NEVER HAD NOBODY AS SWEET AS YOU ♡

𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 - 𝐣𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟐

in the heat of the moment, drea decides that a friendly little spar would be best for two “a-little-more-than-friends” friends.

masterlist | previous !

– pairings: jaime reyes x oc

– warning: fluff, canon divergent, blue beetle movie spoilers, mild swearing, a longer chapter.

– author’s note: welcome to the final chapter of the series, hence why this chapter’s a fair bit longer than the rest! if you’ve enjoyed this series as much as i have in writing it, i appreciate and love you all so much !! disclaimer: i’m not of Hispanic or Aztec descent and used a translator for certain terms, so do correct me if im wrong!

translations: ni una palabra de esto para nadie, ¿entendido, perro? - not a word of this to anyone, got it, dog? adios, mi chispa - goodbye, my spark

“Drea, hey, uh, what’s up?” He grinned, fighting the red on his cheeks as he tried to casually lean on the wall with a little dog, the pet jumping eagerly while barking.

“Gah, nothing much,” She chuckled, kneeling to pick up the barking dog. “Was having a slight sparring session before bathing this guy. Sorry about Sparky, he gets excited around new people, don’t you, buddy?”

Giggling, Drea tickled the dog’s stomach, Sparky wagging his tail with little yips of joy. Jaime’s smile grew wider, pushing himself off the wall to walk closer to his neighbour.

“He’s so energetic. Is that why his name’s Sparky?” He hummed, placing his hand near the dog, allowing Sparky to warm up to him.

Fortunately, it wasn’t long until Sparky was licking Jaime’s hovering hand eagerly, Drea grinning at the man beside her. The dog soon stood on her arms with his back legs, his front legs on her shoulder as he wiggled, wanting to get closer to Jaime.

“He warmed up way faster to you than anyone else he’s met so far,” She smiled a wide smile, Jaime scoffing in disbelief.

“And how many people is that?”

“Including you, four,” She winked, laughter escaping Jaime as he picked up the dog from her shoulders, holding the little dog close.

He gently pet the dog’s back, his neighbour grinning widely before tilting her head in a direction, Jaime perking up in confusion and curiosity. He didn’t get much of an answer before Drea turned the corner, disappearing behind a wall.

Jaime soon followed after, spotting her figure disappear up the set of stairs.

“Hey, wait, where are you goin’?” He called out quickly, glancing at the dog in his arms.

He hummed uneasily, waiting at the bottom of the stairs as one second turned into a minute. Drea’s voice then chimed down at him, her head popping up from behind the stairwell’s bannister above.

“Well, what’re you waiting for?” She grinned, Jaime glancing up at the spiral staircase. “We don’t have all day, I wanna show you something.”

Nervously, he followed after, muttering curses to himself as Khaji-Da began to ring in his head after its long silence. A furious blush appeared on his face as he hissed at the alien in his mind, the dog in his arms wriggling in restlessness.

Quickly, he placed the pet on the ground, Sparky hopping up the stairs, occasionally glancing back at Jaime as if to check up on him and to make sure the man behind him was following.

As soon as they reached the top, Sparky began jumping at Drea’s feet, the girl lightly patting his head as she crossed her arms, smirking over at her neighbour.

“Well, you took long enough.”

“I don’t even know if I’m supposed to be here,” He huffed in return, Drea grabbing his hand with a grin, Jaime’s cheeks glowing warm once more.

“If we were under different circumstances, yeah you wouldn’t, but in this case, you’re welcome to this room specifically.”

With a shove of her hand, the door burst open and the lights flickered on. Jaime’s eyes widened at the sight, spotting all the weapons and materials hanging on one wall of the room. The floors were cushioned with mats, and windows were covered shut by the blinds to prevent anyone from looking in. A punching bag sat in the corner, clearly well-used with the slight scorch burns that were present.

Despite having seen Kord’s Blue Beetle lair, a small smile grew across Jaime’s cheeks, the charm of the overall room drawing him in as he walked to the weapon-filled wall.

“You’ve had a training room this whole time, and you never told me?” He glanced next to him, spotting Drea picking up an obsidian feather from the wall before them.

“Of course,” She grinned cheekily. “Feeling left out?”

“Yeah, pretty much," He chuckled, plucking the feather out of her hands. “All this time we could’ve been sparring, preparing ourselves against people like Phantom.”

