightly nervous, but ready to meet him nonetheless. 

“Sure, I’ll see you after then?” You say, smiling warmly at her, and she nods back with eagerness. 

“Come back soon! I’ve got awesome pictures to show you!” March shouts as you leave for the archives room, you wave back, giving her an affirmative nod. 

You knock on the door of the archives room, even though you don’t really need to but after Pom-Pom information about how he practically uses the place as his room you deemed it fit to knock before entering 

You enter, immediately met by Dan Heng’s figure standing towards the bookshelves, nose buried in documents. You clear your throat, hoping to get his attention, all you receive in turn isーwell nothing. He doesn’t turn around like you’d expect him to. 

“Hello, are you Dan Heng?” At the mention of his name, he turns around, and suddenly you’re met with one of the most attractive men you’ve laid eyes upon. His eyes look captivating, one of them lined with the colour red, and some of his hair fall over his forehead. 

“That’s me.” He curtly nods. “Do you need something from me?” 

You’re completely taken away by him. His cadence sounds so…enticing. His attire makes him look dashing, and of course, this Dan Heng is easy on the eyes—you can’t seem to pull away your gaze from him. 

You hear him clear his throat, your blatant staring as been caught red-handed. 

“Is there something you need?” He repeats, facing away from you, finding the carpet of the express far more interesting—Dan Heng hates how his cheeks are tinted slightly red. Your staring definitely did not go unnoticed.

Your skin warms up, embarrassment flooding your veins.

“Oh yes—I’m, Y/N, I’ll be accompanying you,” You answer. “I thought I’d introduce myself.” Dan Heng seems satisfied with your response, nodding in silence. 

“You should take a look at the data bank to familiarize yourself with the upcoming surroundings, so you know how to protect yourself…although I will be there as well to protect you,” He pauses for a second, before clearing his throat, a faint blush once more spotting his cheeks. “I’ll leave you alone for a while.” Dan Heng states, and leave the archives before you can get a word one. His behaviour startles you a bit, but you don’t pay much mind, you already pegged him as more of an introvert from the descriptions of March 7th and Pom-Pom. You seat yourself comfortably, pulling up the archives to research just as Dan Heng advised.

As soon as Dan Heng leaves the room, he takes a deep breath to calm himself. 

He knew you. 

Dan Heng remembers you from his days in the IPC. You didn’t seem to recognize him and he’s thankful for that. He’s changed a lot, so he didn’t expect it either it. But he remembers you quite clearly. He saw you working diligently from the sides, always getting along with people and helping people whenever you can—him also being one of those people. You showed him kindness and he’d always appreciated it. But meeting you again was never on his agenda. He walks to the main hall of the express, seating himself on one of the couches for the jump that will commence soon, it was uncommon for him to be in the main compartment during jumps but today he had a change of heart.

Soon enough, Pom-Pom made the announcement for the jump, which bought you out of the archives room as per the conductor’s orders. 

“Y/N, over here!” March’s cheery voice calls you over, and she quickly grips your hand dragging you over to where Dan Heng was seated and she pulls you down to sit with her.

“Are you ready for your first jump, Y/N?” March inquires, “It feels weird the first time around but it’s pretty fun!” 

“I’m a little nervous honestly,” You answer honestly, lips curving into a timid smile. You’ve been preparing yourself yet, of course, fearful thoughts reside. It’s your first trailblazing expedition after all. 

“You’ll be okay, as long as you hold onto something since it’s your first time, I assure you. How about you hold Dan Heng’s hand? I’m sure he’ll help out a fellow partner right?” March suggests, a broad wicked grin on her face. You can’t tell if it’s you she’s messing with you or Dan Heng—you audibly hear him heave a sigh. You shake your head at March, her smile matching that of a Cheshire cat, while you feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Oh no, that won’t be necessary I’ll be fine—” 

“You can hold onto my hand if you feel comfortable. I do not mind.” 

Dan Heng’s answer leaves you both flabbergasted. March’s mouth falls open but she recovers quickly, her lips stretching into a teasing smile once more. 

“Well, then I’ll leave you alone!” March leaves without explanation and you’re about to call for her to ask where she’s going but Dan Heng answers for you.

“She does this every time. Trying to stand throughout the jump, trying not to fall.” 

You simply nod, not knowing how to respond, you’re embarrassed to say anything simply put. March’s suggestion and Dan Heng’s agreement put you in the spot.

“Would you like to hold onto my hand? If you feel comfortable, of course.” Dan Heng shocks you once more by holding out his hand for you. 

His cheeks have a rosy tint, the dark eyes not meeting yours.

Well…he is cute, isn’t he? Nothing wrong with holding a cute guy’s hand, right?

Boldness overcomes you, and you slip your hand into Dan Heng’s. He’s startled, his blush darkening, the tops of his ear matching his crimson cheeks, he didn’t actually expect you to do it, even though he offered. 

“Thanks, Dan Heng, I feel protected already.” You express, tone flirtatious, a lingering smirk on the corners of your lips. Dan Heng nods, tearing his gaze away from your face—definitely to hide his flustered self. His hands are rough, but they’ve also got a certain softness to them. Despite being calloused, his hand looks delicate. It feels good. Your hand intertwined with his feels lovely. Dan Heng’s thoughts aren’t far from yours—he’s never felt such things before, holding your hand…it wasn’t what he expected. He feels at ease as your hand rests in his. 

Only a few moments later Pom-Pom’s voice blares through as they announce the jump, as they count down. You see March steel herself, chanting some sort of mantra that sounds something along the lines of, “I won’t fall over,” on repeat. 

“Don’t be nervous, you’ll be alright,” Dan Heng’s voice suddenly rings in your ears, he’s closer to you than before, his husky yet gentle voice whispering in your ear. 

“Thank you.” You express your gratitude in the form of a smile. Dan Heng returns it with a tender smile of his own. 

Pom-Pom’s countdown finishes and you’re about to be sucked into the vortex, grip tight on Heng’s hand.

“You’ll be alright, just hold on to me.” 

That’s the last thing you hear before the jump, before the start of your new journey and endless memories. With your newfound companions and the one that’ll occupy your mind for a long time—Dan Heng.

Yeah, you’ll be alright. 

#<3

[userheng]

𓆩♡𓆪 meeting dan heng.

synopsis: meeting dan heng.

warnings: slight spoilers from dan heng's character story. bros bold, march playing wing woman no 1, the reader has hot men disease

a/n: writing after almost two years i've lost my groove rip n e ways hope u enjoy!! pls lmk ur thoughts! <3 rb if u enjoyed :)

DO NOT REPOST/TRANSLATE.

As soon as you step foot in the Astral Express, your whole body lights up with excitement. 

You’re finally starting your journey to other planets and your joy couldn’t be contained. Your eyes take in your surroundings, a beautiful view of a bed of bright stars—you have to hold yourself back from almost reaching for them. 

“Hey!” 

A voice breaks you out of your reverie, you look for the source of the voice not finding anyone in front of you.

“Down here!” 

The voice speaks once more and you finally look down, coming in contact with the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.

“Oh…hello?” You say with hesitation, taking note of the unfamiliar creature.

“I’m Pom-Pom, the conductor of Astral Express,” The unknown creature introduces themselves. “You can come to me whenever you need help! But don’t cause trouble!” Pom-Pom expresses with a fiery passion, and you don’t know whether to coo or actually be scared of the little thing.

“Well, alright, you’re the boss.” You simply nod, trying to hold back a laugh at the adorable entity. 

“The Passenger Cabins are that way so you can keep your bags there. And the archives are the first door but um…” Pom-Pom pauses for a second. “There’s a guy called Dan Heng that practically lives in the archives but you’re free to visit that area! I have no clue what he does all day in there.” Pom-Pom’s petit body seems to deflate in defeat which once more makes you want to let out an audible coo but you refrain. 

You recognize that name easily—Dan Heng. After all, he’s one of the people you’ll be accompanied on your first journey, the other one being March 7th. You’ve never met these people but you trust Himeko’s judgment, after all, she’s the one who paired you with them. The only piece of information she gave you about them is that “You’ll have fun,” which excites you but also worries you, but you push that away for now.

“Thank you, Pom-Pom, I’ll be mindful of that.” You smile before bidding Pom-Pom goodbye, they wave back telling you to follow the rules.

You make your way toward the cabins, locating yours fairly quickly. You settle in nicely. You feel a bit lethargic already but the enthusiasm of finally being on the Astral Express keeps you from getting a shut-eye. Rather, you decide to explore different parts of the Express. Freshening up quickly you venture out of your cabin, taking in the sites of the surroundings around you. The view of the vast shimmering galaxy almost bought you to tears. You’ve finally reached your goal. You’re a Trailblazer now. After working meticulously for years and honing your skills, you’ve achieved your aim and you couldn’t be happier. 

Walking around for a bit more, observing the decor around you, you head for the main compartment, and as soon as you descend down the stairs you’re greeted by a cheerful voice.

“Hello! You must be our new companion, I’m March 7th!” The girl with bright pink hair and blue tips introduces herself and her cheerful demeanor brings about a smile on your face. 

“Hello, March, it’s lovely to meet you.” You say, holding out your hand for her to shake and she does so with enthusiasm. 

“So you’re coming with us, huh? Are you ready for some fun?” She asks with a wide grin on her face, clasping her hands to the front, and it makes you feel at ease. 

“Born ready, I’ve been waiting for this.” You reply, patting your prized polearm, a proud smirk on your lips. March nods in response, and suddenly she takes out her camera. 

“I have some pictures—wait have you met Dan Heng yet?” She asks, pausing her original question. 

“Oh no, not yet, I think he’s in the archives, Pom-Pom told me,” You respond and March lets out a sigh. 

“He’s always coped in there. How about you go introduce yourself to him?” She suggests and you think it over for a moment…you don’t really know what this Dan Heng character is like so you feel slightly nervous, but ready to meet him nonetheless. 

“Sure, I’ll see you after then?” You say, smiling warmly at her, and she nods back with eagerness. 

“Come back soon! I’ve got awesome pictures to show you!” March shouts as you leave for the archives room, you wave back, giving her an affirmative nod. 

You knock on the door of the archives room, even though you don’t really need to but after Pom-Pom information about how he practically uses the place as his room you deemed it fit to knock before entering 

You enter, immediately met by Dan Heng’s figure standing towards the bookshelves, nose buried in documents. You clear your throat, hoping to get his attention, all you receive in turn isーwell nothing. He doesn’t turn around like you’d expect him to. 

“Hello, are you Dan Heng?” At the mention of his name, he turns around, and suddenly you’re met with one of the most attractive men you’ve laid eyes upon. His eyes look captivating, one of them lined with the colour red, and some of his hair fall over his forehead. 

“That’s me.” He curtly nods. “Do you need something from me?” 

You’re completely taken away by him. His cadence sounds so…enticing. His attire makes him look dashing, and of course, this Dan Heng is easy on the eyes—you can’t seem to pull away your gaze from him. 

You hear him clear his throat, your blatant staring as been caught red-handed. 

“Is there something you need?” He repeats, facing away from you, finding the carpet of the express far more interesting—Dan Heng hates how his cheeks are tinted slightly red. Your staring definitely did not go unnoticed.

Your skin warms up, embarrassment flooding your veins.

“Oh yes—I’m, Y/N, I’ll be accompanying you,” You answer. “I thought I’d introduce myself.” Dan Heng seems satisfied with your response, nodding in silence. 

“You should take a look at the data bank to familiarize yourself with the upcoming surroundings, so you know how to protect yourself…although I will be there as well to protect you,” He pauses for a second, before clearing his throat, a faint blush once more spotting his cheeks. “I’ll leave you alone for a while.” Dan Heng states, and leave the archives before you can get a word one. His behaviour startles you a bit, but you don’t pay much mind, you already pegged him as more of an introvert from the descriptions of March 7th and Pom-Pom. You seat yourself comfortably, pulling up the archives to research just as Dan Heng advised.

As soon as Dan Heng leaves the room, he takes a deep breath to calm himself. 

He knew you. 

