Oh The Deadpool Tag Is Trending? I Wonder Why—

ೃ⁀➷ “Are you cold?”

—You refuse to sleep with them after a heated argument.

yuuji itadori, nanami kento, sukuna ryomen, (f).

genres + warnings. angst to fluff? | none! |

notes i. I am actually desperate for requests rn.

Yuuji. “Baby?” He would call out to you as he eyes your every moment while you fix your bed on the couch for the night, sadness looms over the pink haired man, his heart slightly stinging as he comes to a realization that the argument was really a big deal to you, “Look I know we’re both mad, but could we not take it this far?”

You halt your movements and looked back at him, “It’s better this way, we need to cool both our minds off.” 

Yuuji brings a hand to scratch the back of his neck, “Baby please.”

You moved your head back towards him, feeling bad to see the guilt plastered across his face. You knew Yuuji had a hard time sleeping alone, after his mother died he can’t help but get nightmares, silly you, how can you be so unaware?

“Okay, you go ahead, I’ll be right there.” You say, sighing also as you began to clean up again.

“You promise?”

“Promise.”

Nanami. “If you sleep here your back is going to hurt tomorrow morning.” The blonde tells you, he watches you closely as you became as stubborn as someone he knows, continuing to lay down your pillow without sparing him a glance, “If you insist, then you take the bed I’ll take the couch.”

You stop your movements, your head slowly looking at him to somehow read his face but it was unreadable at this moment, “I can handle myself, Nanami.”

He squints at his name, where was the usual, baby, honey, and love? 

Without thinking of it he walks his way to the singular couch that was placed beside yours, he sits himself down and you only look at him with a frown, “What are you doing?”

“I’m watching over you, I’m never going to let you fall asleep alone in here.” He says, and in that moment you knew he was being serious.

Sukuna. “What the hell are you doing?” The tattooed man that you call your boyfriend asks as he leans against the door frame, his eyebrow lifting up, his biceps flexing while he crossed it in front of his shirtless front.

“Isn’t it obvious?” You remained the bratty attitude, the argument left a bitter taste along your taste buds and you didn’t like it at all, “I don’t want to sleep with you for tonight.”

You heard nothing from Sukuna’s side so you assumed he had left and left you be, but you suddenly yelp when he suddenly grabs you on your wrist to lift you up from where you were sitting and carries you on his shoulder like a piece of paper, “Wha— hey let me down!”

“Like hell I’ll let you sleep without me... let’s talk in the morning.” He says whilst you tried to do everything you could just so he could put you down, but he doesn’t budge an inch, “But if you insist of not sleeping together, I’ll sleep on the couch instead.”

You feel your heart getting slightly tugged, you didn’t want that. Despite being angry at him, you didn’t like the idea of not sleeping together as you come to think of it, “Don’t bother, like you said— we’ll talk in the morning.”

jack is everything i want 😩

SOLID WORK; dr jack abbot x dr!reader

words: 4,700+

content warnings: my minimal medical knowledge, doctor humor, abbot’s filthy mouth, some smut, fluff <3

notes: i am so beyond new to this fandom and to tumblr so please stick with me but i couldn’t not write this🫶

・❥・

”Solid work.”

My breathing slows as I start to process the complexity of the procedure I had just performed. I’d probably be blushing at Dr Abbot’s praise if it weren’t for the adrenaline coursing through me.

“That was your save. Not mine.”

Trust me - I am never jumping to credit a man with my work but that was the truth. I may have physically done everything but the idea and the instructions that made it possible were all Dr Abbot.

I look back down at the patient. I tell myself it’s to make sure this is all real. That I really just did that. But if I am being honest it’s to avoid Dr Abbot’s unwavering eye contact.

“Hey-“

He is not gonna let me. I look up to meet his gaze. So rock solid but somehow so warm all at once. He may as well be staring right through me.

He lightly rests his hand on my forearm to stop me from going for the suture. To stop me from giving him anything other than my undivided attention.

“-you are the smartest person in here. Take the win.”

I can’t help the exasperated smile that spreads across my face. He’s right. I’ve only got a couple months left of residency. I should just take the fucking win for once in my life.

Abbot, much to my surprise, smiles back. And he has dimples because of course he does.

He’s calm under pressure, he lies on official paperwork to get a teenage girl the abortion she has every right to, he’s the actual smartest one here, he’s kind to everyone in this ED regardless of the stress he is under, and…he still has his hand on my arm.

His hand. The veins there don’t hurt the eyes either.

We must both realize his lingering touch at the same time because he is clearing his throat and pulling away. He reaches for a surgical instrument he doesn’t need. Picks it up and then puts it down.

I swear there is a faint blush on his cheeks but if I think about that too long one will appear on my own.

“Let Whitaker stitch this up. Go home - get some rest. Your shift ended hours ago.”

“I love Whitaker but he is so slow we may as well let the wound heal all on its own.”

Dr Abbot laughs. Genuinely, truly laughs as we exit out of the trauma bay. So loud that Robby looks over and asks if he’s okay.

Don’t get me wrong. Dr Abbot has a wonderful sense of humor. A wicked one, actually. But it’s one of those dry, witty kinds. Not the animated, giggly kind.

I tell myself it’s not a bad thing that I’m proud to have gotten a good laugh out of him. That it’s not a bad thing that it gave me butterflies. That’s it’s not a bad thing that I am laying in bed wondering how the hell I am going to get him to do that again.

・❥・

Jack lets out a low moan as he recovers. His eyes are dazed, his head slightly tilted back but not so much so that he can’t keep eye contact with me.

His hand that held the makeshift ponytail in my hair starts to massage my scalp as the other hand reaches for my chin and tilts my head up to meet his strong gaze.

Once he’s got me where he wants me, his thumb travels from my chin to my lips, swiping what’s left of his release off of it.

“My good girl. So good for me, yeah?”

My thighs involuntarily clench together at his words. He knows it too. I nod as his thumb presses further into my mouth, my lips wrapping around it.

His mouth quips into a smirk, “Solid work, doctor.”

I roll my eyes and bat his hand away. Standing up from my knees on my own. Ignoring his arms trying to gently guide me up instead.

“That! That is exactly what I am talking about!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, baby.”

Jack just laughs as he grabs my wrist, turning me back towards him. He’s quick to have me pinned up against our shower wall - his strong thigh spreading my own apart as he plants long slow kisses across my neck.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Back when I was a resident, otherwise known as a couple months ago, Jack consistently praised what I was doing by saying “Solid work.”

The way he did always made me dizzy. His voice would drop an octave and he’d look me straight in my eyes while he said it. There is nothing inherently sensual about the phrase but it took me a while to realize he was not complimenting the other residents like that.

Him saying it during sex started as a joke. Harkening back to when, as he puts it, I was so painfully oblivious to his flirting. To which I responded, “That was flirting?”.

He said it again to me at work the next day. Being completely and utterly genuine. I don’t even remember what I did but I did it well and he is always the first to acknowledge that. So he was confused when I just huffed in annoyance and peeled out of the room without so much of a glance at him.

I wasn’t annoyed at him. I was annoyed that now all I could think about was him. His hands, his biceps, his tongue. Everything. And I still had six hours of my shift to go.

He followed me into the on-call room I was going to find some refuge in. He locked the door behind him - closed the curtain for good measure.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

And then I felt bad. He thought something was actually wrong. That no way I’d ever brush him off like that when he was just trying to compliment me unless something was seriously wrong.

His eyes bored into mine, genuine concern and love pouring out of them. And here I was just being a brat.

I tried to be sly about the way my eyes trailed the veins bulging out of his biceps. I tried to be sly about the way I was imagining my hands tugging on his salt and pepper curls that were just slightly askew from a couple hours work. Unfortunately for me, Jack can read me like a book.

“Did you just stomp out of the ED because you’re needy?” Jack couldn’t contain the grin that spread across his face at the realization.

“Well maybe if you weren’t always going Mr Christian Gray on me with the praise-“

“I don’t even know who that is but all I said was ‘Solid work’-“

Jack stops himself as he remembers the past couple nights. When he was saying the same thing in a much different context.