“Let’s do it now then.”

His eyes widened, a smile growing on his face. Jaime shook his head a little, a chuckle escaping his lips. Drea only took the feather from his hand back into hers as she watched his laughter with a small smile of her own.

“Good one,” He grinned, placing his hands on his hips.

Slowly, his smile faded as he noticed Drea’s encouraging glance and his eyes widened. Swiftly, his hands darted to the back of his neck once more, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“Look, I have never sparred with anyone… properly before,” He muttered, looking away with a blush.

“You did just fine against Phantom,” She waved her hand brushing the issue aside. “Come on, it’ll be fun, I promise!”

Despite the advice of turning the offer down Khaji-Da gave him, Jaime sighed, reluctantly giving in a hand scratching his cheek as he looked at Sparky guiltily, the dog whining, almost as if begging Jaime to give it a go.

“I guess this one time can’t hurt.”

“Great!” She chimed, eyes sparkling with excitement.

She tucked the feather in her ponytail, grabbing the nearest hand wraps on a nearby shelf Jaime had failed to notice. She began to wrap the cloth around her knuckles, tossing Jaime a roll as he shrugged, copying her actions.

“You’re doing it wrong,” She chirped, walking closer to her neighbour, Jaime frowning down at the messy wraps around his hands.

“Yeah, looks like it.”

The two shared a laugh as Drea gently took his hand in hers, peeling the cloth off before reworking it, winding it around his knuckles and wrists. Sparky sat in the corner, wagging his little tail, yet surprisingly silent.

“You gotta start with the wrist and work your way through the palm and then around the knuckles,” She hummed, yet his attention was focused on the way she had bit her lower lip in concentration, how soft her hands felt against his, and how gently she was holding him as if he were fragile.

“It’s a common misconception to start with the knuckles,” She spoke, but none of it really registered in his mind, his heart beat twice, hard, against his chest, and in his eyes, she looked like she was glowing, somehow.

“You got all that, Jaime?” A smile grew on her face once more and he felt his pulse go wild, a rapid nod was all he could give, and he was scared that if he spoke, he’d embarrass himself.

“Y-Yeah,” He choked out at last. “I-I can take it from here, thanks.”

“If you insist,” She pulled away and deep within his chest, a twang of longing rang.

He watched with ‘soft eyes’ as Khaji-Da called it, the alien’s voice trilling in his mind regarding his heightened serotonin levels. He watched her jog on the spot, preparing herself for a spar, and something within Jaime told him that she had sparred for much longer than he expected, perhaps it was Khaji’s form of a warning.

A bark snapped him out of his trance, Jaime glancing to lightly frown at the dog.

Securing the velcro around his now-bandaged hands, Jaime made his way to where Drea stood, fingers fidgeting with the cloth wrapped around his hands.

“Whenever you’re ready,” She nodded, letting Jaime prepare himself for their spar.

Nodding, Jaime took in a deep breath, taking his time to stretch as he built up his courage to actually fight the woman across him. Soon enough, he readied himself with a fighting stance, fists out and ready to either block or strike.

“Ready,” He nodded, Drea getting into a fighting stance of her own.

“Good, I’ll do my best to hold back,” She grinned as they began to circle one another.

Jaime’s muscles at the sight of Drea’s sharp eyes watching his every move. No longer did he see the warmth and kindness in her eyes, but it was so quickly replaced with a spark so bright and dangerous that he almost felt threatened.

Without another word, she darted forward, Jaime’s forearms darting upward to defend himself, but before he could do anything else, he saw black acid-like goo covering his arms, and when he opened his eyes again, the yellow tint of the suit’s visor was enough to tell him what happened.

He almost chuckled at the small pout on Drea’s face.

“That's cheating," She muttered, pulling herself away to give themselves distance.

"Believe me, I wouldn't if I could," He shrugged half-heartedly, returning to his stance.

This time, it was his time to strike, a fist darting to the right of Drea's head as she swiftly dodged it. Regaining her footing, Drea fixed her stance, grounding himself as her right fist swiftly landed on Jaime's ribs, the man wincing slightly at the impact.

Before he was given the chance to make his next move, Drea ducked down to a squatting position, resting her weight on one leg as the other swept under Jaime, causing him to lose his footing.

He let out a cry of shock, slamming onto the ground, but he couldn't get up, feeling a weight on his chest.

