#if you’ve already been tagged in this sorry!!-

[revealed-in-a-delusion]

One of Us

Part one

Part Two

Synopsis: when you were younger, you were saved from a special grade curse by a sorcerer, he became your one-night stand and then, later on, your child’s father. You weren’t going to try and reach out to him about that one, but years after you found yourself standing in the Jujutsu High gardens ready to beg for your son’s protection. Tags: Gojo Satoru x f!reader, reader is a mom to Gojo’s child, reader is a non-sorcerer, your son is called Yasu, possible angst (depends on what you really consider as angst :’)), mentions of violence, a bit of foul language, curses are gross. Notes: English is not my first language, so even though I checked for mistakes and typos I made along the way, there can still be some . Sorry for that!

“Five.”

It’s been a really good day so far. It wasn’t deathly hot, but the sun was shining through the big fluffy clouds, and you could almost physically feel the ice cream you bought five minutes before already melting in the grocery bags you were carrying. Yasu was carrying some of the stuff in one of his free hands, the other deceptively loosely wrapped around your own — he was definitely a certified mama’s boy, so there was no way for you of getting away from his grip even though you were feeling like your arm was about to melt right out of it.

“What’s that?” you looked down on Yasu as he stared right in front of him, only rarely fixing his gaze on people passing by.

“Five,” he repeated. “Ugly things. I counted five in the last five minutes. That’s one ugly thing per minute.”

Walking a bit slower now, you carefully looked around, seemingly more concerned by not noticing any ugly things than how Yasu was by noticing so many. Knowing your son, he could easily call anything or anyone ugly really (you were… working on it), but also knowing your son, you were certain the ugly things were exactly the ones that somewhat made you have your son in the first place.

Ah, yes, there they were. As a non-sorcerer, you struggled with seeing curses that inevitably appeared everywhere where civilisation thrived. Or, better to say, you struggled with them way less than your definitely non-non-sorcerer son, who, although mentioning them very rarely, you were certain has been seeing them throughout his not-so-long life on everyday basis. Since the day you met your first curse face-to-face, you’ve been seeing curses or at least noticing something was off in the places the curses most certainly could appear. When it came to really small curses, which looked surprisingly like creatures from some Tim Burton fantasy-related stuff rather then curses, you were mostly oblivious to them until Yasu would point it out. The older he was getting, the less he would talk about them though. Either to not worry you, or he actually did not care. The second option was as possible as the first, since no curses tried to approach or interact with him. Because of that, although still cautious, you’d also grew way more indifferent to living in the world full of various curses.

However, the ones Yasu has mentioned just now were a bit unlike and way more eerie than the ones you were used to see. As you noticed one, it was already looking at you, for a while, you more sensed than deducted. The only thing it could do, really, since all it had were some cloud-like clot of a body and creepily impressive amount of eyes. Each and every one was following you both.

Or was it staring at your son?

“That is indeed a very ugly thing,” unnerved by the curse, you still tried to regain your composure and smirked at Yasu. He smirked back.

“Said so,” he shrugged and threw the grocery bag he was carrying over his shoulder. It was light enough for him to do so very smugly. “Oh, before we get home, can we have some donuts from that new bakery? I kinda thought the strawberry ones could be crazy good.”

You turned your head back for a second to find the eye-full curse still attentively watching your steps. Then you looked back at your unbothered son. You has almost believed his act of toughness, but he hadn’t been telling you about curses he’d been seeing for quite a while now. If he wasn’t bothered, would he say about it at all?

You sighed.

“Sure.”

The ice cream did not survive the trip to bakery, so, as soon as you got home, the messy remains of what was originally a bunch of ice cream sandwiches were thrown in the freezer. It was already past lunchtime, and you were too weak for your own good when it came to your son, so here you both were now, in the kitchen, you cutting the carrots for the soup and Yasu munching on one of his ‘crazy good’ strawberry donuts.

“You’re going to choke, baby,” you disapprovingly chuckled, bending a little back to give your son a side-eye. “Don’t bite down on it so much, it’s not going to run away.”

“How do you know that?” he argued with his mouth full, but still obeyed, slowing down and even taking a huge gulp of coconut milk. It was so cold that when Yasu put the glass down on the table, the condensate still immortalised his hand in a wet handprint.

“Good boy,” you murmured with a smile, getting back to vegetables in front of you.

After the donut was finished, Yasu was free to go to his room, however, he proceeded keeping you company. Most of the times he was a chatterbox, as loud as a whole bustling street, but you’d been walking around the city for the whole first part of the day, it was hot, and the table was appealingly cool — Yasu laid his cheek on top of it and was now silently watching you leisurely cooking late lunch.

After a long moment of peacefulness, Yasu suddenly jumped from the chair he was melting on. “Need to pee,” he informed, running almost like it was exactly one second before a disaster.

“Thanks for the info,” you chuckled, shaking your head and turning around. “Wait.”

He stopped at the doorway, bouncing a bit on his feet, and readily opened his mouth, receiving a peace of carrot from you before sprinting down the corridor. “Thanks!”

You heard a door opening and closing, and then, after about two minutes, opening and closing again. However, you never heard footsteps coming back to kitchen or at least going to turn on the TV in the living room. Thrown off by it, you decided to quickly check on Yasu and, since it was gonna be just a second, didn’t even put down your knife, only sliding it down your apron on both sides to clean it.

“Hey, baby,” you walked in the hallway, softly smiling in the direction you thought your son would be, “do you mind giving me a hand with cleaning the—“

He was standing there, frozen in place. Door to your bedroom was open wide, and Yasu was looking there, jus as wide-eyed, not like a deer in the headlights, but more like a dog that spotted something that could pose a huge threat — he wasn’t moving, but his whole little boy’s body was tense. He was scared. And he was focused.

“Yasu?..” you called out, suddenly afraid of talking too loud, and made a trial step forward. It was dark in your bedroom, and Yasu’s unblinking bright blue eyes seemed a few shades darker as well.

Wait. You hasn’t closed curtains in your bedroom yet.

It all happened within seconds. You saw it all like it took forever. Yasu slowly turned his head towards you, opened his mouth, but not a single word escaped his lips — you lunged forward, knife falling from your hand, your first instinct was to wrap yourself around your son, to protect him with your whole existence; the darkness lunged forward from your bedroom as well, almost like it was copying your movements, reflecting your thoughts and, what was the most terrifying — its main target was also your son. You changed your directions in milliseconds, turning in front of Yasu and putting your hand out. It disappeared in the darkness, immediately going numb.

Finally, you saw it too. It was not anything like darkness — it was a deformed, hideous pile of eyes and rotten body, constantly moving in chaotic ways, almost like there were thousands of maggots under a thin layer of coal-coloured flesh. It had a huge mouth-like line, and you definitely knew it was a mouth now that it had your arm almost fully in it.

“Mama!” Yasu’s high, scared voice broke through the ringing in your ears and the wall of cold sweat you broke into as soon as you saw the curse in your bedroom. It was definitely a curse.

All over again.

The mouth of the curse was gigantic, but it was obviously toothless, because your arm was in it, but it was still yours. It started to burn, and the burning became progressively worse with each passing second.

“Yasu, run,” you growled through your gritted teeth. You knew you could do literally nothing against it, and even if Yasu theoretically could, you were absolutely not going to try it out. There was no chance you would risk your kid’s life in attempt to save yours.

You slowly turned your head, struggling since burning was already almost impossible to ignore, and saw that Yasu was still standing there, staring where your hand disappeared behind the boiling cursed flesh. He was frozen still, and you jerked, yelling.

“YASU,” you screamed at the top of your lungs, “RUN!”

The curse twitched, shortly opened and closed its mouth, swallowing your arm even further down, and now you screamed because of the staggering pain — the burning had become unbearable at this point, nearly blinding you, felt like you were about to lose your consciousness at any given moment. Luckily, your screams snatched Yasu right out of his torpor, and he fled away, making your pain a little more bearable.

At least he will be safe, you thought, trying to lock your gaze on his back while you mostly felt than saw how the curse started swallowing you even further down. It didn’t matter at this moment, nothing mattered really, except you not knowing where Yasu would go after that. You started to black out, your thoughts became gooey and slow, and you started closing your eyes, thinking, hey, this case would probably attract some sorcerers, and Yasu didn’t have anywhere to go, right? He was something, really something, maybe a little bit mean to strangers and he tended to talk a lot, but he was also most certainly a sorcerer, and sorcerers seemed like a dedicated… cult? Bunch? Some weird curse anti-fanclub? Whatever they were, they wouldn't leave one of them on the streets, right? They wouldn't…

In the final moments, before closing your eyes — you stopped feeling any pain at this point — you smiled at Yasu. Wanting to see his little cute face one last time, you even managed to imagine him grabbing the knife you dropped at the kitchen doorway and dashing back to you.

What a sweet child, you thought. It was always destined to end like this, huh?

Your head finally went blissfully silent.

If this is heaven, it sucks, you thought, but if this is hell, they should bring it on because that's embarrassing.

Your head hurt like it was smashed in two, and it was spinning like you were riding on a deathly wheel for the past twenty four hours. Your mouth was a whole desert, and you winced, trying to move — it was a total mistake. Your whole hand rewarded you with a sting of pain similar to sensation of putting it in a pot of boiling water.

“I’d advise you not to do that,” as soon as you heard a male voice, you shot your eyes wide open. That was your second mistake, as it made your head hurt like it was split not in two, but in four now. You groaned, and it made your throat feel even worse. Third mistake, really. “Told ya!”

His voice was a little too cheerful for your taste (and condition), you haven’t heard your son’s voice — and your son would definitely not shut up right now, because you were definitely unconscious for some time and for some reason and—

Wait.

Wait.

“Where is my—“ you shot up on your bed, and it was your fifth mistake for the past three minutes. You tried to look around, fighting for your life against sudden dry urge to puke.

“Son? Oh, he’s fine,” you couldn’t quite focus your gaze on the man. Why was he even in your hospital room? According to all the white around you, that’s definitely where you were. “More than fine, actually, given he didn’t need our help with the whole first grade curse, y’know?”

You huffed, not following his really fast babbling — it did really remind you of someone very familiar — and rubbed your eyes, squinting at him. Your vision started slowly coming back to you.

“I would say ‘good to see you again’, but I’m not sure you can,” he said, leaning a bit forward. He had really distinguishable features, starting with his impressive height and finishing with how he was blindfolded and had this head of unduly familiar white hair.

“Yasu [Last Name] is fine,” he repeated again, his voice suddenly going way more serious. “Or should I say Yasu Gojo, hm?”

You looked at him blankly. Blinked. Blinked again.

Oh.

Oh shit.

Notes: it is literally my first time writing something in English (aside from my English assignments lol) and posting it, so I hope you enjoyed! Some advices are defo welcomed as long as they are not blatantly rude. Also, I'm sure there are plenty of fics with this idea, but I swear I haven't read any before writing this, so I'm sorry if someone had already written something similar.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n #jjk fanfic #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo

[simplybakugou]

Could you do another drink bakugo?

⋆ PAIRING: drunk/prohero!bakugou x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing; alcohol; all characters are adults ⋆ WORD COUNT: 3003

A/N: taking a break from mystic academia cause this has been sitting in my inbox for so long and i wanted to save it until i got some inspiration for another drunk!bakugou and i finally found the inspo hehe. also when i first started writing drunk!bakugou oneshots, i was 17 LMAO and now as a 23 y/o that has actually been drunk i can write this a little more accurately lol. also i was struggling trying to end this cause i didn’t want it to be longer than it already is (imo) lol so im sorry for the awkward ending. ty for requesting and i hope you enjoy!

© simplybakugou — all rights reserved. DO NOT REPOST/REUPLOAD, TRANSLATE, OR EDIT ANY OF MY CONTENT ON HERE OR ANY PLATFORM

It was a stupid idea. Why the hell would Bakugou go into a bar with the most loud and raucous people he knew even though he’d never drank a day in his life?

He couldn’t think of something he wanted to do less in that moment. He was exhausted, coming from a day of patrolling and hero work. Although his friends also came from their jobs, they actually drank alcohol and wanted to unwind after five years of constantly overworking themselves.

“Are you really not gonna get anything, Katsuki?” Sero questioned, giving the table’s drink orders to the bartender.

“I’m not fucking up my body just to look like an idiot like you dumbasses,” Bakugou huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. 