I can’t say I’m entirely innocent. Or innocent at all really. I love throwing in a ‘sir’ every now and again at work to tease Jack. So he does the same to me with other phrases - constantly.

And he said the same thing in that on-call room that he is saying to me right now, “But what I do know is how fucking wet you are for me. So stop pouting and let me taste you, yeah?”

He swipes a finger through my soaked folds before he’s the one sinking down to his knees as I try to keep mine from buckling.

・❥・

“Solid work, Dr Abbot.”

I smile down at my sparkling new engagement ring and then up at the love of my life.

“Seriously? You can tease but I can’t?”

“What’s that saying again? Happy wife, happy life?”

Neither of us can wipe the huge grins off of our faces. No one knows we’re engaged yet. Just how we wanted it.

A couple of months ago, right after I had taken an attending job at The Pitt, Jack had broached the topic of marriage. We’d talked about it before. We both knew we were spending the rest of our lives together. But we hadn’t actually talked about the timeline of it all - the logistics.

Jack was always extremely hyper aware about how our relationship affected me. He didn’t want it to interfere with my career or all of my hard work. So as much as he would’ve walked down the aisle six months ago, he wanted everything to be on my terms.

“Hypothetically - if I were to propose, say within the next month - would you say yes?”

“Hypothetically - if I ever say no to a marriage proposal from you - please get me a psychiatry consult.”

Jack laughed - in an airy way where you could tell he was relieved. I kissed him. There was no universe in which I ever said no to a proposal from him.

He pestered me with questions. He wanted direction but not so much so that I wouldn’t be surprised when the time came.

I told him I didn’t want anything fancy. No big party although I did want to have a small gathering with our friends and family at some point afterwards. A nice sized diamond but not gaudy. No grand gestures - just him being him is all that I wanted.

And he executed perfectly. Because when does he not. It was our first night in the new home we had bought. He said we could get a hotel while we waited for our furniture to be delivered. But I wanted to do one night with no furniture, an air mattress, some candles, and a pizza delivery.

“Like camping.” I had said.

“You hate camping.”

I laughed because he was right but he obliged me anyways. He carried me over the threshold and I made a joke about how he’s got to be careful - being old and all.

Then he carried me right over to the air mattress, said something like “Can an old man do this?” and went on to coax four orgasms from me - one from his fingers, one from his tongue, one from his thigh, and finally one from where I wanted him most.

When we were done, I threw on one of his old tshirts and a pair of boxers. He just had on an old pair of sweats and a white tee. We stared into each others eyes like two lovesick teenagers until he said “Come here - I gotta show you something.”

“Babe, the house is empty.”

“Get over here smart ass.”

Jack picked up a candle and lead us over to the fireplace. He set the candle on the mantle as I read what was now engraved into the stone ‘The Abbots - Est 2025’

“So this is why you were getting all of those random tools from Amazon.”

Ever the handy man he is. Then he was on his knee. His bad one. To which I told him he didn’t have to do that. And then he said he would even if it killed him. And I think I said something stupid like “Not on my watch.”

I don’t even remember what he said after that. He doesn’t either. We both blacked out from sheer happiness. All I really remember is him asking me to do him the honor of being his wife and me pulling him up off of his knee and saying ‘Duh!’ as fast I could before kissing him. Over and over and over again until that air mattress was just a deflated extension of the wood floor beneath it.

・❥・

Dana’s hand rests on my thigh gently. My leg stops shaking. My mind doesn’t stop racing though.

I'm not an anxious person. If anything, I can be relaxed to a fault. But I am an intuitive person - and something is wrong.

Where is he?

“Relax. When is that man ever late?”

“That’s why I’m worried.”

You would think I didn't have my own license or car the way Jack insists on driving me everywhere. He tells me it is to keep our insurance from being sky high. I may or may not be a bit accident prone when behind the wheel. I tell him it's because he's obsessed with me. He always huffs a laugh and murmurs something about two things being true at once.

The Pitt makes sense. Ever since Jack started taking on more day shifts to balance out our conflicting schedules, a lot of times we are arriving and leaving here together. But on the off chance we are not, he is still picking me up. Always with some kind of treat in hand - usually a McDonalds Diet Coke much to Jack's dismay.

Jack takes the saying 'If you're not early - you're late' far more seriously than anyone I have ever met. The day shift typically gets off at 7 PM which means he is usually here to gossip with Robby on the roof by 6:35 PM.

“Go - take a case! He’ll be here to pick you up before you know it.”

My dissents are quickly met with Dana shooing me from the nurses station and personally squaring my shoulders to the board.

I haven’t even read the first name when Robby appears at my shoulder.

“Where is your fiancé?”

“Say that any louder and you’re going to be my next patient.”

“Yeah because you two are so inconspicuous with the whispering and the giggling and the big honking rock on your finger and the-“

“-disappearing to 'clean' the on-call room.” Dana finishes Robby’s sentence as they both double over in laughter.

Dana, Robby, and Collins are the only people in the ED that know about Jack and I’s relationship.

Collins knew I had feelings for Jack before I even let myself go there. Robby knew Jack had feelings for me before he let himself go there. So they took matters into their own hands.

Collins had a $100 on Jack breaking first. Robby $100 on me. And he had an extra $100 to spare when he bribed Dr Ellis to ask me to take her night shift for a week. Oh, how that backfired on him.

Three shifts later and Robby was $200 in the hole.

Six months later, I was moved out of my city apartment and into Jack's house.

Dana offered to drive me home after shift one night. Because it was cold and rainy and my apartment was close by. My apartment that I no longer lived in.

Jack wasn’t picking me up - he was out of town at a conference. I insisted on taking an uber, the bus, walking - anything that meant not explaining to Dana why my new address was the same as Dr Abbot's. She wouldn't take no for an answer and yelled "Oh, I knew it! Bridget owes me $100!" when I finally fessed up.

One year later, almost to the day that Robby had to pony up on his bet with Collins, I had an engagement ring on my finger.

Tonight, after he picks me up, Jack and I are going to pilates together.

It was only a matter of time before Robby and Collins gave it another go and I bet Jack that Robby would fold before Collins.

What's the point in betting money when we share a bank account? Seeing Jack in the pink pilates grippy socks he does not know I got him will be priceless.

“Well, when you find him please tell him that he is late for our date on the roof."

"Stop dragging him up there - you already have a date tonight!"

"Yeah, one in which I need his advice on."

"Oh please, you're talking to the wrong Abbot if you need advice on how to woo Collins." Dana interjects. Not everyone in the ED knows about Jack and I but they do know Heather and I are best friends.

"Oh, I wasn't aware you two had tied the knot already. Do you want me to change your name on the board? I can do that right now actually. Does HR know? It'll just take a moment-" Robby teases.

I grab the remote out of Robby's hands as he laughs, "Okay fine - go have your little roof date but do not take long!"

"Well, we'd already be done if he wasn't late. Where is he by the way? He is never late for anything.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me.”

I step forward, my elbows on the counter of the nurses station and my head now in my hands as I groan.

“Relax. It’s Jack - we couldn’t keep him away from this place even if we wanted to. Especially with you in here.” Robby squeezes my shoulder and is off to what I assume to be the roof.

I check my watch before I stand back up to scan the board for real this time - 6:50 PM.

Where is he?

I pull my phone from my pocket. There’s no new message from Jack lighting up my home screen but I open up our conversation anyways.

From Jack: I miss you

From Jack: I can’t believe Langdon is getting to hang out with you right now and not me

From Jack: If you stay at that damn hospital any longer we’re gonna have to start forwarding all these packages you order there

Little does he know one of those many packages holds his new pilates socks.

To Jack: Oh please - as if more than half aren’t all your little go bag gadgets

To Jack: And to think our colleagues think I’m the drama queen

“Incoming - Trauma 1!”

I’m happy for the distraction. I’m gowned, gloved, and ready to go before the patient is even rolled in.

The doors to Trauma 1 fly open - but not with a patient. Just Dana.

“I’m going to get Robby! You should not have to do this.” Dana is staring pointedly at me before she’s off. I don’t even get a chance to respond.

Weird. I know I’ve only been an attending for a couple months but Dana had more confidence in me on my first day as an intern than she did just now.