Glancing up, he saw Drea's fist, inches away from his face along with her other arm trapping him between her and the ground. Jaime felt his heart slam harder, faster, against his ribs, and it was like it jumped into his throat.

A smirk was plastered on her face, the suit diminishing into nothing as her flame vanished, a blush painting Jaime's whole face scarlet.

"Now it's fair."

He watched the way the spark of energy danced in her eyes, and he felt lost in the moment, relishing the way her skin felt against his, how in sync their breathing was, her warmth enveloping him.

His eyes darted to her wavy hair, spotting a tuft fall past her ear. Slowly, he raised his arm, fingers brushing past her cheek to tuck it back.

Her eyes widened, a similar shade of red that was visible on Jaime's was gradually growing on her cheeks.

Bit by bit, she relaxed at his touch, and without realising he slowly brought himself closer, the tension growing with every second.

“Can I kiss you?” He muttered, lidded eyes darting to her lips, wondering if how they felt matched with how soft they looked.

"You know my parents are home, right?" She mumbled, yet they were only centimetres away, and Jaime could feel her lips lightly brushing against his.

If only he moved just that bit closer…

"It's a risk I'm willing to take," Was all that he said before losing himself to her touch. He gently placed his lips on hers, and he felt her breath hitch before melting against him, leaning deeper into the hand that cupped her cheek.

A small smile grew on his face, his free hand slithering around her waist, her arms slinking around his neck. Jaime wasn’t sure why, but everything about it just felt natural, it felt electric. Her touch felt like little shocks of static shocking his skin, but he paid no mind, only pulling her closer.

As she pulled away, the tips of his fingers still threaded with her strands of hair, she looked at him in a daze, and the weight of embarrassment landed on him as he realised that he was indeed nude beneath her.

“Oh– fuck, uh–” He muttered, his eyes widening as she glanced down at his bare chest, the realisation causing her to turn crimson, the colour taking over her face.

“Oh, shit, I’m so, so, sorry,” She muttered, slapping a hand over her eyes as Sparky ran over to the two, yapping excitedly, covering Jaime’s face with affectionate licks.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll get you something.”

With that, she sped out of the training room, the door slamming shut behind her as Jaime guiltily shuffled to lock the door, Sparky by his side.

“Ni una palabra de esto para nadie, ¿entendido, perro?” He wagged his pointer, Sparky responding with a series of excited barks.

“Shit,” He muttered, running a hand through his wavy locks, a dazed smile growing on his face. The memory of her lips against his sent him into a stupor once more, his back leaning against the wood of the door.

“Shit…”

A knock on the door snapped him out of his daze, Drea’s voice audible through the wood. In an instant, the door opened the slightest, Drea’s tanned hand popping through with a few clothes bunched up in her grasp.

“I couldn’t exactly find anything that might fit, but these are the best I’ve got.”

“Thanks,” He answered quickly, face as red as ever, snatching the clothes before making sure her hand had fully retreated before shutting the door once more.

He didn’t care what the clothes looked like, he pulled them over his body hastily, his hands brushing through his hair all over again.

As he placed his hand on the door’s handle, a sudden surge of embarrassment and nerve overtook him, and he truly felt shy to face his neighbour again.

“Come on, Jaime, you’ve faced worse,” He frowned, shaking his hands as he placed his left hand on the handle, applying pressure.

“You’ve got this, as Rudy said, show her the Reyes charm,” He mumbled, plastering a smile on his face that unfortunately looked quite awkward.

Drea jumped a little at the click of the lock, her hands fidgeting with the hems of her shirt despite crossing them. A shy flush grew on her cheeks as she spotted Clark’s old clothes draped on Jaime’s body.

She recalled how he hastily left them behind before speeding off to a last-minute mission call in his hero suit with her mother, and she packed them for old time’s sake (besides, he was simply too lazy to take them back, insisting that he had “many more clothes at home”). She rolled her eyes at the memory, recalling how much Clark acted more like an older brother towards her mother rather than a colleague.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind that another man would be wearing those clothes, especially since he looked painfully handsome in them, even if they did look a little baggy on his much slimmer form. She practically stopped breathing, the air caught in her throat as her cheeks flushed pink, eyes widened in awe.

“You look,” She cleared her throat, shoving her hands in the pockets of her denim shorts. “You look good– Great. You look great.”

“Ah, uhm, thanks,” He chuckled nervously, his own hands now shoved deep into his pockets.