Dan Heng remembers you from his days in the IPC. You didn’t seem to recognize him and he’s thankful for that. He’s changed a lot, so he didn’t expect it either it. But he remembers you quite clearly. He saw you working diligently from the sides, always getting along with people and helping people whenever you can—him also being one of those people. You showed him kindness and he’d always appreciated it. But meeting you again was never on his agenda. He walks to the main hall of the express, seating himself on one of the couches for the jump that will commence soon, it was uncommon for him to be in the main compartment during jumps but today he had a change of heart.

Soon enough, Pom-Pom made the announcement for the jump, which bought you out of the archives room as per the conductor’s orders. 

“Y/N, over here!” March’s cheery voice calls you over, and she quickly grips your hand dragging you over to where Dan Heng was seated and she pulls you down to sit with her.

“Are you ready for your first jump, Y/N?” March inquires, “It feels weird the first time around but it’s pretty fun!” 

“I’m a little nervous honestly,” You answer honestly, lips curving into a timid smile. You’ve been preparing yourself yet, of course, fearful thoughts reside. It’s your first trailblazing expedition after all. 

“You’ll be okay, as long as you hold onto something since it’s your first time, I assure you. How about you hold Dan Heng’s hand? I’m sure he’ll help out a fellow partner right?” March suggests, a broad wicked grin on her face. You can’t tell if it’s you she’s messing with you or Dan Heng—you audibly hear him heave a sigh. You shake your head at March, her smile matching that of a Cheshire cat, while you feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Oh no, that won’t be necessary I’ll be fine—” 

“You can hold onto my hand if you feel comfortable. I do not mind.” 

Dan Heng’s answer leaves you both flabbergasted. March’s mouth falls open but she recovers quickly, her lips stretching into a teasing smile once more. 

“Well, then I’ll leave you alone!” March leaves without explanation and you’re about to call for her to ask where she’s going but Dan Heng answers for you.

“She does this every time. Trying to stand throughout the jump, trying not to fall.” 

You simply nod, not knowing how to respond, you’re embarrassed to say anything simply put. March’s suggestion and Dan Heng’s agreement put you in the spot.

“Would you like to hold onto my hand? If you feel comfortable, of course.” Dan Heng shocks you once more by holding out his hand for you. 

His cheeks have a rosy tint, the dark eyes not meeting yours.

Well…he is cute, isn’t he? Nothing wrong with holding a cute guy’s hand, right?

Boldness overcomes you, and you slip your hand into Dan Heng’s. He’s startled, his blush darkening, the tops of his ear matching his crimson cheeks, he didn’t actually expect you to do it, even though he offered. 

“Thanks, Dan Heng, I feel protected already.” You express, tone flirtatious, a lingering smirk on the corners of your lips. Dan Heng nods, tearing his gaze away from your face—definitely to hide his flustered self. His hands are rough, but they’ve also got a certain softness to them. Despite being calloused, his hand looks delicate. It feels good. Your hand intertwined with his feels lovely. Dan Heng’s thoughts aren’t far from yours—he’s never felt such things before, holding your hand…it wasn’t what he expected. He feels at ease as your hand rests in his. 

Only a few moments later Pom-Pom’s voice blares through as they announce the jump, as they count down. You see March steel herself, chanting some sort of mantra that sounds something along the lines of, “I won’t fall over,” on repeat. 

“Don’t be nervous, you’ll be alright,” Dan Heng’s voice suddenly rings in your ears, he’s closer to you than before, his husky yet gentle voice whispering in your ear. 

“Thank you.” You express your gratitude in the form of a smile. Dan Heng returns it with a tender smile of his own. 

Pom-Pom’s countdown finishes and you’re about to be sucked into the vortex, grip tight on Heng’s hand.

“You’ll be alright, just hold on to me.” 

That’s the last thing you hear before the jump, before the start of your new journey and endless memories. With your newfound companions and the one that’ll occupy your mind for a long time—Dan Heng.

Yeah, you’ll be alright. 

#dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #dan heng x y/n #dan heng #dan heng fluff #honkai star rail

[userheng]

WAIT THIS WAS SO CUTE

Wanted to request maybe hsr men with a partner that's their exact opposite?

* pairing(s) : various hsr men (i actually do all of them i promise) x reader

* prompt : opposites attract, amiright?

* authors note : so you may have noticed a bit of a.. redesign.. in my layout 🙏 but hi requester!! here u gooo ♡ cleaning up my requests sweep sweep. also thank you for 200 u guys r crazy omg.

* brief warning : blade is blade, sssadism if u SQUINT RLLY HARD.

(my love for gepard rlly shows in this im sorry. HABSGJABA 😭😭!!! some r rlly long.. ooc.. or short.. sbsndhsks HANDGSHWS i love gepard IM SORRY HES PRETTY BOY)

DAN HENG appreciated his silence and alone time, you however, could not go 5 minutes without his supervision.

While he liked to plan and execute said plan perfectly, you were reckless and went into anything head-first with worrying about the possible failures later.

And because of this, Dan Heng was protective over you. He was a gentleman after all, and he would do the same for March 7th back then, so it's no surprise he'd do it for you now. Especially with your tendencies to get yourself into unnecessary fights.

It aches his heart, you know? Having to see your wounds and bruises as he patches you up. But you've made a compromise to give him the equivelant amount of kisses equal to the bandages he put all over you. (and there were A LOT)

Even if you make him worry 24/7, he'll still love you. It's not bad to have a chance of pace after all.

JING YUAN is a man with many routines, calm and collected, with many worries on his shoulder.

You were more outgoing, a trailblazer who rode the express and were the one helping people with their worries.

He was always surprised with how helpful you really were in your first meetings, not that he doubted your abilities, but didn't expect someone to be able to do his asks as well as you did.

What didn't surprise him was how he fell for you, the way your heart was always pure and gold, and you lived a life to protect and help others.. he admired you. You were his inspiration, his muse, to be a General with that kind of care for his people.

When you two decided to date, Jing Yuan had to get used to your impulsive actions. He was always used to doing the same thing everyday, but with you? He found himself doing 50 other things before the next part of his schedule.

Not that he minded, he likes the excitement, and he really really likes you.

GEPARD, the Silvermane guards leader, falling for his sisters co-performer.

He LOVED to watch you perform or practice, Serval always saw him with such a love-struck smile, head resting on his hand as he sat and watched his sisters and you practice. She'd tease him about it afterwards, calling him loverboy and such, but he never confirmed nor denied her teasing about him liking you.

Sometimes the guards would hear him humming your part of a song or the general tune of a melody you play, considering how much he watched you, it was no surprise that you were stuck in his head like a popular song.

He quite literally, loved you like a love song, because it's ALL he ever listened to. He'd be in bed, white shirts and shorts, his arm covering his eyes as he listens to the CORNIEST love song and smiles while doing so because he thinks of you.

When you two started dating, he was quick to realize your differences. He was a leader, an intimidating figure, and had goals and missions he swore on his life to constantly follow and pursue even outside of work hours.

You on the other hand, unless you're onstage, you're pretty shy. Not really standing out in a crowd when you're in your civilian clothing, and you liked it that way. Almost like you lived a different life from your almost idol-like persona.

Gepard did find it incredibly cute though, how you'd have an explosive personality infront of a crowd. But with him? You were at the mercy of his soft kisses and his chuckles as your face turns warm from fluster.

SAMPO was the COMMON ENEMY between the Overworld and Underworld.

Okay, maybe a bit of an exaggeration. But YOU?? Natasha's sweetest nurse and sibling?? with the likes of HIM??

He was a liar, seemingly the type to decieve people who put their trust in him, only to repay them randomly out of nowhere with random treasure maps or save them from tight situations. It seemed like any suspicious activity was ALWAYS tied to him.

You, on the other hand, worked with your sister in her clinic. Often times praised for your kindness and patience, how amazing you were with children and people in general. Nobody would've expected that you fell for him, hell, he didn't expect it either.

But you saw that somewhere, in that heart of his, he truly did care about his friends and loved ones. Somewhere buried in his rather annoying antics, were the intentions of someone who was just worried for the others well-being. He proved it to you when he caught you crying in a dark alley, wiping your tears as you were so tired and overworked. He listened to you for hours on end, and he got to see a side of you that you didn't show to people, and vice versa. You saw the side of him people thought they'd die to see exist.

WELT YANG was always rather serious at times, with his status and achievements, people expected it of him.

You were his closest companion, one of the few he had left from his journey, but you were also his partner. Despite being just about his age, you were so calm, so gentle. Compared to his seemingly stern nature.

You loved plants and flowers of the such, always telling Welt about the newest one you learnt from a new planet on each expedition through the galaxy. You warmed his heart with how you spoke, explaining each and every plant with such detail. He loved it whenever you spoke, 'music to his ears', he'd tell people. Anyone would be enamoured with your voice and way of speaking, he admired your intelligence, but more importantly, he admired you.

BLADE.. with Kafka's partner in crime?

Kafka can't say she's surprised, hell, she'd love you too. But the pairing was rather odd.

Blade was monotone, cold. His stare as sharp as daggers, and could care less about those he hurt.

You, on the other hand, found immense joy in hurting others. A wicked smile on your face whenever you're permitted to do so towards anyone who dare stand in their way.

Whenever you two would kiss, the difference once again shows. You're clearly enjoying it, but Blade's expression is blank. But I guess don't judge a book by its cover? As the kiss he initiated is passionate and intimate, he's enjoying it I promise, he just doesn't show it.

Either way, you're both stuck babysitting Silverwolf most of the time. Oh well, more time with him.

#giggled & twirled my hair at gepards part #— hsr recs.

[userheng]

official art from honkai: star rail ❛ in the sweltering morning sun ❜

wallpaper set here

#so pretty #— hsr.

[userheng]

all honkai star rail posters at administrative district. this is so hilarious i love them 😭.

#PLS I #— hsr

[userheng]

♡ navi ♡

nene | she/her | 21 | an absolute noob of a writer

just a casual writing blog made for the purpose of sharing my brainrot

I write both sfw/nsfw

main: @ne-nene-ne

! CHECK BEFORE FOLLOWING/INTERACTING !

Regular requests are CLOSED -> be sure to check request guidelines first

current event: lyneira's 18+ mini event: Your Sweet Boyfriend! [CLOSED]

lyneira's 1.2k milestone event [CLOSED / requests are still being worked on]

m.list / fandoms I'll write for

Blue Lock

Twisted Wonderland

JJBA (Parts 1-5, especially Part 5)

Genshin Impact

Jujutsu Kaisen

Obey Me!

Honkai: Star Rail

-

lyneira's old junk (a category for my old writing)

#so excited to read !! #— genshin recs

[userheng]

Some genshin men flustered cause why not!

Creator is dani.jaci(these were on tiktok)

Enjoy the rest of your day/night<33

#— art.

[userheng]

☆ 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗵𝗼𝘁𝗼 - ,, 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼

summary: satoru gojo has been your best friend for the past 14 years. when he suddenly finds himself taking care of a kid, your relationship twists and turns into something far more romantic.

warnings: fem!reader , slow burn , mutual pining , angst , suggestive (nothing explicit but things are implied) , mentions of death , violent imagery , reader deals with a lot in this fic , gojo is sweet tho !! not proof-read word count: 15.8k (kill me now.) a/n: this fic has been in my drafts for a year now and it's honestly such a mess but i've written it and i'm happy with it (kind of) so the fact that it's such a jumble barely bothers me anymore !! special thanks to the glue song by beabadoobee for helping me through this

“i love you,” he says, lips curled into a pout that makes you scrunch your nose in disgust. 

you press the heels of your palms to your eyes, sighing deeply, “no you don’t.”

“but i do!” and his voice gets louder, which only coaxes the already forming headache behind your eyes to grow. “so you should get your notes out for me.”

“what do you know about love anyway?”

it’s muttered just under your breath and you hope gojo didn’t catch it, isn’t able to read into the bitterness laced along each word. you slam your laptop shut, standing up abruptly. gojo follows suit.