“Why’d you come then?” Kaminari quipped, interested in hearing Bakugou’s answer.

“Cause your dumbass wouldn’t stop bothering me about coming out tonight!” Bakugou replied angrily.

“Oh yeah!” Kaminari exclaimed, laughing at himself. “I forgot.”

“It’s good to come out with us once in a while,” Kirishima said, nodding his head. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone since we graduated, man. We haven’t seen you in years.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Don’t be fucking ridiculous. I’m not stopping until I’m number one. You shits can drink all you fucking want but I’m not gonna sit around every week just to catch up.”

Kaminari sighed, shaking his head. “This is why you’ve never had a girlfriend.” Sero nodded along with him.

“And what the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Bakugou snarled, slamming his fist against the table out of annoyance.

“You’re a workaholic, dude,” Sero stated matter-of-factly. “When are you gonna have the time to date? If you slowed down a little you could’ve at least gone out with Y/N back when you had a crush on her in U.A.”

“I did not have a crush on that shitty girl.” Bakugou felt himself getting even more angered just hearing your name uttered. 

“You keep telling yourself that,” Kirishima said, patting his friend on the shoulder only to get shook off by Bakugou. 

The drinks Sero ordered arrived and the rest of the guys cheered each other before downing their beverages. Bakugou sipped on his water he was forced to get after Sero berated him to order something.  

The more alcohol his friends consumed, the more rowdy and even more raucous they got and Bakugou questioned even more why he decided to go out with them. It was karaoke night at the bar and Bakugou swore his ears were bleeding as Kaminari consistently kept attempting to serenade him.

Despite how chaotic it was in the bar that night, Bakugou eventually found himself enjoying it. Kaminari and Sero got the most drunk, getting up to dance and stumbling over one another, which made Bakugou and Kirishima burst into laughter. He would never tell them, but he needed this time out and away from the constant need to work towards his one and only goal. 

The night was going great; until the door to the bar opened. Bakugou turned his head to the noise of the bell ringing above the door. It stuck out amongst the voices and loud nature of the room and he felt his face drop at the sight.

There you were, five years older than the last time he had seen you in person. And you weren’t alone as your arm was looped around the arm of another man.

Bakugou couldn’t help but stare at the sight. He drowned out the sounds of Kaminari, Sero, Kirishima, and a few strangers they had recruited at the bar playing drinking games as his focus was only on you. You scanned the area, waving shyly to a few people that recognized you as their favorite rising hero and sat in the corner of the room with your mystery man.

Kirishima glanced at Bakugou, recognizing that he was distracted by something else and looked towards what had caught his eye. He immediately understood the reason for the defeated look on his friend’s face.

“I’m sorry, man,” Kirishima stated simply. 

“Sorry?” Bakugou scoffed. “For what? There’s nothing to be sorry about. We were never together.” The last part Bakugou muttered to himself as he finally tore his eyes away from you and down to his glass of water.

And it was true; you and Bakugou were never together back when you attended U.A. with him and the others. Matter of fact, you didn’t even know Bakugou liked you back then as he made it his mission that you never found out. Not only did he refuse to let himself be subjected to such vulnerable feelings like love and infatuation, you and your peers were constantly bombarded with hero work and dealing with the League of Villains to ever have the time for confessions. At the time, romantic relationships were trivial. 

As things died down by the time class A graduated, Bakugou busied himself with his long-time goal of wanting to become the number one hero. He kept telling himself that it was time to grow up and forget about what he assumed to be a little crush but the more he kept shoving his feelings inside, the more intense they became.

That was why it felt like a punch to the gut to see you laughing with and leaning onto a man that wasn’t him. 

“Hey, dunce face,” Bakugou grunted. Kaminari lifted his head and looked over at Bakugou with hazy eyes. “Get me the strongest drink here.”

“Dude, you really should slow down,” Kirishima urged, concerned as he watched Bakugou down shot after shot. “You’ve never drank before and this’ll probably mess you up fast.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Bakugou said in a rush, out of breath from the abundance of liquids he furiously ingested. He held the next shot glass to his lips, preparing himself to throw it back along with the countless shots he had already done; he felt like he was going to be sick, to no one’s surprise. Bakugou slammed the shot glass down onto the table, still full of alcohol, and he slammed his head onto the table as well. His head was throbbing but he felt like he could float in the air if he really tried. 

Kirishima chuckled at his friend, taking advantage of the situation and taking the shot glass away from Bakugou. 

Kaminari swung his arm around Bakugou’s shoulders. “See, dude, now we’re having fun!” The last word was elongated as he let out a small hiccup.

“Get the fuck off of me, dunce face,” Bakugou mumbled with his head still on the table, causing his words to be muffled. Nevertheless, Kaminari knew exactly what his grouchy friend had said but ignored him.

For the first time that night, Kaminari looked around the room and noticed you sitting alone now in the corner of the bar. He shot up, waving his hand out at you. “Y/N!”

Bakugou’s eyes, which were once closed shut as the alcohol was rushing to his head all at once, shot wide open as he whipped his head up. He felt dizzy from how quick the motion was. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Come on, man, she’s sitting over there all alone,” Kaminari reasoned, turning his attention back to you. You also had finally noticed your old classmates, smiling at the sight. “Hang out with us, Y/N!”

“Alone?” Bakugou questioned softly. He looked over at you and felt a wave of relief wash over him as he carefully watched you make your way to their table, mystery man out of the picture.

“I didn’t know you guys were here tonight,” you said with a smile. You sounded level-headed and Bakugou determined that you were probably the most sober person in the room that night.

“Yeah, we come here a lot after our patrol shifts,” Sero commented.

“All of you?” You questioned, interested as you scanned each of the guys sitting at the table. Finally you locked eyes with Bakugou and he swore your gaze could’ve pierced right through him. He broke eye contact first as he felt his face burning up even more with the effects of the alcohol. 

“We usually have to beg Katsuki to come out. You know how he is,” Kirishima teased, wanting to lighten the mood for his friend. It didn’t work as Bakugou still had a sour expression on his face.

“Wanna get a few drinks with us?” Kaminari offered.

You shook your head. “No, it’s alright. Tonight hasn’t gone the way I wanted so I think I’m going to call it a night. It was nice seeing you guys.”

You waved goodbye to the boys, sending a small smile towards Bakugou as you understood he was in a bad mood but not understanding why. Your back was turned to them as you walked towards the exit and it was a miracle how you didn’t have two vermillion holes in your back the way Bakugou was staring at you leaving.

Bakugou stood up abruptly and he grabbed his coat and wallet. He sloppily pulled out a few bills and slammed them on the table as he made his way out as well.

“Where are you going?” Kirishima questioned.

“Don’t worry about it.”

You cursed at yourself for leaving your jacket in your date’s car as the winter snow began to litter the streets. Your body was shivering terribly. The bar had a few tables and chairs in front of the building and you sat yourself down as you contemplated how on Earth you were going to get home. 

Before you could come up with a game plan, you felt a heavy leather jacket plop down onto your shoulders. You jumped at the sudden contact, watching as a clearly drunk-but-pretending-to-be-sober Bakugou sat himself in the chair across from you. “Bakugou! What’re you doing here?”

Bakugou ignored your question as he bluntly asked, “Where’s that fucker you came in with?”

You were taken aback by his questions. Only a few minutes ago did you realize that Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero were there in the bar with you that night. If he had seen you with your date, that meant Bakugou had seen you when you walked in. 

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and pulling Bakugou’s jacket closer to you as it kept you warm. “He was being… weird.”

“Weird how.” It was a question but you sensed the animosity in Bakugou’s tone as his expression harshened in a way that made his question a statement.

You waved your hands to calm him down. Why was he so upset? “Nothing bad, don’t worry. He’s just some guy I started dating. We weren’t official or anything but I liked him. He said he didn’t like me being a hero and said I should get a job that’d suit me in a feminine way.” You chuckled humorlessly as you recalled the misogynistic comment.

“What a fucking loser,” Bakugou grumbled, loud enough for you to hear and laugh at. He leaned back in his chair, resting his eyes. “You told him to fuck off, right?”

You nodded, amused as you always were back in U.A. with Bakugou’s colorful vocabulary. “Yup. He got pissed and left me here and I left my stuff in his car like an idiot.” 

Bakugou opened his eyes and reached into his front pocket, cursing at himself as his fingers kept missing the opening seam. He pulled out his car keys and tossed them onto the table. You furrowed your eyes at the sight in confusion.

“Take my car to get home.”

You widened your eyes at his insane proposition, looking at the insignia on his keys as an expensive brand. “Bakugou, your car’s worth like a hundred million yen! There’s no way I can drive that!” 

“Just do it, idiot,” Bakugou groaned, placing his forehead on the cold, snow-covered table. “Can’t let you just sit here in the cold.”

A moment passed as you were contemplating your choices only to realize in that time, Bakugou had fallen asleep. You chuckled softly, never expecting to see health-conscious Bakugou who’s always been adamant about never drinking inebriated. 

You grabbed his keys and put them in the pocket of his leather jacket, slipping the jacket onto your arms. You knew you couldn’t just take his car and leave him here like this so you got up and went over to his side, gently shaking his shoulders to wake him. “Come on, big guy. We’re going home”

Bakugou let out a groan as you got him to his feet, your arm around his shoulders and you wrapped his arm around your waist to support him, resting your hand on his hand. You felt his body stiffen in reaction and you looked up at him curiously. His face was red again and you assumed it was a combination of the alcohol and the frigidness in the air. It most definitely was not either of those things.

“Where’d you park your car?” You asked as you slowly helped him walk.

He nodded in the direction ahead of you and you assumed he was referring to the parking lot that was thankfully right next to the bar. The two of you continued walking towards the lot and you found it unusual how quiet Bakugou was.

Once reaching the lot, you were originally going to search for Bakugou’s car only to not have to put any effort at all since his bright red sports car stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the Subarus and Toyotas.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Why am I not surprised by this at all, Bakugou.”

Bakugou flinched and he slowly pulled away from you, shoving his hands in his pockets as he wobbly made his way to his car. “Stop calling me that.”

“What? You don’t want me to call you Bakugou?” You question, confused. “Oh! I get it. You want me to call you by your hero name, right, Dynamight?”

“That’s not it either, idiot.”

“Oh, then, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight?”

“You’re so stupid.” Bakugou stopped right in front of his car and turned around, slowly so that he wouldn’t fall over. He had his signature frown on his face only this time it was out of frustration. “Back in U.A. you’d call me Katsuki.”

“Yeah, I guess I did,” you said, nodding your head as you recalled doing so. “But that was five years ago. I haven’t seen you since then and I just wanted to be polite.”

Bakugou kept quiet but his eyes never faltered or wavered as he kept them on you. You felt like he could burn right through you if he tried as you didn’t understand his frustrations. “Is everything okay, Ba– I mean, Katsuki.”

Bakugou’s eyes slightly widened for a moment and he felt like he was transported back to being a teenager. “No. Everything’s not okay ‘cause I still have this stupid crush on you that I’ve had since our first year in U.A.”

He let out a sigh, feeling a weight on his shoulders dissipate and he turned around back towards his car. You stood in place, shocked at the confession that you did not foresee at all. There was no way the Bakugou Katsuki had a crush on you, especially when you were just teenagers.

“Open the door.” Bakugou turned his head to you as he waited by the passenger door.

“Wait, wait, wait.” You waved your hands in front of you, still unable to wrap his words around your head. “This has to be a joke. There’s just no way– Why would you have a crush on me?”

Bakugou shrugged. “Dunno. Just happened.”

Your face felt hot and it wasn’t because of the weather. So much of your relationship with Bakugou made sense with this new realization. The reason for his cold shouldering you on numerous occasions or annoyed stares he’d give you when you got in a relationship in your second year all started to make sense. It was his way of conveying his feelings for you. 

You shook your head, shaking the complex thoughts from your mind and snapping yourself back to reality as the cold air and Bakugou not having a jacket, since you were obviously wearing it, made you unlock his car with the key he gave you. You watched as Bakugou entered his car on the passenger side.

You knew you needed to give yourself a minute before you could enter the car beside him. How did you feel about him? You always thought he was handsome, when he wasn’t scowling at least, and you enjoyed seeing him mature every year in U.A. Even after graduation, you always watched the news fondly as you watched him evolve into an incredible hero, one that you knew was worthy of becoming number one. 