A silence enveloped the two, Sparky peering up at them as he followed after Jaime, squeezing his way through the gap in the door. Clearing his throat, Jaime decided to break the tension with a question slipping past his lips.

“So uh, where’d you get the clothes from?”

“Oh, an uncle left them here a long time ago,” She shrugged, her next sentence hesitant, like a nervous whisper. “Are they comfortable for you?”

“Y-Yeah, they are, thanks,” He smiled, his hand darting out of his pocket.

“I uh, I’m so sorry about what happened earlier, I shouldn’t have done–“

“I liked it.”

Jaime glanced up, partially shocked at her reaction.

“I really, really, liked it,” She continued, but this time, her hands were out of her pockets, behind her back as she played with her nails nervously.

“And I think I… I think I really like you, too,” Her eyes darted away. “I can’t explain it, it’s just, when I’m with you, it feels–“

“Natural?” Jaime continued, eyes filled with hope. “Like everything doesn’t feel as difficult as it is, and we just click.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” She smiled, and he caught himself doing the same. “It’s just… all this is new to me, and I’m a bit of a mess but, would you like to go for dinner some time?”

Jaime’s eyes softened at her question, smile falling the slightest as he thought back to Jenny. Did he still love her? Had she waited for him, as he had her?

Noticing the drop in Jaime’s smile, Drea’s hands darted in front of her, shaking back and forth in a dismissive motion.

“It’s totally fine if you’re still into Jenny, I get that–“ She stumbled over her words, and worry filled her eyes. “I’m so sorry that I–“

Jaime’s hands clapped over Drea’s panicked ones, a gentle smile growing on his face as his heart warmed at how she worried about him, at how she put him first.

“No, dinner sounds great,” He shook his head, thumbs gently rubbing her hands. “Don’t worry about Jenny, I’m over her, and I definitely like someone new.”

His left hand hesitantly cupped her cheek, Drea’s face flushing, but she still leaned into his touch, like a moth to a flame,

“So dinner tomorrow?” She began as he nodded, pulling his hand back to hold hers.

“Dinner tomorrow. Pick you up at six?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Amazing,” He grinned, pulling himself away. “I’ve gotta run, but I’ll see you then?”

She nodded wordlessly, a love-filled smile being her only reply.

“I guess I’ll you then,” He leaned down, gently kissing the back of her hand. “Adios, mi chispa.”

And with that he left, leaving her in a flustered daze, her heart pounding as her mind was soon filled with thoughts and words, and Sparky remained at her feet, yapping away.

gif by @rob-pattinson

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𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫 - 𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢 𝐲𝐮𝐮𝐣𝐢 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓

"i miss her, even if she's everywhere. mother, come home."

masterlist | previous , next !

–pairings: itadori yuuji x oc

– warning: mentions of death, mentions of abuse, hurt-comfort (?), canon divergent, pre-shibuya arc

– author’s note: i really disappeared for a long time, im so so sorry. and i promise this is becoming more yuuji-centric eventually–

disclaimer: i’m not of japanese descent and am unfamiliar with japanese honorifics, etc. feel free to correct me!

“Okaa-san.”

Her eyes crinkled at the title. She stood there patiently, and I steeled myself to move closer towards her. The cold air didn’t bother me, the warmth from my mother was all that kept me grounded.

Her arms wrapped around me, but I couldn’t feel anything other than the slightest air brush against my skin. I felt her love and that was enough. When she pulled away, I saw recognition fall upon her kind eyes.

“I see you’ve settled in nicely in Jujutsu Tech,” She hummed, eyeing the dirty dishes in my sink.

“Ah, Nobara came over with some of her… friends.”

“I noticed,” She turns to me, a look of pity in her eyes. “Tsubame, is Nobara still your only friend?”

“No… Fumi and I are still in touch,” I mumbled.

“My girl, you need to open up, I know my passing had affected you but–”

“Okaa-san, I know what I’m doing,” I couldn’t help but cut my mother off.

I didn’t like how she knew exactly why I had such high walls around my heart. I didn’t like how she knew what I was feeling, but she knew that I was stubborn, and she knew me like the back of her cold, dead hands.

“I don’t need new friends, I don’t need to let my guard down because I can be stronger, I can protect those I’m close to!”