“i’m not digging up my anthropology notes from two years ago just so you can cheat.”

his hopeful expression drops in an instant, hands flying forward to grab onto you, “no! don’t you want me to pass? don’t you love me?”

and what about you? what do you know about love?

you know that it’s difficult. there isn’t a need for any profound thinking, any nuance, for you to believe that. you know it’s true because you’ve lived it—because you are living it. you don’t have to have said “i love you,” once in your life, to know your way around the trials and tribulations that come with pesky emotions. (emphasis on pesky emotions that call for intimacy).

you know that love hurts. perhaps, it’s the lack of control that makes love so painful. while beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, those who behold can’t choose who they wish to admire. it happens unexpectedly, like the changing tides: waves of emotion crashing down at once and pushing you off kilter. 

you know that love is uncertain, a gamble. it’s the lack of promise love can give. while you may love someone with everything you have, devote yourself to them, prioritize them—they might never see you as anyone other than a friend. sometimes, you might be a best friend. oftentimes, it’s never anything more than that.

and yet, love is such a beautiful thing. it bleeds warm, saccharine sweet like spoonfuls of honey, and fills you with the greatest happiness. tingles at your fingertips where they touch, shivers down your spine when they stare, butterflies erupting in your stomach when they speak. your skin growing warm and your smile stretched wide—that was the beauty of love.

but how can something so precious be so utterly disheartening? 

“no,” you roll your eyes, walking away from your best friend, unsurprised when he scrambles after you. “i don’t love you.”

you don’t mean it at all.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

you sigh a great deal in your life, but none of them compare to the way your chest heaves when you find yourself doing something you know you’ll regret. it’s never a shock that these regretful choices often accompany a certain white-haired man.

the pitch black darkness of your room is pierced by a beam of bright light from your phone screen, your tired eyes reading over the message once. twice. three times.

gojo 🤑: hey can i ask for a favor? pleaseeeeee?????? 🙇‍♂️🙏🙇‍♂️🙏🙇‍♂️🙏 im begging you 😫😫

you groan, tossing your phone to the side to run your hand down your face, letting your fingers catch on the soft skin around your eyes. despite the many years you’ve known him, your hand still trembles as you type out your response, another sigh escaping your lips.

you: what the fuck is it now

the urge to slam your head into the nearest wall makes your neck twitch, the ghost of the movement lingering over your body. why did you even bother asking?

gojo 🤑: i knew you’d say yes 😁 you just love me SO much come to my place tomorrow early too better be there before sunrise

you:  i’m going to kill you for this one satoru 

setting down your phone, you will yourself to close your eyes and forget about the man who’s been the cause for all your inner turmoil lately.

to be honest, he’s been the cause of your inner turmoil for the past year and a half, as pathetic as that may be. it’s not your fault he’s handsome, charming, funny, reliable—the list goes on. sure, he can be slightly immature at times, and he often shies away from commitment, but who doesn’t have flaws, right?

you squeezed your eyes shut even harder, trying to clear your mind of all things gojo.

the thing with love is that, at its worst, it can stay a secret for years and years to come. you can pine and yearn for someone so terribly, every fiber in your body craves them, and they would never know. you never have to tell them anything. that choice alone is what has put you in your recent predicament.

if life was black and white, perhaps you could have stopped being friends with him the moment you noticed the way your heart raced at the mere thought of him. but things don’t work like that and, frankly, you think gojo would hunt you down if you even tried to cut him off.

you’ve tried to rid yourself of this 190cm lanky demon several times over the course of your life, however you’ve been unsuccessful every single time. when you met him 14 years ago, you didn’t think satoru gojo would become your best friend. in fact, you found him annoying, like a pesky mosquito that refused to leave you alone no matter how hard you swatted at him.

the two of you had your fair share of fights growing up, some lasting mere hours, others stretching on over the course of a couple days. despite that, you both managed to make up and forgive each other no matter what. 

you had believed then, as a hurting teenager, that one of your more serious arguments would eventually drive you both apart. after all, the similarities between you both were few and far between. for some reason entirely unknown to you, your scathing words never pushed him away.

and now that it's been 14 years, you’ve grown too fond of him to be able to imagine a life without him. 

so, you’re forced to swallow back the way your feelings crawl to the back of your throat when you’re with him, resting at the tip of your tongue, because you know he’d never see you as anything more than a friend. 

hell, it was obvious. the two of you have done everything you could possibly do as a couple: go on amusement park “dates”, spend hours in the arcade together. he’s even insisted on cuddling, changing in front of one another, sharing a bed. yet, gojo has never seemed to look at you any differently. 

and none of it ever bothered you either—until last year, when you saw him in a different light nearly overnight. in comparison to all else you had done with him, this was absolutely minuscule, but it's the reason gojo takes up so much of your thoughts even now. 

you had come over to his apartment. it was a saturday and every saturday, he insisted the both of you hang out. when you met him as a dumb little kid, it was easy to hang out whenever you both pleased. things are obviously different now that you both have responsibilities. 

being busy with university and your part-time job, you and gojo began to see less and less of each other. still, saturday evenings stayed dedicated to your long-standing friendship. that day, your shift at the grocery store was particularly grueling: loud babies wailing, irritable customers screaming in your face. to top it all off, you had a headache and had to skip lunch. safe to say, you were exhausted. 

you got to gojo’s house, knocking on the door, almost falling asleep against the wood. he didn't greet you. in fact, he wasn't even home. this wasn't uncommon, you simply pulled out your spare key and walked inside, making a beeline for his couch and letting your body sink into the soft cushions. the guy was unbelievably rich for a university student—not that you were complaining. 

you wanted to stay awake, wait for him so you could follow through with your usual saturday shenanigans, but you just couldn’t. 

the couch was awfully comfortable, cradling your fatigued body, lulling you to sleep. your eyes fought against the instinct to close, but ultimately, you lost and gave in. darkness enveloped you as your head fell back. it was a rather uncomfortable position, but at that moment, you didn’t have enough energy to care. 

you fell asleep in mere minutes, and because he has the worst timing, gojo showed up seconds after you had bid goodbye to consciousness. 

to this day, you’re still unsure if you had dreamt it, or maybe you had jolted back into a state of semi-awareness when your noisy friend barged in with a loud, “honey! i’m home!". what you’re sure of, is the fact that he had moved you. while drifting in and out of sleep, you felt his cold hands press into the muscle of your arms as he laid you down, moving you into a much more comfortable position. 

perhaps you were still in the throes of deep sleep, sinking into pillowy clouds in your dreams and that’s why you conjured up this moment. it might not have happened at all. or…perhaps gojo did lean over you, his warmth spilling over your cheek as he pressed his lips to your forehead. they were slightly chapped as they brushed against your skin, and you felt the gust of air as he sighed his goodnight.

you wonder if he had smiled. 

it wasn’t like gojo had never been affectionate with you before. in fact, you’re pretty sure physical touch is one of his love languages with how prone he is to clinging onto you like some parasite. some things, like forehead kisses, are strictly outside the bounds of your friendship.

there’s something so intimate about that gesture, something far more genuine and laced with a kind of devotion that never exists between people who are simply just friends.

the following morning, you wrenched yourself out of his apartment with the excuse that you had to feed your fish. you don’t even own fish. 

the feeling had been so utterly foreign. you couldn’t remember a time when you had ever felt this nervous around gojo—your palms sweaty, a tingling feeling racing up and down your spine. the realization dawned on you the moment you had woken up.

this feeling, which had laid dormant at the bottom of your heart, flickered to life, merging with the very blood that pumps through your veins.

maybe, gojo had always been more than just a friend. more than a best friend, even. 

you don’t know how to face it—the truth about your feelings. you try and fail to move on, try and fail to confess, try and fail.

which is why it wasn’t surprising in any sense that you were awake, before the sun had even graced your city, slipping on your shoes so you could go and see what your best friend wanted from you. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-

“you have a what?”

gojo snorts, rolling his eyes, “why’d you say that like i asked you to get naked or something? listen: i have some errands to run and i need you to look after this kid of mine.”

you’re struggling to wrap your head around everything he just laid onto you. even if the only new information was that he, seemingly overnight, got himself a kid. how did satoru gojo end up with a child in his care?

you sputter, trying to come up with something to say. “since when did you have a kid?”

“i adopted him a few days ago, saved him from some family stuff. anyways, can you look after him or not?”

you really hate yourself for saying yes, but you say yes, and suddenly you’re sitting on the couch with the world’s grumpiest child next to you. it’s been a few minutes since gojo’s left to do god knows what, and neither of you have said a word. you expected megumi to get off the couch and go do his thing, while you figure out how to look after him, but he stayed glued to the spot gojo called him to.

“so…how old are you?”

silence. 

“i’m twenty-two, just like satoru.”

more silence.

you probably wouldn’t have known his name had it not been for gojo telling you. 

you sigh—he clearly doesn’t like you. it stings a little bit, you liked to tell yourself that you’re the type of person kids naturally gravitate towards, but clearly there are exceptions. 

“what’s your…favorite color?” you try once more, and again, it’s met with silence. the boy hasn’t even looked at you, staring straight ahead, preoccupied with something else. 

“well, mine is probably blue. i think it’s such a nice color—like the ocean and the sky. and there’s so many shades, but lighter blues are especially gorgeous,” you ramble, feeling a bit embarrassed. 

he lets out a breath through his nose, and you perk up, waiting for his response. “i like pink. do you like blue because it reminds you of gojo’s eyes?”

you laugh, perhaps a bit too loud. out of all the things he could have said, you certainly weren’t expecting that. 

waving your hands in front of you, you try to shrug off his question, “no, it’s nothing like that! he’s just my best friend.”

megumi nods, but something tells you he doesn’t believe you. you can’t believe you got bested by a six-year-old. shaking your head, you interrogate him some more about his hobbies, and megumi responds with one word answers. eventually, the two of you settle on reading him some non-fiction book that you’re surprised even interests him.

as the hours stretch on, megumi warms up to you a little more. or something like that. he’s started asking you more about yourself, and even let you inside his room, showing you his growing collection of books about animals. 

he’s strangely interested in your relationship with gojo: asking how you two met, why you wanted to be friends with him. whenever you give him your answer (some bullshit you make up on the spot because—really. why are you still friends with an idiot like him?), he hums like he’s learned some fundamental truth about you. 

honestly, the kid scares you a little bit and it makes perfect sense that he ended up with satoru gojo as his parent. 

speaking of: the fact that gojo was even allowed to adopt him in the first place makes you question everything you ever knew about him. then again, there’s always the possibility that this was by no means a legal adoption. he did say megumi was saved from some family troubles, and knowing your best friend of several years, this very well entails kidnapping. 

you furrow your brows, looking over at the six-year-old doodling some large fluffy dogs, “did gojo just scoop you up off the street?”

“something like that.”

well. that’s alarming. 

when gojo gets back, he doesn’t really offer you much of an explanation as to how or why he suddenly has a kid. you were naive for thinking you would get one at all. instead, he tucks megumi into bed, sits you down at his dinner table, and shares some of the takeout he brought home with you. 

you expected that to be the last time you’d be babysitting megumi.

but then you’re back in two days, and then the day after that as well. and then the day after that too. 

now, you’re a good friend who loves helping out your friends, and you’re a good samaritan who will provide your aid where it’s needed. in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t even that terrible of an arrangement. you could definitely live like this.

but then it’s been a week of being called to babysit, and you definitely can’t live like this.

you don’t have the heart to look gojo in the eyes and tell him you can’t do this anymore, so you keep going. love makes people do crazy things, even if it’s ignoring pending assignments so you could color dogs with a grumpy little boy.

you rub the sleep out of your eyes, yawning as you get dressed, “why don’t you get an actual babysitter? i doubt i’m being a good influence.”

of course, your academics are your top priority. but you can’t help but think about how megumi might turn out if the only people he seems to be surrounded by are you, and your impulsive, borderline insane best friend. 

gojo’s voice crackles over the phones as he laughs, “you see, i would. but megumi keeps asking for you- actually, he insists that it has to be you.”

maybe, you’re just being dramatic. this isn’t that bad anyways. 

this time when you step into the gojo household, your beloved best friend already has one foot out the door. normally, he lingers, giving you both sickly sweet goodbyes, scooping up a struggling megumi into his arm to plant a big wet kiss on his cheek. 

he offers you one too, which you quickly decline. 