I now understand why as the patient is rolled in front of me.

There he is.

Unconscious. Cold. Clammy. And slightly bloody from a small cut on his forehead.

My world stops.

“Heart attack.” Langdon is here.

Somehow all I can think of is Jack’s text from earlier. I want to laugh but I can’t. What if I never get one again? I’m supposed to see him in pink pilates socks tonight. Not in a body bag.

“CLEAR!”

Suddenly all the pieces from the past couple days are coming together and I cannot believe I didn’t catch it sooner. Can’t believe he didn’t catch it sooner!

“CLEAR!”

His dizziness. The increase in massages of his amputated leg. The quick heart beat. The rash.

I hear the commotion around me. But I’m not processing any of it until it’s directed at me.

“I said CLEAR! Move!”

This cant be happening. So I decide that it’s not going to.

“No!” My voice comes out way more feeble than I meant. Way more feeble than anyone in this ED has ever heard me.

“Well I hope you enjoyed being Abbot’s favorite because you’re going to kill him and your career in one go.”

“Langdon - he is not having a heart attack.”

“Yes he is!”

“No he isn’t - take off his leg!”

“Take off his leg?! Okay, you’re literally going insane. And I’m supposed to report to you?! I know I went to rehab but oh my gosh - CLEAR!”

“I’m going to clear you out of this trauma bay if you do not get out of my way.”

You know how they say a new mom could lift a car off of her new born baby? I’m pretty sure that’s the phenomenon I am experiencing right now. I don’t exactly know what other worldly force is taking over me right now but I do not question it. I am watching myself from outside of my body as I spring into action.

I shove Langdon to the side as I lift up Jack’s pant leg to remove his prosthetic. The prosthetic that noone else in this room would’ve known he had.

He doesn’t keep it a secret but he doesn’t exactly advertise it either. Especially when he refuses to sit down on a double shift. Ironically enough, that’s probably why he is on this table.

I spot what I’m looking for immediately but Langdon is the one who speaks it out loud, “Pressure ulcer - he’s in septic shock.”

“Thanks for finally using your brain Dr Langdon but we’re going to be using mine from here on out.”

“Blood ox is 91.” Someone yells. I don’t know who. What I do know is that 91 is dangerously low.

“Scalpel.” I demand.

“What are you going to do?”

“We need to drain this fluid before his organs start to fail.”

The first and only time Jack taught me this procedure it was his save. Now it has to be mine.

I tell myself that one day we will be sitting in front of our engraved fireplace. Old. Like, actually old. Not the fake old that Jack tries to pretend he is. With kids and grandkids - telling them the story of how Jack saved his own life through the transitive property. So I better get to work.

“Scalpel. Now.”

Langdon slams the scalpel into my hand. I ignore the looks around the room. The looks that say ‘The only person qualified to perform something like this in an ED is the patient’.

“Your funeral. And his.” I ignore Langdon.

I must have cut the most perfect incisions of my life. Performed the most flawless procedure anyone has ever seen from me. I don’t remember any of it.

The loud beeping slows. His blood pressure rises. Then his blood oxygen. Then the bag I drained is full and being disposed of by Dana.

When did she get here?

Robby’s hand is on my shoulder, trying to pull me away.

When did he get here?

I hear him tell Whitaker to get a suture and close up the wound. Oh, the irony. Credit where credit is due - Whitaker has gotten much quicker under Jack’s patient teaching. Thank fucking goodness.

I think of the first real laugh I got out of Jack. My eyes start to tear up but I stop myself. I will hear that laugh again. Over and over and over again. So much so that I would get sick of it if that was even possible.

Robby is apologizing profusely into my ear. He has nothing to be sorry for. But I can’t manage any words. So I just let him move me out of Whittaker’s way but I do not leave Jack’s side.

I can’t seem to register anything beyond Jack’s face that I’m seemingly trying to force into consciousness with my stare alone.

“Where the hell did you learn that?”

My head turns to Whitaker at his question but it swivels so fast back to Jack I think I give myself whiplash. Because I don’t speak - he does.

“Solid work, doctor.”

I’ve never been happier to hear those words come out of his mouth.

“Oh my god.” My hand clamps over my mouth as my head dips to Jack’s chest, my arms wrapping around his shoulders.

My adrenaline tank plummets to zero and I am absolutely sobbing into Jack’s chest. Whatever was coursing through my veins during that procedure is coming out in what feels like gallons of tears and hiccups.

I don’t care who’s in the room. I don’t care that everyone is slack jawed and staring and so beyond confused. I don’t care that out of the corner of my eye I see Perlah slapping a $100 into Princess’s palm.

All I care is that Jack’s hand has found its way into my hair and when I place my shaking hand on top of it to make sure it’s real - it is. Even better - it’s warm and dexterous and alive.

He’s alive and he’s here.

He gently guides my head out of his chest. I lift my chin up to look at him - give him the eye contact I know he is seeking. That we both are.

“Baby - I’m okay. I’m okay, I’m safe, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice is as steady as ever. His heart beat matching it. The beat that was so faint what seems like moments ago.

I let it calm me down. I place a kiss to his chest and lean up to do the same to his forehead. My hand tangles in his salt and pepper curls as I hold his sweaty forehead to my lips and then bring my own forehead down to meet his. I close me eyes and breath him in.

He’s alive and he’s here.

“Welcome back, brother.” Robby manages to choke out through a couple tears of his own.

“Just wanted to make sure you guys weren’t getting lazy at the end of your shift.”

We all crack a smile but only Robby speaks, “Does this mean I have to work a double?”

“Not if you go park my car. It’s in the ambulance bay.”

I speak a full sentence for what feels like the first time in days, “You drove here?”

“We had a date. Plus, I wasn’t feeling quite right.” Jack nods down towards his amputated leg like it’s nothing but a minor inconvenience.

I dig into his pocket and toss Robby his keys. Robby calls for a CT and a room with a bed before ushering himself and everyone else out to give us some privacy.

“And how are you feeling now?”

“I’m feeling like I’d like to make the woman who just saved my life my wife.”

My hand immediately flies to the small cut on his forehead. The blood dry and crusty, “How hard did you hit your head? We’re already engaged.”

Jack chuckles, places his hand on mine and squeezes, “I barely hit my head when I fell out of the car. I’m fine - I just really don't want to live another moment without being able to call myself your husband.”

So we don’t. Not really anyways. I make Jack get every fucking scan in the book that I think we hit our insurance deductible in under an hour. He humors me by lying in the bed in one of the ER rooms as I pump a myriad of fluid and antibiotics into him.

After a few hours his blood oxygen is perfect. So is his blood pressure and his heart rate. I don’t think I’ve taken my eyes off of him once. Or my hands. Running my hands through his hair, caressing his forehead, squeezing his forearm. Just to reassure myself he is here.

He understands what I’m doing. Hears what I cannot say. He grabs my hand on its next pass through his hair and presses a kiss to every single knuckle before speaking, “Baby, I’m sorry I scared you. I scared myself honestly. But I promise, I am not going anywhere. Ever. And I am so sorry you had to go through that. You should have never had to operate on me. I don’t know how you did that. I mean if it was flipped. If I saw you come in like that-“

His voice falters, his bottom lip quivers and he pulls me into the tightest hug as we both begin to cry. I think if we could crawl into eachothers skin, we would.

We stay there like that for a while. Until Jack grabs my face, kisses every single part of it, then whispers “I love you so much but I think if you pump anymore fluid into me you’re going to water board me.”

As if on cue, Robby whips the curtain open, “To the roof we go!”

“You can’t be serious.”

Robby holds up some kind of certificate as Collins and Dana round the corner.

In the hours I spent nursing Jack back to health, I went to the bathroom one time. And only because I hadn’t gone the last four hours of my shift and I own a huge water bottle.

In that one bathroom break, Jack had managed to get Robby ordained online and enlisted Dana and Collins to ‘decorate’ the roof.

We’re still gonna have our wedding ceremony and the reception and the whole ordeal. But I agree with him - I can’t go another second not married to him. Not after today.