My mother watched me in silence, everything that needed to be said in her black eyes, a flicker of lilac glowing, as though she had hope for me, and I wished that it would die out just so that I didn’t the reality of disappointing her falling over me like cold water.

“Okaa-san, I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to become stronger and defend those I love.”

My fist clenched in my hands, and it was as if I looked at her, the tears would all come pouring out – as if just the sight of my dead mother would break down everything I built up.

Everything felt amplified when she placed her hand on my chin, lifting it so I could look into her dark eyes. In that moment, everything felt real. Like she was real. Her touch felt so warm, and in the back of my mind I knew my body was tricking me into thinking she was truly here, but I couldn’t help but sink into the feeling again. 

“I know that life isn’t easy for you now, my dear,” She whispered, cupping my cheek, and I leaned into her touch, letting myself believe her lie. “But sometimes, you have to lower the walls you’ve built to let yourself heal. If you just sit around with a broken heart, no one can be there for you, no one can truly help you fix it.”

She wipes her hand over my tears, and it feels as though all will be right in the world.

“My dear Tsubame,” She mutters. “You’re too hard on yourself. It is time to put Tadashi to rest.”

Her hand sweeps my hair out of my eyes, “Your hair is getting long too, my dear.”

“Right,” I laugh a little a sniffle escaping me. “Yeah… I’m planning to cut my fringe soon. Or cut it all short…”

My mother sighs and I know what she’s about to say. There’s no point in avoiding the topic, after all, my father would always be a part of my life, whether I liked it or not.

“Tsubame, your father…”

“I know, I should forgive him,” I mutter, but that doesn’t stop the bitterness lacing my voice.

“No, that’s not what I wanted to say,” She strokes my cheek gently, her gentle eyes holding so much love. “What your father did to you was wrong. He should never have raised his hand to you…”

She brushes my fringe to the side, revealing the little bandage across my left eyebrow.

“He’s lost his way. And I understand why you left, my dear. But please, know that even though you’ve left that life, the path ahead of you is much more difficult. Being a jujutsu sorcerer has its risks, and some you will regret for the rest of your life. Are you sure you are willing to take those risks?”

My eyes meet hers and I feel myself nod in determination, “I am. I’m ready to do anything to overcome those risks. I’d do anything to make sure that what happened to you will never happen again.”

My mother’s eyes held a drop of sadness, the lilac specks in her eyes glowing. She gently kisses my forehead, and I let her hold me, missing her embrace that would protect me from my darkest moments.

“Then be strong, my girl,” She smiles, pulling away. “Maybe try to open up, okay? Just give it a shot. For me?”

I wince slightly before letting out a small sigh.

“...I can try…”

“Good,” She smiles, pulling me into a final hug. “Why not start with that Itadori boy? He seems very sweet–”

“Thanks, Okaa-san!” I can feel my cheeks heat up violently. “B-But I don’t need advice for who to make friends with–”

I heard my mother chuckle, pulling away from me as she began to laugh harder at my now-red cheeks.

“My dear, I see it all. I was there when you met. You like him, don’t you?”

I frown, and I struggle to get the blush down from my cheeks, “I know nothing of liking anyone. Or romance in general.”

“If you insist, my dear. But I mentioned nothing of romance. I simply meant that you liked him as a friend.”

I freeze, feeling my mother’s teasing smile, but the moment I look up, she was no longer standing before me. The lights no longer dimmed, but now the warm yellow of the lightbulbs. The air was no longer cold or still, but my cheeks still felt warm.

“...I don’t like him. At all,” I huff, narrowing my eyes where she used to stand.

It was all silent as the wind whistled, entering through the now-opened window – the sliding door that I hadn’t opened. The wind suddenly sounded like her laugh as she made me aware of my reactions, a maternal reaction of amusement in the wind.

gif by @heycaz

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𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓

୧ ‧₊˚ arguing with your boyfriend, miles, was always your least favorite thing. but when he accidentally raises his voice at you, accusing you of something you’re not, he'll do anything to make it up to you. so, he decides to come to your work. pairings & aus. earth42!miles morales x fem!black!reader warnings. angst | established relationship | fluff at the end | arguing | slight toxicity | arguing | reader owns a cafe author's note. changed the aesthetic of my posts!

"MAMI, PLEASE, IAN MEAN IT LIKE THAT."

The way your glossy eyes roll to the back of your head only further induce your oncoming headache, but you don’t care. Something about your boyfriend elevating his tone at you made you crumble, brown irises boring into his own as he pleaded for you to listen.