“i won’t be back until really late today,” satoru grimaces, pulling the door shut only for you to pull it back open.

you pout, slightly alarmed, “but satoru, i have an essay to work on!”

“just use my laptop!” he shouts as he runs off. you wonder how he has the time to do any of his own assignments. 

you figure he’s probably out meeting with his model UN group. it’s one of the few academic pursuits in his life that gojo is very serious about. either that, or he actually took up the tutoring offer from nanami (but you highly doubt that).

megumi has yet to wake up, so you go on a hunt for gojo’s laptop to start on your essay. might as well be productive while you have the chance to. 

you find it resting on his desk in his bedroom, and bring it over to the living room. it’s only when you open it up that you find out it’s password locked. you try texting gojo, but something tells you he won’t be responding. 

if you can’t guess the password, then you have to begrudgingly start your essay on your phone, which sounds like a nightmare.

your first guess is his own birthday. satoru has a habit of acting like his birth reset the course of planet earth, so it wouldn’t surprise you if that was also his password. surprisingly, you’re wrong. and you’re wrong about it being geto’s birthday, or megumi’s birthday (which you only learned recently), and even your own birthday. 

you’ve definitely ruled out the possibility of it ever being nanami’s birthday, which leads you to believe it isn’t a birthday at all. bringing your hands together, you steeple your fingers and bring them under your chin; trying to think like gojo is hurting your brain.

clearly this isn't working out. gojo's an enigma and trying to put yourself in his shoes is making you lose what few brain cells you've managed to save. 

so, you make your way into his poorly guarded room.

you tend to keep a safe distance away from his bedroom for obvious reasons—lord knows what gojo has lying around—so it feels strange to open the door and step inside. 

your first impression is one of surprise at how clean it was. knowing his tendency to leave many of his chores untouched or half-completed, you expected his room to be a reflection of his laziness, but you can actually see the floor. his bed is made and his dirty clothes lay in a hamper in the corner, clean clothes folded and placed off to the side on his bed. 

his desk is a tad cluttered with random trinkets, many of which you recognize from your countless adventures with him, but it’s organized enough.

“okay, if i was satoru, what would i make my password?” you whisper just under your breath as your eyes continue to scan and scrutinize his room. 

you walk up to a few post-it notes stuck on the wall, hoping that one of them might be his password. you remember the amount of times gojo’s gotten locked out of his email, social media, and other things—it would only make sense for him to write passwords down.

unfortunately for you, all of them are reminders to take out the trash. 

pulling out the chair tucked into his desk, you take a seat, sprawling out as you continue to take in his room. growing up, you spent hours upon hours cooped up in satoru’s room. the two of you spent your time playing video games, watching tv shows you were definitely too young for, and talking about everything and nothing. 

when you got bored of his room, the both of you would do the same thing in your room. 

somewhere along the years, you stopped hanging out in each others’ rooms. you suppose it’s only natural—your bedroom goes from being a place to sleep to a clear insight into the way you live your life. 

gojo’s room lacks the mess you would’ve expected, but it’s still obviously his room from the several polaroids stuck to the wall, the kikufuku wrappers on his desk, and the growing collection of mugs accumulating on the nightstand. 

it makes you smile, despite the fact that the several mugs are nothing short of disgusting. next to them is a framed picture. you never took satoru for someone who’s sentimental, and out of sheer curiosity, you walk over to see what it is. 

your smile only widens as you realize it's a picture of you and him from when you were young. you recognize the park the two of you are at instantly: it was where you both met. you were both only just kids back then. he basically ran into you and felt guilty, so he offered to hang out with you since you apparently looked lonely. you took offense, obviously, and told him to leave you alone. 

he did not and suddenly you found yourself with a new friend. gojo forced himself into your life and after a few short days, you decided he wasn’t all that bad. the picture was taken by his mom, before the both of you parted ways, only to immediately find out you lived across from each other.

you flip the frame over, surprised to find a date scribbled in the corner. from the year alone, you figure it was the day the picture was taken. realizing you may have stumbled across his password, you rush back to his laptop to try it. 

lo and behold, it worked.

you sit there for a moment, desperately trying not to read into what you just found out. surely, there’s nothing more to this than satoru choosing a date for a password. he probably didn’t want to go with a birthday since it would be too obvious, so he picked another date instead. 

shaking the annoyingly hopeful thoughts crowding your mind, you quickly begin working on your essay.

you only get halfway through your essay before megumi joins you, silent as always, but from the way he’s side-eyeing you it’s obvious he wants your attention. you spend the rest of the day with him as you usually would, reading and drawing, sharing bits and pieces about your life.

somehow the conversation spirals to when you and gojo met, and you’re not sure if you’re still hung up over his password, but you find your voice shaking a little as you recount the many things you’ve done with him.

eventually, as the sun begins to set, you get dinner ready and eat on the couch with megumi by your side. some random cartoon show is playing on tv, but megumi seems much more interested in mimicking the way you’re forking pasta into your mouth. 

he helps you clean up, and shuffles in next to you on the couch once more. you don’t remember megumi falling asleep, or when you fell asleep as well.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

when you wake up, you're surrounded by warmth. it feels like you're sinking into something akin to moist, spongy cake. the sunlight melts over your closed eyes, and you flutter them open, blinded by white very briefly as you get used to the daytime once more. 

and then you notice gojo laying next to you, elbow pressed into the mattress as he holds his head up with his palm, obviously shirtless and staring down at you. all the air in your lungs escapes you quickly, getting tangled in your throat as you choke. 

you frantically point at his torso, and the bed the two of you were sharing, "what- you- what?"

he laughs and it does little to calm you, "don't worry, we didn't do anything.

“i didn't want to leave you on the couch after i pried megumi away to send him off to school."

he shrugs off the comforter, making your thrashing heart slow down at the sight of his sweatpants. you can feel your own clothes from last night on you: your uncomfortable jeans and an old cotton and polyester t-shirt. 

you frown, following him, "megumi goes to school?"

"yeah?" he says, while your eyes flit all over his chest. "he's six, what else would he be doing?"

you decide not to comment on the fact that megumi hasn’t been attending school for the past couple days, trusting that gojo knew what he was doing. that’s probably a mistake but it’s not your problem to worry about. 

the two of you file out of his bedroom, and you scroll through your phone while waiting for him to leave the bathroom. 

"i can't believe megumi slept with you last night. and on top of that, he was clinging onto you like a dumb koala."

you could barely understand gojo with his toothbrush shoved in his mouth, but you could make out enough to respond with a smug smirk, "sorry that i'm better at this than you are."

"i'm telling you—it's the maternal instincts!" he huffs, walking back into the bathroom with the slam of the door. "do you have any idea how hard it was to pull him away from you in the morning?"

he's yelling from inside the bathroom, and you roll your eyes as he keeps complaining. 

"i basically got in my morning work out! and then-!" he starts again, this time opening the door, wiping his face with a small towel, "that little shit had the audacity to start wailing when i carried you off to the bedroom

"whining about how you were his or whatever," gojo trails off, his voice getting quieter as he begins to mumble. "as if i didn't know you first."

you feel your chest tighten as your heart swells; it's surprising how quickly you've grown attached to the little kid. for all his efforts, he was actually pretty clingy.

a laugh bubbles up your throat, the corners of your mouth twitching up with amusement as you come to a realization.

"gojo...are you jealous of a little kid?"

he gives you an incredulous look, scoffing in offense, "gojo? you mean satoru—first of all."

the laugh you've been holding back bursts past your lips, escaping you as you shut the door in his face. 

"second of all," he shouts, "no. i am not jealous of some kid!"

"i beg to differ!" you call out, and he doesn't respond. you enjoy the silence: this feels good. this feels domestic, and natural, and good. 

it makes your stomach twist when you realize that gojo is nothing more than a good friend. and he'd never see you as anything more than that. 

"what do you want for breakfast?" he asks suddenly, and you clear your thoughts. 

"nothing, coffee is fine."

"okay, no. i’m making waffles," he hums and you can hear him walk away, his footsteps making the ground shake. 

you go about your business in the bathroom, exiting a few seconds later to meet gojo in the kitchen. he's busy gathering ingredients, setting everything down onto the marble counters as he hums a song you recognize as one you introduced him to. 

leaning against the cool counter, you begin to speak, "you know the heart attack you gave me today morning?"

he responds by turning around, giving you a wolfish grin, which you pointedly ignore. 

"why didn't you leave me on the couch anyway?"

this was the first time gojo has ever made an effort to pick you up and move you somewhere else, let alone his own bed. you've slept over multiple times before, and always woke up on the couch. 

he stills, hesitating for a moment and you can feel the air almost pause. 

"and what? leave you to complain at me about how you slept weird?"

he brushed off the question, both you and him know that. but you let it go, opting for admiring your best friend, and crush, work the kitchen. 

gojo isn't the best cook, certainly not better than you, but he can hold his own. that being said, gojo's a messy cook and always leaves the kitchen like a hurricane swept through it. 

he looks good, but then again, the moments where he looks even mediocre are few and far between. his sweatpants hang low on his hips, and the watery sun from the cloudy sky outside spreads over his back and his porcelain hair like it's meant to be shining on him at all times. 

you come around the side of the kitchen, hoisting yourself up onto the counter gojo was working on, allowing your gaze to settle on the curve of his nose and the way his lips were parted with focus. his eyes seem to take on an almost mystical glow—vivid cerulean irises flitting from the different bowls laid out in front of him. 

"take a picture, princess, it'll last longer," he mutters with a ghost of a smirk. 

"you're so annoying."

his boisterous laugh takes up the whole room, and you bite your lip, looking down at your swinging feet. 

he calms down and pours the batter into the warmed up waffle maker, tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth with focus, "you know, it took megumi weeks to warm up to me. he's not shy but...he's kind of picky with people."

this surprises you. 

sure, when you first met him, megumi wasn't the kindest. but it didn't take you long to break him out of his shell. he wasn't the most talkative, but it was the little things: when he leaned into your side while you sat beside him, when he mimicked the way you had eaten. 

megumi is observant and mimicry is the sincerest form of flattery. 

"i hadn't noticed..." you finally say, trailing off. 

gojo exhales something of a laugh, "that's because he loves you."

"i think 'love' is pushing it-"

"no, no! you should've seen him today, bitching and moaning about how i'm making him leave you."

he rolls his eyes with a groan, muttering to himself in annoyance. 

you smirk, pointing at his face to make a quip about him rolling his eyes, when someone begins to bang on the front door. 

there's a quick, rapid succession of knocks, and then: "satoru! where are you?! you have class!"

you don't give gojo the chance to speak before you're jumping off the counter, rushing over to open the door. 

geto stands with his hands shoved in his pockets, brows furrowed until he realizes it's you who's opened the door, and not his perpetually tardy friend. 

"y/n, nice to see you," he smiles, bending down to meet your gaze. you flush, involuntarily. 

though your affection may lie with gojo, geto was still every bit as charming, and then some. 

you move out of the way, giving him the space to step into gojo's lavish flat. his sneakers squeak against the tile of the entrance as he stops next to you. 

"good to see you too, suguru," you grin back, wrapping your arms around your waist. 

he shuffles a bit closer to you, and you don't hesitate to lean against him, suddenly tired. geto moves with ease as he slips an arm around you, bringing you into his side. 

"i don't have class today, you know that."

gojo comes into view from around the kitchen, his eyes immediately fixating on the way suguru has you within his grasp. he visibly stiffens, eyes darkening in a way you haven’t seen before. he wears a kind of neutral look that you can’t understand.

suguru, on the other hand, simply raises an eyebrow, "are you sure about that? today is tuesday, not wednesday."

and this time when gojo stills, it's not with some unreadable expression that confuses you—it's with shock. he scrambles to pull out his phone from the pocket of his sweats, glancing at the date before letting out a string of curses. 