So we go up to the roof. Jack still in his hospital gown and me in my scrubs. Robby officiates, Dana sings because she can’t help herself, and Collins ‘witnesses’ which really means crying.

Jack is kissing me before Robby can even say, “You may kiss your bride.”

When we come up for air, Robby claps both of us on the back and says, “Solid work, you two.”

I just kiss my husband again. Because he is alive and he is here

kawaii 🩵

nice boys and sour hearts | satoru gojo x reader

wc: 4.6k cw: minor swearing, he refers to u as 'momma' once (its normal i promise) n i think thats about it post suguru defection, shoko typical smoking ; no established relationship b ur def more than friends

i didnt want this angst to be too intense so i made it super duper fluffy. hopes it tastes like strawberries to u cs it does in my head ; another one of those fics i whipped up to meet the weekend deadline b i’m actually proud of this one not proofread!

satoru hates arguing with you.

it bites at him; twists his heart from the inside out in such a gut-wrenching way that he can hardly stand seeing your nose wrinkle in frustration and your eyes narrow with impatience, let alone hear the words coming out of your mouth, dripping with venom and irritation directed at him. he's never been used to being on the receiving end.

it tastes sour; bitter on his tongue in a way he's never been accustomed to. his tastebuds only recognize the sweet taste of fruit syrup, powdered sugar, or warm chocolate as home; he never indulges in the bitter, like the black coffee the kid he took in seems to like so much. but he'll take the silly sour lemon drops with sweet cream in the center, only because they remind him of you. you, so sweet when you love but sour when you're annoyed, which happens to be now, in this instant.

of course, he'll tell himself he doesn't mind. that sweet and sour have always gone nicely together. like strawberry lemonade on hot summer afternoons when the both of you have had enough of being stuffed into a clammy hot classroom with your musclebrain teacher. sometimes its the three of you, maybe even the four of you if you get lucky with the pixie stick trade offering (a healthier alternative to a cigarette, you both agreed on). but nowadays, it was only ever the two of you. the bitter had chosen his own path, and tangy was locked up in the infirmary sun up to sun down.

but right now, you're upset with him. and he absolutely despises it— to him, it's abhorrent. a strong word, but it's only fitting. but he can't help it when your conversation lingers in his mind, spinning itself a web of self-doubt and hurt and anger as he slips his gym shoes off and redresses himself by the school lockers, running a hand through his hair with a forced, annoyed exhale.

it was nothing big, really. or at least, that's what he thinks. you'd been in the gym after school, watching as he messed around with the basketball, seeing how long he could go dribbling by himself with a bump of his knee there, pushing it to the floor with his hand and watching it bounce back up with mild interest. he had no one to play with, but at least the ball would come back up no matter how much he pushed it down.

it was small. barely worth fussing over.

he had already been irritated. it was hot out, because summer was coming around. sweat beaded on his neck and rolled down his chest, seeping into his shirt as he wiped his forehead and made another shoot at the hoop, landing back on his feet with a soft thud as the basketball rattled around the rusted metal ring and fell through the net for the nth time that afternoon.

a hum of approval comes from your throat, followed by a loud whistle of contentment from him as he watches the ball bounce on the floor. he hikes his sunglasses up his forehead, bringing an arm up and wiping away the sweat on his cheek with his sleeve as he turns to look at you.

"that was pretty good, yeah? i think i deserve a celebratory smooch. lay some sugar on me, momma'." he laughs, loud and arrogant. you just give him a pointed look at that, but he ignores it as a sign for something wrong and only acknowledges it as your dramatic endearment. like speeding up at the sight of a yellow light in hopes that you'll make it instead of slowing down at the warning.

his shoes made squeaking sounds on the gym floor as he made his way over to you, swiping his shades off his face and sliding them onto your forehead, nestling in your hair as he grabbed a rag from the bench and wiped the sweat from his jaw. you have his uniform jacket on your lap, the yellow button glinting in the dying sunlight filtering in through the windows, reflecting off indiscernible flecks of dust in the air.

you had watched him with quiet contentment, observing the languid way he moved, graceful like a dancer moving in water. but then, you seemed to remember something; his lips pressed into a thin line, tilted to one side in anticipation. it made you hesitate— he always knew when you were about to speak before you even opened your mouth. he had come to notice, and appreciate, little things about you like that.

"were you smoking with shoko?" you had asked him. he tilted his head, eyebrow cocked up as he made a face. "no, i wasn't. why d'ya ask?" he huffed, watching from the corner of his eye with mild disinterest as the basketball, still rolling from his previous goal, bumped into the wall. cocky as ever.

(he wouldn't even look you in the eye when you were being dead serious.)

you reach a hand into his jacket, fishing around for something in his pocket; that gets his attention. who knows what trinkets and candy wrappers he has in there? and he'd hate for you to send him to his yearly checkup early again; the nurses always try to coddle him, and he has half a mind to charge for battery. nevertheless, he almost mistakes what you pull out for a lollipop stick. but it's not— it's a cigarette; a white papery hit of cancer with a dead cherry. certainly not a wise idea to keep that in his pocket among the other very flammable wax wrappers and the occasional flower petal, but who were you to judge? you, who's lips pucker like they've just tasted lemon juice when he eyes the unlit cigarette, utterly unamused.

he knows that you know it's his; the subtle glistening of pink around the end points to the gloss on his lips; he can practically taste it on his tongue. he wonders if you'd put the cigarette to your mouth too if you could have a sample of his lipgloss; then again, you could always just ask for a lip-to-lip taste, and he'd indulge you without a second thought.

you twist the cigarette butt between your fingers so that he can see the remnants of faint strawberry pink on the edges. he just rolls his eyes with a loud huff, leaning his weight back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pant pockets.

"yeesh. you're such a goody two shoes, y'know? how come shoko's allowed to smoke 'n i'm not?" he drawls, an arrogant lilt to his voice as he sticks his lower lip out. you can see a matte spot where the gloss had been transferred to the cigarette paper. you just sigh exasperatedly (he feels like a kid when you do that) and lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. his jacket bunches up in your lap.

you tap the cigarette to his chest a few times; it makes a soft thumping sound against the fabric, and for a moment he's grateful of the noise; it sounds just like the way his heartbeat picks up with each touch, but you don't hear it. he wonders if you ever will. maybe one day, when there isn't so much distance between you and he has the opportunity to tuck your head to his chest, right over his heart.

"it's not that i care about the lung damage, idiot. why were you smoking?" you asked, voice softening. and he absolutely hates when you do that, because it always pulls on his heartstrings and brings a flush to his face, the way you treat him. he thought that if you did it enough, he'd be sent to the doctor for heart palpitations instead of a sweet tooth.

he doesn't answer you at that. how could he tell you, when he knew all that'd result from it was a thorn in his side? you, being the rose. so beautiful but awfully prickly and unfairly sour like a lemondrop with a sweet inside. then again, he'd much rather have your interrogating care than lose you, like what had happened with the reason he was trying out smoking in the first place.

then, it happened— your voice went unbearably soft, like puffy white covers and featherlight pillows with silk covers on a saturday morning, looking out the window to see pink tulips against a cloudy blue sky as the sun streamed in. it almost made him want to clutch your hand over his chest and see if you could feel the way he was reacting. no doubt, it was filled with such patient tenderness; all-encompassing sweetness it made him want to cry. so he coughed to cover it up, averting his gaze and bringing one hand to his face to absentmindedly smooth down the strands of damp white hair hanging over his eyes.

"thinkin' about suguru again, are you?" you asked gently, tucking the cigarette back into your pocket—yours, not his—and reaching out to take his hand.

his lips parted ever so slightly, gaping like a goldfish. he knew he looked silly, and he should've been okay with that— because being vulnerable with you, out of everyone he ever knew (with maybe the exception of one) was easier than breathing; came more naturally to him than his gravitation to a challenge. the same could be said for sweets.