So Bakugou Katsuki liked you. If your poor previous relationships taught you anything, it was to not turn down a good man when he was right in front of you. Or at least sitting in his sports car waiting for you to drive the two of you home since he was unexpectedly inebriated to do so himself. 

Taking in a breath, you knew what you had to do; you wanted to see where this would go between the two of you. You opened the driver’s side door, sitting in your seat and collecting your thoughts briefly before turning to Bakugou to tell him exactly what was on your mind. You wanted to give it a shot.

And you were intent on doing just that until you turned to look at Bakugou only to see he was once again fast asleep, his chest rising and falling. You chuckled at the sight, taking in how adorable he was in that moment. Slipping his jacket off your body, you draped it over his body.

“Guess you’ll have to stay with me tonight.”

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[silkscream]

CHAPTER 11: POISON ROOT

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

It disgusted you a little bit, needing them like a fiending addict. Living with yourself and yourself alone was starting to get old, though you aren’t sure how much left of you feels whole. You were always fruit split in between a blade, all the gory parts splayed out by the hand of someone greater than you.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, drunk sex, threesome, oral sex, cumplay, phone sex, mentions of depression, angst, descriptions of mild gore

ੈ✩ wc: 7k

ੈ✩ a/n: here's a nice and fat chapter for you before we enter The Dark Ages <3

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

“Sorry, what?”

Yaga scowls at you and you’re unfazed. Mostly, you’re exasperated.

“I’ve repeated myself twice already,” he says calmly. More so brusquely, but you didn’t care enough to gauge his reaction. You’re too busy processing his words.

“I—I know, I’m sorry,” you mutter. “But why me? Shoko’s technique is way stronger than mine.”

“Shoko’s technique is not your technique. And unlike her, you actually engage in combat.”

“Because the boys forced me—”

He brings a hand to your shoulder in an attempt for reassurance. You freeze.

“Your technique is remarkable. Stronger than you think,” Yaga sighs, almost in resignation. He doesn’t seem particularly enthused about what he’s proposing to you, but you consider that you’d probably worn him down over the past half hour.

He rolls his eyes at the look on your face. Mouth parted like an animal struck with fear. 

“But—”

“There hasn’t been anyone with a technique like yours in over ten years. I remember it. I had a family friend as a teacher here first—she talked about a boy that could regenerate cells. Practiced on plants and small animals as a child until he was able to resurrect bigger ones at your age.”

“That boy isn’t me,” you protest, your brows furrowing.

“He isn’t,” Yaga snaps back. “He died, and his death could’ve been prevented. This is why I want you to do this. I want you to be strong enough so that the same thing doesn’t happen to you.”

You swallow and look down, pretending to be interested in your thumbs. Your hands are delicate compared to anyone else’s. You had always admired people who could make something out of nothing, people who sculpted, crafted. Sometimes, you often wonder if what you do could be considered the same.

You haven’t told anyone, but it’s easy to destroy things with your hands. Much easier than it is to build anything up, to heal. 

You’d tried it during long walks through the forest. On your way back from solo missions, you’d take routes that were less traveled, needing to clear your head. Once or twice, you remember finding animals that were victims of hunting. Broken limbs, bleeding out too much for you to save. You’d practice the darker parts of your technique, letting quick rot take away their misery.

“For how long?”

“Just two months. July and August.”

You take a deep breath. You could be alone in Kyoto for two months. The boys would survive. At least, you think Suguru would.

When you tell Satoru the next day, it’s a disaster.

“You’re what?”

“Satoru,” you warn, crossing your arms. 

Dealing with him is arduous. You knew he would react this way. He looks at you with irritation, nipping at your bare thigh just to see you pout. You were in the middle of reading when he had barged in, craving the scent of your moisturizer on your inner thighs. Needed the whipped softness of your flesh squeezed in between his hands after some heated sparring with Suguru.

“You can’t.”

“That’s not your decision—”

“You can’t. What did that old man say? Some other guy had your technique and died?”

“I’m not going to die!” you huff, rolling your eyes. 

Satoru frowns, his blue eyes glowing. He was free of missions for the past week, treating you to dates whenever he could. It seems that you’ve ruined his bliss. That ugly thought in his head festered in his mind again — the need to possess you. Trap you in a glass cage to stay alive forever like you were his enchanted rose.

“Like hell you won’t,” he mutters. “Which is why you’re staying.”

“I want to get stronger, Satoru.”

“You didn’t even want to be a sorcerer in the first place! And now you’re desperate to train with your little cell regeneration? Are you gonna dabble in necromancy?”

You frown at his condescending tone. He isn’t taking you seriously. He never does. Satoru has always had his way of belittling others, but he’d sworn to never do that to you given your history. You take a deep breath.

“It’s just… an independent study, alright? This could help me in the future. I could go to medical school with Shoko or something, you know? If you’re so scared of me dying because of combat, then I could just focus on the regeneration part and—”

“And what about the other part? How you make things rot and disintegrate?” he asks you incredulously, nearly snarling.

“That’s another thing I can learn to control.”

“But–”

“I didn’t have private lessons like you! I’m not a prodigy like you. Can I just have this one thing?” you plead with exhaustion. You can see the way his eyes flicker with a quiet rage, his mouth turned down into a pout. Petulant even at his big age.

Satoru sighs heavily. He nuzzles his face into your hand, kissing the heartline. You almost feel proud of yourself for not giving into him before the conversation began. He’d come into your room wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves messily cut off, exposing the hard lines of his stomach. Just a gaze had ripped away your autonomy, brain dumb at the sight of him. 

You wanted to lick him clean before he opened his damn mouth.

“I won’t tell you what to do,” he says in defeat.

“Thanks.”

You sit with him for a while, staring at the ceiling, hair strewn around your pillow. Silence fills the air save for the sound of his breathing. Eventually, he curls into you, nose into your bare shoulder as he mumbles unintelligible things. His mouth in the shape of I’ll miss you.

“I know,” you murmur. “I will, too.”

__

Suguru copes by getting buzzed in the daytime. He liked the hope on your face, how the light hit your eyes in a certain way. It meant something more. He knew that you were worth more.

Lately, Suguru feels like less.

Not particularly less than anyone else, though he knows that he’s certainly less than Satoru just by default. He remembers the mission all too clearly—it’s the only thing that haunts his nightmares. The blankness on Satoru’s face, his willingness to kill a group of people just for the sake of it.

He thought he’d lost Satoru forever, that he’d fucked up the mission by letting a bullet go through Riko’s head. But then, of course, Satoru survived. Of course Satoru found a way to bring himself back to life. Everything should be fine, because Satoru came out alive, and so did he. So did you.

It didn’t feel like enough. The taste of curses started to get worse, if that was even possible. Suguru has been starting to believe that he didn’t deserve anything palatable. That the universe was working against him maybe, because his depressive spirals last longer now.

And you’re fucking leaving.

He knows he can have you whenever he wants, but he likes to lick the taste of you out of Satoru’s mouth. 

He bites Satoru’s lip and it makes the boy yelp.

“What the hell was that for?” Satoru pouts. Suguru only grins wolfishly. 

“Thought you wanted me to make you feel better. You don’t like it rough?”

“Of course I like it rough,” Satoru grunts. “But you know I hate teeth.”

“On your dick.”

Satoru pauses, rolling his eyes, then sinks his teeth into Suguru’s neck instead. 

“You smell like a dive bar. It’s fucking 3 pm.”

“Day off, bitch,” Suguru mutters.

Satoru pushes Suguru against the mattress and spoons him, rutting against his ass. It’s always a little violent with them. You used to joke about it—something about dogs and masculinity. Satoru kept wanting to fuck like it was a cage match. Bull-headed, annoying. For Suguru, intimacy always felt like a car crash no matter who it was with.

“You’re not fucking my ass,” Suguru mumbles.

Satoru whines childishly, of course.

“Ran out of lube.”

“Spit?” Satoru begs, his eyes comically large.

“Fuck you, dude,” Suguru scoffs.

“I’m trying!”

Suguru turns to fall onto the bed facing Satoru, then shoves his head downward. He feels numb despite his throbbing cock. He knows Satoru’s mouth is probably watering for him.

“C’mon,” Suguru slurs, unzipping his shorts. “You need to work on giving head.”

“Hey!”

“Not my fault she does it better than you.”

Satoru huffs but leans over the end of the bed anyway, his limbs too long to crouch on the bed. He spits on Suguru’s cock and pumps agonizingly slowly, coaxing out guttural sounds vibrating out of the boy’s throat.

For once, Suguru feels a little powerful when the Jujutsu world’s boy-god chokes over his dick. He looks down and pushes his head down, reveling in the sound of him gagging, throat slack. Not as good as you, but getting better. The drool makes him look pretty. It matched the glazed look in Satoru’s eyes.

Suguru nearly finishes right then and there, the barbed wire inside of his body starting to untangle until there’s a knock on his door. Of course you knock—the polite girl you are.

“S’unlocked,” he calls after you. Satoru makes a noise. Something in between a moan and a sound of protest.

Suguru likes your wide eyes. You’re out of your school uniform, dressed in a white number with embroidered flowers at the hem that hits halfway above your knees.

“Oh… I—”

“C’mere, baby,” Suguru rasps, his hand reaching out for you. He’s so close, threading his fingers through Satoru’s hair before pulling at his snowy mop.

Satoru coughs, his throat raw. It makes Suguru laugh. You watch like you’re outside of your own body, eyes wide. It was easy for them to get you under a spell. 

It doesn’t take long for their hands to grope you, have your dress pooling at your waist so that your bare ass is on display. Heathens. Being with them was always like throwing yourself to the wolves.

“So wet,” Suguru groans, circling a finger in the heat hiding behind your underwear. “Wanted a proper send-off, angel? Gonna miss us all the way in Kyoto, aren’t you?”

You can’t respond when your head is already so dizzy with Satoru’s teeth on your collarbone.

“Don’t talk about that, I’ll lose my boner,” Satoru huffs. 

“What a baby.”

“Stop arguing,” you roll your eyes. 

Suguru decides to be selfish, his dick already out and pulsing from the tease of Satoru’s tongue. He slides it along your folds, wetness pooling right underneath him. It makes him groan, his insides white-hot. He’d been craving this since he’d woken up this morning. The heat was making his moodiness deliquesce into desperation burning like acid in his stomach. He needed you and Satoru like a bullet begging to be lodged, piercing out of a bannister.

“Not fair,” Satoru grumbles, his knees bent as he gropes you. Rutting against the mattress pathetically as he whines, his desperation puppy-like. 

His mouth is salty, leftover from Suguru’s precum. His hair smelled like Suguru’s too—he must’ve been copying his hair routine for the hell of it. It was enough to keep him close without asking to sew himself into the boy’s skin. 

Suguru looks down at you and your blissed-out face, vulnerable before he’s even entered you. Your mouth is wet from Satoru’s kisses, spit drooling out of the corner of your pink mouth. Suguru smears it around and already imagines himself pulling out of you to finish there instead, just to see it on your lips. He’d like to see you cry again one last time.

You hum when you’re filled with him. Stuttering hips hitting slack thighs. Soft despite the violence inside him, the little voice in his head taunting him to wreck you. 

He likes you like this, first. Daisy-soft, his fingers in your mouth until you gag. Yelping in time with Satoru’s stupid whines. 

“Twigs,” Satoru breathes, his hot breath fanning your jaw. “Can I put it in your ass?”

You groan, shaking your head as Suguru howls with laughter. 

__

July, 2010

Gakuganji has you on a leash. It hasn’t even been a week and you’ve already gone on two missions, each that ended with you covered in blood, but luckily unscathed. Satoru would have a fit if he knew. The ghost of him hovers on your shoulder at your weakest moments — taunting you, challenging you. You know he wouldn’t be as cruel if he was with you physically, but your psyche conjures him in a way that feels like punishment. 

You can’t escape him, either. He’s needier than you expect — visiting you during off times during your weekends, treating them like serendipitous encounters. You don’t believe him, and you shouldn’t. 

(He warps to you when he gets in fights with Suguru. When he gets too horny to find someone at a bar, because if it’s not Suguru, it’s you. But he could never tell you that.)