"c'mere," he gestures at you, then ultimately decides to pull you away, his hand closing around your wrist. 

you let gojo drag you into the kitchen, ignoring the way your skin burns at his touch, and he turns to you with an apologetic smile. he's stumbling out his words, hands gripping your upper arms as he speaks. "i can't be marked late by the professor again, or else i'm gonna be in so much trouble."

it’s beyond you why the two of you had to walk into the kitchen for him to divulge this information. and it’s certainly beyond you why gojo had let his fingers linger around your wrist, and on your upper arms. you ignore it, however, as you move towards the sleek, black keurig and turn it on.

geto walks into the kitchen then, shooing a very reluctant gojo to go get dressed. he moves over to grab you a mug for your coffee, which you graciously thank him for since gojo had a habit of leaving everything you needed tucked away in unusually high cabinets.

you set it under the coffee maker, waiting for the dark liquid to fill the cup. tendrils of steam spill out the sides of the mug, the kitchen filling up with the scent of the bitter drink. to your side, geto’s leaning against the counter, watching you with a soft smile. you meet his eyes with a curious stare, raising your eyebrows.

“something on my face, suguru?”

he laughs, warm and deep, shaking his head, “nothing at all.” he slides closer, reaching around you to grab a spoon before grabbing the creamer for you. “why’d you spend the night anyway? did that idiot bug you to study with him?”

you scoff at the thought of your ‘study’ sessions with gojo; they always devolve into the both of you watching a movie, your work forgotten on the floor. 

“nope,” you answer, pouring some of the creamer into your coffee, “i was babysitting his…kid.”

geto’s eyes widen ever so slightly, the only indicator of him acknowledging what you said. you open your mouth to say something more, but gojo comes running out of his room, jacket half-on. he eyes your closeness to geto suspiciously, before motioning for his friend to follow him with a wave of his hand. 

before they leave, gojo walks over to where you’re standing in the kitchen, grinning at you so sweetly. you know he wants something from you.

“would you– like to stay for dinner? with megumi and i?” he asks, voice just a hair above a whisper. had you not been standing so close to him, you might not have heard him at all. his expression remains sincere for a moment more before it morphs into an exaggerated pout.

“please?” he begs, dragging out the word just to irritate you.

“put that fucking pout away and i might agree.”

he takes that as a yes, pulling you into a hug that nearly spills the coffee out of your mug. “i’ll see you then,” he mumbles into your hair, arms wrapped tightly around your waist like you’d float away should he let go.

geto slams a hand against the wall, reminding gojo of his presence, “hurry it up, unless you wanna be late.”

you wave them both out, gojo blowing a kiss your way which you pretend to catch and stomp on. the action elicits a laugh from geto which earns him a shoulder punch from the taller of the two. they begin bickering as they walk away and you watch fondly, heart aching for something you know you’re never getting.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

when gojo gets back from class, he arrives with megumi in tow. the young boy stumbles inside, shrugging off his backpack as soon as he makes it in. you had let yourself in a few moments earlier, knowing gojo would be home soon. you wanted to help with dinner.

megumi notices you seated on the couch and approaches you slowly, giving you a short wave. you return the gesture just as gojo walks over to meet you both, large hands resting atop megumi’s head.

“ready for dinner?”

you nod your head, getting up, “i’m helping.”

“i figured,” he laughs, leading the way into the kitchen. you watch as he puts on the stupid apron shoko had gotten him as a gag gift a few years ago. ‘kiss the cook!’ is printed in red cursive on the front with kiss marks and red hearts around it.

gojo catches you looking at the words, leaning closer while pointing at his lips. “well? you read the apron, angel.”

you try not to put much meaning into the pet name and scoff, shoving him away. “are aprons suddenly law or something?”

“not all of them, but this one is.”

“oh yeah? and what’s so special about this one, satoru?” you ask, getting ingredients out from the fridge, the necessary produce needed for dinner tonight. 

“i said so.”

“in your dreams, dumbass.”

he grins, wide and yielding as he steps closer to where you’ve cozied up in a corner. you take a deep breath, trying to slow your heart thrashing against your ribcage. though his attention should be elsewhere, his eyes remain glued to your own. you turn around, back facing him.

it’s a precautionary measure because you’re sure that you’d make a mistake, staring at him the way you were. 

his chest presses against your back, the warmth of his body seeping through the cotton of his shirt and you can’t quite stop yourself from relaxing against him. 

“where did i put it?” he mumbles to himself, searching the cupboards above you. he doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about the fact that he’s crowding you against the counter, one arm resting on the marble countertop, caging you against him.

gojo pulls away rather abruptly, the feeling of him disappearing as soon as you had gotten used to it. “guess it’s not there after all,” he says, swiftly moving over to another cupboard to check. 

you, however, have a hand pressed to your heart, feeling it nearly beat out of your chest. 

megumi joins you both in the kitchen shortly after, and gojo brings him up to sit on some free counter space while the both of you maneuver around each other in the kitchen. you can feel megumi watching you as you hand things over to gojo, freezing when his fingers brush yours. you know he’s watching when gojo reaches around you for something, pressing himself against you.

you wait for the water in the pot to come to a simmer, softly humming the chorus of a song over and over again. eventually, megumi picks up on the repetition, humming along with you. it brings a smile to your face and you can’t resist pinching his little cheek. 

you’re too busy cooing at megumi (whose face has gone red from embarrassment) to notice gojo watching you both, leaning down, his cheek propped up by his arm resting on the counter. there’s a warmth in his gaze that you always seem to miss, this barely restrained desire to know you better than he knows himself.

he sighs wistfully, which gets your attention and as you turn, he’s walking closer. you let him wrap his arms around you, looking into your eyes for just a brief moment. his gaze is cloudy, like he’s wrapped up in his own head—your own pining reflected back to you. it startles you; you long to look inside his mind.

“this is really nice,” gojo hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “we should do this more often.”

you can only nod in agreement, everything you want to say sticking to the roof of your mouth, sugar exploding along your tongue like a caramel candy. 

you swallow them down, deciding to keep them to yourself for a little longer. gojo squeezes you to his chest, then untangles himself from you. you watch him get back to cooking and you wonder if his heart is also racing, the blood rushing to his head, roaring in his ears. 

there's a whisper of something painful in the back of your mind. you ignore it.

seconds ago, you were close enough to share a breath. yet, when you watch him now, you feel as though you’ll always be miles apart.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

it’s been a few days since you’ve started babysitting megumi. you fell so easily into their routine, like you were always meant to be a part of it. and when you listen to gojo complain about how megumi likes you more, you begin to believe that you were. 

you fiddle with the keys to gojo’s car as you stand just outside of megumi’s school, waiting for the hordes of children to come running out. tired mothers sit on the few benches next to the entrance, rehashing the same gossip most likely. fathers stand possessively in front of their cars, arms crossed over their chest as they wait. 

it’s cold. the wind brings a chill that sweeps over you and makes a few strands of your hair flutter, landing in a mess covering your eyes. you blow them out of the way, tapping your foot impatiently. 

megumi’s school is rather small: just one main building, single-storied. in the back, you think there’s a garden, judging by the chain link fencing colored green thanks to the growing ivy wrapped around it. 

wreathes and small christmas trees are placed strategically along the sidewalk and on the walls outside, fairy lights strung from the roof of the school. the announcement board outside features a santa claus cutout smiling joyfully. the school is covered in christmas decorations as they prepare for the upcoming holidays, only a week and a half away.

you briefly wonder what gojo’s plans are, whether he’ll be taking megumi home to his family. you highly doubt it—satoru would hate to be on the receiving end of a stream of endless questions. how was he meant to explain megumi anyway?

along with that thought, comes another: would megumi miss his family over the holidays? 

you don’t know much about the boy at all, neither megumi himself nor gojo bothered to explain his past. however, it must be a pretty stark change to suddenly be under the care of a college student, especially one as eccentric as gojo. 

the clock ticks down to a minute before the end of the school day. a large crowd of children stand waiting behind the closed gates, squealing and screaming, waving frantically at their parents waiting for them.

you hear the bell ring and the gate opens, kids flooding out like a rush of water breaking past a dam. their little legs slam against the pavement as they race for their families. you keep an eye out for megumi, knowing that he wouldn’t be the type to behave so rambunctiously. 

it doesn’t take long for you to spot the top of his head, his spiky raven hair moving slowly behind a gaggle of loud children. megumi looks around aimlessly, probably for nanami who normally picks him up. his friend next to him, a pink-haired boy, grins at him and says something you can’t make out.

he must be loud, you notice, as megumi winces from the noise. his gaze eventually makes its way to you, and you watch as recognition flashes across his features. eyebrows raised and eyes wide, megumi makes a mad dash towards you, plowing down his friend in the process.

the sight of the pink-haired boy rolling around on the sidewalk makes you gasp, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your laughter at bay. megumi slows down dramatically when you wave to him, struggling to appear indifferent to your presence. it’s insanely endearing.

“hi megumi,” you smile, reaching out a hand to brush over the unruly strands of his hair. megumi wrinkles his nose at the feeling of your fingers smoothing over his scalp, but he returns your greeting.

“hello. where’s nanami?”

the abruptness of the question barely phases you. you’re used to megumi’s bluntness.

“well…satoru forgot to tell nanami to get you today, so i showed up instead,” you answer, leading megumi towards gojo’s car. 

you barely had the opportunity to really take in this car on your way to the school, borderline speeding so you wouldn’t show up late. curse you for falling asleep for too long. everything about it screamed gojo, from the color to the model (appropriately flashy for a very flashy guy). it’s not your kind of car by any means.

you grab megumi’s backpack while he clambers into the backseat, hopping up onto the booster seat placed on the right. the bright orange flames decorating the fabric is a pretty strong indicator that gojo bought this thing without consulting megumi. handing him back his backpack, you climb into the driver’s seat.

the drive is a lot more peaceful when you’re not racing against traffic lights and skating just under the speed limit. you think of the last time you were in this car—it was too long ago for you to be able to recall.

stopped at a red light, you allow your eyes to wander a bit and explore the front dash. gojo’s placed a small cat figurine in the corner, but aside from that, his car lacks much personality. the only other decorative piece he’s got is a small keychain hanging from the rearview mirror. 

you eye it carefully, wondering why the fraying twine and colorful beads seem so familiar to you. it takes you some time to remember the bracelet you had gifted gojo years ago, in fourth grade. you had spent recess with some other friends of yours, making friendship bracelets. when you went to give gojo the bracelet you made for him, you were met with petty hostility.

he had been upset because you had ditched him, but his grievances were quickly forgotten as soon as you handed over his gift. he wore it every single day until he couldn’t anymore. when you asked about it, satoru explained that the bracelet had come apart. you weren’t surprised: he wore it way too much and that thing was holding on thanks to a flimsy knot you put together as a chubby fingered nine-year-old.

you hadn’t expected him to keep it after that, let alone turn it into a keychain to hang in his car. 

the fact that he had held onto it even after all these years makes your heart flip in a way that you know is dangerous. tightening your grip on the steering wheel, you focus back on driving. 

once you’re back in the apartment, you decide to get started on making megumi some kind of snack to tide him over until dinner rolls around. you watch him rummage around in his backpack, walking over to you with a piece of paper in his hand. 

he tugs on your apron, handing you the paper without a single word of explanation. from a quick glance, you gather that it’s a drawing and you grin, “this is so cute, megumi!”

sure, you didn’t really see it yet, but he doesn’t need to know that. you have to foster creativity in children when they’re young in any way you can, even if it means lying sometimes.

you set aside some strawberries to dice, making a mental note to put the picture up on the fridge. gojo has an abundance of random magnets from all the places he’s visited; might as well put them to good use. 

when you grab the drawing off the counter, really take a look at what’s on it, you almost can’t believe it. for a moment, you wonder if you’re simply projecting your twisted hopes onto this kid’s art piece. 

megumi’s decided to draw himself, standing with his brows furrowed, next to a very long man who you can only assume to be gojo, judging by the white hair and sunglasses. on megumi’s left, is someone in a blue sweater, shorter than gojo. it’s you.

there was clearly an attempt at drawing hands that fell apart into a jumble of squiggles but you get the idea: they’re all holding hands. at the top of the drawing, in large messy handwriting is the title.