(maybe he'd have to re-evaluate his proclaimed taste, then. since you were more sour than sweet.)

but this time, he wasn't okay with it. it had been hard to talk about what had happened with suguru one year ago since— it formed a nasty lump in his throat, bitter like black coffee and the wrong mix of herbs. it made him feel weak. reminding him of his shortcomings, which, in his mind, shouldn't even exist in the first place. but you never had a problem ripping his problems from the shielded cavity in his gut, bringing them under the operator's light to dissect and solve like a surgeon. forget about forcing him to the doctor's— at this point, you should be the one in the white coat, not shoko. he thinks about what you'd look like with blue gloves on your delicate fingers for a moment too long.

"what's it to you?" he snaps back after what feels like three years of his life. his fingers tighten around yours for a moment before he pulls his hand away abruptly.

the frown that lingered on your face from then on had been burned into his memory.

and, well, that was his mistake. it spiraled from there— because he knew what it was to you, and he hated that. hated that you could see straight through him like a cloud blue stained glass window; without rose colored lenses like the ones he always wore (the ones he rocked, he thinks).

a crack of thunder overhead jolts him from his thoughts; he couldn't even get in there to dust the spiderwebs away before being jerked back into reality. he clicks his tongue in disappointment, watching as the skies pry themselves open and rain begin to fall in the way it only did over heavy summer showers. he wishes the sky would stop its weeping, but even the strongest has his limitations.

but it doesn't matter. he has one of those cheap plastic umbrellas he'd bought from a convenience store one day in a late march many moons ago, during the brightest blue spring of his life. and so, he didn't understand why he was lingering at the door, swinging the umbrella around his fingers by the hook on the handle, watching as the rain fell with increased fervor. there was no plastic button to keep the folds tied up, so it floundered around with each swing like a tulip bent by monsoon winds. maybe on the coast of some faraway land with windmills and fields of flowers. he wonders if he'll ever get to see the world with you someday— a fleeting thought that crumbles instantly when he conjures your pretty face in his vision, clear yet distorted like a reflection on a glazed pond, rippling water from the dragonflies that skipped over the surface.

you were definitely still angry with him, because you hadn't showed— normally, you'd walk home together. sometimes with shoko, if she didn't leave early. angry words echo in his mind, the image of your downturned lips swimming in his bright vision as he watches the rain streak down the window panes by the lockers. there's a fog settling over the grass outside that's sure to leave dew after the storm. he wonders when that'll be.

"why can't you ever take me seriously? can't you see i'm worried about you?"

"of course i can. but i don't need your damn concern!”

...

he'd been sorely mistaken, that was for sure. loosing his cool and snapping at you wasn't exactly something he took pleasure in, either way. he leans back on his heels, tapping his foot impatiently as he holds the umbrella like a cane against the floor. infinity could probably do away with the rain. another reason as to why he's not even sure why he's waiting here, or why he's holding an umbrella. perhaps to keep in case he has to offer it to some poor, shivering and cowering young maiden lost beneath the shading of a bus stop behind a curtain of rain droplets, with a charming grin and a wink.

maybe.

a shuffle behind him catches his ear; he turns his head, an unamused expression on his face as his eyes drift over the empty room to land on you. the shadows beneath your eyes are prominent, and your hair is unkempt. there are sleep lines on your face; you probably fell asleep in a classroom somewhere, which is why you delayed.

it was evident you weren't expecting to see him, though— with the way your eyes widened a little before they dropped again, nose bridge wrinkling slightly as if you'd caught the scent of something unpleasant. your eyes left his, and he felt a little disappointed as he watched them wander toward the window, where the current downpour was prominent. he didn't like the way it made his chest pang when your attention was anywhere but him, so he raised his hand lazily, tilting his head to catch your attention that he so clearly craved.

"yo. got an umbrella?" he calls, tapping the tip of his budget cane on the floor. the thud is the only sound for a while as your gaze wanders back over to him; reluctant.

"no, i don't. i didn't expect it to rain so hard today." you responded quietly, stepping over to him with a small sigh. almost a little resigned, he thinks. he can't be sure, though. he never is with you. doesn't know whether to expect his candy to be sour in the center or the other way around; but maybe he likes a bit of uncertainty every once in a while. (not with you, though. if it means arguing? never with you.)

his sunglasses are hooked around the collar of your shirt. he doesn't know why it takes him so long to realize, but when he does, he has to clear his throat in an effort to hide the heat on his face and do away with the blush. "here. take mine. i don't need it," he says curtly, offering his umbrella to you. he wants to snatch the shades from your shirt, but he doesn't want anything to go wrong, so he just eyes them warily, careful not to let his gaze slip past into anything you'd be pissed at him for.

you eye him, eyes narrowed as you raise an eyebrow, but you don't protest. your fingers brush against his for a brief moment when you take it, shaking it a little before opening the door and stepping outside, opening it up. it looks like a little clear plastic mushroom cap over your head; you're short enough to constitute as the stalk in his eyes. it's a little funny, but he has to stifle the laugh bubbling on his tongue lest you think he's making a mock of you.

he follows after you, slipping past to stand at your side with his hands in his pockets. you can't help but feel a little curious despite your prolonged anger (you like holding grudges, he knows), so you sneak a glance upward to satiate your wonder. you don't expect him to look as breathtaking as he does.

the clouds are light overhead; they're not a heavy blanket of gray anymore, and a small strip of light manages to push through, shining on satoru's pale white hair. you can make out the edge of his undercut against his neck when the wind picks up a little, the color of fluffy white clouds on a lavender sunset with the sway of yellow flowers beneath an expanse of a bright sky. there's a little cat hair on the collar of his jacket; you realize with a faint flush that it must've been from when you were holding his jacket for him in the gym. somehow, the cat you have at home found its way to satoru. you hope your pet has become a matchmaking fortune teller, for the sake of your happiness.

what catches your eye the most, though, isn't the cat hair on his dark jacket or the faraway look in his misty blue eyes; it's the outline of rain water around him, a product of his infinity, you realize. he's dry underneath the downpour, and it never ceases to amaze you. it's like there's a soft glowing halo against the backdrop of tangled wires, gray walls and pale green bushes— he looks like an angel boy, school bag hooked and hanging over one shoulder.

eventually, you manage to peel your gaze away, and he notices— looks down at you, pressing his lips together and running his tongue over them. he can taste strawberry gloss.

wordlessly, you start walking. and he follows suit, rain bouncing off of him; you catch yourself sneaking glances from under the roof of your clear umbrella between raindrops that slide down the clear plastic. sometime during the walk home, he had gone off and gotten himself a drink from a nearby vending machine— the red can catches your eye, and your fingers curl around the rubber handle of the lent umbrella as you watch him drink; the bob of his adam's apple before he crushes the can up and tosses it into a nearby bush, causing a brief scattering of leaves and a downpour of collecting droplets onto the pavement.

despite the rain, the weeds between the cracks in the sidewalk still stay strong; they have deep roots. much like the way you never fail to scowl at him for littering. he catches it— of course he does. he's been praying for a sign you're not still so hopelessly angry with him that you can't even bring yourself to have a civil walk in the summer rain together. after the scowl, though, comes the smile— the one that always makes him melt in his shoes, much like the sunshine after the rain.

and there it is at last, he thinks. the hard sour coating melts away on his tongue, draining the taste of lemon to reveal a sweet, genuine center. all it takes is time. your lips curve up, and you duck your head, hiding the small bemused laugh that leaves you breathless.

"what are you laughin' at?" he huffs, glaring down at you. but there's no malice behind it— if only you could feel the wave of relief that's washed over him, a crest of white foam that leaves behind still waters reflected in the pools of sapphire in his eyes. nothing like the hit of numbing nicotine he'd shared in the shade of an alleyway with shoko earlier that day— away from the sun; away from you. hidden from both. or maybe they were the same— to him, he couldn't differentiate.

"i'm not laughing!" you protested weakly, immediately wiping the grin from your lips, and he regrets speaking up. "just.. i dunno."

you walk in silence for a little longer, content to listen to the rain lighten up overhead. satoru kicks a plastic onigiri wrapper out of the way, splashing up a puddle as a frown dampens his face when the wrapping only clings to his shoes. he's fine with getting a little grumpy if it means seeing you smile again. and even better, you laugh again— so sweet, like the chiming of bells in the wind's melody.