You like to keep yourself busy in Kyoto. Whether it’s immersing yourself in your studies or practicing your technique, you can occupy yourself easily, even if you’re bombarded by images of veiny hands, long black hair, pink mouths. Blue eyes that are too bright, even in your dreams. 

You spend most of your time by yourself, anyway. It’s what you need. If not that, then you’re at the local bars with Utahime-senpai, who transferred to Kyoto months before. 

“Are you their little plaything?” she teases. You’re loosened up after a few beers, all on her tab, but the mention of the boys sobers you up immediately. You scowl.

“What?” She holds her hands up in surrender. “Everybody knows… Shoko kind of already told me.”

“Of course she did,” you snort.

“I’m just saying, you should be careful. They’re insatiable. And never in their right mind. I could advocate for Geto-kun, but I’m sure Gojo’s already corrupted him.”

Corrupted. It’s a funny notion. You wonder if you’ve been corrupted by both of them. Satoru as your first didn’t bother you. To have Suguru as your second only complicated things. You haven’t known anything else but them. You aren’t sure if this should concern you until Utahime talks about it.

“They’re kind of the same in that way,” you mumble.

“Are they both your boyfriends?” Utahime giggles.

“N-No…”

“So it’s not serious? I know I’m not much older than you, but I still went through a few flings. You shouldn’t let them keep you on a chain.”

“They’re not–”

“Are you sure?” she laughs. “You’ve been checking your phone every five minutes. It’s like they brainwashed you.”

“Hime,” you frown.

“I’m just saying,” she shrugs. “There are lots of men around here staring at you.”

“No, there aren’t.”

“Someone is staring at you right now. Behind you. Blonde. Tacky if he wasn’t like, a little hot like he is.”

“Shut up.”

She gives you a pointed look that causes you to look over your shoulder. Lo and behold, there is a man of that description making glances at you with a cocky smirk. It reminds you of the way Satoru looks at you. It makes your stomach flip.

“See?”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you mumble.

You move past the crowd to the single stall, plastered in posters from vintage porn magazines and graffiti. Your phone’s about to die, but the group chat with you and the boys has unread messages. It’s mostly Satoru complaining, arguing with Suguru about things that you couldn’t care less about. There are separate messages from them, too. Satoru’s suggestive selfies and Suguru’s words of affirmation. You scoff at the difference between them.

When you return, Utahime grins at you like she’s plotting.

“What did you do?” you narrow your eyes.

“He came over here! I knew it. He was interested in you,” she beams.

“What?”

“Relax. He’s a sorcerer. And I gave him your number.”

“Hime!” You shove her arm lightly, groaning when she laughs.

“You need to get laid by someone who isn’t an idiot.”

You roll your eyes. The many beers are making your head swim too much for you to actually be angry. If anything, your cheeks feel warm at the prospect of someone else being interested in you. It’s not something you’ve experienced in your youth, or now for that matter, since Satoru had sunken his teeth in you so quickly.

Images of him talking to other girls at parties flash in your mind, making you grimace. Maybe Utahime was doing you a favor.

The bachelor in question is nowhere to be found. You curse yourself for not getting a good look at him. A pit forms in your stomach at the idea of him texting you – a handsome stranger who watched you babble drunkenly to Utahime. It occurred to you that you hadn’t even considered yourself something desirable in a context that wasn’t bound to Satoru or Suguru.

On the walk home, the thought consumes you. You aren’t sure if you even know yourself without them. During most of your life, you’ve only known obedience. Intimacy with Satoru was no different, you realize. You were wrapped around his finger since you were children – it didn’t matter that you were apart for years. It would always be him.

You aren’t sure if this bothers you or not. You try to push the thought away, shaking your head slightly as if daydreams of him would fall out of your head. It doesn’t work, not really. You’re drunk. Naturally, you think of his pink mouth. The veins on his hands.

You unlock the door of your room. When you enter, darkness envelops you, which you’re used to, if not for the bright blue eyes that stare back at you. 

“Jesus!” you mutter, cursing to yourself once you can get the nearest lamp on. 

“What? Not happy to see me?” he slurs, flashing you a sloppy smile. 

“Can you at least give me a heads-up before you show up randomly?”

“That ruins the surprise, baby,” he purrs, walking over to you to set his hands on your hips.   Trapping you gently. 

“You’re drunk.”

“Hm?”

“You’re. Drunk. Why are you here?” 

“Had a mission nearby. Then I went to a bar to relax. And then, I thought, warping to Tokyo would take too much for a drunk. Why not stay here?”

“I’m not a motel.”

“C’mon, baby,” he pouts. “You’re not gonna kick me out, are you?”

You scoff, moving past him to sit on your bed and take off your shoes.

Satoru chuckles, taking a seat right next to you, thigh touching yours. “You’re drunk, too. I can smell it.”

“I haven’t even been here for a full month and this is like, the third time you’ve surprised me. What’s going on with you?”

“What? Can’t miss my lover?”

He says lover like it’s an inside joke. He never says girlfriend. Never partner.

“You’re so needy.”

“You like me that way,” Satoru says, his voice velvety. He’s not in his uniform, but a light blue button-down and slacks. You wonder if he’s planned this or if he dressed up for someone else, running to you as the safest option because you’re always there. Always willing.

You’d been ready to sink into your shitty mattress and dream of him. You hadn’t been anticipating the real thing in front of you. It was stupid, how he took your breath away, as if he was still something new to you. As if he hadn’t been in the back of your mind since you were a little kid, always.

“I’m tired, Satoru,” you sigh.

“You sure?” he grins. “You smell like beer. Still trying to have some fun tonight?”

You narrow your eyes at him and he laughs. He comes closer, pinching the meat of your thigh right under the hem of your skirt, chuckling when you swat his hand away.

“So short. Who’s this for, huh?” he taunts.

You swallow back an insult the moment you look down at the way his large hands play with a loose thread of your skirt. How large they are compared to your thigh, the calloused tips of his fingers running circles in your skin.

“No one,” you breathe.

“You cheating on me, Twigs?”

“Yeah, with Utahime,” you roll your eyes.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that. Sounds hot, to be honest.”

Your cursed energy flares. You hate when he belittles you, but you could never do anything about it. You could only fall into his trap, giving into him the way he knows you will. You don’t even notice that he’s caged you within his arms, his hands settling on your hips as his body backs you into your bed. The back of your knees hit the mattress.

His breath smells sweet. It usually does, but it’s something sour this time. Something citrusy, along with the smell of something much too alcoholic. One of those whiskey sours, you guessed. You don’t realize how drunk he is until you look him in the eyes, his blue irises unfocused despite the desperation in his gaze.

“Of course not,” he grins, leaning in to inhale your scent. “You’d never. My sweet girl. My best girl, right?”

“You say that like I’m one of many,” you scoff.

“Are you jealous?” he rumbles, laughing. “As if there’s anyone else I like as much as you…”

He says girl and you think of Suguru. An exception, just barely. You realize how much you miss him, too.

Your eyes flutter closed as Satoru backs you into your bed, teeth grazing your earlobe. You aren’t sure if it’s him or the drunkenness of your brain. You don’t even notice his fingers massaging your thighs, trailing up to hook your underwear to the side to tease your dripping core. It’s his teasing laughter that snaps you awake.

“So wet… did you know I was coming, baby? Or were you expecting someone else?”

You don’t answer. Your breath hitches at the contact of his eager fingers prodding you, pushing upwards into your pulsating cunt before you can protest. The wounded noise you make only spurs him on further.

“You went to a bar, right? Were you thinking about me when you were there? Got yourself all wound up?”

You don’t reply. He’s too busy pushing his fingers to the very edge, stimulating the spot that makes your knees buckle before you can even form a thought.

You gasp, your mouth parting. Slack-jawed, eyes rolling back as you get closer to the edge before he’s even inside you. It could be pathetic if you cared, but Satoru always made everything around you melt, like you weren’t in your own mind anymore. You accepted being a body that belonged to him, nothing more.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he breathes, his lips tickling your jaw. “You’re so quiet.”

“Satoru,” you sigh. His other hand rubs the small of your back, touching the bare skin underneath your thin shirt.

He digs his fingers in further, knuckle-deep until he hears you make a pained noise. He grins at your broken moan like he’d just won a prize. He doesn’t stop, either — he wanted to hear more of those sounds out of your mouth. It was proof that you were still his, wrapped around his finger. 

You try to catch your breath as you lay back on your bed, his strong arms hoisting you up to the wall. You hiss at the feeling of his teeth on your thighs, biting desperately. Satoru was already sweating despite only coaxing bliss from you once. 

He claws at you, pulling at the buttons of your blouse and tugging your skirt down until you’re left bare for him. He groans at the sight of your silky skin, the way your chest heaves in anticipation. Everything about you is ripe, ready to break underneath his hands.

He’s less vocal this time when he takes you, pushing into you before you can say anything. He doesn’t realize how drunk he is until he does this, considering every sense of his was numb until he entered you, igniting his synapses on fire. 

You whimper from the abruptness, aching between your legs. You think that you would’ve bled if you weren’t so in love with him, but you knew better. Anything from him made your entire body warm and pliant, wet beyond your comprehension. You hated it, sometimes.

But you couldn’t hate anything about it now. You were doused in bliss.

“My girl,” he slurs. “So fucking perfect. Say it.”

You mutter nonsense under your breath.

He bends you in half, your calves resting on his broad shoulders. He chuckles at your pathetic whines.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Fuck — I – I’m your girl,” you sob.

“My perfect girl,” he mutters, correcting you. He groans when he looks down at you, his hips stuttering. His thrusts are harder than usual on purpose — he’d rather die than tell you that he’d only warped to you because he was having a panic attack in his room alone. 

He thought he could get his mind off of you, off of Suguru, who he’d assumed was angry with him all day. There were only dry texts from the both of you. No woman at the bar could compete, even if he managed to get a decent handjob in the bathroom. He could only think of you. 

Satoru knew you’d hate him for it. He was disgusted with himself. He feels it now, aching inside the cavern of his chest when you moan his name, knowing he doesn’t deserve a praising word out of your mouth.

He whines, on the verge of tears as he rides out his orgasm in your cunt. 

“Shit,” he hisses into the skin of your neck.

You can barely reply before he kisses down your stomach, licking himself out of you with his nails digging into your thighs.

“Satoru, what are you—oh, fuck—”

“Cum for me,” he slurs, lapping at your clit as he pushes his fingers into you. He pauses, mesmerized at the way his cum drips out of you, only for his fingers to push it back into the hilt, up to his knuckles.

You sob in protest, your thighs shaking as he plays with you. He doesn’t stop for a second. It’s almost as if he doesn’t realize you’re there, his heavy-lidded gaze fixed on the way your pussy swallows his fingers.

“S’too much,” you whine, grasping his wrist tightly.

“Fuckin’ love you,” he murmurs under his breath. You don’t hear him. Your body convulses as he continues to play you like an instrument. He only stops when he looks up to see tears pricking your eyes.

“S-Satoru…”

“Fuck,” he mutters. He finally retracts, licking his fingers as he looks at you intensely. “Mine… you’re all mine.”

The glassy look in his eyes is from the alcohol, you assume, but there’s something tantalizingly too real about the expression on his face. Raw with something he only buries inside his gut. He snaps out of it like it’s not something you’re supposed to see. 

He grunts when he lays his head on your lap, his fingers digging into your skin possessively as you tremble. You prop your head up on your pillow, trying to catch your breath as you stroke his hair.

“Why’d you get so drunk?” you ask quietly. “Were you alone?”

“Of course I was,” he scoffs, almost defensive. But he smells a sweetness on his skin that isn’t from you, and he knows you’ve already picked up on it. 

“You could’ve texted or called me instead of breaking into my dorm.”

“You just hate fun,” Satoru mumbles. 

Despite his attitude, he rubs his cheek against your thigh like he’s a pet. He thinks about taking you again, just to shut you up — enough to have both of you sweating, the musk of your sex drowning out any remnants from the bitch that Satoru had tried to use hours before.

Nothing could replace you and he had to live with that. 

He nips at your thigh, his mouth getting dangerously close to your core. You whine as you pull him back by his scalp, like the scruff of a dog. Satoru is always insatiable when he’s drunk, which is saying something considering what he’s like sober. His cravings for you are always intense. When he’s not in his right mind, you’re more considered prey than a craving.

You don’t have the energy to respond to him. His warmth satiates you for now as he locks his arms around your bare waist. The light breathing fanning your stomach calms you.