“my family.”

megumi runs up to the counter, eyeing you carefully as you take in the drawing. you’re struck with the sudden urge to confess to gojo, convince him to make this boy’s vision a reality. you think he deserves that much.

but your heart aches in a way it never has before—filled with this dreadful yearning for a man you know will never look at you the way you look at him. 

the whispers in the back of your mind come together and someone flickers to life, like the flame appearing from a lighter.

“this is beautiful, megumi,” you whisper, sticking it onto the fridge with a magnet advertising vegas. something malicious squeezes around your lungs, digging it’s claws into your heart but you gulp back the pain. 

megumi is none the wiser, nodding in agreement and waiting patiently for you to hand him his snack. he runs off, taking a seat on the couch and you watch him eat, realizing how sickeningly domestic this whole scene is. 

you hate it. 

hours pass unceremoniously. gojo barges in with a slam of the front door, practically shouting at the top of his lungs.

“there they are, my two favorite people!” he grins, kicking off his shoes. you close your laptop, leaving it on the couch as you get up just in time to dodge gojo’s hug. he stumbles forward onto the couch where you were sitting previously.

while he grumbles about evil you are, you decide to grab the picture megumi brought home. once again, you’re struck by how domestic your actions are, and you hesitate. 

gojo, however, is already making his way over to you, holding megumi captive in his arms. “what’s that?” he asks with a nod of his head.

you turn it around, holding it up to show him and you watch carefully as his eyes flicker from person to person. his grin falls into a gentle smile, somewhat guarded, and he uses his free hand to take the picture from you.

megumi takes this opportunity to launch himself out of gojo’s grasp, scurrying off to his room. you eyes follow him as he disappears behind a wall. when you bring your attention back to gojo, he’s stepped closer to you.

his stare is intense, unwavering, and it directly contrasts with the amused smile he wears. you don’t know what to think—in fact, you can barely think at all. the air is thick with tension, it presses down on your chest until you can barely breathe. 

“it’s a perfect family, don’t you think?” he asks, his gaze softening as he looks down at the drawing. the atmosphere shifts but you still feel breathless, filled with this ache to wrap yourself around him. 

“yeah, it is,” you say, ever so quietly because you’re scared that anything louder would break this feeling. he’s so close, you could close the gap and kiss him right now. 

there’s a crash, a large stack of books laying on the floor, papers scattered everywhere. megumi stands next to it, eyes wide and terrified. his small hands curl into little fists and he takes a deep breath. “didn’t mean to. sorry.”

“it’s okay, megumi,” you reply, swiftly moving to his side. the moment is forgotten, the kiss never shared. “it was an accident.”

he nods, but he stares at you with watery eyes and your heart breaks. scooping him up and into your arms, you walk him out onto the balcony. he tries not to cry, you let him know that it’s okay if he wants to. 

gojo remains standing in the kitchen, the drawing still in his hands. he stares at it for a long while, letting his mind wander to a world where it’s more than just a little kid’s silly art piece.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

you shove the last of your shirts into your suitcase, frowning at the way it bulges out when you zip it shut. it’s the week of christmas, four days before the actual holiday, but you’re only just leaving to go back home. 

megumi’s on break, so is gojo, so you’re not really needed. you wish you were—you miss both of them.

setting the suitcase upright, you go down your checklist of things, making sure you packed everything. you still haven’t mentally prepared to see your extended family, knowing they’ll be chasing after you with questions about your dating life.

‘have you gotten a boyfriend yet?’ 

‘can we expect an engagement soon?’ 

‘any plans for kids?’

it’s all horrible and invasive and you don’t get why any of that matters to them at all. it’s your life, your choices. if you’re not bringing it up yourself, there’s no need to hound you about it every single time you see them.

your phone buzzes in your pocket from a message, and you’re unsurprised to see that it’s from gojo.

gojo 🤑: hey bbg 😳

you: kys  what do u want

gojo 🤑: what are ur christmas plans 🤔

you furrow your brows at the question, wondering why he asked at all. every single year, you always do the same thing.

you: going home…. what else would i be doing genius

gojo 🤑: LAMEEEEE i was gonna ask if u wanted to come over ig but whatever u hate me 😢😢😢

you finish off the conversation, letting him know that you do hate him, and that you need to get back to packing.

knowing his circumstances, you know that gojo is probably staying at home with megumi. he can’t exactly weasel his way out of explaining the fact that he’s managed to adopt a kid. it’s most likely why he asked if you had plans, despite knowing that you do. you know he’s probably feeling lonely—it makes your heart twist and tear. 

you fight the urge to ask him to join you as you drive home.

on megumi’s birthday, gojo proposes that you facetime him. you agree, obviously wanting to see the little boy who’s become so precious to you so quickly. the first thing megumi does upon seeing your face is frown. 

“leave your family. i don’t like gojo.”

you burst into laughter at the sight of your best friend’s face, jaw dropped in a mixture of shock and offense. gojo launches into a rant about how megumi is ungrateful, which only makes the situation funnier. 

megumi, however, finds none of this amusing.

“i love you, megumi,” you say between breaths, “happy birthday!”

“whatever,” he grumbles, but you catch a glimpse of his cheeks reddening as he runs off, leaving you with a still offended gojo.

you watch him shuffle around, propping up his phone against something. “what’s your secret, huh? what do you have that i don’t?”

“i’m just better.”

your smile must be infectious, gojo ditching his deep frown for a grin of his own. his eyes crinkle as you’re met with the whites of his teeth, cheeks bunching up. you can’t stand the effect he has on you, the way you melt into nothing the moment he looks your way.

“i guess you and megumi are just perfect for each other,” he sighs, avoiding your gaze through the call. “it’s cute.”

you’re stunned into silence at his genuine words, and your heart wrenches painfully as you picture the drawing megumi came home with. gojo ends the call quickly, telling you he’s busy. you don’t believe it but you let him leave, allowing yourself some space from him as well.

at one point, he frantically texts you letting you know that he forgot to get megumi a gift, begging for ideas. 

gojo 🤑: I CANRT FINF HIS CHRISARMAS LIADT ANWWER ME THIAS IS AN EMERGYE SOS 🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘

you:  OMFG DO U HAVE AN OFF SWITCH have u tried his room.

gojo 🤑: omg look at u my little genius 🥰

you stare at his messages, finding yourself wishing for his emoji keyboard to glitch out and break. the next text he sends you is a picture of megumi’s wish list. you’re fairly certain that megumi doesn’t believe in santa, but it’s cute that he’s written a list anyway.

they’re all fairly normal: art supplies, animal books, toys you’ve never heard of. but what sticks out is the last bullet point, written neatly. 

gojo 🤑: he wants u to be his family  quick wrap urself up with a bow and mail urself to us 🎁 u would make a cute present 😘😘😘

you disregard gojo’s texts for the time being, focused entirely on megumi’s last wish. the fact that you appeared at all is shocking, considering the fact that you’ve only known him for a little over a week. 

you: yeah i’m wrapping myself up rn

gojo 🤑: pics or it didnt happen 😋

you scoff out a laugh, typing up your response. your mind is still dwindling on the wish list, on megumi in general. he’s quickly taken up residence inside your heart and it feels good to know that you’ve been able to do the same. 

christmas passes slowly, filled with the overwhelming scent of cinnamon spice and heart-warming laughter. of course, you didn’t escape the questions from your extended family. as usual, you brushed them off, eager to get out of the only conversation they seem to want with you.

but you like christmas, and this year, it’s made better by the several pictures gojo’s been sending you of him and megumi. in one, they’re ice-skating. in another, they’re making a gingerbread house. it’s all typical christmas activities but it warms your heart and you want nothing more than to be there with them.

you expect the rest of your holiday break to slip by, nothing special or new. you debated heading home earlier, but decided against it assuming most of your friends already have their respective plans. 

you weren’t expecting gojo to invite you to his new year’s party. in fact, you weren’t expecting him to hold a party at all. as much as he likes parties, gojo’s never one to throw one, especially at his place. 

in retrospect, going was probably a bad idea. if only you knew that before you agreed. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-

this kind of party is one you’re entirely unfamiliar with.

most of the parties you’ve attended never exceeded over ten people, small gatherings of close friends clearing out their busy schedules to hang out together once again like they used to. these kinds of parties are relaxed, you don’t have to dress up, you don’t have to put up a front.

this new year’s party is the kind that coaxes you into a simple black dress, perhaps too short, perhaps too low cut. this kind of party paints your lips a dark berry color that transfers onto your cup, filled with alcohol that burns as it slides down your throat.

this kind of party plays music so loud, it crawls under your skin, seeping into your head. you feel the bass reverberate throughout your chest, forcing your heart to beat faster like adrenaline coursing through your veins.

to say you feel out of your element would be a gross understatement. everyone around you is almost a stranger, wearing features you only vaguely recognize, enough for you to shoot them a smile and a nod as a greeting. 

you examine your hands as you stand leaning against a wall, watching people dance, laugh, shout. you’ve hidden yourself away in the dark (rather pathetic, you think), not knowing how to engage and not really wanting to either. 

“i figured you’d be in some corner,” a gentle hand touches your elbow as shoko squeezes herself past a small group of people to stand next to you.

you smile at her, grateful to find at least one familiar face. “you must not know me at all, shoko, i love dancing with sweaty strangers.” your sarcasm isn’t lost on her and she lets out a laugh, taking a drag from her cigarette. 

you’re surprised that gojo even let her smoke inside, but part of you feels like he’s unaware she’s doing it at all. 

she blows out, tendrils of smoke twisting around you both, invading your senses. shoko looks at you out of the corner of her eye, somewhat relaxed, very curious. “you’re still in love with gojo?”

you blanch at her words, turning to face her though she remains, still regarding you through her peripheral. 

“you’re too easy to read,” she smiles, her posture curved, allowing her to relax against the wall. “i’m surprised you’ve gone this long without telling him.”

it’s probably the alcohol impairing your judgment, but you frown, sighing into your cup. “my alternative is losing him forever, so i can’t exactly be picky.” you don’t intend on letting her into your thoughts this way, even if it’s only a sliver of the way you feel. 

it would’ve been better to brush her off with a joke. shoko doesn’t seem to care, humming, “ i don’t know, i think you’d be in for a surprise.”

“well, i hate surprises.”

time flies by but the night remains young. you’ve loosened up a bit thanks to the alcohol, laughing freely, no longer worried about your attire. your two person party in the corner steadily grew, nanami and geto joining you after some time. 

gojo is still missing, but you suspect he’s out being a good host.

you’ve laid your head on shoko’s shoulders, laughing at nanami recounting stories from the tutoring he’s been busy with. geto stands to your left, reaching out a hand towards you whenever you stumble slightly. 

your cup is empty and you make no moves to fill it again, not wanting to exit the good conversation you’re having. you like hearing nanami talk about his work, hearing shoko complain about her lab partner, and hearing geto’s jokes. 

the four of you decide to get some food in an attempt to sober up. it’s then that gojo finally shows up. the crowd parts for him like he’s someone important. thanks to the effects of the alcohol wearing off, you can tell it’s because he’s shouting his way through the crowd. 

“why are you losers hiding from the party?” he asks, shooting shoko a glare when she takes a drag of her cigarette. she simply blinks at him, making no move to throw it out. 

“not hiding,” you respond, opening your mouth to bite down on the slice of pizza geto’s trying to feed you. “just eating.” your words come out muffled thanks to the food. geto shuffles his chair closer to your side.

gojo lets his gaze settle on you, lips slightly parted as his eyes wander, taking in your dress and your half-opaque lipstick. you think you see his eyes widen, you can’t be sure. you think you see him almost gulp. you can’t be sure. 

gojo reluctantly tears his stare away from you, watching his friend closely, jaw clenched. his anger is only invisible to you, the sight causing shoko to laugh (she marvels at your idiocy often). he grabs a chair and pushes it up right next to yours on the opposite side, arms crossed. 

he sits silently, glaring at you and geto, though you hardly notice. you’re too engrossed in whatever story geto’s telling you. he reaches over to brush some hair out of your eyes; gojo stands up abruptly, his hand wrapping around your wrist.