"please don't do that again." your voice sounds so very small when he hears it again, and he looks down at you from beneath long white lashes, the corner of his lips quirked up. the shape of them is almost cat-like, you think. he doesn't even know what you're talking about— a vague idea, at best— but he won't do it. not if it means hearing you sound so pathetically... sad. he doesn't like it. it's far too bitter for his taste. let the black betta you both used to know indulge in dark coffee and bitter cologne— satoru likes things sweet, like the cream surrounded by tea leaf matcha in the center of his mochi and fluttering feeling he gets when you run your hands through his hair, fluffing it up to your heart's content.

(as long as your heart is happy, his is, too.)

"i won't. happy now?" he sticks his tongue out, making a face. but you both know he means it— he hates breaking his promises to you. you smile when you look up at him again with a small nod, and he feels his knees wobble a little. he just hopes you don't notice. "sorry for lying. i just.. don't like it when you're mad at me. and you look at me like that," he mumbles under his breath, bunching up the fabric of his pants between his fingers. then, after a moment, "geez, you're so dramatic. quit carin' so much." he really hopes you don't stop, and it makes him feel like the world's biggest hypocrite. the strongest, but so weak for you.

"sorry, can't. the day you stop crushing your soda cans and littering is the day i'll stop caring, 'cus that won't be my satoru anymore." you tease. and he laughs, throwing his head back so you don't see the red that spreads across his cheeks, dusting his skin like powdered sugar on top of a strawberry crepe. he always wants to be your satoru, so he figures he'll keep littering. a few money fines here and there mean nothing to his undentable wallet, or the erratic beating of his heart, trapped against his ribcage in a feathery blooming of flowers he only gets from you and your pretty smile underneath the layer of lemony sourness.

you walk along the road for a little while longer. the rain has lightened, but it's still going— incessant, dripping from the leaves of trees and the knotted black wires overhead. he still has his infinity up, which means he can't pet the cat the two of you spot on your way back, but he's perfectly content to watch you do it. you scratch its chin, smiling at the way it purrs and nuzzles into your hand, and he wonders if he'd do the same if he was in its position.

he's lost in thought when you speak to him again, shoes splashing against murky puddles in the backdrop of a never-sleeping city; tokyo's bright skyline always makes your eyes go round with wonder. you say something, and he chuckles, warm and velvety. and then you realize what's been off with him this whole time— he doesn't have his shades on.

you slip them off the collar of your shirt, smoothing down the fabric before you reach over and attempt to nudge his arm. you don't think it'll work, because he still has his infinity up— and your sleeves are already getting spattered by rain that leaves darkened wet spots on the cotton. but to your amazement, your fingers make contact with his sleeve, and you watch in wonder as the rain actually falls— soaks into that little patch of wet fabric that you're able to feel on his arm. that he's turned his infinity off in that one spot so you could touch him. you spare a glance up at him, only to find his head angled away from you. you might be hallucinating, but the tips of his ears seem red.

you don't linger on it before you're tugging on his shirt with a frown, getting him to look down at you as you unfold his glasses and offer them over to him. he takes them quickly, and you don't miss the way the rain stops falling onto his arm again, back to bouncing off the invisible shield that protects him from everything (but you, it seems). he slips his dark shades back over his eyes, obscuring oceans of pure blue that seem like they've trickled in from the purest snowcaps on the distant mountains dotted with old red tori gates and shrines with scrapped paint. but you can't stifle the smile that spreads across your lips this time— giddy and fresh and filled with youth, blossoming like sakura petals in a spring that seems so far away yet so close with his presence by your side.

you don't say anything for a while. you're content to watch the rain wash down the pavement and into the gutters, past cute little coffee shops and parks with ponds as the droplets from the sky scatter the water in part of a never-ending cycle; watering the surface of the earth and bringing life that would soon spring up as shroomcaps and fresh dew on the clean cut green grass. you wonder what satoru sees through his lenses— though, you already know. you've worn them plenty of times before, when he insists on having your perfume cling to the frame for long missions he's sent on alone, when he can't have you hold his jacket, or his hand, or scold him for sneaking a smoke when you're not watching. that, and the extra lemondrops he keeps in his pocket; gifts from you that he's fought hard for.

you're more prepared to not feel any interference of his infinity this time when you reach over, and this time you don't go for his sleeve—yanking him close to you by his hand and forcing him beneath your umbrella. you feel the way he freezes up for a moment, but his fingers fill in the gaps between your own like its the most natural thing in the world, palms pressed together in a little breathless hug that leaves no room for the humid air.

"don't waste your infinity on the rain, dumbass. you'll fry what little is left of your brain." you scold him, and he just grumbles and scoffs angrily under his breath, cursing you as he hunches over and ducks his head to fit under the umbrella to negate his height. his hair brushes against the plastic roof of the umbrella, and his lanky limbs are still awkwardly sticking out, but his fingers tighten around yours and his thumb rubs over your knuckles, still a little damp from your earlier encounter with the rain, and you can't help but smile a smile bright enough to wash away every last bit of cloud in the sky. his personal sunshine.

even though he still prefers sweet things, satoru's come to like the taste of lemondrops. sweet and sour go well together, after all. just like you and him.

its okay if it doesnt taste like anything to u as long as u enjoyed it :) thanks for reading !! the black betta in question is suguru btw my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

— GOODBYE, MY LOVE

⤷ featuring : geto suguru (mentions of gojo satoru, ieiri shoko and nanami kento)

⤷ warnings : major jujutsu kaisen manga spoilers and a bit of angst

⤷ form : imagine

⤷ published : 19 march

⤷ pronouns : not mentioned

⤷ word count : 0.7k

⤷ request : Hehyehye, can i request an imagine with a female reader; where she’s Geto’s girlfriend/classmate and they’re spending their last moments together before he ends up leaving (after Geto is charged with his crimes)

⤷ barista’s notes : let me admit, i've been hating the layouts of my writing but i have no idea how to like 'solve it' anyways, watch me scroll on pinterest for hours to see how i can fix this feeling ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ also i don't think i'm really good with angst writing but that's just my opinion....

It seemed to be a bit too quiet.

Too quiet for Suguru's liking, but what can he do when it was 2 am in the morning.

Softly twirling the ends of your hair, Suguru couldn’t help but begin to admire the shine of the strands before his eyes slowly shift from the strand of your hair to your eyelashes before moving to the apple of your cheeks that were still flushed with a rose hue, ending his journey to your lips that were a little chapped, making him remember how you would alway apply a layer of your favourite chapstick since you hated the feeling of your lips being dry, yet he didn’t mind at all. For some strange reason, Suguru didn’t mind your chapped lips since he knew he was the one to moisturise them the second his lips met yours, but secretly he also did enjoy the taste of the artificial sweetness that came along with the product.

However, right now, Suguru’s body felt the heaviest it has ever been causing him to force himself to balance on his arm since he didn’t want to crush you with his body, worried that he could hurt you like he did with his parents just a few hours ago. Even though he knew that you wouldn’t mind his body on top of yours like you have experienced throughout the time of your intimate relationship, Suguru couldn’t help but believe that this weight he was experiencing will crush you the second he let loose.

“You know you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met right?” Suguru whispered as he let your hair slip from his grasp. “You are so beautiful that I want to take you with me,” he continued before wrapping his arms around your bare body, making you unconsciously sign at the warmth that was comforting you right now as you snuggled against his naked chest, feeling the way your legs tangled with each other, as if you were savouring this moment.

“But I can’t do that, because who is going to take care of Satoru and Shoko if I’m gone,” Suguru mentioned as he began to recall all the times where you put your classmates in place even though you were the youngest out of all of them. “How are you going to take care of Nanami if I take you with me?” Suguru questioned again, yet this time it seemed as if he was asking himself this.

Gently placing a light kiss on your temple before resting his forehead, Suguru felt a single tear drop from his eye to your cheek.

Suguru wasn’t scared about the path he had chosen to walk on, nor he was scared about the consequences of his actions. Suguru was scared of leaving you alone.

He wasn’t stupid. Suguru knows you can defend yourself and how to fight - you were a sorcerer after all like him - but there was still a part of him where he was afraid that you were going to fall into the hands of those ‘monkeys’ that he once vowed to protect. He didn’t want to leave you all alone in this cruel world to survive for yourself. He wanted to convince you to follow him, so he could protect you and continue this love that connected you both heart to heart and soul to soul.