When you wake up, he’s nowhere to be found, but there’s a small floral arrangement on your desk. White orchids and blue hyacinths.

___

August, 2010 

You hate bringing anything back to life as much as you hate desecration.

It’s unnatural — though you know that nothing about the Jujutsu world is natural. Everything to you is a myth you have to deal with. After knowing Satoru for so long and seeing what nasty curses humanity could birth, you shouldn’t be stunted.

It makes you feel a bit ill when you realize how much power your hands wield. As ordinary as you’ve always been, these days you often wish that you were the true epitome of it. Only human, unable to see the horrors of the world. Left in the dark when it came to sorcery. Perhaps you aren’t cut out for this, despite how much you tried to convince Satoru you were.

His voice echoes in your mind. His pleading. The ways he wanted to protect you. He’d belittled your technique for a reason, maybe. You aren’t sure you’re cut out for this shit.

Necromancy is only exciting the first couple of times. After that, it’s the reanimation of body parts that freaks you out. It doesn’t matter that it’s the revival of small birds and rodents on a lab table. You feel like you’re playing God and not even doing a decent job of it.

It catches up to you in your dreams. The image of you getting held down, leaving you to resort to your technique. Rotting flesh. Even in your unconscious, the smell is somehow striking, as if you’re really there. Other times, you find horror in the reanimation of corpses under your hand. Split limbs coming together. Limbs that belong to people you love.

Tonight, you’re shaken by the image of Suguru mauled beyond belief. Sacrilegious violence that makes your stomach turn. 

When you wake up in a sweat, gasping, the alarm clock on your bedside table reads 1:12 am. You dial his number before you can even come to your senses.

“Twigs.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

You hear Suguru chuckle, deep and sweet like teeth sunken into cake. You’re filled with warmth almost immediately. 

“What’s up? Isn’t it past your bedtime?” he breathes.

“Had a nightmare,” you mumble.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” you sigh. 

“Fine. What are you thinking about, then?”

“You,” you mumble.

There’s silence on the other end. Despite this, you can still hear his grin. You can see his little smirk perfectly in your head. 

“Yeah?” his voice lowers. “What about me?”

“Y-your hands,” you mumble. “You make me feel safe.”

“Is that right?”

You make a small noise that shows your agreement, but it’s noncommittal. You hum at the thought of him. You’re sleep-dazed, partially wishing for this moment that he was more like Satoru. Able to talk your ear off without any effort from your end.

Suguru had always known you differently. He had you memorized as much as Satoru did, but uniquely, given the similarities between your personalities. He knew how you worked and he never held it against you.

Satoru would probably try to pry it out of you. Suguru would already know.

And at this moment, he knows. It’d be infuriating if you didn’t see it coming.

“You’re upset,” Suguru says.

“No.”

“You are. Or you’re pent up, which is also like being upset. Need some catharsis?”

“Maybe,” you mumble.

“Tell me what’s wrong, then. Or tell me about your nightmare.”

“No.”

He laughs. 

“Stubborn as always,” he purrs.

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” you whisper.

“You want to hear me be mean to you. You like not being in control. That’s what makes you feel safe, isn’t it, princess?”

“Shut up.”

“C’mon, baby,” he laughs. “Give me something to work with.”

Your eyes nearly glaze over as you watch the flickering lights outside of your dorm. A broken street lamp flashes on and off, shadowing your room in darkness only to illuminate seconds later, back and forth. Unpredictably so. You aren’t sure what else you should look at while you’re still so drunk on Suguru’s voice. You think maybe you’d handle this phone call better if you were far from sober.

“I fucked someone else yesterday.”

The line goes silent. Your heartbeat picks up.

After almost an eternity, you hear Suguru’s voice again. It’s soft, almost cooing. It feels awfully dangerous despite this.

“Yeah? Who?”

You swallow thickly. 

“This guy who got my number last month. Like, I didn’t give it to him — Utahime did,” you ramble. “But then we started texting and stuff and he’s… funny. He, uh, came over yesterday.”

“Did you like it?”

You imagine your throat closes up. Part of you wishes it would, that you’d just pass out immediately for no reason just so you didn’t have to have this conversation. You curse yourself for even bringing it up.

“Y-Yes.”

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” he chuckles.

“I am…”

“You don’t have to be so scared, baby. I know that Satortu took away your virginity, but he’s not some kind of god watching over you.”

“I know,” you huff.

“But you feel guilty, don’t you? Like you’re betraying him?” he teases.

You open your mouth to say something, then close it. You notice how he talks about Satoru and not himself.

“Do you care?”

“I know how you feel about me.” His answer is simple. Blunt. It almost sounds sarcastic, but Suguru often talks like he’s cock-sure about everything. Even if he isn’t, he’s always held a certain confidence that was different from what Satoru exuded. 

Satoru was a bad liar, to you, at least.

“Tell me about your boy. What’s his name?”

“He’s not–” you gruff. “Naoya. His name is Naoya.”

“That Zenin brat?”

“Huh?”

“He’s in the Zenin clan. A right bastard, I’ve heard.”

“He seems fine,” you mumble.

“Someone’s defensive,” he teases.

You pause, staring at the darkness of your ceiling. You fix your shorts, your fingers grazing the wetness of your core. You didn’t even realize you were aroused.

“I should go back to sleep,” you whisper.

“I thought you couldn’t. That’s why you called me, right? You need some help?”

“I don’t need help,” you scoff. “I just… I had a nightmare and wanted to talk to you.”

Suguru smiles. He knows you can’t see it, but he’s beaming in the darkness of his room. He’d been restless for the past few days after some disagreements with Satoru. He tried to blame the heat on physical altercations — the sun burning down to rev up the irritation in their shared systems like they were still boys. Always wanting to pin each other to the ground.

They didn’t have you to mediate, so they’d come out of arguments with bruises. Marks from skin tugged too harshly. The ghost of teeth biting down on flesh. 

“I wish you were here, babygirl,” he sighs, his tone desperate. You almost cringe at it — you always assume he’s playing with you.

“Yeah?” you snort.

“Mhm. It’s funny. You didn’t even wake me up when you called. I was already awake, thinking of you.”

“Were you, now?”

“Mhm,” Suguru hums.  “I just kept thinking about your thighs. How small your leg is compared to my hand.”

Your breath hitches and he almost laughs when he hears it.

“Can you do something for me, baby?” he asks. “Want you to touch yourself. Tell me how wet you are.”

You gulp. Your fingers prod at the hem of your athletic shorts, the nylon riding up as you squirm in your bed. Your index and middle fingers prod at the center of your core experimentally. You’re fucking dripping and it makes your breath hitch.

Suguru calls your name.

“I”m…” you stammer. “I’m wet. Why?”

“Poor thing. Maybe that’s why you can’t sleep, no?”

“I-I’m fine… I just—”

“You should play with your clit. Since I can’t be there to do it for you,” he breathes.

“What?”

“C’mon, sweetheart. I can tell my favorite girl just needs to relax. That’s why you called me, right?”

You whimper. It was maybe half-true. Suguru had stopped answering his texts as frequently as he usually did, and you missed the sound of his voice. The odd ache in your chest wasn’t something that you felt like exposing to anyone else, not even Satoru.

The silk of Suguru’s voice brings you back. You wanted to breathe him in, but he hadn’t visited like he said he would. Didn’t have the warping feature that Satoru had, which to this day, still startled you whenever it happened. Ocean eyes whipping your senses from thin air, like a lightning strike. 

Despite your recent gripes about him, you needed the both of them like you needed air. At least to make it all more bearable. It disgusted you a little bit, needing them like a finding addict. Living with yourself and yourself alone was starting to get old, though you aren’t sure how much left of you feels whole. You were always fruit split in between a blade, all the gory parts splayed out by the hand of someone greater than you.

You needed Suguru’s musk, his hair in between your fingers as he rocked into you. Your hands were too small compared to his. 

He has you panting, sweating through Kyoto’s mugginess. The dorms were in even worse shape here than on the main Tokyo campus, probably why Gakuganji was such a vapid old man. Everything was too hot and falling off the bone.

“I feel like I’m hallucinating. It’s like I can smell you through the phone,” Suguru murmurs, his voice like a mirage. You’d laugh if you weren’t so deep in your cunt, fingers pruning and pushed to the knuckles. 

Suguru knew you would do anything for him, so he made you torture yourself because he wasn’t there to do it himself.

Your groans are muffled from you smothering your face in the sheets, knees pressing down and ass up. Willing to humiliate yourself without him even being there.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up already,” he chides.

“I’m not,” you whine.

“How many times have you cum?”

“None.”

He laughs. “What are you thinking about?”

“You know what.” 

You’re close to tears by the time he lets you cum. The sound of his voice hitting you deep in your core, insides permeated with the thought of him. Sweeter than smoked sugar.

It was the sound of his grunt that tipped you over, imagining him with black strands sticking to his high cheekbones with sweat. The apples of his face candy-pink. Where Satoru looked cherubic, Suguru looked like a girl’s first wet dream. 

“Were you touching yourself?” you pant, coming down from your high. You don’t bother putting on your underwear again.

“Obviously,” he groans. The vibrations of his voice made the speaker blow off-kilter like the audio of a shitty VHS. “Came all over myself.”

You could fall asleep to the sound of his static hums. The chaos in your gut is settled by the time your alarm clock strikes devil’s hour.

“How are things?” you ask sleepily.

“With me?” Suguru asks. “Fine. Same as always.”

“You sound tired.”

“It’s three in the morning, sweetheart,” he chuckles dryly.

“Mm. My phone bill’s gonna be so high.”

“Get Satoru to pay for it.”

The bastard probably would, if you asked.

You don’t get much out of Suguru for the remainder you’re awake. His answers are deflective and clipped. He hangs up by the time he hears you breathing, knowing you’ve fallen asleep.

He sighs in his room, rummaging for his pills. If nightmares didn’t keep him up, then the sheer unwillingness of his brain’s tranquility was often enough for him to run a graveyard shift. Stumbling in the dark, half-dead. He’d gotten productive in finishing the video games he’d started with Satoru by himself. Not much else.

His throat feels dry. He couldn’t differentiate the tastes of anything anymore. It all tasted like curses.

___

You keep having dreams about Suguru.

Tonight, there’s two of him.

One is the image you’re used to – hair swept up in a bun. Broad chest in his Jujutsu Tech uniform. Eyes crinkling into half moons.

The other seems to be an alter ego. A cursed version, one with eyes to kill and blood on his hands. Hands that are trying to tear you apart.

When you grip his wrist, you can see the imprint of your hand on his skin. Flesh falling away, much too easily. The air around you splinters like you’re in a glitched matrix. The Suguru you know and love falters beside you, his skin suddenly sallow. Pale as bile.

When you scream, nothing comes out.

Pseudo-Suguru smiles as your Suguru fades away into ash. You stare into his cat-like gaze, the familiar of his mouth. 

“Come with me,” he says. 

It’s the last thing you hear before your body wakes you up in a sweat. You gasp as you jolt awake, fingers curling your damp bedsheets. You’re further startled by the crack of thunder as a torrential downpour occurs without warning — unusual for late August, considering the rainy season had died down weeks prior. 

You sit up and reach for your phone almost automatically, your hands shaking as you go through your contacts. Your fingers hover over two names as you swallow thickly.

A few beeps follow the push of the call button.