“actually, i have some important news to tell you,” he says, words short and succinct as he drags you away from the table. 

you’re too confused to stop him from pulling you all the way to the hallway that opens up into his bedroom. it’s only then that you wriggle free from his grip, staring at him, wondering what his problem is.

“what’re you–”

your back is pressed against the wall, he stands a few steps in front of you. he’s breathing hard and his eyes are blown wide and you wonder who this man is—the worry creasing his forehead makes him seem lightyears away from the satoru you know. 

“can i ask you a question?” he asks, the sentence stumbling out of his mouth like he wasn’t quite ready to say it. gojo doesn’t give you the chance to answer him, already talking once again. 

“do you like suguru?” he asks, taking a few steps closer, until he’s a hair’s width away from you. 

the question is so out of left field, you’re forced to take a moment and process it. gojo’s gaze hardens at your silence, and you stave off the urge to make a joke out of this situation. uncertainty makes your stomach churn—you’ve yet to see your best friend like this.

there’s a crease between his brows, lips downturned but not quite a frown. his words still hang heavy in the air, broken jealousy rearing its ugly head. his hand loosens around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull away.

you take a deep breath, feeling like you’ve taken in all the air left between you and him. “no. no, i don’t,” you whisper, heart beating so fast you almost expect the muscle to burst within your chest. 

your admission makes his shoulders drop, the tense atmosphere almost melting away altogether. gojo tightens his fingers around your wrist once more, bridging the gap between you both. he hovers above you, his free hand placed against the wall as he cages you against it. 

despite the years you’ve known him, sometimes you find it so hard to read him, understand his motivations. gojo leans close, his breath fanning over your lips. 

“so you just really like being mean to me,” he mutters and you furrow your brows, gnawing at your bottom lip. 

“i haven’t said one mean thing to you all night, satoru,” you say quietly, eyes downcast, avoiding his attentive stare. his eyes, as blue as the sky, still shimmer in the dark and you watch from beneath your lashes as they shift to a dulled luster. 

gojo drops his head into the crook of your neck, you can feel his lips move against your skin as he speaks, “there’s more than one way to be mean.” 

your breath is caught in your throat. he’s running his nose up your neck, smearing a kiss below your jaw. your lack of resistance only emboldens him further and he kisses the same spot once again.

and you let him, gulping back the unpleasant feelings that float to the tip of your tongue because who are you to ruin this? on another night, you might have untangled yourself from him, walking away and creating necessary distance between you both.

but he’s exactly where you want him, where you’ve been longing for him. 

so tonight, you simply mutter his name in warning, your voice cracking softly as he slides his hand around your waist. his touch burns, it's as though the material of your dress simply doesn’t exist under the weight of his palm. 

gojo presses his mouth to your ear. when he speaks, he sounds so resigned, almost like the woman that sits in your mind, taunting you with the possibility of everything unraveling. she licks at your wounds and her breath burns.

“i feel so…stupid when it comes to you,” he rasps out, pulling you closer. “you drive me crazy and i don’t know what to do–” he cuts himself off before he gets too deep into his rambling. anticipation steadily rises up your chest, higher and higher and higher.

“it’s always been you,” gojo says, letting you see his face once more. he leans over you, simply staring, the loud music fading away until it’s nothing but a beat behind the incessant thrum of your heart. 

the woman makes herself apparent, hiding just behind your eyes, her words piercing your skin.

you gather the courage to really look at him, ignoring the way the woman in your head sighs, telling you it’s not worth it—telling you it’ll hurt. she tells you it’s only going to ache, and tear, and rip apart. you shake her away. his eyes have you trapped in them, drowning in his blue, your hands wrinkling the fabric of his shirt. he doesn’t waver, shifting his gaze down to your lips.

“i love you,” he breathes out, his words so full of promise you nearly believe it. but then you remember where you are, you remember what you’ve been doing.

your hands rest on his shoulders, feeling the cotton material of his shirt under your fingertips. “you can’t mean that,” you reply in a whisper. 

the woman in your head shrieks at you until her voice turns hoarse and raw. you grab the collar of his shirt, closing the gap, your lips meeting his. gojo fists the silk of your dress, creasing the material against his palm. your trembling hand brushes along his cheek and he chases after your touch, tilting his head to the side, nose bumping against yours. he’s presses you into the wall, your spine meeting the cold plaster as goosebumps erupt down your arms. 

the woman shouts, the woman regrets. the woman tells you you’re making a mistake but she’s inevitably drowned out by the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. gojo brings his hand up to your jaw, fingers squeezing desperately. his kiss is all tongue and teeth, he steals your breath away.

a fire festers in the pit of your stomach, it’s flames fueled by his touch, his warmth, everything him. it curls into a burning in your chest. insatiable greed drives gojo to take you into his arms, your feet stumbling against each other’s as you make your way into his room. 

your back hits his comforter, you pull him closer.

the woman sits silently and weeps.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

you wake up with a dull pounding behind your eyes and a painful silence inside your mind. warmth envelops you as you twist and turn under gojo’s heavy blankets—it’s reminiscent of an earlier time. 

beams of sunlight force your eyes open and you prop yourself up, elbows sinking into gojo’s expensive mattress. cradling your head in your hand, you take in your surroundings: the stark white sheets, gojo’s sleeping figure next to you.

you watch him sleep for several moments, marveling at the fact that gojo is asleep at all. he’s always had trouble with insomnia, seeing him rest so peacefully makes you smile. 

you let your gaze sweep over his face, pressed into the pillow, messy hair obscuring his eyes. his shoulders are bare, and if last time taught you anything, it’s that gojo has no problem with appearing borderline naked in front of you.

scoffing, you turn to check the nightstand for your phone, pausing when a cold draft seems to linger over your arms and chest a bit stronger than usual. a pile of fabric resting against the mahogany floors catches your eye, and you stare at it blankly before everything begins to fall into place.

your fragmented memories connect, the night floods back to you, knocking the air from your lungs.

your dress on the floor, the very obvious smear of berry colored lipstick against his jaw. your incredibly apparent lack of clothing.

panic digs into your chest. the woman comes into view once more, her unwavering gaze staring at you with contempt. she crawls out of your chest, standing before you, several heads taller.

‘you messed everything up,’ she seethes. your heart beats faster. ‘he’ll never want to see you again,’ she says, her words stinging like a slap. it becomes harder to breathe. 

you don’t stick around to see what else she has to say, grabbing your dress off the floor with shaky hands. you pull it back on messily, grabbing your phone, rushing out of his bedroom as tears cling to your lashes.

thankfully, everyone seems to have cleared out of the apartment.

you don’t allow yourself to think, opening up the front door, rushing down the stairwell until you’re standing in the lobby of his apartment building. it’s too cold—they always crank up the air conditioning even if it’s the middle of winter. 

the lady behind the desk looks at you with pity. you suppress the urge to vomit. tears stream down your cheeks, trailing along your chin before they fall. you know you must look a mess. you wonder where else you left your berry colored lips. 

you call shoko; she’s hungover when she picks up but she hears the pain in your voice and she hears you bite back your tears. she’ll be there soon, she promises and you stand, waiting. 

you sit in her car, staring out the window. she tries to make you feel better by playing your favorite songs—it doesn’t do much to help. the song reminds you of megumi. 

the thought of megumi sends you spiraling further. how can you face megumi after this? how can you face gojo? he might not remember, but you always will. you’ll always remember the warmth of his hands, the way he held you near like you were everything. 

the woman tells you you’re sick.

shoko eyes you, taking in your tear-stained face. you don’t want her pity either, digging your nails into your palm as hard as you can. she’s stopped at a red light and she reaches over to take your hand in hers.

“you have to figure out where you both stand,” she says, calm and rational as always. sometimes, you wish she could see things the way you do. you wish she could hear the woman who haunts you. 

“i know,” you whisper, closing your eyes as you lean your head back against the seat. the car starts moving again. “i don’t want to.” your stomach churns, an awful mixture of anxiety and hurt rolling up your throat. 

you slept with gojo.

you feel sick. the woman slices at you with her knives. ‘you don’t deserve him at all.’

shoko white knuckles the steering wheel. she never takes kindly to your tears, it took you a while to figure out that it’s because she cares too much to see you cry. 

“you should confess. it’ll be good for your heart and mind,” she suggests as you see your apartment come into view. you’re not ready to be left alone with the woman. the cuts from her knives are still fresh, they still bleed.

you shake your head ever so slightly. “no,” you reply, selfishness motivating your choices more than anything. “i’m going to pretend i don’t remember—i’ll act like i was too drunk to remember.”

shoko disagrees with you, and she lets you know as much as she can before you’re getting out of her car, walking towards your apartment. your dress feels too short, you tug it down. the sunlight burns your scalp and you rush indoors.

as soon as you kick off your heels, gojo texts you. your phone is nearly dead and you debate putting off responding, excusing yourself with the fact that your phone ran out of power. you grow too curious, though, and you read his message.

gojo 🤑: hey when did u get home?

the striking lack of emojis makes the text feel impersonal, far from the man you know. the woman laughs at you.

‘he hates you.’

you:  shoko picked me up 

you pause, debating whether you should add more. let him know that you don’t remember, let him know that you believe nothing happened.

you: i rly went overboard on the alcohol ig  i barely remember anything 

you watch the bubble indicating he’s typing appear and disappear. your nerves fizzle and buzz, teeth sinking into your lips until you draw blood. ‘he hates you,’ the woman whispers.

gojo 🤑: yeah me too lol

you hate it. 

you’re reading into it too much, you think, but the woman says no. her lithe fingers encircle your arms, her sadness turning you sick. you agonize over your words, agonize over his texts. you can’t face gojo. you wonder if you’ll ever be able to see megumi again.

‘you’re selfish,’ the woman sneers, watching you tremble. ‘do you think you deserve to see him?’

‘what would he think of you?’

‘you’ve lost both of them.’

‘you should’ve listened to me.’

you don’t know what to say to her. she draws her arm back and strikes you.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

the following day, gojo informs you that megumi asked for you to babysit him. 

you had decided you would say no, for your own sake. the woman agreed so it must be the right choice. but then he tells you that megumi’s insisting—that he misses you—and how can you say no?

so you sit on the couch, right next to megumi as he reads from his new book (a christmas present from gojo). he’s laying against you, his head resting against your arm. neither you, nor gojo, have said a single word to each other.

it feels wrong, this silence that fills the room. it feels heavy. it keeps its palms pressed tightly against your lips, keeping your words trapped inside. you wonder if megumi can feel it too.

reaching over, you gently brush some of his hair out of his eyes and he stills, turning around to look up at you. his eyes are wide, they waver as they flicker between you and gojo.

“did you guys fight?”

you notice the way he wraps his arms around himself, as if to soothe. he takes a long breath. megumi’s eyes widen and you realize that he’s scared.

you rush to explain, “no! no, we didn’t fight.” he doesn’t seem to believe you; gojo walks over to you both, taking a seat next to him. 

“we’re just tired, megumi,” he tells him, a hand rubbing circles into his back. you feel terrible. 

‘this is all your fault,’ the woman whispers. 

it’s silent again as gojo shuffles around, getting ready to leave for his model UN meeting. he stands at the doorway, looking at you for a moment. you can’t read him, he doesn’t explain. gojo waves goodbye and leaves.

you watch megumi read for a few minutes more, the aftertaste of the previous conversation still lingering on your tongue. he must feel your stare, looking up from his book.

“you’re my favorite person ever,” he admits, he sounds completely serious. you’re taken aback by his honesty, your heart melting as a smile tugs on the corners of your mouth. you reach forward, opening your arms out for a hug. megumi quickly wraps his arms around you.

his hands cling to the fabric of your shirt, “if you did fight with gojo, please forgive him. don’t leave.”

‘look what you’ve done,’ the woman says, the weight of her words make you feel like you’re drowning. 