You hear him breathe softly, and then he picks at the calloused skin of his thumb as his mouth contorts into an almost-pout. It’s apologetic, you think— by the way his eyebrows are furrowed and his face somberly melts into a softer expression, contrasted to his normal stoic one. But his look isn’t enough. You want something verbal, something pleading, something so desperate for your forgiveness that it’ll be inevitable for your answer to be ‘Yes, Miles, you didn’t do anything wrong and I would love for us to be back to normal.’

But that’s not what you were getting.

Instead, he had yelled at you, and not just a normal yell, one that he would normally let out if you were pestering him or were about to run into an unknown danger. No— this yell was authentic and real, raw, on purpose. And his lips still couldn’t find themselves to say that he were sorry.

The argument wasn’t even your fault, and Miles had told you so, therefore it was verified that you weren’t in the wrong and that it was just some huge misunderstanding. Your phone had been left unlocked on the kitchen counter, and Miles being Miles, he picked the device up and snapped a couple of stupid pictures when he saw a notification pop up.

malachi: Yo u still wit yo man? I was thinking we go get sum to eat. Lmk!

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that the message wasn’t from another girl, it was from a man. So he angrily swiped the device up and waltzed up to you, waving the florescent screen back in forth in your face, accusing you of cheating.

“YN, what the fuck? Why you tryna go out with this nigga, huh? He hittin’ it or sum’? Shoulda known you had me buyin’ them lil’ dresses for other reasons.”

Your shoulders dropped at him, tears clouding your unfocused vision as Miles’ words circulated in your head, swarming your conscience with emotions that you were unable to decipher yourself.

“Mami—“

“Don’t call me that.” You seethed, “It’s not what you called me when you was accusin’ me of lyin’ and cheatin’, right?”

“Ay, Dios Mío.” Miles mumbled, his footsteps filling your ears as he drew closer to you. He wanted to reach out to you, to pull you close and kiss your cheeks, but he just stood idly in front of you as he watched you cry.

It was almost like he was stuck. Guilt, maybe?

But either way, the effort was still vacant. His actions weren’t just mundane, he was shaking your phone at you angrily, spit flying and hands snapping as he tried to grab ahold of the messy situation. And what he realized what he had done, his mouth ran dry, eyes fluttering closed as he cursed underneath his breath.

What he didn’t know was that you were speaking to your friend’s boyfriend, and when he said ‘we’— he meant the four of you, Miles included. He was trying to set up a double date at a restaurant and wanted to confirm if you were with Miles to insure that you guys were on.

A stupid mistake.

A mistake so ignorant that it drove you to raise your hand at him, withdrawing it before slapping him on the cheek, hard. The sting that blossomed throughout your hand spoke of triumph, that he truly got what deserved, and your lips nearly curled into a smile when you heard him wince in pain.

You didn’t want him hurt, you just wanted him to understand what happens when you assume stupid shit. He turned around slowly to look at you, left hand massaging the flesh of his cheek as he gave you apologetic eyes.

It all feels like an emotional whiplash now.

“Get out.”

You finally spoke, lips trembling and hands balling at your sides so tight you were sure your fingers would snap.

“Baby, please, can we just talk about this?”

“Get the fuck out, Miles!” You shouted at him, body forcefully colliding with his as your hands met his shoulders, pushing him into the woodwork of your front door. He opens it without hesitation, fingers curling around the doorknob shakily as he walked through the doorway.

You hold the door and shove him, your boyfriend stumbling down the porch steps as you cock your head to the side,

“And don’t come back.”

With that, you slam the door.

It’s been three days since you’ve seen your boyfriend.

Which is extremely out of the ordinary.

He’s texted you numerous times, your phone nearly exploding from how often it rang with new texts or phone calls. You didn’t answer, you couldn’t, Miles’ words still prodding at your heart strings as you tried to go on about your morning.

Your bright pink polo slides it’s way over your head, thick curls bouncing against your shoulders as you smoothed out a tiny wrinkle at the collar, eyes picking apart your outfit in the mirror.

A flick of your wrist tells you that you’re nearly late for work, so you swipe up your phone and purse and make your way outside, strutting to your car as you drove to your shop.