“We’re sorry. The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

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

[causenessus]

cold kisses

part 0.3. USER 7193

PLAYING FROM KODZUKEN'S STREAM . . . feels by calvin harris

maybe he should have expected this. 

nearly all of his posts have been overrun with questions about y/n in the comments. the comments range from simple “who was the girl in your cooking stream??” demands to extremely specific ones detailing her exact hair color, height, and voice pitch as if he’s had another mysterious girl on a stream that he’ll confuse her for.

he’s been doing his best to avoid questions about her but it could only work for so long. now there’s only questions about y/n left in the chat and he’s not sure what to do. it was easy to ignore the questions when he wasn’t doing an entire question and answer live stream but he’d promised to do one soon and he thought having shoyo with him was going to help. 

it did for the most part, and everything seemed normal but he was at a loss for words when the chat started to flood with questions about y/n.

shoyo leaned closer to read a question outloud, “‘girl from the cooking stream?’ i keep seeing that, do they not know–”

a reflex kicks in and he slaps a hand over shoyo’s mouth, pushing him away from the screen again before removing his hand trying to act normal.

the ginger looks at him, a mix of surprise and confusion on his face. “sorry,” kenma apologizes quickly, shocked by his own actions. “no, they don’t know anything about her,” he answers, trying to make it clear that he wants to keep it that way.

but the chat is already too far gone, using this one mention to run wild with theories. he can’t blame them, really. sometimes they’re a little over the top and unnecessarily pushy as if they have no sense of respect but in this scenario what else could they talk about besides a mysterious person that just entered the picture? but that didn't mean he enjoyed dealing with it.

messages transition quickly from asking what they “don’t know about” to inferring that he has a secret girlfriend. he groans, looking away from the screen. his mind working fast to try and come up with an excuse or explanation; a single mention of her and they already think he’s dating someone. he’s sure that the internet would go crazy with this information as well, fabricating stories, scandals, and everything in between.

his phone starts to buzz.

speak of the devil.

it’s a notification from twitter, some unofficial update account that’s tagged him about having a secret girlfriend.

he needs to think.

he can see shoyo eyeing him out of the corner of his eyes and he knows he’s been silent for too long on camera.

god, someone was going to find out who she was soon, right? weren’t fans supposed to be good at doxxing each other?

but how does he play off being roommates with an olympic athlete? an olympic athlete whose currently being shipped to the max with the most typical copy and paste guy everyone has the hots for?

maybe it’d be better for him to leave it to a random fan to find out who she is and announce it to the world–no, then he’ll just look bad for hiding things after so much has already come to light. it’s best for him to come up with an excuse right now. if he said she was his girlfriend maybe he could ask them to leave her alone. maybe they’d listen to him.

it sounded like his best option but he couldn’t just make that decision on his own without talking to her.

but he also couldn’t stand up and the leave the room for an unprecedented amount of time after keeping quiet for so long.

he looks at the chat one more time, seeing the word girlfriend in nearly every message. if they already think they’re dating it can’t be that bad, right?

“kenma…?” shoyo breaks him out of a trance, touching him on the back.

kenma looks at him, unsure of what to say. he feels dizzy and his mind won’t stop whirring with thoughts and worries.

“you’ve been really quiet,” shoyo lowers his voice so that only kenma can hear him, “i think you need to say something.”

he glances at the chat again. still stuff about y/n.

she’d be okay with it, right? maybe if she isn’t he’ll just tell twitter that his girlfriend broke up with him because his fans are pushy little shits and he’ll agree with her word for word and then his fans will cancel him and he can move to another country and live a happy little life working in a cat shelter–

no. he likes his life the way it is now. he’s winged everything so far but he’s grown quite a small community for himself this way. he can do this. if y/n doesn’t agree, he’ll figure something out later.

“okay,” kenma finally speaks, dropping his hands that he’s been running through his hair absentmindedly. “since none of you guys are gonna leave this alone, yes. the girl from that last stream is my girlfriend, happy?” he watches his chat run wild with numerous exclamations. he thinks finally about his poor moderators. he’ll definitely have to give them something after this stream. “i’ve been trying to lay low about it because i didn’t want the world to freak out but now it’s out. just try and be respectful, okay? i love her a lot.” the words aren’t hard to say when they’re about her. he can say them honestly and play them off as a joke later, but for now he enjoys how nice it feels to say it.

he can see that shoyo has frozen up out of the corner of his eye. he needs to end this stream before either of them say something else they shouldn’t. he’ll answer a few more questions and slowly ease into a goodbye so that he can end the stream and debrief shoyo.

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

this is a long chapter i'm sorry 💀 literally there's more but i tried to split this evenly into two chapters

kenma was literally just going through some random person's account who made edits of ice skating partners to self sabotage himself

yn wasn't sure when they'd be releasing partner pair ups and really freaked out when they were announced

she was texting everyone and tweeting a ton

she messaged her media girl like "hey i'm not comfortable with people sending me writing shipping me with atsumu can we please do something about it" and the girl replied, "what do you want me to do?? report them?? write you a message that you can tweet about your boundaries?? (yes) if that's what they want to write deal with it at least they like u"

and they wonder why she just posts whatever she's feeling on her main unless iwa tells her otherwise

noya has gotten distracted from the main topic of a chat to reply with a <3 to something nice y/n says multiple times

they're fr just best buds holding hand in the middle of a warzone where iwaizumi reigns over all

(the only two soldiers are suna and tsukishima)

suna's a lot softer without tsukishima around

he just feels like he needs his guard up around such a salty person

do not ask me why i made rofltropper an antagonist for no reason

kageyama was really just trying to finally do his english homework while waiting for hinata to come home and then he heard kuroo and oikawa start to yell

he was a little scared but then was like "if they can't reach me i'm safe" and they they slammed the door shut and his room shook a little

someone on the floor probably wrote up a complaint about them

taglist: @rinheartshyunlix @kettlepop @eggyrocks @cr4yolaas @httpakkeiji @keioover @does-directions @calx-bdo @staygoldsquatchling02 @cherrypieyourface @iluv-ace @kitty-m30w @h3xi2g0n3 @mylahrins @thechaosoflonging @momoriii-i @localgaytrainwreck @a-pastel-edgelord @bugglesboop @polish-cereal @osakis-gf @whykirbo @phoenix-eclipses @faesix @ryeyeyer @starxq.zip @skylarkalchemist @kunimix @sereniteav @kodzubaby (form to be added to taglist! <3)

#kozume kenma #kenma kozume #kenma #kenma x reader #kenma smau #haiykuu smau #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader

[ixveee]

a summer in december - grayson hawthorne x reader

wc: 734

summary: love we'll just remember, you didn't think you'd see grayson hawthorne ever again after your fling over winter break, but summer is full of surprises

pairings: grayson hawthorne x fem!reader

warnings: first time writing x reader, probably not that good, use of yn (im sorry I couldn't avoid it), very very light swearing (like once), angsty(ish), no happy ending

tag list: no one yet! lmk if you wanna be tagged in the future!!

You loved the summer. You loved the beach, swimming, vacations, and just having a break. You turned so you could get a tan on your back. You also loved laying on the sand. The beach was quiet, the waves serene and the air clean. It was so relaxing. The sun was hot, but the sea breeze made it bearable. You could feel the heat on your back. You lay with your head down, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of the summer sun. Humming contently, you feel like you could take a nap.

Until some loud-ass family decided to come and ruin the day. 

You look up, now annoyed. You see a girl with dark brown hair, chasing after a boy with lighter brown hair and green eyes. Another couple follows them. A man wearing a cowboy hat (why a cowboy hat at the beach???) and a girl with blue hair, who’s laughing. Next was an extremely tall boy carrying a girl with black hair on his shoulders. You softened a bit and were quite frankly jealous of the close group. You’d only had one relationship before, a fling over winter break with-

Grayson Hawthorne.

There’s no way it’s him. It’s impossible. You hadn’t seen him since last winter. You took off your sunglasses, thinking the lighting was playing tricks on you but no, this was Grayson in the flesh. You hated the way butterflies erupted in your stomach looking at him. The way you almost sighed in relief at the sight of no one with him. But you especially hated how he just cast you aside like you were a game. 

You woke up to Grayson already getting dressed, buttoning up his white-collared shirt and tugging on his pants again. “Gray?” you murmur, still groggy. He looks at you, a tight-lipped smile on his face. “Sorry, I have to go.” You watch, confused, as he puts on his suit jacket. “Go? Go where?” He had been staying in your hotel room at the ski lodge the whole time you were there together. “I have to go.” You understood now but you wished you didn’t. He was leaving. For good. It didn’t even seem like he cared. “So that’s it?” you ask angrily. “You’re just leaving?” Grayson looks regretful, but he doesn’t deny it. “I’m sorry, but nothing good would come of us together. I did enjoy our time together, make no mistake.” 

You were heartbroken. How could he? You thought you actually had something. A bond. A connection. You guess he didn’t feel the same. You huffed, laying back down. “Go, then.” You dismiss him with a wave of your hand. Based on his expression, he’s not used to being dismissed. “Leave. But if you do, I never want to see you again.” 

That was the last time you ever saw Grayson. Well, until today. Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed you yet. You lay back down, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach.

Suddenly, you feel something hit you–a volleyball. You sigh, sitting up to look who it belongs to.

You’ve never regretted anything more. 

Grayson was walking towards you, looking perfect as ever. You hated him a little more for it. That was why the sight of him made you crazy, right? Because you hated him…

He reaches for the ball at the same time as you because of course he did. Your fingers brush and he looks at you. “y/n?” he asks, softly. Your breath hitches at the sound of his voice. You debate denying it, but you know he recognizes you now and wouldn’t believe it. “Yes,” you reply, coolly. “Hello, Grayson.” He stares at you in disbelief for a moment before a voice–the boy with the brown hair–calls for him. “You good, Gray?” 

“Yes, one second,” he calls back. 

“You should go back to your family,” you respond, tone indifferent. Grayson nods slowly and picks up the ball. He stands up and looks at you for a moment as if waiting for you to ask him to stay. Well, that wasn’t happening. You lay down again, putting on your sunglasses and lounging on your back with your arms under your head. You watch Grayson through your peripheral vision as he jogs back to his family, and you feel the knot in your stomach tighten. Because of course Grayson Hawthorne still affected you.

And you hated it. 

Right?

a/n: woo woo! my first x reader fic!! lowk might make it a series if people like it....

requests are open! if i get enough i'll make a writing sideblog!

#⪩⪨﹒✎ venus writes #the inheritance games #grayson hawthorne #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #jameson hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #xander hawthorne #nash hawthorne #libby grambs #maxine liu #the brothers hawthorne #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit

[theanonymousopossum]

Hello, fellow Elriel!

This is your Elriel Month fic exchange announcement. Remember to not post this Ask until the days of your prompt (feel free to post your fic directly to this ask). 

Gifting: @slytherhys

Prompt: Endless Possibilities

Tropes: Fluff, Hurt/comfort, HEA, AU

Send @elriel-month an ask if you have any questions. Can’t wait to read it! 🦇🌹

Happy @elriel-month @slytherhys from your gifter!

This fic was inspired by a conversation I had with @shallyne a few months ago as well as my own desire to read a fic with Elain adopting a bunch of children. I hope you love this!

Warnings: nothing really, it's just a ton of fluff. Slight mentions of past abuse maybe?

Word count: 1.8 K

Loud shouts of glee filled the air around Elain as she pulled another sheet of muffins out of the oven. A small smile grew on her lips as she thought of the small children who would soon come charging in to grab the sweets before they were all gone.

Elain dusted her flour-coated hands on her apron, looking out the window and surveying the scene outside. Around 40 children of all sizes were out there, some Illyrian, some fae, and some were species of lesser fae that she didn’t recognize. That didn’t stop her from loving every child like her own, though. Small groups had broken off to play tag, while some of the older ones were playing something that looked like dodgeball.

Amongst the trees she Emeline, her eldest. With her black hair, brown eyes, and dark skin she was the spitting image of her father, and like her father wisps of shadows swirled over the surroundings. In Emeline’s arms was the youngest, Aurelia, at just 10 months old. 

A loud crash sounded from the entryway, announcing her sister’s arrival. Sure enough, when Elain peeked out of the kitchen, Feyre was on the floor, having tripped over a potted plant. Elain shook her head in amusement. Many words could be used to describe her sister, but coordinated was not one of them. 

Offering her a hand, Elain grinned, and the two walked to the back rooms of the orphanage together.

“Elain! I’m so sorry about your plant. I swear sometimes I could trip over the air. Anyway, I wanted to wish you a happy anniversary! I can’t believe you’ve already had your 50th anniversary, and that this place is now officially 25 years old. It’s so incredible what you’ve done with the place,” Feyre said excitedly.

Elain could hardly believe it either. 50 years since she married the love of her life, and 25 years since she’d begun to fulfill her dream. 

Feyre continued, “I’m delighted that this has turned out so well, not only for the sake of the children but for you and Azriel as well. I know you always wanted a big family, and all of the little ones are just like my own nieces and nephews.”

“For sure,” Elain replied, “I love each and every one of them. I’m glad I could make a difference in their lives.”

The war had been brutal on many families, leaving lots of children orphaned. In addition, lots of Illyrian children had been abandoned or abused by their parents for lots of reasons. The reason never mattered though, all were welcome here. 