Suguru wanted to make his vision of this relationship come true, he wanted to live with you, marry you, have children with you.

Even the simple things he wanted.

He wanted to stay by your side. He wanted to hold you whenever he wanted. He wanted to kiss you, love you, even breathe the same air as you.

Suguru wanted nothing more but to have you.

He wanted nothing but to have a normal life with you like you had mentioned to him when you both snuck out of your dorms one night to have a weird timing picnic - he still recalls the scolding you both received from your teacher Yaga when he found you both sleeping outside since you were both late for class.

But he knew that he couldn’t and this was the one time he couldn’t let his selfishness control his actions.

Stroking the apple of your cheek, Suguru couldn’t help but smile with glassy eyes once he got a full view of you resting in his arms while your arms tight around him, keeping him from moving away even when he needed to leave you so soon.

“I’m so sorry, please forgive me,” Suguru pleaded before tightening his hold, nervous of the days where he was never going to be by your side again.

© violettelueur 2022 - all rights are reserved to violettelueur. Do not repost, copy, change/modify, plagiarise, translate or screenshot my work : this will also include other social media/writing platforms like AO3, Wattpad, TikTok and many more.

how pretty

by pollikimmart

a scene from my fic... i just love the idea of him turning soft <3

Sergei

Kraven x Reader [Pt.2]

Big cat man has a weak spot for little cats and their owner. / A simple domestic, fluffy one where a quick job takes an unexpected turn.

Wordcount: 2.6k

Kraven wanted to hit the Spider man where it hurt the most; his found family.

That family included you, so let's go over that day you met, yeah?

All he had was your name, social media profile pics and an adress his people managed to conjure up for him.

So there he was, parked a few blocks away, ready to get to his first prey. He made his way into the apartment building and followed the door numbers untill he had reached the right one.

He had decided to give this a more stealthy approach, so instead of simply breaking down your door he picked the lock and let himself in quietly. With one hand on the door handle and the other on his knife he stepped into your home, immediately being alarmed by the animals either hissing at him or scurrying away. He quietly closed the door behind him, taking in his surroundings and being almost stunned by the little piece of paradise you seemed to live in. He stepped around in your apartment, careful not to step  on any of the many cat toys sprawled all over and avoiding any of the cats that were curiously staring at him. He stared at your walls covered in fabric covered shelves amd scratching poles, little food and water bowls everywhere. Without thinking about it he reached out for one of the furry residents who happily pressed its head into his palm. As one started, the others slowly became more comfortable around him as well and within a short moment he was surrounded by cats of all shapes and sizes.

He padded around a bit more untill he had reached your small kitchen, staring at the lion themed towels and the cat shaped mugs behind the glass cabinet doors. A touch to his leg pulls him from his thoughts as he spots the big, red cat rubbing against his calf, purring for attention. He reaches down to pet him and makes the mistake of sitting down because quickly he is stuck with his back against the kitchen cabinets and a large cat in his lap with more surrounding him.

You're done at the store a few blocks from your home and make your way back with a small bag of food and another one full of cat treats.

You get to your floor and walk along the hall until you reach your door, putting the key into the lock and opening the door with only a small twist of the key. 'Ugh, again?' You think to yourself, making a mental note to remember to check if you locked your door before you walk away next time.

Entering your house you're immediately noticing you're not being welcomed like you usually are. There's no crazy meowing or paws trying to grab whatever is in the plastic bags. Really, only two of your oldest cats were to be seen from your spot at the door as you put your keys and phone on the little side table.

You stepped forward to say hi to the old, grey one closest to you gave him some pats and made your way through the livingroom, turning the corner and stopping dead in your tracks across from your kitchen entrance.

The bags previously in your hand hit the floor with a loud crunch, startling some of your cats, them scurrying away to their hiding places. 'What the hell..'

Before you were almost all of your cats, surrounding a man who was sitting against your kitchen cabinets with your biggest orange cat in his lap, clearly demanding scratches as he complained loudly every tine the man removed his hands from him.

"You uh.. You got a great place here." Who was this guy? And see? You did lock your door when you left! You just stood there, staring in confusion.

"What?" Was all your brain was doing. What was he doing here? What's the meaning of this? How did he even get in here and why is this stupidly handsome cat loving man on my kitchen floor? Who even is he?

A sigh left the man's lips as your loving companion clawed at his hands and pulled it back onto him for the umpteenth time in the short period he had been there.

"I'm Sergei." He spoke, looking up at you. "And you're a friend of the spider man." The way he stated it so matter of factly immediately sent you into panic mode, fidgeting to grab your phone, remembering you had put it at the door. Your cursed at yourself, not wanting to turn around to grab it because if he knew about you and spiderman there was no way this guy was gonna let you reach that phone.

He raised one of his hands, not wanting go raise the other as well and get scratched again. It was so stupid how you just stopped thinking of grabbing your phone when you noticed his sweet gestures towards your pets and the way they all seemed to love him. Your friends always joked about how you could never be someone's friend if your cats didn't like them, and since they all liked this man.. They liked Sergei so you just slowly picked up your bags and started putting the items away. You two talked, mostly about your crazy amount of animals and the things he observed about them as you walked around, keeping a close eye on him in the meantime.

"This guy is nice, what's his name?" Sergei spoke, pointing at the cat still draped over his legs. "That fatty is Nacho, he usually hates new people." You muse from beside him, squatted down to put the cat food on the bottom shelf. You look over at them, reaching to give Nacho some belly rubs like he wasn't still laying in this stranger's lap.

"You still haven't told me why you're here." You stood up and grabbed four large party snack plates and a box of wet food, deviding ghe food in small portions. You quietly shook your head as Sergei hadn't said anything yet. With the amount of space you needed to prepare this food, you had stepped so far to the side that his shoulder was resting against your leg. You nudged him with your knee, getting his attention. "You know you can just, like, put him on the floor, right?" They both looked up at you like you had just offended their families. "Get up and give a hand here."

He blinked in surprise with how direct you were being with him and gave an apologetic look to the animal in his lap before picking him up and placing him on the tile floor. Getting up he let out a tired groan aa he lazily reached for the two outter plates you jad prepared and basically trapping you between him and the counter. "Now, where do you want these?" He asks quietly, laughing softly to himself as he sees you stammering, trying so hard to find the words of the locations you put the cats' dinner. He chuckles and picks up the plates, carecully walking around to find the right spots and making sure not to accidentally kick any of the eager felines trying to get as close as possible to the food.

He looks around, spotting an empty side table and placing the first one there before taking the other one to a spot where three cats sat waiting on the floor.

By the time he had finished placing the food you were back to yourself enough to put the remaining plates away on autopilot, only stopping to aimlessly walk around as you see Sergei again, very carefully petting one of the older cats and letting it lick some sauce off his fingers. You walked closer, not taking your eyes off the scene in front of you, shocked that old Mr. Snowball was actually accepting food like that.

"He never does that.." you state blankly, more to yourself than to your guest. He had heard your comment and smiled to himself, petting the old cat some more and kept feeding it for a bit longer.  You stood closer to him now, closely observing his movements and body language, hoping to learn something from the way he managed to feed the one cat who barely even wanted to eat his favorite snacks anymore.

The doorbell made you both jump, taking away your focus on the scene before you as you walked to open the door, realization hitting you that you completely forgot to cancel your dinner order after your friend canceled your plans earlier today. You open the door and accept the food, thanking the delivery guy with a sweet smile and close the door with your foot.

"So, hungry?" You quip withtour hands full of takeout boxes. The confused stare you receive isn't really helping you feel less awkward about the whole situation. "I forgot to cancel the food order after my friend called me she couldn't make it tonight." You continue to ramble about today's events being all messed up, and on top of that having a complete stranger in her house.

During your speech he had moved over and carefully taken the boxes from your hands, setting them on the small coffeetable in front of the tv. "I can eat." His answer came out so simple, not even phased by your rather offensive wording from only a minute ago. With some convincing he managed to get you to sit down on the couch.