You opened your own pink themed, healthy cafe a couple months before you and Miles started dating. It was a real hotspot— business booming more than ever in the hot, humid summer of Brooklyn. People mostly ordered juice or açaí bowls, which you didn’t mind because it was your personal favorite on the menu and you recommended it to anyone who waltzed into your shop.

Pulling up, you stepped out of your vehicle and opened the door, greeting your employees with a flutter of your fingers and a superficial smile painted on your face. You were broken on the inside and it was a fact that even you couldn’t deny, and no amount of concealer and fake grins could conceal that.

“Everything OK, girl?” One of your employees chirped at you over the loud sound of a blender. And you just shrugged at her, faux smile still possessive over your lips, persuasion eventually casting her spell on your favorite girls as you covered your sadness up with ‘I’m just tired.’

Opening was running smoothly, and you were calming working register when you heard the sweet bells above your front door chime.

“Welcome i-“

Your sentence fades, dying off as you see your boyfriend walk through the door, walking up to the counter that you were standing behind.

“Can I get a matcha and that toast with the green shit on it?”

You grit your teeth at him, “Miles, what the hell are you doing here?”

He didn’t say anything, he just grabbed your hands and squeezed them, “Baby, I know you don’t really wanna see me here, but I need to say sum’, and it’s that I’m sorry. Ian mean what I said, I was dumb, jumpin’ to conclusions and shit. That’s not okay. You my girl and there’s no reason why I was treatin’ you like that. I’m…mami, I’m sorry.”

Miles stares at you, waiting for your rebuttal to his formal apology. No matter how much you wanted to be mad at him in this moment and hold out, you couldn’t by the way his eyes flickered at you, licking his lips as he shot you an apologetic smile.

“Miles….” You started, “What you said really hurt me, I can’t lie to you. But…despite all of that, I forgive you. And y’know, I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have put my hands on you or nun’ like that. I was just…angry.”

“Understand.” Miles told you, kissing your hand as he gave you a cheeky grin, “I love you, pretty girl.”

“I love you too, asshole.” You giggled as your boyfriend leaned over the counter to deliver a kiss to your cheek, a couple of your coworkers giggling behind the counters, but you didn’t care. You were just ecstatic that you had made up, a laugh tumbling from your throat.

“Y’know, Miles…” You started, earning a hum from your lover.

“I just want you to know, although you be actin’ hard…you’re actually soft as shit.”

tags!: @queenesther996 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @starhrtz // @daisydark // @randomhoex // @solanawrld // @whore4hobie // @tanakaslastbraincell // @simp4miguell // @nyrovi3 // @aziulsworld // @enchantingfoxsparkles // @mancerseedu // @cafehyunji // @personofyou // @mcdvsr // @calliarlerte // @pr0wlerpunk // @tzuyuzzs // @clearskiiiess // @vienreina // @pixqlsin // @stvrgrl // @zerosinterweb // @mookiebut // @urmotherswhor3 // @cumbermovels // @asmobeuses // @yanghees // @popeheywardssecretgf // @mxspiderman2099 // @scryarchives // @rksses // @mmst4rz // @ilyless // @milesmolasses // @laylasbunbunny // @all444miles // @thecoloredpages // @bl00dsuccker // @adoremvney // @anikaluv // @qtdenks // @art-598

just made a mini animation of my metal family oc, so i cant wait to share content on her soon!

No cause Jaime Reyes is so perfect 😫

we deserved more of THIS btw.

thanks for the tag lotus ! so sorry im late <;/3

He narrowed his eyes, ignoring the way his stomach tied into knots. “It was nice to see you around, Sukuna,” Gojo grins, but it holds a dangerous glint. “But hey, it was fantastic seeing you again.” Sukuna rolled his eyes red eyes with a grumble, but he fell silent as Himiko eyed him as she passed, Gojo’s arm a bitter reminder that she’s not his – and he doesn’t have a chance at redemption; not like deserved one anyway.  As she passes, the speakers blare a song, almost as if fate was mocking him, heck he barely stood a chance the moment Gojo Satoru walked in with his arm around Himiko’s shoulders. Kali Uchis’ voice rings through the venue, the upbeat tempo a sickening reminder of his failures. ‘Why can’t you see you’re dead to me? Just leave it be, you’re dead to me.’

and that should be it!

no pressure tags - @cheriiyaya @rrairey @tinkerbelle05 @cindol @thomae + anyone who wants to join !

tyty for the tag, @emelkae!