The sisters reached the end of the hall, and Elain unlocked the double doors that led into a room covered in dropcloths, with easels and canvases already set out and waiting.

“Oh Elain, you are a dear. I about burned all those tarps in anger last time I tried to hang them up. Anyway, if you want to go give the little gremlins their sweets, I can get the paints out and ready,” Feyre said, already pulling things out of the supply closet.

Despite how busy she was being High Lady and all of the duties that came with being the mother of 4 children, Feyre always carved time out of her week to give art classes here, for which Elain was eternally grateful.

So many of the young found comfort in painting or sculpting, or whatever it was they chose. Others simply enjoyed the freedom that art allowed and preferred to go crazy.

Elain left her sister to it, returning to the kitchen and banging the loud bell by the window. Everyone turned to look at her, and she beckoned at them. Not long afterward a mad rush of people entered, and quickly everyone spread out onto the cushions, chairs, and couches in the living area. 

In the back was Emeline, though the baby had been passed over to her middle child, Edward. Being fully blind, Elain’s eldest was always very hesitant about being near the crowds, but Edward had a heart of gold and looked out for her at all times. 

They too sat down, and Elain left to go clean the dormitories. As she gathered up all the linens into her massive wicker basket, she thought about just how much the building they were in had changed.

Azriel had first told her about this place some 30 years ago, having found it while he was away on a scouting mission. He told her he’d gone inside and had found a small group of children of varying ages huddled by a dying fire. 

He’d immediately gone back to her and asked if she could make some food because all of them looked like they hadn’t eaten in days. That made sense, too, since in the dead of Illyria’s winters you’d be lucky to find even just one of the bony mountain birds with not enough meat on it for a baby. 

Elain had jumped into action, making her favourite hearty soup recipe, and while it was cooking she had gathered all the blankets, wraps, towels, and whatever else she could find in the River House. 

The children were at first quite scared, but eventually, after Elain (and Azriel, when he could) visited them for a few weeks they began to open up.

The eldest, Blair, was the unofficial mother of the group, and she was doing all she could to support the others. Blair had a younger sister, Sabeena, but the rest were all similarly abandoned or orphaned with nowhere else to go. 

Working as a maid and doing some other odd jobs got them a few small coins for clothes, but not much more. The dilapidated cabin, most likely once a hunting lodge, was in dire need of repairs, but it sufficed well enough to keep the cold out.

But as Elain found out, Blair had gotten faeriepox recently, a nasty illness that due to a lack of medical care had taken her out for weeks on end. And without the money she brought in and without local game to hunt, there was nothing.

Elain’s heart shattered listening to the story, different parts told by all the children. Most were Illyrian, with all of the females’ wings displaying the brutal clipping scars, though there were a few males in the group. 

After that, it had been her personal mission to provide for the group who, in Elain’s eyes, were now just as much her children as her own daughter. Rhysand and Feyre, once they’d found out about it, were only too happy to provide her with funds and support to transform the tiny hut into a huge building with proper insulation, real beds, running water, and a stocked kitchen.

Feyre had told her in private how much it reminded her of the cottage they used to grow up in, and Elain had to agree. The young ones hadn’t looked much different than she and her sisters used to when they were poor, and the haggard look of a person hunting for food that couldn’t be found was all too familiar. She suspected that was one of the reasons Feyre was so impassioned now about the restoration and upkeep here because Feyre rightfully believed that no child should have to experience what they did. 

25 years ago on this day, the orphanage opened its doors for the first time to anyone who wanted to stay. At first not much happened, but eventually people started to trickle in. Lesser fae with skin all hues of the rainbow, Illyrian children with scars so horrific it made Elain want to cry, even a few high fae, and though nothing looked physically wrong with them, Elain knew deep in her heart they had seen more than anyone should ever have to.

And that was how it was, 25 years later. Anyone and everyone was welcome to stay for as long as they wanted-whether just for food or to move in until they found a way to support themselves. It was the pride and joy of Elain’s life, running this place. She’d dreamed of having a big family ever since she was a little girl, and now, finally, it had come true. 

As Elain turned around, arms full with the baskets of laundry, she ran right into a solid wall covered in leather.

“Hello to you too, darling,” came the soft, melodious voice she loved so much.

“Az!” she squealed in glee, abandoning the basket on the floor in favour of jumping into her husband’s arms. He swept her up in a kiss, hugging her close.

“Happy anniversary, love. I can’t believe it’s been 50 years,” said Elain breathlessly. 

“It’s been the best 50 years of my life. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I thank the Mother and the Cauldron and whatever else is up there that I get to spend the rest of my life with you,” he told her. Even after all this time, Elain’s heart still fluttered like it was their first time whenever he said that he loved her.

Their moment was interrupted by a soft babbling noise down below, and Elain felt a tiny hand tugging on the hem of her dress. There on the ground was Aurelia, having toddled her way in to find them. Her tiny wings beat uselessly behind her, which never failed to amuse any of her family. 

Rhys had told her that Illyrians usually began to fly at around age 5, but until then her wings wouldn’t do much than make her more prone to accidents. 

Az’s shadows swirled down to meet his daughter as they always did, and she squealed in delight while trying to grab them. 

A soft smile flitted on the shadowsinger’s face watching his baby play with his shadows, and Elain thought back to the first time he held Emeline.

She remembered how excited he’d been when she’d told him she was pregnant, but also terrified at the prospect of being a father. He worried constantly that he would frighten or harm the child accidentally, no matter how many times Elain reassured him that that would never happen. 

It had never really sunk in, though, until the first time he held Emeline in his arms, and his shadows had come out curiously to investigate. Emeline had been born blind, and so watching as she giggled with the tickling sensation of shadows swirling around her seemed to finally have persuaded Azriel that he would not be like his father, and that he would love and care for his children no matter what. 

Azriel scooped Aurelia into his arms, and the three of them left for the dining room. They looked out at their big, happy family, and standing there, with her husband and her children, Elain had never felt more at home.

#elriel #pro elriel #elriel month 2024 #elriel fanfiction #theanonymousopossum #elain x azriel #elain archeron #azriel

[the-witches-creatures]

The Vagabond Pt. Four

Part four babes!

Something a little more on the serious side? Ish.. Kinda?

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @kyoko-neko @strawberrypoundtown

.......................................................................................................

Warnings: Cursing, alcohol... That's pretty much it?

Werewolf!Oscar "Oz" Vi x Werebunny!Fem!Reader

You sigh heavily as you walk behind the bar and over to stand in front of Oscar who was already on his second double of whisky for the night. You place your hands down harshly on the tile surface getting Oscar’s attention.

Oscar raised his eyebrow. “You good, sweetheart?” He chuckled before lifting the glass again to take another sip.

“I’m not gonna sleep with you in that shitty motel room anymore.” You say to Oscar as he sits at the bar while you clean some glasses.

Oscar almost choked on his whisky. “I’m sorry- what??” He questioned and coughed a bit as he wiped the whisky from his chin.

“I’m not gonna sleep with you in your shitty motel room anymore. If you want to keep hooking up that’s fine, but we are gonna do it at my place from now on.” You state bluntly with a casual shrug.

Oscar stared at you with a blank expression as his brain worked hard to process what you were saying. He set his glass down and rubbed his orange eyes. “Why?” He asked. “What’s wrong with my motel room?” He laughed a little.

You lean against the bar. “Oscar, the doors are flimsy as twigs, there are cigarette burns in the nasty ass carpets, you’ve moved to three different rooms in that building because of bed bugs and you’ve only been in town for five days!” You exclaim. You then lean over the bar and whisper. “If you want to keep fucking me, you can come stay at my place.” Your tone is serious and its so fucking hot.

Oscar felt a rush of goosebumps go down his neck. He then shook his head and bit his lip as he looked away from you. Hesitation in his eyes. Staying with you was… Way too personal for his liking. He finally looked back at you after a few moments. “We could fuck in the bathroom here at the bar, or something.” He said and smiled hopefully at you.

You roll your eyes. “Alright, no more pussy for you then.” You snort.

Oscar’s bright orange eyes went wide with panic. “Hey, hey sweetheart. No need to be like that.” He chuckled nervously. Why was his heart aching? Why did he dread the idea of not being able to touch or taste you anymore? 

You lean back, cross your arms, and suck your teeth. “I am not going back to that motel, Oz.” You say. “And we are not fuckin in the bar.” You whisper through gritted teeth.

“I was just- Okay, fine.” Oscar groaned. “Gods damn it, sweetheart.” He whispered. “Alright, you win. I’ll get my shit and stay with you for the last few days I’m in town.” He said in a defeated manner.

You smile brightly at Oscar. “Good, then you get to keep sleeping with me until you leave town.” You chirp.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks sweetheart.” He chuckled.

“Don’t act like you don’t like me.” You tease him. “Pay your tab, go get your stuff. I will take you to my place after work. I’m only on shift until ten o’clock tonight.” You smile as you walk off to serve other customers walking into the bar.

Oscar slung his duffle bag over his shoulder as he waited outside the bar for you. He checked his watch. Ten o’clock, right on the dot. His ears perked up at the sound of you walking out of the bar door.

“Were you waiting long?” You ask as you pull your keys from your purse.

Oscar shrugged. “Not really.” He yawned a little. “So sweetheart, where is your place?” He asked. “I’ll follow you on my bike.” He says as he points with his thumb to an old Harley parked on the side of the road.

You pointed at the apartments above the bar. “Up there.” You laugh. “And just leave your bike parked there, it’ll be fine.” You add as you lead him down the alley to the entry door to the apartment units above.

Oscar blinks slowly. “You live above the bar you work at?” He asked.

“Yep, it’s convenient.” You say casually as you unlock the door and lead Oscar up the narrow stairs.

“I’ll say.” Oscar mumbled as he watched your ass going up the stairs. He smirks and reaches out to give it a playful pinch.

You let out a yelp and glare at Oscar. “Hey!” You whine.

Oscar laughs. “Can’t help it sweetheart, you’ve just got such a sweet ass.” He said.

You roll your eyes playfully as the two of you reach the top of the stairs, leading him down the narrow hall. Your door is the unit at the end of said hall.

“Damn.” Oscar grunted as he followed. “I take it these weren’t always apartments?” He asks.

“No, they weren’t. I don’t know what the building was when my grandpa bought it back in the 70s, all I know is that he converted it into a bar and apartments.” You explain.

Oscar followed you into your small apartment. “So your grandpa owns the bar and apartments?” He asked.

“No, my dad does now.” You say as you kick your shoes off and toss them in the basket near the door before taking your jacket off.

Oscar whistled. “Damn, sounds like you’re set huh?” He chuckled as he kicked his boots off as well and tossed his duffle bag onto the couch.

You put Oscar’s boots in the basket with your shoes. “I mean, if I take it over, yeah.” You shrug.

“You don’t want to?” Oscar asked and raised his eyebrow.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I am just unsure about it all.” You shrug as you head towards the bathroom. “Make yourself at home, I’ve got left over pizza in the fridge.” You tell Oscar as you close the bathroom door behind you.

Oscar rests his chin in his hand, he can hear the shower turn on and pouts. “Damn, without me?” He mumbles as he looks around your apartment.

It’s small, but it’s also cozy. Fluffy pillows and a fuzzy blanket adorn your couch, plants on shelves. Though Oscar can tell they are fake plants, they still look cute. A couple of pictures hang on the walls. Of you and who Oscar assumes is your father.

He stands up from the couch and walks over to the wall to examine the pictures. A few are from your childhood, those are the ones with you and your parents in them. He also spots a couple of you with whom he assumes are friends. Your smile makes him smile. He can’t help it.

Oscar’s smile fades and a heavy sigh escapes him. “What the fuck am I doing?” He whispers to himself. He runs his fingers through his shoulder length brown locks and walks back over to the couch to sit down. His intrusive thoughts tell him to just grab his shit and leave while you’re still in the shower. But his instincts are growling at him to stay put. To stay with the sweet bunny girl. To give into what nature is telling him to do.

Oscar grunts as he lies across the couch and looks back over to the wall of pictures once more. Your smile makes him smile, he can’t help it.

#monster fucker #fem!reader #monster lover #werewolf oc #werewolf x reader #The Vagabond By Kae

[crvptidgf]

9 people I would like to get to know better

thank you to @bellaramslover for the tag!