“i won’t leave you,” you reply, ignoring the woman and her hurt. megumi looks back at you, holding out his pinky for you. you wrap your own around his much smaller one, “pinky promise.”

you let him rest his head against your chest, your steady heartbeat lulling him to sleep. the woman reminds you how undeserving you are of what you have. you know the woman is right. 

when gojo gets home, he asks if you’d like to stay for dinner. every single part of you wants to say yes, and it’s at the tip of your tongue, the answer is habitual. but this time, you turn him down. you can’t stay longer—you can’t be around him. you slip out the front door before you can see the twinkle in his eyes diminish until it’s gone. 

you get home, lay on the carpeted floor of your bedroom, and call shoko. she tells you to confess or die. you tell her you’d rather die.

‘it would be for the best,’ the woman snickers. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-

there’s a growing tension between you and gojo as of late, clearly the result of what happened at the new year’s party. you keep on acting as though you don’t remember the way he loved you, but it gets harder to do so the more you see him.

you can’t avoid him, you’d be breaking your promise to megumi.

everything left unsaid lingers in the distance you keep with him, and it unsheathes it’s claws, digging into you and tearing you apart. your relationship with gojo is strained. it hurts because he’s your best friend.

the woman reminds you that there’s no one to blame but yourself.

she hasn’t left you alone since the night of the party, tied to you like some kind of curse. she appears in the mirror when you criticize yourself, egging you on to say worse things. she stands by your side when you make a mistake, degrading you until you feel like nothing.

she’s having the time of her life. you just can’t get rid of her. she’s right about you.

this time, as you stand waiting for megumi, his school is decorated in a plethora of pinks, reds, and whites. valentine’s day is swiftly approaching and it fills you with a kind of bitterness you keep hidden. 

cupid’s arrows might have missed you this year, but there’s always the next.

part of you realizes that it’s your own fault, waiting for gojo to step up and say something. when that failed you, you waited for your feelings to disappear. perhaps, you should have taken some initiative, forced those feelings out of you until every last remaining bit is ripped from your heart.

your loneliness is your own doing. the woman laughs in agreement, your pain is nothing but a joke to her. her laughter, however, is hollow and doesn't meet her eyes.

megumi runs up to you as he often does, pulling you from your thoughts. the woman hides away to watch. he hands you a little heart shaped box and a card. 

“happy valentine’s day,” megumi grumbles, walking off ahead of you to get to the car. you smile down at the chocolates and the handmade card. something tender and sweet fills up your chest—you feel lighthearted. 

‘do you deserve this?’ the woman snarls, reaching out to knock your gifts out of your hands. you hold them away from her poisonous touch.

megumi holds onto your index finger as you lead him up the stairwell, up to gojo’s apartment. you’re surprised to find him inside instead of at class, like he should be. he grins at you and megumi as you both walk inside, his eyes dropping to the card and chocolates in your hand.

you watch as he stands up, stretching his arms up. his shirt rides up around his waist, you turn away faster than light.

“you got her something for valentine’s but nothing for your old man?” he asks, grabbing megumi so that he can plant a kiss on the boy’s chubby cheek.

“you suck and she doesn’t.”

“you are so cruel.”

your relationship with gojo remains rocky, but times like these still make you yearn for that domestic life. sometime in the future, you hope you get to have this. 

gojo lets megumi disappear into his room, watching you sink into the couch. he follows suit, sitting down next to you. he leaves too much space between you, like there’s an invisible wall keeping him out. 

“valentine’s day is coming up,” he says, though you don’t know what for. you want to say that you know, that it doesn’t matter to you unless you’re spending the day with him. 

“yeah, but why would i care?” you reply, laughing though the sound comes out bitter and hurt. he grins at you, tilting his head. 

“who knows? maybe you have a secret admirer.”

you stay quiet for a moment, thinking about what he had said. secret admirer or not, you’re confident it wouldn’t be the person you want. gojo has better things to do, probably has someone to see. what would he want with you?

why would he even look your way? you’re his best friend—that’s where you have remained for 14 years and it’s where you’ll remain for as long as you know him.

the woman sits to your left, reaching out her hand to smooth down your hair. her gesture appears comforting but anxiety swirls deep within you at her touch.

‘don’t let him know how you feel,’ she whispers in warning.

“so? i don’t care. i don’t like anyone right now, a secret admirer would mean nothing to me.”

“oh.”

you face him then, taking in the soft frown he wears. his jaw is clenched, brows furrowed. the blue of his eyes, your favorite blue, lacks it’s usual sparkle. his shoulders hunched over; gojo looks like a wounded animal. he looks tired. 

as soon as he notices your stare, he straightens up and gives you a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. he stays quiet for the rest of the night and you can’t help but feel it’s your fault. you remind yourself he’s tired, but the woman tells you that he must have remembered the events from the party. 

you leave his house sooner than you would have liked. gojo says goodbye with a hug, his arms squeezing your tight, pressing you to his chest until you can hear his heart beating. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-

you feel like valentine’s day crept up on you too quickly, like you had blinked and suddenly the world is celebrating their lovers. 

it’s sunny and warm, the usual chill of february replaced with a gentle breeze that feels soft against your cheek and in your hair. like it’s mother nature’s gentle caress letting you know that you’ll be fine today.

the woman stays quiet. 

you walk along the sidewalk in front of your apartment building. you had woken up today expecting something at you front door, perhaps from a secret admirer like gojo had suggested. nothing came.

it left a bitter taste in your mouth, your chest tightening, but you got over it as fast as it came. you refuse to fester in hurt, even if the woman fans the flames of your pain.

blinking up at the sun, you watch the old couple across the street walk arm in arm. the old man had gotten his wife a bouquet of her favorite flowers (you know they’re her favorite because she told you so). she’s wearing a new heart pendant around her neck. their hands remain intertwined as they head down. 

you silently plead for your chance at love. 

today, megumi’s spending the day at nanami’s house, along with a few of the kids he tutors. you’ve been absolved of your babysitting responsibilities. you miss the little boy, though.

you’re only a few minutes into your walk when you phone buzzes with a text from gojo.

gojo 🤑: ur not busy today right?????? lets go for a drive bbg 😉

you:  i wish i never met you.

you hardly mean it. rather, you’re incredibly relieved that he’s back to his usual self, using horrible emojis to spice up his texts. you hate to admit it but you missed him. 

maybe you were pathetic for spending valentine’s day with your crush, a man who remains just out of your reach. you don’t dwell on it as you climb into gojo’s car, even when the woman bares her teeth at you.

gojo plays sickeningly romantic music as he drives, making fun of you for spending valentine’s day with him instead of a boyfriend. you’re quick to remind him that he’s in the same position. he falls silent but you notice that the shine in his sky blue eyes are back. you hope, this time, that it’s here to stay. 

he parks a few feet away from a playground, the structures old and somewhat rusty. you realize that it’s the playground where you both first met each other. 

gojo runs over to your side, opening the door for you. he walks next to you, his shoulder brushing yours, your fingers aching to be held by him. you let him pull you to the spot where his mother took a picture of both of you 14 years ago. 

it’s certainly strange being back here.

you hear him take a deep breath. gojo’s facing forward, seemingly entranced by the swing-set in front of him. you don’t take notice of his shaky hands. 

“you were the prettiest girl i had ever seen,” he says finally, breathing deeply once again. “actually– i thought you were the prettiest girl in the whole world.”

“what are you talking about?” you ask with a soft laugh, utterly confused as to what he’s up to. gojo doesn’t respond, he just keeps going.

“i ran into you on purpose, if i’m being honest. i thought we could become friends and then i’d get to be around you all the time.” 

gojo reaches out his hand, hesitating as he thinks. the woman stays quiet when he takes your hand in his own. “but then you basically told me to fuck off–”

“i did not! i said go away or something.”

“thats basically what kids say when they want to say ‘fuck off’!”

he laughs, the sound warming your heart. soft tendrils of sun peek through the canopy of the tree you stand under, making him glow and shine. he appears almost ethereal. 

“i was glad we got to be friends,” he mutters, his grip around your fingers getting tighter. “but nowadays, i kind of wish we weren’t.” your heart stills and the woman opens her mouth for the first time today, conjuring up her ugly words.

“you’re still the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen,” gojo admits, his hand growing clammy but you barely notice it. “you’ll stay that way for the rest of my life—even when we’re old and wrinkly.”

“how sweet,” you grin, but it’s a front to hide the way he tugs at your heart, gentle hands keeping you in his grasp; it’s where you’ll stay for as long as he’ll have you. however, you still find yourself to be guarded, hesitant about gojo and his words.

the woman tells you it’s not what you think it is. her past misfortunes flood your mind, her sadness is contagious.

gojo finally faces you, taking both your hands in his. his eyes watch you carefully and you wonder if he can see through them, see the woman waiting inside, hurt and scared. 

“i know you said you don’t have feelings for anyone,” he starts, looking to the side. you can feel his heart beating at his fingertips. “and i’m probably the last person you want to hear this from, but i owe it to you.

“i love you,” he sighs and it feels like taking a breath of relief. gojo searches your eyes, vivid cerulean brighter than the sun itself. you reach forward, hands on either side of his face. you tremble and you shake—you can’t believe this is real.

he seems to understand, instinctively letting his hands rest against your hips. 

“love you too,” you say, unadulterated joy lighting up your chest and your eyes. your smile is blinding, cheeks hiding your eyes. gojo steps closer while he pulls you against his chest. his heart is racing, but it could be your own that you’re feeling. you’re not quite sure where he ends and you begin. 

he cups your cheek, his touch soft and light. “can i kiss you now? i haven’t stopped thinking about it since the party.”

you tense at the mention of the party, but you nod your head and shove that night out of your mind. you can shelve that conversation for later. 

gojo leans forward with your nod, pulling you towards him. your lips meet, gently at first, like you’re both unsure of how to go about it. he’s hesitant without alcohol to grant him courage, but as you wrap your arms around his neck, he grows bolder.

gojo pours every last bit of his desire for you, his yearning for you, past his lips. you can feel him grin, and it pulls a smile from you too. 

you have him exactly where you want him.

when you return home, hand in hand, megumi perks up at the sight of you both. geto sits next to him, assigned to pick him up from nanami’s place after gojo decided to meet up with you.

geto raises an eyebrow at your hand held tightly in gojo’s, your head resting against his shoulder. “what did i miss?”

“nothing at all,” you reply, holding out an arm for megumi as he runs into your embrace.

the woman simply smiles.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

gojo watches you sleep, chest rising and falling steadily, your soft breaths being the only sound in the room. he sits and he admires and he’s struck with the overwhelming urge to pull you into his arms. gojo wishes he could tell you everything he feels for you, but his emotions are often illegible jumbles of yearning, want, desire, and love—he just can’t put it into words.

he knows you’re it for him. he hopes you feel the same.

gojo leans over and grabs the plastic water bottle left on his nightstand, the plastic crinkling. he winces, hoping it’s not loud enough to wake you. you remain sleeping and he smiles, fishing the small ring of plastic from the top of the bottle. 

it’s big, the real one will be tailored to your size, he thinks as he takes your hand. his touch is gentle as he slides the plastic ring onto your ring finger, watching it hang loosely.

“this’ll do for now,” he decides. the real one will be much prettier, but not grand. a shiny band with a few rhinestones– no, your birthstone. maybe his too but he feels that might be too tacky.

gojo lays back down, curling around you until his head is hidden in the crook of your neck. he hopes you’ll like it. he hopes you’ll say yes. 

he’s always loved you. for him, it’s always been you. 

thanks to mitzi and earth and six for hyping this monstrosity up so glad its not rotting away in my drafts anymore

#holy shit this had me in a HOLD #i literally cannot form any coherent thoughts rn???? #screaming crying throwing things #— gojo recs.

[userheng]

White Day

By mmmgnsn

#— art.

[userheng]

just some goofy lads

#— luxiem. #BELOVEDS

[userheng]

White Day

By mmmgnsn

#— art.

[userheng]

#my babyyyy #finally got blackcliff for him today <3 #— art.

[userheng]

Hes so pretty and for what

#him him him him #buddy daddies