rules: post the last seven sentences you've written, then tag seven people.

this was actually never supposed to see the light of day (didn't even make it out of my notes to a doc lmao) so no title for this

How long until he himself is slain in the name of peace across the nation and finally laid to rest in waters marred by his own blood and for once not that of others? Surely the blood should be gone by now. But he can feel it, splashing up to his shoulders. Pouring down his lungs. He is wading in it. How much blood is on his hands? Too much.

open tag ofc!! buuuut for the challenge rules i'm tagging: @perpetualcynicism, @minhxiao, @frankenjoly, @legend-of-cupcake, @thirdleaflogic, @cocrante, @airbluest

how deep is your devotion? ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank u to @softgirlgonehaywire for having the biggest brain in the world and infecting me w this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading u can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself. awfully amused.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise your brow. unimpressed.

satoru steps back. inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“.. fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily.

his chest is heaving. lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire.

”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

a questioning hum. “do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing.

enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from the faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀… feels like he'll blow any second.

which is funny because around him, young little girls scream with excitement and happiness. it's his baby girl's forth birthday today, and sukuna is more than happy to provide his pride and joy with all the light in the world. there are pink streamers and little girls in frilly princess dresses running around in princess crowns, and he's proud he even managed to pull this thing off.

how funny, you never imagined the king of curses throwing a barbie themed birthday party for his first daughter.

only there's one issue.

sukuna rubs his forehead, fingers dragging across the skin as he's met with a drowning sound of his phone ringing.

"god damn it, mortal, pick up." sukuna curses under his breath, two arms crossed while the third holds the phone and the forth scratches his forehead.

annelise and erika from barbie princess and the pauper were supposed to show up at 1pm, and it's now 1:10pm and no sight of the barbie princesses he requested. his hand tightens on his phone, and he tries to calm down— just so that he doesn’t send his baby girl’s birthday decorations aflame.

"fu—" sukuna curses, immediately silencing himself when he watches his daughter run over with pittering feet.

"dada!" his baby girl chirps, and sukuna's ear perks.

he looks down at his little girl with bright pink curls bouncing, plastic crown nearly too big for her little head.

"dada, why angry?" she giggles, and sukuna only chuckles.

"i'm not angry, princess. just takin' a phone call. how about we cut your cake in a little?" sukuna offers, gently pinching her cheek before she runs off to go burn her energy off in the castle bouncy house.

his baby girl can't tell when he's angry, but you certainly can. you laugh and stand by your husband, hand gently resting on his muscular back as he contemplates dialing the barbie princesses again and giving them a piece of his mind. sukuna didn't stay up memorizing all the barbie princess songs for this bullshit.

"hi, honey." you smile, and sukuna sighs softly.

"hello, love." the man replies, arms unraveling as he returns your side hug.

"what’s got you all down?" you ask, leaning against his chest.

sukuna sighs, of course you can see past him. your eyes trail from the pink ribbons, bright music playing, and girlish giggles coming from your daughter and her friends.

"these damn princesses won't pick up— i just want this thing to go perfectly." he expresses, and you giggle under your breath. "and god, i'm so exhausted."

"baby, you're doing just fine." you smile up at him, eyes glimmering in the warm sunlight. "you're a great dad... no— the best dad. and our baby loves you. she’ll love anything you do, princesses or not."

sukuna feels his lash line water, and he swallows hard— anger fading immediately as he looks over at his little princess.

he’s a good dad, he’s a good dad, he reminds himself.

"okay, fine. let’s cut the cake." sukuna sighs. "come on, everyone! let’s have starberry cake before the princesses arrive."

"strawberry, baby." you laugh softly.

"right. strawberry cake." sukuna chuckles as the little kindergarteners gather at the cake table. he’s still learning too.

he focuses on the good in the moment, bulky hand nearly snapping the plastic knife from his strength. he hands the cake out, four arms helping him easily. without him knowing, you watch as the barbie princesses finally come around the corner, elaborate, glittering dresses shimmering.

you take a slice from him, watching as your daughter chomps the sugary dessert down within seconds.

birthday parties are definitely chaotic and take lots of energy— you'll find your husband fast asleep on the sofa later, but for now, things are perfect.

he’s the king of curses, and also a father in this life.

© YUNYMPHS 2024 modifications, reposts, and translations of any kind are strictly prohibited.

They're besties, your honor.