— — — — —

last song? - two headed mother by ethel cain

favourite colour? - dark green / sage green

last movie/tv show? - storm warning, 2007 (i do not recommend)

currently watching? - rewatching all the harry potter movies

sweet/spicy/savoury? - savoury (or sweet depends on my mood tbh)

relationship status? - long term relationship

current obsession? - hazel callahan/ruby cruz

last thing i googled? - (city i go to college in) weather

no pressure to the tags <3 :

@astroph1les @intotitties @seethesin @ieatstarsforaliving @mphountitled @heartshazel @ptolemaeacles @princesssmars @strawberryyivy

#get to know me #tag game #sorry if you’ve already been tagged #anyways love yall #thank you 🫶🏻

[mellaithwen]

Several Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the lovely @homerforsure and @rewritetheending thaaaaank you my dears! I feel quite rusty but Allison assures me this isn’t shit haha so here’s some 5.06AU because it’s been a while!

“You think I can’t read you like a book?” Mitchell asks, his head tilted to one side as though he actually expected an answer to his wholly rhetorical question.

Eddie doesn’t respond, and when he swallows, his Adam’s apple brushes against the barrel of the gun being held under his chin.

“Yeah,” Mitchell continues, as though Eddie’s stillness was a response in itself. “All cool and calm under pressure, but it’s all a show. I can see that. There’s a fire there, a rage. Your partners’ blood is on your hands. The game’s changed.”

Asshole, Eddie thinks to himself, keeping his gaze fixed forward as his nostrils flare. He hasn’t blinked in a while now, but he can go longer still. He’s sure of it.

“Maybe I should dump him on the side of the road?” Mitchell contemplates, goading his audience. Eddie knows better than to respond, but there’s an honest to god *sparkle* in Mitchell’s eyes that makes Eddie want to rage and snarl at the words.

Try it, he imagines hissing, and I’ll put you down.

“Fuck you,” he says instead, his jaw tight, his teeth clenched, and Mitchell just grins for having garnered a response.

Tagging @princessfbi @lovebuck @renecdote @hopeintheashes @capseycartwright @littlespoonevan @fcntasmas @like-the-rest-of-la @shortsighted-owl @kananjarus @zainclaw @hattalove and @clusterbuck :)

#sorry if you’ve already been tagged! I haven’t been on tumblr much today #911fic #911 fox #911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 fic #911 fanfic #uh sorry buck my beloved :) #Mellaithwen fanfic

[carniferous]

♡ dil moodboard ♡

go to pinterest and make yourself a mood board, whatever that means to you.

i was tagged by my lovelies @foursaints @itsjaywalkers and @static-radio-ao3

np tags: @divinerapturee @sommerregenjuniluft @lilysrosier @veryinnovative @sugarsnappeases and @sanguineerose

#unfortunately my one defining aesthetic is being an androgynous caffeine addict who sleeps all the time. despite the caffeine addiction #i have the summertime sleepies.... #tsym for tagging me my friends i had so much fun doing this #tagged #I FORGOT TO TAG PPL. sorry if you’ve already been tagged and i did it again i panicked

[the-bi-space-ace]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

Thank you for tagging me @ithillia (also sorry I took so long to do this 😅)

The last line I wrote is actually for a new project of mine - an AU - involving Obi-Wan, Cody, and a young Cal Kestis.

“If you ever can’t find me, if you need help, you find Cody. Understand?”

NPT: @saturn-sends-hugs @gentle-hero-blog @floundrickthewayfarer @renton6echo @alabyte

@phantom-of-the-501st

#my brain isn’t on rn so I can’t think of any more people to tag I’m so sorry 😭 #also sorry if you’ve been tagged already or already did one 😅 #also I am very excited about this AU #it’s just a little thing but it’s fun #star wars fanfiction

[ssreeder]

I'm so looking forward to iroh and zuko properly talking and seeing irohs reaction to zuko being gay.

Like we all know he doesn't agree with the fire nation rn but how will he react?

Will he not support him cause sokkas a guy? Will he not support him because it's SOKKA? Will he accept him? Will he reveal he's known for years zuko was gay?

Especially with everything that happened with zhao, regarding to what jee said to bato on their date. (Which is a very understandable perspective, zuko just got out of this very sexually traumatising situation and almost immediately starts a relationship (his first relationship) with sokka, but then again it is a very unique situation)

One thing I love about some atla fics is how they portray the FNs thoughts on queerness, cause on one hand they were one of the only country's (I think) that treated men and women the same but then again it's also the fucking fire nation.

And I also think zukos whole canon arc can be very comparative to queerness,

His dads an asshole and after speaking out against him he throws him out, and zuko try's for 3 years to regain his father's love and acceptance, and then faced with the opportunity of regaining it takes it immediately regardless of who or what he may hurt (iroh, his own morals etc) but once he makes it back home realises how fucked up everything is and eventually confronts his dad and openly tells him he doesn't agree with him then runs aways.

I also wonder if iroh secretly knows jee is queer it doesn't seem that likely to me but it also is iroh so who knows.

<3

I do think Iroh’s reaction will be a big moment for not only the story but for Zuko’s character development. Right now, Zuko’s technically still a prisoner, holding himself there by assuming Iroh will not understand or judge him when in reality he’ll never know what his uncle is thinking until they TALK ABOUT IT. (Which the FN royal family is just sooo good at healthy communication I don’t understand why this is so hard for them lol?!)

I do agree that the suddenness of the relationship combined with the intensity from both zuko and Sokka is very alarming for people looking at it from the outside (I mean we all totally get it cause we were there but others are like uhhhh hmmmm ok this might be concerning) so I get them gossiping and wondering if this is truly real or what the fucks going on with those boys.

I love Zukos canon arc because there’s just so much about zukos story that can be relatable no matter who you are and I think that’s why he is a fan favorite (it doesn’t explain why we torture him the way we do but ehhhh it’s fine haha)

Hmmmmmm does iroh know Jees gay? Depends on how saucy those music nights got ;)

#HAHAHA DO SEE THE JEEROH JOKE SOCKS?!?! I hope you see it through all your House reblogging nonsense haha #Jk you obsess over your new blorbos I support you! #I love this ask thank you #I also love that canon gave us so much to work with but left it loose enough we could do what we wanted #like I’ve read the fire nation written so many different ways in fics it’s insane #And I love all the unique thoughts! #I will continue to flesh out the FN little by little as we progress #An azula pov (or someone from her squad) will be part of every new chapter until the end #She’s a coming haha #I don’t know if iroh knows Jee is gay #Or that jee is like one date away from hooking up with bato haha #Or that zuko is already kind of hooking up with sokka (not really but I mean they’re getting prettttttttty snuggly haha) #But yeah idk I’m excited this next chapter it is A LOT #& we will be SUPER CLOSE to getting some answers to your questions lol #Thanks for this cool ask these are my favorite asks #Sorry if you’ve sent me an ask lately and I haven’t responded I’m getting better at that I promise #I will say though that I don’t respond to asks if I genuinely don’t know what to say or if I feel I might come off too mean or rude. #So yeah sorry anyone who’s ask I didn’t respond #(I also forget them in drafts and then feel weird about posting it after it’s been a month so I’m sorrrryyyyyy…) #Ok phew this was a lot of tags sorry #monsieugrgraves #Leaving it all behind #LIAB #ITF #ask

[plushie-rater]

Can we send requests of our own plushies for you to rate? :)

Thanks so much for asking first of all. I’ve been thinking about this a whole lot (even before I drew the first plushie here) and I think I’ve finally decided that at least for now, I won’t be taking submissions for plushie ratings. Without getting too serious, the main reason is that I’m afraid that it will stop feeling as fun as it does now. I also really enjoy how happy people seem to be when they see a surprise rating that they weren’t expecting, which would happen much less often if I was spending time drawing submissions, too. I really hope that everyone understands

#I love seeing all your plushies regardless and you’re always free to show me them through asks or dms #I wasn’t able to draw for a few years without it feeling very stressful and I think the anxiety of drawing for others made it much worse #im sort of taking baby steps while I get used to drawing again and this blog has been a huge help #everyone ive interacted with so far has been very kind and I have almost 100 followers already! which is super cool #if you’ve already submitted a plushie or were planning to im very sorry. I hope you understand #I really love drawing and am so happy that it feels fun again after so long #I’ll hold onto my current few submissions in case this ever changes someday #sorry for getting all serious gvutfd5fuq #I love you guys a ton! thank you for all the follows and reblogs and kind words #i see all of them even in tags and appreciate all of you so very much #not plushie #mouse answers #mouse speaks #mouse rambles

[chans-room]

Thank you for tagging me @bangtanintotheroom !

Rules: Post the last 7 sentences you wrote and tag 7 people.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be out in no time. We know exactly what to do this time,” Minho said. You could imagine the smile on his face when he said it. You frowned to yourself as they zipped the bag. You didn’t know them, so how were you imagining anything about them? You had only met them once… right? The thought was interrupted by the all too familiar, disorienting feeling of being lifted, making your stomach turn violently as they began to run. You squeezed your wings tighter around yourself and curled into a more condensed ball.

i cheated and gave you eight sentences ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

No obligation tags: @j-a-nuary @eureka-its-zico @chimivx @binniesbang @bibbykins @gimmethatagustd @sailoryooons

#if you’ve already been tagged: I’m sorry #wip tag game #bangtanintotheroom

[seblrina]

absolutely obsessed with deco my tree thank you for the tag s @whorgerussell i made one for my hockey blog but will make one for the f1 blog as well bc it’s such a cute fun idea

decorate my tree!!

tagging lots of lovely mutuals who i have loved seeing on my dash this year and deserve to have little trees and receive nice messages if they so wish @argentinagp @hungriestheidi @h-f-k @doohanok @racingliners @sunshinesebby @sebchal @brawn-gp @cilflafleur @boisinnot @usersewis @userscuderia @ivettel @babysdrivers @saintdevote @oscar-piastri @skitskatdacat63 @vegasgrandprix @princemick @chessleclerc @youjustwaitsunshine @leclerking @7upjordan @kaserolly @scootdixon @seriously-sebvettel @leqclerc @speedtrapped @hurricane-heatt @cillianmurphys @spearmint-blue @formulavettel

#sorry i’m being obnoxious with the tags #i am just *obsessed* with these trees #and everyone deserves to have a tree and receive nice messages ^^ #also no clue who has been tagged in this and who has not #sorry if you’ve already been tagged #i’m not very active rn #tag game

[browntrait]

get to know me better tag 💖

tagged by: @nigmos @djservo @blackskorpi0n @wldestluv-rs tysm y’all i love uuu 🥺

last song:

favorite colors: almost every single shade of orange or brown (especially ochre and chocolate brown), all shades of pink, sunflower yellow, black

currently watching: I’m between shows rn, so I’ve just been watching past seasons of rupaul’s drag race that I didn't watch in full before, starting from season 8, I’m halfway through s9 rn

last movie: probably live action Little Mermaid, I watch it like…at least once a week atp.

currently reading: Im trying to finish All About Love by bell hooks, its so good but I have to be in a nonfiction mood, my other current read is Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute by talia hibbert. i love her books but this one is Y/A so no spicy scenes which i love from her so i havent been itching to finish the book. Love the way she writes tho like, so talented, i just prefer her adult books.

sweet/spicy/savoury: all of them, but lately savory. i cant end my day though without a lil sweet treat.

last thing i googled: Marlene Dietrich. Sasha velour did her for snatch game on season 9, my bf didn’t know who she was referencing so i had to pull up a pic

current obsession: long video essays on youtube (particuarly mila teqila's as of late), valentina on season 9 (honestly i'm drinking the kool-aid, she's so entertaining) dressin up sims in CAS, vanilla iced coffee, n taking bubble baths before bed

currently working on: my script for Blooming (Zenya's story, ive been working on it foreverr), updating my resume again, finishing my lego bouquet

tagging: @cinamun @kimorasimz @helloavocadooo @orphyd @simphic @softerpixels @saturngalore @cowboycid @earthmoonz @westonsims00 @chaunceydollz @thaplumbob @hallasimss @birdietrait @faestelle

#im actually so gagged like #y’all wanna know abt lil ole me 🥺 #these are so fun #ty everyone who tagged me #n sorry if you’ve already been tagged!! #also stan alemeda #k's words #about me