He sits down at the tsble on the floor, his back against the couch seats right next to you. "I'm not here to hurt you." He speaks softly without looking at you. "Well.." A sigh leaves his lips. "Not anymore, at least." 

You sigh, head laid back against the back cushions. "You're one of Spidey's enemies." It wasn't even a question. You recalled him mentioning you being friends with him earlier.

He turned to face you, one arm over the couch seat. "I can't hurt someone like you." You gave him a look at his choice of words. "You care more for these creatures than for yourself. I love that." Turning baxk to the table, he took one of the takeout boxes and handed it to you. "Altough I believe you need to start caring for yourseld a bit more. I looked inside your fridge." You fake whince at the fridge mention and accept the food, quickly taking a bite.

"So," still chewing on your food, you start. "You broke into my apartment to either kill me or hurt me very bad.." You looked at him and shook your head. "But you decided not to when you learned I like animals more than people?"

He lets out a laugh at that. "Yes. That is the basics." You smile back at him. "Well, be glad my cats like you, then. Otherwise I would have tried to kick you out and I'd have gotten hurt and slash or killed for sure. And honestly I'm surprised you managed to feed him." Nodding your head in the direction of the old cat in the corner. He follows your gaze and smiles to himself. "What can I say? I'm a cat person." He shrugs casually, eating some more fries.

Looking at the table you realised you wanted something to drink. You got up and placed your food bsck on the table, walking over to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle and two glasses, setting them all down on the table and pouring you both a glass. You sit back down and the two of you finish your food together.

After dinner you gather everything off the table, taking the stack and putting it away, bringing back a new bottle of drinks from the kitchen.

As you sat back down you missed your little side table and scooted over to the other side, placing your glass next to you and settling down right behind Sergei who was still on the floor. "You don't have to stay down there, you know." You mention. He looks up at you, his head now touching your lower legs as you sit cross-legged behind him. "I'm good here. Easy access to these guys." His hands again reaching out to pet some more wandering cats. He had closed his eyes halfway into his sentence and kept his head laying against your leg. Without thinking twice you let one of your own hands wander and softly brushed your fingers through his oh so soft looking curls. He let out a soft hum at that and you couldn't help but laugh at yourself a little.

"What's so funny?" With a quirked up eyebrow he watches you through one opened eye.

"It's just, my friends always told me I have a horrible taste in men,"

With that he openend his eyes to look at you properly. "What I mean is, they would totally kick me out of the friendgroup if they saw me here, having dinner and being cute with a guy who had plans to kill me." You kept playing with his hair as you spoke nervously to which he let out a soft hum and put a hand up to pat your leg. "You think they'd dare to say anything if they saw me next to you?" Putting the emphasis on the 'me' by motioning at himself and mostly his physique.

You nodded in agreement, knowing how absolutely intimidating he looked when he stood upright, so close and looking down on you at the kitchen counter. Not even the image of the gorgeous man towering over you, an image that would have normally helped distract you from literally anything, wasn't even helping against the anxiety that was coursing through your head right now.

Meanwhile your hands were still in his hair and his hand was still resting on your leg, the other coming up as well to rub comforting circles on your skin. "You really have to relax, little rabbit. I can feel you stressing out.." He leaned over on the couch and hopped up on it next to you, back agsinst the oposite armrest with one leg against the backrest and the other dangling off the seat. One of his hands reached out to give your shoulder a queeze and grabbed your arm, causing you to let out a yelp as he pulled you against him. He easily manhandled you on top of him, your side against his front and legs stuck between his. You let out a long, tired breath and told yourself to focus on his warmth instead of the gnawing, angry yelling in the back of your head. One of his hands dangled next to the couch, waiting for one of the cats to bump their head against if before picking one up and placing it next to you, petting it softly so it laid down for you to pet as well.

"Thankyou," you softly said getting more comfortable against him, nuzzling against his clothed chest. You had no idea how he managed, but in this short time from feeding your cats till now he had made you feel more normal than anyone else had ever done. His strong arms wrapped around you and pulled you further into him, his legs wrapping around and covering yours. Your face was now hidden in his neck and his lips were on your temple, a low, rumbling satisfied hum coming from his as he inhaled your scent. You returned his gesture by softly pressing your lips against his jawline, not exactly kissing it but just holding them there for a short moment.

He could feel the smile forming against his jaw and slowly led his fingers to your chin while moving slightly to capture your lips with his own. Without hesitation you maneuvered yourself to wrap your arms around him and kiss him back properly, scaring your cat away by doing so making you both laugh and separate. When he looked up at you he saw the tears theatening to spill, placing a hand on your cheek. "Let me care for you like you care for your creatures." It wasn't really a question, more of a statement of which the details would be discussed later. You sniffled, "Yeah," and nodded in agreement. "I'd like that."

another sad jjk fics.

honestly, anything with suguru is just depressing knowing that he's gone.

skyfall — geto suguru

⥅ tags. fem!reader, non sorcerer au, university au, domestic fluff, heavy angst, unreliable narrator, multi-chapter

⥅author's n. one of my favorite pieces of angst i've ever written. apologies in advance, but i hope u enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it ♡

"will i see you again?"

"of course," you smiled through the tears, "even if the skies fall, or a huge wave takes over the city, you'll never get rid of me."

his hold tightened, your cheek pressing against his chest as you both tried to calm yourselves down.

"you're my sunrise, and i'm your sunset," he whispered in your ear, "never forget that."

—

part one. sunrise (her)

part two. sunset (him)

Sooo Fxckin Cute 😍

3:04am — gojo satoru.

“Satoru…?”

“Go back to bed, baby.” He’s standing at the balcony, elbows propped against the rail. His muscled back is facing you, gray sweatpants hung low on his hips.

You push the sheets off your body, ignoring him. You glance over at the clock on the bedside table, 3:04am. Shivering a little, you get off the bed, bare feet on tiled floors.

“It’s late—” Satoru starts, and if possible, you can feel his six eyes on you. Maybe it’s just the cold. He’s beautiful, you think. Just standing there and gazing out at the fluorescent city lights, hair tousled and back hunched, half naked.

You walk towards him, dressed in his t-shirt, placing a hand on the edge of the open balcony door. “I’m already awake.” You reason, and he raises to stand at his full height, palms grasping the railing, a few veins in his forearm visible in the moonlight.

He doesn’t sleep— hasn’t slept since Shibuya, never a full night, not even with you. Like everything else in his life, he’s good at masking it, but you’ve known Satoru Gojo long enough to know when he’s just about to fall apart at the seams.

“Sorry.” He mumbles, still refusing to look at you, perhaps afraid of what you’ll see. A waft of cold air from the cityscape rushes in, a leaf blowing high above the railing.

“Didn’t mean to wake you.”

The leaf bounces off in mid air, just before it touches him, getting stuck between one of the gaps in the metal railing.

Infinity.

“Oh, Satoru…” you mumble beneath your breath, he’s guarded, refusing to let anyone into that veil once he feels any remote sense of weakness.

You ease off the sliding door and take a few more steps further and outstretch an arm in contemplation. “Yes or no?” You ask, and before the words finish leaving your lips, your fingertips meet no barrier, palm already pressed to the middle of his spine.

“You don’t have to ask.” He whispers, leaning over the railing, elbows out. Your arms encircle his waist, chest meeting his back – he’s cold – and you flatten your palms against his abdomen, falling silent. “You never have to—”

“Except when it’s no.” You murmur, and you feel his muscles twitch under your fingers. Another gust of wind blows, the leaf escapes the metal and floats towards where your arms hold Satoru close. “If you have to—” Satoru starts, “—keep asking. I’ll answer it anytime you need.”

The leaf bounces off just inches away from you, and your eyes lock on it. Your mouth falls agape.

“But it's always going to be yes.” He says, and you hold him a little tighter, as he places a hand atop of yours.

notes ; obsessed w the idea of being inside satoru's infinity. god i can't breatheee i need him + also this is based on a snippet from a book called all for the game by nora sakavic (i was wayy too young to be reading that when i did 😭)

i can already see a one-shot/imagine in my head of this deeply wounded man😆

scarred Gojo closeup